Recently, retired Lieutenant General Thomas McInerney informed the WVW Broadcasting network that the seizure, in Frankfurt, of a Scytl server containing proof that President Trump’s re-election was stolen by Chinese, Iranian and Russian forces, was in fact carried out by members of the elite Delta Force, who engaged with the CIA team defending the server. The firefight resulted in five KIA, but the mission was carried out, and soon the truth about the corrupt 2020 presidential election would be revealed.
This clicked right in with an audience primed by “Q” and the great network of conspiracy theory that has developed in tandem. The WVW Broadcasting audience received the information enthusiastically.
Alas, I have to say I find the idea that a full-scale gun battle occurred in the middle of a major German urban area, with all of this successfully scrubbed of nonparticpant notice, to be unlikely. I just can’t tamp down the little voice of skepticism.
This has always been my problem with conspiracy theories.
There was a time in my life, about 1996, when I made serious study of conspiracy theory, delving into sources like Feral House’s Secret and Suppressed and William Cooper’s Behold a Pale Horse. That time culminated in “The Christmas Conspiracy Caball”! But at no point in that period did I ever think I was receiving actual forbidden knowledge. I found the stories fascinating, but something kept me from embracing them. I could spot the flaws, the jumps in logic, the argument from word association. I could sense the apophenia at work.
Which is not to say that I lacked a healthy appreciation for how weird life can get. I learned a lot of concrete real-world information from that period, about Propaganda Due and Michael Jon Hand and Operation Paperclip. The trick is that events do happen out of the public eye, and evil does exist.
The task of epistemology in our day is to distinguish between weird shit that’s weird enough to be true and shit that’s just a little too weird.
During the 20th century, the conspiratal urge in America swung from right to left and back to right again. In the 50s, the John Birch Society suspected practically everyone, right up to President Eisenhower, of being a Communist mole. Then as the Sixties turned into the Seventies, the momentum went toward Mae Brussel and The Realist, delving into the Kennedy Assassination. As the Reagan Era closed, the baton passed back, to those who dreaded the Black Helicopters.
It’s hard to believe the guerrilla ontology of Robert Anton Wilson is being enlisted to keep Donald Trump president, but maybe the real message of the Illuminatus ethos is that life will always be weirder than you expect or want it to be. Or perhaps Donald Trump is the ultimate Discordian figure, rejecting all traits of rational thought and embracing all-centering chaos. Personally, I’d like a little rationality and normalcy. In an irrational universe, it may be foolish to be rational, but it can also be a comfort.
The Library You See in Dreams 