I Hate Taylor Swift

Now that I have your attention, let’s discuss one of the biggest pop culture psy-ops of our time.

I've never been particularly enamored with Taylor Swift. I vaguely recall her crooning country ballads, and sure, during my high school days, I probably tapped my foot to a few of her songs.

Do I think her music is terrible? Not exactly. In fact, there's one recent track of hers that I hold close for very personal reasons, though that has nothing to do with her being the one singing it. The artist is irrelevant to the sentiment.

But that's beside the point. The real issue isn't whether her music is good or bad—let’s talk about something much more insidious.

I don't buy into the idea that celebrities should have carte blanche to endorse political candidates. It's manipulation masquerading as free speech, a calculated form of propaganda. But that’s not the hill we’ll die on today.

Today, we're going to peel back the layers of who Taylor Swift really is, and more importantly, how she’s morphed from a wide-eyed country darling into something far more unsettling: a psychological operation wrapped in glitter and empowerment anthems, leading a legion of mindless women and girls down a path of manufactured worship.

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(Not sure what happened to the audio recording while Substack was “processing” it. My apologies.)

If you take a quick glance at Taylor Swift’s YouTube page, you’ll see her songs sometimes racking up tens of millions of views in just a few weeks—some view counts are surpassing the population of the entire U.S. and others are approaching a significant fraction of the global population.

Let’s be real for a second: are we really supposed to believe those numbers? In an age where everything is manipulated, doctored, or downright faked, why should YouTube view counts be the exception? We’re talking about some 40 million views for songs that aren’t even provocative by today’s standards—Swift’s not nude, half-nude, or making out with Miley Cyrus (yet).

And don’t forget, YouTube has already been caught playing games with the numbers. If they can suppress views when it suits them, what’s stopping them from inflating the numbers when it’s profitable? The algorithmic gods can make or break anyone they choose. So are we really supposed to buy that Swift's videos are organically amassing 750 million views? Please. These numbers are inflated beyond belief, likely by a factor of thousands. We will go back to illuminating why these numbers are inflated in a bit but for now let’s not kid ourselves—3.5 billion views for “Blank Space?”

Much like Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift has executed a calculated pivot in her career. Cyrus, as we know, went from bubblegum teen pop to the depths of adult pop, stripping away not just her clothes but any semblance of inhibition, taste, or dignity.

Swift, for now, has kept a few threads of clothing intact, but in her own transition—from the sweet, wholesome world of new-country to the factory-produced pop of adult audiences—she’s made her ties to the Intelligence community about as obvious as a neon sign flashing "CIA Operative." It’s almost comical. She could be walking around with a sandwich board emblazoned with "Property of U.S. Intelligence," ringing a bell for attention.

If you're still scratching your head, wondering what I mean, let’s dive in.

Wikipedia, in its bland, sanitized way, admits that Swift’s father is a Merrill Lynch financial adviser—descended from three generations of bank presidents. Just let that sit for a second. Right there, you’ve already got more red flags than a Soviet military parade.

But don’t let “financial adviser” fool you; Scott Swift is more than just some money guy. He’s a senior vice president at Merrill Lynch, one of the titans of Wall Street. You don’t climb that ladder without making some strategic friends along the way.

Then there's her mother, who conveniently worked in the financial sector as a mutual fund executive. So, on Daddy's side, we have banking royalty, and on Mommy’s side, we have the oil barons. Her grandfather, Robert Bruce Finlay, was an oilman—because, of course, he was.

Now, you have to ask yourself: with these kinds of family connections, do we honestly think Taylor Swift’s rise to stardom was some organic, all-American story of a girl with a dream? Or was it meticulously crafted by those with the right kind of power to manufacture stars? Think about it.

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The next enormous, flapping red flag? The Wyndcroft School, where Swift conveniently spent her early years in Pennsylvania.

Wyndcroft isn’t just any random school—it’s a feeder into the Hill School, part of the elite circle of eastern prep schools that includes names like Choate, Deerfield, Phillips Exeter, and Hotchkiss. If you’ve read Catcher in the Rye, you’ll remember Holden Caulfield, who—like his creator J.D. Salinger—attended (and was expelled from) several of these prestigious institutions. But here’s where things get interesting: these prep schools aren’t just playgrounds for the privileged; they’re pipelines for Intelligence.

Salinger himself was in Intelligence during World War II, and it’s no coincidence that his disdain for these elite institutions in Catcher may have been what put him on the outs with his former handlers.

Intelligence and Salinger had a falling out, and the system hit back. How? By linking his book to several high-profile crimes—like the conveniently placed copies of Catcher in the Rye found on so-called assassins. That’s your textbook blackwash, using a work of fiction to taint the author’s legacy and make sure people don’t take a closer look.

Hotchkiss is one of those prep school petri dishes where the seedlings of the Intelligence community are carefully cultivated. The alumni list reads like a who's who of power players, conveniently positioned at the intersections of media, government, and culture—those industries that define what we think, believe, and ultimately, who we serve.

Archibald MacLeish, the renowned poet and writer, spent time there, and yes, like so many others, he fed directly into the machinery of Intelligence. Then there’s Peter Matthiessen, another Hotchkiss alum, who—after years of dancing around the truth—finally admitted to being a CIA agent. Wikipedia even lists it right there at the top of his page, as if it’s no big deal. Just your average poet-turned-government spook.

But the hits don’t stop there. Henry Ford went to Hotchkiss. That’s right—the same Henry Ford whose empire revolutionized not just industry, but the American identity itself. The same Ford whose dealings with fascism and antisemitism should raise more than a few eyebrows.

And then there’s Henry Luce, the founder of TIME magazine. Luce practically invented the idea of mass media as a tool for shaping public opinion—and guess where he cut his teeth? Hotchkiss. The media, the arts, the military—this school cranked out the very architects of modern America. Lewis Lapham, editor of Harper's magazine, was a Hotchkiss man.

Thomas Hoving, who directed the Metropolitan Museum of Art—another alumnus. John Hersey, the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who penned the Hiroshima aftermath piece—yep, him too. The connections are endless.

And then we hit the political realm. Roswell Gilpatric, Deputy Secretary of Defense under Kennedy, also hailed from Hotchkiss. This is the guy who sat at the helm of American military strategy during some of the most crucial years of the Cold War. The Intelligence pedigree is crystal clear.

If you’re still not seeing the pattern, consider the entertainment industry. Even the members of Sha Na Na, that seemingly innocuous ’50s revival band, walked the halls of Hotchkiss. But perhaps most telling is Tom Werner, the man who brought you The Cosby Show, Roseanne, 3rd Rock from the Sun, and That '70s Show.

Think about it: these weren’t just TV shows. These were cultural juggernauts that defined entire eras, shaping the attitudes and values of millions. And they all trace back to Hotchkiss, that same privileged breeding ground for the chosen ones.

So when you see Taylor Swift rising to the top, don’t be fooled into thinking she’s an exception. She's not the self-made country girl we’re sold; she's another carefully curated product of the same elite networks that have been running the show for decades.

So what does this have to do with Swift? Well, her early connection to Pottstown, PA, and the Wyndcroft School screams Intelligence grooming.

From an early age, Swift was likely being prepped (be it unknowingly) for the role she plays now—the role of disorienting and misleading her fellow women.

Like Miley Cyrus and other manufactured stars, her ascent wasn’t an overnight transformation but a slow, deliberate acceleration. In the beginning, her intentions weren’t so glaringly obvious; she was the sweet country singer who could do no wrong. But now, we’ve seen her career arc reach its climax, and she’s finally stepped into her role as a full-fledged propagandist.

And let’s not kid ourselves—this isn’t the peak. Hollywood’s already salivating at the prospect of Swift’s crossover into the world of film, where her capacity to push the agenda will only grow.

But her cards are already on the table, and they’re not hard to read. We don’t need to wait for her next move—it’s all laid bare. Swift, like many before her, has been carefully molded to serve the larger apparatus, and her success isn’t just a happy accident of talent and hard work.

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Let’s break down her songs with a bit more clarity, because if you’ve ever seen the CIA disseminate propaganda firsthand—and believe me, I have—Swift’s lyrics start to read like a covert ops manual.

Now, before you think I’m diving headfirst into tin foil hat territory, consider this: Shake It Off is practically the musical equivalent of psychological warfare. It’s not just some bubbly, harmless pop song. No, it’s a cleverly crafted anthem for political gaslighting, wrapped in a catchy tune, served up with a side of “just move on.”

It’s a sugary distraction that parallels the “Move On” campaign championed by Obama and his cadre of handlers. Remember that movement? It wasn't just about “moving on”—it was about sweeping any and all accountability under the rug. Forget the disastrous policies, the war crimes, the economic failures—just keep your head down and look forward. In the same vein, Swift, the puppet, croons the same message: forget the liars, the cheats, the corruption. Move on, people. The past is irrelevant.

Look at the lyrics she’s fed:

While you've been getting down and out
about the liars and the dirty cheats of the world
you could have been getting down to this sick beat.

This isn’t just a catchy line—it’s a command. This is the mainstream machine’s response to anyone with half a brain questioning the pervasive corruption in our world. “Shake it off,” they tell us. Don’t waste your time worrying about the rampant fraud, deceit, and exploitation that governs every corner of society. Instead, why not lose yourself in the mind-numbing rhythm of pop music? It’s like a lullaby designed to pacify a generation of youth. If you’re too busy dancing to Taylor Swift’s latest "sick beat," you won’t have time to think about the very real problems plaguing the world.

It’s a message straight from the top. Her Langley-trained lyricists know exactly what they’re doing: deflecting the growing anger, misdirecting the frustration. They want you to be that carefree, naive girl who looks sideways at her “outdated” parents, who still worry that the world is run by liars and cheats. As my once-indoctrinated, now thoroughly awoken, little sister put it: “Oh, come on, Lily, you're just being paranoid! So what if everything's rigged and corrupt? That's just how the world works! Relax and enjoy Taylor's new song. Stop overthinking and just go with the flow.”

It’s all too perfect, isn’t it? Here’s a global superstar, a cultural icon, telling you that none of this matters. Ignore reality, ignore the system, ignore the truth—just dance, just consume, just be quiet. The message couldn't be clearer: shut up, shake it off, and get in line.

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In the early days of her career, Taylor Swift released albums at a normal pace, like any other artist developing their craft. But lately, she’s somehow cranking out albums at an industrial rate—two albums a year? Really? Maybe she wrote her country songs back in the day, but let’s stop pretending she’s the creative force behind her current “pop hits.”

The idea that she's sitting with a guitar, baring her soul, is laughable at best and insulting at worst. It’s abundantly clear these songs are the work of a committee—a carefully orchestrated production born in some sterile boardroom, likely in Langley.

The personal asides, the little emotional twists? They reek of contrivance, as if spit out by some algorithm, devoid of any real human sentiment. It’s all too perfect, too formulaic—songs designed to manipulate emotions while maintaining a facade of authenticity.

Her lyrics, much like her voice, have been scrubbed clean of any genuine human texture, polished into oblivion by layers of digital interference. What we're left with is not a creative artist, but a manufactured product.

You think these lyrics are raw, heartfelt reflections? No, they're focus-grouped soundbites, plugged into some what we called “psy-op software” and churned out like processed food. And who gets the final product? The masses, eager to consume their weekly dose of faux-emotion, expertly packaged and delivered to the Swifts, Beyoncés, and rappers of the world. There's no soul, no risk—just the same plastic, predictable nonsense.

Now, let’s talk about the “music,” if you can even call it that. It’s laughably stripped down, a hollow imitation of what we once called popular music. Compare today’s hits to those of the '70s and 80s, and the difference is stark.

Back then, music was rich, layered with actual instruments played by real musicians. Think of Dire Straits, Steely Dan, or Fleetwood Mac—bands that crafted intricate, textured soundscapes. Today, all of that is gone, erased in favor of lifeless, mechanized beats.

Swift might not be rapping, but her so-called “pop” music is as soulless as anything in the rap genre—just a computerized voice laid over a drum machine. You won’t even get a guitar, a piano, or any semblance of real musical craftsmanship. And if there is an instrument in there, rest assured, it’s not being played by a human being. It’s just another loop, another synthetic layer in a song that’s as far removed from art as a fast-food burger is from real cooking.

Why is this all happening? Because those in control have discovered that machine-generated music is the most effective way to hypnotize the masses. Its simplicity and repetitive nature allow it to slip into our brains effortlessly, bypassing critical thought and embedding itself deep within the limbic system. This creates a direct line to our emotions, effectively short-circuiting any rational resistance.

Moreover, this kind of music integrates seamlessly with the superficial visuals that dominate today’s entertainment landscape. Every song comes packaged with a music video, but let’s be real: the actual music isn’t meant to engage your mind. Instead, it serves as background noise to the carefully curated imagery, ensuring that all focus remains on the pretty face delivering the message—a message that’s being implanted in your brain while you’re none the wiser.

Taylor Swift was handpicked for this role not just because she fits the mold, but because she embodies it. She’s a product of the elite, groomed from a young age to be an icon. With her somewhat ordinary, relatable looks—the girl-next-door charm paired with just enough beauty—Taylor Swift has become a master of marketing, capable of selling just about anything.

Her persona is crafted to be appealing enough to draw in a wide audience, yet familiar enough to create a false sense of intimacy. Most people are so entranced by her presence that they gloss over the sheer absurdity of what she’s actually selling.

The reality is that behind the polished façade lies a calculated strategy designed to exploit emotional vulnerabilities, and many remain blissfully unaware of the manipulation at play. She could literally be hawking tickets to deadly roller coaster rides, and the masses would line up without a second thought. In fact, that’s exactly what she’s doing—selling an illusion, one that distracts from the deeper, more insidious agenda at play. The question is, how many will continue to buy in before they wake up to the reality of what they’re being fed?

“Got a long list of ex-lovers
They'll tell you I'm insane
'Cause you know I love the players
And you love the game.”

Here we have a (at that time) 24-year-old(!) woman openly glamorizing toxic relationships and neurotic behavior. This is a celebration of emotional chaos. Let’s be honest: I doubt Swift has genuinely experienced all the relationships she claims. But that’s not the point. The narrative she’s crafting is deliberate—this is the image they want you to absorb.