Talk of Satanic ritual humiliations demanded by producers and other rich assholes who own and run Hollywood, who decide who gets fame and fortune, who is blocked from such, and who is sacrificed to keep others in line, all that talk is about choosing who gets to play. Who is invited to the parties equates with who is invited into roles in movies or chances to be promoted into album sales or book sales. It’s a superstitious gloss pulled over crass naked power of wealth the way too small a tuque is forced onto a child’s burgeoning head. The casting couch is as much fly fishing as it is privilege bullying those craving to be elevated by simple involvement.
In The Godfather by Mario Puzo, or in Francis Ford Coppola’s movie, we see a favored son gaining a career-making role at the cost of an arrogant producer’s million-dollar race horse, the head of which ends up in the producer’s bed as a warning. He was told who’d get to play OR ELSE. It was an offer he could not refuse, not wanting to die horribly.
Gatekeepers (cable TV versus broadcast) have rigged things so merit or even novelty no longer suffices to gain attention from the channeled, controlled audience. Without their permission, you won’t get through or, if you do for a moment, (internet), it won’t last and you’ll pay a horrendous price.
Now this extends to politics in a wider, deeper, and more arrogantly blatant way than in most times through history, and history includes many despots, tyrants, and madmen bullies. It’s worse now due to technology. We are more helpless as complexity enslaves those kept simple by contrivance and betrayal of public trusts.
“There are fewer than five thousand people who matter,” a character in Paul Theroux’s Half Moon Street opined. He over-estimated.
A question arises: Is there no hope?
Hope of what? You can either play their games or try to break through on your own and, if you manage that feat, they’ll crush you anyhow. This leads to people falling back on what one might call local audience, or personal fan bases. Being content with very small ponds, in other words. A few of these groups, such as the Moscow Idaho Mafia, have eventually managed to network into higher profiles and wider distribution. Most don’t. If you wish to be hopeful, think of the Bloomsbury Group making good.
This crushing of upstarts explains the bigotry found in the mainstream book industry against self-published books. They sometimes succeed without having appeased a gate-keeper, marking them for obliteration.
I do think all the internet yap about dark humiliations at parties overseen by movie producer types are real, but the Satanic trappings are costumery, just for show. Same as drug smuggling gangs and cartels who use black magick trappings to keep their mules in fear.
Jim Carrey went the round of talk-show hosts once not terribly long ago asking if they knew what THIS meant: He made a triangle with his hands, then pressed it to his face and licked his tongue through it in a sexual manner. They all said No and he gave them the horse laugh, saying, “Gee, isn’t that funny, not ONE of you know what that means, yet YOU’VE ALL DONE IT.” He was talking about those ugly humiliation parties where sexual degradation is traded for being allowed to play with the big league money makers. If you have a talk show, Carrey was saying, then you’ve done it. In older days this was known as the osculum infame, meaning to kiss the devil’s anus. Tongue welcome. *w*
Obeisance demands degradation with the humiliation of being witnessed. Think hard before accepting an invitation to a Hollywood or other Power Party. How far will you go to be rich and famous? To whom will you sell yourself? Can you live under such a pall?
