Of course government lies, all of the time, to everyone, everywhere. But the Superior is fully conscious of a much more profoundly important Forbidden Truth: government IS a lie. government came into existence and maintains its universal slavery over every human being on planet earth, via the organization of deception. Without lying, it would never have come to exist. It cannot change, it cannot become a force for Truth. It can only survive and exist by maintaining itself as the universal deception.
Police and the media exist as direct representatives and spokespeople for government. They cannot tell the Truth, they cannot value, represent, stand for or within, Truth. Of course they cannot, because their very existence is completely dependent upon accurately representing government, which is the lie as organism, the lie made real as a structure.
Seekers of Truth: The consciousness of mind to know government does not lie, because government is a lie, is a game-changer. It allows the aspiring Superior to despise and demand the annihilation of all government not what government does, but for what government is.
This consciousness also allows the Superior to place pigs, journalists, the media, and other direct agents of government in their proper place, recognizing the individuals who hold these positions as hostages of governments. Yes, they are terrorists, but their terrorism is mandated by the structure holding them hostage.
In all wars there must and will be extreme collateral damage. But there must also be a very direct and specific target. In the war for Truth, this direct and specific target must be government, the sentient structure that embodies, mandates, imposes, universal deception for all.
No individual who represents or serves government, in any capacity, be it local news anchor or president amerikkka, is ever the problem. The problem is government. Annihilate this structure, and you directly devastate a primary matrix of universal human deception.
And yes, I do love combining my Female Foot Pain fetish with profound Forbidden Truth expression, so enjoy the photo here, of a young and sexy news journalist filing a live report from an australian courthouse, in her bare feet. No Photoshopping or other image manipulation here, this is a 100% genuine photo.
Look at it, study it, and even if you don’t have a Female Foot Pain fetish, understand and learn what journalism is: The theatrical presentation of an image and a message. Deception dressed up in a long sleeved business jacket, always hiding the Truth, always concealing what government does not want you to see and to know.
The camera, the network, the Matrix, always shows you only what it wants you to see, and know.
Once upon a time, I was a dedicated, daily stalker, out there in the real world, right amongst you humans, despite My hard-core misanthropy. I stalked females, or to be more specific, their sore, aching, deformed, feet.
On weekdays, particularly late afternoons and evenings, I went to busy train and bus stations, I went to downtown areas with large office buildings, I went to large shopping malls, and I used to go inside of multiple pharmacies, spending time by the foot care products aisle, or Dr. Scholl’s section, as I called it. Even post offices and banks, I would check if there was a long line of standing females I could join and watch from behind.
On weekends, I went to parades and walkathons, automobile shows and other trade conventions, and tourist gathering spots.
My hunt was for females suffering from foot pain, limping in high heels, easing agonized feet out of their shoes, applying a band-aid or corn pad to their feet, stoically trying to conceal their agony…
As a female foot pain stalker, I carried no camera or video recorder. My eyes were my camera, and my brain was my recorder. Every successful stalking incident, and I averaged 2-3 per day/night, was committed to my perfected memory, to result in multiple masturbatory climaxes, that very night as well as days, weeks, months, years, and decades into the future.
Of course the erotic appeal of each encounter varied, and I consciously categorized each to a different level of memory importance, so that the most erotic would remain absolutely crystal clear in memory, even decades later. Today, right now, is decades later, and I am so proud and pleased with Myself, that My memories of these incidents, 25-35 years later, are just as vivid and life-like and pleasure-producing, as the day they occurred.
These days, I no longer actively go out to female foot stalk. I only stalk opportunistically, when I am already, unfortunately, forced to go out amongst you humans, for other reasons.
Why have I stopped actively stalking females to satisfy my #FemaleFootPainFetish? Because my memory bank is rich & full. The many thousands of personally viewed direct encounters exist in perfect clarity within my Superior mind. I can recall and replay them all at my will, and cause them to excite Me sexually to a maximum degree: The full-fledged climax.
This is power of mind, this is the exaltation of Self, rooted within the lifelong, conscious development of a healthy brain, a brain freed of external constraints, a brain customized by its owner, to serve its owner.
Always I have been a misanthrope. But I had to compromise back then, to serve all of my True Reality needs. Thankfully, no longer, at least not in this regard.
What also delights Me is that, thanks to Youtube & the internet, and the True Reality of other #FemaleFootPainFetishists, I can now go along with them, on their stalks, from the comfort of my isolated fortress, as I add to my untouchable, fetishistic mindscape.
The humans are hard at work this christmas season, as they are every christmas season, desperately trying to bribe each other, while simultaneously, and equally desperately, soliciting favor from other humans, and even from imaginary creatures.
Every “gift” that is given, every present carefully wrapped, attached to a carefully chosen gift card, every “donation” given, to formally organized charities as well as to the randomly encountered homeless alcoholic, is a bribe, it is a shakedown attempt, an extortion demand.
Every gift and present given, it does not matter what it is or what the relationship is between the giver and the giftee, is a bribe. The bribe says: “Look, I am gonna give you this, and in return you must pretend to love and to care about me, to appreciate and to value me, and you must express and show this love and caring and value and appreciaton to me. I will use your false sentiments in order to feel better about myself, to delude myself into believing that I am loved and cared for and valued. I need this from you, because I am an emotionally and psychologically crippled creature, who cannot bestow proper love and care and value upon myself.”
Every christmas present given, is a selfish and psychologically violent extraction attempt. None of it represents generosity or empathic benevolence. None of it! The husband who gives his wife a christmas present, wants to get more sexual contact from her. The boyfriend who presents his christmas present together with a marriage proposal, is demanding lifelong sexual, emotional, and legal slavery under a direct bribe.
The mother who secretly deciphers which material object her 5 year old son-slave most desperately covets, and makes certain to place it under the christmas tree with a note signed “love, mom”, is not expressing love, she is demanding love, she is attempting to extract hugs, expressions of love, from the child that she is enslaving, and very likely abusing and victimizing. She cannot love herself, and so she must force others to profess their love to her, and under this coerced extortion of emotion, she is able to convince herself that she is loved, at least for awhile.
All charitable contributions and donations are made under this same perverse mindset, intermingled with subconscious and unconscious guilt, shame, and Self-humiliation. “I don’t deserve what I have, so I must give a little bit of it away so that I can convince myself that I am a good person by suffering, in order to allow someone else to suffer less.”
Donations to strangers and to charities are also a direct attempt to bribe, extort, and shakedown the nonexistent god creature. “Look, over here, look at me god, I’m willing to make myself suffer in some tiny way, by giving away something I could use for myself. See how unselfish I am! See how moral and kind and caring I am!! Now you must reward me with eternal existence in heaven. You owe me now, god!”
The Superior never gives presents to any human being, and never donates anything to any human in need. He understands that it is his obligation to place Self above all others, and he meets all of his own emotional needs within the embrace of absolute Truth, therefore the very idea of attempting to obtain love from others, or attempting to bribe a nonexistent god creature, is recognized by him as insane beyond all measure.
I give to Myself, everything that I want and need. My gifts to Myself flow daily, and my delight at their receipt is untainted by vampiric human enmeshment. My debt is owed only to Myself, and I pay off this debt each day, with interest. My generosity towards Myself has no ulterior motivations, it represents and expresses the purity of the only valid form of love, Self-love.
So go ahead, waste your useless lives trying to figure out which bribes will find the most favor with your intended extortion victims. Invade the shopping malls as part of your grand predatory quest to extract from others what you cannot bestow upon yourself. Go to the Hallmark Card store after you have finished a long day of slave labor in painful dress pumps, and spend an hour walking the racks, carefully examining different greeting cards, trying to find the one that will most effectively pierce the psyche of your targeted victim(s). And please make sure to ease your agonized foot out of its pump prison, give us Female Foot Pain fetishists an unintended gift, to be enjoyed later, in the privacy of our homes.
I see you for what you are, dear vampires and extortionists. Your efforts are pathetic and grotesque, and you can only deceive yourselves to a limited degree, for a limited time. You do not even try to obtain what you truly need, what is truly useful: Genuine, unconditional, and externally untouchable love of Self. You are pathetic in your cowardice, your neediness, your dependency.
Oh god, my poor feet! I’ve spent an hour trying to find the perfect christmas card, and my corns are just throbbing! I’ve got to get this shoe off, ahhhh…what a relief!
I must find the perfect christmas card, the one card that will get my son-slave to hug me and claim to love me! I’m sure nobody will notice that I have eased my agonized foot out of its pump prison, I just can’t stand the pain anymore!
Today, September 7, 2015, has been officially decreed as a celebration of the holiday of labor day by the slave-state of amerikkka. I have already written and published, just a few hours ago, a brilliant Forbidden Truth dissection of this horrific perversion of human rights and freedom. So now, I will indulge in a less strident but just as poignant visual illustration of the horror of all forced labor, with a Female Foot Pain Fetish twist.
Observe the fully candid image below, taken inside an airport concourse. We see two female labor slaves, forced to perform slave labor for money, forced to dress up in specific clothing by their slavemaster, forced to wear specific shoes, dress pumps, not even free to choose their own footwear.
And so the female slaves make do with momentarily freeing their feet from the physical pain that they are being forced to endure. They cannot ignore the physical pain in their feet, but at the same time they cannot comprehend the True and factual nature of their slavery, of body and of mind, which constitutes all employment, all labor, all economic activity, all work done in exchange for money.
Observe the sweetie on the right side: She has liberated her toes so beautifully, but not her mind! Forced to wear closed toe dress pumps, she rebels openly and publicly, in full view of complete strangers, and maybe even her supervisor/manager/boss. She defies her slavemaster, liberates her toes, frees her toes, as she stands so delicately, so erotically, on top of her pumps.
Does she have corns, or calluses?? Hard corns on top of her toes, or soft corns in-between her toes, or maybe even an IPK, an Intractable Plantar Keratosis on the balls of her feet?? Inquiring minds with a Female Foot Pain Fetish, want to know!
But in a more philosophical vein, the poignancy evoked by this image, as relates to the perversion of the labor day holiday, is very real and must not be made light of. She is freeing her agonized feet, but she cannot free her mind. Like all of you, she is a labor slave, and the chances that she realizes the True facts and reality of universal labor slavery, are almost zero.
Our sweetie seizes upon the opportunity to liberate her feet, to momentarily, temporarily relieve immediate physical pain, even as she submits to an existence of relentless and unmitigated slavery as a worker, a citizen, a worshipper, a wife, a girlfriend, a mother, a daughter. Why? Because she can deny all of those horrors, pretend she is not suffering, pretend she is not being harmed and victimized.
She can ignore all Truth, just as you humans do. But in the moment, in this moment of time, as captured by this photograph, she cannot ignore, and she cannot even tolerate, the oppression being inflicted upon her feet by the shoes she is being forced to wear, as a labor slave. This is so very poignant, so beautifully illustrative of the hopelessness of the human condition, to the deep thinker.
Philosophy and the female foot pain fetish, harmoniously melded:
I am a bad samaritan. I do not help people. Even using the term “people”, offends my sensibilities. They are humans, and should be referred to as such. The mere word, “people”, bestows a sense of familiarity that the human being does not deserve to receive from Me. In this essay I will outline some of the primary reasons that I do not help humans.
I do not help humans because nobody helped Me when I was a child, and I honor the law of reflection: Do onto others as they have done onto you. This philosophical law is honorable and just, rational and sane and respectful of Self. I do not and I will not help, because I was not helped. I am a victim of willful harm, collectively sponsored and carried out via actions, and lack of actions, respectively, both of which represent the official behavioral and ideological standards of humanity as a whole, not of isolated rogue humans.
I do not help humans because humans as a whole, and humanity as a species, has proven itself unworthy of receiving any help from Me. They do not deserve to be helped. In a very real way, helping a human would directly harm Me, it would be a betrayal of Truth, of reflection, and of the universal injustice that every Superior must recognize himself a created victim of.
I do not help humans because the human being is a vampire, the human seeks to extract what is valuable, from others. As an adult, I have selectively and on rare occasions received “help” from others, as I have chosen and upon my demand. This help has always been formally requested, such as a dentist filling a cavity, an eye doctor conducting an eye examination, etc… All help I have solicited, I have sacrificed money to receive, in order to ensure that no vampiric obligation can be perceived or claimed. All offers of help from others, that I do not directly solicit, are rejected by Me. All offers of help that I do solicit, exist as professional exchanges, void of all emotional baggage. No vampires feed upon Me.
I do not help humans because humans do not help themselves. Humans sabotage and destroy themselves, as a species. To offer or to provide help to members of such a species is an affront to all decent standards of justice and rationality. Why would I help creatures who refuse to help themselves? Creatures who loathe themselves, sacrifice and sabotage their own health, endanger and destroy themselves, and embrace their own deaths?! No, let such creatures suffer, and recognize the perverse hypocrisy inherent in any request for help that such a creature might make.
I do not help humans because I do not like humans, and because I do not wish to help them. Helping humans does not make Me feel good. Helping humans does not improve my experience of my existence, in any manner. I do not do what I do not desire to do. I answer to Myself, I do things which please, excite, satisfy, enrich Me as a mind and exalt my place in the universe I have created and now own. Helping humans fails to meet any of these criteria.
Do I help other creatures, the non-human?? Rarely and selectively, yes. In these situations, my aid is void of emotion, rooted within instinctual identification of mind with a fellow victim, as all animals are victims of humans. I identify with creatures that are not human, because I have spent decades seeking to transcend my humanity, and now have achieved this glorious feat. I do not “care” about these creatures that I may help. My aid, rare and selective, is also selfish. The well-being of the animal is not a primary, or even a secondary, goal or motivation, and no emotional bond or connection between Me and the animal, is ever created.
Would I ever help a human?? In terms of saving or preserving the existence of a human, no. If a situation presented itself in which helping a human could reasonably expect to result in a very great and real benefit to Me, such as receiving a million dollars or gaining technological immortality, of course I would consider it, reflecting the glory of selfishness, ego, and Self-love. Likewise, if, for example, a woman with painful corns and bunions, wearing high heels and hobbling in pain, asked Me to carry her to her house, I might well leap at the opportunity, but only because I have a female foot fetish and doing so would provide Me with sexual pleasure and excitement. “Yes dear, of course I will carry you back to your apartment, now that you have told me your high heeled boots have rubbed bleeding blisters on both your heels, and your baby toe corns have become so exquisitely painful that you just can’t bear to take another step!”—A Bad Samaritan doing a Good Deed.
Those of us who recognize humanity for what it is, have a Self-obligation to be bad samaritans. Let us never go out of our way to help the disgusting creatures guilty of victimizing us, and collectively destroying and murdering us. Let us be good to ourselves, let us give ourselves the best of everything, as we sacrifice nothing for others. Let us be mentally healthy enough to meet all of our own needs, and to both reject and condemn all societal efforts to coerce us into vampiric enmeshment with humans.
All text is Copyright 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.
One of My favorite pastimes, when I am not busy masturbating, of course, is creating G-rated pornography. Hmm, G-rated pornography? Yes, exactly. According to the dictionary, a traditional definition of pornography is: “Written, printed or video material that contains sexually explicit images or content that some people find to be arousing.” The term that I reject very specifically, is “sexually explicit”. Society defines pornography as having to be sexually explicit, in order to demonize it to sexual prudes, and also to specifically steer the Unwashed Masses of citizen-slaves towards specific body part sexual obsessions, such as breasts and ass*s. In creating such a sexual censensus, it is much easier for leaders of society to direct and control the mind focus of the majority.
A much more valid, Truth-based definition of pornography would be: “Written, printed, or video material that an individual finds sexually arousing and stimulating.” There is no logical reason anything should be judged pornographic because it shows any specific body part, or any specific sexual act, because all pornography is in the eye of the beholder. If something does not sexually arouse Me, it is not pornographic to Me. If something does sexually arouse Me, it is pornographic to Me. This is how pornography must be understood and defined, in order to undermine the societal effort to control and manipulate our sexual orientations and focuses.
I am both a creator and a consumer, of G-rated pornography. The reason why, is because I find female foot pain to be the ultimate in sexual eroticism. In future blog posts I may go into detail as to the origins and nature of this rather rare fetish, but this is just intended as a brief and lighthearted introduction to the topic. So, I have a sexual fetish for female foot pain. This fetish involves no sexual organs, no nudity of any kind, beyond the female foot, and no type of sexual activity or contact. As such, it is a G-rated sexual fetish, and because My mind is very creative and drawn to vivid imagery, this G-rated fetish inspires Me to create G-rated pornography.
As far as personal creations, My G-rated pornography is in written form. The images and videos which inspire My pornographic writings, are created by others, and merely found by Me. Or personally viewed by Me via public situations. The wonderful thing about a G-rated sexual fetish like female foot pain, is that there are plenty of real-life, as well as photographic and video images available, in which the participants have absolutely no idea that they are getting, or could possibly get, anyone sexually excited by what they are doing.
An obvious example would be the woman hobbling home from work, her inflamed bunions throbbing, who winces in pain as she leans against a light pole and eases off a high heeled pump to relieve her distress. <By the way, there it is: G-Rated pornography! So anyway, there are great advantages to having a rare and G-rated sexual fetish such as this, because you can find the most erotic imagery imaginable, right out in public, with the “target” of your erotic obsession completely unaware that anyone who might be observing her, could possible be sexually aroused by what she is doing. Sweet! 🙂
I have written thousands of G-rated pornographic texts, to thousands of different photos, videos, and even stories, adding on to existing stories created by others with the same fetish. These texts range anywhere from 20 words to 10,000 words, and as such I reckon I am the premier female foot pain novelist in the world.
Just for fun, and those of you who might still be confused as to what a female foot pain fetish is, and what constitutes G-Rated pornography, I offer one of My thousands of images and texts:
Elke could think of nothing but the throbbing of her poor feet, as she stood, waiting for the train to arrive. What a horrible day! It had been years since she had worn high heels, she could still remember that day, six years ago, when she realized her feet had gotten so deformed that every high heeled shoe had turned into a torture chamber. She had thrown 16 pairs of high heeled shoes into the garbage that day, silently sobbing, but knowing that keeping them in her closet, they would only mock her, each day, whenever she saw them. Only one pair she had kept, because you never knew when an emergency situation requiring high heels might arise.
For six years they had sat inside her closet. Until today. Elke thought back to the morning, and her decision to wear them. Husband Mike had left 6 weeks ago, leaving only a note: “Good luck Elks, I just need a change…” And would you believe, the social security office said she did not qualify for disability. “You’re not crippled, you can walk. If you can walk, you can work”, those had been the exact words of the office supervisor, after reading the report of the podiatrist.
And so, money running out, Elke had to find a job. Dress to impress, that’s what the magazine had said. How could I have been so stupid, Elke mentally cursed herself. Hours of hobbling from one job interview to the other, her face a rigid mask of pain, trying to smile as she entered the human resource offices.
And now it was over. Shocks of pain pulsated through her feet. She could feel her heartbeat in her severe bunions, each beat a shock, like being stabbed. Elke blinked back tears. Every visible seat on the train platform taken. Maybe there was another bench at the other end of the platform, but she could not see. The thought of hobbling that far, only to be disappointed, was more than she could bear.
Self-consciousness took a backseat to unbearable pain, as Elke shifted her weight from one agonized foot to the other. Torture chambers, torturing me, was all Elke could think, as she bit her trembling lip and contemplated her plight. The right foot demanded relief, as Elke carefully scrunched her toes forward, allowing her heel to escape from the pump. As she expected, the moment of release was the most painful of all, and she could not suppress a deep groan, raising her naked, crippled foot and trying to hide it behind her other foot.
There you go, G-rated porn for the foot pain fetishist, created for and written by, Me.