19
Dec
08

Draw Your Brakes Brother, I Just Can’t Take It

conscious

Belief is the death of intelligence. As soon as one believes a doctrine of any sort, or assumes certitude, one stops thinking about that aspect of existence. The more certitude one assumes, the less there is left to think about, and a person sure of everything would never have any need to think at anything any might be considered clinically dead under current medical standards, where the absence of brain activity is taken to mean that life has ended. ~ Robert Anton Wilson

mediaA brief foray into the daily MainStreamMedia™ house of horrors is always good for a jolting psyche shock these days. Life, as presented by the consensus trance script writers, is a precarious tight-rope walk – one where we are always mere inches away from the snapping croc jaws below us. Innundated with the ever-looming danger of war, rumors of war, economic collapse, escalating crime (pick your own worst fear, nightmare, or schizoid break catalyst), our boats are moored in the waters of psychological turbulence.

Our handlers know that a fractured, fear-injected, rudderless society is one that is easier to manage. The illuminated brethren from the Frankfurt School, the Tavistock Institute, and their U.S. psychopathic intelligence equivalents (OSS/CIA Octopus derivatives) have perfected the Pavlovian human behavior cage – one that is wired with the not so random electric shock (’29 market crash, the Holocaust, Hiroshima/Nagasaki, and 9-11). With the ignorant masses in a state of disjointed chaos, a consensus is less likely to emerge as to whose necks should be destined for the guillotine.

I can hear Joe 6-pack in the background proclaim, “Wait a minute bub, we live in a free society, enjoy the constitutional guarantees of a free press and free speech, and our forefathers busted their arse on a liberation document known as the U.S. Constitution. Kiss it you left-wing, cry-baby, bed-wetting, twill chomper.” To this imaginary fellow I say, one man’s illusory unbounded plateau is another man’s concretized psychological prison. In the end, it is only a matter of perception.

holoAccording to quantum physicist David Bohm, our thoughts are like circular motions of energy that become a repetitious pattern forming our beliefs. This explains why our attitudes and belief systems tend to become resistant to change. The continuing effect of these vortices tends to inhibit discernment and our ability to assimilate new ideas and information streams. As Michael Talbot, author of The Holographic Universe makes clear, this “can cause us to become repetitious, create blockages in the creative flow of our consciousness, keep us from seeing the wholeness of ourselves, and make us feel disconnected from our species.”

Either you create your own “reality tunnel”, or you are forced to endure the perpetual chaos (or insufferable boredom) of another’s existence construct. A cursory review of the average bloke or sheila’s lifestyle evidences a pattern of fixed rigidity and quiet desperation. With the mountains of bills, the crying babes, and the one-upmanship contest with the Joneses in the battle of material acquisition, who has time to fine tune the inner self?

transhumanCurrently, we are experiencing an exponentially progressive rate of mechanized human advancement technologies, which threaten consciousness exploration. Life extension through artificial organ transplant, transhumanism, and pharmacologically induced pain avoidance (emotion suppression) will ultimately yield an inorganic being, divorced from a sense of oneness with the universe.

It is now very clear that techniques of machine-human interfacing, pharmacology of the synthetic variety, all kinds of manipulative techniques, all kinds of data storage, imaging and retrieval techniques– all of this is coalescing toward the potential of a truly demonic or angelic kind of self-imaging of our culture… And the people who are on the demonic side are fully aware of this and hurrying full-tilt forward with their plans to capture everyone as a 100% believing consumer inside some kind of a beige furnished fascism that won’t even raise a ripple. ~ Terence Mckenna

The impending global consciousness shift activation date of 2012 is the sign marker alerting humanity to the upcoming fork in the road. Will the debilitating inertia of our self-doubting hive mentality sabotage the road to self-discovery? Or better yet, will a critical mass of enlightened post-Modern eschaton surfers activate the Cosmic Trigger paving the way for the rest? Hopefully our fellow travelers in the near future will reject the soul-negating escapism offerings (soma pharmaceuticals, virtual reality, materialist reductionism), embrace mind-quieting techniques, and plug into the universal consciousness surge protector.


8 Responses to “Draw Your Brakes Brother, I Just Can’t Take It”


  1. 2 Jedrick
    December 22, 2008 at 1:38 pm

    Hey, man, I’m talking to you. Just what the hell you talking about anyways? My daddy told me that God created us and we have to do what he says. God and my daddy. I have to do what God says, but I also have to do what my daddy tells me. He’s a smart guy. My daddy, not God. Though I’m sure God is smart too. He has to be. He sees everything. Not my daddy. I meant God. My daddy sees a lot too. Like, he knows where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing. You can’t lie to that man. You just can’t. If he was your daddy you wouldn’t be able to lie to him either. Swear to God.

    My daddy gets mad at me because he doesn’t like my friends. He calls one of my friends The Bossman because he’s always telling me what to do and where to go. Daddy tells me he’s driving me away from God. I don’t know about that. I mean, my friends don’t lead Christian lifestyles. Like, they don’t go to church. Well, naw, that ain’t right of me to say cause I don’t go to church either except when I need to hit my daddy up for money for cigarettes and gatorade or to get the free spaghetti dinners on Wednesday night. That’s some damn good spaghetti, even though I prefer the Chef Boyardee kind. I love gatorade….and water. I get real thirsty because of these pills I take. It’s a long story.

    Anyways, my friends ain’t all that bad. I mean they don’t worship God, but they ain’t bad people. The Bossman tells me what to do but he ain’t doing nothing illegal or trying to talk to girls I like. And I got another friend who is always joking on people, but we go way back so I can’t stay mad at him. He knew me back in my days when people were calling me Track Star at school cause I had to run from a cop one day and I used to wear these nike track suits. I don’t know…..shit.

    What you talking about again? It don’t sound like God. I’m gonna have my daddy read this shit and see what he thinks. I bet he thinks its satanic. But I’m tired of him telling me what is what. He don’t ever let me say what I want to say or think what I want to think. Any time I think sexy thoughts and start rubbing myself, he says that’s bad. He beat me a couple of times for touching myself. I don’t know how he knew cause I didn’t tell him. Maybe I left my door open or something. I don’t know. And he always has my little sissy brother hide my guns when I get mad. He does that because I used to ride around with a shotgun in my car. The Bossman almost shit himself one night when I picked him up from work with that gun in the back. It was funny seeing that scared look in his eye. He didn’t tell me what to do that night. I was gonna get this dude Carl who stole the girl I was gonna marry. I ended up not doing it, but I think about it a lot.

    And I also think about blowing up this sinhole. It’s this little house not far from my grandmother. Two whores and a mangy mutt with a bad eyeball live there. Fleas and piss and dudes coming in and out to fuck these two bitches. I ain’t ever had no pussy but there ain’t no way I mess with that stank pussy. I told my grandmother about this place and she said it was a sinhole and I needed to stay away from there. She said she knew The Bossman took me there and he’d get his soon enough. In the meantime she suggested blwoing thats inhole up. Then she told me to light some matches cause I took a shit and the house stank. I don’t know where to get no bombs though. I’ll ask my friend Cliff. He knows everything. Smart guy. Man, and he can get the girls. There ain’t a girl in the world that can resist Cliff. I wish I was him. But I’m not. I’m just a crazy bastard living in a damn basement with ducks on the wall pounding my pud while some Elvis-looking bastard makes off with my girl. I wish I knew where my guns were at.

    I don’t know. I gotta go. I been cooped up in my basement all day. I need to get some cigarettes and a gatorade. I’m thirsty as hell.

    Just call me Rick.

  2. December 24, 2008 at 3:56 pm

    Happy whatever you celebrate, JP. Keep writing. You is a brilliant man.

    LK

  3. 4 Harvey Danger
    December 30, 2008 at 9:57 pm

    Anyone can be as free as they want to be.

    I look forward to the advancement of technology. All I think of things like computers, medicines, etc. as are tools, for the use and ease of continuing existence, but never necessary for life. I can guarantee you that having an organ transplant, bionic limb, or nano-bots inside me would not hinder my desire to sit in the grass and stare at the stars. In fact, they may enable me to get physically closer to them. The continuation of life is not a bad thing – it allows us to experience more. As long as anyone remembers their connection to the universe, they won’t lose it. Perhaps that’s easier said than done, though.

    As for virtual reality being soul-negating… I disagree. Video games (that is what you’re referring to, right?) have given me just as much pleasure and evoked as much emotion as any book or song, and are just as much of an art form. Not everything on the market is 12 year-olds cursing at each other over a microphone.

    Happy holidays.

  4. 5 Manco
    December 31, 2008 at 3:55 pm

    I like to lay out in the grass, stare at the stars and utter incomprehensible phrases while dreaming of seducing young girls with my romanticized bullshit. My favorite season is Winter. I like to lay in the snow and make snow angels before rushing inside to the beautiful heat of a home in order to plug and play. I can leave this nasty world behind and fight hordes of zombies or nazis or build a house or rescue the queen or drive in a race or be a superhero or play sports. I can do it all with my magic electronic box that allows me to spend multiple hours a day sitting in my own filth.

  5. 6 Harvey Danger
    January 1, 2009 at 3:40 am

    Nice try, but I’m afraid that lost any comedic value it had when I did it the first time.

    I’ll tell you what: if you come up with something clever tomorrow, I’ll give you a cookie! Doesn’t that sound yummy?

    P.S. For future reference, my favorite season is Summer.

  6. 7 dummidumbwit
    January 5, 2009 at 11:09 am

    The ignorance of Joe Sixpack is actually a blessing, the secret of our Government is the built in checks and balances that steer the idiot of various IQ levels to the center and I still want to classify myself as Christian and Cultured while wondering if indeed the Dreamtime beliefs of the Aboriginals are actually superior to all the crap our genius has invented???

  7. January 9, 2009 at 12:43 pm

    Its’ been a while dude.


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Johnny Peepers

----> is a socio-pathetic degenerate with a penchant for cheap booze, ruphy-laden broads, and dim sum soup.

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