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The Changing of the Guard:
 
Corporate Media Whistleblower Speaks
 
Part One: Game Over
 
By Art Aqua
 
7/27/03
 
HACKER ETHIC –
 
COPY, BORROW, EXCERPT, DISTRIBUTE, MIRROR ON YOUR WEBSITE
 All the King’s HorsesIt almost reads like a low-budget movie script, giving the most pedestrian foreshadowingof a future event of great drama and magnitude. It would be laughably obvious andoverblown for the script writer to use such a symbolic literary device if it were notactually a true event, with the "movie" actually being our current political reality:Independence Day – July 4
th
, 2003. A nation belabored with rampant criticism of itsunelected leader and his gang of thieves. A government increasingly accused of abandoning all truth and reason in the quest to dismantle its own Constitution in theinterest of total world control, with the members of the Lie Coordination Department –Perle, Fleischer, military commanders and "flag" officers, secret service agents, the headof the EPA et al – fleeing the sinking ship in droves. The flags, fireworks and localparades have an ironic heaviness, as if the SUV-driving soccer moms, corporate-weekend-warrior beer-swilling dads and their young TV-tethered kids chanting "USA,USA" are just going through the motions, hoping to have something returned to them thatthey already know has been stolen. For now.Sitting on the sidelines of the local parade, our hero feels the emptiness, sees beneath thesuperficial smiles that cannot provide a thick enough veneer to mask the seething horrorand discontent, and chuckles at the irony of those who crudely soap-paint their SUVs red,white and blue, one after another after another, with cheering children absently wavingflaming sparklers out the windows while parading past the well-ballooned card tables of T-shirt and sunglass-wearing town judges, as if such symbols of a culture of consumption, risking a Biblical Armageddon for cheap gas at 9 miles to the gallon, areworthy of actual public display as something "nice to look at," not simply the unusuallyslow equivalent of a rude local traffic jam.Something is wrong here. Very wrong. It almost feels as if this could be the last of itskind, a dinosaur social relic of a regime imploding with all the sound and fury of the lastdays of the Roman Empire or the sinister groans of the Titanic. The wealthier members of the town, parading their Jaguars, Mercedes, BMWs, antique collectible cars, purebredhorses and SUVs, are not quite willing to taste the unpalatable bile that slithers over thetongue just yet. If this whole thing really goes south, then they’re going to feel it in the
 
wallet for sure – stocks, bonds, options, derivatives, 401Ks, kickbacks, real estate andendless opportunities for well-padded lines of deferred-interest credit, bank loans and taxwriteoffs. This July 4
th
is their last chance to cling to the old ways, celebrating what wasand what will never be, and they’re darn well going to go for it – to "Max Out," as itwere. On with the SUV parade! Let’s rock this thing!The camera swoops up from Smalltown USA to an overhead view of the United States.Amidst the crisscrossed green and brown patches poking out from the lazy cotton clouds,we zoom down to the upper portion of the Eastern seaboard, and a friendly red dot with ared line and red text to the right marks the town of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania as we divein on our destination. It is the mother of all homegrown Independence Day celebrations,the "piece de resistance," for those who still dare to incorporate French terms into theirconversational language and do not ask for "freedom fries" at the Burger King. This goesbeyond a mindless parade of soaped-up SUVs – we’re trying to take over the friggin’world here, Senator! Why not make a big splash about it, and just lay our cards right outon the table?The event is a media-war-adrenaline-soaked, high-profile photo-op opening for thenewly-Christened, 185-million-dollar "National Constitution Center." Eagerly purringtelevision cameras from all five of the corporations that run the nation’s media line thecrowd of 4,000 spectators, ready to broadcast this most-ideal propaganda setup into thewaiting homes of 240 million stuffed, drunken, ear-ringing partied-out Americans inensuing installments of the evening news. Everybody who is everybody for this event isthere – three Supreme Court justices, a prominent U.S. senator, the governor of Pennsylvania, the mayor of Philadelphia, the bellwether music legend Ray Charles andthe newly-appointed President of the National Constitution Center.Small cannons are readily loaded with patriotic streamers to shower the crowd, fireworksare ready to rock from the building’s roof, and four military jets are circling theperimeter, poised to thunder through the fireworks overhead with precision guidance atthe moment that everyone has been waiting for. This is no ordinary town gala – this is, asthey would say in Ebonics / African-American Urban Vernacular, "da Bomb, son!" Anodd choice of words, to be sure…US Supreme Court justice Sandra Day O’Connor, one of those who installed George W.Bush as President of the United States despite his loss of the popular election, stands atcenter stage. Ironically, she has just received the Liberty Medal of Philadelphia for"actions that represent the founding principles of the United States." Hmmm… the righteyebrow cocks as the index finger covers the lips from the side, contemplating theinteresting irony of such an award. She begins the big countdown from three thateveryone has been waiting for, with streamer cannons, fireworks and jets poised for thebig moment, a Greed Age corporate climax all pressured up and ready to pop – theunveiling of the "Great Big Thing" that the entire event was built to showcase – the six-second sexed-up soundbite media clip that will beam across millions of willing cathoderay tubes in the hours and days to come.A gigantic rectangular frame made of wood and metal looms over the Who’s Who crowd,two tall pillars coming up the sides with a huge beam crossing over the entire stage
 
platform and those VIPs gathered upon it. Rolled up along the leading edge of theframe’s 15-to-20-foot-high crossbeam is a tightly-wrapped screen, ready to unfurl whenseveral of the conference staff pull on the red-white-and-blue ribbons connected to it.The hidden screen is poised to bear a reproduction of the famous painting that shows theFounding Fathers of the United States signing the Constitution. In this case, though, a
newer 
painting is to be revealed
underneath
this reproduction, neatly blending the "old"into the "new." The new layer is basically the same painting, with a few notablereplacements –
the images of some of the guests at the current event of July 4, 2003,obviously including the three Supreme Court justices themselves, have been
painted over many of the original Founding Fathers!
 
You read that right. There is nothing at allsubtle about this message:"We have rewritten the Constitution to our liking and will continue to do so in the future,in a way that is most convenient for our continued exercise of worldwide power. If weneed the resources from a foreign country, we’ll create a good commonly-agreeablereason to go in, "kick their @$$ and take their ga$." We might even cancel Presidentialelections and declare martial law (Code Red) until this perpetual National Emergencythat we created ends. We are the Founding Fathers of the New American World Order fora New Millennium, and we want it all. We intend to take it and feel no need to apologize.We are the Lords of This World. Like it or not, here we are! Naa nah-na naaa naaa, yooocan’ catch me…"The 4000-strong crowd watches with mesmerized glee as the countdown is poised toboom through the PA system. The planners of the event hold their breath in anticipationof the successful culmination of this brilliant public-relations ploy, the one date in thewhole year that this one-time-only debut can be so masterfully exploited, six secondsperfectly handcarved for their willing media shills. A picture is truly worth a thousandwords. Little do they realize that Fate has a very different plan for the message that isabout to be written.The crowd chants in unison with Justice Sandra Day O’Connor at center stage as thetriumphant moment arrives.THREE!TWO!ONE!Ta-Da! Here we go – the ribbon-pullers tug the cords, and… what the?… no way… Ohmy God, it’s really happening – the unthinkable is happening! The canvas does not giveway, does not roll down; the screen and its corresponding images are never seen by thepurring cameras of the five pet media corporations. With the impossibly sickeningdeliberateness of the collapse of World Trade Center I and II, the towering edifice groansunder the pressure of the ribbon-pullers and lets loose, weak joints pulling apart like afolding wet cardboard box, the entire hulking structure falling down to its knees like awounded Colossus, breaking its fall on the assembled VIP crowd underneath… seeing isbelieving, and this really is happening.
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