Barbara H. Peterson on August 24th, 2016

(Graphic source:

Barbara H. Peterson

Farm Wars

I control your every thought. Your daily routine revolves around me. You can’t wait to get home and see what I have to offer. At night when you are away you wonder what I am doing, and how you can be with me. You are so easy to control. All I have to do is entice you with a bit of flash and you are right there to do my bidding. When you shop, you buy what I tell you to buy. When you drink, you drink what I tell you to drink. When you drive, you drive what I tell you to drive. You have no real thoughts of your own that I have not somehow influenced. You believe what I say because you have been raised with me as your guide. Your mentor. Your nanny. There is nothing that you do that I have not influenced.

And this is no accident.

I was placed in your life to make you easily controllable. To do my bidding so that those who profit off of your actions can get rich and powerful. So they can use you to make their lives more comfortable while you toil day and night fulfilling my commands. You are my slave. And you don’t even know it. You think that I make your life more comfortable. More enjoyable. That I am there to ease your loneliness, entertain you at your bidding, and that you control me and are in charge. Nothing could be further from the truth. You love what I do for you, and my controllers love what you do for them. You are like a battery that when depleted, is simply tossed aside in the scrap heap and turned to dust, never knowing that your only useful function was to keep the machine going that runs the system that enslaves you. And they laugh all the way to the bank. Scraping your dust off their shoes like it never existed. And you willingly do their bidding.

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Barbara H. Peterson on August 22nd, 2016

graphic source: albionmonitor

Barbara H. Peterson

Farm Wars

I get up each morning and get dressed just like the rest of you. Brush my hair, put on my shoes one at a time, look in the mirror to see that I am presentable, then go out into the workforce unnoticed for what I am. But when it comes down to getting you what you need, I’m your connection.

You call me when you need a fix. When you’ve run out of what keeps you going. When you are so frustrated because you cannot get what you need that you’ve reached your last drop of endurance and you scream for relief. You know that I will be there with your supply. And so you call. I am ready to fill your needs. To up the dose and get you on your way.

I lure you in with fancy offers of gratification. Promises of happiness and fulfillment. Illusions. A trick to get you hooked. And you take the bait. And once you are hooked, I’ve got you for life. The perfect customer. I don’t need to worry about if you will be back. I know you will. It’s only a matter of time. And the time grows shorter in between fixes.

When you call, you are upset. You need your fix. I calm your fears by providing the cure for what is ailing you. I feed your addiction like a benevolent caretaker. I soothe and assure you that all will be well and that I will continue to give you what you want. What you need. I am there for you in your darkest hours to relieve the pain. You become dependent on me. You pay for your product and when it is not enough, you pay more. You forego other necessities just so you can get your fix. And I smile and go on to the next customer. I am no longer concerned about you until you call again. And you will. Read the rest of this entry »

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Barbara H. Peterson on August 12th, 2016

cyborgBarbara H. Peterson

Farm Wars

Humans are so inconvenient. They need wages, breaks, food, shelter, room to move, air to breathe, and time off. How much easier to just eliminate all of those pesky time-wasting things and replace humans with machines? Or, how about merging humans with machines so that we can create what we want? But when we remove our humanity from the equation, is what remains truly human?

We can replace this part and that part, and still maintain our humanity, but when we start tinkering with DNA, attempting to download our brain processes onto a chip and rearrange what is there to create a “better human,” we create something that no longer bears the essence of humanity.

Human + Human = Human

Machine + Machine = Machine

Human + Machine = Mechanized Hybrid

It’s simple genetics, really. The less humanity that is present, the less human traits the entity possesses. And at what point does humanity become so negligible that the machine takes over completely? Read the rest of this entry »

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Barbara H. Peterson on August 6th, 2016

tvBarbara H. Peterson

Farm Wars

There I was again, in the organic section of the market, watching as people bypassed the organic bananas, which were $.89/lb, in favor of the non-organic for $.69/lb. They are located right next to each other. I stood there for a little while and watched as this went on. Granted, organic costs more. And sometimes, a lot more. If you are counting your pennies, non-organic can be quite attractive. But why, if the price is nearly the same, would anyone choose pesticide-laden produce over non-pesticide-laden produce?

Let’s do the math: 5 pounds of organic bananas = $4.45. 5 pounds of non-organic bananas = $3.45. That’s a ONE DOLLAR difference. Less than the price of a cup of Starbucks coffee. Quite frankly, I’m at a loss at why people would willingly poison themselves to save a dollar. One dollar. Are we really that brainwashed? Unfortunately, for most of the American population, the answer is yes.

We believe what the TV commercials tell us without question, because they are not supposed to deceive. We believe what the government agencies tell us without question because we have been brought up to believe that authority figures do not lie, and always know best. Yet the history of the FDA, EPA, USDA, and various other alphabet soup agencies tells us that we were and are being systematically poisoned by substances rubber-stamped as “safe.” Substances that any intelligent person who does a bit of research knows is harmful.

When I was a child, I remember watching a commercial on a black and white television. The actress was selling a product. I asked my mother: “Mommy, does that lady use the stuff she is selling herself?” My mother said: “Probably not, Honey.” I said: “If she doesn’t use it, why is she telling people it is so good?” To which my mother replied: “She is getting paid to, dear.” I said: “So it is okay to lie as long as you get money for it?” She didn’t answer. Read the rest of this entry »

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