Discover more from Jon Rappoport
What I'm doing on Substack 'til the cows come home
Let’s see, how can I put this politely...
(This article is Part-1 in a series. For Part-2, click here.)
Let’s see, how can I put this politely: I’m jamming a flaming dagger into the heart of the corrupt culture.
Yes. And I’m doing it day after day with original work, with WRITING. My own. Not with somebody else’s videos, not with a few recipes, not with casual comments about this and that.
I dare say I’m giving you more original writing than anyone else on this platform. Plus podcasts.
The culture NEEDS skewering. From all sorts of angles. Because people are experiencing waves of nausea and confusion from the predatory salespeople of the Left.
And when I say the Left, I mean elite funded maniacs who desperately want to tell you men can get pregnant. To prove it, they’re trying to change the English language. They’re inventing NOT interesting ways of saying men can get pregnant—they’re offering up dry stale academic scientific turds to explain their position. They want to flatten out the language and doom you all to dry turds.
So I do satire. I do imagination. Which, yes, I know is a crime. Against the universe. But I commit the crime anyway. You see, I’m sick and tired of the Literal Mind.
The mind that causes a lot of trouble. The mind that will accept garbage as diamonds. And vice versa.
The mind that thinks, “Well, we should mount a solid proof that men can’t get pregnant.”
No. No. And no. In MY Art of War, you have to make the enemy look as ridiculous as he is. It’s where you have to go.
THAT’S what I’m doing on substack.
I’m kicking the enemy’s ass down the street, but first I’m stripping off all his clothes. Because under those clothes, he’s a blob of remorseless stupidity. Which I want to make visible. And do.
The culture, let me remind you, is how people think, what people think, and whether people think. It’s the stew that surrounds and infiltrates us. It’s the goo. It’s the cheese glob. It’s the fake rainbows of the fake paradise right around the corner. It’s the pregnant men and the white men who MUST be racists because they’re white, it’s the climate change fanatic who nevertheless lives in a beach cottage where the tidal wave is supposed to drown the coast, it’s the slimy liberal scumbag who lives on Martha’s Vineyard and screams to high heaven because 50 illegally aliens have suddenly appeared in his sanctuary community, it’s the open borders freak who wants everybody from everywhere to come and share our bounty while enough fentanyl to kill the whole population of the US comes up through the border, it’s Gavin Newsom with his latest brand of hair gel and his big bullshit smile actually thinking he’s the next JFK, it’s the I’m triggered crowd wailing and moaning in the night at imaginary linguistic slurs which no one must give voice to, it’s college grads who automatically worship some black lesbian non-binary Marxist activist who magically discovers hundreds of thousands of eight-year olds want to change genders…
If you burn it all off, do you know what’s left? Maybe one tired eye that feebly blinks once in a while. That’s all.
Satire is an ancient art. It was started by people who were fed up but refused to compromise their basic intelligence in pointing out why everyone should be fed up.
At age 84, I’ve been at this game for 40 years. I’ve presented enough serious-as-a-machine-gun evidence to overturn 100 State Tyrannies. I did that already. At no charge to the customer.
So now, I’ve turned a corner. One of many. I’m out for blood. Satire IS also deadly serious. It’s two-headed. Let’s just say it’s in my nature to make people laugh while I’m pulling out the ground underneath them.
Don’t take it as an insult. We all need that kind of operation.
Because we all have too much literal mind. We need to cast off the stolid yoke. The sober frame. The homely visage. The inbred unmoved stupidity. I’ve known people whose IQs were in the 150 range who were saddled with the stupidity.
“When you wrote XYZ, Jon, did you really mean it?” Of course I didn’t mean it, and of course I did. THAT’S the hammer that breaks the porcelain vase of the stolid uncomprehending literal mind.
And why use the hammer? Because the rigid yes or no mind tends to motivate no action at all. It just sucks on the tit of yes or no. “OK, that was a yes, and that other item was a no.” This is what most modern education gives you.
I don’t like modern education.
It’s why I’m here instead of collecting a pussified paycheck at a university and pretending I might have a previously undiscovered womb.
-- Jon Rappoport