A Lamb Among Wolves (Occult Yorkshire 17)

dawkins-thelema

My grandfather sent all of his children to school at extremely young ages. My father was sent away at five, and his youngest sister, Gilda (the only other family member to suffer from the degenerative disease), was sent away at age three. I have looked into the schools but found no evidence of direct affiliation with Fabian agendas, or with any kind of child abuse. But, if John Taylor Gatto is right, education itself was a Fabian agenda; and in those days, people had a very different idea of abuse. Add to that the possibility that sexual interference with children may be an unacknowledged, intrinsic part of British schooling, particularly for the upper classes.

For example, the author Richard Dawkins describes, in his best-selling book The God Delusion (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2008, p. 355), his experience at three British boarding schools, all of which “employed teachers whose affections for small boys overstepped the bounds of propriety.” Dawkins adds that, “if, fifty years later, they had been hounded by vigilantes or lawyers as no better than child murderers, I should have felt obliged to come to their defense, even as a victim of one of them (an embarrassing but otherwise harmless experience).” He then warns against “false memories” concocted with the help of unscrupulous therapists and mercenary lawyers.[1]

The view that sexually interfering with children is harmless (combined with the seemingly contradictory one that a patient might invent traumatic memories of such an incident) is of course one that runs through the entirety of this investigation, and which is very much the central argument for those who would exploit children for their own ends—and/or for imagined “social liberation” purposes. Except that, the social engineering programs underway, at least since Havelock Ellis, appear to be based on an even more radical belief, that sexual interference with children is actually beneficial to them, at least some of the time. What’s implicit in Dawkins’ account is that he himself is the proof that these sorts of experience do no harm, being that he is now a successful, award-winning author (and social reformer), and a man of great intellectual prowess.

Dawkins follows up his personal anecdote by stating that the damage done by sexual abuse is “arguably less than the long-term psychological damage inflicted by bringing the child up Catholic in the first place.” As evidence, he offers an anecdote about a young girl who was sexually abused in a car by her parish priest; around about the same time, a Protestant friend died and consequently the girl believed her friend had gone to hell. She wrote to Dawkins to say that the sexual fondling was just a “yucky” impression, while the memory of her friend going to hell “left a cold, immeasurable fear” that gave her nightmares. (Dawkins, p. 356-7). What’s interesting is how Dawkins uses the example, both to bolster his case against religion, and to downplay the psychological impact of sexual abuse. Putting the two examples of abuse side by side as an either/or—when it was clearly a case of both/and—serves to further his own ideological ends. It also leaves completely unaddressed the question of whether sexual interference can harm a child’s psyche in ways not immediately apparent, then or later. For example, the “cold immeasurable fear” the girl felt consciously when thinking of her friend’s damnation might have been part of the unconscious affect of being molested. This would be especially so when the person who sexually molested her was also the person whom she had entrusted with the care of her soul: she might well feel damned herself by such a molestation, and hence all the more identified with her doomed and sinful friend.

My brother seemed to share Dawkins’ views about both religion and sexual abuse. On one occasion in a teahouse in Soho, he passionately insisted to me that orally raping a baby would not do it any harm. When I argued with him fiercely, he would have nothing of it. Where did he come up with this idea? Based on everything I have uncovered in this investigation, this is a not-uncommon philosophy, albeit one that is generally kept private. Leaving out the very delicate question as to whether my brother was involved in such “harmless” activities—as victim, perpetrator, or both—it seems likely he didn’t come up with the idea all by himself.

Another example. After his death, it came out that Gore Vidal had been “terrified” that William F. Buckley would release a file accusing Vidal of having sex with underage boys. According to family members, Vidal ran up a million-dollar legal bill trying to prevent this from happening. Vidal’s half-sister told a Vidal biographer that she believed the records alleged that the author committed “Jerry Sandusky acts”—Sandusky being the Penn State University football coach convicted of sexually abusing young boys. Vidal also “had a ‘very weird take’ on the disclosures of sexual abuse of boys by priests in the Roman Catholic Church, dismissing the victims as ‘hustlers who were sending signals.’”

Researcher Ian Pace wrote at his blog about Vidal’s sexual predilections, referring to his “most notorious novel, Myra Breckinridge (1968), specifically the passage which relates with relish the brutal rape of a teenage boy, Rusty, presented in terms of female/gay empowerment so as to titillate liberal left readers.” Pace argued that the chapter “indicates what type of a predator, rapist and child abuser Vidal was”; he then reproduces the chapter in its entirety. It is just under 9000 words of grisly, salacious, and deliberately eroticized descriptions of Myra Breckinridge’s medical rape (ending with the use of a dildo) of a young boy. Early on in the chapter, Myra persuades the boy, Rusty, to stay:

“’I’m sorry. But this is more important than your social life. After all, you want to be a star, don’t you?’ That was always the clincher in dealing with any of the students. They have been conditioned from childhood in the knowledge that to achieve stardom they might be called upon to do anything, and of course they would do anything because stardom is everything and worth any humiliation or anguish. So the saints must have felt in the days of Christendom, as they burned to death with their eyes on heaven where the true stars shine.”

Later on, Vidal/Myra writes, “Now I sit at the surgical table, making the greatest effort to calm myself, to put it all down not only for its own sake but also for you . . . who never dreamed that anyone could ever act out totally his fantasies and survive.”

Vidal

 

I cite this example because I think it provides a clue to the whole awful mess of my childhood and the culture that enveloped it, and me, like a spider’s web or an octopus’ inky cloud. I think there is a view among the ruling class that sexual abuse—which they do not admit is abuse—is just an inescapable part of the world of the power elite. Everyone is fair game for such research/methods, and only those with the genetic mettle to turn abuse into personal power ever really understand the nature of the beast they are riding. The rest get thrown and trampled into the dirt.

In this view sexual interference is, as my brother and Dawkins and Vidal saw it, a silly thing to get worked up about. Those who are selected to be part of the ruling class, who have gone through the “hazing” rituals of the private school system, Baliol, etc., have transitioned from being objects of abuse to perpetrators, acting at a conscious, empowered level. The poison containers have become the poison deliverers. The sociopathic virus necessary to become one of the social engineers has taken root. We never really see the hideous truth of this, because the sociopaths present themselves to us as social leaders and cultural heroes. They are the proof of their own pudding.

The question that drives this written investigation, of course, is: to what extent am I also carrying this virus? Was I a victim of sexual interference as a child? If so, was it directly related to the groups and individuals, the philosophies, methods, and goals, being described, or only indirectly? Part of me wants to write that I have no reason to believe I was sexually abused, while knowing that this entire piece is nothing but a checklist of reasons. Combine all of this with the fact that, like my brother, I exhibit countless symptoms of being abused, from compulsive nose-picking to nighttime butt cramps, from anxiety about physical contact and general discomfort with my sexuality to all manner of dreams and waking fantasies—and it no longer really seems like a question of if, but only of when, who, how severe, how often, and under what circumstances? There may be no way to know, because of course, while there is every reason to believe, there is no memory to substantiate the belief. And memory, to reasonable creatures, is the substance of reality.

At the end of this epic uncovering of facts that may or may not make up a coherent narrative, the passage in my brother’s book referring to my “marvelous beauty [as a child] which stopped strangers in the streets,” and to “a pedophile invited into the family circle [who] could hardly have been expected to be indifferent,” begins to look like the proverbial smoking gun—the ferocious tip of a family iceberg.[2] At this point, I would think anyone reading might wonder how I could even doubt that something terrible happened to me. A lamb does not fall among wolves without getting devoured, Nature does what it is, and the truth is, I no longer doubt it, if nothing else because I have persuaded myself, which was really what all of this digging up of old bones, and painstaking reconstruction of the corpse, was about. I have persuaded myself to accept the unacceptable.

Nor would I think it would—or should—be of any great interest to readers who are not directly involved in the same circles; except that, if the evidence speaks as clearly as I hope it does, these circles probably include anyone who grew up in the UK, or the US, or Europe, during the 50s, or 60s, or 70s, or 80s, or . . . . Most of all, I hope this testimony makes it clear that a person can be in the very thick of wolves—and even have one’s psyche torn to shreds by them—and somehow maintain the illusion of living quietly among sheep, unharmed and whole.

That’s the last thing this piece testifies to: the sheer lasting damage done by such unwanted, undefended proximity to sexual predations and to destructive, deceptive, sociopathic ideologies. An ironic point, because the sheer fact of my compulsive need to map all of this out (which has only gone on overtly for about eighteen months, but which I see now has been underway my entire adult life and drove me to write and travel the world in the first place) is the proof of how profoundly impacted I have been by those early, suppressed experiences, whatever they were. I have been cut off from my own life force, my own sense of reality; and there is nothing more tormenting than being cut off from a sense of reality.

Going into the past has been a way to identify all the ways in which I have been unable to be myself, and why: the false beliefs, values, complexes, neuroses, fears, drives, compulsions, obsessions, all sourced in a network of traumas that make up both my own false identity and the Fabian-fueled, Savile-saturated culture that spawned it. All the ways in which I have been unable to live inside my own body, to have access to my total psyche, and to be my own man. All the ways in which my life has not been mine to live.

*

 

“To know, to will, to dare, and to keep silence” is the magical oath of occult fraternities down through the ages.

To know the secret of empowerment through sexual abuse.

To will to be included in the continuance of this “system.”

To dare to participate in the acts that cement inclusion in the “club.”

To keep silence about it, to death and beyond.

After spending half my life researching this sort of material, I have reached a place where I more or less believe there’s no one in a position of social or cultural influence who hasn’t either been sexually interfered with as a child or, worse, participated in the abuse—if only by being useful in some way to the programs and institutions implementing it. When our entire culture starts to appear dependent on the sexual abuse of children, when people I had previously admired, even emulated, are increasingly implicated in a horrendous network of exploitation—as victims or perpetrators, or both—the question of what constitutes criminal abuse starts to come undone. For one thing, since the idea of crime has been largely created by criminal institutions, the concept of criminal behavior starts to seem unworkable. In the same way, morality is no way to combat abuse, because people who wish to abuse others know how to use moralism as a way, not only to conceal, but to justify and rationalize the abuse.

Taboo is a means to order society; yet those who are powerful enough to create taboos always seem to end up secretly breaking them (perhaps they create them expressly in order to break them?). Society is dependent, not only on the maintenance of taboos, but also on the willful flouting of them by the ones who established the taboos in the first place. In a world created by and for the ruling class, there is no option of participation besides that of rule or be ruled.

There is no meritocracy where all the standards of social advancement are created and maintained by aristocracy. Having been born into that, however closeted, the drive in me became powerful-to-overwhelming to challenge assumptions about history, ancient and modern, personal and collective, to assert that nothing unfolds the way we have been told it does. Nothing. There is always a shadowy and malevolent agenda working behind the scenes of everything, from pop music to politics, from industry to the arts. Events and individuals are being constantly manipulated to serve and further this black agenda. Appearances deceive and are not to be trusted.

Where do these grim convictions come from—this feeling of living inside a malignant culture? If this poisoning has driven me to write—this and every other piece I ever composed—does that prove the Fabian sexologists and social engineers are right? Am I only proving the efficacy of their methods and the soundness of their philosophy by working so tirelessly to disprove it? Once again, the evidence is found in those less fortunate than myself, those who were not made stronger by what did not kill them, who were torn from the ground of their bodies and souls to live haunted, disembodied, ghoulish half-lives. My father lived mostly for the sensual gratifications of food and sex, and for the mental and emotional relief which alcohol gave him. He was confined to a wheelchair for the last years of his life—not even a shadow of his former self (though that too), more the shadow of a self he never got to be.

To me he was the shadow of a father, living a ghost of a life. He was an emotional shell hiding behind the Sunday papers. The last time I saw him was when I visited him in Barbados. He spent the days sitting in his wheelchair at his house, near the pool, reading the papers and trashy novels. I sat with him some of the time, but we hardly ever said a word. It wasn’t until evening came and he had a first drink in his hand that he—and I—were able to relax enough to talk; even then, I don’t think we ever had a conversation that lasted for more than ten minutes without requiring some form of artificial resuscitation. My father was like the man on the stair: he was not there.

The legacy he left me (besides the money, which I threw away at twenty-four) was tragedy: the unlived life of the parent. And what was my father’s most treasured and frustrated goal? To write. He was never able to do it. He was unable even to speak the truth of his life, or about how he never got to live it. Apparently that left it to me. Writing this account, I have begun to understand, not just why I write, but what writing is really for. The programming can be undone. It’s possible to reverse the damage of decades of forced “education,” to place intelligence in service of wisdom, to bring about an understanding that finally heals the split between father and son, body and soul, world and self.

All of this is a way to understand the depth of the wound I’ve been walking around with. It is the same wound that crippled and killed my God-denying father and brother: the wound of being unable to love or feel loved by the father. Understanding this, in the weirdest of possible ways, understanding what made him the man he was, I have come to know my father for the first time, and to establish him in my heart. To know someone is to love them.

This one’s for you, Nick.

jason and father

*****

[1] Dawkins went on to study at Baliol College, Oxford, which a disproportionate number of Fabian society members seem to have attended. He is also friendly with New School alumni and LSE professor Nick Humphrey, John Maynard Keynes’ nephew and one-time friend of my grandfather. (Humphrey dated my father’s second wife, Sabitha, after she left him.)

[2] I made another discovery while serializing this piece that came via a family member and that, at the very least, fully corroborates my family’s involvement with PIE. Unfortunately it was passed on in confidence.

This is the 18th and final part of Occult Yorkshire. For the full PDF (without images, email the author)

 

24 thoughts on “A Lamb Among Wolves (Occult Yorkshire 17)

  1. This has been a great series or articles and I think that if anything, it certainly sheds some light on why criminal acts of child molestation are so often not only ignored by the authorities but actively covered. It’s always been a wonder to me as to why the justice system in pretty much every Western nation chooses to cover up these types crimes, it seems to be so ingrained to be an instinct.

  2. Thank you Jasun! Your account of self-discovery and society brought a deeper understanding to my own family of origin issues that overlapped with secret societies and privilege. My events, however were on a lower economic level and in the U.S., but it’s only a small pond between us. I, too, was not made stronger by the events, and like you, I’m now driven to uncover the truth.
    Just want to throw this out to you and others who are shining the light on the dark side of the elite —-. My conclusions on pedophilia: it’s a predatory behavior; a substitution for the kill drive, as children are the size of smaller prey animals. Pedophilia often occurs along with sadism; sadism, is a predatory behavior that is linked to pleasure. And pleasure, that is, orgasm, is simply nature’s positive reward to ensure reproduction, however, humans continue to mistake it for enlightenment. Looking forward to your next project!

  3. I don’t know… to play the Devil’s Advocate, have you considered that writing itself may be a trap? That it’s locking you into a single narrative? Consider the counterfactual: what might have happened to you had you been born in a different setting, a different class? Perhaps no sexual abuse, but what other kinds of social abuses? Hunger? Lethal violence as part of your daily environment?

    I went through a phase of trying to understand the darkness in the world, and my own place in it. My partner at the time (now an ex) dismissively pointed out, “not everybody has the luxury, the freedom and time to read all day and comment on the internet”. Of course, my own story has many layers, some of them obvious to anyone (involving race and sexual orientation), some of them a little less obvious, but evident to family members (the story of my parents, their limitations, their own stories and their own their failures), and some layers becoming evident only by surprise (the fact that my father worked for the CIA, which my siblings and I discovered only accidentally). But it turns out the layers are contradictory, even though they are all basically factual. There’s really no way to make a whole of them. And there really is no way to make a whole of the darkness you are documenting, or rather, there is no way to right it. It is an intrinsic part of this universe.

    Tell me, what would a world *without* this kind of darkness look like? What does paradise look like, if you follow each thread that weaves it, each beam that supports it, out and down to their ultimate substance, and eradicate any evil you find? Is there anything left? I’m not excusing the abuse, I’m pointing out that it is far more fundamental than most people want to admit, it is the very nature of samsara.

    [Related reading (the fundamental nature of child abuse reminds me of this story/essay): http://engl210-deykute.wikispaces.umb.edu/file/view/omelas.pdf%5D

    Lately I’m thinking that the answer lies outside language, at least prosaic language. The less I write, the better off I am. (And yet, here I am, having written much more than I intended…)

  4. compulsive nose picking?? night time butt cramps? tell us more…
    if this is the 18th instalment, why is it titled Occult Yorkshire 17?( just being picky.)

    it is hard to pick an individual path through something so universal as the swamp called “child abuse.” what is rare is the ability to speak about it at all. children are not only small and vulnerable, they are a source of great anxiety for their parents, who have to invest so much in these fragile beings who may never pay any of it back. i think this leads to bad decisions, including Fabian schooling and/or handing your child over to the military for special training.

    i was reminded of my ex-editor and his story of how, as a lad of 16, he was introduced to an older man who came into town in the guise of a literary giant, or pedagogue — and how the excitement of that initiatory meeting ended up predictably in bed. and i was present when my editor told this story to a group of students at Amherst College, MA, in the context of a ‘poetry reading’ in around 1994 and most of the girls around the seminar table looked suitably shocked. i wasn’t — because i knew him (my editor, i mean, who was a young-looking 50 at the time), and had encountered parts of his fragmented, fractured soul, which were what drove him to write poetry in the first place — it was all trauma, and he would have denied it, at the same time that he never stopped talking about it…

    which is pretty much where we all stand. at least now we’re able to hold a steady conversation about it now.

  5. jaguar1024: thanks, and yes, self-preservative instinct of culture, even? How else to understand how society promotes dehumanizing and anti-life values? (Why so many wind up positing an off-planet/nonhuman presence)

    Ginko: thanks for the links. Had not seen the Mylie thing before. Don’t talk about MBP! 😉

    A different day: makes a certain sense as a workable simplification, tho I’d say it’s an important element rather than the whole picture. I’m always glad to hear from people who’ve found the writing personally healing, the best counter to the doubts which yevaud raises.

    Yevaud: I’ve not only considered that writing may be a trap but written about it repeatedly! There appears to be no way out of that Chinese mind trap but all the way in. (Ie, not to resist.) The ego can’t get free of samsara either since the ego is the product and creator of samsara. But knowing that doesn’t mean all there is is ego/samsara. If something is both necessary AND enjoyable, as writing is for me, the question of whether it is a trap becomes moot. I get to observe the results in my own life (unconscious material that becomes conscious and can be integrated) and hearing that the process is assisting others is then the final proof that it is possible to fight fire with fire (as firefighters prevent forest fires from spreading by burning the bush).

    CIA father? In what capacity? That seems like a redefining moment.

    I would have to agree that darkness is an intrinsic part of the universe, and if you mean by righting it, eradicating it, then yes, there’s no way to do that. On the other hand, straightening out one’s own ancestral line is certainly possible. If we agree that these sorts of things are evidence of a distortion of the human psyche/spirit, then we are also admitting that there is a distortion-free expression and existence. Accepting the distortion may be the only way to accept our own participation in it and thereby cease adding to it (by trying to change it). But this also implies that a post-distortion state of awareness exists, just as we know, or trust, that a pre-distortion state exists.

    As for whether there would be anything left without the distortion of abused trauma-created ego-identities, I suppose that depends on what we mean by “anything”. ; )

    Outside of/beyond language yes & no. Both/and?

  6. as for the nose-picking and butt cramps, not sure what there is to add to that. I call it compulsive since I sometimes wake myself up in the night! The butt cramps began sometime in my early 40s, i.e., roughly about when I started this excavation process. I’ve had a few dreams in the last year that clearly point to the nature and severity of the abuse, though of course it remains unknown. It is more about fully accepting the possibility of something than making up my mind about it.

  7. God welcomed a sodomite out of sodomy
    # Money, money, money, money. Money #

    Like youth is wasted on the young, so
    is turmoil wasted on the first timer.

    When the Lion lays down with the Lamb
    # I’m so happy to be stuck with ewe #

    A fool and his money are soon parted.

  8. See the real abuse comes about

    when you’re out of pocket see.

    Diddling with tokamak reactor.
    and
    Forgetting to hookup the doll.

    Priceless

    keep calm
    and
    catalyze.

  9. Jasun, it’s good that you enjoy writing, because you do so much of it (and so well)! For me … well, it’s so much a part of my job (writing about what I’ve done, what I should have done, what I should be doing, what others should be doing, what others should have done) it’s hard to separate it from my identity. And yet, my identity is painful to me, although, of course, I am socially privileged enough to have the time and the capacity to express that, unlike a great many others.

    Existence is itself a form of distortion. I think I am coming to accept that the whole of my being is a disturbance of something. Like everybody else’s, and that of every other creature (including my dogs, who are as close to innocents as I can experience on a regular basis). I don’t know what to do with that acceptance, but here it is.

    What I personally find helpful is leaving the verbal world. Math and science used to be an escape, but now I realize they represent their own kind of trap, maybe even worse ones than ordinary human language. Running, yoga, dance sometimes work, but my near-50-year-old body doesn’t always want to cooperate.

    I guess there still is a drive to read about this kind of thing (child abuse, occult ritual, etc.), but I wonder sometimes whether it is serving me anymore. I don’t think ignorance is bliss, but … is it possible to know, and then to unknow?

  10. Hot coffee’s fine…

    Assuming anal cramps (and this is instant hemorrhoids inducing activity) that is a delayed consequence of the toes feet legs thighs butt anus etc stretch that we do to forcefully bring about a satisfying ejaculation for a feeling of greater release of pent up bullshit & tension throughout us.

    But you do NOT pay this ferryman…

    Further pro tip, involuntary stretches can be directed into building arm torso etc muscle, fast! I mean it, get pumped easy. Yawning & stretches are that same orgasmwhateverthefuck energy not expelled from the body.

    So you can now aim to really get in shape for once in one’s unlived life, or you could aim to discover more mind yoga shit, you know, that other sphincter that we need a catalyst to unclench!

    No idolls before your best!

  11. Butt fair warning, I’m broken, not broken-in / at all experienced in human sexual dynamics… I want… comely demons.

    I’m sure there’s some overlap of this video and the topic of being on the receiving end of abuse, but in short, in God/Satan’s eye, like some disgusting foreign policy, the abused if unfeeling and unrepentant, are, failed experiments. Said with Cheshire Cat’s Countenance.

    Like, where was your lemonade stand when I called you – God, serpent divine, fire most low. Heh

  12. OK. not coffee then. Well, that was just my unscientific experience. I now find I can drink as much coffee as I want these days — and this seems to coincide with a vegetarian diet. I.e. when my Greek friend and I stopped eating “anything that has eyes in it”.

    I think in your case, Jasun, the real threat you have lived under is of becoming a perp yourself. Which, don’t get me wrong, is absolutely as bad as being one of the caged children who are raped and sacrificed in rituals. If not actually worse. That is a twist you could explore —

    • Yevaud said: Existence is itself a form of distortion. I think I am coming to accept that the whole of my being is a disturbance of something. Like everybody else’s, and that of every other creature (including my dogs, who are as close to innocents as I can experience on a regular basis). I don’t know what to do with that acceptance, but here it is.

      If something is being disturbed, then that is an aspect of existence that is also potentially beyond disturbance (otherwise how could it know disturbance?). If you exist only as a disturbance/distortion of something then how would you know that which is being disturbed/distorted or be aware of any disturbance? The constructed identity may be a distortion of the psyche resulting from a disturbance. That then makes the psyche (your being) correlate with that which is disturbed and also, therefore, potentially beyond disturbing or distortion.

      I don’t think ignorance is bliss, but … is it possible to know, and then to unknow?
      I think the awakening of the soul (anamnesia) if there is such a thing would also be the forgetting or unknowing of all the knowledge accumulated by the constructed identity even that which helped bring about the anamnesia. Because the context for all of those experiences would have been removed, like text without a page.

      Ann Diamond wrote: I think in your case, Jasun, the real threat you have lived under is of becoming a perp yourself. Which, don’t get me wrong, is absolutely as bad as being one of the caged children who are raped and sacrificed in rituals. If not actually worse. That is a twist you could explore —

      As happens the next podcast does venture into these waters, as does Seen & Not Seen.

  13. Everything changed when I started drinking 4 glasses of water in the morning before breakfast. I look forward to the podcast and Seen and Not Seen. Did you know David Bowie’s dad was from Yorkshire? http://heavy.com/entertainment/2016/01/angela-bowie-david-ex-wife-first-mary-barnett-married-who-age-height-to-kids-mother/

    His wife’s father was in the military – not that that’s rare, but since it’s mentioned, it makes him sound like ‘career military,

    Did you know that by moving to Canada, and especially British Columbia, you have landed in a nest of mind control survivors, victims of the very program you are now deconstructing?

  14. This is a superb personal post.
    It brings my soul such relief and inspiration to have encountered you through your writing today; to make contact with another human being who is earnestly and successfully walking the path of self-discovery and self-restoration with a proper head on their shoulders.
    If you haven’t yet come by the works of Wilhelm Reich and Alexander Lowen, they both offer a treasure trove of psychosomatic insight with a specific focus on sexuality.

    Thank you.

  15. I don’t think education as we have it (in the US at least) is or was a product of the fabian ‘revolution’, but more an effort by the anglophone nations to ape what they saw as the secret to German military prowess: instruction through forced rote memorization. The Germans seem to have their own set of freaky sexual hangups, so they have nothing on the Anglo-Saxons there. What I get curious about it what caused all this freakish and weird pedophilic practice amongst intellectual and political elites?
    I haven’t read anything by Gore Vidal so I’d have to reserve judgement. As a writer of fiction, I understand how it can be useful to shock. It can be more tasteful to find other ways of making one’s point also, so who knows?
    I often can’t help but thinking that the origin of this fabian mind-virus really lies in the forced introduction of monotheism as a vehicle to perpetuate the Roman system. The Germanic tribes who could have permanently salted the earth that noxious system grew from instead brought it home and nurtured it because they wanted to wield its power. Kind of like Sauron and his ring.

    • Lazycat1984

      U.S. education has absolutely been dominated by the Fabians or perhaps mostly by individuals friendly to their cause for their own personal or ideological reasons. Dewey, Thorndike, James, Ralph Tyler, Kurt Lewin ( and the devotees of the Frankfurt school who found their way to LSE and Tavistock. Its an endless nest. Every last bit of it. Public, Private, Parochial. A concerted effort has been underway since the early parts of the 20th century to make it a model that reduces knowledge but imparts an emotional, reactive, arational, amoral and compliant student/citizen. It has been a multi stage process. We are at the end game now.

      Comprehensive Sex Education is the poison they use to initiate cognitive dissonance, amorality into the minds of students as well as separate them from their families. Kinsey was the chosen vehicle to move the needle so that CSE could enter the education “system”. All of these aims to use sex to initiate change, whether for imagined enlightenment, or Kontrol work in the same way cults operate. The individual must be broken before they can be molded into the desired image that the Planner/Cult leader desires.

      Beautiful post Jasun. Thank You. I feel quite fortunate to have found your work.

  16. That’s all fine and dandy! illustrious writer almost named Beelzebub. Hats off to Mark Fabi, if that’s in fact his name and he isn’t just a ghost.

    But as much as I’m drawn to your work and how much it illuminates us, disentangling neurosis is just part of the healing process. If you really want to be beyond it, I suggest you serially write “Your Brother” jokes.

    For example: Your brother is so devilish that when he was born and the dOCTOR lightly spanked him, he cried “Greetings from the other side, white devil!”

    I have no idea if he was born in a hospital, but you get the picture. Not so funny an example, but laughter is the best medicine. When you realize even the Armed Forces, the greatest corporations on Earth, are but microbes, it puts things in perspective. Even if you must take the establishment seriously, you can always take it with a grain of salt.

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