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.
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.
The prosecution calls to the stand Joseph Palooka. Please state your full name for the court.
My name is Joseph Thomas Palooka.
Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God.
Yes I do.
(gestering to the prosecution)You may proceed.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
Interest laden debt, a malignant cancer killing everything in it's path.......