mk ultra christianity
thoughts of judas, 'the breakfast club,' and free publicity
I’ve been listening to a lot of Jaguar Wright on RealLyfe Productions lately, while crocheting away, and it’s like going to church. But no church I’ve ever been.
Yesterday, she likened religion, Christianity, to being MK Ultra’d — and I didn’t just feel the ingenious truth of that, but I saw examples from my life popping out like little lead balloons from that one assertion alone.
Years ago, after 2000 and before the pandemic of 2020, I strongly felt the presence of my guardian angel, aka spirit guide, daemon, or whatever you call the being that chooses to help you navigate this earthly realm. Not in an, I’ve seen it flying around in angel wings vision, but in just knowing it’s true.
My guardian angel/spirit guide, I’ve always felt, was a no-nonsense, hard-ass drill sergeant who doesn’t suffer fools gladly and doesn’t blow smoke up my ass. He’s also black, as dark as night.
This realization startled me a little, because I’ve been bred to believe G-d and Jesus/Yeshua and all the saints were white. Wouldn’t my guardian angel be someone who looked like Paul Bettany in “Priest?”
Keep in mind, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior in the late ‘70s/early ‘80s. I didn’t much question the doctrine Youth for Christ/Campus Life leaders fed me at bible study, summer camp, and hot fudge sundae events.
I just vaguely figured Jesus was such a cool white dude that he accepted all kinds of people, even less people like me. I mean, he hung out with prostitutes, tax collectors, and lepers, right? What’s an Asian or two?
Only recently, and I’m 60 now, did I hear concepts that challenged my Christian beliefs. People going through their own spiritual transformation are pushing past the dogma, asking questions, doing research, and coming up with their own ideas of what it means to believe in a higher source…our Creator.
What if we’ve all been MK Ultra’d? What if that doesn’t only apply to sex traffic victims and Hollywood celebrities? What if there’s a bigger structure, a system of ancient, manufactured evil, at play, since way before we were born, since time began? What if everything we’ve been told at a very young age or vulnerable state has been a convenient lie, more propaganda…an elaborate, slick, convincing commercial disguised as real life?
COVID-19, anyone?
Why do we automatically believe what we’re told? Because they’re grown-ups in positions of power, and charismatic grown-ups at that?
My mom and dad were my first snake oil salesmen. They lied to me my whole life, about everything.
Only in college did I guess that my dad wasn’t my real (biological) dad, even though I merely had to stare in the mirror to figure that out. When I asked him over the phone, after I’d walked out during one of his abusive tirades, he sputtered with enraged threats, “Who told you that? Did your mom? What the FUCK are you trying to pull?” Like I was in big trouble.
I also remember watching S&M porn when I was living in Korea. I don’t know who I was with or why my mom would allow that. I assumed, cautiously, that my mom was there, but I’m a child and my child memories are fragile. The porn involved men tying up women and softly fucking with them, rape fantasies.
It’s fucked me up ever since. I’ve never been the same.
When I asked her a few years ago, she looked at me strangely, as if I’d grown two heads, then, firmly denied that ever taking place. At least in Korea. “Are you sure?” I pressed.
“Maybe it was your babysitter in Kentucky,” she offered, already tiring of the subject. “But I would never do that. What kine question is dat?? Nevah mine!”
I’m starting to believe a different religion, one that gives me back my power and my birthright. I’m starting to believe there’s a good reason I saw a black man as my spirit guide.
Because he is.
Because Jesus Christ, or Yeshua, wasn’t white; he was black, African in origin, with hair like wool and feet of bronze.
Remember that “Raiders of the Lost Ark” scene where the bad guys are trying to steal millions in gold if they could only locate the Carpenter’s Cup? They went for the most flashy blinged-out cup, but died horribly, faces melting. Wrong.
Indiana Jones picked out the plainest cup and lived. A cup worth of a lowly carpenter.
What if that’s a metaphor of who the real Christ is and who the world thinks He is?
Wouldn’t it make sense to take what the world has been made to revere the most as the epitome of good — a white man — and flip it around with a black man, a black slave?
Wouldn’t white men want to enslave black people to say a big FUCK YOU to all of humankind and deeper bury the truth of all our salvation? Why did I, a minority, blindly accept the White Savior — as is?
What if the truth is opposite day and we’ve all been worshipping a false god, perpetrated on us by those who would profit from bearing false witness?
Because Jaguar said something else that made me think. “Thou shalt not bear false witness” is one of the 10 Commandments. It doesn’t necessarily mean, don’t lie in a general sense, according to her. It actually means, don’t lie about someone else.
Like who Jesus is.
What if Christianity has been built on the white man’s lie, to empower a church of corrupt, poisoned, bloodline families?
I’m a (lapsed) Catholic, too. There’s a reason I came from where I did.
The white men in charge, who stole and cheated and colonized, also lied about who our Savior is. They had to, in order to continue reaping the benefits and laughing all the way to the bank.
If they can do it to the Indigenous Peoples, the Chinese, the black slaves, and the Polynesians of the Hawaiian Islands, then they can do it to us Christians.
The real G-d doesn’t require animal or human sacrifices, as depicted in the Old Testament of the Bible. The people in charge, who also breathed life to Satan, their most evil being, did. Their idea of Satan twisted as G-d required their slaves, aka all of humankind, to make sacrifices for every little thing, to serve them willingly under the guise of following the Lord, their Lord.
Why else did you think Yeshua turns over tables?
See how this works? Truth must be opposite day.
The way people worship idols and flock to the things that destroy them further assures me that self-appointed holy men got it wrong on purpose.
Otherwise, what?
We discover the power the real Creator imbued within us before we were ever born, the power Yeshua tried to convey, and the Yeshuas who continue long after.
Rising up out of nothing for a truth the whole world cannot understand is the real salvation.
Which is why it’s almost visceral when we hear about Tupac and Diddy and all the other black men who could’ve realized their true greatness, if only they didn’t fall to the whims and machinations of their colonizing, feudal white overlords posing as godly clerics and studio CEOs…allegedly.
You can thank my neighbors for this turn. They didn’t mean to. They were only trying to be a mirror to the god of their bible. But their living example said, no, screamed different to the god in me, and THAT god, is never wrong.
My spirit guide is smiling now. He almost never smiles.
‘Breakfast Club’s’ 40th reunion is kind of a miracle
I never thought I’d live to see the day all five of the actors of John Hughes’ “The Breakfast Club” come together in a reunion, but they did recently. Yes, even Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez.
It’s all over YouTube.
People born after the 1980s wouldn’t necessarily know this, but those growing up with “The Breakfast Club” were well aware, painfully aware, that none of these actors wanted to only be associated with this popular 1985 cult classic that branded them forever. Not long after the movie came out, some cynical New York magazine reporter wound up making a name for himself on their dime.
An unrepentant David Blum called them the Brat Pack, a twist on Frank Sinatra’s Rat Pack of the 1960s, and it was all downhill from there.
For the longest time, actors like Estevez, Nelson, and Andrew McCarthy couldn’t fight that limiting, dismissive label. They just wanted to be in movies they could be proud of, to display their range, to grow up out of the bratty phase.
Even after McCarthy helped raise awareness/bring them together in his “Brats” documentary, critics just couldn’t lay off, labeling the actor/writer as whiny and his documentary as vapid.
But they were our childhood role models when Hollywood and its critics couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything but ride their coattails for a little grease and shoot their fish in a barrel for shits and giggles.
I was in high school, maybe a junior or senior in college when “The Breakfast Club” came out. I went to the Kuhio Theater on Kuhio Ave. in Waikiki one Saturday to watch the coming-of-age motion picture, with high hopes I’d find my “Catcher in the Rye.”
I didn’t.
To be honest, “The Breakfast Club” featured young, hot actors flailing around, trying to find their inner Shakespeare…some real-feeling angst we could all relate to. Maybe the majority of high schoolers back then were content with the crumbs they crocodile-teared.
I needed more.
The only scenes I enjoyed were when Bender (Nelson) went on attack, ripping down every one of the other students’ well-built facades to the point of pointless cruelty, because he could not face his own violent inner life, Claire’s (Ringwald) raw, self-protective outrage at his findings — and fashion sense (way ahead of its Valley Girl time) — and the dance scene.
I also like Brian’s letter at the end, and the looks Bender and Andrew gave their girls.
I wanted to identify with Ally, since I considered myself an unpopular freak at school (who never showered). But truthfully, I was probably more like Bender than I wanted to be.
The movie didn’t go far enough. But it touched lightly on what could have been. More importantly, it looked back at us, with kindness, respect, a little awe, and love, when there was very little of any of that to go around, and before the youth culture turned into this social media circle jerk — real brats, David Blum.
It’s nice to see Molly Ringwald lower her guard. She was the biggest holdout. After that movie, she was tired of being stuck in high school and being the embarrassed muse of John Hughes. Understandably, they all wanted to branch out and be known as multi-dimensional actors.
Fun fact: in the mid-2000s, I scored an exclusive interview with Ringwald for Examiner (now defunct). The one thing I was told by her publicist/manager (I forget who) was to never bring up “The Breakfast Club,” John Hughes, or any of those ‘80s movies.
She would only talk about her new vocal jazz album of standards.
Her late father was a jazz pianist, blind, and her entire world. He’s responsible for her broad horizons. She would sing with his band growing up, developing quite the multi-cultural experience. It’s no wonder she’s the one who said that “The Breakfast Club” did not have enough diversity, and that is her father’s influence.
Her voice was okay. It faltered in a few places. Jazz standards aren’t easy to sing, but what she did, she did well enough, with a modicum awareness of the genre.
If I were at the Chicago reunion, I’d have asked if she’s okay now with me talking about “The Breakfast Club,” “16 Candles,” and “Pretty in Pink,” and how much those movies made me feel safe — and seen.
‘Bad Influence…’: free publicity for pervs
I finally got around to watching “Bad Influence: The Dark Side of Kidfluencing” on Netflix, and I’m sorry I did. I think I need 10 showers to wash off the ick.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think Netflix aired “Bad Influence” as a dual-purpose docu-series:
for the normies to be shocked and appalled, and call for an end at once to social media and/or unregulated online child labor, and
for the sickos and stans to go right over to Piper’s social media for their fill.
There was another Netflix show under the documentary header a few years ago that received backlash for exploiting under-aged girls. I think it revolved around a dance competition or dance event, featuring little girls making Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader moves in skimpy, adult outfits.
Just another excuse for freaks to get their rocks off, without getting arrested.
You get my drift, right?
Whichever the case, they’re not fooling anybody.
Blissfully, I had no idea kidfluencing was a thing, because I’m a good mom. Not perfect, but nowhere near Tiffany caliber.
As disgusted as I was by “Bad Influence’s” not-so-subtle exploitation for views, it did make me feel better about myself as a parent and a human being, as well as a little relief about other moms who I thought were assholes. After watching Tiffany in action, I don’t think those other moms in my life were all that bad.
I mean, they could’ve been worse.
Whew, dodged a bullet there.
Child labor laws are the bare minimum we, as a society, can enact and enforce. How about just getting rid of social media or not letting it get into the hands of little kids in the first place?
“The Mark of the Beast, 666, is www. in Traditional Hebrew. The World Wide Web, man's greatest tool, is a part of the biggest ‘tug-of-war’ game ever, between good and evil - over Souls.” — “Revelation Www. is 666” by Daryl Breese, Google
“The Breakfast Club” cast agreed for the most part that social media was the bane of our existence and the actors wished they could put that genie back in the bottle, so we can go back to looking around and looking up and looking at each other as people, not commodity.
I agree.
Jaguar Wright even said the Internet was basically satanic, based on numbers, which was a language before English came along many centuries later. The number of the beast is 666, roughly translated, according to her, as the letter “W.”
Hey, isn’t that what URL addresses are based on — www? We’re calling on the Anti-Christ (ourselves, turned Narcissistically inward) every time we plug in.