Grant Morrison is possibly the most proflic comic book creator, and in particular in the DC Comics Superhero genre. His protege was Mark Millar, the best-selling author of “Wanted,” “Kick-Ass” and “Kingsman: The Secret Service,” all of which have been adapted into Holywood blockbusters.
To be fair to Morrison, he didn’t like the direction of his protege Millar, a fellow Scot who had made his name after he was selected to take over writing “The Authority” on Morrison’s recommendation. In “The Ultimates,” Millar gave the Avengers (Marvel Comics’ chief super-team) an “Authority” makeover.
Captain America cut villains in half with his shield while shouting jingoistic catchphrases. The Hulk ate innocent people while rampaging, causing little more trouble for the team than a PR headache. And the whole team was a government project.
Morrison’s analysis of his friend’s shift to outright hack was withering. But it looks like Millar has covered the authoritarian-follower base.
“The Ultimates, re-created with Mark Millar’s gleefully right-leaning heroes, gave a voice to Bush’s America’s posturing, super-heroic fantasies of global law enforcement in a post-traumatic world. (…)
However, in his book “,” Morrison reveals himself as a new-age purveyor of extreme magical thinking. This is the post-911 version of the tune-out peacenik. Instead of hard peace work (and risk) on the ground, the customer is encouraged to enter into his own pigs-can-fly internal imaginary mental world.
Morrison is honest enough to reveal the method with the following disclosure: “Seven actors have played Batman on the big screen, and if you can name all seven without reading any further, your youth has been wasted.”
I am not the target market for this and have only reviewed Morrison’s comics from a research point of view. But you pretty much get thrown to the wolves with zero warning. Despite how bizarre things get, it is supposed to (for the brainwashed) feel strangely normal.
Several elements are repeated, however: transvestite characters, fictional drugs, leather fetish gear and Deus-ex-machina endings. [Deus ex machina defined: a noun, meaning a contrived solution to a problem, relying on an agent external to the situation. (historical) A machine used to bring actors playing gods onto the stage.]
As we often say at Winter Watch: Why don’t you tell us how you really feel, Grant?
Morrison in his book reveals: “If this book has made any point clear, I hope it’s that things don’t have to be real to be true. Or vice versa.”
Then we learn that perception and the laws of reality are kind of a generational thang:
“Adults…struggle desperately with fiction, demanding constantly that it conform to the rules of everyday life. Adults foolishly demand to know how Superman can possibly fly, or how Batman can possibly run a multi-billion-dollar business empire during the day and fight crime at night, when the answer is obvious even to the smallest child: because it’s not real.”
Really, Grant, the smallest child is that discerning when bombarded with pigs-can-fly, surreal messages ad nauseam? We would say that is deceptive.
“It’s quite possible we may actually be looking at some kind of super-sanity here. A brilliant new modification of human perception, more suited to urban life at the end of the 20th century … He creates himself each day. He sees himself as the lord of misrule and the world as a theatre of the absurd.”
He elaborates that you, too, can be an illusive superhero by flicking on the switch, and we would imagine from the use of drugs. No wonder the new age world seems so filled with chosenite sociopaths.
“Superhero science has taught me this: Entire universes fit comfortably inside our skulls. Not just one or two but endless universes can be packed into that dark, wet, and bony hollow without breaking it open from the inside. The space in our heads will stretch to accommodate them all. The real doorway to the fifth dimension was always right here. Inside. That infinite interior space contains all the divine, the alien, and the unworldly we’ll ever need.
“Superhero stories woke me up to my own potential. They gave me the basis of a code of ethics I still live by. They inspired my creativity, brought me money, and made it possible for me to turn doing what I loved into a career. They helped me grasp and understand the geometry of higher dimensions and alerted me to the fact that everything is real, especially our fictions. I had no need for faith. My gods were real, made of paper and light, and they rolled up into my pocket like a super-string dimension.”
Just Hook Up to the Transhumanist Bentham Panopticon Machine
Learn to embrace mind-controlled nothingness, ant.
“We are already part of a super-being, a monster, a god, a living process that is so all encompassing that it is to an individual life what water is to a fish. We are cells in the body of a three-billion-year-old life-form whose roots are in the Precambrian oceans and whose genetic wiring extends through the living structures of everything on the planet, connecting everything that has ever lived in one immense nervous system.”
Winter Watch Takeaway: Morrison is pushing a version of a psyche transformation culture. This is ego death, or ego loss, as they call it, in which the old ego must die before a new one can be spiritually reborn. The scheme enables some form of “global transformation” to occur. The ego-functions of reality-testing, sense-perception, memory, reason, fantasy and self-representation are repressed. Muslim Sufis call it fana (annihilation), and medieval Jewish kabbalists termed it “the kiss of death.” We call it a formula for pajama people enslavement.