by Jon Rappoport
July 4, 2018
Trumpets blare. In the night sky, spotlights roam. A great confusion of smoke and dust and fog, and emerging banners carry the single message:
The great meltdown of all consciousness into a glob of utopian simplicity…
There are denizens among us.
They present themselves as the Normals.
Beyond all political objectives, there is a simple fact: those group-mind addicts who have given up their souls will rage against the faintest appearance of one who tries to keep his. And in this rage, the soulless ones will try to pull the other down to where they live.
Are you with the family or not? Are you with the group, the collective, or not? Those are the blunt parameters.
“When you get right down to it, all you have is family.” “Our team is really a family.” “You’re deserting the family.” “Our department is like…
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