Surely it includes shelter, clean water, and food.
How is abundance clearly accessible to you?
What about global abundance, abundance for all people?
What levers, so to speak, would you pull so that we would generate more abundance?
There are at least two things we might agree on.
It doesn’t have to be like this, and
It won’t always be like this.
We know the next few decades will change the face of human existence.
We can’t know how it will change.
We also know that some things will stay the same.
We can’t know exactly what will then resemble today.
We are stewards of change. Not just cultivators of the new, but maintainers of heritage.
It is actually our duty to ensure that we consider what we carry forward through this sociotechnical threshold of the 21st century.
Many things we might like to bring with us are actually quite menacing upon closer inspection.
This while abundance is clearly within reach of our grasp in so many ways.
As we wither, parched for fresh invigoration, will we thirsty beings in a complex world recognize the glass of water before us? Will we take hold of these opportunities that we may never see again?
We think there will be time to go on with our work tomorrow.
We may not like it, but it’s worth remembering: there may be no time at all tomorrow.
Your expectations, conscious and otherwise, may be wrong, dead wrong.
We have continued, for example, to continue our long walk along the perilous tightrope that is the global nuclear arms threat, a true menace by design.
Change is eternal, yet for all its variety, evolution from the human perspective can have something of the phrase “plus ça change” to it.
Much evolution of governance in the early 21st century has also been, for example, the evolution of a more ancient form of human relationship, which is that of the art of terrorizing people in an often successful effort to muddle their wills, both personal and collective, and otherwise gain competitive advantage.
And how much change now is so superficial as to represent not just a lack of meaningful change, but something less, something that is insidiously draining, something that stultifies?
We see that the generation of change is all too often the buzzing of a newsmill rather than the successful address of any fellow human’s problems.
Now, just as ever, the world needs us to be critical thinkers, even when that simply does not seem to be what evolution has molded us to be, generally speaking.
There is magic between our ears, not just some computer, and I’m not convinced that treating societies of these magic minds as though they were simplistic mechanisms and not wondrous, unpredictable things, persistently mysterious, and capable of novel inventions the likes of which may only occur once in the imagination of a single person before then taking form in the common manufacture of this material realm we share… I’m not convinced that this is the way to go.
Yet this is how traditional organizational design tends to address organizations, as though organizations and the people in them are best addressed in formal relationships that don’t admit the value of exploratory uncertainty and the work done to reduce it into intelligible bits of knowledge, because traditional models of organizational design have scarcely had an especially meaningful way of representing how real world problem solving is done, not as a structure, but as a dynamic process.
It’s not just organizations. Most western models of reality, or desired realities, have scarcely had this benefit of encoding dynamism.
It’s not organizational design’s fault. Western society has leaned toward reductionist explanations of the world for some time now, preferring structures rather than flows, roughly speaking, and from this culture came the so-called scientific management practice and all the rest.
Well, there is new science in town, and it is time that management practice and its visionary cousin, organizational design — it is time these disciplines are updated to account for the insights afforded by the still rather new science of systems and complexity.
The ground often gives way and leaves little footing; maybe that is why I am so buoyant.
Life is full of events — you may have noticed — both fortunate and otherwise.
The essential teaching of Stoicism seems to be that, with a mind of discipline intent on right perception, those events we sometimes find so unfortunate can nonetheless be turned to gold.
What’s more, it doesn’t make much sense to take ourselves so seriously. After all, what are we taking seriously anyway? It takes calm and quiet to look inward, and here is where what we think is ourselves often turns out to be only a passing thought like some cloud in the sky.
I was smitten, a boy of fifteen, enamored with a girl I had just met.
It was late summer, 2007. Thinking back now, I suppose I might have been wondering then if I was falling in love.
We had a week to enjoy together before she went home. That’s what we thought. When a few people at camp got sick, it didn’t make any headlines. It didn’t take long for that to change.
We all took a surprise crash course lesson in what an outbreak of highly contagious disease can look like.
A few dozen became ill. More would suffer if it wasn’t shutdown.
So it was shutdown.
After only a few days of this much anticipated week at camp, it was over.
Worse, this girl I liked so much was now on her way home, on her way to another state, and the only place I was going was Sad Town.
At age fifteen, that week was my last chance to be a camper before aging out. There was going to be a closing ceremony and everything. I was going to learn to sail. I was going to meet girls.
I was excited.
Sure enough, I enrolled in my sailing class (think very small boats). I was paired with a boy four years younger than me, and that was cool, because he was cool.
And sure enough, I saw a girl I wanted to talk to on the first day, did, and was smitten.
Then it was over.
Dad picked me up. The drive home was long enough for me to stare out the window a while, the forests and lakes of the area passing by. All my mind saw was this person I liked so much and how I didn’t know if I would ever see them again.
When we arrived home, I passed in through the doorway with my emotions obviously not beaming, my eyes maybe a little puffy, and my dad made a remark to my mom from behind me in the garage, as though he were introducing me (and maybe forewarning her).
Ever the cool operator, he said:
“He’s not a happy camper.”
How many of us are happy campers right now?
We all had plans. I don’t think anyone has gone unscathed through this pandemic.
Back in 2007, I thought I was going to get to know this person at camp.
Before the pandemic, I thought I would have no trouble living my life, taking on my life’s work — at least, not the pandemic sort of trouble.
I think most people thought this.
We were wrong.
The truth — hard as it may be to our minds that have been so dulled by longstanding oscillations between being coddled and shocked in the western milieu — the truth is that the pandemic didn’t need to be a surprise.
For some, this ongoing disaster is utterly unsurprising. It’s a white swan event, not the rare black swan that so many claimed in the early days (with their shallow verbiage, borrowing terms from the Risk Doctor without understanding them).
That’s the point: infrequent as pandemics of this sort may be, they are practically inevitable without taking adequate measures to prevent them, which we haven’t. The way we have patterned the everyday life of our species, combined with explosive incompetence with risk and complexity at every level of society — we have forged for ourselves a guaranteed baseline of pandemic risk. And similar risks of other ‘normal accidents’. Over time, such risks become realities.
We should not be surprised.
We should be disappointed.
The people charged with addressing such risks have been neutered by an ambient culture of anti-intellectualism, ceaseless manufacture of controversy, and a default to greed and bad faith at the highest levels.
It’s almost just as well. Seems they wouldn’t have been up to the task anyway, as both the WHO and various national CDC organizations have reliably demonstrated a lack of know-how when it comes to complex risk.
Think about how the US officials were advising against masks.
Recall that the WHO declared early on that there was “no evidence of human-to-human transmission,” even as Wuhan was days away from a brutal lockdown.
We should not wait for confirmatory evidence of such risks. We should ask ourselves, Could this situation be explained as the germ of runaway complex risk?
The match-to-the-tinderbox quality of our global travel patterns and other pandemic risk factors has been highlighted by more than a few people in recent decades. Failing to take heed has cost us dearly.
We may not always anticipate when or exactly how the ground will fall out from beneath us, but we can always anticipate that it will happen, somehow and sometime, to all of us, and in this way of recognition, we can start to find peace of a higher order.
I can’t tell you how much I appreciate my dad’s perhaps unwitting Stoic qualities. With a cancer that seemed to indicate the end being nigh, I think the worst of it that he let on was how uncomfortable he was in the confined spaces that the treatments required.
That was years ago too.
There is plenty I am unaware of there, and, honestly, I hope there was only scant emotional repression — rather, I hope he embraced them that he might let them go. I don’t know as well as I might like. Perhaps I am idealizing it. But I can think of many other times where his character shone through.
Maybe he was not interested in all the ways that some might have liked him to be, but when I think of my dad, I do see him as disinterested in the ways you would want a man to be disinterested. I recall walking upstairs to the first floor one time, on a night when we were the only ones around for the evening, and at just the same time he was entering the same hall. He had some sort of accident, and with his thumb halfway off, he said calmly something like, “Ev, I’m going to have to get to the hospital. Be sure the dog gets out and has water.”
He wasn’t quivering about it. He was just doing what had to get done.
I appreciate that.
I appreciate seeing that.
No doubt it played some part, however small, in my ability to calmly and properly clean some awful wounds to a friend’s face several years later, one where there were some tissues opened up that shouldn’t have been.
She took some jagged gravel to the face, hitting the ground headfirst from a five or six foot fall.
It was past midnight. We were in the wilderness and some distance from the hospital.
The next day, I woke up in a mutual friend’s car after that long night. We had got her to the emergency room eventually.
I must have smiled, because this mutual friend told me the doctors said they were impressed and couldn’t have prepared her any better. I got to drop her off to her family knowing that, half-asleep though I was.
With some of the risks in the world, though we should seek to understand them deeply, it’s as though we were adult children still deluded with an image of our parents as immortal, failing to prepare in even the most basic and commonsense ways for their inevitable death. What’s more, the parents suffer the same delusion. When it happens, things fall apart more painfully than they needed to.
(Thankfully my parents have no such delusions.)
Crazy as it may sound, we are getting off easy with this one — the pandemic, I mean. The next virus could certainly be much worse. There is nothing absolute to prohibit the emergence of more dangerous viruses.
We should use this time to deeply improve our relationship to such risks.
When I went back to camp at age sixteen, not as a camper, but as an employee, I had no training. The year of the viral outbreak at camp, when I lamented losing proximity to the cute girl who did my hair at the picnic tables and looked at me like I wasn’t used to being looked at, that was the year — the week — that I was supposed to be trained as a Junior Counselor. Like everything else, that class was cut short shortly after it started.
I only went to camp for that one foreshortened week of the last summer, so I arrived for my new Junior Counselor position with only my wits and observation to serve me — again, no training.
Trouble was, the “senior” counselor to whom I was assigned as an underling had the same credentials as me, which is to say, none. He was my superior on the basis of age seniority only, not experience or skill. In the first minutes around this guy, it was clear I was in for a challenge. A year older, he was a Boy Scout who knew it, who took it a little too seriously. For example, he argued with the camp director on day one, “I know how to use my knife. I’m a Boy Scout. This should except me from the ‘no knives’ rule.”
Long story short, he immediately alienated people on contact. Greeting the arriving campers, it was me assuring parents. As I remember, he was piddling about nearby as I got our cabin’s campers settled; that, or he was being inappropriate-on-demand with them.
So just as my last week as a camper shuttered unexpectedly and abruptly, I was now a Junior Counselor looking after a dozen young boys and one old one who was supposed to be the leader of the pack. The anticipated on-the-job training turned out to include exercises in damage control.
That was the first couple of days, which was all the time he needed to teach our campers how to most effectively inflict pain on others (males) with the method he called “monkey grabbing peach”, otherwise known as grabbing someone’s scrotum and twisting it really hard.
He was let go, with five days left in the week.
I was now in charge of a dozen campers in our cabin, with no experience and no training.
(Later that year, with a few more weeks under my belt, I would look after a cabin filled to the brim with 25 kids, thankfully all of them rather disciplined pre-Olympian gymnasts, but that’s something else.)
The world is a lot like this now. We have incompetent leadership that should be ousted. We have people to care for, often with no idea how. And it doesn’t matter: we still need to get the job done, everyday.
And in many ways, we aren’t. This is more than a cabin of kids, after all.
After my counseling debut, reluctantly at first then wholeheartedly embracing my surprise position, I went on to work as a counselor every week that summer (except girls’ week, when I just washed dishes).
We can get the hang of things and do well. We can even do this with the complex systems and risks that imperil us so gravely today. This is true even and perhaps especially when we seem to lose our footing.
“… by going out of your mind you will come to your senses.”
— Alan Watts
We can’t, however, improve our lot if we are convinced it is an impossible feat, that we aren’t even ready to get ready, or that we are alone and uniquely challenged by life, unable to share our (common) burdens with others.
I took a lot of inspiration from my older brother at the time, captain of our cross-country team in the fall prior to my first summer as counselor, and indeed counselor of my own cabin (albeit for only a few days). It wasn’t any particular technique, rather a spirit of inclusivity, patience, and disciplined fun-loving that I sought to carry on in his absence at the camp.
So I did.
So can we.
When we observe disinterestedly the flows of our lives, we can release the sense that we need to force anything to fit our expectations, and we can work with it, play with it, and find that it is always changing anyway. With this, we can also refrain from the type of naïve interventions that exacerbate our woes.
In systems, there is something called a relaxation period. We need these.
The thing to do now is to empower youth, not merely to better fit our expectations of them, but to play an active role in cultivating their critical faculties now with the benefit of heritage generated then.
Short of any new longevity miracles (which I admit do not seem too farfetched), the kids have more skin in the game than we do. They will live longer in this accelerating downward spiral that we seem to have setup for ourselves. It seems the least we could do is give them the best tools our heritage has to offer in actually addressing these global grand challenges of ours.
Complexity- and risk literacy are key among these elements of heritage to be maintained, as is systems theory. That much I know for sure. How can we understand and appropriately engage a truly complex world if we never pay any mind to methodically address complexity?
I should say now, the boy who I sailed with — I mentioned he was four years younger than me at least, when I was fifteen. That said, I had no experience sailing. Nonetheless, at age eleven, this boy was capable of coordinating the two of us on a sailboat, such that we nearly won our race. Perhaps even more impressive is how he coordinated us to right the boat when — I’m sure it was something I did — we capsized it.
What is the saying, age earns no value except through thought and discipline?
So we see that it is possible.
The youth today which, to some, can seem so chaotic in and of themselves, are actually hungry for responsibility, and not mere play responsibility, but real responsibility, and the tools to be competent in carrying out that charge.
There are ways we can help them do this, and we should.
I am launching a project in a few days. It’s a super-project, actually. I am calling it Autotelic.
The name Autotelic represents the essential spirit of the project, which is to create situations where the various sub-projects emerge and mature successfully in an organic fashion, each emerging ‘of itself’ naturally thanks to the situations I – the autotelic practitioner – engineer humbly.
More to come on this of course, but it’s worth noting and sharing now that the ultimate aim of this is to augment human problem solving power so effectively that we can actually address our global grand challenges with competence and the humility that complex problem solving requires.
Years ago, when I shared a desire to address our most difficult problems not one by one but as a set of problems that share generalizable characteristics, I was told over and over again that I was “trying to boil the ocean,” that my aspirations were essentially futile and that I should start smaller – much much much smaller – and be more humble in my ambitions.
Of course I bristled. Yes, there could be a hefty dose of hubris in my aspirations here. What I kept thinking, however, was that I didn’t see anyone anywhere who seemed to be stepping up to the task.
Some organizations have charged themselves with these problems, like climate change, shelter, water, etc. They are prone to the usual fragilities of organizations however.
Some people seek to address these problems as individuals and communities. They are prone to all the fragilities particular to these approaches as well.
I have long sensed, and had this sense affirmed by the unsung work of internet pioneers like Douglas Engelbart, that we need to innovate in the infrastructure of collaboration and creativity in order to better address these superwicked problems. I now have some pretty well-defined ideas about how to do this with the rapidity we require, which I will be sharing in public.
I have hemmed and hawed about sharing my work beyond close trusted circles. The risk to my private life has long weighed on my mind.
I think now that such deliberation has been a luxury we can’t afford. I must become a public man, though it might be a reluctant becoming. If I can articulate effective approaches to the world’s most pressing problems, it would be wrong of me not to share this work as broadly as possible.
As for boiling the ocean, my spirit remains the same as ever: hold my beer. When people use that phrase, I don’t think they understand that it is entirely within the realm of possibility to boil the oceans. (Why they would want to I don’t know.)
If it isn’t prohibited by the laws of nature, it is possible.
The impediment to our success as a species seems not to be our technical skill, but our social skill.
I should like to be part of bridging the two, and I am happy to now invite you, all of you, to join me.
I got away from the city for the past few days. The quiet is incredibly rejuvenating. In the wilderness, I’ve let my mind wander some. One of the things that occurred to me this morning is how, especially in my youth, I revered the sniper and the tracker for essentially the same reason: they cooperate with their environments skillfully, achieving their goals with patience and stillness, and take great care to cultivate their powers of observation as a primary factor in their work. You’ve probably heard someone say, “Well, I must be on a list somewhere.” I definitely have been since childhood. One of my favorite websites was all about the life of a sniper. From the art of fieldcraft and camouflage to the science of ballistics, to the strategies of survival deep behind enemy lines; this website, the films I had seen, and the games I had played had me fascinated. I couldn’t help but crawl around in the wilderness for hours on end with my pellet gun, scope, and binoculars, not shooting anything at all, but just observing the environment, inner and outer, controlling my breath as though I were to take a shot (aiming as best I could at some particular leaf off in the distance, for example), and cultivating the patience and fortitude required to be unbothered as I let bugs crawl over me. I suppose there was a kind of melting into the landscape that I accomplished. In that same action of non-action, of persistent and attentive observation, I suppose I was exercising my powers of focus, and I was getting to know my mind in a different way than would have been accessible if I were more engaged in less unconventional pursuits, like video games and girls. (That said, I would later, around age 12, become #1 ranked player worldwide, by kill-to-death ratio, on a particularly popular WWII-themed video game server, playing the game Day of Defeat, wherein my only mode of playing was as a sniper.)
I must have reveled in the idea that these skills, silly as they might have seemed at the time, would be something that I might call on some day, if – god forbid – they became necessary. I was never interested in the idea of killing an animal, let alone a person; that is, unless there were a very good reason, whether feeding my family or protecting it for example. Still, I’m sure it put me on a list somewhere. Most kids aren’t reading about how to setup a perimeter, create the ideal camouflage for a given environment, and build a hidden survival shelter in the dead of winter; and it seems like that sort of subject matter, along with other things on my childhood reading list like weapons of mass destruction and how computer viruses work, it seems like that would probably throw up a red flag on some automated system somewhere. I felt as though that were the case then, even as I used a dial-up internet connection. Many years later, it was revealed that the government of my country was doing just that: tracking the behavior and media consumption of practically everyone. So I’m on a list somewhere alright, along with everyone else. I just might be on some lists that are more special, more menacing than others. The thing is, though, all this was pure fun for me, with no bad intent about it. I was just fascinated and excited to learn. With regard to weapons of mass destruction, for example, there were actually very prosocial motives. I wanted to find out how the problem of WMDs might be solved in my lifetime. With sniping and tracking, I also just wanted to know how to hunt and feed my family off the land if necessary. Today the idea of self-reliance remains a kind of odd grey area in our culture. We are supposed to be the most independent culture there is, and yet we are now more dependent on our fragile civilization than ever, if only because it is what will make or break the future for all of us. I see clearly that there is no place to hide for me as some lone tracker in the forests and fields, operating in service of my small band and no one else. The real game to be playing is closer to that I aspired to in studying weapons of mass destruction. The real game is to be of service to the whole lot of us, all of humanity. This I learned sometime later in adolescence, or as a young adult rather. Now I am still learning to most effectively embody that lesson in my everyday life.
I remember that, as a child, I would enjoy enduring the challenge of a lengthy run in P. E. (physical education, aka phys ed).
No doubt this was in part because I looked up to an excellent runner in the family.
And I don’t doubt that this enjoyment was partly emphasized by the social contrast of my experience. That is to say, I noticed my natural capacity to endure the challenge compared to others, a capacity that was not exactly earned by me as a youngster dedicated to athletics, rather, it was something you could say I was born with and kept, whereas, say, an asthmatic did not have so much of this capacity.
This distinction between innate capacity and trained capacity wasn’t something I really thought of at the time; I just noticed that my legs were going fine, even as many classmates flagged. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t rather enjoy that. Still today I like to think that, what I enjoyed even more than my personal success in the challenge, was my continual attempt to motivate the others, to get them to see that this endurance was alive in their own hearts too.
Later, as a young adult years into working after starting at age 14, I would endure long hours of taxing work, and I would sacrifice the quality of my rest for weeks, months, years on end. No one held a gun to my head about this. What I told myself was that it was good to endure here, good because my endurance was depended upon, and while I had no evidence that someone dependable might take my place, the evidence actually suggested the multiple contenders for my position were definitively not dependable.
I was tired — and probably tiring — for many years.
I think maybe I shouldn’t have taken some of the paths I have taken, even as I am aware each has afforded me riches of a sort, for good or ill. What of the tax though? Perhaps most troubling is an apparently habitual, practically automatic tendency to put myself in situations where I am called upon, whether by my own conscience or otherwise, to grunt through a difficult forcing of something, which becomes a series of exhausting “making it happen” moments.
The thing about enduring with a principled, even systematic way of living, is that it too calls upon us for endurance. It does not always call upon us with the rich sensory reality of the moment however, certainly not always the one we actually encounter in our minds (we suffer more in imagination than in reality), and — particularly if we are stressed — it may be very difficult indeed for those chosen principles of ours to practically interface with the situation of the moment.
Even in direst straits, there is no law that says we must relinquish our enduring and peaceful presence; and even in the lap of luxury, there is no law that says we must live in deep gratitude and service rather than petulant tantrums.
The nexus of philosophy and everyday life is perhaps the main terrain I am concerned with.
What technologies have we today for evolving philosophies as actualities in everyday life?
Our time — these generations of humanity are inextricably informed by informatic tinkering with our perceptual-behavioral loops.
It’s time to get action in ensuring that such tinkering serves for the better rather than the totalitarian.
So when we think of the Marie Kondo phenomena [sic.], we can also see this as an approach to cleanliness, one that does not merely address base biological health in the close-at-hand way of keeping germs and filth at bay; no, Kondo addresses health of mind.
We can say that the patterns of our everyday experience constitute an environment of sorts, just as well as if perhaps not more powerfully than the environment of the kitchen we meet each morning, the bedroom we retire (or don’t) to each evening.
I suspect that the panpsychist stuff has always alternately repulsed and attracted me, if only because I have a kind of allergic reaction to textualism [and what might be called “legible-ism” for that matter, favoring that which appears as legible to that which does not afford a sense of knowing, however tenuous we might see that knowledge to be upon closer inspection] because I think textualism is a fundamentally impoverished and human-impoverishing method with which to attempt making sense of reality.
[That said, a conversational and variously decision making ecosystem of textualists interacting with non-textualists can of course be a creative sort of action unto itself.]
And we are, friend, interested — must be interested in the quality of our interfaces with reality. There is no other way but to lose our minds.
I am glad we are losing our minds.
As Watts put it, to come to one’s senses may very well require the loss of one’s mind.
[Since most of us are not totally and irretrievably “unhinged” from one another, we can rather safely ((with guidance)) lose our minds, perceive from that spaciousness of lost mindedness, and notice rich patternworks that we would not have noticed were it not for the contrast that “losing our minds” afforded us.]
Yet this implies an important practice of balance and poise, one not unlike unleashing some balloon filled with sensitive instruments: if it is to buoyant and goes uncontrolled, perhaps it flies too high and like Icarus is burned by daring to leave the environment where its relationships render it viable.
A wondrous thing about the human mind is that it can proceed further beyond Icarus however, if we take the story literally of course, as we have now sent spacecraft beyond the solar system we call home. (Voyager did leave the solar system, right?)
Anyways, I would like to address Karl Popper here as a kind of Marie Kondo of knowledge, i.e., Popper affords us a sort of generalizable knowledge cleanliness toolkit, rather than generalizable sort of objects-sparkling-with-joy toolkit. (Or is this really a “rather than” situation? There is much common ground. For now, so much will remain left up to the reader.)
In the wake of recent events, new evidence has been emerging, startling revelations that allows us to finally connect the dots.
We now have irrefutable proof that, in the wake of recent events, new findings show what we have feared all along is now settling in to become the new normal. Startling revelations in the study of conspiracy now tell us that there is a conspiracy of conspiracy, a wall of hell coming straight at us like a plague-ridden rat from out the toilet. This conspiracy conspiracy is quietly playing out behind closed doors in America, threatening our freedoms and ways of life like never before. It’s been quiet so far, but it’s about to get loud when, like the trumpets that built Jericho, we GET OUR MESSAGE OUT.
Maybe you’ve never heard of a conspiracy of conspiracy before. That’s because that’s what they want you to think.
If you have to courage to see, just imagine (I can see it now) and all will become clear if you put in the work: let your patriot mind take you past the cash register in a pizza shop, where? Little No Where Town, Middle America, past the ovens and the dish room, down the stairs, and who is it that you see surrounding an oblong table and smoking blood soaked marijuana from a taxidermed ramshead? Why of course it is Bill Gates, Bill Barr, and the kingpin himself—Bill Burr (famed Bilderberg surrogate behind the moon landing). And when is it? You already know: September 11, 2012.
The pizza shoppe is famous for a good bite, but the only thing these three Bills are taking a bite out of is CIVILIZATION.
Need I say any more words? Consider alone the simple fact that Bill Burr posted a podcast audio recording only one year later, a recording that would shock anyone who was really paying attention, a recording wherein on the subject of UFOs Bill Burr said:
I am nowhere near a conspiracy freak, or anything like that [are you sure you’re not an intergalactic lizard co-conspiracy conspiracist conspirator, Bill, really? he continues shamelessly…], but I do admit, I do get a hard-on for any documentary on that secret military base in Nevada that is called Area 51. I mean, believing in aliens, I don’t know: that’s really not that crazy. You know, you think, like, how big the fuckin universe is. It’s just life on one planet, no life anywhere else? Despite the fact that they see evidence of water on Mars, at some point. You know, I’m telling you guys we’re not that special.
We got him and the Internet will never forget. This is where the B3 ARE WRONG and UNAMERICAN (of course B3 referring to the Big Three Bills: Gates, Barr, and Burr) THEY ARE WRONG.
As aliens ourselves who have become entranced, mesmerized by “human media” into believing we are homo sapiens, we already know from previous experience (no scientist with our best interests at heart would name us that, which could only mean one thing). Anyway, we already know that it is crazy to believe in aliens in their world, because they want us to not believe in aliens, because we are aliens, and we are more powerful than them and they don’t want us to know that, really badly, so now of course they’re saying that it isn’t so crazy knowing full well that saying it isn’t so crazy is going to make a lot of us think as good truth seeking contrarians, well, maybe it is crazy, therefore creating further camouflage for them to do their work on society.
Each one of them has been building subversive astroturf networks around once powerful red-blooded American institutions. How do they explain themselves when asked about it? They don’t.
(At time of publishing, none not one of the B3 have responded to the emails I haven’t sent them.)
This alone is proof that the upcoming vaccine is designed (uhm, what happened to evolution, guys?) to further control our population by making more and more gay babies, less and less straight babies. (You can test this yourself, but be prepared because it is shocking tosee the problem is already in our own homes. Place any Hustler magazine in front of your infant and watch their reaction. Does their head wobble and bobble about as though they didn’t even care about the magazine? Note: It may take a few minutes, but they WILL lose interest. Remember, The Manhattan Project involved German scientists who later helped develop MKULTRA in the 80s and 90s.)
So there you have it. Now you know. What will you do with it?
There are so many questions. It’s as though around every corner there is another combination of words that I could say with conviction. I’m not sure how we’ll get out of this, but YOU. MUST.
look out. If you notice someone spouting conspiracy theories in your schools and the halls of your governments, beware: they may be under the influence of the conspiracy conspiracy to promote conspiracy theories, again, as though we were could be fooled! (Wrong AGAIN, mole people!)
These are crazy times. But it’s good to be alive. Stay safe people, care for each other. Signing off for Think Twice after these startling revelations in the emerging study of conspiracy conspiracy, at your service always
*save and spread this recording before they take it down!