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How to make a “better” Occupy: Part 4-7

This is parts 4-7 of “What Occupy and Anonymous are really about but what they don’t want to admit to,” where we take all the parts before and put them through the lens of possibly the worst crank ever, Machiavelli.

This bastard is written of accurately by Legions of armchair scholars on Wikipedia:

To retain power, the hereditary prince must carefully maintain the socio-political institutions to which the people are accustomed; whereas a new prince has the more difficult task in ruling, since he must first stabilize his new-found power in order to build an enduring political structure. He believed that social benefits of stability and security could be achieved in the face of moral corruption. Aside from that, Machiavelli believed that public and private morality had to be separate in order to rule. To do this required that the prince be concerned not only with reputation but that he be also willing to act immorally. As a political scientist, Machiavelli emphasizes the occasional need for the methodical exercise of brute force, deceit, and so on.
Scholars often note that Machiavelli glorifies instrumentality in statebuilding – an approach embodied by the saying that “the ends justify the means.” Violence may be necessary for the successful transfer of power and introduction of new legal institutions. Force may be used to eliminate political rivals, to coerce resistant populations, and to purge previous rulers who will inevitably attempt to regain their power. Machiavelli has become infamous for this political advice, ensuring that he would be remembered in history as an adjective, “Machiavellian.”

Machiavelli’s instrumentalist approach to power is similar to Sorel’s “ethical myth,” in that the ends are so important that the means should be forgotten. In the throes of Baudrillard’s death sprial, the power which is most able to assert itself is that which presents the most hyperreal (Disneyland) image. That is, the Tea Party’s simulated “protest” was so appealing despite its hollow and meaningless beginnings, but that very meaninglessness was by design necessary for its success. In this world, it would never do to try to expose “truth,” unless such “truth” is so watered down with Sorelian “ethical myths” and built, by design, as a patently hollow symbol. The kicker, of course, is that Occupy seems to have purposefully opposed all these pitfalls and actually emulated them through projection of the self, as Hofstadter concludes. The only winning move to avoid oppositional emulation seems to be opposing everything from behind the thin veil of irony. “Genuine” opposition will often break this barrier silently and without warning; this is how 4chan trolls become “heroes.”

So, taking all this in the light of Machiavelli’s instrumentalism, I will boldy project myself onto Machiavelli as I did with Sorel in “part 1,” and come up with a strategy that consciously looks at all of these imaginary mechanisms in a purely fictional post-structural metaphor. Trust me, the ends justify the means.

The bastards from the General Assembly hired a film crew that was used to shooting documentary footage in the African Savannah. They brought in their own “protesters,” hired actresses, the whole lot of them impossibly cute hippie chicks. The group decked themselves out in standard Occupy garb, but it was somehow cleaner, like they weren’t the type of people who would ever do drugs. A dreadlocked pair of “Lesbians” seemed to be the most restrained in their style, but also the most eye-catching.

The film crew had paid for a permit and rented Zucotti Park for the day. Of course, it had to be Zucotti Park, and they had to have complete control. Beaming, the actresses raised a flag in a moment that was choreographed to resemble the iconic scene at Iwo-Jima, and the film crew captured it expertly, purposefully inserting “realistic” camera jostling to complete the illusion. The director stood up on a park bench, nodding with satisfaction at the scene.

A team of set-dressers then converged on the park, tents were carelessly set up, a quaint “library” materialized, and some nonthreatening homeless were corralled to a “kitchen” where a buxom “protester” served up carry-out from a cold pot set on a camp stove that was not operating. The weary old men, forgotten by society, were then given a wad of cash by the director and left the “camp,” their false tears now transformed into tears of real joy at the liquor they had just scored.

The group of beautiful faux protesters gathered in a drum circle, which they had heavily rehearsed, and former “real” Occupy protesters were given books from the “library” and told to “read” them in the background, so the park would look more “Occupied.” It probably wouldn’t be possible to tell what books were being “read” on film, but I saw one copy of Twilight and a few Star Trek spinoff novels used as props. The scene was impossibly serene, a halcyon moment of pure utopian bliss. The “Lesbians” with dreadlocks stage kissed like any soap opera couple.

The cameras were turned off as a black-clad group that authorities could never prove were in any way affiliated with the film crew converged on Zucotti Park. As quickly as they had shown up, they melted away, and the camp was in post-apocalyptic ruins. A trash can burned, the flag was torn down, and all the actresses were individually giving testimonies to the camera in front of this tightly controlled backdrop. Oh, they gnashed their teeth about the vicious, unfair attack from the police and the heroic defense put up by the Black Bloc. God Bless Them, holy defenders of Liberty Park’s Sovereignty. The trained voices strained in fear of the next assault, which would surely be the final end to the dreams of Liberty Park.

At this point, the real-life members of the General Assembly went through their usual human microphone rage, but this scene was framed later in editing from the point of view of the small group of women that had dramatically raised the flag. They joked viciously, called it cultish mind-control, and remained completely aloof during the whole Assembly. This ironic scene later played well with audiences, providing a well-needed comic break.

Soon after, real riot police showed up in response to the vandalism, visibly confused about the presence of the film crew. In the highly edited final footage, none of these confused moments were allowed to destroy the illusion. All that folks at home saw were a group of sterilized hippies bravely sitting on the shore as a tide of Black Stormtroopers crashed on them with zip-ties, pepper spray, and nightsticks. The crew got amazing boom shots, impeccable audio, beautiful composition, and everything top-tier Hollywood production demands. They got away with their work, too, unscathed by the beasts of the city.

Later, the filmmakers would interview “police” in their homes, so as not to make this “documentary” too one-sided. The police generally would let out a sigh, and say that they were just doing their jobs. The police, most of all, hoped that somehow these kids would find a solution using new technology and the Internet.

 

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Giorgio Tsoukalous secret agent for Raëlist agenda, Project Blue Beam

Raël is a CULT leader who attracts CHRIST PSYCHOSIS NUTJOBS from all over the world with the promise of SEX. Let’s face it, you were BORN OUT OF A FUCK! But at the beginning of that recursive chain of 50 trillion FUCKs, you were in a test tube from an alien. Everything was. That’s right, they’re the Angels and God is their leader. Every simple superstition you’ve ever believed is now PROVEN BY SCIENCE! How does it feel to know you were right about Jesus? Praise Jesus, Muhammed, Einstein, Buddha, and STeve.

Well, Giorgio Tsoukalos and his famous APophasis states that He’s not Sayin’ It’s Aliens but it’s Jesus.

That’s fucking right. It’s Jesus. Just like Raël said, but you know what? We’re ALL half Elohim and Jesus walks amongst ye, Paratars! You have at least 10,000 different entities controlling your “conscious” decisions and JESUS CAN WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jesus also has a dual nature! He is himself, a paratar. In fact, there is an infinite regression towards meaninglessness of identity because of the Contological Paradox, but fuggit… We don’t have TIME for infinite recursion. We live short lives, can’t even absorb 1/39328th of the world’s entire knowledge in one lifetime. BUT YOU GOTTA TRY!

See, the problem is we’ve got too many Jersey Shore experts and not enough SEX experts.

That’s where PROJECT BLUE BEAM COMES IN. They’re trying to create a new Christ out of Giorgio Tsoukalos, the pseudoscientist who’s valid enough for the History Channel. Just put an “Ancient Alien theorists believe…” in front of anything and it’s not a lie!

Fuckers.

Pretty much every Science Fiction Author ever is a part of Project Blue Beam trying to create a new religion that is more suited for the modern day than that Neophilic 2,000 year old shit. It ain’t cutting-edge, it ain’t a WINNER.

WHELL WHY IN THE FUCK IS IT WINNIN’?

Hell, I don’t know. It ain’t got crap on the Prometheus storyline, basically I think Philip K. Dick told our good friend Ridley Scott the secret answer to the Universe and the meaning behind his famous factual fictional novel, VALIS. This is where the story line of Prometheus was derived. Spoiler alert: It’s kinda maybe actually probably more related to Alien. Which sucks, by the way. I just have this lame nostalgia for Prometheus cause I saw it a day before Alien.

“NOW You’re JUST FUCKING WITH ME!”

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“Steve”

“Steve” is a terrible salesman, fond only of shoving Lack down the throats of idiots and rubes. Everywhere “Steve” goes, he leaves a trail of jokes that are so bad they’d be funny if any other person delivered them. But “Steve” is not really a person, only an idea created by the right Reverend Doug Smith, a thin persona of Philip Ivanovich III. “Steve” is nothing more than a modern hero myth aimed at exploiting the very heart of post-scarcity Lack.  Lack is all that “Steve” has, and everyone knows it. Every waking moment, “Steve” embodies a train wreck and flails around wastefully, but somehow it works for him.

Religions like Raëlism and Scientology are obvious jokes, taken seriously by adherents in a desperate bid for Lack. Scientologists spend tens of thousands of dollars and years of phony auditing only to find out that it’s all kooky science fiction about some alien named Xenu. Still, the only Scientologist laughing is L. Ron Hubbard.

Reverend Doug Smith doesn’t laugh about “Steve,” only his followers do.

I have tried like hell to be like “Steve,” and I still don’t know whether I’m an abject failure or a total success. “Steve” is famous for destroying cults simply by infecting them with terrible jokes. Hell, he caused the fall of Paganism by telling Constantine that a dyslexic Zeus sold his soul to Santa.

As a new follower of “Steve,” I took the cult-destruction mission very seriously. It seemed to be one of the most important messages of the Book of “Steve.” I set to work undermining Reverend Doug Smith, that bastard, because HE was the one responsible for “Steve” in the first place. If I was going to destroy a cult, it had to be one I really believed in.

“Steve” usually stole good jokes and delivered them so badly they were no longer funny. I took a slightly different approach and stole all the bad jokes from Reverend Doug Smith in a vain attempt to make them even worse. I started my own religion and based it off of a guy named “Bob.” “Bob” was this crazy Reverse-Turing Test that had gained sentience and could identify individual personalities, even when they were trading off sockpuppets. “Bob” became wildly popular, but Doug Smith was not impressed.

Reverend Doug, I think, commanded his legion of “Stevies” to taunt me with sockpuppets. They hit me from every direction, infiltrating any area of the Internet I regularly visited. They both encouraged me and threatened my life, strengthening my resolve to destroy “Steve” at any cost. Over several months, I explored every crack in Reverend Doug’s evil cult that had so presumptuously invaded my brain, but there was no exploiting them. “Bob” had brought the sockpuppet torture, and “Bob” had to die. I killed “Bob” simply by not talking about “Bob.”

At this point, the mixed messages stopped coming from Reverend Doug’s sockpuppets, but instead they came from Reverend Doug himself. He and his evil cabal were dropping hints about how I was both terrible and heroic. I had finally become “Steve.”

Each year, Reverend Doug and his cult celebrated the beginning of a new world by camping out in city parks. I knew I had to show up, just to show him how much like “Steve” I really was. Being “Steve” on the Internet was easy, so I had to show up to prove that I was really the best “Steve” there had ever been.

On the long drive to the city, I got so lost in thought about how to best embody “Steve,” I swerved into the shoulder and nearly died several times. I arrived an emotional wreck and put on the Red Robe of “Bob,” preaching TransHuman madness to nobody in particular as I wandered around the city lost in “Steve.” Looking back, it was analogous to Jerusalem Syndrome.

I never actually found the camp of “Stevies,” but I did get arrested for shouting in the face of police officers. They told me later that the crowd following me was an illegal assembly and I needed a permit for that sort of thing. Reverend Doug was in the cell next to me, rambling on endlessly about “Steve” and Lack. By next year, I knew I’d finally figure out the True meaning of “Steve.”