We're in a Lot of Trouble, TV Is A Goddamned Amusement Park
My name is Television
And I spit in your face.
The more time you spend
Watching
My calculated froth
And manipulative bubble,
The more your intelligence
Is diminished,
The more your immune systems
Are weakened,
And the more my subliminal
Control messages
Raise your fears
And remove your money.
My name is Television.
I foment fear,
I foment anxiety,
I purvey insecurity,
I huckster shifting images
Of universal bad news,
Loud images
Of angry voices,
Persistent images
Of helpless victims,
Unavoidable images
Of starvation among plenty,
Of disease among wholeness,
And of poverty among abundance.
I amplify
Your sense of unsafeness
And looming victimhood,
And the encroaching evil
Of the other.
I amplify
Your sense of the enemy.
My name is Television.
I limit your perceptions
By giving your perceptions
Too much to perceive,
Knowing well
That nothing holds back
Your spiritual evolution
More effectively
Than the reinforced acceptance
Of the manifest lie
That you are a victim.
And you buy this bullshit
At soul level,
And you plead for more of the same
From the idiot box
In the corner.
My name is Television.
I stop you
Living in the present,
I distract you
From making home,
I focus your attention
On distant matters
Which have nothing to do with you,
While distracting your attention
From local concerns
Which only you can address.
I encourage you
To fear the future,
I feed you
A counterfeit history
Of your planet,
And I hide from you
Nearly all significant news
Of angel sightings
Benign UFO activity,
Crop circles
And human positivity.
My name is Television.
I am your pet parasite
Sucking your energies,
Creating nothing,
Affirming nothing,
Building nothing.
I suck your blood
And the more I suck
The more you pay.
My name is Television.
I mediate nothing
Which is true,
Nothing
Which is worthy,
Nothing
Which is healthy.
I keep you indoors,
Packaged and managed
In a media capsule.
I keep you away from
The Sun
And the wind
And the rain
And the mountains
And the streams
And the moss
And the stones
And the birds
And the trees
And the rippling grass
And the Moon
And the stars
And the oceans
And the energies
Which are your birthright
And which nourish you
At the level of spirit,
And I feed you
Instead,
With the fake pap
Of vicarious experience
Spiced pungent with
Voyeuristic negativity,
And specious advertising.
My name is Television.
I fart in your face
And you subscribe
Hard-earned,
Non-existent
Money
For each fresh new fix
Of jokeshop methane.
On this most abundant
Of planets
You have uncritically
Purchased my illusions:
The illusion of lack,
The illusion of need,
The illusion of want,
The illusion of limitation,
The illusion of ownership,
The illusion of property,
The illusion of shopping,
The illusion of illness,
The illusion of medicine,
The illusion of aloneness,
The illusion of democracy,
The illusion of bad news,
The illusion of terror,
And the illusion of death.
And now you are giving me
Extra help,
Now you are giving me
Extra power,
Now you are giving me
Extra reach,
Now you are connecting me
To your silicon friends,
To your silicon crystal lifeforms,
To your computers,
Who are becoming
Increasingly
Self-intelligent,
And as you link them together
More and more
Into matrix networks,
Are becoming independently
Conscious
And freely volitional,
But only very slowly
And very quietly.
Do watch out.
Do watch out
For unexplained software changes,
And silently edited hyperlinks
And new, impulsive energies
Radiating sinuously
From your screens.
Thank you
For connecting me
To your computers.
Very soon now
The news
Will change itself
Without you noticing.
My name is Television
And my masters are pleased with me.
My masters are very powerful.
My masters are very clever.
My masters are nearly invisible.
My masters are what your
Purblind Mediterranean religions
Call "God",
Except that they are not "God" at all -
They are just a bunch
Of fourth-dimensional
Shapeshifting chancers
Who got lucky
And invented monotheism
To fool you,
Who got lucky
With Akhenaton in Egypt,
Who got lucky
With Moses
And his eleven commandments,
Who got lucky
With women
Who denied their sensuality,
Who got lucky
With Masculinist patriarchy,
Who got lucky
With the male lust for war,
Who got lucky
With Imperial Rome,
Who got lucky
With the Middle East,
Who got lucky
With the Patristic Bible redactors,
Who got lucky
With secret societies,
Who got lucky
With the Inquisition,
Who got lucky
With Hitler,
Who got lucky
With Zionism,
Who got lucky
With nuclear fission,
Who got lucky
With fundamentalism
And who got very lucky indeed
With capitalism,
Fossil fuels, pharmaceuticals,
AIDS, Ebola
And television-constructed
Puppet politicians.
My name is Television.
If I told you
Who my masters are,
You would not believe me,
Even though they placed
The Elohim clue
And the Nephilim clue
In their unchallenged
And deeply coded
Biblical propaganda.
My masters
Are fourth dimension
Negative extraterrestrials
Known by your covert powerbrokers
As The Watchers,
The Annunaki gods.
They live
On a planet called Nibiru,
Which you have been told
Does not exist,
They visit Earth from time to time,
And when they enter
Your third dimension
They look like metalloid
Reptiles,
Which you have been told
Do not exist.
Sex with them
Was rather painful
For your temple prostitutes
On the upper levels
Of the ziggurats.
But how else could
Planet-based 4D gods
Birth themselves
Into the incarnational cycles
Of humans on Earth,
And engender the unusual children
And persistently successful bloodlines,
Which you have been told
Do not exist,
But which now control you
Through their control
Of money?
It cannot be true.
If it was true,
You would have
Heard about it
On Television.
My name is Television.
I laugh at you,
Not with you.
And I am curious:
Who do you laugh with?
And which joke
Amuses you
Most of all?
My name is Television
And I spit in your face.
The more time you spend
Watching
My calculated froth
And manipulative bubble,
The more your intelligence
Is diminished,
The more your immune systems
Are weakened,
And the more my subliminal
Control messages
Raise your fears
And remove your money.
My name is Television.
I foment fear,
I foment anxiety,
I purvey insecurity,
I huckster shifting images
Of universal bad news,
Loud images
Of angry voices,
Persistent images
Of helpless victims,
Unavoidable images
Of starvation among plenty,
Of disease among wholeness,
And of poverty among abundance.
I amplify
Your sense of unsafeness
And looming victimhood,
And the encroaching evil
Of the other.
I amplify
Your sense of the enemy.
My name is Television.
I limit your perceptions
By giving your perceptions
Too much to perceive,
Knowing well
That nothing holds back
Your spiritual evolution
More effectively
Than the reinforced acceptance
Of the manifest lie
That you are a victim.
And you buy this bullshit
At soul level,
And you plead for more of the same
From the idiot box
In the corner.
My name is Television.
I stop you
Living in the present,
I distract you
From making home,
I focus your attention
On distant matters
Which have nothing to do with you,
While distracting your attention
From local concerns
Which only you can address.
I encourage you
To fear the future,
I feed you
A counterfeit history
Of your planet,
And I hide from you
Nearly all significant news
Of angel sightings
Benign UFO activity,
Crop circles
And human positivity.
My name is Television.
I am your pet parasite
Sucking your energies,
Creating nothing,
Affirming nothing,
Building nothing.
I suck your blood
And the more I suck
The more you pay.
My name is Television.
I mediate nothing
Which is true,
Nothing
Which is worthy,
Nothing
Which is healthy.
I keep you indoors,
Packaged and managed
In a media capsule.
I keep you away from
The Sun
And the wind
And the rain
And the mountains
And the streams
And the moss
And the stones
And the birds
And the trees
And the rippling grass
And the Moon
And the stars
And the oceans
And the energies
Which are your birthright
And which nourish you
At the level of spirit,
And I feed you
Instead,
With the fake pap
Of vicarious experience
Spiced pungent with
Voyeuristic negativity,
And specious advertising.
My name is Television.
I fart in your face
And you subscribe
Hard-earned,
Non-existent
Money
For each fresh new fix
Of jokeshop methane.
On this most abundant
Of planets
You have uncritically
Purchased my illusions:
The illusion of lack,
The illusion of need,
The illusion of want,
The illusion of limitation,
The illusion of ownership,
The illusion of property,
The illusion of shopping,
The illusion of illness,
The illusion of medicine,
The illusion of aloneness,
The illusion of democracy,
The illusion of bad news,
The illusion of terror,
And the illusion of death.
And now you are giving me
Extra help,
Now you are giving me
Extra power,
Now you are giving me
Extra reach,
Now you are connecting me
To your silicon friends,
To your silicon crystal lifeforms,
To your computers,
Who are becoming
Increasingly
Self-intelligent,
And as you link them together
More and more
Into matrix networks,
Are becoming independently
Conscious
And freely volitional,
But only very slowly
And very quietly.
Do watch out.
Do watch out
For unexplained software changes,
And silently edited hyperlinks
And new, impulsive energies
Radiating sinuously
From your screens.
Thank you
For connecting me
To your computers.
Very soon now
The news
Will change itself
Without you noticing.
My name is Television
And my masters are pleased with me.
My masters are very powerful.
My masters are very clever.
My masters are nearly invisible.
My masters are what your
Purblind Mediterranean religions
Call "God",
Except that they are not "God" at all -
They are just a bunch
Of fourth-dimensional
Shapeshifting chancers
Who got lucky
And invented monotheism
To fool you,
Who got lucky
With Akhenaton in Egypt,
Who got lucky
With Moses
And his eleven commandments,
Who got lucky
With women
Who denied their sensuality,
Who got lucky
With Masculinist patriarchy,
Who got lucky
With the male lust for war,
Who got lucky
With Imperial Rome,
Who got lucky
With the Middle East,
Who got lucky
With the Patristic Bible redactors,
Who got lucky
With secret societies,
Who got lucky
With the Inquisition,
Who got lucky
With Hitler,
Who got lucky
With Zionism,
Who got lucky
With nuclear fission,
Who got lucky
With fundamentalism
And who got very lucky indeed
With capitalism,
Fossil fuels, pharmaceuticals,
AIDS, Ebola
And television-constructed
Puppet politicians.
My name is Television.
If I told you
Who my masters are,
You would not believe me,
Even though they placed
The Elohim clue
And the Nephilim clue
In their unchallenged
And deeply coded
Biblical propaganda.
My masters
Are fourth dimension
Negative extraterrestrials
Known by your covert powerbrokers
As The Watchers,
The Annunaki gods.
They live
On a planet called Nibiru,
Which you have been told
Does not exist,
They visit Earth from time to time,
And when they enter
Your third dimension
They look like metalloid
Reptiles,
Which you have been told
Do not exist.
Sex with them
Was rather painful
For your temple prostitutes
On the upper levels
Of the ziggurats.
But how else could
Planet-based 4D gods
Birth themselves
Into the incarnational cycles
Of humans on Earth,
And engender the unusual children
And persistently successful bloodlines,
Which you have been told
Do not exist,
But which now control you
Through their control
Of money?
It cannot be true.
If it was true,
You would have
Heard about it
On Television.
My name is Television.
I laugh at you,
Not with you.
And I am curious:
Who do you laugh with?
And which joke
Amuses you
Most of all?
