Posts Tagged ‘pseudocide’

Don’t you know that a midnight hour comes when everyone has to take off his mask? Do you think life always lets itself be trifled with? Do you think you can sneak off a little before midnight to escape this?

― Søren Kierkegaard

Edward Snowden, or the fella alleged to be Edward Snowden, continues to lurk within the shadows of Hong Kong. His public announcements about the benefits of Hong Kong hiding counter the sentiment of the masses. Snowden claims, from whichever safe house he barters his power-point spreads in return for a taste of fame (or her cross-eyed, slutty sister, infamy), that Hong Kong is a well thought-out location for him to fight his legal battles against the pending charges of treason (courtesy of the Espionage Act of 1917, kept snug in Obama’s hip pocket). From what I can gather, however, Snowden’s point is true only if protected (held captive) by China. Hong Kong may be semi-autonomous, but ultimately Beijing has veto power and may easily take advantage of the snowflake that fell, perhaps unwittingly, into their totalitarian lap. Out of the frying pan and into the wok for you, Mr. Snowden.

out of the fryer and into the wok

out of the fryer and into the wok

Why would a whistle-blower, assumingly protecting the American people from the legitimate Police State threat that is the NSA, turn to an authoritative regime in China whose humanitarian and censorship practices are the most egregious in the world? Damn good question. I have already voiced my doubt in the very existence of this Edward Snowden. Whether this character is directly pulled from the gut-spilling secrets of the “Snowden” bombardier in Catch 22 or is inspired by the Canadian rapper Snow, who admitted in his one-hit wonder, “a licky boom boom down, it doesn’t really matter. Something is gravely amiss about this NSA whistle-blower.

Informer... (random mutterings) yeah, a licky boom boom down

Informer… (random mutterings) yeah, a licky boom boom down

A deep-throated confidant, who calls himself Reverend Chette, echoes my concerns and suggests the existence of Snowden, in itself, is a plot of the Obama administration to draw attention away from the IRS and Benghazi scandals. From Prague, I have received word from the exiled Apocalypto Survivalist, Cyrus Lee Hancock, who insists that all this focus on Snowden (his life, his girlfriend, his proclivities) is itself a smoke and mirrors act designed to take our eyes away from the NSA’s Prism Project. While I, Vic Neverman, am an advocate in favor of transparency in government, I cannot hide my absolute suspicion of this strange cat, Edward Snowden.

But nevermind the small talk! Let us get to the point at hand: What would an American exile do if trapped in Hong Kong?

East Asia

The easiest avenue would be to get into bed with the capitalist commies of Beijing. Snowden could live as a king for as long as he seemed worth China’s while. Imagine if he decides to work for China’s Blue Army – the elite hackers of the People’s Liberation Movement who are clogging your inbox with spam like an elephant in musth hovering over your keyboard. Snowden could live like a king indefinitely.

Should he turn his nose up to Beijing and their oppressive rule, he will need to stray further than Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos and North Korea. While these locales are local enough, their regimes are just as totalitarian and/or are fed on China Red.

Central America

Should Snowden change his appearance and join the merchant marines, he might manage to sail his way to Panama en route to deliver several iProducts to New York for redistribution. Along the canal, Snowden may jump ship and find a jungle bungalow to lay low in. He should mind the history of John McAfee, the internet tech guru who created his own little kingdom in Belize complete with pharmaceutical labs and 17 year-old girlfriends before his paranoia (and the sudden deaths of his neighbors) sent him into hiding. Belize hunted him until he escaped into Guatemala. Guatemala promptly caught him and sent him to Miami. Central America is not the best place to hide anymore.

Iceland

Sure, follow the path of Bobby Fisher, who grew old reciting the Protocols of Zion. No thanks. Reykjavik might be the home of the most beautiful women in the world, which might draw Snowden’s eyes, but it is bloody cold. And to quote Edward Snowden’s “TheRealHoohah” cyber alter-ego according to Slate:

I also don’t see the allure of “Scandinavian” countries, but that’s simply because I don’t want to live in a country where warmth and comfort are only spoken of in bedtime stories.

Russia

While Moscow would consider offering Snowden asylum (according to Russian media), the strikes against Iceland (cold) and China (totalitarian regime) would certainly be present here. For Snowden to hand himself over to Mother Russia would make him the most renown and likely hated American turncoat defector of the Cold War (and yes, the Cold War is still going on).

Ecuador, Venezuela or Cuba

Neverman takes watch over Quito, Ecuador

Neverman takes watch over Quito, Ecuador


These are frequent escape destinations for American ex-pat exiles. I, myself, have visited Ecuador and Cuba looking for possible bungalow retreats (amongst other things). With the instability of Venezuela and Cuba in the sudden void of recent leaders (Hugo and Fidel), there is no telling the future of these regimes. Ecuador does seem settled into populist politics and have shown their dedication by putting up with the indefinite residence of Julian Assange in their London Embassy. The problem becomes, then, how to get himself to Quito?

The Ultimate Escape

The British government has already informed their Hong Kong based airlines they are not to allow Edward Snowden to board their aircraft. Should Snowden find transport, he needs to be careful of any layovers. There are no direct flights to Reykjavik, for example. A layover in an American-friendly stop would have Snowden in chains very quickly.

There is, ultimately, only one way out: Pseudocide. Edward Snowden must fake his own death. Of course, for a person of such infamy with limited wealth, faking your own death to throw off the hounds of the free world is easier said than done. Unless… those hounds were in on it to begin with.I would not be surprised if Snowden is a CIA plant and that Langley is already planning an end to this alter-ego, one way or another.

Edward Snowden, spilling his guts about the NSA

Edward Snowden, spilling his guts about the NSA


Snow: "Informer, a licky boom boom down"

Snow: “Informer, a licky boom boom down”

You better make your face up in
Your favorite disguise.
With your button down lips and your
Roller blind eyes.
With your empty smile
And your hungry heart.
Feel the bile rising from your guilty past.
With your nerves in tatters
When the conch shell shatters
And the hammers batter
Down your door.
You’d better run.

–          Pink Floyd, Run Like Hell

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To: Canaveral Cruise Lines
From: Cerberus Security, International
Re: Security Proposal for Francesco Schettino, Captain of the Costa Concordia

Dearest Canaveral Cruise Executives,

First, I would like to offer my condolences on the recent bad press involving the Costa Concordia capsizing. While the loss of life is certainly just a drop in the bucket (as we all know 1 in every 20 cruise passengers will never be seen again), the fact this is headline/front page news must be a major blow to the public relations department. Which brings me to the focus of why I, President and Founder of Cerberus Security International, stand before you today (even if only visually represented by the modest font of this electronic letter). I would like to suggest a security proposal to not only eliminate Captain Schettino from the public eye, but to do so in a manner that will acquit Canaveral of much of the guilt while giving the angry public the grandiose send-off to the Italian sailor they so despise.

Cerberus is well-versed in character pseudocide (though I am not at liberty to provide references beyond mentioning many celebrity fake-deaths have been personally orchestrated by yours truly) as well as offering security to public enemies, such as, perhaps, the likes of Casey Anthony. We’ve also provided security to Hollywood* film sets, so we at CSI are no stranger to large “productions”. Since Canaveral has aptly handled the ongoing dilemma of thousands of missing passengers with such a professional indifference, almost erasing the wayward tourists from ever existing in the first place, I believe our two organizations are well fitted to work hand-in-hand.

*Hollywood, Florida

By now, I am sure your executives have agreed that merely terminating Schettino as an employee and testifying against him in a civil trial will not be enough to win back the goodwill of the cruise ticket-buying public. Such a passive response will not answer the questions, “how was this guy hired?” or “why was there no oversight?” What is then called for is some sort of cerebral malady to be diagnosed in Captain Schettino, one which strikes with spontaneity and at random, offering no warning to your great organization. After one of your doctors makes this presentation, Schettino should soon perish in a self-assisted drowning. I think you will agree this is fitting, for the public to think of Schettino resting with an anchor around his neck at the bottom of the Mediterranean.

Of course, neither of our organizations is directly involved in murder, which is why I propose pseudocide – the act of killing one’s persona. We don’t kill Schettino, we only fake his death and then spirit him away to parts unknown. Look no further than Cerberus if you are seeking pseudocidal professionals. Step 1: dental extraction. I have checked with our resident dentist and, apparently, an entire tooth transplant can be done in Mexico. We just need to find one of these Mexican dentists and send him to Naples where he shall extract Schettino’s teeth and replace them with whatever might be at hand. Step 2: create the genetic duplicate. The Frankensteinian alchemists at Monsanto can genetically modify cornmeal into any DNA structure. We can hire them to create a corn Gollum with the same gene sequence of our Italian sailor. This doppelganger will not look, speak, or smell as the current Francesco Schettino does, but this does not matter at the bottom of the sea. Step 3: insert Schettino’s teeth into the corn Gollum and drown the creature with an anchor and a suicide note. When this perished corn man is found, likely half-eaten by oceanic life, the dental and DNA tests will match Schettino’s. Step 4: take the news to the press.

In the meantime, the new-toothed Schettino will find a different life here in the United States where we can monitor him and ensure he never goes public with his former identity. I know of a budding business in Alabama, the Muscle Shoals Leach Clinic, who could use a good foreign-accented snake-oil salesman.

Please consider these measures and the participation of Cerberus in your plans to handle this awful set of unfortunate circumstances.

Sincerely,

Vic Neverman
Cerberus Security International
“Where three heads are better than none”

In another victory by the United States of Killer Drones, two American citizens were blown to smithereens in Yemen this week: former New Mexican Anwar Al-Awlaki and former North Carolinian Samir Khan, both members of the Radical Islamic al Qaeda splinter group of the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP). While the political situation in Yemen will not improve with the loss of the American born terrorists, the global recruitment of disaffected western Muslims has been hard hit. Anwar and Samir were english-speaking and web-savvy, their online videos and magazines were largely influential in North America and England, radicalizing a new crop of jihadists.

This brings up a scary precedent of targeting American citizens abroad for assassination, but as many defensive pundits have argued: Anwar and Samir were treasonous and treason comes at the price of death. So fuck you, fuck you, and while I am at it, fuck you Benedict Arnold.

The Pentagon’s recent success at increasing its death toll by drone begs the question: are we getting better at this or is the enemy getting sloppier? Where are our killer drones getting these coordinates from. Imagine… if you will… Osama bin Laden alive in the seventh subbasement of the Pentagon where his mind is being harvested for information. Perhaps, just maybe, Osama begged for his life and in agreement for his cooperation, the Pentagon agreed to fake his death and thus martyr the leader of al Qaeda instead of taint his radical “legacy”.

To outright kill Osama bin Laden is to destroy the greatest source of terrorist information in the world. The greater victory is not in his death, but rather, in his turning snitch. The proud bastard would never want to harm his martyrdom, however, and may choose pseudocide (faking one’s own death) via the assistance of Obama and the Pentagon. If Osama bin Laden is assumed dead, those left in his wake would never suspect he is the one that betrayed them.

Coming soon to a nursing home near you: the 6’6″ sunburnt and clean-shaven stickman, Bubba O’Reilly, the newest initiate into the Witness Protection Program.

Cerberus Security International
where three heads are better than none

July 11, 2011
Casey Anthony
Orange County Correctional Facility
Orlando, FL

Dear Casey,

Allow me to be the next to congratulate you on securing your freedom from the oppressive persecution prosecution of the State of Florida. The easy part is over. Now begins the new challenge of living your life outside the safety of the prison bars which kept the terrors out more than they kept you within. If I may be blunt, and I am wont to believe you like it blunt ;), it is a scary fucking place we live in, Casey. This is why I write you today.

Attached, you will find a five step proposal from my firm Cerberus Security International, detailing our plan to not only protect you as our client, but to distance yourself from the dangers of mindless vigilante violence and the relentless interrogative paparazzi. We at Cerberus are experts in Security, Counter-Surveillance, and Eluding Pursuers and I think we may be just the torch-wielding friends you need in these times of darkness.

Good Luck and Godspeed,

Victor Ulysses Neverman

Cerberus Security International
Proposal to Prospective Client Ms. Casey Anthony
Platinum Asset Protection Package

Five Stage Process:
1 – Secure Safety
2 – Exploit Celebrity
3 – Transfer of Wealth
4 – Escape
5 – Rebirth

Stage 1 – Secure Safety
Upon her release from incarceration, provide client 24-7 security by Cerberus Guardians. This protection will last through to the final stage when the Client is born again under a new identity. During Stages 1 & 2 it is important that the client lives the lifestyle expected of her, that of the trollop. This is important because if the Client suddenly has a coming-to-Jesus and renounces her former modus vivendi, this will only draw suspicion. Living “trampily”, as it were, would involve exposure to the public, which must be avoided, so this lifestyle must be earned falsely via releases of sex tapes and volunteering staged photographs of revelry to the paparazzi all in attempt to prove the Client is who she is expected to be.

Stage 2 – Exploit Celebrity
In order to succeed, the system requires funding. Stage 2 will be an all-out whoring to the media to exploit this ill-fame and collect as much wealth as possible. CSI will provide the Client with coordination of this process, from negotiating book deals & movie rights to booking travel accommodations.

Stage 3 – Transfer of Wealth
As soon as revenue begins to come in, CSI will establish a faux Non-Profit Charity Fund as a front for off-shore bank accounts where these funds will funnel through. Client will claim to be philanthropic while still living the lifestyle expected of her.

Stage 4 – Escape
CSI will create a new identity in a foreign locale where the transferred funds will be made available. Reconstructive surgery is a must as well as the adoption of an entirely new life history by the Client. Learning a new skill or profession would be ideal to accommodate this new persona. Before the Client enters this new life, the former must literally be killed off. CSI specializes in pseudocide – the art of faking one’s own death. Ideally, the pseudocide would be as easy as faking a drug overdose in Rio de Janeiro where paying off the coroner and police would be no difficult feat. Unfortunately, this is not 1971 when Jim Morrison pulled off a similar stunt in Paris – the American public will demand proof via its media. This demand will not be as easily swayed as it was with Osama bin Laden, we can’t just dump a body into the ocean. What is called for is a spectacle. Perhaps something akin to the Princess Diana tragedy where paparazzi record the final moments of the Client’s “life”. The sensationalization of this “evidence” would quash the public’s demand for proof and even their blood-thirst for revenge for whatever crimes they assume the Client has committed.

Stage 5 – Rebirth
Client will have evolving stages of metamorphosis. There will be the reconstructive surgery and healing stage, perhaps done in Cuba where such services exist with utmost discretion. The next stage will be a limbo where the Client will pose as a tourist in some distant metropolitan locale where English is spoken, perhaps Auckland or Vancouver or Edinburgh. Finally, once the client is comfortable within her new “skin”, she will be provided with her final destination, a locale further off the beaten path, perhaps an Australian coastal town where the Client can easily mimic the shag-happy locals’ lust for the beach and beer.

Conclusion of Services
Once the Client is safely secured in a new life, the service will be considered provided and this will conclude the relationship between the parties.

Pseudocide – the ultimate escape. More than just a plot device on daytime television, the death fake properly executed is a thing of beauty. It is the perfect murder. Consider this: any sloppy murder can still go unsolved, but faking one’s own death – to kill your own identity – in this day, this age, requires a masterful stroke of genius.

Sherlock Holmes and Huck Finn faked their own deaths. Jim Morrison did too and he used the same Dutch company that assisted Elvis with the King’s exit of the building. Keep in mind – the best pseudocides are those we never suspect. We usually only hear of those that fail, like the douchebags that buried their spouse in the backyard before claiming their partner was in the World Trade Center on 9/11. Or Ace Baker, my fellow conspiracy theorist, who was so tired of not getting any traction with his “9/11 as inside job” theory that he had himself “executed” via machine gun attacker while live on the radio. Or Marcus Shreuker, the Indiana financial planner who set his plane on autopilot, called MAYDAY and parachuted out, only to be arrested at a campground a few days later.

You can’t blame them for trying. The romantic appeal of leaving it all behind and starting over is strong. Especially if you include some sort of loot-grabbing heist to the plot. Many claim DB Cooper was the greatest of all pseudocides, but DB does not apply as the identity of this bank heist/hijacker/parachutist has never been proven, therefore, no identity was ever killed (For what it’s worth, I know the terrain where DB Cooper dropped into and it is a land of marijuana barons and Big Foot, no surprise DBC was never heard of again).

Most failed attempts (again, we cannot study the successful ones) are by those in dire financial straits and/or wanted on criminal charges. Executing a death fake might seem to be a good evasive strategy, but there is going to be more skepticism if the subject is already a flight risk. The best time to pull off a death faking is when the public would least expect it.

Old Man Neverman… or DB Cooper?

Rule #1 – never attend your own funeral service. I can’t tell you how many egomaniacal idiots have been busted by breaking this first rule.

Best Bet – to fake your own death, leave a post on your facebook page that you are going to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. Never before has a span inspired so many jumpers, this is an ideal setting. All you have to do is leave enough suspicious personal belongings on the edge and disappear. No one would ever question the lack of body.

(It would seem odd I would condone such a selfish criminal act, but I merely see pseudocide as a great alternative to the very fatalistic suicide)

Personally, Vic Neverman has a long history in this craft. Many even accuse my father of pseudocide. Old Man Neverman lived double-lives, why wouldn’t he shed one in order to pursue another?

Before my exodus out of Chicago, I planned my pseudocide very carefully. Everything was ready – my life insurance was made out to Des Riley (the X), I tossed my extracted wisdom teeth into the front seat of my car, all I needed was to set the spark during any typical winter blizzardy night. The chance arose, but I turned chicken shit. I decided to wait one more day. Over the next 24 hours, my car was entirely buried by snow. By the time of the thaw, I had a change of heart. Des may, herself, have had something to do with that. I decided to take my fight to City Hall and did manage to get a lot of parking tickets lifted from my record.

Brothers Von Trier of South Milwaukee

The Chicago turnaround was just a stay of execution. I would eventually be forced to flee for the nearby suburb of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. There I had a nice existence: I would camp out close to the airport lounges with the Von Trier brothers, sipping outrageous cocktails or intense German beers. I even had a girlfriend who was once in a Christian cult compound in Texas (not Waco, but now that I think about it, she didn’t specify). Once the lilies of spring rose, so did the snooping grunts of Chicago. South Milwaukee was not far enough away. I decided to fake my own death once again. This plot was even more perfect. I was going to hire a call girl, take her aboard a gambling cruise, feign gross intoxication, and while the shore was still within range, I was going to fall overboard into Lake Michigan and use an underwater breathing apparatus to help me ashore to where the Von Triers were waiting. The prostitute would not be included on the plan, she would just be an innocent witness. When it came to showtime, though, I just couldn’t find a hooker I didn’t mind being seen with.

Rule #2 – if you give a shit about how others perceive your “death”, you shouldn’t be faking it in the first place.

Obviously, it seems as though Vic Neverman is all bark and no bite the big one. These Midwestern attempts, however, were not my first plots. I have faked my own death. Let me take you back to the period of my life I refer to as the “American Werewolf in Sydney” days. Dark days? Not at all. Sure, I was searching for my recently departed elder Neverman, but I was in fairly good spirits. A lot of those spirits were served up by a lovely Aussie muse in a halter top at a city bar English ex-patriots frequented. Her name escapes me, so I will refer to her as Matilda. Her hair was touched by fire, as they say.

At first, there was darkness… Well, before the darkness was Matilda and the deviled bollocks sweat she peddled. Then there was darkness.

I remember waking up at four am in a strip club in Kingscross, a sketchier neighborhood in Sydney. A local firefighter was to my right, telling me out how his wife had kicked him out. The strippers on the pole were horrendous, but not as bad as the American domestic bottle of swill in my hand. I would never order this brand of beer in the USA, let alone Australia, so obviously I had not been myself. I recovered from this blackout and walked across the city in the mid-AM towards my hostel with a vague recollection of what happened earlier in the night.

Vic playing the didge in Aus

Two nights later, I returned to my regular drinking hole to see the lovely Matilda. The bouncer at the bar, some bloke I didn’t think I knew, gave me a pat on the back, “Good to see you’re alive, mate.” Yeah, likewise, bro. One of the bartenders saw me and greeted me similarly, “Oi! Look whose liven’!” Yep, no zombies here. Matilda arrived and was not surprised or thrilled to see the looks of me. I asked her if I had been a jackass the other night. “I’ll let you be the judge of that” she said with no love lost. That’s just it, I don’t quite… remember…. It was apparent Matilda was lost to me, so I left the bar with an empty heart to sleep in an emptier bed.

The next day I decided to leave Sydney behind me. It wasn’t long before I was at the airport with a ticket to the Northern Territory when I ran into a couple of Prisoners Of Mother England who I had been drinking with on the night of infamy. I asked these guys if I had been a jackass to sweet Matilda the other night. “Oh no, you were brilliant!” they exclaimed. “When you were on the floor, I about pissed myself.” On the floor? “Yeah, when your red-headed bird started ignoring you, you started to do anything to catch her attention, right? You eventually pretended to choke. When that didn’t work, you faked your own death and we had to carry your wanker arse out of there!”