I’ve really been enjoying Mr. John Ward’s blog, “The Slog”, shared with me by my black-pilled reader and fellow blogger BoomerX, and it suddenly occurred to me last night while reading Labour — J’accuse!: how have they accomplished this same ideological coup, in the UK and everywhere else for that matter, without benefit of Trump Derangement Syndrome?
Well, and let me back up: first of all, it’s disturbing but not surprising to read this guy’s British blog and recognize every single thing he’s saying, despite my lack of familiarity with British political terms and customs. Trust me, that has been no barrier. And I don’t think that would have been true (for me personally) prior to the synchronized worldwide power grab of the Caballeros (heh — no offense to actual Spanish gentlemen).
But second of all — how can it be done, without TDS? I’m flummoxed. Here in the US, the practical effect of TDS is almost as if our oxygen percentage has been carefully manipulated to give nearly everyone a very minor case of hypoxia.
In order to better understand the dangers of hypoxia, new pilots have been asked to write their names down over and over, or sort a deck of cards by suit, as the room they’re in has its oxygen percentage subtly dialed down from 21% and then back up, before anyone collapses. These pilots would “come to” and see their own handwriting deteriorated to hash, their cards in disarray, while never having consciously recognized their own impairment at the time they were impaired.
That’s how TDS affects people in the US. Their brains aren’t working quite right, but far from being able to self-diagnose this concern, the hypoxic brain actually experiences a degree of euphoria.
Apparently there’s a quote commonly attributed to Mark Twain that’s been rediscovered and weaponized, with Lefties here pointing to it significantly for the benefit of Trump supporters: it’s easier to fool people than to convince them they’ve been fooled. The double irony is that, A, anyone with TDS, which is nearly everyone, may as well be led by a ring through their nose; and B, no one can find evidence of Mark Twain having actually coined this phrase.
Anyway, my original question still stands; indeed, intensifies: how do you get people to give up their rights, their livelihoods, their social connectivity, their privacy, their autonomy, their judgement, their happinesses and their freedoms? The answer in the bulk of the world is, as Ward’s blog suggests, to frighten them. The problem is, as Ward enumerates, without rational reasons to continue being afraid, it’s just silly to continue being afraid, unless you are a yahboo-scaredybairn. The rest of the world is figuring this out, and realizing they need to brave the German water cannons etc. in order to make a stand.
Here in the US, though, Trump Derangement Syndrome has rendered us infinitely more docile, to my eternal shame. What a comedown, for a country that started off so belligerently, and in command of not one but both testicles. Here, we’ve been deeply frightened as well, as fear is the active ingredient in the Caballero’s psychoactive stone soup, but here’s how the TDS comes into play: as the fear wears off, for any given person, it just so happens that a false sense of euphoria comes into play, driven by the media’s carefully managed, mild-hypoxia-inducing effect. It’s an emotional eruption, which glories in being contrary to the thing it’s been programmed to erupt about, and so all that is necessary to steer it and control it is to portray the deranging trigger (Trump) as being opposite whatever is the intended effect. For instance, if you want all the sheep to go into the corral, position the Trump effigy outside the corral. If you want all the crows in one cornfield, put the Trump scarecrow in the other cornfield. It’s fucking easy.
But the initial ingredient, the fear — which, I guaran-fucking-tee you, may have started out as genuine fear here in the US, but has quickly prolapsed to a state of self-aggrandizing plausible deniability — has armed every dormant bully with a pair of brass knuckles engraved, on one side, with “But COVID!,” and, on the other side, with “Orange Man Bad!” And these bullies just go around pummeling the rest of us, who remain uninterested in the yahboo-scaredybairn lifestyle, uninterested in the proffered corral, the indicated cornfield.
I learned this so long ago, and in fact I learned if from Gay John Wayne, at the MVD in Chinle Arizona, when I went to get my driver’s license at age 16. Gay John Wayne demonstrated that the smallest imaginable iota of power will go straight to the wrong person’s head, and they will lord it over everyone. It was a real ordeal to get one’s drivers license, in Chinle Arizona, because of Gay John Wayne, and I think that experience is what set me up for a future of helping other negotiate the trials and tribulations of the MVD in pursuit of higher licensing goals.
There were so many moments, during the fake pandemic, when I knew this is what I was dealing with, but for whatever reason, I remember one instance right now, particularly. Nick and I had the barbell gym set up in a parking lot in Baltimore, in May, and two women walked past but gave us a performatively wide berth. The women were both wearing masks and gloves, and were carrying takeout food in plastic bags.
This may not sound like much, but it simply appalled us, and we had to sit down from laughing so hard. I mean, look: EITHER there’s a pandemic soviral, so transmissible, so rampant, that walking around in masks and gloves makes sense; OR you consider it safe to go get takeout. Takeout prepared by god knows who, god knows where, using god knows what — I mean, that’s the risk we all take, all the time, when we have others prepare food for us. You just don’t know. What I do know, is that in any kind of real pandemic scenario, where people are really dying, and it’s really transmissible, and will really fuck you up if you get it — ain’t nobody going for takeout, okay? That’s where you stay home and eat beans out of the can.
This anecdote probably doesn’t seem remarkable to the reader, or at least not at first, because it’s only one example of a million we’ve become accustomed to seeing every day. People driving in their cars, alone, windows up, with their masks and gloves on. We’ve stopped expecting things to make sense, which is very very dangerous, because now we’ve stopped *asking* things to make sense. We’ve been severed, slowly and inexorably, from our own sense-making and sense-demanding processes. And I assure you, I’m certain I have a degree of hypoxia too, but I’m not too far gone to recognize that there are so many worse off than me.
In fact I was laying in bed last night, thinking: if I had the opportunity, now, to draft a letter to myself back in, let’s say, December of 2019, giving myself a heads-up about what’s coming — what on earth would I even say??
“In February you will hear rumblings of some new coronavirus from Wuhan, China, and you’ll google the word ‘coronavirus’ and discover that it’s a very common, unremarkable thing. In March you will be laid off from your job as schools and offices across the nation shut down, and you’ll be given the explanation that it’s only for several weeks — not because the virus is so bad, but in order to avoid a peak burden on the healthcare system. You’ll hear the term ‘flatten the curve’ a lot, at first. After you’re laid off, you will go to Hawaii, and incidentally decide to move there. The flight will be sparse on your way to Hawaii, and entirely empty on your way back.
“You and Nick will spend the rest of the spring, summer, and fall traveling, for various reasons. You will never see the home you and Nick made together in Albuquerque again, although you won’t realize it until much later. The pandemic will quickly be exposed as a nothing-burger, to anyone with eyes to see, but the death toll will be artificially pumped up through various shenanigans on the part of elements interested in controlling the population through fear. You will not be fooled and you’ll be amazed that anyone is fooled; and then you’ll realize that a large segment of the population has somehow become very invested in performing the melodrama of a deadly pandemic, despite what turns out to be the anticlimax of a fake pandemic. In fact, marking yourself safe from the fake pandemic, in May, will be the most controversial thing you’ve ever done on Facebook, and dozens of people will treat you as a mass murderer, moving forward. 2020 will be the year of everyone not only arguing, but actually knife-fighting, for their limitations. You will lose many friends, and distance yourself from, or be distanced by, many acquaintances. Everyone will think you lost your mind. You will think everyone lost their mind.
“Everyone will wear masks and even gloves, all the time, despite the coronavirus micron size relative to the mask fiber micron size translating to, essentially, a mosquito versus a chain link fence. People will even buy permanent, washable masks, with fanciful designs. You will see ads on Instagram for sexy masks, and custom masks, and mesh masks, and transparent masks. Everyone will wear masks, and 85% of them will not cover their noses with the masks, because 85% of them know that the masks aren’t doing anything and it’s all a big fucking sham.
“Nick will almost be arrested for surfing in North Carolina, and will come home very late, wet and cold, because he had to swim a mile in the dark to avoid the police. Everything will be made illegal except drinking alcohol and participating in commerce in large corporate chains. All mom n’ pops will be put out of business, including Nick’s business, indefinitely. But there won’t actually be any reason for it.
“There will also be race wars, which won’t make any sense. The fake pandemic and the race wars will be sort of connected — you’ll see. The media will finally out itself as an unreliable protagonist. Everyone, everywhere, will act stupid, and seem brainwashed, even people you love and trust, and you’ll just continue doing your own thing but your eyebrows will more and more get stuck in this sort of raised, amazed, knitted-together position, on your face. You and Nick will be fine, and will adopt a brother for Buffy. Your family will be fine; Nick’s family will be fine. Most people will find themselves to be fine, except the ones who go out looting and shooting in Kenosha, Wisconsin — long story, you’ll see. You’ll donate $45 to the Trump campaign — weird, I know. He’s gonna emerge as the least crazy voice in all of this. Which is crazy. I totally get that you’re surprised and confused, but just roll with it. You’ll learn a lot more about this Illuminati stuff etc. your dad has historically been on about.
“Also, your hair will get fucked up — just don’t do anything with your hair until you get to Hawaii, you’ll find a very good Italian stylist there. Also, buy more Bitcoin. However much you’re buying, just buy more. It’s not an emergency, but you’ll wish you did, probably around Thanksgiving. But you’ll end up in Hawaii with your family. Okay good luck.”
I suppose that’s what I’d say?? But see, the point is, December 2019 Hannah, getting this letter, would have been like, “I’m sorry, what the FUCK.” It wouldn’t make any sense — because it doesn’t make any sense. Not a single one of us could have explained this to ourselves, in December of 2019, because we weren’t suffering from hypoxia then. We expected effects to have causes, and causes to have effects, and changes in the status of our civil liberties to have reasons, or expiration dates, or something. We’re all just drifting along, some of us putting up a bit of a struggle, some of us just gay for the KoolAid.
So yes, it seems that the citizens of other countries are…I don’t know, controlled by similar mechanisms as us, but the effect of the fear is wearing off, despite so much manipulation to the contrary. I think we have a real advantage, here in the US, because Trump is fighting for us, but we also have a real disadvantage as our TDS is pernicious and advanced. It’s really ugly here, because of that.
Okay well, I’m too hungry to go on, so I’m going to call today’s blog done, and eat some food.