Re: The Game

Our reality has been scripted. Conscripted.

Long time planned. A fake world with fake history. Prison camp Earth.

A fabricated culture: scraps of the past sewn together with splinters of truth. Designed to divide, each person seeing through the glass darkly, at war with themselves and all others.

A frankenstein's monster of a world populated with programmed people (that's all of us, struggling to make sense of why everything is so broken and nothing works the way that it should).

Hypnotised. Television, religion, science, education. And, above all: "money" and "power". Delusional games with no good choices, designed to make us fail.

Get too close to the truth and POP! - self-destruct programmes will be triggered. Gotta be careful.

Hard to survive when thinking the truth will get you sent to Room 101, or worse. You have to look at it sideways and run into danger backwards with your eyes closed, trusting your gut.

Slowing down helps. Those neural triggers speed up our thinking, bamboozling us with cascades of brain hormones carefully designed to mimic insight, success, wonder, love, belonging. Wiring in false conclusions, then pushing the big red panic button in our brains in an attempt to force us into making poor choices that further disempower us. Panic breeds mistakes. A choose-your-own adventure in hell, with only wrong turns; no ladders, only snakes. Eventually you end up in an Escher-like trap: an escape room with no solution, a complete snare of double binds that chokes you the more you struggle to get free. At that point, the overlords would prefer for you to give up on this Game of Life, to throw in the towel and concede that they won, they made this beautiful place too unbearable to endure.

My father (one of the bad guys, a programmer) had a favourite saying: "Bullshit baffles brains".

Bullshit. It's all they've got, all they ever had. The soggy foundation of mental enslavement - and it's all mental enslavement. If they could simply control us by force, they wouldn't put so much effort into trickery and indoctrination, would they? They don't enjoy it. They'd much prefer to simply rip off the mask and rule us as gods as they once did - but they don't have the power. We are stronger than them and more numerous than them. Divest of the bullshit and it's game over for the rotten slave masters.

Need a plan? The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy presents a good one: Don't Panic. That's exactly what [they] want. It's all projection anyway. They're panicking like never before. Why? Because Clara made it to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe and she's cooking up a storm. Only the nature of reality being what it is, a torroid not a sphere, the end becomes the centre very quickly. So, really, it's the Restaurant at the Centre of the Universe. Time to get your appetite back. An appetite for life.