You'll never go broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public. -- P.T. Barnum
First it was Y2K.
That turned out to be a non-event.
Then it was 5/5/2000. Some schmuck (who apparently didn't understand how gravitation actually works) predicted that a planetary alignment would turn the earth upside down.
If it happened, I must have been asleep or very drunk, as I somehow missed it.
Next it was that nutty old hag who used to call Art Bell. You know, the one who heard alien voices in her head? (Don't get me wrong; I've heard alien voices in my head, too -- but getting to that point required a metric shitload of peyote.) She insisted that an immense, extra-solar "masher" called "Planet X" was barreling towards Holy Mother Gaia, and would well and rightly bend her over the woodpile, smack her ass-cheeks and make her call him "Daddy." (I don't know what it is about the earth flipping over, but the idea sure as hell seems attractive to kooks.) Knowing damned good and well that nothing of the sort was going to happen, I bought a case of beer, headed over to J.R.'s house, and had an "end of the world party" on the appointed day.
"Planet X" (a.k.a. "Nibiru") was conspicuously absent. Matter o' fact, the bastard never did show. Ah well. More beer for me...
And now it's December 21, 2012. As it seems, the tinfoil hatters have now latched onto the Mayan calendar, and are predicting all the usual shite. (And why couldn't the Maya have picked 12/21/2112? It would have delighted numerologists, mentallers, and hardcore Rush fans alike.)
I, for one, don't believe the Mayan calendar presages the end of the world, and I'm in good company -- neither do the Maya. ("There is no concept of apocalypse in the Mayan culture," Jesus Gomez, head of the Guatemalan confederation of Mayan priests and spiritual guides, told The Daily Telegraph when the apocalyptic disaster blockbuster 2012 was released in cinemas.) Apparently, the belief is rather widespread in Hollyweird -- but what do you expect from that bunch? Some of 'em have air-conditioned barns, for fuck's sake...
Like PX, Y2K, 5/5/00 and the last congressional election, the 2012 TEOTWAWKI scenario is a bugaboo, intended to distract us from relevant issues (creeping globalism, the impending economic meltdown, the Gulf catastrophe, etc.). In addition to serving as a diversion, the 2012 hype smacks of not-so-subtle conditioning. I'm sure 2012 holds something very nasty for all of us -- but it has nothing to do with primitive mysticism, and everything to do with the plans and desires of the global elite. Otherwise they wouldn't be ramming the date down our throats.
The most blatant piece of propaganda, naturally, was the recent film 2012. Granted, it wasn't very original, but it neatly wrapped up several familiar pop-culture threads and presented them in a single package that reeked of elitism.
Most noteworthy was the "natural" disaster theme. Disaster films have always been popular, but the natural-disaster-as-global threat device only gained momentum in the '90s -- perhaps because it was more believable than the "alien invasion" scenarios that dominated sci-fi from the 1950s onward.
Come to think of it, SyFy doesn't air much of anything else: Category Googolplex: Big Ol' Muthafuckin' Tornado, Global Megablizzard:The Day the Earth Froze Its Balls Off , Dino-Desertification vs. Ultratsunami: Nature Stomps a Mudhole in Our Ass, Flash Flood IV: Up Shit Creek, Ozone Hole:Humanity is Toast* etc.
(*That bugaboo went the way of the dodo rather quickly, now didn't it? As I recall, the story stayed up about as long Michael Jackson's pants -- in a day-care center.)
In all of these clunkers, the disaster must be kept secret. If the commoners knew what was coming, they'd panic and all hell would break loose. If that happened, the elites might have trouble escaping to the secret bunkers that also feature prominently in all of these crypto-Nazi/eugenicist wet dreams. The earliest and nastiest example of this line of "thought" was Deep Impact, in which Morgan Freeman's psychopath character decided that a tiny handful of "the best and brightest" (that term, however, has become suspect since the Vietnam era. I believe the current buzzword is "educated elites") could do more to save the planet from an oncoming asteroid than could 6,000,000,000 minds and bodies working together towards a common goal. The combination of arrogance and presumptuousness is breathtaking, but it seems to be par for the course among megalomaniacs.
Another common element is martial law -- although most of the writers/directors stop short of depicting Tiananmen Square-style massacres. (I gather that we're supposed to be intimidated rather than literally in fear for our lives. We might actually become a tad aggressive in the latter case...) Presumably, the nice men with the full-auto weapons are condemning the masses to certain death for their own good (rather like a typical UN "peackeeping force), and we savages are expected to accept our immolation as being necessary and desirable.
If there's another explanation, for this recurring motif, I'd like to hear it.
There are other staples, of course: The sincere, dedicated environmental scientist who desperately tries to warn us before it's too late; the wise, benevolent guru-type (often a non-caucasoid) who either holds the pitiful band of squabbling survivors together or selflessly lays down his life for them; the "gifted" teenage smartass whose opinions are oddly similar to those the writer expressed in an interview shortly before ralphing up his preachy hairball of a screenplay, etc.*
And of course, there's the "weenie": these catastrophes are all man-made. In this respect, little has changed since the fifties -- except for one thing: In the newer films, the villain is Everyman, addicted to the internal combustion engine, the flesh of beasts whose flatus destroys the atmosphere, and such luxuries as electricity and indoor plumbing. Conspicuously absent is the old-timey mad scientist/over-the-top generalissimo/ with his sinister, three-handled, earth-wrecking family credenza.
Coincidence, I'm sure.
Believe me, the shitbags who've back-doored these ideas into the mainstream culture worry me far more than the prospect of the earth having a grand mal seizure.
Instead of nervously watching the calendar; keep an eye on the bastards who dream up and force-feed is "propa-tainment" of this sort.
*This noxious character is my least favorite of all the aforementioned cliches. My primary reason for quitting TAG was my inability to abide the presence of condescending pricks.
; keep an eye on the bastards who dream up and force-feed is "propa-tainment" of this sort.
Posted by: Terrance Roza | May 10, 2012 at 11:23 PM