I guess even the worst kind of witch-hunt will accidentally do some good:
Charlie Rose: fall of a Globalist mouthpiece
The abuse and the crimes are real; the media op is different…
by Jon Rappoport
December 18, 2017
If you had to pick three titans who were promoting Globalism and its new world order, you could scarcely do better than Henry Kissinger, Zbigniew Brzezinski, and George Soros.
During his reign at PBS, Charlie Rose interviewed them a total of 34 times.
Not only that, Charlie managed never to ask a direct question about the underlying aim of Globalism, and he never elicited a straight response on that subject.
Instead, Charlie’s furry, smarmy, self-congratulatory, oh-so-innocent breathless questions navigated “deep intellectual waters” in the realm of The Abstruse, and you came away from the interviews with a rash and an itch. You were supposed to feel smarter from the experience, but you couldn’t recall what really happened. What was Charlie asking? What were the titans saying? It could have been a parody of high academic fluff. Countries had been mentioned. Crises had been alluded to. The word “solution” occasionally bubbled up.
This was Charlie’s impenetrable style on important subjects.
He was a social hob-nob pro of the first order in New York. Anybody who was anybody wanted to sit down with him and slide into a long-form interview. And he met many of them at cocktail parties on the Upper East Side. He was a kinder gentler magnet for the rich, famous, and fatuous. If you weren’t fatuous before you appeared on his PBS show, you were by the time you were done. Because Charlie pretended everything coming out of his and your mouth was exceedingly Important. He kept pumping fake dead cartoon blood through those televised conversations.
But that’s what “viewer supported” PBS is all about, so it worked. The audience of conscientious liberals demands Disneyesque knock-offs of intellectualism. Everybody congratulates each other, throws a few bucks into the fundraising pot, and goes to sleep.
Charlie was Elmer Fudd who went to Harvard or Yale and got a PhD.
He was a perfect example of many liberals, who listen and talk at parties and begin to pick up on what they’re supposed to believe, if they want to fit in. The interdependence of all nations, the expression of “humanity” through official networks and foundations, the correct charities for serving the disenfranchised, the preferred political candidates, the soft socialism of all good folks, and the absolute need to maintain limousines and high apartments in the best sections of town.
“You should see my doctor, he’s wonderful, here’s the name of my broker, you’ll want to look at these schools for Jimmy, my art dealer can help you, I hope you’ll be out on the Island this summer…”
Charlie stumbled into realizing he could represent these people, and he made it work. He was their mouthpiece, his show was their outlet.
Until it didn’t work anymore. He was hiring young women for his small team, they came to him with great ambition and high intelligence, they knew this could be their big break in a business where plum jobs were at a premium, and he used that torque and control to perform his weird sexual tricks, because he was really a sad sack when it came to women, and because his power seemed like the only card in his deck.
Plus, his act on television was wearing thin. For his friends and betters, he was disposable. No one cared anymore about some nuanced way of selling Globalism to the PBS crowd. Things were moving in a more venal direction: destroy Trump; why didn’t Hillary win; we white people must shame ourselves and grovel because it’s the in-thing to do this year (last year it was owning a Prius); my son is buying fentanyl at his prep school; bombs are going off and cars are slamming into people on city streets and we aren’t allowed to say we know where this is coming from, and we have to get out of town and find a place in the country where we can settle down permanently (why doesn’t Trump just shut down the border without telling anybody)…
So Charlie went down, a casualty in the war. A minor blip on the screen went blank. He’ll now pretend to count his sins while he tries to plot his next move. A mea culpa book? That won’t work. A new independent show on a website? How degrading. He has a law degree—could he represent women who’ve been abused? Ridiculous.
He gets on the phone.
“Could we team up and sell Netflix a show called The Real Deplorables? You know, blame ourselves over and over? Maybe we could make a new art form out of it. ‘There is no bottom’.”
“I don’t think so.”
“How long do we have to weather this thing?”
“I’m guessing ten years.”
“Then we could come back?”
“Maybe. People have short memories. And so much could happen in ten years.”
Maybe that’s true. But for now, the Globalist PBS man who brought the country endless “conversations about conversation” is a vaporous figure in a building media wave of figures who are vanishing, as the Op to construct a tsunami and, finally, place Trump at the top, as the prime predator, continues.
“See, we in the media are eating our own, some of the most famous and praised among us. We have that mission and that conscience. You cannot doubt our sincerity. So when we decide to tell you that Trump is the kingpin of this type of sordid behavior, remember Charlie and Matt and all the rest. They are the evidence of our truth-seeking, at any cost…”
Bye for now, Charlie. Take it easy. Raise Chickens, grow avocados. Interview the chickens. You’d be surprised at what they have to say. Their answers aren’t all that different from what Soros and Kissinger laid out to you via their opaque blabber.
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, The Matrix Revealed, click here.)