Sunday, 4 March 2012

Whirled Peas

Creamed and curried and controlled and canned for your consumption. Not in 2012. Not in your lifetime. No money in it. I'm not just talking about some congressional reps' greedy guardianship of their designated districts' few hundred manufacturing jobs, but top-heavy, biiiig money.
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The expression "drinking the Kool-Aid" has at its core a reference to mind-control and/or mass suicide. Since Merry Pranksters founder Ken Kesey was exposed to LSD as a voluntary government test subject, the metaphor makes sense in a way it was not necessarily intended.

Ken Kesey got off easy.

Other CIA mind-control subjects have been submitted repeatedly to massive shock treatment, administered mind-altering drugs with little interruption, and made to listen to recorded loops of the same few sinister words over and over for days on end. Project MKULTRA is traceable from Canada to Brazil; the tests at the Cuckoo's Nest were just the most noteworthy. Had Kesey been given the full treatment, instead of "Further", the acid-test bus might've been called "I shot King."

Don't call me Shirley.

Some espionage enthusiasts suppose that brainwashed assassins are more than just the product of Richard Condon's plagiarism. They point to Sirhan Sirhan's admission of guilt despite not remembering the crime, and Mark David Chapman's calmly sitting down and reading Catcher in the Rye until the cops showed up.

The stuff I dig is simpler, more axiomatic. The '04 and '08 nominees for the US Presidency, for example: The first included two blue-bloods who just happened to be members of the same secret boys club called Skull & Bones, of all names. The last election featured mutually resonating Manchurian memes. How delightful it is to consider choosing a godhead based upon which evil empire programmed him! (There are some who still think that we'd be better off had Angela Lansbury's character been nominated in '08).
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Not that it doesn't matter whether or not there is an American war against Iran, or NATO action in Syria. It matters to those who stand to profit from it and it matters to those who are defining why it's not war yet, predicting how it'll manifest when it does, getting all worked up and fetishizing how its horrors will be worse than those heretofore. (There is something strangely symbiotic about the countervailing range of human emotion.)

Yet free trade in deception has but one beneficiary. Anything that keeps you coming back for more serves the monolith. Everything that scares adversaries into the arms of a personally more pleasing personality feeds the same machine.

The megamedia corps serves the monolith so well as to be indistinguishable from it. The smaller boy they called Breitbart, too, served it so well that he managed his own obsolescence. His claim that the Democratic Party has been taken over by hard leftists is so absurd, but it's not just that his fans have bought into it; plenty of those who couldn't stand him think there is something Left. If it weren't for right-wing demagogues, I doubt that would be the case.

Controlled well, the discerning mind is a mind that reacts to an agitator slut-shaming birth-control advocates with prophylactic acceptance of anything the other shameless brand has on offer, including Ivy League arguments for weapons-induced no-kill zones. It doesn't matter that the issues are unrelated; the issue taken more personally gets the reaction and any other argument would be adult and reasonable, because it sounds impersonal. (If the Ivy Leaguer happens to be a woman named Slaughter, some minds spin, centrifuging in the skull.)

It's all gravy to Guido.

While there is war now, and there will be war tomorrow - being too self-sustaining not to be - the only humanitarian aspect of any war past, present, or future is that they make a few humans loads of dough for more payloads for more loads of money for more payloads and so on and on.

Watch this "young lady" interrupt Bo Rama's bullshit bank-maker with, "No war on Iran!"


Notice from the condescending reply and faux-respectful afterthought - and the cheers that follow - she probably just raised more money for the campaign war chest. That pales in comparison to the real-world booty. The take-home from the fund-raiser is only relevant to the show; the real deal 'll go on no matter who dons the cape of state. In other words, the millions thrown around on campaigning is chump change.

The timing of military hostilities has become a parlor game's guess; I believe itself a cause of undue stress. (Though I suppose it balances out with its release.)

But Bo Rama's adherents are definitely under some kind of mind-weird. The love that they shower him with in that vid is exactly the kind his predecessor received from his adulants under similar circumstances. So different personalities render the same effect. Maybe it's the result of obscure brand identity, or more sophisticated propaganda. Or something more devious...

...something involving shock therapy, psychoactive drugs, and the unending recitation of something triangular and monosyllabic.

That clip reminded me of something else:


It was Flavor Aid, not Kool-Aid, and it came at the end of the experiment. Then, of course, there were those who got gunned down cuz they weren't drinkin'. Which is all part of the program, is it not?