List: 14 Reasons Why Noam Chomsky is a Member of the Illuminati

*Look, I love Noam Chomsky's writings, mind, speeches, and works. Never-the-less, the more I think about him (and the seemingly negligible effect he has had on world politics), the more his words and actions don't quite seem to match up. And so in honor of "Questioning Reality," I bring you*

14 Reasons Why Noam Chomsky is a Member of the Illuminati:

1. He holds a teaching position at a major American Academic Institution (and has for years); MIT, Linguistics Chair. They've got him by the balls!

2. He is the only major public figure who explains the dynamics of modern day World Politics as they really are, clearly and succinctly... Yet no other major public figures act on what he says, even though he is universally recognized as a brilliant academic.

3. Although Chomsky is brilliant at deconstructing and explaining the true motives of Nation-States, The Military, Global Corporate Powers, etc. He is content to write book after book and give explanations to small-audience Public Radio programs; He refuses to join any group who radically fights for change or tenaciously try to spread his message to the greater public (Of course not, it might threaten his position at MIT and invite reprisals from the Powerful Elites he is reporting on).

4. He conducted part of his doctoral research during four years at Harvard University as a Harvard Junior Fellow; A school well-known as a recruiting area for the CIA, Counsel of Foreign Relations, and other Illuminati fronts.

5. Chomsky is often called "The Father of Modern Day Linguistics," a science which has arguably been used more to oppress other nations/peoples than to free them.

6. He has children and relatives whom he loves; These are liabilities which the Illuminati can use to threaten/manipulate him.

7. He often receives undercover police protection, in particular while on the MIT campus, although he says he does not agree with the police protection (more evidence of his ability to do one thing while "agreeing" with another as well as a way for his Illuminati Masters to keep track of him and make sure he doesn't "step out of line").

8. He was on a list of planned targets created by Theodore Kaczynski, better known as the Unabomber; Kaczynski's connection to covert government mind-control programs has been well documented, though not widely reported. Chomsky's name on this list stand outs as Odd, when compared to the other names, and of course Chomsky never was actually attacked by Kaczynski.

9. As a Theoretical/Experimental Psychologist Chomsky's research has done more to enable Illuminati propagandists and brain-butchers to manipulate populations than he has to frustrate them. "Chomsky laid out an explanation of human language faculties that has become the model for investigation in some areas of psychology. Much of the present conception of how the mind works draws directly from ideas that found their first persuasive author of modern times in Chomsky." To whit, Chomsky sadly cares more about research than what the results of that research can be used for. Einstein had something to say about this after the Atom Bomb.

10. Chomsky declares himself widely and proudly as an "Anarchist" despite his life-long involvement, leadership, and participation in Repressive Institutions. This is an oxymoron and creates cognitive dissonance. He consistently and eloquently states the problems with the World Politics, then rarely-if-ever offers solutions. This only serves to further depress Anarchists everywhere. Can you think of a single other well-known, society-approved, Anarchist?

11. Chomsky has received many honorary degrees from universities around the world, including from the following (Many of which are well known Illuminati Grounds): University of London, University of Chicago, Loyola University of Chicago, Swarthmore College, University of Delhi, Bard College, University of Massachusetts, University of Pennsylvania, Georgetown University, Amherst College, University of Cambridge, University of Buenos Aires, McGill University, Universitat Rovira i Virgili, Columbia University, Villanova University, University of Connecticut, University of Maine, Scuola Normale Superiore, University of Western Ontario, University of Toronto, Harvard University, Universidad de Chile, University of Bologna, Universidad de la Frontera, University of Calcutta, Universidad Nacional de Colombia, Vrije Universiteit Brussel, Santo Domingo Institute of Technology, Uppsala University, University of Athens, University of Cyprus, Central Connecticut State University, National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM)

12. Chomsky spent time in 1953 living in HaZore'a, a kibbutz in Israel. Asked in an interview whether the stay was "a disappointment" Chomsky replied, "No, I loved it." Some Kibbutz's are fertile recruiting areas for young prospective Illuminati members.

13. Chomsky's language and concepts are often so advanced or couched in terminology so complicated that they are completely inaccessible to the poor, uneducated, and immigrant communities. The exact communities who would pose the greatest threat to the Illuminati, if they could understand what Chomsky was saying.

14. Remember the Illuminati's primary motto and means is: "Divide and Conquer!" That is, have control of the leaders (both Political leaders and Opinion Leaders) of ALL sides; Thus with the ability to play all sides of the ideological spectrum off the others at will, no matter who wins, The Illuminati wins. Can you think of a better, more ineffectual leader of "The Anarchists" than Noam Chomsky?

Think about it...

Thoughts: Food Poisioning, The Perfect Crime.

How many places did you eat at in the last few days? How many different types of food did you eat out of your fridge or other peoples fridge? If you got deeply, gut-wrenching, vomit-all-over-the-floor, sick food-poisoning; would you know for sure where you got it from?

I'd never thought that deeply on the subject until I worked as a dishwasher at a Fancy Restaurant and saw how sloppy, disgusting, and frankly careless the other dishwashers, waiters, and even Chef's took their job. Mostly everyone was too rushed to really pay attention to cleanliness, and really, not that many cases of food poisoning win in court. Why? Because it's nearly impossible to prove! You'd have to eat at the same Burger King every single day for a whole month, with no snacks in between, to prove that they might have poisoned you. And even then, could it have been the toothpaste you used or some chemical in the air of your house?

I guess the point I'm getting at is that today's "modern" society is based on a lot more Trust in our common human beings than most people like to think about. It only takes a few of the proverbial "someone-pooped-in-the-refried-beans-at-Taco-Bell" stories before the average person never wants to think about it again; but we all have to eat. Not only that, but most of us have to rely on an army of unknown people daily, who we trust, are not poisoning our food or any of the ingredients in it. Because if they were, there is not a damn thing we could do about it.

"But what about the FDA (Food and Drug Administration), or AC (Agricultural Committee), and other Government Agencies? Aren't they watching out for us? Don't they keep our food safe?" My answer to that is "ha, ha, ha. As if." A few intelligent counties and cities (like Los Angeles, California) have instituted programs where they inspect restaurants randomly and give them ratings which are posted for the customer to see and this is a good start, but any teenager knows how to clean their room on inspection day and keep it filthy the rest of the time.

In the end, all I'm saying is, if you are looking to hurt someone, look no further than the food supply. And if all you wealthy people out there think there is nothing better than being served food by the poor, I urge you to think again. It's a lot easier to piss on your salad than it is to successfully lobby for fairer wages.

Thoughts: Just Another Person

She's just another person; no better and no worse. Like me, and my Mother. Like a Drunk and a Celebrity. Just a person, a person like me.

Life is not fair. At least it seems that way so often. My love for Her, my attachment, amplifies Her pain into terrible tortures in My heart. As if I don't have enough misery. Why this Woman? Why Anyone? I must keep this in Perspective.

She seems like my All and my Everything. Her words and promises are broken so easily. Of course, We are only Human. And instead of crying over Her for another two days, two weeks, two months, or two years, I'll just have to say to myself, over and over: "She is just another person. Like me, or anyone else."

Yes, it sucks when She is in pain. But it sucks equally when I hurt too, or my Mother hurts, or my Friend Pete hurts, or Her other Lover Joban hurts, or his Mother hurts, or Anyone. We all fucking hurt. My inclination pulls me to Her pity, but Reality Yawns Large.

I love Her so much; but She's just another person. Not a Goddess, a Priestess, Witch, or gifted Psychic. Just another Person. And I can't keep treating Her whims like the Law, Her moods like the Answers. My emotional well-being must not be tied up in this other Person; It just doesn't work. Been there, tried that. Again and again and again.

My well-being must be tied to prayer, meditation, reading, writing, support, and other Practical Measures. Time wasted fighting in negativity, is bad time, ill spent. And in the End, what else do We have, but time?

Thoughts: The Occultist

As a young man, the dream of becoming a solitary student of the Occult, was a fine one. Finer indeed than a job or a family, a house or a car.

As a man of full age, Occult Scholar indeed, the gleam of my Trade has been tarnished. For though it can be exciting, to deal with the world of "Les Invisibles (The Invisables)," a human is made a social beast. Remembering now the surprised faces of the older scholars I questioned. Surprised that one so young would be interested in what they surely viewed as a shabby and ill-suited subject: Occultism.

Many have fallen from great heights of Ivory Towers for the "crime" of an academic interest in the forbidden and foreboding subject. To profess a belief in the actions of practical Magick is enough to get one fired and black listed, lucky to ever teach again.

Yet every college with an Anthropology class on Shamanism or Witchcraft, has the class filled to the limit every Semester. The common people "know" about Magick on an inner intuitive level and every year more and more youths are flocking to the study of it.

Though the same college class is often used by the administration to instill propaganda of society and dispel the modern "myth" of Magick. More and more students are seeing the errors of their instructors rhetoric every day.

Poem/Thoughts: "Luxery Problems"

"Luxury Problems,"
- I'd first heard
the term
at an AA meeting,
described by a person,
who had lost everything;
Because of Addiction.

A "Luxury Problem" is a problem
which does not directly affect
a person's physical security
or vital emotional functioning.
"Damn,
I can't decide which tie to wear,"
is a Luxury Problem.
"Damn,
I can't get any drinking water,"
is a Real-Life Problem.

This distinction can be
very hard to grasp
by anyone who has
never had many
Real-Life Problems,
having always been provided for,
in one way or another.

In Modern First World Western Cultures,
especially rampant in The United States;
There are many people who only
suffer from "Luxury Problems"
and can't understand
what the rest of humanity suffers,
simply trying to survive.

However, these "Luxury Sufferers,"
are not to be blamed.
Indeed to them, not getting their way,
or breaking a fingernail,
may be the worst feeling
they have ever been forced to suffer,
and feel quite justified in comparing their
"Luxury Problems"
with those of peoples in
totally, qualitatively, incomparable,
to their own.

While the homeless man,
going through the trash,
is overjoyed
at finding half a donut.
The business man,
nearby in a Mercedes,
is angrily yelling
into his cellphone,
because he just lost some stock
in a Mutual Fund.
The homeless man has no idea
what a Mutual Fund is,
or why someone would be so angry
about it.
Especially someone in a Mercedes.
The business man is
disgusted to his stomach
at the mere thought
of eating a donut
from the trash.
Their two value systems
are completely different
and independent
from each other.

One is attuned to immediate survival.
The other is attuned to Symbols
and Representations of Ideas
which are supposed to be related
to his survival eventually
(If he loses his stock, he may lose his job,
then his car, then his house, etc).

One persons attention is immediate
and one is projected far
into the imaginary future,
filtered through yet unknown possibilities
and his own desires.
Clearly such a projection is itself a luxury.
If the human is so financially secure
that they can emotionally afford
to invest energy
in figmentory futures.
It follows logically
that the person in question
is either Well-Off
or perilously imbalanced.

Thus the human goal becomes:
To distance oneself
as far as possible
from survival questions,
IE "Real Life Problems."
The more secure one's food supply,
or shelter, or emotional happiness,
the more free time one has
to better secure themselves,
to get thelmelves even farther away from
problems of survival.
Freer and freer
to pursue pastimes
of pure joy and relaxation;
Like watching football
and having sex.
Dangerously, this also applies,
to those who believe wrongly
or only think their needs are secure,
when in fact they are not.

Someone with purely
"Luxury Problem"
oriented living
will not be able to understand
a person with a purely survival oriented worldview.
The survivor will appear to the first like an animal,
while the first will seem like a spoiled, pampered, child,
to the experienced world survivor.

Thus the Concentration-Camp-surviving-Grandfather
tries to lecture his grandson
who has never been hungry in his life
about the value of food,
but the grandson cannot understand.

Perception.
Character.
Somehow it always seems to come back to these.
The same situation experienced through
completely different filters.
Yet the perception affects the situation,
it is never so removed as it seems.

Insisting one is right,
is always wrong.
Judgement is not for me.
Advice is a form of Nostalgia.
All judgement stems from knowledge
and experience.

Though I have learned quite a lot...
Though I have seen many things...
Though I have known many people...
I do not feel able to Judge.

Who knows how deep
one's craziness goes?

If I wish to be forgiven,
I must first forgive.

Thoughts: Getting Better Every Day

I am 30 years old, without two friends in the entire world who would move a piece of furnature for me. This says more about my ability at maintaining human relationships (or rather my exceptional inability), than it does about my low standard concerning who I call a friend. It appears that, for whatever reasons, over the course of my entire life, I've kept about twenty friends.

Ten of these friends I havn't heard from in years and thus, don't really count. Seven of the remaining ten friends will only email or call me occasionally.

Of the three friends left who will actually see me in person; One is "very busy" and naturally flaky - almost never around; totally undependable. One is my lover and doesn't count. The other only really visited me once. Otherwise he's just too poor to drop everything and help me move furnature.

What have I done, to keep people so distant? OK, dumb question. Too obvious.

How about; Why have I helped so many people move furnature and no one helps me? Better question. The answer is that I helped the wrong people move furnature. People who don't give back.

But nothing is lost to the Universe. I have almost always had help when I needed it. Good Karma and all that. Just not help from friends, usually. That is a little sad, but at least I have the rest of my life to try to find a better quality if friend an to be a better quality friend.

My life comes crashing in all around me. I can't breathe, I want to cry, I'm cold, I want to exercise, I'm too scared to leave my room, to leave my bed, to move, too scared to answer the phone and tell someone how I'm feeling. Then I get to feel ashamed for being unable to talk to someone, for being unable to face the World, for being a bum on the government dole, for everything.

The familiar shame spiral in all it's choking, self-pitying glamour. Ruthlessly self-propagating like a computer virus, each new shame causing more, every second feeling more and more trapped. Like a volcano it builds inside me; begging to be let out. To yell at someone, to play the blues on a harmonica, to kill myself, to write these words, to go get drunk, to do anything but feel the way I'm feeling.

My head is a sieve and whatever goes in comes out twisted and perverted. I must hide until these feelings pass. I must turn off my phone. I must avoid everyone, until I feel better. God knows I could make myself feel even worse yet, by taking my confusion (as anger) out on another. A crapy emotional Con my parents bequethed to me- still trying to break myself of the habit. Getting better, every day.

Privacy can be healing. Other must understand. If not, well, Fuck 'em.

Thoughts: More and More on Homelessness

I would not wish homelessness upon anyone. Indeed, most of you will never experience homelessness in the narrowest sense of the word. Certainly not for a year, probably not even for a few weeks, out of your entire life.
Homelessness: The state of having zero Capital (economic, social, emotional). Without possession or choice of possessing money, living accommodations, and/or food. Bereft of purpose, means, equitable peers, beyond any help but charity.

As one of my pen-pals pointed out: "You are the only homeless person I've ever really known." I'd never thought about it quite that way before (since I know tons of homeless people), but I'm sure she is not the only person I know like that.

By experience the Homeless largely cluster together for comfort, like herd animals, herded together by prices they can't afford, "No Loitering" signs, "Bathrooms are for Customers Only", and Police. Yes, I am homeless. And what's more I've spent many years of my life this way. It's a part of me that can't be taken away, even with money, a house, or a car.

When you are chronically homeless as I am you get yo observe people in all sorts of different social situations that would rarely have come up otherwise. If you ever wonder who your true friends are, just tell everyone you know that you're now broke and homeless. Watch those that scurry away, see them who try to control you, adore those that offer genuine help, loathe then that vilify you.

The sad truth of my life's experience so far is that, as Dostoevsky pointed out, the poor do have a deeper and more meaningful camaraderie than the wealthy. The poor do share more readily with each other than the wealthy. And possibly, just maybe, the poor actually feel more than the wealthy. As the constant threat at a biological level of Hunger and unfulfilled primitive needs keeps the poor person more alive, more aware, and thus, more appreciative, of all of life's gifts.

I have seen money change people, I've seen relationships change people, I've seen jobs change people, I've seen religions change people. When you are broke, you have nothing to hide. How much more honest can you be?

Thoughts: Different Rains

The rain is different for everyone, at different places and different times. As a young child I loved the rain; it meant we got to stay inside and gym class was cancelled. As a young Magician I once made it rain. Boasting about it the next day to a homeless man, he yelled at me saying: "That rain was your fault?! Do you know how many people got hurt because of you?!" I'd never really thought about how my actions affected others before.

As a younger bum myself I too hated the rain. All the cigarette butts on the street became soggy and unsmokeable. Less people out and about meant less spare change, less spare food, less warm places to pass the time, just less of everything.

Now, as a homeless man, I like the rain again. Though the thunder woke me up and the lightening almost blinded me. Sleeping next to a tree in a lightning storm is considered dangerous, but I don't really worry. As long as my sleeping bags are dry and my camping spot is still mine; the rains OK with me. The air all electric, trash washed down the gutters. Mother Nature reminds us, that she can do as she pleases.

Postscript: After writing and boasting of my love for the rain, I spent an uncomfortable night getting pretty damn wet, falling asleep praying that the rain would stop and the sun would come out before my bedding got soaked.

Thoughts: Official Denial For the Record

The very idea that I could be using the poetry on my blog as a coded means of communication to certain unnamed people or peoples is silly at best and paranoid at worst.

Firstly, there is no one I would need to contact anonymously.

Secondly, even if there were someone we would have to have established the code with each other at some point, or the code is so simple that anyone could decode it. Both are unlikely and neither are in my character. Cheifly because they are so insecure, I would not use that method.

Again and for the Record: This is simply a page for fictional writings. There are no coded messages that I am aware of.

Thank you.
The MGT.

Thoughts: My Book Titles

Possible Titles for Books I Can Write:

1) Losing Your Cool (How to lose your cool without even trying)

2) 101 Ways to Fail (The Optomists guide to Pessimism)

3) Flirting with Damnation (Selling your soul for fun and profit)

4) Crap-Dragging (Re-Defining the Art of Losing at Life)

5) Where Masochism Only Dreams Of (Future Trends in Psycho Personnal Struggles)

6) "I Said What?!" and Other Bad Questions to Ask Saint Peter in the Afterlife

7) "How Much Pain Can a Person Really Feel?" (and other stupid experiments to test on yourself)

8) A Most Exotic Failing (The Struggles of a Young Crap-Dragger)

9) Hey! Where's My Asshole?! (A Memoir)

10) Window A Says: "Please See Window B"
Window B Says: "Please See Window A"
(A Textbook on Beauracratic Struggles)

11) Why Me, Why Not Me? (A Torture Victim's Guide to Sympathy)

12) "What Time is it?" (A Thousand and One Nights of Insomnia: Poetry Anthology)

Thoughts: Hospitality

Hospitality should be a religion. In ancient Greece Zeus was the God of hospitality. He would show up at people's homes, unannounced, as a beggar, or Leper, or widow, or Crone; Asking for some small kindness. A drop of oil, a bit of food, some water for washing. When answered with love: The giver was blessed, their opposite cursed. You get the idea. Islam has a similar rule, where impoverished strangers should be treated well, as a spiritual matter. Similarly the Hindu's, in one of their many paths, go out to the world as a beggar and may accept only that which is given freely. Saint Francis, too, went on a path of begging a.k.a. acceptance.

Many African tribes insist, as a rule, that you give to your guest what you have (no matter if you are giving your very last, give you must). When I was a Haver (someone who has things) I tried my best to make my guests feel at their home, when at mine. I always offered whatever food, drink, or drug I had. Always deferred my attention to them and what they wanted to do. I did pretty well. And those that I know who do not do this practice; I pity and feel I don't know.

A land of possessing, of holding to heart, for keeping and making your own. Where everyone, if they would just give away, would find it a very good world. For every ten people who talk about Hospitality, only one actually practices it at all (if even that many!).

To give what you have, what you earned, what you worked for, to give it away, to the wind. Sound good? I think not, and neither do you, but never-the-less it is BEST. To give it away, you get back something better. Don't trust me, just listen to the wind. When you open your hand you see thousands of grains, but in seconds, there is no more sand.

Thoughts: Dog Owners

Dogs are for people who like to yell, command, and repeat, at other beings. People who enjoy yelling "No Poofie! No Poofie! No Poofie!" Forever in an endless number of commanding tones. Moreso dogs are for people who like telling stories to other people about times when they were yelling "No Poofie!" and it happened to be funny to them.

I guess this is a healthier outlet for people with those sorts of tendancies, while cats have thier own opinions about who they like and don't have to obey their "Master." Dogs are known and loved for taking abuse and being so stupid as to still love their "Master." As long as they are being fed.

Thoughts: Entertainment

What do I miss most from the days when I wasn't a bum? Today it's Entertainment. The wealthy first-world Sheeple of planet Earth have lives filled with the most intricate orchestrated entertainments imaginable. From TV to movies to music to video games to sports to computers to dildos; the list goes on and on forever.

While the bums like me are expelled from this Gardebn of Eden-tainment. Confined to radios, books, newspapers, and simply watching everyone else.
The Sheeple flit from one mode of sensory absorbtion to another like butterflies; using thier brains like TV remote controls to change the channel whenever they want. God I miss it. While we, the poor, musr endure whatever is placed before us. We have little choice about what sensory inputs we can observe. Oh sure, we can try our hardest to be surrounded by enjoyable things (and you'd better beleive I do), but in the end it's simply too exhausting when your money needs to be spent on food, not movies.

This is why Alcoholism and drug addiction is so rampant amoungst the poor; they have no other modes of entertainment and what's worse, they are surrounded by other people who do have access to The Fun. The poor are an island stuck in the middle of the wealthy. Forced to watch the rich at play, see comercials for items they will never be able to afford, lust after sexual partners who would never in a million years be with them.

To be poor, in a rich world, is the definition of "Frustration."