(FB 1545235273 Timestamp) ABRAHAMIC RELIGIONS ARE WHAT DIVIDE US. Because that was their purpose: destruction.
Theme: Civilization
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Curt Doolittle shared a link.
(FB 1545235231 Timestamp) YES THE MUSLIM EXPANSION WAS CATASTROPHIC FOR THE WORLD – JUST AS WAS THE JEWISH AND CHRISTIAN. The west in the ancient and modern world raised mankind out of superstition, ignorance, poverty and dysgenia. The muslim world put people into superstition, ignorance, poverty, decline, and disgenia. It’s not complicated.There was no golden age any more than napoleonic artwork. The islamic destruction of every great civilization of the ancient world and the descent into ignorance, poverty, and genetic dysgenia. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7y2LRcf4kc ⦠The west fell by overexpansion into the middle east in a foolish attempt to maintain alexander’s empire. The result was inability to resist the germans given the migration due to the Celtic Holocaust. The spread of jews into the empire, and resulting Jewish revolutionary undermining, spread via women and slaves, later imposed by emperors in the east as a means of destroying the aristocracy and the empire, and the islamic prevention of the restoration of roman population and order after war, and plague. The muslims then conducted 1400 years of raids against europe – we invented castles to stop them. Everywhere the west touches people get wealthier (or die) Everywhere islam went people declined. If it wasn’t for the turks providing new genes arabian lands would be indifferent from africa.
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545522537 Timestamp) THE OLDEST RELIGION? —“Which is the world’s oldest religion? What is the evidence of it?”— Quora The correct question is âWhat is the oldest political religion?â, because that is the function of all surviving religions from the Axial period. Sumerians first wrote down their religions in 3500 BCE and most political religions evolved evolved from competition with theirs. We see evidence if organized religion in Anatolia from 8â9,000 bc, predating stonehenge by 6000 years. It appears we developed religious practices (what we call sacred, but is more correctly, suppression of all self interest, status signal, and dominance expression ) no less than 40k years ago. There was our first and longest dark age around 20â21k bc. Then practices resumed, around 13k bc. it wasnât that long – about 8000 bc – until farming, and farming creates folk religions in an and around anatolia -still burial focused. Around 5500 bc the indo europeans developed sacrificial religion, and spread it – man now bargaining with the gods. And again, by 3300 we see the rapid development of political religion in every region of eurasia. |Religion|: Burial > Sacrificial > Political > [Theraputic]
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545522537 Timestamp) THE OLDEST RELIGION? —“Which is the world’s oldest religion? What is the evidence of it?”— Quora The correct question is âWhat is the oldest political religion?â, because that is the function of all surviving religions from the Axial period. Sumerians first wrote down their religions in 3500 BCE and most political religions evolved evolved from competition with theirs. We see evidence if organized religion in Anatolia from 8â9,000 bc, predating stonehenge by 6000 years. It appears we developed religious practices (what we call sacred, but is more correctly, suppression of all self interest, status signal, and dominance expression ) no less than 40k years ago. There was our first and longest dark age around 20â21k bc. Then practices resumed, around 13k bc. it wasnât that long – about 8000 bc – until farming, and farming creates folk religions in an and around anatolia -still burial focused. Around 5500 bc the indo europeans developed sacrificial religion, and spread it – man now bargaining with the gods. And again, by 3300 we see the rapid development of political religion in every region of eurasia. |Religion|: Burial > Sacrificial > Political > [Theraputic]
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545660911 Timestamp) CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS War and pillaging are the most profitable entrepreneurial undertakings that a group of men can undertake. Not only because one brings home the dividends, but because one can take territory, reduce competitors, and create dependents who may be taxed by your family, tribe, clan, and nation. Policing is expensive but pillaging is wonderful. Look at the Prussians, Napoleon the British, and Caesar….. So this year, hang an ornament on the tree, burn a yule log, share a family feast, and sharpen your weapons. Because war and pillaging make christmas possible every day of the year!
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545754612 Timestamp) A VIKING CHRISTMAS STORY (edited) Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the village The men sharpened knives and the boys dreamt of pillage. The skulls were all hung by the chimney with care In hopes on the morrow, more would be there. The girls were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of jewelry, danced in their heads. And mamma in her gown, and I in my shirt, Had just caught our breath from a quick winterâs flirt. When out on the river there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed, to see what was the matter. Away to the Hall, I flew in a rush, Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a longboat with shields, and great men with their gear. With a bearded old man, lively and wisened, I knew in a moment it must be Lord Odin. More rapid than eagles his warriors they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With bags full of booty, and Lord Odin too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door The laughter of brethren hardened by war. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Lord Odin, through the portal, came with a bound. He was dressed all in grey, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all fouled with snow and with soot. A bundle of booty he had flung on his back, And he looked like a merchant, just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his laughter how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! The beard of his chin was as white as the snow, And his purses, hung neatly, from his belt, in a row. The stump of a pipe, he held tight, in his teeth, And the smoke it, encircled his head, like a wreath. He had a long face, pointed hat, and grey cloak, That shook when he laughed, like the bough of an oak. He was tall and thin, but a jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! But a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger, aside of his cheek, And giving a nod, tossed my share to my feet. He sprang to his boots, and to men gave a whistle, And away we all flew like the down of a thistle. And I heard him exclaim, âere we ran into the night, “Happy Viking to all, and to all a good-fight!” -Curt Doolittle (With Apologies to Dickens)
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545667526 Timestamp) A VIKING STORY Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the village The men sharpened knives and the boys dreamt of pillage. The skulls were all hung by the chimney with care In hopes on the morrow, more would be there. The girls were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of gold danced in their heads. And mamma in her gown, and I in my shirt, Had just caught our breath from a quick winterâs flirt. When out on the river there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed, to see what was the matter. Away to the Hall, I flew in a rush, Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a longboat with shields, and great men with their gear. With a bearded old wise man, lively and boldened, I knew in a moment it must be Lord Odin. More rapid than eagles his warriors they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With bags full of booty, and Lord Odin too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door The laughter of brethren hardened by war. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Lord Odin, through the portal, came with a bound. He was dressed all in grey, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all fouled with snow and with soot. A bundle of booty he had flung on his back, And he looked like a merchant, just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his laughter how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! The beard of his chin was as white as the snow, And his purses, hung neatly, from his belt, in a row. The stump of a pipe, he held tight, in his teeth, And the smoke it, encircled his head, like a wreath. He had a long face, pointed hat, and grey cloak, That shook when he laughed, like the bough of an oak. He was tall and thin, but a jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! But a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger, aside of his cheek, And giving a nod, tossed my share to my feet. He sprang to his boots, and to men gave a whistle, And away we all flew like the down of a thistle. And I heard him exclaim, âere we ran into the night, “Happy Viking to all, and to all a good-fight!” -Curt Doolittle (With Apologies to Dickens)
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545754612 Timestamp) A VIKING CHRISTMAS STORY (edited) Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the village The men sharpened knives and the boys dreamt of pillage. The skulls were all hung by the chimney with care In hopes on the morrow, more would be there. The girls were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of jewelry, danced in their heads. And mamma in her gown, and I in my shirt, Had just caught our breath from a quick winterâs flirt. When out on the river there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed, to see what was the matter. Away to the Hall, I flew in a rush, Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a longboat with shields, and great men with their gear. With a bearded old man, lively and wisened, I knew in a moment it must be Lord Odin. More rapid than eagles his warriors they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With bags full of booty, and Lord Odin too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door The laughter of brethren hardened by war. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Lord Odin, through the portal, came with a bound. He was dressed all in grey, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all fouled with snow and with soot. A bundle of booty he had flung on his back, And he looked like a merchant, just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his laughter how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! The beard of his chin was as white as the snow, And his purses, hung neatly, from his belt, in a row. The stump of a pipe, he held tight, in his teeth, And the smoke it, encircled his head, like a wreath. He had a long face, pointed hat, and grey cloak, That shook when he laughed, like the bough of an oak. He was tall and thin, but a jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! But a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger, aside of his cheek, And giving a nod, tossed my share to my feet. He sprang to his boots, and to men gave a whistle, And away we all flew like the down of a thistle. And I heard him exclaim, âere we ran into the night, “Happy Viking to all, and to all a good-fight!” -Curt Doolittle (With Apologies to Dickens)
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545660911 Timestamp) CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS War and pillaging are the most profitable entrepreneurial undertakings that a group of men can undertake. Not only because one brings home the dividends, but because one can take territory, reduce competitors, and create dependents who may be taxed by your family, tribe, clan, and nation. Policing is expensive but pillaging is wonderful. Look at the Prussians, Napoleon the British, and Caesar….. So this year, hang an ornament on the tree, burn a yule log, share a family feast, and sharpen your weapons. Because war and pillaging make christmas possible every day of the year!
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Curt Doolittle updated his status.
(FB 1545667526 Timestamp) A VIKING STORY Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the village The men sharpened knives and the boys dreamt of pillage. The skulls were all hung by the chimney with care In hopes on the morrow, more would be there. The girls were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of gold danced in their heads. And mamma in her gown, and I in my shirt, Had just caught our breath from a quick winterâs flirt. When out on the river there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed, to see what was the matter. Away to the Hall, I flew in a rush, Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a longboat with shields, and great men with their gear. With a bearded old wise man, lively and boldened, I knew in a moment it must be Lord Odin. More rapid than eagles his warriors they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With bags full of booty, and Lord Odin too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door The laughter of brethren hardened by war. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Lord Odin, through the portal, came with a bound. He was dressed all in grey, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all fouled with snow and with soot. A bundle of booty he had flung on his back, And he looked like a merchant, just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his laughter how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! The beard of his chin was as white as the snow, And his purses, hung neatly, from his belt, in a row. The stump of a pipe, he held tight, in his teeth, And the smoke it, encircled his head, like a wreath. He had a long face, pointed hat, and grey cloak, That shook when he laughed, like the bough of an oak. He was tall and thin, but a jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! But a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger, aside of his cheek, And giving a nod, tossed my share to my feet. He sprang to his boots, and to men gave a whistle, And away we all flew like the down of a thistle. And I heard him exclaim, âere we ran into the night, “Happy Viking to all, and to all a good-fight!” -Curt Doolittle (With Apologies to Dickens)