Carbon Trading? Free Money!

Carbon trading, eh? How does that work then? Why don't I try and explain it to myself.


Polluting is bad and planting trees is good. For bad read 'negative', and good, 'positive'. To balance the scale a polluter needs to plant trees so that his negative score comes back to a neutral 'zero' value. He won't plant any trees himself of course (not unless the press is there, ha ha). Besides were he to do so who'd need a middleman? And whether we need them or not, God knows we must have middlemen. Sure enough carbon trading is a middleman's wet dream and that's why we're going to get it even if everyone except the middleman has to die in the attempt. Ha, now that I think about it, global warming could happily be described as 'a middle man, his invented product, and the fight to turn us all into buyers and sellers'.

But it is true that polluting is bad and planting trees is good. At least we can all agree on that. Just like we all agreed that Saddam possessing WMD's was bad and that a democratic Iraq would be good. Only some crazy pro-WMD, anti-democracy, tyrant-loving loony would have argued otherwise. And even if we suspected at the time that there was something screwy in amongst the arguments for war, at least it was all for a good cause. And didn't that turn out well! Iraq is now a thriving WMD-free democracy and we only had to kill 5% of the population to do it. And so it is with carbon trading: a few fudged figures, a few billion dollars rorted, but it's all for a good cause and only some crazy environment-hating pollution lover in the pay of Big Oil could possibly speak against it.


Hmm... here's the same argument from a different tack: To say that if global warming was bullshit, some scientist would win fame and fortune by proving it, is worth precisely as much as saying (way back when) that if Saddam didn't have WMD's, some journalist would win a Pulitzer by being the first (and only) guy to say so. So much for that argument. In the run up to the war not a single journalist did the obvious and googled Scott Ritter. Impossibly the world's most famous weapons inspector became a media unperson. And that Pulitzer? Ha ha ha, what's the point of a Pulitzer if you're black-banned from the entire industry? It's not called a 'bloc-media' for nothing. And just like there was a songbook for Iraq's WMD's and everybody had to sing from it, same-same for global warming.

Otherwise never mind the old polluting bad, planting trees good, how about steal from the rich to give to the poor? Did somebody say Robin Hood? How about Double Plus Good! Welcome to carbon trading, wherein finally we all win the lottery. The big fat-cat polluters will have to buy carbon credits and they'll have to come crawling on their knees to the forest owning poor. Who but a crazy pro-rich anti-poor weirdo could be against it? Honestly what's not to like in this idea?


I don't know... how about the fact that it's bullshit? The wealthy of this world would sooner eat their own heads than hand their money over to the poor. Sure enough they won't be doing any such thing. Rather, what they'll be doing is forcing the poor to sign their lives away (at gunpoint if necessary) for some feathers, mirrors, and glass beads. Then they sit and wait. They wait like Alan Greenspan and his proxies waited after they handed out free money to every man jack who couldn't afford a mortgage. Alan and his very good friends didn't care that the loans could never be repaid. They knew how worthless the imaginary money was. They just wanted all the land. Or everyone homeless. Or some combination of the two, now that I think about it. And they got it. Well, not all of it yet but don't worry, they're very patient fellows.

Meanwhile in New Guinea we can see the feathers gag happening in real time (SBS pt 1) (SBS pt 2) (SBS pt 3). And the falsity is beyond obvious. Laws not in place? No idea who the owners are? The ministry in charge of it all so utterly corrupt it was actually disbanded? Doesn't matter! No need to take my word for it, watch that vid and see the pell-mell rush to sign up anybody with a pulse. And the local governor complained to the Australian government about the whole sordid affair did he? Ha ha ha ha ha - Mate, the government of K Rudd is precisely as interested in the crookedness of a land grab in New Guinea as they are in the crookedness of a the land grab in Australia's own Northern Territory. Which is to say, not. Which is to say they're a party to it. K Rudd and the middle men? Best of friends!


Otherwise if you view global warming/cooling as a flat out con suddenly all the inconsistencies and contradictions become no such thing and actually make perfect sense. As our death cult leaders haggle over precisely how little to give to the third world in order to snaffle up what bits of virgin forest remain, the rest of it continues to be cut down at a rate of football fields per hour. If you really want to know where the West's head is at in regard to rainforests etc ask yourself where all that clear-felled Indonesian timber is going. Indonesia? Not bloody likely. It's for us in the fat-cat West. If those disappearing Sumatran forests were truly going to put the PTB's beachside properties under water, we'd spend as much time halting Indonesian freighters carrying timber as we do ships bearing humanitarian supplies bound for Palestine. But we don't do that because the PTB want that timber for the decking of their beachside property (which of course is no more likely to be sunk than the Israelis are to quit being psycho-killers). The cutting down of the rain forests is many things (and all of them fucked) but a global climate changer ain't one of them. Our death cult PTB tells us this themselves.

There will be climate change and no mistake. What's coming is coming. And sure enough, the death cult knows this. Knowledge is power - literally: the words 'know' and 'noble' come from the same root. Our ignoble nobility know what's coming and of course they bend that knowledge to accord with the single thrumming refrain in their head: what's in it for me - it's all about me - me uber alles - if not me, none - me, me, me, ad nauseam. It's all they have and they are nothing if not predictable. And speaking of predictable - Of course they lie and tell us it's for our own good! Of course they stampede us with fear! Always this way! Like these simpleton, one-note, trickster motherfuckers ever pass up a chance? Honestly.


Hey Tricksters! Fuck you! You're bullshit and obvious with it. A tuppence for the lot of you.

Oh, and you can stick your global warming up your arse.

It's the bloody tuck-shop, I tell you!

I have a friend in Hawaii, with whom I cracked a joke about North Korea dropping a nuke on his arse. Ha ha ha, what a card. He wrote back shaking his fist at North Korea and I replied that I was actually just joking and that North Korea was precisely as likely to nuke Hawaii as the US military was to find WMD's in Iraq. And besides Hawaii is DU radioactive already and it was the US military what dunnit.


He conceded the point but came up with an analogy about North Korea being the weird trouble-making kid in school who still deserved to cop a beating if for no other reason than to get him to shut up and stop being a dickhead.

Cool. Why don't I run with the analogy?

The fact is that neither my school chum, nor anyone, has ever met the North Korean kid, nor even laid eyes on him. Every single thing we ever heard about him came from the gang of kids who run the school newspaper and the school website where they like to post little quicktimes they make with their handicams and laptops. And for anyone reading the paper or looking at the website it's transparently obvious that that little North Korean kid is a troublemaker who deserves whatever's coming to him. We pay no attention to the fact that the sum total of everything we know about him comes from the tiny cabal of kids who run the paper.

But the thing is that the kids who run the newspaper are buddies with the school bully who extorts everyone's lunch money. Sure enough, this is never mentioned in the school newspaper. The bully, by the way, doesn't actually front up and take your money. He's much more sophisticated than that. What with having compromising pictures of the headmaster, half the teachers, and the people who run the tuck-shop (cavorting with his sister Lolita) he takes a 50% cut of the lunch money after it goes through the tuck shop's till. No one in the school apart from the headmaster even knows that this goes on. Even the tuck-shop lady thinks the money goes into the school's 'general revenue'.


Instead everyone just complains about the high price of the pies and sausage rolls, and about how crummy and run down the school, and the grounds, and the facilities are. The teachers don't complain too much because the bully paid for special catering just for the teacher's room with real espressos and everything.

Whether the North Korean kid had figured any of this out or not, he decided not to participate. Instead he brought his own lunch from home (kimchi bibimbap, I expect) and thus didn't pay any money to the tuck-shop at all. Well that's him fucked. Truth be known the school bully doesn't really need the North Korean kid's money - he's already the richest guy at school. Hell, he's richer than the teachers! Put together! But that's not the point. Such independence cannot be allowed. Everyone must be kept in line and no alternative to the bully's tuck-shop game may be permitted. If everyone brought their own lunch, then where would he be?

At the behest of the bully, the North Korean kid is a constant target of the school newspaper. It's relentless and it's effective and everyone hates him. And of course the footy team hates him. They hate him as much as they hated that Iraqi kid. But even the cool kids hate him too after they saw that crazy puppet show quicktime that the newspaper kids made. It was called Footy Team America and, believe it or not, took the piss out of the jocks. It was as smutty as hell, complete with copulating puppets, and all the naughty rebellious kids thought it was great. "Ha ha ha, look at those stupid footy wankers!" they said. But they failed to notice that the jocks thought it was great as well. And the lot of them, bedazzled by the smut, thought nothing of the fact that the North Korean kid, along with all the Arab kids, were depicted as dickheads who deserved their beating at the hands of the idiotic but otherwise righteous jocks.


Don't forget, none of these kids has actually even met the North Korean kid, nor even heard a peep out of him. But that's how it was for all the foreign kids. If it wasn't for the newspaper no would even have known they were at the school. Take the kid from the CAR for instance. "Kid from the car? What car?" "No dickhead, not the car, the C-A-R, the Central African Replic. He sits at the back of the class, a few seats away from the Zimbabwe kid." Sure enough, since we all read the school newspaper, we know all about the Zimbabwe kid, who is a crazy little bastard. But truth is he's not half as fucked up as the CAR kid, but since the CAR kid eats at the tuck-shop (unlike the Zimbabwe kid), he ain't in the paper and no one knows who he is. Not forgetting of course that there's nothing like being hated by all the other kids to make a crazy kid crazier. Meanwhile the CAR kid hangs out at the tuck-shop and is 'normal', albeit invisible, and then the bell goes, and he's off home for his nightly self-mutilation frenzy, not that anyone cares.

As for the school paper, everyone admits it doesn't always get it right. Like that time when they had that big story about the Iraqi kid having a collection of guns, with his bedroom walls covered in pictures of other school kids with targets drawn on them. They made a little animated quicktime about him too. And yep, the cool kids thought is was funny as hell.


Finally when the footy team went to his house and absolutely kicked the living shit out of him, the school newspaper had a daily report about how we'd find those guns and pictures with targets any day now. The student president even appeared in the school paper to announce that they had found them: but it wasn't true and eventually the paper dropped the whole topic. "Anyway he's a spastic, look at the way he walks, and we're helping him to be normal." And each day the footy players dutifully drag him down to the tuck-shop so he can be normal and stop being such a fucking retard. And rotten ingrate that he is, he doesn't even thank them. Typical.

Mind you, no one had ever met the Iraqi kid face to face before they took to him with baseball bats, and it never occurred to them that before his kneecaps were smashed that he could walk just fine. Whatever. Astoundingly, a few kids actually wondered at it all and wondered if perhaps the gun story was bullshit and that really the whole thing was about something else? Perhaps the Iraqi kid made a pass at that Olive Oil chick? Who knows? We recall some vague thing hinting at something or other in the school newspaper. Anyway at least the little Iraqi spazmo is hanging out at the tuck-shop and being normal now.


And down at the tuck shop, pies in hand, the kids talk about the latest story about some other kid they never met - "Did you see that thing in the paper about that North Korean-Iranian-Russian-Chinese-Venezuelan kid? He has a basement full of crossbows! And his bedroom wall is covered in pix of kids with arrows through their heads! And he's a freak who dresses up as a lesbian! And he tortures cats with a Fisher-Price Play-Doh Factory! And, And, And..."

And were a kid in school to stand up and say that the school paper is bullshit and that no one has even met these kids, and that it's all about the tuck-shop lunches, everyone would laugh their arses off. "Tuck-shop lunches! Huh? What are you talking about? Like lunches have anything to do with anything?! You're just some vego poof who doesn't like pies! ♬Erh-oo-erh♫ Have some salad! Besides if there was a some crazy scam like this, we'd see it in the school paper! Duh!"

Open Letter to the Villains of the World

Att - Messrs. Vladimir Putin, Hu Jintao, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Hugo Chavez, Hassan Nasrallah, Fidel Castro, et al,

Dear Sirs,

The Western bloc-media has declared you the villains of the world. You know as well as I do that none of you, nor your countries, nor your people, will ever get a break in the Western media. The entire media sings from the same song-sheet with a simple message. Each of you is a variation of Orwell's Emmanuel Goldstein. Collectively you are those whom we must hate.

To be honest, I don't know where your heads are at precisely. But I'm assuming that you understand how the world works. I'm assuming that you're perfectly aware that the Reserve Banks of the world are privately owned and what this means. Tie this power to the undeniable bloc nature of the media and its refusal to acknowledge this power, and it's no great feat of logic to arrive at the conclusion that the media is, in essence, a machine to cloud our minds to the nature of our subjugation.

Effectively we are all participate in a mad charade, an idiotic drunken parlour game, wherein the perpetual topic-du-jour is that old chestnut 'What's to be done?' To obey the rules of the game we must discuss this topic in every way possible but we must never mention the chief protagonists, which is to say, international banking. The entire perverse system of monetary policy, and control of the means of exchange, must be dealt with, not as a human contrivance subject to alteration, but as an act of God that may not be questioned.


I notice that you all play within the parlour game rules. And some of you do quite well occasionally. Mr Putin has had some interesting footage showing him staring down a tiger and displaying his martial arts ability. Hats off. But between these minor efforts (which, trust me, the media did its best to spin as vaguely comedic, or undignified, or otherwise as 'not quite the thing') and, say, the watertight depiction of Russia as the ogre of Ossetia, it's small potatoes. But all of you receive the same thing.


In China, never mind the tirelessness of Hu Jintao throwing himself amongst the people struck homeless in that earthquake, nor the millions of servicemen and women he then mobilised into a fearless hands-on disaster relief (which the American government could watch as a 'How to' if the welfare of their citizens was worth tuppence to them), the Western media barely batted an eyelid. Besides, their reporters were far too busy looking for Chinese citizens unhappy with their government. And they found them, sure enough, one after another. (Well, shit, eh? Like this is difficult - Pick a country, any country). With this as the perpetual template, unsurprisingly we in the West will only ever know of the Chinese as villains. And when the bankers move against China (à la David Sassoon and his opium wars) we in the deluded West will righteously cheer its destruction. And geez, you can hardly blame us - all we know is what we are told.


Perhaps you have your fingers crossed. Just like Tariq Aziz. He was the Iraqi Foreign Minister in the run up to the invasion of Iraq. It didn't matter how much he kowtowed and did as he was ordered (always scrupulously obeying the rules of the parlour game). His handing over of the complete 40,000 pages detailing the weapons programme and allowing the CIA-infested weapons inspectors to wander all over his sovereign nation was never going to make a lick of difference to Iraq's inevitable bombing. And that's the lot of anyone who plays within the rules of the parlour game. You will always be on the back foot. It's not your game and if you stay within it, you will lose. And lose big. Destruction-of-your-nation big. I'm sure you get it.

In any conflict, whoever follows the agenda set by their opponent will always be on the back foot, always reduced to defensive tactics. It stands to reason. The only way to 'win' (exactly the wrong word but let's carry on) is to seize the initiative. And the only way to do this is to Call The Game. The game isn't hidden from public view for no reason. Nor does its veiled nature add some minor degree of utility to the whole caper. This veil of delusion is the single crucial function by which the enterprise succeeds or fails. Pull away that veil and start a global public discussion on the true nature of reserve banking (and the role the media plays as its handmaiden) and the bankers (and their media monkeys) will be forced into unfamiliar territory. I expect that even wrongfooted like this they will still be formidable opponents. But at least you'll have them on the back foot.


So. Rather than stand in front of the UN and call George Bush the devil, or mouth generalities about peace amongst men of good will, why not call the game? I'm not going to say that this is easy. Packing the history of international banking and control of the world's money supply into fifteen minutes is no easy task. But it can be done. Hell, if you want a hand, for an absurdly modest fee I'm your man. The comment section is below, and world leaders are perfectly welcome, ha ha.


But forget me, I'm nobody. This will be your gig. In English 'your' can be singular and plural. Take it here as the plural. Acting in concert will be vital. Each of you must reinforce the others and put out a consistent, coordinated and coherent message. And the beauty of it is that all you will have to do is: tell the truth; not waste time on red-herrings; and stick to your guns. The last part of this will not be easy. God knows that in this bullshit world there's nothing braver than the man who tells the truth. And we all know how powerful those who control the money supply are. They whacked Kennedy and got away with it. And they can whack you too. But only if you're a singleton. Act in concert and the possibility of your silencing becomes ever more unlikely.

But if you stay silent, stay isolated, one way or another they're going to whack you anyway. You and your whole nation. The bloc-media hasn't invested all this time and capital painting each of you as the enemy for nothing. They don't do this lightly. They do this because they are the part of the machine that is going to destroy you. How about this - the media is the laser that paints the target so that the bomb knows where to go. The bomb is us, sure enough. Make no mistake, you are lit up by that laser.

Forget living in the shadows. The media-laser loves it there. The media doesn't just light things up, they actually render in the shadow also. In fact, this rendering of shadow is their primary purpose. If anything they're better at that than casting light. The only strategy for dealing with this mastery of darkness is to flood the whole place with the broad daylight of truth.

It's easy and it's hard. But the time is now, you're the men for the job, and no job was more worth doing. You know this is true.

I have a dream. I dream that you're not the servants of the bankers. I dream that you're possessed of intellect, of free will, and of big balls. I dream that you're men whose place in history will be that reserved for those who usher in an era. An era free from delusion. An era of peace and prosperity. A second Enlightenment, perhaps. It's not impossible. And all things being equal, why wouldn't you pick this dream? Who but a slave would follow someone else's dream of warfare, starvation, misery and suffering? Are you not masters of which dreams you choose? If you are serious, bold, act in concert, and stay true, this false dream, this nightmare, is yours to smash. You will be your own masters and earn the thanks of a world freed of delusion and subjugation. That's my dream. What's yours?