The Hooded Man...

Robin Hood returns... Herne the Hunter Speaks...

One day in the near future…

They said it would be a dark winter. They weren't wrong. It's cold. Not freezing. About 39F. I've got a woolen military surplus blanket wrapped around me. Some power for my IT kit. Mobile internet router, laptop, tablet, earbuds/headphones, and phone. That's it. No propane, no electric supply. Rolling blackouts. A couple of days and I'll have some heat. Or so they say.

I'm lucky because when the sun is shining my backroom is warm. Up to 70F or more some days.

Having a solar powerbank means I can keep the money coming in. I always route this into Monero (XMR) just in case the banks have what they call a "bank holiday", which is a bail-in. You can't get any cash, physical or electronic, and when they open again your money is worth a lot less in terms of spending power (this happened in Cyprus in 2013).

Monero can be volatile like all cryptocurrency. But it's safer than fiat money and trusting the banking cartels. Plus it's private and secure; something that could never have been said about banks, which, in truth, were always a monumental scam and power grab.

Most of the Western world is in a similar position to the UK right now. The blackouts were pretty much lockstep. Whether it was a plan or sheer incompetence it's hard to tell. It often looks like a plan. I do suspect the aim is to take down global economies and introduce central bank digital currency. That's why those in the know are using Monero and other privacy coins.

We're essentially outlaws now…

I bet governments will soon start calling us that. Wolf's heads as they used to be called back in the 13th century and before. This meant that you had no rights at all and could be killed without comeback. Life was dangerous for the wolf’s head. You didn't know who was your friend and who would betray you - as there was a price on your head.

Right now, with my blanket wrapped around me, and wool-lined hoodie, with the hood pulled up over my head, I'm the hooded man.

I'm in the county of Suffolk in the UK. It's pretty nice. I've been hear for nearly two years now. I'm in the country, out of the way, which seems pretty wise, given that you cannot trust the government or any authorities. You never could. But they're running rogue now.

Essentially, they're "King John". Or rather, those above governments, the financial elites, are King John. Governments are the Sheriff of Nottingham.

An apt metaphor, I feel.

Lots of small to medium businesses have packed it in or gone bankrupt. How governments could allow this to happen is incomprehensible, UNLESS they're working to a plan to reset the whole global system, and essentially turn citizens... yes, including the middle classes... into peasants and thralls. Pretty much The Hunger Games movie brought to life. Maybe that was the financial elites warning us, as does appear to be their want.

One thing these oppressors can't deal with and barely understand, if at all, is the other side that we humans have. The visionary side, which some call supernatural, but it's really natural, part of us, but has been suppressed for a few hundred years - since the Age of Reason and the rise of what I call "scientism", the cult of materialism and order.

Herne speaks…

In fact, the other day, with my hood pulled up against the icy wind, I walked the nearby lanes. Nobody about as there's also a gas/petrol shortage. As I walked I became more and more attuned to raw nature, and headed along an old bridle track. I came to a copse and felt compelled to clamber over the undergrowth to get amidst the trees, three oaks, and a few birch trees, along with hazel.

I sat down on a small mound of earth and felt a drowsiness overcome me. I didn't fall asleep. But found it hard to bring myself out of this reverie even though a strange, ominous feeling overcame me. I wanted to get up and get away. But couldn't. Around one of the oaks, I saw a shadowy presence. Some creature seemed to be taking on form. Perhaps a man, perhaps not, with antlers on his head, and wearing ragged, archaic-looking animal skins. He stood before me. His dark, half-man, half-beast, eyes penetrated mine.

Did he speak? Maybe. It seemed like he was saying:

"The hooded man has returneth. The maid will guide you, she is two, you are three, you are one. A merry band ye must seek. The little man who is big is waiting, staff in hand. Ye must gather those together... for I am Herne the Hunter. I shall appeareth to them."