Universe Manufacturing, Inc.

Universe Manufacturing, Inc.

by Jon Rappoport

January 12, 2013


Here are several ads from an interdimensional newspaper that might prove informative:

UNIVERSE MANUFACTURING! Let us build it for you! Move-in ready. All appliances and energy sources. Consult our catalog. Gods supplied or not. Easy entrance, no exit. Pre-hypnosis induced painlessly in our clean spacious facilities by licensed physicians!

CUSTOM BUILT UNIVERSES OUR SPECIALTY! Uni-language, gated planets, military emperors. Inspect our plans, work with a seasoned professional. Dignified cemeteries. CSI reruns.

A RETIREMENT UNIVERSE for the whole family! Do you want to pass on your genes to millions of future generations? Of course you do! Why else would you be alive? In our universe, we supply a religion that forbids gene waste, under penalty of deportation to a state-run hospital. Appoint surrogates to wage an eternal war between matriarchal and patriarchal societies. Square dancing, ping-pong tournaments, celebrity-look-alike performers on weekends.

COLLECTIVE GOO UNIVERSE FOR ADDLED MINDS! Be part of the Doofus! Delete thinking! Experience the thrill of melting down in 24/7 love with the One All Thingo! At first you’ll feel icy winds whipping through your separated soul on the plains of cruel choice. But then, at the last moment, from the deepest well of reality, a radiant finale will clutch your sacred yearning, as you’re shot up on to on a cloud of honey and transported to a fortress where patented OmniJuice floods your being and you realize this is your home forever! Soft rock, lake of marshmallows, electro-massage units. One and two bedroom apts.

NATURE IS NATURE UNIVERSE! Hunt for 60,000 years, fit into the environment, hear the roots grow; climb trees, shepherd goats, bath in snow, chant in monotone, blow up evil machines in distant cities. Exclusive Gaia tweets. Become utterly convinced there is nothing else! Raise children as primates! “Secrets of the Urine Garden” for first five callers.

AT LAST! THE SOULMATE UNIVERSE! Let us design your agonizing quest for the other half of yourself. You met a stranger for 18 seconds in a hotel bar? He’s here! Receive your initiation rites in the Oprah Palace and journey out on to the landscape of despair. Lifetimes of synchrony…and just-misses…and then….but we can’t give away the glorious ending. You know you want it, so let us build this low to mid-range IQ universe with billions of extras and millions of planets. Herbal wraps, hot stones; vegan paramedics on call.

PROMISE OF PARADISE UNIVERSE, slightly used version, for sale at giveaway price. Commit untold numbers of righteous acts that would be considered capital crimes with special circumstances in other universes, along the severe path of loyalty to a standard that will put you in a heaven others are denied. Commandments, holy book, some flagellation required. All races and religions invited. We have our own God and he’s pissed off!

VICTIMS PLUS! Have you been inventing a story of oppression that’s somehow never been accorded its proper due? Well, in our universe, we bring in the sheep and put bows on their necks! This your place! Normals supplied as foils. All the tables are turned. For once (and forever), you get what you deserve! Lavish benefits! Pre-training in the necromancy of bureaucratic interactions. Work the system as it’s never been worked before! Choose from a catalog of disorders. Full insurance coverage extended to family members.

THE END OF IMAGINATION UNIVERSE! Have you finally reached the end of your tether? Want to attribute all magic and creation to an external source? We have attractive life paths for trillions of serial incarnations. You’ll go with God, you’ll go with science, you’ll go with money, you’ll go with pills. We have it all. Our calibrated partial-narcosis treatments will saddle you with just enough doubt to make you wonder whether you’re doing the right thing by your existence…and yet, in the end, you’ll submit to a Greater Pattern. Geometric homilies, sacred this and that, ideal forms, gradualism, “it’s all about family,” “I’m doing this for the children,” “you only live once,” endless distractions constructed on the basis of “realism,”–you’ll become facile with them all. We’ll keep you hopping! Try our new on-and-off paranoia option. Limited light-year adventures available in some areas. Inquire about liability. Ask yourself if the End of Imagination Universe is right for you.

The Matrix Revealed

And a small classified ad: “Universe disintegration plus universe invention=You. Details re imagination. Send $35 and self-addressed stamped envelope to PO Box 43920518-A, Altoona, Pennsylvania.

Jon Rappoport

The author of an explosive collection, THE MATRIX REVEALED, 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

Salvador Dali versus The Matrix

Salvador Dali versus The Matrix

by Jon Rappoport

January 12, 2013


The critics would have declared Dali a mental patient if he hadn’t had such formidable classical painting skills.

He placed his repeating images (the notorious melting watch, the face and body of his wife, 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 to many people. 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 safe and easy accoutrements and assurances of modern comfortable living?

Where was the pleasantly mesmerizing effect of a predictable existence?

Where was a protective class structure?

To make it worse, Dali invented vast comedies. 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 making fun of the audience? Was he simply showing off? Was he inventing waking dreams? Was he, God forbid, actually imagining something entirely new that resisted classification?

Dali’s greatest paintings were undeniable symphonies, and mere acknowledgment of his talent would not explain how he composed the movements.

Words failed viewers and critics and colleagues and enemies.

But they didn’t fail Dali. He took every occasion to explain his work. However, his explications were handed 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 comes back to this: when you invent something truly novel, you know that you are going to stir the forces trapped within others that aspire to do the very same thing. You know that others are going to begin by denying that anything truly NEW even exists. That DOES make it a comedy, whether you want to admit it or not.

It is 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, with good reason, 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—see, for example, Christopher Columbus Discovering America and The Hallucinogenic Toreador—brilliantly orchestrated the interpenetration of various solidities of realities, more or less occupying the same space.

I’m sure that if Dali were living today, he would execute a brain-bending UFO landing on the front lawn of the White House. Such a painting would envelop the viewer with several simultaneous dimensions colliding outside the president’s mansion.

At some point in his career, Dali saw (decided) there was no limit to what he could assemble in the same space—and there was no limit to the number of spaces he could corral on the same 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 hate the dissonance. It’s a sign that Dali could give full play to his imagination—a sin of the first order. They resent Dali’s mordant wit, and rankle at the idea that Dali could carry out monstrous jokes—in such fierce extended detail—on any 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 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.”

Dali was the hallucinogenic toreador. He was holding off and skirting the charges of the critics and the historians. They rushed at him. He moved with his cape—and danced out of the way.

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—be 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 continuum of space and time. One. Only one. Forever.

That’s the biggest joke of all. 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 like odd-shaped and meticulous reveries.

He threw people back on their own resources, and those resources proved to be severely limited.

How harsh for conventional critics to discover that nothing in Dali’s education produced an explanation for his ability to render an object so perfectly on the canvas. It was almost as if, deciding that he would present competing circumstances inside one painting, he perversely ENABLED himself to do the job with such exacting skill, “making subversive photographs come to life.”

That was too much.

But there the paintings are.

Imagination realized.

Suck on that lemon.

Like it or not, Dali paved the way for many others. He opened doors and windows.

And the pressure has been building. The growing failure of major institutions (organized 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.

Somewhere along the line we have to give the green light to our own creative power. That is the first great day. That’s the dawn of no coerced boundaries. Everything we’ve been taught tells us that a life lived entirely from creative power is impossible. It’s weird. It’s crazy. It’s meaningless. 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 installed to keep us titillated with dreams that would forever drift out of reach?

Twenty years ago, I had a conversation with Jack True that touched on Dali. Jack was, in my estimation, the most innovative and gifted hypnotherapist on the planet. He was constantly inventing ways to wake people up from what he called “their core trance.”

Here is a fragment from that conversation.

Q: You wanted to say something about Dali?

A: Just that I admire him for his conviction.

Q: His conviction about what?

A: The creative act. To have executed all those paintings with as much detail—-and at the same time to bring into being situations that never existed before, there on the canvas—he shook up the world. He really did. And he satisfied all the conditions for the “common man.”

Q: What does that mean?

A: The “common man” wants his art to “look real.” Well, Dali gave the common man that in spades. To a T. Except what looked perfectly real was perfectly wild, way beyond the rules of time and space. That’s what shook up the world. Dali was working with grand gestures in grand multiple spaces.

Space really is the issue. To give the viewer the feeling that space can extend in enormous ways and impart a sense of high passion, as opposed to dead territory…Dali worked with exceedingly high intensity. And he wasn’t asking for acceptance. He was ramming his vision down the throats of the public. He was turning the screw.

Q: You think he had a major effect on the consciousness of the planet.

A: People were forced to re-think assumptions. They were forced to admit that there might be some very fantastic things floating around in their own consciousness. They may have hated Dali’s work, but they had to feel that their own minds and imaginations were much bigger than they supposed.

Q: So who was Dali?

A: Only he knows that. He was a very slippery fellow in public. He thought of every public appearance as a stage play, and he was the star. He changed roles all the time. And he did that while pretending that he was a model of consistency. Everything he did was against the grain.

Q: He took delight in exploding conventional notions of physics.

A: I think he believed that every particle of matter was a separate dream.

Q: That’s an interesting statement.

A: He knew that matter and energy were born out of dreams, visions, that they were products of imagination. This gave him enormous leverage.

Q: In his various portrayals of himself, there was a common thread. He presented himself as a kind of magician.

A: He liked to present himself as a Svengali.

Q: He gave many people the idea that someone who relies on his imagination is weird.

A: Well, you can’t avoid that. People will always think that way, even if you wear a three-piece suit.

Q: Why is there such a fear of imagination?

A: Because people know they have it and they also know they don’t use it. So they feel guilt. And that translates into fear and resentment, which are central parts of life on planet Earth.

The Matrix Revealed

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.

Jon Rappoport

The author of an explosive collection, THE MATRIX REVEALED, 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

How the Matrix deals with power

How the Matrix deals with power

by Jon Rappoport

January 12, 2013


In previous articles, I’ve been making clear how THE VOICE narrates the story of our times through television anchorage (See here, here, here, here, here, here).

The elite anchor is groomed to be able to induce a seamless hypnotic trance in viewers and make HIS voice THEIR voice.

There is power in a voice.

A voice can change reality.

Your voice is the voice that destroys the narrative that has been sculpted for us. Your voice is the voice that rolls over the voice of the elite anchor and the other elite leaders who speak for us.

When your voice becomes your VOICE, you connect with something oceanic that rips away false separations and false systems and false ideas and deserts of sand on which our fake reality is built.

We pretend to be small. We pretend to be whispers. We pretend to be confused. We pretend to be creatures living inside the space of this deluded society. We pretend to be clueless. We pretend to have such limited power.

We pretend.

We pretend that some overriding system or structure SUPERSEDES OUR OWN VOICE. We bow down to that system, and then we see what that does to our own power. It diminishes it. It makes our voice small. It makes our voice thin. It makes us into weaklings.

It makes us walled off from each other, from THE REAL EACH OTHER. The real each other is each one of us with power, with A VOICE.

The word “rant” is interesting to analyze. It originally referred to someone speaking in a completely unhinged way. Its recent online meaning was invented by tech heads, who adopt a “cool” attitude toward problems and answers. These cerebral types consider any outward display of passion or outrage to be a rant. For them, the “ranting voice” is suspect.

Try this experiment. Find a piece of writing you love that expresses great passion and poetry. Read it out loud while you’re alone. Read it out loud 50 times over the course of a few days. Put your own passion into the words. If you’re not already lying in a coffin, something unexpected will happen to you. You’ll find yourself coming alive in a larger way. You’ll experience glimpses of your VOICE.

This has to do with BEING ALIVE.

You’ll experience the absence of little structures and systems.

Keep reading that passage over and over. Put everything you have into it. Don’t stint. Put more and more feeling into it.

Then, watch the evening network news. Listen to the tone of the anchor. Pay attention to how he establishes a continuity. No matter how absurd you thought the evening news was, you’ll now comprehend that absurdity from an entirely new perspective.

As you expand your own VOICE, and as you EXPRESS WHAT YOU TRULY WANT TO EXPRESS—-YOUR OWN THOUGHTS, YOUR OWN IDEAS, YOUR OWN FEELINGS, YOUR OWN INVENTIONS—you are cutting away layers of stagnant consciousness. Each one of those layers says: “reality is THIS.” Each layer has a different restrictive portrait of reality, and as it disintegrates and tumbles away into space, you become freer.


A path to greater power, greater aliveness, greater empathy, greater engagement, greater self, greater community, greater wholeness.

Your voice, not the anchor’s voice. The anchor’s voice operates on behalf of the established corrupt order, as a mesmerizing tool. Your VOICE liberates you and others.

The Matrix Revealed

Many years ago, I was teaching a small class in a school in New York. The kids were all retreads from other schools, where they didn’t make it for a variety of reasons.

They were in a constant state of distraction. Unteachable.

So I picked a short passage from a poem by Dylan Thomas. A few lines. A few great lines. I had each student read the passage out loud. Then we all read it together. Then we went around and around with each child reading it—I urged more feeling, more expression.

It was like trying to break through an iron ceiling. Each kid read the lines in a monotone. It was eerie, as if they were all in a trance. But I kept going anyway.

Nothing doing. Nothing happening.

Then I said, “I’m going to read these lines like a newscaster would read them.” I gave a pretty good impression of an anchor.

The kids cracked up. They thought it was very funny. They immediately grasped how ridiculous the anchor’s voice sounded trying to give feeling to poetry.

The kids began reading those lines as if they were news anchors. They had a great time with it. That’s what broke the ice.

Now,” I said, “stop conning me. Read the lines with your own feeling. Come on. Put something into it.”

And they did.

Around and around we went. Each kid must have read those lines a dozen more times. They got into it. They shed their embarrassment.

The VOICES that emerged that day in class convinced me that everyone has a VOICE, and it is magnificent and powerful and it cuts through layers of conditioning like a knife through butter, once it’s unleashed.

These kids were titanic.

When we were done (I was reading the lines too), we all sat there and looked at each other in amazement. We knew. We knew we had cracked the egg. The spell of “flat reality” had been broken. We were all alive in a new way. We had come into power, into our VOICES. It was undeniable.

The famous lines we read?

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night…

Although the overall sentiment of that poem might appear to be a kind of futility, when we read the lines over and over, WE came to a different place. A place where we knew that our words COULD fork lightning.

And then we read, from Fern Hill:

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs

About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,

The night above the dingle starry,

Time let me hail and climb

Golden in the heydays of his eyes,

And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns

And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves

Trail with daises and barley

Down the rivers of the windfall light…

the calves

Sang to my horn, the

Foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,

And the Sabbath rang slowly

In the pebbles of the holy streams.

To be astonished by something you see on a screen is one thing. To be astonished by what your VOICE can establish is light years beyond that.

VOICE is relentless life.

Jon Rappoport

The author of an explosive collection, THE MATRIX REVEALED, 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