I first learned who Michael C. Ruppert was, probably like most people, through the 2009 documentary film, Collapse.
In that film, Ruppert covers a range of topics, from fiat currency and fractional reserve banking to climate change and alternative energy. The cohesion of Ruppert’s knowledge is impressive; the discovery of oil led to the population boom – the unfettered, exponential explosion we have experienced in the last century – and is an unsustainable phenomenon at the root of our myriad issues on Earth. Ruppert asserts that in the natural world, such population explosions are followed by a devastating collapse.
Some people could, and probably do hoot Ruppert down as a nut job. He began as a narcotics cop in Los Angeles, whose discovery and challenge of the CIA bringing drugs into the country put him on the world stage as a whistleblower in the 1990s. He later wrote books and traveled and gave speeches. Most recently, he left his home in Northern California and joined a group in the San Luis Valley who share Lakota traditions and pray for humankind and the well-being of the Earth.
It’s a logical trajectory, when you think about it. The very unfortunate part is that it ends with Ruppert taking his life.
Perhaps he had reached the point where he felt he had said all that he could. Or, that his last days were spent in Calistoga, away from the San Luis community, could suggest some painful parting of ways. Regardless of any interpretation, the self-described “faithful scout” says in the 2013 documentary Apocalypse, Man (bottom of page) that the scout’s blade is sharp on both edges. And that the scout walks alone. For me, his work and efforts can be summed up in his passionate belief that the world is in such great need of an evolution of consciousness, and that he saw this consciousness rising, catalyzed by movements like Occupy.
In his San Luis days, the Scout was most concerned with climate collapse and Fukushima as the two paramount issues sure to foment global human extinction. But there’s no point in my condensing or distilling any more of Ruppert’s contributions. I view Michael Ruppert as something of a doorkeeper, and I walked through in 2009 and have never looked back. I would invite any others, who have not yet, to do the same.
While I feel I have tempered my life to the extent that it is possible to live with the knowledge I have and still retain joy and hope, some, like Ruppert, may struggle with finding balance. Or, it’s possible his ending was something he entered into with the belief that he had accomplished what he had set out to do and now wanted to join the “spirit world.” But now I’m just conjecturing again.
Perhaps the best way to honor Ruppert and his contributions is to see him as the empathic man that he was. To stay focused and articulate in our own journeys. To keep sane in an insane world.
There are many so-called “revolutionary” groups on the planet today, challenging the money-market system, the plutocracy, and hoping to turn around the destruction of the natural world. I think we can brace ourselves for the coming years without resorting to too much extremism; e.g. I don’t believe the Illuminati is responsible for anything.
We can embrace historical knowledge, such as what we find in the wisdom of the Kali Yuga, and we can see the forecasts of this time in the New Testament of the Bible. We’re smart, collectively; we have a divinity that transcends time and space and so we contain the knowledge innately – and we had great and unimpeded access to this wisdom before times so rife with industry and technology. But we should be wary to spout conspiracy theories, to call out the monopoly media as creating false flag events or talk about “mind control” with vehement language. That kind of stuff just turns people off who might otherwise listen.
Ruppert had facts. He had data. He was passionate and could be emotional, but he was rational and reasonable, too. Well-spoken, blessed with a great vocabulary, an ability to contain so much information, decipher it and relay it topically and articulately. He was gifted, and he will be missed.
(The following documentary, in 10 parts on YouTube from VICE, is really Ruppert’s crown jewel. Raw, terrifying, and filled with Ruppert’s encyclopedic knowledge, no-nonsense attitude, emotion, expletives, and astonishing insights every person on the planet should hear.)
The music is called “Requiem Op. 48 (Pie Jesu).” The subject is my brother, fighting in his second amateur MMA bout. The film is an evolving work.
When you think critically about your world, there is often a longing, I’ve found, to sum it all up in one piece. To discover what particle physicists call Grand Unified Theory, or, “Theory of Everything.”
Singer-songwriter Sven Curth‘s song and video “Levittown 1951” is the the closest thing I’ve seen or heard to a summary of the post-war economy in the United States – basically, the last 75 years or so in a nutshell. Curth’s song rollicks through the proliferation of fast food restaurants, tract housing, the conflation of television with cyclical consumption, the demigods of sports, and the declination of the American male.
Curth’s narrative lyrics and toe-tappin’, finger-picking guitar set to this montage of classic Americana images unifies the evolution of the car culture and the money-market system with the ephemera of culture. The song shies from indicting the military-industrial complex, but it doesn’t need to. There’s no side-choosing here, no political agenda. Levittown speaks with a rocking-chair-on-the-front-porch honesty and doesn’t shy from what the thinking person is compelled to examine. Levittown tells the story of What Is.
This is the full trailer for a fundraising campaign to help save independently-owned movie theatres in the Adirondack North Country. I co-directed and edited this trailer along with Aaron Woolf, the man behind “King Corn” (who is also, I kid you not, the writer of the Phish song “Wilson, Can You Still Have Fun?”) To make a donation to one of the ten movie theatres in this campaign, click here.