Squatters Rights

Mankind has the wrong idea about its existence and the history of civilization and this planet. 

Mankind is a species of finders determined to keep what they found and have found since the Great Flood. What else would mankind do when they crawl out of their holes in the grounds, climb down from mountaintops, or out of caves or wherever else their saviors hid them when the rains came and they found all of those megalithic stone structures? Mankind took their findings by becoming squatters. And squatters Mankind remains.  That's what happens when the squatters from the stars return to see the planet cleansed of all life. What they found were hordes of humans, that failed experiment of hybridization rescued and hidden by their own and emerging onto the pristine surface of the planet.

No doubt the leader's first words were, "How do we get rid of them now? They've already infested the planet. Nothing short of global annihilation will get rid of them now!" 

People say the same thing after leaving their homes and allowing the exterminators to tent or bomb or spray the premises to get rid of the vermin infestation. Where they expected to roll up their sleeves, pull out the cleaning supplies, and clean the carcasses of vermin they found instead, armed with spray poisons and roach motels, the continuing fight to get rid of yet more vermin crawling from the walls, likely from the next door neighbor's where they refused to vacate so the exterminators could do their jobs, and the struggle continues. More poisons. More roach motels. More electronic widgets promising to finally do the job. More trouble and yet the vermin remain.

It is apparent the only real solution is to pack up and move, seal all furnishings and boxes in a secluded and hopefully airtight storage facility, and leave everything to be bombed with more poisons. That will do the job. . . at last.

It never works. Some dark adapted vermin burrow into the niches and crevices having become inured to the effects of poison and eventually emerge with stronger tolerance to poisons having bred into the later generations. The whole process must begin again. Better poisons modified to kill the more resistant generation and on and on and on until either the masters or the vermin win. Even if it means more must die or their homes are destroyed utterly.

Is that what has happened to mankind? Is mankind more resilient to the poisons or are saviors without the master race continuing to rescue and save mankind -- yet again?

Mankind is very resilient and getting outside help is unconscionable -- to the masters, the progenitors of mankind even after having wiped the planet clean with the Great Flood about 11,000 years ago. Someone told doomed mankind the end was coming and led mankind to safety. If only the progenitors had not promised not to sterilize mankind in the future with another Great Flood and put the rainbow in the sky as proof of the detente in getting rid of the human vermin.

No doubt it has been helpful that mankind moving into the megalithic buildings, cities, and ruins while learned mankind made up stories about where all those stone edifices came from and how they twisted the myths into fanciful stories and histories of how mankind evolved from cave dwellers and nomads to create such marvels. Many of the people bought into the stories. Why wouldn't they? Even at the height of their ingenuity and power they used their imagination to steer the gullible into believing the myths and lies and swinging their ridicule so widely that even those on the fence would fall into line to help delegitimize and ridicule even the strongest and smartest of mankind when the very real threat of career suicide and world wide ridicule failed to work.

The problem wasn't only the threats and ridicule. The real problem was there were enough who clung

to the truth even in the face of such odds and would not let go of the bone of contention no matter what. Like the generations of poison-resistant vermin left in the wake of widespread extermination, humans bred too quickly and passed their knowledge and doubts to the generations that sprang up like resistant vermin and weeds and spread those kernels of truth and wisdom that burrow deep and breed true no matter what the masters do until the only remaining option is violence and ruin.

As long as the truth sneaks out and spreads, even to a handful of believers, there will be no option but to utterly and completely destroy the planet and all life in and on the surface.

In the end, squatters will win. There are more of them than there are of us and the squatters will defeat the best intentions of the masters. The squatters will finally escape the masters' control and with the dawning transcendance be beyond our reach, influence, and plane of existence. Wiping the historical record and leaving a fantasy in his academic place only works when using the 1001 stories told by Sheherezade as long as there is a Burton to translate the tale and sell it to multitudes already addicted to the opioid dream.

That is all. Disperse.