The Age of Interlocked Lock Step Automatons

Start here

Organizational Chart, Bank for International Settlements Kill Box

Then go here. https://whowhatwhy.org/podcast/the-mysterious-death-of-an-artist-whose-drawings-were-too-revealing/

Patricia Goldstone’s INTERLOCK is the first biography to explore the life and suspicious death of Mark Lombardi,  a controversial artist whose drawings walked the line between art and information — and revealed the incestous connections between banking, organized crime, politicians, the FBI and the CIA.

His work highlighted such subjects as the Bank of Credit and Commerce International (BCCI), the Iran-Contra affair, the World Finance Corporation, and the relationship between George W. Bush and Harken Energy Corporation. The mystery of  Lombardi’s alleged suicide has yet to be resolved. On March 22, 2000, he was found hanged. Friends find it suspicious because Lombardi was on the the cusp of achieving the recognition that would crown his career.

A 100 print run on an 1780 letter press in New Hampshire a single page poem by Walt Emerson given to Thoreau as gift bought in a box from storage auction.

For Walden’s Recluse

Lo, soul! seest thou not God’s purpose from the first?            

The earth to be spann’d, connected by network,                  

The races, neighbors, to marry and be given in marriage,            

The oceans to be cross’d, the distant brought near,

The lands to be welded together.            

A worship new I sing,            

You captains, voyagers, explorers, yours,            

You engineers, you architects, machinists, yours,            

You, not for trade or transportation only,

But in God’s name, and for thy sake, O soul

If the red slayer think he slays,

Or if the slain think he is slain,

They know not well the subtle ways

I keep, and pass, and turn again.

Far or forgot to me is near;

Shadow and sunlight are the same;

The vanished gods to me appear;

And one to me are shame and fame.

They reckon ill who leave me out;

When me they fly, I am the wings;

I am the doubter and the doubt,

I am the hymn the Brahmin sings.

The strong gods pine for my abode,

And pine in vain the sacred Seven;

But thou, meek lover of the good!

Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.