Philippe and Jocelyne

They won't save the world, but you might.

Edit: a few errors corrected and a precision: I was already separated from my first wife at the time of the Jocelyne episode - I don’t cheat on my wives.

For those of you, dear readers, who still haven't read my About page, let me introduce myself as a regular blue-collar worker. I'm a specialized worker in a quarry - a stone cutter, and not a bad one either, with 22 years of professional experience under his belt. Nice to meet you, comrades. So, I'm one of the little people - "people who are nothing", as one French President would put it - but I was not always one, you see. I have a former life as one of "them" and I know those people oh so very well. Before I turned my life around, I used to work for a while in the international call for tenders trade, more specifically on structural adjustment projects. Now what in God's name is that, you might wonder, and you would be right. As it becomes clearer now that we're being fed more and more of these cryptic monikers every day from the usual suspects, there is of course more to it than just the fancy name. So let me show you an example of how it works. Let's say there is a - usually poor - country where the water distribution system is not up to specs. In comes an international organization - one of the alphabet soup - with a high-end professional analysis report and a nice project meant to upgrade the whole thing. They issue a call for tenders - terms of reference, specifications, mission statement, and a whole bunch of such requirements included - to which various bidders submit their bids, and the one with the most experience, the best track record and the most qualified experts wins the game. In reality, a more likely winner would be the one with the thickest Rolodex or the best personal connections - and it definitely helps if you're in a high-ranking Freemason lodge. So, phone calls. Please hold your noses, hold on to your purses and wallets and abandon all hope, we are now crossing into the seedy experts and consultancy firms territory. Anyway, the work gets done, reaping in very lucrative rewards for the main contractot, its experts and all subcontractors involved. As you might suspect, that's not the end of it. There are all sorts of maintenance contracts attached, eventually exploitation licences and other various grifting schemes. And now we have, surprise!, a country even deeper in debt, goods and services even more expensive, whereas even if they were not very good quality in the first place, they were at least affordable for the little people, who will have to find another way of getting their water. Quantum of Solace stuff, minus James Bond. If this kind of reminds you of the current housing situation in the Western world, it's not a coincidence - same scheme, only through rules and regulations. You might also notice that it's the exact same scheme with war. Expensive, up-to-date, high maintenance equipment with matching training, maintenance and spare parts procurement contracts attached. The MIC is very good at this - actually, it is only good at this. As Smedley Butler once rightly put it, war is a racket. Unfortunately, so is peace, the difference being that in peacetime, you don't destroy infrastructures and entire sectors of society in order to rebuild them afterwards.

Well, that's changed.

Our good friends at the World Economic Forum came up with the really brilliant idea of merging the two - a civilian structural adjustment project with a serious helping hand from the Military and the law enforcement agencies. Actually, it was not really their idea, they just implemented time-tested methods that their mentor had successfully used on the Third World. The first part, they called it "Covid countermeasures" and their WEF mouthpieces made sure to hammer home the fact that it was indeed a war - just remember, they always tell you. And a war it was, without a single missile or bullet being fired but with a comparable amount of damage in terms of economy, societal stability - and human lives. As it was quite a bonanza for their "stakeholders" - who were almost the sole beneficiaries of the insane amounts of “crisis” money printing - their business plan is to keep on doing it again and again and again, with all - and I mean all - the sectors of society, no matter the damage. You can call the Great Reset anything you want - a satanic plan, a communist coup, a globalist takeover, etc - and you may be right, but it is first and foremost a structural adjustment project on a planetary scale, the main purpose of which is to guarantee a return on their investments and to open up new markets for them, either out of thin air - the "green" economy scam - or, just as in wars, by burning existing sectors down to the ground - notably, agriculture and health - and then replacing them with their own. The Great Reset, "Build Back Better", Agenda whatever are all nothing but structural adjustment blueprints.

Unfortunately, they also want to apply the same scheme to humans - that's transhumanism for you - and the bad news is, they're making progress. With their financial fiat money scheme on the verge of actual collapse, no matter how many destructive countermeasures they’ve so far piled on top of each other, they’re in a hurry, which is why they're desperate enough to resort to a communist authoritarian shortcut (as discussed here). That's their "going direct" way of doing it, through such a typically communist tool as the central banking network - something Catherine Austin Fitts¹ has been warning about for years now. What History shows us is that these sneaky idiots are now gambling with the survival of society itself. When things get that bad, it’s time to stockpile because things could get ugly fast. That's the topic I'm writing about in Part II of The Trap but before reading about the end of the world as we know it, I thought you might enjoy some first-hand anecdote.

The Philippe of the title was an expert working on one project I was involved in. A very funny and witty guy, too, with a catalogue of rather amusing one-liners that he used to lighten up pretty boring meetings. Everyone liked him, and I believe he liked me, too. The project ended, I quit my job and we lost touch - I'm not very good at maintaining friendships or acquaintances. Some time later, I bumped into him on the train on my way home. By then I had moved from the city to the countryside as I didn't want my kids to grow up in an urban environment and I was already a few months into my newly-found vocation. So we sat across of each other for a little chat and he told me about the latest news from the international expert milieu, which I listened to politely despite my waning interest. Then he asked me where I worked. I told him, and the stunned look on his face was something to be seen to be believed. He then proceeded to fish a dossier out of the briefcase he always carries with him, buried his face in it and did not utter a single world for the rest of the trip. Not. One. Word. I had gone over to the enemy. I was persona non grata.

What about Jocelyne²? I met her at the swimming pool. I used to be quite a swimmer back in the day - 100 laps 6 times a week. It really helps to prevent back pain, a common problem in my line of work³. And I had a pretty good body, too, which, although I'm a bit on the stocky side now, is still the case to this day at sixty years of age⁴. So that day I noticed a really good female swimmer in the next lane - with a smooth, effortless front crawl technique, something that you don't often see outside the world of professional athletes - and I kind of assumed - I'm short-sighted - she was also very beautiful. So I approached her while she was taking a break, and man, she was more than beautiful, she was freakin' stunning - a fiery redhead with a pale silky skin and perfect facial features. Yup, I have a soft spot for redheads. So I timed my exit from the pool to the showers and locker room in order to meet her in the lobby - you know the drill. We had a little chat, like, I come here often so how come I've never seen you before, what do you do in life, that kind of classic deceptively innocuous small talk. Well folks, there is no such thing as a coincidence. It turned out she was a bank executive manager in charge of the financial records for the business sale of the quarry where I was working. A little puzzled as to why she had never seen me working in the office, she asked me about it. That's when I told her I was actually working there as a stone cutter.

She vanished.

Like, three seconds later, she was nowhere in sight. The woman just evaporated. Like she called up Scotty on her communicator and asked to be beamed up⁵, only without the silly glittering light effects. Well, there goes Jocelyne, I thought. But it was not to be. A few weeks later, a bunch of well-groomed people turned up at the quarry, three of them suits and amongst them, surprise, there she was, Jocelyne on a mission in the very lair of the beast. She had cut off most of her fiery red hair and there were lines on her face that were not there when we had met. In such a short amount of time, she was already turning into the ghost of her former self. That should have tasted like sweet revenge, but it just was a sad thing to see.

Well, Jocelyne, I was honestly fascinated by your beauty and had you let me in, I would also have gladly honoured it in the best tradition. I would also probably have made a fine sculpture of your perfect body - because I don't just make window sills and door steps for a living, you know, I'm also a hell of a good sculptor. But you would have none of it. You were probably too afraid to have your body stained by a working man's hands, whereas I guess you had no problem carrying the DNA of your hierarchical superiors if it helped speed up your slow climb up the ladder. The funny thing is, I was once one of those you would have taken your knickers off for. Although I’ve never finished high school, I have learnt (ok, learned, for you my American readers) to speak and write English by myself (please feel free to correct any mistakes or clumsiness), my German is now rusty but not too bad now, and my Spanish is still good enough to hold basic conversations - but due to lack of practice, I've completely lost my Japanese. Yeah, I know I’m bragging here but then I was told again and again, so I might as well say it myself: I'm friggin' brilliant. I was once considered for key roles in the team but I turned them down. I used to work with people whom you, Jocelyne, would not even be allowed to speak to unless spoken to first, one of whom even invited me to his private home in his country. I turned that down, too, and I have zero regrets about doing so. I'm now the person I was meant to be and I'm where I'm supposed to be. But you, Jocelyne - and Philippe - have a very bad taste in friends and you seem to consistently pick the wrong enemy, notably me, which means you're not half as smart as you think you are. You're just small self-serving cogs in a machine that will grind you down, you’re one trick-ponies in a circus that is now killing off its own audience. You have made really bad choices and I feel sorry for you.

A quick word for you before we part, Jocelyne. Life has gone by pretty fast, hasn't it? I'm fine with that, I hope you are, too. Maybe you're one of the tens of millions of vaccine-injured people or one of the seventeen million dead from the jab. You could have easily avoided this by reading the blog of a working man who put his life on the line four years ago to save silly fools like yourself - and their kids - and whose worst crime was wanting to take off your swimsuit. Anyway, I hope you’ve have done more in your life than just shrivel up, wither away and die while leaving no significant trace of your passage on Earth except for you stupid bank records and your contempt for little people - like the one you had for me, and quite possibly the one you've drawn upon yourself from people of the same ilk. Despite your dreadful attitude towards me and the fact that you stand for everything that is wrong in this world, I still cherish the memory of you and your ephemeral beauty, like I would a butterfly or a bird that flies away too soon. So, see you in the next life, Josie girl. I actually loved you for a few minutes there.

So, folks, time to wrap it up for today. I have to walk the dog and do some errands. I hope you've enjoyed this real-life short story. I suppose you have figured out by now the level of despite these people feel for you. I'm also here to tell you that, beyond their impossibly snarky attitude, they fear you. They are in fact, for all intents and purposes, terrified of you. The "Security State", you see, is for their own safety. I should feel bad about spilling their little secret, because now it's out in the open, it will make a small dent in their carefully crafted plans. A dent that could become a crack, and then a rift, until it completely falls apart.

That girl really should have let me into her pants. Without Jocelyne, her goody-two-shoes way of looking down on me and her panic run, I would probably would never have gotten to that dark place in their heads, and I could not tell you now. Her tight ass may have inadvertently saved the world. Which confirms that it's not money that makes the world go round, it's sex.

1. FYI I was the first to introduce her to the French speakers, on my blog.

2. I did not change either of their name. FYI Jocelyne is a rather unsexy name for a woman. I find that funny, you’ll understand why in a minute.

3. Actually, I had bigger back problems from staring at a screen for hours on end when I was working in an office. When people now ask me if I have back pains, my standard retort is "Yeah, I used to have those but I found a solution: I became a stone cutter". I’m just mean, you know?

4. And although I'm not such a big guy, I have an unimaginably strong back from chipping away at stone for 20+ years, something any idiot who would want to engage me should be aware of.

5. And that's your Star Trek reference for today.