Jacob Foley

Author of the rebels of Rome. Discerningly curious. Dreamer

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

@meadandjuniper Invention. Births something

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

@fleshsimulator The wages of sin is death. They will all pay.

To rape a child is to cross a boundary that will bring down gods judgement upon them.

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

@BlackPilledPaki The prerogative of the female is to secure the genetic superiority of her offspring. And this is good, because the worst existence you can have is to be a genetically inferior male

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

@godcleo Think again

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

Energy can be visualized as a water vortex, in which the water spinning downwards is the magnetic field, and the column of air running through it is the dielectric field.

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

@LdelSurNoticias One fucking job

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

Excerpt from my Romance Novel Resonant affection.

Tension, mystery, lust, fear, love, resonant souls.

“What are you doing?”
“Creating a special type of coil for the device. There will be some materials I still need.”
“Such as?”
He grinned. “A rare flower. The fairy slipper orchid. It has a certain chemical compound that is completely unique, and hard to synthesize.”
“Okay, where do we get it?”
“The rocky mountains. Shall we?”
Visions of technicolor glades and whimsical forests made my answer unequivocal in its certainty, and, tinged with an excitability that bordered on the pathetic, I said. “We shall!”
He smirked and strode out the room. I followed, dodging all manner of hazard strewn throughout, and was led into his UFO, the cylinder sliding in and out in silent and succinct succession.
He placed a hand on the black orb, we lifted out of the water, and in an instant we were over a stretch of scrubby vegetation that I (with what little knowledge of anything outside of Washington and Garberville I possessed) discerned as the mountainously arboreal brown-green of Colorado or Colorado adjacent.
Slowly did we then descend into a space between a few trees. I watched him as we did to admire his figure, and his eyes flicked to mine in that unnervingly omniscient way of his. The gesture, previously observed and already registered, for some arbitrary reason, struck a pang of alarm in my half melted heart. As if the body had now just catalogued a late request with which either my mind or soul had lodged. Seeing him here now, standing at his full height, a dark and pale form silhouetted by alien surroundings, I felt fear. And in the barely explored recesses of my psyche, I paled to realize that my fear was inextricably linked with lust.
I blushed, banishing the thought with all the vehemence I could hardly muster when his presence engulfed the present.
“Oh how I long to know what you're thinking.” He said as the craft landed with a small thud.
I blushed even harder at the thought of him knowing. As if he already had not guessed. “That would be disastrous.”
“Why,” He frowned. “You're not thinking of other men, are you?”
I felt my heart soar in elation. He was jealous?
“Joking.”
Oh what waxen wings! My face must have betrayed something, as he chuckled.
“Envy is poison for the soul, but for you, ill titrate the dose.”
I smiled, and asked something I immediately regretted. “Have you… ever been in a relationship?”
The cylinder moved.
“Yes.” He said expressionlessly, dropping down. I felt a pang of anger, and dropped down.
“How many?”
“A dozen. This was before my parents died. I was young, and lacked control.”
“Did you love them?”
He looked at me flatly.
I glanced away sheepishly. “Im sorry.”
“No need. Possessiveness is natural when your body believes it has found a suitable mate. And I am… glad to hear you care. If it makes you feel better; every time I saw Fidel walk in to talk to you, a horrible part of me imagined decapitating him.”
A wicked conflagration of pleasure erupted to my derision.
“I suppose you're grateful to him now.”
He gained a wolfish look. “Yes, seeing as he presented my entry. All apart of my elaborate plan.”
“You know. Even humoring me that that had been the case is admittedly satisfying.”
His hand brushed mine. My skin erupted in goose bumps, and his eyes flicked to the little hairs standing at traitorous attention on my skin. “You like me far more than I deserve.”
“This again? Do I have to recount the times you saved me?”
“Little effort on my part.”
“And the money?”
“A small percentage of what I have.”
I snorted. “What is this part of you? So reluctant. So ready to deracinate the self.”
He looked away, his black brows furrowed in severity. “There are irreconcilable parts of me.”
“Such as?”
He shook his head, and began to walk towards a ridge through a glade. His departure alleviated attention, and for the first time (this perhaps confirming his own concern) did I really register my surroundings.
Granite shouldered up out of the thinning pines, each tree a little more arthritic than the last until the rock stood there alone, naked under a sky of that unblinking blue unique to a destined day.
Below - and here the eye, exhausted by all that vertical sincerity, was granted its reward - lay a small glade, a grassy wildflower crescent inserted with suspicious perfection into the surrounding set of stone and shadow.
And threading through this small green painting ran the stream; modest, voluble, conducting its tiny negotiations with every stone in its path as though each had a request to be compromised with. It caught the light in quick, ephemeral flashes, lost it beneath the ridge's long shadow, recovered it again lower down, and slipped at last into the dark colonnade of trees.
It was beautiful.
I chased after Niko. “Have you been here before?”
He cocked a brow. “And why would you think that?”
“This is too beautiful to be random, and we’re in Colorado.”
“Perceptive. Yes, this is not too far from Colorado Springs.”
He began to ascend the ridge for what I assumed was a vantage point. I attempted to mimic his easy manner of walking, but quickly realized my legs were too short. Compensating, I bound upward with a huge leap, landing beside him.
“What are those… irreconcilable parts?”
He only continued to ascend the ridge wordlessly; his back turned to me. Though I could impute (by the slight tension in his now less decisive step) a chink. An upturned root of his steadfast oak. I wanted to discover the cause, the secret door and more about his past. There were parts to Niko I was still ignorant of, and nothing excited me more than the prospect of finding out what confluencing constituents caused this amazing cocktail that was him.
We reached the top of the ridge. Our new elevation afforded a dramatic landscape of jagged granite carpeted by aspens and firs. A cool breeze gusted and I caught a whiff of his scent to solicit that same reaction. I ignored it. I would not make a fool of myself.
“What do the flowers look like?”
“They’re pink, with little bulbs that look like fairies slippers.”
I nodded, surveying the area for pink in a prolonged moment.
“What’s your sign?” I asked while looking.
He smirked to this. “Cancer. And you're a scorpio.”
I felt another rush of pleasure at that.
“Do they mean anything?”
“Yes, actually. When we are born, our nascent cells are sensitive to the conditions of the ether, and form a relationship with the world predicated upon those conditions. Though it certainly does not define us fully, it plays a small part in biological inclinations.”
“The ether?”
“The fabric of the universe. Dynamic, constantly moving by a force some would call God.”
“Is he real?”
He laughed softly. “In a sense. Though there is no bearded man in the sky. Some say the lack of this man is proof of Gods absence, but the proof is all around us.” He plucked a blade of grass from the ground, and twirled it between his fingers. “The perfect symmetry. The beauty and order which permeates every inch of our world. For every painting must have a painter.”
“Then why does God allow evil? Why had god created archons and disease and famine?”
“Because the universe is balanced. There is nothing without contrast, without its opposite. Good simply cannot exist without bad. The one must have the zero.”
He blew the blade of grass from his hand and the breeze caught it perfectly.
“Ever considered a career in Tibet?”
He smiled. “Perhaps I should become their new god.”

No sooner had the pink been seen - a smudge, a rumor of color where the meadow met a mountains base - than we commenced our descent down the ridge's far shoulder, the slope releasing us at last into the long sprawl of open grass.
And Niko was different. I had known him in his guardedness, his perpetual moroseness, the way he seemed always to be mourning something; but here, now, descending into all this undefended green, he wore an unfamiliar contentment. Some quieter current ran beneath his ordinary surface; call it ease, call it the rare and temporary armistice a man signs with his own dread, and it confirmed, in its understated way, what the loosening of his shoulders had already begun to suggest; that for this one suspended interval, in this one indifferent meadow, he was, against all the evidence I had so far assembled, content.
Its reason I dared not confront, as if doing so would cause it to evaporate. But, from the periphery of my mind, I regarded the one new variable in his life with an intense joy; me.
And so we made our unhurried way. We skipped across the stones of a brook rippling against rock in a musical chorus and sliced through the long grass of the meadow billowing by the summer zephyr. All that I had endured. Nineteen years of suffering was compensated in this moment.

Neither of us talked until we approached a small group of Orchids, and Niko spoke the first words to break that sacred silence.
“These are the ones.”
There was disappointment in that, as it meant this little venture would soon end.
“What part of it do you need?”
“The mucus in the corms.” He conjured a trowel, and began to dig around the flowers base.
“Can’t that be found in Aloe, at the store?”
He smirked. “Yes, but then we wouldn’t have come here, would we?”
I smiled. He uprooted the flower, to then, with a consummate little snip, cut the stem.
“My lady.” He bowed dramatically, offering me the gorgeous flower.
I could not help but tear up. “Thank you."

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

@rachxlorenx I wanna give u a hot oil massage

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

One of the downsides to extreme vitality is extreme horniness. All the FUCKING TIME.

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

Energy is nothing but ether in motion

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

Shoutout Youtube comments for a great explanation of the Ether.

The ether is an insulated fluid with a viscosity, and some amount of opposing ether particles, (like sodium and chloride ions in the sea water, but in an insulated fluid)

Dielectricity (and gravity) = compression of the ether

Magnetism = the concomitant rarefaction (expansion) of the ether medium as a result of the dielectricity (compression).

Those are the 2 fundamental conjugate field geometries.

Together, they form a torus shape with a hyperboloid/hourglass in the middle (instead of an opening) i.e. a “closed torus”.

Dielectricity is the hyperboloid, where it (and inertia and acceleration) get stronger as one approaches the center of the hyperboloid (the ether is getting “denser”).

Magnetism is the toroidal part of the shape where the ether is “less dense”/rarefacted as a result of the dielectricity/compression.

The path of least resistance to restore equilibrium in the ether is to “wind” back in accordance with the golden ratio, hence what a magnet looks like under a ferrocel (rather than just going in straight lines, which is not the lowest pressure path to restore equilibrium). As a result of this the “winding” pattern is moving in opposite directions on either side of the dielectric hyperboloid. This is why magnets have a north and south pole. North neatly “screws” into South. However, the lines of rarefaction directly cross eachother when North meets with North and thus the repel.

What we call Electricity, dynamic electricity, or electromagnetism is simply the whole toroid shape together (the whole thing together, Dielectricity and magnetism).

Silver and Copper’s atomic geometry is such that it allows this toroidal shape (Dielectricity and magnetism together) to “travel” through it. Moving a magnetic field through a copper wire is simply “winding” the ether through it, which in the case of copper, causes the full toroidal shape to manifest.

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

"electricity and electro-magnetism are simply the effects of ether in motion.” - Nikola Tesla

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

The electromagnetic field consists of two different fields. The dielectric, and the magnetic.

The electron is a lie. Energy comes from these fields.

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

All perceptible phenomena (matter, light, electricity, gravity) arise from vibrations, whirls, or disturbances in the ether, driven by a creative force (Prana)

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

or idiotic, but I would posit disingenuous

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

The funniest thing about learning more about science is the revelation that Einstein was just a wacky, perhaps intentionally disingenuous Jew.

[Jacob Foley @JacobDavidFoley]

The key to advancing as a species is to gain a better collective understanding of magnetism.