The Freedom Magazine contains insightful articles, entertaining columns and much more! Stuff you don’t get in the mainstream media – all printed on paper. What’s in this month’s issue? Here’s a sneak peek: The ideal of a leisure state: already a hundred years ago, Chesterton wrote about people being controlled by machines From apathy to
By Ray Wilson We finished our work early. “Do you fancy a trip to the Elephant house—the weather is nice—we can pick up the items for Sally en route,” I suggest. “Alright, let’s go,” the missus replies. “I’ll grab the hound and meet you out front.” I say We decide to take the car for
By Ray Wilson After leaving the A303, our road to the sun is narrower and calmer, more indicative of earlier times—more suited to a horse and cart rather than a motorised vehicle. Our motorcycle combination purrs along the lanes, weaving through the picturesque countryside as we soak in the peaceful surroundings. We are staying in
By Ray Wilson “I think I’ve got chemtrail sniffles,” my missus tells me. “You had better start…” I begin. “On the Suramin, every hour on the hour, I know I started on it,” she interjects. I leave the missus to recuperate. It’s dank; a cloying greyness hangs over the forest. My hound sniffs at the
By Ray Wilson It is quiet on the Ashdown forest path—sandstone rocks jut out at awkward angles. The rainfall of millennia has softened the edges of the rocks, creating a smooth and almost ethereal atmosphere as the mist settles over the ancient trail. A quietude: I instinctively reach out and place my hand on the
By Ray Wilson The flash floods of Thursday washed debris—dirt, twigs, and leaves down the road; it has been shoved to one side by passing vehicles over a couple of days. We swerve slightly to avoid the now tinder dry piles. The heat of the sun has burned through the clouds of the morning, providing
By Ray Wilson The late afternoon sun illuminates the garden; beyond the paved courtyard, there is a fishpond. Beyond those manicured lawns and formal flower beds, there is shrubbery on the far borders. “Watch him on the paving slabs with his walker, won’t you?” my missus says. Frohike is adept at using his frame, and
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By Ray Wilson My hound is getting animated as we eventually leave the riverside path; she tugs excitedly on her lead as we near the town centre. I am meeting up with my missus at her friend’s shop. “Hello, lovely girl,” Debbie says as my hound propels herself at warp speed across the wooden shop
By Ray Wilson “Power will gravitate into the hands of those who control information. This will encourage tendencies through the next several decades towards a technotronic era dictatorship, leaving even less room for political procedures as we know them. Finally, looking ahead to the end of the century, the possibility of biochemical mind control and