Sunday, March 29, 2009

an imaginary speech to an imaginary man

What do you want? I'm assuming you wish to live. Since you've expressed nothing to the contrary, that is. The question it seems is - Why. Why do you wish to live?

Best I can make out, you wish to sit here watching sport on the TV all day long. Day in, day out, every day the same. It seems not to matter which sport. Nor does it matter whether you've seen it before. On any given day we probably watch that fifteen minute Fox Sports News bulletin twenty times. More, probably. The same stories over and over and over. And none of it worth a pinch of shit of course. If we were to take out the endless histrionic moralising about footballers and cricketers getting on the piss and punching some fellow, or molesting some woman, there'd be very little left.

Wait a minute! Benfica beat Galatasaray on a 2-1 aggregate and escaped relegation in the Bundesliga! In spite of the fact that we have no idea what this means we'll watch it twenty times. As long as there's winning and losing, and all accompanied by screaming, it's all good.

What is there besides Fox Sports? Food used to be very important. Well, not food so much as processed sugar and grease. Actual food, the food I cooked, you would peck at, complain that you were full, or that it was too dry, or that your false teeth couldn't handle it, or whatever (honestly, any idiot excuse was good enough) and then throw it out. Just before you'd shuffle over to the fridge for a creme caramel. Followed by some ice cream. And a bowl of custard. And perhaps a cornetto ice cream. And some chocolates, biscuits, and toffees. Hmm... how about one of those little Woolworths-brand petit choux things? Why not. A day well spent! Ninety percent of your caloric intake comprised entirely of sugar and grease. Oh! It's good to be alive!

Sorry, I'm being sarcastic. But you really loved that stuff. So much so that you put up with chronic diarrhoea for months - shuffling off to the toilet every fifteen minutes. For months! Good God, there was shit everywhere, the walls, the floors. How many times did you shit your bed? I can't even remember. God knows what lies you told your doctors. And God knows what they made of it all. By all rights you should have been constipated, what with that being a major side-effect of your chemo. Anyway you gobbled those anti-diarrhoea pills like yet more candy. And the only thing you could think of that might be at fault was my cooking! Ha ha ha ha - it's funny really.

But now you don't even have that. With the cancer taking hold, and you with no appetite and vomiting all the time, you barely eat anything. The petit choux sit in the fridge uneaten.

You have no friends and family. You trashed all that long ago. No one calls or visits now. If one of my clueless brothers calls occasionally you talk for five minutes and then say, 'Well, I'll let you get back to it', and hang up. Really you'd rather watch TV.

Your doctors are your social life now. Would you argue if I said your relationship with them could be defined as 'Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir'? You go through the motions, they go through the motions - it's a game of charades that goes on and on. I understand their part in the charade. They've got a mortgage to pay and kids to put through an expensive private school. And with your DVA gold card you're their cash cow. They love you to death. Literally, now that I think about it. God forbid your death should come early. Where's the money in that? Prolongation is the name of the game. And billing all the while.

But you don't seriously think they give a shit do you? Billing aside, best I can tell they view you as a technical exercise. Imagine some fellow in charge of a new soft-drink product launch. For him to succeed doesn't require that he drink the product or even like it. And since the product is entirely without nutritional value or anything beneficial at all, he'll oversee a campaign that pivots entirely on violence. Or sex. Or any goddamn thing. He really doesn't care.

And nor do your 'carers'. They don't care. They just go through the motions. And so do you. They prolong your life - you prolong your life. And the question of 'What's it all about, Alfie?' is nothing more than a cue for a conversation about Michael Caine. "Gee, he's good that Michael Caine, isn't he?" Otherwise I know what's in it for them. Money. But what's in it for you? Why do you continue? For yet another day of sitting watching Fox Sports News to see if Benfica escapes relegation?

Perhaps you do it for me? I am the only thing in your life besides the doctors, the TV, and the sweets. And the mad thing is that we have nothing in common. Everything you hold as worthy I have nothing but contempt for. Certainly there's the aforementioned trinity - I hate 'em and you know it. And it gets worse when we take a break from sport each night to watch the SBS news. It's your half hour of suffering as I get iconoclastic on everything that you ever held dear in your life. The government, the military, duty, loyalty, and respect, all that stuff, everything - I smash it to pieces. As I lay bare the litany of lies we're told, the obvious parallels to your life spent making pointless war upon Asians is unmissable. If I call John Howard a war criminal, what does that make you? Everything you were proud of, now shown to be the thoughtless actions of a dupe. What a nightmare. Finally the weather report! You - "Is it alright if we put it back to the Sports?" Me - "Dad, I've already done it." A sigh of relief.

And so we come back to the question - Why do you wish to live? Your wits are gone and the sports is meaningless. You're in pain all the time and you can barely eat. There's no one in your life but for a fellow who's a walking-talking indictment of everything that was you. What is there in your life?

Here, now, in this forum that you will never see, I'll tell you what it is - it's fear. I see it in your eyes you know. It's never not there. And with everything turned to dust, all joy banished, and every reason to live gone - fear is all that's left. Here it is, without adornment, the perfect, elemental, hard, white stone of fear. This is the ultimate fear - the fear of non-existence. Anything but that. Any delusion, any charade, any noisy trumpeting TV distraction is preferable to facing this thing.

You'll never know it for what it is. Which is to say, you will never know yourself. All you know is delusion, and delusion is all you ever were, are now, or ever will be.

I know you have never wondered at the meaning of 'today is a good day to die'. Since you have no idea what it means, you will never say it. Regardless, it's as true for you as it is for one who understands. When your 'today' arrives it will be a good day. The fear, the delusion, the suffering, held only by your terrified grip will become as nothing - a waft of smoke from a dream in some movie you barely remember. A thing that never was, to become never again. An end to it all. A good day.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Holding on to 'know thyself'

It's embarrassing I know, but I have never taken a trip. Of the psychotropic variety, that is. Everyone I know has done so, but somehow I missed out. I have no great philosophical objection to it all. Quite the opposite - so many people have told me that I really must do it that I've put the word out that if anyone comes across a goldtop mushie, pop it in some honey and give me a hoy. One day...

And yes, thank you, no need for anyone to pile in and tell me of the wickedness of this. I get it. A cousin of mine went out on a Friday night once and disappeared for three days. Finally he turned up in a casualty ward, naked, cut to pieces, and barking like a dog. No one knows quite what happened to him but it's assumed he took a trip. A bad one, obviously. Sure enough, he got better but he's now on a daily regimen of anti-schizophrenic drugs and will be for the rest of his life. That LSD (an industrial strength chemical concoction) is bad, in no way condemns the natural hallucinogens which ancient peoples have been taking under the guidance of elders for millennia. Natural v chemical. Tradition v the latest thing. Wisdom v no idea.

These dichotomies aside, if only my cousin had had someone like the father of a Swedish friend of mine. His father was an original hippy and had been there and done that, and he told his son that no one should take a trip until they're at least forty. It was his opinion that any earlier than this was dangerous, what with a young mind not quite having settled down into a solid variety of 'this-is-who-I-am', if you can dig it. For this original hippy, even thirty was too young.

I expect those of you reading, and who are in their forties, will get the concept. Me, I'm so glad I'm in my forties. Sure I miss the thoughtless physical health of my youth - the endless energy, the instant healing, the indestructibility, etc. But between that and me having a handle on who I am, I'll take the latter. And when I heard the Swedish hippy's advice it struck a chord. I got it. Had I heard it when I was thirty, say, I suspect I would have been too nebulous a concept for me. I may or may not have followed the advice depending on whether someone else said something different. "Nah! That's bullshit!" - "Um is it? Okay."

Being young is about not knowing what to think. As it was, my friend's Dad's advice was no do-or-die for me, what with already being past forty, and never having taken a trip anyway. But all that aside, the kernel within that advice is a thing worth rolling around in one's head and wondering at.


Along these lines, let's jump - to the word 'break', as in break, broke, broken. This can mean various things. In the context of 'The photocopier is broken', it could mean something as simple as a fuse being blown. No biggie, let's just call the repairman. But for that part of human existence that preceded photocopiers (and other diabolical machines), when a thing was broken it was necessarily in pieces. Think clay pots. You break a thing, and it becomes useless.

Funnily enough, with humans it's the other way around. You break them and suddenly they become really very useful. Perhaps the most useful thing there is. What sort of 'broken' is this? Think horses. A human can be broken just like a horse can be broken, same same. Which is to say, we break their will. (Now there's a word for you. What is one's 'will' in this sense? Hmm... 'the faculty by which a person decides on and initiates action'. Not bad. But might we not call this 'knowing who one is'?)

When we break a horse, we break its will and it is no longer what it was. It is no longer its own master but instead is subject to us. What we broke was its definition of itself. And so it is with a human who is broken. A broken man, whether by someone else's hand, or mere circumstance (ie. 'After his son died he was a broken man'), loses his spark, his impetus, his definition of himself. And when one man breaks another it is invariably so he might subject that man to his own will. The man is redefined - servant to the fellow who broke him.

It's not just this being broken that humans and horses have in common. Were they to be released from their fealty each could recover their sense of themselves. A horse that escapes it's corral will turn wild again, which is to say rediscover itself as a horse. 'I am a horse! I run about! I root mares! I do whatever the fuck I like!' (Um, apologies for this being very 'male'. Certainly I could make it all non-sexist but the clunky syntax required would make it flow like a bucket of wet sand. Between flow, and catering to the rigidities of non-sexism, I choose the former. Words are one thing, and deeds are another. Oh wait, have I broken the flow here? D'oh!)

Where was I? Oh yes, breaking a man. It strikes me that this has been a constant throughout history - men breaking men in order to subject them to their will. Hmm... there's an book angle for you. "Men as Beasts - The History of Breaking the Human Will". Howard Zinn eat your heart out.

Anyway thank God we've left all that behind - master/servant - all that rubbish. Now we have freedom. Ha ha ha ha - as if! The motherfuckers of this world (psychopaths, whatever) have never quit. In much the same way that horses have been replaced by horsepower, breaking a man's will has likewise scientifically progressed to hitherto unimaginable heights. Which is to say, 'depths'.

For black-hearted secret organisations like the CIA et al, keen to have the world subject to their will, this ability to truly break a man, to make him act against his most deeply held principles, constitutes a variety of holy grail - Mind Control. If one could control a fellow's mind, who needs super powers? Bugger kryptonite - between being able to weaken Superman, and turning him into your biddable asset, it's a no-brainer. Or to put it another way - why would you shoot a horse when you could ride it instead?


And then there's MPD/DID. The acronym stands for Multiple Personality Disorder/Dissociative Identity Disorder - the former is the old term and the latter the new one apparently. This is that old chestnut of fiction wherein two or more personae ('alters') exist within one mind. Think Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, albeit with Hyde as an alter appearing merely by having his name called. In searching for a non-cinema metaphor, MPD/DID is to the breaking of the human will, what the Reserve Bank system is to your local loanshark.

And in much the same way that Reserve Banking's private ownership doesn't exist in the media, MPD/DID is similarly misrepresented as the fantastical stuff of fiction, not to be taken seriously. However, having read the account of witness X1 (amongst myriad others) from the Dutroux scandal, I now have MPD/DID down as non-fiction. Besides this, if you plug it into Dave McGowan's Programmed To Kill, and the battle between Recovered Memory Syndrome and the CIA's False Memory Syndrome, a 'what-the-fuck-is-going-on-here' picture starts to sharpen into something possessed of shape, colour, and form.

It seems we're permitted to know about MKultra and its assorted drug and hypnotism experiments. But perhaps this was merely a side-show to the true three ring circus of Operation Monarch. According to Ron Patton this involved Josef Mengele. We all roll our eyes - bloody Josef Mengele! More Boys From Brazil fiction! Yeah, maybe, maybe not.

Given that American practitioners of the black arts wholeheartedly embraced the personnel of Japan's Unit 731 (and their experiments in biological warfare), the default position would have to be 'why wouldn't they?'. That the Germans pursued Mind Kontrolle like the Americans pursued mind control is beyond plausible. That they did this in concentration camps with the prisoners as experimental subjects, likewise. It's precisely what the Japanese did with 731. And Mengele? Why not? Every other goddamn thing about the Holocaust has been misrepresented, why not him too? It's perfectly possible that the various stories of him in Brazil were complete fiction. The Boys From Brazil certainly was.

What if we were to call MKultra a search for a drug induced shortcut to MPD/DID? And it seems the shortcut, by way of LSD, failed. LSD, in breaking the link between reality and fantasy, seems only to produce less than useful casualties like my cousin. No problems, if LSD doesn't provide the answer, move on. And since it's not addictive and thus unlikely to produce the staggering profits of smack, coke, and meth, then it isn't really worth pursuing. If there's any proof to be found in one's own microcosm, I have encountered all three of above and yet never bumped into LSD. The experiment is over and it no longer suits the motherfuckers to have it out there.

So they chucked in MKultra. But there's no way they chucked in the search for mind control. For motherfuckers, this holy grail will never lose its appeal. Best to stick with the tried and true - smashing the psyche of the young. Certainly that one can take a child, brutalise them, and turn them into killers is old hat. Evidence of it is everywhere, from Sparta of yore, to China's Cultural Revolution, right through to the Congo of today.

But we are white men. As if we couldn't come up with something better than Africa's blank-eyed child killers. Even Henry Lee Lucas and his grand guignol slaughterfests, whilst serving a definite purpose, leave a lot to be desired. Really, MPD/DID is the go. To be able to take a mind and fracture it into discrete entities each capable of different things answers the brief pretty well. And yeah yeah, suffering beyond comprehension, a mind smashed to pieces, with only a shell remaining - like motherfuckers give a shit.

And so we arrive at X1, and all those like her. She survived and with help is attempting to reconstruct herself. You'd have to wish her luck in her endeavours to find peace of mind. There but for the grace of God etc. etc. But I suspect she's in a minority of those MPD/DID victims who escaped their snuff film fate. Who knows how many went on to inflict their own misery upon others?


Did anyone read Ursula LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy? The magic of Earthsea pivoted on everything having a secret name. This name was always guarded since possession of this knowledge gave one power over whomever it was. When I read this book, way back when, I greeted this concept with a shrug. Nice idea, but as best I could tell it seemed to have no great connection to anything. Not anymore. Now I really wonder at it. It's a precise description of the mechanism by which an MPD/DID slave is controlled. Curious. Never mind a shrug, now I shake my head. Did Ursula LeGuin just fluke this?


In amongst this sordid trip through MPD/DID, the thought occurred to me (since I'm that sort of fellow) 'What if it was me being subjected to this?'. Would I cope? Or succumb? If someone wanted to split my mind, would they succeed? Could I hold on to my will, my sense of myself?

In turning this thought around, the phrase 'know thyself' popped into my head. It's an oldie but a goodie that I'd never taken beyond face value. Like LeGuin's secret names, I'd merely shrugged - know thyself - um, okay, sure, why not? But under the light of MPD/DID, 'know thyself' now seems fraught with meaning. Madly, I wonder if it might not originally have been a warning from an ancient sage familiar with some antediluvian version of mind control. Hmm... an unlikely prospect. And besides, surely the MPD/DID variety of smashing-of-the-will must necessarily be restricted to a tiny number of people. Statistically individuals like X1 couldn't comprise more than a tiny fraction of one percent of the population.

Not so fast! Perhaps this isn't an either/or proposition? Perhaps it's another continuum? What if people like X1 were merely the furthest extreme on a bell curve? (So extreme, that in much the same way that statisticians reject such extreme anomalies under the 2.3 standard deviations rule, we too do likewise and reject it as a subject too far. We really just don't want to go there). Back to this continuum now, isn't our sense of know-thyself under a daily assault? In fact, couldn't we describe everything we're on about here - from Adbusters' simple sense of dislocation, through to the Protocols plans of destruction for everything 'not them' - as an assault on our ability to know-thyself? What is the media (Hollywood, games, advertising - all the same thing) apart from a machine that does precisely this? Isn't it our sense of know-thyself suffering death by a thousand cuts?

And then there's who the media is aimed at. It ain't me, that's for sure. One doesn't have to spend very long immersed in the media before realising it's almost entirely directed at the young. As with MPD/DID, when assaulting know-thyself it pays to start young. Otherwise, not so long ago there was no such thing as 'youth culture'. A single generation ago people would have understood each of these words separately but to connect them would have had them scratching their heads. Ha! Now that I think about it, 'youth culture' is a perfect oxymoron. With culture being a thing that develops slowly over countless generations, how could 'youth' and 'culture' possibly be put together in any sensible fashion? Honestly?

Regardless, the media relentlessly beats young people about the head with perverse ideas of who they should imagine themselves to be. A lot of it is connected with turning them into hell-bent consumers, sure enough. So what's up with the media's relentless sexualisation? What does this have to do with consumerism? Whether eight year olds are wearing g-strings or granny pants, the money would flow regardless. So what are our kids being made into? And why?

And whilst this is a long way from what was done to X1, it's still the same road with everyone being shepherded towards the same destination, with know-thyself receding ever further into the distance.

Between our venerable Swedish hippy urging his son to wait until he's forty, and the CIA handing out vast quantities of LSD; between parents hoping for a 'normal' family and the media's mad deification and sexualisation of children; and between peace, love, and understanding, and the endless inculcation of us-and-them with death to towelheads - could we not define all of these as a struggle to hold on to know-thyself?

Am I the only person to ask some variation of the question, 'Is this my country?', or better still, "Who are we?'. I don't think so.

Whilst it's early days for yours truly with this line of thought (with much work to be done), could we describe Siddhartha Gautama's ascension to Buddha-dom as him arriving at a complete state of know-thyself? For mine, it's inescapable that the ultimate truth of know-thyself is that we are one with the universe. The black opposite of this, desired by those who would break us/break our will, is that we each become our own universe. Thus we become individual, self-obsessed molecules bouncing off each other in a state of complete chaos. We lack all coherency - in both meanings of the word. It's a smashing of our 'one-ness'. Whether this one-ness is within our own heads, à la X1, or collectively, as in our sense of community, I'll posit that it's all the same thing.

I have no idea if that Swedish hippy dad quite knew what he was doing when he passed on his advice to his son. And never mind the specificity of it as being about psychotropic drugs. That's a useful thing to know, sure. But above that, his words and the wisdom that underlies them are pure gold, perhaps the only thing worth knowing. Thyself. Within this lies everything. If one could pass on one single thing to one's child, says I, this is it.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Twin Pillars

In much the same way that when one drinks from a spittoon it's impossible to back out half way through, looking into the pedophocracy leads you far further than you ever wanted to go. (It's all Aangirfan's fault. Curse you Aangirfan!)

It began with me looking into the Madeleine McCann abduction. I thought little of it when it occurred way back when, but I'm now convinced that the whole affair was precisely the pedophocracy in action. Given Portugal's insanely huge Casa Pia childcare scandal that swept up members of the government, judiciary, police, and the media - and which is precisely equivalent in scope to Belgium's Dutroux scandal - it beggars belief that the media spent more time pointing fingers at the McCanns than wondering at organised paedophilia. And sure enough, hardly anyone has heard of Casa Pia. Nuts.

Anyway, as one follows pedophocracy links and trails, one heads further and further into red pill territory. It's almost enough to make you sympathise with that fellow in the Matrix who regretted taking the aforementioned. Eventually my trail led me to this, and this, and this. To a certain extent I wonder if I should be linking to such things. Only because it's the equivalent of being thrown in the deep end. Hmm... 'deep end' doesn't quite cut it - how about 'the abyss'? Which is to say, had someone shown me all of this ten years (in my Time magazine days), or even two years ago (in my nowt-but-wrh days), I'd have rejected it outright whilst wondering at their sanity. No longer. And presumably anyone reading here has already been through Dave McGowan with his pedophocracy and programmed killers (along with the various discussions here of related wickedness) and so I think it's a step we're capable of.

I have no idea if everything in amongst those assorted links is true. After all, I'm just some loudmouth bullshit-artist living in a low-rent Tourist Town. With my happily unmolested childhood I have no experience of anything even close to this kind of thing - all that schooling under the Catholics and no one so much as laid a finger on me. Thus, I bring nothing to the discussion but observations.

In this spirit, it strikes me that the blizzard of undeniable facts coming from the US, Belgium, the UK, France, Portugal, Italy, and Russia, must necessarily lead a thinking man to viewing those articles' big picture explanations (à la Operation Monarch and MPD/DID) as, if not likely, at least feasible. Very feasible.

And speaking of sniff-tests, there's my ever-handy Media Absentometer™ wherein an occult entity's power is in inverse proportion to its explication in the media. Individual incidents will slip out but they will never be pursued and no big picture will ever be constructed. The media's spotlight points everywhere but there. Certainly I'm talking about the private ownership of the world's money supply, but let's plug the pedophocracy into this concept. In terms of a thousand isolated events never being viewed as part of a big picture, it's right up there with banking. (In this vein, how about we plug the Catholic Church into the absentometer? Oops, bent the needle backwards it seems.)

Mind you, the pedophocracy isn't quite in banking's league. I'd say it scores a 9 to the money-masters' perfect 10. Firstly, things monetary have a distinct leg-up advantage insofar as they're unintelligible to begin with. Even if one does manage to explain the basics of banking to someone, it remains a nebulous concept for them - in much the same way that since GM food doesn't make you instantly sick, the government has never banned it, and it looks exactly like regular food, perhaps there's nothing wrong with it?

The pedophocracy on the other hand, requires no arcane explanation. Everyone instantly gets it - you put 'sex' and 'kids' in the same sentence and patient explanation becomes hysterically unnecessary. Paedophilia will never be airily dismissed like the unintelligible complexities of banking. Which is to say, both the banking elite and the pedophocracy max out the Absentometer, but the latter doesn't get quite such an easy ride.

And then there's Rothschild's balls-out statement 'Give me control of a nation's currency and I care not who makes its laws.' This is him unambiguously telling us that he's beyond the law. And how does the pedophocracy rate on this scale? Hooly Dooly! They pretty much max that fucker out, don't they? And sure, there have been trials and publicity. But the wash-up is something else. Who went to jail for McMartin? The Presidio/West Point affair? The Franklin scandal? Jersey? North Wales? L'Affaire Dutroux? Would I be right in thinking that all up it was two people maybe? Wow. And sure, the Rothschilds get a lovely, comfy obscurity, and paedophilia in Belgium was bigger than Ben Hur, but either way the ballpark is the ballpark.

For mine, these are the twin pillars of occult power. Oh wait, I was just about to wonder at the relationship between the two, when a thought occurred. What if we were to take the metaphor one step sideways and call them the Two Towers? Ring a bell? What if I was to say that banking was Sauron's base, and the pedophocracy was Saruman's? That kind of works - one is subordinate to the other; the destruction of one will not automatically lead to that of the other; and both have utility for their counterpart; and yet each can independently act in their own interests. Above all however, the one ring rules and the fundamental relationship of who's master of whom remaining unchallenged.

But not wishing to take anything for granted, let's reverse things. I can see no way that the pedophocracy could seize the banker's power. On the other hand the pedophocracy could belong to anyone. You lay your hands on their video collection and you have them by the balls. Frankly I see that as being the whole point of it. Hmm... I seem to recall that Interpol has a database of every kiddy porn image and movie ever made. A thing worth having, that, wouldn't you say?

And besides, there's no way the whole world could come under pedophocracy control. 'We are all paedophiles now', ha ha. As if. No, I have the pedophocracy pegged as servant to banking's master. It's a means of control via corruption. Someone need merely dip their toe in the pedophocracy pool and that's them done for. They're owned. And the idea of a corruption-based control mechanism existing to further the interests of a corruption-based control mechanism strikes me as an idea disappearing up its own arse. You wouldn't bribe a politician because you're nutty for bribery, if you can dig it. You bribe them to achieve something. That makes sense, doesn't it?


Oh dear, it seems I started on one thing and ended up with another. As usual I point my laser at a mirror ball. Brilliant. And now I've gone on too long. But rather than viewing this as waffling, why don't I do my usual trick and declare it to be the macro preface to the next piece's micro. Up shortly - Operation Monarch, Ursula LeGuin, and 'Know Thyself'.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Japanese spritzers, Scott Ritter, the G-spot, and other occult knowledge

There I was wandering around my own hard drive and I found some porn! It was the only thing I'd ever bothered saving. It was from a VCD I bought in Hong Kong years ago. I bought it because its cover caught my eye. The Chinese characters on the front said, '500 people!' and beneath that was a photo of hundreds of naked couples, each with their own futon, with the futons laid out in rows in some gigantic sound stage. Sure enough it was a Chinese knock-off of a Japanese thing. I expect it cost ten HK dollars which is about a buck fifty.

Buck fifty or no, it's one of the most extraordinary things ever. It's not an orgy or a free-for-all. All of the people are directed. They all do the same thing. They start with kissing. After ten minutes, with the cameras wandering through the ranks, the director gives the nod and everyone goes to the next foreplay position. And so on and so on. Ten minutes of each thing, with everyone in rows, all facing the same way, all simultaneously progressing through the various positions, man on top, woman on top, etc etc, until everyone 'goes' (nb. the Japanese do not so much 'come' as 'go'. Ha! this and a thousand other curiosities). And then it's all over bar the mopping up with the thoughtfully provided tissues. At no time is there any artifice, pretence, or bullshit. The whole thing is shockingly honest.

Okay, so this is porn but it's also something else. For mine, this is up there with Christo and Spencer Tunick. As art it's the equal of any of these, albeit without the famous backdrops. Viewed objectively, it's like some mad anthropological tableau, a real cultural trip. These people are so polite and considerate of each other! And within these ordered acts of nude uniformity is the wildest array of differences imaginable. I still don't know what to make of it. One could write it off as mere porn, sure. But this is so unlike anything you've ever seen before, and such a mindfuck, that it's beyond that. It's something else.

But! Forget about it! I don't really want to discuss this particular video. I merely insert the preceding as a preface to the following. (Or if you want to view it as me cravenly explaining why I have porn on my hard-drive, you may do so, ha ha.) And otherwise, I have no idea if this vid was a big deal in Japan. Perhaps it was run of the mill? Certainly its not-infrequent incidences of female orgasm and ejaculation are. In Japan, that is. In 'Western' porn (which is to say, Jewish porn) there's no such thing. What's perfectly unremarkable in Japan is completely and utterly absent in the West. And it's this line of thought that has fired my brain.

Okay so I've written about this before. Ever monotonous, me. But here I want to go one step further, make some new connections, and otherwise clarify things.


But let's leap to Scott Ritter first. Remember him? Way back when, in the weapons inspection phase after Bush the Elder's Gulf War, he was 'it'. He was the good-looking ex-marine who was stomping all over Iraq searching for WMD's. He was certainly all over the media. I saw him dozens of times and you probably did too. He was savvy, sharp, and pithy. He was so good that whenever the media needed an expert on WMD's in Iraq, Ritter was the first, and probably the only, name in their rolodex.

Cue to a couple of years later and we're in the run-up to the idiot son's Gulf War with a media discussion of same exact subject - WMD's in Iraq. On and on, an endless discussion of how Saddam was going to kill us all. Everyone who was anyone, and could string two words together, got on the TV to tell us about Iraqi WMD's. Everyone, except Scott Ritter. And nobody noticed. The only reason I noticed was on account of his name copping a single fleeting mention in a single fleeting newspaper article. It hinted that Ritter was somehow in disagreement with what the US government was telling us.

A minor explosion in the head of yours truly. Scott Ritter! Whatever happened to him? Why wasn't he on the telly? And he disagreed about the WMD's? Huh?! No one disagreed on this! What's going on? Fired with curiosity, I hit the net and discovered that Ritter was saying that there were no WMD's in Iraq at all. Not a sausage. And the media...?

The media, which apparently loves controversy, was utterly uninterested in a fellow who was, a) arguably the expert on the topic under discussion, b) media savvy and camera friendly, with an excellent track record, and c) had a controversial view on the biggest topic going.

I'll keep saying this because it's a big deal - Ritter's complete and utter absence in the media was IMPOSSIBLE.

Well, it was impossible if the media is what they say they are. Allegedly they love controversy. Allegedly they like to get the scoop that no one else gets. Allegedly they love to dig up the truth and win that Pulitzer. Scott Ritter was someone's ticket to all of these things and yet not one single media entity would touch him. Nuts.

The only possible explanation for Ritter's absence is one that pivots on the media as a bloc-media wherein no one may stray from a centrally dictated line. That's the only conclusion possible.

Okay, yawn, everyone gets it. It's all old hat. Well it certainly is on this blog, ha ha. But whatever. I just want to hammer home the principle that if one can figure out what's absent in any given media discussion, far more will be learnt than by attempting to analyse what's present. Or perhaps that should be 'presented'. What's presented is bullshit designed to mislead and confuse. Whatever isn't there has been disappeared because it will lead us to the truth. Or peace. Or health. Or freedom. Or insert-thing-worth-having-here.


And everything is like this. Certainly everything in the media. For some reason we differentiate the media from Hollywood, from publishing, from games, from the porn industry. This is foolish. They're all the same thing. They all deal with perceptions. And they're all run by same people. Jewish people, natch. To be honest, if the Jewish people had one single talent, it's their ability to posit an imagined reality. No one here will be surprised when I say that, between reality and the Jewish media's posited reality, the latter trumps the former. Just ask the Iraqis! Otherwise you can call this ability lying if you like - no skin off my nose.

And this genius for creating a self-serving reality isn't confined to us understanding that Jewish people are victim/heroes and Arabs are villains. Nor to Christians being slowly turned into precisely the kind of people that Christ emphatically rejected. Nor to the world being convinced that usury and money-as-debt are as natural and inevitable as the sunrise.

Nothing is left out. Everything is viewed through this Jewish lens. Even sex. Sex is a funny thing. How do we learn about sex? Okay so there's the antiseptic mechanics of it that we're all taught at school. And then... And then... It seems that's there's two ways to learn about sex. One is by doing it. I'm going to call this 'education by Chinese whispers'. It's whispered from person to person. The other means of learning about sex is via the Jewish perception machine. Which is to say, porn. And no mistake, porn definitely serves this purpose. How many kids have watched full-tilt porn before they even have their first sexual experience? Most of them?

Fact is, they don't even really need to watch porn at all. Regular sitcom television is now so pornographic it's mind-boggling. To be honest I rarely watch this sort of stuff. But all one has to do is flick around the channels and this is sufficient to get the idea. Has anyone seen Two And A Half Men? Good god. Is it just me, or is this show entirely devoted to the sex life of two men who have a boy living with them? And last night in surfing through the channels I happen upon David Lucas's glabrous bonce (from the comedy show Little Britain USA) filling half the screen as he mugs wantonly over David Walliams' realistically sculpted prosthetic penis (which fills the other half). Do we seriously think kids don't surf through the channels like this? Of course they do.

Okay, sure, it's the parent's fault. Guilty of insufficient vigilance! But vigilance is easier said than done. Not so long ago, finding depictions of sex anywhere was not easy. Now it's everywhere. It's so omnipresent that we barely think anything of it. It's normalised now. So much so, that was you to sit in someone's loungeroom and point out the perversity of what they're watching, they'd take you for some variety of nutbar wowser.

Anyway the trend is unmistakable. Four decades ago TV depictions of married couples required that they not be in the same bed together. And now, not only are they in bed, but it will be made perfectly clear that they are involved in some graphically unmistakable sex act. In fact, it's perfectly possible that it will comprise the entire pivot around which the episode revolves. Seinfeld anyone? Not forgetting of course that the biggest video of whatever-year-that-was was Paris Hilton sucking cock. How many boys and girls saw that? Most of 'em I expect.

Side note 1 - I spent some time in Milan in Italy and met a lot of wealthy young American kids studying fashion etc. It was fun for a while but eventually I got tired of hearing the word 'awesome', and moreover, of the really intense pornographic nature of most of their conversations. I'm not talking smutty double entendres here. I'm always up for that. This was different. "No man, she actually preferred sucking cock to having sex. She said that! And she bet me (right there in the middle of the party!) that she could make me come without touching me except with her mouth. So I said, 'Man, we're getting this on video...''. All with endless interjections of 'awesome' from the mixed company audience. I was at a loss in these conversations. I'd never come across people who talked like this. And nor was there any shortage of them. Shake my head.

And me, I haven't the slightest doubt that these kids are this way because of their immersion in the Jewish media. Not only are our conversations ever more given to sex, but this sex is ever more extreme in its perversity. But this is just more background to my main point, that being about absences.


The absence in amongst this sea of porn is female orgasm. And had I not lived in Japan, watched Japanese porn, and witnessed the ubiquity of female orgasm, I'd have assumed that it was some variety of chimera - 'a thing that is hoped or wished for, but in fact is illusory or impossible to achieve'. As far as Jewish porn is concerned that's female orgasm for you.

Or let's put it this way - women do have orgasms in Jewish porn. Which is to say they scream more loudly when the man comes. But having seen When Harry Met Sally, we all know that it's bullshit. And it is bullshit! Besides, female orgasm results from certain, ahem, physical actions. Me, I have never seen these actions depicted in Jewish porn. Certainly not for long enough for an orgasm to result. So whilst we might vaguely understand that female orgasm is possible, we will never be shown how to bring it about in any useful fashion. (I suspect that if any couple in a Jewish porn movie did manage it, the whole sequence would be left on the cutting room floor.)

Keep in mind that no cultural reference is too obtuse for the porn industry to hang its hat on. 'Splendour in the Grass' was turned into 'Splendour in the Ass'. 'Edward Scissorhands' became 'Edward Penis-hands'. On and on, ad nauseam. Any idiotic thing will do. Except female orgasm.

Straight up and unambiguously now - This absence is IMPOSSIBLE. Which is to say, it's a deliberate act. There is no way known that the porn industry forgot, or is otherwise unaware of, actual female orgasm. It's as simple as that.

Side note 2 - Who remembers the G-spot? I recall a fifteen-minutes-of-fame book written about it in the eighties. And then what? And then nothing. It sank without trace. Not a single ripple interrupted our ever growing exposure to our ever more perverse discussions of fellatio, necrophilia, bestiality etc. In fact I expect that there are people reading this who are scratching their heads, not quite sure what I'm talking about. Well just to make things clearer (ha!), here's the definition of G-spot from my Macintosh's Oxford American Dictionary - 'a sensitive area of the anterior wall of the vagina believed by some to be highly erogenous and capable of ejaculation.' What? "believed by some"? Ha ha ha ha - who wrote this shit? Go to Japan you fuckwit! Check the porn! No need for 'belief' mate, it's all right there spritzing the goddamn camera.


Okay. So what does it all mean? Why is Jewish porn (hell, the whole media) completely devoid of non-fake female orgasm? Why is that? Remember - like Scott Ritter's absence in the run up to Iraq, this cannot be an accident. Impossibilities like this can only be deliberate.

It's hard to avoid coming to the conclusion that the existence of female orgasm, along with the means of achieving it, are some mad variety of occult knowledge. The masses (the non-Japanese masses, that is) are to be kept ignorant of it. To what end? Why is this so?

I wonder if there isn't some porn-specific variation of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion out there that explains why the goyim may not know about female orgasm. "Deprived of this knowledge, the goyim will all run melancholy mad and turn to us for solace" or somesuch.

And whether I have a precise answer for this or no (okay, so it's 'no'), it's not like everything above is rendered worthless. The fact that I don't know the 'why' doesn't change the cold hard certainty of 'who', 'what', and 'when'. These alone are enough to tell us what we're in amongst. The dichotomy of reality and its depiction by the world-is-thus Jewish media is cast in stark relief regardless.

Consider the enormity of this. There is no aspect of our existence that the Jewish definers of reality aren't prepared to distort. Nothing. What's in your head belongs to them. From whom we kill, to how we fuck - all of it - it's all theirs.

And sure enough, the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he doesn't exist. Yeah well fuck that. I'm calling it.