Pontypool

Pontypool is a city in Ontario wherein the 2009 film of the same name takes places.

The film centers around the small town morning radio show, to which recently terminated radio ‘shock jock’ Grant Mazzy has been reduced to being the morning DJ. He’s not happy, he likes to make sure the producer is unhappy along with him. For a while the film ambles around amicably, basically giving you the lay of the land, and then the moment comes when a language virus appears. It’s up to debates that I’d rather not wade into as to whether the Pontypool is a bit of very astute commentary on how what we speak determines what we are, and that we have been reprogrammed by what we hear to be told what to speak to reduce us into the insane mobs that appear often these days or whether it’s a lot of pretentious horseshit deftly woven to appear as wisdom.

It could very well be the latter but it manages to communicate the former, whether by accident or not.

The medium is the virus. That’s the reason that I chose to name this site after the film. We live in a world that assaults us every waking moment by the programming of our media. We wake up, start the coffee maker, and check some form of media. Either a TV is turned on which is showing a requisite ‘morning show’ featuring a gaggle of talking heads pre-programmed with yesterday’s topics in order to spin them into the topics for today, or we check our Facebook, or open a web-browser on a laptop and surf the news concerning whatever topic interests us.

You couldn’t force this ritual on us if you tried to do so, yet because this is how everyone else operates, we do it instinctively now. Myself, I don’t do it, but let me disabuse you of the notion that I don’t because I have a lot of discipline. I don’t do it because I’m lazy and I like to sleep right up until the moment where I bleat, ‘Oh, crap!’ and have to jump out of bed and get moving.

Back to Pontypool: in the film one knew the language virus had infected someone because they had a ‘trigger word’ they would speak repeatedly once infected. That word was the one on which the invisible entity that was driving everyone mad had latched onto for that person, and how it had infected them. Though the film was, as noted, made in 2009, the idea of a trigger word seems most appropriate today, in this insane culture we live in. Once infected, people became part of a mob of host-driven and mindless bloodlust.

If you watch the opening of the film closely, it can be argued that Grant Mazzy, DJ of the radio show in Pontypool, helped to deliver the language virus that infected the entire town (and began to subsequently infect the world, as international news organizations began carrying the story). Without the medium, the virus would have had far less chance of replicating itself and surviving. Humanity has always been crazy, but when a medium is introduced that can allow humanity to communicate instantly, as well as being instantly alerted to every event worldwide, that same humanity goes mad.

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I say that all of it is connected because that’s what I think I see, but I of course could be wrong entirely. Yet I’ve found that a day to day scenario has often been this: I drive to the gas station to get a soda and put fuel in the tank. I pay, take the pump off the rack, and suddenly a small TV fires up to tell me the weather and yesterday’s events. I try to ignore it, put the pump back into place, and get in my truck and drive away. On the way to work, the local radio station tells me the same information as the gas pump. I stop at McDonald’s to get a biscuit, because I’ve got time. News is playing on on TV, a morning show on another. In both instances, people are repeating the same information that I heard on the gas pump TV, and on the radio. I try to ignore it.

I get to work, and sit down at my desk. A coworker stops by. “Did you hear about [news story].” Of course I did. I’ve been awake for two hours now. There is no escape. I open up a browser to start work and my home page shows me the same news stories and weather information as every damned thing else.

So is it connected? Or is coincidence such a stretched thing?

The medium is the virus. Every move, every gesture, every scripted line. It’s all to program us into thinking as the proverbial ‘they’ want us to think; which means, of course, that ‘they’ don’t want us to think at all. It’s almost pathetic, in a way. The whole thing is so predictable and farcical, and I think that may be what makes it all so tough to dig one’s teeth into: you’d think that we could understand what’s happening to us. You’d think that humanity, given its collective achievements, could see past the lie of it all and just shut the whole thing off.

But it’s as Agent K said in Men in Black: “A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky animals and you know it.”

Do you like being ‘handled?’ Do you enjoy being manipulated each and every day by everything you hear and see? I know I sure as hell don’t. But it’s like anything else: once the obvious becomes just that, we can step back and observe with some distance. We can enjoy the forms of media we want, recognizing each moment that these things try and program us, and be inoculated from the madness.  And the recognition of the whole, insulting thing allows us to know when to shut it all off, and ignore it.

Evil is narcissistic. The best way to deal with a narcissist is to just flat-out ignore it as often as possible.

 

Maintain Safe Distance at All Times (Front Toward Enemy)

This is your brain. This is your brain on tech drugs.

There was a movie back in 1985 called Lifeforce. A hokey sci-fi/horror film with bad effects and worse acting (though it did have some now A-list actors in it). The film centered around an alien ship that was found and in this ship were three entities that took on the form of humans but were, in reality, energy vampires. These suckers would quite literally take your own life energy from you if you got too close, leaving you a zombie-fied husk of a person.

WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?!

Thing is, like any good life-sucking entity, it knew how to present itself properly. It’s as Pinhead once noted: “Temptation is illusion.” And illusions drive our human minds right into the hands of all sorts of madness. The matriarch vampire looked like this:

Hot chick under glass. DO NOT OPEN.

One kiss from this spacebabe and you end up looking like the guy above. A potato left out too long. Ain’t no hydration therapy going to fix you at that point.

Like any sci-fi film, the symbolism was everywhere. Despite the bad effects and worse acting, if you know what you’re looking at, those archetypes and symbols come on like Stone Cold Steve Austin, bald and everything, daring you not to see them running at you full force. And though the motif of this film was the alien doom trope, I can’t help but see it all in a different light, in lieu of the world we live in now, our Machine City.

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If I happen to discuss my views on modernity, specifically, our multimedia-fed existence, with John or Jane Q. Public, inevitably I end up hearing something to the effect of, “Well, if it weren’t for Facebook, I wouldn’t have reconnected with an old friend,” or, “I am thankful for the internet because I get to talk to my relative across the country.” I also hear about how our technology has enabled us to be alerted to world events in real time, so that we have time to react. Well, yes. Even on a level with far less depth, I concur with the usefulness of so much of our modern tech. I love movies, and thanks to our tech, I can find any damned thing I want to watch at just about any time. There are times when I’ve seen a movie a month before 95% of the people I know.

But Evil is no fool when it comes to getting the job done. If Satan popped up into my room in the commonly referenced form, being all red with horns, hoofs, and a tail, my first moment would be prayer, and my second would be .38 hollow points to the bastard’s head. Even if I didn’t manage to kill him, I still win, he still loses, because the only reason he’s gonna show up is my soul. This clay form is of little use to him, other than a vessel, and he’s gotta be kidding me if he thinks I’m letting him in looking like Tim Curry from Legend. The Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head
And I’ve got the feeling someone’s gonna be cutting the thread, as it were.

No, Evil is not so stupid. Not by a long shot. What Evil counts on is our stupidity; our lusts for the things we desire and think we need. And I am a firm believer that the Powers that Be have always known this, and have always used this to their advantage when it comes to manipulating us, the masses, into becoming the slaves they desire us to be, which we seem to do without reservation, save for a few.

Some months ago, I was discussing the occult nature of super heroes with a friend. He asked me what was wrong with watching a super hero movie, and I replied that there is nothing inherently wrong with it at all, and if I were to say otherwise, I would be a hypocrite beyond measure, as I love them. Our modernity has tricked us into thinking in such terms. If one watches an eclipse without protection, they can count their eyes damaged. It isn’t watching the eclipse that is dangerous, in and of itself; it is watching the eclipse without any preparation and protection as to what our eyes will take in, and I see this same correlation when it comes to the media we take into our eyes.

As I said in my previous post, everything we hear and see is a lie within truths couched in lies siphoned from truth spun into sophistry. The goal is the disorder of our mental faculties. Though I would love the idea that we could shut all this madness down (and I would gladly give up my love for film here) and return to quieter, community-based living, it is far too late for that, and we must play the game with the hands we’ve dealt ourselves. There is no escape, there is only inoculation, which comes from knowing what our tech world is trying to reprogram us into becoming. And the only way to know that is to observe, to pay attention, and to be willing to step back for a moment of pause, and, again, as I said previously, to consider that, perhaps, just perhaps, ‘they’ (the Powers that Be who want us as slaves) are some really evil sons of bitches. 

Stepping back mentally (and spiritually) puts some distance between us and the lies being programmed into us. And there’s not one damn thing that Evil can do to stop us from achieving this distance, if we are inclined to be strong enough to put aside for a moment our addiction to instant gratification. God allows Evil to work its dark magic on this world for now, but like an M18 Claymore mine has ‘front toward enemy’ stamped on it, God’s Law has decreed that Evil has no choice but to declare its intentions in plain sight, no matter how much it wants to hide. But, again, Evil counts on our lusts and stupidity in this regard. It’s hoping like hell that we won’t pay attention. And with technology as attractive as ours today, kinda like a hot, life-sucking vampire matriarch, it’s not easy to do that.

I AIN’T SAYIN SHE’S A GOLD DIGGER…

But as the Powers that Be continue to push toward total technological domination of humanity, it seems rather apropos to take a moment to pause, take a step back, and observe it all from a safe distance. There is much to be enjoyed. Consider the balanced enjoyment a middle finger to the Evil trying to enslave us all through our eyes, and like myself, try and remember that darkness is Evil’s final intent, but since humans crave light, it certainly isn’t going to use that darkness as its initial tactical move.

Mental Disorder

I’ve consumed an insane amount of pop culture over the years. True, I don’t have cable or even an antenna. Hell, for the longest time, I only had sparse internet. But I’ve always been resourceful in finding what I want. A few years ago, I was as naive and ignorant as could be when it came to the Powers that Be that rule our world, and how each and every facet of our entertainment is carefully scripted to program us into being the dumbass simpletons that we have become. Dumbass simpletons who believe that we know everything, because in the process of being programmed down, we’ve been jacked up into believing that our modernity is a testament to our brilliance. But that changed once I began to look into the truth of things myself.

Oh, it took a long time. There are enough idiots out there putting on tinfoil hats as fashion accessories to keep a nut like me occupied with insane nonsense for nigh on a decade. And I’ve found that the more ‘conspiracy theories’ come to the forefront on YouTube, the more a person has to weed out the clickbait weirdos hucking every bit of new disaster footage as the coming of the 12th Imam. There’ve been times over the years where my ‘recommended’ listing on my YouTube page has looked like a Who’s Who of asshat paranoids who should likely be institutionalized to a single room with nothing sharp. Places where they have no choice but to report to group therapy at least once a day so that some very patient counselor can help untangle the Reynold’s Wrap from their exhausted and burnt-out synapses.

Yes, it took a long time to weed it all out. And either I did just that, or I went bat guano myself, and at this point, anyone’s guess is as good as mine.

The thing about this journey is that it’s like the old saying: once you’ve seen it, you can’t un-see it. There it is, right there; every damned where. The medium is the virus. The entertainment is the disease. Our parents warned us (well, if you’re closing in on dirt, like me). They’re parents warned them. Tele-vision programming. Tele meaning ‘at a distance,’ vision being obvious, and as well programming being even more obvious. From the moment Ferdinand Braun invented the first CRT back in 1897, to our vulgar bulkhead-sized digital screens, we have been programmed through our eyes. And holy hell, has it worked. The virus has been spread to us through the medium of moving images. Like a cancer, it sidled up next to us and said, “Hey, pal! I’m not here to hurt you. I’m your pal, your buddy. You’ve been busting your ass all day for that jackhole of a boss, and you don’t want to have to come home to screaming kids and more hell. No worries! Sit all your fatasses down once you get home, and let me do the thinking for you.”

And so, that’s what we did. Because humanity, given the option of the easy way or the hard way is going to always pick the real easy way.

The thing of it all is, if you ever decide to do what I did and research the blatant occult nature of how entertainment in the 20th Century and beyond works, you’re going to be disabused of the notion that you’re allowed to think for yourself. And it’s all so meta that meta seems to be an understatement. ‘Oh, they’d never do that to us,’ one might say. But ‘they’ will, ‘they’ have, and ‘they’ aren’t going to stop anytime soon, and at that moment that you might take pause and consider that, perhaps, just perhaps, ‘they’ are some really evil sons of bitches, those evil sons of bitches slide in a bit of doubt, and you’re back to watching some Kardashian with a giant ass who likes her men like she likes her coffee (strong, black, and in a cup) like nothing happened, wondering why every little jot and tittle of your day drove you nuts and by God, surely the doctor can slap something on a prescription pad to help out.

And don’t misunderstand me when I say ‘occult.’ It’s not a boogeyman standing behind your TV or computer monitor whispering ‘hail Satan’ (although such a thing wouldn’t surprise me a bit). Occult simply means hidden. And this is generally where me and the tinfoil brigade part ways: the Powers that Be hide. It’s how it all works. Like the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz, the people behind the curtain don’t want to be known and, rest assured, the moment a person thinks that they know who the Wizard is (Bilderberg, the Illuminati, Wacky Jews Ruling Hollywood),. the Wizard is GONE. A snake in the grass that shed its skin. Stare at it all you want, prod it, poke it, put it under a microscope; it won’t matter. Some clues will appear, but the real Wiz is long gone.

But the lovely majesty of God’s Universal Laws is that Evil has no choice but to declare itself despite itself. While it may be somewhat traumatic to realize that every move, every gesture, every moment of every form of entertainment is carefully orchestrated to take away your ability to think, and it may be somewhat annoying to never be able to watch a movie, news report, or your favorite TV show without seeing the agendas hidden in such plain site as to actually be bitch-slapping you right in the tender spot on your face, you’ll begin to see in time that the virus (at least the worst effects of it) can be remedied, or at least controlled. The need to rage and post dumb crap on Facebook and Twitter begins to subside. The panic and paranoia of the day begins to become what it is: noise. And noise can be dealt with when its vacuous nature is discovered.

Returning to my opening paragraph, when I watch movies these days (and I watch a lot of them), I can see the hidden in plain sight. Each frame, each bit of dialog. I see it for what it truly is: a virus that is attempting to rewrite what is healthy, turning it into a sickness. The mediums of our day are the virus, singular. That’s what I mean when I say that it’s all so meta that meta seems an insufficient word. There is no disconnect. Cthulhu is our entertainment, his slimy, invasive tentacles prodding and poking at us from every damned angle.

Everything we see and hear is a lie within truths couched in lies siphoned from truth spun into sophistry. The goal is the disorder of our mental faculties. There is no escape from our Machine City.

But there is inoculation. Just take a closer look. See. It’s all right there, hiding in plain sight.