Now back to our blog entry already in progress.
It’s madness. It’s like the kind of incipient madness or creeping insanity that appears shortly after your father or your boy or girlfriend; or one of your children begins to drink too much, too often, or gets into the wrong drugs, or develops some chemical imbalance for whatever the reasons are.
I liken it to standing on the lip of a gigantic toilet bowl and watching it flush. There are stairs running down to where the water whirlpools and as you descend, at each level, you see things you never saw at the other levels. You also find that experiences that happened now and then begin to happen all the time and that new experiences that never happened before appear and they... they also become commonplace as you descend. You never see at what moment you were surrounded by a howling madness. Is it the rushing water inside the toilet? Is it the rushing noises inside your head?
It may be that occasionally you awaken for a moment or two and in a temporary clarity you stand, if you can still stand, stunned at the horror of what you see and smell. Within the stench of the dung and its marinade you sense deeper horrors; things dead and worse than dead. There is the palpable odor of sulfur; brimstone as they used to call it. Brimming... Creeping... down in the water- you’re that close now- you can see that it’s not water anymore. There’s a deepening mist and uncanny shapes are dancing there. It’s nothing you’ve ever seen before. Sooner or later this water that isn’t water takes you. Perhaps you will come to dance in this mist or maybe you have much further to go yet. I do not know if there is an end to such a passage. I don’t want to find out.
This is what I think of when I encounter something like this. This is what comes to mind when I look at the rift that has opened in the balance of power in the former United States of America. This is what I am reminded of when events like this are commonplace, unpunished and generally ignored.
What new world is this? Where did this world come from? Through the passage of time and by imperceptible degrees this world has replaced the world we knew. That world has gone. What waits further on down the remaining stairs?
How is it possible in a place like America that someone like Nancy Pelosi can be in a position to demonstrate to an obtuse and indifferent population that hypocrisy and sanctimonious preening are now the trademarks of fair and able dealing? Is this the new choreography of our times? What is the source of this crawling on one’s belly before the tribunal of a shitty little country far away? What commands this aging Barbie Doll to drag herself in some strange estrus backwards with her hindquarters in the air? Is this the new face of the nation? Is that my lunch on the carpet? Was it not in my stomach only a short while ago? Where am I? The howling maelstrom below me has drowned out my thoughts so that I can no longer comprehend them.
How have I come to such a pass that when I hear this news that I leap to my feet punching my fist in the air and crying, “Oh, that’s great! That’s fantastic!”? I did too. I felt a surge of exultation when I read this and my heart cried out for more. Here is evidence of that mysterious power that abides in the hidden chambers of the human soul. Here is a blow against the empire.
When I hear the demon spawn of one of the empire’s chief agents of darkness call out for the assassination of a 9/11 truthseeker, when I hear him offer to pay for the bullets and when I see no mention of it in the captive media of a shitty little country far away, I realize that nearly anything can happen now and that massive events are gathering for their moment on the stage while the pressing crowd of sleepwalkers mill about among each other like the dancers at The Overlook Hotel.
I look at the rains in Iowa; the tornadoes, the punishing heat in the East, the tremors in the Earth all round the benighted globe and I wonder if there is not some real truth to the prophecies and portents. The world has gone mad. The madness has been whipped into a Starbucks froth by psychopathic kitchen workers. The froth exudes a heated mist that is like the mist that rises from the raging toilet waters. It creeps into the streets and merges with the air. The people breathe it in and begin to tear at their bodies and the bodies of others. Something tells them there is something hidden inside of them. Something tells them there is something hidden in the bodies of the others and that once finding it there will be peace. There will be an end to appetite. Something tells them that the mist will dissolve once they have found the secret center of the world; once they have torn it from their ribcage or the ribcages of their fellows. They will hold up this bleeding, glistening thing and the darkness will depart. Cut... fade to black.
If you do not step away from the machine people then... you must go down into the water. If you will not cease to participate then you must share in the certain result. Your blood and the energy which it contains is the fuel that fires the beast. It is your ignorance that orders the course from the bridge. Your souls are the food that feeds the alien creatures who exhort you to continue. They are damned long ago. They want your company in the world beneath the waters that are not water.
The machine cannot continue unless you continue. You are the power that turns the wheel. Step away from the wheel. As one more slithering entity calls out for the murder of a truthseeker you must now call out for justice. We are in dire need of a new Nuremberg. Those who have killed without conscience must be called into the dock. Justice must be done for the dead and dishonored. The evidence is vast and convincing; the perpetrators known and identified.
Can you hear the rushing of the waters? Can you see the events near and far that tell you the water, which is not water, is uncomfortably close? Can you feel the wind that drives the specters in the mist? Will you go or will you step away from the wheel?
There were no Muslims involved in 9/11. 9/11 was executed by agents of a shitty little country far away. It was executed by agents of your own country. It was executed with the assistance of agents in London and other countries across the world. The entire concept of terror was created and manipulated by those who seized the reins of power by unlawful means. It was accomplished by those whose sworn duty is to protect you. It is they who created this danger out of nothing to rob you of both your humanity and your freedom. It is they who softly and sonorously implore you to gather beneath the umbrella of their outstretched arm so that you might be safe from a danger that has no substance but what they have manufactured. They are the danger. There is no other.
You stand at the crossroads of decision. You stand at the point of an opportunity that will not come again for a long, long time. You must decide if you will believe a lie that presents itself before you in the trappings of power or whether you will find the power within yourselves.
Break free from the prison of your ignorance. Awaken from your sleep. Do as those Afghans did. Even the temporary passage of death is far, far preferable to the chains of the merciless psychopaths whose intention is your enduring enslavement to a lie grown strong from the vital nutrition of your fear. I can think of nothing more to say.
'I Don't Love You Anymore' is track no. 3 of 10 on Visible's eponymous
'Les Visible' Music Album
Lyrics (pops up)