Ignorance. Guinea-pigs in hats with French horns, fousands of em, all playing the same tune all day every day until you start to slip, you start to trip, balance tipped, ballast flipped. Over and over. Tumbling down into the mind’s cellars.
Maybe Q is right? Maybe Chinese military intelligence and Jeff Bezos could be planning a green NWO? Maybe UFO’s are paranormal, rather than extra-terrestrial? What if that bloke off Ancient Aliens is a DMT wizard? What if lockdowns cause the birth rate to drop? What if the couple over the road are MI5? What if everything we’re told is a lie, but not a lie, but a lie that’s a wink-wink lie and Covid is being spread around in canisters by deep state agents? What if dying Covid patients are milked for adrenochrome in the act of dying? What if the underground pedo tunnel networks are really symbols for the London tube and DC metro? What if they’re inter dimensional tunnel? Aha. What if ‘rona is just one piece of a vast qliphothic death mandala? In which case is Michael Gove even human?
You try a satanic shrine like woops, but without the panache. You place pieces of human flesh in locations with a pentagram theme across tens of miles, but the pieces you carve out are from your own brain and metaphorical. By filtering all information through a hyper-vigilant, paranoid lens, you enter a negative feedback loop of the eternal chaos machine.
Like psychosis and addiction, it walls the subject off from reality and blocks natural forms of psychological restitution from being rebooted and restored, without interventions. Interventions are dismissed as delusions of grandeur. The patient is sectioned. The patient subsequently escapes the facility and takes a tour round the block in a taxi, waving at strangers, while the taxi driver quietly dials 999.
Over and over, forever.