The Weakness of The Wormtongues

Vox recently put up a post about Henry Kissinger and how he basically tried to “play” the journalist Seymore Hersh by essentially “recruiting him” as yet another puppet on a string.

Seymore recounts how he was essentially “summoned” before Kissinger after he wrote a piece that essentially was more objective than the ones his colleagues had been filing up then on the Vietnam War.

It is not the corruption, warmongering and all the rest that is interesting to me. Anyone that thinks any of the politicians involved and that have been there from the start are anything other than slime-sucking, filth is obviously beyond help. No, it was this little phrase:

The schoolboys and other anecdotes prompted Kissinger to summon a prominent former ambassador who was his senior aide for matters related to the war and say to him, in front of me, in obvious mock anger: “This fellow is giving me more information about the morale in the North than I get from the CIA.” I remember thinking “Is this it? Is this all he’s got? Does the guy really think this kind of obvious flattery is going to win me over?”

I can see that scene. I can feel that scene. I have lived through that type of scene in many different ways and at many different times. and the important thing about it, the really important point about it is this:

THEY. ARE. BALL-LESS.

Oh, yes, they can and do destroy countless lives. Sure, they can have you killed, without a doubt, and even your whole country ruined. Sure. Don’t get me wrong, they may well have power in the sense of being “movers and shakers” in finance, politics, the military, whatever.

But they don’t have any actual, personal power.

Zero. Zilch. Nada.

And it is why this they hate about you and me and anyone that does. And that they hate most about themselves.

These soul-shrivelled vampires have never known the sensation of simply being a man. Of standing their ground even if it means a physical fight or potentially something dangerous.

Their sort is the kind that would pretend to laugh at the very concepts I am describing here as being the outdated perceptions of some caveman, a primitive and uncouth barbarian.

The reality is that the fact I, and people like me, have read the Illiad and Herodotus, and Keats, and Plato because we genuinely wanted to, not because we were supposed to or to impress anyone, makes them hate us even more. As does the fact that they have never, in their entire lives, known the genuine affection of a woman that was given purely because of her attraction to something innate in us, not an external facsimile of it, like money, or status in society due to influence or political power, or degrees or fame, but just the intrinsic mix of physicality and mind and personality that make you you; or even just a primitive instinct rooted in sheer lust.

And they know it. They sense it.

Because deep down, right in the centre of your soul, where God looks at you and knows, and the Devil too, in there, at the core of it all, no matter what worldly power they might have, no matter what vicious terror they unleash on millions of innocents and those unfortunate enough to have their lives affected by them in such a way, they too know it. They know.

They are ghosts, and we are men with souls and life and heart. We have something they will never have and cannot steal from us, nor crush out of us, no matter how many of us they kill or destroy in their millions of evil, cowardly ways: We have love, and the power of courage and truth.

I have met these people. I have sat in rooms with billionaires and powerful politicians, and with the last free Khoi-San bushmen and illiterates, I have sat with murderers and thieves and fighters and habitual drunks, and with bankers and traders and men with private jets and more money than they can spend in a lifetime.

But when it all comes down to it, they are cowards and weak and flimsy. And they know it, and so do I.

I have seen it in so many different places, the guy who is a “big shot” in the “out there” who when it comes time to put on a Gi and get on the dojo floor becomes scared. And at least that guy put himself on the dojo floor. A Kissinger would never even go near the building where the dojo might be in. I even have had a supposed “strong man” from special branches of the police in South Africa try to intimidate me because he was jealous of who some of my clients were, and all I did was relax and let him run out of steam while they talked their tough talk. Only to just do the equivalent of saying “okay then, that’s it? That’s all you got? And no, unlike you, I never have been shot. I see them coming.” While looking meaningfully at his missing finger. And yes. That is all they had. And those are the tough guys.

The “princes” and politicians and “elite”, the Klaus Schwabs and Bill Gates and Jeffrey Epstein’s of the world, they got nothing.

They can try and pretend all they want, but that primitive, instinctive, animal sense of things… it’s still there. And boy, do they hate those that have all the virtues they lack.

So take heart brothers. For we are men, and they are ghosts. And they are absolutely terrified that a time will come soon, when their carefully crafted ivory towers will collapse, and then, there will be nothing much left of the pretence of the world, to keep them from being face to face with people like us.

It plays out between countries as it does between individual men. Just like America pretending to be the tough guy on the block… until Russia kicks their henchman’s ass right before their face and without even breaking a sweat. The difference is that Russia, so far, has been typically Russian. That is, very polite. If it had been Venetians that had just demolished Ukraine, you can bet your last cent that after they were done, they would lift their head, eyes on Washington, and go: “Now… what is all this shit you been talking, fat boy?”

And that’s when you see the wet patch expand, as they piss their pants.

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