The Killing Joke - Chapter 19 of 25 (Part I)

Madness is like gravity. All it takes is a little push.

---

Thirty-five trillion dollars conjured up in only two years under the Orange Ringmaster’s watch and we still didn’t have those flying cars. We were supposed to have flying cars by now, that’s what they told us after the televisions showed us that they had put a man on the moon. The Apollo 11 Show was only supposed to be one small step for man, but its television viewing audience was kept interminably waiting for the sequel - that giant leap for mankind and its flying cars. It was like a great big Please Stand By… that never came.

All those scientists, all those white lab coats and crew cuts, they all just disappeared after the Apollo 17 final episode. Surely $35.06 trillion would get us a flying car or two. If the Orange Ringmaster wanted to make America great again, he should have started with those flying cars, not a warp speed gene therapy masquerading as a vaccine. What better demonstration of American greatness could there be when the average Joe shows up to work every day in his flying car?

But instead of flying cars, the average Joe had to show up to work with a Band-Aid on his bicep and present his proof of “vaccination” to Human Resources so they could notify Payroll to keep the paychecks coming in. That COVID-19 Vaccination Record Card didn’t make America great again, it made it submissive and compliant and obsequious like a hungry dog desperate and ready to serve any master for his next meal. But in its occult workings, that “vaccine” mandate did prove that the power of the Nexus had been made greater again because so many of the American people readily stood in line, signed the liability waivers, rolled up their sleeves, and complied with the color of law mandates. And thanks to all those cumulative years in the public education system, the American people as a whole never asked the question, “OK - how do I make a fake COVID-19 Vaccination Record Card?”

Right before the fiat money showed up in August of 1971, they showed us all those front projection “live” action sequences where the Apollo actors bounded across the studio lunar surface. As the Philosopher Kings sent the world a message from that Hollywood basement, we watched on the televisions as those actors planted six consecutive American flags that sometimes caught the occasional gust of wind and fluttered about within the atmospheric vacuum of space. We ignored the wire pings, put up with the ridiculous half speed motion, and ignored the negative gravity when the actors fell and couldn’t get up but were magically lifted from that dust-free lunar surface. We never questioned why everything was framed against a starless and infinite black void. And we sat enchanted viewing the Ektachrome photographs brought back of our lonely planet rising above that front projection lunar horizon. But we were denied our Kodachrome when the most brilliant minds of our time forget to pack an H-Alpha lens filter to capture the lunar sunrise that appeared on our television only as a crude and blinding white disk casting problematic shadows across the ground.

We saw it for ourselves, all at the same time on all those millions of televisions. We were all in the moment of the Apollo missions together. We had all fallen under the televised sorcery, so it all had to be true. Everyone believed that they had put a man on the moon and there was no room for enquiring minds. And henceforth a type of madness descended over the American people as The Apollo 11 Show drew to its close during December of 1972. It had infected the America collective conscious and convinced the people that mankind had finally conquered escape velocity gravity. But in order for an entire people to believe they had overcome Newtonian mechanics, America had to be pushed into the madness of an inescapable gravity of the curated mind. And all it took was that little push from the madness ushered forth from that Hollywood basement.

But we were in the closing days of 2020 now and we still didn’t have any flying cars. All we got instead were mRNA “vaccines” and contact tracing apps. Safe and Effective was coming they told us, just like they told us they had put a man on the moon. At warp speed no less under Emergency Use Authorization. So everyone just sat tight, self-isolating, and closely watching their televisions waiting to be saved and all the while sitting tight and absolutely trusting The Science™ to fix everything for them.

They told us they had put twelve men on the moon and it only cost $450 million bucks. One would think that for $35.06 trillion they could have thrown in a flying car or two just for closure. A closure provided for those who, as impressionable children, sat tight during those hot July summer days back in 1969 and watched The Apollo 11 Show culminate into its one small step for man. But for those children who sat tight and watched and believed, children whose lives were from that day forward filled with an overflowing reservoir of mankind’s full potential, those flying cars were their generational one giant leap for mankind that never came. We already witnessed that small step for man, just give us that giant leap for mankind already. Geez. They told us we’d have those flying cars by now. Just give us that generational leap for mankind and get on with it.

But those flying cars never came. It was like the higher aspirations of mankind just stopped dead in their tracks in December of 1972. They just left everyone hanging, waiting for that To Be Continued… to finally finish. Forever left to sit tight and wait and believe that we’d one day get those flying cars. And we’d never get those flying cars. We never knew it back then, but we’d never get those flying cars because every giant leap for mankind since The Apollo 11 Show ended had been a giant leap backwards.

*****

But before America could get its “vaccines” at warp speed and the world get safe and effectively saved by the heroes in The Science™, the people had to first sit tight and endure their Black Lives Matter riots during those long, hot, and anguishing summer days of the 2020 election lockdowns. Because a crazed mind is a terrible thing to waste. Those riots and looting were the safe and effective cure for all that summer shopping that would have driven the inflation into hyperinflation after the Mother of All Money Grabs got pulled. The Philosopher Kings had to shut down all discretionary consumption to deal with the inflation that resulted from the SOFR REPO operations. And what better way to do that than with a deadly pathogen circulating within angry mobs of herd-immune perpetually aggrieved people roaming throughout the shopping districts of every major American city?

And all that unfocussed violence immune to both virus and felony convictions was sponsored by the interwoven network of Nexus 501(c)(3) non-profit corporations. The life and death reality TV struggles were brought to you by grants to Black Lives Matter from the likes of the Ford Foundation ($1.7 billion), PNC Financial Services ($1.05 billion), Bank of America ($1 billion), PayPal ($530 million), PepsiCo ($445 million), Wells Fargo ($400 million), Netflix ($221 million), and Nike ($140 million). All up, Nexus controlled foundations and corporations and NGOs pledged more than $7.85 billion to the lesbian managed, communist directed, and social revolutionary inspired Black Lives Matter using it as a front to channel money into Antifa. That Antifa money then got doled out as street level cash payments to independent color revolution contractors under management by the CIA. So just like that $35.06 trillion that created nothing useful, this $7.85 billion also created nothing useful but did conjure entire city blocks into piles of rubble and ashes with only a single anti-social media post.

And what an anti-social media post it was. George Floyd’s death during his May arrest over an attempt to pass a counterfeit $20 bill at a Minneapolis bodega gave the New Nexus that greater opportunity it needed, out of the great conjured SARS-CoV-2 crisis, to step up and get the Trump card off the re-election table. That $4.83 trillion grabbed from REPO wasn’t going to Reverse-REPO itself, and it had to get Reverse-Repo’d at any and all cost. But there was no way the Old Nexus was going to willingly hand the money back while their Trump card was in play and in directing the circus. And there was absolutely no way the Philosopher Kings were going to go along with any jokes on them, so that $18.35 trillion in conjured stock market appreciations had to get wiped out before the super-yacht orders began piling up, the hyperinflation kicked in, and the End of History project was dead in the water.

An invisible viral enemy floating in the air, hiding somewhere within the sneezes, was one thing to fear and keep people at home and not buying any stuff. But a crazed enemy that met you face to face on the street corner and tried to kill you with their skateboards for no reason was another enemy altogether. People were prone to take their chances with a tiny invisible enemy. Maybe it would miss them if they went out not too far and only for a little while. But there had to be this clear and present danger randomly wandering about so to clear the major city streets while the huge amounts of mail-in ballots got stuffed into those ballot boxes on the now empty city street corners. There had to be the overt display of lockstep with the mandates as the lockdowns dragged on, the fraudulent mail-in ballots piled up, and the ranks of the “nonessential” grew larger with every passing week. And there had to be utter silence and zero protest as the overdue bills piled up on millions of kitchen tables. Those ranks of the newly proclaimed “nonessential” had to grow larger because they could never return to normal spending in a world where consumption had to be crushed to balance out the hyperinflation. The End of History had to progress a bit further at all costs, and the productive class would once again get handed the bill in the form of a full blown inflation aspiring into hyperinflation.

To keep that End of History going, the life and death of every American consumption unit was fundamentally transformed into a “new normal” where Being and Nothingness became mere monetary policy decisions. Less consumption meant less pressure on inflation. Less pressure on inflation meant the hyperinflation got pushed out a few more years. And those few more years conjured up the payments for a bit more Endless War. And a bit more Endless War garnered up another central bank for the Nexus. And just maybe the Endless War could plod along long enough to garner up every last central bank for the Nexus and finally push that End of History over the finish line. So the new American calculus equated to (less consumption) + (more war) = the End of History. And to get more war and less consumption, something needed to be produced at warp speed to ensure not everyone came into the future, and not everyone that’s here was gonna last.

There had to be the impression of total compliance with all the total nonsense afoot. All the “misinformation” had to be eliminated or else the real misinformation would never get believed. Everybody had to be all in it together. So there had to be a “new normal” of mad individuals, afflicted by gravity, who need only that little push from the televisions to get them to stay at home, hunker down, and wait for the election to finish so The Science™ that they absolutely trusted could then turn around and kill them.

Give a white man a pile of bricks and he will create a city. Give a black man a city and he will create a pile of bricks.

From the moment George Floyd overdosed on fentanyl and died like the dog he was, the hardest part of those 15 days to flatten the curve became the 162 days of unrelenting street violence leading up to the November 3^rd 2020 presidential election. Those life and death reality TV struggles diverted the attentions of the locked down “new normal” America as those 501(c)(3) armies roamed the major city streets and stuffed every swing state mail-in ballot box to overflowing. And the “progressive” District Attorneys placed into every major American city were ready and willing to prosecute any resistance to the mayhem freely practiced on the lawless streets. So every night, after watching the Six O’clock Evening News, the “new normal” people went to bed convinced it was best they stay home tomorrow and hunker down yet another day while The Science™ worked at warp speed to cure a disease they didn’t have.

The American color revolution had begun and its color was black. A strange choice indeed, as black is the absence of color, the opposite of light, and the complete lack of Illumination.

America had fallen and it couldn’t get up.

The Philosopher Kings had to get that $4.83 trillion back from REPO. It had to quash the $18.35 trillion in conjured stock market gains. It had to make America quit spending money to stop the hyperinflation. But the civil war was not As Seen on TV! and fought in the streets between the likes of Antifa against a stood down city police force going through the motions. No, it was instead an invisible civil war fought between the New Nexus with its Great Reset against the Old Nexus with its Make America Great Again and $4.83 trillion in newly conjured REPO money. And regardless of which side emerged victorious, the Nexus would emerge triumphant in a heads they win, tails you lose fight to your death. And once the heads they win, tails you lose outcome got locked in and new normalized, the ultimate loser would again be the American productive class.

These 501(c)(3) color revolution armies operated freely throughout American cities now devoid of any esprit de corps. Dying cities emptied of champions to fight for their cause, filled now with the remains of a population that stood and watched while these cities burned. Cities with all shade of original and authentic character drained away. Cities that had forgotten why they had come to be in the first place, and could not answer why they still were. Urban perimeters of waste and decay, one after another dotted across the connected American interstates, surrounding their congregational core of high rise buildings aspiring to touch the heavens, but alas standing rigid and soulless regardless of how high they reached for the sky.

These dying cities were bereft of a human purpose and served only as centers for the gathering in of people to the pursuits of a Nexus driven corporate empire. Cities that served as staging grounds for the cold quotidian ceremonies of commerce except for the taxpayer funded sports stadium thrown in. A commerce where the only business was the conjuring of even more “wealth” and “status” and privilege unto an illuminated Nexus which, in turn, served as the intermediary of power between the Philosopher Kings, their central banks, and the great masses of profane disposal people over which they ruled. Cities emptied before every sundown, refilled every evening with the hordes of the homeless, scores of drug addicts, the brigades of drug addled prostitutes, and an assortment of petty hustlers and thieves who ruled over the echoes bouncing off the buildings lining the desolate streets until the sunrise arrived again and the ceremonies of commerce began anew.

Such were the cities that fell one by one to the likes of BLM and Antifa as no one remained to champion their cause despite millions who spent billions of collective hours within their shadow engulfed streets. Why champion something which one had failed to leave a single stamp of themselves upon? Why champion a city when all you care about is money? The sorcery had grown so powerful that the American people had dissociated an abstract America from the pieces of concrete from which the real America was constructed. The sorcery had allowed the concrete of the real America to crumble into decay, only to rebuild a new America from a grand abstraction of “America” from which now came forth its flag waving champions. Champion of this abstract “America”, a conception that could be deconstructed and reconstructed within the minds of the people into whatever expediency served the End of History. And once there was no more America existing on the ground, but only an “America” residing in the mind, there would be no more America that pulsated through the heart and soul of its inhabitants.

So block by block the concrete centers could not hold. Minneapolis, St. Louis, Baltimore, Detroit, Cleveland, Los Angeles, Portland, Seattle, Memphis, Pittsburgh, Chicago, Denver, Philadelphia, Louisville, Dallas, San Francisco, Milwaukee, Trenton, Cincinnati, New York City, et cetera et cetera. They did not immediately fall into piles of bricks and heaps of ashes, but they had fallen long ago from the hearts of the American people, forgotten casualties of that new and abstract “America” embodied in the flags that flew everywhere. The 501(c)(3) armies were just finishing the job that started decades earlier. And the ranks of these truly non-essential showed up in droves, ready to play their essential roles in the live television broadcasts of those life and death reality TV struggles.

But it was only fantasy, the wall was too high as you can see, no matter how they tried they could not break free, and the worms ate into their brains…

And what an army it was. Marxists, homosexuals, assorted deviants, anarchists, perverts, 5^th wave feminists, sadomasochists, pederasts, drag queens, malcontents, she-men, stick-up artists, leftist extremists, drug addicts, shoplifters, he-women, 3^rd world advocates, hippies, incorrigibles, eco-terrorists, angry fat women, emos, socialists, lesbians, radical vegans, minor attracted persons, ugly people, bisexuals, asexuals, transsexuals, furries, faggots, non-binaries, thieves, bestiality practitioners, green haired they / thems, dope fiends, Bolsheviks, muggers, punk rockers, university nut jobs, general wackos, and the most common element of all in this twisted and sick urban combat force – lots and lots of perpetually aggrieved negroes.

Just plain always angry at the highly functioning world around them.

The Civil Rights Movement – how it started.

It was during The Covid-19 Show that throngs of these idle and disgruntled negroes were, for the first time since The Great Society, assembled together and put to work to serve some purpose other than voting as a bloc. No one in polite society dare suggest that these negroes were what they were because they were the product of their nature. No one in academia dare risk their tenure track to point out that 73% of them grew up fatherless. And of course, what other conclusion could both polite society and academia draw? The negroes were, of course, the product of their unequal and discriminatory environment. Because the consensus of all those tenure-seeking social scientists said so. So that is why the HUD and the HHS and the USDA and the ED all stepped up and became father to all these superfluous victims of their unfair social environment. The .gov agencies stepped up to cultivate the negroes into just what they had finally become during those long hot days of the 2020 summer lock downs. And what they had become was the Homeland soil weapon of last resort for socio-economic control over the American productive class. The negroes had been cultivated since The Civil Rights Act of 1964 into Crushing Democracy’s doomsday device. They had been gathered into the city streets at the beck and call of an anti-social media calling from every Obamaphone to go forth and distribute their special brand of equitable entropy.

The negroes would prove themselves beyond a doubt As Seen on TV! to be the human personification of the Second Law of Thermodynamics.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, but the body can sometimes be put to a stupid purpose more effectively if the mind is first wasted. And all those wasted minds got put to a stupid purpose during those life and death reality TV struggles. The negroes never realized they had, since their absent grandfather’s youth, been recruited by HUD and HHS and USDA and ED into an army of dysfunction and social entropy. No matter how much energy got input into their system, few if any useful work outputs ever resulted. Input even more energy into their system, out comes even more nothing. And if the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, then .gov and its obsession with bettering the plight of the negro at the expense of the productive class was that very definition of insanity.

When a young negro stole his first bicycle, he was drafted. When he first got sentenced to probation, he was deployed. And when he received his first prison sentence, he was promoted to the non-commissioned ranks in that secret but open range army strategically put into Section 8 housing complexes throughout every major American city. Centers for collecting up the negroes into discrete counterweights against a generalized urban prosperity. Thus the negro was housed, clothed, and fed by his new .gov father to one day be fully employed by Crushing Democracy when the time arrived. And this army was ready, its minds were wasted, and its bodies were willing to wreak destruction for that stupid purpose. The George Floyd starter pistol had been fired, the black color revolution had begun, the anti-social media were activated, and the negroes’ axe to grind was being wielded through the city streets everywhere.

And it wasn’t because they couldn’t breathe. It was because they couldn’t think. It was because they couldn’t control their base emotions. It was because through generational welfare dependence they had collectively devolved into social entropy.

It had taken 55 years to assemble this negro army. It had by design grown larger, angrier, stupider, and more violent with every passing decade beyond the wildest expectations of 1964.

The negro secret draft began back in the 1970s when they were systematically addicted to drugs to the point where they couldn’t function in normal society and the bulk of their men could no longer maintain gainful employment. Somebody had to buy all those drugs and fund all those overseas CIA black ops to garner up all those central banks. So by the late 1980s, the negroes were by and large drug addled, fatherless, and permanently out of the labor force. Those negroes who fell for the joke were quickly replaced – thanks to Ronald Reagan’s Immigration Reform and Control Act (1986) - by Mexicans flooding across an inviting southern border and the negroes as a whole were statistically dropped from the unemployment rate calculation. Even statistics didn’t want anything to do with them anymore, and their sudden disappearance served to hide the encroaching effects of the Reaganomic glories of globalization and mass immigration. Yet despite their growing alienation from the productive class, their promiscuous numbers swelled, and they had no other occupation by now but wander about the streets of the America urban centers in full view pimping, strong-arm robbing, burgling, and pushing those very same drugs that had destroyed their formerly low level functioning society.

The United States Department of “Education” was charged with turning an entire segment of America into ineducable idiots to provide the broad justification for the coming police state.

So in the 1990s the negroes were rounded up into Section 8 controlled breeding farms, given abortion on demand, and allowed to procreate just enough to build that army of social entropy and secure a permanent urban voting bloc. Thirteen percent seemed to be the magic number to create the desired level of chaos – just enough to be effectively destructive, but not so much to get totally out of control of local police forces. Once herded together under HUD, fed daily by a generous USDA using AFDC, and kept alive with a combination of Medicaid and duty of care laws after they were shot and stabbed and beaten by their fellow negro, their simple Maslow hierarchy of needs were thus fulfilled.

Except for Justice. Regarding this forever unfulfilled need, the ED got to work in the public schools creating perpetual generations that could aspire no higher nor wider than the rarefied echelons of negro high society in the NBA, NFL, and entertainment industry. Barring these, their one road to the American Dream lay in the distribution and sale of drugs to fund the CIA’s overseas black ops. And now all the customers were gathered together in one place under HUD for maximum efficiency so demand could keep up with the growing supply. And demand needed to grow as the number of overseas black ops increased in both scope and location.

The post-Civil Rights movement American negro often boasted that he was descended from kings and invented mathematics, but the truth was his ancestry was just a long line of ancient dick washers.

It was here where the FBI got to work forming these now pathetic and pointless negroes into organized crime gangs possessing a hierarchy of social mobility that was missing from their lives. The FBI infiltrated the likes of the established Bloods and Crips, co-opted an edgy rap music turning it into gangster rap, exposed negro youth to the magic spell of drug and gun fueled hip hop, armed these new wave gangs to the teeth, turned their members into made men, sent these made men to establish colonies in the peripheral suburbs of every American city, spread supply to every corner of the country, and ensured Congress handed their customer base even more welfare to increase demand in line with that growing supply.

The intended outcome was achieved when the subsequent explosion of urban street violence was splashed across all the televisions. That studio production produced enough alarm in the apathetic suburbs to justify the initial Trojan horse entry of the American police state, create the school to prison pipeline, and build and fill to overflowing with readily disposable negroes the highly profitable private prison industry. Because, on a unit profit basis, a negro in a Nexus owned prison generates more profit than a negro in a Nexus owned but HUD mismanaged breeding complex. And in the prescient spirit of never letting a good crisis go to waste, through the Public Safety and Recreational Firearms Use Protection Act (1994), the public supply of semi-automatic weapons dried up so that the productive class could not defend themselves against the coming Patriot Act and its militarized police who would then solely possess what supply remained once 9/11 went operational.

The CIA’s Salesman of the Year for 12 consecutive years.

Once the negroes reached a critical mass incarceration rate, their real occupational training began. And by the time The Hope and Change Show premiered, their hereditary downtrodden caste was filled to overflowing with unrealistic transformational expectations that were entirely inconsistent with their IQ levels and organizational abilities subsumed within a highly functioning complex technology-driven society. And the growing ranks of this highly volatile, excessively violent, and extremely irrational hereditary class of hardened criminals and welfare dependents provided even further justification to expand the police state into Crushing Democracy. So by the time The Covid-19 Show went to air, the negroes had managed to beat out the white man in one thing other than basketball – they had reached the zenith of useful stupidity for an entire people.

But the negroes never asked themselves - nor were they by this point capable of formulating a logical question – they never asked themselves just why would it be, after spending the previous 55 years destroying themselves and ruining their own society, that polite society would somehow just up and welcome them in with open arms? A polite society whose European ancestors had spent the last 370 years building and expanding and, until August of 1971, improving. The negroes almost to a man never once acknowledge that maybe - just maybe - what they repetitively and repetitively again condemned as systemic racism and white supremacy was actually a natural reflexive reaction needed to keep the tidy and organized national woodpile in place that European Americans had meticulously split and dried and sorted and stacked over almost four centuries. Just maybe polite society did not want to watch its woodpile collapse into a scattered heap of cordwood. But after eight years of The Hope and Change Show and expecting that invitation from polite society to arrive by special delivery that never came, it was all somebody else’s fault. And after several years of anti-social media immersion emanating from their Obamaphones the negro army knew full well just whose fault it was. And it wasn’t their fault.

The Civil Rights Movement – how it’s going.

So by the time George Floyd overdosed and died, the negroes were by design hyper-angry, perpetually aggrieved, and ready to take their orders and make an uninvited visit to the woodpile of Western Civilization. They were prepared and ready to fulfill their true purpose collectively inculcated within them since 1964 – to turn the White Man’s tidy woodpile into a smoldering heap of charcoal on the direct orders of the Philosopher Kings.