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Showing posts with label Wag The Dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wag The Dog. Show all posts

13.8.11

Jaya Riot

Ever have one of those days where there's so much to think about that it's hard to think about anything?

Sometimes I dread writing, because things come out that spook me.  Like the other day I posted the Dog Days of August piece, where I joked about Putin and Perry and the SEAL fiasco.  Two days later, right on cue, there's a photo of Putin after finding Geek vases while diving.  Perry suddenly comes on big time with the religion thing.  The SEAL story gets changed and bios are released.  Obama even goes to receive the bodies personally.

It's amazing how predictable this stuff is, if you know what to look for.

I mean, you've got financial markets going nuts, wars and rumors of wars, people admitting they personally fabricated the POTUS birth certificate, the price of gold going ballistic, and nascent global revolutions.

The revolutions are the the things sticking in my craw the most, I suppose.  Really, we should be more selective with our words, since we are trying to deprogram our minds here.  These global events are NOT really revolutions.  They are the ultimate product of welfare states and manipulation by banksters and media.

What we are seeing are a bunch of gangsters expressing their displeasure with not having taxpayers buy them the latest XBox/Nintendo/360 what-evers.  In other words, all the death and destruction is little more than temper tantrums by mentally and emotionally stunted welfare rats.  Those bipedal animals are nothing more than an army of convenience, bought and paid for with your tax dollars and 'trained' by the public school system.

I say, 'trained,' but the truth is more like 'dis-educated'.  I just made up that word, so remember where you got it.

The whole thing is a planned set of events designed to create tyranny.  It is the hegelian dialect in process.  It's already begun, with the UK rolling out face-recognition toys on the streets and in the neighborhoods.  It's all the fault of the internet and 'social' media.  Cameron has called for limitations on the internet.

Of course, in a country where you have to pay an annual TeeVee tax, what do you expect?

The riots are nothing more than the old mafia protection racket writ large.  Governments for centuries have maintained a welfare class for just this purpose.  To paraphrase George Carlin, 'the poor are there to scare the shit out of the middle class to keep them working to support the elite class.'  I think the truth of that is splattered all over the media at this point.

The Indonesian newspaper Kompas, is blessedly free of political correctness issues.  They (and I use direct translation here) lay it all at the feet of the 'black skins,' but there's enough blame to cover the 'yellow,' 'brown' and 'white' skins, as well.  I really love that Indonesian is a very blunt language.  It's just no bullshit-straight to the point.

Perhaps that's what's wrong with the West just now.  It's too easy to hide things in English.  Too many subtle shades and weasel words.  If you're able to flavor your thinking with so many options, you reach the pinnacle of language manipulation, called government.

But that's another article.

I get the sense that people are slowly starting to see the Big Picture.  From what I scan on the net, the masses just aren't buying it anymore.  When you can get an Indonesian to discuss politics, to a man they see the 'man behind the curtain.'  They are not fooled by Libya or Afghanistan, and bin Laden, as well.  And the markets couldn't be less interesting to them.  I think they represent a very large segment of the world.

And that's the point here.  When you step outside the constant barrage of media and look back, there's a much larger world.  All the wailing and gnashing of teeth that if America goes down, it takes the whole world with it.  Sorry, don't think so.  Westerners tend to have a very inflated view of their importance, but really, they are a small minority of the world population.  I get the distinct impression that if EurAm tree were to die off, the smaller trees in the forest could get some much needed light.

I mean, come on.  Westerners have been wondering around sticking flags in everything and calling it 'mine' since the 1400s.  After they raped and pillaged and looted and plundered, they left and forgot about the 'colonies' until one day, they stood up and said enough.

If you're wondering what REAL GlobalRev is about, it will be a complete rejection of the "Western Paradigm."  You will see people attacking the real sources of the Problem, not each other.  There's no doubt it's coming.  I can feel it.  But it will be against the producers of these faux revolutions: the colors, the springs, that sort of thing.

The problem with weltanshauungs is that they die violent deaths.  People don't let got of their delusions easily. The Western elite have gotten used to sitting on top of the Hill.  They have come to believe their own BS.  At the core, though, they are nothig more than petty thieves and gangsters who have stolen the king's clothes and are parading around in front of the mirror.

After a while, you get so busy protecting what you've got, you forget that you got it by having nothing to protect.  At that point, you have the ouroboros, the snake eating its tail.  The body starts eating itself in an ironic bid to stay alive.

If we study history, we can see this stuff coming a mile away.  It's as predictable as night follows day.  Nero fiddling while Rome burned is exactly what's happening in the so-called revolutions breaking out across the globe.  "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."

The ultimate point here is, yes, the riots are causing a tragic loss of life and property, but be careful where you lay the blame.  The people committing these acts are little more than mindless animals.  They are being kept by a group of ruthless folks who will destroy anything to protect their little pile of gold.  Once we peel back the curtain, we clearly see the withered, putrefying corpse of a long-dead idea.

That idea spawned a great many things, and used correctly they are quite valuable.  But the idea has reached a dead-end.  It's become so drenched in lies and secrets that it must now destroy anyone who can find it.  That anyone is us.

Remember HAL in Kubrick's 2001?  He killed the crew in order to prevent them from finding the truth about the mission.  It's the logical conclusion to a lie or a secret.  One must eliminate the risk of being found out.  We are the risk.

Like Western medial treatments for cancer, it's a race against time.  Can the doctor kill the cancer before he kills the patient?  We have been injected with a lethal dose, because the elite see us as a cancer.  They, being the megalomaniacs they are, are trying to wipe us out without killing them, too.  So, we have to wonder, which will go first?  The cancer or the patient?  And the deeper question, is the patient worthy of saving?  Damn these philosophical moral judgments.

The time has come to use a whole lot of perspective, a healthy dash of truth, and keep on lovin' throught the pain.

9.8.11

Dog Days Of August

MUSIC UP AND OVER

THE SCENE: We establish with aerials of a remote Swiss chalet.  It is obviously the possession of someone(s) with extreme and old wealth.  The camera flies across a vast ravine and enters through a set of French doors into...

INTERIOR SWISS CHALET: A richly appointed Euro-style sitting room, all walnut and leather with animal heads mounted tastefully around the walls.

There are a number of MEN sitting in a rough circle.  They are obviously well-to-do gentlemen, with a smattering of military types.

The CAMERA peds up from shoulder height to move across their heads until a set of wooden double doors are filling the frame.  Just as the camera settles on the shot, the doors burst open and STANLEY MOTSS is standing dead center, one hand on his hip, the other holding a Yorkshire terrier.  BED MUSIC

MOTSS: Gentlemen, you're pissing on my product.

A BEAT

GEORGE C. SCOTT: Mr. Motss.  We were wondering if you'd show up.

MOTSS: (enters room, doors shut) Don't give me that crap.  You knew when I had the idea sitting on my toilet this morning.  Let's dispense with the bullshit, shall we?

PATRICK STEWART: How may we help you, Mr. Motss?

MOTSS: (puts dog on a large coffee table) You know damn well what I'm doing here.  You killed my product.  I believe we had an agreement?

SCOTT: You have to understand the 'fog of war...'

MOTSS: Do I have to waste my precious time with brass mouthpieces here?  I created SEAL 6!  You told me I had the picture rights, residuals and two sequels.  I'm just a little miffed, if I may use such strong language?  I'm already in production!  I've got crews shooting in Morocco with Dolph Lundgren right now.  Before I can even post, you've killed 'em all!  Hell, we've got action figures in development.  How can I sell dead heroes?  You can't sell dead heroes!  Nobody wants a dead hero!

CHRISTOPHER LEE:  It was unavoidable, Mr. Motss.  Pakistan was threatening to open our little cage.  The damage that could cause...

MOTSS:  I could've gotten an Oscar here!  You've shot down my dream!  Now I have to start from scratch again.

SCOTT:  We'll be happy to arrange a posthumous Oscar.

MOTSS: Threats don't interest me.  Now about my career.

LEE:  How much, Mr. Motts?

MOTSS:  This?  This isn't about money.  Do I look like I need money?  I got an Armani and I'm holding a hairy damn dog.  Trust me, I don't need money.  There's a bigger picture here.

LEE: Precisely, Mr. Motss.  One even bigger than your own.  All of our careers are at stake.  Things have gotten into the wild, and not just about your SEALs.  We are...anxious about the future, and your mantle decorations do not advance The Goal.

MOTSS: Don't lecture me about Big Pictures.  My bio-pic on Che Guevara set the bar for Big Picture!  I created Madonna for you!  I AM Big Picture!

VOICE: Mr. Motss...

(Cut to wide of massive fireplace, a la Citizen Kane.  A LONE FIGURE stands to one side, framed by roaring flames.  The camera trucks in to a tight shot of the back of his head.  He turns to reveal...JAMES MASON.)

MASON:...it seems subtlty eludes one such as yourself.  Allow me to be blunt.

(Cut to wide as he crosses to oppose MOTSS)

MASON:  Your SEALs were fine work.  We used the bios that you created, even releasing one of the photos you made for your characters.  We appreciate the quality and depth of your efforts.  But, the issue at hand is that we are losing control.  We had expected the...masses...to react differently.  We're afraid that our timing may have been off.

MOTSS:  And that's a reason to kill my best work?  I even killed bin Laden for the sixth time, and people bought it.  You saw the YouTube videos of the boneheads dancing in the street.  And the burial at sea?  That was genius, baby, genius!


MASON:  There is no denying your talent, Mr. Motss.  Our relationship has been mutually beneficial, as I'm sure you will agree.

MOTSS:  All the way up until you scrambled my Oscar hopes.  I had the speach written and everything.  I even hear Chevy Chase is hosting next year.  You can't possi...

SCOTT:  This fruitcake is raining on the parade.  I'd love to commit his suicide.

MASON: Gentlemen, please.

LEE:  You see, Mr. Motss, where one door closes, another opens.  We have another, much larger project for you.

STEWART:  We want an alien invasion.

MOTSS:  Sci-fi?  I like it.  Always wanted to do a space opera.  Who gets creature design?  Do I get ILM?

STEWART:  We've already set up most of it.  You've got a comet, an asteroid and two planets to work with.  You will have some license, but you must adhere closely to the outline.  We need a creature that is menacing, but not unbelievable. No forehead appliques or cheerleader outfits.  The...masses...must be sufficiently frightened and distracted that they cling to us like a bad smell.

MASON:  Mr. Scott will brief you shortly on Project Blue Beam.

SCOTT:  Do I have to work with this...this man?


MOTSS:  Blue Beam?  What's Blue Beam?  I need some real toys here, and your giving me ray guns?

MASON:  It will allow you to project 3D images directly on to the atmosphere simultaneously worldwide.  Each person will hear the audio inside their heads through a signal from every cellphone tower across the globe.

MOTSS:  I'm liking it.  Got a kind of Goldfinger-y feel to it.  So, what's the upshot?  What do you want?  And what about my Oscar?

LEE:  We need the entire world to be frightened to death.  It must appear that a deadly virus has been released by an alien force to eradicate Mankind.  Only we will have the cure, so they must come to us.

MOTSS:  Wicked.  Sort of Star Trek meets War of the Worlds.  We'll need some serious talent.  This won't be a job for Tom Cruise.

STEWART:  Precisely, Mr. Motss.

MOTSS:  Got any flying stuff?  I'm betting all those sightings are probably yours, right?  But they look so 50s.  Don't you have something a little more, I don't know, Maserati?

MASON:  Mr. Scott, would you please illuminate our guest?

SCOTT: (grumbles) We have faster-than-light craft.  Fifth generation.  The largest will hold 100 men.  It'll get you to Mars and back in 20 minutes.

MOTSS:  I'm getting a picture here.  Comet passes near Earth.  Media hype stirs up pre-arrival anxiety.  It's revealed to be an alien craft.  I'm thinking Godzilla-running in the streets kinda shots.  The inhabitants drop in to claim Earth as their own.  Humans must surrender or be annihilated.  We can do the alien broadcasts from Mars.  Frame it right and no one will know the difference.  How's the lighting there?

MASON:  I believe you have the Big Picture, Mr. Motss.

MOTSS: Can I use Obama?  He's not looking too busy these days.  He and Woody hit the links just the other day.

LEE:  All our operatives are at your disposal.  We'd like you to use Putin, as well.  We want him built up into a global leader.

MOTSS:  Got it.  Perfect.  I'll do a James Bond-coming out of the water shirtless kinda thing.  The women and queens will go ga-ga over it!  I'll have them eating out of my hands!  Love his accent.

STEWART:  Be careful, Mr. Motss.  We need extreme caution at this point.  This is our biggest weapon.  We can't afford to let this one get away...like the SEALs.

MOTSS:  I'm still sensitive about my SEALs...please.  I almost started believing them myself!  Now that's talent,baby!  I'll need a little religious fanaticism to pull this off.  Who do you have?

STEWART:  We've already set up Rick Perry for you.  He's on-board with the program.

MOTSS:  Him?  He's such a pretty-boy.  Don't you have someone a little rougher?

LEE:  Trust us, Mr. Motss.  We've been at this for a long time.

MOTSS:  Ok, but at the first sign of trouble, I'm bailing on Perry.  Don't trust the guy.  What about budget?  I need some serious juice for this one.

STEWART:  You will have everything you need.

MOTSS:  Right!  Well, let's get on with it.  I've got a million ideas and I need to get them on paper fast!  Where can I work?

MASON: Mr. Scott will show you to your quarters and brief you.

SCOTT:  I feel like Nixon in China.  I'll try to restrain myself.  This way, Mr. Motss.  And don't forget your damn dog.

MOTSS:  Oh, that thing?  I just rented him for effect.  He's yours.  I hate dogs.  By the way, have you done any stage work?  You have a great voice for...I don't know, a general or something.

SCOTT:  I am a general, you dolt.

MOTSS:  I knew it!  What's your sign?

(They exit)

LEE:  I feel a bit uneasy about this one.  Events are moving much faster than we anticipated.

STEWART:  This alien invasion has been planned for decades.  George Lucas and Ridley Scott have been softening the targets for years.  Our polls show people are ready for this.

MASON: Gentlemen, we have only one concern.  We must keep a tight grip on this.  The usual leaks can't be tolerated.  If anyone becomes a problem, they are to be liquidated in the usual manner as fast as possible.  Understood?

(Cut to wide as all the heads are nodding thoughtfully...then cut to a figure who has sat silently in the back of the room until now)

CLAUDE RAINS:  This could be the dawn of a new day...

(MUSIC SWELLS/FADE TO BLACK)

11.1.11

That Dog Don't Hunt

'THE SCENE: A dark, smoke-filled room with a large round table in the center. The only illumination is a large fixture over the center of the table. The scene opens as the camera tracks around the table giving us head shot after head shot while the credits and music roll. All the characters are revealed to be military types or businessmen in suits. They are looking at each other as if waiting for something. Finally, the camera pauses on a two-shot with a door framed between the two men. The door opens just then and a dark figure is silouetted there. The figure speaks --

FIGURE: How trite. A smoke-filled room. At least have someone smoking so it's motivated, you know. OK, so what's the job? I don't have a lot of time here. I'm due in Cannes in two weeks for the opening of my latest feature.

HE STEPS INTO THE LIGHT AND REVEALS THAT IT'S DUSTIN HOFFMAN REPRISING HIS ROLE AS 'STANLEY MOTSS' FROM 'WAG THE DOG.'

STANLEY: So what is it this time? Need to get into Iran, right? Taken long enough. You guys just can't put on a good war without me, can you?

GENERAL 1: Please sit down, Mr. Motss. We have a lot of work to do.

STANLEY: Maybe it's work for you, but ideas just fall out of my head, you know. That last performance I put together for you guys was Oscar, I'm telling you. One of my best pieces. I shoulda gone public. I could be retired by now.
//
GENERAL 2: Mr. Motss, nothing we say here can ever see the light of day. If you so much as blog a word of this, we'll...

STANLEY: No need for threats, baby. I know the drill. I want $20 mil. Half up front, half on completion. Deal?

BUSINESSMAN 1: Already in your account, Mr. Motss. Now please, sit.

STANLEY: Oh yeah? (HE CONSULTS HIS BLACKBERRY FOR A MOMENT) I'll be damned. Wish you boys would do that with my open projects. (HE SITS) Now, what's the deal? My head is swimming wiht ideas and I need to give birth soon, before cocktail hour.

PRESIDENT: Mr. Motss, I need a crisis. My poll numbers are falling, my presidency is on the rocks, and I need the same boost as Reagan got from Challenger, or Clinton got from OKC, or my predicesssor got from 9/11. In shot, I need a miracle.

STANLEY: Miracle? Did I just hear miracle? You've come to the right guy, then. miracles are my trade, baby. I feel a couple of miracles coming on right now. I feel like Benny Hinn. Quick, give me a scenario here.

GENERAL 1: We need a domestic terror event, Mr. Motss. Are you familiar with the Northwoods Document?

STANLEY: Familiar? I practically wrote it, sweetheart. That whole false flag thing, it's just like my third film, "Lips That Lie." That one should have gotten a Globe, I'm telling ya. It was all politics...

GENERAL 2: Mr. Motss, we need s single event that can be blamed on any group we like, even opposing groups. They must be home-grown and it must achieve these goals. (HE PUSHES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE)

STANLEY (TAKING THE PAPER AND READING): Hmmm...you want a job on a member of congress and possibly two officials. OK, I can see that. You want to trash left and right extremists, get some gun control through, kill opposition to the health care law, and cause a craxk-down on free speech and the internet. I'm with you. I'm getting a picture now. Hang on...

HE PAUSES WHILE HE THINKS. THE SHOTS CUT BACK AND FORTH AROUND THE ROOM.

BUSINESSMAN 2: And one more thing, it needs to take attention off the economy so we can crash the markets and blame it on terrorism.

STANLEY: Oh, like 9/11. That was a beautiful piece of work, by the way. Who cut that one together. I want to work with him. I bet we...

GENERAL 1: Mr. Motss, can you do this?

STANLEY: Do it?! Are you kidding? I've already got your miracle, baby. Listen to this: first, we get that congresswoman down in Arizon, the one that really supported health care?

PRESIDENT: Giffords.

STANLEY: That's her! It's beautiful. She's a democrat, so we can blame it on Tea Partiers. She promoted health care, so we can use it to shut down the opposition. She's married to an astronaut, so we can use that. Nice symbolism.

CUT TO REACTION SHOTS. THE MEAN AT THE TABLE ARE NODDING APPRECIATIVELY.

GENERAL 1: Who's the trigger man?

STANLEY: Who do ya got at central casting? C'mon, we're buring daylight here.

THE GENERAL SLIDES A PILE OF FILE FOLDERS OVER TO STANLEY. HE BEGINS TO LOOK THROUGH THEM. AFTER A FEW MOMENTS, HE BEGINS TO CHUCKLE, THEN LAUGH OUT LOUD.

STANLEY: You gotta be kidding, right? This is just too perfect! If I can't get DiCapprio, then this guy is my second cast. I mean, even his last name is Loughner! Where'd you get this one?

GENERAL 2: He's one of our cradle-to-gravers. Been working on him since he was 5 months old.

STANLEY: Beautiful! You guys would be geniuses if you just had my style. Know what I'm saying? OK, here's your scenario...this guy posts a couple of lame YouTube videos, but get this, Giffords is a member of his channel, right? That will keep the conspiracy nuts going for years. Now, we get her in front of the people, old fashioned, you know, a town haller, but out in the open...I've got it! We take her down in the Safeway parking lot! Safeway! Don't you love it? Now, he opens up with a Glock sub and a large capacity mag, so that gets your gun control cooking. Hunt down a sheriff for me. Arizona's full of 'em. I need a kook who likes to shoot off his mouth.

GENERAL 2: I we've got just what you're looking for.

STANLEY: Excellent! This'll be shooting fish in a barrel. Now, here's the tricky part. I need some classmates to say Loughner is a left-winger, so we can play both sides against the middle.

BUSINESSMAN 3: I'm sure we can arrange that.

STANLEY: Great! I love you guys! Better than Paramount on payday around here! Now, I need just that Stanley Motss touch. I need the cherry on my sundae...I've got it! One of the victims is a young girl, say 9 or 10, who was born, are you ready for this?, on 9/11! It's hot, I tell you! This'll ice 'em down at NBC! They'll eat it up like bums on sirloin, I tell ya.

THE CAMERA PANS THE TABLE AND THE PARTICIPANTS ARE NODDING IN APPROVAL.

STANLEY: Now, prez baby, you'll need to get right down there, of course. Comfort the family and take charge, that sort of thing. I'll put the A-unit with you to get some prime footage for the history books. I'm thinking a rating around 85%, maybe better. We'll see how well you play it.

PRESIDENT: I knew we could count on you.

STANLEY: You sure I can't squeeze a little Iran action out of it? Maybe some letter bombs to high-ranking officials with 'Iran' written all over them? We could kill a dozen birds with one stone here.

GENERAL 1: Do it. We'll hold that one as a hole card in case the main event goes south on us.

STANLEY: So what's the budget here? 10? 30?

BUSINESSMAN 1: Sky's the limit.

STANLEY: I love you, you know that. I wish all my gigs were this sweet. I got a property for ya. Maybe we can talk after we wrap this one?

BUSINESSMAN 2: I think we can do that.

STANLEY: Fantastic boys! So, get me a bottle of brandy, a couple of cartons of cigarettes and, oh, two slim assistants. Say 18? 19? C'mon guys! I don't have all day here.