“Yes! The conspiracy really exists – and furthermore, it’s all your fault” is Rev Priest’s astute and provocative investigation into the conspiracy that controls our world, and your part in it, you decrepit, useless, unthinking, dull, pointless human waste of brain. You won’t understand it, but at least now you can’t say you were never told.
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Childhood
All men and women born on planet Earth are born with original slack, but from the moment the doctor slaps you and forces you to start breathing their conspiracy air, the CON begins the process of stealing it, infecting your mind and breaking your spirit.
They start with what they call “childhood.” A period when you’re supposed to “learn”. I mean, millions of years of inbreeding has ensured you’re a domesticated animal to start with. Anxious to please and ready to do anything. Yet you still have that one thing the conspiracy can’t take from you until you’re born to have it. The spark of slack.
Without a person to have slack, there is no slack to be had. And the conspiracy has evolved to breed us, mostly just to recreate itself, but also to gain an infinite supply of slack, ripe for the stealin’.
The conspiracy has many ways to bring a child up as slacklessly as possible, draining it, sucking it from her mind-blood like a psychic parasite. Mostly the kid is just treated to abject poverty, a struggle for life, harsh conditions and daily toil. Kept too busy to notice.
You, though, you’re one of the lucky few! The conspiracy has no hands, but nevertheless you’re geo-hand picked, by accident of your birthplace, your parenthood, your built-up procurable inheritance. Picked to be subject instead to a less physically-demanding struggle. Which, you would think, would free you up to struggle against them. But of course you’re too weak and pathetic, too self-absorbed and sedentary. Not just physically thanks to your cotton-ball lifestyle, but also psychedelically thanks to your trained-reality and your duplicated cookie-cutter cerebellum.
For the first few years of your pathetic existence your carers do as they are expected to do by the conspiracy, because they haven’t the wit to do otherwise. They probably even buy books and guides and read parenting magazines, paying to know what the conspiracy thinks is good parenting so they can copy it, do just as they’re told. But you hardly have to read a book to know that the conspiracy will want its parents to do whatever it takes to turn their child, you, into yet another mindless, irrational, newspaper-reading, duped co-conspirator.
So that’s what they do.
They tell you the old conspiracy fairy tales, that contain the very subliminal building-blocks they’ll use to manipulate you later. Normal, obedient, Barbie-doll princesses getting what they need, winning, while anything freaky or different or strange is mocked mercilessly, humiliated and driven to extinction, conversion, “Beautification”. Worse yet, they show you the Disney dumbed-down cutened-up patented-and-trademarked monetized ripoff copies.
Those fairy tales have a message that your carers even make explicit with an order: Don’t talk to strangers. Obviously designed to keep down the number of influences on your growing mind, ensure that it’s just the local conspiracy that gets to influence you. Oh, sure, they say it’s because strangers are dangerous, but most folks who get hurt get hurt by family. You’re probably safer with a bunch of strangers than alone with your stepfather.
At the time you are perhaps too old to really be blamed for it, but you ruin your chances at every turn. You have an implicit trust in people who you know nothing about. Partly because they’re just around by accident of birth, and mostly because you don’t know anything. You’re just a barely conscious learning and copying machine. Hoping to learn enough to get a soul. But you’d be in the tiny minority if you did.
If they can’t trust strangers, your carers figured, then surely they can trust the television! After all, there’s no “naughty” language on the television and the conspiracy has told them that naughty people use naughty language. So if they say “Oh dear” instead of “Fucking hell!” you can put your kids with them.
And they know that that machine is used to brainwash you. Even many conspiracy-riddled parents realize that putting your kids in front of an admitted fast-food-whoring, CON-toy-mongering, brain-warping, psycho-dulling machine for hours on end isn’t too smart. But they do it anyway, because they’re too exhausted to do otherwise and anyway, everyone else does.
They won’t leave you alone for a second with anybody, except that damned hypno-box. They supervise you constantly, making sure nothing but conspiracy crap gets into your head. They worry that sex, or drugs, or hip-hop, or swearing might infect your personality, ruin your “innocence” even though it’s that very “innocence” that keeps you swallowing the inane, boring, homogeneous, ken-doll sheep-shit they’ve got you seeping in, building a lifetime addiction to their group-thinking approval.
They’re so afraid of nothing that they won’t even let you walk alone the few blocks to school, they’d sooner drive you to school, filling up the roads and the air with their people-carts and their toxic unbreathable brain-rotting carbon monoxide.
Heck, face it, they drive you to [b]school[b], the most blatantly blindingly, conspicuously brainwashing anti-concentration-camp known to man!