by Jon Rappoport
September 11, 2020
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During the lockdowns, famous screenwriter, Joe Jim Bob Cash, in order to escape recriminations from his kids because he wouldn’t wear a mask, hid in the basement of his Beverly Hills mansion and wrote raw notes for a new script:
SCENE: Bill and Melinda in a frozen circle of Hell. Small apartment. Wheezing heater.
Bill: Maybe we should have released a real virus.
Mel: Don’t you remember what David Rockefeller told you? They mutate quickly, nobody knows if they’ll have any effect at all. Selling THE STORY ABOUT A VIRUS is much better. We control it.
Bill: Anyway, what are we doing here?
Mel: I think it’s a challenge, a test. What can we sell in this place, and to whom?
Bill: It’s too late to atone for our sins?
Mel: What sins?
Bill: Sorry, I forgot. We’re immune. But look out the window. There’s nothing but a sheet of ice in all directions. Nobody there.
Mel: We’ll find somebody and sell something.
SCENE: Conference room in a hotel. Two Biden advisors.
“How’s he doing?”
“Same old, same old. The doctors are trying to get the dosages right. Uppers, downers, the rumor is he’s on a dozen drugs. For the past five years. You know, so he can stand up and sound coherent for a few minutes at a time.”
“Do we want to win this campaign?”
“My guess is hell no. Why are we going with Biden? I think we’re supposed to lose to Trump, so rioters can try to burn down a hundred cities. Hell of a game plan.”
“It’s a strategy I haven’t dealt with before.”
SCENE: Conference room in the White House. Two Trump campaign advisors.
“Why isn’t the president sending in the FBI or troops to squash the riots?”
“He might be playing an angle. You know, show people the violence on television all the way up to the election and win in a landslide. Just a guess.”
“It could work.”
“Worked for Nixon in 1968.”
“What about the economy? It’s a horror story.”
“Trump blames it on the Democrats.”
“That’ll fly?”
“What other choice does he have? He bought the COVID fakery in one fell swoop. One of the worst moves a president ever made. Virus my ass.”
SCENE: Bunker a hundred feet below the basement of the New York mayor’s mansion. George Soros, an ex-CIA officer, a Chinese Army colonel.
Soros: Burn, baby, burn.
Ex-CIA: My list of paid operatives, hard cases, is up to 900. They know how to take a protest up to a crazy riot in five minutes. They’re good. We can ship them anywhere.
Chinese colonel: You need more. I can supply some Americans.
Soros: Colonel, how long do you think it’ll take to impose the Chinese social credit score system together with real time surveillance on all of America?
Chinese colonel: Five years. But we need ongoing chaos.
SCENE: Conference room, video game company, “FOR THE LOVE OF SHOOTING.” Two executives.
“We’re way down on sales of all games.”
“What did you expect? People are watching the riots on TV. Some of them are out in the streets. They’re into the real thing. We can’t beat that.”
“How about a game where we mix and match virtual with actual riots?”
“How do we do that?”
“I think our holograms are good enough. We project them in and among the actual street events. You know, holos of cops, soldiers, invaders from outer space, UN troops, monsters.”
“I’m trying to picture how it would work.”
“Leave that to our tech guys and scripters. They’ll figure it out.”
SCENE: Conference room, CNN headquarters. Two execs.
“So I want to test this out. At the top of the news, no anchor, no voiceover. We just show five full minutes of riot and burning footage, and flash, every nine seconds, a big blinking poster that reads: COVID DEATH, COVID DEATH, COVID DEATH.”
“I like it.”
Joe forwards the script notes to a producer friend. The reply; “Have you gone full-blown whacko?”
Joe and the producer talk.
Joe: How can I sell this?
Producer: Two ways. One, it all takes place in a nut house. The inmates are pretending to be Bill and Melinda and the other characters. Or we make a documentary of your severe mental decline during the lockdowns, and use your notes as evidence.
Joe: Suppose my notes reflect the truth?
Producer: Suppose the man in the moon is George Washington? What the hell’s wrong with you?
Joe: AGAIN—what about the stuff in my notes? Suppose—
Producer: Suppose superheroes really do fly from building to building and repel missiles. Come on, Joe. Put your mind right. We’re in the puerile fantasy business, not the apeshit insane business.
Joe: Put my mind right? How?
Producer: Think about money. It always works for me.
Joe: I have all the money I’ll ever need.
Producer: Then think about getting drummed out of the corps. Never working in Hollywood again. Going on a blacklist. Your family is devastated. Humiliated. Their friends shun them.
Joe: Yeah, that rings a bad bell.
Producer: Of course it does.
Joe: It makes me wonder why I’m in this business at all.
Producer: Don’t wander into MORALITY. That’s quicksand.
Joe: Those notes I sent you—let’s say they represent an opinion. A point of view. Why can’t that point of view see the light of day? Why can’t it join all the other ideas out there?
Producer: Because, my idiot friend, it attacks what’s already been sold. Get it? Nobody wants a few hundred million customers asking for their money back. Let me talk to your wife.
Joe: She took the kids to Florida. They’re staying with her mother. She’s really pissed off.
Producer: She understands what’s what. She’s thinking on a practical level. Look at it this way. If you went with these new thoughts of yours, you’d be a small voice in the wilderness. What could you possibly accomplish?
Joe: I like that image. Voice in the forest.
Producer: Everybody does. Until they’re successful. Then they wise up. That’s the story arc. Struggle, success, adjustment. This is the life we’ve chosen.
Joe: Not anymore. I finally got some sleep the other night, and I had a dream—
Producer: For God’s sakes, Joe!
Joe: No. Listen. I had a dream. I died, and I went to this place. A giant production studio. They were making a movie about Earth. The people down here were all in it, only they didn’t know it. It was about chaos and destruction. Exactly what we’re seeing now.
Producer: Joe, you couldn’t sell that piece of crap to a high school drama class.
Joe: The director said to me, “You have a tiny cameo as just another idiot who won’t follow his conscience.” He laughed at me. I got mad. I tried to summon up some kind of power to destroy the whole studio. I could feel lightning flowing through my veins. Then I woke up.
Producer: You may have brain damage. These plot twists you’re giving me are really sophomoric. You’re regressing.
Joe: Then I went back to sleep. This time I was in a hospital room. A doctor was bending over you. You were lying in bed. He was explaining the drugs he was prescribing. Heart drugs. Thinners. Statins. All sorts of medicines. He said you had the virus and there were complications. He said they might have to put you on a ventilator.
Producer: That’s not funny, Joe.
Joe: Lois and your son came into the room. It was as if they were on death watch. They looked grim. I tried to tell you there was nothing wrong with you and the doctors were crazy. You wouldn’t listen to me. I started weeping in the dream. I was trying to fight the bastards, but you were going down the drain. I saw your obituary in the New York Times. Film producer dead at 62. COVID-19.
SILENCE.
Producer: A movie about a producer who’s diagnosed with the virus. His friend, a writer. The producer gave the writer his first big break. The writer goes nuts and imagines all sorts of dire conspiracies…in his demented state, he tries to save his friend, but of course he can’t. It has human dimensions. How people fight reality with hope in impossible things. The movie is really about the writer. It’s thin, but we could flesh it out. Make it for ten million, there’s a ten percent chance we might break even.
Joe: Stop it. I know you were tested. I know it came back positive.
Producer: What are you talking about?
Joe: Lois told me.
Producer: Joe, I haven’t talked with Lois in weeks. She’s staying with a friend in Manhattan Beach.
Joe: Lois is at home with you. She’s right there.
Producer: You’re mistaken, Joe.
Joe: She told me you had a cough and were running a fever. Don’t let the doctors con you. If you—
Producer: I can’t listen to this anymore.
Joe: It’s just a cold. Maybe flu. Don’t buy their diagnosis.
Producer: I was tested once. The result was ambiguous.
Joe: I’m talking about the second test.
Producer: What?
Joe: Done by the doctor you told me about, who has connections to the CDC. You bragged about him.
Producer: I don’t recall that.
Joe: Sure you do. Wake up, Phil. We’re not talking about a movie.
Producer: Joe, haven’t you learned by now that our lives are out of our hands?
Joe: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Producer: Things happen to us and we have to accept them.
Joe: We don’t have to accept anything.
Producer: You’re wrong.
Joe: So if they put you on a train to your grave, you’ll go along with it?
Producer: They’re the experts.
Joe: Are you listening to yourself?
Producer: Joe, in my work, in my position, a lot of people depend on me. If I try to go against the tide, what are they going to think? I can’t let them down.
Joe: You think all those people want you to die?
Producer: If necessary, yes. They want me to follow the rules. They want me to stay in line.
Joe: I see. So you’re a quiet martyr. A “conformist saint.”
Producer: I’m just a regular person. I’m like everybody else.
Joe: Snap out of it!
Producer: Think of all the actors and directors I know. Most of the successful ones are under the care of doctors. They have some sort of condition. Many of them are connected to medical charities. Imagine how they’d feel if I suddenly challenged my diagnosis. If I told my doctor to go to hell. If I refused to take medicine. If I went around without a mask. In case you haven’t noticed, Hollywood is part of the wider medical community.
Joe: You have an autographed picture of Tony Fauci on your wall?
Producer: As a matter of fact, I met him once. He may be the only person standing between us and destruction. And if Joe Biden is elected, we’ll have a national plan to fight the pandemic, and Fauci will lead it. We’ll have the closest thing to a medical presidency this country has ever seen.
Joe: Your investments went belly up, didn’t they, Phil? I can only assume you’re talking this way because you’re broke. It has to be about money.
Producer: I’ve had some trouble with my new real estate venture. That’s all.
Joe: It has to be a lot worse than that. Who’s bailing you out?
Producer: It’s business. The land is just sitting there now. A group of investors showed up. They want to buy it and build a state-of-the-art hospital. It’s a godsend.
Joe: I see. Would your doctor happen to be one of the investors?
Producer: No. I mean, he’s put a little money into it. There are two groups. The minor group is a bunch of actors and a few producers. The big players are coming in from the outside. They want a research wing connected to the hospital. Cutting-edge treatments. New vaccine approaches. The Gates Foundation is involved. For all I know, they might be the moving force behind the whole project. But here’s the thing, Joe. I’m strapped for cash right now. I wanted to talk to you about that. I need funds to tide me over.
Joe: How much?
Producer: A hundred thousand.
Joe: I want to talk to Lois.
Producer: I told you, she’s not here. She’s living in Manhattan Beach.
Joe: Why do you keep lying?
Producer: Because she’s gone crazy! Okay? She’s flipped! I tell all my friends she isn’t here! I don’t want them talking to her! She thinks the doctors are going to hurt me. She’s delusional! I can’t afford to rock the boat! I’m on the Hollywood committee to elect Biden. They’re asking a few of us to make public statements supporting the riots. It’s all connected, Joe. Everything is connected. The other day, Lois talked to my doctor about hydroxychloroquine. I thought he was going to drop me as a patient. You should have seen his face.
Joe: What does he want you to do?
Producer: I’ve tested positive. I have symptoms. He wants me to spend a few days in the hospital. Then I isolate myself at home.
Joe: Don’t go to the hospital.
Producer: I have to. There’s no way out.
Joe: I’m your friend, Phil. You gave me my first break. I’ll give you the money. But don’t go in the hospital.
Producer: Is that advice or an ultimatum, Joe?
Joe: It’s a prayer.
Producer: I’m sorry.
Joe: And if push comes to shove, you and Lois can come here and stay with me.
Producer: I appreciate that. Now go back to work and give me a superhero script with a few monsters in it. For after the lockdowns.
Joe: I’ve got one. A team of researchers expose the fake pandemic that has no virus, and they save the world.
Producer: Yeah, right. Then you and I will be doing off-off-Broadway and begging for nickels.
Joe: There is no off-off. There’s no Broadway. It’s all boarded up. The money men left New York. The tax base of the city is shrinking to the size of a raindrop.
Producer: What are you, a financial analyst now?
Joe: Just following the clues.
Producer: Think Bill Gates. Give me a fantasy script he would like.
Joe: He’s already in the notes I sent you. He and Melinda are in a frozen circle of Hell. There’s no one else in that place. They’re trying to figure out what they can sell and to whom. Okay. Suddenly, Bill gets an idea. They have thousands of miles of ice surrounding them. Now they need to cut big blocks and build a bridge up to the Tropics, where they can peddle the ice. Superman shows up. He thinks the frozen circle is his Fortress of Solitude. Bill impales him with a giant icicle, and the war is on. Two great forces trying to destroy each other. This is just the opening scene. Then Batshit and his sidekick, Robin Hood, appear, with Friar Tuck and Little John and Maid Marian. She’s wearing something low-cut from Victoria’s Secret.
Producer: Okay, Joe, enough.
Joe: There’s nothing wrong with you. You have a cold.
Producer: I have obligations.
Joe: They’ve got you in a box.
Producer: Damn right. It’s part of the cost of doing business. Overhead.
Joe: Step out of it. Breathe. Take off that stupid mask.
Producer: I’m in a delicate situation. If I make a wrong move, they’ll crucify me.
Joe: Don’t let them put you on a ventilator. In New York, just about everybody over 65 who goes on a ventilator dies.
Producer: That’s ridiculous. That’s not true.
Joe: Don’t take the antiviral drugs. They’re toxic.
Producer: You sound like Lois.
Joe: She’s in your corner. She’s looking out for you.
Producer: I want her to see a psychiatrist.
Joe: You’re throwing away her loyalty like an old dishrag.
Producer: I’m sorry.
SILENCE.
Producer: Anyway, Joe, thanks for the money. I appreciate it. Gotta go.
Joe: Take care of yourself.
Producer: I almost forgot. One more thing. Our wives got together last week for a few minutes. This contact tracing business? Somebody at my doctor’s office asked me to list all the people—I mentioned that Lois talked to your wife…
Joe: So I could be getting a call to get tested.
Producer: Yeah. I panicked.
Joe: You’re now a snitch. If I refuse to get tested—I go on a blacklist? This is like the 1950s? The House Un-American Activities Committee?
Producer: Don’t fool around, Joe. It’s nothing like that. It’s science. Cooperate. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of this.
Joe: Meaning it’s political.
Producer: Everything is.
Joe: I AM a screenwriter. I refuse to get tested. I WAS a screenwriter. Nice neat formula.
Producer: Stop acting like a child. I’m trying to help you.
Joe: How is snitching helping me?
Producer: They would have come up with your name eventually, on their own.
Joe: Really? You’re sure about that?
Producer: I’m not sure about anything. I’m flailing. Trying to keep my head above water.
Joe: Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Phil.
SCENE: Frozen Circle of Hell.
Bill: You know, we did everything right. Sold the virus story. Sold the testing, the tracing, masks, distancing, the lockdowns, the vaccine. Humans are dangerous. That was always our premise. They have to be controlled. The only way to do that is by stimulus-response. Find an input that delivers strict obedience. We carried out our end of the deal very well. So why are we here? Why weren’t we rewarded?
Mel: Simple. There is no justice. We make our own.
Bill: Exactly. So let’s get busy cutting blocks of ice. We have to build a bridge to the tropics. We’ve got product to sell. Lots of product.
Mel: Never give up.
Bill: It’s never over. Every problem has a solution. That’s ALL existence is. Problems and solutions.
Mel: We’re engineers.
Bill: Everybody else is a crazy human. We keep the crazies in their cages, forever.
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, The Matrix Revealed, click here.)
Jon Rappoport
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.
