Lanza, Bloomberg, Obama, guns, psychiatric meds, and mass hypnosis: the TV script
by Jon Rappoport
December 15, 2012
Mayor Bloomberg is leading the charge to take away guns in the wake of the Newtown child murders. The pressure is on.
Apart from grandstanding, which Bloomberg knows how to do, this is all about deflection from the main event: the killer himself.
Last night, I watched network coverage, wherein, of course, the anchors were in Newtown, standing on the street, “trying to make sense of the whole thing.”
If they're so interested, along with the public, in figuring out why Adam Lanza killed all those children, you would think, with their enormous resources, they would find out who Lanza's doctor-psychiatrist was in five minutes and ask him about his patient.
Of course, that's sacred ground. Patient-doctor confidentiality.
Except the patient is dead.
So much for the networks wanting to know who Adam Lanza really was. It's all a sham. They just want to keep asking the question over and over, pretending to be in the dark about the whole thing.
They want to “deepen the mystery” and emphasize how futile it is to get into the mind of a killer. They've got that rap down. They use it every time one of these mass murders happens.
They know about the psychiatric-drug connection to murders and suicides. But they won't say the magic words. They'll just keep biting their tongues.
And “out of respect for the victims,” the drug companies aren't running ads anywhere near this media coverage. Translation: the companies don't want to encourage the public to make the connection between meds and murder.
Prozac, murder. Zoloft, murder. Paxil, murder. Ritalin, murder.
Bloomberg is playing the shill for new gun control. He's the point man of the moment, insisting “the president do something meaningful” right now. It's an orchestrated little play.
“Let's ask Michael Moore what he thinks.”
“Oh good, Rupert Murdoch is weighing in against guns.” Yes, he's providing the “balanced” in “fair and balanced,” so people stop associating FOX News with “right-wing gun advocates” for a few hours.
And the Boston mayor is chiming in, too.
Meanwhile, the public is under the spell of mass hypnosis. Can't stop watching the tube. Never stops to think, “Hey, why don't they put Lanza's doctor on the screen and have him talk about his patient?”
There are other elements of this mass trance. People bolster their belief that what happens in life is out of their hands. “See, it's just like I thought. We have no power. I have no power. All we can do is grieve and try to heal. Light a candle.”
Notice another odd thing. No one in the tightly bound Newtown community is saying, “We've got to get to the bottom of this. We've got to find out what this killer was.” If they are saying it, you're not seeing it on camera.
The people of Newtown can find out in an hour who Lanza's doctor was. They can march right up to his office or house and knock on the door and tell him to come out and talk.
Why don't they do it?
They're still in shock, yes. But they're also in a hypnotic state, when it comes to doctors. Don't question the high priest in the white coat. He lives in a different sphere from the rest of us.
Ignorance=grief=healing=being a good citizen.
Here's a phrase you're hearing all over the tube from politicians and officials. “We have to come together.” What the hell does that mean? I even heard the police chief say it, in reference to “resolving what happened.” Garble. Pure garble.
No, “coming together” means giving up. It means abject helplessness. It means, above all, no outrage.
Have you see one person on television express outrage?
That's verboten. They won't allow that. Perhaps they'll put a few citizens of Newtown on, if they want to say it's time to take the guns away. A little bit of outrage on that score is all right.
Who knows? Maybe Newtown will become the center of a national movement to ban guns. Maybe a few PR agencies will tap in and go for it.
We're looking at operant conditioning here. It's acceptable to feel grief, confusion, pain. It's acceptable to feel helpless. But outrage? No. That's not in the playbook.
And the public, glued to their TV sets, absorbs the message. “This is the way I'm supposed to feel in the wake of one of these tragedies. This is what I can feel.”
And it's all “in deference to the victims and their families.” That's the capper. Anger is covertly being framed as an insult to the children who died.
This is the show we're watching. It's scripted and sculptured.
Part of mass mind control is defining for people what they can feel in a given situation. Left to their own devices, people feel all sorts of things. But because television is the sticky substance that binds the collective together, it becomes the counselor and teacher. It tells people how to experience an event.
It's powerful. It parades people across the screen who suddenly have special status because they're on the screen, because they're being watched by millions. And those key characters, who get their thirty seconds and and two minutes are proxies, who instruct the public about emotion, about range of allowable emotion.
This IS mind control.
It's like an eight-year-old at a funeral. He doesn't have a clue about what he's supposed to do, what expression he's supposed to have on his face, whether he's supposed to say anything, where he's supposed to stand, what he's supposed to feel. So he looks around at the adults. He picks up their cues.
This is the public, watching television. Picking up cues from the citizens of Newtown USA. And those citizens are screened by the producers of the network news shows, before they're brought on camera.
We've got a father who's pissed off, who wants to go to the home of Lanza's doctor and ask him questions? Forget it. Sorry, sir. Maybe we'll get to you later.
The network anchors themselves exude an air of sober respect and somber “humanity.” That's what they get paid for. Not everybody can do that and keep track of what's being said in their ears by the producers. The somber tone is the money.
The anchors are the priests at the funeral, before the funeral happens. They set the stage. They convey to the public the meaning and atmosphere and essence of the whole event.
And having done that, there is simply no room for anything that would intrude on this sepulchral mood.
All this occurs while Barack Obama sits in the White House, conferring with his advisers, debating the political upside and downside of issuing an overriding executive order that would limit citizen access to guns.
“Sir, I think the sentiment, at this moment, would be a flood in your favor. This is the time. We've got all these dead children. Congress has refused to act in the past, so you do now. You take the whole matter into your own hands, as the nation's leader in a time of crisis.
Sir, you say, 'Enough. We've had enough. All these children, cut off from the rest of their lives and from their loved ones. I refuse to stand by and do nothing.' I tell you, sir, it would work. We can drum up enormous support from our people, our supporters, and from the press.
They'll say you're showing great courage. We can pull it off. We can do this. It'll set the whole stage for your second term. We'll drown out the opposition...we'll organize candlelight marches in the inner cities. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of people will come out of their homes and walk down the streets. Mothers holding photos of their dead children. The networks will be there in full force. We'll put this on television 24/7, and overwhelm our enemies...”
Why I Carry a Gun
I don’t carry a gun to kill people. I carry a gun to keep from being killed.
I don’t carry a gun to scare people. ….I carry a gun because sometimes this world can be a scary place.
I don’t carry a gun because I’m paranoid. I carry a gun because there are real threats in the world to freedom, life, and liberty.
I don’t carry a gun because I’m evil. …I carry a gun because I have lived long enough to see the evil in the world.
I don’t carry a gun because I hate my country. I carry a gun because I understand and have experienced