Here comes the COVID Judge; staging life

by Jon Rappoport

October 8, 2021

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In the 45th year of lockdowns, under the dome of Mars Colony Two, in the city of Fauci, an appeals court Judge held a private hearing, for the purpose of questioning Dr. Wen Ho Goldberg, an eminent NSA psychologist on loan from the Earth Universal Surveillance Program.

Dr. Goldberg, let me summarize the situation. On Mars, the Great Awakening took place 25 years ago. We realized there was no virus, the tests were meaningless, the case and death numbers were largely the result of relabeling traditional lung conditions and calling them “COVID.” And yet, our citizens PREFERRED living under lockdown and carrying on the better part of their lives virtually, without personal face to face contact. So the lockdowns have become Culture.

Yes, your honor, I understand. And you want me to offer an opinion about what would happen if you tried to force the citizenry OUT OF lockdown mode.

Correct.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

That’s it?

If you force people into public spaces, you’re going to get fear and panic, crime waves, acts of terrorism. In lockdown mode, people are compliant and calm.

Yes, compliant. But we’ve also noticed the consumer indexes are trending down.

Ah, I see. So that’s the real problem. People are buying fewer goods.

Exactly.

Maybe they already have enough stuff.

Regardless, Doctor, we have to rescue the economy.

You need a threat.

What?

Some kind of threat that makes lockdown mode seem dangerous.

What would that be?

A fake brain disease, perhaps. “New studies claim that brain cells are dying as a result of living indoors for long periods of time…” “People who are communicating online with bots but believe they’re human are experiencing organ failure…”

I see, yes. Force people outdoors. Then we could stage massive sales events and trade shows and job fairs and—

And circuses with violent contests. You want to channel public fear of physical life outdoors into spectator events. Gladiators. Wild animals. Blood. Death.

We’d need lots of propaganda promoting freedom.

As distasteful as that might be…yes.

Doctor, I think you’re on to something.

Let me paint a picture for you. This colony is isolated. It has a unique opportunity to stage a vast experiment. Lay out a rerun of 3000 years of human history.

What does that mean?

Your honor, think of it—you can put your population through the high and low moments of the past, in serial form. The codification of Roman Law, the birth and death of Jesus, the Middle Ages, the rise of the Catholic Church, the Renaissance, the—

You’re losing me, Doctor.

You have the pattern. History. Stage it all over again for your people. In sequence. Repeat it. Of course, you’ll need to start out with a huge depopulation program. But that’s easy.

Are you out of your mind, Doctor?

Not at all. You want action. You want to take people out of lockdown mode and virtual life. So why settle for a momentary solution? Look at the long term. Think big.

In practical terms, what you’re suggesting would impossible to pull off.

Really? Back on Earth, we still have between 5 and 6 billion people who believe the virus is real and the pandemic is real and the poisonous vaccine is the cure. That’s quite a hoax to stage, wouldn’t you say? Now, with a few memory-erasing drugs, and a depopulation campaign, you here on Mars could lay out any kind of program you want to. You, your honor, could become Augustus, emperor of your Colony.

I could?

Of course. Why not? You could create Rome all over again.

You ARE completely nuts, Doctor.

Of course I am. That’s what it takes. YOU’RE the problem, sir. You and the other leaders of your Colony. You’ve gone soft. All civilization is an experiment. Get that through your head. Here on Mars, the COVID experiment has reached the end of the line. So you need a new one. You don’t like restaging history? All right, try climate change. Claim that indoor living is creating a huge humidity problem. It’s reached a critical mass. You need to adjust oxygen levels under the dome. People need to open their doors and walk outside.

That might work.

You can dream up a hundred plans that would work. You have an open field. Use it. Reshape your higher education system. Make advanced degrees in advertising and consumer spending the apex of intellectual achievement. Educators are whores. They’ll go wherever the money flows.

You really think we could re-stage all of human history in, say, 20-year epochs?

It’s quite a vision, isn’t it? Yes. You could make it happen. The Dark Ages. The Great Plague. The two World Wars.

Doctor, if people somehow got hold of the details of this conversation we’re having, they’d say—

They’d say we were two crazy old men who should be locked up in a psych ward. Well, that’s good for us, right? We have the perfect cover. Here’s the capper. Back on Earth, the CIA has a step-by-step plan for restaging history. I can make that plan available to you.

Really?

Yes. And you would become the chief conduit. The Master of the Transformation.

I like the sound of that.

Of course, you would have to agree to certain conditions.

And what would those be, Doctor?

Well, to boil it down, I would run you and the CIA would run me.

I’m your dog, and you’re the CIA’s dog.

That’s right.

And together, we stage LIFE for the people of this Colony, for, say, the next 500 years?

Exactly.

We put them through the highs and lows of past history. A rerun. As if it all never happened before.

Yes.

And this stimulates the economy and—

It does a great deal more than that, your honor. It gets people MOTIVATED along many fronts. Adrenaline flows. Survival is on the line. Adventure returns.

But why can’t we just open up life in our Colony and invent new futures that might be more exciting than anything that happened in the past? Why can’t we give REAL freedom a chance?

Because then we would lose CONTROL.

Yes, but losing control could be the most exciting thing of all.

Your honor, maybe you’re not the man for the job I have in mind.

No, no, Doctor, I’m just airing out the ideas that come into my head. This is all so new. I’m thinking it over.

I have a list of people here in the Colony. They’re all candidates for the job. If you don’t want it, I’ll be moving on.

OF COURSE I want it, Doctor. What do I have to do first?

Sign an official oath and pledge. The Past is better than the Present. The Past is better than the Future. The masses must never learn the Past, they must live through it, over and over…”those who don’t learn history are doomed to repeat it”…we will make that into Reality….


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

The fixation on the One, and the obsession with a Virus; the Individual vs. the Collective Trance

by Jon Rappoport

October 4, 2021

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More than anything, this piece reflects my approach to my work. My work as a reporter, as a poet, as an individual.

When I wrote my first book in 1988, AIDS INC., I showed that HIV was not the cause of AIDS. In fact, there was no AIDS. That was a label slapped on a variety of health problems all stemming from lowered immunity.

These health problems were caused by a variety of factors, none of which had anything to do with “the virus.”

The major resistance to the book came from people who were conditioned to believe that every announced new disease had to be real, and every new disease had to have a single cause. I would call this ill-fated belief informational Hypnosis.

It’s very effective.

Look at the history of organized religion. Each Church has its single First Cause. Meaning God. “Our God is real. Yours isn’t.” “Our God is the One.”

Behind this farce is each organization telling individuals, “We have God. He is the One you should worship. Don’t go off on your own and find your own God. That doesn’t work.”

People are fixated on The One. The one God. The one Cause. The one Virus. And because they are fixated, leaders can sell them this One and that One and the other One.

In 1988, I saw the full absurdity of that con, with HIV.

During the decade following the publication of AIDS INC., I discovered that no one had proved HIV existed. There was no reason to believe it did. After all, you could say a man with purple hair and six arms lives on the moon, but then you carry the burden of proof, and if you can’t supply any, your hypothesis is null and void.

So the fixation on the One extends to the One that doesn’t exist at all.

At that point in my work, I could see I was plunging headlong into territory that was going to place me outside any semblance of the mainstream or even an acceptable alternative universe.

Why? Again, because people were fixated on the One, and I was calling that fixation Mind Control.

In a similar vein, in my work as a reporter, I was using up-against-wall logic to refute medical and political lies and cover stories. But then, when I was writing poetry, I was abandoning the traditional forms and thought processes (the “logic” of poetry) because they were stale and decaying. I wanted to take imagination to other places, without limit, and if the preferred hidebound internal connections in my poems were missing, so what?

This distinction between my work as a reporter and a poet confuses some people. They want one or the other. Not both, side by side. But I say this confusion is good. It can be productive. It can stimulate readers to think along new tracks.

I’m not obeying some arbitrary external standard that describes what I’m supposed to do. Whenever I sense I’m giving in to that standard, when I feel The Mechanical setting in, I stop. I stop and put myself back in the basic bath of WHAT DO I REALLY WANT TO DO? Answering that question sets me back on track(s).

A long time ago I figured out something. If I went along with the tide and tried to carve out a career as a conventional writer, I might succeed or I might fail. If I failed, it would be a double disaster, because I had failed at something I really didn’t want to do in the first place. If I failed to find an audience by writing what I wanted to write, I would have DONE WHAT I WANTED TO DO. I WOULD HAVE CREATED WHAT I WANTED TO CREATE.

Centralized authority wants to build a collective trance in which people believe they must think and do what falls inside certain boundaries.

Nowhere is this more evident, these days, than in the promoted idea that a virus is loose in the world. The one virus causing the one disease. In many articles, I’ve taken apart the myth of SARS-CoV-2 and disposed of it. In the process, I’ve discovered that the whole branch of medicine called Virology is a hustle and a broken down Church of true believers, who can’t and won’t shake off their delusions.

Once again, I’ve come to grips with people who are so hardwired in their trance they can only bray, “People are dying, it must be the (one) virus.” The logic of that proposition belongs in a garbage dumpster in a blind alley at midnight.

It’s right next door to, “They diagnosed Harry with COVID, he had shortness of breath, so they put him on a ventilator and sedated him with a drug that radically suppresses breathing and left him on the ventilator and he died because of the virus.”

In the realm of propaganda, willing victims select their preferred one idol. For example, Tony Fauci. His adoring worshippers need The One, so they choose him because he’s there on television, being interviewed by “the best people,” and he has a seal of approval from the White House, and he disagreed with Trump. This is called “following the science.” I would call it trailing behind a horse’s ass.

Over the decades, I’ve encountered many artists who stand for the widest freedom of expression and yet, when it comes to politics, they insist on absolute loyalty to the “prevailing culture.” Meaning the Left. I’ve also seen political libertarians who insist on freedom of thought, but believe all art since the 16th century is a perverse plot against “traditional values.”

At the bottom of these contradictions is, again, a fixation on The One. The one political point of view, the one acceptable art, the one acceptable Church…

And now we’re all dealing with the one tyranny that spells out “the one solution to the one virus.” And this tyranny is bent on subjugating many nations and imposing one government for one planet.

On every level, from the political to the psychological to the spiritual to the creative, THE ONE has always been the conditioned mind control reflex that imprisons the individual.

I’m against it. Always have been. Always will be.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

Interviewing the dead Albert Einstein about free will

by Jon Rappoport

September 24, 2021

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Note: I wrote this piece as an introduction to the scientific tyranny which has overtaken us: the premise that we are machines, and we can be decoded and transformed by genetics.

This is a lie on every possible level.

For many people, their first taste of this insanity is the COVID vaccine—a genetic treatment. However, that treatment comes out of the conviction that life is “mechanism.”

For 35 years, I’ve been waging war against this conviction. I continue to do so—not because I have some quirky mystical alternative, but because FREEDOM VERSUS THE MACHINE is the Big One, the big battlefield under the surface of our civilization.

I’m talking about today, tomorrow, the next hundred, the next five hundred years.

OK, here we go—a piece of fiction to make the truth known:


It was a strange journey into the astral realm to find Albert Einstein.

I slipped through gated communities heavily guarded by troops protecting dead Presidents. I skirted alleys where wannabe demons claiming they were Satan’s reps were selling potions made from powdered skulls of English kings. I ran through mannequin mansions where trainings for future shoppers were in progress. Apparently, some souls come to Earth to be born as aggressive entitled consumers. Who knew?

Finally, in a little valley, I spotted a cabin, and there on the porch, sitting in a rocker, smoking a pipe and reading The Bourne Ultimatum, was Dr. Einstein.

He was wearing an old sports jacket with leather patches on the elbows, jeans, and furry slippers.

I wanted to talk with the great man because I’d read a 1929 Saturday Evening Post interview with him. He’d said:

“I am a determinist. As such, I do not believe in free will…Practically, I am, nevertheless, compelled to act as if freedom of the will existed. If I wish to live in a civilized community, I must act as if man is a responsible being.”

Dr, Einstein went inside and brought out two bottles of cold beer and we began our conversation:

Q: Sir, would you say that the underlying nature of physical reality is atomic?

A: If you’re asking me whether atoms and smaller particles exist everywhere in the universe, then of course, yes.

Q: And are you satisfied that, wherever they are found, they are the same? They exhibit a uniformity?

A: Surely, yes.

Q: Regardless of location.

A: Correct.

Q: So, for example, if we consider the make-up of the brain, those atoms are no different in kind from atoms wherever in the universe they are found.

A: That’s true. The brain is composed entirely of these tiny particles. And the particles, everywhere in the universe, without exception, flow and interact and collide without any exertion of free will. It’s an unending stream of cause and effect.

Q: And when you think to yourself, “I’ll get breakfast now,” what is that?

A: The thought?

Q: Yes.

A: Ultimately, it is the outcome of particles in motion.

Q: You were compelled to have that thought.

A: As odd as that may seem, yes. Of course, we tell ourselves stories to present ourselves with a different version of reality, but those stories are social or cultural constructs.

Q: And those “stories” we tell ourselves—they aren’t freely chosen rationalizations, either. We have no choice about that.

A: Well, yes. That’s right.

Q: So there is nothing in the human brain that allows us the possibility of free will.

A: Nothing at all.

Q: And as we are sitting here right now, sir, looking at each other, sitting and talking, this whole conversation is spooling out in the way that it must. Every word. Neither you nor I is really choosing what we say.

A: I may not like it, but yes, it’s deterministic destiny. The particles flow.

Q: When you pause to consider a question I ask you…even that act of considering is mandated by the motion of atomic and sub-atomic particles. What appears to be you deciding how to give me an answer…that is a delusion.

A: The act of considering? Why, yes, that, too, would have to be determined. It’s not free. There really is no choice involved.

Q: And the outcome of this conversation, whatever points we may or may not agree upon, and the issues we may settle here, about this subject of free will versus determinism…they don’t matter at all, because, when you boil it down, the entire conversation was determined by our thoughts, which are nothing more than atomic and sub-atomic particles in motion—and that motion flows according to laws, none of which have anything to do with human choice.

A: The entire flow of reality, so to speak, proceeds according to determined sets of laws. Yes.

Q: And we are in that flow.

A: Most certainly we are.

Q: The earnestness with which we might try to settle this issue, our feelings, our thoughts, our striving—that is irrelevant. It’s window dressing. This conversation actually cannot go in different possible directions. It can only go in one direction.

A: That would ultimately have to be so.

Q: Now, are atoms and their components, and any other tiny particles in the universe…are any of them conscious?

A: Of course not. The particles themselves are not conscious.

Q: Some scientists speculate they are.

A: Some people speculate that the moon can be sliced and served on a plate with fruit.

Q: What do you think “conscious” means?

A: It means we participate in life. We take action. We converse. We gain knowledge.

Q: Any of the so-called faculties we possess—are they ultimately anything more than particles in motion?

A: Well, no, they aren’t. Because everything is particles in motion. What else could be happening in this universe? Nothing.

Q: All right. I’d like to consider the word “understanding.”

A: It’s a given. It’s real.

Q: How so?

A: The proof that it’s real, if you will, is that we are having this conversation. It makes sense to us.

Q: Yes, but how can there be understanding if everything is particles in motion? Do the particles possess understanding?

A: No they don’t.

Q: To change the focus just a bit, how can what you and I are saying have any meaning?

A: Words mean things.

Q: Again, I have to point out that, in a universe with no free will, we only have particles in motion. That’s all. That’s all we are. So where does “meaning” come from?

A: “We understand language” is a true proposition.

Q: You’re sure.

A: Of course.

Q: Then I suggest you’ve tangled yourself in a contradiction. In the universe you depict, there would be no room for understanding. Or meaning. There would be nowhere for it to come from. Unless particles understand. Do they?

A: No.

Q: Then where do “understanding” and “meaning” come from?

A: [Silence.]

Q: Furthermore, sir, if we accept your depiction of a universe of particles, then there is no basis for this conversation at all. We don’t understand each other. How could we?

A: But we do understand each other.

Q: And therefore, your philosophic materialism (no free will, only particles in motion) must have a flaw.

A: What flaw?

Q: Our existence contains more than particles in motion.

A: More? What would that be?

Q: Would you grant that whatever it is, it is non-material?

A: It would have to be, but…

Q: Then, driving further along this line, there is something non-material which is present, which allows us to understand each other, which allows us to comprehend meaning. We are conscious. Puppets are not conscious. As we sit here talking, I understand you. Do you understand me?

A: Of course.

Q: Then that understanding is coming from something other than particles in motion. Without this non-material quality, you and I would be gibbering in the dark.

A: You’re saying that, if all the particles in the universe, including those that make up the brain, possess no consciousness, no understanding, no comprehension of meaning, no freedom, then how can they give birth to understanding and freedom. There must be another factor, and it would have to be non-material.

Q: Yes. That’s what I’m saying. And I think you have to admit your view of determinism and particles in motion—that picture of the universe—leads to several absurdities.

A: Well…perhaps I’m forced to consider it. Otherwise, we can’t sit here and understand each other.

Q: You and I do understand each other.

A: I hadn’t thought it through this way before, but if there is nothing inherent in particles that gives rise to understanding and meaning, then everything is gibberish. Except it isn’t gibberish. Yes, I seem to see a contradiction. Interesting.

Q: And if these non-material factors—understanding and meaning—exist, then other non-material factors can exist.

A: For example, freedom. I suppose so.

Q: And the drive to eliminate freedom in the world…is more than just the attempt to substitute one automatic reflex for another.

A: That would be…yes, that would be so.

Q: Scientists would be absolutely furious about the idea that, despite all their maneuvering, the most essential aspects of human life are beyond the scope of what they, the scientists, are “in charge of.”

A: It would be a naked challenge to the power of science.

Einstein puffed on his pipe and looked out over the valley. He took a sip of his beer. After a minute, he said, “Let me see if I can summarize this, because it’s really rather startling. The universe is nothing but particles. All those particles follow laws of motion. They aren’t free. The brain is made up entirely of those same particles. Therefore, there is nothing in the brain that would give us freedom. These particles also don’t understand anything, they don’t make sense of anything, they don’t grasp the meaning of anything. Since the brain, again, is made up of those particles, it has no power to allow us to grasp meaning or understand anything. But we do understand. We do grasp meaning. Therefore, we are talking about qualities we possess which are not made out of energy. These qualities are entirely non-material.”

He nodded.

“In that case,” he said, “there is…oddly enough, a completely different sphere or territory. It’s non-material. Therefore, it can’t be measured. Therefore, it has no beginning or end. If it did, it would be a material continuum and we could measure it.”

He pointed to the valley.

“That has energy. But what does it give me? Does it allow me to be conscious? Does it allow me to be free, to understand meaning? No.”

Then he laughed. He looked at me.

“I’m dead,” he said, “aren’t I? I didn’t realize it until this very moment.”

I shook my head. “No. I would say you WERE dead until this moment.”

He grinned. “Yes!” he said. “That’s a good one. I WAS dead.”

He stood up.

“Enough of this beer,” he said. “I have some schnapps inside. Let me get it. Let’s drink the good stuff! After all, I’m apparently Forever. And so are you. And so are we all.”


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

The blockbuster movie called Reality

by Jon Rappoport

September 23, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

There is always a certain amount of whining and remorse as one enters the theater to see the movie called Reality.

“Is this a good idea?” “Why did I buy the ticket?”

But you can already feel a merging sensation. The electromagnetic fields humming in the theater, even before the movie starts, are drawing you in.

Your perception of x dimensions is narrowing down to three.

You take your seat. You look at the note you’ve written to yourself, and you read it again:

“Don’t forget where you came from. Don’t forget this is just a movie. Don’t fall asleep. The serial time in the movie is an artifact. The binding feeling of sentimental sympathy is a trance-induction. It’s the glue that holds the movie fixed in your mind.”

“The movie will induce nostalgia for a past that doesn’t exist. Don’t surrender to it.”

“You’re here to find out why the movie has power.”

“You want to undergo the experience without being trapped in it.”

“The content of the movie will distract you from the fact that it is a construct.”

The lights dim.

On the big screen, against a gray background, the large blue word REALITY slowly forms.

Suddenly, you’re looking at a huge pasture filled with flowers. The sky is a shocking blue. You can feel a breeze on your arms and face.

You think, “This is a hypnotic weapon.”

Now, the pasture fades away and you’re standing on an empty city street at night. It’s drizzling. You hear sirens in the distance. A disheveled beggar approaches you and holds out his trembling hand.

He waits, then moves on.

You look at the wet shining pavement and snap your fingers, to change it into a lawn. Nothing happens.

You’re shocked.

You wave your hand at a building. It doesn’t disappear.

Incredible.

You reach into your pocket and feel a wallet. You walk over to a streetlight and open it. There’s your picture on a plastic ID card. Your name is under the picture, followed by a number code. On the reverse side of the card, below a plastic strip, is a thumbprint.

There are other cards in the wallet, and a small amount of paper money. You look at the ID card again. There’s an address.

Though it seems impossible, you remember the address. In your mind’s eye, you see a small cottage at the edge of an industrial town. There’s a pickup parked in the driveway.

It’s your truck. You know it. But how can that be?

You walk toward larger buildings in the distance.

Three men in uniforms turn a corner and come up to you. Behind them emerges a short man in a business suit. He nods at you and holds out his hand.

You know what he wants. You pull out your wallet and give it to him. He looks at the ID card, at you, at the card again.

“You were reported missing,” he says.

“Missing from what?” you say.

“Your home. Your job. What are doing here? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you say. “I was…taking a short trip. I’m just out for some air.”

“In this part of the city?” he says. “That’s not smart. We’ll take you home. Our car is right over there.”

One car sits on a side street. In large red letters printed on the trunk is the word Concern.

You walk with the men to the car.

Waves you’ve never felt before are emanating from it.

Mentally, you try to back up from them. You feel a haze settle over you.

In the haze dance little creatures.

You look at the short man in the suit. He’s smiling at you.

Suddenly, his smile is transcendent. It’s so reassuring, tears fill your eyes.

You’re thinking, “They built this so I would be lost, and then they found me. I’m supposed to be rescued. I’ve never experienced being rescued before. I never knew what it meant.”

You hear faint music.

It grows louder. As you near the car, you realize you’re listening to a chorus and an orchestra. The rising theme is Victory.

One of the uniformed men opens the car door.

You nod at him.

“My pleasure, sir,” he says.

The music fades away.

The scene shifts.

You’re standing next to the pickup in your driveway alongside your cottage.

You’re home.

Think, you tell yourself. What’s going on?

Now, as you walk into your cottage and instantly remember the rooms and the objects in these rooms, the sensation of Familiarity, slightly out of phase, grows stronger.

You realize you’re supposed to feel tremendous relief. This is what’s expected of you.

It’s expected of everyone. They live with one another through the touchstone of the Familiar. They share it like bread.

They keep coming back to it. The Familiar is a sacrament.

It’s built in. It’s invented through…it’s stamped on every object in this space…

…In order to suggest you’ve been here before. To suggest you belong here.

You see pure space that…

Has been placed here. For you.

And at that moment, there is a small explosion behind your head.

And you’re sitting in the theater again.

The movie is playing on the screen. All around you, in the seats, people are sitting with their eyes closed.

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn. It’s an usher.

“Sir,” he says. “Please follow me.”

He leads you up the aisle into the lobby, which is empty.

An office door opens and a young woman steps out. She strides briskly over to you.

“You woke up and came back,” she says. She gives you a tight smile. “So we’re refunding your money. It’s our policy.”

She drops a check in your hand.

“What happened in there?” you say. “What happened?”

She shrugs.

“Only you would know that. You must have done something to interrupt the transmission.”

“And the rest of those people?”

She looks at her watch. “They’re probably into their second year by now. The second year is typically a time of conflict. They rebel. Well, some of them do. They rearrange systems. They replace leaders. They promote new ideals.”

“I had such a strong feeling I’d been there before.”

She smiles. “Apparently it wasn’t strong enough. You’re back here.”

“How do you do it?” you say.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That’s proprietary information. Did you meet your family?”

“No,” you say. “But I was in a cottage. It was…home.”

She nods.

“If you hadn’t escaped, you would have been subjected to much stronger bioelectric bonding pulses. Do you have a family here?”

You start to answer and realize you don’t know.

She looks into your eyes.

“Go out to the street,” she says. “Walk around. Take a nice long walk for an hour. You’ll reorient. It’ll come back to you.”

“Why do you do it?” you say.

“Do what?”

“Sell this trip.”

“Oh,” she says. “Why does a travel agent book a vacation for a client? We’re in that business.”

You turn toward the exit. The sun is shining outside. People are walking past the doors.

You take a deep breath and leave the theater.

The street is surging with crowds. The noise is thunderous.

You notice you’re carrying a rolled up sheet of paper in your hand.

You open it.

It’s a non-disclosure agreement.

“If you return from your movie experience, you will not reveal or discuss, under penalty of law, anything about its nature, substance, or duration…”

You look at the sheet of paper, make up your mind, and it bursts into flames.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

“It ignited a firestorm on social media”

by Jon Rappoport

September 8, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

PART ONE: THE NEW INTELLECTUALS

Welcome to the show. I’m your host, YouGluer the Magnificent. My guest today calls himself Brad Douchebag. Brad has 1.3 million Twitter followers. So Brad, what’s your secret to success?

Thanks for having me. I scour the web for comments advocating individual freedom of any kind, and I scream against those comments on Twitter. Then my followers pile on with me and create a firestorm.

I see. I’m told you’ve made quite a name for yourself in academic circles.

Harvard offered me a teaching position in their Department of Social Sciences and Data Analysis. I had to turn it down.

Why?

I’ve parlayed my social media presence into a business. I sell cheap Chinese masks online. Managing a business requires a great deal of time and energy. Frankly, Harvard’s offer was an insult. 150K a year…

PART TWO: APOLOGIZE OR STARVE

Joe works for a major corporation. He’s an animal rights advocate.

One day, on his personal Twitter account, he posts the following: “What they do to animals in labs is sheer torture. The lab-thugs poison them to discover a precise dose that kills…”

Social media mavens pick up on this comment. For example: “Joe’s juxtaposition of ANIMALS and THUGS is thinly veiled RACISM. We all know what he really means.”

Two weeks later, the HR person in Joe’s company calls him in. “You’re under attack, Joe. You’re going to have to apologize. Profusely.”

“Nonsense,” Joe says. “I did nothing wrong. People are twisting my words.”

“We know that, Joe. But it doesn’t matter. The company doesn’t care about what you posted. We care about the reaction. Somebody is going to discover you work here. And then they’re going to come after us.”

“Then you tell them my comments weren’t hurtful.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Joe. You have to grovel, or we’ll fire you. You’ll be out in the street. No major company will hire you. You have to apologize, enroll in one of our re-education classes, and sit down with an anti-racist group. We have a list of those groups. You apologize to them—“

“But I’m not a racist.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It only matters what people are saying. Think of your family, Joe. What are THEY going to say when you’re out of work, when you could have saved your job, but didn’t? Do you think you’ll have their sympathy after you flushed 200K a year down the toilet?”

“…This is more serious than I imagined.”

“You bet your ass it is.”

“I’m going to have to become a different person.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“What kind of person will that be?”

“Someone humble, Joe, who seeks forgiveness, who made a serious mistake, who will do everything in his power to atone for his sins. You now realize the pain you’ve caused others.”

“Should I cry?”

“That would be good.”

“I took a drama course in college.”

“Put it to use.”

“What about self-flagellation on camera?”

“With a whip? That would be going too far. People would think you’re crazy. Keep it along the line of, you’re sorry, you’re devastated, and by atoning you hope to set an example for others.”

“Yes, that’s good.”

“We have PR people, Joe. They’ll work with you. They’ll help you craft your new messages, your new persona.”

“I’ll be like a reformed criminal who got religion.”

“Yes. Think of yourself as a prisoner who’s seeking early parole. You’ll do whatever it takes.”

“All right—you pass.”

“Excuse me? What?”

“You pass. My name isn’t Joe. I’m with the Justice Department. In a few weeks, I’m going to resign from my job here with you people and disappear. My unit moves from corporation to corporation, making sure their key people are on board with preferred social trends.

“That’s—I don’t believe you, Joe.”

“I’d advise you to believe me. I really would. I’m not the only DOJ employee on board with your company. We keep an eye on things.”

“No.”

“Yes. We’re in the middle of a vast social experiment. Our goal is changing attitudes. We’re tightening the control system. You’re with us, or you’re against us. ALL humans are wild ANIMALS, biological machines that are mis-programmed from birth. We’re doing the re-programming. We need major corporations like yours to partner with us. Declare vaccine mandates, enforce correct social behavior, and so on. If, for any reason, you decided to oppose what we’re doing, YOU would find yourself out in the street without a job. The resentment of your family would be visited on YOU. YOUR friends would shun you. Am I getting through?”

“…you are. Yes.”

“Good. You’re OK, Bob. You earn a pass. So far. Stay on the straight and narrow.”

“I’m amazed.”

“That’s a normal reaction. It’s a new world.”

“I’ll say. So you have my balls in a box.”

“We do.”

“I’m not sure I like that, Joe.”

“How much you don’t like it is part of the social experiment, too. We want to know how far we can push people.”

“Before what?”

“Before they rebel in great numbers. That’s the ultimate question, isn’t it? When do they stop giving away their freedom for what they think is security?”

“When? How about never?”

“Good. We need people like you. We build our palaces on your backs.”

“Because we’re passive.”

“Bingo.”


And while I’m at it, here is a somewhat related piece, WHEN THE MACHINE-MIND DIED:

From time to time in these pages, I write satire, fiction, even poetry.

Why?

Because I’m a writer.

I’ve been working at it for 60 years. As a writer, I have more than one interest. I lay out what I see along a number of different avenues. I also, God forgive me, employ Imagination—which I know is considered a major crime in some quarters.

HOWEVER, I always make a distinction between fiction and factual articles. How? The CONTENT of the piece clarifies that distinction.

But sometimes…well, for example…

I once wrote a piece about 150 MILLION Americans traveling to Mexico and then coming back across the border as immigrants and going on welfare—and some people believed I was reporting a news story. On top of that, they got up on their hind legs and brayed: “It isn’t true!”

Drugs? Brain damage? The education system?

So…here’s a story about THAT—

DATELINE, JULY 18, 2097: You of course remember the Alice in Wonderland War. Way back in 2056, a government bureaucrat brought suit against Midas Publishing for reprinting the ancient Lewis Carroll novel.

The bureaucrat stated there was no Alice, there was no Mad Hatter. He claimed that to assert the existence of these characters was an affront to the literal mind.

The literal mind, he insisted, was man’s highest achievement. He wrote: “A is A, and can’t be otherwise. The fabrication of A as B or C is an attempt to confuse, subvert, and destroy.”

“In order for universal surveillance to succeed, the citizenry should say what they mean at all times. Metaphor, simile, joke, satire, parody—these constructions confuse algorithms established to detect potential terrorist activity.”

The attorney for Midas Publishing countered with: “The literal mind is an idiot. It wouldn’t recognize a joke or a punchline if they were shoved down its throat. I hereby issue a call to all people everywhere to start lying, fabricating, telling jokes, all day, every day. Stop acting like good little androids!”

Suddenly, it happened. People started enjoying themselves. The joke and the parody and mockery made a comeback. Did they ever. And NSA’s computers went crazy, exactly the way the literal mind collapses in the face of metaphor.

It was, ultimately, a revolution, and enslaved life went right down the dumpster.

Along with the Alice-in-Wonderland War, we all recall another famous turning point in our history—the 2061 Lenny Bruce case. Lenny, a volunteer in a Technocratic SINGULARITY experiment, was hooked up, brain to brain, with the Kurzweil super-computer at MIT, in the first public demonstration of Enhanced Human, a government-funded program.

The assumption was, Lenny would suddenly become a god. The super-computer would load trillions and trillions of pieces of knowledge into his brain, and he would experience an unprecedented expansion of consciousness.

But just before the computer-connection was made, Lenny uttered, “Suppose everything I’m thinking is a series of jokes? Suppose I don’t really mean what I think in a literal sense? Suppose when I think A I’m really meaning Z?”

The experiment was halted at that point and Lenny was arrested by the FBI. He was put on trial for conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism, because, obviously, the whole technocratic premise would fail along all systems of computer-to-brain interaction, if other people took Lenny’s hint.

The bill of particulars against Lenny read, “A violation of the literal…an act of domestic insurrection.”

And then, a hundred thousand Americans rioted at the Federal Court Building and freed Lenny. Remember?

That’s when the machine-mind died…

—And that, dear reader, concludes today’s episode of, “The Overreaching Obsession for The Literal,” brought to you by the Anti-Algorithm Foundation, dedicated to finding honest work for data analysts: repairing sewers, cracked sidewalks, and broken furniture.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

The Individual vs. the digital platform; the global rebellion vs. the machine

Washing away the stink of obedience

by Jon Rappoport

September 8, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

Using fascist vaccine mandates and passports, governments are expanding their digital platform, which is a surveillance and control system.

The excuse is: “We have to keep track of everyone who receives the vaccine…we have to make sure they update their booster shots…we have to know the people who are refusing the vaccine… ”

Of course, the platform reaches out into, and collects, all sorts of personal information about every person. Medical records, social media presence, consumer habits, political preferences, etc.

Underlying this massive and ongoing effort is the assumption that The Individual is a social construct. A unit. An assemblage of data.

This unit is entered into algorithms governing millions of units.

Thus, the living individual disappears. He is now an abstraction.

The repressive State takes on the shape of a technocracy:

“We regulate what units (humans) can and can’t do. We fit these units into an overall pattern of enforced behavior that achieves the greatest good for all…”

It turns out that many people, badly educated, trained to think of themselves as eternal victims, and resentful toward Constitutional liberties, are content to be plugged into systems that track them and tell them what to do.

These are the people who are always thinking about what other people are thinking of them. They are the foot soldiers of the Great Reset.

On the other hand, The Individual who knows he is alive, independent, and far more than a biological machine, who wants freedom…that Individual has a vision of his existence that outstrips any platform, algorithm, or fetid version of “greatest good.”

That Individual is who I write for.

I don’t write for ant colonies of the 21st century.

In 1928, the father of modern propanda, Edward Bernays, stated: “This is an age of mass production. In the mass production of materials a broad technique has been developed and applied to their distribution. In this age, too, there must be a technique for the mass distribution of ideas…The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country. We are governed, our minds are molded, our tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of. This is a logical result of the way in which our democratic society is organized. Vast numbers of human beings must cooperate in this manner if they are to live together as a smoothly functioning society.”

For Bernays, and his political descendants, “smoothly functioning society” has meant mass mind control.

Indeed, Bernays also wrote: “It is sometimes possible to change the attitudes of millions but impossible to change the attitude of one man.”

The one man is the disrupter of the machinery.

The vaccine mandates and the passports are a large jump in the direction of mass/group surrender.

In this expanding technocracy, it’s no accident that the main component of propaganda is “science.” Technocracy itself is based on the misapplied “scientific” notion that, since a properly functioning machine is composed of many connected and integrated parts, human society should be built in the same fashion.

COVID “science” is a structure made up of interconnected facts—all of which turn out to be gross lies. I’ve spent the past year exposing those lies (see here and here for boil downs).

The best propaganda appears to be true to those who can’t think, who can’t summon up the desire and will to break out of the system.

The life-force inside every person, whether he knows it or not, wants to break out.

Rock-bottom materialists, who try to deny this force exists, will sooner or later succumb to some piece of propaganda and surrender to The Group.

In these times, The Group wants a digital platform to control their actions. The Group wants to submit to authorities who claim to have altruistic motives. The Group wants to fight for the right to be slaves.

However, as the vise tightens on the population, more and more individuals are realizing the mass and the group and collective and the digital platform and the prevailing propaganda narrative are spelling doom for them. They made a mistake in joining up and surrendering.

The altruism they’ve been supporting is a fake.

Their false gods have gone too far.

Before they slip into the final Big Sleep, more and more Individuals are stirring and waking up.

Their mind shackles are loosening.

More and more Individuals are realizing the talking news heads and the governors and presidents and prime ministers and premiers are puppets. The governments and bureaucracies are Police States. The promised new day is really a long night.

And so comes the rebellion. It is widening.

There is now a clear choice. Be a free and independent Individual, or be a loser, an ally of inhuman technocracy and tyranny.

History.com: “’These are the times that try men’s souls; the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph’.”

“When these phrases [written by Thomas Paine] appeared in the pages of the Pennsylvania Journal for the first time, General George Washington’s troops were encamped at McKonkey’s Ferry on the Delaware River opposite Trenton, New Jersey. In August, they had suffered humiliating defeats and lost New York City to British troops. Between September and December, 11,000 American volunteers gave up the fight and returned to their families. General Washington could foresee the destiny of a rebellion without an army if the rest of his men returned home when their service contracts expired on December 31. He knew that without an upswing in morale and a significant victory, the American Revolution would come to a swift and humiliating end.”

“Thomas Paine was similarly astute. His Common Sense was the clarion call that began the revolution. As Washington’s troops retreated from New York through New Jersey, Paine again rose to the challenge of literary warfare. With American Crisis, he delivered the words that would salvage the revolution.”

“Washington commanded that the freshly printed pamphlet be read aloud to his dispirited men; the rousing prose had its intended effect. Reciting Paine’s impassioned words, the beleaguered troops mustered their remaining hopes for victory and crossed the icy Delaware River to defeat hung-over Hessians on Christmas night and on January 2, the British army’s best general, Earl Cornwallis, at the Battle of Princeton. With victory in New Jersey, Washington won not only two battles, but also the love and thanks of man and woman.”


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

Covid madness and mass conformity vs. the Life Force

by Jon Rappoport

August 26, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

The basic human immune system is HEALTH. VITAL LIFE FORCE.

It ISN’T a germ-killing antibody-marching military machine inside the body.

However, since modern society is based on a massive attempt to install Pavlovian stimulus-response as the basic principle for “better living,” professionals are going to view Health as a machine-produced outcome.

The antibodies march and scout, the T-cell troops come in behind them and attack the invader, and so on. This preposterous bullshit becomes a model of life.

And therefore doctors and public health experts are the messiahs who protect us every day from harm caused by the invaders (viruses). This load of gibberish forms the basis for the fake pandemic and the robot responses of the population.

LIFE-FORCE, on the other hand, is a unique drive within the individual to express vitality and energy and imagination in the world. When it flows, health flows.

Conformity is the “we’re all in this together” lullaby for the mesmerized masses sitting in a decaying common pool of mind control. For five minutes it looks like a superhighway and then you’re in a blind alley at midnight up against a brick wall.

Who is this WE? What is the THIS in which we’re all together? Answer: The WE is rubber-stamped copies of humans that individuals pretend to be, and the THIS is a vapor of spiritual and energetic sedation.

What is the source of all the systems, protocols, models, and methods that dominate modern life to the point of lockstep surrender? A good place to start is the education system. It’s managed to promote the false belief that, unless everyone goes to school for at least 12 years, whole nations will be composed of rank drooling idiots.

In fact, the education system has a propensity for turning out those drooling idiots.

William Blake, one of the greatest poets of any era in any language, attended school until he was 10. After that, his mother taught him at home.

I’m not sure about this, but I’ve been told God never went to school at all.

It’s impossible to study a child who has been inoculated with 12 or 16 years of education and ask, “What would he be like if he’d never gone to school?” But common sense tells us that, if he had an innate curiosity about life, he would have pursued learning in his own way. He would have learned to read. He would have found books. He would have launched his own imagination in many directions. AND HE WOULD HAVE BECOME STRONG AND INDEPENDENT. He wouldn’t have become a trained weasel.

Highly organized civilization makes us think there are only so many paths in life, and we must choose one of them and stay on it. This automatically shrinks our view of Reality. The concept of RADICALLY DIFFERENT LIFE seems impossible.

Nations and people are choking on SAMENESS.

So when a shit-cloud of experts blows in the door and announces there is a pandemic caused by a virus, most of us stand up and salute. Most of those who don’t merely disagree on the fine points. “Do I really need the booster shot, or am I good with two doses of the Pfizer?”

It never occurs to most people that the whole story is pulp fiction flying under the banner of warped and confined “scientific” minds that have been conditioned by years of schooling and training. These expert medical and public health minds have been deadened and walled off from LIFE ITSELF.

I see dead people. I see dead people telling us what to do. I see dead people promoting fear as their only goal. Trapped themselves, they want to trap us.

The elite strategy is in for a penny in for a pound. “Well, OF COURSE the virus exists. So it’s a question of how serious and deadly it is. Now, the official figures suggest it was weakening by June 15th, but then the Variant emerged. That was a game changer. The latest measurements of antibody production against the Delta Variant indicate…” Zzzzz.

The flying edge of a SYSTEM flew by and caught people unaware and dragged them down into the depths of mental surrender to the STORY about the original STORY…

Life is not a protocol.

An imitation of life is a protocol.

Hence, I repost my piece, THE BLOCKBUSTER MOVIE CALLED REALITY:

There is always a certain amount of whining and remorse as one enters the theater to see the movie called Reality.

“Is this a good idea?” “Why did I buy the ticket?”

But you can already feel a merging sensation. The electromagnetic fields humming in the theater, even before the movie starts, are drawing you in.

Your perception of x dimensions is narrowing down to three.

You take your seat. You look at the note you’ve written to yourself, and you read it again:

“Don’t forget where you came from. Don’t forget this is just a movie. Don’t fall asleep. The serial time in the movie is an artifact. The binding feeling of sentimental sympathy is a trance-induction. It’s the glue that holds the movie fixed in your mind.”

“The movie will induce nostalgia for a past that doesn’t exist. Don’t surrender to it.”

“You’re here to find out why the movie has power.”

“You want to undergo the experience without being trapped in it.”

“The content of the movie will distract you from the fact that it is a construct.”

The lights dim.

On the big screen, against a gray background, the large blue word REALITY slowly forms.

Suddenly, you’re looking at a huge pasture filled with flowers. The sky is a shocking blue. You can feel a breeze on your arms and face.

You think, “This is a hypnotic weapon.”

Now, the pasture fades away and you’re standing on an empty city street at night. It’s drizzling. You hear sirens in the distance. A disheveled beggar approaches you and holds out his trembling hand.

He waits, then moves on.

You look at the wet shining pavement and snap your fingers, to change it into a lawn. Nothing happens.

You’re shocked.

You wave your hand at a building. It doesn’t disappear.

Incredible.

You reach into your pocket and feel a wallet. You walk over to a streetlight and open it. There’s your picture on a plastic ID card. Your name is under the picture, followed by a number code. On the reverse side of the card, below a plastic strip, is a thumbprint.

There are other cards in the wallet, and a small amount of paper money. You look at the ID card again. There’s an address.

Though it seems impossible, you remember the address. In your mind’s eye, you see a small cottage at the edge of an industrial town. There’s a pickup parked in the driveway.

It’s your truck. You know it. But how can that be?

You walk toward larger buildings in the distance.

Three men in uniforms turn a corner and come up to you. Behind them emerges a short man in a business suit. He nods at you and holds out his hand.

You know what he wants. You pull out your wallet and give it to him. He looks at the ID card, at you, at the card again.

“You were reported missing,” he says.

“Missing from what?” you say.

“Your home. Your job. What are you doing here? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you say. “I was…taking a short trip. I’m just out for some air.”

“In this part of the city?” he says. “That’s not smart. We’ll take you home. Our car is right over there.”

One car sits on a side street. In large red letters printed on the trunk, the word Concern.

You walk with the men to the car.

Waves you’ve never felt before are emanating from it.

Mentally, you try to back up from them. You feel a haze settle over you.

In the haze dance little creatures.

You look at the short man in the suit. He’s smiling at you.

Suddenly, his smile is transcendent. It’s so reassuring, tears fill your eyes.

You’re thinking, “They built this so I would be lost, and then they found me. I’m supposed to be rescued. I’ve never experienced being rescued before. I never knew what it meant.”

You hear faint music.

It grows louder. As you near the car, you realize you’re listening to a chorus and an orchestra. The rising theme is Victory.

One of the uniformed men opens the car door.

You nod at him.

“My pleasure, sir,” he says.

The music fades away.

The scene shifts.

You’re standing next to the pickup in your driveway alongside your cottage.

You’re home.

Think, you tell yourself. What’s going on?

Now, as you walk into your cottage and instantly remember the rooms and the objects in these rooms, the sensation of Familiarity, slightly out of phase, grows stronger.

You realize you’re supposed to feel tremendous relief. This is what’s expected of you.

It’s expected of everyone. They live with one another through the touchstone of the Familiar. They share it like bread.

They keep coming back to it. The Familiar is a sacrament.

It’s built in. It’s invented through…it’s stamped on every object in this space…

…In order to suggest you’ve been here before. To suggest you belong here.

You see pure space that…

Has been placed here. For you.

And at that moment, there is a small explosion behind your head.

And you’re sitting in the theater again.

The movie is playing on the screen. All around you, in the seats, people are sitting with their eyes closed.

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn. It’s an usher.

“Sir,” he says. “Please follow me.”

He leads you up the aisle into the lobby, which is empty.

An office door opens and a young woman steps out. She strides briskly over to you.

“You woke up and came back,” she says. She gives you a tight smile. “So we’re refunding your money. It’s our policy.”

She drops a check in your hand.

“What happened in there?” you say. “What happened?”

She shrugs.

“Only you would know that. You must have done something to interrupt the transmission.”

“And the rest of those people?”

She looks at her watch. “They’re probably into their second year by now. The second year is typically a time of conflict. They rebel. Well, some of them do. They rearrange systems. They replace leaders. They promote new ideals.”

“I had such a strong feeling I’d been there before.”

She smiles. “Apparently it wasn’t strong enough. You’re back here.”

“How do you do it?” you say.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That’s proprietary information. Did you meet your family?”

“No,” you say. “But I was in a cottage. It was…home.”

She nods.

“If you hadn’t escaped, you would have been subjected to much stronger bioelectric bonding pulses. Do you have a family here?”

You start to answer and realize you don’t know.

She looks into your eyes.

“Go out to the street,” she says. “Walk around. Take a nice long walk for an hour. You’ll reorient. It’ll come back to you.”

“Why do you do it?” you say.

“Do what?”

“Sell this trip.”

“Oh,” she says. “Why does a travel agent book a vacation for a client? We’re in that business.”

You turn toward the exit. The sun is shining outside. People are walking past the doors.

You take a deep breath and leave the theater.

The street is surging with crowds. The noise is thunderous.

You notice you’re carrying a rolled up sheet of paper in your hand.

You open it.

It’s a non-disclosure agreement.

“If you return from your movie experience, you will not reveal or discuss, under penalty of law, anything about its nature, substance, or duration…”

You look at the sheet of paper, make up your mind, and it bursts into flames.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

The Last Vaccine Resister in Australia

by Jon Rappoport

August 26, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

7News Brisbane, 8/21: “A man has ridden his horse through today’s protest at the Queensland-New South Wales border, encouraging crowds to cross through checkpoints. ‘Cross over! They cannot arrest all of us!’”

ABC News Australia, 8/21: “More than 2,000 anti-lockdown protesters gathered in Brisbane’s Botanic Gardens before a planned march through the city…Thousands of demonstrators [in Melbourne] were seen breaking police lines near Parliament House in Spring Street, where the demonstration started…[A Victoria police spokeswoman said that] ‘For the first time during lockdown protests, police were forced to use a range of non-lethal options including pepper ball rounds and OC foam cannisters in an effort to disperse the crowd.’…Each person arrested will be fined $5,452 for breaching lockdown restrictions…”

December 2, 2023:

Hello, everybody. You’re shocked, right? I just cut in and interrupted the news broadcast you’re watching.

I’m sure the cops are busy trying to pinpoint my location.

I’m wearing a mask to make it a little harder for them. Not because I’m afraid of a virus.

Here in the land down under we’re under the tightest COVID lockdowns in the world.

Australian cops are busting heads, breaking into people’s houses and arresting them because they aren’t wearing masks. They’re holding people down and testing them and shooting them up with the vaccine.

They say everybody in the country is now vaccinated. I’m not. So I might be the last holdout.

I don’t want the jab in the arm. I have the right to say no, to walk down the street, drive out into the country and sit on a rock and smoke a cigar. Screw the authorities.

Does the right come from God? Maybe. I don’t know. Depends on the day of the week. On Tuesday, I might believe God said we’re free. On Wednesday, I might not believe in God. Either way, I’ve decided not to line up for the jab.

I don’t believe this pandemic, whatever it is or isn’t, makes me a slave.

It could be a hurricane, a flood, an earthquake, a war, a riot, and we still have the right to go outside and go to work and make a living. Have a picnic in the sun with our family and friends.

We can tell the politicians to fuck off.

And if enough of us do, the politicians lose.

I don’t like them. I don’t like their attitude. They think they own us. Even if they kill me, they don’t own me.

This country was once a lot freer than it is now. Nobody can deny that. But then the busy-bodies started butting in and making a lot of rules. They meddled with us. We thought it was easier to go along. We knuckled under. And THIS, what we’ve got now, this Police State, is how it all played out.

Now we can’t take a piss in the middle of the night, in our own bathrooms, without wearing a mask.

Don’t you get it? The bosses like watching us squirm. That’s their game.

You think they really care about us? About our health? Are you that stupid? They care about themselves, their power, their money. They’re control freaks.

Australia was a penal colony. The British sent their worst prisoners here. Outlaws, rebels, thieves, killers. Crazies. And now look at us. Our brains have melted down into pudding. We’re afraid of our own shadows. We’re afraid of cops with guns. It’s disgusting.

Remember when they took our guns away? They always do that. Somebody shoots a few people, and they take the guns from all the people who didn’t shoot anybody. You think they did that to protect us? They wanted sheep and they got sheep.

People argue about whether the vaccine works or doesn’t work. Whether it’s safe or dangerous. I’m past all that. It comes down to: do I want to take it or not? I make up my own mind for my own reasons. I’ve still got my goddamn freedom, no matter what anyone says.

If two or three million of us get off our lazy and scared asses and go out into the street every day, every single day, the bosses lose. There’s nothing they can do.

For a long time, I took my freedom for granted. But now I don’t. I realize it was always on the line.

You might be wondering who I am.

Well, I’ll tell you a secret.

I’m nobody.

That’s right. The only reason I exist is because of you.

I’m not on any list. I don’t have a name. I’m not in any file.

You created me.

I came out of your minds.

I’m a phantom. I exist because you dreamed about me, whether you know it or not.

If they make slaves out of all of you, in your MINDS AND SOULS, I stop existing. If you surrender all the way down, I’m gone.

That’s how Reality works.

The only question is, what are you going to do about it?

I’ll tell you another secret. The bosses know that if they let us all out in the open living our lives, going to work, sitting and playing in parks and on the beaches with our kids, our health wouldn’t be any worse than it was before this “pandemic.” Our health wouldn’t be any worse than it is now. THE BOSSES KNOW THAT. THAT’S WHAT THEY’RE TERRIFIED OF. THAT’S WHY THEY’RE CLAMPING DOWN SO HARD.

I’m here. I’m what you made me. I’m your reflection. I’m what your spirit is when you take all the bullshit away.

The bosses dream about me, too. But in their dreams, they’re sweating. They’re trying to chop me to pieces. Blow me away with bullets. Burn me down.

I’m your dream, their nightmare.

Bottom line, I’m your freedom.

So what are you going to do about it?

You can try to snuff me out, but that means you’re trying to kill your own spirit.

Spirit can be a tidal wave, or it can be a little piss-puddle. Your decision.

If it’s a tidal wave, it’s bigger and more powerful than any so-called germ that ever existed.

See, the germ the bosses are twisting your minds with is also a dream—and right now, you’re saluting it and taking a knee in front of it.

You screwed up. You fell for the con.

But it’s never too late.

You can sell out your lives down to the last penny, or you can break the bank.

I’m here as long as you want me to be.

I’m standing up as long as you’re not lying down.

I’ll be here interrupting the cocked-up news from your fascist bosses and thugs as long as you want me to be…


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

The Artist against the Syndicate

by Jon Rappoport

August 18, 2021

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You’re an unemployed artist.

The year is 2061. A series of bombings has rocked the Capitol in the Western White House District, which is located in the heart of Hollywood. The Eastern seaboard is uninhabitable, owing to a mysterious GMO accident, which rendered all plant life in that region poisonous…

Reality is a nasty syndicate operation. The technical side is put together by high-IQ idiots. They like to fiddle. They like the con. They like to torpedo the mind.

The syndicate is the Reality Manufacturing Company.

You buy a ticket to Disneyland, which encompasses the area from San Francisco to Tijuana, go through the big gate, and book a small hotel room in Graphene Village.

A note is taped to the back of the toilet, where you’ve been told to look. It’s unsigned. You read it while you’re preparing supper: powdered eggs, water, and a squirt of SweetHeaven:

“Greetings, GuestL28. This to warn you the pillars of the community, the people who are supposed to be ‘doing good,’ are up to their necks in the operation. They’re hustling reality like porn.”

“At the upper levels, we’ve even got the STE Command, peddling the space-time-energy continuum everyone is so fond of. Only one tin can and we’re all in it, biological machines ‘doing our best to get along.’”

“Until recently, there was a sense that artists knew something about all this and were exposing the Syndicate. But now, propaganda is eating into their psyches, or their work isn’t finding the light of day. Some have been conned into high-flying rhetoric about saving humanity and working together to build a better world inside the prevailing political framework. There is no better world inside the prevailing political framework.”

“The artist should be ripping away masks, exposing the Syndicate employees. Adorning some fake religion promoted by the State, like the current MaR, isn’t his job.”

“Overthrowing the reality-con is the work of the artist. He’s got to take to it like a duck to water. He has to like it. He has to use his weapons, all of them.”

“The Matrix is built on the need to reduce thought. Props called spiritual leaders emerge out of the woodwork.”

“Our glorious New Age, so-called, is THOUGHT REDUCTION. It fails, and the aftermath is ugly. People become contortionists and end up eating their own.”

“I’m from the Movable Underground Museum. The Syndicate calls us dangerous because we’ve found a way to dismantle their product.”

“I can’t give you details in an open message. So far, we’ve laid out two new universes. They’re empty. Lots of room for adventurous souls.”

“Here’s something to keep your eye on. The Syndicate’s reality is breaking down. You may see seams in the sky. Don’t point them out to other people. A seam is usually a long thin blue line. If it pops far enough, you’ll see a different kind of space behind it. Stay calm.”

“For the past two weeks, a big seam has been exposed at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Vermont Avenue in LA. Don’t try to go there. Crowds were gathering. The DHS came in and hosed them down with a version of glypho. Upwards of six thousand people were arrested, and DHS has the area cordoned off with tanks.”

“If you can still pick up SubNet8 on your mobile device, you can see pictures. The white light streaming through the gap in the seam? It’s been shopped in. It isn’t really there. Neither are the UFOs or the voices. That’s the Syndicate. They’re staging a ‘virtual drill’ in the area. Lots of phony religious content. It’s a cover. They’ve built a temp church in Silver Lake to handle the overflow of new believers.”

“If somebody approaches you with an offer to travel to Mexico, then sneak back into the US and apply for benefits, don’t bite. Tomorrow morning, before nine, walk to the Mickey Pavilion, turn left and keep going for about a mile. On your right, you’ll see a small shed painted green. Behind the shed is a cheap water ride. Take out a boat and row to the Secret Tunnel.”

“Take it. When the little train has been in the tunnel for a minute, you’ll see a dim corridor on your left. Hop off the train and walk along the corridor. You’ll come to the back of the Obama Mountain. At the base is a service door. It’s unlocked.”

“Go through and you’ll be standing on the corner of Ashbury Street and First Avenue. A day’s walk east will take you out into the desert. The fences are broken. Get out into the desert and head toward the Nevada Hills. You’ll see it. It’s a huge white hotel about five miles in.”

“A mile before the hotel, you’ll come to a wide crack in the desert floor. It’s not a crack. The Simul is breaking down there. It’s an exit. Use it if you have the courage.”

You burn the note, sit and eat your powdered eggs and watch the news. You think about what you’re going to do. Or not do.

A few sentences float in from somewhere. They were written by Philip K Dick, an ancient writer whose works have been outlawed:

“Because today we live in a society in which spurious realities are manufactured by the media, by governments, by big corporations, by religious groups, political groups…So I ask, in my writing, What is real? Because unceasingly we are bombarded with pseudo-realities manufactured by very sophisticated people using very sophisticated electronic mechanisms…And it is an astonishing power: that of creating whole universes, universes of the mind. I ought to know. I do the same thing.”


The artist on trial against the State

June 9, 2071, Ohio 27-b: the region designated as the seat of all hearings and trials of artists accused of crimes against the State.

No jury, no attorneys.

On this day, His Honorable and Sacred Hayakawa L. Schwartzbaum, Magistrate of Federal Dispensations, on loan from The CIA-Harvard University, sat behind his table. He was an expert in the history of history.

In shackles, an artist was led into the room by three federal policemen wearing the gray high-buttoned uniforms of the Motherland-Fatherland Department of Internal Security and Distribution of Goods and Services for the Benefit of All.

One of the policemen rolled in a large object covered by a shroud.

Judge Schwarzbaum looked down at a file and rapped his gavel on a plaque displaying the universal symbol of a hermaphrodite eagle.

“Order,” he declared.

The prisoner, in a tattered red jumpsuit, stood before him.

“Well,” the Judge said, “uncontrolled display…no license to practice art. No prior approval for a work. No plan submitted to the State. No established source of funding. No preliminary scan by the Council of Art. No declaration of philosophic position. Status: potential precursor to terrorist activity. Surveillance data reveals the artist is a smoker and brews medications which have never undergone approval by the FDA. How do you plead?”

The artist nodded.

“Your Honor, I would like to submit one item of evidence. The work itself.”

The Judge said, “Were it not for the Artist Act of 2040, I would deny the request. But since I am bound by law, submission approved.”

The guard who had rolled in the shrouded object uncovered it.

It was a brass sculpture standing six feet tall. It was a series of twisted interlocking shapes.

“Yes,” the Judge said. “Incomprehensible. Who in his right mind could fathom the sense of this?”

“Look a little closer, Your Honor,” the artist said. “If you would.”

The Judge put on a pair of glasses and stared at the object.

“Meaningless,” he said. “That’s the last time I’ll deign to acknowledge it.”

“Meaningless? Then what is the problem? What harm could it cause?” the artist asked.

The Judge smiled.

“We must have meaning,” he said. “Because then we can judge its quality. Otherwise, we lose control of the situation. We must know, and be able to assess, the significance of the work. This piece of nonsense does not rise to that level. All you offer are…curving masses.”

“The piece has meaning for me,” the artist said.

“Perhaps, given your state of mind, that is true. But art is public. It is a social undertaking. It gives something to the Community.”

“Your Honor,” the artist replied, “I believe you’re missing an opportunity here. If, as you say, my work is meaningless, consider its effect on the public, were it to be installed in a heavily-trafficked venue. People would be confused and bewildered. Isn’t the induction of such a state of mind a forerunner to mind control?”

The Judge rubbed his chin and stared at the ceiling.

“Are you suggesting,” he said, “that you could go to work for us?”

The artist nodded.

“Yes, sir. I could execute many sculptures of this kind. I want exposure. You want MKULTRA. We’re on the same side, in a strange way.”

“Amusing, possibly interesting,” the Judge said.

“You see,” the artist said, “there are two ways to look at mind control. On the one hand, you attack aggressively, with propaganda, to plant specific messages. But on the other hand, you prepare consciousness by placing it in a state of extreme puzzlement. If you would, sir, look at the work again.”

The Judge frowned and shook his head. But he gazed at the brass sculpture. This time, something else happened.

He saw a twisted tree. It had been burned by a fire during the riots of 2036, but it still stood. It put out a sprinkling of new leaves every spring. One day, when he was a small boy, he was taken to it and he climbed out along the dark branches to the buds, which smelled sweet to him…it was the last time in his life something was that sweet…now, in the courtroom, he shuddered as he felt tears run down his cheeks…


The rebel artist vs. the android

On January 12, 2082, President Winston Smith made a quick campaign stop in the Northeast corridor to address the Coexistence Group in Gates Town.

The Coexistence Group was a remnant of the coalition formed between Bayer IG and organic farmers in the state formerly known as New Hampshire.

The President, dressed in a silk rainbow robe, donated to him by the Cosmic Guilders of Carpentry at the Rockefeller Estate, lit a candle at the Memorial of the Drifting Gene, to commemorate the inevitable triumph of genetically modified agriculture in America.

He then gave a short speech, during which he pointed out that all food products in America were now labeled GMO because of the Gene Drift, and although such labeling was redundant, it was “ritualistically correct,” because it signified the right of the consumer to know what he/she was eating.

A supper followed at the Inn of the Bill Melinda. The meal consisted of ceremonial gluten-free organic genetically modified soy-peanut burgers and GM whey cola.

During the supper, a local artist stood up from his seat, toasted the President, and suddenly asked, “What phase of brain programming do you now enjoy, Mr. President?”

A dozen Secret Service agents deployed in the room and at other locations in the Inn immediately drew their weapons. But the President waved them off with a smile.

“It’s all right,” President Smith said. “This citizen has every right to address his Commander-in-Chief.”

The President then offered these off-the cuff remarks:

“Actually, sir, there is no ‘I’ anymore or ‘you.’ There is only ‘we’ because the programming is common to us all, if we volunteer for it. And 67 percent of us do. We are all connected to the same Google/Kurzweil/NSA Plasma Cloud Formation. That, as you probably know, is the artificial superbrain.”

“We receive input from it every second of every day. In other words, we are all obtaining correct answers, the same answers, to problems we face.”

“Phase Four, which improves connectivity and reception, and takes in expanded subjects of interest and vital concern, is the current application. I, which is to say, we, participate in Phase Four.”

“In Four, stress levels are reduced considerably.”

“We no longer need to take vacations, except for pilgrimages to sites where monuments celebrate our Nature Is All and Technology Is All and All Is One Everything religious faith.

“And you, sir,” the President continued. “Are you with a Program Phase?”

The artist burst out laughing.

“No, Mr. President. I’m a holdout.”

“Ah,” the President said, “an outlier. Let’s see. Downloading now. Profile. We perceive you’re an artist, your name is Diego Jose Siqueiros. Yes, the information is coming through. You formerly lived in the small city of Ashland in the Northwest corridor, and you received a number of commissions to build structures there.”

“After twelve years, you designed and erected so many unique buildings, the city fathers feared that, if left to your own devices, you would ‘take over’ Ashland. In the interest of fairness and sharing, they ceased funding your work. You drifted down to the Los Angeles Complex, where you created a website called Versus the Moron. Eventually, you settled here in the Northeast.”

“That’s right, sir,” the artist said. “A question. Do you remember a time when you weren’t connected to the superbrain in any way?”

The President nodded. “We used to remember such a time, but no longer. Those memories became unproductive. Now we are here With the Program. We operate inside it.”

“So you don’t miss being free?” the artist asked.

“Oh, we are free, Mr. Siqueiros. We are free to obtain the right answers through the Program. Having correct data and valid conclusions is quite liberating. The sense of struggle is gone. Struggle is an ancient appendage which technocratic evolution makes extinct.”

“Sir,” the artist said, “I would enjoy debating that point. But I’d rather talk about the individual invention of unprecedented and unpredictable realities.”

“Oh,” the President said. “Another fanciful notion from the past. We’ve discovered that all art and in fact all so-called unique creations of the ‘I’ are delusions. The superbrain can ‘create’ anything. It merely arranges and rearranges data in various configurations. It produces closed systems. For example, it can design a thousand buildings in less than a second.”

The artist frowned.

“No,” he said. “The superbrain spits out random shapes on command. That’s machine-life.”

“Machine-life?” the President said. “I’m receiving mild warnings now.”

“Meaning what?” the artist said.

“We are in the presence of a stubborn defective ‘I’ who is scorning the Group. That would be ‘you’.”

“Mr. President,” the artist said. “Were you born of a human mother and father, or are you a virtual artifact of the superbrain?”

The Secret Service agents in the room took a step forward.

The President’s face turned red. He rose from his chair.

“How dare you say that to me!” he shouted.

“Why? Because I’m flipping your cover?”

The artist then enunciated a long series of sounds. The declaration came out, as one attendee later put it, like a “gray river.”

“Emwgrtyonefiftyfruntsillgreenefsevenlenstayeightcricrimescene…”

Apparently, it was a code-trigger that had been hacked from the Program. And the code ran.

A loud hum filled the room.

The President collapsed back into his seat. He flopped around like a doll and then went still. His eyes stared at nothing.

“As I expected,” the artist said. “He’s a four-D printout from the superbrain. An agent.”

A voice came from somewhere inside the President.

“Allen Dulles A MKULTRA…”

Silence.

Then a gentle man who manufactured a product called We Love You Organic Bayer Cherry Vanilla Roundup Cookies said:

“It’s all right, everybody. There’ll be another President along in a few minutes. I’m sure of it. We’re in coexistence mode. Don’t worry. All One. Unity. The Tao. Yin and Yang. Night and Day. Harmony.”

And the room burst into wild applause.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.

A hundred years in the future: joy during the lockdown

by Jon Rappoport

August 12, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

A dreamer dreams many things. In this case, he was merely walking from his living room to the kitchen, and a thought struck him, and he went AWAY for a few seconds, and a dream laid itself out like a fresco…then folded up and disappeared. He shook his head and resumed walking to his kitchen to make coffee. Crazy, he thought. Where did THAT come from? He looked at his watch. Another day in lockdown.

THE DREAM:

On May 14, 2266, the New England Journal of Medicine and Psychology published a paper titled:

WHAT IS ‘A NEGATIVE CONSEQUENCE?’

A quote: “Brain research discovers common patterns of activity across a whole population. These patterns would be called ‘normal’. Exceptions would be classified as various categories of ‘disordered thought’. It’s assumed that only ‘harmonious and symmetrical’ brain patterns are positive and beneficial.”

A reader commented: “This assumption is grossly false. It’s a stunted version of aesthetics. Creative force always breaks out of these little geometries. So does every new idea. Increasingly, Earth culture is unable to understand this.”

—The reader receives a government notice and is summoned to a hearing. He’s interviewed by a virtual AI employee of the federal Department of Stat Research.

HOLOGRAPHIC i-FIGURE: “Are you all right during this epidemic lockdown? I see you live alone.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“We want you to enjoy yourself. Are you watching learning programs?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like them.”

“Well, we have a report on you. It indicates an output difficult to measure or interpret. What can you tell us about this?

“I don’t know. I’m composing a symphony.”

“A symphony? What is that?”

“It’s a piece of music written for a large orchestra.”

“I find no extant orchestras in the country.”

“That’s true. Nevertheless, I’m composing.”

“Why?”

“For that day when an orchestra may come into being again.”

“Your thought-impulses entered ranges we were not able to summarize.”

“I suppose that means your instruments are limited.”

“Your last statement might be viewed as incendiary. It suggests we are imposing a restriction. As you well know, the science is settled on this point. We measure and interpret thought that contributes to an overall positive outcome, for the population at large.”

“I’m aware of that, yes. But the science rests on certain assumptions. I would call it greatest good as a lowest common denominator.”

“What do you mean?”

“You assume a certain mindset contributes to the consensus reality you favor. You legislate a range of thought that will produce the consensus.”

“That’s a gross oversimplification.”

“It doesn’t describe the algorithms you employ, but all in all I believe my summary is correct. You’re reality makers. You monitor thought-emissions, and when you find a departure from ‘combined averages,’ as you call them, you issue a citation.”

“What is this symphony you’re composing?”

“It’s impossible to explain. It’s music.”

“It has a specific message?”

“No. If it did, I would write out the message and leave it at that.”

“Why have we not heard of you before?”

“I was doing illustrations for the Happiness Holos.”

“We know. What happened?”

“I became bored. A machine could make those pictures. So I decided to compose music.”

“The Happiness Holos are an essential social program.”

“Perhaps. They encourage people to stay on the positive side of a construct called Positive&Negative, which as you know is a State-sponsored theme. But what is superficially indicated by those two opposing sets is, in fact, fuel for the fire.”

“Fuel for what fire?”

“The artist can use and transform any material.”

“Where did you hear such a thing?”

“Nowhere. I’ve experienced it many times.”

“Your views are highly eccentric. I will have to consult your childhood history to understand their roots.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do you any good.”

“Why not?”

“Because your version, the US Department of Psychology version of cause and effect, is propaganda for the masses.”

“This is your idea of a joke?”

“Not at all.”

“When you compose this…symphony, how do you think?”

“It’s not thinking in the way you use the term.”

“No? Then what do you do?”

“I invent sound.”

“Preposterous.”

“Large masses of sound.”

“Absurd. According to what underlying pattern?”

“None. Check the Library of Structures. I doubt you’ll find my activity in the catalogs.”

“Only known structures and patterns are contained in the files.”

“I don’t invent through pattern.”

“No? How then?”

“I improvise.”

“And this term refers to?”

“Something done spontaneously.”

“And you exceed prescribed ranges of thought in the process.”

“Perhaps. I would hope so. I don’t keep track.”

“You’re being flippant.”

“I assumed you’d eventually cite me. I’m just composing music during the lockdown.”

“There is no citation yet. You’re an anomaly. We investigate. We consider.”

“I’m afraid your and my idea of ‘consider’ are quite different.”

“Let me ask you this. When you are composing, do you ever believe you enter into a realm or area that could be called ‘non-material’? We’ve heard such claims before.”

“Not if you’re referring to some fairyland. But all thought is basically non-material. The brain registers it after the fact. Thought, the real thing, doesn’t take place in the brain.”

“You’re deluded. And disordered.”

“If I could simply confess to that and be on my way, I’d be a happy man.”

“You live in a society. To keep the peace and maintain the Positive, science has discovered that thought should occur within certain parameters.”

“If you insist.”

“We want to study you. It’s a great honor to be called. You could help extend the boundaries of research…we register variation from the norm in your present thinking.”

“What present thinking?”

“What you’re thinking right now.”

“That was quick.”

“The readouts are instantaneous…what are you doing?”

“I’m starting the fourth movement.”

“Wait. What you’re doing is disruptive.”

“It’s because of how you set your frequencies.”

All along the major esplanade, and in the lake area, and in the industrial parks and residential high rises, virtual structures shattered like glass.

The i-figure went dark.

A thousand holographic government buildings froze and vanished.

The composer said to no one, “I’m just composing. Well, apparently not just.”

—Back in his room at the edge of the city, he said, “I suppose that’s what they mean by a negative consequence.”

He sat down at his computer and turned it on. Before he went to the composing page, he had to click on a sunburst icon and read a government message for the day. It appeared:

“We want everyone to be happy during the lockdown. This is very important. Because much government function is being carried out by virtual assistants, we’ve encountered a disruption in service owing to a segment of Disorder entered into our Net. Please be patient. Repairs are underway. These are learning experiences for us. There is always a certain amount of disordered thought in the environment. Most of it is unintentional. We welcome the opportunity to study such examples. As a member of the educated class, we’re sure you can appreciate the research aspect of our work. Thank you for your patience. Food deliveries will be delayed by a factor of…two hours. Our latest figures indicate 2,147 new epidemic cases have been detected in your sector in the last 24 hours. Re-testing is underway. Please place your hand on the screen now…thank you. You may remove it. Just a moment…we’re unable to process your assay at this time. You’ll receive a message indicating your viral status as soon as the system is up and running again. End of message.”

The composer plugged a small module into the side of his computer. The screen went red. Black letters formed: DISEQUILIBRIUM. He pressed the send key.

The encrypted score of the first three movements of his symphony set out on a rapidly changing zig-zag journey to a series of caverns below cities in Belgium, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, America.

A program consisting of the synthesized instruments of a full orchestra read the score and began to broadcast the music to small groups of people sitting in the caverns…


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


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.