Category Archives: Short Stories

The News Ooze

by Jon Rappoport

December 10, 2021

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Tonight’s top story
An unvaccinated man jumped twelve stories to his death
Landing three blocks away
From US Attorney General Merrick Garland’s limousine
The FBI is investigating
What could be the attempted murder of the nation’s
Top law-enforcement official and
An act of domestic terrorism
Blood taken from the scene
Revealed the Omicron Variant
The Daily Mail interviewed a close friend
Of the deceased unvaccinated attacker
The friend stated
“He was a Christian moonshiner
He lived in a cabin in the woods
With his dogs and guns
I tried to convince him
To take the vaccine”
Here’s Bob with a weather warning
Yes, Jim, there’s a huge storm brewing
400 miles off the coast with winds up to
200 miles an hour
The system is slowly moving toward us
It could arrive next month
Kathleen?
Thanks Bob
I have a breaking update
On the unvaccinated terrorist
Who jumped to his death hours ago
Dangerously close to the visiting US Attorney General
Local police have found he was carrying
A fake vaccination card
This is a federal felony punishable by up to five years in prison
The card was apparently issued by
The Church in the Woods
An offshoot of a white supremacist
Militia
Which has active chapters in seven states
Including members
Who may have participated in
The January 6th Capitol break-in attempting
To overthrow the federal government
And install 500 new handpicked Congressional legislators
And this just in
The FBI has searched the terrorist jumper’s cabin in the woods
And has discovered a significant amount of
Nigerian Yellowcake uranium
12 new cases of Omicron Variant COVID have been reported
In Nigeria
The CDC has sent researchers to the African nation
Omicron is now affecting 57 countries
President Biden has canceled his trip to Waukesha
Wisconsin the scene of a devastating SUV accident
That killed and injured scores of Christmas shoppers
Four cases of Omicron have been diagnosed in that community
Which has been locked down
Bill Gates has released a statement assuring the public
That a new vaccine targeting the Omicron harpoon protein
Is undergoing testing and could be ready for approval by next week
TMZ spoke with Melinda Gates, who emphasized
That her divorce proceedings “have nothing to do with Jeffrey Epstein,
He and Bill were merely
Acquaintances”
The Gates Foundation is donating 400 million dollars for research
On mental health issues arising from the pandemic
Here in our community, Dr. Frank Lummer, head of clinical services at
The Grimes Psychiatric Outreach Program, has announced a
Fundraiser
To obtain cutting-edge
Medicines to treat clinical depression and adult ADHD
Dr. Lummer’s wife, Bobbi, is organizing her
Annual
Christmas sing-along at the Folsom Lighthouse
The structure which was the scene of a Civil War battle
Is soon to be torn down
After local students demanded the removal
Of all commemorative plaques from its base
Last year during
Halftime ceremonies of the football game
Between the Wilson High Dragoons and the Velma Tigers
Velma is in the state playoffs again this season
But their star running back Ric Ransom has entered the
COVID protocol and must show two negative tests
Before he can rejoin the squad
Ric hopes to enroll at Miami U in the fall and play
For the Hurricanes
The heavy offshore system we’ve been monitoring
Has just been downgraded to a tropical storm
The terrorist jumper attacker
Has now been identified as Lee Michael Foster
An African American male
32 at the time of his tragic death
US Attorney General Garland has
Released a statement
“This unfortunate suicide was a cry for help
The young man was desperately trying to
Obtain COVID vaccination but
Owing to the disproportionate distribution of
Medical services to disadvantaged communities he
Was unable to succeed in his efforts and
The virus ravaged his system
I will do everything in my power to ensure that
His protest and his message and ultimately his
Death were not in vain”
Kit, do you have a further update on this heroic suicide?
“I was just wondering what happened to our earlier report
That this man was living in a cabin in the woods where
The FBI found Yellowcake uranium—“
(The screen
Went dark
Then colored bars appeared
After 30 seconds
The broadcast resumed)
Sorry about that
We experienced a momentary technical glitch
Here’s the newest member
Of our news team
Sam Blam Franklin
With a half-time report
On the Lee Michael Foster Memorial Pop Warner game underway in Goshen Park
Where ground has been broken for the
Construction of the Lee Michael Foster Omicron Universal Vaccination Clinic

Alternate ending: The next day, the local paper ran this story on page four:

“Local police have positively identified the man who leaped to his death from the Branton Building. He is Robert Case, son of Mayor Carl Case. Robert left a note at his apartment indicating he was despondent over a recent break-up with his live-in girlfriend, Margo Moskowitz. Robert had withdrawn from the Harvard Business School earlier this month…The Mayor has announced he is resigning his office to be with his family at this time. He will dedicate himself to raising funds for a new local center that treats mental health issues. The Mayor is currently under indictment for trafficking fentanyl, in collaboration with members of the Zuma Cartel. Before his suicide, Robert Case was participating in an out-patient program for drug addicts. The program is sponsored by the area’s leading employer, Xi Pharmaceuticals, a Chinese-owned company. Xi’s Chief Operating Officer, Dr. Herbert Cash, was US Attorney General Garland’s college roommate. The Attorney General was in town paying a brief visit to Dr. Cash. Mr. Garland is now en route to Zurich, where he will address a global banking conference. His spokesman stated the conference is likely to last six to ten weeks…”

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 Gray Man

by Jon Rappoport

December 6, 2021

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The Gray Man
Reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
So he knows who the traitors are:
The ones who refuse the vaccine
And want to infect the world
The night is long
And only the injection will deliver us from evil
The Gray Man is beginning to believe
The virus has always been here
And only by some miracle have we managed
To avoid it until now
The violators must be punished
They must be thrown into camps
The kinder and gentler age is over
Now comes the hammer of reason and science
And if the backward and uneducated cannot grasp
The fundamentals they will pay the price
They will be sacrificed on behalf of all of humanity
And the survival of the species
The Gray Man reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
The night is long
But the injection will deliver us from evil
It is unthinkable that the State itself is corrupt
And is controlled by banks
It is unthinkable that the virus itself
Does not exist
And a story about a phantom is the pretext
For a tyranny behind the bland assurances of bureaucrats
The Gray Man reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
He understands the phrase “anti-vaxxers”
Applies to unhinged lunatics
Who cling bitterly to their guns and religion
In the hills of unincorporated territories
The military must be called in
To hunt them down and put them in camps
Where data can be collected from certified medical experiments
The prisoners must wear prominent marks of their status
Civilization when all is said and done
Is a system
The system is well organized
It favors The Good
If no one who is official can be trusted
Then there is chaos
Thus and therefore and ipso facto
The mandates can be deduced
The Gray Man reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
He knows what he knows
He is eager to serve the force that drives progress
He will be outfitted with government currency
And codes of behavior
This is a permanent emergency
The police and the courts and judges are backing him up
We are biological machines awaiting signals
The night is long
The injection will deliver us from evil
The Pope can be trusted
He is a banker
The Gray Man reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
He knows all there is to know
There is no other information
That which has been censored and blacked out
Would have eaten into his certainty
It would have served no other purpose
It stands to reason that corporations and governments
Are working together to filter out contrarian
Impulses that spring from
Lower branches of the evolutionary tree
Give us your huddled masses
Yearning to be vaccinated
The Gray Man
Knows what he knows
He reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
The ship is coming into the harbor of safety
Gold bars are moving in tunnels under the streets of New York
In coordination with Swiss algorithms
Which govern the inflections of global currency
The digital framework is building out day and night
The individual human has always been
Unreliably programmed and
This will change
Money the constant, the human the variable
“This is to inform you your account is overdrawn”
The Gray Man reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
He knows what Davos and Brussels and the City of London
And Beijing give him to know
The medical cartel is neutral
It flies under no political banner
It alters all populations
For the sake of
Survival of the species
Stimulus response
The Gray Man reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
He knows what he is supposed to know
He is educated
He grasps the essentials
Every datum proceeds from prior data in an unbroken chain
The system nods at the Gray Man
“You’re on the right track, you’ve always been on the right track”
When the Gray Man hates
He knows who to attack, who to go after
He wants to become a sharper instrument
In the war against the ignorant
He wants to enlist in an army and wear a uniform
He dreams of clicking his heels and saluting
He wants to stand a post
The Gray Man reads the New York Times
He watches CNN
He drives his children to school
Wearing masks, they enter a shroud of plastic encasing the building
And disappear
Inside the gymnasium they stand in a long line
To receive their shots
Fired

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.

CIA, journalists, Aaron Rogers, dogcatcher CEO of Pfizer, God

by Jon Rappoport

November 19, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

OK, look, we have to keep this dialogue simple. I’m from the CIA, 30 of you are from major news outlets. We can’t all talk at once. So you, Sam, from the Post, and I are going to go back and forth and try to sort out some of issues we’re dealing with here.

Marty, I hate to say this, but the big elephant in the room is God.

What?

Stay with me. People are having dreams in which God appears and tells them not to take the vaccine. I had one, too. He showed up in bright light and said I was risking my life if I took the shot. So I want to know: is some rogue element of the CIA piping that dream into lots of people?

Of course not, Sam. That’s ridiculous.

Well, when you put God together with loss of jobs because of the mandate, people getting fired because they won’t take the shot, you have a devastating one-two punch. This is more than interruption of supply lines. This is potentially, say, a million people deciding one day to show up at a governor’s mansion and protest. We’re on the edge.

Where the hell are you getting this information?

Polls, surveys. Of course, we’re not releasing the results. And then there’s the fact—which we’re also covering up—that millions and millions of vaccine doses are sitting in storage, expiring, because people won’t take the jab. The official vaccination rates are bullshit. They’re really much lower than advertised.

Well, speaking for the CIA, we’re worried about the vaccine mandates. They’ve gone too far. Raising too many hackles. People don’t like to get fired for refusing. They don’t like losing their livelihoods. What the hell were Biden’s string pullers thinking?

And then idiots like the CEO of Pfizer, Albert Bourla, who’s a VETERINARIAN, a dog doctor, gives a speech to the Atlantic Council, and says people who spread vaccination disinfo should be in prison. Meanwhile, the BMJ takes testimony from a Pfizer whistleblower who says the clinical trials of Pfizer vaccine were an incompetent mess and full of lies.

So what are we going to do?

Everybody’s excoriating Aaron Rogers because he won’t take the vaccine and he violate rules by appearing at a presser without a mask…but at the same time the players on the field are unmasked and they’re spitting on each other and clawing at each other and falling all over each other during the game and there are 75,000 people in the stands and hardly anybody is wearing a goddamn mask. It’s ridiculous.

We have to hope the great unwashed public stays deaf, dumb, and blind.

I wouldn’t count on that. We might need a war as a distraction. A real shooting war. Can we cook up a deal with the Chinese? Maybe something in Taiwan. You know, limited. No more than 10,000 deaths. A five-day war. Then a negotiation. A new trade deal.

I was thinking of a high-level assassination. A European leader. A hunt for the unknown assassin. Everybody gets in on the act, blaming this group and that group. Splash it big. The number-one story in the world.

Or Joe Biden shows up naked walking across the White House lawn in the middle of the day. The man totally lost it. He’s done. He has to resign from office. But he’s a hero. He sacrificed his mind to save the world from Trump. Statues. Memorials. He and Nurse Jill retire to a farm in Delaware, and are never heard from again.

Putting Kamala Harris in the Oval Office? Are you kidding? Nobody knows what she’d do. One day she might wake up and have people paint the White House black.

But that would be good for us. A massive distraction.

This supply line crisis, and rising oil prices. Not good. They only add to the general unrest. The American people aren’t going to sit still for major food and heating shortages.

Can we engineer a shocking global heat wave? You know, prove climate change is real. Then, energy quotas for all nations, a UN mandate-treaty to—

No. We need a distraction that doesn’t make the situation worse. A naked Biden on the White House lawn is pretty good. The President in his birthday suit.

We need to act fast. This vaccine is maiming and killing large numbers of people. It’s a disaster. You can’t keep that a secret for much longer.

How about a trans thing? You know, turns out that Chuck Schumer is actually a woman?

Wouldn’t hold the public attention for more than ten days.

Right.

How about the Pope makes a new announcement. God told him to tell the world to take the vaccine. This time, the Pope isn’t just making a personal recommendation. It’s coming straight from God. It’s ex cathedra. Isn’t that what they call it when the Pope issues one of his “infallible” commands?

He’ll never go along with it. He doesn’t have the cojones.

There’s always the Cary Grant test.

What’s that?

It started out as a thought-experiment. I think some guy at MIT dreamed it up. If Cary Grant told the world to jump off a cliff, how many people would actually do it?

How does that apply?

Say a very popular movie star takes the vaccine and then right away becomes deathly ill. With his dying breath, he says, “Take the vaccine.” You know, the sympathy factor kicks in. His adoring fans line up and take the shot.

I don’t think so.

All right then. There’s only one other choice.

You mean—

Yes.

I don’t know. It could be very dangerous. We’d be walking a narrow line. We’d have to marshal all our forces to stick to the same story.

It could be done.

The feds quietly order every testing lab in America to change the sensitivity of the PCR test. Rig it so the number of positive tests—indicating infections—takes a major drop. I mean major. Then the White House—Fauci—says we’ve turned the corner on the pandemic. The vaccine has saved us. We can relax. And gradually, over the next few months, the mood of the media lightens. Lots of good news. Fewer and fewer people pay attention to the vaccine mandate. The pressure is off. Fired workers are taken back on the job. Oil prices drop. The supply lines are restored.

Right. We might have to do it. Although we’d hate doing it. I was hoping for at least ten years of sustained horror.

Sometimes you take your wins and cut your losses and live to fight another day.

Hey, we rigged the PCR test to get all those millions of fake cases…so we just rig it the other way now.

There’s one problem. We still have massive numbers of injured and dead people as a result of the vaccine.

No problem. We call those “deaths from the virus.” And as fewer and fewer people take the vaccine, those injuries and deaths decline rapidly. The real problem is getting Bill Gates to climb onboard with our solution.

I think we can handle that through Melinda. She tells Bill if he doesn’t play ball, she’ll start talking to the press every damn day about his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. Paint Bill as a total pervert. I think she’d enjoy making that threat.

I still like naked Joe Biden walking across the White House lawn.

We all do. Maybe we could stage that as a bonus. One day as he steps out of the shower, a Secret Service guy tells him there’s a new plan to build an all-girls prep school on the White House grounds and he has to come see the layout right away. Joe is so excited, he forgets to get dressed. Next thing you know, after a little push, there he is, on the lawn, walking around…

Even if we tell the people the pandemic is finally under control, we can still push through biometric ID passports for everyone. That means wall to wall surveillance of the whole population. Where they go, what they do, how much they spend on what, who they talk to.

The only thing that can stop us is all-out refusal by the population to do what we tell them to do. Complete rebellion.

And that’s not going to happen, is it?

We’ve got the “not-me” phenomenon on our side.

What’s that?

I person says, “Well, I’d be willing to rebel, but other people aren’t, so what I do won’t make any difference. Therefore, I’ll do nothing.”

Good one.

If God is coming to people in their dreams, so is the “not-me” proposition.

They’d desert God for a Slurpee and a burger. I hope.

Me too. Call to Duty by God versus a Slurpee.

Kind of disgusting when you think about it. Almost makes me want to go the other way.

Yeah.

Suppose, just suppose we put some money and organization behind these protests against the mandate. Got, say, two MILLION people to surround Gavin Newsom’s house in California one morning. Boom. He’s such a repulsive little putz. Bullshit smile, all those teeth, he really “cares” about people. Two million people on his lawn. And the cops are on the people’s side. Think we could pull that off?

Kidding? Of course we could if we wanted to. And then, in a panic, HE would come out through his front door naked and babbling in terror.

I’d pay major bucks to see that.

I have to tell you something. When you finally figure out how to torture people, really mess with them, make them knuckle under…and then you actually DO it and it works…

The thrill goes out of it. Right?

Yeah. It does. It’s not nearly as exciting as you thought it’d be.

So you start thinking about going the other way. Freeing people. Making the guys we work for—the arrogant tinpot bastards—pay. In spades.

Just because we want to.

And maybe the Founders had it right when they tried to install freedom.

And maybe God isn’t crazy.

Well, well, well. How about that.

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.

Fauci: a conversation in Hell

by Jon Rappoport

November 5, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

Soon after his passing, Fauci found himself in a small office. A desk, two chairs, a floor lamp. The carpet was worn. The paint on the wall was peeling. A young man wearing a white tropical suit walked in and sat down behind the desk. He motioned Fauci to a chair.

Where am I?

This is Hell, Tony.

Thank God.

Really?

Of course. This is where the party is, right?

You could say that.

For years, I’ve been conducting private experiments on orphans. Trying to develop antibodies against Heaven. The results seemed promising, so I’ve been injecting myself every morning. You know, whatever works.

We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.

Good. Can I check into a hotel?

We have a room for you in the fortress. It has a view of the lake.

Just one room? I’d prefer a suite. How is the room service? I’ll need aides. I want to set up a lab.

You’ll spend a great deal of time in a lab, Anthony. As a subject.

A subject? Of what?

We run experiments around the clock.

For purposes of enhancement? Life extension?

You don’t need extension. This is forever.

What then?

We have a schedule for residents. On Mondays, we’re doing high-dose AZT trials. We’re calculating the rate of body breakdown. As you know, the drug stops all cells from replicating.

I helped pioneer the drug. There must be some mistake. I conduct and organize studies. I don’t participate in them as a volunteer. That would be madness.

The other Monday option is six hours on the rack. Body-stretching. It’s an extreme form of Pilates. You get one break for a vegan meal, two shots of wheatgrass, and ten minutes of chanting led by a failed Hollywood actress in spandex.

Something’s wrong.

Maybe you’ve been wrong.

About what?

Let’s see. Where to start? You helped lead the world into masks, distancing, lockdowns, economic devastation, a highly toxic vaccine.

There was a pandemic.

Anthony, there’s no need for obfuscation. You’re in Hell.

I take the Fifth. There was a plan. I helped carry it out. I was an administrator. It was my job. I followed orders.

You profited handsomely.

You have no idea. I made out like Rockefeller.

We know, Anthony. We’re not distracted by limited hangouts or cover stories.

I have no intention of becoming a subject or a victim. It’s below my rank and status. Talk to Hillary. Talk to Bill Gates.

We have a program specifically prepared for Hillary. Bill is a different story. He’s one of our active agents on Earth. When he finally makes port here, his arrogant ego bloated beyond all reasonable standards of propriety, he’ll require a step-down protocol designed by the Marquis.

De Sade?

None other.

This is starting to sound like a nightmare. There HAS to be a mistake. I deserve my rewards.

Do you have any idea how many I’ve heard that in this room, Anthony?

I’m a master of designing protocols and studies. I could help you.

Now on Tuesdays, we feature a forced march through thriving soldier-anthills and snake pits in a driving rain.

But Jesus is my Savior.

I doubt that.

Why?

Because you’re here, Anthony. The proof of the pudding. Remember the studies on orphans in New York, at the Incarnation Center? The body-ripping AIDS drugs administered by coercion and force? Through intubation? Many of those children died. Your agency funded the studies.

Okay, look, that’s why I’m saying I can help you. I know how to do that work.

On Wednesdays, our residents can opt for a massive breakfast of methamphetamine, after which they crawl through dark tunnels and fight it out for access to a room where attendants are standing by with counteracting injections of Thorazine.

That’s horrible.

You’ve done worse, Anthony.

But I wasn’t on the receiving end.

Giving, receiving. A few of our scholars propose that, in the larger scheme of things, Hell is merely correcting an imbalance in Nature.

Talk to Biden. He’ll vouch for me.

Biden? Really? Even if we wanted to, he’s non compos mentis.

Does that mean he’s not responsible for his own actions? He’ll go to Heaven?

Good one, Anthony. We like jokes.

Did you hear the one about the rabbi performing brain surgery on the priest? I’ve got hundreds of medical side-splitters. Do you need a court jester? I can dance and sing.

Oh, you’ll dance and sing, Anthony. Now, Thursday is straight immersion in the lake of fire. Or you can opt for being strapped in a chair and sprayed with chemicals that bring on a whole host of profound respiratory symptoms. Not being able to breathe results in some very interesting reactions. While this is happening to you, you’ll be forced to watch news anchors on television describing these symptoms as caused by a virus. For fourteen hours straight. It’s quite delicious.

Again, you’re talking about the kind of medical ops I administer. I can help you refine the parameters.

Our pros, Anthony, have been at this for a very long time. They know their business, believe me.

I’m Doctor Prestige. The most famous people in the world come to me for advice, on everything from experimental brain implants to nose jobs. Wherever I go, I’m celebrated. Feted. Showered with accolades and applause. Prime ministers want to kiss my ring.

And you’ll reconnect with some of those prime ministers in the tunnel of meth, scratching and clawing and biting and ripping your way toward a shot of Thorazine.

I’m having a dream. This is a dream.

That’s what everyone thinks. Until they don’t. Given your Catholic upbringing, I’m surprised you’re so surprised by Hell. Think Dante. The Inferno.

One of my Jesuit teachers told me Hell was just a con, a strategy to control the rubes and yokels.

Never believe a Jesuit, Anthony. Like the CIA, they wake up in the morning and they go to sleep at night lying.

And who are you? Who are you to consign me to a fate worse than death?

I’m the assistant director of Human Resources. I started out cleaning the horse stalls for the Riders of the Apocalypse and worked my way up.

I could work my way up. I’m very diligent. I can fill vials. Prepare injections. Sweep animal cages. You know, when I was a child, I wanted to be a door man at a fancy apartment building, so I could wear a uniform. I could be a greeter. Hold umbrellas for people in the rain while they’re getting in cabs.

We do have some former researchers who work in cages with animals.

You see? I could do that.

I wouldn’t exactly call it work. We lock the researchers in cages with animals they used to torture.

My God. Has anyone ever escaped from here?

There are a few stories. According to legend, Heinrich Himmler, Reichsführer of the Nazi SS, almost made it in 2005. He was a few miles from the Unknown Forest, when he happened upon a group of gay Jewish men who were organizing a Pride event. One of the men recognized him. We might have surveillance video footage in our archive. I’ll see if I can dig it up. Now let me show you to your room. As I say, it has a nice view of the lake…

I have money.

We’re cashless.

I have connections. I’ll give you their phone numbers.

Don’t be silly. We’re bloated with connections.

I’ll give you my honor. Or dishonor. I’ll give you my soul.

You’re here, Anthony. We have you. Whole. Sliced and diced. Every which way. Now come with me. It’s a short boat ride to the Fortress along the river of ammonia. Don’t forget to put on your mask. I’d recommend two.

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 Pope: A Conversation in Hell

by Jon Rappoport

November 3, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

Within an hour of passing from this life, Pope Francis found himself in a small office. Worn carpet, a desk, two chairs. The wall paint was peeling. A young man wearing a white tropical suit walked in and sat down behind the desk. He motioned the Pope to the chair across from him.

Where am I?

In Hell, Francis.

That’s impossible.

Why?

I’m the Pope.

There’s another way to look at it. Why wouldn’t you be here?

No, really. There’s obviously been an error. A tragic mistake.

I’m afraid not. Our transport system is bulletproof. It runs on AI.

Then…then you’re Satan?

Good one, Francis. No. I’m Sid, the assistant director of Human Resources.

Where is Satan? I demand to speak with him.

Satan doesn’t do celebrity intake. He didn’t even speak with Stalin. Or Torquemada.

Look, I don’t care about your system. I’ve been sent to the wrong place. I’m destined to meet with the Savior and His Father.

Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. You’re here, this is Hell, and that’s that.

Baloney. How do I get a message through to God?

After all this time, you don’t know how? Anyway, we’re blocked off. No service from here to there.

There must be an angel I can talk to.

Another good one. No, Francis, we’re all out of angels.

I have resources. Art, gold, manuscripts.

You HAD them.

Get the Vatican on the phone.

We used to have a direct line. But then they stopped paying their bill.

I’m…stuck…here?

I’m afraid so. For the duration.

This is unconscionable. Somebody has their wires crossed. There are millions of people named Francis. I was switched out.

Or you deserve to be here. Let’s talk about that.

There must be something I can offer you.

In the abstract, bribery is an interesting conversation, but we’re way past that.

What’s the set-up here? Who needs favors and blessings?

We run a tight ship. We have a schedule. Monday is medical day. Right now, we’re performing a series of experiments on brain-computer interface. Volunteers are attached through skull probes to a program that loads them up with advanced mathematics. The integration phase has run into serious problems. Instead of data, people are experiencing raw electronics. The pain levels are exceedingly high. So we’re trying to counteract that with drugs.

You’re not serious.

This is Hell.

You said “volunteers.”

On Mondays, you could opt for a clinical trial of high-dose AZT. We’re measuring the timeline of cell death. AZT essentially stops cells from replicating. In layman’s terms, the body decays rapidly and falls apart.

This must be a dream.

On Tuesday, we strap you to a treadmill traveling 37 miles an hour for two hours, while gradually lowering you into the lake of fire.

What have I done? What have I done to deserve this?

Let’s talk about that. For instance, the deal with the Chinese.

The Chinese are a wonderful people.

Sure. We’re all wonderful, Francis. I’m talking about the Chinese regime and Xi Jinping.

You mean the Vatican support for abortion? Our endorsement of their social credit score system? The conferences on integrating Catholicism and Communism?

That would be a start.

So what? So what if we made those accommodations? China is a powerhouse. I wasn’t just going to sit there and watch them roll over us. Sid, they already control half of Italy. Why do you think the first COVID lockdowns in the West started in my backyard?

Your allegiance was to Jesus and God.

You’re joking, right? Even God makes deals. He applies pressure, gets what he wants, and then he backs off. Send a plague, obtain compliance, declare a truce. It’s all about the action. One player gets one piece, another player gets another. You spread out the baksheesh, you pocket the vig.

Now we’re getting somewhere. Similar situation with climate change, right?

Just another deal. Another hustle. These flim-flam artists really believe they can measure the Earth’s overall temperature? Are you kidding me? Much less the HISTORY of the temperature? But that’s the play now. The UN Panel. They’ll package the threat of a planetary collision between the Earth and Mars, if it’ll give them a leg up.

You saw an opportunity.

Of course. I’m the number one humanitarian in the world when it comes to hunger and inequality. Those are my talking points. I can do a bang-up job of faking a connection between them and climate change. So I’m needed. The grifters involved are all already making out like bandits on climate. So they sit down with me, I negotiate my ten percent. Plus they get to reduce energy production all over the world. You know, as the “solution.” This gives them more poverty and debilitation, which are good for their business—Control. I’m in the same business. We see eye to eye.

I like it, Francis.

Wait a minute. I’m losing the thread. I mean, you’re on my side, right? You get an insight into my strategy and you approve. Yes?

Absolutely. You’re talking our language.

So then why are you talking about Monday and Tuesday and subjecting me to all kinds of torture on your schedule, if I’m not here to pay for my sins?

Francis, I would have thought you’d figured that out a long time ago. We’re sadists. We enjoy our work. That’s all. We don’t truck with Heaven. We have no opinion or knowledge about them. We just accept the souls who show up here. I’m happy you’re with us. But we need raw material. You’re it.

What?! There’s nothing moral about punishment in this place?

Moral? Think it through, Francis. Again, this is Hell.

All right. I’m a fast adapter. There are things, then. Things I could teach you, Sid.

I don’t think so. We’ve been around the block a few million times. We know our business.

There’s no money involved?

We’re cashless. Let me show you to your room. It has a view of the lake…

I’m having a mental health problem. Can I see a doctor?

This place is filled with doctors. I can get you in this afternoon. You supported psychiatric treatment while you were at the Vatican, right? Here, though, the doctors tend to be a little bent. They go to extremes with their treatments. I’ll make a few calls and find you an unenthusiastic straight shooter. Of course, experiencing what a standard protocol of Haldol does to the nervous system…the tranquilizing effect is only stage one. After that, the neurons start firing randomly. Impulse control goes out the window…

I want out!

Ah, but you’re in, Francis.

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.

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.

When you take a Person’s Mind

by Jon Rappoport

September 28, 2021

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From a great distance
You see little puppets down there
Injecting RNA into arms
Faces behind masks
People locked up in their houses
It looks all very normal
As if people have always done this
But when you swoop down
And take a person’s mind in your hands
And turn it over
And really look at it
You see eternity
Reshaped into a toy
That buzzes
This mind couldn’t be what it is unless it was once ENDLESS
This is obvious to anyone who looks
In fact there is a museum of misshapen minds
Relics of bygone ages
Examples of how you could take infinity and drop it down into compartments and weasel holes and mazes and dead end alleys at midnight
Each “new” mind is a system
Bells and lights and buzzers
Always looking for add-ons
Because you see
A planetary vaccine campaign is really just an extension of misshapen minds
More bells and lights
From a great distance the whole thing looks like
A giant tinker toy
It’s only when you come much closer
Do you see the swollen hearts and the blood clots
And the dying
And the weeping

I have a collection of my own minds I used to have
here and there, now and then
MY minds
I take them out once in a while
When I had THIS mind I thought THAT
And when I had THAT one I thought THIS
And believed THAT
So many times and places
Too many to count
These minds will get a person embroiled
In all sorts of trouble
He’s inside a mechanical buzzard feeding on dead ideas
He’s crawling up the steps of a cathedral like a toy soldier with a hernia to listen to the sound of velvet Pope money rustling under robes
He’s clanking like an old rusty robot into a doctor’s office
And a nurse injects genes on to his iron arm where they sizzle like end-stage breakfast in a pan in a lost diner…
This is called CIVILIZATION
This is what people are doing to each other
700,000 vaccine injuries in America alone and you can multiply those reports by a factor of 100 to get the real number
And now in Massachusetts they’re testing babies
Churches are saying the Lord is all right with vaccination
The Sunday bells are ringing
Take the shot before you receive the blessing
Some toy minds are shaped into killers
They’re issuing the edicts
And lining up with shields and truncheons on the streets
And some minds are believing television news
And submitting with pride
On the lawns of Concord, where the first shots were fired in the American Revolution
They’re now injecting children with RNA
It’s a Saturday picnic
Balloons, pony rides, ice cream, a laser show in a tent
A bald man with a drooping moustache calls in the President through a bullhorn
And the old doddering leader shuffles into view, a ghost, gazing around him in wonder, looking for his childhood or his doctor or a penny piece of gum…

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.

Lockdown dream and the Tibetans

by Jon Rappoport

September 27, 2021

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A person I knew a long time ago
Or so it seemed
Came back to visit me
We were sitting in his car
On a busy street
A block away
A hundred thousand
Protestors
Were facing off with cops in military gear
My visitor said
“I’m selling vaccines now and I think you’d be
A great member of my team
We go door to door
And peddle a shot in the arm
To prevent the plague”—
Someone threw a grenade
It bounced twice outside the car and exploded
He and I were floating in space
He was a salesman on the road in the sky
Hawking his product
He had interplanetary ambitions
He wanted to spread segments of RNA
Across the Milky Way
He said, “Remember that night at school
I got drunk
And tried to burn down the dorm?”
It all came back to me
He was the guy who was always
Sitting in class writing notes to himself
Making drawings
Talking about poetry
And now
This
A man on a narrow mission
To save the stars
We were in a spaceship
Speeding past
Forests filled with animals
And floating cities
People were shooting at us
“Suppose there’s no place to land?” I said
“We’ll find one,” he said
He voice was big and confident
He was smiling
Happy
And I was The Witness
It was my job to document
A stretch of time
In which things had changed
He took out a syringe
And slapped in a vial
And shot himself in the arm
His face turned blue
And he went into spasms
Then he straightened up
And took a deep breath and let it out
“Nothing like it!” he said
“Puts a jolt into you to start the day!”
His blue face faded to a dull green
“I have to feed this to the natives,” he said
I said to him, “You’ve gone interdimensional”
“That’s what my whole life was leading to,” he said. “A different
Form of death. This is the big lesson.”
“A lesson for who?”
“For everyone who’s tired of the every-day grind, who wants
Adventure. You realize how many people want to throw in
The towel?”
We were sitting in an old dusty theater. The lights were on.
A tall naked to the waist chieftain wearing a large headdress came down the aisle and stopped at our row. He ignored me
And said, “Did you bring the shit, Bob?”
Bob looked down and pointed at
Three suitcases.
“It’s all in there,” he said.
The chief broke out into a wide grin
It reminded me of Bill Gates’ Howdy Doody smile
—AND THEN I SAW what the old Tibetans
called the Great Void
everybody looks around and tries to figure out what to do
because the long hustle of discovery is over
and all the explorers have been paid off
There is nothing left
except a few magicians
living in cold mountains
punching holes in space-time at will
In Lhasa they were faced with that Nothing
and they turned to it
and finally saw universe
is a product
of mind
they sat in the holy rivers of energy
and took apart the river and the energy
too
down to Nothing
sat in it for
indeterminate length of no-time
stopping all creating
because they could
and then emerged
those few
magicians in the cold wasted hills and
and said WELL
if all you folks want to elect a billion reincarnated hopalong cassidys
as your presidents go ahead it doesn’t matter
we’re out here on the edge
inventing and destroying dimensions
—–I chained my old college friend Bob to his seat in the theater
I lit the suitcases on fire
And said to the chieftain
“Your connection just went null, pal
This is the new regime
Freedom
If you to try to grab it
And mold it
It burns”
I walked out of the theater
Busy street
And hailed a taxi
I rode over to a deli on 53rd St.
went inside, sat down, and ordered the brisket
Nobody was wearing a mask
A waitress who looked 80 years old
Brought over a plate and set it down
There was nothing on it
And I mean NOTHING
It was The Void
And she said
“You can have it if you want to”
And I said, “Not just now”
“It’ll wait” she said
And winked at me
And it was all right
I floated through the deli
And back out into the street
The night is long
The worm is turning
The cops are starting to realize they want to stand with the anti-vax protestors
A cop cracked a man’s skull
The man is in the ICU fighting for his life
The sadists know no bounds
But neither do we
I know the mountain where I once was
And the valley where I am now
And the sky in between
I’m looking at the line of cops in their military gear behind their shields
And I can see they’re terrified of the NOTHING
And now they’re falling into that NOTHING
And screaming
Because they have no one to smash to prove they exist
And they keep falling
And falling
And hundreds of thousands of us walk through them
On our way to Grid Central to turn the lights back on

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 Performance

by Jon Rappoport

September 23, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

You’re sitting in a theater.

The actors on stage are engaging in some kind of dispute, but you can’t make head or tail of it. An invisible THING appears to be the issue, and it won’t go away.

One actor wants to build a church to it. Another actor wants to run and hide.

At moments you almost grasp the THING, but then it slips away.

Perhaps it’s a lost relative.

A wind blows across the stage. A pile of leaves stir. Autumn. The trees in the forest are going to enter mock-death. The two actors, against their better judgment, are weeping. They seem to be looking past the footlights at you for an answer. This is silly and sentimental. Why are you here? You could be walking the dog or cleaning out the cellar.

Somewhere—was it an office—there was a clock on the wall and you were there watching it, waiting for a clerk to come out of the back room and hand you a folder.

You were young and you were running on a playground for no reason. It was early in the morning. July.

Now on the stage, a doctor appears in a surgical gown. The two actors giggle. They roll up their sleeves and he gives them an injection. They strut around, as if they’ve won a prize. Through a window at the rear of the stage, you can see a deserted city street. A policeman walks out of a bar, sits down at the curb, and taps his night stick on his leg.

You can’t remember how you got into the theater. Did a friend give you a ticket? Did you receive a message ordering you to watch the play?

You take out your cell phone. You check to make sure you clicked the lock on the drone in the garage. You scan the battle cruiser in the China Sea. All quiet on that front. There is a message from the President’s aide. Don’t forget the meeting tomorrow morning.

Now you realize you’re having an episode.

You stand up and move along the row, walk up the aisle and come out into the empty lobby. You call the White House doctor.

He says, “You took the second shot this morning. You’re having an adverse reaction. Where’s your driver?”

You walk outside. Your driver is standing next to the car. You wave at him. He takes out his phone. The doctor is telling him to take you to Walter Reed.

You’re on a gurney. They’re wheeling you along a corridor.

You hear a voice. “Mark it down as a COVID aneurysm.”

They’re injecting you with Versed. They’re going to intubate you.

In a moment of extreme clarity, you realize you’re not going to wake up. They’re not going to let you. They’re going to put you on a ventilator, and you’re going to stay under and check out of this life.

Your 63 years seem very brief. You were on a stage arguing with someone, and that was that. What was the issue? Something about a germ, a virus. Ridiculous.

You were supposed to be an expert on the subject. But there was nothing to be expert about. There was only a small fading idea.

It’s all right. You’re immortal. But it seems quite mad to have been guiding the nation on its response to a vaporous notion.

How did that happen?

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.