Focus on the network evening news. This is where the staging is done well.
First, we have the image itself, the colors in foreground and background, the blend of restful and charged hues. The anchor and his/her smooth style.
Then we have the shifting of venue from the studio to reporters in the field, demonstrating the reach of coverage: the planet. As if this equals authenticity.
The managing editor, usually the elite anchor, chooses the stories to cover and their sequence.
The anchor goes on the air: “Our top story tonight, more signs of gridlock today on Capitol Hill, as legislators walked out of a session on federal budget negotiations…”
The viewer fills in the context for the story: “Oh yes, the government. We want the government to get something done, but they’re not. We want to government to avoid a shutdown. These people are always arguing with each other. They don’t agree. They’re in conflict. Yes, conflict, just like on the cop shows.”
The anchor: “The Chinese government reports the new flu epidemic has spread to three provinces. Forty-two people have already died, and nearly a thousand are hospitalized…”
The viewer again supplies context, such as it is: “Flu. Dangerous. Epidemic. Could it arrive here? Get my flu shot. Do the Chinese doctors know what they’re doing? Crowded cities. Maybe more cases all of a sudden. Ten thousand, a hundred thousand.”
The anchor: “A new university study states that gun owners often stock up on weapons and ammunition, and this trend has jumped quickly since the Newtown, Connecticut, school-shooting tragedy…”
The viewer: “People with guns. Why do they need a dozen weapons? People in small towns. I don’t need a gun. The police have guns. Could I kill somebody if he broke into the house?”
The anchor: “Doctors at Yale University have made a discovery that could lead to new treatments in the battle against Autism…”
Viewer: “That would be good. More research. Laboratory. Germs. The brain.”
If, at the end of the newscast, the viewer bothered to review the stories and his own reactions to them, he would realize he’d learned almost nothing. But reflection is not the game.
In fact, the flow of the news stories has washed over him and created very little except a sense of continuity.
It would never occur to him to wonder: are the squabbling political legislators really two branches of the same Party? Does government have the Constitutional right to incur this much debt? Where is all that money coming from? Taxes? Other sources? Who invents money?
Is the flu dangerous for most people? If not, why not? Do governments overstate case numbers? How do they actually test patients for the flu? Are the tests accurate? Are they just trying to convince us to get vaccines?
What happens when the government has overwhelming force and citizens have no guns?
When the researchers keep saying “may” and “could,” does that mean they’ve actually discovered something useful about Autism, or are they just hyping their own work and trying to get funding for their next project?
These are only a few of the many questions the typical viewer never considers.
Therefore, every story on the news broadcast achieves the goal of keeping the context small and narrow—night after night, year after year. The overall effect of this, yes, staging, is small viewer, small viewer’s mind, small viewer’s understanding.
Billions of dollars are spent by the networks to build a reality the size of a room in a cheap motel.
Next we come to words over pictures. More and more, news broadcasts are using the rudimentary film technique of a voice narrating what the viewer is seeing on the screen.
People are shouting and running and falling in a street. The anchor or a field reporter says: “The country is in turmoil. Parliament has suspended sessions for the third day in a row, as the government decides what to do about uprisings aimed at forcing democratic elections…”
Well, the voice must be right, because we’re seeing the pictures. If the voice said the riots were due to garbage-pickup cancellations, the viewer would believe that, too.
How about this: two-day-old footage of runners approaching the finish line of the Boston Marathon. A puff of smoke rises at the right of the screen. A runner falls down in the street. The anchor is saying: “The FBI has announced a bomb made in a pressure cooker caused the injuries and deaths.”
Must be so. We saw the pictures and heard the voice explain.
We see Building #7 of the WTC collapse. Must have been the result of a fire. The anchor tells us so. Words over pictures.
We see footage of Lee Harvey Oswald inside the Dallas police station. The anchor tells he’s about to be transferred, under heavy guard, to another location. Oswald must be guilty, because we’re seeing him in a police station, and the anchor just said “under heavy guard.”
Staged news.
It works.
Why?
Because it mirrors what the human mind, in an infantile state, is always doing: looking at the world and seeking a brief summary to explain what the world is, at any given moment.
Since the dawn of time, untold billions of people have been urging a “television anchor” to “explain the pictures.”
The news gives them that precise thing, that precise solution, every night.
“Well, Mr. Jones,” the doctor says, as he pins X-rays to a screen in his office. “See this? Right here? We’ll need to start chemo immediately, and then we may have to remove most of your brain, and as a followup, take out one eye.”
Sure, why not? The patient saw the pictures and the anchor explained them.
After watching and listening to the last year of news, the population is ready to see the president or one of his minions step up to a microphone and say, “Quantitative easing…sequester…”
Reaction? “Don’t know what it is, but it must be okay.”
Eventually, people get the idea and do it for themselves. They see things, they invent one-liners to explain them. They’re their own anchors. They short-cut and undermine their own experience with vapid summaries of what it all means.
“Here are the photos. Just look at these photos. Don’t look at any other photos. These are the killers. Here’s what it means: we’re going to send in SWAT teams and rout you out of your homes at gunpoint, we’ll search your homes, no warrants, and you’re going to comply, and when it’s over and we’ve caught them, you’ll cheer.”
“Sure. Okay. We will.”
Pictures, explanation, obedience.
The staging of reality, the staging of news; they’re the same thing.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
These days, we are witnessing an acceleration in the use of psychiatry to target Americans, to label them as dangerous, to take away guns they own, to blame gun violence in the US on mentally ill people. (see also this story by Dan Roberts).
It’s a winning strategy, because most Americans don’t have a clue about the way psychiatry actually works or its pose of being a science.
The public hears techno-speak and nods and surrenders.
If psychiatrists are experts on the human mind, mice can navigate the Arctic in canoes. But psychiatrists are educated to be able to talk a good game.
And politicians are more than happy to mouth vagaries, and consign the problems of society to “mental-health professionals.”
It turns out that the phrase “mental health” was invented by psyops specialists, who needed to create an analogy to physical well-being.
The needed to, because the mind was (and is) a mystery to psychiatrists.
An open secret has been slowly bleeding out into public consciousness for the past ten years.
THERE ARE NO DEFINITIVE LABORATORY TESTS FOR ANY SO-CALLED MENTAL DISORDER.
And along with that:
ALL SO-CALLED MENTAL DISORDERS ARE CONCOCTED, NAMED, LABELED, DESCRIBED, AND CATEGORIZED by a committee of psychiatrists, from menus of human behaviors.
Their findings are published in periodically updated editions of The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), printed by the American Psychiatric Association.
For years, even psychiatrists have been blowing the whistle on this hazy crazy process of “research.”
Of course, pharmaceutical companies, who manufacture highly toxic drugs to treat every one of these “disorders,” are leading the charge to invent more and more mental-health categories, so they can sell more drugs and make more money.
But we have a mind-boggling twist. Under the radar, one of the great psychiatric stars, who has been out in front inventing mental disorders, went public. He blew the whistle on himself and his colleagues. And for 2 years, almost no one noticed.
His name is Dr. Allen Frances, and he made VERY interesting statements to Gary Greenberg, author of a Wired article: “Inside the Battle to Define Mental Illness.” (Dec.27, 2010).
Major media never picked up on the interview in any serious way. It never became a scandal.
Dr. Allen Frances is the man who, in 1994, headed up the project to write the latest edition of the psychiatric bible, the DSM-IV. This tome defines and labels and describes every official mental disorder. The DSM-IV eventually listed 297 of them.
In an April 19, 1994, New York Times piece, “Scientist At Work,” Daniel Goleman called Frances “Perhaps the most powerful psychiatrist in America at the moment…”
Well, sure. If you’re sculpting the entire canon of diagnosable mental disorders for your colleagues, for insurers, for the government, for Pharma (who will sell the drugs matched up to the 297 DSM-IV diagnoses), you’re right up there in the pantheon.
Long after the DSM-IV had been put into print, Dr. Frances talked to Wired’s Greenberg and said the following:
“There is no definition of a mental disorder. It’s bullshit. I mean, you just can’t define it.”
BANG.
That’s on the order of the designer of the Hindenburg, looking at the burned rubble on the ground, remarking, “Well, I knew there would be a problem.”
After a suitable pause, Dr. Frances remarked to Greenberg, “These concepts [of distinct mental disorders] are virtually impossible to define precisely with bright lines at the borders.”
Frances might have been referring to the fact that his baby, the DSM-IV, had rearranged earlier definitions of ADHD and Bipolar to permit many MORE diagnoses, leading to a vast acceleration of drug-dosing with highly powerful and toxic compounds.
Finally, at the end of the Wired interview, Frances flew off into a bizarre fantasy:
“Diagnosis [as spelled out in the DSM-IV] is part of the magic…you know those medieval maps? In the places where they didn’t know what was going on, they wrote ‘Dragons live here’…we have a dragon’s world here. But you wouldn’t want to be without the map.”
Translation: Patients need hope for the healing of their troubles; so even if we psychiatrists are shooting blanks and pretending to know one kind of mental disorder from another, even if we’re inventing these mental-disorder definitions based on no biological or chemical diagnostic tests—it’s a good thing, because patients will then believe and have hope; they’ll believe it because psychiatrists place a name on their problems…
Needless to say, this has nothing to do with science.
If I were an editor at one of the big national newspapers, and one of my reporters walked in and told me, “The most powerful psychiatrist in America just said the DSM is sheer b.s. but it’s still important,” I think I’d make room on the front page.
If the reporter then added, “This shrink was in charge of creating the DSM-IV,” I’d clear more room above the fold.
If the reporter went on to explain that the whole profession of psychiatry would collapse overnight if the DSM was discredited, I’d call for a special section of the paper to be printed.
I’d tell the reporter to get ready to pound on this story day after day for months. I’d tell him to track down all the implications of Dr. Frances’ statements.
I’d open a bottle of champagne to toast the soon-to-be-soaring sales of my newspaper.
And then, of course, the next day I’d be fired.
Because there are powerful multi-billion-dollar interests at stake, and those people don’t like their deepest secrets exposed in the press.
And as I walked out of my job, I’d see a bevy of blank-eyed pharmaceutical executives marching into the office of the paper’s publisher, ready to read the riot act to him.
Dr. Frances’ work on the DSM-IV allowed for MORE toxic drugs to be prescribed, because the definition of Bipolar was expanded to include more people.
Adverse effects of Valproate (given for a Bipolar diagnosis) include:
acute, life-threatening, and even fatal liver toxicity;
life-threatening inflammation of the pancreas;
brain damage.
Adverse effects of Lithium (also given for a Bipolar diagnosis) include:
intercranial pressure leading to blindness;
peripheral circulatory collapse;
stupor and coma.
Adverse effects of Risperdal (given for “Bipolar” and “irritability stemming from autism”) include:
serious impairment of cognitive function;
fainting;
restless muscles in neck or face, tremors (may be indicative of motor brain damage).
Dr. Frances’ label-juggling act also permitted the definition of ADHD to expand, thereby opening the door for greater and greater use of toxic Ritalin (and other similar compounds) as the treatment of choice.
So what about Ritalin?
In 1986, The International Journal of the Addictions published a most important literature review by Richard Scarnati. It was called “An Outline of Hazardous Side Effects of Ritalin (Methylphenidate)” [v.21(7), pp. 837-841].
Scarnati listed a large number of adverse affects of Ritalin and cited published journal articles which reported each of these symptoms.
For every one of the following (selected and quoted verbatim) Ritalin effects, there is at least one confirming source in the medical literature:
Paranoid delusions
Paranoid psychosis
Hypomanic and manic symptoms, amphetamine-like psychosis
Activation of psychotic symptoms
Toxic psychosis
Visual hallucinations
Auditory hallucinations
Can surpass LSD in producing bizarre experiences
Effects pathological thought processes
Extreme withdrawal
Terrified affect
Started screaming
Aggressiveness
Insomnia
Since Ritalin is considered an amphetamine-type drug, expect amphetamine-like effects
Psychic dependence
High-abuse potential DEA Schedule II Drug
Decreased REM sleep
When used with antidepressants one may see dangerous reactions including hypertension, seizures and hypothermia
Convulsions
Brain damage may be seen with amphetamine abuse.
A recent survey revealed that a high percentage of children diagnosed with bipolar had first received a diagnosis of ADHD. This is informative, because Ritalin and other speed-type drugs are given to kids who are slapped with the ADHD label. Speed, sooner or later, produces a crash. This is easy to call “clinical depression.”
Then comes Prozac, Paxil, Zoloft. These drugs can produce temporary highs, followed by more crashes. The psychiatrist notices the up and down pattern—and then produces a new diagnosis of Bipolar (manic-depression) and other drugs, including Valproate and Lithium.
In the US alone, there are at least 300,000 cases of motor brain damage incurred by people who have been prescribed so-called anti-psychotic drugs (aka “major tranquilizers”). Risperdal (mentioned above as a drug given to people diagnosed with Bipolar) is one of those major tranquilizers. (source: Toxic Psychiatry, Dr. Peter Breggin, St. Martin’s Press, 1991)
This psychiatric drug plague is accelerating across the land.
Where are the mainstream reporters and editors and newspapers and TV anchors who should be breaking this story and mercilessly hammering on it week after week? They are in harness.
And Dr. Frances is somehow let off the hook. He’s admitted in print that the whole basis of his profession is throwing darts at labels on a wall, and implies the “effort” is rather heroic—when, in fact, the effort leads to more and more poisonous drugs being dispensed to adults and children, to say nothing of the effect of being diagnosed with “a mental disorder.”
I’m not talking about “the mental-disease stigma,” the removal of which is one of Hillary Clinton’s missions in life. No, I’m talking about MOVING A HUMAN INTO THE SYSTEM, the medical apparatus, where the essence of the game is trapping that person to harvest his money, his time, his energy, and of course his health—as one new diagnosis follows on another, and one new toxic treatment after another is undertaken, from cradle to grave.
The result is a severely debilitated human being (if he survives), whose major claim to fame is his list of diseases and disorders.
Thank you, Dr. Frances.
Here is a smoking-gun statement made by another prominent psychiatrist, on an episode of PBS’ Frontline series. The episode was: “Does ADHD Exist?”
PBS FRONTLINE INTERVIEWER: Skeptics say that there’s no biological marker—that it [ADHD] is the one condition out there where there is no blood test, and that no one knows what causes it.
BARKLEY (Dr. Russell Barkley, professor of psychiatry and neurology at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center): That’s tremendously naïve, and it shows a great deal of illiteracy about science and about the mental health professions. A disorder doesn’t have to have a blood test to be valid. If that were the case, all mental disorders would be invalid…There is no lab test for any mental disorder right now in our science. That doesn’t make them invalid. [Emphasis added]
Without intending to, Dr. Barkley blows the whistle on his own profession.
So let’s take Dr. Barkley to school. Medical science, and disease-research in particular, rests on the notion that you can make a diagnosis backed up by lab tests. If you can’t produce lab tests, you’re spinning fantasies.
These fantasies might be hopeful, they might be “educated guesses,” they might be launched from traditional centers of learning, they might be backed up by billions of dollars of grant money…but they’re still fantasies.
If I said the moon was made of green cheese, even if I were a Harvard professor, sooner or later someone would ask me to produce a sample of moon rock to be tested for “cheese qualities.” I might begin to feel nervous, I might want to tap dance around the issue, but I would have to submit the rock to a lab.
Dr. Barkley employs a version of logical analysis in his statement to the PBS Frontline interviewer. Barkley is essentially saying, “There is no lab test for any mental disorder. But if a test were the standard of proof, we wouldn’t have science at all, and that would mean our whole profession rests on nothing—and that is absurd, so therefore a test doesn’t matter.”
That logic is no logic at all. Barkley is proving the case against himself. He just doesn’t want to admit it.
Close to 50 years ago, psychiatry was dying out as a profession. Fewer and fewer people wanted to see a psychiatrist for help, for talk therapy. All sorts of new therapies were popping up. The competition was leaving medical psychiatry in the dust.
As Dr. Peter Breggin describes it in his landmark book, Toxic Psychiatry, a deal was struck. Drug companies would bankroll psychiatry and rescue it. These companies would pour money into professional conferences, journals, research. In return, they wanted “science” that would promote mental disease as a biological fact, a gateway into the drugs. Everyone would win—except the patient.
So the studies were rolled out, and the list of mental disorders expanded. The FDA was in on the deal as well, as evidenced by their drug “safety” approvals, in the face of the obvious damage these drugs were doing.
So this is how we arrived at where we are. This was the plan, and it worked.
Under the cover story, it was all fraud all the time. Without much of a stretch, you could say psychiatry has been the most widespread profiling operation in the history of the human race. Its goal has been to bring humans everywhere into its system. It hardly matters which label a person is painted with, as long as it adds up to a diagnosis and a prescription of drugs.
Just as in the old USSR, psychiatry becomes an instrument of oppression, a way to discredit any person the State wants to silence and destroy.
“…in the disputes between the East and West concerning the Russian opponents of the Soviet regime… [m]any dissidents went to lunatic asylums and were treated as mentally sick. Western doctors and the press accused Soviet doctors of being blind instruments of the regime and of having broken the solemn oath of their calling. The Russian doctors thought the West had gone mad in reproaching their behavior. For them, anyone who opposed such an efficient police power must be mentally disturbed. In their view, only those who had what Seneca called Libido morienti (the death wish) would dare to provoke the State. The Russian doctors were convinced that they were undertaking a humanitarian mission by placing the opponents of the regime in asylums and thereby reducing their aggression–the only hope for their survival. To reduce the outstanding to mediocrity was always a medical and human duty in a state where mediocrity had the better chance of survival.” — “Man: The Fallen Ape” by Branko Bokun
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
There are several reasons why the medical cartel is too big to fail: the enormous amount of money at stake; its aim to control populations.
In this article, I want to examine a related reason.
Suppose it was discovered that thousands of bridges around the US were in imminent danger of collapsing? Not because maintenance and repair were lacking, not because the materials used to build them were cheap and shoddy. But because the original designs were inadequate and broke basic rules of engineering.
Suppose five or six major manufacturers built their automobiles so the vast majority of power derived from the engines was transferred to one wheel?
Suppose the US Dept. of Agriculture recommended that all farmers spray their crops with heavy chlorine instead of water?
In other words, the science itself is fraudulent.
This revelation, above all, is what the medical cartel tries to guard against. Their profession has shoved in all its chips on the propaganda proposition that it does impeccable science.
Science sells. The appearance of it sells. It’s the foundation stone of many industries.
Were that stone to crack and shatter, all bets would be off. A titanic fraud would come to light. The kind of fraud that would both freeze people’s minds and blow them away.
Science is the most powerful rationalization in the modern world. Consensus reality would fail and disperse without it.
The author of the paper that presented the statistics was the late Dr. Barbara Starfield, a revered public health expert who worked for many years at the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health.
Her review, “Is US health the best in the world?”, was published on July 26th, 2000, in the Journal of the American Medical Association.
Starfield’s breakdown was as follows: the medical system kills 119,000 people a year in the US as a result of maltreatment in hospitals. The other 106,000 people are killed by FDA-approved medicines.
The FDA must approve every drug as safe and effective before it is released for public use.
It’s the medicines I want to focus on in this article. 106,000 deaths a year translates to an astonishing 1,060,000 deaths per decade.
How are these drugs approved?
Clinical trials are conducted. Reports of those trials are written. The reports, the studies, are published in peer-reviewed medical journals. The studies ARE the science.
If a million people per decade are being killed by the drugs, then a huge number of published studies proclaiming the drugs are safe are sheer fraud. There is no other way to put it.
This statement from Marcia Angell, former editor of the New England Journal of Medicine, echoes the fact:
“It is simply no longer possible to believe much of the clinical research that is published, or to rely on the judgment of trusted physicians or authoritative medical guidelines. I take no pleasure in this conclusion, which I reached slowly and reluctantly over my two decades as an editor of The New England Journal of Medicine.”
(Marcia Angell, MD, The New York Review of Books, January 15, 2009)
The medical cartel rests on cataclysmic fraud, scientific fraud.
Imagine what would happen if just one major media outlet decided to take on this story and push it for all it’s worth. Not merely an article or two—an ongoing campaign of relentless exposure.
The silence from that quarter speaks volumes about the controlled press and what it stands for.
Over the years, I’ve written much about the the FDA. I thought I’d assemble a small fraction of it in one place, to reveal what this federal agency is really all about and why it should be dismantled, amid a blizzard of prosecutions and convictions for negligent homicide and, yes, murder.
the drugs it certifies as safe have been killing Americans, at the rate of 100,000 per year.
The FDA website page is available under the heading, “Why Learn About Adverse Drug Reactions.” You can search for it using the Startpage.com search engine.
The FDA takes no blame, no responsibility for its own actions, and yet it admits the death statistics are accurate.
Understand this very clearly. No medical drug in America can be released for public use until and unless the FDA states it is safe. The FDA is the agency that makes every such decision on every drug. The buck stops there.
Yes, the FDA has a “special relationship” with the pharmaceutical industry. Yes, the FDA utilizes doctors on their drug-approval panels that have ties to the pharmaceutical industry. But, in the end, it is the FDA official seal that opens the gate and permits a drug to be prescribed by doctors and sold in the US.
In all my research on this medical-drug holocaust, I have never found a case in which any FDA employee was censured, fired, or criminally prosecuted for the killing effects of these drugs.
That is a track record Organized Crime would be proud of, and the comparison is not frivolous.
On this FDA website page, the FDA also readily admits that medical drugs are the fourth leading cause of death in America, ahead of pulmonary disease, diabetes, AIDS, pneumonia, accidents, and automobile fatalities.
The FDA website page also states there are 2 million serious adverse reactions (ADRs) from the ingestion of medical drugs, annually, in the US. That would be 20 million ADRs per decade.
When the FDA says “serious,” they aren’t talking about headaches or slight dizziness or temporary nausea. “Serious” means stroke, heart attack, neurological damage; destruction of that magnitude.
Examining these figures for death and debilitation, can you find any comparable documented crime in the American landscape? This is the kind of story that would make Watergate look like a Sunday-school picnic.
If a paper like the New York Times let loose their hounds to relentlessly explore the horror, I assure you that, in time, doctors and medical bureaucrats and even drug-company employees would come out of the woodwork with confessions, and the resultant explosions and outcries would shake the medical/pharmaceutical foundations of America and the planet.
It would shake and destroy the SCIENCE.
But these major media outlets are an intrinsic part of the Matrix that protects and sustains the crimes and the criminals. It isn’t just drug-advertising profits that keep the leading newspapers and television networks silent. It’s collusion to protect “a revered institution”—the medical system.
Also at stake is Obamacare. The connection is vivid and unmistakable. Millions more Americans, previously uninsured, will be drawn into the system and subjected to the very drugs are killing and maiming people at such a horrific rate.
Where has the US Department of Justice been all these years? Is there any way, under the sun, that a million deaths per decade can be excused? Is there any way the FDA and the drug companies can float safely in the upper atmosphere of privilege, while the concept of justice retains any meaning? Where are criminal prosecutions?
Meanwhile, the FDA pursues an agenda of attacking nutritional supplements, and the latest federal regulations classify these supplements as “potentially dangerous”—despite the fact that supplements have a record of safety that is astonishing.
It is time for the public to realize that 100,000 people dying every year in the US, because they take medical drugs, is the equivalent of 33 airliner crashes into the Twin Towers, every year, year after year.
If you were a medical reporter for a major media outlet in the US, and you knew the above fact, wouldn’t you make it a priority to say something, write something, do something?
And with that, let’s get to another smoking gun. The citation is: BMJ June 7, 2012 (BMJ 2012:344:e3989). Author, Jeanne Lenzer.
Lenzer refers to a report by the Institute for Safe Medication Practices: “It calculated that in 2011 prescription drugs were associated with two to four million people in the US experiencing ‘serious, disabling, or fatal injuries, including 128,000 deaths.’”
The report called this “one of the most significant perils to humans resulting from human activity.”
And here is the final dagger. The report was compiled by outside researchers who went into the FDA’s own database of “serious adverse [medical-drug] events.”
Therefore, to say the FDA isn’t aware of this finding would be absurd. The FDA knows.
Since the Department of Homeland Security is working its way into every nook and corner of American life, hyper-extending its mandate to protect all of us from everything, maybe DHS should stop tracking every move we make and simply raid and arrest all employees of the FDA as terrorists. The details could be sorted out later.
How many smoking guns do we need before a sitting president shuts down the FDA buildings, fumigates them, and builds a monument to dead Americans the FDA has driven into their graves?
Do we need 100,000 smoking guns? Do we need relatives of the people who’ve all died, in the span of, say, merely a year, from the poisonous effects of FDA-approved medical drugs, to bring their corpses and coffins to the doors of FDA headquarters?
And let me ask another question. If instead of drugs like warfarin, dabigatran, levofloxacin, carboplatin, and lisinopril (the five leading killers in the FDA database), the 100,000 deaths per year were led by gingko, ginseng, vitamin D, niacin, and raw milk, what do you think would happen?
I’ll tell you what would happen. SEALS, Delta Force, DHS-HSI SRT, SWAT teams, snipers, predator drones, tanks, and infantry would be attacking every health-food store in America. The resulting fatalities would be written off as necessary collateral damage in the fight to keep America safe and healthy.
BTW, who are the video editing specialists that DHS hired to ‘sex up’ this video?
But you see, the routine deaths of 100,000 Americans a year, after the FDA has certified the drugs are SAFE, isn’t a “recognized political issue.”
Such is the power of the medical cartel. All those phony stories in the press, reported dutifully by so-called medical reporters? The stories about maybe-could-be-possible-miracle breakthroughs just over the horizon of state-of-the-art research? Those stories are there to obscure the very, very hard facts of medically-caused death on the ground.
The buck stops at the FDA.
Imagine this. You go to an FBI web page and read the following: “Killings committed by FBI agents are the third leading cause of death in America every year.”
Yet somehow, the FDA gets away with its crimes, its homicides. There are no alarm bells, no arrests, no hearings, no public statements, no press reactions, no shakeups at the Agency.
The power of the medical cartel is gigantic.
When I was running for a Congressional seat from the 29th District of California, in 1994, and during my participation in the Health Freedom movement of that period, I insisted we had to take the attack to the FDA. We had to make their crimes public.
I was told by the people who were leading the charge for Health Freedom that priority had to be given to passing a law that would protect us all from attacks on nutritional supplements. Then, when we had that law, we could think about going after the FDA.
Well, we got the law, which only gave us temporary protection, and afterward there was no “going after the FDA.” It was suddenly a dead issue.
I remember the people who said, “Don’t attack the FDA.” I remember their attitudes, their faces, their words. They were not my friends, and they weren’t your friends. Some of them were yuppies selling “let’s be nice” New Age sentiment. A few were most likely plants who had infiltrated the Health Freedom movement to water it down.
Various liars sell their lies through various strategies.
I assure you, there are doctors out there who know the statistics on medically caused death in the US. They know about the drugs that kill. They know what’s going on. They know the FDA is accountable. They remain silent. They feel no pressure to make a public statement. They’re living under the umbrella of protection provided by the government and the press and the medical system.
These doctors are silent witnesses to ongoing mass murder. Just as the FDA is a silent witness to its own mass-murdering practices. And of course, the doctors write the prescriptions for the drugs.
Obama, Bush, Clinton; none of these men have indicated the slightest awareness of the “problem.” Did they know? Do they know? Just as I predicted, correctly, that the FDA knows, I say these men do know. They prefer to remain silent as well. They don’t want to touch this genocidal crime. They don’t have the character or the courage.
Presidents and deans of medical schools know. Teachers at these schools know. Pharmaceutical executives know. Medical researchers know. The CDC knows. The World Health Organization knows. Editors and reporters at major press outlets know. The DEA knows. The US Dept. of Justice knows.
As far as the public is concerned, a matrix of hypnotic effect and cognitive dissonance is the obstacle. People find it extremely difficult to believe that a federal agency, in broad daylight, year after year, countenances and sustains the unnecessary deaths of 100,000 people.
People find it extremely difficult to believe that, were such a story true, they would not have heard about it already.
People want to believe that a crime of this boggling magnitude would already have been prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
People want to believe the secular religion known as Medicine is devoted to healing in all its forms.
People want to believe that, since doctors can put accident victims back together in one piece and can set broken bones and temporarily reduce inflammation, the practice of medicine must be uniformly successful across the board.
People want to believe in SCIENCE.
In a stunning 2012 interview with Truthout’s Martha Rosenberg, former FDA drug reviewer, Ronald Cavanagh, exposed the FDA as a relentless criminal mafia protecting its client, Big Pharma, with a host of mob strategies.
Cavanagh: “…widespread [FDA] racketeering, including witness tampering and witness retaliation.”
“I was threatened with prison.”
“One [FDA] manager threatened my children…I was afraid that I could be killed for talking to Congress and criminal investigators.”
Cavanagh reviewed new drug applications made to the FDA by pharmaceutical companies. He was one of the holdouts at the Agency who insisted the drugs had to be safe and effective before being released to the public.
But honest appraisal wasn’t part of the FDA culture, and Cavanagh swam against the tide, until he realized his life and the life of his children was on the line.
What was his covert task at the FDA? “Drug reviewers were clearly told not to question drug companies and that our job was to approve drugs.” In other words, rubber stamp them. Say the drugs were safe and effective when they were not.
Cavanagh’s recalls a meeting where a drug-company representative flat-out stated that his company had paid the FDA for a new-drug approval. Paid for it. As in bribe.
He remarks that the drug pyridostigmine, given to US troops to prevent the effects of nerve gas, “actually increased the lethality” of certain nerve agents.
Cavanagh recalls being given records of safety data on a drug—and then his bosses told him which sections not to read. Obviously, they knew the drug was dangerous and they knew exactly where, in the reports, that fact would be revealed.
As I mentioned above, the original study-review on medically caused death in America was written by Dr. Barbara Starfield and published in the Journal of the American Medical Association.
Three years ago, shortly before her death, I interviewed Dr. Starfield. I asked her whether any government agency had ever contacted her about her findings, in the nine years since publication
“No,” she said.
I asked her whether she was aware of any federal agency undertaking action to remedy the horrific killing effects of the US medical system.
“No,” she said.
Try this image: you are a gatekeeper. Your job, on the first day of every year, is to unlock the gate and leave it open, so people can pass through. But you know that, when you open the gate, 100,000 people who pass through will die in the following year. Yet, every January 1, you keep opening the gate.
That’s what the FDA is. That particular gatekeeper.
But of course, the people at the FDA are just like us. They wouldn’t do THAT, they wouldn’t do THAT, they wouldn’t do that…
But they did. They do. They continue to do it.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
Unhappy is the man, woman, or child who doesn’t live with imagination at the prow of the ship…
As my readers know, I recently launched another mega-collection, Exit From the Matrix. You can read the details here.
A little personal background. I had a passion for painting, and I started to work in a studio in the summer of 1962, when by “chance,” down to my last few bucks, with no place to live, having just returned to New York from Cape Cod, I went to the Metropolitan Museum straight from the bus stop, and…
I wandered through rooms I’d visited many times. But this time, I decided I needed something to eat and I walked into the Museum restaurant. I’d never done that before, in my dozens of visits to the Met, and…
There I ran into a painter I knew from a gallery in the city. He sat down and we had lunch. He told me he was leaving for the Cape the next day, and he had a problem. He hadn’t found anyone to live in his studio for the summer, and…
He asked whether I knew anybody who needed a place to stay. We’ll, I said, with the blood pounding in my ears, I would be happy to sublet it, but…
I had one problem: no money. He said, don’t worry, pay me what you can, I just need someone to live there while I’m away for the next two months.
And that’s how my new life began. Painting in that studio.
I don’t cut things that close to the edge anymore, but the theme remains the same. There is reality, and then there is imagination that creates reality.
Somehow, for me, painting is a touchstone. Doing it, looking at it, thinking about it. In unexpected ways, I take off from it, and life changes, becomes far better, becomes something quite different.
I was never trained as a painter. I can remember, in the second grade, my teacher telling my parents I had no discernible talent for it, and perhaps I should be excused from art class altogether.
So years later, when I was 24, I came to it out of the blue. I knew a painter in Connecticut, and when I visited his studio, I was immediately staggered at the notion that a human being could live in a place and paint in it every day. It wasn’t a vocation or an avocation. It was a life.
From that moment on, I had to do it.
Painting is imagination at work in space. Paul Klee would start one painting, go to town on it until he couldn’t decide what to do next, and move on to a second blank canvas. He’d paint on it until he couldn’t decide what to do next, and go to a third blank canvas. He’d do this with six or seven canvases…and then return to the first one, with fresh ideas.
Making new realities.
Whereas: the Matrix is frozen imagination.
The news is frozen disinformation (which is also a form of imagination).
Consensus reality is: everybody “paints one picture.”
In a way, these are all cosmic jokes we play on ourselves. Of course, they can get deadly serious, when we’re mired in them.
Abundance is imagination realized.
Scarcity is amnesia about imagination.
Michelangelo famously said that the final figure of a sculpture was already in the raw block of stone; all he had to do was remove everything that wasn’t the figure. If that isn’t imagination, I don’t know what is.
Our technological civilization seems intent on divorcing imagination from perception, in the name of science. It’s a deteriorating strategy, because the life drains out of perception—which is another good description of what the Matrix is.
In 1996, I formed a partnership with a publisher in San Diego, The Truth Seeker. Bonnie Lange was a bolt out of the blue. As head of Truth Seeker, she wanted new ideas, and she wanted to support them and back them to the hilt.
I had never met anyone like her in the publishing field, or anywhere else for that matter. She gave me the go-ahead for my 1999 book, The Secret Behind Secret Societies (*), after only hearing the title. And she paid me to write it.
(*) The Secret Behind Secret Societies book has been included as part EXIT FROM THE MATRIX as a .pdf e-book.
That book enabled me to examine history in the light of two themes I had developed: the formula of the secret society, and the tradition of imagination.
For as many centuries as you care to visit, there has always been a tradition of imagination on this planet. Scattered here and there, it is carried forward by men and women who’ve managed to cast off doctrine and orthodoxy in favor of exploring and living through their own creative power.
They carry the torch. They discover, in the process of invention, that the reality most people come to accept is a cover story laid over life-force, like rain over fire.
We were not meant for that reality.
There is no highly organized society that can afford to hold up individual imagination as a prime virtue. It is too damaging to the consensus. It is too alive. It deconstructs oppression on all fronts.
Imagination scoffs at minds that “already know it all.” Imagination is concerned with the infinity of futures that have not been yet created.
For some people, this idea creates great music in the mind. For others, who are dead in their knowing, it doesn’t register.
Here are a few of my original notes for The Secret Behind Secret Societies, made before I wrote the book:
“Musicians, the greatest improvisors in the world, gather and play in a cemetery. Some people emerge from their graves and live again. Some continue to sleep. There are different kinds of dead.”
“People want Pattern. They think they live for it. At some level, it’s very pleasing. Pattern, balance, symmetry, harmony, geometry. It seems like an ultimate. But that is only true at a certain level of mind. At other levels, there is a greater hunger to imagine and create without guiding Pattern.”
“Fractals, sacred geometry. Buried treasure in the investigation of this universe. But the primary and prior fixation is on this universe as The One. It isn’t. It’s just one space and time. It’s just one work of art, among many. Among an infinity. And then there is another infinity: the universes that haven’t yet been created. They’re all works of imagination.”
“The secret society wants its members to get involved with secret Pattern. Ah, the mystery. The Pattern will be revealed. It’s just over the next hill. No it isn’t. There is no answer there. Pattern is something you can put in a work of art or a work of science. That’s all.”
At some point in my career as a journalist—which began in 1982, as an afterthought, because I was writing poetry and fiction—I realized I was taking apart consensus reality on a number of fronts. I was breaking down “works of (perverse) art” and revealing their foundations. I was exposing masquerades.
After that realization, I was far more comfortable with what I was doing.
The whole ticket to ride in this world is entry into what is created for you. It’s exciting, it buzzes, it sparkles. Unless you’re born in a place where it shoots and explodes and imprisons. But the gist of the message is: you’re here to take the trip.
That’s what keeps things going in the same way, eon after eon. If we were all artists and inventors, the whole premise and structure would break apart.
We could still take the trip. But we would be inventing far more exciting and illuminating realities.
In some ways, this universe and our minds do a tap dance in which many premises are generated, one after another. Then we follow down these premises and see what they yield. Eventually, the whole mechanism slows down. There is something missing. In the search mode, which certainly does bear fruit, we nevertheless wonder what’s being omitted.
People have answers for us. Plenty of answers. Most of their solutions are about content. The content of this, the content of that. But still…
What’s being omitted is our own power to imagine and create, which isn’t content at all.
Content is the outcome of what we create.
We exist. And we create without end. So the outcome, the content, isn’t the final factor. It’s the result, the offshoot.
Is this universe made as the holographic projection of code engraved on a two dimensional surface? Is it vibrating strings? Is it the flowering of the Big Bang? On and on goes the search, as if the content of the answer is going to be final.
It isn’t.
Whether they know or not, people have aesthetic standards, which define what they’ll accept or reject. It’s quite remarkable. People act and behave as if they’re painters judging beauty, even though they wouldn’t go near brushes, paints, and canvas in a million years, much less a museum.
These aesthetic standards form titanic convictions that act as pillars upholding a picture of this world and this universe. And from that unfolds the premise that, indeed, this universe is the only one.
It’s a self-reflexive proposition. It’s unconscious dedication to a single picture.
And in the long run, it’s a barrier against the life-force that resides in imagination, creation, invention, improvisation. It’s staking out a firm and unshakable position in a very small space, in the middle of an infinity that goes unnoticed.
On the other hand, when a person begins to live his life through and by imagination, those hidebound aesthetic standards change. The chains loosen. The links dissolve.
And perception opens up on new vistas that were never noticed, because they were off-limits.
The strategy of the Matrix is to enchant people forever with the prospect of finding out more and more about it. This is like a painting saying, “Here I am. I’m the only painting. Study me forever. I contain many mysteries…”
Or you could paint.
I’ve known a number of people who’ve made the shift. One way or another, they reported this: when they began living by and through imagination, whatever their field of work, they realized they were journeying out beyond their ironclad certainty…and it was a tremendous relief, because they had really become bored with that absolute collection of knowledge. They were set free from its limits.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
There is a point at which a life becomes unsatisfying. Regardless of the reasons, a person begins to place too much emphasis on:
what already exists;
and what he believes.
That may sound like a strange thing to say.
There is nothing automatically wrong with what exists or with what he believes, but the key term here is “too much emphasis.”
A person makes a castle and fortress out of what was once flowing, energetic, and alive.
This is one of those unfair facts of existence, because it would seem, on cursory examination, that to believe what is good, right, and true should be tethered down with the strongest possible ropes. It should be permanently imprinted in the mind, engraved deeply.
But then something happens. The beliefs lose their dynamism. They sit there. They turn into dead stars.
The person, from that point on, can speak and act from these beliefs, but his actions and words take on a mechanical hue. He becomes a one-trick pony. The people around him know how he is going to respond. They know what he’s going to say.
He himself knows what he’s going to say.
His life now resembles a machine.
To one degree or another, everyone can fall into this trap. The sap of life becomes sour.
“Whatever already exists,” rather than “what could possibly be” takes center stage.
And, another irony: what already exists could be the most cogent position in the world, yet it returns no psychological or spiritual dividends.
What happened? How did things come to this?
The classic case, because it is so visible, is the artist who winds up repeating the same themes again and again in his work, the force of them deadening as he grows more “mature.”
But we could be talking about anyone.
The person becomes bored with himself. And then, he thinks, he has nowhere to go. It’s time for old age.
That old age can come at 30, at 50, at 70. It doesn’t matter when. The door seems to close. The walls are permanently set.
Wisdom, intellectual prowess, success, insight, strength no longer seem to matter. Being correct and right about the most important things has worn out like old shoes.
A person can tout his own beliefs to the rooftops, but it has no effect, no salutary effect on himself.
The search for what is deeply true and what beliefs are most important has succeeded, but the result is ashes.
What I’m describing here is a central aspect of the Matrix, an aspect most people would rather not consider.
They would prefer to say, “Nothing’s wrong,” and simply turn up the decibel count on their all-too-familiar assertions, which by now have taken on the coloration of slogans.
And there are millions of so-called professionals who are ready to jump into the breach and analyze this existential situation as a collection of symptoms which refer to some pseudo-disorder.
Yet there is help. There has always been help. It waits on the sidelines, and if the call comes, everything transforms. The person mired in his own stagnant juices doesn’t have to consciously change a thing about his beliefs. He doesn’t have to try to manipulate his mind or reorganize its contents.
This help, which is waiting for the call to action, doesn’t function on the basis of what already exists. It never has. That’s why it has been rejected. It doesn’t seem to be practical. It doesn’t seem to be the drill that can bore a hole in the lock of the door and let the prisoner out of his cell.
This help isn’t “true” or “right” or “correct.” It isn’t “harmonious” or “perfect.”
It’s oceanic.
It is the imagination.
Imagination is the buried key that unlocks the door that exits from the Matrix. EXIT FROM THE MATRIX contains exercises and techniques aimed at expanding the power, range, and scope of the imagination—along with very simple instructions on how to use these exercises. This collection also contains a presentation of the vital philosophy that underpins the limitless power of the individual. This is more than theory. It’s a guide to exiting from the Matrix.
Consigned as a mere toy for children, a distraction, a useless appendage for adults, a minor preoccupation, it is actually the faculty that surpasses what already exists in any dimension.
It doesn’t rely on the past. It doesn’t operate as a system. It doesn’t make calculations in accounting books. It isn’t a pattern.
It’s free.
Imagination wakes up the psyche. It wakes up the cells of the body. It invents the space of an open future. It sweeps the deck clean of morbid boredom. It solves problems in unforeseen ways. It moves out ahead of problems and creates new avenues along which old conflicts dissolve.
Imagination can be deployed to express deep beliefs and make them impact the world. It brings those beliefs back to life. It develops ingenious strategies to forward plans that were dying on the vine.
Imagination changes what already exists for the better. It can leap ahead of reality and build futures that shatter moribund consensus.
Imagination awakens abilities beyond the five senses and beyond structured consciousness.
When a life turns sour, stolid, and old, imagination injects the fire of youth.
Imagination says, “It’s never too late.”
“Late” turns out to be a faulty proposition that was omitting the most powerful force in the individual.
Imagination resides in the individual, not the collective. A life and a world founded on the collective is actually a covert operation to induce amnesia about the imagination.
The individual can choose to move forward by embodying patterns of the past, or he can step on to an entirely different path.
The universe is waiting for imagination to revolutionize it down to its core.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
It would have been so simple. Flood Afghanistan with Monsanto GMOs. Truckloads of seeds. Tanks full of Roundup herbicide. Result? Nutritionally deficient food crops, chronic disease, poisoning with Roundup. Perfect.
And we know how to do it, because we’ve been doing it to ourselves for almost 20 years. We’ve got it down.
GMO ballot labeling initiatives in Afghanistan? Are you kidding?
Plus…and this is a big winner, Monsanto scientists could have developed a GMO poppy seed. Throw those babies in the growing fields and you’d have gotten some Franken-opium variety. Wildly unpredictable effects. And sprayed with Roundup? Junkies all over the world would rather go cold turkey than shoot that stuff.
Actually, I had a comprehensive plan for closing out the war. It would have worked like a charm. Somehow, the Pentagon wasn’t interested. Now it’s just an historical oddity, a could-have-been. Some day, scholars might cite it in their assessments of US efforts in that far-flung region.
For posterity’s sake, read it. And weep, you Pentagon fools.
Pull all the troops out. Everybody knows we’d have to stay there forever. Kill Taliban, they hide, we leave, they come back. Why go up against that? Just vacate the country.
Then…put a winner of a plan into effect. Something that actually makes sense.
Start easy. From hundreds of planes, drop fast food all over Afghanistan. Burgers. Fishsticks. McMuffins. Legs, breasts, wings. It’s a good intro. Lightens everybody up a little. Two weeks of chicken done right.
Then, from those same planes—candy. Fifty thousand tons of gum drops, jelly beans, Almond Joy, Reese. Hell, Reese all by itself is unstoppable.
Sugar! You’re telling me people can resist sugar? They’ll be scooping that stuff up off the frozen ground. In high mountain areas, tribes live on lichen cooked over yak turds. All of a sudden, here come 20 colors of jelly beans out of the sky!
Give them enough sugar, and they’ll be running in circles one minute and lying back and napping the next. It’s a law of biology.
A month of heavenly candy.
Then next, a million cases of various diet sodas dumped out of our planes. Aspartame! Weird those dudes out. Three months of diet-everything. They won’t be able to find their way back to their yurts. They’ll be bumping into rocks and trees, howling at the moon.
Now comes the heavy action. Carpet bomb the whole country with little TV sets. And beam in soaps, Judge Judy, Rachel Ray, Dave and Jay, Oprah, Little House on the Prairie reruns, Law and Order, CSI, and wait for it—sports! Soccer, and, you guessed it, women’s beach volleyball! Amazons wearing almost nothing running on sand, hour after hour!
“Hey, Ahmed, it’s time for the Friday night tribe meeting.”
“Shh! Beach volleyball! Then Victoria and Billy just adopted a baby. She can’t have kids. Billy paid two million for a little girl. But it’s actually Daisy’s baby. Nobody knows it!”
The fabric of Afghan society comes apart at the seams.
US planes fly over with a few million cases of Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, and Ritalin. Open the bomb-bay doors. Drop those suckers right down the slot. And tranqs! Valium! Old stocks of Librium.
On the ground, pills and capsules everywhere. You can’t walk by without picking a few up and swallowing them. It’s another law of nature.
So after a few more months, you’ve got the whole country hooked on meds. They’re weaving and wobbling and gnashing their teeth, when they aren’t completely zoned. A suicide problem begins to develop.
And finally, out of those blessed US planes comes the coup de grace. A few million computers. Wireless. Afghanistan is online, which means—that’s right—porn! Porn and gambling!
This, in a matter of, oh, six months, will totally destroy the Afghan culture, such as it is. You see, my friends, we’ve got weapons we didn’t know we had. Real weapons!
So we let all this simmer for a while. We let things take their natural course. We’re out of there. Not a single US casualty is being sustained.
And then, just to make sure we have the entire country enveloped and warped beyond repair, the CIA begins to broadcast, through all those TV sets and computers—take a deep breath—ready?—the AFGHAN HOME SHOPPING NETWORK!
Boom!
Oh yes, my friends, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Don’t bother bringing up the fact that the Afghan people don’t have money. They’ll find money! They’ll sell each other if they have to! They’ll pawn their yaks and rifles and take out second mortgages on their shacks and huts and yurts.
The Afghan Home Shopping Network won’t be denied. Shampoos, soap on a string, Kleenex, shower caps, earrings, toe rings, rugs, couches, square-dance instruction CDs, kitchen knives, scarves, fans, belts, undies, shoes, pet food, bird houses, pot holders, battery operated hair dryers, perfume, books on tape, storage containers, stockings, lipstick, eye shadow, bathrobes, self-improvement tapes, bracelets…
Victory.
Absolute conquest.
And not a shot fired.
And when the population begins to develop all sorts of serious symptoms from this campaign, as they surely will, we send in the doctors and the shrinks, and they diagnose! They diagnose diseases and illnesses and disorders from here to Sunday, and they prescribe more (toxic) drugs.
It’s a party.
We do to the Afghans what has been done to us.
Because you see, that’s the pattern. We know it intimately, because we’ve bought into it ourselves.
We’re already that kind of society. Who better to impose it on another population?
And when the people of Afghanistan are softened up, poisoned, and wrecked, we bring in the US public education system and install it. That way we pick up the few remaining holdouts, the kids who have this crazy idea that they want to think for themselves, and we bury them under social programming.
We get those kids collecting aluminum cans and cheering for the 50 or 60 vaccines they’re getting pumped into their already-weakened immune systems. At age six, we teach them the 206 sexual positions described in various ancient texts. We teach them everything equals everything and they must tolerate and respect and celebrate every conceivable point of view.
It’s a blast.
We fly planes over the country dumping chemtrails, and we put fluorides into every water system, to reduce IQ, increase compliance, and promote bone loss.
Now we’re ready for major media outlets. You know, newspapers and TV news networks that do 24/7 he-said he-said and quotes from experts. Beautiful.
And then we can have free elections with candidates from the two major parties. They grin and lie and run for office and people argue and vote and it doesn’t make any difference.
The war is over, no US troops died, no bullets were fired, no bombs were dropped, and everybody’s happy—depending on your definition of happy.
Every once in a while, when the Afghan people start to come out of their trance, the CIA stages a local massacre and the media go crazy. A demand for greater surveillance is invented.
From the high mountain ranges to the lowlands, we’ve got 100 or 200 million video cameras recording everybody, all phone conversations and emails are monitored, and thousands of drones overhead blanket the country with electronic eyeballs.
The government takes away guns. US guns, black-market guns, old Soviet guns, muskets, and stingers, scooped up and shipped to drug cartels for a handsome profit.
All food crops, all trees, all bushes, all weeds, all grass in the country are GMO. The city of Kabul is renamed Monsanto.
It works, it really does.
Pacification, modern style.
Then, back here at home, the Pentagon can take those assets they no longer need for foreign wars…add them to the present considerable DHS arsenal, and deploy them on the domestic front against the restive population, when necessary.
I hereby give the Smithsonian Institute the right to publish, store, and display my Afghanistan war plan along side other military memorabilia.
Sanity deserves a place in history.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
And when are anti-GMO activist groups going to stop saying they’re “shocked and disappointed” by the president?
Shocked and disappointed is polite-speak and politically correct reaction. It’s baloney.
Don’t you get it? Obama has never been on your side. He never deserved your trust.
Disappointment implies he was your buddy and then unaccountably walked away.
The man is a politician. He’s a liar. Different pols have different styles of lying. Some pretend they’re your friend before they screw you over and leave you in the dust.
I’ve previously published Obama’s track record as Monsanto’s number-one political supporter in America.
After his victory in the 2008 election, Obama filled key posts with Monsanto people, in federal agencies that wield tremendous force in food issues, the USDA and the FDA:
At the USDA, as the director of the National Institute of Food and Agriculture, Roger Beachy, former director of the Monsanto Danforth Center.
As deputy commissioner of the FDA, the new food-safety-issues czar, the infamous Michael Taylor, former vice-president for public policy for Monsanto. Taylor had been instrumental in getting approval for Monsanto’s genetically engineered bovine growth hormone.
As commissioner of the USDA, Iowa governor, Tom Vilsack. Vilsack had set up a national group, the Governors’ Biotechnology Partnership, and had been given a Governor of the Year Award by the Biotechnology Industry Organization, whose members include Monsanto.
As the new Agriculture Trade Representative, who would push GMOs for export, Islam Siddiqui, a former Monsanto lobbyist.
As the new counsel for the USDA, Ramona Romero, who had been corporate counsel for another biotech giant, DuPont.
As the new head of the USAID, Rajiv Shah, who had previously worked in key positions for the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, a major funder of GMO agriculture research.
We should also remember that Obama’s secretary of state, Hillary Clinton, once worked for the Rose law firm. That firm was counsel to Monsanto.
Obama nominated Elena Kagan to the US Supreme Court. Kagan, as federal solicitor general, had previously argued for Monsanto in the Monsanto v. Geertson seed case before the Supreme Court.
The deck was stacked. Obama hadn’t simply made honest mistakes. Obama hadn’t just failed to exercise proper oversight in selecting appointees. He was staking out territory on behalf of Monsanto and other GMO corporate giants.
And now let us look at what key Obama appointees have wrought for their true bosses. Let’s see what GMO crops have walked through the open door of the Obama presidency.
Monsanto GMO alfalfa.
Monsanto GMO sugar beets.
Monsanto GMO Bt soybean.
Coming soon: Monsanto’s GMO sweet corn.
Syngenta GMO corn for ethanol.
Syngenta GMO stacked corn.
Pioneer GMO soybean.
Syngenta GMO Bt cotton.
Bayer GMO cotton.
ATryn, an anti-clotting agent from the milk of transgenic goats.
A GMO papaya strain.
And soon, genetically engineered salmon and apples.
This is an extraordinary parade.
Obama was, all along, a stealth operative on behalf of Monsanto, biotech, GMOs, and corporate control of the future of agriculture.
He didn’t make that many key political appointments and allow that many new GMO crops to enter the food chain through a lack of oversight.
Nor is it coincidental that two of the Obama’s biggest supporters, Bill Gates and George Soros, purchased 900,000 and 500,000 shares of Monsanto, respectively, in 2010.
Records don’t show Monsanto or other biotech giants pouring a landslide of (visible) campaign cash down on Obama, relative to other large donors.
Goldman Sachs was Obama’s number-one $$ donor, and Goldman touts GM-crop commodity contracts, for both buys and sells; but Goldman has its fingers in every significant money pot from Nome to Tierra Del Fuego.
The “Obama riddle” is as plain as the nose on the face of Globalism. Monsanto’s agenda, to monopolize the world’s food supply, is essential to the Globalist blueprint. That blueprint ultimately aims for redistribution of food to the world from a point of Central Planning
As president, Obama has a sworn obligation to Globalism. His oath isn’t to protect the Constitution. Are you kidding?
Every recent president has had an overriding loyalty to Globalism.
Obama’s signing of the Monsanto Protection Act, making that corporation senior in power to the US court system, wasn’t an accident. It was taken in keen awareness of his duty to his Globalist betters.
Here is a president who, like Bush, has no plans for a better world. Obama’s notion of “better” is tied up in the Globalist agenda:
An elite-run bureaucracy, promoting equality and justice, reduces all populations to a lowest common denominator, squashing freedom and prosperity.
Obama’s supporters will never learn the truth, because they’re blinded by the light, which they project on to the persona of the president.
Obama is aware of the con, since he triggered it, and he leverages it.
He’s all nudge-and-wink. “Yes, we’ll help you and you and you. Of course we will.”
He might help you if you make a declaration of dependence. Sacrifice yourself on an altar of despair and then you might earn the right to be fed.
Obama, while on the campaign trail in 2008, was promising transparency in government, was claiming that every person has the right to know what’s in his food (GMO labeling). But clearly, that was all cover and fluff. He was lying through his teeth and he knew it. He’d been vetted for the presidency, and he knew the job entailed joining Monsanto and the larger Globalist agenda as a front man.
He hasn’t changed over the past four years. He’s been a covert agent since the beginning.
Imposter. Charlatan. These words fit Obama. He’s pretended, like Clinton, to care, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t care that GMO food is taking over the country and the world. He wants it to happen. He’s always wanted it to happen.
The sitting president of the United States, Monsanto, DuPont, and Dow, among others, are prepared to do whatever is necessary to make GMO food dominate America.
They intend, through Monsanto-gene drift among millions of plants in ag fields, through increased planting of GMO crops, and through introduction of still more GMO crops, to wrap up the USA in genetically engineered food.
Obama is on board. He’s always been on board.
He is the GMO president.
If tomorrow, the Globalist Rockefellers of this world decided that all food grown in the US should be injected with Prozac, Obama would find a way to help.
Stop making excuses for the man. He’s not a victim of evil forces surrounding his presidency. He signed up for this trip with eyes wide open.
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
The march of idiots is an interesting subject for investigation.
The collectivized mind is wired to other minds, and they exchange gibberish to feel whole.
People are addicted to crap. They like it.
That’s why they watch the news.
That’s why they believe the news.
It’s time for a worldwide Church of the News, with its own priests, its own symbols, and its own prophets. In other words, go to the extreme. Why fiddle around? Bring things out in the open.
Brian Williams would be a saint some day. The great ancestors, like Ed Murrow, Cronkite, and Chet Huntley would be celebrated figures in testaments.
Sunday services would feature many screens with simultaneous broadcasts. This would be the first Church that has such an extensive record of its own history. On television.
Think of it. Straight-out worship of the news.
“I had my conversion-experience one night while Diane Sawyer was in her cups, explaining the loss of life in a storm in Kansas. I suddenly realized I was receiving revelation…”
We already have the Church of Biological Mysticism, in which all human suffering is explained by the germ theory or genes. So we need the Church of the News.
If there’s a 36-car pile-up outside Chicago, in the fog, hundreds of millions of people see pictures of it within minutes. It’s automatically a Church document. No need to explain it. Let the anchors who are on-air explain it. Then everyone can suck it in, in the same way.
CBS, NBC, and ABC are wings of the great cathedral. Their anchors are angels right here, right now.
The Church leadership will be composed of the Great Ones, the men who run the corporations that own the networks. The power behind the throne.
Heretics, of course, are necessary. They’re the “conspiracy theorists,” those evil and demented people who challenge official scenarios touted by the news.
The Church is a herald of the New World Order: Globalism. Establishing one body to rule the planet is its mission. Therefore, worshipers are dedicated as well. Eliminate nations. Erase borders. Allow mega-corporations to roam free and wild and buy up land, resources, and labor anywhere and everywhere.
Bring it all out into the open.
But whether it’s a new UN treaty, a car crash, a murder in a motel, a breakthrough in lip gloss, it’s news, so its sacred.
The Church has a basic flat-earth policy. Every substantial story is presented with drastically shortened perspective, eliminating, for example, the people who are running a specific op from behind the scenes. “Behind the scenes” is a phrase rarely mentioned by the Church.
If we throw in CNN, FOX, and MSNBC, the Church has 24/7 services. That’s quite a reach. Disparate loons like Ted Turner and Rupert Murdoch are united in Church annals, as they should be. They’re both significant promulgators of the faith.
And who plays Satan? The Internet, of course. Tax it, control it, censor it, curse it. Cast it out.
Why let people merely bow and kneel down to the news in the privacy of their own minds? Build churches and monuments to externalize and celebrate the broadcasts that shape their reality. There’s no need to hide.
“This is what we know. This is what we see. This is all there is. The news.”
The narration of what exists.
New holidays. The Day of Celebrity Gossip, commemorating a year’s worth of salacious invasions into the lives of meaningless stars. Parishioners on bended knee are fed sugary confections at the altar.
The Day of Commercials, honoring those stalwart companies who support the Church with their ad buys and product placements.
Government Source Saturday, extolling the anonymous persons who feed (dis)information to the press on a regular basis, never to be named “because the investigation is ongoing.”
From The Children, one will rise to be the premier elite anchor of his generation. To him is given the nod of the Great Corporate Owners, to safeguard the ad buys, the ratings, and the dispensing of the story lines.
The Church capsulizes and distorts the people it covers on the news, plugging them into an overall cartoon-front. Individuals mustn’t stand out from the televised background. Too provocative, too dangerous. Too disruptive. By contrast, they might expose the whole charade.
From time to time, the news runs up against rebels who challenge the whole broadcast reality.
And once in a while, the rebel holds a few trump cards. This was the case with one of the earliest mass-media duelists, Salvador Dali.
THE STRANGE CASE OF DALI AND THE COSMIC PRISON BREAK
The critics would have declared Dali a hopeless lunatic if he hadn’t possessed such formidable classical painting skills.
He placed his repeating images (the notorious melting watch, the face and body of his wife, Gala, the ornate and fierce skeletal structures of unknown creatures) on the canvas as if they had as much right to be there as any familiar object.
This was quite troubling. If an immense jawbone that was also a rib or a forked femur could rival a perfectly rendered lamp or couch or book (on the same canvas), where were all the accoutrements and assurances of modern comfortable living?
Where was the pleasantly mesmerizing effect of a predictable existence?
Where was a protective class structure that depended on nothing more than money and cultural slogans?
To make it worse, Dali invented vast comedies on canvas. But the overall joke turned, as the viewer’s eye moved, into a nightmare, into an entrancing interlude of music, a memory of something that had never happened, a gang of genies coming out of corked bottles.
What was the man doing? Was he thumbing his nose at the audience? Was he simply showing off? Was he inventing waking dreams? Was he, God forbid, actually imagining something entirely new that resisted classification?
Words failed viewers and critics and colleagues and enemies.
But they didn’t fail Dali. He took every occasion to explain his work in press interviews. However, his explications were dealt out in a way that made it plain he was telling tall tales—interesting, hilarious, and preposterous tall tales.
Every interview and press conference he gave, gave birth to more attacks on him. Was he inviting scorn? Was he really above it all? Was he toying with the press like some perverse Olympian?
Media analysts flocked to make him persona non grata, but what was the persona they were exiling? They had no idea then, and they have no idea now.
It’s possible that every statement ever uttered in public by Dali was a lie. A fabrication. An invention dedicated to constructing a massive (and contradictory) persona.
Commentators who try to take on Dali’s life usually center on the early death of his young brother as the core explanation for Dali’s “basic confusion”—which resulted in his bizarre approach to his own fame.
However, these days, we might more correctly say that Dali was playing the media game on his own terms, after realizing that no reporter wanted the real Dali (whatever that might mean)—some fiction was being asked for, and the artist was merely being accommodating.
He was creating a self that matched his paintings.
It is generally acknowledged that no artist of the 20th century was superior to Dali in the ability to render realistic detail.
But of course Dali’s work was not about realism.
The most complex paintings—for example, Christopher Columbus, Discovering America and The Hallucinogenic Toreador—brilliantly orchestrated interpenetrating worlds.
At some point in his career, Dali saw (decided) there was no limit to what he could assemble on one canvas. A painting could become a science-fiction novel reaching into several pasts and futures. The protagonist (the viewer) could find himself in such a simultaneity.
Critics have attacked the paintings relentlessly. They are offended at Dali’s skill, which matches the best work of the meticulous Dutch Renaissance masters.
They hate the dissonance. They resent Dali’s wit and rankle at the idea that Dali could carry out monstrous jokes—in such fierce extended detail—on a given canvas.
But above all, the sheer imagination harpoons the critics. How dare a painter turn reality upside down so blatantly, while rubbing their faces in the exquisite detail.
The cherry on the cake was: for every attack the critics launched at Dali the man (they really had no idea who he was), Dali would come back at them with yet another elaborate piece of fiction about himself. It was unfair. The critics were “devoted to the truth.” The painter was free to invent himself over and over as many times as he fancied.
Dali was holding up a mirror. He was saying, “You people are like me. We’re all doing fiction. I’m much better at it. In the process, I get at a much deeper truth.”
The principles of organized society dictate that a person must be who he is, even if that is a cartoon of a cartoon. A person must be one recognizable caricature forever, must be IDed, must have one basic function. Must, as a civilization goes down the trail of decline, submit to being watched and taped and profiled.
When a person shows up who is many different things, who can invent himself at the drop of hat, who seems to stand in 14 different places at the same time, the Order trembles.
This is not acceptable.
(Fake) reality declares: what you said yesterday must synchronize absolutely with what you say today.
This rule (“being the only thing you are”) guarantees that human beings will resonate with the premise that we all live and think and work in one collective continuum of space and time. One. Only one. Forever.
The big lie.
Whatever he was, however despicable he may have been in certain respects, Dali broke that egg. Broke the cardinal rule.
He reveled in doing it. He made people wait for an answer about himself, and the answer never came. Instead, he gave them a hundred answers, improvised in the moment.
He threw people back on their own resources, and those resources proved to be severely limited.
That was too much.
But there the paintings are.
And the pressure has been building. The growing failure of major institutions (centralized hierarchical religion, psychology, education, government) to keep the cork in the bottle signals a prison break in progress.
More people understand that the veil is not really a veil of tears. It’s a curtain madly drawn across the creative force.
The pot is boiling. People want out. It remains to be seen whether people will admit that the veil was and is ultimately of their own making.
Somewhere along the line we have to give the green light to our own creative power. That is the first great day, the dawn of no coerced boundaries. Everything we’ve been taught tells us that a life lived entirely from creative force is impossible. We don’t have it within us. We should maintain silence and propriety in the face of greater official power and wisdom. We must abide by the rules. We must, at best, “surrender to the universe.”
But what if, when we come around the far turn, we see that the universe is us? Is simply one part of imagination? Is a twinkling rendition we installed to keep us titillated with dreams that would forever drift out of reach?
What if we are popping out of the fences of this culture and this continuum and this tired movie? What then?
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
I think, at the very least, YouTube should censor them. Well, wait a minute. Not censor, but put up a notice on all their videos:
“It’s come to our attention that these three characters are as annoying as a bad case of fleas. Caution: watch and listen at your own risk.”
The three stooges. Three schmucks in the fountain. Send in the clowns, don’t bother, they’re here.
If people are beginning to get the idea I’m waging a war against against elite media, they’re right.
At the same time, I’m fascinated. How do these anchors do it? How do they lie so consistently, and with such aplomb, day in and day out, without going up in a puff of smoke and vanishing?
The Big Three anchors are a miracle, in the sense that they need a whole construction company to build the walls that permanently separate them from the truth…so they can sit in a television studio in New York and believe they’re in the wheelhouse of Real News.
When you see the Big Three are discussing their own footage, but you find visual clues as big as the moon that their analysis is 180 degrees away from actual fact—as has been happening from Aurora to Sandy Hook to Boston—and the Stooges just sit there and drone on…well, that’s a CSI or a Law&Order you just can’t get if you pay the best scriptwriters in the world to come up with it.
“The bomb was a pressure cooker.”
Right, and the Twin Towers went down because two planes flew into them.
Because the Web has been alive and humming, media coverage of every major catastrophe since 9/11 has been rejected by extraordinary numbers of people.
The elite network anchors have been trying to hold the fort, but they’re failing.
Their long-running stage play is closing down.
Despite their traditional skills and technological backup, they’re coming across like cartoon hacks.
These days, it’s better to be a marginally believable doofus like Diane Sawyer, who chooses to affect a persona based on depression, than to be the eternal boy wonder, Brian Williams. Williams, the smoothest of the smooth, comes across like the biggest liar, because he’s the most dedicated of the lot when it comes to defending the indefensible.
And Scott Pelley is Scott Pelley, the hospital doctor you’d least like to show up at your bedside. He might tell you you need an amputation just because he’s having a bad day.
“Who do we need for the most important anchor’s job in the world?”
“How about Pelley? He’s utterly convinced the lies we feed into the propaganda machine are the last word.. He’s sold. He couldn’t look outside the box if we drilled holes in it and let him see a mountain of gold bars and 50,000 naked bureaucrats running down Broadway at high fucking noon.”
The Big Three strut their stuff on the evening news, executing well-oiled, high-priced transitions from one completely false/basically deceptive story to another completely false/basically deceptive story.
Recall the often-quoted George Burns pearl? “In acting, sincerity is everything. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.” But suppose the sincerity isn’t faked? Then, the schmuck becomes king.
My late friend and colleague, hypnotherapist Jack True, described the television-news audience: “Mind control is accepting what you know to be false. You do it because you think the only other alternative is a vacuum: you either buy the news or you’re left with nothing.”
JACK TRUE, the most creative hypnotherapist on the face of the planet, is featured in THE MATRIX REVEALED. Jack’s anti-Matrix understanding of the mind and how to liberate it is unparalleled. His insights are unique, staggering. 43 interviews, 320 pages. That is just a faction of what THE MATRIX REVEALED has to offer.
Once in a while, you can see cracks. Scott Pelley, stewing in his juices, looks like he’s ready to pull his uncle’s old revolver out of his pocket and fire a few rounds at the teleprompter.
Diane Sawyer appears to be on the verge of sagging to her right and collapsing out of her chair, on her way to a fit of copious weeping.
Brian Williams wants to say, more than anything, “Live From New York, it’s Saturday night!” Then a few coiled springs pop out of the top of his head and he winds down and stops moving.
Subliminally, the three stooges are announcing: “We’re showing you the most important stories of our time, and each one has a television lifespan of ninety seconds, after which they no longer exist.”
Television news is really all segue all the time. That’s what it comes down to.
The word “segue,” pronounced “segway,” refers to a transition from one thing to another, a blend.
Ed McMahon once referred to Johnny Carson as the prince of blends, because Carson could tell a clunker of a joke, step on it three times, and still move to the next joke without losing his audience.
Television news is very serious business. A reporter who can’t handle segues is dead in the water. He’s a gross liability.
The good anchors can take two stories that have no connection whatsoever and create a sense of smooth transition.
Brian Williams can say, “The planes were recalled later in the afternoon. And a man was castrated in a horrific accident in Idaho today…” And no one says, WHAT? WAIT!
You take an elevator up to the 15th floor in an office building. The door opens and you step into a medieval dungeon. That doesn’t compute in real life, but it does on the news.
The networks basically have, on a daily basis, fragmented stories, and they need an anchor who can do the blends, the segues, and get away with it, to promote the sense of one continuous flow.
So the audience doesn’t say, “This is just an odd collection of crap.”
The news is all segue all the time.
Not just nationally. On the local level, too. The pounding lead-in music at the top of the show is a segue, to prepare the audience. A) Music. B) “Tonight, our top story: a man ate a hot dog and died …”
The voice of the anchor is the non-stop blending machine that ties all news stories together. That’s why the elite network stars earn their paychecks.
Good segue people are stage magicians. They can move the viewer’s attention from item A to item B without a tremor or a doubt.
It’s often been said of certain actors, “He could read from the phone book and you’d listen.” Well, an elite anchor can hold the viewer’s mind as he reads a sentence from the phone book, another one from a car-repair manual, a third from a cookbook, and a fourth from a funeral-home brochure. Without stopping.
And afterward, the viewer would have no questions.
The news is surreal because the stories are mostly fool’s gold to begin with; and they’re unrelated. They’re rocks lying around on the floor. The anchor picks them up and invents the illusion of One Flowing Stream.
This is what the audience wants. It feels like a story. It feels like unity. It feels like a stage play or a movie. It feels, when all is said and done, good.
The anchor (as his title suggests) holds the fragments together in one place. For the audience, he’s the focus. He’s the maestro. The hypnotist.
You can’t pull anyone off the street and have him describe car crashes, murders, storms, threats of war, political squabbles, 300 cats living in a one-room apartment, a new piece of Medicare legislation, genitalia picture tweets, and the dedication of a library, while placing and keeping millions of people in a light trance.
Katie Couric couldn’t do it. People were waiting for her to break out into an attack of Perky and giggle and cross her legs. Diane Sawyer does it poorly. She seems to be affecting somber personal grief as her basic segue-thread. Scott Pelley is competent, but he sits like a surgeon ready to signal the anesthesiologist to clamp a mask on your face, before he cuts into your stomach.
Brian Williams is the current king of segue. He does smooth-serious-affable-employee-of-the-month-I-know-all-the-news-is-true.
None of these elite anchors can hold a candle to Cronkite or Chet Huntley, the past masters. Ed Murrow was the first star-practitioner of the television-news form. He was working a kind of sepulchral spin-off of Hemingway prose.
Murrow got his first break, right out of college, working for the Institute of International Education, a pathetic front for what they used to call “internationalists” (aka globalists). Elihu Root founded the organization. Root was also founding chairman of the Council on Foreign Relations and president of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. In other words, one world together actually meant: all you peons down there and we wise men on top…
Anyway, all anchors can do segue. They are dedicated to The Blend. They put their souls, such as they are, into transitions.
“What do you want to do when you grow up, Brian?”
“I want to take people from A to B.”
Whereas, a true version of the news would go something like this: “Today, in fact just now, I moved from a tornado in Kansas to the removal of restrictions on condom sales, and I’m blending into penguins in Antarctica. I’m doing Salvador Dali and you’re not noticing a thing.”
What does all this tell us? The news, if it were taken apart into its component pieces, would look quite surreal. And the anchor, by blending, manufactures a hypnotic illusion of interconnection.
The audience wants to be put in a trance. Even a several-day event, like the Boston bombing, with all its twists and turns, doesn’t mitigate that basic big sleep. Television news, with a good anchor, with the television screen itself, with the electromagnetic emissions and frequencies, can attain and hold the hypnotic state.
Therefore, the content of the news sinks in below the level of the rational mind.
But with each shift in story line, with each new breaking bit of revelation, with each disturbing image, the anchor must be there to execute the segues.
He is basically saying to the audience, “I’m a few feet inside your personal landscape, your mind, feeding you all the turns in the river, and I’ll always be here, so things are all right…”
Elite anchors invent and maintain certain tones of voice, certain rhythms, certain cadences, certain variations of musical pitch, throughout the stage play, in order to sustain the sense of continuity.
They’re mechanics of voice.
They use their skills to report the false facts handed down to conceal ops and staged events.
They need to believe in what they’re doing. They need to be that stupid. Talent search: 130 IQ, inherently stupid.
They can know they’re actors on television, but they have to believe they’re acting out the truth. Ends justify the means. Of course, “truth” often means to them: that which will bind us all together.
What is the role they’re cast in? It’s: Normal. It’s a heavy part in the play, because this joke of a society has a prime-cut value called Normal.
“Okay, look,” the Broadway director says to the veteran actor he’s interviewing for the lead, in a billion-dollar production. “This may sound strange, but you’re going to have to do Normal as it’s never been done before. That’s what the audience wants. You’ve got to come across as very, very smart and very, very Normal. Get it? I mean, you can emit a few rays of Elite here and there, but you have to do that Normal dance. The audience has to believe you somehow fit in with being a solid American, whatever the hell that is. You can be the news boy down the street, riding his bike, tossing papers on front porches (Brian Williams), wholesome as Wonder Bread, or you can be a socialite on the Upper East Side teetering on the verge of a nervous breakdown (Diane Sawyer), or you can be a doctor moving briskly through his morning hospital rounds telling the interns trailing behind him what incompetent assholes they are (Scott Pelley)…but it has to be Normal at the same time. You’re the brain of every other brain. You’re the conscience of every other conscience. You’re just as walled off from the conspiracy to own every inch of America and grind down the people into dust-bowl hell as all Americans are walled off from knowing about it. You know as little as they do. You’re just as clueless as the great unwashed, but you put your stupidity on display with some measure of grace and style. Got it? You’re clean, sanitary, loyal as a dog, dumb as fog but very smart. You spew absolute nonsense every second of your time on stage, but it sounds plausible, and again, Normal. You constantly change subjects, and the subjects are in no way related to each other, but you make it all seem sensible. It’s a joke. But you’re serious. And you have to Believe, as if you’ve always believed, from the moment you emerged out of your mother’s body.
“And if you need a model for all this, just watch the news every night on the three major networks and focus on these geniuses.”
See the bomb exploding, the one that emits a puff of smoke straight up in the air? The one that was built in a pressure cooker? The bomb that didn’t tear the flags to pieces and didn’t shred the blue canopy right next to it? The bomb that didn’t cause the men in yellow jackets standing in front of it to even blink? That bomb vectored at a very low angle and took out people’s legs in the Boston street. That right, America. It did. I swear it did.
See the purple and pink pigs flying over the White House? They’re bringing food from Mars for all the bureaucrats who push paper in the city every day, the people who can’t be fired during the Sequester, while flights all over the country are delayed. That food from Mars keeps the paper pushers going. It does. It has special vitamins in it. See how fat the pigs in the sky are? How do you think they got that way? They ate the food. It’s so healthy. It’s mystical and magical. It’s just part of the largesse coming to you from your eternal government. Wait a little while longer. It’ll be here. There are lots more flying pigs. They’ll drop off little bags of Martian tasties on your street any week now. It’s the new Normal. Get used to it. We know what you want, and we’re going to give it to you.
We know what you want and we’re going to give it to you.
If you have any doubts and need more information and assurance, just watch Brian, Scott, and Diane every night. They’re narrating the Days of Our Lives. They’re from Mars. They’re the advance scouts for the pigs.
Brian’s the happy pig. Diane’s the sad pig. Scott’s the cold pig.
They’re America. The best of America.
This is why the Colonies fought a revolution against the British. So you could suck up stories, like a vacuum cleaner, from the three little pigs.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
The boy. Abdul Rahman Alharbi. He was here, then he wasn’t.
He was featured in major stories, then he wasn’t.
The Ministry of Truth (controlled media) has no further concerns.
For a few hours, Alharbi was the prime suspect in the Boston bombing. Then he was a person of interest.
Then he was no longer a person of interest, he was severely burned and in the hospital.
Then Secretary of State John Kerry met with Saudi Foreign Minister Saud. Obama met with Saud, too, and with the Saudi ambassador.
Then Alharbi became a witness who wasn’t severely burned. He’d received minor injuries.
Then DHS took away his travel visa and prepared to deport him.
Then, poof.
Where is he? Was he deported?
No one seems to know.
Since 2009, though, and long before Michelle Obama visited him in a Boston hospital a few days ago, Alharbi had been to the White House seven times. On several occasions, those visits lasted several hours.
Ten members of the boy’s extended family are named on a Saudi terror list.
According to Glenn Beck, who produced a copy of a form from the US Customs and Border Protection National Targeting Center, Alharbi is designated a 212-3B. This classification translates to: “terrorist connections.” At the least.
The Ministry of Truth doesn’t seem to care what he was doing at the White House.
George Orwell, 1984: “…to forget whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory again at the moment when it was needed, and then promptly to forget it again…consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed.”
Janet Napolitano now says the boy was never really on a terrorist list, he was just on a no-fly list for a few hours, when the FBI thought he might be a person of interest in the Boston bombing.
Then when the FBI realized he was entirely innocent, they took him off the no-fly list.
But changing that 212-3B status of someone has nothing to do with no-fly. It’s more complicated and serious. A panel has to convene, and evidence has to be presented. Worse yet, it appears Alharbi was tagged with 212-3B because of a prior (unnamed) act that had nothing to do with the bombing in Boston.
But, you see, he’s old news, because the Ministry of Truth concurs that the Boston bombing case has been solved.
The following questions, therefore, don’t need to be asked by incurious reporters:
What was Alharbi doing at the White House? Who was he seeing? What did they talk about?
How and why does DHS allow a person with a 212-3B tag to enter the White House seven times?
How and why does DHS allow the president’s wife to meet with a 212-3B?
If DHS is making these designations and categories of threat re Alharbi, why are they reversing their own assessments?
Why did government officials decide to let Alharbi drop from the suspect list in the Boston bombings, only to say he needed to be deported on April 23rd?
Was he deported?
Is he still in the US?
The Glenn Beck aspect of this story is interesting. Major media can simply reject everything he says because he’s Glenn Beck. However, Beck was presenting a document on The Blaze. The cover page is posted there, and other reporters could, if they wanted to, substantiate it as genuine or fake, independent of Beck or anything he asserts.
They could find out if it lists Alharbi as a 212-3B, and if it describes him as “armed and dangerous.”
But they don’t. They stay away. They know better than to venture into deep waters without a green light from their editors and producers. Obviously, that green light is red.
“The relationship between America and Saudi Arabia is complex.”
Yes, yes, of course, so let’s forget the whole thing. Let’s drop it down the memory hole and go elsewhere:
The Red Sox are off to a good start.
Former Congressman Anthony Weiner says there may be more penis pictures out there.
CNN is reviving its old show, Crossfire, and Newt Gingrich may be one of the stars.
The polar icecaps are receding, or possibly expanding.
So in bars tonight, and for the next few days, reporters will chew the fat about the Saudi kid, about the interesting story that might have been. But they know they can’t go there.
It doesn’t bother them. They’ve been through this kind of thing many times. They cover what they can cover, and they talk about the rest. “One, two, three, oil…Saudi oil. It’s gotta be about oil, right? Everything is. We’re in the wrong business, boys. We should have gone into shoes or women’s wear.”
“I was just talking to John Kerry and he says the way DHS handled this kid was strange. He wants to know if we know anything.”
Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!
“I just talked to the White House. They say it’s a non-starter. The kid was never a suspect. It was some kind of mix up.”
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!
And the White House, in turn, was just talking to three defense contractors who own half the Senate, and there was a discussion of new Saudi weapons orders:
“Unfortunate confusion with this Alharbi kid. Are the diplomatic channels all clear now?”
“Yes, we’ve ironed out the blip. It’s gone.”
Somewhere in America, there’s a reporter for a big paper who’s sitting at his desk in the middle of the night thinking about Alharbi. He knows there’s something there.
He’s wondering how he can cajole his editor into letting him off the leash. Trade one story for another? Promise to train the moron who covers film and can’t string two coherent sentences together?
No, it won’t work. There are red lights and Red Lights and this one burns bright.
Still, it would have been fun. Who knows what foul creatures would have emerged from the swamp?
The lone reporter also knows that all stories are interchangeable; they only last for a little while. A thing is hot, then it’s cold. It’s the way the business works.
Orwell/1984: “…it was not even forgery. It was merely the substitution of one piece of nonsense for another.”
So even if he could dig down past the Saudi kid and find the masses of rotting truth, there would be no traction. It would all slip and slide into the next big thing. And Glenn Beck? Even a blind hog finds an acorn once in a while, but that form he was waving around? Could it really be important? A few of Hillary’s people at the State Department might know something. See what they have to say. All that Saudi money invested in FOX. Maybe Beck’s just trying to get a little revenge on his former employer.
The reporter leans back in his chair. What’s the use? He’ll never make it past the gatekeepers.
Orwell: “Orthodoxy is unconsciousness…Everything faded into mist. The past was erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie became truth.”
There is another watch list few people talk about. It’s the list of reporters and commentators the elite media refuse to recognize as legitimate, under any circumstances. Glenn Beck is certainly on that list. You can fill in other names yourself.
It works this way. If X, who is on the list, comes up with a true blockbuster of a story, he is ignored, because were he believed and acknowledged, he would move up in official status…and then, other stories he breaks would have to be recognized as well.
And who knows what other stories he would come up with? Surely, some of them would challenge firm boundaries the elite media place on what they will cover and what they won’t cover.
Orwell: “We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. Power is not a means; it is an end.”
John King, one of CNN’s stars, may have inadvertently gotten himself mixed up in the Alharbi story. Prior to the FBI naming the Tsarnaev brothers as the Boston bombers, King announced the FBI had a suspect in custody and were ready to announce who it was.
Was that Alharbi?
For five minutes, before the FBI realized they were bumping into protected connections that flowed on a much higher level, had they decided the boy was the bomber?
King had two sources, people he trusted, who told him the FBI had an unnamed suspect in tow. So King went with the story on air.
Then, the FBI said there was no suspect. There never had been a suspect.
King bit the bullet and issued a public apology. He said he would be more careful in the future.
Of course, he was fuming. He could have struck out on his own, determined to prove he’d been jacked around. He could have tried to prove the FBI was lying—they really did have a suspect in custody but then somebody far higher on the food chain issued an order to release…Alharbi?
King knows how the game is played. You take your medicine and shut up. You don’t wander off the reservation. You pretend to believe the FBI. You have to. Otherwise, you’ll wind up looking like the Mad Hatter and your own network will dump you out on the street.
“Remember John King? He was a star. But then he tried to prove the FBI was lying. He lost it. He went nuts going after the Bureau, and it turned out he was wrong. There never was a suspect in custody. It was just bad information. CNN had to let him go. It’s a shame…”
King immediately becomes an object lesson for other reporters. You want to stay in the game? Stick your tail between your legs and waddle back to your job. Say you’re sorry, and then on top of that, say that apologizing is your duty to your audience, because the truth is at the heart of the news, blah-blah.
Orwell: “How easy it all was! Only surrender, and everything else followed.”
The elite media have discovered a marvelous thing. The human mind works just like television news. The mind can decide something is important, then decide it isn’t, forget it, and move on.
Unless the owner of that mind is awake.
Television cop shows mirror this situation. Inevitably, after the first suspect is arrested for the crime (at the 20-minute mark, too early for a wrap-up resolution), one detective points out there are still unanswered questions.
The missing gun, the witness who saw another man fleeing from the crime scene, the stained glove on the fire escape.
His partner, a goofball, says, “Hey, there are always unanswered questions in a case. Who cares? We have a confession (obtained under pressure). Call the DA.”
Then, later in the show, the smart cop proves he’s right. The witness and the stained glove are crucial. A different person committed the crime.
The lesson? Keep asking all the questions. Keeping digging.
But that’s only true on television.
To be more precise, what’s overtly labeled fiction on TV gives the viewer hope. Television news takes hope away.
You know, the old whipsaw effect.
There’s an app for anything you want. On TV. Inside the bubble.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
