By the Buy Subliminal (Updated Dec. 2018)
By the by— Buy can slip by you from time to time. You probably know that buy, by, bye and bi are homophones that sound the same but mean different things. Now, did you also happen to know that they all spark the same none-conscious association? But still, why on earth— Buy Subliminal?
Couldn’t I have come up with a better name, something like— subliminal zen or subliminal in-sight? I would have loved to, but great sounding and creatively clever names aren’t likely to get noticed. At least not right off the bat, or without pouring hordes of cash into Google’s coffers. If a tag isn’t in our popular mind— if it’s not something that you’ve heard of— then chances are that it won’t pop up in your search results.
Besides throwing out a line to those who interested in buying subliminal— buy subliminal is a satiric soundbite— an unabashedly crass, commercial handle for a corpocratic world dominated by greed and hyper-consumption. It also gives us plenty of room for some tongue-in-cheek irony.
As suggested by our namesake— ‘bi’ as in ‘binary’— BuySubliminal.com isn’t partial or politically correct. You won’t find any self-censorship here, but you may discover some of the subliminal cues programmed with 1’s and 0’s beneath your screen. Be assured, that we won’t shy away from musing around subliminal misuse and abuse— or pontifying about their positive use
From Subliminal Darkside to the Light
With a childhood touched by more unexplainable things than I care to admit— my fascination with mind-over-matter, brain-power and the supra-natural took root when I was a tiny lad around eight years old. So, it’s not surprising that I came across subliminal messages when I was still quite young— in the early 1980s— an encounter left me stunned and shaken. With a nom de plume like Subliminal Sri, you’d never guess that for years the whole idea of subliminal conditioning gave me the creeps.
The Darkside— Subliminal Manipulation & Covert Mind-Control
Have you ever read a book that made an indelible mark on your soul— something that left an impression that will stay with you until the day you die? Way back when I was slinging drinks at Mother Blues, the oldest Rock & Roll Bar in Texas, I read two books that sent my mind reeling— two books that shook my world. The first one, Subliminal Seduction we’ve already touched on. Operation Mind Control is was one of the most chilling exposés ever read written.
In the hard-hitting, well-documented style of investigative journalism at its best— the book’s author, Walter Bowart swept me up into the nightmarish world of America’s top-secret mind-control programs. I’m not ashamed to admit that his shocking portrayal of the gritty underbelly of American ‘psycho-ops’ blew my mind— and still resonates strongly with me today,nearly forty years later.
Based on years of exhaustive research and declassified materials, Operation Mind Control cracked opened the door on a shocking array of secret, mind-bending programs. Get ready for a cascade of acronyms— the programs ranged from the CIA’s notorious MK-Ultra Project, Bluebird, Artichoke and Mkdelta— to the hypnotic experimentation carried out on unsuspecting members of the US Military. The latter of which was inspired, if not presided over by Dr. George Estabrooks.
“The testing of drugs by the CIA was just a part of the United States government’s top-secret mind-control project, a project which had spanned thirty-five years and had involved tens of thousands of individuals…
“It involved techniques of hypnosis, narco-hypnosis, electronic brain stimulation, behavioral effects of ultrasonic, microwave, and low-frequency sound, aversive and other behavior modification therapies. In fact, there was virtually no aspect of human behavioral control that was not explored in their search for the means to control the memory and will of both individuals and whole masses of people.”
For me, an impressionable young guy— the goings-on revealed by Operation Mind-Control hit me like a locomotive. I was floored! I mean this is real-evil stuff— the most diabolical crimes you could ever imagine would pale before my government’s heinous atrocities. I couldn’t shut up about it, but it’s not the kind of book that people can ‘get’ without reading it for themselves. But, finding another copy to pick-up for friends turned out to be well-nigh impossible.
It had just disappeared off the shelves. I must have gone to a dozen bookstores, but it was nowhere— not even in the library. I never gave up though, and for years kept an eye out for it all to no avail. With this in mind, and as a courtesy to those of you who are curious— I’ve uploaded this chapter-by-chapter summary of Operation Mind Control— You can either read it here online or download as a Pdf document.
Echoing the likes of Aldous Huxley and George Orwell— back in 1978, foreshadowing the advent of the digital age by decades— Walter Bowart closes his book with near prescient precision. In the starkest of terms, he tells us that—
“Somewhere within the United States the technology for the creation of the perfect slave state is being perfected. Whether or not the mind-controlled state becomes a reality depends not so much upon the efforts of the cryptocrats, but upon the free will, determination, and strength of character of the American people.”
Whether you are a US citizen or not, with the country spiraling into a state of despotic delirium, America is a grave concern. But, covert mind control is not an American issue— it’s a global one! Maintaining your own sense of agency— your ability to think and act free from the stain-and-strain of subliminal manipulation in the digitalized world— depends as much on ‘corpocratic transparency’ as it does on your own mindful awareness.
We know that corporations, political parties, and special interests groups will use any means at their disposal to coerce us— to shape our beliefs, behavior, feelings, and desires. If they were able to broadcast invisible waves of mind-control directly into our brains that would turn us into life-long customers, brand evangelists and docile consumers— do you have any doubt that they’d do it?
Yes, it does sound preposterous, but is it— is it really that far-fetched? Can we say for sure that technology today is not capable of enslaving minds? It does seem to be ensorcelling us with spells of digital compulsion. We are compulsive creatures— and the video below shows you exactly how that’s being tapped into by silicon valley programmers.
What Is Brain Hacking? Tech Insiders On Why You Should Care
This segment of 60 Minutes — What Is Brain Hacking? Tech Insiders On Why You Should Care— was broadcasted on April 09 2017
It’s healthy to get a look behind the scenes, into the corporate side of persuasion tech. I picked up a few things from the segment. I’ve just become a reformed scrolling addict— Always on the lookout for books and articles that I might have missed, had me subliminally scrolling my days away.
Another hard hitter was when Triston Harris— the former ‘Googler’ and founder of the Center for Humane Technology— told Copper that his phone was a slot machine. At first, Anderson Cooper looked coyly-bemused, but when Harris went on to explain what he meant by the analogy. Cooper’s demeanor shifted, he seemed somewhat shaken up before admitting that he’d spaced out thinking about his phone.
It isn’t just phones though; the analogy holds true for nearly any digital device. When you check your phone it’s like pulling down on a slot-machine or throwing the dice— and when a reward rolls-in, no matter how feeble it may be, your brain-body physiology rewards you with a micro-dose of pleasure-inducing-dopamine.
You’ll find that persuasive tech is a significant thread in our over-all narrative. I was tempted, as usual, to digress more deeply into the subject, but the point is, that— subliminal persuasion (aka-persuasion tech), is more than capable of changing behavior and beliefs— and perhaps even of puppeteer our brains.
Have we fallen prey to a hitherto unforeseen level of subliminal sophistry? No one in their right mind is comfortable with the idea of being manipulated— especially me. My underlying sense of insecurity, super-charged with a cats-curiosity, has driven me to challenge my views, beliefs, and biases— to pierce through the veil comfortable illusion, and to look beyond the obvious, past the appearance of things and to ultimately question the unquestionable.
In reading ‘Operation Mind Control’ and ‘Subliminal Seduction’ around the same time, I must have conflated them into one big mess of nastiness. My aversion to ‘subliminal’ was over-the-top extreme— bitterly blinding. It was like I banned the word from my brain. Using subliminal messages in a positive way would have never crossed my mind, and Subliminal Sri would never have to to be— if not for a freak accident.
In the Light — Subliminal Therapeutics and Beyond
I got thrashed— In the summer of 2006 my life flipped-flopped— went belly-up, and besides being crippled with pain, I became painfully aware that I’d been a first-class idiot. How did I miss it? How could I fail to realize that my oeuvre is all about ‘subliminal’— subliminal resonance? I guess it’s not that uncommon to be blinded by aversion— like parents who remain blissfully unaware of their little angle’s naughty-mischief.
You see, besides being an ‘esoteric’ author, I’m a cross-media creator whose deeply involved with symbolism, ancient tradition, eastern philosophy, shamanism, yoga, and mind science. So, my art isn’t what you’d expect to find on Hallmark Cards.
My paintings, jewelry designs, architecture, and even my poetry conveys a deeper level of meaning— a level of significance that can hardly be noticed.
If you’ve seen my work, like in the painting above, you can tell that it’s laced with symbolic meaning— subliminal meaning. And, if you know about the Code of Creation, one of my most important books, you could even say that I specialize in subliminal semantics. But, Mr. Stupid over here, never thought of any of it as subliminal. At least not until after that dreadful night back in July of 2006.
The Happening — Painful Memories & Subliminal Remedies
There I was sitting by my lonesome waiting for a friend and watching the World Cup final at TK’s, one of my favorite pubs. I helped to design the place— TK’s is a street-side pub in Sanur, a laid-back resort’ish area where I lived in Bali. My friend was turning out to be a no-show, but I was enjoying the game, so it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t long before a policeman happened by— pulling up and parking his patrol bike out front along the lane. I wouldn’t say that he was stopping in on his rounds, he was more interested in catching up on the game. Police in Bali aren’t what you’re used to in the West. They’re much more casual and at times a bit too friendly especially when you speak Balinese because everyone wants to chat with you then— particularly when you don’t feel like talking.
Speaking Balinese is a novelty of sorts. Most people speak Indonesian on the island— its the national language. And, the locals get a kick out of hearing a foreigner speak Bahasa Bali with a southern drawl. Or so it would seem. That’s why it was no surprise that the policeman introduced himself as Pak Dewa, and sat down to spark up a conversation.
We clicked— It turned out that Pak Dewa was stationed only about 500 meters away, at the police post around the corner — a small traffic kiosk at the main intersection between Sanur and the Bali Bypass. After getting to know each other as one does over a beer, he asked me to go with him to invite his partner to come back and catch the end of the game with us.
What a fun interlude or so I thought. It’s not every day that you get to ride on the back of a police bike— without a helmet no-less. Yes, Mr. Stupid again— I didn’t think that borrowing a helmet for such a short ride would be worth the trouble. Yep, ‘didn’t think’ says it all.
Anyway, I hopped on, and we zipped off for our brief round-about. But, Dewa went from being a mild-mannered cop to a demon on wheels. He pulled down— maxing the throttle out and ripped across the highway like a cat on a rats trail.
The g-force rush would have been a blast if not for the traffic light turning red. I saw it coming, not a hundred meters away— a black Toyota SUV was barreling down on us at full speed— at 90 to a 100 clicks an hour. I started yelling and screaming, pounding on the back of Dewa’s leather jacket. Dewa was oblivious. He must have mistaken my pounding-pleas as enthusiasm. I considered jumping off the bike for a spilled-second but worried about pushing Dewa into the oncoming disaster— the odds didn’t look good for either of us.
At the last moment, seconds before impact— both drivers slammed on their brakes. Not a good idea! With tires screeching, the SUV was snake-tailing towards us at a tremendous speed— Dewa went into a stupor, and our bike began teetering from side to side like a drunken monkey.
Time warped— it was like watching a slow-motion film, frame by frame and each millisecond seemed like an eternity. I looked on in shocked horror as the front end of the SUV smashed into us with an explosive boom. Though I had tried to raise it out of the way, my leg ended up trapped by the impact— crushed in the wrecks metallic maw. I saw the front-end, bumper, grill, and hood of the SUV— collapsed back-in on itself— like a monstrous black accordion.
Even when cast off into the air, I was still straddling that damn bike. We toppled front-over-back, and with a gnarly twist, the bike landed upside down in between my crotch. Ouch— is an understatement! My manhood survived, but my right-hip didn’t— it bore the brunt, wedged between the bike and the pavement.
I went into shock but was most worried about getting off the road— after getting hit once, you don’t want to hang out for an encore. I didn’t see Dewa at first but then spotted him laying sprawled out some 15 to 20 meters down the road. I couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive but managed to make it over to drag him off the street.
Dewa was lucky, being knocked free of the wreck, he got by with a mild concussion and handful of minor hurts. I didn’t get off so easily— once the adrenaline subsided, I couldn’t move my legs and was virtually paralyzed from the waist down.
Fast Forward— I hope you don’t mind skipping past the emergency room mayhem and hospital happenings. What’s important is that I ended up on my back, with broken left-leg and fractured right hip.
After the operation, my physical therapist told me that it would take eight months before I could stand on my own two feet. My heart sank. You see, I had a business to run, thirty staff to support and no one to turn to— eight months was not an option. It took ten days before I could even sit up— with pillows propped up behind me.
I’ve been meditating for the best part of thirty-six years, taught Yoga for over a decade and even have had dental work without an anesthetic. Mind over matter is something that I do well. But this time— with all the nerves in my hip severed— jolts of pain kept sending spasms of agony through my body. Seriously, even though I couldn’t move, my whole body was shuddering from shock like jolts. It hurts to even think about it.
I tried self-hypnosis, visualization, breathing techniques and even a bottle of Jack Daniels that a friend brought over— but nothing helped! Those damn jolts of pain kept breaking my focus— my concentration couldn’t hold out against those ghastly spikes of pain. After a week of this nastiness, I remembered coming across an article about people using subliminal messages for health and well-being. So, I got over my long-held aversion and dug into some research on the subject.
As you may know, subliminals are entirely passive, and in my state, they were the only therapeutics that I could even think about using. I stocked up on the best ones that I could find— and started listening to subliminal healing music and installed a subliminal software suite on my laptop.
In a little over a week of subliminal therapy, I was able to start meditating again. And it didn’t take eight months for me to stand up— I was up and moving around on a granny-walker in 6 weeks.
While Subliminal Messages were not the only reason that I recovered so quickly, they certainly helped! I don’t even care if it was a placebo effect— the point is that I was mobile again and nearly pain-free. So, that’s how I did a 180— and became a Subliminal Message enthusiast with the pen name of Subliminal Sri.