The Nut-Shell: What ‘Mind Control’ Means, It’s Implications

Copying and pasting from Twitter with probably some edits. Don’t know. Haven’t done it yet. Or have I? Difficult to remember. ;D

There’s the word problem. Is [behavioral modification] exactly slavery? If someone is hypnotized into doing something, is it? Probably not. But when you also PSYOP and [exploit] things like Ryan’s familial loss[, the death of his wife and daughter by a drunk driver]…well, did he really have a choice? [And there’s the standing question of what free will means anyway. Neuroscience tends to doubt its existence.]

[This is one of the many] hurdles when discussing something that most people either don’t believe exists, or, if they do, misunderstand. [It’s not necessarily torture and forgetting. Sometimes it’s as simple as knowing a person better than they know themselves and exploiting that. A little push. A little hurdle to make sure they turn the direction you want, or don’t turn, continue forward. And since it can work on the majority of people, the idea that a confirmed target is more dangerous than most anyone else is just fear talking. Though I wouldn’t always say “We have nothing to fear but fear itself,” it’s true much of the time.]

We can’t get regulation of things decades old now. Imagine how long we’re talking about, how many years [before people even understand the methods and means available, much less the implications. It’s a fools errand to attempt to be a regulation activist unless you’re immortal.]

And oversight. Are you kidding me? We vote. We don’t elect. Elect requires [or at least implies] a choice. [Generally speaking, candidates] are decided by moneyed interests, [and those interests] would clearly love to bring back slavery [because only the bottom line matters to them, not how they got there.]

So what, precisely, this side of mass suicidal civil war, rebellion, revolution, horrors repeated from history’s past, can possibly rectify the situation? What is supposed to be the mitigating factor? Who is supposed to utilize it? [Because, apart from a broken ‘Manchurian candidate’ mercy-killing a sick sea lion in fiction, I can think of nothing that would work. Nothing meaning that which cannot be seen, technically doesn’t exist except as some neuochemical cocktail in our brains. Yes, despite scholars stating Shakespeare referred to female anatomy as ‘nothing’ in his title including that word, I rather also think he meant love. Benedick and Beatrice clearly thought so. They’re not in love, you know.]

We’re in new territory [because it isn’t precisely slavery, just something akin to it.] Except of course science fiction [and even the Bible and other religious texts, somehow I should think, have] for decades and decades [centuries and millennia] predicted it, virtualized it [and illustrated it]. Now it’s here. What do we do?

Does it have to get unbearably bad for a majority before things get better? That’s not a very effective way to run [an elected representative] society, IMO. Dictatorships aren’t either. Neither is any flavor of what they have in Saudi Arabia. [No system is perfect. Who expects perfection? Not me. But this means totalitarianism no matter which system it operates under, Capitalism or Communism…same result: Quasi-Slavery.]

The correct solution is clearly openness. But it ceases to be as effective when it’s exposed. At least the puppet masters think so.

Truth is Russia and China probably know a whole lot more about the US version than the American public.

Which means what? It is the American [and allied] public that [the US and ‘Five Eyes’] want to hide it from.

Which in turn means what? They know [that the public] wouldn’t approve. Though the viciousness is getting so [prevalent through demonization of ones political opponents] there’s [going to] undoubtedly be a small minority saying, “So what? You served your country,” [But that] really means some rich asshole’s interests[, not the public as a whole. While it might sometimes be true that helping the rich helps the economy and all of us–eg, trickle down theory, it is clearly not working right now.]

They say things to themselves like, “It’s necessary,” as if democracy would go ‘poof’ if they didn’t.

See the joke there? Democracy has gone up in smoke because they did it. Like a wisp of smoke.

Which was an additional reason I titled that unfinished story The Wisp, beyond the trickster legend. [Refers to eternal vigilance, and what happens when you forget what that means, if you like.]

Terrorist Are Made, Not Born

http://www.icsahome.com/articles/terrorists-are-made–not-born-stahelski

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The Card Trick

https://card-tricks.wonderhowto.com/how-to/perform-prediction-card-trick-273485/

This will be important later. And/or it already is. We’re talking about the shifting of the “perception” of time here. Synthetic deja vu, if you prefer. Or “time travel.”

Know just one variable, make it seem like you know all three. But much simpler than trigonometry.

You could convincingly fake the Apocalypse with this one simple trick.

Bonus link of something you may have already seen. Or will see. Or are seeing. Who knows?

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=sl9pTDK8PAk

The Shepherd’s Boy Said…

Live with a man 40 years. Share his house, his meals. Speak on every subject. Then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano’s edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man.

I cannot begin to tell you how much I don’t want to write this post. You have no idea.

First, reliving old traumatic shit is in itself traumatic. It’s like interior mirror neurons. It’s what TIs call churning: The inability to turn it off. It being your brain. Not even some silly buddy-cop movies can do that when you’re on a real mind bender.

Second…well, second will no doubt be obvious. I don’t want to write it. I don’t want it to be important. I actually want it to be another wild goose chase so I can forget about it again {most of this comes from old working theories}.

And I don’t want to upset anyone else, not having any real f***ing idea what they are thinking beyond the very probable “Leave me the f*** alone.” I know because I say that to “the air” practically every day, usually silently.

Doesn’t much help in my case. But then I’m an exception to so many rules, most especially including the one they call the Rule of Law, among others. Therefore one should probably be careful and selective when they choose to follow my advice. Maybe I’m the only one some of the crazy actually works for. Hard to say. Don’t know anyone else like me. Not even Ryan, who by the way seems to have had some kind of life-altering experience all of sudden but won’t say anything except, “You’re the one making a big fuss over it, not me,” And is completely unable to explain what the f*** he means by that.

But I wasn’t even slightly creeped out by that. No, sir. I am a true believer…in brain hacking.

Third, this is supposed to be my vacation.

Fourth, it distracts from my cheerleading the crushing of that giant shit dragon laying on its fat, bloated ass in Virginia.

BACKGROUND THE FIRST

While one can imagine some right wingers who are following this imagining that it must be some kind of liberal conspiracy since a lot of this seems to be pointing at scientific explanations for seemingly supernatural phenomena, religious behavior, etc., I would suggest taking a closer look. They are also mocking atheists, like myself. FFS, I’m looking for someone I can’t find or “see.” Someone who preaches peace by “buying” kitty litter. Someone who I probably seem like a prophet for.

It’s nonsense. I’m brainwashed. And in love with him. That’s true. And that does change my priorities.

Unfortunately, whomever is behind this has inextricably–as far as I can tell–connected finding whatshisname with the “assassination” of a really corrupt, piece of shit agency that really kind of does seem like a clockwork hiding inside a sheet.

And yet he’s/they’re using their very methods to achieve these goals. It sounds very much like the Illuminati if you believe the whole unity of mankind being the “light” and some kind of Rosicrucian thought process. I don’t.

Another Whedon idea was astronauts versus cavemen towards the end of Angel. Who wins? In the story, when things are looking positive and optimistic, it’s the astronauts of course. But when things look hopeless, it’s the cavemen.

In that scenario, it works. In another scenario, it means something else. What if the ‘advanced’ people are enslaving the ‘rabble’? Well, I know the answer to that. Eventually the cavemen win. Why? Two reasons: ‘Dinner’ versus survival, if you’re familiar with the fox and the rabbit. The other, because human beings are really, really good at warfare. It’s in our genes. The further you go back, the more in touch with that part of ourselves you are. Homo sapien wipes out Neanderthal even though the latter had a bigger brain. More vicious. More streamlined for that purpose. The warlike inherited the Earth, folks.

But of course we will eventually lose it as well, for much the same reason. Situation changes, we haven’t yet adapted. That’s what this is about. Sharpening the beak on that diamond mountain plus time equals no more mountain. The meek inherit it ultimately, if only through evolution.

But I’m talking out of my ass here. I just want closure and a normal life. To be able to move on. I wish I could believe any one of the many, many {you’ve no idea} lies they’ve presented even if it isn’t what I want. Because I can’t. I’ve tried many times and it just keeps coming back like a sequel to take-your-pick haunted place movie franchise.

So I really have no choice but to chase my own tail–not impossible but not proven, so–and write this stuff hoping this time will be different. That this time, the diamond wall shatters and the light shines and the clockwork ghost dies once and for all.

Except of course we also tend to repeat history–as we are now, I’m after all talking about surreptitious and/or plausibly deniable slavery here–and learn nada from it. But a breather or a break would be good in any case.

Paranoia means we’re on a seesaw constantly going back and forth. Could it be true? Could it be another joke at my–or someone else’s–expense? Data is the only way to know for certain.

In short, I prefer face-to-face, open, honest discussion to all this sneakin’ around. It just leads to more misunderstandings.

I expect it, meaning the event, when it happens, to be more like that. Direct. Obvious. True. Mostly unambiguous.

And not more of this preposterous reading of tea leaves. Which is just another way of saying asking your unconscious if it knows the answer. If I did, I’d be at his doorstep, yeah? See, it’s not just Christianity and atheism they’re mocking and mucking about with either. {But there is no Illuminati, so, tag, you’re it, Shithole. Well you and and whomever it is that you really, really pissed off}.

In my opinion, this way lay madness. However, it’s not like absolutely everything I did, even when it was wrong, misguided, or fruitless, didn’t provide something else. The MacGuffin stuff probably not only reveals character, but makes character. Makes you examine what you’ve done, and how to be a better person. Plus, the stories.

And yet, if you happen to see the people torturing me…I really do not need to handle it myself. Feel free.

BACKGROUND THE MEAT

So, in no particular order because the CD–discovered hidden in my rental car in early 2010–disappeared. I probably did something dumb with it and forgot. Which of course doesn’t quite mean what that seems to mean. It means I was distracted and set it down without realizing I was being brainhacked.

Spoon:

“Dismember,” “All The Negatives Have Been,” “Lines In The Suit,” “Plastic Mylar,” “Change My Life,” “Something To Look Forward To,” “Stay Don’t Go,” “Jonathan Fisk,” “Don’t Let It Get You Down,” “All The Pretty Girls Go to the City,” “You Gotta Feel It,” “Everything Hits At Once,” “Anything You Want,” “Chicago At Night,” “The Beast And Dragon, Adored,” “The Two Sides Of Monsieur Valentine,” “I Turn My Camera On,” “The Delicate Place,” “Sister Jack,” “I Summon You,” “The Infinite Pet,” “Merchants Of Soul,” “Don’t Make Me A Target,” “The Ghost Of You Lingers,” “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” “Don’t You Evah,” “Rhythm And Soul,” “Eddie’s Raga,” “The Underdog,” “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case,” “Finer Feelings,” “Black Like Me”

And T-Spoon:

“I Wanna Have Sex On The Beach.”

Some did have some metadata, but nothing that seemed to be a cypher or phone number.

The point of including the list is not to go looking for hidden messages in the lyrics. Universality in art is why many of us can relate to it. And then there’s the “magic card trick” I keep mentioning where the perceived order of things is altered so that it seems impossible or that the magician somehow time travelled in order to know the value of a card “before” it was chosen. No, he reversed the order of the cards so he had already chosen it.

In this case, for example, I’d already started “that drive alone/800 miles is a drive” well before I even knew the CD was in the car. A very odd PSYOP, wasn’t it? Sticks out badly because most everything else was about dying, suicide, mutilation, or increasing frustration and rage in order to make another person go ‘pop’ and postal.

See what I mean? And it’s about more than that. Like 3-D chess. Like a giant brain came up with it. Imagine there were several involved and that this really is not as original a tale as I think it is. And I don’t mean the Bible. There’s plenty from outside it as well.

Anywho, the point is to see if anyone else, who will probably ignore this–don’t blame them one iota if they do–finds anything in there that stands out. My end, NYC and I think even Minneapolis, only song that stood out, as I joked/ranted once in an email, was “Aqualung” by Jethro Tull.

As for why, let’s assume for the sake of argument that I am not capable of reverse engineering what Derren Brown did here and that it was just random. Let’s assume it just sparked a memory and that I’m just desperate for that closure.

“Or…we can just talk some more.”

Mea culpa. Possibly.

Projecting Ideas Using Visual Information

Read this, from MIT in 2014. The general idea, a laser and sensor are aimed at something that vibrates like a bag of potato chips sitting on a table. The sensor picks up the very, very small–smaller than the eye can see–vibrations. A computer converts those visual vibrations into “sound.” Surveillance made easy.

Now, flip it on its head like the SERE program, used to resist torture, was turned into a torture program.

Project sound using vibrations from a laser–“push” instead of “pull”–quieter than consciousness car hear–and you can not only implant whichever ideas you desire–but also pervert the perception of whatever is being said in the room.

This is why the idea of countermeasures is preposterous. This is one of several ways. Anything with a speaker is already possibly a liability. You would practically–get the punchline here–have to live in a rubber room to avoid many of these methods. In which case they’d just beam that shit in directly via ultrasound or V2K from some other source.

This is why, again, I’m saying there is only one solution. And it’s really only a temporary one.

Mr. Khrushchev, tear those walls down!

Two Open Letters

FBI

You know I tried really hard to find some dirt on Robert Mueller. Best I could come up with, apart from heading up FBI all those years and what went on then, was his assertion that Iraq/Saddam Hussein had WMDs. But, hey, all the cool kids were doing it. And history has shown it was a slam dunk.

Wilmer Hale. While it’s not perfect, who or what is?, that is at least trying. They do defense for corporations and then pro bono for the poor. That’s something. I’ll take something.

But when you abide by the agreement…not with the Devil. Just a pile of poop in the shape of the devil…or a blind, thrashing dinosaur…you undo what you proclaim to do.

I get it. I really, really do. I’m not talking about me, though I think it’s pretty easy to see what could or should have happened and yet did not. I’m referring to the general so-called Targeted Individual community. I’m referring to Black Lives Matter. I’m referring to a clear-as-can-be conflict of interest in the Jeremy Hammond sentencing hearing. And more that doesn’t require mentioning. Deep down, you know.

The agreement. The agreement states that the Department of Justice will not prosecute the Central Intelligence Agency for crimes committed, even on US soil, against US citizens, as long as doing so could reasonably harm national security by exposing sources and methods employed the CIA.

Note that this included, in the 1960s and 1970s, the rape and abuse of under-aged girls in the Nevada desert. Americans. Dr. Luther Wilson Greene oversaw the series of programs that were done there. He ensured the continuance of the programs he oversaw by training the young girls to seduce visiting oversight officials and he and his team recorded those events to blackmail them into silence and the continuation of funding.

Not a conspiracy theory. It’s a fact. It was explored by Congress in the 1990s. It is part of the public record.

But I get it. Your bosses and your bosses’ bosses don’t actually want you to examine what’s going on. They want you to continue to disrupt and discredit Americans organizing to affect political changes. And it’s no skin off your nose if some “crazy” people suffer for no other reason than…well, you’ll have to read my note to CIA below. Nobody believes them. No one cares. It’s an easy calculation to make. Try to fight it, and you wind up like Terry James Albury.

But where’s the balance, then? Occasionally you do catch some bar people. I mean, cruel, callous, murderous, and/or exploitative of children.

But don’t kid yourselves that merely exposing CIA domestic {much less foreign} malfeasance is punishment enough. It’s not punishment at all if it continues. And it is definitely continuing. Post-9/11? You’re deeply and egregiously lying to yourself if you think otherwise.

CIA

First, let me explain why I refer to you as, among other variations, a shithole. It’s because I believe, really always, really in every place I look, I’ve only ever seen your ass. That’s the clearest message, apart from the rest below, that you’ve ever succeeded in sending me. Probably not your intention…unless it’s that you really, really want me to kiss it…more likely deep down kick it. But that’s what your pattern is communicating.

Why is that?

Let’s start with how you lie to yourself. You tell yourself, for example, that you’re studying for a future “mind control” war with China. Or, really, why not? A current mind control war with China. I saw the article. Don’t need to link it. Merely note that this is what you are telling yourself. This is your excuse for everything: Patriotism.

It’s the Big Lie, dear. How can you possibly believe that raping and abusing underage girls in the desert somehow makes them safe? How can you believe they should be proud of their sacrifice to Uncle Sam, when the real point was just funding for programs that probably yielded very little, or even if they didn’t, were unnecessarily cruel to yield what little they did?

Now. I’m going to try one more time even though I’m tired of repeating myself. I’m going to explain how it was I beat you. Because I did best you. I did.

I had an unfair advantage. And just because I’m again borrowing someone else’s words, in this case Thomas Harris I think, doesn’t make it any less true in this context. Doesn’t make it fiction.

“You were insane.”

You aren’t the Devil, though you sometimes like to think you’re both God and the Devil. You aren’t even really Hannibal Lechter.

You’re just very, very sick. You are. I’ve passed many, many of your, and those of other’s, Rorschach tests. You, like Lechter, are incapable of turning your keen eye on yourself and taking stock of what’s there.

That in itself is understandable. No system can truly know itself. I’m convinced now that deep down, that’s why you are running {though there may be other ‘franchises’} surreptitious harassment in the first place. You aren’t so much seeking God—though I’ll get to that in a moment—as you are trying to understand yourself.

So, I’m telling you. You do more harm than good. You might spend three days in a ratfilled basement just to hide from some FIS in order to find out what some head of state’s favorite brand of hummus is, only to have him change his favorite the next week or month or year. You’re constantly running around chasing your own tail and you can’t see what you’re doing. Not to the world, not to your country, not to yourself.

Right. God. Even Erik Prince, Mr. Holy War, Mr. Kill-‘Em-God’s-Already-Told-Me-the-Sorting knows that “the Devil,” whatever that really means in this context, doesn’t just attack the bad people. He’s especially fond of corrupting the good people. Erik knows that much. Maybe you could learn something from him instead of, for example, making me harass him or some movie star for your perverse amusement.

That is sick, honey. Maybe it’s time to take a break and, again, let DIA or somebody do an internal review.

Because really, who won? It was the guy who bought kitty litter FFS. I’m sure you think somewhere in your malfunctioning brain that you’re taking care of him as well. Well, I’ve seen…as I noted in that one short story…I’ve seen what you consider taking care of someone. The man who was talking to his own fist. Really? What could he possibly know today that is still a threat? What could he possibly do if you just stop whatever you’re doing or undo what you did? Not a damn thing.

You’re paranoid. You’re afraid. You might be schizophrenic. You are brilliant, I’m not calling you stupid in any conventional way…just your own little shitty one.

I know that makes you mad. But you know why? Because it’s true, darling. And the truth hurts. That’s why it’s described as a sword.

And the pen is only as mighty as the truth it wields. Sometimes. Maybe just in the end.

I don’t have a capper. I’m just done as I can be. You can continue, and I’ll respond as I feel or think I need or want to. But I’m already done. Because I’ve already won.

And I’d like to say it was really, really hard. Life definitely was. Loss and problems, really hard.

But beating you was really, in its own stupid little way…real easy. I just had to let go, I guess. Or some other allegory I can’t verbalize.

Cheers.

—-

Dusty

That’s the local slang word for someone who really cannot be trusted. I’ve been doing some analysis and studies and have come to the conclusion that there are approximately 7.62 billion such individuals planetwide falling into this category.

Whether you believe the simulation theory of the Universe, since when it comes down to the smallest thing we can find, it’s apparently waves, sounds left over from the Big Bang; or you think of it as stardust, born of the creation of the cosmos following that event; or you think of it as dirt shaped by some superintelligence, you’re possibly in the right neighborhood.

We don’t really see as well as we think we do. There are blind spots in our field of vision that our brains are quite happy to edit out for our entertainment. It makes educated guesses as to what’s there by seeing what’s there when we look in other directions. It pieces it all together like a good film editor.

So no matter what you believe, science is telling us that life within these flesh-and-blood shells is at least partially simulated.

Like the Nexus. Like the Matrix. Like a 3-D shooter or carjacking game. Except there are “real” consequences when you do that in “real” life. Some Native American tribes believed that dreams are the real world and that the waking world was the phony one. I can see why. You can fly in dreams after all. With a thought. No jet fuel or hot air required. No need for jet packs {I mean where the f*** are they anyway? We were promised}.

But simulation within a simulation within a simulation? That’s too much like the Nexus for me. Three degrees of separation. At least one if not two too many.

I’m not a zen master like that. I’m definitely not a saint, and likely won’t ever be no matter how much pain I go through.

When I first arrived in Port Huron, I went into a bar near that rat-trap, but somehow wonderful at the same time, motel. It was around St. Patty’s. There was talk of–who was it?–a literally black Irish American football player. Never been one for sports. Name will come to me presently I’m sure.

There was talk of some coach, clearly a gay man though that wasn’t spelled out openly. He taught the three Ps: Poise, Position, and Posture.

But the part that sticks with you is the part about him never marrying. Never. That word. I have a really hard time finding any double meaning in it. Nobody and no one, those are easy. And try as one might, that story hit at just the wrong time. Drugged and confused, the unconscious “iris” opened all the way, it wormed its way into my head. Worse than a hypnotic suggestion. Those are easy, after a long while, to weed out once you guess what they are.

But never. Imagined once–let’s call him Ferris Bueller. Though I don’t think he’s had a day off since shortly before 9/11. Imagined him shouting “Never” at me in Minneapolis when I asked for one–seemed simple enough to me–thing. You can probably imagine what it was. I’m not complicated where that goes.

Wasn’t really him, of course. Maybe/maybe not someone who works or worked for him. Maybe just gut bugs screaming. Who knows?

Never. Not ever. Forever. Not working. It’s fake, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise. Pretending can only get you so far.

Maybe I’m just not crazy enough. Or maybe I still have a long way to go. Maybe both.

Anyway, off to see how this gets twisted by fools who don’t even know what any of it means or want to twist it to mean something different. That’s a given. That’s inevitable. That’s the one constant in my life.

BBD – What a Tedious Little Agency

So, let’s end this one quickly. It’s another pretty, poetic thing. I’m starting to think CiA’s entire planning division consists of Millenials googling ideas all day based on what targets tweet and post. It is tedious.

Here’s the pretty part. The reason whatshisagency hasn’t shown up is due to his personal history. He lost everyone dear to him {this isn’t sounding contrived at all, is it? Yes, that’s sarcasm–from Batman to Bond, it’s the trope of tropes} and it is actually the fact that he does indeed love me deeply {or more believably, in those moments when he realizes that is so} knows we cannot be together or I, too, will die.

Now as I’ve said before, this was part of what made me concerned for him from the outset. And I didn’t even realize I loved him at that point. Thought maybe a crush at best that I had no intention of ever telling anyone about. But realizing that he may not have known about the harassment and thinking it best to protect an innocent bystander from that, I initially ignored it until I couldn’t any longer.

So, by throwing out the reversal, they think I can at least identify with excuse number 5,953. That’s all it is, even if it’s partly true: An excuse.

I don’t care because I think it likely we’d survive meeting again…got this far…I mean, c’mon. They make a pretty lie that means that they don’t have to change a damn thing. Don’t have to do a damn thing except continue the same old shit.

It’s total, or at least partial, bullshit. Why? Because he could just as easily come and explain all that in person. Easily.

Don’t know his history. Real-world ‘Brian’ from Infectis, it’s true, lost his wife and kid to a drunk driver. Sounds like a trope, a contrivance, doesn’t it? But it is true. Destroyed his life. One supposes there’s a reason Fleming started with Casino Royale and Vesper Lynd. It’s the broken who make the best blunt instruments.

So while there’s some possible truth to it, that’s not the whole story. Surely, in order for other people who were lost to him to have been important, he had to have had some time with them. That is, they didn’t die the second he met them, right?

And, again, at any moment any of us could lose someone important to us. The response to that should be to love them more, not to “hide your love away.”

(I mean, dude…made it this far. Have some faith.)