Sunday, April 26, 2020

Lysol Injections and UV Enemas...

"Collective fear stimulates the herd mentality, and tends to produce ferocity towards those who are not regarded as members of the herd. " -- Bertrand Russell

Excerpts from a longer essay by our friend 
Matthew Noto @My planet, My Rules

We've reached Peak Fucktard.  I thought we had achieved this ignominious goal several times before -- the elevation of an Affirmative Action hire to the Presidency; handing out mortgages to people who couldn't pay them back; the destruction of the Western University as a beacon of enlightenment; the elevation of the Kardashians to billionaire status -- but I have obviously been mistaken. No, it took a most-unusual combination of unforeseen factors to bring every last fucktarded waste of gametes out from the closets. Plague, economic ruin, politics, a media-induced panic, have all combined to ensure that the Human Race, particularly the American Breed, could take collective leave of their feeble senses to such an extent as to make one weep for the future of Humanity as a whole.

Mind you, half (at least) of the human race was a disease unto itself, and something akin to herd animals. The behavior of this particular Herd made it abundantly clear that civilization stood upon a knife edge, seeing as it was the half that expected all the rewards of civilization without having to contribute anything of value towards it's continuation.  They simply multiplied, made enough noises to make their shepherds attentive to their basest emotions -- discontent, anger, moron, jealousy, fear, a pretense to self-esteem founded largely upon the lack of esteem of the self -- to respond in some fashion.  Usually a fashion that was intended to shut the herd up while the shepherd went back to planning how to profit from the fleecing to come.

And the Herd had learned that if you make enough noise, you get something for it. Perhaps not exactly what you wanted, but a close approximation of it, from the shepherd. The shepherd simply tossed out goodies -- the herd cared not whence they came -- and it was better than nothing.  Mostly because "better" meant the herd would have to take action of it's own accord, and being sheep, discovering they lacked the collective brainpower and motivation to do little more than graze and make an occasional noise. No, the Herd was a good, comfortable thing. The shepherd, even if he shaved your ass every spring to take your wool and occasionally ate one of your comrades or children, at least could be counted upon to react to your noises. To show initiative, intelligence, ambition, even common sense, was to imply that there was something wrong with the Herd, and the Herd is always touchy and seeking slights, real or imagined, so as to justify more noise and more attention from the shepherds.

And then came the scourge of the Flu Manchu.

The Herd Mentality took over. Suddenly, the Herd was unsafe going about it usual business of aimlessly roaming the pastures. The Herd was now under attack from a force the shepherds could not overcome by simply reacting to mere noise and mollifying same with some shiny object or lofty promise. The sheep became terrified. If the shepherds couldn't understand what was happening, and the supply of shiny-objects-for-noise suddenly dried up, then what was the Herd to do?

The only thing the shepherds -- guided by people they refer to as "experts" whose claim to expertise is highly questionable -- could think to do was to shove the Herd into the barn, where it came into contact with other Herds similarly imprisoned by their shepherds, herders, and tenders. That barn got pretty crowded very quickly. Some sheep didn't make it in and succumbed to the Asian Snot Storm, which made the sheep sad, since they all believed they were going to live forever -- because they made the noise that said they should, and the Shepherd reacted by destroying the veterinary system they would depend upon in an act of Social Justice -- and this was a tragedy.

And it gave the sheep, perhaps for the first time in their lives, a sense of their own mortality; and this was, like, unfair...and stuff. The Sheep expected to survive, because someone else had studied to be a vet, and someone else had built the veterinary hospital, and someone else had been expected to pick up the tab when the sheep fell ill, and the shepherd had promised eternal life at someone else's expense. Someone the sheep referred to as "a deplorable", but whom they had never seen, having never ventured far from the Herd.  But the Shepherd insisted they existed and the sheep always believed the shepherd, even when they couldn't understand what he was talking about. Because new shiny object arrived before the perturbation coalesced around understanding.

The Herd began to doubt. The Shepherd was no longer believed. He couldn't be believed, for the reality the Sheep had now experienced -- vicariously, on television -- did not match the fantasy the Shepherd had constructed, and even sheep -- stupid, unthinking, unmotivated, easily-silenced-by-promises sheep -- had to notice.  And so they looked to someone else for leadership.

Even though the Herd had been trained from it's earliest stages to regard The Orange Ranchero with little more than reflexive disgust and fear of imminent fascism (the sheep did not know what this was, and could not recognize it when the shepherds engaged in it, but they were assured that if someone else did it, it was a bad thing), they still needed someone to lead them. The Shepherd inspired no more confidence; his vast array of mental distractions -- Global Warming, "The Patriarchy", "Gun Control", "Free" whatever, and others -- suddenly didn't seem so important, and the shiny object trick had finally worn thin.

And the Orange Ranchero did things, the sheep knew not what, and demanded results (something the shepherd, certainly, never asked for) from these nebulous "experts", and he had even dared to disregard the Plantation the sheep had been used to grazing upon in favor of another group inimical to the Herd, called "capitalists". The sheep are confused. They don't know what to do, or who to believe. They are torn between their loyalty to the Herd and their now-resurgent self-preservation instinct.

Another of these gaseous forms -- which calls itself "Journalists" -- circulates among the Herd. These "Journalists" insist they are due a certain level of deference and that they are entitled to be believed, because, like the "experts", they are living off the cachet their profession built up over centuries, but then discarded for it's own self-interest. These rascals are continuously whispering in the Herd's collective ears a cacophony of word vomit that is supposed to be uncritically regarded as "Truth" (because the "Journalist" is aware the Sheep regard thinking as a chore not suited to Herd life, and best left to someone else to do on it's behalf) and spiteful mendacity directed at The Orange Ranchero -- a relic of their distaste for him, based upon his frequent exposure of their own stupidity and hypocrisy, and their dislike of his "style", which is of a sort their own Herd regards as "common".

So that when The Orange Ranchero speculates about the possibilities of a certain drug being used to treat the Wuhan Fluhan, the Sheep -- with their limited capacity for independent thought, poor reading comprehension skills, and general jerkoff obtained through several generations of inbreeding -- drink Fish Tank Cleaner, and one of them dies, it's Orange Ranchero's fault. At least that's what the "Journalists" said he said. And the Herd, used to accepting whatever is tossed their way without thinking about it, took that as Bible Truth, and the "Journalists" said "Aha!

We told you you were fucktards! That's why you should listen to us! We know everything!" Including that they knew that The Orange Ranchero never told anyone to drink the aquatic version of Tidy Bowl, but that was too good a dig to make at El Presidente, because he doesn't participate in the annual White House Correspondents Association Dinner, which the herd of "Journalists" considers a sacrament, but which The Orange Ranchro regards with the same displeasure one does upon finding the Sheep's poop on the soles of his boots.

And the Shepherds, the "Journalists", the other brain-damaged Herds, and the "expert-because-worthless-diploma-and-government-job" all simultaneously make The Big Noise that Orange Ranchero is a modern-day Doctor Mengele.

~ Thank You WHATFINGER NEWS for the Linkage! ~

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