Z-anon-sensei Speaks #69
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“A person who can assume responsibility must also be willing to be causative.” Hubbard
Meanwhile, back at the WhoreHouse, it had been the second best night of Blake Steele’s life, next only to his initiation which would always be first in his mind. There he sat, in the BeastLawn itself, listening to the Pretendident of the USA reading (albeit clumsily) Steele’s own words to millions of viewers, who were at the same time being saturated by carefully designed subliminal cues provided by ^darkpower agents in MO:G. Which was also, at least in part, Steele’s idea– approved, of course, by Rager Stain and Pretendident Thump. He was really making things happen.
And oh, my, was his Darlin Gyrl beside herself! This was the best night of her life, she said, and Steele felt proud of himself, as a family man, for providing it for her. The glamorous stars, the big political names, the fireworks, and oh, my, oh, all the drugs. White powders were practically being sprayed over the crowd like tear gas at a protest; pills of all kinds being handed out like party favors. Darlin Gyrl wasn’t much for coke, usually, and she overdid it a little, getting a bit too excited for every applause line, and sometimes in between. But no one noticed, given how blasted everyone else was. And she had had no regrets this morning, that’s for sure! Oh, Blake Steele loved his Darlin Gyrl.
A lot of Steele’s hexwords had shown up in Thump’s speech, and in the other speeches throughout the ^repo National Convention TV mini-series. It’s a shame Thump is the worst possible speech reader, but what are you going do about the Donny, anyway? And it didn’t really matter, with all the other production values so high.
The speech wasn’t to Thump’s liking, obviously, but for once he stuck with the script, and didn’t even try to improvise too much. He will like the polls tomorrow, for sure. Steele was already making arrangements for some really positive polls to appease Thump and to feed into friendly media outlets, and of course to the Russian social media operation. But Thump was the main audience, as always. He needed to believe he was going upward, or he would start firing everyone, including Steele, P.R.
Steele almost cheered when he heard Thump utter the words, “Not darkness, enlightenment”, and then linked that to the “whiteness” of WhoreHouse’s paint job. Those phrases should have implanted the racist ^mythmemes deeply enough by themselves. Then the long list of heroic names with no narrative or connection. And leaping from WW2 to the coronavirus. Perfect. And the brilliant lies about the vaccine… Steele knew that lies that promise something specific are a little risky, but it won’t matter by the end of the year, anyway. He’d been sure to insert plenty of god stuff to please the evangelicals… if only they knew. Blake had been sitting with Darlin Gyrl right next to several of the big religious names in the country. Fallwell, of course, was disinvited for getting caught— the ultimate sin in Thump’s religion— but many of the other biggies were there. Steele had a deep respect for Christianity, especially the way most of these types, like Fallwell and his father, used it. Superstars, indeed. And there Steele sat among them, people pointing him out as Thump’s newest speech-writer. He basked in it, accepting their compliments and passing out Steele, P.R. cards to future clients in the religious ultra-rich class who were always desperate for PR and cover-ups and such. Just look at peeping Tom Fallwell, right? Just being there would be worth millions to Steele.
But hearing the Pretendident and his family speaking his words, with all their embedded hexes and ^mythmemes, to the whole world? That was worth more than money.
That was power. That was effect. That was being a cause of things to come. With a capital “C”.
Nuff said.
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