A strange and enlightening interlude wherein the aging hippy is possessed by the benevolent malevolent spirit of the commander-in-chief of the information wars, Alex Jones.
Trambley missed Tuesday night’s rally cuz the CBD store called him into work last second. We missed him because he was the hype man that usually got us all going. Unbeknownst to me, I would shortly take up his mantle.
When Brother Erin rolled up with a brace of hard plastic masks to wear during the rally my world, or I should say, my perspective, changed. Physically so, immediately, as the mask’s eyeholes were little more than pin pricks and I nearly broke my ankle on the fire hydrant I tripped over as I hurried along the sidewalk because I could barely see. But, once I limped to the corner, on some weird psychological level I transformed, like the Lone Ranger or Bane, and through the course of the afternoon I gradually upped my protest game until I had reached a state of flow where I could hardly recognize myself myself, spitting out the unvarnished truth in the gruff and bellicose fashion of the mask’s namesake, Alex Jones.
“They’re turning the frickin’ frogs gay!” I screamed, defaulting to the most famous / infamous meme of the infowars icon and founder.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized the angry face of outraged conspiracy strapped to my face didn’t at all comport with the sign I was holding: BE BOLD AS LOVE, NOT RULED BY FEAR and I hit upon a verbal bridge to reconcile the contradiction.
“Peace and frickin’ love, people!” I belted out to the captive audience of cars stopped at the light, many of them with their windows down. “Peace and frickin’ love!” Adjusting my grip on the sign to hold it with one hand, I held up two fingers in the universal gesture of peace before continuing on to the meat of my screaming disquisition.
“It’s an information war out here. Arm yourself with facts, not feelings! Joe Biden says “We choose truth over facts.” What the hell does that even mean!?”
I could tell the line wasn’t bad from the laughter of some of my fellow protestors, which gave me confidence to keep on the track of wherever the heck it was that I was going.
Erin was on the bullhorn a few meters away from me booming out a rant on the uselessness of masking against a virus, and, as he paused, I riffed on what he had been saying.
“The only mask you ought to be wearing is freaking Alex Jones!” I howled, pointing at my Alex Jones face.
Keeping in step with Jones’s style I transitioned to an impromptu commercial: “Go to infowarsdotcom, that’s infowarsdotcom, right now and peruse all of our fine products. We’ve got a sale this week on Ginkgo Biloba so you don’t lose your mind like Joe Biden did. Fifty percent off while supplies last! You don’t get this kind of content for nothing, people! We’re still capitalists in a capitalist society! The damn commies haven’t taken control over everything just yet!”
I took breaks between green lights because what was the use of screaming myself hoarse if I didn’t have an audience? The material I’d stumbled onto would work for several more red and green light revolutions until we got our first foul-mouthed heckler.
“Yeah? Fuck Trump you cocksucker!”
Normally, I just ignore such idiot NPCs since Trump has zero to do with my sign or what I am saying. But I wasn’t me then, I was frickin’ Alex Jones!
“Fuck Trump? Fuck Trump? Absolutely Fuck Trump,” I said hurrying up to the loudmouth’s open window as he had stopped at the light a few meters up from where I had been standing. “Operation Warp Speed was the most divisive thing that happened to America in my lifetime.”
“Fuck Trump!” the scraggly bearded stereotype of the quintessential soyboy repeated, just like a parrot.
“So you didn’t take the Trump Juice then, right, brother?”
The stupid smile straightened out on his stupid face as the implication of my leading question started a system failure in his stupid brain. I imagine I might have seen the smoke start pouring from his ears if the light hadn’t turned green and his chauffeur hit the gas and drove his slack-jawed face away.
Who knew that all it would take for me to break out into an hour and half of political street theater was an Alex Jones mask? I had my base script memorized by then, and once that was down, I began to improvise
Cadging from the first line of my sign was an easy get.
“As my man Jimi said 60 years ago!” I shouted, and then broke into song, “Be bold as love! Just ask the Axi-i-i-i-i-s!”
Even as the last word vibrated in my head, Alex Jones rearranged the song for me to better fit the situation. After another red light/green light and an advertisement for infowars.com I sang it again.
“Be bold as love! But don’t take the Trump Va-a-a-a-axxxxxxx!”
It was truly inspirational. Not only was I using agitprop the way the Alinskyites do to subvert America’s way of life as a reverse Agent Provocateur, giving it back to them in spades, I was totally messing with the go-to heckle of all the screaming NPCs driving by who thought, in regard to Donald Trump, we were monopolar single issue ideologues, just like they were in opposition to the man who, his last year in office, had become Grandpa Moderna. When confronted with the fact they themselves had become Trump’s bitch by taking the vax he’d been pushing like a Big Pharma salesman nearly all of 2020, they had nothing left but to sit there blank faced trying to process their own hypocrisy before the light turned green and they were mercifully whisked away.
Hell, I even threw some Bob Marley in for good measure, screaming out the beginning of the second verse of his most iconic song: “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery! None but ourselves can free our minds!” A sentiment that so desperately needs to be grasped and put into practice right now…frickin’ yesterday.
What I learned from Tuesday’s rally was that Brother Erin is my Daddy and channeling Alex Jones is a great way to up the ante and get out the message we all want to not only send, but multiply. Throughout the course of my performance I noticed more windows being powered down, more smart phones being pointed at me and some pretty demonstrably hyped up people reacting mostly peacefully to Alex Jones’s playful, forceful screed.
One advantage the disciples of Clown World have over the dour Bond villains of the Great Reset who drone on about the New World Order from their sterile mountain-top chalets, as well as the useful idiots who drink the Kool-Aid and carry Klaus Schwab’s water, is the wherewithal to not take it all so seriously (see Pepe dapping in a clown nose and funny wig!) and even in the face of all the senseless bullshit, albeit at the expense of an NPC or two, are still able to have some fun.