“I would say without any hesitation that he is incapable of recognizing the truth, let alone of telling it,” Christopher Hitchens wrote after reading Brock’s memoir. “The whole book is an exercise in self-love, disguised as an exercise in self-abnegation. How could he, asks the author of himself, have possibly gone on so long in telling lies, smearing reputations and inventing facts? The obvious answer — that he adored the easy money and the cheap fame that this brought him — was more than enough to still his doubts for several years. However, his publisher seems to have required a more high-toned explanation before furnishing him with a fresh tranche of money and renown. And Brock’s new story — that he was taken in by a vast right-wing conspiracy — is just as much of a lie as his earlier ones.”
[From “David Brock, Invasion 4Chan, The Alt-Right & Pizzagate,” by Jasun Horsley]
The writer* of this piece is new to me, and has dazzled and overwhelmed me. His name is Jasun Horsley and he is clearly some kind of genius. The trouble with geniuses is their work can feel claustrophobic, though that is not meant as a criticism. The work is (at last) a genuine reflection of a human mind grappling with a sandstorm of “information” and trying to render it coherent. In this piece, drawing out the “Brocktopus” and ultimately, “Pizzagate,” Horsley has owned the confusion in a way I find admirable, but “admirable” is too meek a word. I think we would all do well to look at this, whistle, and admit we are all in the baby pool. Amidst sound and fury, and the pressure to keep up with the autobahn speed of the story, (which moves as fast as it does propelled by induced propaganda rage,) we know almost nothing.
I found Horsley’s article when I went on voat.com to see if there was any real information about the Comet Ping Pong gunman.
[It has a fascinating seaweed bed of links on Welch at bottom, that defy belief. He spent time in Haiti?]
It seems to be the stage has been set for Comet Ping Pong to close its doors, because it is no longer a “safe” restaurant by any stretch.
Sunday brunch in DC with the kids? “I have a great idea sweetie, let’s go to Comet Ping Pong! I can’t see why not. Can you?”
What American writer could ever aspire to “describe” this America, or make “sense” if it?
[You may be familiar with Anna Akhmatova’s famous poem “Requiem,” in which a faceless woman in a breadline during the Yezhov terror turns to the poet in line behind her and says, “And can you describe this?”]
Horsley is entirely correct that in point of fact, none of us know which “news” and which attack balls of abusive “persuasion” on media/sicla media have been “fake” and which or which parts of which may have been organic. This means “Pizzagate” could be a fabrication from the start. Except there is no “start.” It’s all Escher stairs that lead to no “before,” no moment of innocence, before paradise is lost.
It becomes evident as you read, and rub your temples, that you are gulping like a goldfish as flakes of information without having even a prayer of understanding either the context, the no context, or the meta-context of no context of what you think you are revealing.
That said–organized pedophilia and the complicity of the global mainstream media, the sullying of those who press against it morally–this is definitely “real.”
As an aside–I also just reviewed The Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ) website. They linked to a very dubious “toolbox” about “the [debunked] Zika virus,” that suggested they have dropped their standards, like most of these outfits do, on matter of mega-funded scare viruses lacking causation models for the syndromes they are accused of causing. Talk about witch hunts.
Still, I like the fact that SPJ has been around since 1909, I (kind of, but not really) want to know more about them, and I wholeheartedly approve of this ethics code for journalism.
*I don’t call writers “bloggers,” ever. I call them writers.
And now I’m going to make a donation to his Mr. Horsley’s website, the devil being, as we know, in the detail.