Remaining moored in the flood of nonsense, a deluge that includes the attempted normalization of lunacies that can't be hidden or camouflaged
Whatever remains upriver can only be a horror-in-waiting for everyone on the bullshit floodplain
As a young child and grade-schooler, I spent less time than my peers watching television. I did a lot of reading and sketching, and accepted from myself contracts for a long cascade of civil-engineering projects using Legos, Erector Sets, and Lincoln Logs, often in architecturally quizzical combinations that my first dog, Wendle, seemed to approve of even if I myself was often frustrated by the aesthetic and structural imperfections in my own miniature cityscapes.
But although I rarely knew what my classmates were talking about when they brought up 1970s mainstay shows such as The Brady Bunch, I still planted myself in front of the idiot box for at least ten hours per week, never missing either the Saturday morning string of cheerfully racist and violent Warner Brothers cartoons or Captain Bob on Sunday morning.
When I was nine or ten, I became hooked on two hour-long shows with cartoon-like premises that for a while aired back-to-back on Friday night. These were The Incredible Hulk and The Dukes of Hazzard.
There have been multiple mass-media iterations of The Incredible Hulk over the past forty years, but this hour-long program starring Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno was the first flesh-and-blood version of the comic-book saga. Week after week, in addition to being treated to the unlikely yet easily accommodated scenario of a lab nerd being turned into a green muscleman-vigilante whenever he lost his temper, I watched a bumbling but relentless reporter perennially hot on the trail of The Hulk’s everyday identity, Dr. David Banner, never quite figure out what the heck was going on despite being spoon-fed the obvious by fate and his own digging alike.
Even with no social media and cellphone cameras everywhere, this mystery should have ended quickly for all involved. I had a vague sense of this even at eight or nine, but had no sense at all of the fact that CBS would have to replace the show with something else entirely if anything about the behavior of the grownups involved could be satisfactorily rationalized.
The Dukes of Hazzard was even more ridiculous. It starred two hunky good ole boys, brothers named Bo and Luke Duke, who drove around in a souped-up Dodge Charger named General Lee and, like all Southerners, had a cousin who was a sweet and sassy piece of ass and knew it. These two were always up to some mostly peaceful bullshit, always involving a kinematically unlikely getaway stunt in General Lee that would have made Evel Knievel jealous. And as with Banner/The Hulk and his pursuer from the newspaper, these two always stayed a step ahead of Boss Hogg and Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane no matter how obvious it was it was they who had perpetrated whatever lighthearted mayhem had given these bastions of law “enforcement” fits in whatever yahoo locale this was all supposed to depict. Perhaps the show’s fondest legacy today, including its 2005 cinematic version, is “Daisy Dukes.”
I feel as if the entire world is being asked to treat the various spectacles and calamities being forced on everyone—multiple interwoven cultural-political productions as clearly as far off the reality scale as either of these two shows ever were—as not merely true but inevitably so, nothing to really wink at, just the wheels of climate-change action and Preserving Democracy clanking gamely along. The people running the planet’s medical, mass-communication, and financial systems—which are being purposefully further conflating and commingled by the hour—have no choice but to attempt to normalize what they are committed to doing but cannot even thinly disguise as evidence-based, socially beneficial, or sane. They are essentially announcing, with no humor whatsoever, that The Incredible Hulk and The Dukes of Hazzard were, and remain, pieces of documentary filmmaking.
What U.S. the media and government cannot hide, suppress, or spin into some innocuous nothingburger, they have no choice but to simply repeat, however bloodlessly or robotically. They don’t care that they aren’t even trying to be creative with their lies, simply labeling every complaint about obvious governmental failures and force-fed psychosocial transformations as “right-wing” or “conservative.” That really is the entire playbook, as if “conservative” automatically means “wrong” or even “immoral.” The media are utterly condescending toward a public that is waking up to really discomfiting truths but hesitant about what to do or expect next, with post-human influence-craving shell-people such as Tony Fauci dismissing the system’s own lie-fueled, profit-driven covid-19 chaos and death as a failure of the public to properly follow instructions.
Fauci is only one of hundreds of people I could list who should be dropped naked from hundreds of feet into syringe-shaped pools filled with mRNA slime scraped from the vats of Moderna’s and BioNTech’s production plants (which I envision as operating precisely like industrial-scale breweries). But the real concern is getting everyone to understand that we* really do share a common enemy, and if you think your personal politics or willingness to shut up will ultimately spare you from the consequences of the fascistic overreach of officials both elected and appointed, you’re wrong.
This process is not meant to spare the livelihood any of us disposables; it’s just that by fooling maybe a third of the citizenry and getting those people to rant at any realists they encounter in their delusion-riddled online silos, the government has an easier time dealing with the riff-raff that asks too many questions and still considers free speech both a constitutional and a necessary human right.
Even people who somehow believe what they see on cable news programs are feeling the pain of being battered by lies and their consequences. Anyone who believes that Joseph Biden, Jr. is doing a sound job of governing and that Republicans and the Supreme Court have stymied his efforts toward achieving progressive aims is confused, but as a result is just as pissed off as everyone else1. Meanwhile, in addition to his brain being gone, Biden is overseeing the start of a loosely coordinated population-reduction project, with the mRNA shots, public-school lessons about how the nuclear family and gender are useless concepts, and kids being merrily yet mirthlessly funneled into sterilizing surgeries all intended to reduce human numbers by dint of both psychological and physical force.
If you find this unlikely, recall that Bill Gates was once a vocal proponent of global population reduction, in effect owns the World Health Organization, controls most of the media, began making vaccines the core of his post-Microsoft mega-grift many years ago, and has even said that one “unexpected” downstream aspect of useful vaccines is fewer living people being around. The only reason anyone could possibly attribute all of these dismal concordances to coincidence is imagining that limitless levels of human evil can’t be spread with limitless amounts of money, or thinking that decent people would step in and intervene at some level if a death-project were really underway. Not if everyone who matters can be bought, and the public opinions and “scientific research” of even decent people are available for purchase. When that fails, anyone can be blackmailed or otherwise eliminated from the risk equation.
Also, decent and knowledgeable people have tried to step in. They were all canceled and viciously slandered and libeled—kicked off social media, fired from Fox News, called anti-science loons by supposed their peers in medicine and epidemiology, assigned laughably inaccurate and debasing Wikipedia entries. If that hadn’t worked so well, people wouldn’t be asking, “Then where are the debunkers?” Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is precisely such a person, but the establishment is duly terrified of his disclosures not just about vaccines but the security-surveillance state, the rigged financial system, and the environment, so all you’ll read about him in the corporate press is that he’s a right-wing conspiracy theorist. (He’s been silenced on Israel for now, the next country the U.S. overlords should declare war on if they’re truly interested in intervening in human-rights violations.)
As I have mentioned, I chose to vote for Joseph Biden, Jr. in 2020. I already had a ballot in my hand, and Biden was clearly going to win Colorado even if I and many thousands of others decided to pass. I knew in part what was likely to come, but I was absolutely tired of the nonstop Donald Trump circus—not him so much as the ranting and raving about him and his renting space in too many heads—and believed a swing toward Wokism coupled to maybe one or two fulfilled promises might be tenable enough for all.
I was wrong. Not only has Wokism gone completely thermonuclear—and many people warned that this would happen—but the entire country is worse in every way since Biden assumed office. Whether it’s the economy, foreign policy, public education, immigration, public health, infrastructure, student debt relief, helping the urban poor, or merely letting people have their say, everything about the country is worse under this administration than it was before. Literally everything. It’s not Biden’s fault personally, but him being simply a water-carrier doesn’t exonerate him or anyone in a similar role.
No one should be surprised at this, because elected Democrats are now all owned by the same lobbyists and billionaires who owned the Bush/Cheney and Obama administration. Accordingly, and not hiding it, they are now the right-wingers, warmongers, liars, loons, contemptuous know-nothings, bigots, and soft, mewling blobsters who whine about hurt feelings while lining their pockets with whatever culture-war cash BlackRock et al. continue ramming through every crevice of society—commercial or academic, lay or religious, scholastic or video-game-oriented. They lie about their direct roles in making life worse for literally everyone who isn’t wealthy or connected to this septic, mostly recondite borg.
The people you see on television who flit back and forth between government, corporate, and media jobs and lie with genuine mirth, like Jen Psaki and Antony Blinken, are truly sick. They’re not just wallpapering over a few innocuous stumbled by Pharma, the CIA, or the Biden clan; they’re consciously presiding over an enterprise intended to gut the country of older, less productive, unhealthy, extra people, limit the production of human flesh they see as substandard, and get all of the dregs who manage to survive this on expensive, injectable, lifelong “medications.”
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and her squeaky, special-needs Orwellian blithering need to be buried under uncountable tons of concrete, as she and the other browntards on “The Squad” represent a special variety of unapologetic sellout, as does Bernie Sanders himself, the man whose policies they alleged, and pledged, to support. But the fact that she is irritating and visibly stupid—if you can stand to rest your ice on her rhesus-monkey mug, you can see her eyes slowly crossing whenever she has to speak without a script for longer than five seconds, churp-churp-churp—is exactly why she’s become a spokesperson for the uniparty. Anyone she’s not fooling with her subcuntic trilling, she’s pissing off to the point where they would rather write whole paragraphs maligning the good congresswoman’s name than think about sober ways to convince people to divorce themselves from this ruinous gobbledyshit.
It’s easy to visualize the various lies about covid, obesity, sex and gender, government-ordered censorship, all things Trump, the mental fitness of Sens. Feinstein and Fetterman, the war in Ukraine, the origins of the latest mass shootings, BLM, the censorious and homicidal crudities of Israel as a political actor, jobs and the economy, crime, climate change, and alien corpses in Defense Intelligence Agency warehouses as a large, fetid, river still gathering power from a winter melt, except that the source is not a “snowmass” but instead a coalition of NGOs, government actors, wealth-management firms, mind-and mood-manipulating online algorithms, peevishly ignorant friends and family members and “influencers” in the form of vibrating online buttplugs, and above all the corporate media.
This comes at everyone and there is nowhere laterally for most everyday people to move, but there are rocks and stable masses of vegetation and the occasional chunk of failed deep-sea vessel to cling to. If you are lucky, you have found something to anchor yourself to that is solid enough to keep you from being washed further down the torrent. The water appears to be steaming even where there are rapids to break up its surface and add clamor to the eddies of uncertainty and fear, so saturated with toxic dangers carrying unknown biochemical profiles is its every swirling cubic gallon and poisonous eddy. The farther toward the roiling mouth of this broad and polylethal cascade anyone is carried, the closer to literally drowning in nonsense that flailing person is.
Everyone has found a different anchor at a different point along this madly churning river’s path, except for the people who are complete victims of it. These are your loons like trans-right activists whose “gender dysphoria” is really some other kind of burp in their psychiatric journeys and who look and sound crazy, mean, and ridiculous at all times because they are. These sad-sacks are not even looking for handholds or reefs to grab hold of. Most are young, although a few are men my age who want an excuse to use their peckers in ways that once would have landed them long prison terms and reputations as irredeemable ghouls.
Some people are fortunate enough to be standing on the shores while this linear tsunami fragments and erodes mores and traditions and science and literature and harmony; transfixed, they find the whole display beautiful and necessary, a nice mid-continental cleansing that will wash away only the dregs and the scum. These are your Connecticut and Malibu housewives and dildotic soy bugmen who will never see an act of theft or an assault except on television. The live in high-hedge gated communities to keep the darkies at bay and then mutter “Yeah baby” at idea like diminishing police presences in high-crime urban areas.
They love voting for higher taxes because it makes them feel like good people without having to try to think, a process that only results in intracranial sparks and great agitation. “White guilt” doesn’t properly describe the phenomenon, because these people aren’t guilty about anything. They are secure in their arrogant ignorance, eager for “the next pandemic” so they can cluck about whatever masking or stay-at-home orders are issued. These are people who will never want for anything and can afford to indulge in the politics of deep-seated resentment—”feminists” who enjoy seeing successful females—hotties, athletic superstars—and their spaces scuttled by “women” who are quite visibly mentally ill males sporting erections and expressions broadcasting unfathomably malign intentions borne in broken brains.
These lucky observers, except for the really rich ones and a lot of their ranks too, will eventually find that the waters will engulf them, too. They may not notice as they continue edging back from its shifting shores that there is only so much room to back up before a sheer cliff face appears. It will dawn on them at some point that their heads will be bobbing alongside our own and that there were never any kind, decent, or capable engineers involved in this demented hydrological exercise at all, at any point. Then they will be looking for their own ways to not be flung further downstream and away from reality.
At the moment, the U.S. President is demented, and lies when he appears in public and is able to form words at all. He often has no idea where he is and looks terrified, not that I feel an ounce of sadness for the monster. Thanks to having at least one hopelessly idiotic son, we know he is also very much a criminal who has accepted enormous amounts of cash in what amounts to an international capo role. That he has his own classified-documents scandal is practically an afterthought, as is the fact that a bag of cocaine was recently found in the White House.
None of these things are disputable. Yet not only is there no serious noise about ejecting him from his post despite his complete failures and lack of sufficient mental or physical health, there is no serious blowback against Biden refusing to participate in 2024 Democratic presidential primary debates against people like RFK Jr. Or if there is, the media are doing their best to suppress this unrest and feigning otherwise, so it feels like everyone is just playing along.
This is simply insane. Biden will not be in office on Election Day next year, much less serving as POTUS in 2025 and beyond. Only a fool would want this; anyone who somehow likes this man—who claims only six grandchildren despite the courts having counted seven, and who was a bumblefuck and an uncommonly stupid liar for decades on end even before his brainglop shut down in earnest—should feel horror and pity at the idea of Biden’s carcass being trundled around government for another five and a half years.
I have many near neighbors in the river of bullshit, and because they share my literal perspective, they are at just as much of a loss, though the ones with goals, families, ambitions, or hope are not as intent on leaving this garbage-circus via suicide as I am (yet). But no one, not one American at all, signed up for any of this, and almost none would approve of what was happening if they understood is just a little better.
Longtime sustainability guy and despiser of nimrods, neolibs, and neocons James Howard Kunstler has a poignant essay on the subject of Biden and the fraying-and-wobbling sham-economy that cannot exist in its current form for much longer:
American Finance now is in the business of receiving free money (loans at minimal interest) from government-chartered central banks (issuing “credit” from nowhere), that banks, hedge funds, private equity outfits, and sundry freebooters can roll into instruments such as interest-yielding bonds (loans back to government) and derivatives (algorithmic bets derived, abstracted from, and tuned to market movements) magically multiplying money that finally produces nothing of value — though it may translate into yacht purchases, alimony payments, luxury suites at ballparks, private Caribbean islands, and traffic in humans for use as sex toys.
But my whole goal in writing this convulsive and impulsive post is not to shed additional light on morbid specifics about Biden or convince anyone of anything, but to lay out a model for how I see and otherwise perceive the flow of mandatory, Davos-sponsored, intel-services-assured lying: As trying to stay anchored in one place, even if it’s a not perfectly safe or optimistic haven, and to not lose contact with people I was casually ambling alongside not so long ago on dry land, when the deceits from on high were as assured as they have been since organized human power first ignited itself, but the scope of the damage was limited by technological constraints and the presumed constancy of shared values.
This sentence was incomplete in the e-mailed version of this post.