Freedom and the people who hate freedom
by Jon Rappoport
November 2, 2014
The document was discovered by a public welfare officer conducting a routine search of a barn in southern Ohio.
He immediately forwarded it to the Department of Universal Investigations, in Denver, where it was analyzed by a TSA computer on loan from the NSA Federal Guardianship Force On Behalf Of The People II.
Linguistic comparisons were run. No matches were found.
A search was initiated under the direction of the federally funded Ohio Victim Society.
Three weeks later, Citizen John Q Jones A-53-7D was arrested on a defunct Roundup Ready corn plantation outside Gary, Indiana.
The North American Regional Council Committee For Anthropological Symmetry and Neo Cultural Diversity held a preliminary hearing in a conference lounge at the abandoned Ebola O’Hare Airport in Chicago.
The document was read out loud by a Clerk of the Court.
It was titled: Freedom and the People Who Hate It:
“They try to attack freedom, but in the process they make themselves into more grotesque versions of themselves.
“They’re leeches. They’re incapable of making up their minds. They hate freedom, but at the same time they’re desperate to attach themselves to some symbol or person that represents it.
“They feel trapped and they are—but not through the actions of anyone else. They’re drowning in their own juices.
“They’re afraid. They can’t stand on their own. They can’t become known for a single idea of their own.
“They join groups, knowing in advance, deep down, that the whole enterprise will become a failure for them. They’ll never find what they’re looking for.
“Eventually, they will find something: a leader who is a psychopath, who seems to embody power, but who is merely looking to draw in followers and make them into servants.
“This isn’t a political drama. It’s a personal one: life against death.
“The person who hates freedom is against life and for death, no matter what he says, no matter what he does. He can’t escape.
“So he does what he does. He passes death around. He may dress it up and disguise it; he may turn it into the most elevated humanitarian sentiment; but it’s still death.
“When even this fails to satisfy him, he descends to a lower level, and joins the whole of society, which is teeming with people who are becoming robots. They inhabit the full range of the political spectrum, regardless of platforms and ideals.
“They are self-created machines. They babble, support, defend, deny, and all the while they’re living in a world of extinct symbols.
“They’re in the mass, the collective.
“They’re utterly dependent on one another, and they trade the dependence back and forth, like obsolete currency.
“Now and then, they see lone boats of freedom moving by, and they desperately reach out, not knowing why. Climb on board, sink the boat; they’re unable to make the distinction.
“Freedom isn’t a given. It never was.
“It isn’t only an idea. It requires a person who can wear it and make it mean something.
“The winds come and go. The rain comes and goes. The boat keeps moving.
“Who’s steering it?
“No one knows. No one else knows.
“Only the person steering it knows.”
The six members of the Council Committee breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm themselves.
They turned to their chairman, Francis X Muhammed Schwartzman Ragan Hochslinger, who nodded, folded his hands under his chin, and pursed his lips.
“Yes,” he said. “I thought we had bred this sort of sentiment out of the body politic a long, long time ago, but apparently a mutation still survives, and it must be treated, it must undergo therapy, in order to reduce it back down to a virus, after which we can develop a vaccine, and therefore in that sense it is quite valuable and must be handled with great care, so as to preserve it in purified form. Naturally, everyone in this room will be quarantined for 42 days, to ensure we are not infected, and as for the author of the text, he must be transported to a secure P-6 facility, in utter silence.”
The Chairman glanced at Jones.
But there was no one there.
Aside from the Council Committee and the National Police Officer Guards, the room was empty.
Where was Jones?
The same thought suddenly appeared in the minds of the people in the room:
Had Jones been present and then vanished? Was there a John Q Jones?
No one seemed to know.
Jon Rappoport
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. 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 NoMoreFakeNews.com.
I’m confused here. I read the text 3 times.
What does “A-53-7D” means?
You say: “Three weeks later, Citizen John Q Jones A-53-7D was arrested on a defunct Roundup Ready corn plantation outside Gary, Indiana”
And you finish with:
“.The Chairman glanced at Jones.
But there was no one there.
Aside from the Council Committee and the National Police Officer Guards, the room was empty.
Where was Jones?
Had Jones been present and then vanished? Was there a John Q Jones?
No one seemed to know.”
Maybe it is only me who do not understand. Maybe my English comprehention is not as good as I thought.
It semees like,…
* “A-53-7D” just means John Q Jones’ identification number.
* For the ending,… John Q Jones is standing before the tribunal when the document is being read. After the document is finished being read, John Q Jones is no where to be found. He dissappears.
Thanks. It makes sense to me now.
see “Brazil” the movie by terry gilliam the A-53-7D forms are a real headache to fill out and most self respecting operators from Central Services will allways avoid doing so unless you refuse to “take the shots” as frank Zappa’s Suzie Creamcheeze tried but failed to do in 1967 thus the death of “hippie” and the resulting funeral in golden gate park we’ll never have that resipe’ again all the sweet green Icing flowing down…. the aids virus was patented and publised in 1967 OWR (one who read)
Brilliant.
Nice one Jon! Very well layered and ripe with depth and precision.
Jon, this is one of the most brilliant, insightful articles I have ever read. Great job, and keep up the good work; we need articles such as this one. Thanks.