Karma is a switch: why content of thought no longer matters. It is the structure that counts.



It is the Age of Propaganda where lies are believed and truths are feared.

The middle class — the soft layer who neither have to find where the path must go as the wealthy classes do, nor have to do the heavy labour of paving them as the poor do — are having meltdowns.

Once upon a time, the crib sheets for the soft layer came form journalism.

They had the façade of being authorities who knew what the fuck they were babbling about.

I learned as a teenager that it was pure bullshit, and I suddenly found myself no longer being of the same mindset of the rest of the middle class.

I had to find paths, and I had to make them.

My mother’s maiden name is Puharich — hard to pronounce unless you know the trick of saying it:

Poor are rich.

Then it’s a breeze.

Meaning I became an army of one woman. I was the general and the foot soldier and my method of combat was Method Research.

But I could think outside the box because I was Eastern European, which is another universe from Western European.

When arrogant morons talk about something being “Eurocentric”, they, in fact, are confessing to being culturally-illiterate trash who don’t know what the fuck they are are spewing.

What they mean is “Western Eurocentric”, because Western Europe sees Eastern Europeans as being lesser humans to them.

Yes, it’s true.

Fuck you.

East and West have nothing in common. Zero.

And if you say “I don’t" care”, what you are actually saying is that you are an ignorant dumb fuck who makes up your mind without any facts, sensitivity, intelligence, feelings, or basic logic or research skills.

Which is fine, you know how stupid you are. I am not going to argue with the level of your incompetence.

But do not expect me to have a grain of respect for you, either.

Deal with it.

But I do like facts and logic as well as emotionality.

Free will gives me superpowers.

And I see that the West has placed itself in a corner, and is once again eying fucking around with Serbia to get themselves out of their jam.

Except it is a different world.

It is not the 1990s where the Internet wasn’t entrenched in every day life as it is now.

And the tables are turning rapidly.


The usual suspects are not having an easy time these days.

And neither are journalists.


I have never lived a conventional life. I am Bohemian and eccentric.

But also extremely ambitious and logical.

I have always been a radical centrist: the best of both worlds for me.

And I am stubborner than the average Serb, making me somewhat a freak of nature.

Meaning I have had always to struggle more than what one would expect of someone who skipped multiple grades and excelled at being experimental and creative.

If I came from wealth, I’d have no trouble, but I am from a middle class social caste.

But I never resented fighting. Not once. My grandmother survived the Second World War where her entire family got slaughtered by fascists; so this isn’t as big of a deal.

Yet journalism is struggling to stay relevant. Watching Jim Acosta making a jackass of himself at that fateful briefing reminded me of my grade schools classes where you had some dumb, unruly boy not be civilized and thinks tweaking the teacher and not sitting in his seat is going to lead to him taking over the class and winning.

You know where it is going to end.

In grade school, the brat would be in trouble. Journalists got away with it for decades.

And now they don’t.

They lose their jobs and see their fortunes crumble even if they are inciting the masses with propaganda.

Something is happening in the world that is beyond anyone’s control, rich, poor, or middle class: things are turning on people in unlikely ways.

Social media is in the doghouse. Their influence is rapidly declining.

Journalism is an inert profession.

Some say karma is a bitch, but not quite.

Karma is a switch. Up is down and down is up.

Left is Right and Right is Left.


Because everyone is so focused on the content of their messages and thoughts, thinking they are different from their perceived rivals and enemies, but that’s bullshit.

Their structures are the same, meaning they are no different.

Rich is poor and poor is rich.

Left is Right and Right is Left.

And then there is the ambitious Bohemian in the Radical Centre.


I am still doing A Dangerous Woman Story Studio. I am resurrecting Chaser. I am doing other things, but the lone maverick Eastern European female is still in the middle of a war zone.

But she has other ideas now.

She is not going to fight battles.

She is about to dismantle wars.

And the way to do it is alchemy.

It took me years to develop an alternative to Patriarchal, they propagandist’s choice of structure.

And I did with Matriarchal.

Because until the structure of thought is confronted, there will be a never-ending war.

And fuck that shit.

I have turned on a switch, so to speak.

I made a vow a long time ago that I would see my purpose through, and I kept it.

The fact that I kept it through 2018 is no short of a miracle. I have proven that my word is my bond and that bond is made with gold.

And 2019 will be the year I breakthrough with both.

Because both challenge the propagandistic structures of patriarchal narratives.

I am not looking for applause, but improvements, innovations, and fortunes.

Journalism is still in the midst of the five stages of grief.

Denial has now turned to anger. We are in stage two almost in stage three of bargaining, where we have a few weasels thinking they can get some well-heeled propaganda-seekers into funding their garbage.

We still have depression and acceptance.

If you want to stick around for those downer things.

Not me. It is time for a switch.

It is time more levity, even as the world throws big hissies because all of the scripts they were bamboozled into following turned out to be bullshit.

You were played, middle class.

And are still being played as we speak.

So snap the fuck out of it. It’s making you look like nerds and goobers who don’t realize that scripts do not play in the real world.

But I play in the real world, and that’s all right by me…