THE GUTTED HOUSE
November 23, 2008
“Above the shuttered mansion the windy sky cries out…a spirit storming in blank walls, a dirty house in a gutted world” 
major social institutions have been collapsing for a long time; the
economic and Constitutional crises of today are part of a series.
As this proceeds, the media make it seem Americans are living in a
19th century political cartoon. There was a clip of Mr. Cash-Carry
the other evening saying that credit was beginning to loosen in the
bowels of the financial system. We need only to “have confidence”
and the liquidity applied to the blockage will begin moving through
the business end “in a few months.” The Bowl Games will
play out so long as we do due diligence.
Mr. O’Reilly favored “the Obama girl” with ten free minutes of face time and smirking gush. She’s a model, is Amber Lee Ettinger, and works for www.barelypolitical.com with a pun intended . Its satire is an assault on the American mind, conditioning youth to see politics as an erotic joke and means of making money: a self-fulfilling prophecy. In the spring, this “hottie” (young virtual-tart) gyrated and grinded her way against various animate and inanimate objects in her professed heat for the spliced-narratives now fronting a new cabinet. After some gentle prodding, she confessed that, yes, she gets paid for her ‘work,’ that she’s a “model” who once knew “very little” about politics but is “learning a lot.” The genial host praised her “entrepreneurial spirit…that made America great” and encouraged her to note that whenever the spliced-narratives float a policy her talent could be there to sell it: she need only seize the time. If she’s shrewd she may rise to be a regular contributor to Mr. O’s variety hour. In any case, she is discovering the pedigree of the oldest profession at its nexus with politics.
“Making politics sexy again” says the enterprise, ship of the age when sex, like most matters becomes all surface, tease and flash: all sizzle and no steak; all dazzle, no light. “I like to dance for candidates,” she said and smiled, -- the harem of the future beckoning – and added, “Four more years of great material to work with,” uh huh. So Attorneys Berg and Donofrio might as well give up; it’s just “a satire.”
Mr. O added, “We’ve got barely political in the minds of America” and that bit of embedded MK was another triumph of the distraction-and-enchantment machine. While they chatted, the ticker carried a stream of information about Al Qaeda, the FBI and Iran. Mr. Zawhairi quoted Malcolm X in an unfriendly allusion to the status of the narrative-electus; Amber Lee and Bill smiled and chatted.
The variety hour is fair and balanced as is Ms. Ettinger, so it followed the advert on her employer’s business with segments on the free speech rights of nude bike-riders in Oregon and Seattle; the images, more radical than Amber, were blurred. Apparently anyone has the right to be naked in Seattle’s parks and in Oregon if you are protesting a political statement, that is, anything at all because “the personal is political” you may ride a bike around naked: “fair is foul and foul is fair…” Somehow the eruption of this speech seems as contrived in timing as the market collapse and loosening of the credit blockage. Legal, political, erotic and economic terms of art rush together as all boundaries dissolve like collapsing dikes in a flood.
America is being absorbed by Europe economically and that means politically and, in due course, culturally. The meetings of Mr. Bush in Berlin and Rome with high-ranking folks there bore fruit in the descent of the G-20 upon Washington for their economic summit. The opening ceremony shows President Bush receiving a welcome befitting the world’s attitude toward America, one that increasingly affects policies: the more the target is abused and condemned the more it is termed a “bully” per the principle, “no act of kindness goes unpunished” in a postmodern world . “Sovereignty is out the window”; there has been a “seamless integration of American into the European economy… a partnership with death.” Of course it was not Mr. Bush who “went down without a fight,” he merely acted out to the end his scripted part, the narrative written for him, if you will. “Sovereignty is gone without a vote, -- by gradual bureaucratic encroachment.” Forever we recognize after the fact that the sordid buccaneers have played their serious farce while we awaken only to the noise of media ‘applause’ as the curtain comes down. “Before I could make a prologue for my brains, they had begun their play” ; Hamlet’s astonished words should be the motto for our times.
Our audacious oligarchs also script the part of the audience. Previous essays have noted the devolution of education into “orientation and counseling,” into “social engineering” and “the intellectual organization of political hatreds” a phrase whose full import or relevance to “educators” like Mr. Ayers Benda hardly could have anticipated eighty years ago . The goal of this engineering, this sustained experimentation upon human beings, especially children and families, is to “subordinate mankind to a universal system” such as advocated by H.G. Wells, Julian H. Huxley and others. To accomplish this one must create “a general and permanent enthusiasm, a secular religion [with] decrees to enforce ‘virtues’ through high-sounding collectivist abstractions” . That is as perfect a definition of political correctness, which began here in the 1960s, as one can find. Its extension via lawless law and the postmodern academy reaching down to pervade K-12 has now sealed most minds and language itself into a glacial scrum of deceit, a naked bicycle ride down the dead-end of ‘group-mind’ and Oneness University.
Through the practiced oratorical-hypnotic skills of narrative-electus this engineering, this nationwide MK program has been perfected. The recent campaign, the beginning of the perennial campaign was most notable for its successful practice of “trance induction” as described by Erickson in 1952 . The extensive pauses, repeated use of key words and gestures focused on the ‘savior,’ the ranks of nodding heads in the background were a form of mass hypnosis applying a technique described decades ago. Watching it over the months reminded this reader of Melville’s fascinating, bitterly satiric novel of con-games on a Mississippi riverboat. The first postmodern novel by a century or more, it has little narrative continuity but various professions of purchased faith. The protagonist, “the mystical master” is chameleonic, changing shape and identity at will. He sells “confidence” as salvation, imploring or demanding his customer-victims have faith in his “confidence to remove obstacles” . A “great medicine” man he is forever spinning confessional narratives: “he operates, he purges, and he drains off the repletion.” Names, friendships, philanthropy all are “hypothetical.” With their lives in chaos and the boat in uproar, the passengers realize they have purchased nothing and that the charlatan cannot be found. Change you can believe in? Have confidence in the masquerade of “a man in great esteem for his politic sagacity.”
The purposeful massaging of collectivist abstractions by the team that put him together and now puts together “his” team truly is a work of postmodern art, masks and shadows.
One might be heartened that despite the media’s selling of this “permanent enthusiasm” via trance induction; despite the inhibitions, subconscious, social and legal to criticizing or even becoming conscious of the fraud; despite the overwhelming financial resources pushing the scripted outcome; despite the massive vote fraud of many kinds, from tax-funded false registrations to illegal immigrants voting, -- without knowing more English than the “look-say” method of mental impairment can impart; despite the “challenged campaign” of the designated loser, the semi-alternative: despite all these the margin was relatively small and the issue, at least technically, still in doubt. Perhaps that too is scripted, part of the “generated crisis” one of the actors mentioned.
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The battle’s lost even if it’s won; don’t expect a clearing of the fog and filthy air via the legal system. This is the era of lawless law, of outcome-based politicized decrees decided by pleasant phone calls or conversations among the dominant class as they pursue their “subtle poetic-political work” . Every judge a Humpty-Dumpty: “words mean exactly what I say they mean.” So too, in the postmodern age of virtual reality “when the life visible to all is not real” having been drained of its genuine qualities and the real facts are determined and programmed out of sight; when the media act like squid squirting inky clouds of ‘coverage’ on the true facts of impoverished lives, the law is unlikely to assert a basic principle. If “there is no injury in fact” to Americans in the fact that a presidential candidate, nominee and vote victor does not qualify for office that is as much as saying that it doesn’t matter whether America exists or not; that there is “no injury in fact” to anyone should it become a virtual nation, borderless, polyglot, its dominant institutions controlled by those unaccountable to its citizens who are held to have “no standing” to defend their identity. The injuries of course are extensive, but a class of legal and bureaucratic oligarchs, drunk on the cup of power, well-funded by those for whom power is the ultimate intoxicant and thus committed to a “world collective” decides what is or is not law. As Humpty Dumpty said, “the only question is ‘who is the master, that’s all!” The faith of the founders that a carefully designed Constitution, a secular scripture based on Scriptures could sustain a nation respectful of ordered liberty has been shown to be unfounded just as the founders are unfounded by the “transvaluation” of their values.
How long has it been since the electors truly exercised their function? Were the dangers of direct democracy and the dogma that “everyone’s got a right to vote” not sufficiently clear? And what if the challenges to the problems of eligibility are upheld, who will inherit the game? They not only have begun their play, the last curtain is coming down; we awaken to their self-congratulatory applause like the shattering roar of breakers on a beach where, in the twilight, all the distinctions that make society humane dissolve and the realm reels back into the beast. In a decade the Court will proclaim collectivist injunctions that solidify its total power while “civilian security forces” in tandem with ‘educators’ intone correct mantras ushering us into “a dark enclosure, a box” .
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The courts, the media, the school system legislate to suit the will of their funders: to the extent that they have completed this long-developing project, “they have it their way: the world is ugly and the people are sad” .
Yet insight is the beginning of rebirth; to expose the nakedness of the drowsy emperor or empress is to enable new shoots to grow. With the collapse, wheat may come from the ruins. Teach children history, the disciplines of compassion and memory: whatever comes, the soul cannot be snuffed out.
Wallace Stevens, “A Postcard from the Volcano” (1936)
3. on the economics, see Morris & McGann, “Bush Hands over Reigns of U.S. Economy to EU” Dick Morris Political Insider, 11-19-08
4. Shakespeare, Hamlet 5.2.30-1
5. Thomas Molnar, The Decline of the Intellectual (1961; 1994); Julien Benda, La Trahison des Clercs (“The Treason of the Intellectuals,” that is, of the “thought leaders” in media, the arts, the academy, 1927).
6. Molnar 208
7. A five minute summary video; a full article on the technique: Milton H. Erickson (1901-80); note the “Global Oneness Community”
8. Herman Melville, The Confidence Man: His Masquerade (1857; 1995 Prometheus Books), 63; 231-40 inter alia; and Atty. Philip Berg’s archive
9. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Cancer Ward, (1963-7; Dial Press 1968; Laurel 1980), chapter 14, Rusanov discussing his work in “the dossier department” where “one could always find something negative and suspicious about every human being alive” ready to be used when it suited the regime so the annoying person could be “discharged, written off, expunged.” Chapter 14, “Justice” 220-5
10. ibid. 225
11. Wallace Stevens, “Gubbinal” (1931), close paraphrase of the refrain
© 2008 Eugene Narrett - All Rights Reserved