I’ve just set up my office at the Media Underground compound. I’m in the third sub-basement below Mortimer’s castle bought and paid for by Raytheon’s black budget. I was told I could write whatever I want. I have total uncensored freedom to publish my weekly scientific journal on any subject in the known universe. This is my dilemma. Where to start? Aliens? Crop circles? Satanic ritual abuse? Vatican? Mind control? I feel like every conceivable conspiracy has already been covered, copied, filed, saved as, backed up and password protected here at MURBBSBT. (By the way from now on out I’ll call my office MURBBSBT which stands for Media Underground’s Raytheon Black Budget Sub Basement Three). I have a row of servers along the wall each powered by four AMD dual core Opteron chips. I have twenty-five terabytes of hard drive space filled with information. I have access to all kinds of occult knowledge from the MURBBSBT temperature controlled library. What’s the problem?
Fear is my problem. I’ll just admit it. I am scared shitless. Granted I’ve seen undercover agents and CIA operatives everywhere most of my life but now I am sitting in soiled pants on a black leather swivel chair as I write this. It all started when I downloaded Loose Change. I was sitting in a bar drinking a pint of cheap American piss water and the smartest fucking guy I know told me about this documentary he saw on Google. He had that pale faced look of, “Oh my God we are all going to die. Have you seen Loose Change?” You know the look. The dude-you-don’t-want-to-know look like you-can’t-handle-the-truth but since you asked me now I’m passing the fear on to you and I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it-anymore look.
I watched Loose Change and I shit my pants. I downloaded the BYU Professor Steven E. Jones lecture and shit my pants. I saw Press For Truth. That led me to the CSPAN American Scholars Symposium on 9/11. I sat through 9/11 Mysteries three times. I read The New Pearl Harbor by David Ray Griffin, The War On Freedom by Nafeez Ahmed and Gore Vidal’s Perpetual War For Perpetual Peace. I got tired of washing my pants so I bought a box of Depend Undergarments.
I remember seeing Mortimer on my way out of the convenience store in sub-basement four with my box of adult diapers. Looking over my shoulder I said something like, “Hey Mortimer, am I on some kind of list?” He gave me that aloof Scottish crazed sneer with eyes rolling back in his head, “List? What list? I worked at Raytheon for years and never ended up on a list. What’s gotten into you Inman? You want me to beef up security?” As he says this I watch him write something down on a goddam list! I screech, “What the hell is that for? Are you writing down what I say?” There’s a pregnant pause. He looks me straight in the eyes. “This is my list for stuff I have to buy at the convenience store you freak. See here? I just wrote down toilet paper.” I stumble away. Yeah right, toilet paper, or whatever the hell that means to him. It has to be a coded message. Or worse yet it could mean exactly what it is. Toilet paper! He’s having the same problem as me.
What is it about 9/11 that causes so much fear? Maybe that’s what they want. Whoever pulled it off. Or whoever is creating these documentaries. They want to keep us very afraid. That’s what conspiracy and terrorism is. Terror. Horror. Panic. Anxiety. Scared shitless. Mouth agape uncontrollable paranoia. It’s all the same. But there’s another thing I’ve noticed seeping through the terror. It lies beneath the surface as a kind of platform to keep the fear propped up running smoothly working its magic. That platform is confusion. Fear heaped upon confusion with a dash of mad anger and clinical depression. If you put it all together it sounds to me like some kind of recipe for mass mental breakdown.
This must be the plan. They want to keep us all insane. They knew we would be investigating the attack on the Pentagon, the collapse of Building 7, the timelines and hot spots of molten steel. They knew we would lose our minds trying to fit it all together. They planted the mistakes, the anomalies, the coincidences and oddities. Whichever way you look at it. Whoever you believe did this: the terrorists, the illuminati, the neocons, Bush, Cheney, the oil companies, or even a cabal of invisible elves in collaboration with a secret team of wood nymphs on work release. It’s not an attack on the free world. It’s an attack on our brain. Our cerebellum is in direct conflict with our left hemisphere and it's being pulled between two opposing viewpoints the deeper you look. It’s the final battle of the official story and the conspiracy and some kind of demonic puppeteer is in control of both sides.
If Loose Change is true why isn’t Dylan Avery dead? If the official story is true why the fuck is Osama bin Laden still alive? If the evil rulers who control the media have so much power why is there so much conflicting data? If al-Qaeda is so sneaky what were they thinking attacking the most powerful nation on earth? Why is this polite Mormon professor saying the most frightening things? Why did our government release that grainy punk ass surveillance tape of flight 77 hitting the Pentagon? You can’t see anything! It’s just a giant blur! Are they trying to fuck with us? Is it all a joke? Do they know what they’re doing or are they really that incompetent? Building 7 just falls down for no reason. Silverstein says they pulled it. The official story is that it collapsed. Silverstein recants and says he was talking about “pulling” the firemen. The New York Times and FEMA say it’s a mystery. Mormons and thermite. Terrorists and satellite phones. Transponders and the FAA. Pet goats and NORAD. Afghanistan, heroin, guns, oil, Zionists, Saudis, put options and timelines.
I’m losing my goddam mind. I can’t sleep. I’m shitting my pants and looking over my shoulder. It’s seven in the morning and I’m downloading porn. Up is down and night is day. I haven’t shaved in a week. I smell like a dog. I have no money and I’m late on the rent. I have “Support Our Troops” on one side of the back bumper of my car and “Fuck Bush” on the other. I’m searching bittorrents for obscure demolition manuals. I’m laughing at Towelhead jokes. Mortimer is keeping a list but I’m not on any “list”. I am perplexed. I am confused and they are in control. It’s enough to drive a man to drink.
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