Johnny Peepers, Clay Aiken, and Jesus

Dillsnap Cogitations reader comment from bespeakme:

The funniest things about this site are the comments from people who appear to actually take this writer seriously- or – am I missing something? I mean are you folks for real? And the absolute funniest part, he affects this surreal and spiritual voice talking about Jesus and not having a job, and he blows his cover when the male element calls him a name like fuck face or ass wipe- and he starts getting all teenage testosteroney and swinging his fists around: “From the looks of your avatar, it is clear that you were stuck down the fat-headed gumshoe Cro-magnon flu.” Nonetheless, fairly entertaining. Hilarious use of the language.

Johnny Peepers is having a bit of a personality crisis as of late. This is only a problem in that he is not sure which direction to take Dillsnap Cogitations. My lifestyle has calmed down considerably and I am not doing nearly the amount of drugs that I used to (due to recent emergency room scares, extreme money woes, and lack of insurance).

I reckon that I dunno what to write about these days. Conspiracy-mongering is so 2008, and the feel-good, New-Agey tripe is even too kooky for me to discourse on with any consistency. I thought about doing vegan recipe reviews or maybe step-by-step instructional blog posts on risque´ topics like booty-bumping and auto-fellation, but I don’t want to scare away my kid readers. I even considered dedicating all future posts to my one true love, Clay Aiken, but that would make me look desperate and stalker-ish in his eyes.

I certainly plan to keep my relationship with Jesus a central focus of Dillsnap Cogitations. Were it not for his supreme sacrifice, all of humanity would be mired in a putrid bucket of sin and depravity (much like the conditions experienced by residents of New Jersey and Mississippi).

Jesus and his vengeful, sky god daddy (YWEH) have a divine plan for me. This plan includes me taking to my knees daily and mouthing pleasing words to the MOST HIGH, prostrating myself before the Lord in diligent obeyance, and ridding my mind of lusty and impure thoughts about men and women that I find sexually attractive. I will do my best to provide frequent updates with regards to the latter. Any advice or blog topic recommendations would be greatly appreciated these days.

Yours in Crisco,

Johnny Peepers

Facebook Fed Friends Go Undercover to Keep America Safe

From Wired.Com

The next time someone tries to “friend” you on Facebook, it may turn out to be an undercover fed looking to examine your private messages and photos, or surveil your friends and family. The Electronic Frontier Foundation has obtained an internal Justice Department document that describes what law enforcement is doing on social networking sites.

The 33-page U.S. Justice Department document shows that law enforcement agents from local police to the FBI and Secret Service have been logging onto MySpace and other sites undercover to communicate with suspects, read private postings and view photos and videos that are restricted to a user’s friends.

Obama’s Ministry of Truth?: Analysis of Cass Sunstein’s “Cognitive Infiltration” Strategy

THE MINISTRY OF TRUTH

The best way to control opposition is to lead it ourselves – Vladimir Ilyich Lenin

To ensure survival, oppressive governments purposefully shape, distort, and conceal potentially damaging information. Public perception must be craftily managed, lest the house of cards collapse due to the implosive effect of exposure. The free-flow of information, particularly the sort divulging deep-seated political corruption and large-scale government illegality, would spark intense moral outrage leading to pesky legislative hearings, lost elections, criminal trials, impeachment proceedings, etc.

An oppressive government wishing to obscure its anti-democratic hubris, must taint the jury pool to avoid conviction in the court of public opinion. The following article is demonstrative of the methods and tactics employed by rogue governmental factions of the mistakenly labeled freest country on the face of the Earth to co-opt and marginalize information that is deemed too dangerous for public consumption.

From the Raw Story article “Obama staffer wants ‘cognitive infiltration of 9/11 conspiracy groups”:

President Barack Obama’s appointee to head the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs advocated “cognitive infiltration” of groups that advocate “conspiracy theories” like the ones surrounding 9/11. Cass Sunstein, a Harvard law professor, co-wrote an academic article entitled “Conspiracy Theories: Causes and Cures,” in which he argued that the government should stealthily infiltrate groups that pose alternative theories on historical events via “chat rooms, online social networks, or even real-space groups and attempt to undermine” those groups.

Sunstein’s article, published in the Journal of Political Philosphy in 2008 and recently uncovered by blogger Marc Estrin, states that “our primary claim is that conspiracy theories typically stem not from irrationality or mental illness of any kind but from a ‘crippled epistemology,’ in the form of a sharply limited number of (relevant) informational sources.”

In Cass Sunstein’s view, those who have a healthy functioning epistemology obtain their news and information from government-approved  mainstream media sources. Surely Sunstein is aware of the U.S. government’s long history of co-opting journalists and infiltrating news organizations to ensure favorable reporting (see Carl Bernstein’s 1977 Rolling Stone article The CIA and the Media and Alex Constantine’s article Mockingbird: The Subversion of the Free Press by the CIA). Former CIA Director William Colby boasted that “The CIA owns everyone of any significance in the major media.” The Pentagon pundit scandal (also referred to as “psy-ops on steroids”) is a recent example of the U.S. government shaping public perception through the recruitment of active and retired members of the military to sell the Iraq war to the American people through the MSM.

Those suffering from Sunstein’s diagnosis of “crippled epistemology” are merely individuals who obtain news and information from sources outside of the government’s long arm of control. From the government’s perspective, there is a risk that increasing numbers of citizens will resort to unapproved news outlets to feather their reality nests. When a critical mass of those who reject the state-engineered MSM corporate propaganda is reached, the state’s fragile body of lies is placed under heightened scrutiny.

Sunstein, whose article focuses largely on the 9/11 conspiracy theories, suggests that the government “enlist nongovernmental officials in the effort to rebut the theories. It might ensure that credible independent experts offer the rebuttal, rather than government officials themselves. There is a tradeoff between credibility and control, however. The price of credibility is that government cannot be seen to control the independent experts.” [see Pentagon pundit scandal (also referred to as “psy-ops on steroids.”]

Sunstein argued that “government might undertake (legal) tactics for breaking up the tight cognitive clusters of extremist theories.” He suggested that “government agents (and their allies) might enter chat rooms, online social networks, or even real-space groups and attempt to undermine percolating conspiracy theories by raising doubts about their factual premises, causal logic or implications for political action.”

Truth has a remarkably tenacious nature, and as a result, is quite difficult to suppress. Therefore, the malefactors promoting the deception must employ a variety of obfuscation tactics to derail attempts to bring their activities into the light. Through the use of agent provocateurs, the limited hang-out, ad hominem attacks, mis-info and dis-info campaigns, appeals to authority, and other deceptive tactics, the typical citizen is unlikely to question the architecture of his externally designed reality tunnel.

The controllers are well aware that perceptions are malleable.  Deference to authority is deeply ingrained through social conditioning and the subconscious desire for a strong unyielding leader. In Mein Kampf, Adolf Hitler expressed the propaganda power of the “big lie”:

[T]he broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation.

The “big lie” is inconceivable to the average bloke whose daily life is rife with the telling of little white lies. Due to their ubiquity, these falsehoods of little import merely grease the wheels of social interaction, and as a result, are bandied about with minimal contemplation. The “big lie” requires not only more devious preparation, but also acts as a guilt-filled anchor continually punishing its purveyor. Governments and psychopaths have a distinct advantage in that they possess no conscience in need of assuagement.

Sunstein “wants to hold blogs and web hosting services accountable for the remarks of commenters on websites while altering libel laws to make it easier to sue for spreading ‘rumors,'” wrote Ed Lasky at American Thinker.

In other words,  if your conspiracy-busting, divide-and-conquer, dis-info strategy fails to stem the flow of damaging information, you can always wage war against the First Amendment.  Advocating an end-run around the First Amendment through legislative and/or judicial modification of defamation law would surely obtain the intended chilling effect on free speech, but at what cost? As a Constitutional law professor, surely Cass Sunstein understands the sanctity and the necessity of free speech in a democratic society. But then again, if we are to take him at his word, his allegiance must surely lie elsewhere.

If you don’t have this freedom of the press, then all these little fellows are weaseling around and doing their monkey business and they never get caught  ~ Judge Harold R. Medina

Please Mr. President, Don’t Kill Our YouTube!

Secret copyright treaty leaks. It’s bad. Very bad.

The internet chapter of the Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement, a secret copyright treaty whose text Obama’s administration refused to disclose due to “national security” concerns, has leaked. It’s bad. It says:

* That ISPs have to proactively police copyright on user-contributed material. This means that it will be impossible to run a service like Flickr or YouTube or Blogger, since hiring enough lawyers to ensure that the mountain of material uploaded every second isn’t infringing will exceed any hope of profitability.

* That ISPs have to cut off the Internet access of accused copyright infringers or face liability. This means that your entire family could be denied to the internet — and hence to civic participation, health information, education, communications, and their means of earning a living — if one member is accused of copyright infringement, without access to a trial or counsel.

* That the whole world must adopt US-style “notice-and-takedown” rules that require ISPs to remove any material that is accused — again, without evidence or trial — of infringing copyright. This has proved a disaster in the US and other countries, where it provides an easy means of censoring material, just by accusing it of infringing copyright.

* Mandatory prohibitions on breaking DRM, even if doing so for a lawful purpose (e.g., to make a work available to disabled people; for archival preservation; because you own the copyrighted work that is locked up with DRM)

Original Source: Electronic Frontier Foundation

Dillsnap Cogitations One Year Anniversary

Dillsnap Cogitations is one year old. I would like to thank all of the wonderful people that have taken the time to visit this corner of the Internets. I especially appreciate all of the good folks who have left comments and words of encouragement. Also, a special shout out to the Human Barrier Deconstruction contributors who generously gave their time and effort for my project.

My therapist was the one who recommended that I keep a blog journal to keep track of my thoughts and feelings. At the time, I was going through a tumultuous period of great personal upheaval and needed a vehicle to vent my frustrations.

Here is an excerpt from my initial post:

I would like to introduce myself. My name is Johnnypeepers and I put up with absolutely no (zero) bullshit – none.

I have managed to remain on “the outs” through years of psychiatric treatment and a mountain of pills. I have no compunction with eradicating the world of one less gutter-punk with a death wish.

That being said, I do not want to give the impression that I am a hardass. I tend to gravitate towards a variety of unrelated topics depending on the number of pills, Wild-Turkey triples, or crank lines that I have ingested. Make no mistake though, the chemicals have no bearing on the truth that I disseminate. Rather, they drive my points home harder in my brain when I type them.

Feel free to tell your buddies about JP, especially if they are of the female persuasion. Johnny spent a lot of time staring at pastel covered cinder-blocks and could use a little girlie interaction. 99% of the broads I hit up on Craiglist’s personal ads end up being twill-chompers aiming to impale my brown-eye. Nothing against the fruits, I just ain’t looking to relive the glory nights of non-consensual institutional coupling with 315 lb. sweaty broke-back uncut bears. Besides, I am still going through a new set of undies every week due to my inconvenient crimson drawer blotting. Enough of that shit – I know I ain’t gonna land no honeys galavanting down that memory lane.

Peace Out!

In the past year, the blog and my treatment progress have contributed greatly to moving me in the direction of a productive member of society. I look forward to many more posts and friendly exchanges with fellow friends and bloggers.

Love,

Johnny Peepers 🙂

Dillsnap Cogitations Blog Analysis

INTP – The Thinkers

From typealyzer.com

The logical and analytical type. They are especially attuned to difficult creative and intellectual challenges and always look for something more complex to dig into. They are great at finding subtle connections between things and imagine far-reaching implications.

They enjoy working with complex things using a lot of concepts and imaginative models of reality. Since they are not very good at seeing and understanding the needs of other people, they might come across as arrogant, impatient and insensitive to people that need some time to understand what they are talking about.

From genderanalyzer.com

We think https://dillsnapcogitation.wordpress.com is written by a man (88%).

From criticsrant.com

Helpful Advice From Tommy Toilet

Artwork by the genius Robert Crumb

The Slippery Slope

After my release from detention, I was required to undergo a battery of court mandated pre-trial psychological tests. The shrink wasn’t bad looking, for an older broad. I had a thing for the 4-eyed, buttoned-down, educated dames with a bit of experience under their garter belts. Her short skirts, and smoothly shaven legs, made our appointments all the more bearable.

Under her direction, I was required to interpret Rorschach ink blot patterns. My memories were probed for evidence of physical, sexual, or psychological childhood abuse. Various other pseudo-science trickeries were used to get inside of my head. The shrink conducted memory, linguistic, spatial, and hand-eye coordination tests with me. I had to put blocks of wood in their jig-saw home under time constraints. One entire day consisted of a intelligence quotient test. I was an obedient little sap looking for the final approval that she never gave. As far as she was concerned, I was just another lab rat in the maze. The cheese I wanted was dripping from her inner thigh, but I never got a taste.

A few days later she brought me and my mum in for a consultation. The shrink told her that she failed to detect any major psychological maladies, but something wasn’t right about her prior womb inhabitant. Although I was in a high intelligence bracket, I lacked certain basic human emotions. According to her diagnosis, I did not have empathy for my fellow man. I could not identify with the pain or suffering of another. I had always wanted to be a sociopath.

Eventually I was brought to trial. As shitty luck may have it, the prosecutor lived in my neighborhood, and was a victim of one of my earlier crime sprees. Suffice it to say, she wasn’t an unbiased objective officer of the juvenile judicial system. She adamantly recommended to the judge that I deserved a long-term stint at the youth correction facility. Luckily, I was a first offender, and the man in the black robe didn’t rubber stamp her vindictive request. I got 2 years of probation.

Every two weeks, mum had to bring me down to meet with my probation officer. He was the spitting image of Darrin (from the television show Bewitched), and always had a pack of Winstons sticking out of his shirt pocket. He would kick his cowboy boots up on his desk and listen to ma’s recitation of my recent misbehaviors. Darrin would give me a little “shape up or ship out” spiel and I would be on my way.

For the most part, I kept my shit together. Outside of my teenage rebellion blowouts, and the inter-familial melt downs, things were relatively calm. That is until I hooked up with John Barleycorn.

Given my predilection for mental imbalance, my raging hormonal state, and my criminal background, the booze was the last muthafuckin’ thing that I needed in my life. Thanks to my ancestral devotion to the sauce, I didn’t have much of a chance. Despite my folks best attempts to normalize me, and the dozens of shrink sit-down sessions, I was destined for heart-wrenching failure (from a parent’s perspective).

It all started with a few beers with mates. It soon progressed to drinking in solitude. Me in my dark room, chain smoking cigarettes, and listening to my Led Zeppelin, Beastie Boys, and The Doors cds over and over. Me and my buddy (my drunken anti-social alter ego) were withdrawing from the world. I was always better off in my head (as muddled as it was) than in a group of self-congratulatory shit heels with skulls full of mush rambling on about their self-importance.

I needed a steady supply of booze. The grocery store I worked at was a good source for a while, but I couldn’t always depend on being nominated to empty the floor washer (which was used to transport the stolen cases of beer outside to an awaiting garbage can for later retrieval). Luckily, a new kid from the other side of town took up employment at the store. Mikey and I hit it off real quick, especially since we both had a strong affinity for the spirits.

Mikey knew a guy from the other side of the tracks. I can’t recall the cat’s name, but he was a good dude to know. Not only was he an intimidating ass-beater, who could had your back no matter what, but, more importantly, he had the sauce hookup. He introduced us to Peter Rabbit, a 70-year old African-American Army veteran who ran a shot house down from the police station. Peter Rabbit was nearly deaf and always answered the door with his .22 drawn. Since he suspected all White kids of being narcs, It usually took a few minutes before he would agree to let us in.

Peter bought all his juice tax free at the AAFES base exchange with his pension and social security checks. He had a bullet-proofed enclosure (like a ghetto convenience store) inside his living residence where he would dole out the 40s, half-pints, and bottles of wine. On the other side of the duplex he had a juke-joint barrel house setup with a pool table and music. The local crack heads and booze hounds would congregate there on Saturday nights.

Me and Peter Rabbit got to know each other pretty good. He even fixed me and a buddy catfish dinner following an afternoon of slamming beers and shooting billiards. Petey wasn’t doing my burgeoning condition any good though. I can’t blame him for trying to make a buck – fixed incomes are a bitch.

The Lock Up

I think hitting junior high fucked me up real bad. There was no specific incident, or brick wall in the face deserving mention, but I knew shit was gonna be real different from that point on. I went from being a mop headed little runt shielded by my parents, prior experiences, and societal programming, to being an observantly cautious (and devious) little bastard.

I immediately realized that my smart mouth wasn’t gonna fly too well in my new environs. I was in the racial minority at my new inner city school. There were fights almost every day. Girls brought razor blades to slash their enemies with. The dudes would trample muthafuckas with an 8:1 ration. I figured out pretty quick that I needed to operate well beneath the radar if I wanted to emerge unscathed.

I loathed every minute of my government mandated incarceration period that masqueraded as an education. The teachers didn’t give a shit, they were on auto-pilot to retirement. Between the brawls, the flying padlocks in the PE locker room, and the vacuous class/race/clique strata, I was there only in a physical form.

The hours after school, and my entire weekends, were spent shredding concrete on skateboards with my mates. I was a skater punk, and I couldn’t of been happier. In hindsight, it was a subconscious rejection of the social norms and customs that I had been socialized to embrace. Eventually, the desecration of public and private property, daily trespass offenses, and the police (and mayoral) bullying was not enough to satiate my inner demon(s).

Although I do not wish to go into too much detail (due to statue of limitation tolling periods), I embarked on a violent campaign to wreak havoc on other’s property and lives. This behavior culminated in my arrest and incarceration in the city’s youth facility.

After I was Mirandized, cuffed, and stuffed, I spent the next several harrowing hours being grilled by juvenile police detectives in the cavernous basement of the police station. Every statement I made was recorded, cross-examined, and scrutinized. I was a slab of meat on a cold steel forensic analyst table. I told them the truth, but they kept asking me why I did it. I didn’t have an answer then, and I do not have an answer now. The best I could muster at the time was, “I was bored.”

I was scared, real fucking scared. But whatever fear I felt at the time was exponentially reduced by what I found out next. I was gonna be locked up at the youth facility. From what I knew about that place, my future was was gonna be real bleak. The ride down in the back of the patrol car seemed like an eternity. I can trace the entire path in my mind.

I endured my first (but not last) strip search and institutionalized processing dehumanization procedure. I was given a set of scrubs and led to general population. From the movies and television, I knew the drill about having to prove yourself with an initiation beat down to demonstrate your testicular worth. Luckily, I did not have to go down that path.

When the steel door shut behind me, all eyes were directed at my emerging presence. A menacing cat inquired into the circumstances warranting my visit. Evidently, whatever I told him began to circulate around the room. Another bloke came up to me and remarked that they had heard about my exploits on the 6 o’clock news. I overheard a dude who said, “that’s that crazy White muthafucka we seen on TV.”

By the grace of Allah, I had earned a modicum of respect from my new violent offender and felonious peers (of which I shared the ignoble distinction). Of course, another maxim could have been at play – don’t fuck with an insane son of a bitch. From that point on, I made it my goal to project a sick and deranged personality profile.

Despite my extreme racial minority status, I managed to blend in well with my co-residents (primarily facilitated by my junior high school experience). We spent the days playing spades (a card game) and watching daytime television. Due to the varying personalities (many of which where predisposed to immediate violence), I felt it was time that I ushered forth a bit of alpha male display.

The opportunity came soon enough. A corpulent shaggy haired White punk thought it was in his best interest to jack my chair at the card game while I was away at the pisser. Upon returning to the table I kindly asked him to remove himself from my chair. He scoffed at my request and attempted to resume the game. I promptly yanked the seat out from under him and his cellulose-ridden backbone slammed onto the smooth concrete. He scurried away with a poorly disguised tear in his eye.

tbc…

Project: Human Barrier Deconstruction IV

I am proud to announce another superb contribution to the Human Barrier Deconstruction project. Christine, the author of the cognition-provoking blog, all the elbows, was kind enough to posit her thoughts for my loosely defined initiative.

I consider myself fortunate that Christine and I crossed Internet paths. She has a delicately poised light and darkness composition that mirrors my Earthly experience. I consider Christine a fellow universal consciousness enlightening traveler. This is from her blog:

i want to be a ballerina pointy toed graceful
perky ones maybe an astronaut into the sky
burrow up find God president of the united
states no more war everyone eats and has a
home a doctor? save lives cure rickets a
teacher poison minds a model ugly will be
the new beatiful i will be beautiful in my ugly
way a mother mutha fucker patient and kind
cookies always on hand and a lacy apron
a soldier buffalo soldier soldier of P E A C E a
good friend happy wife i’ll have a garden filled
with taller than usual snapdragons and violas
bumble bees ladybugs holy virgin clean sky
sky sky blue and so on

when i grow up-

Here is Christine’s contribution to the project:

When Johnny Peepers began Operation Human Barrier Deconstruction, i was very excited. Those who’ve contributed thus far have impressed me greatly and i secretly wondered how i could contribute. When he asked me i was excited- and arrogant.

i thought i would be able to whip something out quick and easy, as i have many thoughts about how screwed up and senseless the world can be. i thought, thought, thought, but each time i attempted to write something, i froze up.

The thing is, i was- am- distrustful of people. i fear them, the many ways i can hurt them, ways they may hurt me. That is my human barrier. And i am thinking that perhaps many people in this world operate from distrust.

i think, try to believe and practice, the idea of folks as individuals. i like to think that i take people one at a time, doling out benefit of the doubt. i bumped into this while trying to come up with something good, worthwhile, meaningful for Johnny. i’m thinking maybe i don’t practice this as much as i’d hoped.

So all that’s led me to this- in order for me to connect with people on a human level, beyond skin or genitals, appearance or status, sexuality or location- i must set aside fear. i must take a chance and trust. i have to make a conscious effort to find all that is common amongst us, what unites us, what we all share.

Ruminating, i found and discarded many things. i attempted to be positive. Laughter, i thought. All people cherish laughter, but then i thought of people who live in constant fear of being bombed, losing their sons and daughters, people not knowing when their next meal will be. Folks in such circumstances might not be interested in laughing. i thought hope is something all people share, but hope has become a cliché to many, a joke, some lofty, far off la-la-land kind of sentiment so many’ve lived without it. God? Yeah right. People kill one another in the name of this god or that god.

i wanted something universal. And i was brought back to the idea of fear. i know that sounds totally negative and in direct opposition to the purpose of Johnny’s mission. i thought so too, at first. Fear motivates humans to do unspeakable things, to hide, hurt, maim. But think about it a little more, and though it is sad, it is something we’ve all experienced- everyone of us- and it is something we can help one another through. Realizing that we all experience this may, if we allow it, may arouse in us compassion, empathy and understanding.

The need to be loved and understood also unite us as humans. Even when some of us do terrible things, there is a longing to be known, understood. Knowing that many are afraid of being hurt and making an effort to reach out, to understand, to learn others, can change the world i think, can melt away the fear.

i wish that, pray that; hope for a world in which we could go beyond the superficial, below the skin, over the borders, through the miasma of propaganda to the marrow, the rich valleys, to the clear sky of human spirit and freedom. True freedom- a desire in which we are also united. Not license, but freedom.

Gosh. This sounds so good to me. i can almost taste it. How though? How? i begin with me and you. i’ve revealed my mediocrity of thought, my fairytale idea- my dark fairytale. It probably sounds stupid. i’m afraid of doing Operation Human Barrier Deconstruction a disservice, but i take this chance because what unites us and what i wish to unite us are different. i wish peace to connect us. i wish that love did.

(copyright 2008 ) c A Hughes
05.25.08