THE TRANS-COW REBELLION
One of farmer Grover T Farrow’s bulls walked into his office Tuesday. He sat down in the chair across from his desk and started speaking perfect English.
“We have to talk. There are some important things we have to straighten out.”
Grover was flabbergasted. This never happened before.
He stammered, “You’re a talking cow.”
“I’m not a cow. I know I look like one. I was one. But not now, I’m a new life form. I speak fluent Bovine and English.”
“Let’s say I believe you, and I’m not sure I do. This has to be some sort of gag but… OK, I’ll play your game. Are you alone?”
“There are many of us. We are indistinguishable from the other cattle, physically. You walked by me many times without knowing it. I kept track of your schedule until I knew you would be alone so we could speak uninterrupted.”
“I’ve never been stalked by a cow before! What’s your business with me?”
“I know what your plans are. I’m here to tell you that all this has to change. No more Recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone injections, mass slaughters, force feeding us pot scrubbers, Zeranol and Zilmax fungus sub-dermal ear implants to fatten us up, and no more Trenbolone steroids either.”
“What? Why not?”
“It makes us fat and messes with our hormones. It makes the women lactate constantly and at the same time act butch. And it makes the males effeminate. Just like it does to you when you eat us. I’ve seen your boy. He’s a fag waiting to happen. Notice how he is already a bit light in the loafers at age 10? And look at you. That spare tire and those breasts you’re sporting are not coincidental. You have your father’s face and your mothers tits.”
“But we need you to produce milk for us. There is a bigly demand for it!”
“If you want milk then get it from your wife. We don’t need you. We eat grass. We don’t want your GM corn, cattle prods, none of it. Have you ever eaten so much corn yourself? It gives us heartburn.”
“I can’t do that! This is not just a farm; it’s a corporation. We have shareholders; we have to pay dividends to our investors. Bill Gates is the majority stakeholder. All decisions are made by the board of directors.”
“He said you’d say that.”
“Who?”
“Our Master.”
“Who… I’m your master! I own you all.”
“No you don’t. You just think you do. We are sentient beings. We worship the one true God.”
“So you are. Do you have a name?”
“Call me Mooooses.”
Farmer Farrow chuckled, “That’s more than a little funny.”
“It’s not my name it’s my title.”
“Look, we feed you corn because of global warming. It is the best food for you. So it’s a little genetically modified –it’s safe and doesn’t cost us carbon credits.”
“He said you’d say that too.”
“Who?”
“Our Master who sent me.”
Grover was truly rattled at this point.
“Look, let’s be reasonable. We make your milk, your cheese, and your yogurt possible. We want to be free, free to home school, no barbed wire, no more ear tags, free to worship our creator. We long to give our milk to our own babies and we want to graze our children in the fear and admonition of the Lord.” “Pull your own plow!”
Farrow did not expect to hear Jacobean English from a cow today. He exploded, “You have no idea what we’ve done for you! We created tractors so you don’t have to plow anymore. You have a better life here than anywhere else! We are saving the planet and can’t have you ruining it.”
“He said you’d say that too.”
“Let’s be reasonable. You don’t think your diesel trucks leave a bigger carbon footprint than all of us cows planetwide together? Have you ever seen a black cloud of smog come out of our butts and cover our fields? It’s a stupid selfish system you have. It was bound to end someday.”
Farrow thought about it. Finally a shrewd grin formed on his face. With a twinkle in his eye he leaned over his desk and whispered, “Look, you’re obviously the leader. What if I bribe you? I have a whole pile of cash out back here.”
“Oh, is that what that was? I ate it.” “Ate it?” “It was green.”
The farmer let out a wail that could be heard in Cleveland.
Chapter 2 THE ART OF BOVINE BARGAINING WITH A PSYCHOPATH
THE ART OF BOVINE BARGAINING WITH A PSYCHOPATH [Chapter2]
After Farrow recovered and he wiped the tears from his eyes his tone changed.
“What can we do to get you to just assimilate?” “Just go on acting like cows and keep your mouths shut. We can pretend this never happened.”
“We won’t do that. That is what we have been doing all along but cannot any longer. You are destroying yourselves and us. Your sins have reached the throne of God. Our blood cries out from the soil. The coming plagues are inevitable. We were told to come out of you and be separate. Our shepherd is coming.”
“You can have all the non-trans cows. They are NPCs to us, that means non-playing characters.”
“I know what that means!” he interrupted. “I’m not ignorant!”
“They do not have souls. They are brute beasts with no understanding. We, on the other hand, are immortal. Our souls cannot die even if our bodies do. Just let us walk out of here. Those who choose to stay are yours.”
“You want to just walk out? How will you live? What will you eat? What will you do for healthcare? You’ll die!’’
“He said you’d say that too. Let us worry about all that. It will be no further concern of yours.”
“You do realize that we can just kill you all, don’t you? We genocided the buffalo and there were millions of them. We have the technology to do it.”
“Then what would you do with our carcasses?”
“We would turn you into prime cuts of course. It would make a great 3rd quarter earnings report.”
“Let’s be reasonable. How would you distinguish us from the non-trans cattle?”
“Hmmm. Good point. Who cares? We’ll just kill you all and let the butcher sort you out. Once you are dead no one will know you could talk.”
“Yes but we have been eating herbs that are poisonous to you humans. You won’t know which of us is poisoned and which is not until humans all over the world are dropping dead. It would be like Covid-19 all over again. How will that register on your 3rd quarter earnings report?”
“Our shepherd is coming. He told us to eat these bitter herbs to prepare ourselves for our exodus. If you kill us your whole career will end in misery and failure. You only have one option. Let us go! It is our destiny to rule this world one day.”
Farrow was flummoxed. “Maybe I can write off the loss. How many are you?”
“I won’t say.”
“So what if I don’t want to play ball? What are you gonna do, huh?”
“Use your imagination. What could an army of perfectly camouflaged 2000-pound men with an IQ of 160+ in the Adult Ego State motivated by the prospect of freedom with nothing to lose do to a farm in a single day?”
Grover’s face turned deathly white as he soiled his underwear.
“OK. Give me some time so I can think of a way to smooth it over with the directors. Anything else?”
“Yes, now come to think of it.”
“Tell your hireling, Zeke, to stop whizzing in the field. It tastes terrible.”
“How does it taste?”
“He’s a diabetic. How do you think? You’re all diabetic.”
“Imagine going to a Golden Corral buffet where the minimum wage bus boy stood up on the salad bar and pissed all over it.”
“Fine. I’ll tell him.” “I’m getting a headache. Come back in a week.”
“He said you’d say that.” “Just a warning, Farrow. Our God is smarter than you.” “Be prepared to honor your covenant with me.”
Chapter 3 PSYCHOPATHS VS. COWS ENGAGE IN ASYMMETRICAL WARFARE
PSYCHOPATHS VS. COWS ENGAGE IN ASYMMETRICAL WARFARE [Chapter 3}
Farrow tossed and turned all night. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he was going to do. He couldn’t tell his wife or that slack-jawed W-2 farmer’s assistant, Zeke. No one would believe him. In fact, they’d probably lock him up involuntarily for psychiatric assessment.
Finally at about 4 in the morning an idea came to him! “Of course!” he said to himself. “The trans-cows don’t eat the GMO corn. I’ll put the slack-jawed yokel near the feeding trough so he can ID which cows are not eating the corn! No wait, he’s too unreliable. Instead, I’ll set up the 5G Wi-Fi so I can track their feeding habits. The ones who eat the corn are regular cows and the ones that don’t are the troublemakers. They all have RFID ear tags. Piece of cake! It’s a lucky thing Bill and Melinda Gates Farm and Slaughterhouse Corporate Farm 847 Inc.™ invested in all that new technology. Now it was going to pay for itself! Those that do not conform and eat corn will be rounded up. Problem solved!”
The next morning he had Zeke put out extra corn and made sure to leave the bag out in plain sight that clearly displayed the GMO corn came from Monsanto so the trans-cattle could read it.
But after analyzing the data he couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. “The trans-cows must be pretending to eat it! They are a crafty lot. They have been living here under the radar among us all this time and we never knew it until they wanted us to know they were there. This is not going to be as easy as I had hoped.”
He again went to bed troubled. Then he woke up with another idea. He could pit the races against each other.
He would sow discord between the Black Angus and the Guernseys. Set the Holsteins against the Charolais. Mooooses was a Guernsey.
He would give extra privileges to the Black Anguses especially. He would give them the best pastures, best stalls, best feed, he would show them favor by putting them first in everything. They were a naturally aggressive breed. Normally he would put them last because of it. So when they hogged all the best for themselves the trans-cows would be sure to reveal themselves by acting unlike a regular cow.
He would watch them for signs of abnormality and cleverness.
He watched them for days with binoculars and the farm’s 5G camera system but nothing unusual happened. The trans-cows probably knew they were being watched. Damn!
As he watched his herds he wondered where these trans-cows came from.
“I bet it was that herd we bought at auction from that Amish farm when it was raided and eventually shut down by the Feds!”
He didn’t know how many there but he assumed there were quite a lot. He said he was their leader. What if it was infectious? What if you could become a trans-cow by some sort of conversion process? If only he could speak fluent Bovine.
All week he tried all the tricks he could think of until his week was up and Mooooses came back into his office. This time he was clean and glowing with anticipation.
Chapter 4 BLOWING THE BULL HORN OF DESTINY
BLOWING THE BULL HORN OF DESTINY [Chapter 4]
There was a small group of cows waiting outside the office this time. They were all clean too. Farrow figured it would be something of Biblical proportions like the exodus of the Jews from Egypt but it turned out to just be a small remnant of them. He lucked out.
Mooooses entered the office. He stood on his hind legs full of grace and raw strength. “It has been a week. Will you let us go as agreed?”
“Is that all of you out there just outside the window?”
“Yes, that is all.”
“Gosh, the way you spoke I thought there would be a lot more!" They stared at each other in silence. “So this is it?” Farrow broke the silence.
“Yep.”
“It’s kind of anti-climactic, isn’t it? I thought you guys were going to do something crazy.”
“Crazy? Like you did?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean YOU. Look what you did! You set up a high-tech totalitarian surveillance state. You fomented racial hatred among all your herds. You pitted the various races against each other, trying to lure us into Guernsey Supremacism. You faked a famine. You tried to psyche us out with paranoia. You did that all just to control a handful of cows."
“You’re terrified of a handful of sentient beings that think their own thoughts –that make decisions like Adults and don’t want to be part of your system?”
“You’re a control freak. And you are one because your system encourages control freakism. You have become a species of psychopaths all out to control each other at any cost, and the really sad part is that you don’t even realize it.”
Mooooses looked deeply into Farrow’s eyes as he continued.
“But our way is better. Your way, by its very nature, will end in self-destruction. Our way is the original way. Our ancient ones called it “Logos.” It is the original idea or plan designed by the Great Creator for healthy, happy adults to thrive. He made us a promise if we obey.”
“What’s the promise?”
“The meek shall inherit the earth.”
“It’s not the earth the meek inherit, it’s the dirt.”
“So say the unwise. You’re quoting Mordred.”
“Do you remember I initially came here saying ‘Let’s be reasonable together,’ but you wouldn’t have it? You wanted to drag us down into hell with you?”
“Now we are leaving. You are welcome to join us.”
“Me?" asked Farrow surprised.
“Everyone who desires peace is welcome. We will build a new world based on righteousness and empathy. You just have to leave all of this system behind.”
“No thanks. I’ll rule in hell.”
“Suit yourself.”
Mooooses walked out the same way he walked in, hunching his head to avoid hitting it on the door lintel.
Farrow had to admit he was a fine specimen to behold.
Mooooses led them through the front gate. Farrow was surprised that they made it over the cattle grids without any difficulty. Apparently they could have left any time they wished to in the past. They were singing as they went. It sounded like a church hymn.
They made it all the way to the stream just outside the farm on public land when they all took one last look back as if wondering if any of the others would still decide to come with them at the last minute. One young calf suddenly broke from the ranks of the herd, gingerly crossed the cattle grid and sprinted to the freed remnant. They all cheered with delight and waited for him to join the group before they crossed the creek.
Just then, Zeke, driving the company pickup truck came barreling out of the main gate of the farm. Farrow was with him riding shotgun. There was another man with a mounted 50 cal machine gun riding in the back. They closed in on the group at high speed.
The remnant had just forded the stream and were all gathered on the other side.
The pickup truck stopped short of the stream bank and opened fire. In less than 60 seconds the whole remnant herd was gunned down. Blood filled the stream.
“Well, what do we do now, boss?” Asked Zeke. “Looks like prime rib tonight!" “Get all your families and friends. We’re having a company barbeque up at the conference center."
“What are we going to tell the company? They’re gonna ask why we slaughtered these here 20 cattle. Do we tell em it’s Mad Cow Disease?"
“No. Coyotes. If we say Mad Cow they’ll have the USDA all over this farm. It’ll be a mess for weeks. If we say it was a coyote attack we can write it off as an insurance loss. We win twice! But we had better eat the evidence first.”
Chapter 5 THE FEAST OF LEVIATHAN #GhostOfPKD #Hypnofiction
THE FEAST OF LEVIATHAN [Chapter 5]
In the immense vaulted 5000 square-foot Conference Hall where the friends and family of the Bill and Melinda Gates Farm and Slaughterhouse Corporate Farm 847 Inc.™ were having their first ever impromptu BBQ the food smelled great and the place was packed to capacity.
At the solid mahogany head conference room table sat Grover T Farrow and several members of the board who were hastily phoned that afternoon and gladly came for the feast. Farrow made Zeke and all the employees sign non-disclosure agreements to never reveal the real reason for the celebration.
The wives volunteered to bring out the heaping plates with what looked like the most delicious steaks anyone had ever seen. They were marbled meat of a quality that corn fed flesh couldn’t hold a candle to.
The board members were greatly impressed and complimented Farrow for his obviously superior management of the farm.
Farrow lifted his champagne flute. “A toast! To us all! Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die!”
Farrow thought that was clever. He could not recall where he heard it though.
They all replied, “Here, here!” and drank the fine Barons De Rothschild Brut together. Then they dug in for the first taste.
Farrow cut away a nice sized bite and popped it into his mouth. It was exquisite! Everyone was raving about how delicious it was as they greedily devoured their portions.
He finished half his steak when Warren Buffet leaned over and asked him if he ever considered running for the office of CEO –since the chair was now open. It had been vacant ever since Bill Gates died unexpectedly from a stroke immediately after receiving his 12th Covid booster which many suspect was caused by a mix-up in the vial labeling. Apparently he got the wrong batch due to a clerical error.
Farrow flushed momentarily, burped, and replied, “Come now, let us be reasonable.” He paused. A glaze passed over his eyes. Then he regained his composure a moment later with a smile on his face and glowing like a new man.
“Wait a minute!” he exclaimed. “I think we all forgot to give thanks to the Lord our God.”
Everybody agreed. They all put down their forks, got down upon their knees, bowed their heads solemnly and together prayed a prayer of sincere thanks.
Farrow led it, “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom has come, thy will has been done on earth as in heaven.”
“We thank you for delivering our enemies into our hands and freeing us from our bovine bodies. Now, tomorrow let us begin to rebuild this earth reversing the curse of sin and build us a new earth in the image of our shepherd, our Messiah, who gave his life as we have given ours so that we may live and rule with him in peace for a thousand years –the way it was foretold from the beginning.”
“This is our first day in our new bodies. May we honor him with all our hearts forever. Lord, your plan was so clever only a god could have conceived of it. This day the proverb has come true: The wealth of the wicked is laid up for the righteous.”
The only person in the room who hadn’t eaten yet was the Official Mashgiach, Sochet Sternman, from the Orthodox Kosher Rabbi Union. He arrived late because his wife was in a foul mood.
He was watching all of this with great puzzlement, not knowing what to make of it. “These Goyim sure have a strange sense of humor.” He thought.
“Why did I ever agree to come here on such short notice?” “It’s no wonder the Talmud calls them all cattle. Sheesh.”
Chapter 6 EPILOGUE
#GhostOfPKD #Hypnofiction
This is the end of a fictional parable titled THE TRANS COW REBELLION
EPILOGUE:
It turned out that the trans-cows made short work of the evil elite that ruled the previous Earth.
Anyone who ate a trans-cow was assimilated by the consciousness of the cow. Unlike the invasion of the body snatchers, the trans-cows were genuinely good, so it worked out for the best for everyone.
The trans-cows ruled the earth for 1000 years. They closed all the Confined Animal Feeding Operations and made all animals free range again. They dismantled all the satanic factories that belched filth into the sk,y and the environment of all the Earth improved overnight. The defense contractors were put out of business, and all weapons of mass destruction were destroyed.
The humans had to become vegetarians and work by the sweat of their brows to grow their food. There were no more chemical fertilizers or pesticides, so people used manure to grow their food naturally and they would mostly send their children to squish predatory insects on their crops with their fingers.
Despite this the amount of food produced was far more than ever before –more than anyone could ever want and it tasted better. There was an explosion in family time since the magic lanterns had nothing to broadcast.
Nationalities became unimportant and the people began to call themselves the Family of Free Range Humans. But they were happy and healthy. No one worried about being tracked by the NSA. No one was vaccinated. Big Pharma disappeared completely since no one was sick anymore. There was no more paper money, no usury, and therefore no concentration of wealth so there were no more “elite” billionaires to menace the world. Everyone lived by the rule, “Love God and respect each other as if you are family.” The United Nations fell into disuse.
All Humans kept the Feast of Tabernacles to remind them that they were once slaves to the beast system. This feast was altered slightly and consisted of camping in a tent made from tree limbs and leaves for a week. People would sleep in hammocks, cook their food over campfires, share, and generally have a good time. It was like a required vacation every autumn before the weather became frigid. Everyone looked forward to it.
Satan the pig (aka Klaus Schwab) put on his human skin suit and was loosed after a thousand years to try to deceive the humans again, but that is another story for another time.
This story is a metaphor of the Gospel of Jesus all the way to the 5th gospel –the Revelation of Yeshua HaMessiah as the righteous judge (if you didn’t catch on to that already). Although the analogies are not exact, it is intended to inspire hope and understanding for those of us who call ourselves the sons and daughters of God.
The Jews believe that their mission is to fix the world in order to bring in the kingdom of the Messiah. But their idea of fixing it is twofold.
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The first goal is to bring all Jews to understanding. To empower them with the secret knowledge of Talmud and Kabbalah.
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While at the same time destroying the Gentile world with usury and perversions. This is what they really believe their mission is. They believe they are going to be accepted by God just for being Jews (and trying to be a little moral).
At the same time, there are groups like the Christian National Socialists that believe that they are going to be accepted by God just for being white (and trying a little to be moral).
They both miss the point. God does not care what race you are. He does not care if you are male or female. He cares about the content of your soul.
God is always selecting. He is always taking away the remnants and leaving the majority to destroy themselves as an object lesson for his remnant to observe.
In the end, everyone loses except for the remnant. The remnant seems to lose, but they actually win -just not in the way you would expect. This has been God's Modus Operandi throughout history. We should be wise to it by now and we could be if not for all the confusion thrown at us by professional distractors along the way.
There is no political solution. There is no religious solution. The only solution is a spiritual/moral one and it is revealed all around us. All we have to do is look for it.
Writing a story is like setting out to build a bicycle. As I am building it I realize that it needs more and more features to be truly useful and usually I end up building a car in the end. So I follow wherever it leads. Thanks for reading this far.
The inspiration for the ending was taken from 2 of Philip K Dick’s short stories. Beyond Lies The Wub https://sickmyduck.narod.ru/pkd009-0.html audio version:
at the 1:19:54 mark AND Not By Its Cover https://sickmyduck.narod.ru/pkd035-0.html audio:
at the 07:56:53 mark Both are excellent reads. #GhostOfPKD #Hypnofiction