Schnell!—Weg!—wo ist ein Boot? Da sind sie!—blau und rot, Grün und braun—ihr Hirn: TOT!!! Sie wollten and're schützen (take the jab) Der großen Sache nützen (mek we tag) Seh'n Seen, anstatt der Pfützen (five fingers, Smith!) Die, die ihre Gurus stalken Die, die ohne Inhalt talken Voyeuristen—allerorten! (UND KONSORTEN!) Verfolgt mich? Stellt mich an den Pranger! Verehrt mich? Sucht 'nen alten Hangar! Vergesst mich—ich bin doch nur halb gar... (–kein Star!) [verse, narrated by a very high pitched 18 year old Towelie, holding his high school graduation speech, with enthusiasm and will to enlighten, while at times deeply concerned and depressed, but defiant and hopeful, with a poetic climax in the end, like Charlie Chaplin in "the great Dictator"] Attendees! I haven’t been able to watch TV for years, can’t read a newspaper, can barely respect a single political decision, and, sadly, I lump the judicial ones in with that, because around here, *cough* Germany *cough*, party committees pick the top judges, and prosecutors are bound by directives. If you want to climb the career ladder, you don’t step out of line, and if you do, you’re punished without much explanation—like for allowing critical experts, which would confirm bias. Meanwhile, the same authority, the highest one no less, that handed down that sloppy ruling wasn’t above relying on experts to justify freedom restrictions during the COVID measures—experts who were the exact opposite: totally uncritical, cherry-picked from the chancellor’s “expert roundtable” and from a government institute steered by the ministry and a general staff. BIASED? IT’S ALWAYS THE OTHERS... Same deal with the green networks—politics turns into profit. The inner circle lands state secretary posts, their confidants get placed in NGOs, which then publish reports used as fig leaves for political directives, conveniently boosting sales for the state secretary’s buddy’s products. Or take war. Who’s clamoring for more weapons? The “liberal” representative whose district houses the arms factory! Who’s pushing for escalation? The politician acting as a bridge for transatlantic networks! Who’s calling for conscription? The former foreign minister, now serving overseas think tanks. And as if that’s not enough, the biggest opposition party plays along with foreign policy for tactical reasons, railing against the same supposed enemy, completely uncritical, even affirmative toward a genocide and its perpetrators. Talk to everyday people, especially the older ones, and you see the lack of channels for unfiltered information—they never learned to seek it and never will. Among the younger crowd, the pressure to conform to mainstream media isn’t as strong, but apathy reigns instead, along with huge gaps in social, historical, and mass-psychological education. What the older generation still had categorized, though ideologically rigid and one-sided, is often completely absent for the TikTokers. Yet claims like “We’ve lost control over the climate” go unquestioned—not for their audacity. “We”—who’s that? The professors, the politicians, or, as they’d have you believe, the public? Nobody EVER controlled weather phenomena! Even if HAARP, chemtrails, or other geoengineering schemes had real effects, they’d trigger chaotic, unpredictable consequences. Calling that “control,” in Orwellian fashion, could only come from someone tied to the “order from chaos” crowd. No, the youth aren’t drifting away because of the contradictions in this kind of propaganda—same goes for the gender stuff, by the way. It’s because it feels increasingly imposed, no longer seeming to come from their own ranks only to be co-opted by corporations with rainbow flags in their profiles. It’s because, and this is a recurring thread in human history, they’re starting to realize, consciously or not, that they’re done with what the old geezers want from them: to be burned out as ascetic drones (without a sting!) on the altar of doublethink plans. When things get steely, when everyone’s supposed to sing the same tune—one of lockstep unity—swing starts to sound a whole lot better. The madness, be it xenophobia, apocalyptic panic, borderline dangerous naivety, or misplaced solidarity, stands on feet of clay, needing constant escalation, fresh blood to keep it alive. Even inner retreat feels subversive in that context. Those who can’t muster enthusiasm anymore are acting defeatist, as they would’ve called it 80 years ago. Youth, oh youth, remake the world! Step forward, reach out, far and wide! Look, yes, marvel! Dance on those clay feet—they’re rigid, their movement a charade. They’re just hardened mud—your rhythm: their fracture; your dreams: their shattering! Think yourselves free!
