Discoveries vs. Funny Energy
There may be some who will think that the subjects of this blog—the transcendent Carpenter, the transcendent Fisherman, and the transcendent Gardener—are metaphorical representations I employ to make sense of our earthly reality. They may conjecture that the otherworldly elements I reference, and the fantastic accounts of the Carpenter, the Fisherman, and the Gardener I describe, are figments of a hyperactive imagination. They would be wrong.
Many of the scientific descriptions and assertions in this blog have been confirmed, or are being established, by the scientific community.
Nonetheless, it’s understandable if this blog is unintelligible to some or preposterous to others. Through the years, up to the modern era, even the scientific community has been reluctant to believe their scientific equations, going so far as to “fudge” their computations to ease their incredulity and satisfy their idea of reality.
Einstein’s “fudge” or “funny energy” adjustment to his E = mc2 requires far more faith than believing in an expanding universe. Yet, because an expanding universe means the cosmos had a beginning, he couldn’t reconcile the math. Einstein chose to not only reject his calculations, but to outright change them.
It was this same obstinate behavior that caused science to ridicule my high school theories on invisibility, nothingness, and eternity, to name a few. I admit that it was hurtful to me that science would reject my theories and beliefs without even bothering to look deeper into their substance. But I refused to allow certain members of the science community to dissuade my research, although the resistance increased after I graduated high school and entered the adult world.
Through the years, the solace of seeing modern science confess and reference the actuality of many of my conclusions and discoveries has brought me immense satisfaction.
Breeze of Eternity
When I was five years old, I first experienced eternity.
I was on a school playground chasing Suzy Kollwitz (made up name to protect the innocent). Suzy was beautiful to me, in ways I couldn’t possibly understand, and yet all my little boy mind could think about was how to get close to her. On this particular day, my childish inquisitiveness was getting the best of me and I was trying to look up Suzy’s dress.
Just at the moment when I was about to satisfy my curiosity, I felt the earth stop. All time came to a standstill, and the playground faded away into nothingness. Only the brightness of the sun, the gentle air, and the fundamental elements of the earth remained. Subsequently, I witnessed a brighter light descend from Heaven.
It was then that I perceived a Higher Consciousness, much greater than anything I had ever felt.
In the Higher Consciousness, I felt the breeze of eternity. It scared my young fragile mind.
Like my innocent mind was at the time, the Higher Consciousness was eternal, but childlike. Its innocent quality made me feel safe and secure.
I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Incomprehensible Thoughts of Endlessness
The definitive objective of the earthly carpenter is to attain perfection in his craftsmanship.
In contrast, it’s at the apex of perfection where the transcendent Carpenter begins His work.
From the first instance of touch and measurement, the wood is wrought, fashioned, and—if need be—bent and curved to the will of a Master who refuses to yield His brilliance to anything less than infinite ascendency. Such absolute dominance is unapproachable on the earth; the Carpenter is unequaled in His courage and daring. Willing to lose everything heavenly, even risk His immortality to construct the fullness of His consciousness and vision, the Carpenter measured the vastness of the space fabric and, long ago, crafted His mighty creation: eternity.
The creation of eternity is a greatness reserved to Divinity. Essentially, the foundation of eternity is the origin of all things, and where the hidden mysteries of creation are kept—even its own. Further than eternity’s immense vastness, sheltered by a colossal northern void, the Carpenter cut into the celestial wood and built a secret place to plan the deep, incomprehensible thoughts of endlessness.
Like a surgeon, the Carpenter cut the wood at the unblemished grain and constructed the magnificent dimension of eternity. In the ferocious manifestation, there was no beginning and no end. Fashioned by the astounding vacuity of emptiness, a dreadful loneliness endured. Thereafter, a horrible pain was felt.
Dormant inside the immeasurable emptiness of the northern void, the terrible loneliness pricked the heart of God.
Across the span of eternity, the Carpenter searched for the materials to ease the pain and suffering of loneliness.
Somehow, He had to fill the dark, lonely void.
With tools that flourish beyond the cosmos, the Carpenter dared to envision and build a structure to hold the emptiness and pain, not allowing it to escape.
There in the dark cosmos, the Carpenter filled the nothingness of eternity with His greatest gift, and the dreadful loneliness was no more.
The Carpenter filled eternity with love.Edited by: Crystal Durnan https://www.animaediting.com Photos: Sasha Freemind, Jesse Collins, Christophe Dutour, Samuel Austin http://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
Constructing and Filling Eternity—The Carpenter’s Greatest Gift was originally published to http://www.baltazarbolado.com/
Return to Eden
The Gardner speaks words of the celestial Writer.
Moved to carnal death by ancient emotions and ground to a fine, insignificant earthly dust by His humility, the spirit of the Gardener speaks with profound poetic elegance to the soil, the laceleaf, and the cherry bud. In the absolute vacuum within Arimathea’s event horizon, the Gardener plunges His hands into the rich soil and prepares the earth with words too unlimited and awesome to articulate.
I feel inadequate by the Gardener’s brilliance and yearning.
Dormant and protected by the soil of the garden, I am stirred to the pith and singularity of my emotions by such beautiful verses and libretti. Every day I beg for the hands of the Gardener to stir my earth and dirt and return to me the incarnation of my excellence.
I so much want to believe that life is eternal.
That despite its cold and hardness, death will never extinguish the magnificence that I feel when the Gardener touches my soul and crushes me to a fine dust. At the highest point of consciousness and awareness, only eternity can hold the glorious splendor of life sheltered by Arimathea’s event horizon.
In the Garden of the Resurrection, I hope to recover the love I’ve lost and see my Father and Mother again.
In the late night, I call out to the blessed muse to comfort me as the Gardener quickens the parts of my frozen nucleus and makes my life new. In my higher consciousness, I never forget how wonderful the breath is. As I approach the singularity of my highest consciousness, I never let go of the goodness of virtue and innocence.
Humbled by the Gardener’s affection, I believe in mercy until the sunrise.
In the mighty Tetragrammaton of the Gardener, a forgiving declaration breathes its life across Arimathea, and into eternity the Savior is resurrected from a cold exodus.
The Resurrection is a return to Eden. Buried in Eden’s sacred ground, the Tree of Life dwells. By eating the perfect food of The Tree of Life, death and sickness will be no more.
Arimathea is a young garden on the northern side of my home’s property line. I began planting on its fallow ground about eighteen years ago. Before I planted the Japanese Maple that fronts the garden, I had never planted a living thing. My dad had died a few years prior, and I was still feeling the pain of losing such a great man. His spirit—he was a proficient gardener—inspired me to plant a garden, so I found myself at the local landscaping business surveying the trees. Not sure what I was looking for, I knew when I first laid eyes on the Maple that it was everything I could’ve ever wanted to be my first planting.
Most people probably would’ve started much smaller, but I was moved by Dad’s memory and bought the tree.
The comprehensive process of preparing the ground for the planting of the tree took me longer than I had planned, and before I knew it, it was getting dark.
“What should I do, Dad?” I pleaded into the night. “What should I do? Wait until tomorrow morning to plant your tree?”
The answer came instantly.
“Don’t wait. Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. Take action now.”
Visions of my father inundated my mind. A man of action, Dad never put off actions he could take on today.
With a burst of newfound energy, I ran and jumped into my car and drove it to the front of the garden. Using the car’s lights, I continued my work. Three hours later, with the approach of the midnight hour, the Maple was properly planted into the ground that it still occupies today.
It didn’t look like much, standing alone in the night. But even in the darkness, without need of light, I could sense Dad’s spirit coursing through the laceleaf.
The Acer palmatum is, and always will be, the center of the Arimathea Garden.
Years have passed, but the garden is still young and vibrant. With each passing day, the garden becomes younger, harboring and protecting the treasured memories of my life. Within the Arimathea Garden exists the event horizon wherein rests the singularity of my consciousness.
It is my everything.
In the cool night, within Arimathea’s peace and tranquility, I seek the rhyme and reason of life’s seasons. I war against the evil of this existence and wage combat to save and protect the innocence of Life.
My muses are not the loud and boisterous in this world’s chaos. There, within Arimathea’s gentle soil and quiet air, my higher-consciousness fuses with the duality paradoxand catches the metaphysical (spiritual) wave lengths.
In my heart, the muse within the blossom and the leaf arouses my understanding and inflames my soul. I speak with the poetic eloquence of my old essence. And in the romantic emancipation of my soul, I am reborn into a better creation.
Remember me in Paradise, Protector of Elysium. My zealous wish is that the virtuousness I first felt in Your Higher Consciousness of Love infuses my root and branch and enlivens me.
If you remember me into the night, speaking words of Life and Truth, I know I will exist in the good rich soil of Eden, Arimathea, and Heaven forever.Edited by: Crystal Durnan https://www.animaediting.com Photos: Alexander Bolado http://www.baltazarbolado.com/gardener-a-fountain-of-gardens-a-well-of-living-waters-and-the-tree-of-life/ http://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
After an extremely harsh and long winter, the Japanese Weeping Cherry has finally awakened and fully blossomed. The Arimathea Garden is entranced by its beauty. http://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
The Fisherman is an unearthly dreamer. Hoping on a prayer to find the misplaced, He is relentless in recovering the lost.
Beneath the clear blue sky, searching the watercourse for the secret hiding places of the soul, a masterwork of cunning and ingenuity triggers the weight of the line to skip across the watery surface. With captivating substance, the Fisherman’s cast of faith opens portals into the heavenly wealth, energizing the rudiments of the universe to come together, willingly, to feed the hungry spirit. Fusing brilliance and vision, the Fisherman’s force and might commands the earth’s nourishment to materialize onto His hook.
Caught between a wish and plea, it is only by faith that the line and hook compel such a handsome reward.
Faith is a hard thing to fathom.
It is written that only a small amount of faith can remove a mountain and cast it into the sea. Science has not fully investigated such an incredible declaration, struggling with the knowledge that it takes earthquakes eons to form the elevations and highlands. To comprehend the subtraction of a mountain with such a small amount of substance does not seem possible. Most of the mountain ranges came to be through orogenesis, the major thrusting and folding of the earth’s crust, including major seismic events. After the violence of an earthquake—an occurrence that unleashes the force of the earth’s entire core—the mountains are barely moved.
The release of nuclear ferocity, through the reactions of subatomic elements, is new to our science. Yet, the splitting or fusing of atomic nuclei does not release the energy essential to the Fisherman.
By faith, the Fisherman casts a line across the wave function, connecting with invisible workings and unlimited power sources. In the line and hook, enormous energy is unleashed across the water, and in the wake of faith’s potency and sovereignty, even the wave function is compelled to obey its explicit demand. It is through faith that the Fisherman shakes the wave function at the core of its quantum system and, with the inspiration of His degrees of freedom, choses to produce the reality of the fish.
The transcendent Fisherman seeks from the water, what the transcendent Carpenter seeks from the tree and the wood, and what the transcendent Gardener seeks from the soil and the seed—the substance of things hoped, the evidence of things not yet seen.
Science has wrestled with the likelihood of pain and suffering within the fish’s brain. Assuredly, the fish is part of the consciousness of the universe. However, caught on a hook and wriggling, the fish is impervious to pain. Not because it doesn’t have a highly developed neocortex, or enough nociceptors to record the pain, but because it has entered this realm via the wave function and materialized on the hook by choice.
Within the wave function’s degrees of freedom, there is the choice between sustenance or starvation, between life or death. Reaching the pinnacle of transcendence, the emotions of immensity within the Fisherman spark a life of more abundance. Harnessing the faith of the Conscious Observer—a conception science is reluctant to accept because of its finite characterization—the Fisherman creates the power and nourishment to feed the whole world.https://www.animaediting.com Photos: Frank Busch, Aditya Siva, Nguyen Linh, Casey Lee, Milo McDowell http://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
The transcendent Carpenter is a master craftsman, possessed of a humble core. With hands unparalleled, He dares to build things not built by flesh and blood. Irrespective of earthly material, the Carpenter’s unspoiled quest, in pursuit of perfection, declares the construction and reconstruction of temples. Willing to risk everything to build heavenly mansions in Paradise, His artistic creation is a joyous revelation of love and family. By His humble spirit, in the perception of the most basic human need, the Carpenter made a promise to His family.
A promise of shelter from cold, thirst, and hunger.
With methodical care, the Carpenter measures out the dimension of love. Before a piece of wood is cut, before a nail is pounded, the Carpenter’s tools ensure that the precise height and width of hallowed emotions fasten the foundation of His family’s home to the strong ground. Zealous in the groundwork to build a home capable of existing beyond eternity, the Carpenter carefully cuts the cornerstone to the divine perfection of omnipotence.
Nothing is more important than the true and level anchor of the home into the bedrock. Exactly placing block upon block, through precept upon precept, thereafter He lays the filling and grout of immaculateness. Each layer of the foundation is judiciously marked and set, strong enough to escape the terror of destruction against the mighty storm.
With heart and simplicity, the Carpenter creates the strength of the home through the keystone, reinforcing the substance of the footing to the absolute strength of Heaven. By His preparation, the home will forever be able to sustain, nurture, and protect the divinest of the family: the child.
With the child, happiness, joy and peace that only a Deity can conceive enters and dwells in the home. From this innocent beginning, the Carpenter constructs a home through the visions of His soul. Unable to contain the lowly spirit of the Carpenter’s pure heart, Heaven proclaims the wondrous works of His hands across the galactic splendor. Past the nebulas of the northern sky, since the beginning, the Carpenter has been preparing a place for His family. A place that the eye has never seen, nor the mind has ever imagined, neither has entered the heart of humanity.
The Carpenter’s home is the dwelling place of His family. A safe refuge from the cold of the world, His home is a place of love and happiness. The imposing stature, and impressive workmanship of His mansion, only becomes His family’s home when love resides in its heights and breadths. Within the mansion built by the Carpenter, a love lives that can never fade away, or die. A love unconquerable, invincible.
Love is the cornerstone wherein all life resides, and death will never enter the gates of the Carpenter’s home.
I am convinced that the perfection of the Carpenter has constructed a home to stand the test of time. And in the glorious day of the Resurrection, by the mathematics of the tetrahedron, I will live in a mansion constructed by His hands.
Forever.Edited by: Crystal Durnan https://www.animaediting.com Photos: Ashish Allam, Kate Zh, Christoph Schmid, Juan Gomez, Karl Fredrickson, Shelby Miller, vivek kumar http://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado http://www.baltazarbolado.com/carpenter/ Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
If I had a time machine, I'd return to the moment I first felt The Higher Consciousness of Love...
...and stay therePhoto: Carlos Quintero
Cool of The Day
Emptied of all earthly significance, yet rich in deific infinite substance, the Gardener touches the soil at the zenith of His emotional ascendency.
All existence comes to an absolute stop.
Far beyond the Quantum of Time, far beyond the inception of Planck Time, the Gardener creates life with the innocence of a child.
Walking in the garden in the cool of the day, the Gardener judiciously chooses only the best soil to plant the seed of life. Likewise, the seed is germinated through painstaking study and work.
In the cool of the day I await to feel the peace that surpasses all understanding. The peace walks through the garden in the form of a still, small voice. In the tranquility of an extraordinary peace, I hope to feel the hands of the Gardener reach into my soil and tend to my roots and branches. I may be imperfect, but the pruning away of my inadequacies leads me to a higher consciousness.
After generations of trimming and reducing the damaged and ruined branches, and removing the insolvent soil, I am left like a refined treasure, full of iridescent luster and unquantifiable beauty.
Life-giver of Arcadia
And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire.
—Matthew 3:10 KJV
All possibilities are contemplated, all potential is requisite in the garden of the Gardener.
The measurement of every tree in the garden is equated to the perfection of the Tree of Life. Any tree that does not measure up to the standard of the Tree of Life is destroyed at the root and its remains are burned away, never to be remembered.
It is not cruelty that compels the Gardener to such an absolute, unparalleled ambition toward perfection. Adequately, it is the objective of the surgeon cutting a cancerous tumor away from a healthy body. For if the Gardener is lax in His obligatory duties, then the tree will be consumed with disease and malady. Eventually the tree will become sickly and ultimately die. Moreover, the sickness of one tree will spread to infect the entire garden.
Likewise, it is in the soil where life originates from. When the Gardener cuts and pulls out the invading weeds, it is not vindictiveness or malice that moves Him. Love is his motivation. The Gardener’s love for His trees drives Him to rip out the weeds that threaten to murder and destroy His precious plantings.
The Gardener is a Life-giver.
The Gardener is Love.
My journey does not end in Eden, Shangri-La, or Heaven. These destinations are important, but without the Gardener to bring life, their glory will have no meaning.
Without the perfect vigilance of the Gardener, there is no hope for eternity, no chance for Life to endure beyond the threshold of death.
Through the Gardener’s perfect work and labor, a fountain of gardens will be cultivated, and from out of the abundance and fertility within His pure orchards, a well of living waters will pour out.
Life must prevail.
In the end, it is all that matters.
In the midst of the magnificent spectacle of life, the Tree of Life will exist forever.Photos: Emiel Molenaar, Nix Boulton, Luke Michael, Nikola Jovanovic, Eco Warrior Princess
Rod and Hook
The odyssey of the fisherman is a humble experience. Bursting with the excitement of youth, the fisherman is compelled to equate his fishing failures with the unpretentiousness of the philosopher. Conversely, to be blessed with the earth’s abundance, he must attain a close affinity to that of a scholar.
Trial and error have their place in the learning curve of the fisherman. Notwithstanding, it is the thought process of the fisherman that will locate the secret places of the bass.
Patience is a virtue, say the wise.
Patience is the weapon of the fisherman. Through patience, he studies the movements of the steelhead to discover the whereabouts of the walleye. Through wisdom he discovers the acceptance of the fish to the activities of earthly life, thus arriving at a semblance of kinship with the fish. From this understanding and connection, the fisherman brings the fish willingly to its fate.
Not wasteful, neither supercilious, the fisherman establishes a devotion to the water and land the fish lives in, eventually becoming a devoted steward of the fish’s watery home, in the fervent hope and prayer that the fish continues to exist, so that he can subsist on its meat.
In a spiritual awakening, the fisherman’s cast transcends earthly time, he and his fly line vanishing into the wave function. By his patience, the subatomic particles of the fish are observed by his faith, thus collapsing the wave function.
With a dramatic pull of the fisherman’s rod, the fish hurdles through space and time, materializes over the glimmering water, and eats the bait on the fisherman’s hook.
Feed the Whole Earth
Under the bright sun, above the river’s current, the fisherman’s line spreads across the air with the weightlessness of a whisper. The practice of a wrist flick reveals a pensive idea, replete with cunning, seeking to entice the salmon with the enthralling flutter of the fly.
Standing in the placid water, brandishing the tools of the artist, the fisherman’s artistic expression beckons to the earth’s bounty. Like the inspiration that moves the writer’s hands to strike the keys and pen an inspirational story, that guides the hands of the musician to pluck and caress the guitar strings to a magnificent song, that escorts the hands of the painter to brush the precise strokes of the master, the fisherman’s hands are the conduits that express a deeper meaning. In the crafting of the lure, in the glancing of the bait’s shadow, in the tantalizing skim off the glistening water, the artistry of the fisherman is witnessed.
Standing upon a pedestal made of water and spirit, the fisherman assumes the place of a spiritual artist, seeking out nourishment not of this world.
And Jesus said unto them, Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.
—Mark 1:17 KJV
Clearly radiant in the pleasing sunlight, removed from the trials and sufferings of a cold, starving world, the fisherman, guided by Providence, seeks the refuge of a river or lake to experience the work of the Master. Blessed with the bounty of Heaven, the fisherman gives freely from his earthly basket, never dismayed by the limits of this earthly existence.
With but five loaves and two fishes, the Fisherman feeds the whole earth.
—Matthew 14: 15-21 KJV
Photos: Aziz Acharki, Holger Link, Habila Mazawaje, Alan Ricardézhttp://www.baltazarbolado.com/carpenter/ http://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
In the ancient past, water ran over Earth’s lands in violent, uncontrolled blankets, with no clear paths.
Only the Spirit of Life moved upon the face of the waters.
Around 450 million years ago, vascular plants formed. Soaking up carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, the xylem and phloem brought forth rivers and muds, until eventually soils were molded. With the gathering of dusts, the forests and farmlands were fashioned. Thereafter, life forms, grass, and seed populated the lands until humanity came into existence.
In the jungles and the wood, life was created and brought forth others of its kind. Animation flourished and abounded.
Wood is Alive
Wood is alive; it never truly dies.
Cut, thrashed, or pulverized, in the quintessence of its germ, wood lives and moves.
Reaching toward Heaven the tree contests gravity, seeking to attain true plumb. In familiarity of the determination and ambition of its roots, the tree’s wood seeks the carpenter’s skill and proficiency to be crafted precisely throughout by plumb and level. Fashioned by the carpenter’s square and noble tools, the wood is transformed into a fine creation. In the transformation between hewn and build, the wood transforms the craftsman into an artisan of transcendent dimensions.
The quality of the wood is felt in the touch. By its firmness and texture, equal to its shade, the wood remembers its fitted length and width. Like a stored treasure, the wood waits upon the carpenter to reveal and express its true meaning. Long before the vascular plants formed, when the seed floated in the deep ocean profundity envisaging the sapling and the bark, the tree cried out for the carpenter’s touch, yearning to be crafted by the profound wisdom of Divinity.
Fitted and molded to an excellence only a craftsman can envision and create, each part of the wood connects to the carpenter’s heart, a guided story expressed from ancient time. In the hands of the carpenter, the wood’s crafted to precise dimensions. By mortise and tenon, the ancient joints marvel in their simplicity, hewn and fashioned to the full degree of their strength. The open or through mortise accepts the peg and dowel, rightly hardened by the biscuit to fuse the materials into a stronger union. The aesthetic magnificence of the woodcraft and joinery reveals the interlocking arterial bond disguised in the wood’s splendor. Observed by the dovetail, the artisan’s creative ingenuity breathes through the wood an excellent handiwork.
The wish of the tree is to feel the hand of the carpenter and be formed to a pronounced creation.
Tree of Life
It is no wonder that the Almighty is called the Word, and wrote a book for the living. The paper composing the book is alive, further carrying the good news of the message to all the living and breathing on earth.
In life, the Good News revealed to the blind the true nature of reality.
And he looked up, and said, I see men as trees, walking.(Mark 8: 24)
Upon death, the body of the Savior resided in a garden for three days while his spirit was hurt and punished in hades. (Mark 15: 43-47) Three days were extended across eternity’s span; eternity was compressed into three days. Thus, payment for sin was provisioned.
The soil of the garden, blessed by the treasured lifeblood, nourishes the wood. At the center of the plot sits the Tree of Life.
In the midst of the troubles of this world, confronted with the death, sickness, and turmoil of a heartless existence, I cling to the life of the Tree in the midst of the garden.
In its crust and hardened skin, I am protected. In its roots and foliage, I am healed. By eating its fruit, I find sustenance and perfection.
The food of the Tree of Life bestows to me the gift of eternal life.http://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
The following article Carpenter—The Measured Wood Builds My Home and Constructs the Dimensions of My Immeasurable Life Read more on: baltazar bolado
Leftist Avenues of Political Deceit and Legislative Corruption
To raise revenue to fund the Civil War, an unqualified model formed out of an incompetent leadership introduced the Revenue Act of 1861. Upon its termination in 1866, the Socialist Labor Party supported a graduated tax the following year. Subsequently, in 1892, the Populist Party called for a graduated income tax.
Prior to 1913, federal revenue came from tariffs rather than taxes.
In a battle between the judicial branch and the legislative branch of government, the Wilson-Gorman Tariff Act of 1894 served as the initial battleground. The following year, in a landmark case Pollock v. Farmers’ Loan & Trust Company, 157 U.S. 429 (1895), affirmed on rehearing, 158 U.S. 601 (1895), the Supreme Court of the United States ruled the Income Tax Act of 1894 unconstitutional because it violated the provision that direct taxes be apportioned among the states on the basis of population.
In 1913, pushed through leftist avenues of political deceit and legislative corruption, the Sixteenth Amendment vacated the righteous judgement of the Supreme Court. From out of a murky perversion, developed within a twisted misapplication, a grotesque and horrid apparition took shape. Like a cancerous growth on a healthy body, the apparition took hold of the most vulnerable areas of its victim. The deadly result was immediately evident. In a swift and violent devastation that refused to demonstrate the slightest mercy, the evil apparition defied the words of the Founders and created the criminal mechanisms that the faithful Patriots of 1776 had risked their lives to abolish.
With vicious callousness, exercising a cold brutality that has ruined and devastated countless civilizations throughout history, with an outstretched hand the apparition approaches one and all, either to wrestle pocketbook or soul from its countless victims. Against those who dare to resist the heartless thief, the robber takes up arms and takes captive the citizenry.
The Sycophantic Tax Collector
In 1776, this was the foul and obscene vision the Founders had pledged their very lives to each other to prevent. Now, in the form of the bully that considers only its survival as essential, the specter comes to torment the people of the Republic. Lurking in the DC political pit, emerge the laborers of wickedness, drudges preying upon dredges, conducting the business of the king. Money collectors and money changers, the workers assume the image of the tax collector. Labelled by other disgusting designations, such as appraiser and assessor, it is the sycophantic tax collector who has ravaged the liberty of the descendants of the free people. It is the tax collector who, like an obedient apple-polisher, delivers the coup de gras to the slave-citizens. For the profit and gain of the modern-day masters of our Republic—the international money changers who have perverted our freedoms and taken away our independence—the lash and rod of tax is inflicted upon the backs of the people.
The history of the Republic of the United States proves that freedom and taxes are diametrically opposed to each other. It is the burden of tax that enslaves.
For this reason, the Revolutionary War was declared in 1776.
For this reason, our Republic was born.
To secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity, bestowed to us by the free people who lived and died to purchase our liberties, then a new declaration must sound across our land.
If others have sounded the declaration of a free people in our generation, to rid our Republic of the stain of direct taxes, then let me follow their clarion call.
If I am alone, then let me be the first to sound the bugle upon the battlefield, and defend the righteous judgment of the 1776 revolutionary patriots who dared to believe themselves free and braved war against the king’s tyranny of taxation.
Publiushttp://baltazarbolado.com On twitter: https://twitter.com/baltazar_bolado Author of: http://baltazarbolado.com/book/publius-liberatas-aut-mors/ http://baltazarbolado.com/book/paint-black/
Baltazar Bolado is a writer, blogger and social media influencer. He loves his country and is using his platform to do his part to Make America Great again. Baltazar's writing is iconic and focuses on the foundations of what made America great, Faith, Family and Hard Work.