Movie5

The Matrix : Neo-Multiculturalism and Neo-Nazis
by Ted Allen

CONTENTS:

    I. INTRODUCTION

    II. WESTERN UNION

    III. METHOD

    IV. LEXICON; THE MATRIX

    V. ZION

    VI. THE PEOPLE

    VII. MORPHEUS

    VIII. TRINITY

    IX. THE REST OF THE CREW

    X. THEORY AND STRUGGLE

    XI. LIFE, ART, PAIN AND AUNT JEMIMA

    XII. MOROLOGY; "THERE IS NO SPOON" AND SUPER-POWER

    XIII. CIPHER UP CLOSE; "DON'T HATE ME TRINITY"

    XIV. GULAG, EPIPHANY AND REVISIONISM

    XV. RACISM AND SHICKLGRUBER

    XVI. STRAW MEN AND RELATIVISM

    XVII. GODDESS POWER AND APOTHEOSIS

    XVIII. PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE

I

Every day our schools, media and entertainment industry spread messages that permeate and influence every level of culture. These messages, whether conveyed through real-world examples or fictional representations, contain implicit cues as to how the viewer is expected to perceive and react to similar situations in his everyday life. These cues, strong hints, if you will, are registered either subliminally, or just above the boundary of awareness. Yet they linger somewhere between a whisper and a faint memory even after the initial message is past, and they are a powerful impetus to behavior. So powerful that the mass of individuals is unaware of the effect these messages have on the way it interacts with others. Indeed, in this day of Political Correctness, we are coaxed, goaded and programmed around the clock as to what is acceptable conduct and what is not. Acceptable conduct, after all, is the substance of civilization. It is what separates us from the "lower" creatures on this planet. It is the business of life in which we involve ourselves every day. Important business it is.

II

So important is this enterprise that Hollywood, where it used to be said, "If you want to send a message, go to Western Union," now invests BILLIONS in supporting conventions that are believed to be in the interest of all concerned, whether they want it or not! In the corner of some collective mind it has been decided that there are dark forces afoot threatening the fabric and structure of our culture. These nebulous entities must be stopped. The collective consciousness, in its infinite wisdom, must direct the less aware, the less astute as to who the "evil" ones are, but they must not alarm or unnecessarily agitate their charges so as not to disrupt the orderly flow of the business of life. The people must be told, but there must be a return for this hard work of shepherding. One cannot expect Pharaoh to subsist on adulation alone. Let the workers be "entertained" as they are instructed in acceptable comport, and they will reciprocate with comely submission to the wise edicts they obliviously absorb. Further, they will offer up not only their gold to the gods of pleasure and diversion but their freedom to make up their own minds as well. Most important, they will do so willingly, because they were told to, even though they can't quite remember by whom or when it occurred. It makes it so much easier when the masses do not require beatings and torture. Psychological coercion is so much more tidy and profitable. And profit is a part of the business of life, writ large!

III

In keeping with this grandiose scale, the silver screen offers a canvas of inspiring proportion upon which the orders of the king can be displayed. It affords the priests of cultural education an expansive construct worthy of delivering the message uttered by the high priests of civility. Through this larger-than-life window, viewers can appreciate the magnitude of the wisdom imparted, all the while escaping from the cares of the day and the need to trouble their minds with what to think. Thinking will be done for them; they will be SHOWN what to do. Unfortunately, by surrendering their will, they have unwittingly, yet voluntarily, fallen prey to what Antonio Gramsci, an obscure Italian Marxist social engineer, called 'hegemony.' However, it must be kept in mind that it is for their own good, and Pharaoh knows best. Just as did Marx.

IV

Marxist lexicon has become a subtle and largely unnoticed component of the common language. This language is not only the words we use to communicate, but also the themes conveyed and the symbols, both visual and emotional, used to deliver them. Control the language, the method of transmitting ways of thinking, norms of behavior, the means of interacting, and interpersonal relationships on an individual or collective scale, and global populations will be disposed for manipulation. The principles of hegemony and beguilement are seen at work very clearly in the film industry when the overlay of social criticism is turned around and used as a mirror to reflect the messages that are filtered to an unaware public each time it goes out for a little entertainment; that is, to trump the Marxists at their own game, as it were. Utilizing a science fiction landscape, known as the Matrix, Hollywood creates then ignores a paradox by sidestepping its own admonishment and delivers a politically correct telegram unparalleled for insidiousness and unsurpassed for a sledgehammer soft sell.

V

The dichotomy is posed through the icons of two warring factions: the Matrix, which appears to be the world we see around us; and Zion, which is outside the Matrix. Normal people inhabit the Matrix, while Zion is comprised of individuals known as "insiders." Through the efforts of the insiders, the viewer is reborn into a reality that no one in his right mind would choose to renounce once he became aware of it. That reality is Zion. These terms have been carefully chosen, and are crafted to create an underlying tension which will direct the mind of those engaged by the story line.

VI

Zion is peopled by a group that looks quite normal by broadcast standards today. There are Blacks, Latinos, females, males, Whites and, upon closer examination, hints at enclaves which are historically well known and those which have only recently begun to gain attention as acceptable individuals as well. More on this later. The Matrix, on the other hand, though populated by garden-variety folk, has an additional group known as Agents. Now every society seems to require the services of some form of law enforcement. But these Agents bear special attention. First, they are white males. More specifically, they are emotionless, dictatorial and violent white males. This is not that unusual, for most authority figures in films and in reality are white males, and a certain amount of violent behavior is to be expected, as they must interact with violent people. However, it must be emphasized that in this setting they are EXCLUSIVELY white males, and as the plot unfolds it is revealed that they are cruel and sadistic. Still not too much of a stretch, because in the news, on television programs and in films, white males are depicted as the sole perpetrators of most violent, cruel activity. This principle will be expanded further at a later point, but first, a digression for a closer examination of the insiders is in order.

VII

The insiders, a multicultural lot, are composed of Morpheus, the black male leader and captain of a cyber hovercraft named the NEBUCHADNEZZER, and several other pivotal figures. Nebuchadnezzer, if you recall your Old Testament history, was the king of Babylon. It was he who carried the Israelites into captivity from Jerusalem, the city of David, also known as Zion. Literary irony is a recurrent device throughout the film, for it is through the vehicle of this hovercraft which bears the ancient king's name that the insiders transport refugees of the Matrix to Zion, Jewish Shamballah, in the story. Morpheus is the benevolent and long- suffering, self-sacrificing individual who has been searching for the story's main and pivotal character, Neo; Thomas A. Anderson as he is known to the Matrix. This black man will assist the white man, Neo, and enable him to overcome his "residual self image" and redefine himself. Morpheus will open Neo's eyes to the "real world." As Morpheus tells Neo, who struggles with confusion, "Answers are coming."

VIII

Second in command of Morpheus' ship and crew is Trinity. This black-vinyl-clad, bowlegged, white female hottie is the New World Wonder Woman. Though soft spoken, she is not a woman to be trifled with; she did, single-handedly, take out a squad of Matrix police officers who thought they could "handle one little girl," and successfully eluded three Matrix Agents. That's agents with a capital A, because they are not only white and cruel, these boys have huge dorsal fins and are possessed of special capabilities that elevate them to the level of "SUPERMEN." Curious, but more on this subject later. Every man needs a helpmeet, and Trinity serves as Neo's belated love interest. And love has dulled her New World edge, for she only mildly rebukes Neo's sexist affronts for the sake of it. He, comments the fetching Trinity, "like most guys," thought she was a he because the IRS database had been hacked. Who else but a guy could have accomplished so Herculean a feat? Tit for tat is acceptable feminist orthodoxy, so there is no hypocrisy in her retort. Yet something must be done about this "love" thing, for it impedes the uniform, expedient application of progressive principles. But this is getting ahead of the story.

IX

Following Trinity and somewhat in keeping with proletarian theory, in no specific order of ranking, there is Tank. He appears to be Latino, but later we discover he has an African hyphen something genetic background and a biological brother named Dozer. This is more than an aside condoning mixed-race coupling. Whatever the case may be, you decide his race. Then there is Cypher, a shaven-headed, mustachioed individual with white skin. Of course, he bears watching for that reason alone. Next is Apoc, a Latino of unquestionable Mestizo ancestry. Next is Switch, another white female, possibly a lesbian. Keep a close eye on her understated submission responses, the softening of her expressions and body language when she is near Trinity. Also, be attentive to the openly violent potential when Switch holds Neo at gunpoint. Perhaps her behavior toward Neo could originate from a natural and healthy distrust of someone still plugged into the Matrix but there is an edge to her hostility that transcends an instinct for self-preservation. She watches the main character with a perpetual sneer on her face. At the very least, she is AC/DC. Observe her emotionally wrenching response to Apoc's death, in direct contrast to her interactions with Neo; nice anti-white-male, interracial sub-text plug here, not to mention diversity. And finally there is Mouse. Mouse is the final white, nominally male crewmember. Although his sexual orientation is clarified later, he does lust after his cyber-creation in the form of the Lady in Red. Of greater importance than any gender question are his demeanor and his attitudes. Mouse appears somehow Jewish. Physically, especially facially, he looks like a Jew. As Amon Goeth, the Nazi concentration camp Commander in Schindler's List pondered metaphysically, "Is this the face of a rat? Hath not a Jew eyes?" Additionally, recall the submissive, non-assertive posture when introduced to Neo: hands folded at his chest, with a slight bow. But more important than these is his philosophical perspective. In the world of moral relativism, Mouse attempts to ingratiate himself with Neo by licentiously counseling, "To deny our own impulses is to deny the very thing that makes us human." Another significant factor concerning Mouse is the way he is treated by other crew members, primarily Apoc and Switch. The former individuals hold Mouse in contempt. They either behave intimidatingly toward him, or they converse sarcastically at him, not to him. Apoc, interjecting himself uninvited into a conversation between Mouse and Neo, commands Mouse to "shut up." Pausing only to allow Switch to speak, he derisively warns of Mouse's impending comments. Switch, with a subaltern smirk, refers to him as "the digital pimp, hard at work." Young Tank shakes his head dismissively and rudely pulls Mouse�s hand away from one of the computer monitors. Even in multicultural Zion, the viral principle of hegemony is seen to be in effect. Like "a pair of ragged claws, scuttling across floors of silent seas," the apparition of anti-Semitism broods upon the face of these waters. As the Waffen SS officer prudently indoctrinated Oskar Schindler, "That's not just good old-fashioned Jew-hating talk, it's policy." It appears that some of the members of the oppressed minority "free minds" on board the Nebuchadnezzer would benefit if they took a page from the "sensitivity training" manual which is forced on real-world American society. The latter crew members pretty much ignore Mouse. It is as if he does not exist to them. So much for non-judgmental egalitarianism and inclusion.

X

The preceding, however, is elementary theory. America is so inured to those Marxist "first principles" of doctrine that they no longer elicit any recognition response. The didactic of multicultural theory has been thoroughly inculcated in most of the youth of America. MTV has seen to that. Images of interracial couples are repeatedly transmitted to millions of homes, twenty-four hours a day. Television commercials would have viewers believe that there are more than fifteen percent of the population who are black if you believe the ratios presented continually. Theatrical releases and series on television depict increasing numbers of interracial dating, co-habitation, marriage and births. Christians have been subjected to an unending cavalcade of guilt factors as to why they are bound by and "owe" inclusion to every group, faction and freak that can crawl out from under the rock where they were hiding. Gramsci stated in his expansion of the theories of Karl Marx that from a social perspective, should a group challenge long-standing traditions and social structures, it is necessary that said group must "never tire of repeating its own arguments [though offering literary variations of form]," because "repetition is the best didactic means for working on the popular mentality." It is obvious to even the casual observer that this principle has been and continues to be applied with great success, at all levels and in all institutions of our society. This is Marxism camouflaged as MULTICULTURALISM. And who can reject this "moral high ground"? Only evil racists and/or Nazis. Consequently, only the cultural Marxists and those who accept their doctrine have the moral right to rule. It was clearly stated by Neo, when he was interrogated by the Agents of the Matrix, who he (and by extension the "insiders" and you the viewers) was dealing with when he told Agent Smith, "You can't scare me with this Gestapo crap, I know my rights. I want my phone call." With the turn of a well-recognized phrase, it becomes extremely clear just whom the insider-Zionists are fighting. It is not just tyranny they resist, nor do they fight simply for the freedom to direct their lives -- No! It is NEO-NAZIS they have taken up arms to kill! Another irony for such a non-judgmental group, and easily explained. You see, the morally degenerate Agents, these Neo-Nazis, are the ones who keep the concentration camp-like fields of the Matrix, which extend from heaven to horizon, full. They are the ones who through genetic engineering clone and keep in chains the "workers" of the Matrix world. These oblivious victims are chained by the bondage of ignorance. The Neo-Nazis are the slave masters, the self appointed SUPER RACE! They are the ones the Zionists are willing to fight, even if it means their own death. Which raises still another interesting, though surely unintentional, irony. Keep in mind, the Marxist mindset must be retained. Jews, who remained in Europe for whatever reason, could have exhibited the same courage to defend themselves as that displayed by these fictional characters. But the Jews behind the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, in which several thousand Jews stalled the Waffen SS for four weeks, are the exception, not the rule. Does the phrase, "Workers of the world, unite" sound familiar? Had the pious, self-righteous Jews not expected someone else to do something, to dirty their hands for them -- people they considered themselves "above" -- the world would not be pummeled daily with the hand-wringing, wailing and emotional blackmail endured at the hands of professional guilt extortionists that make up the ranks of the Anti-Defamation League, the Simon Wiesenthal Center and the Jewish Defense League. Not to mention, Morris Dees, who through his Southern Poverty Law Center has elevated these tactics to a litigious art form.

XI

When art imitates life, it can be humorous; when life imitates art, irony notwithstanding, the result can be painful parody. And it is usually at the expense of the characters and the real people they represent. It all hinges upon who is being ridiculed and who is doing the laughing. With the identity of the enemy clear, the solution to the confusion Neo had been experiencing up to this point, (the answers Morpheus comforted him were coming), is now to be made clear through the person of the Oracle. This Black woman will give Neo the answers he needs because, as Trinity cooed, "The Matrix can't tell you who you are." No, it will require the insight of a Black Priestess of the occult to supply that necessary adjunct to his identity and to assist in his spiritual growth. One who is not only prescient but also Aunt Jemima. It seems the Oracle seconds as a baker to help unsuccessful "potentials" over the hump of disappointment with her homemade cookies. Irony piles upon irony, as a polemic against tyranny, which traditionally assumes the form of stereotypes, subjects its own characters to that very indignity via old racial oversimplifications of "black mojo" and voodoo mysticism posed as Black wisdom. "Say ahhh" "Oh, but what's really going to bake your noodle," as the Oracle wryly commented, is that Aunt Jemima lives in the graffiti-defaced projects! Or Morpheus, as a Black variant of the drug-pushing Door Mouse from Lewis Carroll's Alice Through the Looking Glass. Proffering "the red pill or the blue pill," he tempts Neo with a psychedelic paraphrase of "Feed your head." Unintentional humor, regardless of whose expense it is at, is always a welcome pleasure. But what if it is not actually so unwitting? Hollywood has a surreptitiously nasty habit of using individuals and groups it superficially champions as "fall guys" for the pie in the puss without their having an inkling that it is banana cream dripping from their face. These groups are a diverse lot, if you will. American History X offers a prime example. In an ulterior manner, this film argues against its premise of anti-racism by making telling points which oppose the viability of Blacks and other minorities as oppressed enclaves in our nation. Either the screenwriter and director were seriously imperceptive, were making thoughtless insinuations or they were deliberate in their depictions of "ghetto blacks," "illegal aliens" and "welfare recipients" as leeches on the American infrastructure. Inadvertent humor, innuendo, sub-themes and sub-text are only "stated" as unforeseen for a na�ve, unthinking or deliberately obtuse public. Gore Vidal, et al., look down their snotty, intellectual noses at the heterosexual world in the "mockumentary" film, The Celluloid Closet. Animators laughed up their dirty little sleeves as innocent children and unsuspecting adults were subjected to gratuitous, obscene, sexual messages that were subliminally interjected into the visual text of Hollywood's version of "family" films. Phallic symbols appeared as part of the castle interior in The Little Mermaid. A skywritten message stating "have sex" is smeared across The Lion King firmament, like so much stellar feculent. Directors will not risk their reputations in so tenuous a world as the film industry, nor will studio conglomerates and producers risk MILLIONS of dollars on unideaed, effete Auteurs.

XII

And neither did the Wachowskis, the slippery, window-washing brothers who directed Warner Brothers' polemic, The Matrix. They have Trinity soothingly coach Neo that the Oracle's information is "different." Morpheus sagely tutors the now unplugged and reborn Neo not to think of the Oracle's Delphic sagacity in such reactionary terms as, "right or wrong." Good advice, he needs to have a firm grip on some perspective, especially considering what is about to be passed on to him. "You see," as Spoon Boy tells the fledgling warrior in Zen-speak, "Do not try and bend the spoon, that's impossible." With a sagely frown, the little master instructs Neo, "Instead, only try to realize the truth." And what is this esoteric truth? Why it�s, "There is no spoon," silly! Through this realization, summates the quiescent prodigy, "[You] will see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself." Whoa! Orwell had nothing on this kid! Armed with that tidbit of Buddhist pagan morology, our neo-lad sallies forth, munching Aunt Jemima's tasty pastry and feeling, "right as rain." Hopefully, this little snack has cleared Neo's mental and spiritual palate because things are about to go from the absurd, philosophically speaking, to the deadly serious. Morpheus is taken prisoner and Neo must transcend himself. He is about to learn the "difference between knowing the path and walking it!" Utilizing his newfound, "There is no spoon" super-power, Neo and Trinity proceed to liberate their Black "father." Abraham Lincoln would be proud. Before proceeding to the exciting manumission, some additional character development is in order for one of the crew.

XIII

Remember Cipher, the white male of the shaved head who aroused earlier suspicions? Well, they were justified. The explicit image of a skinhead, and all the implicit sub-text baggage that goes with it, was deliberate. So were his lustful, behind-the-back glances at Trinity. This little man is not only a potential date-rapist, he is also a turncoat! A double agent of sorts. Which is worse? A hard call to make for a group that saved him from the "slavery of ignorance." Cipher himself will provide the salve to assuage any guilt for loathing him by becoming a cyber-Cain. Mr. Reagan, Cipher's Matrix "slave name," has "cut a deal" with Agent Smith. In exchange for the apprehension and arrest of Morpheus, Mr. Reagan will be reinserted into the Matrix. He will remember nothing of the late unpleasantness, and become someone "important" -- an actor. You were warned of these inside jokes. In his own defense, Cipher weakly pleads with Trinity not to hate him, for, as he reflects, "I'm only the messenger." While this is, on one level, an allusion to the media admonition that they only "report" the news, it is a charge against Cipher's character and that of the media; a moot point concerning the media. In essence, he is saying, "I was only doing my job. I was only following orders." That dismissive carries no legal exculpatory weight with his Matrix "overlords" and it leaves him with no affirmative defense among the insiders. Of course, if he were an agent of the Federal Government, or even one of its "confidential informants," then that would put a different "spin" on the matter. Mercifully, he could be allowed to perform public service engagements at the Wiesenthal Center, speaking out against the evil of whatever. To his own detriment, he instead chooses to savor the ersatz ignorance of the Matrix. Bad call. He has blissed his pants, is exposed, not only as spiritually soiled but as an unrepentant reprobate to boot! In the court of public opinion, which is tried in the streets by the media, skinhead Cipher is found wanting and therefore guilty. His punishment? Execute him twice! The media also, while we're at it? Please!?

XIV

Meanwhile, back at the gulag, Agent Smith is attempting to "hack" into the mind of Morpheus. During this interlude, more and more of the heinous personal attitudes of the menacing Agent are revealed. Smith intimates, in a wonderfully psychotic attempt at charm and disarming small talk, a Damascus road revelation he experienced while tracking the insiders. As he states it, with an exquisite malevolence:

It occurred when I was trying to classify your species. You are not actually mammals. Every mammal develops a natural equilibrium," he says while gently padding the air in front of him for effect. "But you humans do not. You move to an area and multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive, is to spread to another area.

Smith's epiphany tantalizingly brushes the edges of his disdain. Is he blaspheming the holy mantra that only the Red Man is elevated enough to have "developed a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment"? He must be, for he has included his race in the collective of "humans," and by some standards they are a member of this species. This Neo-Nazi has turned on its head decades of painstaking indoctrination. Every school child has it hammered into his impressionable mind that it is only racist, land-raping capitalistic Whites who "multiply until every natural resource is consumed." Manifest Destiny and the westward exploration and expansion by white Americans, are twisted in classrooms into an unrecognizable indictment against the progression of white settlers. White market-hunters, they are reminded, nearly caused the extinction of the Buffalo. Greedy, white, gold-mad exploiters drove the Red Man from his prairie Eden. White mountain-men nearly trapped into oblivion all the fur-bearing creatures in the forests. But what the film's underdog, the oppressed multiculturalists, do not tell the receptors of the propagandized message, is a little thing called the truth. If the historical record is investigated with even a modicum of care, it becomes evident that the Red Man was the one responsible for the consumption of "every natural resource" until he had to "spread to another area." His lifestyle forced him to. Indians lived in tepees for ease of mobility. It was their nature-raping ways that required a nomadic lifestyle. With no game conservation programs, the wildlife around their villages was "hunted out." Any credit for "controlled" burns of forest or grasslands, as a means to entice the return of game animals, was a matter of "too little, too late." Some of the tribes that were semi-agrarian, lived in rudimentary huts or cliff dwellings. They, too, were eventually forced to move after depleting soil nutrients by planting the same one or two crop staples repeatedly. Hence, the majority of the tribes lived as vagabonds. It is far-sighted, white hunter-conservationists who have returned the American Buffalo to stable herd sizes that flourish and are re-breeding to their original numbers. White ranchers and farmers are cross breeding cattle and Buffalo for their sweet, finely textured Beeffalo meat. Crop rotation and fertilizing techniques keep soil vital and productive. White trappers incorporate principles of game management for fur-bearing animals and these creatures repopulate the timberlands in balanced harmony. Were the Redskins truly the mystical, "at-one-with-the-earth" naturalists the media would have you believe, why did they not devise these programs themselves? As befits a people with no written language, Indian practices were simply imitation, not innovative conservation. They were users and takers, not givers and creators. For a more detailed accounting of the true nature of the "noble savage," consult William Brandon's Indians; or, Oregon Trail and The Conspiracy of Pontiac, by Francis Parkman and The Dispossession of the American Indian and Other Key Issues in American History, by Hoffman. No amount of "rain-dancing" will change these facts.

XV

And no amount of dancing around an issue has prevailed for Agent Smith. With patience exhausted, his measured control breaks down and the true engine, which drives an inner, seething disgust is made manifest. Speaking to his handcuffed, helpless and tortured Black victim, any remaining veneer of civility peels away from Agent Smith as he spits, "I can taste your stink, and every time I do, I fear I have been infected by it!" Without pausing for a breath, he continues, "I loathe this zoo, this prison" Concluding, he reluctantly wipes sweat from the brow of the embattled Morpheus and unequivocally adds the final insult while forcing his tainted fingers into the victim's nose; "It's the SMELL! It's REPULSIVE, isn't it!" With classic visual images and verbal signifiers straight from the heart of the "Jim Crow" South, Smith's mask falls away. At last, as close to the truth as we will get from him, the Centian Agent's racism is laid bare. The only insult he didn't include was, "I hate you fucking niggers!" There are, after all, certain standards of gentility in a polite society. One need not be uncouth or profane, foul language of the insiders and their elision comments aside, to make a point. Even with the absence of the ultimate racial slur, which would cause the hair on the back of any self-respecting liberal's neck to stand on end from self-righteous outrage, it would come as no surprise if an audience might rise en masse and shout, "Agent Smith's initials actually stand for ADOLPH SCHICKLGRUBER! Or at least, David Duke!"

XVI

An earlier racial elliptic acerbically spoken by Black Morpheus to the Fuhrer Agent, "You all look the same to me!" can be overlooked. Intended as reverse ironic humor and considered by apologists as excusable when contrasted to four hundred years of white racism and oppression, the good Captain's oblique is a veritable "tempest in a teapot." A question centered on those centuries is raised, in spite of this. As Derek Vinyard, the Neo-Nazi in American History X, puzzled, "How long does it take to get your act together?" But one must not ask impolitic questions. Morpheus can still be forgiven, though. He is, after all, only human. Which is a greater dignity than that afforded Agent Shicklgruber, ah, Agent Smith. Centian Agents are not human, that is! They are not even real. They are cyber-programs; electron "straw-men." These virtual whipping boys are the construct of government controlled media propagandists, manipulated as cyber-terrorists so as to dehumanize and vilify them in the unconscious of the sheeple. Curious, isn't it, how this objectifying technique which allows the audience to hate and vicariously murder these "things" and at the same time be released from any moral culpability or guilt, is an accusation the new left constantly throws in the face of those who dare disagree with them? But not to worry, once again Black wisdom supplies the necessary cathartic absolution and moral compass as a literary escape from this ethical dead-end into which the scriptwriter has led us. Morpheus simplifies the equation and removes those impaled on the iniquitous horns of this dilemma by succinctly and definitively stating to Neo, "If you are not one of us, you are one of them." That settles it, there are in fact, some absolutes. Morpheus said so! It only requires the relativists to dictate the terms! How convenient, how tidy. Nothing like playing with a stacked and "Marxed" deck. With those soft-spoken words, he restores didactic and emotional harmony. The resonance of his imperious, egocentric conclusion, however, is off key and intones a muted note, which is somehow, glacially chilling! Keep it in mind.

XVII

At a tropically opposite meridian of cause and effect, Neo and Trinity, the neo-Adam and neo-Eve of Zion, have managed to cyberretically kick major virtual ass, and to bond. Through circumstances generated by the crucible of battle, the two physically embrace, save each other's lives, then ultimately free Morpheus from Agent (Shicklgruber) Smith (hmmm, an unwitting anagram; self-deprecation. Who said only Democrats have a sense of humor). But the best is yet to come. Emotions are fanned to fusionable levels as the sadistic Smith assassinates Neo, at point blank range. WHOA SQUARED! How can this be? Neo is supposed to be "THE ONE"! Morpheus is going to be crushed. Thank the Maker for heroines! Trinity, now a practiced student of faith, via edifying circumstantial trials and tribulations, springs full blown among the New World demi-gods; this is an egalitarian order, Comrade. In a blasphemous re-enactment of the breath of life being breathed into his nostrils, Trinity, our Xena, warrior- princess turned mother-creator, resurrects the fallen Neo through the power of her goddess kiss. He is RE-reborn (in direct contradiction of scripture); this time HARD! Fully apotheosized, Neo becomes the first fully functional, THE ONE! The Oracle, for all her homespun simplicity has vindicated the faith of the believers. Oh happy day for the insiders! Woe, Woe, Woe unto the Agents and the Matrix! Neo dispatches Agent Smith with a remote, dispassionate, almost distracted ease. The remaining two Agents flee in terror-driven haste, and Neo, after this reality-bending display of techno-telekinetic, martial-artistic, Zen bullsplatter, rejoins his goddess-queen and Morpheus. It can be assumed that they will now prowl the Matrix as a humanist menage-a-trois, freeing test-tube humans and sending the Neo-Nazi agents to cyber-hell, with their cyber-Führer! There is one thing left to do. Notice, or warning, if you insist, must be given.

XVIII

Neo-Superman dials in to the matrix. The Agents are unable to come to the phone, DUUHH!, so he leaves a message on their answering machine. It follows verbatim:

I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid. You're afraid of us.
You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin. I'm going to hang up this phone and then I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without you. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world, where anything is possible. Where we go from there, is a choice I leave to you.

How magnanimous of his Neo-majesty! As Bob Dylan said, "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows." Neither does one need the Oracle to understand to whom Neo is speaking. This understated declaration of war was issued straight from the Ministry of Multiculturalism by the high priests, in a spasm of nocturnal fantasy. It is directed at the Neo-Nazis of "artificial intelligence" (Also known as, Aryan Intelligence/Aryan Influence), or anyone else who doesn't, as Cipher so eloquently phrased the matter, "buy into Morpheus' bullshit!" The multicultural insiders are telling Neo-Nazi, White Nationalists, or anyone else, that if you resist the new programming language and scenario, the one "without borders or boundaries," then you, me, all of us, like the Agents of the Matrix, the "Agents of Repression," will be eliminated. The so-called "progressive forces" leave us with an offer. A redacted offer, yet it is none the less clear as a result. The offer is the same as that ultimatum given three young men several millenium ago by King Nebuchadnezzer. Bow down to the golden statue and follow the rest of the subjects in obeisance. Should you choose not to obey the edict and not prostrate yourself when the trumpets sound, you will be thrown into the furnace heated seven times hotter, experiencing the fury of the king's rage. The insiders offer the demi-god of multiculturalism for worship. Fealty is the price to spare your life. A time will come when, as the book of Revelation makes clear, the dilemma will be one of being branded like a herd animal and receiving the mark of ownership, 666, or not. Can there be any doubt as to what your choice must be? It will be a choice another group of "insiders" will "leave to you." Such is classic Marxist theory -- thesis/antithesis/synthesis. A proposition is offered. This, in turn creates a conflict between the proposal and those to whom it is presented. The party receiving the offer, accepting it as a compromise, can achieve the resolution to that conflict. The advantage, however, always lies with the group proposing the adulteration, not with those who accept it. This is not a message of peaceful conciliation. It is not one of co-existence and integration. It is a message of hubris and domination! Accede, or pay the consequences. The insiders' vision, their "solution" to the conflict, is one of Utopian hegemony. Utopia, however is derived from the Greek root words meaning, "no where"! No where, as in a mirage. Not only is their vision chimerical, this eidolon of romanticized fancy has occluded the insiders' perspective and they have overlooked their own dictum. The presumptive maxim, "A world without rules and controls" That warning cuts two ways. Rise above their lying, timid morality. Then we will see about that world "without". . .whom? Truly, in their own words, life, like "Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony!"

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