The never-ending, revolving door of terror bogeymen. I commend to you a most fascinating piece that highlights and details the deep-seated and internecine rudiments of the history of the latex chimera that’s been added to your horror palette. John McCain, Conductor of the “Arab Spring” and the Caliph by French intellectual, founder and chairman of Voltaire Network and the Axis for Peace Conference, Thierry Meyssan, an intellectual of the first order who dissects, deconstructs and denudes the multiple layers of fact and fiction unabashedly and valiantly. Why nothing from our own truth sentries, the self-appointed American media, who sink lower into the bog of bottom feeders by showing not a shred or iota of curiosity about anything. Oh, pardon me. No, I stand corrected. When it comes to sex videos of Neanderthal athletes, nude photos purloined from the clouds, celebrity deaths (within reason, mind you), anything that is relevance-shallow and sordidness-dense, they’re all over it and own it. But we shan’t worry about their puerile preoccupations, will we? No, we’re focused, laser-like on the relevant and what matters.
It’s a story as old as time. Since petro-imperialism emerged, Western ruling class members wanted to crush the British influence that was enjoyed in and around the Arabian Peninsula. And the easiest way to do that was the tried and true method of arming and organizing groups, factions, tribes and sects that posed a direct and lethal threat to those whom you wanted to depose or dispossess. The problem, as is evident to anyone with two neurons to rub together and working synapses, is that once a group is introduced to leverage against a foe, you’re more often than not unable to withdraw the group you’ve introduced. Look no further than UBL and the mujaheddin in Zbigniew Brzezinski’s war based on a massive hard-on he had for that which was the Soviet Union. The story made absolute sense and for a good movie. Problem is, Sparky, you create a monster in the mean time. But not to worry, that’s what the media are here for.
Ted Baxter, the Patron Saint of the Insipid Media. Since the days of Operation Mockingbird it’s been obvious and evident that media sources were at the beck and call of the CIA and various government agencies.
“You could get a journalist cheaper than a good call girl, for a couple hundred dollars a month.” – CIA operative discussing with Philip Graham, editor Washington Post, on the availability and prices of journalists willing to peddle CIA propaganda and cover stories. “Katherine The Great,” by Deborah Davis (New York: Sheridan Square Press, 1991)
The groundwork was laid. The connections cemented. So, is it any wonder that the average American has at best a fanciful ideation of the realities that are the world? Go to any newsroom and look around. Gone are the seasoned vets, the vetted vets, the adults, the experienced, the schooled in history, the unabashedly brilliant and erudite, the delightfully suspect and skeptical. Look around the newsrooms of American media outlets today and what do you see? Under the stewardship of the recycled lifer, the has-beens of yore, the corporate shill, the bottom line watchdog, look and see the new crop of journalists. The 20-something per diem’d serfs, manning a gutted newsscape, shuttered resources and scuttled passions for unearthing and illuminating.
It’s no wonder America scratches its arse in bemused, confused and oddly amused superimposition of the bad guys and terrorists. That’s the cover for the bad guys, the ruling class. The asset-stripping jackals, globalist hyenas and predatory derivatives snake oil salesman who’s helped in creating this gossamer latticework, this tissue and veil of meaningless securities fictions that will most assuredly result in the implosion of world monetary systems through corrupt central banks and . . . under the protection of the duped media who divert the attention of the American people. Like a parent who jiggles her keys to quiet a squawking infant, wailing and lachrymating in fear.
Media branches are now feeder systems and pipelines for the government and the official story. They’re repeaters, not reporters. “Presstitutes,” using the Celente moniker.
Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink. The oft-misquoted line from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge. How appropriate and timely for neoimperialism will be the motivation and impetus of the next casus belli. After rare earth metals and lithium. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
A fascinating article on hydro-imperialism appeared in Global Research. Am I covering too many items, too many areas of concern. This I know your media have covered not.
According to the U.S.-based Center for Public Integrity, Western nations stand to make up to a US$1 trillion from privatizing, purifying and distributing water in a region where water often sells for far more than oil.
Although over two thirds of our planet is water, we face an acute shortage. This scarcity flies in the face of our natural assumptions. The problem is that 97 percent is salt water. Great for fish, not so good for humans. Of the world’s fresh water, only one percent is available for drinking, with the remaining two percent trapped in glaciers and ice.
Put differently: if all the water on earth was represented by an 11-litre jug, the freshwater would fill a single cup, and we can only access the last drop. [e.s.]
Now, just imagine that. I have.