JANUARY 31, 2012. The first day of responses, after yesterday’s launch of my new mega-info product, THE MATRIX REVEALED, has been gratifying. Orders are coming in.


For over a year, people have been emailing me about my 18-lesson logic course, LOGIC AND ANALYSIS, and now that whole course is part of the MATRIX product. The course, including the teacher’s manual, lesson plans, and student materials, was selling for $375. It is now just one element of the overall MATRIX product, which sells for far less.


In the new product, there are 43 interviews with Jack True. 320 pages. That’s another element. If there was any person worth talking to in depth about the Matrix and how to understand it, it was Jack.


He was certainly the most innovative hypnotherapist who ever lived. He took all that experience with his clients and made enormous breakthroughs in un-hypnotizing people at very deep levels.


Jack was determined to find ways to show people how their own approach to reality was merging with the Matrix. He never tired of explaining his insights based on clinical experience.


Jack once told me a person had to be stimulated to pry open his own passive inclinations, in order to discover hidden energies and power. He was all about providing that stimulation, in the form of innovative and sometimes shocking ideas about reality and perception.


These 43 interviews are priceless explorations of frontiers of consciousness.


One night at dinner, Jack said, “If you take any fixation a person has, you are looking at a funeral ceremony for his own creative power. Suppose he’s fixated on money. Dig far enough into that, and you’ll find a brilliant artist who has innovative ideas about making money. It seems impossible, but it’s there. I’ve seen it many times. But you have to open up the whole area, not just a little bit. What you end up with is the blueprint for the formation of a problem. Where does a problem come from? It comes from deciding that your own creative approach to something is too radical. Then you try ‘the normal way’, and that doesn’t work for you. So it’s a problem now. You try to solve the problem and wrestle it to the ground. You can’t. You become fixated on the problem. That’s what happens to people. And to put the cherry on the cake, these people tell you they’re not creative. You can meditate for a thousand years and you won’t solve that. So we come to the question: why do people give up on their own creative power? That’s been the core of my practice for a long time. Unraveling that has been my life’s work.”


It was very good work. It was brilliant work. It was unparalleled work.


In my new product, THE MATRIX REVEALED, you get 43 shots with Jack. 43 interviews. 320 pages.


And that’s just a fraction of the overall text, which runs to 1100 pages. Then there are 10-plus hours of audio from me about the Planetary Chessboard, the Matrix, and what amounts to psychological operations aimed at populations and individuals.


You get the full text of AIDS INC., my first book, which Jack shepherded into a publishing deal for me. It takes apart the medical-research complex at a level most people never investigate: the most hidden lies; how they are built; how they are told; how they are sold; how they are fused into an anti-logical whole. Step by step.


My interviews with Ellis Medavoy, retired propaganda expert, and Richard Bell, financial rebel, provide you with striking and startling insights into other key aspects of the Matrix.


THE MATRIX REVEALED represents about half of my work over the past ten years. You could say it’s why I left the field of conventional investigative journalism. There were questions that needed to be answered. Big questions. And I refused to shy away from them.


To order THE MATRIX REVEALED, click here, or, click on THE MATRIX REVEALED box on my home page at


To learn even more about what is inside THE MATRIX REVEALED product click here.


Jon Rappoport











Because, for example, my full LOGIC COURSE is also included!


Read on for all the details.


To order THE MATRIX REVEALED, click here, or, click on THE MATRIX REVEALED box on my home page at


Thanks, Theodore and Greg. You did great work putting it all together!






by Jon Rappoport

Copyright © 2012 by Jon Rappoport


Let me start with the nuts and bolts of this product. It is enormous in scope and size.


250 megabytes of information.


Over 1100 pages of text.


Ten and a half hours of audio.


The 2 bonuses alone are rather extraordinary:


My complete 18-lesson course, LOGIC AND ANALYSIS, which includes the teacher’s manual and a CD to guide you. I was previously selling the course for $375. This is a new way to teach logic, the subject that has been missing from schools for decades.


The complete text (331 pages) of AIDS INC., the book that exposed a conspiracy of scientific fraud deep within the medical research establishment. The book has become a sought-after item, since its publication in 1988. It contains material about viruses, medical testing, and the invention of disease that is, now and in the future, vital to our understanding of phony epidemics arising in our midst. I assure you, the revelations in the book will surprise you; they cut much deeper and are more subtle than “virus made in a lab” scenarios.


The heart and soul of this product are the text interviews I conducted with Matrix-insiders, who have first-hand knowledge of how the major illusions of our world are put together:


EILLIS MEDAVOY, master of PR, propaganda, and deception, who worked for key controllers in the medical and political arenas. 28 interviews, 290 pages.


RICHARD BELL, financial analyst and trader, whose profound grasp of market manipulation and economic-rigging is formidable, to say the least. 16 interviews, 132 pages.


JACK TRUE, the most creative hypnotherapist on the face of the planet. Jack’s anti-Matrix understanding of the mind and how to liberate it is unparalleled. His insights are unique, staggering. 43 interviews, 320 pages.


Then there are several more interviews with brilliant analysts of the Matrix, including recent conversations. 53 pages.


The ten and a half hours of mp3 audio are my solo presentation, based on these interviews and my own research. Title: The Multi-Dimensional Planetary Chessboard—The Matrix Vs. the Un-Conditioning of the Individual.


Here is some background on the product and my own history:


In 2001, I essentially left a career as an investigative reporter and rolled the dice on the emerging internet. I started a site called


I didn’t stop investigating and publishing, but my field of operation widened. My first big question was: WHO REALLY RUNS THE WORLD?




I was prepared to deal with these enormous questions, because I had contacts. These were people I had come to know well during my days as a reporter, writing for LA Weekly and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe—and also during a stint on radio at KPFK in Los Angeles.


These people, these contacts, were insiders.


They had deep knowledge in their fields:




There was a catch. They were unwilling to be cited as on-the-record sources in my articles. They knew they would suffer consequences if they went public.


Once I started my website, I did extensive research to confirm the credentials of my insiders. I wanted to make sure they were who they said they were. I wanted to verify they had worked where they said they had worked. This was a laborious process.


When I was sure, I began to interview them.


I wasn’t certain where all this would go.


Gradually, I realized I was getting VERY high-level information on The Matrix. But this was the real Matrix.


As one of my sources described it:


Imagine a factory that turns out illusions. And these illusions are woven together to make up what we think the world is.”


The actual Matrix involves a number of areas: government; money; energy; the military; intelligence agencies; medicine; mega-corporations; psychology and mind control; science…


I started a members-only newsletter, and word quickly spread. Every Friday, I would email a newsletter to subscribers. Many of these newsletters were interviews with my insiders.


It was quite a job, keeping up with writing (public) daily articles for my site and also putting out the (private) newsletter. I was also collating the high-level information from my sources and making maps of the expanding territory.


I saw that I was looking at global CARTELS. As you will discover in reading this material, these cartels are not frozen organizations. They are evolving.


So now I’ve had some very competent assistance, and I’ve assembled the most important newsletter-interviews for you.


But in addition to that, I’m publishing, for the first time, interviews that never made it into those newsletters. And I’m presenting interviews from very recent days as well.


It’s very instructive to talk to people who have been there onthe inside. They are bright, they are informative, they convey the depth of situations they were involved with. They go beyond relaying dry facts, and in doing so, you learn how elite players play the game. You receive a rounded and three-dimensional picture of: the process of constructing The Matrix. How it’s built.


In every case, each insider was relieved to be able to talk with utter frankness, with no fear that his words would be twisted or taken out of context or deleted. So you’re getting the full story.


I met my first two insiders while I was writing my first book, AIDS INC., SCANDAL OF THE CENTURY, in 1987-88. The book was my initial experience in putting together a vast amount of data—which contradicted every official position on a supposedly rock-hard subject: medical science.


At the time, I didn’t really understand how deep I was drilling down into a cardinal aspect of The Matrix. I only knew I was I digging up and exposing long-held delusions broadcast as facts by the Medical Cartel. These false realities went far beyond the subject of AIDS.


That first book of mine started as a pure lark. I had just published a piece in LA Weekly about certain televangelists and their support of an intentionallystaged Armageddon in Israel. When the piece was published, I sat back and thought, “Where do I go from here? What could be weirder than this?”


Like other investigative reporters, I was excited by strange and bizarre stories that could blow readers’ minds. I was motivated by that.


So, in 1987, I wondered what could be stranger than the Armageddon story I had just done.


Sitting in my Los Angeles studio, a thought popped into my head. “AIDS. I bet there’s something about that whole thing that’s pretty weird.”


Little did I know…


That was my first big leap.


I had studied logic extensively in college. I had been taught by a philosophy professor who was a very generous soul and a relentless thinker. If you were an inch from accuracy, he would point it out, and he would give you the full reason and understanding that pulled you back to the straight and narrow.


Once I dove into research for AIDS INC., I was amazed at the sloppy thinking and contradiction that was posing as science.


And then I met my first two insiders.


Their basic message to me was: keep going; you’re on the right track; we have a great deal more to share with you.


They weren’t just talking about medical issues.


They were talking about the whole construction of reality from a number of angles.


Each of the insiders I have gotten to know over the subsequent years has a different personal story. They have all left their particular corner of The Matrix-Construction Group. Jack True, my late friend and colleague, was a different man altogether. He was never part of that Group. He was the most informed and brilliant researcher I’ve ever come across on the subject of the mind—the essential link that makes The Matrix work.


Jack started the ball rolling. He was instrumental in making the deal that got AIDS INC published. He introduced me to a few key figures along the way—insiders who proved invaluable.


Why did these insiders want to talk and spill secrets? Well, the process of interviewing them wasn’t always easy. They could be thorny at times. But they all had seen, finally, the abyss toward which they were heading, toward which they were leading the population. And they pulled back.




This Volume is for individuals.




Beyond The Matrix is true individual power.


Despite all the illusions, it has always been there.


It waits for you.


And it IS your power.


To order THE MATRIX REVEALED, click here, or, click on THE MATRIX REVEALED box on my home page at


Jon Rappoport






by Jon Rappoport

January 21, 2012


My phone buzzed. It was the president. He told me he needed me in his office. The revolution in Iraq was gathering steam, and an Islamist majority in parliament was likely after the next election.


I told him I’d be there in two hours.


Where are you?” he said.


New York. I had to fly up here. A few pieces of quick business. I’m almost done.”



Pushing through the late-afternoon winter crowds, crossing the line from Chinatown into Little Italy, I saw the faces change and I began to hear Italian, and I saw my man.


Just over six feet, compact muscle, wearing a black leather jacket. His eyes were closed. He was feeling his way between people. His bald head was shining under the sinking sun. His hands were large. He flexed them as he moved.


First came the brief sting of images: snake, lizard, dragon. Each with embroidery. Scrolled hieroglyphics, Chinese pictographs, Runes.


Next, nationalities: Dutch, Norwegian, finally German.


I glanced at molded propositions, a length of chain links he subconsciously deployed, the end of which was murder.


I caught the end of a red directional line and followed it. I turned from Mott to Canal to Broadway, knowing my map was scrambled, as it always was, because I was no longer, strictly speaking, walking the streets of New York.


In a small alley, there was a parked black Escalade. This place was also fantastical, and I would never find the actual one. I didn’t need to. I worked my end-game in an equivalent, which nevertheless carried its crucial moments into the waking world.


I had long since stopped trying to plumb the meaning of the change.


I was there, at the car, when he arrived. We were alone. He looked at me with open hatred, as if he knew I had been coming.


Why are you photographing me?” he said.


Is that what you think I’m doing?” I said.


He opened his jacket. I observed transparent spheres containing gears within gears. I smelled burning ash. The sun, light blue, was overhead among clouds, floating in a lake of wandering corpuscles that orchestrated gusts of wind.


I was a 20-foot tall character in a children’s book. I raised a sledgehammer over my head and brought it down on the pavement next to him. The sidewalk shattered, and he fell silently into the hole.


I dropped the sledgehammer, walked over, and peered into it.


Twenty feet down, emitting a blue glow, a small stone castle stood on a carpet of moss. I couldn’t see him.


Suddenly, a welter of hot smoky emotion rolled up from the hole and struck me in the gut.


I was back in my cabin in the Andes. I heard running water from a stream, the chopping of wood, and farther away, the coughing of an old car laboring on a hill. I stood up straight and the pain was gone.


I looked around the dim room. The floor had gathered dust. My narrow bed was upended, and the mattress, lying a few feet away, had been cut into pieces.


Taped on the mirror above the bureau was a small rectangle of gray paper. Scrawled on the paper: “he was a terrorist.”


I had written it to remind myself where I had been.


I had cut the mattress apart, to alert myself that it was time to leave this place.


Then I was in rocky hills, jumping up to the summit, where I could see chunks of walking food. I spotted four of them. They all turned toward me and then ran.


I pursued one of them as it raced low to the ground, remembering the man in New York was dead, remembering I had taken my work seriously, remembering my father was living alone in a brownstone on West 90th Street, off Central Park West.


The son he knew was a lowly janitor on the High-line, a walkway built over an old elevated subway between 14th and 23rd Street.


My job was sweeping the concrete, spearing food containers, and wiping down the railings.


My father wasn’t proud of me. He was bewildered about what I had made of my life.


I caught the small thing between my teeth, shook it three times, and broke its neck. I carried it to a place between rocks, lay down, and took a bite of flesh.


When I had finished my meal, I head a voice say, “Let’s kill that boy.”


It was coming from a car parked near the equivalent of the corner of 17th Street and 10th Avenue. I walked over to the car, rapped on the window, and held my policeman’s badge against it.


The window slid down. I didn’t wait to see the faces. I blew a breath of paralyzing amnesia into the car, turned, and walked away.


I passed a bookstore. Inside the huge window, ducks in a row, were hardbound volumes with the title: SHAPESHIFTER: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. One of my names was listed as the author.


Probably a misstep. I make them.


I walked into the store, along an aisle of best sellers, and into a room where a hundred people were crowded, listening to a woman in a business suit. She was channeling an entity and doling out monotonous advice.


I tore away the veil of surmise, and suddenly everyone in the room realized the woman was inventing the Other.


After a minute, the listeners began getting up and filing out. Disappointed hurricane watchers; today’s storm didn’t make landfall.


After the room was empty, the woman in the business suit stared at me.


What do you want?” she said.


Nothing,” I said. “But would you like to become an elephant? I could teach you how to switch back and forth.”


Get out of here,” she said.


Then, she was an elephant poised on cheap electric-blue carpet.


I waited a moment.


Would you like to come back?” I said.


She flicked her mottled trunk at me.


At that moment, several federal agents walked into the room.


I held up my badge.


NYPD,” I said.


That’s okay,” one of the agents said. “We’re after the elephant. It’s a shapeshifter.”


Lot of that going around these days,” I said. “Have they passed a law against it yet?”


National Security issue,” the agent said.


Well, it would be. They’re upsetting the very foundations of our way of life.”


He glared at me.


You making a joke, Officer?”


I spread my hands.


Hell no. I mean it. We can’t let these creatures roam the streets.”


The elephant made her charge and thundered by me, her mud-stained eyes glowing with hellfire.


I was sitting in the Oval Office, across from the president at his desk.


Before we get to the Iraq situation, sir, I can give you a list of the precise lies you need to tell to be reelected.”


He scratched the back of his head.


How is your list different from my list?” he said.


Well, we’ll have to compare them,” I said. “But I assure you mine is the result of a lifetime of careful research.”


Yes,” he said. “But if I read your compilation and I’m not satisfied, what then?”


Then,” I said, “I can turn you into another man who stands a better chance of winning.”


And what do I do with the old me?”


Oh, you’d still be the president, but you would have undergone a complete personality shift.”


He leaned forward.


You think I need one?” he said.


Have you ever considered becoming a ferret?”


A what?”


Or an owl?”


Are you out of your mind?”


I could give you the personality of a ferret or a porcupine. People respond to animals. Nixon was a weasel. Bush was a kangaroo. Obama was an undernourished whippet. What do you want to be?”


The president stared at me.


You’re serious,” he said.


I nodded. “Of course I’m serious. Without an animal persona, you’re basically invisible.”


Well, I’ve always liked mules,” he said.


That won’t work. How about a copperhead? We haven’t had a copperhead since Woodrow Wilson.”


He shook his head. “No snakes. But perhaps an ant. An ant is a man of the people. Member of a group, a collective.”


When I poured honey on his desk, he bent over and began lapping at it.


From the walls of the Oval Office streamed thousands of ants. They came in files and ascended the desk and approached the honey. I heard a faint chittering as they procured their drops and turned and scaled down the legs of the desk. The whole operation was very orderly.


Sir,” I said, “you’ll win in a landslide.”


He smiled horribly at me and went back to lapping the orange goo.


I spoke to him in low confidential tones.


Mr. President, now that you’re in full possession of the hive-nest-colony consciousness, you realize your sacred duty to act against serious threats to the collective. Twenty years ago, it was discovered that pharmaceutical drugs kill 106,000 Americans every year. That’s over a million people per decade. Your own agency, the FDA, has certified every one of those drugs as safe and effective. No drug can be sold without such FDA approval. Surely, you see what you must do in this situation.”


He looked up at me. He was clearly shocked.


Why yes,” he said. “How could I have overlooked this before? I’ve had the report on my desk for some time. I must have been distracted.”


I waited while he phoned his attorney general and instructed him to issue search warrants for FDA headquarters and arrest warrants for the top tier of agency executives.


Not all remedies are perfect. My adjustment of the president’s personality was an attempt to make the best of a bad situation.


As the president’s national security advisor, that is more or less the core of my job. I make changes quickly.


And now I have a confession to make. All these tricks I’ve been playing here and there, these on-the-fly adjustments and solutions, and yes, even these shape-shifts, are merely a sub-category of something else…and it is the something else that is truly important.


What I am able to do is generated out of my imagination, an infinite well of possibility.


Finally, my imagination itself is born out of my imagining it.


If you can find a spiritual tradition on planet Earth which declares THAT, you’re not on planet Earth, and you probably aren’t anywhere in this universe.



Jon Rappoport

For information about the upcoming Magic Theater workshop in San Diego, contact me directly.





by Jon Rappoport

January 20, 2012


As some of you know, until last spring I was a professor of literature at Princemouth College, on the rim of the Milky Way, at which time I was fired for “reckless behavior.” When charges were brought against me by the College Integrity Commission, I was told by the Dean of Behavior:


Violations of the College Code have been observed and verified. We aren’t at liberty to name those violations, because they might multiply the effects of your actions.”


Without the ability, therefore, to defend myself, I had no recourse.


But now, through the efforts of former students, the charges have been exposed. I am grateful for their help.


On the afternoon of April 12, in the Grove, on the east edge of campus, I performed a magic trick for several dozen sophomores who were meeting to discuss a proposed tuition hike.


I held out my hand and made an apple appear.


Later that day, one student told the Dean I had frightened him. He claimed there was no way I could have produced the apple through “stage trickery.” He stated I had actually “manifested” the apple. And this he found upsetting.


In a subsequent note he wrote to the president of the College, he reasoned: “If the Professor could do that (make the apple appear), then all current laws of motion and energy are suspended, and if this is possible, then what other unpredictable irregularities might I encounter here on campus? I came to the College to study science. Now, I am afraid. I have disturbing dreams at night. I’ve sought help at the campus clinic. I have been prescribed medication, and I’m receiving therapy three times a week. Frankly, my life is a shambles. My religious values have been shaken.”


On that basis, I was charged, found guilty, and expelled from my job.


Before I left for Earth, I was harassed by reporters who wanted to know whether I had broken the College Codes of Restricted Speech.


Now I live in San Diego, beyond the reach of College authorities.


And I can tell you:


I did, in fact, materialize the apple out of nothing.


I’m freely admitting this, because I want to discover whether it disturbs people sufficiently to make me conclude that your society, too, is living in a Dark Age.


If the answer turns out to be yes, I will make a stand, because the prospect of emigrating again is deeply unpleasant. And when I say make a stand, I mean I will perform other “tricks.”


But this time, I’ll do more than simply conjure an apple in my hand. I’ll erect an unbreakable psychological shield around the 1st Amendment, and I believe this action will bring about a state of chaos in many of your sacred institutions.


I’ll also render visible a hole in space that already exists above the planet, at an altitude of 60 miles, where energy is pouring in from another universe. When that happens, and when its implications are digested, many scientists will see a way to channel and utilize this energy to replace your older inadequate forms of fuel.


That, too, will engender chaos.


Fed up with blindness and insanity, I’ll step out of the shadows and declare my independence.


When in the course of events, it becomes necessary to resign from “the old world,” it is best done in spectacular style, and with maximum impact.


There are further “tricks” coming. What if, for example, every person who currently is weaving a false story to convince others he is a chronic victim is suddenly and simultaneously exposed? What if his tale is instantly and widely perceived as a fraud, despite all protestations to the contrary? I assure you, such a revelation is possible. The bell hanging from the cat’s neck will ring.


Suppose I show a few hundred million fundamentalists of various stripes the god they have been worshiping all their lives does not exist, but was invented, long ago, by cynical priests?


Suppose millions of soldiers from dozens of nations suddenly understand they have been killing people for no reason?


Suppose, at the flick of a switch, hundreds of thousands of criminals and thugs begin confessing their crimes?


And if craven liars, who are self-appointed leaders of various groups, are viewed, from a correct angle, as panderers and sellers of hatred and poisonous divisiveness, what then?


I assure you, all this is as possible as snow falling on a winter afternoon.


These days, in order to watch and experience a faded imitation of such feats, you file into dark theaters and feel your adrenaline move and your brain graduate into a higher gear, as superhuman heroes enact justice.


Tomorrow, you will see it for real.


If, however, I am left alone to be what I fully am, then I will leave you alone. I will allow you to play out your dramas on a stage of your own choosing.


I have made no investment in your consensus. I haven’t walked in your shoes; nor do I care to.


I can tolerate you. I’m not sure whether you can tolerate me.


But all will be revealed soon enough.


There is nothing in the universe, or beyond it, that legislates we should all be the same. That may come as a shock to some of you—but I fully understand your “egalitarian attitude” is something you’ve invented to comfort you in a false haven.


This statement is my own declaration of independence.


Let the chips fall where they may.


My journey began on the afternoon I invented an apple out of nothing. But notice I didn’t follow through, as your oppressors did, by adding the garden and the tree and the snake and the guilt. I merely performed a trick. That’s the naked power that’s concealed behind the religions so many of you accept.


Which is probably why I’ll have to do more tricks. Because, while you elevate religion, you don’t like magic.


Oh…wait a minute. What was I saying? Ha-ha, it was only a joke. I went off there for a minute. I didn’t do any magic. Of course, we’re all small people living in a big world and we have to bow down to our superiors and submit to mysteries we’ll never understand. That’s the human condition. We have to make the best of it. We’re all in the same boat. Ha—I went nuts there for a minute. Don’t do anything that might possibly offend anyone else. Don’t stand out. Get along. My hopes and prayers are with you…


Jon Rappoport

For information concerning the upcoming March Magic Theater workshop in San Diego, contact me at:







by Jon Rappoport

January 17, 2012


You can read this article as fantasy, metaphor, crooked analogy, speculation…or something more. Many people will decide it’s an impossible fantasy. I can only say that, to me, it’s the next step in everything I’ve been writing for the past five years.


The essential question I tackle here is: how powerful is imagination?


What can it really do? What unobserved effects has it been creating since the dawn of time? How far-reaching are these effects?


Is it possible that imagination naturally leads to an unprecedented revolution in the very make-up and composition of the universe?


At the outset, I want it clearly understood that nothing I write here is meant to excuse people for doing nothing, for just hanging around hoping for miraculous deliverance. Imagination is an active force, not a passive one, and it is an individual attribute.


I want to tip my hat to my friend, artist Rick Dubov. Rick and I have been doing Magic Theater dialogues recently, and a few of the central ideas in this piece surfaced in those dialogues. I had been keeping them to myself, and finally aired them, and we took off from there.


Universe may not be what we think it is. It may be much LESS, in a way, than we think it is. It may be a fixation, by which we falsely define ourselves. More importantly, what if imagination has been having an enormous and direct (unseen) effect on universe “since the beginning?”


Over the past 15 years, it has occurred to me many times that imagination has been creating holes in the very universe we all accept as permanent and eternal.


Contrary to accepted science, these holes don’t suddenly cause horrific consequences, because although this universe is quite real, it is also an illusion, and as such it simply remains in place, even if pieces of its space have been deleted. Yes, I know, quite far out.


Okay. Here we go.


New York, over the decades, has seen artists migrating to lower-income neighborhoods, moving into lofts, and opening galleries.


The largest of these journeys moved from Greenwich Village to Soho to Chelsea. Presently, in the Chelsea area, bounded roughly by 29th St., 17th St., 10 Ave., and 11th Ave., there are 350 art galleries.


It is certainly the densest concentration of galleries in the world.


These operations change their shows every 4-6 weeks, so the sheer amount of art moving through their doors is staggering.


Every time an art migration sets up shop, neighborhood property values rise, new retail operations open, and untold numbers of visitors appear.


In other words, the surroundings adjust to creative pioneers.


Or to put it another way, the environment adapts itself to imagination (art).


What if this pattern exists on a much, much broader level?


Painting, and in fact all the arts, invent their own spaces, times, and energies.


Up until now, we have, for the most part, been satisfied to say that works of imagination are decoration for, or additions to, the already existing space, time, and energy of this universe.


Because, as citizens of what is considered to be a more or less eternal continuum, we assume and claim to know that the energy, space, and time of the cosmos are primary, monopolistic, and all-encompassing.


I suggest something quite different:


The whole force of imagination and creative invention makes significant and deep changes in the so-called primary space, time, and energy of the universe.


Far from being mere decoration or “additive insertion,” the result of imagination in action is radical and real.


One might say it punches holes in the fabric of space, in the space/time/energy continuum.


That we have not seen these holes (unless we want to interpret inferences of black holes and wormholes as evidence) does not mean they don’t exist.


Our tendency is to deny anything before our eyes that doesn’t integrate with our interior picture of what reality must be.


We could take this principle further: even if we create new realities that supersede the familiar and the “eternal,” we quickly deny the implications of what we’ve invented.


As artists, we’re blind to the most radical effects of our own art.


Millions and millions of artists working over long periods of time establish new beachheads of time, space, and energy, against which the background of “old” physical space, time, and energy begins to fade and dissolve.


The so-called eternality of the continuum opens up gaps and loses its solidity in places.


Dean Radin, in his classic work, The Conscious Universe, argues that the totality of well-designed published laboratory studies of paranormal phenomena reveal a success rate greater than probability. In other words, statistical odds don’t rule the day. Something else is happening.


For example, a volunteer sits in front of a large glass case, which contains a funnel down which small balls are released. The balls end up falling into spaced holes to the left or right of vertical center. The apparatus is designed to yield the statistical probability: a 50-50 spread of balls (half to the left of center, half to the right.) The volunteer is told to try to influence the pattern of balls so they will move to the right or left.


A comprehensive analysis of the published literature indicates volunteers do, in fact, exert an overall paranormal influence beyond the 50-50 expectation.


What paranormal researchers so far fail to see is that this act of “influencing” is actually an action of imagination.


Imagination changes the laws of the space/time/energy continuum.


Art, which is a far more intense action of imagination than “mentally influencing balls,” does the same thing.


We aren’t living in a continuum-universe bounded by unalterable laws. This universe, from the most important point of view, is a default structure that exists AFTER the power of imagination has been subtracted.


And when it is added, the continuum changes.


One of the most radical changes would be a “fading effect,” as new realities (spaces, times, and energies) are invented in great profusion and with great power.


Consider New York City itself. If you transported a human from 1700, when the city was simply two rivers and forests, to 2011, his state of utter bewilderment would be overwhelming, as he stood in the middle of Times Square at night. He might actually think space and time themselves had been transformed.


Presently, millions of people believe that an observer affects matter at a sub-atomic level merely by the act of observing. This belief, however, is a version of re-arranging deck chairs. It doesn’t posit that new energy, space, and time are superseding and replacing the old. It clings to the old idea of universe.


It is patently obvious that, since the dawn of art, artists have been creating and introducing new energy into reality. The law of the conservation of energy is applicable, if at all, only in a narrow range that excludes the power of imagination. Well, if new energy can be created, why not new space and time?


And if this creative capability exists, and if its influence is strong enough, why shouldn’t art (imagination) begin to replace that other work of art called universe?


Why shouldn’t the overall force of art wake us up to the fact that the universe isn’t primary and never has been?


The old Tibetan magicians practiced creative exercises in which they imagined personae, and the announced objective of these techniques was the realization that UNIVERSE IS A PRODUCT OF MIND.


The magic was, in fact, the capacity of an individual to delete pieces of universe or spontaneously invent space/time/energy that had never existed before.


For some years now, Dean Radin and his colleagues have been conducting experiments with random number generators, placed at various positions around the planet. These devices continuously spit out random sequences of numbers. Radin has discovered that, just before momentous events (such as 9/11), the quality and degree of randomness produced by the machines significantly alters.


This has been taken to confirm collective precognition. Realizing that something shocking is about to happen, the consciousness of billions of people exerts an effect that is registered by these machines. A coherence previously not present comes into being.


That is a general hypothesis. Let’s consider translating it into another obvious format: billions of people, sensing a momentous event on the immediate horizon, CREATE AN ENERGY THAT HAS NEVER EXISTED, and this energy affects the random number generators.


New energy is created (imagined), and the environment adjusts to it.


A most profound transition is underway. How long it will take to become visible to everyone is speculation. But the outcome is: the work of art called universe will no longer be primary and “eternal.” Instead, imagination will engender millions and billions of works of art that supersede it.


Think of this transition in pedestrian terms—a painting that has hung in a room in a museum for centuries will be replaced by a series of new paintings.


My assertion is: this process, millimeter by millimeter, has been happening since “the beginning.” The idea of it was too radical to consider. It is no longer too radical.


The idea that, no matter how much we imagine and create, universe will always be universe, is just that: an idea. It has no intrinsic power, except for the power we attribute to it.


Lately, as I’ve engaged in a number of Magic Theater dialogues (see my blog archive here for many articles on the Magic Theater), I’ve begun to consider that the dialogues are, in fact, works of art that punch holes in universe.


The overwhelming sentiment among the populace is dedicated to rejecting the notion of such effects. Their whole program is a pledge of allegiance to normality. In other words, every situation, at bottom, is assessed by the proposition that universe is the ultimate reality, forever the same.


And yet, everywhere we look we see the results of imagination and invention. I’m taking it a step further. Universe is also the result of imagination and invention. And just as one style of art, which was acclaimed, in its time, as primary and final, was eventually placed on the shelf in favor of a new emerging style, universe, too, will be put in storage. It can be dragged out for conversations based on low-level consensus, but we will realize that something far more adventurous is in the ever-expanding foreground:


The individual…










And then nothing will ever be the same.


Actually, it never was the same.


Universe was a children’s book we all read a long time ago. When we need to refer to the sentiments and delights and conflicts and push-pull emotions of that story, we can remember. We can bring it back and enjoy the moment. Otherwise, we’re each launched in expressing the unbounded force of our imaginations.


Until that day, people will staunchly defend universe-as-it-is, with all its rules and restrictions, while they take every opportunity to file into dark theaters and longingly watch fantastic personages break every one of those rules in paranormal fireworks.


I say universe has a beginning and an end, in the same way that a famous novel has its time in the sun and then fades from recognition. It was a long-running play, and then the audience dwindled and the performances closed down.


It was always that way, except that a trick was thrown into the mix. If people could be convinced to bow and scrape at the play, pay deep homage to it, even pray to it, hope for it to grant their wishes—then perhaps it might go on and on forever.


But it won’t.


Because other plays, more and more plays, are being written and performed in profusion.


I suggest that certain anomalies, puzzles, confusions, and mysteries in physics can be worked out by starting from the premise that imagination is superseding the illusory “permanent” effects of universe. And that fades and holes and other phenomena are opening up in universe as a result.


Imagination has no illusions. The universe does.


The primary laws of implicative logic are indeed applicable to the work of art called universe, and to all thought that attempts to operate within that field. But outside it, the force of imagination does not concern itself with those laws, and never did. To imagination, for example, the stricture against logical contradiction is a joke. And there is no pinnacle on which “the one and only work of art” sits. That’s the biggest joke of all.


Imagination hasn’t been powerless all these centuries. It has been changing universe and punching holes in space and introducing new energies and replacing sections of universe and even altering time. It’s been doing all sorts of things—all of which we’ve denied.


Now we are coming of age. And I don’t mean the New Age, in which people try to believe some external force will deliver all their dreams to them. No, I mean an age in which we, by the power of imagination, invent multiverses without limit or end.


The Tibetan magicians (who at one point dominated the spiritual path in their culture, before the priests took over), would probably agree with the main points in this article. For them, the idea that the universe is a product of mind was far more than just a fancy. All their techniques were geared to realizing this profoundly and permanently—and jumping off from the realization to launch what some people would now call paranormal feats. Such feats included deleting pieces of universe and creating space/time/energy of their own. There is, of course, debate about whether these practitioners were actually able to perform such acts.


I would highly recommend John Blofeld’s extraordinary book, The Tantric Mysticism of Tibet, and any of Alexandra David-Neel’s books about her travels through Tibet. Blofeld’s description of what he calls “deity visualization” is a key to understanding the original practices of the Tibetan magicians.


Jon Rappoport


For information about the upcoming Magic Theater workshop in San Diego, in March, email me directly at





by Jon Rappoport

January 13, 2012


I’ve been working on an invention for the past 15 years, and I finally have it perfected. It allows you to put your mind in my pocket and forget about it. Sounds a little strange, doesn’t it?


I can tell you, it was quite a challenge to come up with this, but I could see it was essential, because so many people are worrying about their minds.


And then I had to figure out what to do with lots of minds that came my way. A few colleagues and I worked out a system for separating the constituents and selling them for scrap. As you might know, the scrap biz these days is very big.


Anyway, the procedure for transfer is pretty simple. You don’t have to check into a hospital or a clinic. We handle it in the privacy of your own home. We set you up in a comfortable chair (you can even watch TV while this is all happening). The energy-suction machine is about the size of a cell phone. It locates the dimensions of your mind (not your brain, of course), and then it establishes a territory of about four feet by six in which it radiates a frequency of extreme pleasure. Your mind just pops out of its locale and comes scrambling over to the pleasure-field like a puppy and we pocket it. Bang. No problem.


Gone forever.


You should know how we define mind. It’s the totality of repetitious, aimless, and unproductive thinking. The useless stuff that goes around and around and gets nowhere. It’s the worrying and the globs of passive hand-wringing that never lead to action. It’s really the totality of the illusion that you only exist in one space. That’s what we take away. All the rest of your thoughts, whatever they may be, remain intact.


After the procedure, you’ll know you can create space(s). And that will alleviate the need to start thinking round and round in circles again.


In other words, you’ll know you’re an artist.


You’ll know you invent reality.


Disclaimer: How you handle your new echelon of existence is, of course, not our concern. We can’t hold your hand forever. Revelations about your new status might come as a shock to the system. You could engage in certain forms of chaotic behavior. You could try to attach blame to our service. That’s why we have this 60-page ironclad no-fault addendum, which you’ll have to sign in the presence of three witnesses. It exempts us from liability. It informs you that under no circumstances can your mind be replaced if you’re dissatisfied.


Of course, if you want to undertake the stripping of your illusions on your own, without our help, you could. That might involve a lengthy process. The results, naturally, aren’t guaranteed.


It’s the difference between being flown to a high castle by helicopter and climbing the trails and scaling the rocks yourself.


We prefer the easy way. It’s our specialty and our business.


If you feel you want to take advantage of our offer, but need the assurance of a “figure of authority,” we can provide a simulacrum of a “fully realized ancient spiritual master,” who will come to your home and cast our work in the light of a miracle, a moment of grace, a “deserved reward” for your lifetimes of suffering “on the wheel of Karma.” Or some such. We can perform those theatrics for you.


At the moment, we’re in the middle of negotiations with the federal government. If our funding grant comes through, we’ll be able to provide our service at no charge to those who can demonstrate some level of disability. We’ll have counselors on call who can help you navigate the relevant regulations.


Welcome to your new life!


Jon Rappoport





by Jon Rappoport

January 12, 2012


See, I’ve got this universe here. I’ve got a whole bunch of others in a storage locker in Long Beach. This one I’m willing to trade, if you have one I’m interested in.


I don’t care what the rules are for yours. It could be an inside-out job with music, or a long skinny one with ladders and unlimited energy. But it has to have lots and lots and lots of painters, because I’m opening a gallery.


We could do a plus-cash deal as well. I might be willing to kick in some diamonds or gold bars.


But don’t, under any circumstances, try to pawn off the one we’re standing in right now, because it’s a lemon. Okay? Energy conservation law, an excess of machines, androids, wars, fundamentalists. I don’t want crowds of people screaming about God or gods or heaven or The Book or any of that stuff. And I don’t like some of the insects and animals. Baboons. I don’t like baboons at all. Whoever started that whole line should be put on a small asteroid and left there. And slugs. I’m not happy about slugs and snails. People eat snails. What further proof do you need that this universe is a whack-job?


Do you have one that’s populated by musicians as well as painters? I mean real musicians, not screamers with guitars and make-up. Improvised symphonies that span a whole galaxy and go on for a few hundred years at a time. That’s more to my liking.


But the very last thing I’m looking for is people who are unaware they’re living in just one cosmos out of trillions. Those people will tire you out faster than a big stack of rubber pancakes.


My cousin lives in one of those. He sends me messages about “the human condition” all the time. I have to tell you, although I’m not unsympathetic, this wears on a person. It’s so…parochial. And he thinks he’s on some kind of frontier of consciousness or something. Can you imagine? Babbling on and on about existential this and shrunken down that. Drives me bats! What am I supposed to say to the guy? He’s blind? I mean, he is, but he doesn’t react well to that sort of talk. He gets his fur up and goes on the attack. Pathetic.


Anyway, I’m up for a trade. If you get my voice mail, leave a detailed message. Remember—painters and musicians. Academics are okay, as long as they know their place. Throw in a few shrinks, just for laughs, and you might have a deal. All transfers are final. No refunds. No rebates. No discount coupons.


As you may have guessed, I don’t do God. If you’re thinking of trading me a universe where some guy’s playing God, forget it. First thing I’d do is fire him and his whole bureaucracy. But usually they have laws about that. You know, employment guarantees. With bonuses! I don’t want to get caught up in red tape. I say if you can’t fire a guy, you have to fire the system. I could be spending a few thousand years trying to engineer that.


Jon Rappoport