Paranormal you: welcome back

Paranormal You: welcome back

by Jon Rappoport

May 27, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

Throughout the madness of what we call human history, people have always managed to make room for places where imagination can operate.

This operation isn’t about the normal avenues of emotional feedback. It isn’t about solving problems. It isn’t about staying faithful to standard beliefs. It isn’t about reflecting daily life.

It’s about something Beyond.

It doesn’t matter that most people consider these flights brief respites from the real business of living. It doesn’t matter that most people prefer to remain spectators. It doesn’t matter that most people deny their own imaginations have any true power.

It doesn’t matter that the works of artists have been co-opted, frozen, and recast as organized religions. It doesn’t matter that, time and time again, the work of artists has been stolen to assist control agendas.

Humans continue to make a place for something Beyond, in the hope that they can experience what they really are.

In my book, The Secret Behind Secret Societies (included as a bonus in Exit From The Matrix and Power Outside The Matrix), I recount my friendship with Richard Jenkins, an extraordinary healer, who worked with many people in New York, in the 1950s and early 60s.

Richard once wrote to me, “There you are in your apartment on Bleecker Street, painting night and day. You come up to my apartment to watch me work with patients, to find something different. I’m telling you that it’s the same thing. I hope you realize that. We’re in strange times, and they’re going to become stranger. People are organizing themselves as never before, on a much larger scale, all over the world. That’s the space of the future. Then there are other spaces, which very few people believe in. In those spaces, the most extraordinary things happen. This will be the choice that humanity makes as it creates its own fate. Live in the organized territory, or explore the other spaces. Dedicate yourself to one or the other. Don’t fool yourself with compromises. One day you’ll look back on our work together, and you’ll either cherish it or you’ll think of it as a momentary illusion…”

1960. First day of rehearsal for a college play, The Lower Depths. I walk out on the stage and look around. It’s quiet, but inside I feel thunder. Everything is different. New shining space. I start smiling. Without knowing it, I’ve been waiting for this moment for God knows how long. A place apart. A world where imagination takes on flesh and comes to life.

The theater director, Walt Boughton, is leaning against a wall. He looks at me. He sees and he knows. He nods. His message is clear: That’s right, my boy, you’re here, this is it, nothing will ever be the same…

We live in a society where consumers can pick and choose among thousands of narratives about themselves, their lives, their future, their duties, their needs, their status—all happening in the consensus organized space.

Awhile back, I wrote about a new Pentagon/DARPA project aimed at studying brain signals, in real time, to understand how and why people buy some narratives and reject others.

A common feature of most narratives is: limited life, limited power.

Or to put it another way, limited access to larger aspects of Self.

The trick of narratives, as retired propaganda master, Ellis Medavoy, once told me, is: built-in limitation; it looks like “desire fulfilled”; it looks like happiness.

But it isn’t.

And when people find that out, they experience buyer’s remorse.

“Why did I think that narrative described what I wanted? Why did I think it would make me satisfied?”

The space-continuum in which we live has its own narratives. They hang from it like barnacles. The gist? You can’t get out. There is nothing to get to.

Again, I refer to the brilliant hypnotherapist, Jack True, whom I interview 43 times in my collection, The Matrix Reveled. Jack did sessions with patients that went directly at the space-time matrix.

“Under hypnosis,” he said, “I had people look at the continuum and tell me what they saw. I had them describe it in their own way. Then I asked them to look outside it.”

The material from those sessions is extraordinary, in several respects. It helped me, when I was researching my companion collection, Exit From The Matrix.

Some of Jacks’ patients came “back around the barn,” as Jack characterized it, and ended up relating what sounded like dreams, dreams they would have while asleep. The narrative wasn’t smooth, it wasn’t moving from beginning to end. It was asymmetrical, just as in dreams, where the scenery shifts, where one event ends in midstream and another pops up, where the “plot line” dissolves…and a new plot takes over.

Several of Jack’s patients said their encounters outside the space-time continuum felt very familiar—as if they’d been there before.

Jack: “One patient said he found himself in a dim hall. It was very large. People were talking, but he couldn’t see them. A single voice took over, and a character stepped out of the shadows. He told the patient this was one of a great number of places outside ordinary space-time. He said there was no reason to consider this ‘visit’ strange or unusual. On the contrary, life inside space-time was unusual…”

There are millions and millions of narratives that are used to convince people that life inside this space-time is It, is all there is, is normal…

And normalcy is the key. That’s the icon, the symbol, the header, the trance-inducer. What is normal seals the deal. It labels what is allowed to be experienced. It tells people what is not allowed to be experienced.

These narratives about normalcy hold people inside the gates, and provide boundaries for Self. “Self can’t get any bigger than this.”

In the early 1960s, I was teaching at a private school in West Los Angeles.

These kids in our small private school were all rejects from the public system, or from other private schools. They couldn’t make it there. Many of them were what the psychologists called “acting out.”

I’d have to write a few hundred pages just to begin giving you the flavor of what it was like to deal with 15 or 20 of them, at once, in a classroom. It wasn’t about teaching content, believe me. It was about me surviving.

But at bottom, every one of those kids was, in his/her own highly idiosyncratic way, Not-Normal. That’s all. And what was driving them completely bat-crazy was, no one would deal with them on their own terms.

Everyone was trying to fix them. Everyone was feeding them narratives about “normal, fitting in.”

One day, out of desperation, I changed all that. In my classes, we worked up improvised sketches. Theater. No plot, no direction, no narrative, just off-the-cuff dreamtime in the moment and lots of roles, some of which they were already playing every day to a dead audience of teachers. But it wasn’t dead now. They had me and they had each other.

They jumped at the chance. They didn’t need any direction or instruction. It was as if they’d been waiting all their lives for someone to say, “Just perform what you’re already performing.”

They were actors. That’s what they’d been trying to tell adults.

And everything fell into place. They loved it, I loved it, we all offloaded a few tons of stress and a whole lot of insane normalcy…and then they calmed down. Not because there was a strict rule about behavior, but because they had escaped the tyranny of Is. And Has To Be. And Must. And Normal.

That day, the space-time of the continuum, in that classroom, went away. It disintegrated. What took its place was an island of joy. Which is to say, what sits outside this matrix is more real than real. When you find it.

It doesn’t have to be spooky.

It’s Magic Theater.

Sit down some time with a bunch of real stage actors and ask them when they feel most alive. A certain percentage of them will confess it’s when they’re on the boards, performing a role. That’s when they feel most like themselves, even though they’re pretending to be somebody else. That’s when the day-to-day space-time continuum goes away and new one comes into being.

That’s when normal steps aside and paranormal makes its entrance.

A fake space, a repressed space, a continuum of frustration vanishes.

Conventional standards don’t explain what is happening. They can’t.

Life. Theater. Theatricality. Roles played to the hilt. The Paranormal.

There is no single narrative for a human being. Sometimes the stage is dead, the lights are off, the seats are empty. But then we get a glimpse of something else. We walk up on the stage and feel that space and realize the old walls are gone and this is it, and we’re ready, and the energy comes out of nowhere and we do things we thought were impossible.

Normal disintegrates.

This is art. This is a level of life that is waiting for all of us. And whether we admit or not, we’ve been waiting for it, too.

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 emails at www.nomorefakenews.com

How effective is electromagnetic thought control?

May27

How effective is electromagnetic thought control?

by Jon Rappoport

May 27, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

The number of methods of mind control has proliferated as funding for research has expanded.

Here, I want to consider what could be called thought substitution, one ongoing facet of this research.

My conclusions on this subject come from accounts of modern mind control research, which utilize forms of signal-broadcasting aimed at the brain.

More importantly, I’m drawing on my observation of the differences among people, when it comes to their awareness of their own thoughts and emotions.

First of all, we need to make the distinction between passive and active people. Passive people are either sedentary or going through the motions in life. They are easily controllable, and it doesn’t take sophisticated electronic measures to do the job.

Television, a few tranquilizing drugs, peer pressure to conform, and the game is over.

Such people will also mistake the invasion of outside thoughts for their own. It doesn’t really matter where the impulses come from or who delivers them.

By active people, I mean those who are passionately pursuing conscious objectives. They know why they’re doing what they do. They have energy. They’re inventing their own futures. They’re aware of repressive forces in the world.

They’re also quite familiar with their own feelings and thoughts.

Yes, mad scientists can affect these people via electronic harassment, no doubt about it—just as you can affect someone by kicking him in the ribs. But this is no monumental scientific achievement.

The early CIA MKULTRA programs were all about harassment and torture and disorientation, utilizing high-dose drugs, isolation, threats, hypnotism, and the provoking of fear.

The combination of these elements, according to witness (victim) statements, could result in programmed personae. Multiple personalities. But it should be understood that the primary driver in this operation was fear/pain—the very same combination that made the Catholic Inquisition successful.

Active people, as I define them here…could they be fooled into believing that electronic signals aimed at their brains are really their own thoughts?

This is an important question. And I must say, too many casual observers are eager to jump on the bandwagon and assert that, yes, this is eminently probable.

But I point out, mind control is not just about planting suggestions, it’s also very much about slipping them past a person’s overwhelming history of knowing how his own thoughts feel.

That’s the kicker. That’s the limiter.

The eager beavers who want to believe, full bore, in the efficacy of thought substitution, would rather not consider this limiter. But they should.

Active people would instantly become aware that an idea masquerading as their own is a charlatan. And they would reject it.

Researchers are attempting to use a person’s own brainwaves—capturing them and then outfitting them with thought-impulses and broadcasting them back to the brain. This is an effort to carry off a grand deception.

However, thought isn’t, for some people, a gross and crude activity. It has many subtleties and nuances.

And in its original and primary form, thought is not a material phenomenon at all.

It doesn’t start from the brain. The brain carries it forward, but the brain is an intermediary device.

Thought begins in a space that has no physical characteristics at all. Thought at its core isn’t physical.

What I’m discussing here isn’t mystical. Mystical is actually presuming that the brain is the seat of all consciousness.

So…what form of mind control can work against the non-physical? And now we’re back in the realm of early MKULTRA. Pain, fear, harassment.

That works on the brain, on a leg, on an arm, on a foot. It works on a non-material soul who inhabits and wears a physical form. It isn’t sophisticated at all, any more than spraying pepper on a crowd or blasting an acoustic weapon at protestors is sophisticated.

Yes, a thumb-screw is mind control. So is the rack and the threat of execution. So is fear of excommunication for a believer. So is a bullet in the shoulder. So is a disruptive burst of electronics from a transmitter.

They can grossly control a person because he exists, here and now, in a physical body. We already know about such physical effects. Humans have known about them since the dawn of time.

But to slip through, to achieve the smooth and seamless substitution of somebody else’s thought for your own, is an entirely different matter.

If you’re aware.

Jon Rappoport

The magician

May25

The magician

by Jon Rappoport

May 25, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

He had left this place a long time ago. He had left behind its symbols, its plots, its machinations, its madness, its masters and slaves. He had left the tinny phony continuum for better spots.

He had left the limited range of emotions as well, the programmed responses, the fevered needs of the group, the whining and complaining, the morbid pretensions.

He had seen the labyrinth and rejected it as a fool’s game.

But during his subsequent travels, he realized his own freedom permitted him to come back, if he wanted to. Freedom meant he could come back and go away, come back and go away, didn’t it?

So he returned…as a man.

One day while he was walking along a crowded street in the city, he saw a creature in a suit, a nameless entity with Arctic eyes and soft pink hands and a way of strolling that spoke of vast comforts, privileged status handed down over generations. The creature smelled of money, big money salted away in reserves too remote to discover.

The man followed the creature for many blocks and saw it enter an office building. He waited on a bus bench. He picked up a newspaper and read about the latest deaths in the city. There were many. The quality of writing had deteriorated so badly the news stories were strange and vague and muffled.

Were these deaths actual murders committed person to person? Were germs the killers? Had people been fleeced of their savings and then turned out of their homes to waste away from exposure? There was no way to ferret out the facts. It was maddening.

The man, however, felt a force emanate from the articles, like an advancing cloud, like a plague…and then he knew. He understood.

When the creature emerged from the office building, the man continued to follow him.

The man followed the creature uptown into an area where most of the buildings had been destroyed by vandals.

The man moved across a huge field where no grass grew, and he finally arrived at a prison that no longer operated. It was a dim shell, empty, and the creature waited at the entrance.

When the man arrived next to him, the creature said, “What do you want from me?”

The man bent down, picked up a brick, and struck the creature on the head and knocked him down.

He dragged the creature into the prison, through a dim corridor, and put him in a cell.

The rusty padlock was still serviceable. The man locked the creature in the cell and left him there.

Three days later, the man walked through the city and saw that the faces of the people were changing. The despair was draining away. A fever was breaking.

The man approached a policeman and told him there was a killer locked up in the abandoned prison, and of course the policeman ignored him.

The man went to the mayor’s office and told an assistant to an assistant that the death rate was receding, and the assistant turned away with disdain.

The man went to Control Central and tried to speak with several robots on duty, but they too refused to engage in conversation.

The next day, newspapers and television news announced that the death rate in the city was on the rise. The man didn’t believe this.

It occurred to him that the powers-that-be, the rulers, needed to promote death. It was vital to their cause. It was politically useful. It was also personally satisfying to them to believe death was on the march. They fed off the notion. They drank in the idea of death.

The man went to a park where people stood on small platforms and lectured and harangued on a variety of subjects.

He stepped up on a platform and said, “I want to tell you about death eaters.” A few heads turned his way.

“Yes,” he said, “the death eaters. They’re in charge.”

He said it again. “The death eaters.”

He kept repeating the phrase slowly, and people began walking his way. Ten people, twenty, fifty. They drifted over to his platform.

“The death eaters are in charge of the city,” he said. “They need more death, and they’ll say it exists and it’s growing, even if it isn’t. They have to have death on their minds.”

Someone said, “That’s right!”

“These people, the rulers,” the man said, “are working for other people who also want to eat death, and those people work for others who have the same hunger. It keeps going up and up.”

Now there were a hundred people listening to him.

“We’ve always known this,” the man said, “but we’ve been afraid to admit it. And we’ve been frustrated because we believed we could never find the creature who sat on top of the heap.”

A few people began applauding.

“Who could blame us?” the man said. “They keep secrets. How could we find the creature at the top?”

“But this creature exists,” the man said. “I can’t tell you how old he is or how long he’s been running things or what his name is…I don’t think he has a name.”

The crowd had swelled to a few hundred people.

“But I can tell you this,” the man said. “I found him. I recognized him on the street. I don’t know how. But it happened. I think he’s been walking among us and we just haven’t seen him. We’ve been fooling ourselves.”

The crowd went quiet.

The man took a deep breath. Then he said, “I think we’ve been worshiping him.”

The crowd was absolutely still.

“Not on purpose,” the man said, “but we’ve been worshiping an idea of someone, someone in a long story we’ve been told for a long time. And that’s how we went blind.”

A sudden roar went up from the crowd.

“Follow me,” the man said, “and I’ll show you this creature.”

He stepped off the platform and several men came to his side.

Led by the man, the whole crowd walked through the park and headed uptown.

As they went, more people joined them.

By the time they reached the old prison, they were several thousand.

They heard a screaming.

The man led them into the prison, down the corridor, until they arrived at the cell. The creature was screaming and tearing at the bars.

“Look at him,” the man said. “He’s the one.”

A woman said, “But he’s just a child, an innocent child.”

“No he isn’t,” someone else said. “He’s a horrible looking thing. A monster.”

The creature stopped screaming and let go of the bars.

He smiled. He said, “I’m nobody. Just a person.”

The man said, “Are you willing to answer our questions?”

“Of course,” the creature said. “There’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”

Someone handed the man a stone and he used it to hammer at the lock until it broke. He walked inside and took the creature by the arm. He led him out of the cell, along the corridor, until they came to the yard. In that open space, the crowd gathered, and the man guided the creature up a small incline.

“All right,” the man said, “then this is why we’re here. To decide. We’re going to thrash it out. Anyone and everyone can question this creature. We’ll stay here as long as we have to, until we know who he is.”

“But he’s just a little boy,” the woman repeated.

“No he isn’t,” someone said. “He’s a soldier. Can’t you see his uniform, his medals?”

“He’s a doctor,” a boy said. “He lives in my neighborhood.”

“At my daughter’s school,” someone else said. “He’s a teacher.”

And on it went. The creature was a government official, he was a thief, a banker, a mental patient, a rabid dog, a holy man, a god, a scientist, a cousin, a brother, a beloved friend, an escaped convict, a killer.

The man held up his hand.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s why we’re here. To talk with him. To find out why we can’t see the same thing. To decide. As long as it takes.”

“The dream,” someone said. “Of the thousand year trial.”

Someone else said, “This is so exciting.”

An old lady said, “A thirty-day free trial. Money back if you’re not fully satisfied.”

“We have to perform surgery on his brain and find out what makes it tick. Then we’ll know.”

“Make him confess.”

“Give the poor creature something to eat and drink.”

“Ask him about Satan.”

“I bet he’s a CEO.”

“He’s a victim.”

“I can save you all a great deal of time,” the creature said.

He took off all his clothes. He stood naked before the crowd.

His body was made of hundreds of small fractured mirrors, and when the people in crowd stared at him, they saw a many-layered group…but no one saw himself.

The crowd trembled. People moved around desperately, trying to see themselves.

Chaos broke out.

People began howling and running.

The creature stood and waited.

When, finally, everyone was gone…

The creature stood alone.

He moved back into the prison, deep into its core.

There he stood, in a cavernous space, and breathed deeply. He looked into himself and saw the whole world. Everyone in it, at once.

He continued gazing. He never saw one person. Just everyone.

He held that vision, as he had for centuries, and wondered how long it would be before someone in the world would break out.

A few hours later…

The man appeared again. He stood in the cavern and looked at the creature.

“It’s just you and I now,” the man said.

“Ah,” the creature said, “so you’ve cracked the code.”

“Everything isn’t everything,” the man said.

“No,” the creature said. “It isn’t.”

He paused.

“Do you want to know what the world is?” the creature said. “It’s a wheel. There are four perceptions on the wheel. One, the individual sees himself as hopeless. Two, he sees himself as part of the Group. Three, he sees himself as free and independent. Four, he sees himself connected to a higher realm, inhabited by everyone and everything. The wheel spins around and around. People see it as a blur. They can’t stop it. They can’t think about it. You stopped the wheel. You saw me. Now go back to the city and try to explain all this. I wish you good luck.”

The creature laughed.

The man turned and walked away.

He heard and felt the creature run toward him. He knew the creature was going to try to kill him. He turned and struck the creature on the temple with the stone he’d been carrying. The creature fell to the ground.

Spontaneously, heat rose from the ground and the hundreds of mirrors crashed, splintered, and fell apart.

Space and time, in this place, this world, collapsed? went dark? dissolved?

Out of the void came another sun, a different sun, rising. In another sky. As if it had been waiting for this moment. A day behind the day.

Feeling refreshed, the man walked back toward the city, not knowing what he would find.

Jon Rappoport

Elliot Roger, Santa Barbara killer: parallels and numbers

May25

Elliot Rodger, Santa Barbara killer: parallels and numbers

by Jon Rappoport

May 25, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

These are preliminary notes.

For now, they’re based on media accounts of the killing spree on May 23, in Isla Vista, California—and of course, these media accounts of mass murders should never be accepted, on their face, as ironclad facts.

Rodger is reported to be the son of Peter Rodger, a unit director of the film, Hunger Games. According to press accounts, the father specifically directed a short film within that film—a propaganda piece extoling the “new society” in which ritual sacrifice of children in the Games is a way of never forgetting the treason of rebellion/war in the “old society,” the rebellion which must never happen again.

As a parallel to the film, the killing of children in Isla Vista on May 23 will forward two agendas which are claimed to be crucial to maintaining the cohesion of the new emerging society: wall-to-wall gun control and massive/invasive/toxic psychiatric care across every stratum of the population.

Such was also the agenda in the wake of Sandy Hook—where Suzanne Collins, the author of Hunger Games, resides.

Isla Vista, 2001: David Attias, a freshman at UC Santa Barbara, ran down and killed four people with his car, after which he got out and said, “I am the angel of death.”

Like Elliot Rodger, Attias is the son of a Hollywood director, Dan Attias (Ally McBeal, The Sopranos).

NBC: “Attias set off on the vehicular assault after being spurned by a woman.”

In his now-published Manifesto, Elliot Rodger goes on at great length about women rejecting him. He also mentions meeting with his psychiatrist, Charles Sophy (manifesto page 112), who gave him a prescription for Risperidone, an anti-psychotic drug. Rodger claims he researched the drug online and didn’t take it.

He suggests or implies that he has seen Dr. Sophy (“my psychiatrist”) a number of times. Were other drugs prescribed in the past? SSRI antidepressants (Paxil, Zoloft, Prozac)? These drugs are well-known for pushing people over the edge into suicide and homicide. (See numerous accounts at SSRI Stories).

Dr. Charles Sophy (twitter) is a psychiatrist in private practice in Beverly Hills. On his site, you can text him live, for instant therapy. He is also, as stated on his site, the Medical Director of the Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services.

Considering the fondness various secret societies have for rituals (e.g., ritual sacrifice of children, as in The Hunger Games), and also their fondness for numbers and codes, consider this number: 23.

David Attias’ 2001 vehicular slaughter in Santa Barbara occurred on February 23, 2001.

The official release date of the first Hunger Games film in the US was March 23, 2012.

Elliot Rodger’s rampage in Santa Barbara took place on May 23, 2014.

Just another coincidence.

Jon Rappoport

The basis of mass mind control

May23

The basis of mass mind control

by Jon Rappoport

May 23, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

“Aliens visiting Earth would report back to their superiors: ‘It’s quite amazing, those people worship images. They know it and they pretend not to know it.’” — Hypnotherapist Jack True.

This is a backgrounder for my mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, which contains many exercises designed to liberate an individual from the standardized perception of reality—and usher in his own creative reality.

Mass mind control focuses on two elements: image and feeling.

By linking the two primary elements, it is possible to short-circuit thought and “cut to the chase,” when it comes to enlisting the allegiance of huge populations.

Two seemingly unrelated events spurred my interest in mass mind control.

On the evening of April 12, 1945, I listened to a radio report on the death of Franklin D Roosevelt. I was seven years old.

I became upset. I didn’t know why. I was angry at my own reaction.

Forty years later, I pulled into a gas station near my apartment in West Los Angeles. I got out of my car and took the cap off my gas tank. I looked to my right and saw Tony Curtis sitting in his car. I was shocked.

A few days later, I began making notes under the heading of “image-emotion cues.” At the time, I was working as a reporter, writing articles for LA Weekly. I knew next to nothing about mind control, MKULTRA, Soviet psychiatric gulags, Chinese re-education programs, or US psychological warfare operations.

But because I had been painting for 25 years, I knew something about the power of images.

I remembered my first exhibition of paintings in LA, at my friend Hadidjah Lamas’ house. We had hung my work in her large living room and dining room. Hadidjah had enlisted the services of a friend who had videotaped me painting in my studio, and at the exhibition she set up a television set out on her patio and continuously played the videocassette.

People came through her front door, almost automatically walked through the house to the patio, as if guided by an unseen hand, and watched the video; then they came back inside and looked at the paintings.

They would stop at a painting and say: “That picture was in the video!” It excited them.

My first note on “image-emotion cues” was, “Investing an image with importance. Projecting emotion into an image.”

Projecting emotion into a newspaper image of the president, FDR. Projecting emotion into the screen image of Tony Curtis. Projecting emotion into a video of a painter working in his studio.

When people encounter an image, when they invest it with importance, they project feeling into the image—and this all happens in a private sphere, a private space.

If this didn’t happen, there would be no way to control populations through images. It wouldn’t work. It all starts with a person setting up his own personal feedback loop that travels from him to an image and back again.

Coming out of World War 2, US psychological warfare operatives knew they could turn their skills to political purposes. They had just succeeded in making Americans believe that all Japanese and German people were horribly evil. They had been able to manipulate imagery successfully in that area. Why couldn’t they shape America’s view of a whole planet that lay beyond personal experience?

They could and they did. But the power to do that emanated from the fact that every person invests images with feeling. That’s where it really starts.

I had seen the 1957 film, Sweet Smell of Success, a number of times. I admired it. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis gave tremendous performances. When, decades later, I saw Curtis sitting in his car at that gas station, I was “working from” the emotion I had invested in his onscreen image. It produced a sense of shock and paralysis for a few seconds.

Other people might have rushed up to Curtis and asked for his autograph. With me, it was shock, cognitive dissonance. Ditto for the death of FDR. I was working off newspaper pictures I’d seen of him, and the feeling I’d invested in those presidential images. Other people, when FDR died, went out into the street and hugged their neighbors and wept openly. For me, it was upset and shock and anger.

There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with investing emotion in images. It can be exhilarating. It can be uplifting. As a painter, I know this in spades. Putting emotion into images can, in fact, vault you into a different perception of reality.

But on the downside, it can also take you into lockstep with what media/propaganda operatives want you to experience, second-hand.

We focus to such a degree on how we are being manipulated that we don’t stop to consider how we are participating in the operation. And our own role is clear and stark: we invest images with feeling.

So how does one individual’s projection of feeling into an image become a uniform projection of the same feeling into one image, by millions of people? How does what one person invests privately become mass mind control?

Through external instruction or cues. And also, by engendering the idea that there is only a limited palette of emotions to work with in the first place.

Why do millions of people fall into line?

Because they don’t realize they started the whole ball rolling themselves. All they know is: images are connected to feelings.

If they knew they were the real power in the whole operation, if they knew they were investing feelings into images all day long, if they could actually slow down enough to see how they do this….then they would be far less prone to taking instruction about what feelings they “ought to” invest in second-hand images.

Hypnotherapist Jack True unceremoniously put it to me this way: “If a dog could analyze how he got from eating meat to drooling at the sound of a bell that came at feeding time, he could stop drooling.”

(If Chris Matthews could analyze how his own voluntary investment of feeling in the image of Barack Obama sends a tingle up his leg, he could stop tingling.)

We see images of people rioting all over the Middle East. We see burning flags and crowds outside embassies. We’re supposed to invest our own anger and resentment into those images. Unless we’re suddenly told those rioters are actually “the good rebels,” in which case we’re supposed to invest our joy in the images.

We see a picture of miles of flat farmland and (GMO) corn waving in the breeze. We’re supposed to invest that image with feelings of happiness and pride.

Nowhere are we told we can back up a step and realize that we are the ones who begin the whole process, by projecting feelings into images. Any images.

When I was 19, I was sent to a trained expert in New York to take a Rorschach (ink-blot) Test. I was displaying signs of what would now be called Oppositional Defiance Disorder.

The expert said he wanted me to tell him everything I saw in each ink-blot. I took him at his word.

An hour later, I was still working on the first blot. I was describing everything from bats and owls and chickens to space ships and buckets of hidden treasure in caves.

Well, I was cheating a little. I wasn’t really describing what I saw. I was imagining. I was taking off from what was on the page and improvising. This was outside the bounds of the Test.

The expert was seething. He was sweating, because he had many other blots to show me, and it was late in the afternoon, and he was looking at spending the entire evening with me. Finally, he held up his hand and put an end to the Test.

I wasn’t playing his game. Among other sins, I wasn’t investing a limited palette of feelings in the images. Therefore, my choices of “what to see” in the blots expanded greatly.

When I go to a museum, I like to watch people stand in front of abstract paintings. Many of them are stumped. They’re trying to figure out what feelings they “are supposed to” project into the painting. They’re looking for “instruction,” and there isn’t any. They’re asking for mind control, and they’re not getting it.

Fanaticism of any kind begins with individuals projecting feelings into images. This is harnessed by leaders, who then choose the images and direct which feelings are permitted. The tempting prospect for the follower is: participation in a drama that goes beyond what he would ordinarily experience in life. This is bolstered by the idea that what he is doing is moral.

In an election season, people on the left are urged to project messianic feelings into images of X. People on the right are cued to invest feelings of pride, hope, and “tradition” into images of Y. The real candidates aren’t actually experienced.

Since Vietnam, shooting wars have been more difficult to sustain among soldiers. “In the old days,” feelings of hatred could be projected into images of enemies that included civilians, so overtly killing everybody on foreign soil was easier to accept. Now, soldiers are taught “enemy combatant” and “civilian” are two different images that require the injection of two different feelings.

Here at home, police and military are taught, more and more, to invest feelings of suspicion into images of American civilians. This is an acceleration of mass mind control for law enforcement.

The astonishing number of civilians who participate in government and corporate surveillance of the public, through technological means, learn to invest “dead empty feelings” into images of citizens, as if these targets are nothing more than ciphers, units.

Bizarre instances of police detaining and questioning parents who allow their children to play unsupervised reveal another accelerating trend. These confrontations start with neighbors snitching on the parents. The neighbors have learned to invest feelings of panic, suspicion, and anger in images of “free children.”

In all these cases, there is no real experience. It’s all second-hand. It’s all feeling-projected-into-image.

In the medical arena, countless advertisements and news stories are geared to convince people to invest feelings of trust in images of doctors. The suggestion, “Ask your doctor if X is right for you,” is framed as the solution to a little problem. The problem is set this way: Drug X is wonderful; drug X has serious adverse effects; what to do? Solution: ask your doctor; trust him; he knows.

As the class of victims in society has grown by leaps and bounds, including any group that can organize and promote itself as needing help or justice—going miles beyond the people who really do need assistance—citizens have been trained to invest feelings of sympathy and concern for all images of victims everywhere, real or imagined. This, too, is mass mind control.

Pick an image; invest feelings in it. Facts don’t matter. Evidence doesn’t matter.

You’ve heard people say, So-and-so (a celebrity) has become a caricature of himself. Well, that’s what it means. The celebrity has projected massive feelings of approval into a concocted, cartoonish image of himself.

As a society, we can go on this way until we become a horrific cartoon of a cartoon (well, we’re already there), or we can step back and discover how we invest emotion into images, and then use that process to pour feelings into visions of our own choosing and invent better futures.

Since the dawn of time, leaders have portrayed themselves as gods. They’ve assembled teams to promote that image, so their followers could project powerful emotion into the image and thereby cement the leaders’ control and power.

The game isn’t new. Understanding the roots of it within each individual could, however, break the trance of mass mind control.

During the first West Nile fake outbreak of 1999, I spoke with a student who had just dropped out of medical school. He told me he’d been looking at electron-microscope photos of the West Nile Virus, and he suddenly realized he was “supposed to” invest feelings of “great concern” in those images.

Somehow, he broke free from the image-feeling link. He was rather stunned at the experience. His entire conditioning as a medical student evaporated.

Parents all over the world are having the same experience vis-a-vis vaccines. They realize they’re supposed to invest fear in images of germs and disease, and they’re also supposed to invest feelings of hope and confidence in images of needles and vaccines. They see the game. They’re supposed to remain victims of mass mind control.

But they’ve awakened.

We’ve all been taught that what we feel is always and everywhere out of our control. These feelings are simply part of us, and we have to act on them. The alternative would be to sit on them and repress them and turn into androids, robots.

This is simply not true. There are an infinite number of feelings, and as strange as it may sound, we can literally invent them.

This, it is said, is inhuman. It’s a bad idea. It’s wrong. It would lead us to “deserting the human community.”

Nonsense. That’s part of the propaganda of mind control. If the controllers can convince us that we’re working from a limited map of emotions and we have to stay within that territory, they can manipulate that limited set of feelings and trap us.

The power of art is that it shows us there are so many more emotions than we had previously imagined. We can be much freer than we supposed.

The synthetic world of mind control and the handful of feelings that are linked to images is what keeps us in thrall.

The world—the world of what we can be—is so much wider and more thrilling and revealing.

Jon Rappoport

Loyalty to the magnetic field of reality

May21

Loyalty to the magnetic field of reality

by Jon Rappoport

May 21, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

Let us say there are two levels of What Is: surface reality, and what lies under the surface—aka what’s behind the curtain.

Living and working in either venue, a person is, to a significant degree, immersed in What Is.

He doesn’t particularly notice this. But if, one day, he gets it into his head that he wants, somehow, to venture beyond both versions of What Is, something happens to him:

He becomes aware of a magnetic pull back to reality. He feels the magnetic field exert its force on him.

Because reality isn’t only What Is. It’s also a magnetic or gravitational Insistence.

“You must remain loyal to reality.”

The overwhelming majority of people heed this dictate. They believe they should remain loyal.

They believe being faithful to some version of What Is is their duty.

This is the glue that holds societies together.

It’s a kind of magnetic contract.

“All right, now, you’re going to live on planet Earth. Part and parcel of that arrangement is, you’ll stay loyal to the reality that’s presented to you.

“If you begin to stray, you’ll feel a reminder. A force will pull you back. You’re in a field, and the deal is, you won’t move outside it.”

As I say, as long as a person lives in the field or even probes behind one level of reality to find a deeper level, he doesn’t experience what the field is doing.

But if he looks for a way to go beyond all versions of reality, he experiences the magnetic force.

Moving past all versions of reality means: inventing your own.

If you do that, whatever your work is, you’re now in the arena of art. Creation. Imagination.

And you receive “a loyalty review.”

At that point, you have two basic choices. You can retract and duck back into the field, or you can walk out and reject the incursion on your freedom and power.

The loyalty oath is a con. It’s a hoax.

The style and form of society is always a shorthand reduction. It asks people to perform according to oversimplified standards.

To justify this insistence, propagandists assert that simplicity is best. What they really mean is: shrinking the dimensions of your mind makes things easier. This demeaning task is accorded the quality of holiness.

All organized religions of any size promote such hogwash and call it insight.

Living in surface reality, discovering the deeper level of reality, inventing your own reality…and being able to exit and enter from all these states, by choice, is the “royal road,” and the challenge that has no name, no banners, no consensus, no authorities.

Jon Rappoport

Is there a GMO-chemtrail connection?

May21

Is there a GMO-chemtrail connection?

by Jon Rappoport

May 21, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

In a groundbreaking article at farmwars.info, Barbara Peterson makes a stunning connection between GMO food crops and chemtrails. (“Monsanto Patents and Chemtrails”)

Peterson has looked into a Monsanto patent that expands the genetic engineering of food crops.

Engineering for what purpose? Overcoming the destructive presence of heavy metals like aluminum and barium in the soil.

These are metals which have often been reported in globally sprayed chemtrails.

So is Monsanto going to offer yet another version of low-nutrient fake frankenfood, as an answer to chemtrails? And if so, was this the plan all along?

As Peterson reports, the Monsanto patent is titled, “Stress tolerant plants and methods thereof.” It has two identifying numbers. The patent application is 11/961962, and the patent number is 7851676. The publication date is 12/14/10.

Here are quotes from relevant sections:

“Described herein are inventions in the field of plant molecular biology and plant genetic engineering…The transgenic [engineered] plants are characterized by improved stress tolerance.”

“Improvement of abiotic stress tolerance in plants would be an agronomic advantage to growers allowing enhanced growth and/or germination in cold, drought, flood, heat, UV stress, ozone increases, acid rain, pollution, salt stress, heavy metals, mineralized soils, and other abiotic stresses.”

The new GMO food-plants are specifically designed to be resistant to heavy metals, which happen to be present in chemtrails. And as well, the plants are clearly envisioned for the purpose of resisting all manner of pollution.

On the surface, this might seem like a good thing. But it really means: corporate designed food is supposed to feed people in a world where the actual removal of toxic pollution can be ignored.

And the new GMO food, if it follows the pattern of what we’ve seen so far, will turn out to be low-nutrient, and will require more spraying of toxic herbicides.

Are we, in fact, looking at a solution that is worse than the problem? Problem: chemtrails. Solution: More GMO food.

There is a clear parallel in modern pharmaceutical medicine. Problem: illness (which is often misdiagnosed for self-serving purposes). Solution: prescribe toxic drugs.

Here, we could be seeing the same sort of pattern. First chemtrails; then new herbicide-drenched low-nutrient food that is supposed to resist the effects of heavy metals. Then, new levels of crop failure and human illness.

Ask yourself this. What food crop could possibly be engineered to withstand the effects of increasing heavy metals in the soil?

The kind of natural healthy food you want to eat? Or some kind of chimera of food, a plant that looks like the real thing but is merely an outer envelope with no real substance? A shadow of its former self.

Talk about staged events.

“Yes, well, with all this chemtrail activity, and other industrial pollution of the soil and water with heavy metals, we need to create new food crops that won’t fold up and die. We need to stage what looks like, but isn’t, good food. It has to look like a beautiful healthy crop, but of course it’ll be delivering very little nutritive value. Because the heavy metals are very poisonous—and there is no way a real food crop can survive in their presence. So we’ll design fake food. It’ll be like a Christmas party where all the pretty boxes wrapped in colored paper and ribbons are empty inside…”

Jon Rappoport

John Doe vs. the machine

May20

John Doe vs. the machine

by Jon Rappoport

May 19, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

First, there was a giant shadow. It waited and watched. It remained quiet. It felt stirrings from outside itself.

It knew its job was to record and register sensations and peculiar happenings.

It was a projection, but from what? It couldn’t answer that question.

Lurking like a cloud, it had enormous power. It felt that power, and was gratified. It could shape energy. It could influence events. But it waited and watched.

The shadow enjoyed its status. It witnessed this:

In the summer of 2039, John Doe woke up and walked over to his desk. He sat down and dashed off a few lines:

…could have been leaves falling through a door, could have been a woman in Arizona complaining about her kitchen, could have been money bumping against money, could have been

you walking out the door forty years ago and never coming back
or a ferry on the Hudson cutting through waves

John Doe stopped writing, got up, went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee.

There was a knock on the door.

He took his coffee and opened it. A stranger stood there. He was short and wide, and he smiled.

“I’m the Jeremiah,” he said. “I see you just wrote down a group of words that carry no recognizable import.”

“What?” John Doe said.

“The words on the page. They don’t mean anything.”

“Who are you?” Doe said.

“I’m the Jeremiah2x, a mobile unit in the local branch office of the DHS. The coffee smells good.”

“Mobile unit?”

“Why yes. We’re now patrolling neighborhoods. It’s part of our safety procedure. Making sure everything is all right. The words you wrote—what are they for?”

Doe took a step back.

“They’re not for anything. It’s just something I suddenly felt like doing.”

“Which was what?” the unit said.

“Write.”

“Yes, well, nothing wrong there, I suppose. But the words form no recognizable pattern, and they don’t appear to have a function.”

“And is that a problem?” Doe said.

The Jeremiah paused.

“If we don’t understand what you’re doing,” he said, “you could be doing something at the margins.”

“At the margins of what?”

“The law.”

“I see,” Doe said. “So what do you want?

“It would help us,” the Jeremiah said, “if you would explain what those words mean.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t really know.”

“I doubt that,” the Jeremiah said.

“It’s true,” Doe said.

“Is there, for example, a code embedded in the words?” the Jeremiah said.

“Not that I‘m aware of.”

“Is there, let’s see, a fragment of a plan for destruction?”

“Well,” Doe said, “I suppose words can put a hole in ordinary reality.”

The Jeremiah stared at him.

“A hole. Sir, are you aware of what you’re confessing to? There is now a bounded framework of reality. This is a very important development. Language conforms to algorithms underlying that structure. We look for deviations. Words are like germs. We want the friendly ones to spread, and we want to get rid of the debilitating ones.”

Doe smiled.

“I’m still in bed, right? I’m dreaming.”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” the Jeremiah said. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

“Where?”

“The Processing Center. You’ll be assigned to a work vessel. You’re going to sea. After a few months of hard labor, we’ll examine you again and make a finding. You may qualify for Brain Reeducation.”

The Jeremiah’s head melted like wax. The rest of his body followed suit. He lay, a puddle, on the doorstep.

“Not bad,” Doe said. “Maybe I should do a little more writing.”

DHS and NSA computers were suddenly talking to each other in a rage. They were boiling and frothing and parts of their inner works were going dark.

The shadow observed all these things. It gradually realized it had done something. It had destroyed the android, melted it.

This was a new development. Awareness spread through the shadow.

“I’m not a projection from somewhere else. I’m independent. I have…motives.”

The shadow considered this.

“I’m a person.”

Several images appeared in its mind. A figure laid out on a cross bleeding. A man in a garden receiving a strange accusation of wrongdoing. A man walking in a parade holding a whip flagellating his own back. A man with a brain that was a machine. A man sitting in a cubicle in a vast office. A man standing inside a container of space and time.

“I’m not any of those things.”

The shadow now stood on a sidewalk in the middle of a city. People walked by him. He whispered to himself:

“I can change structure.”

Now he was standing on the peak of a hill in a forest.

“I have some thinking to do,” he said. His eyes were moist. The thought came to him that he had been waiting a long time.

He moved away.

It was a hot afternoon. Rain fell. The wind filtered through trees.

A mythical connection had been broken. Now he was alive.

Jon Rappoport

Nine-year olds can get sex-change medical drugs

May19

9-year olds can get sex-change drugs

by Jon Rappoport

May 19, 2014

www.nomorefakenews.com

The Telegraph is reporting that British children of both sexes, as young as nine, will be able to take drugs to block and disrupt the onset of puberty…thus allowing later sex-change procedures to move along more easily.

Requirements: parents approve, and the child is “mentally healthy.”

This adds new information re the agenda of sexualizing young children, and also the general transhuman program.

In a half-sane world, the researchers behind this plan for children would be sent to a remote desert island for the rest of their lives. Or they would be executed.

But this world is not close to being half-sane.

In case you’ve forgotten or hadn’t noticed, young children get all sorts of ideas into their heads. Seldom do these notions of what they want to be last longer than a few weeks—unless actively encouraged by parents and little devil-spawn psychologists.

Do we even need to say it? A nine-year-old child isn’t capable of making decisions about his/her future. It takes constant pounding (“caring encouragement”) to make such decisions stick.

Unsurprisingly, the child-drug-sex-change “innovation” comes from the Tavistock Center, long known as a focal point for mass-psychology (brainwashing) research and promotion.

As far as I’m concerned, a full-fledged adult can substitute and/or remove all the body parts he/she wants to, as long as the taxpayer doesn’t fund it.

But there is no such thing as a “mental disorder,” the cure for which is sex-change. That’s just more hype and bullshit.

And legitimizing sex-change in children is a stench-ridden felony of the highest order.

Are there any legislators left in England with a shred of courage who’ll step up and outlaw this madness? Or will they all cave in to some phony ideal of tolerance in the friendly fascist State?

The deep agenda here is making over the human being into an experimental construct, against whom any form of assault can be launched.

It’s not coming. It’s here.

Imagine a few thousand people with signs outside the Tavistock headquarters, protesting the new program. Now imagine how the press would cover it:

“So-and-so, the president of the Freedom and Progress Foundation, stated: ‘These protestors are bitter clingers, holding on to archaic ideas that have long stalled the evolution of society. We seek justice for the ignored and the marginalized people, our brothers and sisters. Every child should have the chance to become what he or she dreams of being’…now here’s Bill with breaking news about Manchester United.”

Hideous. The banality of evil.

Jon Rappoport

How they would stage a bioterror event

May18

by Jon Rappoport

May 18, 2014

(To join our email list, click here.)

There are future scenarios which, with enough exposure before they happen, can be stopped, or at least analyzed correctly when they occur.

A staged bioterror event is one of those.

The primary fact is: no matter what kind of germ you’re talking about or where it came from, releasing it intentionally does not guarantee predictable results.

For instance, people whose immune systems are at different levels of strength are going to react differently.

The perpetrators may find that less than 2% of people exposed get sick and die.

But there is another strategy that should be understood:

The use of a germ as a cover story for a chemical.

In other words, there is no germ attack. It’s called a germ attack, but that’s a lie. The perps bring in researchers, to the affected area, who go on to claim they have isolated a germ that is the cause of death and illness. It’s a sham. What really happened was the spread of a toxic chemical that can’t be detected, unless you’re looking for it.

The chemical has severe and deadly effects for a week or two or three. Then it disperses and loses potency and the “epidemic” is done.

In some town, a fairly isolated community, the word goes out that people are suddenly falling ill and dying. The CDC and the Army (or DHS and UN troops(?)) are called in to cordon off the area and quarantine all citizens. A peremptory announcement is made, early on, that this is a biowar attack.

Major media are allowed outside the periphery. Network news anchors set up on-location and do their wall to wall broadcasts “from the scene.”

The entire nation, the entire world is riveted on the event, 24/7.

People inside the cordon fall ill and die. Reports emerge from the town:

The networks state that “heroic doctors are taking samples of blood and the blood is being analyzed to find the germ that is causing the epidemic.” The DoD confirms over and over that this is, indeed, a biowar attack.

Human interest stories pile up. This family lost three members, that family lost everybody. Tragedy, horror, and the desired empathic response from “the world community.”

It’s a soap opera, except real people are dying.

The medical cartel promotes fear of the germ.

All controlling entities get to obtain their piece of the terrorist pie.

Finally, the doctors announce they have isolated the germ causing the death in the small town, and researchers are rushing to develop a vaccine (which they produce in record time).

Everyone everywhere must be vaccinated, now. No choice. Do it or be quarantined or jailed.

In this declared martial law situation, the doctors are the heroes. The doctors and the Army. And the government, and even the media.

Then, after a few weeks, when the potency of the secret chemical has dispersed, it’s over.

(To read about Jon’s collection, Power Outside The Matrix, click here.)

When you think about it, this scenario is a rough approximation of what happens every day, all over the world, in doctor’s offices. The doctors are prescribing chemicals (drugs) whose effects are far more dangerous than germs that may be causing patients to be ill.

In other words, a chem-war attack is being leveled at people all over the world all the time.

See Dr. Barbara Starfield (Johns Hopkins School of Public Health), July 26, 2000, Journal of the American Medical Association, “Is US health really the best in the world?” 106,000 people in America are killed every year by FDA-approved medical drugs. That’s a million people per decade (click here for more info). Also search engine “FDA Why Should You Learn About Adverse Drug Reactions.” the FDA admits 100,000 people in America die every year from the effects of medical drugs. (Click here to go directly to the FDA page in question.)

In the wake of a staged “biowar” terror attack, new laws are enacted. The State clamps down harder on basic freedoms. The right to travel is curtailed. Criticizing the authorities is viewed as highly illegal. Freedom of assembly is limited.

“Citizens must cooperate. We’re all in this together.”

A new federal law mandating the CDC schedule of vaccines for every child and adult—no exceptions permitted—is rushed through the Congress and signed by the President.

It’s all based on a lie…in the same way that the disease theory of the medical cartel is based on a lie: the strength of an individual’s immune system is the basic determinant of health or illness, not germs considered in a vacuum.

And the kicker is, conventional doctors have no treatments that, in and of themselves, elevate the power of the immune system. So they must exaggerate and propagandize the power of germs, night and day.

There are people who are determined to inflate the dangers of germs. They trumpet every “new” germ as the end of humankind on the planet. They especially sound the alarm when researchers claim a germ may have mutated or jumped from animals to humans.

“This is it! We’re done for!”

However, if you check into actual confirmed cases of death from recent so-called epidemics, such as West Nile, SARS, bird flu (H5N1), Swine Flu (H1N1), and now MERS, the numbers of deaths are incredibly low, contrasted with, say, the global deaths from ordinary seasonal flu—which is never called a pandemic.

And even seasonal flu, in America, produces far fewer deaths than advertised. As I’ve written before, the CDC keeps one category of statistics for pneumonia and flu combined. When you break out the numbers for each illness, flu death is minuscule.

If political criminals, behind the scenes, wanted to stage a confined “biowar” event, they would choose a chemical, not a germ, and they would leverage such an event to curtail freedom.

Jon Rappoport

Jon Rappoport's Blog

NoMoreFakeNews.com

Paranormal you: welcome back

How effective is electromagnetic thought control?

The magician

Elliot Roger, Santa Barbara killer: parallels and numbers

The basis of mass mind control

Loyalty to the magnetic field of reality

Is there a GMO-chemtrail connection?

John Doe vs. the machine

Nine-year olds can get sex-change medical drugs

How they would stage a bioterror event