How to Cope With Trump's Terribly Glorious Victory
Have a Little Breakdown
In 2016, I wept openly when the election results came in. An orange misogynist! How will the world recover? How will I personally cope with such an affront to my sensibilities?
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In the ensuing years, everything I thought was true unravelled, and came to an apex with the unleashing of Rona (not a virus, of course, but a military operation). I saw how captured I had been by various pernicious ideologies: the self-hatred and true misogyny of feminism, the delusions of academia, the pretences of revisionist history, the compulsive pathological lying of the media, and the demonic inversions and obedience rituals to which we all unthinkingly consent.
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I realized how successfully I had been deceived by various programs, all the more so because thought I was, if not enlightened, then at least somewhat self-aware…especially as a long-time (lifelong!) advocate for bodily autonomy and medical freedom. It was very humbling.
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This morning, when we woke up to find—unsurprisingly—that Trump had “won the election” yet again, I confess that Lee and I had a grand old time giggling at the histrionic responses of those who have somehow remained on our social media “friends” lists and who are absolutely devastated by Trump’s “victory” (yes, yes, the scare quotes—do read on).
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Most of those whining and screaming and in a state of desperate, melodramatic agitation are fellow artists we were connected with during our former life in Canada as potters (check out my ancient instagram account at @yoclark for some nostalgia). These are generally people who have been so utterly steadfast and committed to their identities as leftists that they willingly poisoned themselves for the greater good, and their heartbreak over Trump’s re-election didn’t exactly come as a shock. This is the nature of cognitive dissonance—it really requires an impressive degree of ironclad devotion.
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I am baffled, however, by those who saw through the pandemic psyop, but left it at that—those who refused to have their bodies, bio-fields, and souls modified by MRNA nano-particles, but who are now nonetheless bemoaning Trump’s induction, as though Harris would have been “better;” as though the “right” to invite a medical operative to kill one’s pre-born baby is not just a privilege but a sacrament. “Empowerment” in other words.
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Meanwhile, the faceless puppeteers in London and Geneva pull their strings and press their little buttons, and more smart-dust rains down, another flood is initiated, and the surveillance network tightens.
Since Rona, I’ve developed a real soft spot for Donald Trump. I find his candour and willingness to be exactly who he is totally refreshing (he reminds me of my late grandpa), and I do appreciate the the fact that he apparently knows the difference between men and women, at the very least.
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Of course, I can also see that he is a performer, first and foremost—and the show must go on!
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But what I am truly perplexed by is how seemingly few people have come to appreciate that there are no “politics.” There is no “democracy”. There are no elections.
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None of this is real. There are only ceremonies celebrating our collective acquiescence to the selection and installment of the next figurehead.
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What we call an “election,” is a theatre production—the elaboration of being offered a “choice” between two individuals who have absolutely no objective power or agency as far as what’s actually significant. It’s all a fantasy.
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“Presidents” have no executive power whatsoever, nor do governments. Donald Trump, Kamala Harris, Bobby Kennedy—these people are irrelevant. They are literal tools, and their parties and scandals and opinions are designed to distract us from what lies beneath.
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There are individuals with power, of course, but the riffraff (that’s us) are not made privy to their names—not ever. The people or entities who actually make decisions—decisions about how much fake money gets printed, and how much poison is released into the air, water, or food supply, where the next “natural” disaster occurs, or when and to what degree the already-implemented bio-digital interfaces are deployed; decisions about who among the troublesome live or die, or who among the useful rise or fall—have the truly regal privilege of anonymity.
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In a way, I too am vaguely relieved that Trump has been declared President, because I do think the alternative would have accelerated some of the very darkest aspects of the transhumanist program that is inevitably in play. But I also see that Trump’s “victory” is a contrived rallentando, an orchestrated slackening….which makes me think of the word “lebensraum”—breathing space, or living space.
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“Lebensraum” was first coined as a political term by German ethnographer Friedrich Ratzel in 1901 to describe the parallels between the organic growth of a biological organism and the supposedly necessary evolution of an ethno-state, and the concept served as a philosophical pretext for fascist expansionism on the part of the German National Socialist party during WWII, despite, as I see it, the erroneousness of the fundamental assumptions of necessary antagonism applied to both societies and to biological structures.
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While the optics and aesthetics of power politics have shifted considerably since the 20th century, with different heroes and bad guys in the headlines, the inarguable fact remains that fascist imperialism—now in the form of techno-fascism—is the only prevailing system of governance, and it’s a planetary one. Everything else is make-believe.
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The idea that Trump has enacted some sort of “coup,” or that he has somehow victoriously vanquished the evildoers is almost painfully innocent, and only serves to emphasize the overwhelming effectiveness of multiple generations of subversion and demoralization.
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And, as my stubbornly positive gramps always said, life marches on. And it does.
I know it might sound as though I’ve been totally black-pilled, but that’s not the case at all.
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I have immense hope, in fact, and my hope resides in the evidence I see around me that there are still a few people left on earth who have a desire to create life and art and beauty and family and real innovation from their intuitive consciousness; from their embodied experience of being alive in the world; from their divine sentience.
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There are still some of us who feel an instinctive desire to remain human, and who believe and who know that there is a form of evolution available to us that has nothing whatsoever to do with the insane hubris of technological “ascension.”
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There are still those of us, I think, who are not only willing, but eager to experience the unfolding of life as it is offered up to us by God, and who are actively repudiating the temptation to stoop to cyborgicity. There are still people who know that fully embracing and inhabiting our unmodified, unadulterated bodies—as fallible and as forgettable as we are are, is a gift.
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There are still some of us who are striving and struggling to learn how to make things and to say things and to acquire, even momentarily, a flicker of theosis— communion with God. This is the true “singularity.”
I dont think it is all a charade. There are aspects of charade but there are also elements that are desperately real. Example: Trump never mandated the covid vax, and his party was against the covid vaxx mandate. The Biden adminstration mandated the covid vax for millions of Americans, including pregnant women. Nurses, federal employees, who were pregnant were forced to get two shots, or lose their jobs!! Example two: Republican run Alabama passed a law that banned gender reassignment surgery for minors. Banned it. The Biden administration is suing the state, so as to overturn that law!
Those are real differences, and there are others. That is not kabuki theatre, these are laws that effect people's lives.
I found myself nodding all the way through this, slowly at first and then more vigorously until your last paragraph made me cry. Best post ever Yo!