Decades ago Trappist monk, author and social activist Thomas Merton characterized “an evil whose depth and deceit seemed to go beyond the capacity of words to describe” as “the Unspeakable.” A highly recommendable book authored by James W. Douglass titled “JFK and the Unspeakable: Why he died and why it matters” details John F. Kennedy’s very courageous and heroic efforts aimed at preventing humankind and planet Earth from being obliterated through nuclear war. JFK, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Minister Malcolm X and Robert F. Kennedy were all murdered by the Unspeakable. A polemicist might argue that it was in fact Malcolm X who engendered the greatest degree of alarm, as he was setting into motion a militant and uncompromised armed revolution just days before his death.
What Merton described is the world of the usurious bankers, monarchists and military industrialists, along with their civic and private brownshirts and respective intelligence agencies. “Intelligence” refers to a man with his ear pressed up against a door, a spy of some kind, trying to uncover information which is of some use to his scheming employer. Over many, many years the financiers, the intelligence agencies and the governments and academic institutions over which they have gained control have seeded, nurtured and grown a very bizarre framework of public and private institution programs dedicated to bizarre experimentations upon the human mind and psyche, all in the name of optimizing intelligence capabilities. Here, we are reminded of intelligence programs such as OPERATION MONARCH – originally aimed toward breaking the will of resisting captives and preparing operatives to unhesitatingly kill – and terms such as “Manchurian candidate,” “mole,” “patsy” and so on. It is this strange and very depraved world which we should associate with “the Unspeakable.”
The people inhabiting this world could be described as a combination of eschatological Christians of the Futurist variety, apocalyptic Zionists, outright Luciferians, nihilists and atheists. The keys to their control are the monopoly-status of the dollar, which like any monopoly requires thuggery and violence to exist in perpetuity hence the enormous military machine, and their ownership of most media outlets. We might mention Edward Bernays as their propaganda founding father and navigation director. Its most harsh manifestation is arguably the Alfred Kinsey affair, wherein a Rockefeller-funded Indiana University academic and “scientist” who is a degenerate sexual psychopath and pedophile is elevated to heroic status within the public’s consciousness, in a disgusting attempt to weaken the middle class through debased immorality.
So what is the depraved, manufactured world of the Unspeakable and how can humankind come to an appreciation for the depth of its evil?
The methodologies of victimization in the name of “science” include electric shock, extreme deprivation and isolation, drug injections and sexual-based trauma. In the most extreme circumstances, the Unspeakable subjects young children to a very shocking pattern of violent sexual abuse which results in extraordinary trauma. Children are violated in the most horrific manner. Violent sodomy. Violent rape. Again and again and again and again and again.
It must be taken to great extremes to produce the desired effect.
The human mind and the human nervous system are, together, of such majesty, without equal in our Universe. This very delicate system acts as the conduit through which we become one with the awesome power of pure morality and the illuminating force we call love. As human beings, there inheres within us a very strong life-force-energy, life’s desire for itself.
When faced with danger, we experience what we call a “flight or fight” response.
A small child is too powerless to fight grown people who would hold them against their will, abusing them in a manner which words cannot adequately describe. Nor can the little one flee. There is no escape, nowhere they can run and hide their little selves. Or so it would seem.
Amazingly, consciousness itself runs away and hides. The mind and the nervous system rewire themselves, somehow creating a kind of cerebral canal carved into an isolated area of the brain where consciousness channels itself, leaving a small part of itself behind, then it “closes the door.” It then returns when the danger is gone, when the abuse ends.
An extraordinary “flight” response.
We might imagine a person in a cave somewhere suddenly finding the cave’s opening has been closed shut. Imagine that this person has an arm or leg that is stuck underneath a large rock, too heavy for the trapped person to move. In desperation, the trapped body part is cut off somehow – perhaps even chewed off if there is no alternative and the trapped person is of a strong will – and the person begins digging through the dirt and rock, hoping to escape into freedom.
Even this analogy cannot capture this remarkable reality in great enough depth as the spirit is something invisible, invulnerable and is not molecular, as opposed to the physical body. This sliver of consciousness left behind is little more than awareness itself and is without feelings, though in time a sort of “personality” can develop. It remains unconnected and detached, only the very slight conduit remains.
Whenever the sexual abuse begins, or at whatever moment the victimized little one deems necessary, in a flight response, consciousness will disconnect itself almost completely, in fear of the anticipated pain. All that remains is a blank awareness.
This is why those who have been victimized by the Unspeakable will most oftentimes encounter great difficulty recalling their experiences, many years thereafter. This phenomenon is a kind of psyche-survival tactic, as the clear recollection of such horror would leave one maddened. This is a basic explanation for what produces the phenomenon known as “split-personality disorder.” In even more extreme cases it will produce what is known as “multiple-personality disorder.”
Now, the Unspeakable has devised a methodology by which these channels can be engaged and activated, leaving only the unfeeling awareness to direct the body’s actions and movement. The Unspeakable has also devised a methodology by which a subject’s movement and direction can be manipulated and controlled.
Allow this brief digression; Kahlil Gibran once penned a parable wherein there are two oysters laying in the sand. One oyster says to the other “there is a great pain within me, and I am in distress.” The second oyster replies “I have no such pain.” Then a little crab approaches and says to the first oyster “the cause of your pain is a pearl of exceeding beauty.” In this parable Gibran expounds upon the nature of the human heart. Because of it we suffer and because of it we feel joy. If we are wise, we realize our suffering is dignified, beautiful and noble. People who constantly commit acts of evil suffer in a much different way, in a manner more painful and quite undignified. They are not insightful enough to realize that the painfulness and agony of their existence would end if they merely abandoned their evil ways.
My own confrontation with the Unspeakable happened thusly; after I had finished reading JFK and the Unspeakable my spirit was very heavy with grief and fatigue. The pervading evil throughout the world was weighing heavily on my mind and soul, as were the images of the four murdered men mentioned earlier, men who longed for a better world and died fighting for it.
I was deeply involved with my thoughts and feelings in a public library when an older Black gentleman waved his hand in front of my face and said “you in there man?” He had asked me if I was reading a newspaper laying on a table in front of us but I was so involved with myself I hadn’t heard him. Apologizing, I told him exactly what was going on, relaying my emotional reaction to this great book while my eyes teared up a bit and he clearly could sense my despaired energy. After telling him how courageous Kennedy’s partnership with Khrushchev was, I’ll never forget the way he looked at me as he said something to the effect of:
“Kennedy ain’t no hero to me. There was all kinds of imperialist and colonialist projects goin’ on when he was president, South America, Africa, all over. We was bein’ beaten and shot dead here in the streets and he didn’t help us. Kennedy ain’t no hero to me.”
His countenance betraying a slight satisfaction in having said this and I quickly stood up, shook his hand, and said I think “thanks man” very softly, then walked away. My intuition sensed that the man had suddenly felt very guilty, as I then went outside and sat down on a public bench with my elbows on my knees and my hands cupping my head. Let me digress here for a moment and relate that at this time in my life I was living one level above homelessness, sleeping in and existing out of a small rented-space in a public storage facility with a kindly, sympathetic management. I had also been subject to a high-degree of police and private-party surveillance for nearly three years, after having engaged in some aggressive anti-war civil disobedience in New York City’s Times Square one summer morning in August 2006 and because of my Citizen Journalist activities.
I had befriended several homeless people at the time and spent a significant degree of my time with them, helping them out in whatever way they might accept. A US army veteran named Reese (“like the peanut butter cup”) and I hung out in front of a local Waldbaums drinking beer and smoking weed, Reese always with great urgency reminding approaching people how they needed to use the opposing doors because the main entrance doors were always locked after a certain time. Reese was more semi-homeless and had some kind of weird basement-room living arrangement with somebody, though he always seemed to carry some kind of backpack or duffel bag and had no fear of using a bicycle inner-tube as a belt. Reese was quite a character and known to local people, always riding his bicycle up and down Middle Country Road or talking in the parking lot to local kids in their hot rods, a fist-bumping lovable coolio with a gruff Monty Python-Road Warrior appearance. Another 50ish year-old-man named Brian was a chronic homeless fellow who never accepted any kind of charity from me, always saying “nah, I’m alright…. appreciate the thought” if I offered to buy him coffee or something to eat. It is a very difficult thing to experience, to fully realize the humanity of the unwashed person with the scraggly beard and uncombed hair we sometimes see on our streets. Brian was a friendly and polite person, somehow managing a certain dignity about himself one could sense when talking to him without paying any respect to his degraded homeless status.
Being homeless leaves one spiritually exhausted as a constant deception must be maintained – though my own experience was more unique – from early morning at McDonalds to the public library to the supermarket to boost beer and return shop-lifted items for cash , then on to late night at Starbucks then back to my tiny storage space. Simply wanting to wash yourself in a public bathroom becomes an exercise in mission-impossible-type subterfuge. One is always possessed by a feeling of criminality and guilt even when doing the most innocent things, though the Starbucks employees were very accommodating and charitable, giving one young man I brought into the store free coffee and oftentimes giving me leftover food to share with my homeless friends.
Now, back at the library bench after this brief exchange with my Black gentleman friend, the throes of an intense spiritual vertigo overwhelmed my being and I began sobbing heavily, though my composure seemed to stay with me and I didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. The man’s words against Kennedy were devastating to me at the time, you know? Like stabbing the ambulance driver…
The word “injustice” emanated loudly within me and brought me to my feet, my soul burning with rage and an intense determination. “Injustice” was the cause of my all-consuming, swirling psychic pain. “Injustice” caused that man to enjoy further wounding me in my moment of obvious weakness. “Injustice” killed Dr. King and Malcolm X and the Kennedy brothers.
Standing there a voice from very deep inside of myself said;
“I will crush the Unspeakable. With my left hand I will grab it by its throat and with my right hand I will rip its spinal cord from out of its mouth, then tie that in a pretty bow around its ugly swollen head. With my teeth I will then rip its tongue out and see if I can’t find someone who better understands its intended purpose.”
Crazy right? Despite my standing still it I would say it “stopped me in my t racks” as it felt as though someone else had thunk those thoughts?…if that makes sense? Kind of breathtaking.
A bereaved humankind outnumbers the Unspeakable by several billions. In the entire history of human conflicts one force has not ever been so vastly outnumbered by an opposing force. The Unspeakable has a heart throbbing with vice and fear; it is cowardly, afraid and always dependent upon their being distance between itself and the world. It does not possess the necessary insight to realize its painful existence would come to an end if it would merely abandon its evil ways. JFK said if you make peaceful revolution impossible you make violent revolution inevitable. Dr. King said he could not tell young Black people to exercise non-violence while our government napalmed children in Vietnam. RFK said that as long as there is plenty, poverty is evil. Malcolm X described the Unspeakable as a cold, calculating international machine so criminal in its methods and objectives that the seeds of its destruction were within itself.
He was right. They were all right.