COVID and Hollywood in the carnival called reality

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.


The Matrix Revealed

(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.

COVID news in the age of the impossible; the reality war

by Jon Rappoport

September 4, 2020

(To join our email list, click here.)

Dateline, June 2, 2074.

Good evening, this is Lester Muir. Our top story tonight: a treasure trove of documents written by the once-famous philanthropist, Bill Gates, has been unearthed in a bunker near Seattle.

Last weekend, workers clearing the ruins from a bomb set off by the Nation ZZAHC discovered the long-rumored Gates Diaries. A shocking release from the Smithsonian Department of History states:

“Mr. Gates, obviously in a deranged state of mind, wrote, ‘I’ve taken a virtual tour of Hell. Just in case I end up there, things are all set. My Foundation has donated three billion dollars toward the construction of a new wing, which includes a five-star resort where Melinda and I will spend our days. The wing will also feature a drug and vaccine research facility…’”

Ten years ago, the cryogenic factory where Gates’ brain had been frozen and stored collapsed in a hurricane, and all heads were lost.

The Biden Department of Advanced Linguistic Studies at Harvard will cooperate with the Smithsonian in analyzing the Gates Diaries.

Before moving on to our next story, subscribers to our Class A Portal can now click over to learn more about the Gates discovery. That Portal broadcast is only for gen-rich viewers who have received the injectable Genetic Modification Series 9.

SWITCH.

This is Lester Muir, for our Series 9 subscribers. We have a brief report from the Chairman of Biden Studies, Sir Dulles Op Obama, grandson of the former president of the United States. Sir Dulles is hoping the Gates Diaries will include no “confession” of “a never-discovered coronavirus.” Such an inaccurate characterization would destabilize trading markets and cause yet more riots that would have to be put down by force.

Sir Dulles warned that all speculations about fake viruses should remain in Limbo, where they can cause relatively little harm.

That warning is now a directive issued by the President’s Council on Surveillance. Do not discuss fake viruses. The US-China All Eyes System will pick up such conversations and reduce digital funds in offenders’ accounts.

Last month’s massive hack of the All Eyes System has been repaired. It is once again fully functional.

You, our subscribers, are our most valued asset. Your genetically enhanced status makes you the elite of the elite. What is your duty as gen-rich pioneers? To do everything you can to preserve order. As you know, we are facing an ongoing revolution from many quarters. In particular, the Bitter Clingers want to target you and your privilege.

In their latest round of propaganda, they are publishing false studies claiming your extended longevity is a sham, and your genetic alterations are unworkable and even harmful. These studies must be censored at every level. You are therefore urged to make donations to the GoogFace Fund. Its AI InfoSweeps are the best in the business.

As for your private security forces, we recommend Vanguard-State Street-BlackRock. Their resources are unparalleled. We here at NBC have wide-reaching contracts with their Serbian ground troop brigades.

NBC has been taking the lead in lobbying for an open windows policy regarding subscriber communications of all kinds. We believe your freedom would be well-deserved. Our proposal, as you know, is to release you from all surveillance vectors between the hours of 2 and 4AM on alternate Mondays. Unfortunately, so far our efforts have failed to make inroads on national parliament deliberations. We’ve taken up the issue with the US CFR-Trilateral Intelligence Nexus, and this is what we’ve learned: security leaks are emanating from our own gen-enhanced subscribers. We have no details so far. We assume this means a few of you are reporting out the contents of these confidential briefings, under the misapprehension that the surveillance net will not pick up your gross violations. You’re no doubt already the targets of investigation.

On a brighter note, the new New York Alliance is hard at work digitizing what amounts to a new branch of the economy designed for trade and commerce, exclusive to a network of the gen-rich. Of course, the trickle-down effects to other classes will ultimately benefit the entire population. But this plug and pay will facilitate your day-to-day business activities and ventures with unprecedented speed and clarity. It’s a universe built for you. Find new opportunities. Meet with like-minded speculators.

Gain access to proprietary files listing depressed and seized properties large and small, by category. You can buy AND sell properties with a click. It’s a trading market.

Now, for those of you with a real zest for adventure, NBC is partnering with the Gates School of Investment Logic, to present an entirely new and experimental download seminar.

The data are priceless. Learn how to set up your own non-profit foundation, fund pharma research, promote the anticipated results, invest in those pharma corporations doing the research, watch stock prices soar, and make profit. That’s the short description. Give, promote, invest, profit. But the innovation is the method of learning:

It’s a direct download, into the brain. Experimental, as I say. Up to now, we’ve been successful at inducing feelings, impulses, aversions, preferences—in some people. But it’s a new day. We’re working to insert entire data files AS KNOWLEDGE in the mind. Without coercion. This is a major leap forward. Do you want to try it? These files are for the gen-rich only.

Bill Gates once wrote, “The aftermath of COVID is the key. That’s when the new changes will take hold. Bold technologies will replace older ways of thought and action.” Downloading knowledge is the frontier.

Disclaimer: No liability is attached to NBC or any of its partners. In prior clinical trials, some volunteers experienced transient memory loss and motor impairment.

—All of which leads to today’s talking points. The big question facing us is: who invents reality? Are we going to create reality for the masses, or are we going to allow them to create it for us?

The new technologies are about to answer that question. If researchers can insert/inject the quality and content of KNOWLEDGE/PERCEPTION, it becomes reality.

The first crude attempt, on a wide basis, was the COVID nano vaccine. It attempted to place tiny sensors in the brain and body, for the purpose of receiving instructions from a central command point. The results were spotty, at best. But that was to be expected.

Updates were introduced with COVID booster shots. —Still, wildly unpredictable outcomes. Many people reported hearing voices. Some of them went on to found churches and cults.

Soon, however, the combination of nanotech and genetic inserts introduced what researchers called the Contentment Index. Also known as the Placidity Constant. It was the high-tech equivalent of the old invocation, “Remain Calm.”

Here is the current problem researchers are working on. If you shoot impulses which represent 50 million words into the brain, how does the brain interpret those messages? How does it translate them? Does it integrate them with prior knowledge?

And finally, here is the conundrum: who is listening to the brain? We are suddenly in the uncomfortable realm of metaphysics. Some experts will insist there is no need for anyone to hear what the brain is saying. The brain IS the human being. Others will claim there must be a Being apart from his brain. If so, who will control that Being?

In any event, apparently Bill Gates thought he was hedging his bets when he made his donation to a new wing in Hell. This must have happened near the end of his life when he went mad. We wonder whether he was an early victim of one of the experiments he funded.

Yet, we should admire his persistence. He envisioned a day when the human population would exist as a “coordinated apparatus.” That’s what he called it. An assigned function for every person in the overall scheme of things.

Here are two more snippets from his Diaries: “We are simply transferring medieval feudalism, with modern technology, into a new age. The master sits in his castle. He is equipped, first and foremost, with genetic enhancements. He can think and plan with awesome speed and specificity. He feels a steady hum of confidence. He is always young…”

“Depopulation is a given. Fast or slow. Gradual deletions will work best. Selective targeting, based on studies and projections, is essential. What matters is the human race will survive. The species will endure. It’s the same for any animal population. If you cull a herd, you are not making a complete erasure. You can enhance those creatures you preserve, but you enhance them to produce only what you need from them.”

We have a question from a subscriber: “Lester, how can you be appearing simultaneously on the public and private broadcasts?”

Well, I’m live on the public side. Here, you’re watching and listening to our latest AI version of me. Naturally, I’ve been profiled carefully by my employers at NBC, and they’ve had a replica built that thinks and speaks as I would. That is to say, I am that replica.

In fact, I can tell you that a remarkable Bill Gates AI replica is presently living in China, and is working as a consultant to the Regime. He’s housed in a building in one of newer smart cities.

I hope to interview him in the near future.

NBC is partnering with Microsoft to create AI replicas of a number of historical figures. Among them: David Rockefeller, Henry Kissinger, George Soros, and Hillary Clinton. Eventually, the network will feature them in live broadcasts and conversations.

If you’re wondering whether a future AI candidate for could run for, and win, the US presidency, I believe the answer is yes. What would we be asking the public to accept? A synthesis of the best thinking and organizational planning, congealed into the perfect likeness of a human being. Why would that be a problem? These days, almost all political decisions are technical choices. The overall values and assumptions of civilization have been set in stone. The only real issue is controlling rebellions.

For example, if my biological counterpart were to disappear tomorrow, what exactly would be lost? I would still be here.

And that is today’s report.


The Matrix Revealed

(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.

The propaganda master comes to town

by Jon Rappoport

July 24, 2020

(To join our email list, click here.)

Note: This is a piece of fiction I wrote months ago, when there was some question about what Trump was going to do…which way he was going to jump…

What do most people say, if you raise questions about the reality of the “epidemic,” or even hint that the facts might be in doubt?

They say, “But people are dying.” And that’s the end of the conversation.

So, in this episode of virus fakery and apocalypse on rye with mustard, I present a tale I like to call: THE PROPAGANDA MASTER COMES TO TOWN.

This character is a wisdom figure and a teacher. He’s an old pro. He makes sure the lies are being told well and often. He reminds his troops of their mission. Pardon his language, but he has a very low opinion of humanity.

Here he is now, getting out of his limo and walking into a five-star hotel.

Conference room. A security team has checked the space for bugs and other electronic snooping. The shades are drawn. A dozen propaganda ops specialists are sitting at the long table.

The maestro walks into the room, stands at one end of the table, and without formalities, begins talking:

—I only have a few minutes. I’m on my way to Rome to brief the Pope. So here it is. We put messages into the heads of the great unwashed masses, so they’ll pass those messages to others. Get it? THAT’S the real contagion factor. Never forget it. We’re Info Central for the rubes and yokels and idiots, including high IQ idiots who think their college degree means they’re educated in science.

—We work with death. People all over the world are dying all the time, every day. The public doesn’t want to think about that. Good. That’s good for us. Our job is to convince the yokels that the “new” dying which is happening now comes from a special virus. We do that by equating DEATH and CORONAVIRUS. Get it? Never forget it. “People are dying, it must be the virus.” That’s our ticket.

—Our medical brethren in this great con have already done a terrific job carving up death into various categories. But now they can also make ordinary pneumonia into coronavirus pneumonia at the drop of a hat. They can make flu into corona. They can make a man falling down stairs a victim of the virus. A flying saucer crashes in a field? If that happened, a CDC official with a straight face could tell the yokels and idiots that the alien pilot of the craft was struck down by the virus and that’s why he lost control of the saucer.

—So we can’t let our medical friends down. We have to ramp up the intensity of the message. I want more predictions from Harvard and Yale big shots. You know, millions are going to die. Half the world’s population is going to be infected.

—Some of the idiots and loons we target are politicians. They “believe in science.” We want these pols to lock down MORE cities. Make people feel the sting. The sting and the crisis and the quarantine must equal THE VIRUS. We own the virus. It’s our psy-weapon. It’s an idea, a notion, a ghost, and the medical experts can contain it, if people follow all their orders. Keep pounding that message.

—Now, just between us, did they ever find a brand new virus in China to begin with? I see no convincing evidence they did. But who cares? Are the diagnostic tests for the virus inadequate and useless and worthless and deceiving? Of course. Is the “virus epidemic” a gold-plated fake? Sure. Are all sorts of people being diagnosed with corona who have no disease at all? You bet. Are people who are sick for all sorts of reasons being told they’re corona cases? Yeah. That’s our bread and butter. Some poor bastard gets off a plane and he has a slight fever from the bad air in the cabin and he’s whisked to a military base for quarantine. Play it up. “The virus can get you anytime, anywhere.” In a city, one ICU ward in a hospital is overflowing with sick people. Of course it is. People are sick all the time. But now, they’re all afraid, and they’re coming on foot, in cars, in wheelchairs, on crutches, and with the wave of a magic wand, they’re put in the ICU because they must be corona. Good. I want more pictures of that chaotic ICU. I want video on the news. More of it. Get busy. Don’t slack off. This is a circus. There are rules for a circus. The main rule is, people get bored quickly, so you need lots of acts and tricks and animals and side shows and candy to keep the audience occupied. An ICU here, an ICU there. A mother crying. Who cares why? It must be the virus. I don’t want to hear about all the other reasons people are sick. I just want to hear VIRUS.

—Never forget how easily you can fool the yokels. Yesterday, a guy living in an apartment house had the flu. No big deal. But today, same guy? Corona. Nothing changed except the news. All his neighbors in the building forget that yesterday this guy had ordinary flu. It’s a beautiful thing. Use it. I want to see more funerals on the news.

—Our holy grail, our perfect ideal, which is unattainable, would be: every death in the world for the next six months or a year is called coronavirus. But we can strive toward that ideal. We must.

—There are two echelons. There is WE. And there is THEY-THEM. WE keep THEM in their limited minds. We bolster those limited minds with our messages. Keep them yammering, “People are dying, it must be the virus!” It’s pure gold. Mine that gold.

Back in his limo, the maestro puts in a call to his contact at the CDC. “Listen up,” he says, “you people over there are wobbling. I’m talking about the diagnostic test for the virus. First, your test kits were bad, they didn’t work. Then you didn’t have enough of them to satisfy needs. Now the word is starting to leak out that the tests are inherently unreliable and no one should believe them. This crap must stop. Shore up your troops. Get them in line. I want healthy people and sick people and old people and young people and all people to be diagnosed with corona, and I don’t want any uncertainties. You and I know the test is a joke, it doesn’t work, but nobody else can find that out. Got it? People over there at the CDC can be replaced. They can find themselves out on the street. What’s in charge of this operation is propaganda, not science. YOU back US up. That’s the hierarchy. I want FEAR raging through the population. If you can’t hold up your end, you’re going to find all the quotes about the epidemic in the press are suddenly coming from the World Health Organization or Johns Hopkins, not the CDC. I’ll make sure you’re shoved into the background. The World Health people are professional. They know how to deliver a unified con job. Those two idiots, the governor of New York and the mayor of New York, are doing more to hype this fake epidemic than all the employees of the CDC put together. Get your house in order. Fast.”

He closes his phone and sticks it in his pocket. On the way to the airport, he hums a little tune. He looks out the window. He thinks to himself, if we can stretch this out far enough, we can even stage a presidential election in America on the Internet. No one votes in a booth. Can’t risk transmission of the virus. He chuckles. His phone vibrates. He takes it out.

“Yes, sir?” he says. He listens. Nods. “Yes, sir, I know you’re going to address the nation in a few minutes. Well, sir, this is a squeeze play. You’re in the middle. I know you understand that. If you go too far in minimizing the risk of the epidemic, you’re going to get hit hard from all sides. Mayors, governors, scientists, doctors, public health officials, members of Congress, big tech, the media—they’re all going to carve you into a grinning pumpkin. To say nothing of what’s been happening to the stock market. If you try to downplay corona, the whole economic picture is going to go upside down. Even Goldman Sachs won’t be able to protect you. Look around you. That schmuck mayor of New York is making noises about shutting down the whole Subway system. My advice is, let this operation run its course. Read the tea leaves of history. Many presidents have trouble at the end of a term. The coronavirus fakery is your trouble. Ride it out. If you can’t beat Joe Biden in November, you should go back to building golf courses. He’s hanging on by a thread. I don’t think the doctors can pump him up with enough drugs to keep his brain functioning during a debate. You might stagger into office on a low for your second term, but—don’t be angry, sir, your enemies have been looking for an Achilles heel since you started campaigning back in 2015. They tried this, they tried that, it didn’t really work. But this medical op works. Are you really going to say the medical experts are all liars and fake news? Are you contemplating that? Take it from me, it won’t fly. You know I’m right. The medical propaganda of the past hundred years is a winner. How can you buck it, especially in the middle of this current shit storm? If I cared about the truth, I’d be in a dither. Fortunately, I’m above the fray. Listen to your wise old uncle. Take the bitter with the sweet. You’re a pro in your field. The art of the deal. In this instance, the deal is live to fight another day. You painted your picture of “the grand economic recovery”, and now they’re spraying all over it with graffiti. That’s what enemies do. I have some interesting material on Biden and Bernie, if you’d like me to—“

The maestro looks at his phone. “He hung up,” he says to his driver.

“He’s a quick study,” the driver says.

They laugh.

“What are you going to say to the Pope?” the driver asks.

“I’m going to tell him to keep his big mouth shut. And if he can’t do that, and he wants to bring God into it, we’ll work on the statement. Change it to Nature. That’s softer. Nature has its ways and its viruses. It must be respected. God gave us the intelligence to work with Nature, and the means to develop medical science. Doctors are healers. Follow their recommendations. Something like that. On the way over in the plane, I’ll come up with some quotes. Stay by my side. You’re packing heat. They’ll ask for your weapon before they let us in the Vatican. Give it to them. Keep your eyes trained straight ahead. Don’t look past any open doors. Who knows what you’d see? I don’t want anyone to call us as witnesses in a future court case…”

“You’re careful as always,” the driver says.

“Careful in the details, absolutely reckless when it comes to the overall plan. Tell a lie so outrageous, no one can believe it’s a lie.”

At the White House, the president steps to the podium and looks at the camera. He thinks: I wonder what would happen if I went off script and said, you know, there must be ten thousand people in Washington who are aware there’s something weird about this coronavirus situation. There’s the whole flu thing. The CDC says thirty thousand people in the US die from ordinary flu every single year, like clockwork, and there are millions of flu cases every year—but nobody’s calling THAT an epidemic. The stock market isn’t crashing because of THAT. Nobody’s getting quarantined because of THAT. They aren’t canceling basketball because of THAT. What the hell’s going on?

The president starts to speak to the nation.

“Look, the bottom line is, I have to protect millions of lives. I need to sign bills authorizing two trillion dollars in aid to our businesses and workers. I have to listen to the experts. People are dying, it must be the virus. What else could it be?”

An unknown man in the back of the room says, in a very clear and loud voice: WELL, IT COULD BE COMPLETE HORSE—“

An alert special ops team member steps in front of the man and quickly sprays him in the face with a chemical. The unknown man is paralyzed, and like a log he pitches forward and bounces off the floor.

The special ops man shouts: IT’S THE VIRUS. HE’S DEAD.

People scream. The doors to the room are suddenly locked. Doctors in white coats appear.

Someone yells, THE WHITE HOUSE IS INFECTED. WASHINGTON DC IS INFECTED.

The president shrugs, looks at the camera and says, “I guess I’ll be speaking to you next from an undisclosed location. We WILL get through this, America—“

BLACKOUT.

People are dying, it must be the virus.


Exit From the Matrix

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


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Coronavirus: a propaganda master advises the President before he addresses the nation

Read all the way through to catch that chunk

by Jon Rappoport

March 11, 2020

(To join our email list, click here.)

What do most people say, if you raise questions about the reality of the “epidemic,” or even hint that the facts might be in doubt?

Two responses high on the list: “but people are dying”; and “the experts wouldn’t lie.”

So, in this episode of virus fakery and apocalypse on rye with mustard, I present a tale I like to call: THE PROPAGANDA MASTER COMES TO TOWN.

This character is a wisdom figure and a teacher. He’s an old pro. He makes sure the lies are being told well and often. He reminds his troops of their mission. Pardon his language, but he has a very low opinion of humanity.

Here he is now, getting out of his limo and walking into a five-star hotel.

Conference room. A security team has checked the space for bugs and other electronic snooping. The shades are drawn. A dozen propaganda ops specialists are sitting at the long table.

The maestro walks into the room, stands at one end of the table, and without formalities, begins talking:

—I only have a few minutes. I’m on my way to Rome to brief the Pope. So here it is. We put messages into the heads of the great unwashed masses, so they’ll pass those messages to others. Get it? THAT’S the real contagion factor. Never forget it. We’re Info Central for the rubes and yokels and idiots, including high IQ idiots who think their college degree means they’re educated in science.

—We work with death. People all over the world are dying all the time, every day. The public doesn’t want to think about that. Good. That’s good for us. Our job is to convince the yokels that the “new” dying which is happening now comes from a special virus. We do that by equating DEATH and CORONAVIRUS. Get it? Never forget it. “People are dying, it must be the virus.” That’s our ticket.

—Our medical brethren in this great con have already done a terrific job carving up death into various categories. But now they can make ordinary pneumonia into coronavirus pneumonia at the drop of a hat. They can make flu into corona. They can make a man falling down stairs a victim of the virus. A flying saucer crashes in a field? If that happened, a CDC official with a straight face could tell the yokels and idiots that the alien pilot of the craft was struck down by the virus and that’s why he lost control of the saucer.

—So we can’t let our medical friends down. We have to ramp up the intensity of the message. I want more predictions from Harvard and Yale big shots. You know, millions are going to die. Half the world’s population is going to be infected.

—Some of the idiots and loons we target are politicians. They “believe in science.” We want these pols to lock down cities. Cut off transportation. Make people feel the sting. The sting and the crisis and the quarantine equal THE VIRUS. We own the virus. It’s our psy-weapon. It’s an idea, a notion, a ghost, a terrorist, a monster, and only the medical experts can control it, if people follow all their orders. Keep pounding that message.

—Now, just between us, did they ever find a brand new virus in China to begin with? Who cares? Are the diagnostic tests for the virus inadequate and useless and worthless and deceiving? Of course. Is the “virus epidemic” a gold-plated fake? Sure. Are all sorts of people being diagnosed with corona who have no disease at all? You bet. Are people who are sick for all sorts of reasons being told they’re corona cases? Yeah. That’s our bread and butter. Some poor bastard gets off a plane and he has a slight fever from the bad air in the cabin and he’s whisked to a military base for quarantine. Play it up. “The virus can get you anytime, anywhere.” In a city, the ICU ward in a hospital is overflowing with sick people? Of course it is. People are sick all the time. But now, with the wave of a magic wand, they’re put in the ICU because they must be corona. Good. I want more pictures of that ICU. I want video on the news. More of it. Get busy. Don’t slack off. This is a circus. There are rules for a circus. The main rule is, people get bored quickly, so you need lots of acts and tricks and animals and side shows and candy to keep the audience occupied. An ICU here, an ICU there. A mother crying. Who cares why? It must be the virus. I don’t want to hear about all the other reasons people are sick. I just want to hear VIRUS.

—Never forget how easily you can fool the yokels. Yesterday, a guy living in an apartment house had the flu. No big deal. But today, same guy? Corona. Nothing changed except the news. All his neighbors in the building forget that yesterday this guy had ordinary flu. It’s a beautiful thing. Use it. I want to see more funerals on the news. Get busy. Show me more sporting events happening in empty stadiums.

—Our holy grail, our perfect ideal, which is unattainable, would be: every death in the world for the next six months or a year is called coronavirus. But we can strive toward that ideal. We must.

—There are two echelons. There is WE. And there is THEY-THEM. WE keep THEM in their limited minds. We bolster those limited minds with our messages. Keep them yammering, “But people are dying, it must be the virus!” It’s pure gold. Keep mining that gold.

Back in his limo, the maestro puts in a call to his contact at the CDC. “Listen up,” he says, “you people over there are starting to wobble. I’m talking about the diagnostic test for the virus. First, your test kits were bad, they didn’t work. Now you don’t have enough of them to satisfy needs. Plus the word is starting to leak out that the tests are inherently unreliable and no one should believe them. This crap must stop now. Shore up your troops. Get them in line. I want healthy people and sick people and old people and young people and all people to be diagnosed with corona, and I don’t want any uncertainties. You and I know the test is a joke, it doesn’t work, but nobody else can find that out. Got it? People over there at the CDC can be replaced. They can find themselves out on the street. What’s in charge of this operation is propaganda, not science. YOU back US up. That’s the hierarchy. I want FEAR raging through the population. If you can’t hold up your end, you’re going to find all the quotes about the epidemic in the press are suddenly coming from the World Health Organization, not the CDC. I’ll make sure you’re shoved into the background. The World Health people are professional. They know how to deliver a unified con job. Those two idiots, the governor of New York and the mayor of New York, are doing more to hype this fake epidemic than all the employees of the CDC put together. Get your house in order. Fast.”

He closes his phone and puts it in his pocket. On the way to the airport, he hums a little tune. He looks out the window. He thinks to himself, if we can stretch this out far enough, we can force a cancelation of the Olympics. Maybe we can even stage a presidential election in America on the Internet. No one votes in a booth. Can’t risk transmission of the virus. He chuckles. His phone vibrates. He takes it out.

“Yes, sir?” he says. He listens. Nods. “Yes, sir, I know you’re going to address the nation on the pandemic in a few minutes. Well, sir, this is a squeeze play. You’re in the middle. I know you understand that. If you go too far in minimizing the risk of the epidemic, you’re going to get hit hard from all sides. Mayors, governors, scientists, doctors, public health officials, members of Congress, big tech, the media—they’re all going to carve you into a grinning pumpkin. To say nothing of what’s been happening to the stock market. If you try minimize the “epidemic,” the whole economic picture is going to go upside down. Even Goldman Sachs won’t be able to protect you. Look around you. That schmuck mayor of New York is making noises about shutting down the whole Subway system. My advice is, let this operation run its course. Read the tea leaves of history. Many presidents have trouble at the end of a term. The coronavirus fakery is your trouble. Ride it out. If you can’t beat Joe Biden in November, you should go back to building golf courses. He’s hanging on by a thread. I don’t think the doctors can pump him up with enough drugs to keep his brain functioning during a debate. You might stagger into office on a low for your second term, but the epidemic op will fade out, the economy will come back, and you’ll—don’t be angry, sir, your enemies have been looking for an Achilles heel since you started campaigning back in 2015. They tried this, they tried that, it didn’t really work. But this medical op works. Are you really going to say the medical experts are all liars and fake news? Are you contemplating that? Take it from me, it won’t fly. You know I’m right. The medical propaganda of the past hundred years is a winner. How can you buck it, especially in the middle of this current shit storm? If I cared about the truth, I’d be in a dither. Fortunately, I’m above the fray. Listen to your wise old uncle. Take the bitter with the sweet. You’re a pro in your field. The art of the deal. In this instance, the deal is live to fight another day. You painted your picture of “the grand economic recovery”, and now they’re spraying all over it with graffiti. That’s what enemies do. I have some interesting material on Biden and Bernie, if you’d like me to—“

The maestro looks at his phone. “He hung up,” he says to his driver.

“He’s a quick study,” the driver says.

They laugh.

“What are you going to say to the Pope?” the driver asks.

“I’m going to tell him to keep his big mouth shut. And if he can’t do that, and he wants to bring God into it, we’ll work on the statement. Change it to Nature. That’s softer. Nature has its ways. It must be respected. God gave us the intelligence to work with Nature, and the means to develop medical science. Doctors are healers. Follow their recommendations. Something like that. On the way over in the plane, I’ll come up with some quotes. Stay by my side. You’re packing heat. They’ll ask for your weapon before they let us in the Vatican. Give it to them. Keep your eyes trained straight ahead. Don’t look past any open doors. Who knows what you’d see? I don’t want anyone to call us as witnesses in a future court case…”

“You’re careful as always,” the driver says.

“Careful in the details, absolutely reckless when it comes to the overall plan. Tell a lie so outrageous, no one can believe it’s a lie.”

At the White House, the president steps to the podium and looks at the camera. He thinks, I wonder what would happen if I went off script and said, you know, there must be ten thousand people in Washington who know there’s something weird about this coronavirus situation. There’s the whole flu thing. The CDC says thirty thousand people in the US die from ordinary flu every single year, like clockwork, and there are millions of flu cases every year—but nobody’s calling THAT an epidemic. The stock market isn’t crashing because of THAT. Nobody’s getting quarantined because of THAT. They aren’t going to play the whole NCAA March Madness tournament in empty arenas because of THAT. What the hell’s going on?

The president starts to speak to the nation.


Exit From the Matrix

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


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.