So I went to my federally-mandated appointment with my psychiatrist...
Dr. Jack “Jackhammer” Braine. He was a bit perturbed.
“Jon, I’ve been forwarded a new, long, convoluted article of yours, by the Department of Speech Modulation. You haven’t published the piece yet. It appears our progress is backtracking, fading. Are you sure you’re on your meds?”
“Of course I’m sure, Doc. Every morning at nine, and just before bed. I would never, ever deviate.”
“Well, okay, but we might have to increase the dosage. Here is a copy of your article. I want you to read it over, while I go into the next room and check my tee time at Maplethorn. Senator McConnell may not be able to join our foursome this afternoon. Read it carefully and see whether you think you’re adapting to the new rules of behavior.
He walked out.
I read:
70-year-old Fat Ethel, wearing spectacles and a thin flowery summer dress and slippers, is my Guide
by Jon Rappoport
She may be the President for all I know. Or a painter living in a loft in Manhattan. Or a grandma on Welfare. Or a circus performer hiding her acrobatic prowess. But the point is, she’s a Guide. Today, she showed up in my living room. She was sitting in my easy chair stubbing out a cigar in an ashtray. She stood up and said, “Let’s take a little tour,” and she led me THROUGH A WALL and into a room I’d never seen before. It was a kind of gallery, and on the walls were pasted pages of my articles.
“Look at this one,” she said. “You were hitting your stride.”
I looked up instead—
There was no ceiling in the room. Only sky. A passenger jet was floating there, people were descending the stairs. Angels and God and Satan (wearing a velvet suit, hair slicked back, a real asshole) were peering into the room. Their combined message was, relax, Jon, take a rest, you’ve done it, you got where you wanted to go, why keep writing, it’s all good, you’re at the end of the trail, you’ve clocked a lot of years, so be that guy, be old, sit on your porch and smoke cigars and dream…
No dice. I’d been through that re-ed routine before and slapped it down every time. I wasn’t ready for the Big Sleep. Ethel said: “That’s my boy. Don’t listen to them. Keep slashing away. You’ll always have death, but not now. Now is work. Now when the bell rings you come out punching.”
So I looked at the piece I wrote, there on the wall, the one Ethel had pointed to, and I read:
All right, audience, it’s time for PICK THE CRISIS!
Which one is right around the corner? Test your intelligence!
by Jon Rappoport
Hi, everybody. I’m Jack Spratt and we’re back with our weekly hit show, PICK THE CRISIS. Brought to you by Mockingbird Presto, the CIA, and Pfizer, your friend in a world crawling with germs.
As usual, you in studio audience and you folks at home will cast your votes for THE upcoming crisis that will guarantee a victory for the UniParty of Dems and RINOS in the 2024 election.
Each proposed crisis will get a sturdy defense from an expert, right here, tonight, before you cast your ballots.
So, first up, we have CLIMATE EMERGENCY. Wow. That’s a good one. The boss in the Oval Office declares a state of emergency and locks down the whole country. Again. Thus forcing people to vote remotely, opening the door to all sorts of rigging, harvesting, and manipulation.
And here to defend that crisis is none other than Jake Funicello, former CIA officer and chief of Latin American Operations. Welcome to the show, Jake. How do you see this op working out?
—Jack, thanks for having me. Climate is very big, as you know. Gas stoves, gas cars, cows farting their brains out all over the world. The promotion is ceaseless. Mass lockdowns are a natural winner. Combine that with, say, another white cop killing a black man, and all the ensuing riots, and the intimidated voters will surely go for a candidate who represents what we call the PERMISSIVE MIDDLE. Basically, this means the public surrenders to every item of The Agenda, including climate, in hopes that fawning and apologizing and kneeling gets them SAFETY. So they’ll vote for a candidate who represents that. Biden, if he can still stand up, or Gavin Newsom, or Michelle Obama.
—Terrific, Jake. I can see it happening. It’s a potential winner. No doubt about it. Thanks. OK, people, let’s move on to the second possible crisis. To promote it, let’s bring on former White House Corona advisor, Dr. Deborah Birx, who’s been working as a waitress at a diner off the 10 Superhighway in the desert east of Los Angeles. Deb, great to see you.
—You, too, Jack. I think it’s obvious, America. We need another fake virus. It worked so well the last time. I’m thinking bird flu, or possibly an as yet unnamed super killer out of the Amazon rainforest. Therefore, a national lockdown, remote voting, cheating, rigging, and so on. But here’s the thing. With a virus, you also get the INVISIBILITY FACTOR. You don’t need to feel heat waves or see droughts or experience power grid failures. You just know fear. Fear of the virus that’s spreading everywhere. It’s beautiful, really. And since we all went through the restrictions before, we know the drill. We follow the same playbook. And a candidate like Gavin Newsom can really sell it. He doubles down like a champ. He’ll be tougher than Biden or Fauci. You leave home, you go to prison.
—Wow, Deb, you make a strong case. You should be working for our sponsor, the CIA. Ditch your waitress’s uniform and get your fine self to Langley and start pumping out the propaganda. OK. Let’s move on. We were hoping to have Janet Yellen here with us tonight, but she’s having mental health issues. So instead, we’re bringing in another star of the highest magnitude, and I’m not going to bother reciting all his credentials because you already know them…Mr. LeBron James!
—Hey, Jack. Great show. I’m here to talk about the global financial crisis. It’s obviously a cloud hanging over all of us. And we need a person of very strong character to guide us through to better days. Michelle Obama is the perfect choice. You see, many nations are bumping up against the brick wall called INSUPPORTABLE DEBT. It’s just too big. Nobody can pay it off. As people are noticing, more money buys less. That’s bad. Real bad. So we have to declare an end to the old international money system and bring in Global Digital Currency. Everybody on the planet is guaranteed a paycheck, in order to survive. And there are conditions attached. Of course, every unit of currency and every purchase and every buyer of anything are trackable. But you have to behave. You have to do and say the right things. Or else you’re cut off from money. This crisis necessitates a revolution in thinking. So for that sort of inner contemplation, we need a period of lockdowns and tighter law enforcement. Unless an exploding issue is racial, of course. Lockdowns give us remote voting, vote manipulation, and the strongest candidate wins. Michelle. With Barack over her shoulder, sort of serving his fourth term as President. Lock everybody down, switch over to the new currency, and then we’ll be all right. As a sidebar, I’ve been offered the post of Treasury Secretary in the next administration, but my business commitments in China will preclude me from serving in that capacity—as I also try to bring the city of Los Angeles another NBA championship.
—Superb, LeBron. You’ve really done your homework. I’m personally swayed by your presentation. Many thanks. Black Lives DO Matter, folks. OK, let’s now go to our final crisis this evening. It’s a strange one. Maybe we should call it the resolution of a crisis. I’ll let our next guest explain. He’s under indictment for all kinds of financial fraud, and he’s coming to us from prison. Bring him on with a big round of applause, Sam Bankman-Fried!
—Hello, Jack. Compelling presentations by all your guests tonight. I’m coming at this from another angle, based on my private conversations with many politicians I’ve funded over the years. You see, we’re pushing and pushing the war in the Ukraine. It keeps looking worse and worse. People dying. That sort of thing. Infrastructure blowing up. Could expand into a World War. But what about an October Surprise just before the election? A sudden…PEACE CONFERENCE. Zelensky and Putin and Secretary of State Blinken and Biden at the negotiating table in Brussels. And bingo bang bongo, we get a treaty. An end to the fighting. Everybody gets paid off. Mass celebrations all over the planet. Ticker tape parades. Congratulations pour in for Biden, who engineered the whole peace process. In that case, we don’t need lockdowns or vote rigging. Whoever the Democrats run will sweep into office. In Congress, both sides of the aisle will join hands in support of the new President, or the old one, Biden. They’ll have to. The UniParty wins. Big. Same old same old, but with a new twist. And you know what? Maybe this was the plan all along. The threat of endless war, and then sudden peace, at just the right moment.
—Absolutely stunned, Sam. What a proposal. Pure genius. Folks, this is a very smart man. He just laid out a killer scenario. ALL RIGHT, that’s our list, this week, on PICK THE CRISIS. Now it’s time for you, our audience, to go to your cell phones and vote. Which crisis do you favor? Which one will assure a UniParty victory in the fall of 2024? Each week, the winning crisis goes on a special list, and moves on to our grand finale episode in the spring of 2024, when you’ll pick the FINAL FINAL CHAMPION CRISIS. It’s fun, it’s entertaining, and it’s deadly serious. Because, remember, politics is devious. It’s a horse race that requires all the skill the showrunners can summon up. Are you as smart as they are? VOTE. VOTE NOW. And we’ll see you next week, when we present a whole new list of possible manufactured crises. You want a sneak preview? Get this. One of them will be a widespread ANTHRAX ATTACK. Does that sound too crazy? Or just sane enough to get the job done? Join us and find out. Until then, this is your host, Jack Spratt, saying: PREDICTION IS OUR BUSINESS. PROFILING YOU IS OUR SPONSORS’ BUSINESS. Love you all.
—“I like that one,” Ethel said. “Kind of crude, hits below the belt, stirs the anger centers, blows a few pieces of major bullshit away. My first husband, Bill, used to do that. He was a merchant seaman out of Hoboken. Trouble was, he thought I was one of the pieces of bullshit. So I had to teach him a few harsh lessons. By the time I got through with him, he was sitting in a rest home in Jersey, trying to count his fingers and checking every half hour to see if his dick was still there. I hope reading your own work, Jon, keeps you motivated. That’s what this little tour is all about. God is just testing your resolve. He wants to see how far you’ll go, to push your imagination, because that’s what it’s all about. Look over there. I’ve put another one of your pieces on the wall. Go ahead, read it.”
I did:
Why did Hollywood studios reject my screenplay? The real answer will surprise you.
by Jon Rappoport
Since people are getting crazier all the time, it occurred to me:
THEY’RE READY FOR WITCH DOCTORS.
A comeback of the old healers and devils.
The witch doctor from the 6th dimension.
That’s the movie. He emerges on this plane and starts casting spells on politicians, military big shots, movie stars, social media influencers.
All sorts of spells. Some people commit suicide, others rise to new levels of fame and fortune.
Naturally, the President, his National Security team, and the Pentagon have to stop this grave threat.
The hero of the movie is a private detective operating out of the back room of a seedy bar. On his own, he investigates this witch, and he discovers that the whole spell-casting business is a con.
The witch doc isn’t from another dimension. He’s an intelligence operative working for Pfizer. He doesn’t cast spells. He sprays drugs.