The sneak apocalypse is like this: no matter how sneaky one thinks one is, Mr Apocalypse is sneakier and then some. All those sneaky corporate crazy evil overlords (CEOs) that think they’re running the show from behind the curtain are blinded to the fact that they too are but stones on a larger Go board. As self-proclaimed rulers of all that is sneaky, in their minds there can exist nothing sneakier than their particular brand of secret society black ops and false flags carried out by MK patsies and steroid-pumped mercs. Crass mistake.
The inability to conceive a higher sneakiness is a fatal flaw in the control system, intentionally hardwired in the control freak mindset to keep ’em motivated. Think of it as an inhibitor that keeps their consciousness from reaching a vantage point from which they could see they’re getting played like steel drums. For the sake of realism, they gotta be crazy evil and believe it too. Fortunately, the same does not apply to the rest of us… we can be whatever we want, just not believe it is anything more than a pantomime we perform for the pleasure and higher purpose of Universe. When human beans forget this, they become dour and serious, put on suits and ties, screw their fellow beans and worship the Munney. Universe finds such dourness about as fun as watching swamps fart, but puts up with it because even the evil fcks are but aspects of itself playing their part in the cosmic dance.
The control freak mindset is loathe to admit that our incarnations within this illusory reality are fleeting and transitory. What use is wealth and power if you can’t take it with you? There are two ways of facing this question. One is to realize that the “wealth” one takes from one life to the next is not material but experiential, and the other is to set up hereditary power structures, secret handshake societies and long-term world domination plans to allow the thirst for power to survive from one generation to the next.
Now, this blog doesn’t really know what crazy evil overlords believe in terms of death, afterlife, reincarnation and all that, but their modus operandi suggests there must be some kind of carrot hanging off that big stick in the sky in order to keep ’em pulling the heavy load of their own craziness. Maybe it’s just the big stick, no carrot; or just the craziness itself posing as a higher purpose. If they worship the devil, as it is said, it is probably just the craziness… after all, one must be rather disingenious to trust the promises of the prince of lies.
Be it as it may, they are much more constrained by the limits of their narrative than the average joe is. The devil demands its dues with nothing of a devil-may-care attitude in every detail (which is why the rich and powerful don’t do an honest day’s work… their idle hands are its tools). But even then there is no rest for evil overlords, the cash cows must be milked every day to skim the cream and curdle the milk of human kindness; if this is not done on a daily basis, well, all hell just might break loose. Crazy evil overlordness isn’t a take-off costume; once donned it becomes one’s birthday suit til the end of the mortal coil.
The sneak apocalypse could also be called the apocalypse of the sneaks, or if you are of a more literary bent, the fall of the house of sneaky. Sneaky structures like shadow governments and shady organizations are energetically very dense and thrive only in environments where everyone is in mushroom mode, ie in the dark and fed bullshit. The availability of uncensored information on the net has let enough light through to blink and look around in disbelief at the size of the lie, the figurative awakening of Neo in the vast real-world human battery chambers. Many continue to resist opening their eyes to the truth, but it becomes more difficult to ignore every passing day.
Evil overlordship ain’t what it used to be since Mr A arrived with a ballsack for every dickhead. Now they can’t even put on a decent false flag without a million people pointing out every little inconsistency and making the official version sound like the fantasy it is. The Boston marathon clusterfck may be the straw that breaks the back of public gullibility, a clumsily executed and even more clumsily post-perception-managed “drill” that was announced by the Boston Globe before it happened and then blamed on two Chechen kids while ignoring all the skull logo cap guys with backpacks whose photos are all over the net. The closing down of the entire city of Boston while the suspects were hunted down made good live TV but lacked conviction because even the dead of brain know deep down there is no need to impose martial law on an ENTIRE CITY in order to catch a single guy. I mean, c’mon… one guy, an entire city? If that ain’t martial law programming, then throw me in a FEMA camp and whip my naughty asset. On second thought, make that a FEMAle camp… yeah. If we’re gonna do this let’s do it right.
At the end of the day, all that’s left are the victims and the military lockdown of an entire American city. Problem reaction solution, with a lot of smoke in between to keep the sleeple from opening their eyes. It has worked so many times before… but this time isn’t like others. Now Mr A has loosed his female dog Karma on them, and she is going to shove her snout into their sneaky privates so hard they WILL see the light in a single blinding flash of intense clarity.
Fiat lux, in whichever what way it must.