Government Conspiracies

Government Conspiracies

There is not a government in existence on this planet with the initiative, brainpower, or work ethic necessary to even think up a conspiracy much less roll one into operation and then make it go. Let’s concentrate, here, solely on the current U.S. political emphasis on “saving the planet.” Which conspiracists, right wing theocrats, Bible-waving guilt mongers, and the certified paranoid, see as a cloaked disguise to usurp the national sovereignty of the USA. It ain’t. It’s a cloaked disguise to keep you from realizing that governments cannot provide services and products. The way “they” will “save the earth” is for you to cut back on shit. Lights, food, fuel, vehicles, traveling through dense traffic - or using any road in other words - garbage, utilities, clothes, air conditioning, cigarettes, drugs, enthusiasm, free-time, travel… The government is not promoting this in the interests of some super secret plan to “control” everybody. It’s a lot simpler, and a whopping lot lazier, than that. It’s because 99% of these things are under government ownership and regulation and fiat and rulership and, lately, management. And the government is not designed, equipped, capable, or even interested in actually getting these things to market or getting them built or getting them to function. Elected officials are notoriously inept and slothful and unambitious. They are not producers, they are predators disguising themselves as magicians and deities. So they do the only thing they can do: they proclaim that you are the problem. You are doing something wrong. And you, probably being stupid, say, “Oh, really??” And your mincing, Masonic, elected, lazy, snake-oil-selling “representatives” say, one hand on their hip and the other one waggling at you sassily, “Yes, mm-hmm, you brat, you are just so bad to be using all this stuff, you greedy little bastard.” And so you say “Ok!” like a little douchebag to this piece of shit, and then you simply learn to adjust to less stuff. Eventually you will be adjusting to just long walks in the woods. Which of course the government is promoting as the best thing a human being can possibly do in this life; take long walks in the fucking woods. So there’s no conspiracy. There’s just you, believing lazy people who lie to you – who you think you need, like a battered female thinks she needs her batterer - who you think will keep you supplied in all the things you think they can, like Santa Claus, keep you supplied with. But lazy, tax-fed, bureaucrat Public Masters are not suppliers. They just go around and gather-up stuff like voracious human army- ants, like boy-loving baleen whales sucking up krill. They gather up your stuff. Why? I guess because you let them. And if I ever get elected to office I’m going to do exactly the same thing with absolutely no compunction because I will figure that’s what you elected me to do: take your stuff. And I will, believe me. Every law in America will be in my favor, because the laws are designed to protect the lawmakers and the law enforcers. I mean, obviously, if a law can be passed to levy a fine on everything you buy, everything you make, and everything you do, someone is going to have to collect the fine and will not be prosecuted for trespassing and theft. He’ll be protected. Because the law is not against the collector. It’s against the provider. Which is you. Sucker. I will enjoy my stint in office. Especially if you have a Maseratti. Believe me, I will find a way to get it and there won’t be a goddamned thing you will be able to do about it, I’ll see to that. And it won’t be conspiratorial in the slightest. I’ll just go and get it! You’ll even know I am coming because I will have sent you a letter first, probably. Well, I won’t send it. I’ll have someone else whose salary you are paying send it. And it wont be the Shadow Government dropping by for the car either. It’ll be me. There won’t be nuthin’ shadowy about it. I’ll bring a big light if I need to. I might even leave you my card with my name and phone number on it and say, “Call me if you need me,” and you will probably be so excited that a US Senator shook your hand while he took your car you’ll tell your grandkids you shook Senator Solari’s hand the day he drove off in your Maseratti, and you’ll be so proud you’ll think you just met God. You won’t even get a receipt. You’ll just, maybe eventually - if your grandkid calls you an imbecile - get pissed. HAHA. Be a little late for that, chump.
These dopes can barely manage to have gay sex in a public toilet successfully or keep their prancing interns from ruining their lives with high-school level hijinx. How could they manipulate a conspiracy?
Only manic or extremely tense private individuals with sky-high IQ's and way too much free time have the intellectual capacity to dream up conspiracies. And nobody could carry the things out. There would just be no point. Everyone in government is getting everything he needs already. What the hell does he need to conspire to get? He’s got it already.
The government - any government - is incapable of "conspiring." Conspiring takes effort. And I am saying that the conspiracy theorists are granting governments way too much competence to ever be able to accomplish the goal of creating and fulfilling a conspiracy. Elected officials and appointed officials, except in the cases of extremely rare, drug fuelled, outstandingly deranged, psychotically motivated exceptions, like Obama, are nowhere near energetic or imaginative enough to even comprehend what a conspiracy would even be, much less actually keep one in operation without totally botching things five minutes into the operation. There are only two conspiracies bureaucrats would be capable of understanding and cooperating together towards: hiding their dalliances with the male staffers from their wives, and keeping you convinced that without their existence you would perish. And they are a lot better at the second one than they are at the first one. They’re battin’ a thousand with that second one. In fact, regarding the second one, just the reverse is true, for the record: that until government employees are extinct as a species you will never flourish. You can never produce more than they can take. There’s just too many of ‘em. There’s only one of you.

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Separate section
CONSPIRACY CAPERS AND PARANOIA FUN!

Conspiracy theories are things thought up sometimes by sane people who don’t really believe them in order to have fun with extremely stressed, justifiably confused, probably very diligent, people, just to have fun with them at their own expense. I dream up conspiracy theories all the time. Some are good, some are lame. You might be saying “if they’re all untrue, aren’t they all lame?” No. A lame one is one that is not plausible and will not ignite a calorie of heat in a stressed individual. Or put them into a mental state of fear and paralysis at the consequences. Which is the fun of conspiracy theories: watching the effect they have on people who believe them. And it is major, the effect. Only intelligent people believe conspiracy theories, incidentally. You have to actually have an IQ to be hysterically paranoid over a plausible complexity. So conspiracy nuts actually are nuts. But they are far from stupid. I once upset a whole bunch of people at JPL during an open house they had once. First of all, I have no business being at JPL. Having me at JPL is like having Satan in the nursery; there’s going to be
occurrences. So me and the people I was with – all of them a lot brighter than me – we’re walkin’ along, and off to the side of the path, there, at that place right over there, right on the grounds, is a small, unobtrusive little “thing.” It could be a sculpture, but it isn’t. It could be a housing for valves or something, but it isn’t. It could be a memorial sculpture for an event or an accomplishment, of some sort, but it isn’t. It could be a religious icon, or a deity, or a mystical construct, but it isn’t. It’s just some totally unidentifiable little geometrical, stone, waist-high piece of stuff. It’s probably a vent. Spotting this, which no one else of the thousand or so people on the ground even noticed: spotting this, because that’s what I do, I spot things: (I only spotted it at all because we had stopped and everyone had engaged in a brief conversation about something I had no clue about and I was bored.) Spotting this, during a lull in the discussion I pointed it out to my wife. Who is an extremely bright woman. I said you see that? She said yeah. I said, know what that is? She looked at it for a while and then said No, I don’t. I said you ever see anything like that before? Keep in mind I am assuming a very “knowledgeable” tone during all of this. She was now a little more concerned, based on my energy that I was transmitting. I said, You really just think JPL – this completely unassuming place, a place with no grand constructs, no monuments flung about, no preening bureaucrats being all officious with their briefcases, and their toadies in tow, you really believe that this innocuous, almost campground-like informality and ordinary, bland, almost boring buildings, this world famous icon, with no gates, no bars, no guards, no barbed wire, you really believe this place would be this drab if this was really the most cram-packed with super geniuses place in the world? Which of course it is?? She was now actually concerned. Because JPL actually is the most densely-packed-with-super-geniuses place on earth. And they never even concern themselves with earth. They only concern themselves with non-earth matters. And JPL really does look like a
worn out, ages old, infirmary for orphans with motor-skill impairment or a government hospital for kids with heads the size of car engines due to water accretion inside their supersoft skulls. It looks like the grounds of an old folks home, or something. It really does. And it really is crawling with the apex of human cerebral evolution. And – just for the record – there isn’t an asshole in sight. Except for this day. I was there. I said to her, very cautiously-but-not-quietly, if you can imagine that at all, I said, “That’s where the babies are laid.” About 20 passers-by stopped in their tracks; many of them wearing Star Trek uniforms. I am not lying. No, they were not employees. It was open house. And this was JPL. I pointed to the trees. Mercifully there was a circular space in the clustering branches. “It comes down through the trees: the exchange is made: they get the baby: we get the carefully rationed secrets: it’s win win. Except for the baby, of course. And who knows what happens to it. Maybe it gets to live a great life on another world. HAHA. But I doubt it.” Sulu, standing near, was visibly rattled. Spock looked thoughtful. The lizard-man from “The Arena” episode hissed. Cecily was stone dead quiet. Another fine day for me, fucking with people. I really should be in government: I’m a total flake.
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