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Simulacra and Simulation by Jean Baudrillard

In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust

Martin Eden by Jack London

A Wanderer’s Handbook by Carla L. Rueckert

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The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells

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Member: brian5764

CollectionsFaves (118), Read (262), Currently reading (5), Not so great after all (6), Books I refused to finish (5), To read (260), All collections (656)

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About mePrologue

    √   Shakespeare is for old farts. It’s true! The masterwork of the Bard should be back in your life if you’re no longer a young’ən and you’ve got some maturity miles on you. So if you do, get reacquainted with him, ’cause you’ll be amazed! But you have to finish reading not just a second or a third play, you have to read lots of əm, and more than once; then you’ll start to see an “otherworldly overview” that he “stamped”/“imprinted” on the stuff, and it’s a mindboggler. And don’t cheat with the so-called translations, because the four-hundred-year-old lingo does sink in after a while, but only if you persevere with the footnotes. Bizarre stuff, at least at first, this early Modern English—and frankly, how strangely similar it is to most dialects of Spanish even today, but that’s another story—with its overuse of the subjunctive mood; its more narrowly-structured, more literal lexicon; and its ridiculously over-the-top, antiquated caste system of second-person pronouns and obsequious forms of address; but after you get used to it, it clicks—easy peasy lemon squeezy; and then, finally, reading and studying his work is more fun than doing Sudoku or going bowling. (Who knew?)
    √   Of course you didn’t understand William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury; or Go Down, Moses; or Absalom, Absalom! the first time you tried to read it! Nobody did! You’re not supposed to. That’s the point. So you’re grasping at straws, taking notes as you read, asking your teacher to explain interior monologue and polyphonic narrative again, sketching the characters’ family tree, or racing to the back of the book to frantically flip through the chronology and the genealogy. What a pain! And you’re thinking why is this crazy author making me go to so much work? isn’t he supposed to have done all that? and then it registers with you: no! he did much more—and brilliant—work to have made everything come out this way. So you man up, hit it again, rethink your strategy, and finally—maybe on the second or third try—you turn the corner on it. But wait! Now it’s exciting, ’cause you get it! Then you’re ready to tackle other literature with ergodic text; so you decipher and conquer, and maybe even appreciate, oh, say, Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon. But you’re probably not in a hurry to go back and reread this recondite bear with everything in it from retrograde narrative to Poisson distributions, because the required effort is too Herculean. With Faulkner though, you do. You do want to reread his work, again and again. The “feel” and the “mood” you get from it are such that you just do. It’s that enjoyable. That is, at least partly, why this Southern author—whose work I love—is so important. (And there’s always this: his short stories are a million times better than F. Scott Fitzgerald’s.)
    √   Sick and tired of the ubiquity of a rob-you-of-all-your-privacy and the omnipotence of a screw-you-out-of-all-your-liberty Big Brother government yet? The Thought Police got you worrying you’d better not think this and the Speech Police got you all tongue-tied ’cause you don’t dare say that—had enough of being pushed around like this yet? Fed up that the tried-and-true ways of decent childrearing and the older-than-god standards of normal human interaction have been and are being thrown overboard like so much deadweight as we leapfrog toward the illuminati-new-world-order-transgender agenda—fed up with all of this lunacy yet? Do you realize that Nineteen Eighty-four and Brave New World predicted these nightmare scenarios, and more? Most of you think of these social scifis as old warhorses; but, in fact, they read like blow-by-blow, predictive-programming playbooks of what’s goən on apace today, ’cause Dystopian novels—at least most of the “classics”—are actually more like documentaries than they are fiction. Roll your eyes all you want, but it’s a fact, Jack. So you’d better get goən with some rereads of these puppies. What?! You haven’t read both of əm at least once each? If not, you’d best get the lead out pronto, ’cause we ain’t got much time left, folks. Before you visit or revisit George Orwell’s and Aldous Huxley’s magnum opuses (opi?), though, I’d humbly recommend that you begin with a perusal of the granddaddy of Dystopians, We, by Yevgeny Zamyatin. It’s a difficult read, set up with a strange framing device and frequent shifts in and out of a weird sort of a prototype of postmodern surrealism. But it’s worth trudging through this terrifying tale which was written in nineteen twenty–to–’twenty-one, because it’s probably the first occurrence in literature of the “elite” controlling the “masses” by way of a bureaucratic police state. (Ring any bells, anyone?)

The Quick Scoop

       Done moved on from Reading Lite. The Tastes Great part can be cool, even refreshing now and then; but the Less Filling part just doesn’t work if you wannə keep on learning, arriving at your next level of understanding, and sorting out what the Big Picture/the Implex is really all about. And I do. Isn’t that the point?
       For those of us who are what Jack London—in his one-of-a-kind novel Martin Eden—called the “individualist” and what Flannery O’Connor called the “rebel-artist-mystic”—the concept of which she explained in her amazing Complete Stories better than anyone else ever could—living and working in the United Corporations of New Atlantis has become an unbearably miserable ordeal. Society is falsely polarized to the point of impending selfdestruction, government at every level is committed to engineering and perpetrating abusive schemes, employers are bent on instigating inquisitions and on sustaining rigged systems of impoverishment for most, employees are too unprincipled/too spineless/too immobilized by the copout of “that’s-how-it-is” groupthink to launch an uprising toward more equitability, and way too few of us are spiritually awake enough to stop the madness. What’s more, everybody is so addicted to/occupied with busyness and noise, and so incensed when a freethinker/nonconformist dares to sit out the insane game that all the “team players” insist on playən, that I’ve simply become disgusted and fed up with it all. If we let it, perpetually running around in circles for which somebody else is the beneficiary here in this cutthroat land of predatory crony capitalism keeps us so frantic that we cannot accomplish what we incarnated into physicality for in the first place: to explore our world and to realize important spiritual truths about ourselves and this realm—nowhere near enough of which gets done when we’re forever sprinting on the treadmill of Commute–Work–Commute–Party–Play–Sleep–Repeat. Ninety-nine percent of humans are enslaved by an illusory economic paradigm, the theft of our own time, fake food, sabotaged health, and a “culture” of horrific distractions. And not only that, you ninety-niners—all you mammon worshippers—make a virtue out of participating in your own enslavement. This doesn’t make any sense! Worse yet, anyone who is smart enough, principled enough, and spiritually-evolved enough to blow the whistle on this outrageousness is instantly met with hostility and derision from the sheeple who simply cannot fathom how anyone could dare not want to play this surrealistic game—and I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!
       I am a convert to vegetarianism. (The novels of Hermann Hesse can be credited for part of it.) It was a sudden transformation, and it probably happens that way to lots of people who’re interested in nonreligious spirituality/mysticism. (Hey, don’t knock it: you get the godawful meat with the godawful growth hormones out of your system and those pesky, unwanted forty-four kilograms/ninety-seven pounds might fall offə you, too.)
       Viví en México por mucho tiempo y puedo hablar español bastante bien. De hecho, pasé años en el Estado de Chiapas —y meses en Sonora y en Veracruz también— y ¡lo extraño muchísimo!
       Oh how I miss living in Mexico! The Mexican people are down-to-earth, kind-hearted, leery-of-change, old-fashioned folks who are not plagued with the delusion of “time is money.” How refreshing is that?! And while Mexico is no Utopia, while it’s not without its problems, while the hypercommunal behavior of its people drove me loco, living there beats the hell out of living in the fascist U.C.N.A., an evil empire which masquerades as a “free country.” (Who are you to scoff if you’ve never experienced living elsewhere, if you don’t have anything to compare living in the evil empire to?)

Favorite Songs (and One Orchestral Piece)*

*(It is an error to refer to a work of instrumental music—i.e., one without singing—as a song. But you knew that, right?)

    √   [I Did It] “My Way” (as performed by Frank Sinatra);
    √   “Take This Jobb and Shove It” ([the word jobb being a four-letter word and all] as performed by Johnny Paycheck);
    √   “I’m a Ramblin’ Man” (as performed by Waylon Jennings);
    √   “Baker Street” (as performed by Gerry Rafferty);
    √   “Mood Indigo” (as performed by Nat “King” Cole);
    √   “Don’t Believe” (as performed by Cherryholmes);
    √   “The Grand Illusion” (as performed by Styx);
    √   “Life on the Nickel” (as performed by Foster the People);
    √   “I Got Mexico” (as performed by Eddy Raven);
    √   “No me pidas perdón” (as performed by Banda sinaloense MS de Sergio Lizárraga);
    √   “Yesterdays” (as performed by Billie Holiday);
    √   “No Time to Kill” (as performed by Clint Black);
    √   “Fork in the Road” (as performed by The Infamous Stringdusters);
    √   “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” (as performed by Mel Tormé);
    √   “Wish I Could Say I Was Drinking” (as performed by Cadillac Sky);
    √   Concerto for Stan Getz (composed by Richard Rodney Bennett [This piece is the quintessential synthesis of “modern classical” music with jazz!]); and
    √   “The Best Is Yet to Come” (as performed by Stacey Kent).

My Interests/Concerns and How They Relate to Literature

       One—Student of postmodernism in particular, but of other movements/periods—especially modernism and postpostmodernism—as well. This does not mean that I’m an advocate of postmodern “philosophy” in the sense that I bought into some pseudointellectual offshoot of Freud, Boas, Mead, and the “social engineering” of the Frankfurt School (which is a bunch of crappola with an agenda, so take that, all you SJWers!). No. It just means that I love plowing through and “deconstructing” postmodern literature. Ha! I do not lump genre fiction together with so-called popular fiction: while serious, literary fiction is not a subset of genre fiction, the converse is sometimes true, which is to say that some of genre fiction is serious and has literary merit; but Reading Lite will never be “meritorious,” which is to say that being a passive entertainee may be fun, but indulgence therein cannot and will not contribute to an adult’s spiritual or intellectual growth. (I get it that most readers don’t agree with this outlook, but I calls əm as I sees əm.) In nonfiction, I’m interested in:
          √   comparative mythology/comparative religion (You know you can smell a rat somewhere when, etymologically, the word religion boils down to “a system that binds, holds people back.”);
          √   the occult/the esoteric (These terms do not mean “evil,” they mean “hidden,” and I’m interested in unhiding them, so to speak, because that’s a big piece of how we get our power back!);
          √   linguistics (You’re ahead of the pack when it dawns on you why linguistics is the science of language, why literature is the art of language, in what ways they’re complementary, and in what ways they’re discrete.);
          √   “cultural” theory (Unfortunately, so-called cultures are virtual realities of sorts, where people are imprisoned inside linguistically‑ and value-based structures [the consequences of which could be alleviated significantly if people would only stop accepting and consenting to all the constraints of the game!]);
          √   gnosis/gnosticism (The term gnosis means knowledge born of direct experience, as in you don’t naïvely “believe in” some dogmatic deception that was set up to mislead the masses, you acquire your own awareness of the falsities of this and other systems for having experienced or researched them yourself. More broadly, gnosticism refers to the teachings related to this knowledge of transcendence arrived at by way of interior, intuitive means. The spiritual journeyer who has graduated from religion and/or new age either stagnates or expands awareness. If he continues growing spiritually, he is a gnostic. And he’s in a journey/battle which is debatably better allegorized or epitomized by a movie than it is by any one book. Actually, it’s represented best by a trilogy of flicks that are essentially about one.) What is the control system we’re in? two.) Why are we in it? and three.) How do we get out of it?);
          √   metaphysics (I’ll leave you to ponder whether metaphysics is to physics as metafiction is to fiction—or, you can just think of it like metaphysical is that which is above and beyond the physical.);
          √   theosophy (While I’m not a proponent of this branch of esotericism, the study of it is intriguing and useful in terms of gaining a better understanding of so-called ancient, hidden wisdom, and historically, how remnants of it show up in other movements—from new thought to pentecostalism/“prosperity theology”/televangelism to new age.);
          √   mysticism (We can fret over the nomenclature while attempting to define this term or we can look at it like “What is it that successfully transcends this corrupt demiurge/false duality we’re stuck in so that we can get the heck out of here?”);
          √   the paranormal/the transnormal (The more “spiritually evolved” among us have pieced together that what is currently deemed para‑ and transnormal in “conventional wisdom” is actually normal for threeD reality. The problem, though, is that we’re not in threeD reality, we’re in threeD unreality, due to humanity’s psychic awareness center/third eye/chakra system having been tampered with and the veil of secrecy having been placed around mankind’s raison d’être—the implementation of the Magnum Opus—all with the aim of keeping us locked in to the control system of the matrix.);
          √   multidimensional/transdimensional reality and how the various levels interconnect with multidimensional/transdimensional anatomy (The notion that we each have one body is dangerously limited thinking, not to mention wrong. For starters, we have a physical body, an etheric body, an astral body, a mental body, and a causal body.);
          √   quantum physics and “real” science (Let’s cut to the chase: “science” has been pseudoscience all along and reality isn’t what we thought it was. And not only that, so-called science fiction, ironically, has a lot of truth in it! Here in this world of inversions, what we “know” to be “science” is mostly fiction—a farce [like “global warming,” which is rubbish]—because it’s part of the matrix, part of keeping everyone in the mindset of “having faith in” the opposite of what really is. We have all unknowingly been adherents of the false belief system of the religion of scientism! Look it up. Study up on it. Then throw it out, ’cause it’s limiting us all.);
          √   astrotheology (Etymologically, “the ‘spoken word’ [which is actually the telepathic thought] of the ‘god[s]’ in the stars.” Because, unfortunately, the vast majority of folks have no concept of the difference between the exoteric and the esoteric, they’re stuck in some “outer belief system” which prevents them from becoming an initiate of—[that is, one who has begun the process of]—the unhiding of the esoteric, or inner level of the “know-thyself” process, which, in turn, is all about studying and taking action, so that individual consciousness, and, aggregately, the consciousness of humanity, can evolve. Regrettably, this en-masse ignorance accounts for not only why most people never learn that we are individually holographically similar to the structure of larger “systems”—[as in, “as above, so below,” which is partly what a hologram is]—but why so many people end up “believing in” some exoteric, or outer-level, symbolic deception, such as the worship of the sun/son for “salvation,” otherwise known as the copout of not doing your own internal work.); and
          √   the “archons”/the “archontic” agenda ([These terms mean “rulers,” but they “rule” only if we let əm, so don’t give əm any unmerited power!] They’re the primary cause of the deception and misery we’re struggling with. But who are they? The “watchers”? The “nephilim”? The androgynous, ancient serpent people—a.k.a. shapeshifting reptilians—which is what theosophist H. P. Blavatsky and cosmicist H. P. Lovecraft referred to as the Nag/Naga? [The name of the apocryphal library—the Nag Hammadi texts—is not a coincidence, folks.] The greys? Proponents of the talmud, descendents of those who made a deal with an evil alien named “Melchizedek”? [You know, the one whom you bornagainers, you biblestudiers, can never quite figure out the true identity of. Yeah, that one.] Mind viruses which have neurolinguistically hacked most humans into remaining spiritually asleep and stupid and mad as hell at anyone who refuses to follow the herd? Whether you like it or not, whether you’re aware of it or not, humanity is getting [bleeped] with by fourD, nonhuman entities. [And that objective fact is the truth whether you subjectively “believe” it or not. Your awareness of it or lack thereof is not relevant. The end.]).
              One a.)—On and off for a few years, I’ve enjoyed some of the postFaulknerian work of Cormac McCarthy (whose novels, by period, are obviously postmodern, but their style—since they have literary characteristics more akin to modernism—is more like what I’d call retromodern), especially the ones he wrote in the western genre. Despite the fact that I get annoyed by his use of invalid eye dialect (as in following modal verbs [like could, would, and their compañeros] with the preposition of, which is a written or typographic grammatical error [not to mention meaningless gibberish], not a spoken or dialogue error, because no one ever says such a thing: a character may “think” he does, but if so, he’s actually confusing the word of with the contracted ’ve, the two utterances of which sound identical in rapid speech; and since this error is written, not spoken, it simply does not merit an orthographic representation in attempting to represent dialogue; and therefore occurrences of it on the page end up being eyesores rather than constituting valid eye dialect); anyway, even though his frequent use of invalid eye dialect gets on my nerves, I like the fact that, in his westerns—(think the novels of the Border Trilogy, not Blood Meridian, because the latter is horrifically violent and superdifficult, but not in a fun, engaging way)—when the dudes are traipsing around Mexico, el diálogo en español no es traducido. (Of course, when most authors write dialogue en inglés y en español, they turn right around and spoonfeed you the “answer,” and that’s just, well, demasiado fácil.)
              One b.)—Turns out there’s not only a generation gap, but country and racial gaps, and they make people think and behave differently—sometimes drastically so—from one group to the next. “We are all the same,” my ass; and culture, schmulture: live in a less “industrialized” country long enough and you can see clearly that its people do not have a different “culture,” but a different mind. Each group with a gap, so to speak, is distinctively “wired,” and that’s what drives “cultural” differences. Moreover, in theory, linguistic relativity suggests that variations in foreigners’ thinking and actions derive from the varying grammatical structures of their native languages. For example, some languages lack the aspectual categorization which enables speakers to perform chronological sequencing, so they don’t; they can’t—they’re not wired for it. Others have native languages that are saddled with excessive subjunctivity, which results in too much hesitancy in their getting things done in a timely manner. But these factors, which can make for vast discrepancies in outlook, seemingly do not account for the entirety of folks’ differences in behavior. The denizens of some nations are innovative, for instance; of others, not at all. Why? Who or what is driving these inequities? How are they being used against humanity as a whole? I love studying this stuff and figuring out how everything ties to the hidden knowledge/the matrix/the insane game we’re stuck in. And of course, figuring out which books pertain to this topic. Interestingly enough, among the relevant ones is The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious by C. G. Jung. But don’t bother, though, with Myth and Meaning: Cracking the Code of Culture by anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss, because it turned out to be a dud of a pamphlet in which the author didn’t even define any terms or codes, much less let alone crack əm.
              One c.)—Trainspotting, by Irvine Welsh, contains an epiphanous roman à clef: those who cannot stomach or who choose not to put up with the bollocks of “society”—and who also happen to end up stuck in some compulsion (like, say, heroin addiction) outside of what the “mainstream” deems “acceptable”—these folks transfer their dependency on drugs (or whatever else they might be hooked on) to dependency on “counseling” and perpetual “therapy” the minute that they accept that the “state” has the “right” to “fix” əm: as soon as this trap has been fallen for and this illogical leap is made, the addict and/or the called-out one struggles in the realm of convoluted, twisted logic to attempt to make him‑ or herself “re-enter” what the blind gameplayers in-and-of the matrix deem “worthwhile” in order to be “successful,” but which, of course, has always been and still is banality/emptiness/hogwash to the addict and/or to the called-out one in the first place! (True called-out ones are gnostic sorterouter-searchers, not bornagainers!) Do yə see the contrived futility, the endlessly circling‑, corkscrewing-around-to-nowhere ruse here? This novel—clearly among the very best of five-star reads—is hyperrealism’s and late postmodernism’s most articulate portrayal of what drug addiction is and of what it does to addicts and everyone else around them. But it’s more than that: it is the ultimate in nonlinear narrative, organized fragmentation, and multiperspectivity: piece together the short chapters and the inner-monologue vignettes, make sense out of the rollercoaster-ride flashbacks and flashforwards, let the metastory sink in on yə ’cause the structure of the parts lines up with the cycle of addiction itself, sort out who’s who and do it by variations in individual lexicon or by wordplays built into their slightly-altered nicknames if yə have to, empathize with the characters’ party-and-play fun-and-adventures and observe it all and feel it as it transmogrifies into senseless violence and evadən the “labdicks” and the requisite ohmygod-what-did-I-do-last-night? terrors—those inexorable prices which must be paid for gettən high or for gettən blitzed; and it is the marathon of the postmodern literary device known as linguistic play, with initially tough-to-figure-out bi-dialectal speech: look it up and investigate the Scottish linguistic and literary connections about whether it’s different dialects or different languages or some of both and about how the unique orthography depicts what’s beən sed: — Ah huvnae reid anythin this excitin in yonks. Likesay ah couldnae [bleeped]in believe it masel, ken?
              One d.)—Lots of us are going through the stages of waking up—and some of us are evolving enough to avoid being duped into reincarnating back into the matrix of the demiurge’s material realm, because the more awake we are, the less likely we are to wind up back on this [bleeped]-up planet surrounded by asleep sheep, otherwise known as the tares who make life such a pain in the assets for us wheat. We who are more “evolved”—we who are awake enough—we now see reality for what it is: unreality. Which is to say that what passes for “normal life” can now be seen by some as simulated/programmed reality, mass deception, illusion, and, well, bullshit. And just as humans herd/abuse/consume some lower life forms for their physical/carnal energy—(when the moral wrongness of this sinks in is when you become a vegetarian, of course)—there are sentient beings in a higher dimension who are parasitically feeding off of our loosh and using us for our labor. (Not to mention that some of them are trying to run a takeover plan [which may or may not include a “fake alien invasion”; and, of course, I say fake because they’re already here—and have been for millennia—and if you don’t know that yet, then you haven’t been paying attention!].) Moreover, while they’re deceiving us, big time—especially with fairytale religions like christianity—they’re laughing at us all the way to the bank, which is what David Foster Wallace called the “infinite jest” and what Goethe called the “laughter of the gods.” And this mocking, it turns out, is greatly exacerbated when they let us know partly how they’re going about their plot—which is also known as the “revelation of the method”—and which one must be pretty much blind not to be able to see, because references to it are legion, all over the place in literature, the trancebox, cyberspace, and flicks. (“It’s only a novel—”/“It’s just a movie—” my foot! No! It’s not that simple, folks: fiction is chocked full of nonfictional allusions to the occult/the esoteric. That is how it’s done.) The bottom line is the following: the lunacy of this world demands a ton of reading and studying, sitting out the mainstream, sitting out the “system,” transcending religion through gnosis, transcending the new age movement through gnosis, transforming personally, and reaching out to others.
              One e.)—Understanding what revelation of the method is is more than just grasping one key part of the Big Picture/the Implex. First, it’s crucial to see that “they”—(the previously-mentioned “sentient beings in a higher dimension” and their puppets, the “human elite,” who are actors)—“they” are parasites. Next, we need to know that they’re “required by law” from a realm beyond what we’re ordinarily used to dealing with that unless we agree to “being played,” they can’t play us. As such, they’re looking to hoodwink us into “giving our consent”—based on subterfuge, of course—to continuing to go along with this protracted nightmare trip on the holodeck, metaphorically speaking. This is partly why they “reveal their methods.” They have to. And a portion of this “disclosure” is related to literature and to entertainment/infotainment—(which is actually more propaganda than anything else)—in the following way: because they are sneaky bastards, they render versions of what is actually happening as fictional stories and they mock us with the direction in which things are really going as fiction—be it by way of a speculative novel, a thriller movie, or what have you. Therefore, it is not the case that, say, a science fiction novel is “just fiction.” Nothing could be further from the truth! And the really devious thing is that this nefarious, in-your-face technique is how they go about stripping the hidden-in-plain-sight truth of its believability, because it’s a way of getting all the numnuts who can’t wrap their brains around irony to angrily bark something like, “But it’s only a movie!” and then miss the forest for the trees. Studying fiction—(fiction that is not Reading Lite and that is not ostensibly the stuff for novice or intermediate-level readers who can’t see beyond whether or not the author “fleshes out characters” that they “can relate to”)—studying serious, literary fiction is every bit as much part of the deal of comprehending the occult/the esoteric and thereby advancing one’s spiritual journey as studying nonfiction is, folks; and those who contend otherwise betray that they don’t know shit from apple butter vis-à-vis the Big Picture/the Implex, or how literature really works, or both. There is truth in movies and novels, and lies and hoaxes in the “news,” because we live in an pլɹoʍ uʍop-ǝpısdn.
              One f.)—Although I’m not usually too much of a whodunit aficionado, lately I’ve been fired up about tackling Dashiell Hammett’s hardboiled/noir short stories and novels, ’cause even if his work seems dated, it not only utilizes the fascinating methodology of starting with a situation that is already fabricated to begin with and subsequently taking apart and eliminating all the versions of false reality out of it by degrees until what’s left is the “real” reality—(which may “solve” the case but which isn’t really real anyway ’cause life itself is only a fiction, at least in Hammett’s world [and in mine as well])—but it also happens to represent the approach I try to employ as a sorterouter: that is, I’m someone who at least attempts to plow through and figure out as much of the aforementioned simulated (programmed) reality/mass deception/illusion/bullshit that constitutes life by peeling away as many of the false layers as I can. What a cool connection! And while this methodology is not unique—other detective fiction writers, such as Raymond Chandler and Ross Macdonald, for example, employed it—Hammett’s writing exemplifies what some of the French postmodern literary theorists—notably Jacques Derrida—would have called deconstructionism: the author’s breaking down of the fabrications is analogous to the reader’s making sense of what runs against the supposed “structural unity” of the text. Furthermore, Hammett was an extremely capable grammarian: if you’re the type who insists on your writers knowing how to use em dashes skillfully, and who gets peeved when semicolons are not employed in order to avoid comma splices, and who has a conniption when required commas are missing around nonrestrictive relative clauses, you will be quite charmed with his competent, correct use of punctuation! He, along with few others—like, say, Truman Capote—was refreshingly expert in this area, having excelled in the mechanics of grammar to a level that very few living authors do. (One example of an exception, of course, being John Irving.)
              One g.)—Bornagainers are parked. On a plateau. On an exoteric, or outer-belief-system, plateau: the one where they experienced “Praize the lord! and dropkick me jesus,” which probably included visceral, “feel-good” deception from fourD entities against whom they’re not even aware they got a chump made out of əm yet; they’re on that plateau where they’re biblestudiers for a while and they “go to church” for a longer while, even though their own selfcontradictory literature says that the “church” is not something you “go to.” If this is you, you’re copping out by not doing your own spiritual work, your esoteric journey. You know, the inner-belief-system, arduous trek in which you initiate, or begin, the unhiding of the occulted, i.e., hidden, know-thyself process, which is, in turn, about studying and taking action, so you can graduate from threeD. Instead, you’re counting on some outside, sentient being to “save” you by “believing in” the notion of one component of the tripartite-yet-there-is-only-one god having incarnated into human flesh to take part in a blood sacrifice to appease another component of the tripartite-yet-there-is-only-one god, which is a fable, not to mention rationalization for not having to do your internal, spiritual work, the doing of which is precisely why your soul is here on Earthschool in the first place. Your belief system is just that: it’s a system designed to keep believers and nominal “members” parked on some plateau fighting, even killing, those who are stuck in the isms and schisms of other plateaux. This religion—the greatest story ever sold—is one of many divide-and-conquer tools being used against us, yet somehow we’re not smart enough to see this and stop participating. Why is that?
              One h.)—The “new age” is no solution; it’s another parking lot, of sorts. New agers fall for doctrines like the way-too-simplistic-to-be-true “You Create Your Own Reality” and wonder why their reality creation somehow never materializes, even though it obviously doesn’t line up with everyone else’s unreality uncreation. More consequentially, followers of new age, well-intentioned though they may be, invoke “arch[on]angels” for “protection” and study and “believe in” literature which was supposedly “channeled” from “ascended masters” and “beings of the light.” But the “light” and its “beings” are false—(which is to say they’re not “of the light”; rather, they’re “of the darkness” but disguised as being of the light)—and anyone with an iota of discernment can figure this out simply by doing a comparative analysis of the material, because it always has the same blueprint, the same Newspeak, the same you-can-write-the-script-yourself-complete-with-buzzwords, ’cause the communications always have the same cornball, cheesy message. And they’re buying this message, these gullible new agers, because they have no gnostic, intuitive sense that both “sides”—the (false) light and the dark—are illusory since this entire realm is a false duality. Even though our physical bodies exist in a falsely polarized, wrongly bifurcated, deceptively fabricated domain—the demiurge’s material realm—we tend to think that one “side of the coin” must be “good” or “right” or “of the light,” but it just ain’t so: the entire coin is [bleeped]. The only viable solution, therefore, is to select “none of the above” and learn how to transcend both “sides” by rising above this false-duality matrix with continually expanding awareness, which is gnosis.
              One i.)—I’m excited about having unearthed the short stories and novellas of Howard Phillips Lovecraft! However, while his gothic/horror/fantasy is outstanding, there is more going on here than meets the eye: when reading some of his work, notably “The Other Gods” and “The Call of Cthulhu,” the red flags of the apocryphal texts’—especially the book of Enoch’s—warnings against the watchers/the nephilim/the “archons” can’t help but stand up and wave at you, at least if you’ve done your homework; and the “Cthulhu Mythos” and the grimoire that he used, the “Necronomicon,” seem almost to be a metaphor and a playbook for the summoning in of the [reptilian/illuminati] “new world order.” Yikes. This dude really did come from an unnerving perspective and give new meaning to the word creepy! Think I’ll do my first reread, though, after I’ve perused Helena Blavatsky’s synthesis of ancient mythological and “religious” hidden knowledge, The Secret Doctrine, because it contains some of the same verbiage H. P. L. used, like Naga and the Old Ones, the terms of which are codewords for the ancient serpent race, which every awakened one here in the matrix—even bornagainers who are not yet awake enough to be former bornagainers—can just see as malevolent. But are matters really so simplistic as that? Perhaps the “evil” symbols (e.g., the ubiquitous one eye) and concepts associated with əm—legion in literature, the trancebox, cyberspace, and flicks—are merely red herrings, there to scare us away from taking the actions we need to cross the proverbial finish line.
              One j.)—You could be active in a “bible study” for many years and you’ll never learn that the Tree of Life is a map of the human soul, with the “seven seals” mockingly referred to in the book of Revelation as cryptic language for the seven major chakras (which the aliens thought’d be cute to seal off from proper functioning when they waged “war in heaven,” and which is partly why we’re not operating optimally, and lots of luck finding anyone at a churchianity who grasps that), and it’s also a representation of how the different realms/dimensions are interconnected, and even if you did miraculously arrive at such knowledge in religianity, there’d be no point in sticking around while figuring out how to traverse them, because you’re “not allowed” to delve into anything that remotely smacks of “divination” or “hidden knowledge,” since to do so would be “sinful”; or, you could try meditation—which some of us came into kicking and screaming, hating “quieting the mind,” oblivious as to how crucial it is to advancement—but somehow the backdrop of Zen or yoga or buddhaknows what all else misses the mark, seemingly locking you in to yet another “belief system”; or, you could read repetitive books by Robert A. Monroe on how to “get out of body” (i.e., temporarily enter another realm/dimension) or listen to videos about how to do etheric and astral projections, but they’re mostly from new age-leaning folks and their approach seems “old age” and tired after a while; or, you could investigate the Kabbalah, but after you’ve researched and studied for seven blue moons about how and why the Mesopotamian/Sumerian mythos and its backstory—with or without extraterrestrials having manipulated human DNA—constitute the origin of everything, even though the focus everywhere you look is seemingly deflected away from that fact, and how it all morphed into exoteric judaism (the literature of which is bonkers and which features an egomaniacal tyrant named Yahweh/Jehovah who eggs on his followers to smite everyone else, who makes out as “god” when he’s really the “father of lies” himself, and who cooks up obfuscations of the creation and other stories to hide humanity’s real roots and battles) and exoteric christianity (the literature of which is rigged not only with disinformation for the purpose of maintaining control over the masses but also with literary allusions and inside jokes which refer to the Roman “ruling class” and which are meant to mock all who misunderstand them), you’re probably not especially eager to ponder their corresponding esoteric component of the map of realms/dimensions, which is essentially what the Kabbalah is a corrupted version of, because eventually you realize why they’re not to be trusted—“they” being the zionists and their creation of talmudic judaism and its spinoff “religions,” including catholicism, islam, protestantism and its myriad subsidiaries, and even mormonism, and they’re all throwbacks to and inversions of the Mesopotamian/Sumerian mythos, parts of which are actually true, yet nobody has a clue about the interconnectedness of its history: this is how they roll folks, pitting one group blindly against the others, and if you haven’t figured this out yet then you are still being played; or, you could delve into whatever native spirituality your genetics and your race’s archetypal metagenetics already have you preprogrammed for, such that, in my case (because my ancestors were Northwestern European), the topics of Wōden/Óðinn/Wotan, Seiðr Magick, and Fuþarc Runic Sorcery make for intriguing research: they’re at least up front about the Norse Tree, Yggdrasil, in their literature, and that’s a breath of fresh air compared to the bible; or finally, you can learn how to perform power meditation by opening your third eye, cleansing your pineal gland, balancing your chakras, and experiencing Kundalini energy flows safely, because then and only then are you in the homestretch, where you can heal your physical body naturally—(thereby escaping the unhealth “system” designed with sophistry by the despicable, condoned with apathy by the clueless)—and where you can see into the etheric and astral realms, but don’t expect to get there by watching a video or two, ’cause it ain’t happenən.
              One k.)—Did yə know that the term god is loaded with a play not so much on words, but pronunciation? We English speakers pronounce the vowel as a “short o,” which is the “ah” sound of the letter a in virtually every other language with a Roman-based script. When we say “Gahd,” we’re uttering the familiar/shortform version of the word Gädre‑el, the name of the serpent “trickster.” Bet yə didn’t know that. This handy factoid shows up in the literature once, in the book of Enoch, which “they” don’t want you reading, so they declared it “apocryphal.” How convenient. (Turns out that manifesting serpent Kundalini energy is an essential experience for the advanced journeyer, but the point here is you’ve been deceived into doing something which is the opposite of your intention, and we might wannə stop being dumbasses at least long enough to find out who we’ve been praying to, right? [Me too. Chapter sixty-eight. Go.]) Then again, what’s considered not to be apocryphal is artifice anyway, ’cause the bible is not only disinfo. and inside jokes, it’s a jewish book of witchcraft, wherein the “good guy” is really the “bad guy” and vice versa; and you haftə study sedulously for almost forever until you get it that its pantheon of gahds is the same lineup that exists in The Epic of Gilgamesh and in Greek and other mythologies. And if you’re too beset with busyness to do Earthschool’s homework of studying such matters comparatively—(because that asshole, “father time” [Anu/Yahweh/Chronos/the demiurge], has you locked in to a neverending “work” schedule here in fake threeD “reality,” with its sham materialism and fake chronological time)—if you’re too “busy,” you will never graduate. Humanity is under a spell, folks. Bet yə didn’t know that either.
              One l.)—Many moons ago, having completed Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 (an excellent book) and H. G. WellsThe Time Machine (a pretty good book)—and, of course, the bare-minimum-everyone-must-read Dystopians—I thought I’d sufficiently delved into science fiction. My tune has changed as I’ve come to realize that with scifi, “they” tend, as a general rule, to reveal/divulge more of the previously referred-to method and overview/details of the Big Picture/the Implex in this genre than they do in any other, because scifi is, in part, a projection of the future. That is, with science fiction, we’re able to perceive the present better when we’re able to see where things are heading. And so, you have, for instance, a metaphorical and, at times, an even almost literal overview of the alien invasion (the real one, not the fake one) and a snapshot of paranormal/transnormal manipulation in the [ubiquitous] matrix, in Childhood’s End by Arthur C. Clarke and Ubik by Philip K. Dick, respectively. And if you’re looking for something that has the occult/the esoteric/the theosophical all over the joint, you can hardly do better than Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, which is a marvelous read even without all of those particular bells and whistles. What’s more, having gone back to Bradbury—whose work (which I learned is called soft science fiction) is debatably more about human nature and human struggle than it is about so-called futuristic technology (and thus the flipflop would be hard science fiction)—I was simply amazed with The Martian Chronicles and how successfully he pulled off so many (but not too many) themes in one neatly-tied-together composite novel. Love it! So you see, this old dog can learn new tricks; and now, I’m a definite convert to scifi, especially the stuff from the Golden Age and New Wave periods, and especially since some of it dovetails with postmodernism and vice versa. So, get what is synchronistically the right scifi book in front of you and it practically shouts the unfolding of evermore info relevant to your own search! Can you grok it?
              One m.)—Quite fascinating, indeed! How scifi and postmodernism dovetail with each other, that is. In an aptly-named nineteen eighty short story, author Bruce Bethke—whose portmanteau indeed “grokked the juxtaposition of punk attitudes and high technology”—coined the term which was to become the name of a new subgenre of science fiction: cyberpunk. Don’t let the hipness of this term fool you, because it’s even more vital and integral to everything which is postmodern than the works of the earlier Golden Age and New Wave eras. Cyberpunk—which may be defined as “pulp characterized by a mixture of moral corruption, technological obsession, ambiguous identity, and loss of bodily integrity”—is Dystopian; it is postmodern. In fact, this branch of scifi and its followup, postcyberpunk, are definitively and quintessentially postmodern, or postpostmodern, as the case may be (depending upon whether a work is pre‑ or postDanielewski’s bringing postmodernism to the end of itself with House of Leaves, or pre‑ or postWallace’s bringing postpost‑ into being with Infinite Jest [which phenomena do overlap]); moreover, and frankly, much to my astonishment upon making this discovery, cyberpunk and, in turn, its derivatives and subgenres (but excluding retroderivatives)—postcyberpunk, biopunk, nanopunk, and ribofunk—are posthuman and transhuman. You know, we’re talkən about the singularity (also called the technological singularity), a term coined in the time travel murder mystery (say what?) Marooned in Realtime, by one Vernor Vinge, none other than a cyberpunk author. (Well, color me so surprised.) For those of you who are “not into” this disturbingly outré subject, I encourage you to reconsider and get into it, on the basis of the following fact: works of science fiction by Gibson, Stephenson, Di Filippo, and Bear (among others) are not only literary and philosophical offshoots of the work of Wells, Lovecraft, Borges, and Clarke, they’re also a metaphor for, and a picture of, posthumanism and transhumanism. In other words, even though the comefrom angle of these writers is usually one of technology as being intrinsically neutral, merely part of the lay of the land, and not evil based on the intent behind, oh, shall we say, the developers, this flavor of scifi provides an allegorical map of the drive toward humanity’s being merged with machines. Too farfetched, too “out there” for yə, merging with machines, that is? Guess again. It has already started: people are, even now, in the initial stages of merging with their dumbphones. Furthermore, the push toward humanity’s getting addicted to gadgets and eventually merging with/morphing into AI is apparently the endgame gameplan, other concomitantly potential, eschatologically apocalyptic subplots notwithstanding. And even though I’ve been awake since ’ninety-seven, I haven’t had a thorough understanding of this post‑ and transhuman component of our fabricated surreality—not to mention the true purpose behind the counterculture and so-called political correctness and how all of this madness interacts in the overall plan—I haven’t had a good grasp of these parts of the debacle for very long. Then again, having arrived at a higher level of comprehension than that of the asleep sheep, having experienced an astonishing epiphany about the extremely coordinated facets of transhumanism being are all over the place in cyberpunk—such an awareness in and of itself does not prove that the AI scenario must necessarily play out, because at some point it dawns on you that perhaps even that info is just more highly coordinated disinfo, ’cause that’s how the [bleeped]ers roll. However it transpires, though, an encounter with some of the more recent literature of science fiction has resulted in my having acquired a new and radically (reactionarily?) different point of view. As such, my knowledge of the Big Picture/the Implex has been enhanced tremendously.
              One n.)—Neal Stephenson’s cyberpunk-morphing-into-postcyberpunk novel, Snow Crash, is, in part, about one, original human language—supposedly an incantational language with Magickal and transformative powers—having been confounded. I haven’t even read the book yet, but some investigative prereading reveals that this alleged linguistic disconnect harkens back to a time long before the old testament, back to the days of Ishtar, Anu, and Enki, straight out of The Epic of Gilgamesh and Mesopotamian mythology. And, apparently, at least in Stephenson’s version of the story, “they” pulled this one off, this disconnect, that is, by neurolinguistic hacking: i.e., that it was accomplished by computer programming! Fascinating stuff! So Dick was right and our “reality” has been “simulated”/“virtual”/tampered with all along? How, if at all, does this story tie to transhumanism and the fact that we’re being step-by-step “re-engineered” in the direction of merging with machines? And what about the story that the “archons” are jealous of our true, unencumbered threeD-STO-oriented abilities and they want us to be AI-based-fourD-STS-oriented like they are? How does our having been hacked so that we’re not running on the right circuits, so to speak, tie in to the bigger picture? Is there some connection here that explains why they and their human proxies (a.k.a. the elite) are orchestrating all of the insanity that we’re contending with today? Well “Praize the lord! and dropkick me jesus”; I can’t wait to get this book!
              One o.)—If you’re a big postmodern fan like I am, you can’t miss the little-known but essential pomo read Wittgenstein’s Mistress by David Markson! The entire novel scrunched into one chapter, it rides the crest of a crescendo like Ravel’s Boléro with solipsistic narrative gone insane like stream of consciousness on steroids and a whackjob of a woman who tries to make meaning—linguistic and philosophical and whatever else she can grab at—out of her fallen little world. A veritable fusion of the Hammettesque/Lovecraftian/PKDian “What Is Real?” and “Who Is Real?” queries it is indeed; now we’re cookən with gas!

About my libraryMy Interests/Concerns and How They Relate to Literature (Cont’d.)

       Two—I beg your pardon: [I Never Promised You a {Politically Correct}] “Rose Garden.” (Thanks for the inspiration, tranny Lynn Anderson!) Making so-called cultural/social progress is not all that it appears to be to many who are enlightened/educated and not logjammed by religion; moreover, we’ve lost enough of our objectivity nowadays such that we’ve become too candyass to call a spade a spade anymore, and I refuse to play along with that. (Enough already with all of the euphemisms and bullshit buzzwords!)
              Two a.)—Let’s start to see “political correctness” for what it is: it is the fascism of ridiculous, euphemistic language being ever-increasingly imposed on what used to be an unafraid, tell-it-like-it-is, plainspeaking public; it is intolerance disguised as “tolerance”; it is a type of neoGramscian “cultural” hegemony; it is so-called cultural Marxism; it is the Frankfurt School’s dismantling of majority rights and the nullifying of any criticism from being leveled against minorities or their manipulators; it is the precursor to more subversion of morality and therefore more suppression of liberty; and, most consequentially, it is the Thought Police in action. It is dangerous: everyone is in peril of losing his or her freedom—or what’s left of it, that is—when behind-the-scenes maneuverers shrewdly, nefariously deceive a whole country of asleep sheep into accepting new “ways” that come with an agenda. Pretty neato-cool stuff “they” done conjured up, this P.C. thing, huh? I mean, with this baloney, they don’t even haftə be the Speech Police, ’cause we are—if we’re gullible enough/dumbass enough to fall for it—doing the policing for əm. Talk about divide and conquer!
              Two b.)—Because of neato-cool P.C., we take the absurd issue of “transgender bathrooms,” or whatever other issue du jour there may be, we make some junior high determination of “correct” or “incorrect” about folks’ reactions to it on the basis of having run the latest litmus test on it, and we attach a newfangled label word to it as we scold them, or worse. But this tactic is not valid for the Big Picture/the Implex that we’re dealing with—(or rather, that we’re not dealing with)—because the true Big Picture is one of vast deception/illusion/fabricated reality, including the contrived falseflag events and the orchestrated, falsely polarized issues that’ve been set up to divide and conquer us. Thus, victims end up fighting other victims instead of collaborating to stop the perpetrators. (Do you see how they’ve successfully deflected us if we fall for it?) We desperately need to get over the childishness and to stop cooperating with all the new “speech taboos” which are straight out of Orwell, but it won’t happen unless we first realize what madness we’re up against and where things are heading, so what and where are that? Well, it’s the transhumanist/posthumanist agenda, and it’s accelerating toward the singularity, which means, among other things, a genderless society. Ponder the following for a moment, if you would: how can there be abiogenically-produced and genetically-modified humans which are straight out of Huxley, how can such insanity reach its culmination without the parameters of decent childrearing and the boundaries of gender categories being shaken up and broken down first? This is why children haven’t been receiving proper discipline and sufficient nurturing. This is why the oxymoronic term sexual liberation set the stage for sexuality confusion, which in turn is setting the stage for gender confusion. (So-called sexual liberation is an oxymoron because, in actuality, it results in addiction/enslavement to one’s lusts and desires, not freedom.) This is why all the lines have been and are continuing to be blurred, crossed, erased, and redrawn. Do you see it now? Over ninety-five percent of you have not the faintest idea of what we’re really up against and how enormous and coordinated it is, in part because we’ve been too busy tippytoeing around eggshells, speaking with euphemisms and buzzwords, trying to be “inclusive,” and worse yet, selfpolicing each other with our junior high, invalid P.C. pronouncements. Are you kidding me with that shit?! Here’s the deal: if we’re baby adults with not enough miles on us yet, or if we’re spiritually unawake dumbasses of any age, we end up being useful idiots to the enemies of humanity. The end. Unless, that is, we individually wake up, admit we’ve been deceived too, let go of whatever it is that’s enslaving us, and grow up. But no matter what happens, the bottom line’s like this: we gottə change our approach, peeps, or we’re screwed: if we don’t stop shooting each other in the foot with nonsense, then we’ve already let “them” win. None of the normalization of the unnatural and the demoralization of the natural—(like making it “illegal,” for instance, for parents to spank their children, which is a used truckload of bullshit if there ever was one)—none of it that has taken place could have been gotten away with if P.C. had not been in play as a significant part of their overall strategy. Do you see this connection? Come on, you can do it: enough of the pieces are out there now, so put əm together, ’cause it’ll shake your worldview up!
       Three—The “U.S.A.” is a “country” (read: corporation) with a fascist Big Brother of a “government” which is propped up and supported by a police state and its deceived citizens who have no inkling what Natural Law is; it’s a so-called government which engineers and orchestrates abusive schemes against its own people, most of whom are sheeple who do not know and who don’t even want to know; it’s a government which administers psychopathic military operations and insane psyops which integrate with the so-called archontic agenda; it’s a government through which we have virtually perpetual warfare brought to you by the banksters, not to mention the conniving zionist conspiratorialists. (And the plebes/philistines look to this wicked government to “protect” them, it never having crossed their minds, not even once, that this behemoth itself is the thing which they need protection from; and the uninformed don’t know that it’s a counterfeit republic, or, as some “alternative” researchers/truthers are saying, a mockup; and the even more uninformed, despite all the evidence to the contrary, still think that it’s a “democracy”; and the most ignorant of all—you know, the most easily manipulable and impressionable, the ones who have no clue they’re being played by crowd psychology and that they’re being tricked into giving their consent—they’re the idiots who yell, “You! Ess! Aay!” at “political” and “sporting” events.)
              Three a.)—The counterculture was a scam. An intricately coordinated-from-above sting operation, it was: social engineering that, given enough time, would get everybody behaving degenerately. “Why?” you ask? ’Cause “they”—the “oligarchs”—want absolute control, and plebes can’t defend themselves when they’re addicted to/enslaved by their lusts and dumbed-down. Look around “society” nowadays; people are just skuzzy: dressed way too casually in public, some of əm with godknowshowmany tattoos and piercings. Gross. And if you want to talk grammar and lexicon, mostly what you hear is substandard English already gone to hell in a handbasket. (Don’t get me staaht‑əd!) None of this would’ve taken place had it not been for the counterculture. But before all this distastefulness, in contrast, everybody—even the rowdier ones, the riff-raffier folk—everybody was more respectable. To take an example, look at old flicks from the film noir era. Notice how everyone was attired; there was no indecency and no trashtalk. What a different world! “Yeah but, times change,” you say. No. No, they don’t, because the construct subject/intransitive verb in the active voice/no object implies that the times are doing their own changing, in and of their own volition, which is nonsense: a nonsentient entity cannot perform its own action; rather, it is being acted upon by someone. Thus, “Times are being changed by the ‘controllers’.” The construct object/verb in the passive voice/agent provides, grammatically and logically, a picture of what is actually happening. Times do not change by themselves! They are being changed—they’re being acted upon—precisely because we have been, and are being, screwed with. Any questions? I used to think, though, that some good must’ve come out of the libertarian freeing up of the old “cultural” pressure that this so-called counterculture facilitated, because who wants everybody to be the same? How bourgeois; how anti-individualistic; how annoying, right? Wrong. It turns out that I was wrong on that. Dead wrong, but I’m not the only one to’ve grasped this as of late, because it’s part of the “global” waking up going on: sexual liberation was a psyop for addicting/enslaving everyone to his desires. And guess how “they” pulled it off? Television. (There’s a reason that “shows” are called programs, folks.) Moreover, urban renewal was ethnic cleansing. And while the roots of so-called urban renewal predate the counterculture, the point remains that these swindles, these cons, when run in conjunction with usury and predatory crony capitalism, managed to solidify political control for the oligarchs. This was their strategy. But everybody was so busy “doing the nightlife” that was ushered in by postcounterculture, late-’seventies disco—not to mention acting out hedonistic fantasies during the ’eighties—everybody was so preoccupied with “diversion” that nobody noticed we were being socially engineered. (Research the lyrics of ’eighties’ pop and New Wave music. It doesn’t take a genius to see why, given how smutty these tunes were, everyone became so hypersexualized.) We fell into the moral and economic abysses, and we didn’t even know it! Whether you realize it yet or not, the surrender of reason to passions/appetites/lusts is the moral equivalent of death; and if you don’t believe me, consult Euripides and Shakespeare. And do your homework before you write these concepts off: Did you know that some of the famous “feminists” from the ’seventies were CĪA operatives? Are you aware that “gay-rights activists” from twenty and thirty years ago, well-intentioned though they may have been, were naïve pawns being used in a game in which they had no clue what the hidden-agenda, longterm objectives were? Did you know that “psychology” and “counseling”—(talk about bullshit!)—were set up as part of a plan (mostly by Freud and other descendents of those who made a deal with Melchizedek) to become eventual vehicles for “cultural” subversion? (Let’s face it, folks: the jews are the ones who’ve owned and run Hollyweird for as long as it’s been around. They’re the behind-the-scenes and the right-in-front-of-your-face power structure in banking, in international banking, in the specially-zoned corporation known as the “District of Columbia,” and in the “culture wars.” It’s the jews, dammit, not the Wesleyan Methodists or the Plymouth Brethren, and we need to stop ignoring this fact.) We’ve been had, folks. Let that sink in. Now, what are we going to do about it?
              Three b.)—A section on the Coudenhove-Kalergi Plan will be coming right up.
       Four—Not a fan of the new soma, the ubiquitous handheld gadgets/gizmos that are:
          √   obliterating our real interpersonal communications abilities;
          √   getting everyone addicted and even more dumbed down and focused on minutiae;
          √   absorbing people in “social media” to the extent that they no longer have a social life;
          √   increasing noise pollution;
          √   violating the personal space of others;
          √   encouraging geopolitical exploitation of thirdworld countries in order to control the “markets” of rare minerals used in constructing the circuitry;
          √   killing bees and thereby dangerously tampering with the ecosystem;
          √   producing radiation that causes brain cancer;
          √   supporting the enemies of humanity and their move toward transhumanism and merging humans with machines;
          √   sending information to the towers, which are weaponized;
          √   facilitating governmental agencies’ ability to spy on everyone; and
          √   causing our young folk to have the attention span of a gnat.
—So yə still wannə stay addicted to your silly phones, dumbphones, and the latest gadgets du jour? Because, you know, you “need” əm for “business,” you just might get caught in a blizzard, and you definitely cannot survive without taking “selfies”? Are yə doən “apps” and “texts” to the extent that nothing is real in your life anymore, are yə? And you’re so enthralled by it all you’re oblivious to the fact that the towers which run this crap are killing machines, huh? You fool! The enemies of humanity are screwing us over with this stuff! Be part of the solution instead of the problem: Get yourself unaddicted—then help others do the same. Spread the word while there’s still time!
       Five—“What’s the score?!” When I was a child, I learned good sportsmanship, got exercise and fresh air, and played along for a while; when I grew up, I put away childish/counterproductive/superfluous things and puerile competitiveness and noisy drivel and mindless foolishness and endless chatter about fake, simulated tribal combat. Sadly, alarmingly, we have allowed ourselves to be deceived by a motherlode of perpetual enter‑ and infotainment that have been brought to us by those with ulterior motives. And here on all-the-world’s-a-stage planet, we’ve let ourselves become so distracted by our worship of the ludicrously overpaid players, performers, and portrayers and by our communal observance of their State festival rites that we’ve been deflected away from taking action on real issues that really matter, and that’s scary. (Yes, worship: it’s a thing of religion, not a hobby or a pastime, folks, ’cause y’all get downright ornery or possibly even physically threatening when someone declines your invitation to fellowship. Think about it.) Moreover, while it’s possibly a beneficial thing for adults to participate in noncombat sports for the purpose of getting exercise, sitting in front of the tube and watching others duking it out or chasing a ball around a field and getting all obsessed about it—as an observing nonparticipant, no less?—that’s the height of stupidity and insanity, not to mention a colossal waste of time. How damned dumb are yə? How many times do you want to incarnate back on to miserable Earthschool for having been a simplistic, materialistic doofus here, for having refused to do your spiritual journey? But by god you know everything there is to know about NOTHING, though! And you get all pissy at me and others like me because we will not come down to your level and play your version of twenty questions on your turf about all of this sports/trivia crap? Questions, of course, based on your stupid assumptions that we’re low-level enough, dumb enough, to be “fans” too? Come on already, peeps! This simply will not do. You need to step outside of your groupthink box and look back at it objectively to even begin to see just how repugnant it really is. Why do you all refuse to do that? This doesn’t make any sense!
       Six—[Please select a string quartet by Béla Bartók {the second movement of the Nº 2 is my personal favorite} and listen to it while reading this section, ’cause it’ll set the mood just right!] In re. the jobb “market”/workworld (again, jobb being a four-letter word): my, but the ringleaders sure are mighty nasty/patronizing/presumptuous/insulting/snoopy/manipulative, what with the whole thing being a penal colony/ratrace stress factory/backstabbing witchhunt and you have an ohmygod-I-don’t-wannə-get-there-that-bad commute and you’re under the jurisdiction of the Keystone Kops and forty percent of your “coworkers” are so incompetent they couldn’t organize an orgy in a whorehouse and you’re tempted to get in on “office politics” but you do so at your own risk ’cause your “playmates” are overly sensitive little darləns donchyə know so one of əm might “report” that you “don’t play well with others” and if you have a justifiable gripe about any little/medium/bigass thing all the illogical blockheads bellyache “Well I have to do it!” in a summarily dismissive tone as though that makes the whole lot legitimate and they lay it on thick at “mandatory meetings” as they try to reindoctrinate you by shoving “sensitivity awareness” or some other “Kumbayya” jazz down your throat and if you let əm know you’re not having any of their crap they assemble a little get-together in which you’re presented with a bogus papertrail because they’re too insecure to have their “authority” messed with and somebody almost always ends up trying to stifle your creativity and you have to “multitask” with seven projects on your desk eight of which were due yesterday ’cause you just got another one and the “department heads” get all irritated with you if you refuse to do “overtime” even though they’ve already stolen more than enough of your time and the telephones destroy your concentration because they ring off the hook all the livelong day (“Doo dah! doo dah!”) and the noise level always drives you up the wall before it dances you across the ceiling even if the phones are quiet for one precious moment and I never did get the memo but apparently staff infections morphed into “group therapy” rap sessions at some point and periodically your unqualified-to-judge-you “supervisor” gives you a “performance review” which is completely useless because it’s based on superficial criteria and once a year you receive a “benefits package” but you’ll need a spreadsheet/co-pilot/“legal counsel” to sign up for it or they’ll gyp you out of something sure as shit and the “payroll” people fight with you when you decline “direct deposit” but you duke it out with əm anyway because all “banks” are nothən but a bunch of robber barrons and in addition to being “understaffed” your section is also “underfunded” yet there somehow always seems to be enough moola for some greedy asshole “c.e.o.” who swindles everyone out of a bəzillion a year until he pulls the ripcord on a “golden parachute” and there’s always plenty of dough to spread around for superoverpriced snake-oil-selling “consultants” who slither in with all the latest “vision”/“mission” mumbo jumbo including a veritable plethora of lingo/buzzwords/catchphrases/assorted bullshit but there never seems to be enough funds to decently remunerate the real people who do the real work and don’t forget that working a jobb is rarely worth your while unless you’re “midlevel management” or even “higher up the ladder” but this “hierarchy” is actually a false domain in which it’s impossible to advance anyway unless you’re a brownnoser who not only bought the lie but who also actually likes playən the game and the higher up the “salaries” of these puffed-up conmen go the more obnoxious their egos become so the more asinine they are to deal with and this “management” just cannot fathom why it is not copacetic to try to make it their prerogative to put pressure on “labor” to make “charitable contributions” out of their paltry “paychecks” and everyone speaks out of both sides of his mouth because everybody is a lying actor and you naïvely think you’ll just work someplace else but it don’t make no nevermind because everyplace is this hosed and not to mention that jobbs are hazardous to your health more often than not and you might run up against a whole gaggle of have-no-shame shysters who’re running an abusive racket known as “workers’ comp” in which they send you to “doctors” who actually sabotage your case by deliberately misdiagnosing your condition or by performing malpractice on you because they’re quacks who receive “kickbacks” from crooked “insurance companies” while the aforementioned shysters/racketeers carry out their legalistic papershuffling tricks as well as other dilatory tactics on you so that they can get “richer” off of your pain and if you’re permanently or even temporarily neurologically disabled from doing what you’ve been doing for years every chump in the world is mad as a hatter at you if you don’t really wannə dig ditches next week and if you ever wind up on “unemployment” for a spell you’ll see why it’s yet another system which was obviously designed to be abusive and sometimes you might get backed into the corner of dealing with a “temp” agency but these middlemen companies should be made “illegal” because no one should be allowed to make a humongous forty–to–sixty percent “profit” off of your sweat and at some workplaces they simply can’t decide whether they want quantity work at the expense of quality work or vice versa ’cause they obviously can’t have both at the current “staffing levels” yet they’re feebleminded enough to unrealistically expect both anyway so it’s always chaos for the entire “team” and at most of these foolishly-run joints there are duplicitous “assistant managers” who refuse to hire even one more person or make alternative scheduling arrangements while claiming that the “budget” doesn’t allow for it even though the “manager” who’s hardly ever there rakes in a hundred gees and of course some goobers try to get you to be cheerful or excited about the prospects of some godawful gig with a “wage” that is clearly not in line with the “cost of living” while they’re looking at you with straight faces ’cause they’re so ignorant of what the Big Picture/the Implex is truly all about that they don’t even know enough to be ashamed of having made the suggestion and it doesn’t make any damned sense at all but everywhere you look there are knuckleheads who think that they have the right to negatively judge you if you are “on sabbatical” because apparently it’s anathema to these yutzes that you should take your own time back to do what is really useful for you in the spiritual journey that is your own life as opposed to spending all of your waking hours running around on the get-nowhere-fast treadmill of the workworld and these same knuckleheads/yutzes always take it for granted that you will play their version of twenty questions on their turf regarding their “What-Do-You-Do?” groupthink assumptions so of course you have to learn how to nip that shit in the bud before they even saw it coming and there are more than a few wives along with many teenagers out there who are willing to work for peanuts since someone else is “subsidizing” them while their couldn’t-care-less attitude or naïveté about why they shouldn’t be working under these circumstances results in screwing up the “market” on how much you can “earn” not to mention it also results in their inability to figure out why the “gender gap” never closes and there’s no shortage of imbecilic interviewers out there who are downright dimwitted enough to ask if you’re a “team player” during your little tête-à-tête which is basically pretentiousness on steroids or at least a ton of forced phoniness and these prospectively-hiring pricks seem to think it’s their affair to know your “socialist insecurity number” even though you’re not on “payroll” yet and some interviewers have the balls to tell you that you don’t qualify for their “underpaid”/“underbenefited” jobb unless you agree to “pay” a “fee” for them to obtain a “credit report” on you and you tell off these same interviewing bastards who not only don’t get that they have a lot of nerve for even having made this request but they’re also so clueless they don’t even understand that your “finances” are none of their damned business yet they get mad at you like you’re the one in the wrong and you decide to go “back to school” in order to do something more “professional” but the entire world has gone stupid nuts so it ends up making no difference anyway and if you have a few hitches in your giddyup gettən goən with a jobb in your new field in which you now have two “degrees” all the nitwits crawl out of the woodwork shriekən vociferously at yə to haste thee back to a “cubicle” or peddle fake dead animal at a “fastfood” dump ’cause they’re justdontgetits who pontificate that you’re “worthless” unless you “pull yourself up by your ‘bootstraps’ ” or do something “monetized” in order to “contribute to ‘society’ ” and all the numskulls that’re incapable of piecing together the true bottom line condescend to you that if you’re not rarən to “put out a shingle” then you must be insufficiently “entrepreneurial” yet what they fail to capiche is that such a maneuver’d never yank anyone out of the twilight zone of the “time-is-money” matrix and like an ingénue you figure you’ll work at a “not-for-profit” since they couldn’t possibly be beset with anywhere near as much “corporate” doodoo but what an imprudent decision that turned out to be ’cause they’re every bit as much beset with lies/fakery/greed and so it sinks in at long last that in this pyramidal top-down-driven world the comefrom angle of the “top” filters down everywhere so you can help no one at the “bottom” without it costing you and although it’s no skin off his nose your [former] friend gets all pissy at you for nothing but the fact that you’re not in your next virtual prison cell several months after you escaped the last one even though you can’t afford not to be choosy about the particulars of your next cell and once more you’re preparing to hightail it out of the phoniest/most obnoxious Corporation in the world maybe for good this time as an expatriate but a multitude of “permanent-record-mentality” retards who seemingly care more about your “résumé” than you do simply cannot wrap their brains around why you don’t have time to let yourself be enslaved to some jobb until two days before you leave and you have some blind-as-a-bat-albeit-well-intentioned acquaintance try to convince you that jobbs in the United Corporations of New Atlantis are just marvelous but you know that’s a load of crap ’cause you have an honorary Ph.D. in Scarcity Economics/Bureaucratic Mismanagement Assessment from one of the U.C.N.A. branches of the School of Hard Knocks so off you go to toil in a’-whole-’nother country fər cryən out loud but it’s just a different batch of shit from the same ol’ pot because this entire planet is a slave colony and this time you didn’t get fleeced out of “health insurance” but you might just as well’ve been ’cause you turned out to be “underinsured” since the bureaucratic bastards who schemed it up loaded it with loopholes and your pushy broad “boss” who lied right to your face about your “deductible” got all underhanded/queen bitchy on you when you didn’t care to “spend” your entirety of “free time” micromanaging a paperwork fiasco en español by chasing all over the city shuffling documents around and when you finally let əm know “That’s it! Enough already!” they lash out yet again out of a false sense of having their “authority” messed with ’cause if truth be told it’s just their own insecurities getting ruffled since they were never really “in control” anyway and then you have to question why people aren’t doing squat about all this madness/stupidity much less let alone not rioting in the streets especially when you consider that even most small-potatoes outfits “protect” themselves by screwing the average Joe and someday most of y’all will sit around frettən over whether what’s left of your fake fiat funnymoney will “run out” after you’ve decided to “retire” based largely on whether the evil slavemaster “government” said you could and these ohmygod-what’m-I-gonnə-do? anxieties about your leftover loot are not assuaged when it registers with you how these [bleeped]wad “companies” are formulating more gouging-you-deeper-while-scamming-you-sneakier frauds every day and you’ll end up in a “community” of nearlydeads watching some “neighbor” who apparently has more “money” than you but his mammon-worshipping relatiks will start fightən over it the minute he kicks the bucket and you’re “forced” to keep up with “health insurance” as your physical body goes to hell in a handbasket but “the system” is so badly rigged you don’t achieve solutions to your problems even if you happen upon a “doctor” who gives a shit if he’s not so full of ego like most of these assholes who wannə “treat” patients as if they’re runnən by on a conveyor belt and meanwhile you haven’t croaked yet but you’ll do dumbass stuff like demand/bellow “What’s the score?!” instead of making good use of what’s left of your time by doing something about the preposterousness of this world or by getting ready to graduate to the next and right now whether you own up to it or not you are definitely a slave if you can’t not go to work and unless you can figure out some way to rise above playing this absurd game which isn’t winnable anyway. Wow! How can this be?! To paraphrase, loosely, Peruvian postmodern author Mario Vargas Llosa, “At what precise moment did this planet get so [bleeped] up?” What’s more, even if things are going well for a while, at some jobb that is, they always turn on you, these nasty/patronizing/presumptuous/insulting/snoopy/manipulative ringleaders. Sooner or later, the lid blows, because said ringleaders are never smart enough to comprehend that the world of jobbs is a crazily-designed, controlled-and-manipulated-from-above-threeD, injurious, expensive game. They’re not wired to conceive that your human dignity and your true identity are independent of occupation and that you’re here to do a spiritual journey that is immeasurably, incalculably more important than any nine-to-five, no matter how temporarily wonderful or eventually despicable it may be. And they don’t get that these spiritual, more advanced things don’t get done when you’re spending all of your time and energy placating the fools, squarejohns, suckers, stagers, operators, “entrepreneurs,” and even “legalized” criminals of the workworld; nor do these spiritual, more advanced things get done when you’re spending all of your time and energy catering to the “money” world, which is nothing but a big scam anyway. Failing to grasp that there is more, much more, than one groupthink approach to life, failing to understand anyone who is intrinsically a principled nongamer, they retaliate, as they mistakenly perceive that you are the one on the lower level. So, every time, every place, you leave, throwing your hands up in the air, shaking your head; and you haftə wonder who in the hell they think they are.
              Six a.)—Like the alcoholic who retaliates when he perceives that his modus operandum(‑di) to drink has/have been threatened, you all are so heavily invested in the game that you become vitriolically contemptuous with anyone observant and candid enough to declare that the proverbial emperor indeed has no clothes. And even though y’all have no right to get righteous about that which you do not understand, you always insist on approaching a principled spiritual journeyer with misguided accusations, such as “Shame on you for being such a ‘victim’! Shame on you because you’re not in a hurry to get another jobb yesterday (so you can get injured some more and get “financially” screwed some more, like, right away). It’s your fault!” No! NO, YOU DON’T GET IT. It’s the other way around: you folks are the true victims—(of “the system,” that is)—because you refuse to refuse to participate. Chew on that for a moment. Consider, as well, that in all your frenzied gaming you are aiding and abetting the enemies of humanity. Thought of that yet, have yə? No, of course you haven’t. So how dare you “talk down to” anyone who sees through the charade, and is thus, ironically, the one on the actual higher level? “But we have to participate in the ‘market’!” you scream. Market, schmarket: if large enough numbers of you follow-the-herd sheeple would just SIT IT OUT, this evil mammon system of Big Brother Corporation would come to a screeching halt. But no, you folks are not principled enough, not smart enough to see that. Why is that? And why is it that everyone and his brother and his dog insist on making it their concern and their business to wannə hurry up and assimilate all and sundry back into the Borg of getting yet another jobb the minute that someone escapes the nightmare/hell on Earth of the previous one? This is ludicrous, and it has to stop. And the stopping starts as soon as we become honest enough to admit that we’ve been had—we’ve been duped—and face up to it that we have been deceitful too, both to ourselves and to others. We have chosen—all of us—to slip into a different lingo, into a different mentality, into the song and dance of impression management. We flip this switch and don its mask—many times we’ve done it. We do it the minute we write a “cover letter,” the instant we field a “business call,” the second we “talk shop.” And it’s all dishonest, lying bullcrap. And virtually no individual humanoid wants to ’fess up to this, because his selfdeception—his selfdelusion—would then be shattered. He’d have to admit that he’s been a sucker too, and more importantly, he’d have to renounce his greedy materialism, his childish competitiveness, and his “faith” in a “system” that has not merited one whit of faith. (Aw, poor little darləns! You don’t wannə lose all your fake money you’ve “labored” so diligently for? You know, the dinero that’s not worth nada anyway the instant the n.w.o.ers “crash” the “economy”? We’ll see who’s poor then, won’t we?!) We have become actors and liars to such an extent—especially in this arena of jobbs/the workworld/the “money” chase: the fakest part of The Big Lie/the matrix, for sure!—that not only do most of us foolishly, naïvely endure the offensive, insulting parameters and limitations of this godawful game, but we actually deceive ourselves into believing that we’re qualified to be the Occupation Police of and to put pressure on everyone else to accept these crock-of-shit parameters and limitations. Most of you make a virtue out of it, even. This doesn’t make any sense! And all of this insanity is called the work ethic. This so-called work ethic is one of the ways that we are being “culturally” controlled and mindcontrolled, and I have learned The Hard Way that anyone on a postreligion, postnew-age, gnostic journey must struggle through it and then unlearn it, because “employment” is slavery; and “wage”/“salary” slavery is theft of one’s time. And if you personally don’t wannə do something about any of this abomination, and/or you snarl, “That’s how it is!” then SHAME ON YOU, ’cause you are part of the problem, not part of the solution.
              Six b.)—One must not only unlearn the work ethic, but also the erroneous inclination that most of us have of aligning ourselves under fictitious hierarchies—(which are exactly what so-called money, itself a fictitious representation of energy, creates)—and “authority” in general: “authority” is fake, because it’s the result of having given one’s true human sovereign free will to some being/person/entity/organization/corporatist “country” whose “authorship” is rarely in an individual’s best interests. Staying stuck—be it by way of jobbs, a statist mindset, churchianity, the new age movement (read: just another new religion movement) or the copout of “this-is-how-it-is-so-just-accept-it” rationalization—will never bring one true success. Each individual must author his own script/write his own ticket, and, like Neo, must reject false authority in order to escape the matrix/the ratrace. So, work on your own business/spiritual journey with integrity and an attitude of get-it-done-right and help others when and where appropriate, yes; work as a shoot-əm-in-the-foot, let’s-all-police-each-other, get injured, get screwed, sheeple slave with a work ethic, all for the chase of the dollar/peso/whatever, which isn’t real ’cause it’s all an illusion concocted by the banksters?, hell no. I’m DONE.
       Seven—Donchyə just hate it when the local library can’t get the material you’re itchən to peruse/ponder next—even with an interlibrary loan setup, they can’t—’cause you’re surrounded by Steel/Grisham/Sparks fans who have never graduated from Reading Lite? (Steel and Grisham and Sparks don’t warrant links in my world.) The trouble is that no, you don’t mind it a bit, at least not the vast majority of you; such a thing has never even occurred to you. Do you understand that They Live is a documentary, not a scifi-horror flick? I mean, you know, Conform, Submit, Consume, Obey, Watch Television, Money Is Your God, Stay Asleep, No Independent Thought. Even if you don’t care to admit it, you do realize that pretty much all of you engage in every single one of these behaviors, right? Have you all been replaced by pods from The Body Snatchers, or what the [bleeped]? You’re all so caught up in postmodern and postpostmodern surreality—Baudrillard’s “copy of the original,” his “Borgesian map” that has already morphed so many times that virtually no working concept of what the original was remains—you’re all so caught up in this insanity that you no longer desire to connect with the human story. It’s our story, folks! How can you reconcile who you are with where you’re going without one little trace of your own backstory?! Who among you has read Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles? You know, the big three ancient Greek tragedians? Does anyone remember them? HELLO out there? How about Homer? And you haven’t read all three parts of Dante’s Divine Comedy just for the fun of it yet? You’d better get going! What, you weren’t an English major, so you never got around to reading Beowulf or at least part of The Canterbury Tales? You know what? That’s not just sad, that’s pathetic. Who is this “Scotty,” and why won’t he beam me up already?!

All-time Faves†

†Thanks for taking a quick look at these snippets of synopses—sans spoilers, of course—of some awesome reads that you won’t be able to live without! (That is, of course, if you haven’t read them already.)

       Why Americans Hate Politics by E. J. Dionne, Jr. (1991): a very sophisticated yet pragmatic book which will help almost anyone gain a better grasp of the “false polarization of false choices” that Americans are still struggling with today;
       The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (1939): a Great American Novel candidate, contrapuntally alternated with a skillful rendering of the loss of the “American dream” en masse is a supremely vivid depiction of one family of have-nots and their ever-worsening descent into penury and desperation;
       The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (1929): another Great American Novel candidate—this one about the degeneration of one family of haves set against the backdrop of the cruel and complex postbellum South—the seeming incongruities resulting from the shifts in consciousness, chronology, and narrative voice can be resolved with persistence and patience, and getting the sorting out done is worthwhile because a reader who brings nothing to the table and wants only and always to be a passive entertainee is not a mature reader;
       Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth (1969): having years ago naïvely thought this novel to be the most hilarious, laugh-out-loud, knee-slapper of a satire ever, it’s not so funny anymore, now that I know that the compulsion of the protagonist’s—(wait, or was that the antihero’s?)—not being able to stop shtupping the shikses and lying on the proverbial Freudian couch continually rehashing the sexologue of it all is actually a symptom of the so-called JQ and the “chosen people’s”—(yeah but, “chosen” by whom?)—deconstruction of and subsequent reconstruction and manipulation of pretty much everything, from Boas’/Mead’s systemic delegitimization of once-forthright anthropology to the Frankfurt School’s top-down infiltration of academia and their eventual creation of fake subjects beset with bullshit euphemisms like heteronormativity and bogus taboos which are real enough in terms of their consequences, to Hollyweird’s tactic of waging war on the “culture” by way of socially engineering everyone as titillated and zombified enough so that mass mindcontrol programs achieve their maximum effect—(virtually everyone nowadays thinks and speaks like, “You can’t say that!” but we’re not under mindcontrol? yeah right!)—to Wall Street’s and credit card companies’ screwing of Main Street and John Q. Public, respectively—(and who isn’t in debt up to his eyeballs anymore?)—to Washington, Incorporated’s having been franchised right out of Zion, and their running of a wicked government which has been so contemptuous of its “own people” since at least the time of Andrew Jackson—yeah, it was a riot back in the day—(this book, that is)—but now, it’s not so cute anymore, not so much;
       Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich (1984, 1993): with multiperspectivity and disjointed yet interconnected fragmentation, this postmodern composite novel about life on the rez and the restoration of hope should be required reading, especially for those of us who are from the Dakotas or Minnesota;
       Independent People by Halldór Laxness (1935): in this mindboggling epic that most readers have never heard of, a simpleminded, grumpy shepherd subsists in dire living conditions yet sedulously toils to be debt free while being pitted against obstacles, manmade and supernatural, that he can never quite grasp—this morose, complexly plotted, intense, slowgoing rare gem of a book from Iceland is worth every minute it takes to trudge through it;
       Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace (1996): another Great American Novel candidate, over-the-top, hysterically realistic, recherché madness with a myriad of funny-as-all-get-out narrative voices and finessed plotting and backstory (some of which occur in the endnotes, for cryən out loud), this weighty tome is the consummate hit-the-nail-on-the-head indictment of how pathetic postpostmodern American society has become as pretty much everyone is hooked on consumerism and escapism—(like minddumbing boobtube-watching or mindnumbing alcohol-and-other-drug using)—and deluded and stymied by ubiquitous “solutions,” like Alcoholics Anonymous, which is both bizarre and cultic, and which this novel—better than any other, ever—excoriates as being every bit as whackadoodle as the problems and their consequences;
       Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse (1922): the quintessential epiphany for anyone on a spiritual journey just might be found in this novella because the protagonist is the only journeyer smart enough to realize that since enlightenment comes from within, clinging to a teacher/guru/sponsor/mentor or to traditional religion (or converting to any new one of the above) will always be a stumbling block to true spiritual progress, because no one can ever hammer out his own answers to life’s seemingly impervious questions and thereby secure his own release from virtually interminable reincarnations by studying and following the answers of someone else;
       Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny (1967): call it scifi if you must, but it is not fantasy nor a syncretistic blend of scifi and fantasy because this superingenious tour de force is a big ol’ multitasking pomo allegory, a picture of extraterrestrials and their global establishment, right here on slavecolony planet Earth, of myth/religion—(does the research of James George Frazier, Godfrey Higgins, Zecharia Sitchin, and Alexander Hislop resonate, anyone?)—the “cast of characters” of which may be likened to the hindu pantheon of “gods” or to the cryptically-referred to “Anunnaki” in the old testament as well as in The Epic of Gilgamesh or take your pick from among the “gods” of any of the other “belief systems” which are the opiates of humans, because they’re all the same beings, albeit with different names—this masterpiece is complete with a wildride, structural metastory/metanarrative, in which the chapter sequencing is itself indicative of flashbacks of past lives, reincarnation, and eventual escape to Nirvana, and it plays out, no less, with the “gods” trying to make up their minds as to whether we humans should be granted the Life and the Knowledge so that we may be like unto them, plural: “Then the fit hit the Shan,” and, “It’s a long way to Tipperary,” indeed; and
       The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie (1988): the author, condemned to death by so-called fatwa by closeminded fundamentalist extremists merely because their part of the world has yet to go through some semblance of an Enlightenment, pulls out all the stops in this anti-religion, flawless postmodern magnum opus—complete with hysterical realism, Magickal realism, intertextuality with the qur’an, and contrapuntally structured subplots—which is easily surmountable with the accompaniment of a good annotated guide (unnecessary though, if you’re an expert in the “cultures” of India and the popculture of Bollywood and fluent in Hindi, Farsi, Urdu, and Arabic), which turns the tables on both the Brit colonization mentality and on smallminded Brits (and, by extension, Yanks), and which, most delightfully, mocks the bejesus out of islam in particular and religion in general.

Shakespeare Faves by Genre (with a little “cheating”)‡

‡By which I mean working with six genres instead of four, ’cause it’s more fun when you throw in a couple of subgenres.

       ComedyAs You Like It (1599–1600): While it isn’t the only play by the Bard that contains the notion that “all the world’s a stage,” it is certainly the drama which focuses on this theme in spades. (Ah, if only! If only people would get a clue that this expression isn’t just a metaphor: “All the world is a stage” and “they”—you know, the parasites—they are players, performers, and portrayers.) It is the perfect work of art if you’re looking for a highly complex, intricately plotted tale with farcical mistaken-identity routines. In As You Like It, twisted logic and reasoning-it-all-out ratiocination unfold against the backdrop of the matrix, where everything is deception and illusion and nothing is as it seems. This grand king of ruses even comes complete with flawlessly structured parallelism and a cryptic reference to Plato’s allegory of the cave in the final scene. And if you tell me, “Man, you’re reading too much into it”—(actually, let’s make that “reading too much out of it”)—then I’ll know that you’re still spiritually asleep.
       TragicomedyThe Comical History of the Merchant of Venice; or, The Jew of Venice (1597): Let’s take this things-are-not-what-folks-think-they-are idea and bam it up another notch: the global, parasitic, “archontic” supernatural infection operates, in part, by way of a “chosen” group of humans acting as proxies after having been re-wired to plot and scheme and make disasters out of others’ lives via a myriad of tactics—including evil capitalism and, even worse, usury. Are you spiritually awake enough to handle that little tidbit? Well, Shakespeare was, and this drama is set right in Italy, the birthplace not only of the Renaissance itself, but also of the Machiavellian monetary system which oh-so-conveniently happens to be based on the lending of debt. (A for-the-record side note: accompany this work with a reading of the playwright’s contemporary’s—Christopher Marlowe’s, that is—tragedy, The Jew of Malta, which, frankly, makes The Merchant look like a friendly cakewalk or a fancy Sunday brunch, and your understanding of this nefarious subject matter is supremely enhanced.)
       TragedyThe Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (1600): With some critics claiming that it’s the greatest tragedy—even the greatest play—ever written, Hamlet can’t be beat in terms of sheer literary beauty. Its motifs of profound pondering over existentialist despair and the spiritual growth which accompanies selfreflection and introspection are invincible as well (perhaps with The Tragedy of King Lear a not-too-distant second). Oh, and by the way, the prince’s contemplating of “to be or not to be” does not mean what virtually everyone thinks it means! It refers to the struggle of a perennially-brooding genius over whether or not to off himself, not to some nonsensical and invalid belief that humans obtain their identity by what they “be,” which is to say by what they “do for a living,” which is a bunch of balderdash.
       ComitragedyThe Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet (1596): In The Crying of Lot 49, Thomas Pynchon wrote that “love is the dumbest addiction of əm all,” and you’ll get no arguments from me: there ain’t no romantic in this corner! Yet I can’t seem to get enough of this love story which is pretty much the Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto Nº 2 of literature anyway. Written during Shakespeare’s so-called lyric period, it is chocked full of phenomenal word play, tongue-in-cheek sexual double entendre, and exquisitely beautiful sonnets. Linguistically, it’s almost as much of a crowning achievement as the comedy Love’s Labour’s Lost. Yeah, I know, it’s a tearjerker in the end, what with the deceased young lovers and all, but it is the best of sad stories, in part because it has the best comic relief ever: it is, at times, funny as hell.
       HistoryThe History of King Henry the Fourth (1597): It’s all about the fusion of history and chorography, which is a systematic description and mapping of regions or districts, in all their true-to-life diversity. He chose, the Bard that is, to leave off from the eloquent whining that prevails in The Tragedy of King Richard the Second and sequel right into a history not just about philosophical/spiritual journeying (which this particular Henry wasn’t really wired for anyway), not just about battlefields and military scenes and discoursing on the dry-as-dust seriousness of how to run a State, but about what “real” life is—including a coming-of-age Bildungsroman which is complete with a portrayal of the youthfully irresponsible, bawdy, and seedy side of life (with a little help, of course, from the fabulous Falstaff, the foolish foil of folly). All the other poets and playwrights at the time about had a fit, ’cause donchyə know y’all just don’t mix High and Low “culture”—(at least not until modernist lit. transmogrified into postmodernist lit. three and a half centuries later)—but the playgoers, frankly darlən, didn’t give a damn, and attended in droves anyway.
       RomanceThe Tempest (1610–1611): Let’s get the storm rolling by cleverly letting the idiots who presume that the deliberately contrived caste-like system of “rank” is actually worth a tinker’s damn—let’s let əm know they’re full of shit; then let’s get some Merlin-like dude who is all studied up on shamanism, sorcery, divination, and necromancy to use Magick—(which may be defined as “the art and science of causing change, whether internal or external, in conformity with the will”)—against his enemies, but with integrity, with the respectable goal in mind of forgiving them just as soon as they’ve made reparations for damages caused (as opposed to a bunch of evil “controllers,” who, since at least the time of John Dee, have used Magick to screw everybody over). Throw in some more bawdy satire and make it a review and a study of a myriad of themes/motifs from previous works, and you have the the-Magick’s-all-over farewell play that beats all other farewells.

Epilogue

       This section is undergoing deconstructionist revisionism at this time.


Updated October 14, 2018. Thanks a lot for reading!


Groups1001 Books to read before you die, 18th-19th Century Britain, 50-Something Library Thingers, 9/11 Truth, African/African American Literature, American Postmodernism, Arthurian Legends, Books that made me think, Bookshelf of the Damned, British & Irish Crime Fictionshow all groups

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Currently readingUlysses by James Joyce
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