Three Wishes (Part One): Beyond Meat
The ideal citizen -as imagined by our 21st century Rulers- has only three wishes. Feed me, entertain me, protect me. In Roman times a steady supply of 'bread and circuses' kept the underclass quiet. Safety-the third wish- was mostly taken for granted by the proud citizens of the greatest Empire in history, until suddenly it collapsed. Those same three wishes have -for the last seventy years- underpinned a glorious fantasy that we -like the ancient Romans- were happy to inhabit. But if wishes were horses beggars would ride. History repeats.
There is a perverse side to human behaviour that requires every tool to be used for both good and evil, usually in that order. A wheel rolls the handcart to market, then the tank into battle. With steel wings we fly like birds - then drop annihilation on those below. There is something of this duality inside all of us, although it's a not a fact everyone likes to admit. Whoever looks carefully will soon find some dangerous items in their psychological toolkit.
Yet decency is in our genes (at least until it's edited out) and triumphs most of the time. As a result, humans can build villages, towns, societies, even countries, where happiness can be pursued and children raised in an atmosphere of confidence and security. Mostly.
Perhaps you, like me, were born lucky; you learned to read, count, think on your feet, earn a crust, solve problems. Played games and went to parties; danced and sang. We may have struggled but never starved. There were tough years and hard times but I never had to go and fight in a war. Nobody forced me into a uniform and put a killing machine in my hands. That was the nightmare stuff our parents endured so that we wouldn't have to.
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| Marcus Aurelius-the Last Great Emperor |
We thought we'd got away with it, didn't we? Fools that we were. I never dreamed I'd end up as a laboratory rat -one of hundreds of millions, grabbed by the tail and shoved into a science-fiction maze of unwanted choices. Nobody told me I'd be captured within an electronic cage, brain assaulted with invisible waves of pulsing power. I wasn't expecting to be shouted at, all day and every night.
On my 14th birthday I got a transistor radio with two spare batteries. That really was happiness. On Sundays I would walk into the city square, radio at my coat ear, and stroll around in the shadow of tall buildings, listening to the Top 20 hit singles on Radio One. Thirty years later I threw away the last radio I ever had, sick to death of the voices of liars and crooks repeating fairy-tales and warnings and instructions as if I was some idiot unable to put two and two together. I loved my first radio but radio became poison; every tool gets used for good, then evil.
How many books have I read in total - a few thousand? I grew up on the sheer pleasure of reading, the journey into the mind of another human; the astonishing power of words. In 1984, spurred on by various books, I travelled to the surreal, battle-scarred streets of West Berlin, an island city trapped in a WW2 time-warp, marooned within what was still the Russian Empire. For a month I lived in a building dotted with shell-holes dating from 1945.
Every day I'd climb the steps up one of the observation platforms and stare across the Wall at the barbed wire and minefields between West and East. I thought about the wall that once contained my own tribe within the boundaries of Scotland: Hadrian's Wall. Was the Berlin Wall keeping Russia out or the Berliners in? Is a Wall a good or a bad thing? Donald Trump became President of America by promising to build one -for protection. He failed, like the Romans, like the USSR. History repeats.
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| BITS OF HADRIAN'S WALL |
After a while in Berlin I suddenly realised what a simple pleasure it was to spend whole days untouched by any kind of commercial advertising. There were billboards everywhere of course, posters and newspaper ads but I couldn't understand a word of German so the advertisements became just impotent grafitti. None of the advertiser's craft could tempt me or infiltrate my thoughts. Likewise, German radio and television passed me by. A lifelong city-mouse, I had never realised how used we become to the non-stop barrage of familiar images, products, slogans, jingles and catch-phrases; all the seductions of instant gratification.
Berlin was where I first grasped that words -precious words- were also dangerous tools. Writers select words, mindful of the purposes they serve. And writers can be bought -very cheaply indeed, as a glance at any newspaper will reveal. How many newspapers have I read? Too many, but not any more. The unending mass-media babble that surrounds and hounds us through our rapidly shrinking existence is just the logical conclusion of a society structured around advertising techniques. The primary aim of the salesman is to get your attention, but the ultimate goal is to gain your trust.
The democratic illusion was built on trust. Millions gave their lives to foster the dream that we could trust our elected leaders to deliver the three wishes: bread, circuses and protection. Let's take them one at a time, in three posts. Today's instalment will be the fundamental one-the first and final existential necessity.
BREAD
Food is survival; we are what we eat. In this year of godless turmoil 2022, the crisis factory has been working overtime to conflate the mindless Ukraine war and the sudden rise in prices. This is an entry-level lie that shouldn't fool a ten year-old let alone a grown adult. Prices are up because the overlords printed 500 billion imaginary quid to keep the middle-class sat on its collective arse for two years.
The 'free bread' kept them quiet while the small businesses got systematically bankrupted. The fact remains, food is not an option at any economic level-it's the first and most important of the three wishes. But in a world that only yesterday was awash in limitless quantities of edibles, the price of basic food is racing up and "shortages" are appearing. Here is Britain's so-called 'solution' as of May 23rd 2022.
Gene-editing, you see, is something you can do in Bio-labs. Coronavirus, miracle crops, human immune systems, there ain't a gene you can't edit in a Bio-lab. Bio labs in Wuhan, Bio-labs in Ukraine, Bio-labs in Massachussetts where the Pharma Dragons frolic in the autumn mist. Who owns the big Bio-labs? The list is long and impressive. The Chinese and Russian goverments, CIA, Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, Pfizer, Moderna, GSK, Merck...do we ever tire of hearing these names? It's like prayers at bedtime; recite the names of the New Gods and hope to die before bug-pies hit the shelves.
There is much to learn from the Telegraph's artful bio-food plug. "Ministers say..." is of course the new "experts say". Any sentence beginning with "ministers say" means here comes another glimpse into the wet-dreams of the billionaire Asians running Britain. Because ALL senior British ministers are the children of Asian immigrants. They are all exceedingly rich and not one of them gives a toss about 'inflation'. They all have colossal investments in pharmaceutical companies and the associated Bio-lab products, because it's the future. Ding dong; Ministers say "speeding up approval will guarantee British food supplies". Translation: screw the safety-trials, get the stuff on the shelves and start the dosh rolling in. Gene-edited food for gene-edited people. Remember, you are what you eat.
What a difference a word makes. Once upon a time they begged us to scoff Genetically Modified foodstuffs; GM as it became known. But people got wise to GM. Thousands of (dirt-poor) Asian farmers certainly did, because rather quickly they discovered the lousy GM crops they'd been conned into planting would cost ten times as much, destroy the land and throw them into debt-slavery to the pharmaceutical giants who manufactured GM seeds in (pardon my French) crazy fucking "Bio-labs".
So "GM" was escorted out the side-door and "Gene-editing" bounced in the front with a smile and a buy-one get-one-free jab for all new customers. Gene-editing is tomorrow's beanstalk and the giants are all-in. Bill Gates, who seems to have three fingers stuck in every dirt pie, has been quietly buying farmland in America for over 10 years.[details here]
The future of food, I gather, will be in what they like to call "plant-based" products. Because "lab-based" doesn't sound that green.does it? The Great Reset/ Build Back Bio mob are hell-bent on scaring everyone off meat and onto veg -as you already know, assuming you haven't been living in a shipping container in Alaska with a bag over your head. (Not that I would blame you, I'm considering it myself.)
But why all the veg, we ask, what's the beef with beef? (Woke Answer: climate change you far-right food-fascist!) Seriously though, why would super-smart omniverous billionaires want a vegan world? Well...where do you imagine plant-based meat-substitute products could be created? Blow me down if it isn't in "Bio-labs" using the process of "gene-editing". Who'd a thunk it?
Bill Gates, since you ask. Now that he's got the Bio-labs and the farmland he's ready to corner the food market. Can you imagine "cornering the market" in global food? Mr Gates can - after all he damn near cornered the global market in crappy PC software.
So, lucky citizen, your first wish will come true - ministers have said so. Remember this day-never forget it- because today the "British Food Supply" was "guaranteed". All the asian mafia need to do is fast-forward past the testing and hand out the print-your-own-money licenses to every billionaire with a Bio-lab. And by golly they will do it too. Without a squeak of protest from us, because we're all too busy wondering if we should just stay in bed and wait for the euthenasia van. For your edification, then, here is a sample of the kind of totally-resistible frankenfeeds guaranteed -by ministerial decree- to hit a shelf near you...
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| The Green-Genies |
Now I have no objection to vegetarians (although I couldn't eat a whole one) but I think we need to probe into the undergrowth behind the jungle-green facade of the packaging. To get a flavour of what the plant-munchers see in that mysterious world beyond meat, here's a morsel from the March press-release of Beyond Jerky products pictured above:
" Beyond Jerky is— you guessed it — a plant-based analog of the much-beloved dehydrated, salted beef snack that comes in three flavors and, like its patty and sausage-link cousins, is made primarily from pea and mungbean protein."
In a lifetime of reading I have devoured millions of written words, but never once been confronted with the description "like it's patty and sausage-link cousins". So well done, brave copywriter. That's as much praise as I can muster, however, as the corporate "partnering" these people do reads like the cast list of a horror-movie. A feature-length soy-soaked epic set in the Woke kitchen of a micro-apartment on the 89th floor of Hellscape Tower, Hackney.
Beyond Jerky, they proudly declare, is the first product to emerge from "Planet Partnership, Beyond Meat’s joint venture with Pepsico".
Did you just say Pepsico? Triple wow. But that's just the opening scene from Beyond Jerkoff 2 -This Time It's Vegetable. The credits start to roll and holy cow (substitute) -it's household names all the way.
KFC
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