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Tuesday, 8 May 2012

The Hidden World of Slavery, freedom is your choice...(Part I)


Namaste Brethren, as many of you know I have been busy writing my trilogy of books. I find it difficult to squeeze a blog in, so I have decided to invite you all to share in the rough draft of the chapter I am writing on Joe the twenty first century slave.

Some of you may remember the seed of Joe being incubated in a blog I posted last year. I feel the subject is important and worthy of your consideration. I suspect the blog will run six installments, I hope you learn a little, think a lot and possible even make some choices toward a better future. This post offers an introduction, whilst the second installment will cover the framework of elite enslavement. I will then illustrate many aspects of modern slavery, mind control and subjugation. Wrapping it all up will be "ponder this", a series of observations, conclusions and solutions.


"The Hidden World of Slavery" freedom is your choice...    



Consider what type of person you might have become if you were not enslaved?

Pardon me, you mean to suggest you are not a slave?

I can understand your sentiments, not even ten years ago I would have expressed much the same opposition.

Slavery began with primal Homo Sapiens whereas wounded and captured survivors often were enslaved by conquering tribesmen. Progressing through stages of societal development, we find villages grew to become cities, in time, great nations formed. Keeping to scale, history suggests limited tribal conflict morphed into regional conflict, which in turn paved the way for the development of full scale organized war. Conquering heads of state reap the rewards of victory by harvesting nations of people like one would a field of wheat. Slavery soon became so ubiquitous the mere appointment of weakness in a human, community or race translated almost instantly into a life of servitude. Slaves of yore knew their place in society, resistance was futile, their fate assured. The physical reality of chains, beatings and repression was very apparent. Knowledge of ones servitude naturally gave rise to aspirations of freedom.
Moreover it is this prospect of freedom which demanded the slave master maintain vigil over his property. Like a cork submersed in water, a constant pressure must be exerted to keep the cork from rising to the surface. This archaic form of slavery meant the master must deflect the continual pressure exerted by the natural drive for freedom. History provided great leaders with countless lessons in human husbandry. The management of slaves became a study of psychology as much as a manifestation of physical power.

Two hundred years past, it would have been easy for you and I to identify the enslaved from a group of free peoples. Shackled, chained, beads of sweat forming rivulets which dance down dark muscular bodies. Master, whip close at hand, snaps orders under threat of bloody violence. Framed by the guise of emancipation, history yields more than it's fair share of yellowed, dog eared photographs, prevailing as steady reminders attesting to the depths of our collective depravity. Bygone veins of cruelty, whence exposed, leave us questioning the unchallenged viciousness of the beast within. Focusing on our distant future, what information will we have captured on metallic memory discs? Moreover, will the tales of today be faithfully rendered by historians tomorrow, or will history continue to be penned by self serving agents of deceit?

I can envision a twenty fourth century teenage girl blowing dust from an archived disc as she painstakingly researches slavery. Our young lass, recreating history for her grade ten class, speaks to the many components of slavery's final expression. She explains, to her mind boggled classmates, how public pressure forced the nineteenth century slave master to transition away from chains of physical bondage. History tells us great wars, gilded with amazing acts of heroism, painted the portrait of freedom. Surely battlefields laid bare sacrifices aplenty, however, it was the pen, not the sword, which paved the road toward emancipation. Freedom, from any form of tyranny, can only be attained when the concept has won favour in the hearts of the average citizen. Our student describes humanity closing off the nineteenth century united as one voice faithfully rallying against the master/slave paradigm. Physical torture, detainment, enslavement were reflections the thinking human of the New World would no longer deem acceptable.

The masses may have rebelled, however, slavery, wielded as a common tool, no different than the plough, could, and in the minds of the elite, should prevail. For thousands of years, dividends of slavery gilded the banquet halls of corporate elite, monarchy and church alike. By the reckoning of moguls, titans, kings and priests, the chains could be removed, but slavery itself must remain, ad infinitum. Slavery just needed a make over; apply some fresh lipstick, and this little pig could smile again. More palatable terms of engagement were obviously required. From this point in history forward, slavery would be forced to transcend the viciousness of physical bondage.

Solutions, hammered out of the need to resolve inadequacy, often result in a refining of processes. Lesser men, dropping their collective heads in defeat, see failure in the challenges they face. Titans of industry are bred as predators; challenges, in their world, always disguise opportunity. True history, as told by our young student, reveals the elite transitioning from physical enslavement of a small segment of the global populous, into mental, physical and spiritual enslavement of all humanity. Appeasing cries of the masses, elite masters removed all chains as promised. However, as the twentieth century unfolds, the elite were well on their way to developing new revolutionised forms of slavery. Representing a few of the new, invisible, tools of entrapment we find mind control, soft kill, taxation and usury debt.  Slavery had metastasized into a bigger, stronger, more comprehensively predatory rendition of control. New battle lines were drawn, terms of engagement were more grievous. Spoils of this war provided the elite with total domination of the collective heart, mind and spirit of humanity.

Proceeding confidently with her impeccably prepared project, the young girl spins into being a tapestry of changing social paradigms which inevitably lead humanity to our present day rendition of slavery. Twenty first century humans are meticulously described as being best characterised as a blend between chattel and cattle. Chattel, speaking verily to nations, cities, towns and individuals crumbling under the horribly,  immoral, illegal, and down right evil, pressures of usury debt, taxation and fractional reserve lending. Cattle, appropriately and faithfully represents how mind programming successfully kept us from defining self and environment. Behind locked boardroom doors, we discover dastardly scheming from an elite cadre who contemptuously dominate humans, forcing us to express their version of reality enslavement.

How do you feel about what our fictitious student has to say? Is it remotely accurate to consider yourself chattel cattle? Is your mind presently being controlled? Are you enslaved by a fractional reserve banking system which greedily feeds on the spoils of debt interest?

I believe our world has become a battleground. Fear, distraction, and separation have become the catalysts of untold destruction within and without. We have all been pitted against each other, victims everyone! If you cannot presently see the deception, control and enslavement, I challenge you to consider this information with an open mind.

The next generation of slave lives now; humanity is addicted to the great lie, visual and sound bites of media madness force us to insist freedom and democracy prevail.  We have united in rebellion before, we will again. The first step every chronic user must take is to admit their addiction. Will you take this step with me? Are you prepared to label yourself a slave? Let me help you my brethren, let us be brave in the face of adversity. May you have the courage to awaken yourself and others to truth.

Before our journey commences, it is important to assess our present state of mind. Seldom do we touch base with our feelings and emotions relative to our unfolding reality. By example, when was the last time you pondered the impetus of poverty, violence, war, corporate greed, government wantonness. If, by chance, you inquisitively open yourself to the insanity of our world, you soon discover it becomes impossible to turn away. I remember my first visit into the rabbit hole. My wife had been unveiling all kinds of nasty darkness on the internet. I would arrive home from work to find my dearest all worked up over yet another horrific injustice. Possibly, my reaction represented much the same feelings and emotions you currently struggle with.

"This stuff is madness, it does matter to me, but what the hell am I to do about it?"

"Look, I would just as soon not know about all the ugly stuff in the world. I have enough problems of my own to sort out, let alone getting in a tizzy over what is happening half way around the world!"

Dearest reader, if you are married, then you know the aforementioned responses to my wife's nudging was not well received. All disagreements are a function of conflicting perspective, finding myself at odds with my partner always forces me to define her views juxtaposed to my own. Having settled upon an honest appraisal of my predicament, I realised lethargy had completely handcuffed me to the couch. My life had become a robotic routine of  functionality. Amidst the chaos of everyday living, I had somehow lost the will to look beyond my own backyard. Excuses, justifying my ignorance, were very easy to conjure. Following a hard day at work, a relaxing evening did not include investigating why humanity stinks like week old salmon guts baked mercilessly in a backyard trash can. I pathetically reasoned, "Even if I were inclined to awake from my slumber, there would never be enough time to affect much research." Respecting work and family commitments, precious few hours were left in a waking day. Toss in a three hour sports match on the television, or a movie, and the evening would be written off. Each argument, sounding hollow as the one preceding, left me no choice but to man up and admit my apathy was inexcusable. Think of it this way; if your head is stuck in the sand, how can you expect to sort out what just happened to your ass?      

Deciding to change my lifestyle to include investigative discovery was much easier and far less painful than I believed possible. Before long, I found myself starting a blog post, uploading videos, and sharing information with the world. Years have passed since I first relented to my wife's pressures. Many personal epiphanies have surfaced, however, the greatest single leap toward taking back my reality was reflected in the choice to completely eliminate television from my life. No longer would I fall prey to incessant mind programming, as an added bonus, three hours were opened up each day for constructive, self empowering research. My perception of the world dramatically changed, everything I thought was true, turned out to be a lie. Alice, falling down the rabbit hole had nothing on me; my new world, revealed on a small rectangular computer screen, contrasted vehemently with the big screen rendition provided by big brother. Rarely do any of us ponder upon the glue which binds society into a mindless mass of consumerism. Whence the beast has been revealed, we find it difficult, neigh on impossible, to look away. Presently, I consider myself a full blown humanitarian activist. Many label me conspiracy theorist, however, the information I disclose reveals fact not theory.

Imagine this my brother and sister; I hold before you the same gift my wife bestowed upon me. This gift I present is a jigsaw puzzle box of one thousand pieces. The title on the box, meant to be an eye grabber, reads "The Hidden World Of Slavery" a discretely placed, rather evocative, subtext suggests, "freedom is your choice..."

As bearer of this gift, I assure you each piece will indeed fit snugly together thereby defining our world as a prison for the mind. Chains of evil, once hidden from our view, will become readily apparent as we distill bits of disassociated data into a single cohesive photograph of the beast. Take a seat, I've just spilled the jigsaw pieces onto the dining room table. The first order of business will be for us to establish the outer border. It is always easiest to make the border appear; the straight unbroken edge makes it a snap to find a corresponding fit. Observing the assembled outer rectangle will enable us to confirm the pieces of our puzzle do indeed fit together. This is no small feat; most our brethren will never reach the point of pulling themselves away from distraction long enough to even open the puzzle box. Having a framework for the puzzle also makes it much easier to determine each piece verily has a common bond, in so much as, all components of the puzzle speak to a conspiratory advance of wealthy authors hell bent on maintaining control.          

Sleeping masses of the world always seem to identify the word conspiracy as an offense worthy of derision. Ignorant people, compelled by indignation, feel righteous as they cast stones. Unbenounced to them, we stand accused of merely trying to identify, for their benefit, the role they presently play as ignominious slave. Fantastic irony, speaks of the truth seeker diligently trying to offer aid, whilst those she serves laugh and spit in her face. Imagine someone fighting for their life in a burning building, amidst the cacophony, a fireman crashes through the door in a gallant effort to save their life. Instead of cooperating with the rescue attempt, they bash the hero over the head with a frying pan. Recovering his wits, the would be saviour slowly rises. What do they do? Whack him on the noggin again, informing him, "I am not going anywhere mister, and you will have to pay for that broken door!"

When faced with adversity, I often think of Hamlet. My grade eleven English teacher forced us to memorize and analyse the thoughts and feelings of Shakespeare's Hamlet as he recounts what is arguably the single most famous soliloquy in recorded literature. Borne on the emotions of Hamlet's words is the constant reminder that we must face our oppressors, persevere in the search for truth and never succumb to tyranny.


To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor's wrong, the proud man's Contumely,
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons
Be all my sins remembered.




My heart aches, I watch brethren suffer under slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Who of us should bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, or the proud man's contumely. Not I dearest brethren, not I. Hamlet, conflicted with thoughts of suicide, exposes how ferocious the deep seated pain of injustice can be. Despite great suffering, Hamlet decides to soldier on. Is it his fear of the afterlife which keeps his desperation in check? Or, is it because he feels compelled to stand firm against all tyranny? As you shuffle of this mortal coil dear brethren, be all thine sins remembered. I ask you now, is there a more grievous sin cast upon yourself and child than to accept the branding of slave?

I charge you with the task of awakening from your slumber. Open your mind, still your beating heart, this is your world to command, not theirs. In honour of infinite love, unity and equality for all; whilst standing in the face of elite tyranny, I offer you the story of Joe, the twenty first century slave.

Monday, 7 May 2012

The Hidden World of Slavery, freedom is your choice...Part 2




Framing Slavery:


Aspects of slavery, although ubiquitously reflected in the mundane machinations of modern day society, are rarely recognised as harbingers of domination. The primary reason for this enigmatic lack of response  is due to our limited concept of what constitutes enslavement. For this chapter to have it's intended affect, I need you dear reader, to indulge my wishes in taking a few quiet minutes to reflect upon slavery. The purpose of the exercise is to gain your own personal perspective of the thoughts, feelings, images and emotions slavery invokes. Please close your eyes and begin, I will be here attending your return.

Thank you for catering to my wishes, now let us focus on your results.

What images raced across the darkened landscape of your mind?

Most people, will imagine men and women bound by chains, possibly our would be slave victims are on a trader boat, walking down a dusty road under guard of whip, or maybe your slave is to be found toiling in an old Virginian cotton field. Was your slave a black man? Was he about 30 years of age, muscular, resilient in appearance, close cropped hair, topless with filthy pants. Observing his demeanor, what do you find? Abeyance, calm, determination, pent power, humility, fear, loss, hurt, pain, idiocy, wildness, strength and possibly even a touch of pride. How was your slave treated by his masters? In your minds eye; was he captured and taken far from his home? Is your slave being whipped within an inch of his life? Perhaps he is standing on a sales box being prodded, inspected and assessed for value. Is he cowering under the deck of a trader ship, scared, confused and bleeding?

What gain is realised by encouraging you to envision mental images and salty adjectives depicting slavery? Why should I ask you to interrupt your reading to take these few moments of ponderance?

Taking a moment to define slavery with mental images qualifies in your mind what it would take for you to consider yourself enslaved. Elite slave masters understand the importance of pigeonholing humanity into a very narrow definition of slavery. Feeding us a false impression of slavery builds in our mind imaginary mazes from which we must navigate prior to regaining freedom. Self imposed limitations defining slavery paints for us a picture of the average person convinced slavery was abolished in 1783, shortly after the American revolution ended.


Failing to cast a new mold to identify the characteristics of a modern slave will inevitably result in the promulgation of servitude. Billions of souls, unable to discover freedom merely because they do not see chains on their ankles, feel the pain of a whip, or find themselves toiling in sun baked fields for no just reward. Crazy isn't it, the fox was eating all the hens! The hens freaked out when they found a fox in their house. The sly little fox obligingly changed into hens clothing. Voila, peace is restored in the hen house. Secure in their ignorance, our little hens cluck happily as the fox continues his nightly feasts. Soon the nasty little fox, engorged by fine dining, rises to develop into the biggest hen of all. The other hens gawk with admiration, all dreaming of how wonderful it would be if they too could grow to such grandeur.

How are we to rid ourselves of the proverbial fox in our global hen house? Prevailing winds suggest, emancipation can only occur if one of two events transpire; either we invent a new word to define modern slavery, or, we instill in the hearts of humanity a significant expansion of how we define slavery. Considering the repugnant state of our quickly dwindling English lexicon, development of a new word might prove too formidable a challenge. This invariably will leave us with the task of redefining slavery.


To assist us in this lofty endeavor, as well to provide a little flavour, we will frame the task of discovering aspects of modern slavery through the eyes of the average Joe. The door slowly opens to Joe's bedroom, we discover he has nodded off to sleep. Stepping into his dream, we find Joe seated in a court of law attending the call of the prosecution. Our timing could not be better, it appears Joe has convinced the prosecution to charge the Illuminati with multiple crimes against humanity. Painting the landscape of modern slavery apparently rests on Joe's shoulders. Proceedings are about to begin, let's settle down in the jurors box for a small segment of Joe's address.

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All persons having business before the Honorable James T. Kirk, representing the Supreme Court of the United States, are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the court is now in session.

Illuminati verses humanity.

Charges:

It has been purported by the peoples of the world; the aforementioned cabal of influential elite have conspired to enslave the minds, bodies and spirit of all humanity. Further allegations suggest; exploits of the cabal, known as simply as Illuminati, represent a grievous trespass across all crimes against humanity as defined by the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.

Court Officer:
The prosecution calls to the stand Joseph Palooka. Please state your full name for the court.

Joe:
My name is Joseph Thomas Palooka.

Court Officer:
Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God.

Joe:
Yes I do.

Court officer:
(gestering to the prosecution)You may proceed.

Prosecution:
Joe, a couple years back you visited my office to establish charges against a cabal of elite conspirators known as Illuminati. Your supporting argument, compelling enough to warrant further investigation, has lead us to this moment. Can you please elucidate for the court's benefit your perspectives and findings.

Joe:
I remember very well the summer of 72', sitting on a grassy knoll with my best buddy Lyle Richardette. Cars, rumbling by, would encourage us to casually described in order, the year, make, model, engine, intake and drive train.

"She is a beaut', 67' Chevy Nova SS with a 396 cubic inch big block. He's feeding her with the hot to trot Holley 4150 Joe. Ya gotta know Lyle, that twelve bolt 411 rear will have him drop a patch longer than one of father Brown's Sunday sermons. Did ya hear that intake when he kicked her down Lyle, bet ya a dime to a dollar he has a high rise kit under that Holley quad pumper."

Happy, carefree moments of our youth can afford us a point of measure by which we may determine how quickly meandering passions of society have sucked innocence from youth. Each memory sharply defines a point of assessment lending to casual reminders of the way things were. Passing years invite change, we arrive at a new destination wondering, how did we get here? Annual movements invoking a change in the demeanor of society are often hard to discern, by example; imagine how difficult it is to detect the loss of 1 ml from a one liter beaker? Stepping back from the little picture, we discover time expressed in chunks as great as a decade or half century, make it much easier to highlight the direction and pace of humanities social evolution. Growing up in a small Quebec town, the only thing we children worried about was who would win the afternoon game of shinny hockey or whether or not the fish were biting in the old Richelieu river. Times were good, even with the Vietnam war raging, optimism was found in the hearts of most youth. Bread, if it was on sale cost one dollar for ten loaves. The average three bedroom house was still a tick under $ 20,000, and the aforementioned hot rod Nova SS sold for about
$ 2,300 new. Those of us fortunate to have lived through the sixties and seventies can recollect, with fondness, a time of loving freedom. The good old days, communes popping up all over the land to accommodate hippies who were only interested in freeing themselves from the constraints of a universal blight commonly referred to as "The Man". From the hippy perspective, The Man, represented oppression, greed, war, lies, destruction, government, law enforcement and divisiveness. Masses revolted against authority; millions of young adults burned their bras, cut up their neck ties and donned the uniform of love. Tie-dyed tee shirts, blue jeans and sneakers became symbols of a youth movement connecting to simplicity, mother earth and virtue, all in a last ditch desperate attempt to emancipate from the stifling oppression of corporatism. Visionary hippies, spreading their wings in search of love, freedom and unity, nothing could be more beautiful. Flower power swept across the land; everywhere I looked, main stream media was depicting images and sound bites of "The Man battling the Love Child".

Hippies deemed, by elite masters, to be a blight upon society, a cancer slowly eroding justice and the American dream. The Illuminati knew something must be done, delicate efficiency was required to insulate the public from the empowering messages of love, unity and freedom. In my mind, one staggeringly important image can be placed upon a razors edge as the ultimate expression of a country at a critical cross roads.

The iconic image I allude to was captured by Washington, D.C. native, Bernie Boston. History tells Bernie was quite a colourful character. After gaining fame as a photo journalist, he came out of the closet, took on the stage name Hibiscus, and formed a gay themed transsexual troupe called "The Cockettes". Moving past the interesting aside, Bernie tells of how he found himself near the Pentagon as National Guardsmen were called to attend one of the many 1967 student riots in protest of the Vietnam war. Guardsmen, shoulder to shoulder, had formed a semi circle in defiance of the shouting protesters. The atmosphere, boiling to a crescendo, lent the impression mayhem would soon follow. Just when all hope seemed lost, a young man with a handful of flowers slowly made his way toward the defiant troops. One by one, the youth placed a small daisy in the barrel of each Guardsman rifle. The statement being made was shockingly powerful, images like that had a knack of quickly changing a nation. Excited with his photo journal from the day, Bernie presented the local Star newspaper editor with his images. Bernie maintains the famous picture was never used because "the editor didn't see the importance of the picture". Respecting Bernie's opinion, I must maintain, he could not have been more wrong. In my humble opinion, the editor most certainly did see the power and importance of Bernie's photo essay, which was exactly why he chose to keep the rebellious image under wraps. Cream always rises, Bernie entered the now famous snap in a variety of photo contests where it almost always garnered a first place prize. Brief exposure to the photograph proved all that was needed for America to fully embrace Bernie's image as representation of hope, defiance, love and peace.

Researching Bernie's photo from internet archives brought back memories of yesteryear which quietly reminded me of the many battles fought and lost against The Man. One simple click of a camera, froze in time the quintessential moment of America being forced to choose a path toward love or war. If I were a member of the Illuminati, this one image would have scared the hell out of me. The last thing in the world I would want, is a thinking, compassionate, loving, non violent society who believe all people should be treated as equals. Imagine how threatening equality would be to the elite masters who own trillions in wealth while millions of their brethren starve. After all, if not the rich, who is capable of feeding the poor, housing the homeless, and caring for the weak? Love, peace, freedom, equality and unity are curse words in the dictionary of slave masters.

The fall of the hippy movement began the moment Bernie's snapped his now famous image. Prior to his photograph, hippies represented a relatively benign aspect of society, easily maligned and ridiculed as useless, dirty, drug abusing, boils on the collective ass of America. In the mind of the elite, fringe elements of society, like the hippy movement, come and go with little or no lasting affect on the ultimate form and function of elite slave society. In fact, elite masters understand the lid sealing the pressure pot of society needs to vent its pent up steam or costly blowups inevitably occur. Bernie's photo changed the tone of American society. Spurred by Bernie's talismanic image, hippies made it very clear their voice would be heard. Contrasting the clamorous voice of reason, elite masters were dedicated to ensuring dirty hippies, with their long hair and foul music would be permanently stamped out of the fabric of modern society.    

The battle between The Man and the hippy, after raging for more than decade, ended in the summer of 73' when Richard M. Nixon withdrew American support from the Vietnam conflict. Hippies, having won their battle, did in fact change the course of America. More importantly, they proved to the elite, their influence was truly a force to be reckoned with. The Man, left with a bloody lip, felt the sting of Hippy love deep in his pocketbook. What was once considered a quaint diversionary movement of youthful vinegar, had somehow managed to develop into a disturbing blood sucking tick behind the ear of elite masters.

Returning troops, who may have expected ticker tape parades, celebrations, and pats on the back, quickly discovered America had transformed. Failing to win the war had stripped America of her bravado, confidence and innocence. From the perspective of a young Canadian boy watching the evening news, I could clearly see America was deeply hurt. She had changed significantly; the loud, obnoxious giant I had enigmatically grown to love and hate, had vanished. In its stead, a punch drunk warrior appeared who, by all accounts, desperately needed to move past the shock of an unexpected loss. Compelling as war images are to a young boy, nothing compared to the awesome spectacle of watching a great nation change before my very eyes. The insanity of a country being torn in two directions was broadcast nightly on our old colour console television. Our family sat on the settee nightly entranced as  Harvey Kirk and the CTV nightly news team depicting a pall of dysfunction sweeping across the land. "Did you see that dad, how come they were spitting on that soldier?" I remember being confused by conflicting images, there seemed to be two kinds of soldiers, the good guys in clean well pressed uniforms and the hippy soldiers with long hair, blue jeans and a battle fatigue jacket. Big stars, like Jane Fonda, as well as, American heroes the likes of Martin Luther King, sided with the hippies. However, most Americans hung on to what they knew best, the clean cut soldier with the square jaw surely could be relied upon to win the day. From my vantage point, America was a country in flux, a return to the normalcy of apple pie and homespun values would prove a daunting challenge for soldiers and non combatants alike. Without any doubt, a fall guy was needed to deflect the blame for America loosing the war. Elite masters quickly set their media spin doctors to task of labeling the hippy as the ultimate reason for Nixon being forced to bring the boys back home. Tie-dye tee shirts, and the statements they conveyed, came to represent a nations failure. The dirty little family secret, carried on the back of the prodigal son, would be the essential catalyst in the hippy movement being relegated to summer rock festivals, beatnik beach huts and seedy smoke filled dens of inequity.

Eradicating of the hippy, moreover the freedom symbolised by the hippy, was affected by four primary attack vehicles. Stigmatisation of the movement, destruction of the apparel, demonisation of the musical message, and a strong corporate shift toward materialism. Stigmatising the movement was easily managed by pitting the clean cut soldier as survivor, whilst the hippy represented the drug abusing, fragging, miscreant responsible for every imaginable trouble besetting America. Bernie's photograph had already laid the ground work, as did the hippy movement itself. Clean cut soldiers easily fit the role of the peoples representative. Every good American knows, supporting the troops, translates into defending freedom, democracy and the American dream. Over and again, main stream media pit the free wheeling, long haired, hippy against the wholesome, clean cut American soldier faithfully serving his family, hometown, country and God. Blue Blue jeans and tee shirts took on a sleek designer cut.

Classy dinner jackets, a la Don Johnson, completed an ensemble niftily accoutred with a flashy BMW sedan. We all remember the wonderful music of the hippy movement, how could we not? Stirring tunes of love, unity and hope were mixed with equally compelling songs of resistance, determination and revolution. The music industry pushed hard against the hippies as corporatism swept clean all semblance of music as a tool for constructive social criticism. Network giants used T.V. programs like MTV to warp the message of music, whilst pushing the industry toward sex, violence and destruction. Music was carefully whittled down to two primary genres, the sex symbol or the screaming unorganised anti society revolutionist. Many youth of today would disagree with my assessment. Every generation they say is carried by the momentum of their music. Likewise, history suggests older generations naturally rebel against youthful changing sounds. Misunderstood messages from the 'next' generation never seem to be absorbed by their distraught parents. However true these paradigms of transitioning music are, my issue with the music of today far transcends the like or dislike of the sound, or for that matter, even of the message.

What troubles me about today's music is that love, compassion and tenderness, have been replaced by sex, domination and violence. Is it just me that finds it appalling to see young girls in their underwear lip syncing while gyrating their hips in sexual innuendo. I love the sound, rhythm and beat of hip hop and rap, but do we benefit from children glorifying the financial gains of drugs, prostitution and gang banging. The message is obviously destructive; women are Ho's, men are their Bangers, to hell with who gets hurt, its all about me, my image and my bling.  Listening to what today's children call music leaves me scratching my head as to how effectively the message and wholesomeness of love has been torn from our society. Prophets of unity, compassion and love were slain left and right. John Lennon and his likes did not go quietly into the night, they sang with all their heart as they watched each other being silenced by drugs, discredited by scandal, pushed from the spotlight, or suspiciously found dead in the prime of their life. Materialism, pushed by main stream television, is no different than a heroin trafficker cooking a spoon for the glazed over junkie. Forced idolisation of rich and famous personages represented the most powerful gun aimed at the hippy. Contrasting the squalor of down to earth commune living, the elite proliferated T.V. shows like Dallas and Dynasty specifically crafted to create an artificial need for the hottest trends, toys, clothes, widgets and do hickeys. Images of the hippy rejoicing in love prevailed in main stream media for a few more years. However, as the eighties unfolded, peace signs and cries for justice were relegated to archived memories only. Why have we allowed, even encouraged, corporate miscreants to advocate materialism to such an extent it foreshadows a total destruction of everything we hold most dear?

Can we afford to accept business as usual when everything we cherish, is presently being devoured by the insane avarice of a few demented individuals? Are we able to keep up to changing times?  Do we even comprehend the messages our youth are sending us? As depicted in the photo right, I doubt we hear or understand the level of  rebellion, confusion, and cries of our children.

Was the hippy movement just another victim of changing times? Did the gross transition toward materialism occur by natural means? Or were elite deviants pulling our strings, enslaving our minds and forcing the will of humanity to bend to the desires of a few wealthy titans. The Illuminati agenda colours the tapestry of our society black with fear, ignorance, greed and hate. Puzzling together aspects of modern slavery is difficult. Glancing half a century into our past has afforded us opportunity to discover significant change has in fact been manufactured at the behest of elite masters. Without historical perspective to frame the impetus of change, we tend to inadvertently attribute change to the naturally shifting tenets of society, this, however, is not the case. The natural course of American history would have seen society move away from war, corporate materialism and banality in favour of love, unity and peace. When an entire generation stood against the machine while trying desperately to take back freedom in the name of love, where were you? When The Man, stomped on us, ate us up, spit on us, and shit on our collective push to freedom, was your voice heard? Did you mean to surrender, or were you programmed into complacency? Our past is a valuable vehicle which, if we choose to be objective, can transport us to destinations we normally would not discover. History, used as pieces of a puzzle, do emphatically illustrate the tone and direction of our society. We are the caretakers of this planet, it is our responsibility to forge a legacy for our children. Having etched out a pattern of enslavement, a challenge rests upon our shoulders to delve deeper into the mechanics of modern slavery. The puzzle border is framed, a very complex challenge begs assembly. I see what looks like the making of a bankers head, lets sift through this mess, try a little harder, and see if we can find some matching pieces.

Debt Enslavement:


Interest laden debt, a malignant cancer killing everything in it's path.......