The hidden hands of manipulation have been at it for centuries with no plans to stop. The dream of escaping their unfolding nightmares of problem-reaction-solution, and abandoning the farce of an Idiocracy is no less valid whether for Hemingway in 1921 or any disillusioned American man in the twenty-first century because every Expatriate is at his core a dreamer. He will insist otherwise with an air of outrage, but he is lying.
Historically all Empires decayed into tragedy.
This rise of an Idiocracy within an Empire of Lies dances into the twilight as if it’s winning, always winning, ending the historical run of tragedies with a monopoly on comedic acts of deprivation and demoralization that usher in the permanent farce.
How Alexander Hamilton...
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The farce is a unique subgenre of comedy. It is represented as absurdity, exaggeration, nearly improbable, and unfathomable circumstances expressed through slapstick comedy that rises to a crescendoed climax:
Eight million illegals are invited across the U.S. border with Mexico in three years with the help of something called “Border Control” and are given new phones, $5000 debit cards, and one-way plane tickets on major airlines to the city of their choice with Department of Homeland Security paperwork that assigns their first court date for 2029. The illegals are given their dedicated security lines at airports while citizens have to go through long lines, and are patted down and molested by regime foot soldiers in purple gloves with sub-90 IQs. Soon the illegals with slightly lower IQs, capable of speaking rudimentary English will be able to work as Police Officers in some states and cities, policing the behavior of the legal citizens who pay their salaries. Illegals now get free taxpayer citizen-subsidized healthcare in California.
The paralysis sets in slowly while witnessing a failing empire spinning off an axis at maximum velocity away from common sense. The triteness of pretending along with others that this isn’t happening nudges the Expatriate on a mission to seek out new frontiers free from madness and anguish—free from the cultural insanity, the political insanity, and the social rot that nurtures despondency.
The quest is born.
The dreamer knows he cannot change others who are either barely literate or barely conscious, and incapable of even seeing the farce. So he must seek to change only himself, to end the paralysis and stasis borne of playing his role in the farce.
He starts with a different theatre—fresh surroundings.
At the risk of sounding elusive and general, or implying that this farce only recently manifested, let us embrace specifics from this century alone.
A Raytheon missile hits the Pentagon. Towers crumble in New York City in defiance of chemistry and physics. The right people know in advance what is coming and how to profit from the terror—the new label that will be applied to the phantasmagoric “evil” gleaned from intel pigs at alphabet agencies working with behavioral psychologists.
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The Costs of War: Amer...
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Blame is arranged for innocents. Stories are told. Narratives are sold and bought en masse. Accomplices in the form of dancing Israelis are questioned and released. They return to their apartheid ethnostate and make confessions on TV talk shows.
The Bin Laden family is given a first-class private air escort under FBI protection across the United States and back to Saudi Arabia while all other flights are grounded.
All the evidence from ground zero is hurried to a warehouse with military protection until it is loaded on ships and sent to China for disposal with not a single examination or investigation.
For the next decade, invasions that were planned and scheduled in the years before the century began, unfold inorganically, but Idiots of the Idiocracy can’t see it.
Innocent men in far-off lands are rounded up, stripped naked, and hung inverted like dirty laundry. Extraordinary rendition is lawyered into actionable policy at the Department of Justice for the cause of securing the homeland.
Idiots repeat the prepared mantras with ritualistic vigor: “You’re either with us, or you’re with the terrorists!”
The uniparty strokes its bloated patrons simultaneously with right and left hands.
