Thoughts the days of Layt

I am quite literally, speechless, after having read and studied up on the subject of 'PsyActs' much as I had lately. Hyper exerted on us, is an influence machine, like those that carve the grooves in vinyl records. Each of the many tiny corridors that make the song is, essentially, the false, manufactured reality we accept. We accept it because its comfortable to, and sometimes is made to seem patriotic. How dare we question authority? How dare we try to find the truth. How fucking dare we want to know why there is this global war, billion starving?

The few who power this vinyl record making machine own what we know, if what we know, came from any syndicated news outlet or medium.