THE PILE IN THE CORNER
John Kaminiski
This is a story for all those who write, and all those who care. For all those who see what is going on in the world, and all those who are repulsed by the lies we are told about these very same events. And most especially, it's for those who try to help those who can write about the lies they see, because both care that those lies are killing the world right before our eyes. As this kind of writer, I've known so many who try to help because so many of them have helped me.
I'm moving in just a few days, to a safer, cleaner, healthier place. After 15 years of pounding on a succession of keyboards in this dilapidated trailer grown rusty and moldy in Florida's rain and heat, the mundane drudgery of moving is further complicated by a four-foot-tall pile of paper that has accreted in the corner of my living room next to my computer table. Letters, envelopes, clippings, articles, magazines and photos from thousands of people, people who saw the lies and helped me write about them — a pile that now speaks to me grimly of the hope I promised and failed to deliver.
This dusty pile of thoughtful scribblings has grown like a toadstool over the years, from thousands of book orders back in '03-05 and 7.5 million hits on the Internet, down to an occasional "go get 'em, John!" wrapped around some small bills wrapped in tinfoil today. Like some businessman who wakes up in a strange town after an all-night drunk, I look at the pile of letters in the corner, rub my eyes incredulously, and exclaim, "What the hell has happened?"
In sorting through the many tender sentiments and names and addresses of some people who have passed away, the wrinkled paper now covered in cobwebs and dust, two conclusions have engulfed me, both tinged with regret.
The first was that I didn't thank everybody for their help. Oh, I thanked most, but surely not all. My excuse was that I was too busy, trying to comprehend the next great crisis, the next great twisted deception as the government and media lied the country into a dazed, unconscious stupor. There were so many letters, and I was so hot to comprehend this fact or that scam, that I simply didn't have time to answer them all.
Today I see that behavior as undisciplined lameness; back then I danced behind all sorts of excuses that I was just too busy, but the fact is I was too lazy and deluded by my own scattered focus on subjects that then were unfamiliar but now are second nature. There was no sense in itemizing those excuses then and there is none now.
The second conclusion is less masochistic and certainly less boring. My volume of letters, and popularity on the Internet, plummeted when I finally learned, when I finally realized, in all its gory insanity, what actually was contained in the mysterious and mostly unknown set of books called the Talmud! Precious few people know, even today, how absolutely filthy they are. How anti-human, and anti-life.
When I did that, and saw it with my own eyes — learned the basic details of a conspiracy that appears to be as old as time itself — people stopped listening. They didn't believe me. Neighbors thought I was crazy. Radio hosts stopped calling. Websites and publishers dropped me like a scalded spud. "Surely you don't mean all of them?" came the inevitable refrain, and its inevitable followup: "You must be a hater."
Prior to that dark epiphany, I was firmly on board with the general run of counterculture wannabes, us would-be political analysts whose egos tend to compel us to deny there are facts we do not know or influences that throughout our lifetimes we have simply been too naive, or too busy, or to set in our ways to admit that we don't understand, including many facts most of us have still never heard a word about.
Back in 2003, having long since grasped the reality of the 9/11 coverup, I was prattling about arresting the president for the obvious megacrime in which he was clearly complicit. While the country was locked in a patriotic fervor to "git them terrorists" I was seeing a cynical vaudeville of transparent lies, and freaking out that people were accepting them as "just the way it is."
Ten years later and several million unnecessarily dead people later, the situation has not changed. The same plastic fabrications, the same clumsily constructed lies — all of them demonstrably false — still rule people's minds.
One thing I've learned during the past decade is that there are two realities at work here.
One belongs to the intrepid hackers and bloggers on the Internet, who in reality control only a tiny share of the world mind. The rest of the spectrum belongs to the measureless legions of beer drinking geeks, controlled by auto parts and fanzines and the eyeshadow dolls on the tube who convince them that there are terrorists in their own neighborhoods. These people will march against anyone the tube tells them to hate.
The real problem, as I've said before, are the intelligent and successful types, who have established their place in society by conforming to the bogus rules they've been given, and can't challenge those rules without sabotaging the illusory affluence they have worked so hard to procure. Those are the people who might not have believed the 9/11 lies, but accepted them anyway lest their comfy lifestyles be adversely affected.
So now most of us know where this willing self-deception has taken us — torture, drones, unprecedented prison populations, genetically modified health, and a president with no verifiable history saying he can kill whomever he wants.
But these were not the people who wrote all those letters I now sort through in the pile in the corner. These were people who cared. Yet, when I told them the truth, they went silent.
The one satisfaction I have in all this is that today, there are many more people sounding like me as I sounded back then. Though still far short of sufficient to avert the colossal catastrophe that is unstoppably headed our way, it's no longer taboo to discuss Israel's bloody fingerprints all over American foreign policy, or even that homosexual Jews run most of America's universities, as well as the White House and the Congress.
But all this is still is taboo in Congress, in any government setting, on any university campus, in any mainstream magazine, on any television station, in any tax-exempt Christian church, or in any business, to do so. So the mindlock I've talked about for so many years in so many stories is still firmly in place in the minds and on the tongues of the vast majority of Americans.
And because of that, we are all doomed.
Doomed to a future of artificial reality, with perverted religious zealots fighting each other over trivial fictions, with a murderous government exterminating dissidents at will, with deliberately caused environmental disasters ruining the honest lives of hard working people, with an endless flow of lies shaping the minds of our poisoned children, with people in positions of responsibility deliberately ignoring — and in the cases of doctors, lawyers and judges — people dying for want of fair treatment.
So as I look through this pile of hopeful entreaties and encouragement, sincere letters, beautiful cards with sincere sentiments, an almost violent, unassuageable rage comes over me.
I comprehended what had happened to us when I understood what was in the Talmud, I told you about the mindlock, I told you about people who thought they were safe by mastering a few prayers but forgetting about compassion and all the rest of it, and for that effort I was banned, ridiculed, slandered, and ignored.
So don't come crying to me now. When I told you the truth, you went silent.
And one day soon, you will surely see what that means . . . if you haven't already.
Of course, you can't end a story that way. And reflecting on this pile, maybe I can't end mine that way either.
When all hope is gone, people still need hope, the courage to face another day, if they still have one. Or at least to have someone to reason with in the solitary darkness. In days gone by I've castigated this tendency as delusional, as exactly the kind of self-deception that compels so many to acquiesce to the lies we're told, and with a shrug of the shoulders conclude that nothing can be done about them.
That's why, since the beginning of time, we've invented spirits, infused inanimate objects with personalities and worshipped them, and killed other people and things to defend our right to regard these inventions are real and sane.
The argument that this is the precise reason we're in the fix we're in doesn't hold water to the person alone and bleeding, so we acquiesce to the artificial reality, try to hide from it as best we can, and concoct shrewd strategies to convince ourselves that no matter what happens, we will live forever in some dreamy happy place, never admitting for one fleeting moment that this is the precise the reason all those innocent people, including us, will continue to die their unnatural and premature deaths.
So keep talking to your invisible friend, and watch the people who really need help die from lack of care.
Thank you all for your wonderful letters, but I can't help thinking that you missed the most important part of the message, and still do.
John Kaminski is a writer who lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida, constantly trying to figure out why we are destroying ourselves, and pinpointing a corrupt belief system as the engine of our demise. Solely dependent on contributions from readers, please support his work by mail: 250 N. McCall Rd. #2, Englewood FL 34223 USA.
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