Being a victim or being free

Being a victim or being free

Notes on the prevailing insanity

by Jon Rappoport

January 3, 2017

“A person who considers himself a hardline victim can always give you a reason explaining why he is a victim and why he’s unable to free himself.  If you told him his reason is actually an obstacle in his own path, he’d deny it.  If you told him he could be free, he’d deny it.  If you helped him, he’d find a way to turn that help into failure.  That’s what a victim is.  Even a peasant under the brutal rule of an oligarch can conceive of revolution.  That’s not being a victim.  That’s the seed of freedom.”

“For many people, the possibility of provoking change for the better is a horror show waiting to happen.  They back away, as if an electric charge just hit their skin.  Better to sit in the dark and take potshots.  Better to bathe in comprehensive cynicism forever.  What do these cynics really want?  They want a comfortable place from which they can look at life, one step removed, and develop their role as a spectator.  That’s safe.  That’s good.  Watch the passing parade.  Remain invisible.  That turns out to be their definition of freedom.”

“People say the Constitution had some good ideas in it, but the men who wrote it were slaveholders, and therefore this fact negates everything in the document.  That’s the easy way out.  That’s the preference for not thinking.  That’s college education.  That’s considered deep insight.  That’s the ship of fools.  If the Constitution had some good ideas in it, let’s take them and put them where they belong.  At the head of the line.  Freedom, severely limited government, no unreasonable search and seizure.  An idea can stand on its own.  But people need to be able to CONSIDER an idea.  Think about it.  Think about what it means, what its implications are.  If they can’t, they’re cooked.  They’re already losing active brain cells.  Most likely, they’re just making noises to indicate they want something for nothing.  Something for nothing is their Constitution.  That’s the best they have.  That’s another picture of what it means to be a victim.”

“Freedom starts with the discovery that you can make choices.  Where did that discovery originate?  It’s obvious.  The first humans knew it.  So it’s been around forever.  The struggle to gain freedom, on a firm political basis—that took a long, long time.  That has a history.  The socialists and Globalists and Communists and pickled-brained professors who inhabit today’s colleges in teaching positions don’t want to touch that history.  Their precious careers would be on the line if they did.  So colleges are dead.  Being dead is part of the prevailing culture.  Overthrowing that culture is a very good idea.  But why would anyone pay a fortune for the privilege of attending a college in order to overthrow its culture?  That’s self-defeating.”

“Those words, ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’, are referring to whom?  Some group?  Of course not.  They refer to the individual.  And therein lie the seeds of a perpetual revolution.  Because society itself implies a great amount of organization which keeps narrowing liberty.  Billionaires always talk about ‘giving something back’.  But how many of them would launch a series of colleges based on the study and practice of individual freedom and the self-accountability that comes with it?  Such an idea isn’t on their radar.  They may be lions when it comes to operating in the free market, but when it comes to going up against the prevailing culture, they’re lambs.  Or they’re suddenly socialists, which means they’re all about building a system that protects their money at the expense of everyone else.  They’ve learned the lessons of cowardice and hypocrisy.  They should open schools based on those values.”


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


“Standing up with your own ideas and principles and living them out is a natural outcome of freedom and making choices.  Compulsively assessing your chances of winning, making all sorts of calculations—this isn’t part of the deal.  It never was.  Obsessively making those calculations is hedging your bets.  You keep watering down your vision until it’s a little leaking boat and all you think about is how to bail out.”

“If your best idea about the future you’re going to pursue seems extreme, chances are it’s extreme relative to the prevailing culture.  What else would you expect?  That difference, that contrast produces friction, and it gives you an edge of toughness.  Nothing wrong with that.  Nothing at all.”

“The second half of the 20th century had a hidden theme: the retreat back into various fundamentalisms, none of which supported individual freedom.  It was all about ‘going tribal’.  It was a search for lost energy and a desire to find it in a more primitive group.  But the energy was lost in the first place because individuals backed away from the realization that they were free and had the capacity to imagine and pursue a self-made destiny.  This realization was the culmination of a centuries-long struggle to enthrone freedom beyond the reach of governments and oligarchs and priests.  It was too much for many people.  They looked for something else.  They’re still looking.”

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.

A new language beyond any Matrix

A new language beyond any Matrix

by Jon Rappoport

December 25, 2016

Note: This is one of the most important articles I’ve written about what is potentially available outside the reality machine.

Anyone who reads science fiction eventually comes across a story about an alien who lands on Earth and falls into the hands of the US government.

The military holds him in a facility, while scientists try to figure out how to communicate with him. They run all sorts of tests, of course, and they bring in experts.

The solution sometimes occurs in the form of higher mathematics, “the universal language.” Equations on a page, and the alien perks up.

I’ve never read one of these stories that satisfied me. The “breakthrough” always seemed too easy. Suppose the alien was so different he spoke a vastly strange kind of language based on principles that would, if we discovered them, make absolutely no sense to us?

His language would be absolutely meaningless, no matter which way we turned it.

Our language tends to fall into two basic categories. The subject plus action-verb plus object sentence. Or the “sentences of being.”

Jones broke the stone. Action.

Jones is a man. Being.

Two structures.

There is the little-known work of philosopher/linguist Ernest Fenollosa, the author of The Chinese Written Character as a Medium of Poetry. Fenollosa analyzed modern Chinese words back to older pictographs that minimized nouns. Instead, these pictographs, at one time, presented a view of reality that was far more dynamic and shifting, in which action was the main event. The subject and object were themselves of lesser importance, and were related to one another by their mutual participation in that action. “To be” verbs—is, are, am—were just dead ducks.

Suppose we had a language in which every noun is also a verb, in the sense that it throws off rays and curves and vectors of action and energy.

What would we have then?

We might, at the extreme, have an endless supply of dynamic universes.

We would be communicating with each other in a way that instantly gave birth to possibilities beyond current meanings embedded in our style of speaking and writing. The implications of each word of text would jump and leap. Instead of peeling off layers to get at the precise definition of a word, we could also automatically proliferate the word and the definition.

Language, created by consciousness, feeds back to consciousness. And this feedback informs our way of viewing reality. The structure of language becomes, in a true sense, a monitor on what we can see and what we can’t see. What we can imagine and what we can’t imagine.

But suppose a psychologist, running one of those old inkblot Rorschach tests, told the patient: “Guess what? There’s nothing wrong with you. Forget all that nonsense. Look at these shapes and imagine anything you want to. Tell me what you invent. Then I’ll do the same. Pretty soon we’ll be speaking a different language, and we’ll levitate out of this worn-out reality…”

Having supper at a restaurant, you’re not likely to have your companion say, “Looking at this piece of salmon, I see a shoot-out between a twelve-legged insect and a flock of flying goats.” But it might relieve the predictable monotony.

Let’s cut out middlemen: therapeutic evaluators, test givers, interpreters, system junkies.

Instead of the standard inkblots, print out all sorts of complex shapes on a page and say, OK boys, THIS IS A LOST LANGUAGE. FIGURE OUT WHAT IT MEANS. WORK ON IT.

Then if you can nudge or inspire or bribe people to do that, they will work for a few years on believing there is really something there, something that is embedded in the shapes, and they’ll dig in and try to “decode” it. A few more years and they might throw in the towel and say, “The hell with this, let’s just make it up. Let’s say each shape means whatever we imagine it to mean, and each shape can change its meaning from minute to minute.”

Then they start writing to each other with these shapes and thousands of others they make up—and gradually, they forget about the notion that they might be crazy. After that, glimpses and glints begin to surface in their minds. They don’t know what they are, but they feel they’re de-conditioning themselves from any language they previously knew. They’re out in open water. Their operational concept of Understanding is undergoing a revolution.

They realize how tightly they clung to their old basic notion of Meaning.

They drop that, because they’re fascinated with the glints and glimpses they’re getting. They want more glimpses. They’re inventing this language with no rules and no assigned structure.

They’re experiencing sensations of flying and soaring. These sensations are feeding back into their body processes and into their minds. The hard wiring is giving way.

You could say they’re training for an encounter with an intelligence that’s completely alien to Earth.

There are analogues to what I’m discussing here. For example, microtonal music. You tune a piano so that, altogether, 88 keys display the range of sounds contained within just one octave of a conventional piano. Going from the lowest note to the highest on the microtonal piano, you hear thin slices and graduations of notes that cover, all told, no more ground than one octave of a normal piano.

You sit at the microtonal piano and you play. And play. And play.

You listen to what you play.

At first, it’s repugnant. It’s not only dissonant, it’s absurdly muddy.

But after a few months of playing that piano every day, you begin to hear something. It comes through. And the sensations it brings might remind you of places you’ve been, experiences you’ve had. But they go further, into a void where new sensations and meanings you can’t name are possible, are happening. Are real. Eventually, super-real.

These sensations flood your endocrine system, and new proportions and sequences of hormones are produced. You experience feelings you’d forgotten or never had before.

The spectrum of feeling and thought expands.

Your whole notion of what you can experience and understand changes.

Your imagination is gearing up.

You never seriously considered there could be seven comprehensible sounds between any two keys on an ordinary piano. Now, you’re not only hearing them, they make sense. They convey emotion.

This would be like saying that, between each word in the sentence, “I want to go outside,” there are seven other words, and every one of them is an action verb.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


When you understand that expanded and exploded sentence, perhaps then you can talk to a captured alien from Parsec-12. He can talk to you.

After your first conversation, when you walk out of the facility where he’s under heavy guard, take the elevator down to the parking lot, and drive through the gate, you look at the desert and you see things you never saw before.

You understand why magic was hard to do. It was all supposed to be taking place in a tight reality of unbreakable connections. But now those connections have snapped. The landscape, any landscape, is much more inclusive and malleable.

You’re reminded things were this way once. And now processes in your body open up. There is a reason for them to change. They secrete information and energy that have been dormant for a long time. Dormant, because there was no use for them.

The cells in your nervous system wake up to a remarkable degree. They’ve been waiting for this moment. They turn down the volume on the perverted game show called Life they’ve been glued to for 40 years. They project rays in all directions. Your physical aliveness shifts up exponentially.

Through the walls of the holding facility behind you, you can see the alien. He’s nodding at you. Yes, he’s thinking. You’re getting the message.

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.

The Proposition in Astral Locale 27-B

The Proposition in Astral Locale 27-B

A short story

(Copyright © 2016 by Jon Rappoport)

December 14, 2016

He went all the way out, floating above thousands of tiny mirrors in an ocean of surveillance.

He plunged into deeper layers where avid machinery was spinning. He felt velvet hands and suctioned fingers slide along him, and he grew cold in the submarine depths.

What did the Design want with him?

The chill passed.

“Better,” he thought, luxuriating in a) dark baronial calm, b) uterine perfection, c) summer childhood bedroom closet.

He was suddenly in the cabin of a private jet. On a table, he saw a team of small glass archangels; a China cup worn yellow; and a framed photo of Al Capone sitting on the toilet in his Palm Springs suite.

And then identity shattered into a thousand pieces. The lights of an enormous city loomed up under him, pulling the fragments down into liquor stores, newspaper racks, dark alleys, hotel rooms.

A news screen stood out in the black sky. A local anchor, her eyes bright with contempt, relayed the story of a man who had just died falling from an escarpment above the Chicago Loop while attempting to set up a sniper’s nest and kill shoppers in the indoor-outdoor Langland Mall.

A boyish blonde field reporter, standing in front of a McDonald’s, was interviewing a witness, an old man who was sitting in a wheelchair and foaming at the mouth and spitting. He doubled over and a siren went off. A security guard appeared with a riot baton and sent a fork of electricity into his crotch, quieting him.

The news screen disappeared.

Identity was now a quiet snowstorm in a deserted wood, falling, falling, falling on the hard earth. Relief.

The dreamer was back in the cabin of the jet. The comfort of burnished yellow-brown lights set high in the cabin walls.

A flight attendant entered with a drink.

She was six feet tall and blonde. That made her a target.

Wealthy and powerful men would seek her out.

Her body was sleek. He examined her left leg from wizardly articulated ankle to thigh, through the slit of her sheath skirt. She strode in heels, one foot placed precisely in front of the other.

She set down the drink on the arm of his chair and looked at her watch.

“We can’t have sex now,” she said. “We’re east of the Rockies.”

“I didn’t realize they had a law,” he said.

“Two hours from now,” she said, “we can negotiate a price.”

“I’m an attorney,” he said.

She pulled a half-sheet out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him.

“Standard,” she said. “Read and sign.”

It stated: “…I am not attempting to elicit information pursuant to an investigation, case, or sentencing option…

He signed.

“Just out of curiosity,” he said, “how much protection do you have?”

“Well,” she said, “the LA Mayor has a local contract. He supplies private soldiers when I’m in the city.”

“Have they ever had to go on attack?”

“A Belivar prince once tried to have his men kidnap me between the airport and my hotel. Burton mercs burned them to the ground on Century Boulevard.”

“I’m…”

“You’re John Q,” she said. “I know. I’m Carol.”

She held out her hand. He looked at her long fingers. Her nails were short. No polish. He shook her hand. It was cool. It immediately became warm, as if she could make it happen.

She sat down next to him on the arm of his chair.

“Defendant in a federal trafficking case,” she said. “He claims his cartel, Zuma, struck an immunity deal with the CIA. No prosecutions, clean truck routes from Mexico up through LA, all the way to a central distribution hub in Chicago.”

“In return for what?”

“Actionable intell on other Mexican cartels.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Stored documents granting that immunity.”

“Documents? You think they put that kind of thing in writing?”

He closed his eyes.

Now, Bobby Thoms came to him. The Swan, a bar in the Loop.

The place was jammed with lawyers eating breakfast and waiting for the shape-up in the parking lot. Minor cases were assigned by a clerk at the Farofax processing facility.

Q grabbed a stool at the end of the counter and ordered coffee. The bartender poured him a cup and set it down in front of him.

Bobby Thoms. Sitting next to him. In dark soiled clothes, as if he’d stripped them from a corpse in an alley. Pinched face, sunken cheeks. A lawyer’s runner, go-between. Supplier of information.

Bobby moved in close.

“I can get you in to see Judge Hirsch today. His appointment secretary’ll bump the city treasurer for you.”

Q reached into his pocket and pulled out a tight roll of hundreds. Bobby fielded it and slipped it into his pocket.

“What’s up?” Q said.

Bobby nodded. “There are national security implications in this case, John Q. If the shit hits the fan, the president’s administration in Mexico could go down.”

He heard a grinding roar from a long way off.

“Sorry,” Q said. “I can’t help you.”

Bobby frowned. “Why not?”

“Somebody’s coming.”

“What?”

The roar accelerated. The bar sped down to the size of a dot of blood on a handkerchief.

“Get me to Mosca’s office,” John Q shouted.

Sal Mosca conducted his business in a warehouse in Evanston, a few blocks away from the Registrar-DHS complex.

In the center of the lobby, there was a single desk. Video cameras on the walls caught the action from a dozen angles.

John Q waited in line, and when his turn came, he handed the security guard a copy of his cert card and said he had an appointment with Mr. Mosca.

The guard looked down at his pad, nodded, and handed Q a red slip. Q stuck it to his jacket, walked over to the elevator bank, and waited.

A door opened. A tall slam in a dark suit stood against the back wall. He was holding a blade down at his side. He nodded. Q got in. The guard peeled off the red slip.

They rode up to the 7th floor. The door opened, and two more guards in dark suits stood there. Q stepped out.

One of them frisked him. The other one backed away and watched.

They sandwiched Q and walked him down a seashell curving carpeted hallway to a mesh gate. It slid open and they passed through into a small room. Mosca’s secretary, Jenny, sat behind a table.

“Hello, John Q,” she said.

“Jenny.”

Q knew her from the county courts, the early days. Cases adjudicated in offices, fines pieced off among the sharers. During the heavy shortages, lawyers took dinners as bribes.

Jenny made a fist and rapped her knuckles once on the table. Q took an envelope out of his inside jacket pocket and placed it in front of her. She picked it up, looked inside, counted the bills, and nodded.

The two security men guided Q across the room to a door. One of them opened it and moved ahead, into Mosca’s office.

Q followed. The other guard shut the door and stood in front of it.

The office was large with no windows. The walls were dull dented metal. The only pieces of furniture were a long white couch and two scarred wooden folding chairs. Bull’s-head Mosca, dressed in his tan suit, sat on the couch. Q stayed standing.

Mosca. Big chest, big belly, cheap shoes. Tired face, but tight skin. He’d been swaddled in the bullrushes of Lake Michigan. Dirty feet running on stones, foster homes, small-time collector/protection money, law school at night, muscled his way into city government as a private conduit for defense lawyers on major felonies.

Mosca frowned. “This case has tricks.”

“Immunity,” Q said.

“Because,” Mosca said, “if it turns out Zuma has a deal with the feds to ship big weight up through Los Angeles into Chicago, and it’s exposed, that torpedoes everybody.”

“But do confirming documents exist?”

“What happened to you?” Mosca said.

“Let’s talk about immunity at a higher level, Sal. Who is immune? How do they arrive at that status?”

Sal leaned back and grinned.

“Well, Q, understand I’m only a low man on the totem pole. I don’t have many details.”

Then Mosca was standing next to me. He took my arm and walked me to the right, into a kitchen that hadn’t been there before. We exited from a side door and climbed a short flight of steps. He opened another door on to the roof.

“The shed,” he said.

In the middle of the roof was a wooden structure.

The padlock was open and hanging from a chain. We stepped inside and Mosca turned on a light. I shut the door. Tools were arranged on shelves. An open cabinet was stacked with brooms and shovels and an old shotgun. We sat down on two rickety chairs.

“John Q,” he said, “immunity travels higher than faith. Because faith’s been misappropriated. Faith is an Atlas holding up the world. And now he’s watching and spying, to make sure it stays intact.”

A canyon opened up under me. Another Earth, like this one. I caught a glimpse and it shut down, closed its mouth.

“Q,” Mosca said, “I’m a bit player. I move a few crumbs here, a few crumbs there…”

“Morris Gold’s office,” I said.

I stepped out of a car. Bobby Thoms, who was driving, also got out. He handed the keys to a parking robot and strolled off toward the American Airlines sports book. I crossed the sidewalk and stopped in front of a cast-iron door. I rang the bell. I was standing under a video camera.

A voice said, “Name, please.”

I held up my cert card.

“Packing any weapons?” the voice said.

“No.”

“Just a minute.”

They were running a body scan. I waited.

“What case does this pertain to?” the voice said.

“Not a case.”

“And?”

“Here for a consult.”

The door buzzed. I opened it and walked in.

I was in a pitch-black space.

As my eyes adjusted, the lights slowly rose to dim. I was inside a wire cage.

The same disembodied voice said, “Where did you attend law school?”

“University of Michigan.”

“Your thesis adviser’s name?”

“Professor Morris Gold.”

“And the title of the thesis?”

Currents in Pre-Trial Hearings.”

The grid in front of me clicked and moved from left to right. I stepped through.

I was standing in a foyer. The carpet under my shoes was thick.

A tall heavy-set man appeared from my right. “Go,” he said. He opened a door and we were facing an open elevator. He motioned and I stepped in ahead of him. He followed and the door closed. We ascended silently for a few seconds. The elevator came to a smooth stop. The door opened. A short man in a very expensive dark suit stood there. His head was clean shaven and he wore a pair of sunglasses high on his forehead.

“They’re for the light,” Morris said. “I have a condition.” He stuck out a meaty paw and I shook it. He smiled.

I walked with him down a hallway into a corner office.

Floor-to-ceiling windows. His two-ton oak desk sat in the center of the room. There were hunting prints and paintings of horses and cottages on blue walls.

He didn’t offer me a seat. I stood. He stood.

“John Q,” he said. “Are you trying to stir up trouble because you’re in transit? Because you were scooped up? Nothing worse than a sore loser. What can I do for you after all this time?”

His eyes were cold.

I framed my question. “Is a deity in on the fix?” I said.

“You want to know the theoretical upper limit on immunity?” he said. “I’ve worked cases where the issue was raised. The courts have always blurred distinctions.”

“You have wide experience in these cases?” I said.

Gold walked back behind his desk and sat down.

“You tell people,” he said, “they’re committing heresy, they buy it, depending who’s doing public relations for you.”

“But what is it actually?” I said.

“Listen,” Gold said. “You were a smart boy in law school. Now you’re loitering.”

“It’s probably a fetish on my part. A little tour of old friends.”

He laughed. “Sentimental journey, right? Did you know the configuration of the Surveillance State is an Atlas holding up the world? When you really see the whole architecture? And the documents you’re looking for are probably hidden, along with at least a million other docs, inside a bead of sweat on Atlas’ forehead.”

“Then I guess I want him,” I said.

A sheet of slow lightning swam up my legs and infiltrated my spine. It nuzzled and burned, on the way up, each bone.

At the top of the channel, I reached out and removed the top of Morris’ skull. It came away clean and out rolled a small creek of dusty tears.

I was standing in a courtroom open to the sky. I was behind the prosecution table.

And there was a giant standing before me.

I was facing him in the dock. His head was barely visible, an imprint behind a cloudbank. He was radiating nothing. He was a no one.

I was already searching for my opening.

Translating incomprehensible text into silent sounds, rehearsing them.

I began talking, suddenly believing every syllable would break open a wound in his cartilage and penetrate to organs.

Every case I’d ever tried had been a symptom, and every verdict a palliative. This one was the kernel.

I spoke and I heard a sound of upper crashing, at long, long distance.

A slow fall.

There was a crowd in the courtroom.


power outside the matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Power Outside The Matrix, click here.)


Could I wake up in my office on Michigan Avenue and realize I was still handling cases in superior court, that I was late for an arraignment, that I was defending a Zuma trafficker out of Mexico City…

I waited. I stood and waited.

The silent depersonalized giant standing before me…the exemplar of no-dream.

Nobody. Nobody at all. Just a clock on the wall wound up to eat time.

I heard the long faraway crashing sound again.

…if we begin to speak words that are alive, there would be no machine that could interpret our meaning.

…I was back in the cabin of the jet. With Carol.

She was still sitting on the edge of the chair.

“So, John Q,” she said. “Are you in transit because you died, or are you dreaming?”

“This is what I did on my summer vacation,” I said.

She smiled.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s negotiate a price.”

“Who won the election?” I said.

“I’m your wife,” she said. “We’re on Air Force One.”

I looked out the window. We were coming in over Washington. The Monument and the Capitol Dome and the White House were lit up.

“How long can I play this out?” I said.

She shrugged. “Hard to say. We’re in a scene-shifter locale. Things change. You have a speech to give, before the King.”

“The what?”

“He and his cartel people just moved into the White House. They’re shipping big weight out of the Rose Garden. No more cover stories.”

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.

Arrested development as mind control: the children’s army

Arrested development as mind control: the children’s army

by Jon Rappoport

November 12, 2016

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, The Matrix Revealed, click here.)

“If a person sees a light at the end of the tunnel, he is looking at freedom, rationality, imagination, responsibility, creative power. Why should he abandon all that for some pathetic substitute?” (The Underground, Jon Rappoport)

This is a broad and vital subject. Here I am presenting a few of my notes.

“First of all, I have to write about Donald Trump for a few seconds. I don’t care what you think of him. I really don’t. For the purposes of what I’m pointing out here, it doesn’t matter who he is or what he really stands for or what his motives are. What matters is, during the campaign, he spoke words that touched a nerve in many, many young people, and they didn’t like the sensation, to put it mildly. What he said seemed like a reference to individual freedom and responsibility and power—and that had the effect of a silver bullet traveling toward the heart of a vampire. Why? Who are these young people? What has been happening to them?”

“The problem for social engineers: how to impose a top-down system of control on a population. The answer: prepare the young for that system by making it look like endless childhood.”

“College student everywhere are now entitled infants. This is the rapidly expanding trend. As such, they are ripe for any ‘philosophy’ or program that justifies their endless needs. For them, government is more than mommy and daddy. Government is a non-judgmental truck that pulls up and delivers an endless stream of consumer items…”

“Many people on the receiving end of ‘inner-child therapy’ came to believe they contained an actual entity called the inner child. This belief tended to create a regression, in which they sought to find themselves in a happy early past and STAY THERE—then behaving like children.”

“A false dichotomy is set up: a person is either a free, open, playful, blissfully ignorant, demanding child; or a cold, sterile, guarded, rigid adult. As if these were the only two possibilities.”

“When some ‘disturbing’ social event occurs, and you see retreating college students in a quiet room playing with coloring books and clay, and administrators attending to their needs, you are looking at arrested development and regression. This is mind control.”

“A ‘mental-health professional’ (like the late pop guru John Bradshaw) foists on an audience the existence of a subconscious entity called ‘the inner child,’ as if it needs to be brought to the surface and nurtured and even healed of its wounds. Now we are into the realm of mind control. Operant conditioning. Programming. Oprah came upon a gold mine there.”

“In the process of a child growing up, when you see adults arrest his development and try to maintain him in some semblance of an infantile state, where he is full of needs which must be met constantly, you are looking at a serious problem. Later in life, feeling hemmed in with nowhere to go, he may decide his only options are apathy or violence.”

“But the arrested-development concept doesn’t need misguided parents. People can pick up, straight out of the culture, clues which suggest to them that the way out of their problems is to regress. Act like an entitled child.”

“Sinking into the melodrama, they become self-styled victims.”

“And this is the objective of the overall psychological operation. To remake the society into helpless victims.”

“Such entitled self-styled victims whine and demand ‘everything for free.’ This is the upper limit of their intellectual prowess.”

“How do you make such victims realize they are responsible for the choices they are taking, when the core of those choices is the abandonment of all responsibility? You are looking at social engineering par excellence.”

“Sooner or later, the arrested-development generations of children become psychologically and spiritually exhausted. They need an infusion of energy. So they look to the dark side. They want perverse stimulation. They want rebellion without a goal. They want destruction. There is no rationale behind any of this, no mind, no coherent thought. There is a protest scheduled? They show up, ready to break something, smash it. All they need is an agent (who is paid for and planted) to throw the first stone.”

“Their leaders who magically show up out of nowhere (paid for) take control in meetings and even ‘conferences.’ These leaders are the hard cases. The arrested-development children are the foot soldiers, the know-nothings, the fodder. They can be sacrificed for the cause. Behind all this is the psychological program that initiated the regression backwards into an infantile state.”


The Matrix Revealed


“This is the Trojan Horse that has been placed in the middle of the culture. Thomas Jefferson envisioned public education as the means for enlightening young children about what it means to be a citizen in a Republic, because no such experiment in government and freedom had ever been tried before on such a broad scale. Using his model, but reversing the substance of education, elite foundations substituted a teaching program of socialism and collectivism. The next step, which we are witnessing now, involves shrinking that program down to the inculcation of basic victimhood, with bare flickers of ideas and slogans and vapid memes.”

“The teenage-young-adult infant has needs. He will try to destroy what is around him until his needs are satisfied. Satisfied for the moment.”

“If the day ever comes when he wants to break out of this endless cycle, he can look at freedom, responsibility, imagination, creative power. He can pull at the tag-end of any of these, and he will eventually arrive at a vast unknown (to him) territory. A new world, a new galaxy. Beyond programming.”

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.

To all readers of Outside The Reality Machine

To all readers of Outside The Reality Machine

by Jon Rappoport

October 31, 2016

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

The readership of this blog has grown quickly since its inception. This is a pleasant surprise, given what I write here. My whole purpose has been to stretch the mind and imagination beyond the limits of conventional reality IN ALL ITS FORMS. Not just political, economic, or social.

The reality machine spits out lowest-common-denominator Universe every day. It is a mechanism ultimately backed up by the human mind, which partakes of the staggering fraud.

The machine depends on the passive uncreative human who is merely along for the ride and wants a bit of entertainment before the curtain falls—the person who says, “Who, me? I’m just a passenger on the train. I sleep and eat and look out the window. I’m not actually going to DO anything about my existence. Are you crazy?”

Such people are interesting creatures. At bottom, they define themselves by their unwillingness to change their ideas or their perceptions.

I once wrote a story about them, in which they were provisional illusions, under the control of a minor bureaucrat on a distant star. He, too, was an illusion, a projection in a whole line of projections that were launched to provide cover and protection to a mysterious X.

This X turned out to be a film producer who lived on the edge of the space-time continuum, from which vantage point he could see the “need” for trillions and trillions of virtual characters, whose function was to give stability to untold numbers of civilizations…

I have many reasons for my ultimate faith in the individual. One of those reasons is: if he refuses to budge, he will eventually be driven to a place, by circumstances, in which he’s forced to choose a radical departure from his way of life. “Eventually” could mean a year or ten thousand years. But it will happen, no matter what.

To put it another way, cynicism has a limit. No matter how deep it runs in a person, it can’t sustain itself forever.

Why do I keep writing about art and imagination? Because they are the means by which a new understanding is reached—an understanding that the programming of reality is ongoing AND CAN BE OVERCOME.

The whole show IS a show.

Imagination is the magic in each one of us.

That’s why I’m writing here.


Exit From the Matrix


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Carl Jung and the shadow self

Carl Jung and the shadow self

by Jon Rappoport

October 29, 2016

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

In this case, I mean Jung’s own shadow, the one that squirms and crawls and dashes and flies and disappears and reappears in a different form and never remains in one place for very long, because it is preoccupied with dynamic motion—and that is the outcome of Jung, after all his works were done…a man and a mind restlessly piercing the frontiers of life and bringing back ever-changing gifts, an alchemist transmuting his own ideas and insights into upper and lower levels of a vast sprawling city of the future…

Jung, 1928: “…the dream is the theater where the dreamer is at once scene, actor, prompter, stage manager, author, audience, and critic.”

Jung, 1963: ‘‘The shadow is that hidden, repressed, for the most part inferior and guilt-laden personality whose ultimate ramifications reach back into the realm of our animal ancestors and so comprise the whole historical aspect of the unconscious.’’

Jung, 1921: “The dynamic principle of fantasy is play, a characteristic also of the child, and as such it appears inconsistent with the principle of serious work. But without this playing with fantasy no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of imagination is incalculable.”

Jung, 1931: “Here and there it happened in my practice that a patient grew beyond himself because of unknown potentialities, and this became an experience of prime importance to me. I had learned in the meanwhile that the greatest and most important problems of life are all in a certain sense insoluble. They must be so because they express the necessary polarity inherent in every self-regulating system. They can never be solved, but only outgrown.”

On the surface, it appeared that Jung was wrestling with his discoveries, attempting to corral them into an organized system. But underneath, he was launched on a far more adventurous voyage. His critics never realized that his pronouncements were always provisional, and sometimes came around and fastened on to their own tails.

Humans want snapshots. They want to stop time and draw definitive and final conclusions about other humans. They want to deposit dry packets of data in banks of perfection.


Exit From the Matrix


Jung was an artist of psychology. He was always painting it, scrubbing out old sections, adding new ones, making ideas collide with one another, confident that polarity was the electric spark that generated new twists and turns in the voyage into the future.

If he played the role of scientist, it was in order to locate hypothetical possibilities that would stir him to paddle into new tunnels and rivers of the secret soul.

And every human has secrets. They propel him into greater achievements, if he will permit it, if he will resist the urge to make a petty confession out of his existence.

The secret has force. The secret has strength. The secret does not bow down. The secret is the kernel of great energy that never dies. The secret is the untranslatable. From the secret comes endless expression, not translation.

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.

How to stage a bioterror attack

How to stage a bioterror attack

by Jon Rappoport

September 20, 2016

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, The Matrix Revealed, click here.)

“Dr. Hognose Detrick of the US Biological Warfare Group waddled into a meeting room, where a collection of Army, CIA, NSA, and CDC representatives sat quietly in their chairs. He said: ‘So I understand you boys want to put on a little domestic bioterror show. Well, the first thing you need to know is, germs don’t obey orders. Forget all that sci-fi nonsense. Germs work and they don’t work. It’s a crapshoot. You could have a big fat dud on your hands. I can tell you how to make it work, though, if you give up on your fancy high-tech wet dreams…” (The Underground, Jon Rappoport)

First of all, there is an ongoing operation that resembles the subject of this article. It’s called Zika,

It’s a virus that causes nothing, and the correlation between its presence and the birth defect called microcephaly is so weak it’s absurd. But the powers-that-be at the CDC and the World Health Organization are using Zika to conceal a quite real chemical threat, in the form of Naled, a pesticide which is being sprayed in Miami to kill mosquitoes that “carry Zika.”

Naled can cause birth defects.

Likewise, the apparent temporary spike in microcephaly in Brazil is being blamed on Zika. But the real agents are far more likely to be the TDaP vaccine, which was recommended for all pregnant women in Brazil in 2014, and various pesticides.

The germ is the cover story for chemical destruction.

In general, the primary fact is: no matter what kind of germ you’re talking about or where it came from, releasing it intentionally does not guarantee predictable results. Far from it.

For instance, people whose immune systems are at different levels of strength are going to react differently.

The perpetrators may find that less than 1% of people exposed get sick.

But there is another strategy that should be understood:

Again: the use of a germ as a cover story for a chemical.

In other words, there is no germ attack. It’s called a germ attack, but that’s a lie. The perps bring in researchers to the affected area, who go on to claim they have isolated a germ that is the cause of death and illness. It’s a sham. What really happened was the spread of a toxic chemical that can’t be detected, unless you’re looking for it.

The chemical has severe, deadly, and predictable effects for a week or two. Then it disperses and loses potency and the “epidemic” is done.

In some town, a fairly isolated community, or even in a city, the word goes out that people are suddenly falling ill and dying. The CDC and the Army are called in to cordon off the area and quarantine all citizens. A peremptory announcement is made, early on, that this is a biowar attack.

Major media are allowed outside the periphery. Network news anchors set up on-location and do their wall to wall broadcasts “from the scene.”

The entire nation, the entire world is riveted on the event, 24/7.

People inside the cordon fall ill and die. Reports emerge from the town:

The networks state that “heroic doctors are taking samples of blood and the blood is being analyzed to find the germ that is causing the epidemic.” The DoD confirms over and over that this is, indeed, a biowar attack.

Human interest stories pile up. This family lost three members, that family lost everybody. Tragedy, horror, and the desired empathic response from “the world community.”

It’s a soap opera, except real people are dying.

The medical cartel promotes fear of the germ.

All controlling entities get to obtain their piece of the terrorist pie.

Finally, the doctors announce they have isolated the germ causing death, and researchers are rushing to develop a vaccine (which they produce in record time).

Everyone everywhere must be vaccinated, now. No choice. Do it or be quarantined or jailed.

In this declared martial law situation, the doctors are the heroes. The doctors and the Army. And the government, and even the media.

Then, after a few weeks, when the potency of the secret chemical has dispersed, it’s over.

When you think about it, this scenario is a rough approximation of what happens every day, all over the world, in doctors’ offices. The doctors are prescribing chemicals (drugs) whose effects are far more dangerous than germs that may (or may not) be causing patients to be ill.

In other words, a chem-war attack is being leveled at people all over the world all the time.

See Dr. Barbara Starfield (Johns Hopkins School of Public Health), July 26, 2000, Journal of the American Medical Association, “Is US health really the best in the world.” 106,000 people in America are killed every year by FDA-approved medical drugs. That’s a million people per decade. (My interview with Dr. Starfield here.)

In the wake of a staged “biowar” terror attack, new laws are enacted. The State clamps down harder on basic freedoms. The right to travel is curtailed. Criticizing the authorities is viewed as highly illegal. Freedom of assembly is limited.

“Citizens must cooperate. We’re all in this together.”

A new federal law mandating the CDC schedule of vaccines for every child and adult—no exceptions permitted—is rushed through the Congress and signed by the President.

It’s all based on a lie…in the same way that the disease theory of the medical cartel is based on a lie: the strength of an individual’s immune system is the basic determinant of health or illness, not germs considered in a vacuum.

There are people who are determined to inflate the dangers of germs. They trumpet every “new” germ as the end of humankind on the planet. They especially sound the alarm when researchers claim a germ may have mutated or jumped from animals to humans.

“This is it! We’re done for!”


The Matrix Revealed


However, if you check into actual confirmed cases of death from recent so-called epidemics, such as West Nile, SARS, bird flu (H5N1), Swine Flu (H1N1), and MERS, the numbers of deaths are incredibly low.

If political criminals, behind the scenes, wanted to stage a confined “biowar” event, they would choose a chemical, not a germ, and they would leverage such an event to curtail freedom.

Understand: researchers behind sealed doors in labs can claim, with unassailable ease, that they’ve found a germ that causes an outbreak. Almost no one challenges such an assertion.

This was the case, for example, with the vaunted SARS epidemic (a dud), in 2003, when 10 World Health Organization (WHO) labs, walled off from view, in communication with each other via closed circuit, announced they’d isolated a coronavirus as the culprit.

Later, in Canada, a WHO microbiologist, Frank Plummer, wandered off the reservation and told reporters he was puzzled by the fact that fewer and fewer SARS patients “had the coronavirus.” This was tantamount to confessing that the whole research effort had been a failure and a sham—but after a day or so of coverage, the press fell silent.

SARS was a nonsensical farce. Diagnosed patients had ordinary seasonal flu or a collection of familiar symptoms that could result from many different causes.

But the propaganda effort was a stunning success. Populations were frightened. The need for vaccines, in the public mind, was exacerbated.

Consider what aftershocks would follow from the fake bioterror (but real chemical attack) I’ve sketched out above. Mandatory vaccines for everyone—the full CDC schedule. And with the new CDC rules coming on board soon, any person traveling between states in the US can be detained if he displays the slightest symptoms (e.g., cough, low fever) common to many illnesses. He can be detained, held, and treated with toxic medical drugs and vaccines, whether or not he consents.

—Create a fake bioterror event—the “reality machine” at work.

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.