When you live with things your whole life you tend to not notice them.
So, for instance, I can imagine a Scientologist not understanding how weird something like an e-meter is and how bizarre some of their jargon is.
For normal people, if one were to hear someone say something like, “I was raised in a religious cult that was essentially some sort of intelligence agency cover or experiment where we were tucked away in the corner of a metal warehouse in a wooded suburban area commuting distance from the headquarters of various three letter agencies then given LSD” it would sound crazy.
So if someone were to say, yeah, my buddy growing up, he looked just like me and his dad was a big honcho at the CIA, you might think it was some kind of bragging. But for a person in that situation, like a Scientologist, he likely won’t really process that as to how extra-ordinary it is, or even grasp the implications, because he just grew up with it. If everybody’s dad was something or other like that it is normal to you. If “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you” was the joke that everybody heard from their dad, and quite often their mom, it never really sinks in.
After 9/11, the people that hired me didn’t need me to program their computers – I was barely functional. But they needed to distract me, at the least, I guess. I was always treated quite well certainly and given many opportunities. And I did pretty much suspect that one guy was a member of the club.
So, I kind of did sort of know that I was waltzing into a well known front company and they rolled out a red carpet, in a sense. If I had been functional, it would have been great. But of course I wasn’t.
So, you know, I’m hired to work at a pretty well known front company for The Club, and they just happen to have a team of very polite Muslims there, along with a hard core Zionist Jew who likes to talk about it at work. What was I, exactly? The audience, to see how I would react to Muslims considering the attack?
And of course I knew that 9/11 was an “inside job” at least within an hour or two, but my understanding of that went in and out for a while.
I was never particularly interested in being in their club, frankly. In fact, I ran as far away from it as I could as fast as I could, the second I was old enough to split. Which, apparently, is exactly what they expect you to do.
Now I can sort of see why every single place I lived, there was always, always, some cute Jewish girl that would be really fast. I particularly remember the one chick with the big knockers in Cali. You know, the one on vacation. She was quite frank about it too. She just said, “well instead of doing my Army service I’m coming to America.” She showed up, amazingly, right when the shitty little country was getting bad press too. Plus, she totally lured me to spend the night with her while I guess her little buddy searched my apartment.
But I am pretty stupid, I admit that. I mean, I willingly went on the fucking boat ride through Connecticut. I was so dysfunctional there precisely because I was super-suspicious of what was happening, so I would purposefully forget, then at very inopportune moments, it would rush into my consciousness and I would nearly panic. And yeah, I attend a wedding and chat with you know, a well known wealthy CEO who just so happens to be a huge Israel lobbyist. Wait, who am I the guest of again? Where did I meet her? Oh right, when I stayed with the guy that just happened to know the governor. Everybody “just happens” to be connected to surprising figures. I’m like a fucking sleepwalker.
I don’t believe my family has gained or profited much from our long, er, “engagement” with the club. In fact, the engagement does seem to be mostly one way.
Now I wonder if this is an extended phenotype of cult-like groups, because I followed the typical life script to the letter. I was never a player, of course, but looking at it from the outside, some of the shit I did – waltz into those left wing groups, the videos, the sometimes political PR, the fundraisers – would be exactly what you would expect. But I did it of my own accord, as far as I know, which makes me think it’s some kind of extended phenotype.
Basically I’m afraid of being Dylann Roofed or otherwise set up as some sort of patsy for something.
So I need you guys to get me a visa and let me work here because I don’t want to come back.