"Taking himself seriously, so you don't have to."

Reckoning with a “Liberal Education”

I received a degree in English, Creative Writing, with a minor in Film, from the University of Kansas in 2008. It seemed to be a good, well-rounded instruction at the time. However, it was not until I finished school that I really began my true education. Looking back on all of it, and the time since, and considering where we are today, some fresh truths have come to light.

Saddle up, my friends, you are in for a ride.

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Since you wouldn’t check yourselves, you are going to wreck yourselves.

Some professors, and some, seemingly innocuous leaders in the art and writing community of Northeast Kansas, have been hardcore brainwashing students for decades. I have held my tongue on this for long enough. (I’m not going to name names here, but know that ya’ll are on notice.)

In particular, I was told that Lawrence, this modest, yet irascible college town, was “an island of blue within a sea of red”. It was supposedly a “bastion for sanity amongst the surrounding superstitious countryfolk”. In my naive mind, I had thought the rumors about “liberal professors propagandizing our kids” had to be overly paranoid nonsense.

Well folks, I got some news for you. I was wrong. Here is a primary example, especially considering our present zeitgeist, the “climate” of re-examining our history and those old heroes placed on pedestals, literally and figuratively.

The figure at issue is William S. Burroughs.

He lived in Lawrence in his later years, 70s to the 90s. This person has been, for decades, held up as some sort of artistic paragon. As the story goes, he was a wise, venerable poet and artist, whose brazen adventures in his younger years fed a seemingly unending stream of brilliant writing; a man who influenced a generation to craft narratives outside the traditional lines, who changed the state of literature forever, and gave raucous parties at his home until his death at an obscenely old age.

Well now, what sort of adventures are we talking about here? For such a legend, these stories must be astounding and brilliant. Let us investigate…

Right out the box, first point of note: his writing is absolute garbage. I forced myself a hundred pages through his supposed masterpiece, “Naked Lunch”, before I could not take it anymore. It is a hodgepodge, unending parade of disconnected, reeking, stinking, disgusting dope-addled freaks, wandering through a world that makes you want to dive into a sewer to escape the stench. It is, without a doubt, unreadable trash scooped right from the gutter. A gutter that HE HELPED FILL. Keep that in mind.

Case in point: He shot his own wife in the head when he made her play “William Tell”. He was never put on trial for this, and he never went to jail.

Another highly recommended book of his was “The Soft Machine”. (Think about the meaning behind those titles, folks.) I could hardly read 10 pages before throwing it away in disgust. Here’s the opening: our “intrepid hero” shoots up heroin with a 14 year-old Mexican boy, rapes the kid in the bathroom of a train, leaves him lying half-conscious on the floor, and then gets off at the next stop.

There is no way you can spin this as some sort of “cautionary tale”. You could just as well get up in front of a kindergarten class and say, “Now kids, it is important to know that murder is wrong. So we’re going to examine, in grisly detail, each way that you can murder someone…” *cue the slideshow*

Through some subterfuge, a bit of dark magic, and a concerted effort by a well-funded, nihilistic, post-modern cult based out of New York City, this person was artistically “knighted”. He was famous before he even showed up in town. Too many of you all were such desperate hangers-on to fame that “personal integrity” couldn’t even get its foot in the door of your calculus. How many of you have actually read his work? If you did read it, and actually understand what he was saying, you might be a little less keen to proudly proclaim him a former resident. You don’t need to take my word for it. His character is plain as day in his writing. And it is disgusting.

Consider the ramifications of idolizing such a character, of reading his works, of gathering round and listening to his “wisdom”, of placing him the center of attention and reverence. Stop reading for a minute and think about it.

It is no wonder that faith in humanity, faith in ourselves, and a basic pride in good living, is derided by generations of cynics. Where did they come from? Manufactured by evil men and women. They degrade themselves and others, then use that degradation to justify further abuse. They fabricate the problem whose answer is their original intention.

That’s the M.O., from the micro to the macro —>

Allopathic medicine is “The Shock Doctrine” [Vaccinating against vaccinations…]

Globalists who pollute with global governance claim global governance the solution to pollution [Agenda 2030, the “Green New Deal”]

It’s quite clear now that this person, Burroughs, and those like him, set themselves out to disparage, discredit, warp and twist, to the absolute, everything that is good and decent about life, humanity, family, and community.

It is disgusting and reprehensible, that anyone would look up to this person, study their writing, or ever consider naming a park, a creek, or a bike trail after him. This “person” was scum. I hope “it” rots in hell. This, THIS abomination of a human, is held up by the so-called “intelligentsia” as sacred and reverent.

No wonder, these days, on the other side of the coin, that so many college-educated writers and artists could so easily make the jump to “all white men are evil”. You put an evil white man on the pedestal!

Now, I do not think that all of those writers and professors who praise his name have been intentionally aiming to destroy kids’ minds. (Not that that’s an excuse, but simply drops the crime down a bit to “criminal negligence”.) Some of them, yes, but mostly, each professor/prominent voice, is another in a long line of victims of subtle and overt psychological manipulation, of whom Burroughs was most certainly a preeminent practitioner. It makes me wonder just how many good people, good minds, and trusting spirits, were poisoned by that one man, passing around intravenous opiates like candy, raping children, and wallowing in all the “glory”. This subtle psychological abuse bleeds out, across, into the people, one by one, and on down through time, who are then blissfully unaware that they perpetuate it. In Lawrence, there appears to be an entire subset of the community that has been poisoned by Burroughs’ influence.

For those good people in the community, who have felt under some vague attack from so many angles for decades, there’s a real enemy. There’s the real rot in the heart of the art community. The rot that pushes you down, rather than bring you up. The rot that, by default, treats everyone like a disposable, plastic toy. The rot that insults you, humiliates you, enslaves you, disguises itself as your savior, and then points the finger at your friends, at your family, at some random stranger, as the ultimate cause of your distress.

I wish I did not need to judge so directly, but this is not “fun and games” anymore. What long ago seemed “hip and irreverent” has gone way off the deep end. We are literally in danger of losing an entire generation, and our very nation, to the very sort of psychology that strips men and women of their souls. One simple action that university departments, writer’s groups, and the city can take right now: stop revering this person.

And also: Don’t sweep his remnants under the rug. Leave his name on the creek, leave it on the trail, leave it up there as a reminder that sick, disgusting, psychologically-manipulative con-artist parasites really do exist. And with the right resources, they can make you believe that up is down, that black is white, that garbage is gold, that depression is happiness, and that abuse is love.

One could at least make the case that Christopher Columbus or some Confederate generals were complex enough to have one or two positive characteristics or make a semi-discovery. But for William S. Burroughs, there is not one, single, redeeming quality.

This is a reckoning that should not demoralize, but invigorate. Check through the timeline. How did he really influence the town? How many people fell to pieces on his watch? You have been deceived in a most sinister manner. You have a right to be angry. And this is only one example.

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Here are a couple other reprehensible, white, male slime-artists inexplicably “revered” by liberal professors and the art world, giving us a bad name, and helping drag us all into hell:

Jackson Pollock “painted” chaotic nonsense on canvas, was an abusive husband, and took two young women to their deaths, along with his own, while drunk driving like a maniac. His “paintings” now sell for hundreds of millions of dollars. Moral of the story = Throw some random bullshit on a canvas, call it art, waste your life, treat people around you like dirt, die for nothing, and you will be revered and remembered forever.

Vincent Van Gogh was a poor, sad, mixed up fellow with his heart on his sleeve. He creepily stalked a poor woman who resisted his advances, then cut his own ear off and sent it to her in the mail. Moral of the story = Melt your brain huffing ether and chugging absinthe, metamorphose into a creepy, self-harming, mediocre artist, and you will be revered and remembered forever.

“I haven’t done anything wrong, why are women so hesitant around me?” Because you’ve been taught by sick, post-modern nihilists, posing as teachers, to revere misogynistic artists that treat women like garbage. And those women have been explicitly taught that that is the best you could ever be.

Now, for the swingback, throw in the concerted, well-funded effort to turn today’s female artists into domineering, misogynistic, abusive, unforgiving she-monsters, and we have come full circle. *tit for tat*

The insidious psychology presented here coincides with the present manufactured race war. I have watched it slowly embed itself in the poetry and art community this last decade, and it works against multiple groups simultaneously:

1. When every other university course is dedicated to some form of “identity politics” in literature, film, and media analysis, college-educated white men are continually demonized and demoralized, to the point where the student ends up hating themselves, and is therefore that much more easily manipulated. I have watched this process happen to too many friends. “Well, I was born this way. What can I do that would make me acceptable to you?” The “professor”, in this case, subliminally answers, dripping with passive-aggression, “Chop your balls off and learn homosexuality.” (This is not the same “prescription” everyone gets. The target deprivations are tailored individually, and have become algorithmically programmed into your social media. Keep that in mind.) Now you will get that book deal, now you will get that premiere spot at the next show. Right? Right? Maybe for a time, if you stick to the program, and further betray your own soul. But then what? Where does it end? The whole point is to ruin you, tear you apart mentally, spiritually, and even physically. And this would not end with “white males”. If they kicked us out of the picture, some other identifiable group would get put on the chopping block, with blatant racism and sexism cloaked under the guise of fighting those very attitudes.

2. In regard to the writers and artists who are not white and male, who undergo courses that cover reprehensible artists who are, or engage with writing or art communities that deify these characters; those outside the targeted group, will perceive, thus, when those characters’ actions naturally conflict with their deeply-set moral compass, a correlation between the actions of such “revered artists” with those artists’ specifically-indicated, inherent, demographic identities, i.e. white and male. The circle is made complete by the psychological manipulator (with or without a “lab coat”) who, after sufficiently cultivating the seed, points the subject toward the very conclusion, directly or indirectly, that “the white man is inherently evil”. Divide and Conquer, 101.

Remember that this whole globalist/communist/technocratic/medical coup does not care one lick about anyone. We are ALL disposable to “the beast system”. It has encouraged us to “fashion the shackles of our own slavery”, to build a multi-tiered prison right up around us. It demands each tier or “class” of people enslave the lower. Soon as all the bricks and bars are in place for one level, then it starts on the next one up, and that next class is enslaved. This finds its final fruition in automation and artificial intelligence, where even the hardest-working grunts, the most loyal enforcers, and the most die-hard NWO lackeys are left to die, right after they’ve killed off all the lower rungs. As soon as you are no longer useful to the “higher ups”, there’s no reason to keep you around. Such is the reward for serving evil.

It’s like a parasite that convinces the immune system (i.e. the police, the educators, the “authorities”, an outraged mob, etc.) to attack or subvert healthy cells (i.e. subsets of the common people, in whatever group convenient). It will get bigger and stronger from feeding, eating up one identifiable group after another. When “the brain” wonders why the body is rapidly deteriorating, the parasite softly coos that the healthy cells (i.e. the people) are inherently problematic and that it needs more control, more power over the bodily systems to “really get a handle on the problem.”

“Don’t you worry, it will be okay, let me take care of everything…” *hiss*

Once you see how this “beast system” operates at one level of magnitude, you can extrapolate how the strategy is used at any other. Many of the generalities stated in this essay so far can be applied to the system’s approaches to medical, educational, industrial, digital, psychological, social, and administrative arrangement, implementation, and enforcement. Keep this in mind, to that much better identify the evil and to so destroy it.

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We need to understand, as artists, that every creation of ours has an element of “self-fulfilling prophecy”, that, indeed, “life imitates art”. To add another platitude, thus, “with great power comes great responsibility”. When you write about garbage and trash, when you sing about depression and hatred, when you make films about suicide and murder, you steer your community, your audience right into hell.

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“But wait,” you say, “Garret, you’re no saint! I’ve seen you rambling around drunk as a skunk too many times to count!” Yes, you have. Forget the fact that I have been an insomniac since I was 12 years old, and the only thing that has ever gotten me to sleep at night is alcohol. Forget the fact that the booze helped wipe away a number of psychologically-debilitating universal paradoxes, exposed during psychedelic adventures in my early 20s. Forget the fact that it would loosen me up to actually enjoy myself around others. Forget all of those excuses. Did I ever hurt you? Did I ever manipulate you? Was I ever insincere? Even in my darkest hours, did you ever hear me sing praises to garbage and trash, depression and hatred, suicide and murder?

I take full responsibility for my actions while under the influence of anything. I don’t stop where the drugs begin, and neither do you. Anyone who says otherwise is trying to cut your mind into pieces.

I have made a point to make the potions work for me, not against. Have I made a mistake or two in these perilous psychonautic adventures? Yes, of course. And I’ve done penance for what minor sins ten times over.

Consider this: Adding a little spice to your food can really enhance the flavor. But you will ruin the whole dish if you dump in the whole cannister.

Dancing with the devil can be thrilling and unexpected, but make sure you stay on solid ground. Don’t let him lead, or he will sweep you so far away you will end up like Wiley Coyote, waltzing over a chasm.

When fighting a covert spiritual battle, playing the drunken fool can be both camouflage, armor, and a powerful weapon. The minor devils think you are one of their own and welcome you to their number. The major, territorial devils will ignore and dismiss you as non-threatening. Within that sphere, unbeknownst to the evil ones, you can plant seeds of virtue, trust, faith, redemption, joy, and wonder in the hearts and minds of real human beings.

There. Now you know.

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