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FW: Google Glass: obedience to the Matrix

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  • Mark Graffis
    This was the last article a close friend of mine sent three days before she died of cancer on the 18th. Wish I d read it sooner ... From: Sunbear
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 24, 2013
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      This was the last article a close friend of mine sent three days before she
      died of cancer on the 18th. Wish I'd read it sooner



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      From: Sunbear <magnumopus@...>
      Date: Mon, Apr 15, 2013 at 10:56 AM
      Subject: Fwd: Google Glass: obedience to the Matrix
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      Google Glass: obedience to the Matrix






      Google Glass: obedience to the Matrix



      by Jon Rappoport

      April 14, 2013

      www.nomorefakenews.com



      It's now being suggested that Google Glass, the computers worn over the
      eyes, can be used to catch rogue stock traders before they wander off the
      reservation and destroy the firms they work for.



      Google Glass records everything the wearer sees and says. So if all brokers
      are ordered to have them, their every move can be observed by company spies.
      Wonderful, right?



      And if traders can be kept in line, how about bank tellers and nurses and
      teachers and gun shop owners and chefs and cab drivers and lifeguards and
      blackjack dealers and realtors and assembly-line workers and kindergarten
      kids? How about everybody?



      This could be the new media. Put it all online. "Here's what happened at
      Wal-Mart today, as seen through the eyes of a checkout clerk."



      Believe me, there are many people who would welcome Glass-security measures
      as a necessary innovation. Destroying freedom and privacy would be counted
      as "regrettable side effects."



      Glass: One more move in the development of a complete android society.



      In case you've been living on the moon, this evolution has been underway for
      a long, long time.



      Here are some personal observations on this recent history...



      The major media are proof there is life after death. But that life isn't
      pretty. Oh, it may be dressed to kill, but it isn't pretty.



      I first became aware that television news was dead in 1974. I hadn't watched
      television for 15 years, and then, for some reason that probably had to do
      with my addiction to popcorn, I bought a small black and white set and
      arranged the antenna with, yes, aluminum foil, and set it up on a bureau in
      my small apartment in Los Angeles.



      One night, I turned it on. I watched the news and munched popcorn.



      I can't recall the newsmen, but I assume Cronkite, the man who had replaced
      George Washington as the father of our country, was front and center.



      I tried various stations, national and local, for the news. I was sure I was
      looking at androids. The tones, the grins, the melting sincerity, the hectic
      elation, the droning "factual reports." America had gone mad.



      The news had died completely, and I was watching animated corpses. I didn't
      think I was watching dead people. I knew I was.



      How could anyone take this seriously? I expected half the screen to drop
      away and Laurel and Hardy or Salvador Dali to peek out and expose the ruse
      as a massive Disney-CIA operation.



      After a few months of examining television news and other programming, I
      began to realize the plague of androids was moving from television to the
      populace. Or maybe it had started in big robotic corporations and then had
      been taken up by the news. Either way, it was a painted zombie.



      Had I missed some mega-event in the country that killed off humans and
      replaced them with non-carbon substitutes?



      Factually, of course, the news was getting worse. But I had known it was a
      con since the JFK assassination.



      The anchors, though, and the reporters, the whole gang of "team news"
      people; where had they come from? Was there an underground base where they'd
      been operated on, to suck away active brain cells?



      Was this all a consequence of the disintegration of language? Was it the
      result of a deep collective trauma (Vietnam?) that needed a bright shiny
      cover to induce amnesia? Was it merely a wholesale reflection of the
      advertising industry?



      By 1982, when I began to work as a reporter, I had come to a provisional
      conclusion. America wanted to be a happy country. It was desperate to be
      happy. It felt it was entitled to be happy. It would do and say anything to
      be happy.



      Even when horrible things happened, people wanted to smile. They wanted to
      live inside a short-circuited universe. There were two states: happy and
      temporarily blank.



      And then there was something else peeking in at the edge; mindless rage.
      That was no surprise. How could a nation feast on Happy, day in and day out,
      without going crazy?



      Television news was a perfect template and advertisement for all this. You
      had car crashes and mangled bodies, storms wiping out towns, famines,
      murders, but you still had Giggle on the screen. That was the mandate.



      The whole country, or at least the myth of the whole country, was inventing
      itself as a porn-tinged sitcom. I met a fair number of people who'd
      emigrated here on the premise that they'd find an amusement park Nirvana,
      and I asked them why that appealed to them in the first place.



      I expected them to say it was because of horrible conditions in their home
      countries, but no, that wasn't the first answer I fielded. These people
      would point to shiny cars and apartment buildings and fast-food restaurants
      and even bowling alleys to make their self-evident declaration.



      A cartoon of a cartoon of a cartoon. That's what was evolving. And now there
      was an innovation: at each new level of the dream, the original and lost
      emotional range was being reintroduced---sadness, grief, exasperation, fear,
      frustration, outrage, joy, excitement---but as synthetic substitutes.



      It was as if a film director decided to throw in the kitchen sink on his
      latest project, but without a shred of insight. Just cook up an emotion and
      ladle it on. Pour it on the screen.



      And this was being accepted, welcomed, heralded.



      People were learning how to live and react and think and talk through the
      movies and television and advertising, as if they'd come from some unknown
      devastated place where the experience of life had been wiped out and a new
      kindergarten was called for.



      And this was what the news was playing to. This was the audience.



      Since movies are part of media, it brings me to an experience I had last
      weekend. I watched a piece of dreck called Prometheus, directed by Ridley
      Scott, who had once been alive when he made Blade Runner, but was now
      obviously dead.



      He doesn't know he's dead, because he's still walking around, but he's been
      reanimated in some quite incredible way, his IQ sliced in half, to be
      generous.



      This is supposed to be a movie about man's search for his maker, about the
      eternal questions. It's supposed to be about the engineering of the human
      race from a distant world. It's supposed to be a Deep examination of our
      abiding myths.



      Instead, the high points of the drama are: a woman inseminated by alien
      fluid and rushing into a one-day pregnancy, at the end of which, with belly
      swelling like a marshmallow, she gives birth to a squiggly squid; a large
      explosion in a cave; an underground labyrinth turning out to be a giant
      spaceship; and one of the engineers (?) of our race, a rubbery-white Adonis
      with a fixed introspective face out of a mortuary, turning on a bunch of
      lights to make the alien ship come alive. There is also a heroine hanging
      from a ledge by her fingers.



      That's it. The critics lauded the sets. The sets were perhaps one cut above
      an original Star Trek studio cardboard layout.



      Ridley Scott, the man who gave us the only noir science-fiction movie worth
      watching, Blade Runner, has gone into waking slumber.



      At the end of Prometheus, the heroine doctor takes off with the mantlepiece
      head, just the head, of a highly intelligent android, to search for the home
      world of the Engineers who made us, paving the way for a sequel.



      Like so many blockbusters these days, the elements of Prometheus are lifted
      from older movies which in turn are derived from still crustier movies, and
      not in a good way. With each new generation, the plot lines are shrinking,
      the lead-ins to the big money scenes (explosions, decapitations, aliens
      appearing) are shorter, as if to say: who cares, we know why you're in the
      theater, you want the payoffs so here they are.



      A great deal has been written about sci-fi disaster movies as predictive
      programming; the audience is being prepared for real-life monster false-flag
      operations, leading to greater government clamp-downs on freedom.



      Well, I think the more important programming is in the area of behavior---as
      in, operant conditioning. "This is the way to think and behave."



      Be not-human. Imitate the characters in these movies. Be rigid, effective,
      shallow, mindless. It's the latest cartoon of life.



      Google Glass is a perfect extension of all this. Wear these special glasses
      and gain new powers. Access the Cloud in a microsecond. Step up your
      efficiency quotient. Merge with Glass. Experience androidal existence at a
      new level. Your own mind and imagination are minor qualities. What you
      really want is a ticket to miles and miles of useful information and you
      want it now, wherever you are, whatever you're doing.



      You need directions? Here they are. You need cues to improve your real-time
      social interactions? Here they are. You need to record the people in your
      vicinity, so you can play it all back later and see how you could have
      maximized those eight minutes in the conference room? Here it is.



      Wear Glass and merge with Glass. You'll be an unstoppable one-two punch.
      You'll amaze your associates. You'll be the first person on your block to
      own a Friend who guides your actions.



      Because, make no mistake about it, the next step in Glass is anticipation.
      The machine will know what you want before you do, and it will give it to
      you, right in front of your eyes. Why wait? That's old-school. Glass already
      has the answer before you ask the question. It's more efficient that way.



      Talk about conditioning. It will take and make a profile of You. Then it
      will know what to deliver and when. The profile will rub away your rough
      edges. It'll delete your complexities. It'll remake you as a streamlined
      pseudo-human and fulfill the needs of the imitation-you.



      Eventually, you'll catch on. You'll enact the suggestions and demands of
      Glass before it passes them on to you. You'll be entrained. At that point,
      Glass will re-form a better profile, based on your new reaction-time.



      You and the machine together, in an enclosed meth-like bubble, moving and
      acting faster and faster to gain an edge.



      They could, at that point, put you on an assembly line with all the other
      robots and you would perform admirably. And you might well want that, to
      test yourself against complete unthinking machines, to gauge your progress.



      In fact, society itself will have moved light years beyond current androidal
      archetypes: delete all unnecessary action and thought. Do away with interior
      reflection. Blunt imagination down to a nub. Find the fastest route from A
      to Z and effect it.



      You'll want to watch a movie, and the holographic experience will be yours.
      It'll last a few seconds. Through the latest version of Glass, you'll be
      flooded with a download of basic sensation-essence. That will be the movie.
      You won't even remember what you saw, but you'll know it in some
      neurological compartment, and with Glass, you'll be able to discuss it with
      your friends.



      The world will be your stand-alone object of affection, no matter what
      events are occurring beyond your need to comprehend them. Glass will assess
      that need-to-know and wall you off from the inessentials, and you will
      assent and agree and comply. Willingly.



      Looking back on today's world, you'll see an attenuated Dickens story line
      of no importance at all. How could those people have stood for the
      interruptions, the postponements, the false trails, the dead-ends?



      How could they have put up with the dreary elongated social interactions?
      How could they have accepted the tonnage of irrelevant information?



      How much better to tune up the nervous system to a form of predictive
      programming, whereby you not only get to the airport in record time, but you
      are the airport and the plane and the flight before they even happen.



      It's the fabled Zen merge. If you're a tooled apparatus.



      And somewhere in an underground NORAD-like bunker, a technician will be
      making a report: "Sir, we've boiled down the human species to 1,234,727
      profiles or roles. Our information systems do an eval on the 18 billion
      inhabitants of planet Earth, assess parameters and habits of each person,
      and basically assign them, through Glass, the applicable profile. From that
      point on, every suggestion, advice, datum, and prediction funneled through
      Glass to the user will fall within the shape of the role/profile fitted to
      him. Our surveys indicate that, on the whole, this escalation will operate
      smoothly...people want it. They welcome it..."



      Jon Rappoport

      The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM
      THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th
      District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an
      investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine,
      and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other
      newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures
      and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to
      audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at
      www.nomorefakenews.com





































      Jon Rappoport

      The author of an explosive collection, THE MATRIX REVEALED, and the New EXIT
      FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th
      District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an
      investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine,
      and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other
      newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures
      and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to
      audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at
      www.nomorefakenews.com




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