Sus scrofa democratica:

The 3-Year Deafening Silence of The Electorate's Complacency in the Interim Between Executive Branch Hustle Seasons, or, How to Have a Sound Moral Opinion on Voting for a US President

"I live 6 flights up..
Oooh how that man loves to climb."
~~from, The Blues

"I voted."
~~ Imbecilic bumper sticker proudly held aloft before face of self-congratulating peasant in their New Facebook Profile Pic, probably because they are newly hot with the heat of feeling the Bern.

It may be that voting in the current American system is complete fatuity and swinish arrogance. We call it fatuous because it's the perfect word for the act, one committed very often without question or understanding. And we say "swinish" because we go to the booths like pigs, to the trough of our own fattening conceits, all massed up and comforted by nearness to so many other needy, self-devouring ungulates. It's a multi-layered anthropomorphic metaphor, see. (So keep in mind that pigs, though clever, are herd beasts mostly found with husbands of a stronger species. The subject here is not the actually free, lean-bellied ancestral pig who still roams the forests, with tusks, frightening more dominant species, no.)

But also we say "swinish" because it is understood and accepted, when wanting to denigrate human behavior, to compare it to that of pigs, because pigs are filthy animals, and live in their own shit, and like it, whereas human beings prize themselves clean and virtuous animals, advanced long past the era of monkeying around in poop and darkness. This means, in part, that we have become masters of deception in all its forms, and are content to lie about the fact that we are wallowing in shit, blood, and collective infamy, and indeed are getting better at all of it.

The voting species of swine is rightly called arrogant because they perform their election ritual with such an airy sense of accomplishment, solemnity and ceremony. It might be an accomplishment if something was affected, or effected, that were not odious and inimical to our well-being. As a herd, we are not clever enough to see the full, grandiose scam of the voting scheme, though we are clever enough to have produced a Goldman or a Twain who then said, "if voting changed the system it wouldn't be legal." (The provenance of this quote is unclear perhaps because we have all had the same thought.) As opposed to more local forms of government, this is decidedly more true of the larger, federal-sized governments, which happen to wield tremendous power and in securing their interests often slaughter millions of citizens of every sort of country by military force and remote aerial bombing, and other unmentionable methods that even better define the true nature of Power.

Now right here I am compelled to attempt a clean diagnosis of the electing disorder, morally speaking. I'll try to phrase the problem, as I see it, in as crystallized and clinically abstracted, philosophical a way as I can. For years, dimly, and eventually, clearly, I perceived the essential moral problem with voting in its average practice as being the following: When one votes, they are typically voting from the place we call the "ego" or the vanity cortex. All other communal or nuanced or philosophically unselfish considerations are murdered when you willingly lurch forward from your poll position at the elementary school or courthouse and ally your own moral stance and nature with that of a single other human being. Let alone these horrifying motherfuckers before us in 2015-16, or 2016-17, or 2017-18, until the end. What I mean is that these creatures are in some sense nothing more than a reflection of your own positive and favorable self-image. In micro-moments of honesty, anyone will tell you that they vote for this or that figure because they imagine that figure to be in agreement with their own private value system and political philosophy, and this is a simple, academic relationship. It's very basic psychological self-identification, which in theory wouldn't appear to be able to produce, on the whole, a sound democracy. You may even be voting for that simpering oval-faced cracker simply because he, like you, feels that Count Chocula breakfast cereal is the very best, above all other cereals, snacks, and pacifiers. Maybe that female would-be senator from Crackerton shares with you the only political position worth having: that evil niggers like Willie Horton oughtn't be raping white women. Maybe taxation is your most fiery obsession and about all other social issues you are satisfied not giving fucks or fondles. In so many cases of voting I sense that the primary issue is a kind of barely concealed, self-adoring self-reflexivity, an elevating of one's fetishes, hang-ups, and morbid and over-particular myopias to an imagined, grander visionary scale. Indeed, I sense something so dirty and seamy in the theoretical act of voting in modern systems, that I struggle even privately to articulate it, or describe its smell. But I know certainly that the stink comes from inveterate, almost biochemical pettiness in the hearts and minds of human beings. Tradition, jealousy, materialism, various psychic and sexual insecurities, and the interior narrative of power relations writ every size, etc. And perhaps far deep down, the pathetic and craven simian need for leaders, for chieftains, for physical bad-asses to protect the village and the water source and the imaginary harem of genetic right-of-way. How about a monsterful breakfast for the rest of your days. I am the candy-date that will give it to you and keep immigration and race-mixing to a reasonable limit.

But in the Clemens tradition, I won't allow myself to be more than briefly side-tracked with precision philosophy or nuance: we are talking about a very influential, space-age monkey species and we wish to be bound to the territory of generalities and broad historical conjecture, which is larded with proofs of how systems of Homo Sapiens governance are an elegant sham that have worked brilliantly to trick the governed into being shit-caked animals with a fat and bloated opinion of their so-called civilization, and their tinkering little role in its upkeep. This is certainly the specific case with the form of government in the United States of America, which is at the tip of the world hegemonic spear and reportedly the top of the heap of something. Now, it is reasonably well-proven that throughout its existence our species has enjoyed periods of actual, free self-rule and harmony among and between various herds and clans. People speak well of old Athens and the principles of some pre-colonial peoples the globe over, and the principles of political egalitarianism that have led to some of the modern republics with their highly mulled over and credentialed constitutions, and their generously recorded histories. Violent outbreaks of popular revolt against oppressive systems occur still and all through time in small, out-of-the-way pockets of empire, and some youths of the offending ruling class even support these struggles, in theory, from within their class rooms, and dance festivals, their drug-inflamed sex orgies, and term papers. Then there are the assorted smaller cadres of Europeans and aesthetic radicals who attempted to realize different utopian and socialist visions. But we are not in times of real "democracy" and active, utopian self-determination right now, when it comes down to It, which is just where we're at, and which state has caused the stench that disturbed you and caused you to recoil in your dreams and vague moments, if not when you were wide awake.

We have one very fresh and steamy example of the larcenous futility of the American political system and voting in it. We can be frank here, and hairy, and state it plainly: The younger Bush did not win the important presidential election of 2000, and perhaps even more clearly, lost his second assault on the Republic in 2004. These contests were manifest frauds, almost too wicked and insulting to consider without laughter or a deep, crippling disgust. Depending on one's views of the authenticity of the official Non-11 narrative, these election frauds may take on an even more troubling and ominous color. But every credible measure that has ever been made of these castor oil referendums ("You'll take it and not like it!") proves very simply that Bush was installed, or selected.

Put another way, the whole game was rigged, and we the participants were simply pulling levers that were attached to nothing, for proponents and opponents that are little fake front men for the more authentic and powerful players that have always lurked in the backdrop of it all. In spite of the sounds from the onanist echo chamber of media and mainstream punditry, "W" was not even a credible contestant, or intended to be. No amount of make-up or historical revision will clean up that imp's stinking low character or erase the stain of his blotched, madness-stricken face from the national lineage of Important Guys. A murderer of frogs and a crasher of bicycles, the blank-minded puppet priest chosen to preside haplessly over the satanic/dark masonic mega-ritual of Nein-11 he was, and nothing more. He is, for all time in his archetypal way, The Cipher and puppet executive, and unworthy of further remark here, where we are serious, except to say that his outright vileness and ineptitude was a cute additional insult above the weird piratical farce of those long-winded millennium rituals. The game was rigged. A cackling elf may as well have been perched inside the shambolic voting apparata and behind the corrupted touchscreen computers in your local demo-cracy zone, eating or wiping his ass with your ballots and digital selections. We all lined up to be summarily shot with silliness and trumpery, and were impatient when the line moved too slowly. We snorted and stamped and enjoyed our harsh divisions, but everyone knows how astonished we really were when the offensive idiot from the somewhat provenu CIA and banking dynasty scampered away for a second time with the presidency, and a victory over an obvious, fraternal patsy who now heads the state department and looks barely human because of ghastly plastic surgeries. If any of us recalls, the 2000 matter was ultimately settled by the Supremest Court in the Land. Their decision is infamous and it tells only a small part of the story. The dark alliance of Bribery and Coercion probably tells the rest. Indeed, some competent, informed researchers say money from the bottomless coffers of the Coca Cola Empire (a corporation well-known to be connected to the Central Intelligence Agency in the same way that Air America and The National Endowment for Democracy and USAID are) went towards this barrister-buying. The one dissenting opinion whispers volumes, if one were to read it, in a safe place.

And so we touch on the minds and most importantly the frail memories of our species. If we had memories to serve us, and not just televisions and pharmacologists, we would sense the repetitious Wrong of these patterns in the systems we consider so important. It's very clear that we are terminally forgetful, as a species; we have senile or child-like memories and deference to our superiors, which relation can replace the need for memories, learning, and knowledge. Servitude is always a form of helplessness, of complete dependence. But it is also swinishness and pathological egomania, in our case. We are now told that a new day has dawned and America swiftly redeemed itself from the Bush-League years by electing an Afro-American president. An actual negro in the white house, however diluted and brahminized the blackness might have been. So many good people leaped headlong into a blubbering fit of "liberal" optimism in 2008. And those who were dumb and bad, or at least dumb, howled bitterly and they cringed at the prospect of the ostensible tanned goodness of what appeared to be Obama, the near-complete reversal of Bush.

Altogether, the land was seduced and prodded into a kind of skin-deep and monochrome monomania, content to make the whole contest a tussle of shallow identity values, without bothering to judge the charade at large. We don't have memories or we would recall that this kind of evil outrage of being tricked on a titanic scale is nothing new. Historically, we are a nation whose role seems to be that of a garrison state, under remote control. Our principal purpose seems to be to make war for various forms of profit on behalf of a more elite grade of human being that does not recognize similac notions like sovereignty, human rights, nationalism or justice. This arrangement requires massive trickery and scientific brainwashing. It requires in a pendular fashion the exigent need to pull a brownish nigger from a silk top hat at the perfectest and most cynical time, following a nightmare of rule-by-Bush-and Company, or even to produce a Clinton after a Bush, but only in a time before the internet and the basic forms of competent research that thing affords. We must all join hands and admit that this wiser age of the internet could only be seduced and trickified by a State-baked Brownie like Obama, if we had first been professionally brainwashed by the eternal flickering horror-show of Non-11, which, to gild the obvious, was a show produced by the same hollywood-type outfit that then debuted Obama after his short life of finishing and painting up and being yanked fully formed from the head of the devil, somewhere between Hawaii and Indonesia and Columbia University. And I will race-mix and confuse all the metaphors I please right here, because for a little while, you see, I am in actual control. Telling you as it is, and not as it appears to be. I won that basically competent moron's right by publishing newspaper columns which refute the child's fiction known as the Non-11 Tragic Events. And by then pointing out in the same space that Paul Wellstone was probably murdered, thereby assassinating my own career in journalism.

Yea, we should remember, like good little sanctimonious lever-yankers who might retain some fondness for the truth and objective history-keeping, that our democracy has lately suffered murderous pangs of self-betrayal again and again, and resembles a failure totally hollowed out by greed and evil. There are state-assassinated presidents, congressmen, and moral leaders littering our recent past. There is the constant sacrilegious warfare by every means against other countries. All along the way, lies, jingoism, distortion, corrupted news media. We don't comprehend that 100 years is absolutely meaningless as an historic period of time, but significant in our case for its strange, homicidal, even cultural viciousness. So much evil, and sanctimony to cover it, in so little time. In our case, it seems our memories are so bad that we have no sense of time at all, or vice versa. Fifty years ago is 5 centuries, at least. We have Kennedy brains still spattered all over us and rotten material from the bodies of Lincoln and Wellstone stuck in our guts but we don't notice, or maybe we don't care. We are only good pigs and only wish to be fed routinely. For routine food distribution systems and a solid infrastructure, we will even sit down or suit up and submit to sadistic brainwashing, and go to endless, psychotic war. We're slyly trained with sports and video games and always, formally, by the military and by our secret husbands, and we hardly notice any of it. Games and Wars never stop, and they never have purpose, the funny things. But they both become more global and Greater, and more shiny with imagined virtues. They must be related somehow. They always have asses for the seats, meat for the kill, and grist for the mill. What right does meat on a hook have to vote for anything.

To get us constantly to forget requires some effort, you can imagine. I know you can. Because we are smart creatures and it is not simply a question of memory-loss here, but of trauma and coercion, too. In our case, the most effective expression of this effort, and maybe the only one worth talking about, besides football and Lady Gaga and all of televised or visual media, is the American public school system. I can't speak of private schools because I am from the lower classes. In those schools, they probably enjoy a different kind of scholarship, a different kind of education altogether, as they end up in very different neighborhoods, income brackets, and prisons. But in public schools I can tell you, we are ruthlessly taught to forget, and whipped if we remember. We are given harmless texts and a regimen that involves bells and a flag in every room except where we defecate. We are taught the obvious mysteries like Darwin and WWII, peace be upon it, and in these upsetting days we endure lots of testing that will determine our school's funding and the livelihood of our teachers. We are indeed very well-tested.

And we come out of these compulsory 13 years of training with a shabby and asinine view of the crucial subject of History, and apparently, also now, of the natural sciences, and math, and civics, and even basic, agreeable social training that for a time, about seven years, still held society together despite the advent of hand-held gadgets and compulsive internet masturbation. When I look back on the years of my primary and secondary education, the main impression I get is of the definite need for a tertiary one. We are not saying that the people there, my classmates and friends and fellows and instructors, were dumb or horrible, but that the specific school system itself, and its philosophy, were created by 19th-century Prussian Statists who worshiped centralized, fundamentally aristocratic power, and this system was selected and adopted by our Prussianic, freemasonic leaders for just this reason, because it regards us mainly as a form of chattel that can be brought into an ordered and reliable discipline. That is why we are lied to methodically and encouraged to feed or chant together in front of that mystery-school banner every morning, until the awful ritual isn't needed to help flatten our personal will, and we elect to refrain from standing and jabbering but still have the permanent tape-worm of obedience feeding in our stomachs. It is why we are force-fed such a fat catechism of lies. And obviously that's why our system has turned out this army of pitiless, vicious body and money-worshippers, these chemical-crazed sensualist hustlers who are stupid, vain and forgetful enough to call themselves "citizens." Usually even the finest and most honorable of us who graduate from high school to the voting booths are still just meat producers. We are tied to an economic system that is a murderous hoax and intended to crumble, and in our own political system we are meaningless and treated like babies with no understanding. Beyond our own private spiritual lives and our importance to our families and close communities, we are the lowest of pawns.

And then we have the universities, which we might hope would be that third and redeeming education, as we are hopeful and creative creatures, who anticipate the best as long as we get enough calories and the pump is thumping. The reality is far less wholesome. We make it to the end of another four to eight precious years of mandates and indoctrination and again receive square boards to put on our heads, and are granted our certificates, a ceremonial pronouncement of worth to society. Thus gripped by the ankle and smacked in the face, then flung to the unshackled bloodthirsty market, we can conclude that our universities have nothing to do with the universe and are in fact very much local, provincial institutions. They are so much more like your local cannery. The meat comes into the cannery and is put into tins, the tinned meat is then sent to market. As with caviar, there are different varieties and qualities of the canned matter, the best of which is produced and packaged in entirely different and mysterious buildings, and these wide varieties of flesh grant us all the illusions of choice and potential we desire. We have shining before us always the dreamlike possibility of advancement towards a higher grade of wastefully packaged slop. I don't know about you, patient word-reader, but fuck voting. It is the death cycle King of Insults to a dumb people who believe in Presidents and bin Ladens and possibly deserve them both. It's the modern Killing of the King ritual, expanded to the entire herd. Long live George W. Bush, Obama is King, Capital and material power are God.

Capitalism: the rainy day of death will come.

he was speaking about derivatives
and the Big C.
he was speaking of increasing
bank's capital requirements
and the need
to secure them against risk,
when he said,
"and the rainy day will come."

No one knew if he meant a rainstorm here
or in Africa or southeast Asia,
or whether the rain would be wet, or cancerous,
or composed entirely of bombs and missiles and chemical weapons.
and in truth, these are storms
of the Big C's brewing, too,
and which it is peacefully, mathematically
resigned to.
So we will never, ever know,
except that we should always expect rain.

I Didn't Mean to Bash America but She was Drunk and Out of Line.

The writing seems to be very clearly plastered across the wall, and the T-shirts, and the music videos, and the television news and adverts, and the newspapers, and the modes of official speech. You may have to search among lots of other distracting, useless information and messages, or have the proper spectacles on, to read the script. I'm talking about the non-roseate glasses worn by the somewhat rare, informed citizen of this country who is not a self-absorbed, teat-guzzling donkey wage-earner. To see the writing, you do not necessarily have to have access to the internet, but it's only there that you can exercise any amount of control over the data being entered into your hard drive, as opposed to letting data flow neatly, one-way, into your mind-drive from a dodgy TV screen which knows all the petty secrets of human thought and impulse, and sucks its life from them. If not for your pick-pocket fondling by the television that knows you so well and is there for you always, you might have no sex life, many of you. The TV and its disease-carrying alpha waves are destroying your humanity, what is left of it. The TV is an altar meant for child sacrifice.


(Our Lady of Gaga, pictured above, as below, demonstrating that one has to suffer, and even sacrifice themselves on live television, for their art. Interestingly, one of the earliest etymological origins of the word "celebrity" comes from the Old French, meaning "solemn rite or ceremony." And of course a "star" is a heavenly body. As below, Our Lady of Ritual Gibberish, hanging out inside a Zodiac Costume.)




If, if you feel pity and contempt at the same time for the imbeciles, for these other rose-tinted mind-cripples, wardens, executives, security analysts, lewd choreographers and wealthy pornographers surrounding you, pity and contempt for their drugged inability to see the obvious when they are being practically raped by it, then you shouldn't be ashamed. You can't be criticized. You can't be reasonably called "wild-eyed" just for having opened them, or when you are in fact squinting against the obscene, blinding glare which the awful blingbling state of things gives off.


("Jay-Hova's" esoteric Bling-bling pictured above; note the exacting position of his eye)

(More god-damned esoteric mind-controlling cuteness from Madonna's high-priestess Kabbala-spawn, below. She has eyes to see, you know, even if they seem empty.)




If you have a vague sense of an impending News-Real terror that will be encased in lies and spawned by the sick power-lust of Judaeo-Anglo-Saxon reaction, (and certainly not by any jihadist revolutionary sentiment) then a bloody hearty congratulations to you, indeed. You are not as fucking stupid as you should be...as it was intended that you be. You are more than your vanity and your need for a plastic peace of mind. If you smell something foul in the formula we are plugged into and which has been slipped into our nippled bottles, and that a war with Iran or mass swine flu vaccinations are not the wisest or most humane courses for America, then you should pat yourself on the back and become a diplomat, or a medical doctor. But do not marry or have children or love anyone deeply because these weaknesses will eventually be used against you. If you do embark on a mission of righteousness and truth-telling, remember to declare openly and often that you would never commit suicide, so that when you are murdered, the newspapers can't as effectively lie about your demise. Above all, should you ever rise to a position of real influence and yet still choose to publicly attack or contradict the official state version of events, then you must avoid flying in any sort of airplane, no matter what.

I tend to feel there are no "Muslim extremists" alive today who are not either fake or merely reacting, as they are the target or pawns of extremely belligerent and mostly indescribable evils being practiced by the Occult extremists of the West, by the godless Capitalist Radicals in their Mystery Schools: Those same inbred sociopaths that put all that alchemical nonsense of eyes, pyramids, numerology and bizarre talismanic images of the Towers collapsing on your money as if it were a folding Tarot card, and who are methodically devaluing that money, and who would like nothing better than to abduct and rape your children because it is for them such a pleasant pastime, when they are not planning invasions and fake terror attacks. The same spooky devils who use the MTV Video Music Awards and the Super Bowl half-time "shows" as staging grounds for not very well-concealed high-Occult ceremonies and magic rituals, with mock blood sacrifices and the baring of so many bejeweled pop-star titties as to make the mind reel over the concept of "malfunction," if not coincidence. There never was an Islam-o-fascist as frightening as the devil worshippers, neo-nazis, Kabbalists and wet-mouthed sadists that we call our celebrities, elected representatives, and clergy, whom we heed and obey like so many lobotomized serfs or redrobed acolytes. Even now I obey their orders, committing my objectionable opinions to their permanent, clever trap, the internet.










With America's noted taste for tradition and ritual, we now acknowledge the 70 year anniversary of the day we tested some technology on Japan, a terrific weapon of mass destruction which has guided our noble destiny since that day of Primal Shock and Awe, or primal "Shekinah," if you prefer.




On August 6, 1945, we fucked up Japan terrible bad, for generations, and it was more a kind of controlled experiment than a military act. In our mighty flying craft, we flew over the old island autocracy, a land full of suffering serfs, and dropped these brand-new market products and wonders of science on it. According to the court history of the incident(s), we did this because we were at war with the Japanese People, an involvement we are told arose from the devious yellow devils' decision to entangle us in another undesired world war, when they stabbed our broad, honorable back in Hawaii, our beautiful lily pad to the Orient, wrested rightfully from the Spanish, another grasping race of religious fanatics who also once surprised us with a surprise back-stabbing in foreign harbors, back in 1898. There was no democratic vote in 1945: it was the Executive Branch that carried out the mass execution of children, Taoist priests, Allied POW's, and every breathing house-pet within range of a poisoned atmosphere, but our Western-Civ and American history texts do indicate that each of these seal-clubbing vermin deserved it, because they were definitely sleazy back-stabbing fanatics with slanted eyes suggestive, reminiscent, and provocative of evil. Then, as now, our military intelligence was simply not competent enough to prevent massive surprise attacks, whether delivered by entire, disappearing Japanese Navies or by a small gang of homicidal Muslims from South Florida armed with box-cutters and a remarkably clunky plan that reeked of Hollywood. It is that fundamental, institutional incompetence, we have therefore perhaps reluctantly learned, that forces us in the end to resort to more brutish and proactive means of defending our way of life, etc.---Means such as atomic bombs, bio-weapons, continuous wars of aggression, and the various methods we have of turning recognizably human beings into creatures like this...



And didn't we teach them, didn't we spread democracy and not terror by melting and poisoning and wiping out in an instant 140,000 mostly non-combatant types, and then doing it again three days later, on a slightly more modest scale? Wasn't the sacrifice worth the immeasurable prosperity we and our professional sports leagues have enjoyed since ww2? What right do any protesting god-damn Nuns have to object to an act of courage and valor and calculated life-saving which brought an end to a tragic, unloved world war? These thankless virgins could not protest without F-16s even now shooting the hell and the blasphemy out of foreign dictatorships, without having themselves been nourished by the blood of the fanatics of Falluja and Nagasaki, and Jonestown, Guyana. It's true. And yet the crazy nuns protested once again when the military was called upon to soak the lands of Vietnam and Laos and Cambodia with fancy toxins and napalm and millions of bombs and scores of redneck CIA assassins, and more innocent blood than can ever be washed away or remembered.



Undesirable carnage is demanded by the struggles for Democracy and the primacy of our Occult Mystery Religions. We have seen this from the movie, "300," and from the nakedly self-evident successes of our ongoing holy war against countries with no military force whatsoever. One can't very well savor something as diffuse and ethereal as Kabbalistic/Western individual liberty without getting concrete and dirty by chopping off the fanatical monotheist arms and hands of the barbarian, which are regularly trying to assassinate our liberties and our access to fuel. Remember that these are the same vile extremists who do not want your wife, lover, or girlfriend to wear pants, or receive diplomas, or give blowjobs without being commanded, or admire Lady Gaga as she seizures around the award stage, shrieking and covered in blood, or, as in her videos, she copulates with some man beneath a mounted goat's head, before murdering him.

It is for this reason, the sheer difficulty of securing religious freedom and democracy in a world of sooty, backwards zealots and dark, hairy despots who despise our goodcleanfun popular culture, that we must steel ourselves and employ every weapon in the Republic's arsenal. No matter how wicked or reminiscent of terrorism. We must flavor the beard of every Mohammedan with our liberal monthly discharge. We must water-board all enemies of the wight-manse free market and of the objectives of the coy astrological paganism of our ruling class, until the enemies are no longer thirsty, until they are bloated with the need to tell us everything about their next surprise and unactionable attack. Those who do not prostrate themselves before the goat skull and the petrodollar will be made to do so, and their comfort will not be considered butt sadistically. The clever use of anthrax is not off-limits, even in the homeland, nor the alchemical power of occult insignia and mega-rituals, sprinkled over the money and throughout the entertainment. Accept that depleted uranium-stuffed munitions are just the thing for the cause, as they have proven deadly to fanatical terrorists in the womb. Eat these stuffed shells, they are magic: they're so filling that your grand-children may never know hunger... It can perhaps be relied on that the embryos hatched by in-theater American soldiers are more durable and resistant to the cancers caused by these powerful weapons, as the embryos' parents have better diets, and are extremely well-vaccinated. We can only hope with our singular united statist optimism that our obedient boys on the battlefields do not succumb to the poisons we're using on them, just as we can only hope that the sorcery bubbling over on our televisions doesn't make too many Crowleys and Bush's, too many Jay-Hova's and Michael Aquino's of our somewhat attentive children. But the odds suggest that we have disfigured many of our future generations already. Hopelessly and in a host of ways, in part because we have turned much of the world into a mass-grave and a toxic dump.

There is one thing about our collective and massive failure to read the writing on the walls and screens and death notices, that gives me reason to be less disgusted. It is the nearly unavoidable state of our blindness. We are esteemed by our masters to be stabled plow-beasts, or laboratory subjects only, and it's for good reason. It's a refined and well-controlled operation. We are subjected to a persistent, organized program of blinkering and eye-gouging, all very scientific. Our diets in everything are finely limited to the things which delight and enervate us, or that can only give us the brief and meaningless enthusiasms of cocaine and speed addicts.We engage in religious pursuit of onanism, sculpted cores, orgasm. The rejection of the endlessness or eternal rebirth of organic life, and thus in a way the murder of its safe-guarded dignity, is replaced by Yolo. Yolo has sincere traction right now. It explains much of youth behavior and is more than a catch-phrase milked by the capitalist.

How are we to make sense of anything with Gaga and Jay-Z and the Bush clan and Rupert Murdoch and Rudy Giuliani exerting an influence on the collective mind and heart? When the whole of academia, media, and the intellectual classes insist that 9-11 was an authentic terror attack launched by Muslims and has "changed everything forever," and that we had better toe these absurd, fatally murderous lines if we know what is good for us? When now, because of these treasonous mass murders of 2001, our armies are slaughtering and encouraging the slaughter of innocent people every day in the name of an evil hallucination? There is most certainly an end game strategy at play here, but it is definable, visible only to those with sufficiently focused or interested vision, with "eyes to see." It is never treated in bold-face, in any headline: the occultic end game is only described as if by the microscopic and morbid cautionary script on potent pharmaceuticals that the state mandates some sad anxious child must take, and which script is never intended to be read. The semi-secret blood-Rules of the game are written into an invisible but no less real contract that exists between slave and Master. It is all very much between the lines, while we are taught to take all things literally. One result appears to be that we become schizophrenic, with a bizarre, sublimated taste for the flesh and suffering of our neighbors, which used to be called "cannibalism," and "sadism," but is now merely living in what is called a "free market system." Truly, the market has freedom, and we have mystery diseases, and wars.

Blindness is merely living, getting on with it, in this slave and bordello system. And so we accept having been blinded, warped, pimped and rendered to a very sloppy state of semi-awareness; but to the extent that we were always an unsophisticated species dependent on the dull, reliable satisfactions of herd life, maybe, after all, we can't really be blamed for this compliance, or even for relishing our diet of gruel-thin propaganda and ninety-nine scent bloodburger sandwiches. All we seem to want is consistency---but a thin consistency---and more calories and possessions than we need or deserve. All we seem to want are these things, and for the milk maid to come and relieve all the pressure in our tits and bellies. Then to leave us alone and let us go on chewing and fucking and rubbing ourselves, inside the golden pen.











(Hey, Kids! Can you spot the Baphomet in your favorite Rhianna, Lady Gaga, or Omarion video? Is that what you don't think it is? Could they all just be simple goat-herders?)



...For further illuminating (if glossary) reading on the subject of the arcane and wicked-smelling world of Kabbalistic/Mystical American show business:

here.

and here.

SPECIAL AND IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: Of course, none of this mess about the Kabbalist/esoteric agenda within modern popular entertainment may mean a thing. It could all exist simply to keep us confused and afraid and paranoid, as a kind of fear-based psychological operation, a la the mass murders of 9-11. There is always that possibility, but we are left to judge it all quietly as individuals. The crowd might stone you to death, after all, if you pipe up.

Dear Mr. Lebron James

Dear Mr. LeBron James,

With all due reverence, sir, this is not a fan letter. You are a fine basketball player, true, and world-renowned. Your physical talents are wondrous. But such fame and wondrous ability mean nothing if you continue this way, meek and quiet about politics as you have been, when the people of the United States are in need of a moral savior from the sports world.

It is clear that we can’t count on moral leadership from our politicians. We could literally have an all-star game right now between only those Congressmen who have been ousted from office for gross corruption, thievery, kickbacks, refrigerator-banking, fornication with prostitutes and members of the same sex while claiming heterosexuality, etc. Those who cleverly remain or have not yet been nabbed for buggery and bribery are right now making a great show of a meaningless debate on precisely which way the federal government will gorge itself and its moneyed industrial constituents on the criminally inefficient health care resources of the country, while calling the feast, once again, good for the working classes whom they have wavered between neglecting and poisoning for the past thirty years. They may be doing this only to seem humane or reasonable in advance of the next (surprise!) cooked-up ridiculous reason---this time offered by the Hope and Change Administration---to begin bombing select countries of petrochemical value, who knows? (I don't know, because I am left to figure nearly everything out for myself. One can scarcely trust the collected news media, after all, and without the press in a democracy, we are like so many ignorant, land-bound serfs, you might agree. As some smart carper once said, "the challenge for American newspapers is not to stay in business, it is to stay in journalism.") Or they may be pandering to our health care concerns to show us what a very humane Nanny State looks like, before the implementation of the ulterior Draconian Fascist State they have been patiently planning for generations as we tilled the fields, drove the trucks, served and consumed the meaningless filth of capitalism, and generally wiped our asses with everything good and virtuous. Have you noticed, Mr. James, that in America, under every rock is a magic serpent, coiled within...and coiled about with...the lobes of the symbolic, fetishized, human hybrid brain, and spinal column, and topped by its sacred pineal gland? The caduceus of the master medical priesthood? Yes, me too! We have similar predilections. And we both surely agree that we are lower on the great pole of societal being than anyone who wears an institutional robe. Let's get back to temporal business, though.

Bank and finance reform are not on any of our horizons, Mr. James, nor a reconsideration of the militarist and unconstitutional Bush policy doctrines still in effect, nor some gesture towards reducing the 10-25% unemployment rate, our needlessly huge prison population which is the shame of the world, or even the disgraceful murder rates of south central Los Angeles and other of our blighted cities. You and I have been treated immorally, Mr. James, like fools or blind geriatrics, since well before we were born. We have been scammed continuously by professionals whose great-grandparents were great grifters, themselves.

It is also clear that never before have professional athletes held so much influence over the American mind. We actually subsidize you and your stadiums and facilities from middle school through the pros. We see you everywhere and are saturated with news coverage of your silliest private antics. You relentlessly haunt our culture from dusk till dawn, from winter until fall. And it is worth pointing out that our multitude of officials desperately want us to be distracted from their misdeeds and their growing acquisition and abuse of power, which makes you athletes very useful, indeed. You are one of the highest-paid employees of the Department of Bread and Circuses, Mr. James. But your relationship with our government and your handsomely purchased silence are just symbolic. There is nothing in your current contract that forbids you from speaking out when your government is, say, guilty of devious crimes to include coups and bogus terror attacks, or unspeakably cynical negligence in the face of natural disasters, at least, or complicity in the murder of high level political actors judged too anti-establishment. I am inclined to think JFK, MLK and Leo Ryan were not the last politicians to die under awfully questionable circumstances, in America.

Two NBA players did murmur out against the second heat of the 9-11 Wars for Revenge and Expansion: Misters Foyle of the Warriors and Nash of the Suns, some years ago. In the distant past, athletes were sometimes known to pipe up without an undignified and unmanly fear of losing endorsements that could only make them marginally more obscenely wealthy, but it is possible that these political athletes of old spoke out precisely because they weren’t paid much, and had lots less to lose. Still, Olympic medals are quite valuable at any time, and such symbols were once famously exchanged by black American athletes for the right to make necessary, radical political statements in a time of unjust slaughter-war and domestic repression, just as the Heavyweight Title of the world was once given up in protest. That may be why your own generation of disc-hurlers and bladder-bouncers and flingers is paid such extravagant salaries, by comparison: you appear to be the beneficiary of an astronomical hush-money scheme, so valuable are your services.

There’s a comfortably sitting belief here that sometimes wars are good for economies. Well we are already waging two, at least, and the economy is in the sewer, with a chance of near-collapse. But we both know that some specific, highly-connected sectors of our economy do extremely well in times of war. So at best we are sending soldiers abroad to play deadly dodge ball in support of a hallucination; the worst is almost unprintable.

I’m writing to you because I know how much power you have over my strange country, and because I am one of those people who is completely luke-warm when it comes to Obama and his quaint platform of Hope and Change and Bad-mouthing poor Kanye West, recognizing as I do that our government has continued apace with its elitist, toxic policies and war crimes, even though we are supposed to have left all that behind with the dreadful orator and zero, G. W. Bush, and his mercenary, red-handed handlers. I respect your proven skills at the 3 and 4 over Obama's skillful posturing at the 1 and 2.

Mr. James: Take a stand and join the 9-11 Truth movement or something insanely brave and meaninglessly symbolic like that. From your towering platform tell people about shadow government or, say, the proven and seemingly ineradicable link between the legitimate economy and the black and narco-economies, between intelligence agencies and international drug dealing. Start there. Because these issues are wonderful heuristic devices, and they contain answers and questions that necessarily cover all the political issues and themes under the sun and its worshipers. Wear a black wrist band and throw that hand up after every dunk. If you were to get yourself disappeared, even, imagine the galvanizing effect it would have on the sleepy political will of the American people. At the very least, please make a public declaration that the Global War on Terror is a terrorist fraud and that we should be suspicious of rulership, and not one another and foreigners, so much.



***Editorial Update, July 8, 2010, free-agency season.***

The basketball player known alternately as "King James," "LBJ," and "The Chosen One," has just completed his amusing round of fat-headed playfulness with the NBA fans and GM's of the universe, by choosing to go play for some expansion team on the dirty prong of clubbery and cocaine-huffing known as Florida. As we all understand, Florida and especially Miami, that trans-shipment point of most of the CIA's incoming cocaine, is a filthy place without a shred of virtue or value beyond its vast drug profits. In opting to go play for one of this narco-kingdom's miserable NBA upstarts, Mssr. James has chosen the lowest road possible. It is surely the quickest route to a Scurvy reputation. Americans are supposed to be unanimously opposed to predatory capitalism and unseemly excesses. But for some reason they have not yet voted to eliminate Florida from the union. So now, considering how we worship sporting events and their never-ending seasons, it will be quite unthinkable to eradicate the seeping member of Florida from the American body at large; we adore our celebrities far more than we abhor our filthy grasping dynasties, one learns from reading newspapers. There are a great many Pro ballers in Florida, just as there are a great many strippers.

So it is proper and meet that the author of the above letter to Mssr. James rescinds all the sentiments detailed. If the man from Akron wants to become King of Weaseldom, to conserve his niggling NBA salary wealth within Florida's undemocratic tax system and reject the chance to join one of several reputable teams that might require him to play the game with a spine, then it should be accepted as true that he will never care one tiny whit about ethical political matters. Whosoever shall go play for Riley with those other All-stars cannot have a moral viewpoint, and shouldn't be expected to ever raise his voice beyond anything other than a meek whisper for more endorsements and the advice of Warren Buffet.



***Hot-headed Addendum, June 9, 2010***

This letter from Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert is a fine case study of the insane degree to which America takes its sports fetish.

http://www.nypost.com/p/sports/more_sports/cav_owner_mad_as_hell_HfxsByEfoS5vIvMpFKoeZN

It is the kind of childish and spiteful venom rarely seen outside of Congress, and Mr. Gilbert will live to regret his ego-driven, mass public indulgence in hasty pudding, just as Warren Buffet's little buddy will regret his own unseemly public feast. Because there is simply nothing wrong with the South Bitch leaving his "hometown" Cleveland team after seven years and repeated failures. In and of itself the move is just business. But the manner of LeBum's announcement and the fact of his choosing "To take his talents to South Beach" are what really do stink, and surely are what drove the Cavs owner to this petulant madness.

But anyway you slice it, LeBum the South Bitch sneered at the soul of basketball for an extended marathon of several weeks, pretending uncertainty, as happy as a dog rolling in shit who has just gobbled the chickens in the coop without anyone the wiser.

You see, the soul of basketball exists in New York City, and nowhere else. The city itself is sheer madness and her people accordingly insane, but one does not piss on the soul of basketball, for anything. The fertile female Mother-soul of New York City, (the world's greatest and arguably most aggrieved city) even the Big Bitch in the harbor herself, prepared the matrimonial bed for you beginning last summer. It was done with ritual and undisguised care. She lay waiting for you, totally in surrender, and you chose to go have a ten-year orgy in Miami with some mindless club tramps with huge butts. You may be a big fool, a typical modern American to whom winning and dominance and gross sensualism is everything, but you are not so stupid that you will fail to realize what you did and how shabbily you pulled it off. You may think just like a good market-raping capitalist, like your friends Jay-Hovah and Mr. Buffet, but the majority do not. We dislike narcissism, uneven fields, and cowardice. It will eventually sink into your fat pirate's skull that you have done something deeply metaphysically wrong, and that your reputation will now drag behind you like a diseased carcass for the rest of your days, despite your excellent genes and titles.

I had a dream of you pissing on Ground Zero in Manhattan last night, but you were squatting as you did this, and you were accompanied by the Queen of England, and you were begging her to piss on you. And there you were, guzzling the royal piss of monarchy as the shrieking mob gathered at the rim of the pit.

*****Disinterested update, today: Lebron James is now entering his second season of Rebirth....in playing for his Hometown Cleveland Cavaliers, a team named in theory after a class of steel-encased aristocrat inbreeders who practiced the tradition of raping the virgin brides of their land-tilling male serfs on the very night of their lowly wedding ceremonies. It was good enough for Charleton Heston and it's good enough for Lebron James.

No more room for debate

Well and there you have it. We are left with nothing to debate, when it comes to government, politics, civics, and "the media"---this last being indispensable to the first three, and those being once very important, long ago, before the advent of telecommunications and the many holograms that herd and haunt us from incubator to cell. Yes the whole thing has been canceled and the forum abolished. Still the debate will drone and seep on like the effluvia of a dead body continuing for a bit after life has expired. The corpus jerks, and twitches, and farts out its opinion on tax and monetary and immigration policy, and also the just, proportional use of force in an era of shifting moral compass points, fraught with devious new perils such as Islamic Terrorism and rogue states with nuclear power, and the demonic face of Wall Street's and the City of London's high seas capitalism having now revealed itself.

Though it is truly neither needed, seemly, or germane, the debating will continue. It may please one to linger there at the shabby podium of their moral and intellectual conceit, declaiming, but the wisest of us will not pay attention to the act. There are too many worthless opinions, for their own empty, unsupportable, solipsistic sake. And too many talking heads, with not a single feeling heart left beating and unbled, to power these heads with something useful. Some of us, the wise girls and guys, will ignore the twaddle of the debating society as it gasps its last convincingly flapdoodle arguments. We will be steady fattening up or building muscle, stockpiling canned goods, picking our teeth with brittle old arguments, roll-eyeing the metal-flecked horizon for terror sprees. Some of us will opt out, masturbating and wiggling and posing in anarchic fashions, bored by and angry at things one can't readily define. Inchoate, misdirected ennui and rage, you know.

All this argument about the trusty, naïve democrats vs. the cynical, adult neocons, and about the civil liberties they are tearing between them, about the moribund economy and the death throes of capitalism, herself---Peace be upon Her fat hysterical bosom---all of it is a sham, it has to be admitted here. The left-right discussion engineered by those controlling the limbs of Republicans and Democrats is broken and now without substance or good faith. It is a giant hamster's wheel powered by all of us who are willing. Having roughly as much traction and relevance is the hoary debate about the utility and rightness of Capitalism versus its contender-systems. But at least these discussions are philosophical, and can lead to some progress, or once could have. Taken as a whole, these broad contentions may be less provably hysterical, farcical shams than the one designed special by the Devil’s cartoonists to root about in our current daydreams and lay the eggs of nightmares in our scarce happy moments until we rely in whimpering abject paranoia on the State: Namely, the Daily-polished sham about the vaporous Osama bin Laden and his combustible hairy horde. But such is our main theme or narrative device this decade---it is suitable to our immaturity as a people--- and we must accept its evil childishness and efficacy. We have cashed in our Nazis and Communists for Moslem Terrorists, we are taught. As every civilized westerner possesses a mirror to recognize themselves, they need a gun to recognize others.

But as we all in the tiny province of book-readers and critical thinkers know, this hokum-theme of the Dark Black Islamic God of Terrorism that devours everything not monitored biometrically from a central computer, and belches out tazers and opium and dead Iraqis by the market-load, is just a script we had left over from the theater in Afghanistan, and have now re-worked. Recall that once, Rambo himself fought on the side of the Taliban, in real life. At that time they were Muslims of an obviously more noble stripe---"anti-communist"---and have only since 1986 or so come to symbolize all that is very violently opposed to America and its proprietary catalog of virtues. To my lurid and book-smart way of thinking, all of it amounts to a smutfilm anachronism---the thin dialogue intro to the porn fuck scene that we all know is coming and paid to see, the intro which modern pornography has now dispensed with. But propriety demands these courtly overtures still, in global politics. There must be a distinct and intelligible attack, broadcast in reel-time for the consumption of the TV-fed masses, if there is to be an endless, indistinct and unintelligible "war on terror," as inevitably insane of a military delusion as such an enterprise must be, and unpopular with the plebes and troops. This kind of story can't possibly survive more than one season without a good, catchy "pilot" or "lead."

The pornographic farce, the endless serial situation-tragedy of the established view that radical Islamic terrorism poses an authentic, existential threat to America and free societies is a lewd, disgraceful charade considered necessary for some kind of grand mechanical maintenance of the proper direction of global politics. This farce will stoke the wrath of our children and cause them to suffer and die prematurely, while cursing our names and the soul of Man. There was never any intention at all of cluing us in, we in the masses, as to what the real narrative was, and who played its key roles. Simply because we are such bit actors, and are considered by our directors to be more like beasts or batteries, than people. This never meant, however, that an informed view of these plans and realities was beyond the lowly bit actor, you and I. It just takes work, and we must do the work ourselves, and the reward for the work is often only a tentative and weary understanding, and sometimes depressing.

Some of us fear that a day will come when our children can no longer be both fat and stupid, but will have to make a choice between the two. Like the children in all the other lands, they will be degraded and made sick and to them the only juicy rib marinade recipe worth considering may involve cannibalism. Something has to change and somebody will have to give, or these Western children will have bellies fat with worms and gas and not cheeseburger sandwiches and microwaved and mutated genes and sucrose. They'll be rounded up in broad daylight and they will inevitably lack the sense and the command of the language to protest with anything more than a simpering, snot-mouthed “whatever.” The joke, for them, even then, will still perhaps be on somebody else, as it always was.

So what we are served in the mainstream news is fat bottomless sound, the rhythmic beating of hollow plastic vessels. It is believed by our gentlemen planners, the management class of Olympia and beyond, that if we did not have the constant appearance of a valid and worthy, civilized debate about all these managed controversies, we would focus, perhaps, on the crumbling of the world around us. We might attend to our own suffering and madness. These interminably broadcast feuds at once preoccupy and divide us from one another, and allow us to feel we are participating in a cherished system based on free will and democratic principles of mindful participation, of comprehension of the issues by even the grass-roots levels of society. We all know a free media equals a live democracy. But if one is working at a brothel and chooses to call it a hospital, it remains a place for sucking off and not succor.

All these arguments and schisms are silly distractions, as they are intended to be. It is true, granted, that human beings need to beat one anothers' ideas into submission on a sort of regular basis, just to keep the species vital or whatever. But this constant circular bickering is different; it is neither random nor beneficial nor productive, and would be inconceivable without the knavish political class America has allowed to breed in its capital. The arguments are not worth our time and they are rendered in idiot’s terms. Who frames the debate and where, if anyplace, is the broader moral context acknowledged? Few people have ever seen a modern congressman engage in self- or national criticism on any real level. Hardly anybody knows what a depleted uranium shell is. Dishonesty and crony-capitalist self-service have been the order of the twentieth century, I can report to you, and it has gotten measurably worse since that day of improbable dive-bombings and skyscraper collapses along our east coast.

It is a basic, undeniable fact that American politicians and political figures are assassinated if they go off mark or become a danger to the fundaments of this system. This reality of snuffed civic leaders is simply not subject to debate, any more than are the realities of the larger and more deadly deceptions of our national security state and its intelligence agencies, and the ways in which both have sought, practiced, and described wars. But as a nation, we haven't even dealt with Pearl Harbor---let alone 9-11---or the murderers of Abraham Lincoln---let alone JFK and King and Wellstone's murderers. Still, no competent single adult in their private mind buys the official, court explanation of the Kennedy murders, most significantly. And that is why the individual adult, who is so often smart and decent, must be smashed savagely and regularly in the head, and made to feel like a vulnerable little pawn, and discouraged from looking into matters too deeply. The state, the public thing, the mass herd mind, the central authority, has even made perfectly sighted people blind. Blind in broad daylight, incapable of seeing cataclysmic events that happen right in front of them and which are then replayed forever. A president shot here, a congressman or three's deadly plane crash there, three towers collapsing into their footprint on one day, delighting bankers and land-developers and unprosecuted assassins and stock-shorters everywhere. In all of that is an implicit warning we all comprehend: believe or at least regurgitate the movie version of events as reported by the pillar Institutions, or in real life fear the cattle prod and the double axe and the prison rape, because you're just a worm, a helpless little fucking worm laborer.
There is no difference, of course, between republicans and democrats except, in the much-quoted words of one famous, impotent, stinking little moderate activist-cum-politician, "for the velocity at which they fall to their knees when corporations come calling." But what that little fellow said was sincere on a level more lewd than he intended: they are falling to their knees not in honorific subjection, but to sexually gratify their various hidden masters, to suck them off, and these hidden, suckled masters (and they are hidden and very well so, for the purposes of a legitimate democratic system obviously have no use for hiding) have come not to request obeisances here and there, but to demand continuous and already-owed fealties and fellatio from these prostitutes whom they have owned from nearly their beginnings. So it is less an on-going exchange marked by known imbalances than by the playing out of accepted roles of Lord and serf, or more accurately, of Master and slave overseer, of Priest and Temple Whore. It is a dirty courtship all around, and around. Ultimately, one politician may be assassinated just as easily as another, although the record almost suggests those on the “left” are bigger and slower targets, and therefore in the possession of some inherent moral advantage. But really they are the same in their dosage of corruption, having only different self-views: in the Senate, at least, both of them are graft-happy jackasses, but one is a delusional psychotic and claims to be an elephant.

These lowly cross-dressers suck the same wolf’s tits, their freezers are capable of storing the same amount of money. It might not even make a difference that the so-called Republicans (those of “the public thing,” and so, our own Golem, frightful to consider!) always number among their own camp the most conniving and merciless hounds of the devil, the greater number by far of murderers, child molesting child pornographers, snuff film enthusiasts, and, of course, sadistic closet faggots, that most dangerous of all psychologies, as you will eventually see. It may not make a difference, mind you, because the Democrats never call them on it---they never raise hue or fuss about the pedophilia, drug-dealing, or wild sacrifical buggery of the reactionary wing of America. Some of us know about this parallel world of closet-politics; the evidence of this Western Oligarchic Cult of the Phallus Worshippers and Child-murderer-buggerers is abundant throughout time and so is now virtually impossible to suppress in this digital age. And most of us talk openly of what a generalized stage-show it all is, almost as if this frank confession is a bluff American birthright or absolution from complicit guilt…but somehow, most of us still apparently require the taking of sides, if only rhetorically. "I am a moderate republican, used to be a semi-moderate Democrat with a libertarian sensitivity, and what are you, sir? I must know. I must know where you stand."

But is there another, more homely and basic reason that we share in the charade? Politics seems to be like a grand soap opera for intellectuals and those who think of themselves as mature. We seem to take great interest in some form of high political drama which we may identify as “news” or “current/global events,” and uniquely Human, one has to assume, when one looks around and can’t find a chimpanzee CNN, or a monkey-produced New York Times, or repeated gorilla wars waged in poorer monkey countries where most of the illegal drugs are produced, at once-inefficient levels, until the stronger ape occupiers came with better fertilizer. Why do we even care about “politics,” as it is known, when we all suspect it of being totally, irretrievably corrupt, and at worst and commonly wondered aloud, as evidence of the death of God?


I suspect we crave the certainty that our own small pile of shit adds to a much greater pile, that our foulness is normal. So we join this or that party, vote such and such a way. We divorce ourselves from risk and responsibility, and then invest in the market, even if it is our pensions, or ---if you'll pardon me---our souls. If Bernie Madoff and Jim Cunningham and the many pestilential presidents of the world can do it, so can I? It is a confused formulation but it has the logic of self-worship. Let us all have cake while we can, and woe be unto the terrorism-minded who would obstruct our fun or freedom, or point out that we are covered in shit and live in ca-ca castles and are eating poop-pastries with nothing more than a shit-eating grin to our excrement-caked names.

Things have gotten quite serious, I’m afraid, and we should all be talking about other things. Anything but ourselves and our senseless dung idols and threadbare political notions. Most of the people I see have no interest in books or substantive, adult, literate politics, and are even a bit proud of it, in the same way that more and more people are a bit proud of being callous and cunning in their treatment of others, like robots designed for competition or battle. They are involved in their own predictable, simulator lives and their confusions have overtaken them and I am gushing with pity for them all, but it takes a while for the gushing to begin because they act like such self-conscious, hostile little lab mice and it's contemptible. Why don’t we think and talk of other things? The reality of things is not uninteresting. I can see that, sadly, the personal reality that most of us experience is fatally boring and devoid of potential, and that beneath the outer layer is a lot of space waiting to be filled. But outside of us, simple us, there is almost always a very interesting collective story. And thankfully, behind the conventional storybook, newspaper reporting of these stories, there is so often something wild and silly and nearly unmentionable. And I say thankfully because if the world's problems could really be explained by conventional ideas of conflict, human nature, and resource struggle, we would be lost and I would vote for our extermination. But the real truth is methodically hidden, and an essential part of that truth is this: Human beings are decent and reasonable, and in order to drink one another's blood as we are doing in so many ways right now on earth, we must be trained that way, and misguided.

There is actual truth in the idea, put forth in the movie, "Men In Black" and mentioned often by knowledgeable conspiracy logicians, that the seedy tabloids marketed in your check-out aisles contain more than a little of what is real, of what is considered taboo or untouchable in established media circles. But these magazines can't cover everything, and their objective may be to force us to throw out any babies with the bathwater. Psy-ops type stuff, you dig. One suspects that the first man targeted in the anthrax attacks, a photo editor for the tabloid, The Sun, was not just randomly selected. He is the only person targeted by those hate letters who actually died, as he was not protected by an elaborate system of letter-openers like congressmen are.


Now take the seemingly small-time story of Harvey Milk, resurrected from his murdered state by Mr. Sean Penn in an academy award-winning movie show. Milk and the San Francisco mayor’s murders are both rather apparently connected to the fallout from the Jonestown Massacre of 1977, the infamous White-Messiah-and-black-folks-and-Kool-Aid incident that went so horribly wrong and resulted in the deaths of over 900 people and over 250 children. Or was it 450 people? The government somehow erred so drastically in their initial death tally that one can’t be sure, as one can simply never be sure in horrible cases of messianic human wickedness and African-American mental frailty like these. But the point here is not simply that black folks are more apt to participate in mass suicide, presumably, if the poison is mixed with one of their favorite drinks, the point here is that nowhere in the movie show or in popular media sources will you find any connections made between San Francisco political heavyweight and vote-wrangler Jim Jones and the tragic and mostly unpunished murders of Milk and Moscone, or for that matter, between Jones and the CIA. Connections which are not hard to discover even with casual research. Connections that scream out, "shadow government," and, "destroy the television."

Yes, the more tenacious the investigator, the wilder and seemingly less credible the Truth to be discovered. This rule applies even more provocatively to stories and incidents of the high-level, influential sort, such as with Iran-Contra, or the various antagonisms that have led countries into war in the modern age: the cassus belli which, very often, objective history eventually looks back on and disproves as being counterfeit, and shady in the extreme. Remember the Alamo, and the Maine, and Pearl Harbor, and…well, forget about more recent events like the Gulf of Tonkin and those babies and the incubators In Iraq, and the stock-trading and military drills on 9-11, and those vanishing WMD’s. Just sit back and relax.


And so, what is there to debate, in all seriousness, if we are to take ourselves seriously and not just go on chirping and babbling? I propose we debate the Tragic Events, 9-11, the Great Occult Mega-Ritual of September, the Dying Harvest Season, 2001. There is a lot of purchase there for argument, a lot of meat.

Naturally the most appropriate thing anyone has said yet about the tragic events was spoken by Adolph Hitler or one of the chief dead Nazis subordinate to him, like Goebells or probably Hess, his weird intellectual champions and court metaphysicians. It is the famous, much-quoted statement about the size of the lie, and how the greater the size, the more believable the lie will be in the eyes of the public, or more descriptively, the masses. Consider that the Nazis were much more of a secret society than a political movement or party, and that secret societies are based on strict hierarchies and their essential devotion to exclusive knowledge, to rites of secrecy and important, doctrinal ideas veiled in allegory. They knew how the whole feverish conception of the master Aryan Race and its mythic resurgence after such hard, hard times as Germany had suffered, could be used like a great golden key to unlock the subconscious mind of the German people and prod its exposed softness into a perverted, docile submission and complicity. They assured the white folks of how splendid and preternaturally destined for greatness they were, while they leveled all blame for any of their suffering at the feet of the alien race among them, the eternal “scapegoat,” the “sacrifice.” They literally seduced the people when they were at their weakest. They put on the most marvelous show ever seen since the Romans, perhaps, with parades and cinema and great public displays of vigor, artistry and technological exuberance. They may have topped even us, and unquestionably they did so in this organizing of glorious state spectacles that hypnotized and brought the masses together---something we could never do simply because of our massive geography, but which we are improving upon with the advent of satellites and instant communications and strange new psychological and pharmaceutical operations. But there is something so much more strange and profound about what the Nazis were doing, as if they were suffering pangs of crazed spiritual pain and mania that went improperly diagnosed as simple sociopathology. None of the history I was taught even begins to get at their bizarre mystical beliefs, how essentially religious a movement the Nazis represented and possibly still do on some levels. For that matter, none of the history I was taught probes very deeply into the documented and irresistible fact that the Roman Church, Western and American Capital, and western power brokers of especially fascinating lineage all funded, enabled, or capitalized off of the Nazis, perhaps because they get to write the history books that you and i eventually do not learn from.

The Nazis were one giant, occult, multi-layered lie, yes, but that did not stop us from hiring so many of them and giving them very good lives in various laboratories doing the most important research and development on projects that most citizens would roundly disapprove of, right up until the present day. These men are no longer Nazis because they were always men of Reason, men of Science, and because they are paid in American dollars. The mad Nazi scientist who tested scalpels and diseases on live human subjects ceased being a Nazi the very moment we nuked Japan, twice.

So....Nazis infesting NASA, the freemasons cutely embedding flagrant archetypal plans and symbols in the layout of America’s capital city, the Pentagon being the obvious heart of a Pentagram, the highest stones in the occultic Washington monument being the formal Masonic stones, who entertains such bizarre notions, what sort of person accords them any time in his busy schedule? I have become sidetracked here…I was making a precise case for the events of Non-11 being the only political matter worth talking about, at least until that point when it is talked about quite enough for its desserts, and dealt with. Then maybe we can debate the illegitimate parentage of G. W. Bush, and the mysteries of the great American rocket scientist and devil worshipper Jack Parsons, and the weird role played by L. Ron Hubbard and Aleister Crowley in this great love rhapsody.

The Truth Shall Set You Back

“It (modern despotism) would resemble paternal authority if only its purpose were the same, namely, to prepare men for manhood. But on the contrary, it seeks only to keep them in childhood irrevocably. It likes citizens to rejoice, provided they think only of rejoicing. It works willingly for their happiness but wants to be the sole agent and only arbiter of that happiness. It provides for their security, foresees and takes care of their needs, facilitates their pleasures, manages their most important affairs, directs their industry, regulates their successions, and divides their inheritances. Why not relieve them entirely of the trouble of thinking and the difficulty of living?”
---Alexis de Toqueville, Democracy in America, 1835

     A crucial debate continues to sputter in America, with respect to the most important political event of our lives, and even perhaps, of modern history. It potters along like an old man whose awful children wish for him to hurry up and die, so they may gain their inheritance and peace of mind and be rid of the spotted ugliness of ol' Dad. This is the debate over the origins of the 9-11 attacks. If America was one great, profitable but dangerous silver mine, then the 9-11 debate is its official mine canary, and the little canary's heart is barely pumping in the dark. It tried valiantly to warn us. The debate resembles the last hoarse cry of a mentally retarded share-cropper fallen to the bottom of the crop-owner's well. It is pale and moribund and has no worthy legal representation. As I have suggested, and now suggest again because it appeals to me, it is much like the weak but persistent croaking of a death-bed bound philanthropist whose greedy, fat, and parasitic progeny gather to ignore him and squabble about the disbursal of the will.

But before going into the validity of this or that divergent view as to who exactly attacked the highly symbolic nerve centers of American Super-Power in 2001, it has to be noted that the mere existence of such a controversy, such a disagreement, is a very important phenomenon, in itself.















After all, why would so many people question the official account of 9-11 when the event was seemingly so elementary? We all saw the plane hit that tower, all the networks showed it, and we all heard the immediate airing of the consensus opinion that Bin Laden was guilty---he who had declared war on America and Zionists already, and was reportedly responsible for past terrorist atrocities. How could we possibly doubt what all the major news agencies were telling us with such unanimous conviction? Especially when many world governments lined up to support our conclusions and the subsequent military or police actions in Afghanistan, at least?













...






Why indeed?...

"It's one thing to kill somebody. It's another to hide the fact that you did it, or you hired someone to do it. And that's more difficult. That's why they used the device of the Warren Commission report to cover up their hired killers. Now who would hire the killers? And who had the power to put this report out over the top of the whole story? You see, you're dealing with a very high echelon of power. It doesn't necessarily reside in any government. It doesn't necessarily reside in any corporate institution. But it seems to reside in a blend of the two. Otherwise, how could you get the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, the Dallas police, the media---all of the media, not just one or two newspapers---to participate in the cover-up? None of the media will print the story, other than Oswald killed the President of the United States."
---Fletcher Prouty, Colonel, USAF, deceased















The answer to this question of why we question such official court histories is uplifting and simple, although it still eludes some who call themselves investigative journalists and critical thinkers. The answer is that we are not yet totally obedient lamb-chops and meat-pies as a people: that the whole official story is very much implausible, falling apart under the slightest scrutiny, and such a conclusion is unavoidable to a rational person who doesn’t reflexively dismiss uncomfortable facts or argument as rubbish “conspiracy theory.” It doesn’t matter who supports or continues to report 9-11's official conspiracy theory, (which hinges on outrageously scant evidence of the guilt of some quite paradoxical, reportedly stripper-loving and coke-sniffing Islam-o-fascists who loathed the freedoms of godless capitalism and hung around private, CIA-connected airports in lawless south Florida, while showcasing a seemingly unlimited access to cash and hard drugs) whether these supporters are the government or the collected news organizations, or a history professor fearful for tenure---because all these agencies speak the same dubious language. The smell of deliberate nonsense or hopelessly ingrained ignorance clings to their every reverend claim, presupposition, and endlessly repeated "fact."

After examining the total evidence, a clear-thinking, reasonable person has less chance of agreeing with this official version of the Case of the Tragic Events than a human dishwasher has of smelling clean. The official story is a willful and absurd hallucination that says far more about our national mind control system, our hidebound gullibility, than anything else. Somewhere deep in my monkey soul I have miraculously retained the ability to laugh at this hideous ultra-nationalist myth of the 19 High Jackers, which has caused such continuous death and suffering in the world---but retained it perhaps only because I now clearly see what a weird shadow was cast by the actual, material events of the day, and what a truly outlandish parallel purpose the attacks served (in the occultic, ritual sense which we have to address at another time, being mind-alteringly strange as it is). Both the outright silliness of its official narrative, and the bizarre, generally unknown parallel reality of 9-11 are so implacably perverse that one logical approach to understanding it all must involve laughter. Resigned, carefree laughter. It is a choice between the Cosmic Giggle or the Upsetting Fixed Scowl.

As I appear to never tire of telling folks, the mainstream conspiracy theory of 19 Jihadi hijackers who defeated the entire intelligence and military apparatus of the most powerful Air-and-martial force in history---when it was actually on high Jihadi-alert for weeks prior---is an unpalatable stew of gristly propaganda that the dignified person would throw to the floor or rather shit in than consume. It is indigestible. It is a zany, empty theory that holds less water than the body of King Tut, for a staggering number of reasons aside from the most obvious: namely, that the attack itself was a manifest impossibility branded in the gaudy style of Hollywood, hatched on the watch of a notoriously criminal government regime whose principal actors have long been connected to "black operations." Provably connected. (See: the work of Webster Tarpley, Sherman Skolnick, and the arcane details of Iran-Contra, The Franklin Cover-up, The October Surprise, H.W. Bush in Dallas, and the Barry Seal and Orlando Letelier murders) The 9-11 attacks were a fraud and a treasonous self-mutilation---based on prima facie evidence this is the only conclusion the thinking, mindful person can reach. We have established this fact, to my satisfaction.

But still I can tell that you may not be satisfied. And so I will serve some of the gristle-stew now, cold; it is offered for your consumption but I expect you will reject it in the end. Let us address some of the primary faults of the orthodox explanation for 9-11: those oddities, ambiguities and improbabilities which have birthed this gagging, dying debate.


First of all, it is a false claim that only a few unhinged, grandiose types question whether or not Mr. Qaeda attacked us on 9-11 (You Must Google "Who's publicly acknowledged 9-11 Lies" and stab at the first result, which crucial site will for some reason not embed here). You need only search for the most recent, under-publicized but professional polls, which clearly and repeatedly indicate that as many as two-thirds of Americans actually believe the government is not coming clean about the attacks. (The above link contains a headline that is totally misleading if not a lying hustle, typical for many kinds of court/establishment journalism which actively seek to tell you how to think: the poll respondents did not "Question Bush intelligence about 9-11," they effectively questioned Bush Innocence on 9-11) These numbers are further subdivided into a majority who feel that the government “let it happen,” (presumably for policy motivations, and legally tantamount to guilt) with their remainder convinced the government "made it happen" on purpose. LIHOP vs. MIHOP, as the separate camps are known. Thus we eliminate the canard that the skeptical are a “lunatic fringe.”

Next is a sampling from a broad survey of reported, publicly available facts about this mass murder of 3,000 innocents whom "we" continue to wrongly avenge by the slaughter of poor Arabs and assorted darker races. These facts might awaken the investigative instincts of even the most randy, digitized, apathetic college student:

1. The Pakistani intelligence service, the ISI, wired Mohammed Atta $100,000 in the year before 9-11. Only after this was reported in Indian newspapers was the ISI Director, Mahmood Ahmad, fired, but not tried or prosecuted. And remarkably, Mr. Ahmad happened to be having breakfast with national security-involved senatorial Brahmins on the morning of 9-11, here in the homeland. He then met with Joe Biden, chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, after 9-11.
"When the news [of the attacks on the World Trade Center] came, the two Florida lawmakers who lead the House and Senate intelligence committees were having breakfast with the head of the Pakistani intelligence service. Rep. Porter Goss, R-Sanibel, Sen. Bob Graham and other members of the House Intelligence Committee were talking about terrorism issues with the Pakistani official when a member of Goss' staff handed a note to Goss, who handed it to Graham. "We were talking about terrorism, specifically terrorism generated from Afghanistan," Graham said.
More important than these episodic luncheons is the long-recognized fact that the ISI is to the CIA as Robin is to Batman, or more appropriately, as the mob hit-man is to the mob Don. This relationship is one of the most intimate that exists between any of the world's intelligence networks, and the public record amply supports this charge. Now, all of this is only supposed to be interesting and fishy to those who wear tinfoil hats. America is just a hotbed of stunningly timed coincidences and security failures, through the ages...nothing more. (See this article)


2. The Twin Towers were not alone in defying all known laws of gravitation and structural collapse on 9-11, when they plummeted neatly into their own footprints at free fall speed, amazing events that were officially explained by the weird thesis that steel skyscrapers can lose total integrity from small fuel fires and jetliner impacts they were specifically designed to withstand, even in multiple. A third building, known as WTC Building 7, (The Salomon Brothers Building) also collapsed in exactly the same controlled fashion at 5:20 pm, and no one in official circles can explain this coherently, while the celebrated, open, democratic media will not even mention the anomaly. Building 7 is key to understanding both the scope of this cover-up, and the local, corrupt, practical considerations attending the mass murders, as are the (as yet unpunished) insider stock market trades made on that day, which are similarly ignored by media, government, and the prominent intellectual classes.



3. The Military and Air-defense anti-terror drills that took place on 9-11
**Possibly one of the biggest bombshell duds never to explode with sufficient force in the Non-11 Question, the media tend to ignore these drills, and that is why you likely haven’t heard of them. They explain, in part, how our air defense protocol failed so preposterously to protect even the Pentagon, hours after the unprecedented simultaneous hijacking of four commercial airliners along the critical eastern seaboard. ***The National Reconnaissance Office was actually simulating a plane crashing into their building---as the attacks occurred---and it would appear that even live-fly commercial airliner hijackings were being simulated/practiced that day as well, although military spokesmen will only confirm that this specific drill happened, “sometime after September 9.” ****This stunning coincidence of preparedness and defeat is, very importantly, echoed in the events of 7/7, when British anti-terrorism drills were also being conducted but clearly failed to produce desirable results for ordinary citizens.


It has to be emphasized that most of American history is, to a serious degree, a cover-up. If you had never before questioned or heard about the USS Liberty incident of 1967, or the assassinations of all prominent liberal figures in the American scene of the 1960s, or the connected, curious history of political "airplane deaths" that continue to plague our country, then you are much more inclined to digest the official story of 9-11 without trouble, and possibly more inclined to rejoice when you receive your free microchip.




**On the general subject of the still virtually secret military and anti-terror drills being conducted on 9-11:
http://www.google.com/search?q=the+military+drills+of+9-11&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a

***On the National Reconnaissance Office's Insanely suspicious "airplane crash" drill, conducted on 9-11:
http://www.google.com/search?q=9-11+NRO+airplane+crash+drill&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a

****On the London 7/7 attacks, and the absurd similarity to 9-11 with regard to government anti-terror "drills" conducted on the very same day:
http://www.google.com/search?q=the+military+drills+of+7-7&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a

*****On this history of plane demises:
http://skolnicksreport.com/shistory.html