Vampire technocrats fly to Jekyll Island to stop Trump

by Jon Rappoport

March 10, 2016

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

It’s such a secret place, only heavy hitters and big shots can fly in, from private airports—which, by the way, have no TSA security. So they could have been packing heat for all we know. Or bags of blood for nighttime drink fests.

Sea Island is where they met. It’s in the same Georgia gaggle as the infamous Jekyll Island, where the Federal Reserve was born many moons ago. But now the goal was narrow: stop the crazy cowboy; stop Trump.

Were secret effigy-burning rituals held? Hard to say. Did one of the tech giants unveil a new algorithm that would suddenly direct all Trump remarks to a new Hitler Facebook page?

Here are some of the Island attendees, according to the Huffington Post (“At Secretive Meeting, Tech CEOs And Top Republicans Commiserate, Plot To Stop Trump,” 3/7/2016). Get this:

“Apple CEO Tim Cook, Google co-founder Larry Page, Napster creator and Facebook investor Sean Parker, and Tesla Motors and SpaceX honcho Elon Musk all attended. So did Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.), political guru Karl Rove, House Speaker Paul Ryan, GOP Sens. Tom Cotton (Ark.), Cory Gardner (Colo.), Tim Scott (S.C.), Rob Portman (Ohio) and Ben Sasse (Neb.), who recently made news by saying he ‘cannot support Donald Trump.’

“Along with Ryan, the House was represented by Energy and Commerce Committee Chair Fred Upton (Mich.), Rep. Kevin Brady (Texas) and almost-Speaker Kevin McCarthy (Calif.), sources said, along with leadership figure Cathy McMorris Rodgers (Wash.), Budget Committee Chairman Tom Price (R-Ga.), Financial Services Committee Chairman Jeb Hensarling (Texas) and Diane Black (Tenn.).

“Philp Anschutz, the billionaire GOP donor whose company owns a stake in Sea Island, was also there, along with Democratic Rep. John Delaney, who represents Maryland. Arthur Sulzberger, the publisher of The New York Times, was there, too, a Times spokeswoman confirmed.”

Quite a collection. And they all have hernias and a major case of red-ass about the crazy cowboy running for President.

At the confab, Karl Rove, the old grubby prince of darkness, opined that stopping Trump was a matter of emphasizing how un-Presidential he is. Karl’s come a long way down since his glory days with George W. I’m told he’s about to launch his own Daily Racing Form.

Henry Miller, the American writer who, in his time, in his own way, was as reviled and infamous as Trump is now, once wrote (paraphrasing): People say America needs a President who will restore sanity to the country. That’s wrong. What American needs is a President who’ll drive everybody crazy.

Well, here he is. Trump. The gilded, self-inflating hustler who’s never met a success story (of his own) he didn’t love. Trump. The master of off-the-cuff. The ham-fisted swaggering hair stylist’s nightmare who pushes open the swinging doors to The Secret Club bar and strides in, bat-shit angry, to lecture snooty tight-ass titans on how to make America great again.

“I was telling my wife the other day I should buy Alaska. And by the way, we’re going to dump Common Core, and vaccines cause autism.”

What’s the algorithm that stops that?

Regardless of what happens from this point on, Trump’s major contribution to Presidential elections is smashing standard political rhetoric; and that’s no small accomplishment. Next to him, Hillary and Obama and Mitt and Marco are 100% pharmaceutical-grade Thorazine on a slow Sunday afternoon.

Hillary, in particular, can make bloodthirsty war-mongering with torn bodies lying everywhere come across like row-row-row-your-boat at a picnic in the park, in between her coughing fits.

But here’s the thing, Donald. You haven’t gone far enough.

To destroy the walking-dead politicians of our time, you need to get a lot crazier—on your own live-streaming webcasts, night and day, to five million, 10 million, 20 million people around the world. From your car, by your fireplace in Trump Tower, in a Burger King, in the men’s room at the Pierre Hotel, in a homeless encampment in San Diego, on a lonely snowy street in Cleveland at 3 in the morning. Ramp it up.

You’re standing in the field of a family farm in the Midwest with a hollow-faced man whose life has been blown away by Monsanto, with its GMO crops and cancer-causing Roundup. There you are talking to him, the farmer, destitute, his family destitute, near a giant acre of weeds eight feet high that resisted Roundup and didn’t die. His crop yield shrank. His expenses, courtesy of Monsanto, grew. He went down. Talk to the man. Listen to his story. Beam it out to 20 million people. Tell him how you’re going to help him put himself back together. Lay out a plan to resurrect the small farmer in America.

Stand inside a building in Chicago where people have built their own urban farm and grow vegetables for the local poor community, for themselves. Show what a success it is. Listen to these people. Tell them how you’re going help them build 5000 of these urban farms in poverty-stricken inner cities across America. People are going to rise up. They’re not going to be a permanent underclass eating government cheese for the rest of their lives.

Sit in a homeless camp with veterans of wars and listen to their stories, listen to how the VA threw them in the garbage heap, after they served their time. Get busy, Donald. These vets are all over America. They have something to say. Don’t hold back. Tell them what’s happened in Iraq and Afghanistan since they were there. Some of them already know. Let them tell you how those countries have gone down the toilet. Raise hell.

In a trailer park, talk to a few former members of the American middle-class, who were shoved down into debt and unemployment by the fanatic Globalist export of jobs to faraway hell holes where workers slave for 3 cents an hour. In fact, under heavy guard, visit a few of those overseas hell holes and expose what they look like and feel like and are. Go the distance.

Travel the southern border of America. Live-stream what’s happening. Talk to US border personnel. Listen to their stories. Emphasize that the US already has 60 million immigrants living here, which makes it the most generous country, per capita, in the world. Talk to Mexican corn farmers coming up into America. Let them describe how 1.5 million of them were put into bankruptcy, because the NAFTA trade treaty allowed US companies to flood Mexico with cheap corn.

Crack the egg of slumber in the Big Cocoon. With your live webcasts, pull in more viewers than NCIS and CSI. Drive your former employer, NBC, crazy.

Talk to truckers and limo drivers and shoe salesmen and working wives and newly minted PhDs who can’t find work. Talk to people on the street, people in bars, people coming out churches and strip clubs and malls.

Tear down the walls between politicians and people.

You’re starting to sound a bit mainstream these days. You’re not going to “work with Congress.” Congress isn’t going to work with you. Get off that horse. Okay, you want to sound like a “unifier” who “likes people”? Do that for a day. But then get back to doing what you were before. Mangling politicians and media buffoons.

People talk like robots because they are robots. That’s your opening, Donald. Keep pressing it. Destroy political-speak. Rake it over the coals. Offend more human androids. Your numbers will keep rising.

Improvise.

I keep writing about the Trump phenomenon because it’s explosive. It intrudes on so much business-as-usual political life in America. I really want to drive home this point. People, so many people, are so timid and scared and provincial and tight—and they think that the usual parade of ghouls who run for office in this country is acceptable because the candidates mouth empty dead words. People expect the walking smiling dead to run for office. Big grins, empty words. That’s considered safe, despite the fact that these hideous creatures are perfectly ready and willing to send planes anywhere to drop bombs on populations for no goddamn good reason. But as long as the candidate has a wan shit-eating grin, and as long as says he’s caring, it’s all right. Then Trump comes along and he’s suddenly the Dangerous One. He’s suddenly a threat. You mean all those other ghouls weren’t? He’s Hitler, and they were messiahs? Are you kidding? All of a sudden we have a dangerous Presidential candidate where there were none before? REALLY? People are getting so worked up about the first dangerous candidate in recent memory? REALLY?

I see. Building a wall is the worst idea ever to occur in America? Nothing like it? Ever? What about Vietnam? 1.4 million dead bodies, countless wounded, and even more suffering cancers and birth defects from Agent Orange. That was nothing compared to the suggestion of building a wall on the southern border? What about bombing Libya, ripping that country to shreds? Might have been a mistake, but it was nothing compared with the suggestion to build a wall? Putting in economic sanctions between the two wars in Iraq and thereby killing 500,000 children? Sad, but nothing compared to the suggestion of building a wall?

The White House funding, backing, creating, arming ISIS in conjunction with US allies? Yes, perhaps a regrettable error in judgment, but nothing compared to the suggestion of building a wall?

Bush 1, Clinton, Bush 2, Obama? Angels from heaven.

Trump? The anti-Christ.

Well, that settles that.

Get busy, Donald, push harder. Do a webcast to 20 million people from a bar off Wall Street, where you chat with an ex-broker about the giant ongoing con called investment banking, the astonishing ripoffs, the real details of the bailout.

Visit a half-deserted town where a factory closed and went to Asia to make their products on the cheap. Talk to the people of that town as they sit and wait for something to happen that’s never going to happen.

Assemble a group of media people who were drummed out of their profession for speaking the truth about vital scandals and let them talk. Have a conversation about what lies under the surface of American life, about the themes the stuffed media shirts who still have their jobs are concealing, as they attack you around the clock. Break open the whole stinking mess and show it to the American people, and reveal what their robot-talking politicians have been doing to them.

For a long, long time.

Coda—I realize I’m branching out into an area where the actual Donald Trump doesn’t exist. The disruptive force that he is may have, behind it all, severe limits. He may only want to upset a few apple carts. He’s only a moon rising, and never goes full. On the other hand, we’ve never seen a politician who is what he should be. And we need to flesh out a better idea about who that is, as an intensely disruptive radical force, in the best and original sense of that word.

“Radical” equals “root.”

Politics as it never was. But could be.

Not the skunk-ridden Leftist hideous mask of “we care,” behind which commissars try to drive us all into a shit heap of senseless lowest-common-denominator equality. Not the Rightest pork-fat scumbags pushing predatory corporations to make more weapons and take over more countries in the name of fatuous democracy. Not the Centrists who work both sides against the middle.

No.

Instead, radical.

The root.

The place where the individual has a vision and follows it. The place where such individuals come together and make futures of freedom.

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 29^th 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.

Who’s worse? Hillary or Trump?

How deep hypnosis works.

by Jon Rappoport

March 9, 2016

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

Hillary is the standard image of a politician. Yes, there is a standard. Talk in empty generalities with fake passion and fake caring. Claim that “experience” is vital. “I have close relationships with world leaders.” Be on top with social issues. “I’m for women, I’m for African Americans.”

It’s really the fakery that assures voters. “Well, she’s completely full of it, but that’s what I expect from a President. That’s what a President looks like and sounds like. We’ve made it to 2016 with a full parade of fakers in the Oval Office, so why should we stop now?”

This is called the power of hypnotism.

Trump, of course, breaks the mold. He’s crazy, he wants to build a wall. He wants to cancel trade treaties. He smack-talks the media and other politicians. He’s a dismissive blowhard. He’s real estate operator. Forget it. All this is anti-hypnotic and therefore disturbing. “How dare you stir me from my slumber. I’m angry at you, and I would never vote for a man who makes me angry. I want to be smoothed.”

But let’s do a comparison. Worst case (for those who hate Trump), he’s elected. He’s in the Oval. He actually builds a wall and keeps out immigrants (thereby limiting racist America to 60 million immigrants living here, the bastard). He ups the Pentagon budget. He does a few bombing runs in foreign lands. He tries to bring corporate factories and jobs back to America. He tries to negate Globalist trade treaties. He exacerbates racial and religious tensions at home (no recent President has done that, right?).

What about Hillary? The standard President. The one with experience and common sense and perspective.

Jeffrey Sachs, writing at the Huffington Post, about Hillary, offers this (“Hillary Is the Candidate of the War Machine,” 2/5/2016):

“It is hard to know the roots of this record of disaster. Is it chronically bad judgment? Is it her preternatural faith in the lying machine of the CIA? Is it a repeated attempt to show that as a Democrat she would be more hawkish than the Republicans? Is it to satisfy her hardline campaign financiers? Who knows? Maybe it’s all of the above. But whatever the reasons, hers is a record of disaster. Perhaps more than any other person, Hillary can lay claim to having stoked the violence that stretches from West Africa to Central Asia and that threatens US security.”

She advised her husband, the President, to bomb Serbia in 1999.

She voted to invade Iraq in 2002.

She urged military escalation in the failed war in Afghanistan.

She pushed and pushed Obama to bomb Libya, which is now a desperate non-nation torn to shreds. “We came, we saw, he (Ghaddafi) died.” Cackle, cackle.

She pushed for regime change (covert war) in Syria.

She stumped for NATO incursions in the Ukraine and Georgia.

Death. Maiming. Wounding. Chaos. Populations living in an aftermath of horror.

But…no problem. It was always somewhere else. It wasn’t here. That’s standard for a President. Kill people in invisible places. Play it down. Invent fairy tales to explain it. “Spreading Democracy.” Yes, that works. Happens all the time.

Trump is a cowboy racist Nazi who can’t be stomached. Hillary is fine. She’s easy. Maybe she loves Monsanto, but that’s just a bump in the road. Health-food devotees can petition her for GMO labeling. Sure. That’s an adequate response. Rainbows and marshmallows.

Anyway, she’s a woman. Women don’t kill people. Except when they do. In foreign lands, craziness is happening we can’t begin to understand—it’s complicated, this national security business, this CIA business, this Globalist business, this military-industrial complex business. We have to leave that to the pros. Like Hillary. She’s a veteran politician. She knows the score.

She knows where the bodies are buried. Because she’s buried them.

In many ways, Trump will upset the delicate balance. Hillary won’t. She’ll keep on killing, which is what we expect. Anything we already expect is good.

Trump is a vicious predator.

Hillary is standard.

The logic is impeccable.

She protects us, as any standard President does. If we can’t see the blood of others on her lips, on her face, dripping down into her cocktail in the War Room, if we can’t see her rictus grin, that’s good, too. We don’t need to see that.

Trump is Hitler, and Hillary is a national-security version of Mother Theresa.

Hillary helps spread terror over a considerable area of the world, and encourages the birth of new terrorists; Trump says he wants to spread a wide net and stop terrorists from entering the US. He’s completely insane and vicious. She’s an absolute darling.

No, wait, that couldn’t be right. I’m voting for Hillary. I want her to be queen of the world. She means well. She has to mean well. I want to unleash her humanity, all of it, from her deepest core. It’ll be fine.

Promise.

It’s all about the children. And the village. Something like that.

It’s not the smell of bullshit and charred bodies. It’s the perfume of a golden dawn.

It has to be.

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 29^th 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.

If a sane person took over Trump’s body

by Jon Rappoport

March 1, 2016

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

Body snatchers. Body switchers.

For the moment, for the purposes of argument, let’s say Donald Trump is a crazy son of a bitch. He doesn’t mean what he says. He doesn’t remember many things he says. He won’t really try to enact his promises if he’s the next President. Or (if you hate what he stands for), he will try to make those promises stick.

Now, let’s imagine a sane person could take over Trump’s body. Boom. A person who actually means what he says, who’s prepared to give his all, who cares about people, etc. Would that person keep any of Trump’s current rhetoric? Would he retain any part of Trump’s message?

In other words, if we could separate Trump the man from what he’s been saying, does any of it make sense? Does any of it, in fact, challenge the men who’ve really been running this country for a long time? Does any of it make them turn red, choke, spit, and fall down in the street?

Well, here are a few quotes from a recent Weekly Standard editorial, “Selling America Short,” by Max Boot and Benn Steil. Both authors are senior fellows at the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR). Steil is the CFR’s director of international economics, as well.

The CFR is the US home of Globalism, Inc.

No, the Weekly Standard authors aren’t choking and spitting (in public), they’re keeping their cool, but they aren’t happy:

“Start with trade policy, the area that, along with immigration, seems to exercise him [Trump] the most. One of America’s greatest accomplishments in the early postwar era was the creation of a rules-based international trade regime.”

“Governments stuck by this trade regime even through the recent financial crisis and recession. Trump, however, says he is prepared to abrogate America’s commitments, citing nothing more than the pretense that our importing more than we export is evidence of ‘cheating’ by foreign governments…As for the recently concluded 12-nation Trans-Pacific Partnership deal, not yet ratified by Congress, Trump has condemned it.”

Yes, indeed. These trade treaties (GATT, NAFTA, CAFTA, TPP, etc.) are the cornerstones of the Globalist cathedral. NAFTA, for example, allowed the massive export of cheap US corn to Mexico, put 1.5 million Mexican corn farmers into bankruptcy, and led some of those farmers to come across the border in the immigration wave.

The mainstream press doesn’t pound on that story.

The trade treaties have allowed US manufacturers to: shut down their factories here, throwing huge numbers of Americans out of work (including workers in inner cities); and set up those factories in countries where the going wage is three cents a day.

Then the products made abroad come back into the US as exports—without tariffs. That’s how the corporate scam works. That’s the only way it can work. And the cheap exports drive US competitors, who were hanging on by their teeth, into failure.

Perfect. Who could possibly oppose this marvelous operation?

Trump.

But he’s crazy, he doesn’t mean what he says, he’s a maniac.

Fine.

Who, of estimable character, will pick up this sword? Rand Paul? Gone. His father, Ron? Gone. Ralph Nader? Not present.

Who will run for President and assert, in no uncertain terms, that he’ll smash those trade treaties to bits, come hell or high water, regardless of prior agreements?

Bernie Sanders?

Yes, he opposes the trade deals. But does he have what it takes to a) win the nomination, and b) win the Presidency, and c) go to the wall, unilaterally declaring the trade treaties null and void, creating a planetary uproar, and bringing the whole house down?

Because that’s what it will take. No Congress is going to pass a law retracting the treaties. No government agency is going to rise up on its hind legs and revolt. No Supreme Court is going to cancel a treaty.

The US economy could fail completely and fall into abject ruin—and still no government entity would budge.

Bernie Sanders would never go way out on a limb and unilaterally declare trade treaties null and void.

These pundits and “fellows” and directors, who occupy little thrones at Globalist press outlets and think tanks and foundations and nonprofits? Suddenly—let a flood of analysts from overseas arrive, as “exports,” as “products,” “without tariffs,” snatching their jobs for far less money and putting them out on the street. Then, let’s find out how these newly unemployed Globalist experts feel about “free trade.” Let’s hear them scream about “America first.” Let’s see them foam at the mouth.

Let’s watch these intellectual goons hit the crazy-panic button and develop new theories about what America needs, when their self-interest is actually threatened, for the first time.

When they’re in the same position as US factory workers.

When they can feel the heat and the breath of disaster snuggling up against them in the night.

Some people believe Trump is a Mussolini. Well, there are a lot of Mussolini’s running around defending Globalism, as it purposely cuts the knees from millions of US jobs—thus creating an economically decimated country and a decimated planet.

An economically decimated planet is easier to command, from above. Which is the Globalist wet dream.

There is a crazy loose-talking cowboy running for President who seems to understand at least a part of this plan. And says he’ll torpedo it, no matter what. He now has a straight shot at winning the nomination.

He’d be running against a candidate who, in her wildest dreams, would never think of backing off one inch from Globalism Inc. If she isn’t lying through her teeth every day, she isn’t happy. If, every morning, there isn’t another foreign country to destabilize and drive into failed-nation status, she isn’t happy. As President, at last ensconced in the Oval Office, with The Power, she would cackle with mad glee, and take out her long list of old enemies against whom she intends to wreak final revenge.

If Trump is a Mussolini, what is she?

If you believe Trump is an unhinged lunatic, then there are two lunatics running against each other for the Presidency of the United States.

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 29^th 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.

Being a real populist just got real.

by Jon Rappoport

February 22, 2016

(To join our email list, click here.)

Trump. He’s for real. No he isn’t. He means what he says. No he doesn’t. He’s a joke. He’s serious. He’s a liberator. No, he’s the next Mussolini. He’s sane and lucid. He’s off his rocker. He cares about people. He’s a racist. He’ll take American back where it belongs. He’ll drive it over a cliff.

Whatever you think about the man, his campaign has just acquired a new level of reality, after his victory in South Carolina. And the people who were looking to destroy him have greater reason to pursue their goal.

I’m not just talking about the Republican Party bosses. I’m talking about the Rockefeller Globalists, who are watching Trump attack their trade treaties, as he vows to bring jobs back to America. Those treaties are the Globalists’ holy of holies. They’re portals to an emerging world of much deeper poverty and suffering—and as such they’re vital to a new grotesque Globalist planetary order.

Trump now has a straight shot at the Republican nomination. Apparently, nothing he says, short of claiming God and Jesus are fairy tales, will affect his poll numbers.

One line of attack against him would occur at the nominating convention. If the GOP honchos, by hook or by crook, can keep Rubio and Cruz in the race, they might be able to enter the Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland, in July, with split numbers—no clear winner. After that split vote holds up on the first ballot, all bets are off. The brokers will move in and start making deals behind the scenes. Delegates can switch their positions.

The main target would be Cruz. Promise him the moon; get him to release his delegates and declare he favors Rubio, who is the GOP’s man. Rubio is who the Party bosses want.

But if Cruz stands firm, and if two or three more ballots fail to produce a winner, then the GOP would do a switch and tell Rubio that, for the sake of the Party, he has to fall on his sword and instruct his delegates to line up for Cruz. In other words, the GOP will do anything to stop Trump, including losing the general election.

A scene like this at the Republican Convention would enter a new kind of hell. Trump supporters, seeing the theft of the nomination in real time, ballot by ballot, would blow the roof off the Arena.

If Trump enters the Convention with the nomination locked up, or if he emerges the winner after a few ballots, the GOP will face a dilemma. Should they back him to the hilt or back away, undermine him, and let Hillary demolish him in November?

On his part, if Trump sees his own Party betraying him, he can go directly to the American people and tell them what’s happening—and how this is clear evidence that the Republican GOP needs a complete overhaul—a feat he promises to accomplish. Then, even if he loses the election, he’ll become the de facto leader of his Party, and the bosses will feel his wrath. This is what the GOP honchos fear most. They can handle losing the election, but being thrown off the ramparts of their little fiefdoms and crashing on the rocks below, rattlesnake blood oozing from broken veins…that would be the ultimate devastation.

Meanwhile, the Globalist elite are lining up and considering their options. How about a straight assassination? Donald has a heart attack in a hotel room. Or at a ranch in Texas. Probably better to choose another state. Obviously, the uproar over a stolen nomination at the Quicken Arena would be nothing compared with the fallout from a hit. The very pillars of the “democracy” would fracture.

There is always an upside to chaos, from the Globalists’ point of view, but other options may be open.

If, by some miracle, he wins the nomination and the general election…

A sit-down with Trump. Now. Just in case. Explain to the man that trade treaties, once signed, can’t be thrown in the trash. They’re legally binding. As President, Trump would face unconquerable opposition on that front. However, how about a deal? Donald’s strong suit. Certain accommodations can be made. Negotiations with China and Mexico, to gain a “somewhat more favorable trade balance” for the US. Looks good, seems good, and it is good, in a limited context. Nothing overtly radical. But a political victory. The trade treaties remain undisturbed. NAFTA, CAFTA, GATT, TPP are in place. Bring some, but not many, manufacturing jobs back to the US. A few mega-corporations will cooperate. Again, looks good, seems good. The press will issue compliments.

Overall result? Slightly more than cosmetic, far less than triumphant.

“It’s the best you can hope for, Donald. You’re a businessman. You’re, above all, sensible. You can get something, or you can try for the moon and fall out of the sky and crash and get nothing. Use your mentality, step up to reality.”

“As for the Big Wall along the Mexican border, you can put up a short piece of a wall, Donald. A showpiece. Great photo-op. Mexico will pay for it, sort of. You know how that works. And then you can stem part of the flow of immigration. Just enough to make a difference, if we massage the numbers. You’re good, we’re good, it’s a win-win, which is what every deal aims for.”

Understand that these Globalists can be very persuasive, because they’re smart and reasonable, and they already hold many cards in the deck. As with any major crime organization, they present “the client” his options, given the shape of the landscape in which they are the kings and the princes.

It’s a re-make of Godfather One. Brando has mob power. Given his position, he’s a reasonable and generous and even caring man—as long as the supplicant comes to him with respect. And if the supplicant himself is reasonable, so much the better.

Does Trump truly understand what being a populist means, according to a definition few men can fulfill? It means going back to the people every time a bribe or compromise is offered to him and explaining it and denouncing it and rejecting it and demanding that the people support him, as he goes up against the Olympians of this world. It means exposing the real art of the real deal.

Is Trump that man? Is it possible? The Globalist crime bosses of deep politics have no doubts. They’re sure he isn’t. Why would he be? His whole career has been based on wheeling and dealing to arrive at his objectives. They see him as just another client.

“All right, Donald, we can give a little on trade imbalances and immigration. But look on the bright side. You can command the Armed Forces. Here’s a list of targets you can bomb with impunity. You can act tough and talk tough. You can protect the security of the United States and ratchet up your poll numbers.”

I’m sketching these deals in order to reveal the difference between a real populist and a fake one. There are almost no real ones in politics, because the price they have to pay is too high. They have to return to the people, over and over, and tell them about all the temptations that are being laid out and offered on the golden table—compromises which will essentially change nothing, but instead will derail efforts at true reform. Real populists would have to take their case, over and over, back to the people, and if necessary shatter the foundations of “political business as usual.”

They’d have to wear a real suit of armor and ride on a real horse.

They’d have to make a commitment that exceeds anything they ever imagined.

There is campaign talk, election talk, and Presidential talk. The first two are easy. Even Presidential talk is easy for a sold-out occupant of the Oval Office. He can do it in his sleep. The script writes itself. But when was the last time a true rebel took control of the White House? When was the last time a man went up against the Globalists while wearing the mantle of Commander-in-Chief?

If you don’t understand Globalism, look at operations designed to look like humanitarian heraldry while decimating economies, cultures, traditions, health; while inducing broad chaos behind which a “new order” can emerge to “solve the unrest.”

Look, for example, at the fraudulent climate agenda (lowered energy production for the whole planet); the “migration wave” (a cumulative chaos-inducer); the destruction of education systems (addled minds incapable of following a line of thought); medical care (kills 2.25 million people each decade in the US alone); “free trade” (allows mega-corporate plunderers to roam the world and wreak havoc on local producers and national economies).

These and other operations are woven together to soften up the world population and make control far easier to implement, from above.

Every US President discovers at least some piece of this overall enterprise. Every President is vetted and mentored, so he grasps what he can he do—and what is off-limits and untouchable.

Trump, the fast-talking cowboy, has been stepping on the third and fourth and fifth rail of politics. The places where no one is supposed to go.

If he keeps winning Primaries, he isn’t whistling Dixie anymore. He’s in no-man’s land. He’s trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He’s got blood on his shoes. He’s entering the mountain cave of the kings and princes with a handful of ideas he’s been mouthing, without concern for consequences—ideas he’s apparently now beginning to believe in. He’s no longer a happy-horseshit warrior. He’s no longer singing and tap-dancing in the rain.

He’s triggered the early warning system, and they’re waiting for him.

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 29^th 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.