Vintage Psy-opera: Ray Chapman

(This post is conjecture born of extreme prejudice towards all forms of professional media, which forever has attempted to convince the public there is a distinction between their clearly labeled fictions and the non-fiction they take pains to present for our emotional benefit and critical understanding- What they give us is ALL fiction, even when using verifiable facts- But, if in the reader’s estimation that is a delusional position on my part, then consider this post satire, if that makes you feel better- I, like professional media, am not under oath)

I have to admit I laughed out loud when I realized what the punch line to this post was going to be: Ray Chapman, the star shortstop of the Cleveland Indians from 1912 to 1920, and arguably the greatest bunter in major league history, used his bunting skills on August 16, 1920, in collusion with New York Yankee pitcher Carl Mays, to fake his own death in front of thousands of fans at one of the most fabled sports venues in American history, the Polo Grounds in the Bronx, New York City- Officially, Ray Chapman is the only player in Major League Baseball history to be killed playing the game- Continue reading “Vintage Psy-opera: Ray Chapman”

Vintage Psy-opera: Bonnie & Clyde

This is an examination of a national legend, one gang of a group of people who became known as “depression era gangsters”- I am looking at these mythical creatures through the media fakery prism- I cannot claim with absolute certainty that the following is true, but it rates high above the official story on the plausibility index, and that’s for me enough to offer this take-

These depression era gangsters were not individuals connected to the urban style mafias in the mid-west and east coast population centers, but the rural variety of gangster, the desperadoes that terrorized the small farm towns from Louisiana to Minnesota- Small banks, gas stations and grocery stores were their targets- And to cut to the punchline, these gangsters were completely owned and operated by the federal government, used to design and run a series of false flag operations to con the citizens of the sovereign states into accepting sweeping new powers by the US government in combating what we would today label as “domestic terrorists”-

This era lasted between 1931 and 1934 at which point within a few months of the “killing” of Bonnie and Clyde, the starting lineup of news headliners were quickly retired- Names like John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson and Ma Barker were all withdrawn in quick succession, leaving only a few gang members alive to tell the “true” stories of these better-off-dead monsters-

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I tell ya, it was Trump all along-

This is an opinion from high atop the Grassy Knoll, so make of it what you will-

Professional film production is an elaborate affair, not just in execution, but in planning, funding, and especially, scripting; the entire process beginning years in advance of public release-

As we know, A-list film production is one of the most important tasks of Government Intelligence- The propaganda delivered in such seductive dress works our emotions and opens the gates to our subconscious where the real damage gets done- Our critical faculties are helpless against such star studded blandishments-

The “non-fiction” productions have even more impact on our perceptions as we assume what is labeled “news” is true, as opposed to the life-like fictions of the movies- 911 is “true” to most people even though some of us know it has not an ounce of truth about it- Most think they don’t need to suspend disbelief when watching the news- They are required only to emote, to feel sorrow for victims, to empathize with survivors and allow the despondency to slowly abate by looking for distraction, often at retail prices-

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The Tropiary Garden

From the early fifties to the late seventies, Jean Shepherd, a legendary humorist and radio personality, hosted a show on WOR AM in New York- For an hour each week, he would spin hilarious yarns about his youth while growing up in the depression era mid-west- He also offered humorous social commentary about contemporary life in the Big Apple- A Christmas Story is his most famous piece of fiction, concerning young Ralphie Parker, Shepherd’s alter ego, and a BB gun, which was made into a cult movie which is today second only to It’s A Wonderful Life as popular Xmas TV fare-

Occasionally Shep would tell a story that featured two cavemen, Og and Charlie-  In one of the tales, Og had a bum knee and asked Charlie why he had a bum knee and what he should do about it- Charlie, sensing an opportunity, sold Og a bill of goods involving omens and portents that had nothing to do with strained cartilage and the like, Charlie asking for two clams in payment for his analysis- Og, still in pain but relieved of the stress caused by the mystery of his bum knee, dutifully fetched extra clams from the shore and expected his knee to improve- When it didn’t, Og asked Charlie for an explanation- Charlie added some new and irrelevant stipulations to the process of the cure and charged two more clams- Relieved of stress, though still in pain, Og complied- Soon enough, Og became dependent on Charlie’s interpretation of reality, feeding Charlie daily even as his knee got worse- What Shepherd missed, thinking only that people are gullible to fast talkers with a confident voice, is that Og became a stress relief junkie- Charlie’s lies made Og feel good for a time, the relief becoming more addictive as the knee pain increased-

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Penthouse Forum

Does anyone here remember Penthouse magazine and the reader’s letters section, Penthouse Forum? I’ll cop to reading these phony baloney letters when I was (very) much younger- Anyway, these letters invariably began with “I don’t usually do this…” as a way of gaining trust in the reader that the letter in question was written by a genuine person, not a staff writer- At the pivot point of the sexy story/confession, the phrase “Needless to say…” was always employed, as the “writer” cops to his/her own temptation and describes some outré behavior that was deemed shocking forty plus years ago-

Well, needless to say, when I saw these two phrases pop up in an email sent to Miles Mathis by a reader, which MM published as an addendum to his Lennon paper, the alarms went off- There are two emails he’s posted in the addendum, the first being a literary hand job to Miles’ greatness, which, on many occasions, I would concur- Um, the greatness, not the, um… The second email is from “Kyle” who informs Miles immediately that he doesn’t usually do this (What, I don’t know- Send emails?) but then Kyle proceeds to disperse conspiracy candy corn with a shovel- Please read the litany of clues Kyle has listed and agree that Let Him Be is indeed a psy-operetta concocted by the same bureau that has been maintaining The Beatles operation lo these many years (Wait for it…. MASONS!)- Also please note that the email, with Miles’ assent, buttresses the “self-evident” nature of the character labeled John Lennon and his singular integrity as an historic artist-

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Louie, your goose is cooked-

Note to Reader: This blog post has been put “under review” as we have had growing pains in developing the technology we use to identify twins, replicas and zombies. The eyes behind the technology are getting better, so as you read this piece note that if you are troubled by its conclusions that we will be looking at it in more depth and with better eyes. For the time being, it is speculation.

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A while ago, while Mark was still on vacation, I took a look at photos of Sam Cooke and wondered which pundit he might have become. Of course he would be a zombie because he fit the basic criteria: Musical star, dead at 33 (Ca-Ching!), his death being sensational tabloid fodder but made no logical sense. He was also a business man and had secured an agreement with future Beatle handler Alan Klein to mint money for his efforts. Naturally, after Cooke’s death, Klein controlled the posthumous windfall. Where that money actually went is of no concern because these assets are wage slaves, I’ll wager, and they never expected royalties. They are, indeed, very well paid wage slaves, but these are basically pensioners, not investors.

Not even playing a hunch but just off the top of my head and expecting to have to go through a list of suspects, I started with Louis Farrakhan as the possible zombie. He was the right age and an opinion maker, to say the least. Not exactly one of the house Toms at FOX, but a paid pain in the ass for the Intel circus known as the Nation of Islam. He was also an accomplished musician. Well, since I’m no master of the split personality portrait, I threw it out to Mark, Straight and friends to run these two, Cooke and Farrakhan, to see if there was a chance.

Ding Ding Ding! Mark posted quickly that it was a match. This zombie, however, was further back in queue, so only now are we presenting.

Continue reading “Louie, your goose is cooked-“

Bill Graham Presents…

(Here is a portion of an e-mail I sent to Miles Mathis in response to his recent Karen Carpenter paper)

 “I have this theory, sketched in very light pencil, that the powerful men of powerful families have had a breeding program underway for a very long time- (Strength in numbers, of course) The public figures that appear to steer pop culture are blood relations of the elites but illegitimate- And not accidental pregnancies but IVF donations implanted in female bastards of the same intermarried lines- This is what makes the Leo DiCaprios and Jack Nicholsons cousins and blood loyal even if born off the main power lines- In this fashion, the elite’s interests are protected by public figures they control as family members which allows these power brokers to remain hidden behind the curtain- Real power is never seen…”

I got a “maybe” from Miles in response, which is the best response this theory deserves at the moment given the dearth of hard evidence-

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Adaptation of the fittest-

I want to thank Mark for letting me bloviate on his dime, so to speak- I often explain myself as worshipping in the temple of the imagination and his twin sister, intuition- These are my sturdy twin towers and as such I’m not too helpful with the hard core forensics- I trust my Spidey-sense and toss around concepts more than time and place specifics- I never read instructions or ask for directions- Solving problems by thinking in the abstract, or just using my hand/eye coordination to find things out works best for me- I have often half-joked that I only think when I speak- Same with typing- Forced to communicate with the external plane, the hums and plinks of random brain activity have to be corralled, edited and translated into coherent language- For some reason pacing back and forth seems to facilitate this process, allowing a repetition of thought to coordinate with repetition of physical movement- Add a couple of cold pops to the mix and I can see why Homer calls beer “thinking juice”-

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