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I suggested to her that these were invalid questions, except in terms of the lowest level model of mankind's self-perception by which society regards itself as essentially imperial animals. I suggested that the Three Thousand Years War is fought entirely within this low-level model of self-perception. "At the sublime level, according to the progressive model of science, focused on Truth, with the Principle of Universal Love standing behind it, the question of who owns whom is invalid."
I spoke quietly now. "The fact that you asked this question as to who owns whom, which is an imperial concept, indicates that the Three Thousand Years War is fought at a low level within the lowest-level model where all the imperial concepts are located."
Sylvia seemed shocked by what I said. She seemed visibly shaken. "How can you say that?" she said moments later.
"You tell me," I answered. "What is worse for society, a corrupted person who robs and plunders, who might even corrupt others to do the same, or a corrupt system?"
I told her that I remember reading a novel about a corrupt system some time ago, The Bravo by James Fenimore Cooper. The novel describes the Venetian imperial system. The system is so corrupt that an 'honest' person, having become drawn into the imperial process becomes so corrupted by it that he willingly complies with what an uncorrupted person would find impossible to do. It only took three days. That sort of thing is still happening, Sylvia. The imperial watchword always is; you can't go against the system; the system is invariable; the system is absolute; the system is the law. And so the system corrupts a person in that it leaves one no option not to comply. The system becomes a box without a possibility for an escape. You asked about the two women and the two men in the painting. You asked who owns whom. Do the women own the men, or the men the women? The composition in the painting is such as to imply that one of the two options is true. It blocks the third option that none of them owns anybody. Without that option being recognized, the affected people who view the painting become automatically corrupted themselves into reducing human relationships to one of the two prescribed roles, or both of them together."
I paused. "Can you think of a corrupting system that is more deeply rooted in the sewer than a system that makes you a slave to that system by your own choice?" I said quietly. "That kind of system has been at the root of the Three Thousand Years War against humanity. Almost all religions represent this system. The Venetian imperial system grew out of it, which after 1688 became the world-imperial system that still rules mankind with the iron hand of self-enslavement. That's a totally corrupt system. It became the most ruthless and destructive system in history that now stands poised to destroy mankind and civilization by preventing mankind's Renaissance for the coming Ice Age. The Global Warming Doctrine falls absolutely in line with this process as it corrupts the whole world into dedicating all its efforts to accomplish what is most detrimental to its existence. In this case the outcome will be that it will kill nine-tens of mankind if the corruption isn't overcome now."
"Isn't it amazing how much is tied to this innocent looking painting," said Sylvia quietly when I finished speaking. "Do you suppose Goya was aware of any of that?"
I nodded hesitantly. "There is no doubt in my mind that he was aware of some of it, except for the Global Warming Fraud. Goya was always keenly interested in people's responses to imposed conditions and in the people's own systemic self-enslavement, or self-corruption, by becoming victims unaware to corrupting systems."
I took Sylvia by the hand and asked her to follow me back to the War Room. She had missed previously a small room off to the side of it that contained a single painting, the painting of The Third of May, 1808, in Madrid, the Shooting on Principe Pio Mountain. The painting that had an enlarged copy of it in the entrance hall shows a French firing squad preparing to execute a Spanish peasant at the center of the scene. His face is one of horror mixed with pride and resignation. Other peasants are seen standing near him to become victims in turn, terrified, despondent, or in prayer. We don't see the faces of the French soldiers who have aimed their weapon. "What kind of a man can pull the trigger?" I asked Sylvia. "What human being can do this, and do it again, and again, and again? In the painting were bloodied corpses lying on the ground."
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