Let Woke Dogs Lie

All political power, no matter who or what exercises it, is based on lies.  The most fundamental of those lies is conning people into thinking one person or group has more power than anyone else.  This is the nature of government.

Underlying all power structures is fear, and this is the goal of all lies.  Convince someone to be afraid of something, then convince them you have a way to protect them, and they will transfer their personal power to you (vote) in order to be delivered from the fear.

Essentially, the nature of power is to create a bogyman - a non-existant threat - to initiate fear, then offer a proprietary solution to the fear, but that solution has a price that inevitably creates more fear.  However, since the masses are choosing the proffered solution, those seeking power cannot be blamed, since the masses have chosen.

Unless, of course, they realize that the original boogyman was itself a lie.

I think of this as the Boots and Coots method and governance.  If you are not familiar with Boots and Coots, then you've never worked in the oil patch (don't tell Mom, she thinks I'm a piano player in a whorehouse).

Boots and Coots is famous for their rather contra-intuitive solution to oil well fires.  They place a "chimney" around the burning well, then set off explosives inside that snuff out the fire by consuming all the oxygen within.  Only Texans would think of blowing up fires.

Anyway, the analogy here is that the presumed leaders create a fearful problem that only they have the solution to fix, but the solution turns out to be worse than the initial problem, and it requires even more draconian solutions in a never-ending cycle.  Meanwhile, each iteration ratchets up the fear levels among the masses, who keep transferring more power to buy safety, based solely on the perception that the group with power was able to solve the previous crisis.

It is essential that the masses never realize the group with power were the creators of the bogeyman, or that the proffered solutions are designed to create more fear and never actually solve anything.  To maintain these illusions requires an ever expanding circle of lies to cover up the tracks of the previous deception.

Eventually, the lies get so outrageous that the masses start to wake up from their dream-state and question what the hell is going on around here.  At this point, the governing power mongers must now turn to utter tyranny to force the masses to believe the lies, or face severe sanctions, which in turn causes more of the masses to wake up.

It's a vicious cycle and the outcome is invariably war and collapse - war because the level of force required to force the masses to believe the lies, and collapse because the entire system is founded on a lie.

The ultimate issue is that when the masses awaken, they are angry and vengeful.  Notice here that I use the present participle gerund "awakening," rather than the simple past "woke".  The gerund implies an ongoing process of discovery that leads to understanding.  The simple past aspect implies a one-time event that is complete and needs no further action.  They are wildly different in their incarnations and outcomes, and highlight the importance of language and grammar in critical thinking processes.

In our current situation, one who is awakening is seeking answers and relationships to fully understand what has been done, and what is being done to them.  One who is woke has already decided they know the answer, and in the extant situation, that answer has been provided to them by the very group that seeks to control them.

The woke individual is convinced that the answer is rectifying the treatment of individuals based on their demographic and superficial characteristics.  It goes something like this: the root of all evil is slavery, and only those with dark skin have ever been slaves, therefore elevating those with dark skin to positions of power will solve the problem.

The fallacy here is manifold.  First, slavery has been visited on all races, creeds and cultures at some point or another.  There is no one group who can claim special status in this regard.  The second problem is promoting some group into the existing power structure simply makes them accessory to the lies, rather than solving any problem.  In other words, it only perpetuates the bogeyman lie, while at the same time placing another layer of blame between the perpetrators and the angry, vengeful masses.

The perceptive reader will see where this is going.  By holding up some group as sacrosanct, the power mongers are in fact creating a strawman to hide the bogeyman, and thus deflect blame and retribution, or to use their terms, turning the awakening into the woke.

Some might say this is the Hegelian Dialectic, but that over-simplifies the subtlety and cunning at work here.  The Dialectic is fairly straightforward and easy to discern, when you know what to look for.  The deception we are suffering from is far more insidious and destructive, and invidious.

Invidious because the power mongers want our wrath and retribution for two specific reasons.  One, they can blame the destruction on the masses, offer a solution, and the entire process starts again with a new bogeyman and fresh set of lies (see the January 6th "insurrection").   Two, they have superior fire-power and having a bogeyman creates the predicate to use it as a solution (witness the pillar of lies used to create this bogeyman).  The bogeyman also creates a false target that deflects attacks as surely as any shield.

This in turn creates fear, and fear leads to surrender of power, and surrender leads to more tyranny and lies.

It's a vicious cycle, one that has repeated for millennia.

An excellent analogy is the unscrupulous mechanic.  You bring your car to him with some problem.  He tinkers and taps his way around the engine, usually while you are in air-conditioned comfort sipping your "free" coffee.  He tells you it will be so much to fix the problem, and you agree, not having taken the time to learn auto mechanics.  A few hours later, you happily drive off, not knowing that the mechanic fixed the easy problem, but created another that will bring you back in a few weeks.  Not only were you fleeced on the initial visit, but you will surely be fleeced again in the near future.

The solution to our current manufactured fear is not diversity, intersectionalism, reparations, or wokeness.  It is taking the time to truly peel away the layers of lies and find the original bogeyman that created the situation - the Primordial Lie, if you will.

The Primordial Lie is never spoken of or acknowledged by the power mongers and their minions.  It is far older than the current laundry list of issues put before us.  It is so ingrained into our social and cultural trappings that most people assume it is tautological.  It is the very energy source on which the matrix operates.  When the awakened individual finds it, they realize both how simple and how devious it is.

Ending the cycle is amazingly easy.  Don't be afraid, or in the immortal words of Douglas Adams, "Don't panic!"

We must realize that the object of our fear, the bogeyman, is manufactured to create fear.  We must also realize that we have been trained (schooled) to hand over our personal power to "authorities" and "experts," who in reality have no more clue how to solve anything than we do, but are adept at creating the conditions that cause us to react in a way that is beneficial to them.  It's a simple dominance game that bypasses our rational faculties and feeds on our instincts.

Basic awareness of the motive is the most powerful weapon we have.  Just knowing what is being done leads to how it's being done.  At that point, the spell is broken and the rest is the hard part.

Once the spell is broken, we must think for ourselves and be responsible for our own safety.  That is the part for which our society is built to subvert.  Games, sports, movies and the rest are nothing more than glittering distractions to prevent us from thinking.

And that is THEIR greatest fear..

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An Evening At The Ritz

Special thanks to Lew Rockwell for reposting this article, and to Jeff Rense and Joseph Farrell for giving us a link.

  Jakarta is slowly waking up again, after the long sleep of hypnosis lovingly referred to as the Fauci Flu Damn-panic by Far Siders the world over.  The Great Awakening is not so much because the city's illustrious gubberner Anus Bathwater has released his iron grip on the throats of residents, so much as Indonesians have a wonderful capacity to ignore the rules when they no longer serve the people's purposes.

I have been going about my business since June of 2020.  I spent the months of March and April of that year in obligatory fear and panic.  If my wife or I went out of the house, we had a screen set up on the porch to disrobe outside, bag our clothing, sanitize, and then dash for the shower.

That was back when no one clearly understood what was going on and we took every precaution possible to keep our home as virus-free as any non-Level-4 bioweapons lab could be.

During those two months I read, I researched, I took online courses in virology.  I carefully studied every report of symptoms, revelations and possible treatments and cures.  I did everything, in fact, EXCEPT watch TeeVee, and that is most likely why I haven't been afflicted with the Fake Science Narrative Syndrome (FSNS or fiss-niss).

Once I realized that the world was living in terror of the Common Cold, my household went to Yellow Alert and we went about our lives.  The only concession I've made to the insanity since that time is to wear a cloth surgical mask, on which I cut out the cloth and replaced it with with mosquito netting.  It meets the precise letter of the law, while not restricting my airway and allowing me to demonstrate just how insane all this is.

So, speaking of insanity, I had to meet some folks last night to discuss business, and they had chosen that Great American Woke-a-tarian Church to Our Lady of Eternal Consumption, popularly known as Starbuck's.

Now I haven't sullied the soles of my sandals in a Starbuck's establishment in years.  I didn't like their ridiculous politics before the Fauci Flu Damn-panic, and after last night, I simply loath the place.

When I entered the Cathedral, I knew immediately I had crossed over into some kind of alternative reality.  Solitary worshippers, whose faces were illuminated by the sacred glow of LED screens with blazing apple logos on them, were scattered across the interior.   They were dutifully draped in their sacred N95 nose diapers, pulling them delicately to the side to sip their overpriced sacramental bean juice, apparently unaware that they were transferring millions of viruses and bacteria to their diapers every time they did so.

Every stick of furniture in the place was scaled for kindergarteners.  Tiny round tables with exactly two overstuffed chairs barely 30cm off the floor were sprinkled in a precisely measured grid throughout the interior.

The one exception was a line of five tables, each approximately 150cm long by 60cm wide (2 feet by 5 feet).  They were lined up end-to-end, and between each table, there was a "screen" of two pieces of wood paneling 50cm tall and 30cm wide, with a rather large gap in the middle.  These ridiculous appliances obviously wouldn't stop a stiff breeze, much less an invading cloud of Fauci Flu viruses, and were clearly intended to give the illusion of "safety," rather than any science-based protection.  

I made a mental note to offer sacrifice to the wood sprites in thanks for the trees that were slaughtered for this farcical display.

Though each table could easily seat 6, the four corner positions were marked with stickers that read, "Starbuck's Cares," with a big red X on them.  I suppose this was meant to say that only two people could use each table, and only if they are seated directly across from each other.  I supposed that this arrangement made it easier to spray each other in the face with mucus and saliva.  Must be some of that new-fangled Science.

I was meeting four other people, so I imagined we'd all have to do Zoom across three tables.

A chill ran up my spine, like icy ghost fingers telling me to run from this place lest the insanity be contagious.  I mustered my courage, and seeing that the folks I was to meet had not yet arrived, I moved cautiously to the counter to order.

A somber young man took a defensive position on the other side of the counter, apparently perplexed by the mosquito netting draped across my nose and mouth.

"Would you like to order," he inquired.

I ordered a cup of coffee.  He stood still for a moment, as if I had just spoken in Aleut.

"Regular or grande," he asked, indicating the amount of sacramental free-trade bean juice I desired..

"Large," I replied.

"What kind of coffee," he asked, swinging his head to indicate the menu board across the back wall.

"Hot, black, caffeinated," I said, helpfully.

"Americano," he prompted.

"No, I'm from Texas," I said.

I could literally hear the gears in his head grinding, throwing sparks and metal shavings across the interior of his skull.

"Sorry, I mean do you want Americano coffee," he said after a short pause.

"Oh, uh, sure, whatever."

"Name?"

"Americano," I replied plaintively, indicating the choice on the menu.

"No, I mean your name."

"Ah, Bernard."

He scribbled across the cup and slid it down to the young woman making the actual coffee, then turned to ring up my purchase.

"That will be 50 thousand," he announced.  I couldn't tell if he was smiling or grimmacing, since half his face was hidden behind a piece of paper.  I thought it was rather nice that they had priced the coffee so that, with the obligatory VAT added, it came out to a nice round number that perfectly matched the exact denomination of one of the bank notes in circulation.

I fished a 50-thousand rupiah note from my pocket and offered to the increasingly vexed "barrista".  He recoiled slightly, as if I had just held out a steaming pile of fresh horse shit to him.

"We cannot take cash," he said, acting as if a piece of plutonium were eating a hole in the palm of my hand.

"I'm sorry?"  It was my turn to be perplexed.

"It's unsanitary and we are not allowed to accept it," he explained, as if to a Martian just in from Tharsis Mons.  "We accept credit and debit cards," he offered helpfully.

"Aren't credit cards dirty too," I asked scientifically.  The blank stare told me logic and rationality weren't going very far here.  "Is there another way to pay?  I don't want to use a credit card for 50 thousand."

"You can use your Starbuck's card," he looked more relxed, as if dropping into a familiar script.  "The card is free!"

"Great, let me have one of those, then." 

He fished under the counter and presented me with a piece of plastic emblazoned with magical logo symbols and graphic designs, clearly indicating that it would remain sterile no matter how much I used it, or where I kept it when not in use.

"How do I top up the card?"

"Oh, we can do that right here," he seemed almost gleeful at being able to remain on script.

"Great, I'd like to put 50 thousand on it," I said.

"Sure!"  He inserted the card into some kind of magical device, entered the amount on a key pad, then took my 50-thousand note in exchange and handed the card to me.

I felt as if I had stumbled into a street theatre production of some obscure Kafka or Ionesco opus.

I handed the cared back to him and he dutifully deducted my purchase.  He handed the card back to me, with a second 30cm-long receipt (one for the top-up, one for the purchase), and graciously indicated the end of the counter, saying I could retrieve my coffee there.

I pocketed the plastic card and several trees' worth of printed paper, and slid along the counter to retreive my plastic cup of coffee with a plastic lid and a paper straw (to reduce plastic waste, of course).

I turned triumphantly to the interior to hunt down a sufficient supply of hermetically-sealed seating to accommodate my party.

My breast swelled with pride as I pondered the sheer volume of virtue I had signaled with that one transaction.  I was confident that when I stand before St. Greta at the Eco-Friendly Gates, I would have at least one Plenary Indulgence to trade for a Cosmic Carbon Credit.

Beaming with self-righteousness, I stabbed the paper straw at the opening on the plastic lid, and it crumpled like a sand castle in a rising tide.

I sighed and set the useless wad of paper aside, removed the single-use plastic lid, savoring the free-trade aroma of bean juice and thought, "Oh, what a good boy am I."

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