My talk last night in Newport Beach
by Jon Rappoport
August 13, 2015
Last night, I gave a talk for 2 hours to a packed room at the Dead Chiropractic Society in Newport Beach, California. I may be becoming a Zen dude in my advancing years.
My paradox was: audience. What is an audience? That’s a mystery. Why exactly are people sitting there? To receive information about which they’re already—at least in a general sense—already aware? That doesn’t fly.
So, in my perverse way, I assume the audience is there to be disturbed. That’s a good assumption. The audience is there to be jarred out of being an audience. I like that. I can go with that. It makes sense to me. If I were audience, that’s what I would want.
I would want to feel shaken out of my role as somebody sitting in a seat being a pipeline for information flowing down my gullet.
I would want something alive to be happening.
As I mentioned to the crowd last night, the last thing I want to do is bore myself. That’s a no-no. Can’t stand there and talk and feel bored.
So I want to see the audience as a kind of false construct. Yes, it’s necessary to for people to sit in their seats and listen, but at the same time, that doesn’t really work. It’s a paradox.
As I was talking last night, it occurred to me that every person in the audience had a story. Not a social story. Not a familiar story. Not a hackneyed story. Not an ordinary or conventional story. Not a boring story. Not a sob story. Not a canned “uplifting” story.
In fact, each person didn’t “have” a story. Each person could invent a story. Put together a story. Make it compelling. Make it a Niagara. Make it pour down with immense force. I suppose this sounds crazy. Good. That’s not a negative. Many things sound crazy because we’re comparing them to “normal.” Comparing them to what we expect.
As long as we’re dealing with what we expect, we’re sunk. The war is over. We lost.
For example, as I mentioned last night, psychiatry has a hell of a story. 300 officially certified mental disorders, and they say they’re doing science, but not one of those disorders has any defining diagnostic test. And they’ve sold this story to the heavens. They’re gotten over on the world. That’s a feat worthy of an Atlas.
And the world is full of such stories, and they’re all official, and they’ve all been sold. So if we’re going to go up against that, we need lots of stories of our own. We need wild stories. We need electric stories delivered with electric force, no quarter given or asked for. We need stories that approach the world from completely different points of view. We need people who want to cook up and tell those stories, come hell or high water.
That’s what audience really is. A bunch of people who, for convenience sake, are doing this ridiculous thing. They’re sitting in a room in chairs and waiting for something to happen. But behind that, behind that construct, each one can tell stories. Each one can throw off convention and normality and consent and break out.
And if they did, every day of their lives, the world would be flooded with something different. And that would resolve the paradox. That would create unexpected consequences and massive disruptions in the field, the smooth field of accepted average nonsense and insanity.
That’s what occurred to me last night. I didn’t plan it or think about it before I started talking. I just saw it as I was talking, because I wasn’t happy with people sitting in chairs. I like the raw material of people sitting in chairs, but I hate it as a finished product. I refuse to accept it as a finished product.
I guess you could say I want people, at the end of a talk, to rise up and go home on fire as artists of reality.
I realize that some people in chairs aren’t going to be happy. They’re going feel put upon or dislodged and they’re going to think, “This isn’t what I bargained for.” And that’s the whole idea. Breaking the bargain. That’s what you want to do. You want to do it with, what shall I call it, good cheer, but you want to do it relentlessly.
So if by chance I were giving a talk to a room full of people who were students and practitioners of Zen meditation, and they were all sitting there, very, very calmly, I would disrupt the field. I would change the flow, redirect it, turn it inside out and upside down and squirt whipped cream and mustard on it. Because I would know that the prevailing consensus in that room was some sort of end point, and there isn’t any end point. Ever.
Audience is prepared for something finite, and you want to crack that egg. “Sorry, tonight nothing is finite or fenced or perfectly shaped or final.”
And if you can crack that egg, audience is relieved. By and large they’re relieved. And they start laughing. For you detectives out there, that’s called a clue. Steam comes out of their ears and they laugh. The message is: some con has been exposed. Maybe they don’t know what it is, and maybe the speaker doesn’t, either, but it just happened. The finite and perfect was cracked open.
Through that crack, people can escape.
Facts are important, yes. Very important. Especially when they contradict official stories. But then there is this other thing, the untouched thing. The thing that is still passive. The thing that is not telling new stories. The thing that still wants the old tales. The paralyzed thing.
And for that, you have to take the social construct in front of you, in the moment, and slice it apart. You have to move audience out of being audience.
Maybe that’s Zen.
Anyway, that’s my quick take on last night, and I thank Billy DeMoss and his crew at DeMoss Chiropractic for setting this up. Billy and I discovered neither of us has a cell phone, so we’re starting a new revolution along that line. The Dead Cell Phone Society.
Thanks to Brett for the ride home and the conversation, and thanks to my long-time readers who showed up so I could meet them face to face, and thanks to L who flew out from a long way off, and thanks to the woman in the first row who got me talking about the early Tibetan magicians and Alexandra David-Neel and John Blofeld and creation and destruction. Thanks to all. By my estimate, it was a hell of a night.
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 NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.
Unfortunately, despite my name being on the list, they wouldn’t let me in. I came with a friend who had called a few days after me and she was told it was sold out. We drove all the way up there hoping they’d let us in anyway, since one of us made the list, but no luck. Bummed we missed it!
😉 Thank you for some good & relieving laughs! –
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
Rumi said it much better than I could ever do. But that’s almost an oxymoron again…
Jon, I hear you in stereo.
Look at the cronyism on your blog, but you’re one of the genuine ones, so that’s understandable.
The catalyst is any public speaker, broadcaster, writer faces is a combination of foresight over prejudice, realism over promotion and wisdom over propaganda.
An intrinsic part of this self-assessment is being aware of the potential of audience voices (i.e. maybe they know something you don’t or could say something you couldn’t. Can I be legitimately criticised and grow from the experience without losing face as an “icon”?) but, more than that, where’s the tune?
Thus the mainstream and alternative mainstream fluff-ers attempt to predict and present the tune the audience likes to dance to.
Personally, I decided the only way not to compromise the truth is to be a truth-dictator. For me truth is not subject to “views” or “opinions”, but sacrosanct. As you know, rarely do I find fault with your message, Jon.
Best
OT
Those shrinks are still at it are they?
“Billy and I discovered neither of us has a cell phone, so we’re starting a new revolution along that line. The Dead Cell Phone Society.”
————————————————————————–
Great! I do not have a cell phone either and I don’t want one. When I look at all these trendy zombies enslaved with their cell phone that keep ringing all the time, I feel so sorry for them. On top of being irradiated 24/7, they are losing their freedom. I have a plugged in wall phone, with no answering machine, no call waiting and no gadget showing the phone number of the caller.
If you phone me when I am on the phone, you will get a busy signal. If you phone me when I am not at home, I have no way to know that you have phoned. I figure that if it was an important phone call, they will phone back… if it wasn’t… who cares?
Thank you Jon, keep up the truth, shine your lite on the cockroaches sir.
That was Zen, this is meow (1 story, spread wherever it may jar realities)-
I was originally “diagnosed” about 40+ years ago at age 20 with “schizophrenia”, near the inception of yet another DSM (Diagnostic & Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), by a deceptive, “snake oil” peddling psychiatrist who (never the less) told my family he thought my “euphoria”, perceptual distortions, insomnia and other mental/emotional experiences requiring his “care” resulted from taking LSD, which I had and discontinued about 2 years before (I also probably had many other toxic drugs acting on my body, or in withdrawal from, due to an operation I had within 2 months of his getting his “meat hooks” in me, including codine, demerol, morphine, opium laced hashish, marijuana …). _________
Instead of doing what a rational and ethical physician would have done- recommend detox, nutritional changes, exercise programs, rest, and possibly a short term mild sedative to help with insomnia and other symptoms- he blasted me with heavy doses of thorazine, haldol, depakote, ritalin, tofrinol, valium and possibly others for 2 1/2 months in his asylum, and beyond for approx. 2 more years. The first dose was with a veterinarian sized syringe for large animals, at least several days before I even met the “man” (psychiatrist)- I was neither violent, suicidal, or threatening to self and/or others, and walked in and signed in to his “hospital” voluntarily (deception, coercion…). ————–
One day he boastfully stated he was giving me (under absolute coercion, including threat of ECT-Electro Convulsive “Therapy”,1st concocted for humans by a psychiatrist watching it done on pigs before slaughter, and more permanent internment in a State “hospital”) enough thorazine to knock a horse out in the middle of the track! (In front of a group of student nurses about my age, some I recognized from my fairly small town- another indicator of his high level of “medical” ethics).______________________
This “doctor” also had supportive encouragement from a cousin of mine who hardly knew me, a prominent psychiatrist from UCLA, U of Arizona etc, who reportedly did research for US military and/or Dept of Psychological Warfare interests. My “doctor” cousin became a wealthy man with his psychiatric career and probable taxpayer money, defrauding unwitting, vulnerable people like myself and family out of their lives, health and futures- as he went from a fairly poor mid-western, small town backround to a residence in Belaire, CA, a neighbor of Johnny Carson. _______________________________________________
The ‘treatment’ disrupted and limited me greatly for most of the next 10 years of my early adult life, before I found a detox program and some other things that helped me recover emotionally, mentally, physically,perceptually, and in rehabbing my energy-physical and mental. ________________________
This highly credentialed, psychiatrist/institution “Medical Director”, with a long practitioner and academic career who came with the “highest recommendations”, confessed to me on our last meeting (over 2 years after I became his “patient”) that he really never had any idea about what really happened to me that wound me up in his ‘care’, what the ‘illness’ was(and if that is what it was) or how to ‘treat’ it, and told me if anyone ever did it would be myself- I believe he wanted to clear his conscience after practicing the psychiatry for many years, and found me useful as a “confessional”, as well as a has been “cash cow”. I now realize he was also confessing the fraudulent, spurious, and deceptive nature of his psychiatry (never acknowledging the harms).___________________________________
This confession came AFTER the collection of thousands of dollars from insurance and out of my parents pockets, the destruction of my body, vitality and abilities, and the deception of myself-family and others- over 2 years from the date he first ‘diagnosed’ and practiced his trade on me. ____________________
I’ve had a few ‘spills’ in more recent years too, I think probably “after shocks” or protracted withdrawal from those years (psychiatry calls them “relapses” or emerging new “mental ills”), but have pulled myself through relatively quickly. I attribute recent years recovery largely to The Road Back program for drug withdrawal/detox along with physical exersize and nutritional changes/supplements, and prior to that to Dianetics/Scientology courses/auditing/and detox program, and to my own greater awareness and rejection of this psychiatry “usual”._______________________________________________________________
Although the psychiatrist knew of my LSD and (I assume) other recent medical history, his “diagnosis” concluded I was “mentally ill”, not suffering from the known effects/toxicity/symptoms of the drugs I had taken. Of course the good doctor would have been out of a “healing income” had he not arrived at a “psychiatric diagnosis” (and my life following his “treatment” may have been a lot more healthful, successful and fulfilled)._____________________________________
“…The criticisms of the therapeutic efficacy of force and coercion in mental health treatment are significant. While some people identify forced treatment as being helpful to them during times of crisis, many feel that their experiences of forced treatment have been dehumanizing, deeply traumatic, and ultimately harmful, leading to further difficulties… The mechanics of force are inherently violent, so much so that the UN Special Rapporteur on Torture has identified common practices in forced treatment – such as restraints – to be torture.”-Faith Rhyne (Beyond Meds) I agree, and this has certainly been my experience with psychiatry.- Jim Keiser, pg admin, Mental health/psychiatric watchdog & reform activity- https://www.facebook.com/jpkeis
Wow. What a story. Thank you for sharing it so that others may take heed. You survived the gauntlet. To imagine how many tens of thousands out there — just in the US and Canada alone — have been put through similar coercion experiences in the last 50 years.
BigHarma psych drugs from the 1970s: “…he blasted me with heavy doses of thorazine, haldol, depakote, ritalin, tofrinol, valium and possibly others for 2 1/2 months in his asylum…”
https://jonrappoport.wordpress.com/2015/07/04/the-cia-long-range-planning-for-a-drugged-and-debilitated-society/
thanks, share it anywhere!
Copied to word. Will try and add some of it to a future post on Ozzie Thinker.
Better you weren’t the guinea pig, but good work anyway.
Best
OT
‘as artists of reality’ … great 🙂
If I were in the audience even though I may have heard everything Jon was about to say before I would enjoy witnessing Jon say it. I have only seen Jon on Youtube: the calm assertiveness when dealing with controversial questions, the flow of ideas, the way he backs up arguments. Remember the phrase; “I want be like Mike”, referring to Michael Jordan. When it comes to talking with the brainwashed or half-brainwashed person or group I want to be like Jon.