Thanks to for getting me kindled...

I'd like to put this Moon Landing shit to rest once and for all for those who can handle it. Admittedly I am feeding the fire I seek to extinguish, but I won't be hindered. This debate is, like most other debates, materialized by script writers who know their target audience well. It needs to die in fire. Instead of trading in lofty cues and having you crawl your way out of this timeless mental maze, I will continue my literary tradition of giving you a finite answer.

1. THE APOLLO 11 MOON LANDING WAS FAKE

... but also, and just as importantly ...

2. That's it for fake. We've been to the Moon so many times before and since, we should be Rewards Club members.

Simply weighing-in on this stupid debate keeps it alive, and therein lies its principal purpose: It keeps people centered on what might possibly be, the most inconsequential thing to argue over, ever. By weighing-in, you weigh-in on nothing. By continuing the debate, you identify yourself as a tangoist of stupid dances, and a lender of ugly sweaters to your peers. The public can never move on. If somehow you settle on an answer with true conviction, you've already played yourself, DJ Khaled be damned.

What difference does it make if the 60s landing was real? Does it uproot the subsequent technologies that have come to rule our life? Would a definitive answer change a modern perspective in any way whatsoever?

Answer: Yes -> Whew!—that was close! Uncle Sam's reputation saved from this 1 near miss.

Answer: NO -> I knew it! There's secrets going on in Washington! Sound the alarm.

If this debate is ever truly settled, you arrive at the doorstep of non-action. What crime and who dunnit? Lying-ass NASA from a century ago misinformed my elders! How Awful! And that certainly makes sense, because we were doing bad things back then like Vietnam and not giving folks their civil rights. Crime and Culprit settled! Nothing to do now but grab Lunch.

The debate cannot be settled by design; there isn't a path forward. Each and every time someone brings up the Moon Landing, it re-orients our minds back to page one, an insufferable starting-point in truthing so indomitable that it resurfaces whenever needed. It remains to steep our fact-finding legs in a tractless goo. Decades of getting nowhere has facilitated a collective burnout that prevents most from challenging the authenticity of what we are fed. Largely, conspiracies become a fun game, similar to crystal skulls and Sasquatch. Yeah, keep looking. Look forever! We're forever-lookers! Fun! It's as if regular people are imbibing and then embracing the triviality embedded in this dead-end debate. Let's pull out the foil and make the hats. We're enthusiasts!

It is a bold lie, an important exercise for those who do that kinda thing. Like the military, you need regular operations to hone and maintain your force. This was a great one. It worked. It still works. It may work forever. It's the Cadillac example of media- and news-play that is, all jokes aside: inspiring, confounding, exhilarating, and classic. Also, like most operations, it appears multi-faceted, moving many chess pieces forward at once, not just one. I need to [obfuscate the truth]; I need to [keep the audience lost]; I need to [conserve my authority]; I need to [advance the Lie]. I need to evolve my media toolkit to the best possible version of itself, helping skepticism to schism, splitting my patron audience into normies and weirdos, setting up a familiar showdown that seems to fit everything in our lives. Perfection.

Every Big Event is an opportunity to wrangle it, and transform it, into a propagandizing device, by injecting unnecessary falsehoods and dispelling them incompletely, smoking the mirrors of perception and nullifying comprehension. By 1969 Hollywood had well-become the perfect tool for fuckery, and if I didn't know better, I might conject that she had earned her first Oscar, here. Now please bow your heads, and center your thoughts on the astronaut installing the Stars and Stripes. Honestly I don't see patriotism in the media record quite so direct until GWB leads the USA-chant atop the ashes of the twin towers.

Heck, if you have the resources, you would ideally want to package all your correspondence with lies, to keep your enemy [minds] locked into a confused and permissive state. As Commander-in-Deep, I would order up a Moon Landing like a carryout lunch every chance I got. I would put those Paperclip assets and my new Deep Apparatus to work! Something big! Something, Heavenly! Something that confirms the supreme hegemony of Earth's greatest [authority]. The 60s were a big deal, and the producers delivered on a big show.

The Moon Landing has mystified Space, solidifying it as a Frontier for lies and distraction for generations then and yet to come. It isn't a distant place, but they've made it so. Close enough to observe, but too distant to fully grasp. Close enough to send our best scouts, but too far to comprehend their findings. Important enough to be aware of, but too important to be understood by a layman.

It is the gatekeeper conspiracy that comes before all others. If this is the most popular debate, everything else down the line must be just as ridiculous. Stop now. Where's that Lunch?

We already have been to the moon, may times, even if you're only counting news reports. So have the Russians. So have the Germans. So have the Ancients. And lastly, so have the insects that Ebon Must reports to. Moving shit thru air and space is severely old tech. If you're worth even half your weight in historical sacked-shit, you realize just how silly it is to attack the small details of this production, amidst the vast achievements of the Atomic age or those that came after the Lunar Colonoscopy.

And lastly, it's back then. Ah, yes—Back Then—a magical realm just out of the reach of youthful fingertips (hey, like Space!), but close enough for everyone to pay respects. Here, Fantasy and farce may commiserate with the unresolved past and gradually merge; we are not obligated to reconcile it—that was the task of those who came before us. Back Then eventually becomes History—or "Truth". Isn't it lovely how time settles everything?

In the end, no one in town has the slightest clue of what's going on all around us. We have no earthly idea of what technology our masters have in hand. We can't even agree that we made it to the first bus stop in space. All because of that awful video and its legacy. Clutch move indeed.

Of all the conspiracies out there, wouldn't you say this is the rather achievable one? Camera tricks and visual edits. The whole crew work for the same people who are recording and reporting. The message feels like 'Our Way of Life Prevails' complete with unwavering flagdom. What more American conclusion to the First Space War could there be?

Saint Joseph who Abides would smile and say, "C'mon, Jack"