Don’t mind the Disinformation Governance Board’s ominous similarity to the dystopian Ministry of Truth; it’s simply Big Gov’s latest double-plus-good strategy of how to best serve man.
|Ted Rorschalkjust now|
The old adage applies now more than ever: There’s no such thing as a free lunch. The foundational document To Serve Man wasn’t the road map to Utopia the aliens tricked the World into believing it was. Turned out these superior beings were not at all interested in serving man altruistically. and were all about serving him up on a plate, for lunch and, presumably breakfast as well as dinner. The word “serve” was a key to the man-eating alien’s true intention, a master class in hidden-in-plain-sight deception. The Biden administration’s ham-fisted creation of the new Department of Homeland Security sub-agency, the Disinformation Board of Governors, it not even trying to hide the fact its Orwellian antecedent, its similarity to George Orwell’s book’s Ministry of Truth is so painfully clear.
So why then aren’t we out there screaming from the rooftops, “This here’s ‘Murica! Don’t bring that communist bullshit all up in here!”
The current state of affairs where every 15 minutes there’s a new outrage we’re all supposed to stand up for and scream out our 2 minutes of love/hate for didn’t just leap from the ocean fully formed. The public’s willingness to go along to get along despite their own misgivings reminds me of a 2006 George Carlin monologue about how the American people “remain willfully ignorant of the big red, white and blue dick that’s being rammed up their assholes every day.”
The government’s been called out on its lying many times before, only to look their accusers in the eye and mutter back, “OK? Whatchoo gonna do about it?”
The public’s response thus far has been, “Thank you, sir! May I have another? Please forget I said anything. Never mind!”
Calling it the Disinformation Governance Board isn’t close to being as subtle as the aliens’ To Serve Man was. And, for the reason above outlining the public’s meek acquiescence, it doesn’t have to be. The linguistic thorn the Brave New World Order is pricking us with is more like Shakespeare’s A Rose is Rose. In other words, we all know the DGB is the Ministry of Truth by an other name.
And we don’t seem to care. We absconded our right to privacy many years ago. Once we realized our cell wasn’t just a tool for our convenience but inside its telemetry was an app that pinpointed our every move and exact location we collectively shrugged out shoulders and thrilled to ask SIRI what Joe DiMaggio’s batting average was in 1942.
Once you start to give up your freedom, the dominos begin to fall like rain. Free speech is just the next one up for extinction. The convenience of being able to “know everything” thanks to the super computer in our back pocket is adequate compensation. In other other words, there’s no need to microchip anyone because the entire population willingly carries around their own tracking device, which happens to be their phone.
The DGB—an intersection of Art and current events in a world gone Clown—is so blatantly equivalent to George Orwell’s seminal novel’s Ministry of Truth only a complete moron would deny it; it’s up on stage in the cone of a very powerful spotlight, belting it out like Pavorati. Back when 1984 and Brave New World were required reading, the mere utterance of such an obviously Big Brotherish agency would have been met with such a deafening public outcry it would have been quickly shelved by the administration that had mentioned it, never to be spoken of again.
But that was before we the People got “phoned,” turned into hunched-over zombies reliant on the neverending feedback loop emanating from the eternal black mirrors that never leave the palms of our hands.