Official Truth, Androids, and Reductive Mind Control

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by Jon Rappoport
July 2, 2015


“You present people with official truth about any subject—vaccines, GMOs, wars of liberation, epidemics—and they buy in, because they’re looking for summaries, reductions, simple images that require simple limbic emotions. No thought, no reasoning, no logic. Self-appointed experts say the word and populations salute, because for them the truth has to come from somewhere outside themselves, and because they want to be told what to see, how to react. This is called hypnotism.

“Now add one step. Put a moral value on official truth—‘you’re saving humanity,’ ‘you’re wiping out prejudice,’ ‘you’re working for universal equality,’ and you really have something. You have an army of propagandists at your beck and call, a push-button army.” (The Underground, Jon Rappoport)


How to approach the hatchery where androids are cultivated and made? You attack the rest-points, the places where the automatic cogs of the mind are absolutely in sync with official reality. Asymmetrically, you come at those cogs from all sorts of unconventional angles. That’s what the surrealists did. They interrupted the eternal Hum of the skyscrapers of the mind.

The preacher or the scientist or the educator or the doctor might not like that. The universe might be offended. There are all sorts of figureheads who might be offended. These figureheads represent fundamentalisms. Reduced-down views of the world. Hypnotically simple.

That’s how the game works. You convince people that anything important is terribly simple. You keep boiling the soup and boiling the soup down until it’s almost nothing, and then you point to it and say, “There, you see? That’s what it’s all about. That’s all it is.”

That’s what hypnotism is. The boiling down. The reduction. The old man in the sky sitting in a big chair combing his beard—and his cousin, the guy who wouldn’t agree and who was therefore suddenly the embodiment of evil. You boil it all down to that. Then you hand that story to someone and he’s got it now, the good and the evil, as a reduction. He’s an android in the garden, watching the sun go down, waiting for the dark curtain to descend.

You can drag an android to water. He’ll just stare at it and notice the pretty little reflections, including his own, and he’ll hang around hoping for something important to happen.

Mechanical thought is the big feature of the android mind. The connections may be sophisticated, but they’re quiescent. Pieces are hooked up to other pieces of ideas, but with no creative ambition or force involved.

This is how freedom dies. It just sits there and becomes a hard old stone, because a person won’t move and fly off that platform to invent something new.

And all the while he’s shouting about how he wants his freedom. But he doesn’t want it. He wants the stone and the shadow in the hard dirt. He wants some kind of absolute zero. That’s the subconscious of the android.

DARPA, the tech and mind-control arm of the Pentagon, is now embarked on yet another new project: how to insert images directly into the brain. No chips, no implants, no holograms sitting in space. That’s old hat.

Instead, beam signals directly into the visual cortex.

Of course, a lot of this is sheer PR science-hype, geared to get their hands on government cash for contracts. But it does show you where they want to go.

And human androids are the perfect target, because they’ll buy any image, as long they’re not creating it. Doesn’t matter where it comes from: the television set, the computer screen, the newspaper. They’ll take it in and eat it for lunch.

Theoretically, you could eventually outfit one of these passive good citizens with a complete wall-to-wall series of pictures—a movie—that would constitute his daily experience.

Riots in the streets, bombings, lootings, but all he’s seeing are rainbow gardens and cotton-candy machines and pink balloons and naked virgins.

“My brother Bobby called me again today and warned me that I’ve been sitting on my couch for six months, but he’s crazy. I’ve been living at Disney World, seeing the sights, riding the rides.”

He even has an adoring wife and two well-behaved children. They sprang up out of nowhere one day. He thought he was a loner living on the fringe of the city, but it turns out he’s a responsible family man.

Food stamps, welfare, disability. It’s a wonderful life.

Mickey Mouse is the President of the United States, Donald Duck is the Vice-President, and Goofy is the head of Homeland Security. The people have spoken. What more could they want?