Jerusalem Syndrome - Marc Maron [25]
“You come on, man. They were all Masons, all of them. Dirty, dark Freemason spin-offs of Weishapt’s Order of the Illuminati. Ben Franklin was an old-school Hellfire Club kinky Mason. Jesus, Jim, you want me to pull a dollar bill out of my pocket and show you?! The fucking eye in the pyramid is the mark of the Illuminati. Get it? FDR put it on the dollar. Roosevelt was Mr. New Deal modern Mason, ushering in the one-world government, opening the door for Trilateralism. You gotta listen to me, man. It’s true. I read this in a book written by a guy who writes books.”
“I don’t think you really understand how politics works,” Jim said dismissively.
“So what?” I yelled. “Is that what this is really about? Politics?”
“No, Marc. Why don’t you tell me what it’s all about?” he said, trying to provoke and placate me simultaneously.
“Wake up and feel the momentum, Jimmy! It pacifies the masses with entertaining psychic terrorism delivered by the media industrial complex until no one knows what’s real or who they are anymore. They go on thinking they know, but they are unable to care about anything. It leaves them walking through life as controllable husks in search of their souls, with ghost limbs for hearts to guide them. Then Big Business and the big banks sell them back to themselves piecemeal in the form of products and designed ways of life. Then the excited husks will begin to feel as though they are whole again, but they will only regain as much as they can afford to buy back, yet still be in debt. That’s the core of it. The hope of getting all of themselves back keeps control intact and self-actualization nearly impossible. That’s what democracy is protecting now, Jim, hungry fear. That is the American way. That is the pursuit of happiness. The President of the United States is just the highest level of middle management. This government is just placating the people and keeping them lost so the insiders—their families, their friends, business associates—can feed. It’s the momentum, man!” I smiled, knowingly.
“You might have pushed yourself out too far this time. Are you on something, or are you nuts, Marc?” Jim said. I scream-whispered.
“Bush is a Freemason! That’s why Dukakis didn’t win. He’s not in on it! You should know that. It all funnels through Washington, Jim! The atomic bomb, the Cold War, the Kennedy assassination, the CIA, the Vietnam War, Watergate, Iran-Contra, have shattered the people’s belief in any truth when it comes to their part in the political process. That’s part of the grand plan: All truth becomes manifest when there’s nothing anyone can do about it. How clear does it have to be?” I yelled. “This city is the momentum’s mystical switchboard for the hundred-year period of darkness, and I think you’ve seen the controls. Have you? Own it, man. Tell me I’m lying.”
I’m out of breath. I’m not even sure what I’ve just said. People are staring. Jim just looks at me and says, “Marc, listen to me. People here just aren’t that organized.”
There was a moment of stillness, entropy. I had been hit with an arrow of truth that I just couldn’t deny. I took in what he said. “They aren’t?” I asked, unsure.
“No, of course not. The system works. It’s the best government on the planet. There are some bad people, but it just isn’t one big evil plan. Democracy doesn’t allow the bad people to hang around too long. They are found out and brought down by the Senate, by the Congress, by the people. Sorry, Marc.” Jim patted me on the back.
Of course, he was right. How could they possibly be that organized? It was a ridiculous idea. I felt like I had been shaken awake from a dream. It deflated my entire cosmology. My all-encompassing, spiritual, mystical, symbolic system of evil was laid to wreckage in the rotunda of the Capitol. I didn’t really know anything. I had nothing. I was lost. I was in exile. It was sad. Who was I? What channel was I on? I said good-bye to Jim and I slouched back to Boston to be reborn.
9
THE momentum had pummeled me. I was caught in the undertow. When I got back to Boston,