“TAKE ME NOW GOD!”
by Jim Putnam
About the Book
This outrageous “unauthorized” autobiography goes inside the mind of a leading edge baby boomer with a mission, finding the purpose and meaning of life, and his desperate search for answers to life’s mysteries.
There are millions of seekers of truth among us, and if they want a roadmap through the uncharted waters of spiritual and personal evolution, Take Me Now God! traverses the endless maze of opportunity and catastrophe in a way they are not soon to forget.
Nothing is as it seems or as promised. To the author, life is a series of speed bumps and misadventures waiting to derail your train the minute it leaves the station. No stone is unturned in the quest for truth.
The scope of his search is astonishing. From new age to religions, cults to cultures, politicians to psychics, nothing escapes his interest or hilarious rationalization of what can never be rational. Like most of us, the author believes there is a hidden meaning and purpose to his life. But unlike most of us, he pursues his quest with reckless abandon ever faithful that answers lie just around the next turn.
Half a century of endless searching led the author to yet another self-proclaimed “light” person, a member of the enlightened “Illumanati”, where the lights finally went out, thus triggering the author’s demand to God to be taken now!
Humorous satire and cynical wit engulf the targets of his search. There are a multitude of choices waiting to prey on the unsuspecting seeker, and the author leaves them strewn in shambles in his wake.
How he manages to explore the dizzying array of often conflicting choices and still remain sane, should that be your conclusion, is a wonder. He holds a mirror up to our faces, then makes us laugh at how seriously we take ourselves. God knows we need a laugh, we are way too serious, and Take Me Now God! is just the antidote for survival in the 21st century.
Before you set out on your own search for meaning in life, read this book. It will save you time, trouble, money and sanity. But set your beliefs aside as none will survive the scathing quest of the author intact. Prepare yourself for a spiritual, metaphysical journey unlike any you’ve ever experienced exploring the lighter side of light and dark in the hapless quest for enlightenment.
You won’t stop laughing. You won’t stop reading. And the disastrous experiences of the author may help you find a better way.
Excerpt 6
CHANNELS
Having worked in the television industry in New York City, and I know I was a TV insider because once I was on the set of All My Children, my idea of channels was what you got when you pushed the remote control. And boy did cable TV ever change the landscape of the world of channels.
Still, not being born entirely stupid, I was aware of the metaphysical channels as well. Even my Jewish-Adept knew channels, so I figured they couldn’t be all bad. There were a sprinkling of them for a while, like Seth, Ramtha, and a host of other weird named characters intent on leading people somewhere.
That was before the New Agers took over. Suddenly the sprinkling became a blizzard and we are left with mystical channels on about every street corner of the civilized world. Yet another sign of the sophistication of our culture. So I followed them with more than a casual interest.
Back in 1990 I went to a channeler for the first time. Thought it was high time for a personal investigation of this phenomena. In truth, I kind of wanted to bond with my own personal channel. See just how important I might be to the other world, those overseers in the spiritual dimension. I expected to hear from Michael the Archangel, maybe Peter the apostle, maybe even the man himself, Jesus. No doubt someone very important was waiting to guide me.
The destiny of civilization was in my hands and my own super star channel would fill me in. Actually I didn’t go to the channel. Seems the spiritual world needn’t be bothered with such things as being there. They’re kind of like the phone company in that regard. Bring things together. They use electrical pulsing signals of some inter-dimensional frequency I guess. But the physical person is merely the conduit for the spiritual guru from afar. My contact was in Portland.
So I called. At my expense too. You’d think otherworld channels could have figured out how to beat the phone company out of long distance charges. Not as smart as the ghetto gangs and illegal immigrants who mastered it long ago. Still, I spent over an hour in my first encounter. Got it all on tape.
So just who was my famous other world guide or mystical channel? Not Jesus. Or Michael. Not even Peter. None of the aforementioned or imagined. Oh no, in four sessions during the ensuing years there was Kal, Kim Son, Mariam, Benjamin, James, Sienna, Tamal and Maca. Who the hell are these characters? What did I do wrong? Tune in to the comedy channel?
I thought they were supposed to come through one at a time, like Ramtha. So why did it take up to three at a time to communicate with me? Must have been a really stupid human. Shit, I got an inter-dimensional party line. And new ones were sent in every session. Never got the same guide twice. Seemed odd since the best selling channels were the same dude dropping into the studio to record a series of tapes, videos or books every time.
Felt cheated at first. Like they were using me as a lab rat for training wannabe channels. Like a doctor interning I guess. So I get the trainees. Soon as the big guys thought these junior channels had their act together, by experimenting on me, they sent them on and moved in another new class.
Then concluded that it wasn’t really an insult to me, but an honor, to have a committee of spirit guides. Didn’t really mean that I was so hopelessly worldly that I needed an entire emergency metaphysical trauma team. No, and it was important for me to rationalize this, I had multiple channels because I absorb so much so fast. The human computer. Remotes were blazing in both hands.
I got lots of good information. Even got stuff no one else ever heard before. Ever try to prove channeled information? You don’t. Oh you can make some effort to prove the little tidbits of premonitions. Like who is going to get killed. The latest combatants to declare war. Stuff like that. And even then it requires a very liberal translation.
I’m still trying to figure out what Nostradamus really meant when he said France will fall on it’s ass in the mud, or something like that. People interpret things in the strangest ways. Books have been written how it was a secret code and the prophecy really foretold the outbreak of the first world war, or the second world war, or even the third world war. Maybe the death of John Kennedy, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean or Elvis.
Where do they come up with that crap? I want real proof. Give me the winning numbers to next week’s Powerball lottery and I’ll be a true believer for the rest of my annuities. Those damn lotteries. Why is it there are only a few thousand possible combinations of winning numbers, yet the odds of winning are 12 million to one? Where does that math come from? Pythagoras in a drunken stupor?
So I mostly keep my channeled information to myself. Haven’t figured out how to capitalize on it yet, and it ain’t good information until it turns a profit. Isn’t that the metaphysical way? How could I ever compete with Sammy and the gang of new and improved television channels? They are replacing the now infamous television ministers. Not enough of them left out of jail to keep up the ratings.
New Age channels seem to all be men, yet they have one other advantage over me. All the channel stars only appear through the bodies of great looking chicks. Far more photogenic than some over-the-hill jock like me. Must be channel transvestites. Something about a man’s husky voice and bawdy street slang emitting from a woman that bothers me. Hard to take it as God’s word. Must be part of the test of faith.
So it’s back to my safe world of television channels. Give me Fox any day. Hell, as bad and bizarre as television programming has become, maybe all the TV channels are channeled entities too. That would explain a lot of things.
LATE LAST NIGHT
Late last night I turned on the TV
to see what the world had to say
as I watched in wonder
I was saddened by what happened today
Seems the longer that we live here together
the harder that it is to survive
there’s so much hate and so much hurt
so many reasons not to try
Far to the east the hand of God
reminds us of the limits of man
one swift blow from an angry earth
humbled a world, shattered our plan
Rains and floods and hurricanes
fires and those other things
once again remind us we’re
just visiting here so it seems
Bombs rain down in Russia
Europe and the middle east
what I saw made no sense
in the holy land of the man of peace
Everywhere were hungry children
millions of them had no homes
old people driven from the land of their fathers
as the march of mankind goes on
If death and destruction didn’t get them
then a killer disease just might
somehow all those pictures that flashed
on my screen didn’t seem to be right
Politicians promised to save us
preachers promised more of the same
but the hurt and hate and fear they showed
made it all just a game
And as I watch the picture
on my screen, on my TV
I wonder is this how our world
is meant to be
Whatever happened to brotherhood
whatever happened to the common good
whatever happened to the dreams
of a better land
And as I ponder on this world I see
I know it’s really not for me
don’t think this is what a God
somewhere had in mind
He asked us to return his love
and love our fellow man
but what I see on my TV
seems to have gotten out of hand
PAST LIVES
The Ex made me feel guilty a lot. She was always talking about her past lives. When I told her I didn’t really remember any of mine, she looked at me like I was some freak. As if she couldn’t imagine how in the world an ancient friend like me, (her description), could have no memory of past lives. I got bits and pieces sometimes, at least I thought I did, but I never got any revelations in full length motion picture Technicolor with Dolby surround sound.
Was having a particularly bad night one evening. Felt like the poster boy for the suicide hot line. The mouthwash could no longer get rid of the foul taste in my palate or pounding in my head. May have to switch brands. Didn’t know there was that much difference in tequilas.
Half a bottle later I found myself melting into the chair as I sat in a stupor watching Mr. B jumping around the room like a 200 pound banshee. Kind of like watching one of those humongous sumo wrestlers dressed in a tutu performing Swan Lake. His pirouettes were shaking the house to its foundation.
Seemed like the perfect time, perfect place, and perfect mind set for another stab at the past life connection. It had only been 30 years since I first tried to make the journey, 30 years of consistent failure. Used every trick in the book and none worked. Equal opportunity failure.
After many attempts over the years using meditation, chanting, drumming and astral travel, to mention but a sampling, I decided to try visualization. It was new, I was old, and the mouthwash was starting to work. Besides, the sumo had collapsed in a heap after a particularly ungraceful series of moves.
Thought it might help if I picked a place where I was sure to have been in the distant past. France or England sounded cool. They were old. Odds were if I’d had past lives, I would have been at one or both places. Besides, I’d always felt claustrophobic around the neck, could never button my dress shirts because of it, so figured I must have been in France during the guillotine heydays.
Another shot of medicine and I was sailing off to the inter-dimensional repository of metaphysical memories. Nicknamed it the “Dead Bank”. I mean it was all stuff you were supposed to have experienced before your last death.
First I popped in the film of France for visualization. Really my imagination. And there I was, drifting through the beautiful French countryside. There were people around, speaking French. A very pleasing and melodic language. Didn’t understand a damn word. How does that work anyway when you see past lives? Do you understand the old languages or is there some celestial translator slipping in English subtitles?
Don’t know if they saw me, I might have been traveling too fast. or maybe I was invisible. I half expected them to see me somehow, maybe like some kind of angel, transparent and glimmering in the summer breeze. Next thing I knew I was in the courtyard of a very old estate, beautiful gardens all around, and an even more beautiful Frenchwoman gliding down the stone walkway toward me. It was a young Bridgette Bardot. Some past life. More like a present fantasy.
Yet another shot to clear my head. No more France. Bridgette was not going to release me to the past. And it sucked not understanding what they were saying. Hell, they could have been talking behind my back or in front of my face about me and I wouldn’t have a clue.
Off to jolly old England. At least I might know what they were saying. There were stone fences and castles everywhere. Big crowds of people wandering around. Must have been about the only day that year it didn’t rain. And that cute little English accent. I could listen to English girls talk for hours that way.
This might just be it. Maybe Victorian days. Could Cromwell, or Shakespeare, or maybe even the master alchemist Francis Bacon be around the next corner? The anti-freeze was pumping through my heart, racing as I scoured the countryside searching for myself in the distant past.
Perhaps one of the mystical druids at Avebury Circle. Maybe the brains behind Stonehenge. Better yet, the crafty old wizard, Merlin. I knew I was Merlin before. Not just anyone could make Arthur a king. That sounded like a public relations task worthy of my time and energy.
I was transported into an enchanted forest. Massive Oak trees towered overhead. A brook bubbled nearby. Could almost sense the fairies buzzing through the branches. Faintly, at first, I heard someone moving through the woods toward me. A movement of such grace the grass merely nodded as she merrily made her way.
Birds sang out in joyous tribute. All the forest creatures silently moved to greet her. And then, from around the trunk of the mightiest of all Oak trees in the forest, she broke into the clear. I’ll be damned if it wasn’t Hayley Mills, little Miss Pollyanna herself. Yet another of my favorite film idols of the past. But like Bridgette, not past enough.
Why is it the psychics and channelers remember these hundreds of my past lives and I don’t remember a one? Oh sure, I go places and things look familiar. Happened when I went to Virginia. Then in England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland, even Russia. Matter of fact, every place I went outside the United States it happened. What’s that tell you?
That I studied the shit out of the places I was visiting. That I paid attention in history and western civilization classes. Saw lots of movies about the old days. Read lots of books. Had one hell of a vivid imagination. Any and all of the above. But not a damn shred of evidence that I actually lived then.
That troubling mystery was finally solved for me one night when I got yet another blast from the alien implant and remembered more stuff. You recall the 144,000 soldiers of God from Revelations? Well that was a biblical misprint. It was supposed to be 144, not 144,000. And it wasn’t soldiers of God, it was the number of realms in this dimension.
And the prophet Elijah wasn’t Elijah at all but Albert Einstein, talking about the time space continuum. What he was saying was there were 144 realms in the 3rd dimension, of which 24 were earth realms. Since there was no time in space, or space in time, all these realms were the past, present and future and they were all taking place at the same time.
Therefore, your past lives were taking place now, along with your present and future lives. And you were living 144 of them at once, 24 in the flesh. Of course my theory left a shambles of evolution and made the chronological sequencing of history a joke. But it explained a lot of mysteries. Was as unlikely an answer as any other explanations I heard. And you didn’t have to buy books, tapes or videos to share the insight.
Who needs past lives when you can have Bridgette Bardot? Come to think of it, by the time Bridgette was done with you, there wouldn’t be enough of you left for worrying about past lives.
The New Agers say you create your own reality, live your own illusions. Take it from me, that means we have all been all the most famous people in history. Six billion souls have shared being King Tut, Shakespeare, Cleopatra, King Arthur, Beethoven, whoever the hell you want to be. Why would you want to be anyone less than that?
MEMORIES FADE AWAY
Memories of places
I once knew along the way
childhood dreams those strange things
we created to help us make it through the day
Memories of days long gone
they’re fading in our past
you say it’s time to give them up
I always thought they’d last
A memories like an old friend
a picture fixed in time
no matter where I go from here
the memories always mine
And through the years it’s with you
you think of yesterday
memories are all that’s left
now those memories fade away
Memories of times
I once knew yesterday
times I shall remember
when fantasies would guide our way
Memories that won’t let go
they won’t let me forget
of a distant dream I lived once
now my match I’ve finally met
EARTH’S FREQUENCY
It wouldn’t do much good to just leave behind a lot of senseless babble so I have to discuss some of the ancient knowledge that I have been given. Let’s start with the change in the Earth’s frequency. If you haven’t heard of this you best pay attention.
Ancient prophecies talk about it, strange aliens like the Pleiadians channel the information all the time. The government scientists are aware of a photon band that the Earth has entered. Even the Virgin Mary got into the act talking about the solar-cosmic explosion that will be affecting us soon.
What does it all mean? Well, it seems there is a massive field of radiation hanging around out in space and we are about to enter it. We do this about once every 25,000 years or so. The Hopi call it the Purification when Earth goes through it. The end of a cycle of civilization. We are about to wrap up the 4th cycle right now.
The Earth is rising in frequency. That seems to be a scientific fact. For thousands of years Earth resonated at a 7.8 Hz frequency. About 1980 it started changing and now it has risen to 12 Hz. Author Gregg Braden on earth and a host of Pleiadians in space also say as we enter this photon band, the rotation of the Earth is slowing as the frequency is increasing.
At the same time, the Earth’s magnetic field is declining, having lost up to half of it’s intensity in the past 4,000 years according to Professor Bannerjee in New Mexico. So we have a photon band, increasing Earth frequency, slowing of the Earth rotation, and the magnetic field is declining.
When the frequency reaches 13 Hz, sometime in the next couple of years or sooner, the rotation will stop. Earth will not rotate for three days. If you happen to be on the night side of Earth when it stops, you have three days of darkness, another popular prophecy. Then it will start rotating again, only the opposite direction this time. There seems to be scientific evidence of a reversal in the Earth’s electromagnetic field numerous times in the past.
The increase in frequency gives the impression of speeding up time. By the time the next year rolls around we should feel the full effects of the Quickening, yet another great term from ancient knowledge, prophecies or channels. The effect on the human body of the change from 7.8 to 13 Hz in the frequency is like compressing 24 hours into a 16 hour day.
Everyone I talk to seems to have noticed time is speeding up. There is never enough time to do this or that. But that always seemed the case to me. Can’t really blame bad time management on the Quickening when we had centuries of experience wasting time.
On the other hand, the speed up does concern me because that means we are losing one third of time that used to be available. It also means when I am 60 I will really be 80. I was hoping it would go the other way, I’d get younger instead of older. By the way, all this is taking place right now, not some point far into the future.
Another key component of the raising of frequency is that the human body has to increase in frequency to survive the change on Earth and the effects of the photon field. So, we change by having our DNA altered from a double helix to a 12 strand DNA. Now that is something else. Of course in the entire history of the universe it has not happened like this before so I guess even the angels, aliens and their channels are having a tough time anticipating how that will work.
If you start to experience aches for no reason, or searing pains in your muscles, or stress when there isn’t stress, these are indications of the Quickening and the beginning of the restructuring of your DNA. It’s not real clear to me whether the dramatic change in our DNA will result in improved humans or mutant monsters, but we shall see.
Any way, you want evidence? If one of your friends head explodes some night at the bar consider it proof positive. If the Earth stops rotating like the prophecies say, that is a sign. When you start to greet the sun rising in the west, that is a sign. It’s a great excuse for premature aging or graying if you need it. Just say, “It’s the Quickening.” Or “just altering the DNA.”
I liken it to Earth going through inter-dimensional child birth. Only happens like this every 26 billion years or so. It’s here, no doubt about it. Can’t be proven either. Those that know don’t want you to know.
The Quickening can mess up your mind, cause you all kinds of problems. Yet another reason to believe. An excuse for everything you do wrong. “Sorry honey, I didn’t do that, it was the Quickening.” Tell that to my Ex.
Now the bad stuff. From the Bible to Nostradamus, the Hopi to the Virgin, this Quickening is not going to be all that great a time. Depending on who you listen to, up to 2/3 of the population will not make it through the change. The ones that do move on to a higher dimension take their purified planet Earth with them.
The rest get stuck on the old Earth to start over in the 5th cycle of civilization. This whole process is called the Purification by the Hopi and others. The end result is a new Earth free of fear where you can materialize your dreams in the 4th dimension. One of many parallel universes I have discovered. Or the same old shit all over again back here in the 3rd dimension.
When you think it all through, if you have nothing better to do, you might just share my conclusion. If we have to go through all that and as few as 1/3 will survive, total nuclear destruction almost sounds preferable. I mean, these people that are going to ascend can hardly be hurt by a bomb blast.
JUST ME
The game of life I’m going to play
I can’t get out can’t find a way
and if I lose then I won’t win
and if I do I’ll start again
Just let me be to be alone
I can’t be bought, can’t be owned
content to live but not so high
content to fade, until I die
You know I won’t be understood
and can’t be judged as bad or good
I’m me and who could ask for more
just me is all I’m searching for...
NEW MADRID EARTHQUAKE
There are things we want to think about, pleasant day dreams, and there are things that haunt the soul. The first is a pleasing thought or a fond memory, while the latter is like an unrelenting nightmare in which you know there is truth and the truth is something you refuse to accept.
I get those thoughts at times. For years I had them about the New Madrid earthquake fault, the one along the Mississippi River where Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky and Tennessee come together. The place where the Ohio River empties into and swells the Mississippi River into a massive force of nature.
Three of the largest quakes to ever hit this country happened at that point, dwarfing anything California ever dreamed about. In a matter of a few weeks the heart of the midwest was rocked by a series of quakes measuring 8.1, 8.2 and 8.4, rattling dishes and ringing church bells as far away as Montreal, Boston and Atlanta. Power such as we have never seen unleashed in this land.
Fortunately it happened between 1811 and 1812, when few people lived in the area. But the threat of a follow up act has been building ever since. And now there are millions of people in the damage zone. Since high school when I used to go work the sand bag lines during flooding on the Mississippi the river has drawn me in. Mark Twain lived just down river from Iowa, in Hannibal, Missouri.
But it was the raw power I felt in that river that drew me in. A power the Corp of Engineers kept trying to harness with their dams and locks. I would sit along the river for hours fishing or just watching the current, listening to the secrets. Knowing the day would come when that power was once again unleashed and humans would be humbled. That was before I knew anything about the New Madrid quakes.
Over the years I studied, and I learned, and I built up a lot of information on the New Madrid. If people would listen I warned them. But no one wanted to hear. Finally, years later, the New Agers and channels discovered the secret and began spouting warnings. The massive floods early in the 1990’s woke up a few more people, floods the size of several states. Floods that happened after all the flood control work was done. Mother Earth’s wake up call to the fools that thought they controlled nature.
People still didn’t appreciate the danger they faced. A few weeks ago I was talking to a psychic, one in Kentucky. She told me we weren’t safe here. She said there would be a massive earthquake and that the Mississippi River would split down the middle. There would be death and destruction all along the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. I agreed. Been seeing the same things for years.
So I had her talk to my Ex. The Ex used to live on the Mississippi in Illinois. Thought she should know about the threat, in case she wanted to get the rest of her family out of there. That was when our relationship became every bit the disaster of the earthquake. That was the end times for us. And that was when she moved out of Kentucky.
Oh yes, she and the psychic concluded they were not safe in Kentucky. Too close to the Mississippi. So the psychic moved to Chicago. The Ex moved back home. To her house high on a hill overlooking the very same Mississippi River. The one soon to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting public. She used to be a couple of hundred miles from the river. Now she can slide down the hill into it. Is that what enlightened advice does for you? How odd.
SEEK TOMORROW
Through communication and understanding
of others we have access to collective knowledge
which we could never assemble individually.
The knowledge of the ages awaits
the person who seeks it...
THE MUSES
You know I always dreamed the highlight of my life would be the time when two of the best looking girls in the universe were vying for my affection. One was a flaming red heat, with a stunning explosion of long, curly locks flowing wildly in all directions. Eyes of deep emerald greener than the lush fields of Ireland. Exceptional body and muscle tone as if she were a blend of a prima ballerina and fine-tuned marathon runner.
At first glance she might appear shy. But once she felt comfortable with you, as if you had to pass some type of litmus test or something, she was delightfully conversational. Animated and exasperating at times, she could charm the coldest of characters with her dazzling personality and melt their hearts with her blazing intensity. Strong. Fiercely independent. Rock solid loyal. Right out of the ancient Celtic days.
And the other one was an absolute dichotomy, but in an unforgettable way. Quiet, shy, she seemed almost ashamed of her classic features that would have been the envy of any of the master painters. Petite with shimmering brown hair stretching all the way down to her waist, she flowed with grace and dignity. Her heart of gold touched everyone, made them feel comfortable, and needed. Her smile could light a room in the middle of the darkest night.
Had I constructed a pair of the perfect tens in my imagination, they could not have improved on the two real ones in my life’s memories of what had never been. Either would have been the catch of the century, even for the richest and noblest of people. For one of my station in life they were not just a step beyond my dreams but I should have been stoned for having the audacity to even imagine myself with them.
I called them Spitfire and the Lady. Given time and opportunity I would have loved either of them deeply, anyone in their right mind would have done so. But to have both of these fantasies vying for one’s attention was beyond my ability to comprehend.
What either saw in me was a mystery. Guys were falling all over each other for the chance to take them out. Parents looked on them as the perfect daughter-in-law. We were not from the same social circle. They had one, I didn’t. By my standards they were rich, cultured, and classy. I must have been a total enigma. Perhaps that was what attracted them.
I was the rebel. Undisciplined and fearless. Ready to take on the world or a bottle of tequila, whichever happened to be in front of me at the moment. Raw energy. Always pushing the envelope and walking the tightrope. To the uninformed I was dangerous. A volcano ready to erupt any moment. In truth I had harnessed that energy long before and channeled it when needed.
Either Spitfire or the Lady would have been a dream come true. But I was a mere mortal not worthy of seeing dreams materialize for real. Therefore I was convinced I never had a chance with either of them.
I pushed them away. When they gave me second and third chances I continued to push them away. “Idiot” was branded on my forehead. Yet I knew if I ever tried to like either, something would happen and I would be crushed.
Fortunately for me I never got the chance to be hurt. It was something I didn’t need to experience. For you see, both the Spitfire and the Lady were never more than figments of my imagination. Phantom friends for all those long, lonely nights. I’ll probably miss them when I’m gone.
LOST NO REWARD
Lost, yesterday, twenty-four hours that are gone.
Each containing sixty beautiful minutes.
Time that could have been shared
as it was meant to be, with you.
But yesterday is lost,
and no reward is offered...
