Entangled

Part 1

Xanax for CNN, codeine for BBC, Prozac for Alex Jones and tobacco for Young turks. They run in my headphones as I am talking to someone at a Vip dinner. They smile, I smile. We all do. There is nothing to do but smile. The fact is I cannot take my damn headphone off. Some are hooked on drugs, others on booze, I am addicted to media. Those impersonal voices you hear every time you open that TV. Those impersonal faces you see every time you want to hear the news.

Their mouth wreaks with lies and disinformation, deceit and conceit.

Some are afraid of Russia, others of Isis, some say ISIS is their biggest fear, others say its Iran. I say it's confusion. There is a thick cloud of confusion descending upon our frail and dumbed down silly minds. I'm still hooked but like Neo I'm pulling out the cord. It hurts but I have to do it.

Im talking with a girl. She is smiling. She is nice. In my pocket I scroll through various radio shows. I feel like yelling into her face "Chemtrails, Fema Camps, it's all insanity" She sips from her drink, I fumble and play with my cocktail.

From thin air, almost, a midle aged, fat long hair, rare bearded guy approaches me.

"Mr Moreno, we finally meet. I have to say you have solid recommendations. Can you talk in a more private setting.?"

I have to bid farewell to the voluble girl and waltz to the nearest table on the balcony.

"So, please Mr Moreno, tell me more about yourself and your activity. I hear you were reporting from Russia. Quite a bold move. I also heard you lived in Russia."

"Chelyabinsk. Exactly. (I never step foot in Russia.)"

"Well, we got your references. I think you re the right reporter for us. We need a reporter in Ukraine. Interested?"

"Where exactly?"

"Donbass"

"Odessa. 2000 plus flight tickets. "

"Are you willing to travel to Kiev or other cities in Ukraine?"

"I will consider it."

"You bargain tough. OK lets...we ll start with Odessa. 2000 plus flight tickets. We want our articles delivered asap, interviews, written and recorded if possible. "

"A lot of risks. I'll take it. "

I never step foot in Chelyabinsk, Moscow and Ukraine and Im sure not gonna start now. How do you mess with these idiots? Forgery, hacking, Google maps, street view, study the area, meet locals on couch, vk and facebook. Lie as if your lie depended on it.

The way I see it. They're messing with our minds all the time. Its their job. So I'll start messing with theirs. Be confident, believe every bullshit that comes out of your mouth.

Do I think I am some kind of Robin Hood. You're damn right I do! Screwing these professional propaganda machines is more to me than getting that check.

"My assistant will contact you for details tomorrow. I had so much recommendations, I am sure we ll have a fruitful collaboration."

He grabs my cocktail and takes a sip. His slimy lips on the crystal glass. Now I have to throw it all away.

I withdraw in a corner of the room. He comes after me.

"What do you think of this Paris attack?"

Just like that. As if his cat died of cancer and I have to throw in my two rubles.

"Well, you know it's a tragedy. Buut, you just don't go insult people like that"

His eyes gleam. He agrees. The fat slimy agrees. Someone else joins the conversation. A really stylish guy. He wears expensive clothes, and a watch to be noticed. He chatters with the Mr BBC and turns to me, faking outrage:

"It's really unthinkable. Such a thing in the heart of the most..."

"Things like this happen all the time in the Middle East. We just don't hear it."

Our discussion sparked up and two other guys approach. Thank God, Mr BBC leaves.

I m not listening to their chatter. "Haywood Industries plummeting stock Hillary surge, Trumps base republicans, Marco Rubio DNC speech meltdown" mix in my ears and its so easy to ignore.

"Well, you know, we ve been messing with those people for so long, now we re all outrage out of the sudden."

They nod, one smiles, one is concerned. I can see they disagree but they lack the testicular fortitude, the balls, the guts to say it. This is the custom, the paradigm. No principles, think according to the narrative

"I have a plane to catch, gentlemen, so I have to leave. Excuse me."

Ladies and gentlemen, repeat to yourselves. "I am a journalist, I am journalist. I am not insane. I have principles. They're right where I left them .Next to the toilet paper, on the washing machine."

/jX