Prison Planet is one of Big Ears' favourites, with a new link added
every week or two. It is the website of American far-right "commentator"Alex
Jones. As wellas this website he has programs on short-wave radio andpublic
access television.His stock in trade is conspiracy theories aboutthe "New
World Order."
The following book extract
should give you a pretty clear idea of Jones'level of credibility and rationality.
THEM: Adventures with Extremists, byJon
Ronson. Picador,London, 2001, pp. 79-86
'How could the Aztecs sacrifice ten thousand
people on public holiday,eat their children's hearts? I've been to
their temples, I've seenthe skulls buried in their walls, some nightmare
horror. How couldthe Romans rip people apart, burn their city, just
to do it, just to blame it on people? And we see decadent empiresin
their finalstagesof corruption, as they become insane. Engaginginmass
murder.Justto do it. This is what is happening today. TheNewWorldOrderareabunch
of sick control freaks!'
This was the voice of Alex Jones, every word
in capital letters, no lightor shade, all bellow, broadcasting live fromAustin,
Texas, right now, tofive million people across America, and liveon AOL, broadcasting
to theworld,if the world wants to hear it.
'When you allow the government to murder
folks at Ruby Ridge, at Waco,at Oklahoma City, at the World Trade Centerbombing
- all government actions - when yyou allow this to happen, when
you sit back and laugh, and you think you're on the big
team, the A-Team. Boy! You're rootingfor the government's side!
Because you're a coward! And you sense that you'llkeep your little ostrich
neck safe. And then your day is coming.'
Endearingly, Alex was hollering his powerful
apocalyptic vision down an ISDNline from a child's bedroom in his house,with
choo-choo train wallpaperandan Empire Strikes Back poster pinnedon
the wall.
'Are you going to be that Aztec villager
who hands his child overtobe lunchmeat for the priesthood?That's
what's going tohappento you! In a hi-tech form! We'll be rightback.'
'From his central Texas command centre, deep
behind enemy lines, the informationwar continues with Alex Jones and hisGCM
radio network, after this break...''
After I had met Alex at Mount Carmel; I discovered
that it was his own ideato rebuild David Koresh's church. He raised the $93,000
needed through donationsfrom his listeners.
Randy (Weaver) had told me that Alex Jones was
a true and tireless warrior.Now, Randy had flown home to his new wife inIowa
- 'She'll shoot me if Imiss my plane,' hhe said - and so I asked Alexif Icould
watch him broadcasthis show.
'I am a war reporter,' yelled Alex to me, off
the air. 'That is what I do.There's a whole buffet of corruption out there.'
'Are you sure that the people behind Ruby Ridge
and Waco were also behindOklahoma City and the World Trade Center bombings?'
I asked him.
'That's not even debatable!' he roared,
'Well. I guess you could debateOklahoma City. But the World Trade Centeris
not even debatable. Clinton'sReichstag. Horror.'
Alex lit a cigarette. He flicked the ash into a styrofoam cup.
'We've gotta cut the Hydra's head off,' he yelled,
'and drive it backtoits black abyss.'
'I still don't quite understand,' I said, 'the
relationship between the BilderbergGroup and what happened to Randy Weaver.'
'The Bilderbergers,' said Alex, 'are the Roman
Senate. It's a pyramid. They'reway up there. Below them you've got the IMF,
the World Bank, the United Nations,then you've got us down here, the cattle,
the human resources. And RandyWeaveris way out over there. See? He
left. They hate that!So they scare the cattle back into
the pen. See? Burn 'em out! I'mliving in a place where black helicopters,
one hundred and fifty miles southof me, are burning buildings, terrorizing
people, and I'm the extremist?'
'Who says you're an extremist?' I asked.
'The Anti-Defamation League!' he yelled. 'The
ADL are a bucket of blackpaintand a brush. They're worse than
the Klan. They get massive funding from theglobalists. It doesn't
matter if your girlfriend'sJewish, your little sister'sKorean' - Alex's little
sister is Korean - 'anybodywho wants to live freeis a racist. TheADL
is the scum of the earth.You aren't going to use thatlast line out ofcontext
are you?'
'No, no,' I said.
He turned back to his microphone.
'OK! We're back!'
But we weren't back. Alex was off the air. The
ISDN line had mysteriouslydied.
'Damn!' he yelled. 'Not again! This is the New World Order!'
Alex thumped the table and looked out of the
window and saw a telephone engineerout on the pavement, fiddling with the
box that held his ISDN line.
'There he is. You little turd. I've caught you this time.'
Alex ran outside to the pavement, leaving me
in the studio with Violet, hisgirlfriend.
'This does not scare me,' said Violet. She looked
out of the window. 'Thepoint is,' she said, 'it does not scare me.'
'What does scare you?' I asked her.
'Nothing,' said Violet. 'Not even the deaththreats,
We've had phone calls,describing our house, describing our animals,voices
like out of The Exorcist.Alex definitely has stalkers.'
'Sir!' bellowed Alex at the engineer. I could
hear him through the windowpane. 'It's starting to get ridiculous. My nationally
syndicated radio showhas gone down. Again! You people have been cutting
my lines, gigglingandsmiling. And your bosses deny you even exist
...'
'Sorry,' said the engineer.
Defeated by technology, or by covert censorship,
we headed off to the localTV studio where Alex was scheduled to present a
live TV talk show. We satin the foyer while he prepared himself for his broadcast.
There was a bankof monitor screens behind the reception desk, broadcasting
all of Austin'sTV output.
For a while I watched all the channels at once,
Then I noticed a figure onone of the screens. He had a face I recognizedfrom
somewhere, long ago,amiddle-aged man with long, greying hair and sharpblue
eyes. I walked overto the screen and turned up the volume. He had anEnglish
accent. He seemedto be talking about lizards - specifically abouthow theleaders
of the NewWorld Order, the clique of international bankers,are genetically
descendedfrom giant lizards.
And then, suddenly, I realized who it was. It was David Icke.
'Alex!' I called. 'What's David Icke doing on
television?' 'Oh,' sighed Alex.'He's big news.' 'Really?'
'You know him?'
'Well,' I said, 'he once announced on the Terry
Wogan chat show on the BBCthat he was the son of God.'
'That figures,' said Alex, wearily.
'He seems to be saying that the Bilderberg Group
are twelve-foot lizards,'I said.
'DAVID ICKE,' yelled Alex, suddenly, 'IS A TURD IN A PUNCHBOWL!'
'What do you mean?'
'He talks about the global elite, the Bilderberg
Group, these power structureswhich are all real, all true.Meat
and potatoes! Somethingyou can bite into!And then at the end of thishe says,
"By the way, they'reall blood-drinkinglizards." '
'Really?'
'Al Gore needs blood to drink. So does Prince
Philip. He's discrediting thewhole thing. You've got a nice fruit punch.Icke
takes a great big dump rightin the middle of it, and now nobody'sgoing
to drink out of that punchbowl.That's his job, and he's doing hisjobwell.'
'Are you suggesting that David Icke is in league
with the global elite, 'Isaid, 'employed to make the whole thing seem ridiculous?'
'He's either a smart opportunist con man,' said
Alex, 'or he's totally insane,or he's working for them directly.'
'Let's take some calls.'
'Hi. This is Marsha.'
'Hi, Marsha. What's your point?'
'I just wanted to ask you a little about your
background,' said Marsha. 'Haveyou travelled a lot?'
'Yes,' said Alex.
'Where have you been?' asked Marsha.
'Where have you been?' said Alex.
'You haven't answered my question,' said Marsha.
'You're an aggressive twit, ma'am,' yelled Alex.
'Well, there's no need to be rude.'
'I don't like snivelling passive-aggressive people like you!'
'I just wanted to know your background.'
'I'm taking action!' roared Alex. 'I've
rebuilt the church at Waco.I'veexposedblack helicopters. Lady; you don'twant
to face the truth of what'shappening!I KNOW ALL YOUR LITTLE PSYCHOLOGICAL
SICKNESSES, LADY! YOU DON'TCOUNT! YOUARE FURNITURE! WE'RE FACING THE ENEMY
AT THE TOP OF THE PYRAMID!CAN'T YOUFEEL IT? IT'S EPIC! NOW IS THETIME.
NOW! WE'RE ENGAGING INANINFO WAR, SIXHOURS A DAY! GIANT SHORT-WAVE
TRANSMITTER TOWERS WORLDWIDEBEAMMY VOICE!SOTHANK YOU FOR CALLING, LADY
.'
I was getting a bit of a headache, so I slipped
out of Alex's TV studio forwhat I assumed to be the relative calm of theproduction
booth. By now, MikeHanson, Alex's producer, was himself addressingMarshaon
the phone.
'WE'RE TRYING TO RUN A SHOW HERE!' screamedMike.
'WHAT YOU ARE YOU? SOMEKIND OF HIGH AND MIGHTY.. . YOU KNOW WHAT? YOUDON'T
KNOW YOUR ASS FROM AHOLE IN THE GROUND! FUCK YOU, TOO.'
Mike slammed down the phone.
'That was a B minus,' said Alex, once the TV
show was off the air. 'I doA-plusshows all the time.'
'You have a very powerful voice,' I said.
'Yep,' said Alex.
'So has Mike, your producer,' I said.
Alex looked confused.
'What do you mean?' he said.
'Well,' I said, 'when I left the studio I went
into the production room andMike was yelling at Marsha down the phone.'
'Was he now?' said Alex. 'Is that so?'
'WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?' screamed Alex at
Mike. 'UPSTAGE ME? OH, I KNOWWHAT YOU'RE UP TO! MAKE A BIG SHOW OF SHOUTING
DOWN THE PHONE! STEAL THELIMELIGHT!AND THEN JON WILL WRITE ALL ABOUT YOU!'
'FUCK YOU' yelled Mike. 'YOU'RE PARANOID'
'FUCK YOU!' yelled Alex.
'STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU!' screamed Max, the young
and until now serene bespectacledvision mixer in the corner.
Both men abruptly stopped yelling and turned
to Max. 'What's wrong?' saidAlex.
'I'm just sick of you two shouting at each other
all the time,' sobbed Max.'I've had enough.'
Max grabbed his coat and ran out of the studio.
Alex and Mike glanced quizzicallyat each other. They shrugged.
