If you wanna find out what’s behind these cold eyes
You’ll just have to claw your way through this disguise.
Part of the propaganda thrust behind the fake moon landing psy-op were these words:
We choose to go to the Moon! … We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win …
This past year has for me been one of forward movement after years of beating the bushes looking for rabbits in a land where the rabbits actually live in caves. I never imagined I would know who killed JFK. I thought with his moon speech that he had been misled by people around him.
That speech was deliberate scripted incentive to make that fake program go forward. After Dallas, we were honoring a fallen hero. It was intended as such. I suspect that one of the men watching the fake television transmissions of the fake landing was JFK. He was in Hyanisport, perhaps on Chappaquiddick, on a yacht in the Mediterranean, or perhaps on an island near Greece.
The only reason that I cannot know for sure if he lived to see the fakery to its conclusion is that he might have died of natural causes, Addison’s Disease among his ailments. John F. Kennedy, I now realize, was a phony of historic proportions, a lying psychopath with an unusual gift for fake charm, even portraying a real human being.
But set him aside. Understanding him is for me the key to the postwar era. Everything, all of the major events of my life, were fake, or were hidden behind a shroud. There were no moon landings, the assassinations were fake, Martin Luther King was a fraud, as were Reagan, Clinton, and now of course Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders. It is ongoing, so proper movement is forward, not backward.
I’ve been beating around this bush for a while now. The fake death of John Lennon and discovery of the McCartney twins left me in a state of flux, ready to take a quantum leap, but frightened as well. I know ridicule awaits. Even though it is a peanut gallery, I still hear the insults. My saving grace is that I can give as well as take. I have savaged people in debate, so if you want a piece of me, bring a first aid kit. You will be wounded.
Dealing with ridicule is merely a test of character. Since I believe in me, and have read and wandered and questioned far more than anyone I know, I am in a place few will ever access. I can sympathize with my critics, and at the same time sigh a relieving sigh, a “fuck you” in response. You cannot know what you do not know unless you ask the right questions, and so far, most of you have not done so. Until you do, you will not break through the veil.
It is easy now to look about, understand the nature of the fake political contest before us, see that David Bowie and Prince recently faked their deaths, that votes are not even counted for real, that our music and movies and news are all scripted to keep us thinking (or failing to think) alike. I have stopped now and then to marvel at how mundane life on this planet is without the fake events! We are all mostly just living our lives quietly, trying to stay afloat. The mass shootings, serial killers, assassinations, accidental deaths of prominent people … fake, fake, fake, fake.
War and poverty … real. Avoidable, but real.
I am in this place, but did not intend to travel here. The freedom is exhilarating. The lack of insight of almost all around me is exasperating. But life is fun.