CIA, journalists, Aaron Rogers, dogcatcher CEO of Pfizer, God

by Jon Rappoport

November 19, 2021

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OK, look, we have to keep this dialogue simple. I’m from the CIA, 30 of you are from major news outlets. We can’t all talk at once. So you, Sam, from the Post, and I are going to go back and forth and try to sort out some of issues we’re dealing with here.

Marty, I hate to say this, but the big elephant in the room is God.

What?

Stay with me. People are having dreams in which God appears and tells them not to take the vaccine. I had one, too. He showed up in bright light and said I was risking my life if I took the shot. So I want to know: is some rogue element of the CIA piping that dream into lots of people?

Of course not, Sam. That’s ridiculous.

Well, when you put God together with loss of jobs because of the mandate, people getting fired because they won’t take the shot, you have a devastating one-two punch. This is more than interruption of supply lines. This is potentially, say, a million people deciding one day to show up at a governor’s mansion and protest. We’re on the edge.

Where the hell are you getting this information?

Polls, surveys. Of course, we’re not releasing the results. And then there’s the fact—which we’re also covering up—that millions and millions of vaccine doses are sitting in storage, expiring, because people won’t take the jab. The official vaccination rates are bullshit. They’re really much lower than advertised.

Well, speaking for the CIA, we’re worried about the vaccine mandates. They’ve gone too far. Raising too many hackles. People don’t like to get fired for refusing. They don’t like losing their livelihoods. What the hell were Biden’s string pullers thinking?

And then idiots like the CEO of Pfizer, Albert Bourla, who’s a VETERINARIAN, a dog doctor, gives a speech to the Atlantic Council, and says people who spread vaccination disinfo should be in prison. Meanwhile, the BMJ takes testimony from a Pfizer whistleblower who says the clinical trials of Pfizer vaccine were an incompetent mess and full of lies.

So what are we going to do?

Everybody’s excoriating Aaron Rogers because he won’t take the vaccine and he violate rules by appearing at a presser without a mask…but at the same time the players on the field are unmasked and they’re spitting on each other and clawing at each other and falling all over each other during the game and there are 75,000 people in the stands and hardly anybody is wearing a goddamn mask. It’s ridiculous.

We have to hope the great unwashed public stays deaf, dumb, and blind.

I wouldn’t count on that. We might need a war as a distraction. A real shooting war. Can we cook up a deal with the Chinese? Maybe something in Taiwan. You know, limited. No more than 10,000 deaths. A five-day war. Then a negotiation. A new trade deal.

I was thinking of a high-level assassination. A European leader. A hunt for the unknown assassin. Everybody gets in on the act, blaming this group and that group. Splash it big. The number-one story in the world.

Or Joe Biden shows up naked walking across the White House lawn in the middle of the day. The man totally lost it. He’s done. He has to resign from office. But he’s a hero. He sacrificed his mind to save the world from Trump. Statues. Memorials. He and Nurse Jill retire to a farm in Delaware, and are never heard from again.

Putting Kamala Harris in the Oval Office? Are you kidding? Nobody knows what she’d do. One day she might wake up and have people paint the White House black.

But that would be good for us. A massive distraction.

This supply line crisis, and rising oil prices. Not good. They only add to the general unrest. The American people aren’t going to sit still for major food and heating shortages.

Can we engineer a shocking global heat wave? You know, prove climate change is real. Then, energy quotas for all nations, a UN mandate-treaty to—

No. We need a distraction that doesn’t make the situation worse. A naked Biden on the White House lawn is pretty good. The President in his birthday suit.

We need to act fast. This vaccine is maiming and killing large numbers of people. It’s a disaster. You can’t keep that a secret for much longer.

How about a trans thing? You know, turns out that Chuck Schumer is actually a woman?

Wouldn’t hold the public attention for more than ten days.

Right.

How about the Pope makes a new announcement. God told him to tell the world to take the vaccine. This time, the Pope isn’t just making a personal recommendation. It’s coming straight from God. It’s ex cathedra. Isn’t that what they call it when the Pope issues one of his “infallible” commands?

He’ll never go along with it. He doesn’t have the cojones.

There’s always the Cary Grant test.

What’s that?

It started out as a thought-experiment. I think some guy at MIT dreamed it up. If Cary Grant told the world to jump off a cliff, how many people would actually do it?

How does that apply?

Say a very popular movie star takes the vaccine and then right away becomes deathly ill. With his dying breath, he says, “Take the vaccine.” You know, the sympathy factor kicks in. His adoring fans line up and take the shot.

I don’t think so.

All right then. There’s only one other choice.

You mean—

Yes.

I don’t know. It could be very dangerous. We’d be walking a narrow line. We’d have to marshal all our forces to stick to the same story.

It could be done.

The feds quietly order every testing lab in America to change the sensitivity of the PCR test. Rig it so the number of positive tests—indicating infections—takes a major drop. I mean major. Then the White House—Fauci—says we’ve turned the corner on the pandemic. The vaccine has saved us. We can relax. And gradually, over the next few months, the mood of the media lightens. Lots of good news. Fewer and fewer people pay attention to the vaccine mandate. The pressure is off. Fired workers are taken back on the job. Oil prices drop. The supply lines are restored.

Right. We might have to do it. Although we’d hate doing it. I was hoping for at least ten years of sustained horror.

Sometimes you take your wins and cut your losses and live to fight another day.

Hey, we rigged the PCR test to get all those millions of fake cases…so we just rig it the other way now.

There’s one problem. We still have massive numbers of injured and dead people as a result of the vaccine.

No problem. We call those “deaths from the virus.” And as fewer and fewer people take the vaccine, those injuries and deaths decline rapidly. The real problem is getting Bill Gates to climb onboard with our solution.

I think we can handle that through Melinda. She tells Bill if he doesn’t play ball, she’ll start talking to the press every damn day about his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. Paint Bill as a total pervert. I think she’d enjoy making that threat.

I still like naked Joe Biden walking across the White House lawn.

We all do. Maybe we could stage that as a bonus. One day as he steps out of the shower, a Secret Service guy tells him there’s a new plan to build an all-girls prep school on the White House grounds and he has to come see the layout right away. Joe is so excited, he forgets to get dressed. Next thing you know, after a little push, there he is, on the lawn, walking around…

Even if we tell the people the pandemic is finally under control, we can still push through biometric ID passports for everyone. That means wall to wall surveillance of the whole population. Where they go, what they do, how much they spend on what, who they talk to.

The only thing that can stop us is all-out refusal by the population to do what we tell them to do. Complete rebellion.

And that’s not going to happen, is it?

We’ve got the “not-me” phenomenon on our side.

What’s that?

I person says, “Well, I’d be willing to rebel, but other people aren’t, so what I do won’t make any difference. Therefore, I’ll do nothing.”

Good one.

If God is coming to people in their dreams, so is the “not-me” proposition.

They’d desert God for a Slurpee and a burger. I hope.

Me too. Call to Duty by God versus a Slurpee.

Kind of disgusting when you think about it. Almost makes me want to go the other way.

Yeah.

Suppose, just suppose we put some money and organization behind these protests against the mandate. Got, say, two MILLION people to surround Gavin Newsom’s house in California one morning. Boom. He’s such a repulsive little putz. Bullshit smile, all those teeth, he really “cares” about people. Two million people on his lawn. And the cops are on the people’s side. Think we could pull that off?

Kidding? Of course we could if we wanted to. And then, in a panic, HE would come out through his front door naked and babbling in terror.

I’d pay major bucks to see that.

I have to tell you something. When you finally figure out how to torture people, really mess with them, make them knuckle under…and then you actually DO it and it works…

The thrill goes out of it. Right?

Yeah. It does. It’s not nearly as exciting as you thought it’d be.

So you start thinking about going the other way. Freeing people. Making the guys we work for—the arrogant tinpot bastards—pay. In spades.

Just because we want to.

And maybe the Founders had it right when they tried to install freedom.

And maybe God isn’t crazy.

Well, well, well. How about that.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Fauci: a conversation in Hell

by Jon Rappoport

November 5, 2021

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Soon after his passing, Fauci found himself in a small office. A desk, two chairs, a floor lamp. The carpet was worn. The paint on the wall was peeling. A young man wearing a white tropical suit walked in and sat down behind the desk. He motioned Fauci to a chair.

Where am I?

This is Hell, Tony.

Thank God.

Really?

Of course. This is where the party is, right?

You could say that.

For years, I’ve been conducting private experiments on orphans. Trying to develop antibodies against Heaven. The results seemed promising, so I’ve been injecting myself every morning. You know, whatever works.

We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.

Good. Can I check into a hotel?

We have a room for you in the fortress. It has a view of the lake.

Just one room? I’d prefer a suite. How is the room service? I’ll need aides. I want to set up a lab.

You’ll spend a great deal of time in a lab, Anthony. As a subject.

A subject? Of what?

We run experiments around the clock.

For purposes of enhancement? Life extension?

You don’t need extension. This is forever.

What then?

We have a schedule for residents. On Mondays, we’re doing high-dose AZT trials. We’re calculating the rate of body breakdown. As you know, the drug stops all cells from replicating.

I helped pioneer the drug. There must be some mistake. I conduct and organize studies. I don’t participate in them as a volunteer. That would be madness.

The other Monday option is six hours on the rack. Body-stretching. It’s an extreme form of Pilates. You get one break for a vegan meal, two shots of wheatgrass, and ten minutes of chanting led by a failed Hollywood actress in spandex.

Something’s wrong.

Maybe you’ve been wrong.

About what?

Let’s see. Where to start? You helped lead the world into masks, distancing, lockdowns, economic devastation, a highly toxic vaccine.

There was a pandemic.

Anthony, there’s no need for obfuscation. You’re in Hell.

I take the Fifth. There was a plan. I helped carry it out. I was an administrator. It was my job. I followed orders.

You profited handsomely.

You have no idea. I made out like Rockefeller.

We know, Anthony. We’re not distracted by limited hangouts or cover stories.

I have no intention of becoming a subject or a victim. It’s below my rank and status. Talk to Hillary. Talk to Bill Gates.

We have a program specifically prepared for Hillary. Bill is a different story. He’s one of our active agents on Earth. When he finally makes port here, his arrogant ego bloated beyond all reasonable standards of propriety, he’ll require a step-down protocol designed by the Marquis.

De Sade?

None other.

This is starting to sound like a nightmare. There HAS to be a mistake. I deserve my rewards.

Do you have any idea how many I’ve heard that in this room, Anthony?

I’m a master of designing protocols and studies. I could help you.

Now on Tuesdays, we feature a forced march through thriving soldier-anthills and snake pits in a driving rain.

But Jesus is my Savior.

I doubt that.

Why?

Because you’re here, Anthony. The proof of the pudding. Remember the studies on orphans in New York, at the Incarnation Center? The body-ripping AIDS drugs administered by coercion and force? Through intubation? Many of those children died. Your agency funded the studies.

Okay, look, that’s why I’m saying I can help you. I know how to do that work.

On Wednesdays, our residents can opt for a massive breakfast of methamphetamine, after which they crawl through dark tunnels and fight it out for access to a room where attendants are standing by with counteracting injections of Thorazine.

That’s horrible.

You’ve done worse, Anthony.

But I wasn’t on the receiving end.

Giving, receiving. A few of our scholars propose that, in the larger scheme of things, Hell is merely correcting an imbalance in Nature.

Talk to Biden. He’ll vouch for me.

Biden? Really? Even if we wanted to, he’s non compos mentis.

Does that mean he’s not responsible for his own actions? He’ll go to Heaven?

Good one, Anthony. We like jokes.

Did you hear the one about the rabbi performing brain surgery on the priest? I’ve got hundreds of medical side-splitters. Do you need a court jester? I can dance and sing.

Oh, you’ll dance and sing, Anthony. Now, Thursday is straight immersion in the lake of fire. Or you can opt for being strapped in a chair and sprayed with chemicals that bring on a whole host of profound respiratory symptoms. Not being able to breathe results in some very interesting reactions. While this is happening to you, you’ll be forced to watch news anchors on television describing these symptoms as caused by a virus. For fourteen hours straight. It’s quite delicious.

Again, you’re talking about the kind of medical ops I administer. I can help you refine the parameters.

Our pros, Anthony, have been at this for a very long time. They know their business, believe me.

I’m Doctor Prestige. The most famous people in the world come to me for advice, on everything from experimental brain implants to nose jobs. Wherever I go, I’m celebrated. Feted. Showered with accolades and applause. Prime ministers want to kiss my ring.

And you’ll reconnect with some of those prime ministers in the tunnel of meth, scratching and clawing and biting and ripping your way toward a shot of Thorazine.

I’m having a dream. This is a dream.

That’s what everyone thinks. Until they don’t. Given your Catholic upbringing, I’m surprised you’re so surprised by Hell. Think Dante. The Inferno.

One of my Jesuit teachers told me Hell was just a con, a strategy to control the rubes and yokels.

Never believe a Jesuit, Anthony. Like the CIA, they wake up in the morning and they go to sleep at night lying.

And who are you? Who are you to consign me to a fate worse than death?

I’m the assistant director of Human Resources. I started out cleaning the horse stalls for the Riders of the Apocalypse and worked my way up.

I could work my way up. I’m very diligent. I can fill vials. Prepare injections. Sweep animal cages. You know, when I was a child, I wanted to be a door man at a fancy apartment building, so I could wear a uniform. I could be a greeter. Hold umbrellas for people in the rain while they’re getting in cabs.

We do have some former researchers who work in cages with animals.

You see? I could do that.

I wouldn’t exactly call it work. We lock the researchers in cages with animals they used to torture.

My God. Has anyone ever escaped from here?

There are a few stories. According to legend, Heinrich Himmler, Reichsführer of the Nazi SS, almost made it in 2005. He was a few miles from the Unknown Forest, when he happened upon a group of gay Jewish men who were organizing a Pride event. One of the men recognized him. We might have surveillance video footage in our archive. I’ll see if I can dig it up. Now let me show you to your room. As I say, it has a nice view of the lake…

I have money.

We’re cashless.

I have connections. I’ll give you their phone numbers.

Don’t be silly. We’re bloated with connections.

I’ll give you my honor. Or dishonor. I’ll give you my soul.

You’re here, Anthony. We have you. Whole. Sliced and diced. Every which way. Now come with me. It’s a short boat ride to the Fortress along the river of ammonia. Don’t forget to put on your mask. I’d recommend two.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Here comes the COVID Judge; staging life

by Jon Rappoport

October 8, 2021

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In the 45th year of lockdowns, under the dome of Mars Colony Two, in the city of Fauci, an appeals court Judge held a private hearing, for the purpose of questioning Dr. Wen Ho Goldberg, an eminent NSA psychologist on loan from the Earth Universal Surveillance Program.

Dr. Goldberg, let me summarize the situation. On Mars, the Great Awakening took place 25 years ago. We realized there was no virus, the tests were meaningless, the case and death numbers were largely the result of relabeling traditional lung conditions and calling them “COVID.” And yet, our citizens PREFERRED living under lockdown and carrying on the better part of their lives virtually, without personal face to face contact. So the lockdowns have become Culture.

Yes, your honor, I understand. And you want me to offer an opinion about what would happen if you tried to force the citizenry OUT OF lockdown mode.

Correct.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

That’s it?

If you force people into public spaces, you’re going to get fear and panic, crime waves, acts of terrorism. In lockdown mode, people are compliant and calm.

Yes, compliant. But we’ve also noticed the consumer indexes are trending down.

Ah, I see. So that’s the real problem. People are buying fewer goods.

Exactly.

Maybe they already have enough stuff.

Regardless, Doctor, we have to rescue the economy.

You need a threat.

What?

Some kind of threat that makes lockdown mode seem dangerous.

What would that be?

A fake brain disease, perhaps. “New studies claim that brain cells are dying as a result of living indoors for long periods of time…” “People who are communicating online with bots but believe they’re human are experiencing organ failure…”

I see, yes. Force people outdoors. Then we could stage massive sales events and trade shows and job fairs and—

And circuses with violent contests. You want to channel public fear of physical life outdoors into spectator events. Gladiators. Wild animals. Blood. Death.

We’d need lots of propaganda promoting freedom.

As distasteful as that might be…yes.

Doctor, I think you’re on to something.

Let me paint a picture for you. This colony is isolated. It has a unique opportunity to stage a vast experiment. Lay out a rerun of 3000 years of human history.

What does that mean?

Your honor, think of it—you can put your population through the high and low moments of the past, in serial form. The codification of Roman Law, the birth and death of Jesus, the Middle Ages, the rise of the Catholic Church, the Renaissance, the—

You’re losing me, Doctor.

You have the pattern. History. Stage it all over again for your people. In sequence. Repeat it. Of course, you’ll need to start out with a huge depopulation program. But that’s easy.

Are you out of your mind, Doctor?

Not at all. You want action. You want to take people out of lockdown mode and virtual life. So why settle for a momentary solution? Look at the long term. Think big.

In practical terms, what you’re suggesting would impossible to pull off.

Really? Back on Earth, we still have between 5 and 6 billion people who believe the virus is real and the pandemic is real and the poisonous vaccine is the cure. That’s quite a hoax to stage, wouldn’t you say? Now, with a few memory-erasing drugs, and a depopulation campaign, you here on Mars could lay out any kind of program you want to. You, your honor, could become Augustus, emperor of your Colony.

I could?

Of course. Why not? You could create Rome all over again.

You ARE completely nuts, Doctor.

Of course I am. That’s what it takes. YOU’RE the problem, sir. You and the other leaders of your Colony. You’ve gone soft. All civilization is an experiment. Get that through your head. Here on Mars, the COVID experiment has reached the end of the line. So you need a new one. You don’t like restaging history? All right, try climate change. Claim that indoor living is creating a huge humidity problem. It’s reached a critical mass. You need to adjust oxygen levels under the dome. People need to open their doors and walk outside.

That might work.

You can dream up a hundred plans that would work. You have an open field. Use it. Reshape your higher education system. Make advanced degrees in advertising and consumer spending the apex of intellectual achievement. Educators are whores. They’ll go wherever the money flows.

You really think we could re-stage all of human history in, say, 20-year epochs?

It’s quite a vision, isn’t it? Yes. You could make it happen. The Dark Ages. The Great Plague. The two World Wars.

Doctor, if people somehow got hold of the details of this conversation we’re having, they’d say—

They’d say we were two crazy old men who should be locked up in a psych ward. Well, that’s good for us, right? We have the perfect cover. Here’s the capper. Back on Earth, the CIA has a step-by-step plan for restaging history. I can make that plan available to you.

Really?

Yes. And you would become the chief conduit. The Master of the Transformation.

I like the sound of that.

Of course, you would have to agree to certain conditions.

And what would those be, Doctor?

Well, to boil it down, I would run you and the CIA would run me.

I’m your dog, and you’re the CIA’s dog.

That’s right.

And together, we stage LIFE for the people of this Colony, for, say, the next 500 years?

Exactly.

We put them through the highs and lows of past history. A rerun. As if it all never happened before.

Yes.

And this stimulates the economy and—

It does a great deal more than that, your honor. It gets people MOTIVATED along many fronts. Adrenaline flows. Survival is on the line. Adventure returns.

But why can’t we just open up life in our Colony and invent new futures that might be more exciting than anything that happened in the past? Why can’t we give REAL freedom a chance?

Because then we would lose CONTROL.

Yes, but losing control could be the most exciting thing of all.

Your honor, maybe you’re not the man for the job I have in mind.

No, no, Doctor, I’m just airing out the ideas that come into my head. This is all so new. I’m thinking it over.

I have a list of people here in the Colony. They’re all candidates for the job. If you don’t want it, I’ll be moving on.

OF COURSE I want it, Doctor. What do I have to do first?

Sign an official oath and pledge. The Past is better than the Present. The Past is better than the Future. The masses must never learn the Past, they must live through it, over and over…”those who don’t learn history are doomed to repeat it”…we will make that into Reality….


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

When you take a Person’s Mind

by Jon Rappoport

September 28, 2021

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From a great distance
You see little puppets down there
Injecting RNA into arms
Faces behind masks
People locked up in their houses
It looks all very normal
As if people have always done this
But when you swoop down
And take a person’s mind in your hands
And turn it over
And really look at it
You see eternity
Reshaped into a toy
That buzzes
This mind couldn’t be what it is unless it was once ENDLESS
This is obvious to anyone who looks
In fact there is a museum of misshapen minds
Relics of bygone ages
Examples of how you could take infinity and drop it down into compartments and weasel holes and mazes and dead end alleys at midnight
Each “new” mind is a system
Bells and lights and buzzers
Always looking for add-ons
Because you see
A planetary vaccine campaign is really just an extension of misshapen minds
More bells and lights
From a great distance the whole thing looks like
A giant tinker toy
It’s only when you come much closer
Do you see the swollen hearts and the blood clots
And the dying
And the weeping

I have a collection of my own minds I used to have
here and there, now and then
MY minds
I take them out once in a while
When I had THIS mind I thought THAT
And when I had THAT one I thought THIS
And believed THAT
So many times and places
Too many to count
These minds will get a person embroiled
In all sorts of trouble
He’s inside a mechanical buzzard feeding on dead ideas
He’s crawling up the steps of a cathedral like a toy soldier with a hernia to listen to the sound of velvet Pope money rustling under robes
He’s clanking like an old rusty robot into a doctor’s office
And a nurse injects genes on to his iron arm where they sizzle like end-stage breakfast in a pan in a lost diner…
This is called CIVILIZATION
This is what people are doing to each other
700,000 vaccine injuries in America alone and you can multiply those reports by a factor of 100 to get the real number
And now in Massachusetts they’re testing babies
Churches are saying the Lord is all right with vaccination
The Sunday bells are ringing
Take the shot before you receive the blessing
Some toy minds are shaped into killers
They’re issuing the edicts
And lining up with shields and truncheons on the streets
And some minds are believing television news
And submitting with pride
On the lawns of Concord, where the first shots were fired in the American Revolution
They’re now injecting children with RNA
It’s a Saturday picnic
Balloons, pony rides, ice cream, a laser show in a tent
A bald man with a drooping moustache calls in the President through a bullhorn
And the old doddering leader shuffles into view, a ghost, gazing around him in wonder, looking for his childhood or his doctor or a penny piece of gum…


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Lockdown dream and the Tibetans

by Jon Rappoport

September 27, 2021

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A person I knew a long time ago
Or so it seemed
Came back to visit me
We were sitting in his car
On a busy street
A block away
A hundred thousand
Protestors
Were facing off with cops in military gear
My visitor said
“I’m selling vaccines now and I think you’d be
A great member of my team
We go door to door
And peddle a shot in the arm
To prevent the plague”—
Someone threw a grenade
It bounced twice outside the car and exploded
He and I were floating in space
He was a salesman on the road in the sky
Hawking his product
He had interplanetary ambitions
He wanted to spread segments of RNA
Across the Milky Way
He said, “Remember that night at school
I got drunk
And tried to burn down the dorm?”
It all came back to me
He was the guy who was always
Sitting in class writing notes to himself
Making drawings
Talking about poetry
And now
This
A man on a narrow mission
To save the stars
We were in a spaceship
Speeding past
Forests filled with animals
And floating cities
People were shooting at us
“Suppose there’s no place to land?” I said
“We’ll find one,” he said
He voice was big and confident
He was smiling
Happy
And I was The Witness
It was my job to document
A stretch of time
In which things had changed
He took out a syringe
And slapped in a vial
And shot himself in the arm
His face turned blue
And he went into spasms
Then he straightened up
And took a deep breath and let it out
“Nothing like it!” he said
“Puts a jolt into you to start the day!”
His blue face faded to a dull green
“I have to feed this to the natives,” he said
I said to him, “You’ve gone interdimensional”
“That’s what my whole life was leading to,” he said. “A different
Form of death. This is the big lesson.”
“A lesson for who?”
“For everyone who’s tired of the every-day grind, who wants
Adventure. You realize how many people want to throw in
The towel?”
We were sitting in an old dusty theater. The lights were on.
A tall naked to the waist chieftain wearing a large headdress came down the aisle and stopped at our row. He ignored me
And said, “Did you bring the shit, Bob?”
Bob looked down and pointed at
Three suitcases.
“It’s all in there,” he said.
The chief broke out into a wide grin
It reminded me of Bill Gates’ Howdy Doody smile
—AND THEN I SAW what the old Tibetans
called the Great Void
everybody looks around and tries to figure out what to do
because the long hustle of discovery is over
and all the explorers have been paid off
There is nothing left
except a few magicians
living in cold mountains
punching holes in space-time at will
In Lhasa they were faced with that Nothing
and they turned to it
and finally saw universe
is a product
of mind
they sat in the holy rivers of energy
and took apart the river and the energy
too
down to Nothing
sat in it for
indeterminate length of no-time
stopping all creating
because they could
and then emerged
those few
magicians in the cold wasted hills and
and said WELL
if all you folks want to elect a billion reincarnated hopalong cassidys
as your presidents go ahead it doesn’t matter
we’re out here on the edge
inventing and destroying dimensions
—–I chained my old college friend Bob to his seat in the theater
I lit the suitcases on fire
And said to the chieftain
“Your connection just went null, pal
This is the new regime
Freedom
If you to try to grab it
And mold it
It burns”
I walked out of the theater
Busy street
And hailed a taxi
I rode over to a deli on 53rd St.
went inside, sat down, and ordered the brisket
Nobody was wearing a mask
A waitress who looked 80 years old
Brought over a plate and set it down
There was nothing on it
And I mean NOTHING
It was The Void
And she said
“You can have it if you want to”
And I said, “Not just now”
“It’ll wait” she said
And winked at me
And it was all right
I floated through the deli
And back out into the street
The night is long
The worm is turning
The cops are starting to realize they want to stand with the anti-vax protestors
A cop cracked a man’s skull
The man is in the ICU fighting for his life
The sadists know no bounds
But neither do we
I know the mountain where I once was
And the valley where I am now
And the sky in between
I’m looking at the line of cops in their military gear behind their shields
And I can see they’re terrified of the NOTHING
And now they’re falling into that NOTHING
And screaming
Because they have no one to smash to prove they exist
And they keep falling
And falling
And hundreds of thousands of us walk through them
On our way to Grid Central to turn the lights back on


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

The Last Performance

by Jon Rappoport

September 23, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

You’re sitting in a theater.

The actors on stage are engaging in some kind of dispute, but you can’t make head or tail of it. An invisible THING appears to be the issue, and it won’t go away.

One actor wants to build a church to it. Another actor wants to run and hide.

At moments you almost grasp the THING, but then it slips away.

Perhaps it’s a lost relative.

A wind blows across the stage. A pile of leaves stir. Autumn. The trees in the forest are going to enter mock-death. The two actors, against their better judgment, are weeping. They seem to be looking past the footlights at you for an answer. This is silly and sentimental. Why are you here? You could be walking the dog or cleaning out the cellar.

Somewhere—was it an office—there was a clock on the wall and you were there watching it, waiting for a clerk to come out of the back room and hand you a folder.

You were young and you were running on a playground for no reason. It was early in the morning. July.

Now on the stage, a doctor appears in a surgical gown. The two actors giggle. They roll up their sleeves and he gives them an injection. They strut around, as if they’ve won a prize. Through a window at the rear of the stage, you can see a deserted city street. A policeman walks out of a bar, sits down at the curb, and taps his night stick on his leg.

You can’t remember how you got into the theater. Did a friend give you a ticket? Did you receive a message ordering you to watch the play?

You take out your cell phone. You check to make sure you clicked the lock on the drone in the garage. You scan the battle cruiser in the China Sea. All quiet on that front. There is a message from the President’s aide. Don’t forget the meeting tomorrow morning.

Now you realize you’re having an episode.

You stand up and move along the row, walk up the aisle and come out into the empty lobby. You call the White House doctor.

He says, “You took the second shot this morning. You’re having an adverse reaction. Where’s your driver?”

You walk outside. Your driver is standing next to the car. You wave at him. He takes out his phone. The doctor is telling him to take you to Walter Reed.

You’re on a gurney. They’re wheeling you along a corridor.

You hear a voice. “Mark it down as a COVID aneurysm.”

They’re injecting you with Versed. They’re going to intubate you.

In a moment of extreme clarity, you realize you’re not going to wake up. They’re not going to let you. They’re going to put you on a ventilator, and you’re going to stay under and check out of this life.

Your 63 years seem very brief. You were on a stage arguing with someone, and that was that. What was the issue? Something about a germ, a virus. Ridiculous.

You were supposed to be an expert on the subject. But there was nothing to be expert about. There was only a small fading idea.

It’s all right. You’re immortal. But it seems quite mad to have been guiding the nation on its response to a vaporous notion.

How did that happen?


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

The blockbuster movie called Reality

by Jon Rappoport

September 23, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

There is always a certain amount of whining and remorse as one enters the theater to see the movie called Reality.

“Is this a good idea?” “Why did I buy the ticket?”

But you can already feel a merging sensation. The electromagnetic fields humming in the theater, even before the movie starts, are drawing you in.

Your perception of x dimensions is narrowing down to three.

You take your seat. You look at the note you’ve written to yourself, and you read it again:

“Don’t forget where you came from. Don’t forget this is just a movie. Don’t fall asleep. The serial time in the movie is an artifact. The binding feeling of sentimental sympathy is a trance-induction. It’s the glue that holds the movie fixed in your mind.”

“The movie will induce nostalgia for a past that doesn’t exist. Don’t surrender to it.”

“You’re here to find out why the movie has power.”

“You want to undergo the experience without being trapped in it.”

“The content of the movie will distract you from the fact that it is a construct.”

The lights dim.

On the big screen, against a gray background, the large blue word REALITY slowly forms.

Suddenly, you’re looking at a huge pasture filled with flowers. The sky is a shocking blue. You can feel a breeze on your arms and face.

You think, “This is a hypnotic weapon.”

Now, the pasture fades away and you’re standing on an empty city street at night. It’s drizzling. You hear sirens in the distance. A disheveled beggar approaches you and holds out his trembling hand.

He waits, then moves on.

You look at the wet shining pavement and snap your fingers, to change it into a lawn. Nothing happens.

You’re shocked.

You wave your hand at a building. It doesn’t disappear.

Incredible.

You reach into your pocket and feel a wallet. You walk over to a streetlight and open it. There’s your picture on a plastic ID card. Your name is under the picture, followed by a number code. On the reverse side of the card, below a plastic strip, is a thumbprint.

There are other cards in the wallet, and a small amount of paper money. You look at the ID card again. There’s an address.

Though it seems impossible, you remember the address. In your mind’s eye, you see a small cottage at the edge of an industrial town. There’s a pickup parked in the driveway.

It’s your truck. You know it. But how can that be?

You walk toward larger buildings in the distance.

Three men in uniforms turn a corner and come up to you. Behind them emerges a short man in a business suit. He nods at you and holds out his hand.

You know what he wants. You pull out your wallet and give it to him. He looks at the ID card, at you, at the card again.

“You were reported missing,” he says.

“Missing from what?” you say.

“Your home. Your job. What are doing here? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you say. “I was…taking a short trip. I’m just out for some air.”

“In this part of the city?” he says. “That’s not smart. We’ll take you home. Our car is right over there.”

One car sits on a side street. In large red letters printed on the trunk is the word Concern.

You walk with the men to the car.

Waves you’ve never felt before are emanating from it.

Mentally, you try to back up from them. You feel a haze settle over you.

In the haze dance little creatures.

You look at the short man in the suit. He’s smiling at you.

Suddenly, his smile is transcendent. It’s so reassuring, tears fill your eyes.

You’re thinking, “They built this so I would be lost, and then they found me. I’m supposed to be rescued. I’ve never experienced being rescued before. I never knew what it meant.”

You hear faint music.

It grows louder. As you near the car, you realize you’re listening to a chorus and an orchestra. The rising theme is Victory.

One of the uniformed men opens the car door.

You nod at him.

“My pleasure, sir,” he says.

The music fades away.

The scene shifts.

You’re standing next to the pickup in your driveway alongside your cottage.

You’re home.

Think, you tell yourself. What’s going on?

Now, as you walk into your cottage and instantly remember the rooms and the objects in these rooms, the sensation of Familiarity, slightly out of phase, grows stronger.

You realize you’re supposed to feel tremendous relief. This is what’s expected of you.

It’s expected of everyone. They live with one another through the touchstone of the Familiar. They share it like bread.

They keep coming back to it. The Familiar is a sacrament.

It’s built in. It’s invented through…it’s stamped on every object in this space…

…In order to suggest you’ve been here before. To suggest you belong here.

You see pure space that…

Has been placed here. For you.

And at that moment, there is a small explosion behind your head.

And you’re sitting in the theater again.

The movie is playing on the screen. All around you, in the seats, people are sitting with their eyes closed.

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn. It’s an usher.

“Sir,” he says. “Please follow me.”

He leads you up the aisle into the lobby, which is empty.

An office door opens and a young woman steps out. She strides briskly over to you.

“You woke up and came back,” she says. She gives you a tight smile. “So we’re refunding your money. It’s our policy.”

She drops a check in your hand.

“What happened in there?” you say. “What happened?”

She shrugs.

“Only you would know that. You must have done something to interrupt the transmission.”

“And the rest of those people?”

She looks at her watch. “They’re probably into their second year by now. The second year is typically a time of conflict. They rebel. Well, some of them do. They rearrange systems. They replace leaders. They promote new ideals.”

“I had such a strong feeling I’d been there before.”

She smiles. “Apparently it wasn’t strong enough. You’re back here.”

“How do you do it?” you say.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That’s proprietary information. Did you meet your family?”

“No,” you say. “But I was in a cottage. It was…home.”

She nods.

“If you hadn’t escaped, you would have been subjected to much stronger bioelectric bonding pulses. Do you have a family here?”

You start to answer and realize you don’t know.

She looks into your eyes.

“Go out to the street,” she says. “Walk around. Take a nice long walk for an hour. You’ll reorient. It’ll come back to you.”

“Why do you do it?” you say.

“Do what?”

“Sell this trip.”

“Oh,” she says. “Why does a travel agent book a vacation for a client? We’re in that business.”

You turn toward the exit. The sun is shining outside. People are walking past the doors.

You take a deep breath and leave the theater.

The street is surging with crowds. The noise is thunderous.

You notice you’re carrying a rolled up sheet of paper in your hand.

You open it.

It’s a non-disclosure agreement.

“If you return from your movie experience, you will not reveal or discuss, under penalty of law, anything about its nature, substance, or duration…”

You look at the sheet of paper, make up your mind, and it bursts into flames.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

The Galactic Tribunal grills Bill Gates

by Jon Rappoport

September 14, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

We don’t know how Bill Gates was transported to a Galactic proceeding, and we only have fragments of the interrogation. But because no court on Earth would deliver justice, those distant powers intervened.

A judge read an unusual opening statement, which apparently is presented before every trial:

“In our high civilization, we’ve fulfilled the ancient prophecy, THE LOST SHALL BE FOUND. There is no barrier between those of us who live here in the flesh and those most close to us who’ve departed this life. We experience joy with them in dimensions far greater than this. Why then do we bother to conduct these trials? Because we also fight for justice. We will not turn our backs on that ideal.”

FRAGMENT 1: …Mr. Gates, it’s time for the truth. How long did you plan the pandemic before launching it?

Why am I forced to tell the truth?

Because this is a place for conscience.

Will you torture me if I decline?

We’ll keep asking until you answer honestly, no matter how long it takes.

Who can I pay? I’m rich.

Denied. We don’t want money.

How about land? I can deliver you a large colony on Earth. A whole country. Maybe even Europe.

No.

I could create a medical system for you that would dazzle your minds. On Earth, the Nobel Committee should give me the Prize for my efforts, but they don’t have the balls. Did Melinda put you up to kidnapping me? I demand my rights…

FRAGMENT 2: …The pandemic narrative was simply the occasion for establishing a worldwide dictatorship?

We needed a pretext. There were many meetings over the course of 25 years. We decided early on that a medical story was our best option. It appears to be politically neutral.

On Earth, the modern religion is science.

Exactly. So if we could get out in front of that trend and create a medical scenario of threat and impending destruction, we could apply just enough coercion to control the population.

But you weren’t conducting real science.

We were inventing the appearance of it. We had so-called experts in our camp. They would take the lead. The masses have no way of distinguishing science from fantasy…

FRAGMENT 3: In the planning stage prior to the declaration of a pandemic, what were the vital elements?

I’m most proud of our messaging organization. We had the news media. We had government leaders. We had recognized medical experts. But you see, in that type of operation, you can’t afford defections. The seal has to be tight. Ours was. Over the years, through money, through influence, in some cases through threats, we had built a network of unity and compliance.

You’re proud, you say?

Why, yes. It took work. Much work. You don’t lock up all the key sources of information on a planet overnight.

So it was the message you were aiming for, rather than the truth.

Of course. There was no pandemic. We had to make it seem there was. Convincingly.

You were heading a sales force.

Exactly. The whole idea was to make the buying compulsory…

FRAGMENT 4: …You had planned the lockdowns?

Years in advance. Then, at the right moment, China pulled the trigger, setting the example. When my World Health Organization praised China, other nations followed suit and imprisoned their populations.

So the Chinese regime’s lockdowns were definitely part of the advance planning.

Yes. That was crucial. The government there wasn’t fully on board with the globalist future we set our sights on. China is, first and foremost, for China. But we had enough cooperation from them to make it work.

And social media? You had them on your side from the beginning?

That was easy. Their leaders are willing and compliant. They’re afraid to go against our medical consensus. And they’re globalists. In the long run, they want world government, too.

As do the controlled media?

Yes. Putting the right people in place in the news industry has been a decades-long proposition.

You wanted a planet that was a prison.

Yes.

And the pretext again?

The scenario? There is a deadly virus sweeping across Earth, and in order to stop it, we have to lock down countries…and then inject everyone with a vaccine.

But there was no virus?

Among us, there were arguments on both sides of that question. But if it existed, it certainly wasn’t any more dangerous than the flu. We had to make it seem very, very dangerous.

Through pronouncements to that effect.

Yes…

FRAGMENT 5: …You want depopulation?

We have to have it. You can’t run a planet when 8 billion people are living on it. It’s impossible. The vaccine is the weapon. But not just the COVID vaccine. Vaccines before it and those coming in the future.

And all those deaths will be laid at the door of pandemics?

Yes. “The virus did it.”

And you’re willing to murder all those people.

Hard choices dictate the outcomes of events. A better life for some, rather than a terrible life for all. That’s my choice.

Are you listening to yourself, Mr. Gates?

I always listen to myself.

FRAGMENT 6: …I want to return to the messaging effect you created. It’s difficult for us to understand how you managed it…why so many leaders in their fields went along with your false science.

It was a combination of things. Many people are true believers. Scientists talk, and they believe. Other people wanted money. We paid them money. Certain resistant politicians were threatened. We set an example with several assassinations. As you build a consensus, you reach a threshold where the tide is in your favor. Then people ride it with you, out of fear of excommunication if they don’t. Media leaders were given to understand that the pandemic was the gateway into a global governance system. And the system was inevitable.

What about Anthony Fauci?

He’s a little man, a striver, who wants to be accepted in elite circles. I recruited him a long time ago…

FRAGMENT 7: …You yourself have given much money to media companies.

I praised their work, gave them money, and they showed loyalty to me. You see, life runs on stimulus-response. I make use of that principle on a worldwide basis. My colleagues and I provide calculated stimuli, and the population, in all areas of life, responds as we predict.

You view humans as machines.

Well, they are.

But you and your colleagues aren’t.

We’re of a higher order. We can stand outside stimulus-response and operate the levers.

As you sit here, Mr. Gates, you don’t believe you’re confessing to crimes. You’re proud of what you’ve done.

Of course.

Listen to me carefully now. We know enough of what you are, in order to pass sentence on you. But we know a great more than that. Like every individual, you have a greater dimension. We could show it to you. We could compel you to experience it. If we did, you would come apart at the seams. You would understand your own evil actions in a way that is undeniable.

…I don’t like the sound of that. What are you talking about?

I think you have an inkling of what I mean. The experience we could compel you to have is one you yourself, on your own, will come face to face with, some day. Not in your present life. Afterwards, at some point. There is no telling when, but it will happen.

You mean some supposed higher power will force it on me?

No, Mr. Gates. It’s much worse than that. You’ll force it on yourself.

Why would I do that?

Because although you’ve embraced crime and destruction, somewhere inside yourself you also understand The Good. And in that understanding, you can potentially live in joy and peace. As anyone can.

You’re not making sense.

You’re beginning to see I am making sense.

I don’t like this.

Why would you like it, given what you’ve made of your life and lives of others?

You’re trying to pass off some kind of religious nonsense on me.

Far from it. We don’t have churches in this place, Mr. Gates. We don’t need faith in things unseen. We’ve already seen.

I want to go home.

You will.

You’re not going to kill me?

So you can blame us for what you’re doing to yourself?

You’re insane.

We’ve opened up just a bit of light here for you.

Why?

Because although we’re a just people and don’t need justice for ourselves, we will exercise it on behalf of others, who’ve been harmed.

This is ridiculous.

Even the worst murderers have it in themselves to become good. They can cross that bridge.

No they can’t.

We can hear voices, Mr. Gates. Many voices are telling us to put you to death.

Then why don’t you? Go ahead.

We’re doing something much worse. We’re imposing this sentence…YOUR FATE IS IN YOUR OWN HANDS. That sentence is real. It carries weight. As you’ll discover.

It’s meaningless.

Take Mr. Gates away. He’s about to become ill. Take him home…

You don’t have the courage to kill me. You’re cowards.

I’ve heard that refrain from hundreds of murderers in this court…they all want a quick death. We don’t give it to them…

Kill me.

Take him home.

You did something to my mind.

We heard your confession of crimes. Mass imprisonment and murder.

Then destroy me. I throw myself on the mercy of this court.

Goodbye, Mr. Gates.

This is just a dream.

If it is, it’s your dream. You have to ask why you’re presenting it to yourself…


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Virologist Appreciation Month; pop the champagne corks

by Jon Rappoport

September 9, 2021

(To join our email list, click here.)

Actually, the remembrance month I’m proposing has a longer title:

“All Virologists and Molecular Biologists, And Doctors Who Are Neither, But Pretend To Be Both, And Dr. Deborah Birx Who I Understand Has Just Been Promoted From Cashier To Waitress In A Diner Off The Pennsylvania Turnpike Appreciation Month.” Thank you all for your service, we love you!

At a recent global virology conference in Davos, I interviewed Dr. Petunia Marigold-Regression about her work in the CDC Deli Lab in Brooklyn.

How’s the baloney?

We’re pushing tons of it out the door.

Did you isolate a new coronavirus, SARS-CoV-2?

We don’t isolate anything. Nobody does.

What then?

We sell STORIES about isolation.

Did you sequence a new virus?

We pretended we knew what the new coronavirus—if there had been one—would look like. We used old RNA sequences, by which I mean DATA, from research libraries, and utilizing a computer program from who knows where, we cobbled together a picture of a genetic sequence.

You sold another story.

Correct. We have house payments to make, and our kids attend shockingly expensive Ivy League colleges.

Your impression of Anthony Fauci?

He’s a bureaucratic god. Knows nothing about virology. He’s a master at working the system. We bow down before him.

So no new virus—which makes the test and the case and death numbers and the lockdowns and the vaccine all meaningless.

Right. The masks and the distancing are also absurd.

Why are you doing this?

Because it’s our profession. We’re Good Germans. We learn the language of lies and we use it. It’s either that or working as garbage collectors on the shoulder of some highway.

How much do you make a year?

With pharmaceutical perks, about 300 grand.

Do you sleep well at night?

With the drugs? Sure.

Do you dream?

I only remember one recurring dream. I’m being tortured in Hell.

What does Hell look like?

Mostly, a big department store. I’m always looking for lipstick, and I can never find it. And I’ve lost my platinum credit card.

Are you married?

For 20 years. My husband thinks I’m some kind of genius. He has no idea I sit in the lab all day and make up stuff.

Will you ever tell him the truth?

Are you kidding? I don’t deal in the truth. I have a strict policy about relating to other humans. I make up lies about the fact that I make up lies at work. It’s a two-tier system.

So why are you letting your hair down with me?

It’s amusing. No one would believe you if you reported what I’m saying.

That’s your protection.

A long time ago, I learned that the big con is the best con. Also, one lie naturally leads to another. Once you begin, your path unrolls before you like a red carpet.

You would have done well at the CIA.

I work at the CDC, which is the medical CIA. The CDC has infiltrated more media outlets and governments than the CIA could ever dream of penetrating. If I create a really useful lie on Monday, and it’s approved by my bosses on Tuesday, on Wednesday it’s transmitted to news organizations and government agencies from Greenland to Tierra del Fuego.

There’s a rumor you’ve been in talks with the Disney organization.

Yes. We’re developing a superhero-villain animated series for children. The hero is a chimp who looks like Fauci, and the villain is a vicious drunk who inhabits dark alleys. His name is Spike Protein.

Have you taken the vaccine?

You’re joking, right? I wouldn’t go near that thing. My whole family has a medical exemption.

Based on what?

We’re allergic to nanoparticles. One day we were all in the lab taking a tour, and a beaker exploded and showered us with nanos. We started blinking and glowing and for a few hours we lost about 20 IQ points. For example, I started believing my colleagues and I were actually discovering new viruses—that’s how dumb I became. Fortunately, I recovered after my daily jog.

Why do you think people are so fixated on viruses?

They need enemies. What could be worse than “tiny and invisible?” It’s the ultimate horror movie. If you try to tell them it’s all a fantasy, you’re kicking them out of the theater. That makes them unhappy. In my personal experience—I pretend I’m a liberal—liberals are hypochondriacs. A few little symptoms and they have to see a doctor. So they’ll believe anything they’re told about viruses.

You’re basically an actor.

Good point. That’s right. I’ve signed a contract. I’m in the film. If I back out, I’ll never work again. Let’s say they cast you as a cop. You’re on the set. All of a sudden, there are script changes, and the director comes to you and says, “We changed our minds. You’re now a dirty cop who deals heroin.” Are you going to say you don’t want to play that role? You have moral misgivings?

In the movie, you’re called to the White House. You’re in the Oval with the President. He says, “Doctor, the virus is out of control. My people tell me we’ve got 72 hours to come up with a vaccine or we’re all doomed.”

I say, “Yes, sir. We’re working to develop it right now. We’re using the antibodies of a man who just recovered at Walter Reed. It’s a long shot, but we’ve got a fighting chance.” The President says, “Somebody recovered?” I say, “Yes. He’s a janitor at a local school. Works himself to the bone to support his family. Ironically, he once tried to get into medical school, but because he’s an Eskimo and doesn’t read English, he was denied admittance. But now he has a chance to become a hero for the whole world…”

Have you taken the PCR test?

Eight times. Just for the fun of it. Even split. Came up negative four times and positive four times. I’ve framed all the notices. They’re hanging in our bunker.

Your what?

The upscale bunker in Virginia, where the important people go in case of a global catastrophe.

And you’re on the list?

Of course. At the lab, we have a little inside joke. After the flood or the attack from outer space or whatever, the only people left on the planet are virologists. And none of us knows how to change a tire or repair a broken wire or read a compass or plant a seed. Our only public skill is giving lectures at conferences.

I was told the Google Home Page was considering using your photo to announce the celebration of Virology Appreciation Month.

Yes. The day before the photo shoot, I spent hours in makeup. I had my hair done and redone. And then Google decided to go with Louis Pasteur.

He worked with bacteria.

Bacteria, viruses. Close enough. Think about this. Pasteur was researching milk and wine, trying to find out why they went sour. And decades later, we have a process of protecting milk called pasteurization. I mean, what are the odds? That’s an incredible coincidence.

It’s not a—

Anyway, I have to get back to the lab. We’re developing a meat substitute made out of spiders.

You’re supposed to be—it’s a virology lab.

I know, but Bill Gates is putting money into fake beef.

I had a few more questions about DNA and RNA.

DNA, RNA—we throw those terms around like cooks slinging hash in a diner. Remember, the map is not the territory. And if it’s a fake map, there is no territory.

That’s a cryptic answer.

I’ll just say this. Don’t assume we can take some tiny, tiny particle and slice and dice it perfectly and put it into a human. Plus, there are always unintended consequences. Ripple effects. Some ripples are trivial, others are dangerous. The truth is, we’re liars. If you start there, you’ve got a firm foothold.

That almost sounds like you want to be exposed as a charlatan.

Part of me does. Carrying my role in the movie gets to be an onerous burden over time. Here’s a metaphor. Think of me as a drug trafficker whose business is expanding by leaps and bounds. Every month, I’m shipping more freight. The risks are multiplying. Thousands become millions become billions. Once I was worried about a single truck on the highway from San Diego to Chicago. Now I’m keeping tabs on a cargo ship pulling into the port of Miami.

Does the COVID RNA vaccine really force the cells of the body to manufacture one and only one protein every time? The “correct” protein?

Who knows? Can you find a large study that takes thousands of people who’ve received the shot and analyzes their cells to see what new proteins are being produced?

I’ve looked for that study. I don’t see it.

Well, that should tell you something. We don’t like studies which compare our work with the real world. We want all “knowledge” to come straight from the lab.

Where no outsiders are permitted.

Bingo.

Congratulations on Virology Appreciation Month.

Thanks. Good luck publishing this interview. I have an editor friend at The New York Times. I’ll give you his contact info. Send it to him. He’ll get a chuckle out of it. I’ve spilled the beans to him many times.

Of course, he never prints a word you say.

He works for the CDC. We both do. I’m pretty sure the guy who picks up the garbage at my house works for the CDC.


Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)


Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.