If you’re a fan of the 1988 Christmas classic “Die Hard,” directed by John McTiernan, then you’re probably already a fan of his 1987 contribution to our cinematic culture: “Predator.” (Not “The Predator,” which was the 2018 iteration of the concept and the fourth in the series.) You’ll see this movie differently from the vantage point of 5th Generation War, in which the state has lost its monopoly on armed conflict and we’re all combatants and all prisoners of war—all the time. The boys with the toys—mad scientists, intel, globalist—seem to have allowed every municipality, crook, and hobbyist get their grubby hands on them. In any case, watching a movie is more fun than being goaded into a civil war, and I guarantee you’ll find it to be far more layered film than you remember. (If you prefer to listen to my better half talk about this, click below, however my writing is far superior to her trying to make the case that “Predator” counts as an Easter movie.)
Since the Central Intelligence Agency had been backing or orchestrating one coup after another in Latin America since the 1950s, the plot premise of a former-operator-gone-CIA-agent enlisting a team of “the best” to pull off some daring feat in South America is hardly far-fetched. The backstory is that a helicopter carrying an allied cabinet minister and his aide has gone missing, something-something about crossing a border and we need to get them back. Interestingly, if you’ve seen “Apocalypse Now,” the scene with higher-ups delivering an all-too-lacking briefing to our protagonist while a sketchy, or “sus” as the kids say nowadays, CIA agent interjects and casts sideways glances will be familiar. In this case Carl Weathers of “Rocky” fame plays Dillon, the less-than-trustworthy agency man. We know this because our hero, Dutch, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger, defeats him in arm wrestling within minutes of the movie’s opening. Speaking of openings, did you catch the spacecraft flying toward earth and dropping its cargo in an orangey-red blaze? It is pivotal to your psychological conditioning that you embrace the alien premise so that you live in fear and never ask the government, especially the military, what the heck it’s actually doing.
Also familiar to American war-moviegoers will be the ultra-cool band of good, capable, and likeable men from all over the country and from all walks of life. For “Predator,” we have Schwarzenegger as the ultra-cool, cigar-smoking Major; Jesse Ventura as the rough-talking, chew-chomping Blain whose best friend is Mac, played by Bill Duke, a black man who is the first to actually “see” Predator. Perhaps that point is more weighted than we think. The black community may have been first to “see” our government’s corruption in programs like COINTELPRO, for example, though veterans and inmates can’t be far behind with all the human experimentation they suffered through. Poncho, played by Richard Chaves; Billy, played by Sonny Landham; and Hawkins, played by Shane Black, cover the Hispanic, Native American, and dirty-joke-telling awkward white guy roles. As stereotypical as this all sounds and despite the military’s history of segregation, the Army has also been on the front lines of integration, which was good, and social change, which can be bad, like accepting transgenderism—which is the first step toward transhumanism. Can’t have supersoldiers without transhumanism, right? Dutch is human; Predator is a supersoldier. In any event, this is the late 1980s and going to war is still about good versus evil. Isn’t that what America is truly about? All types of people working together, contributing their talents, willingly, in pursuit of all that is good and free and against all that is evil and enslaved?
Early on we learn that Dutch passed up a job in Libya because his is a “rescue team” not “assassins.” What we have here is a “contractor” with ethical and moral standards, despite what Dillon says about him. Dutch’s team is probably intended as a veiled reference to Delta Force (formed in 1977) or its Special Forces wannabe, Blue Light, a 5th Group counter-terrorist unit supposedly meant to fill the gap until Delta could be stood up, but essentially trying to cut Delta off at the knees out of military rivalry. Since Dutch has the independence to turn down what he considers unethical or immoral missions, we have to assume he’s freelancing, this time for the U.S. government. We also know from his interaction with General Phillips, played by R.G. Armstrong, that Dutch is an officer and his men are most likely former Special Forces soldiers of some kind. And with that, we’re off to the ever-so-Vietnam-like jungles of an unnamed South American country. Probably the best scene in the movie is the ride in the red-lit chopper with each character introducing himself to us while Little Richie belts out his ditty about the troubles between Uncle John and Aunt Mary in the form of “Long Tall Sally.” We also learn that Dutch and Dillon were both “north of Hue,” so therefore served together in Vietnam. Now that we know our guys, it’s time to locate and secure this wayward “cabinet minister” and high-tail home.
The boys air-assault in and find the lost chopper alright, high in a tree, which did happen during Vietnam and definitely ups the unsettling tone. Grappling hooks make an appearance as a couple of men climb up to the ship to view the wreckage. We can see at least one pilot still strapped in, now hanging upside down—definitely a sign of trouble. Saints were crucified upside-down. Our Indian tracker, Billy, lets us know that the guerillas and their hostages are being followed by a team of guys wearing U.S. Army-issued boots. Eventually the teams discovers that the men wearing the boots were a team of Green Berets out of Fort Bragg, and they are now strung up—upside down—disemboweled and skinned alive. When questioned, Dillon lies and says he had no idea that Green Berets had been sent in. Dutch calls him out: “Somebody sent them.”
Interestingly enough, when I rewatched this movie, my better half and I happened to be mired in Leviticus. If you’ve ever slogged through the first part of that book, you’ll recall the endless instructions on exactly how to sacrifice animals to God for atonement or peace. A couple of instructions stand out because they’re punctuated with an “I am God.” Things like: Don’t sacrifice your children—”I am God”—and don’t drink blood—“I am God.” This actually plays out later in the movie. Unless you’re paying close attention, you will never pick up on, but once you do, you will never get the sound out of your head. Whether you’re biblically oriented or not, I think we can all agree that whoever or whatever strung up the prior rescue team, is unholy and decidedly not human.
There’s an action-packed raid on a guerilla camp, after which we learn a lot. First, the two hostages are now dead. And, you guessed it: The cabinet minister and his aide were actually CIA agents. Dillon comes clean and admits that he used Dutch and his team, and the Green Beret team before them—all expendable. We also learn that the area is too contested for a helicopter extraction. (Still? Even after the camp has been wiped out?) The men are going to have to get back across the border before they can expect an exfil. We also collect our sole female character here, because let’s face it, we need a woman running through the jungle, dragging the men off course, throwing dirt, whipping logs at heads. It’s the ′80s after all, and she has Sarah Connor to live up to, but that’s another movie for another day. Anna is played by Elpidia Carrillo, and she has two things going for her: she touches the Predator’s blood and wipes it on her pants and she does not carry a weapon, ergo, according to Dutch, she’s no sport for the Rastafarian-like lizard. I’m getting ahead of myself. Right now, all we know about Predator is that he’s perfectly camouflaged, like a chameleon. In other words, no matter what the environment, he is invisible, blending into the background. Just like predators in real life.
One moment of humor is revealing in light of today’s technology. Poncho notices that Blain is bleeding. Blain responds, “I ain’t got time to bleed.” At which point Poncho, who has launched a grenade, asks if Blain has time to duck. I used to think that elite soldiers just used mental focus to lower their blood pressure and stop their bleeding. How naive. In actuality, they’re “working on”—which is government speak for “we’ve already perfected or rejected the development and we’re moving on to even more advanced technology”—injecting a gel plastic into the wound. The gel moves deep into the body and creates a bond that natural clotting can set up against. Battlefield medicine is beneficial to mankind; melding human with machine is not.
So, Mac is the first to spot the outline of the creature and is stunned because his brain cannot get itself around what he’s witnessed. Remember, this started with a unidentified flying object traversing the screen and ejecting a streak of light onto earth, or rather a supersoldier lizard. Again, there are no aliens; there are, however, experimental aircraft, experimental augmented soldiers, experimental biological-computer crosses, all courtesy of our secret alphabet agencies and their subcontractors. Anna tells us Predator has been harassing the good people of the area for a long time and the elders refer to him as a devil. The creators of the monster made him Rastafarian-like, and when he glitches out, we see him in all his glory, including his decidedly reptilian features and blood-sucking pincer mandible. We can only agree with Dutch that he’s “one ugly [bleepity-bleep].” Where did the phraseology of “our evil reptilian overlords” originate from, anyway? Is it a reference to the reptilian part of our brain that keeps us stuck in a never-ending loop of emotion-driven childhood replays, constantly going ′round the mountain? Is it because the few rich families, bankers, and businessmen who rule the world are emotionless, cold-blooded, sometimes venomous creatures who think they can enslave us with technology that Predator only dreamed about?
At one point Poncho, who’s getting that quintessential “bad feeling,” says “Remember Afghanistan?” Dutch responds, “I’m trying to forget.” So, the team worked the Soviet-Afghan War, but it strikes the viewer oddly now that America, too, has had her foray in the land where empires go to die. Anyway, spoiler alert, Predator kills everyone on Dutch’s team but the man himself. Dutch defeats the monster—to a point—using his brain and primitive caveman creativity. He covers his body in mud, mucking up Predator’s ability to see and track him via thermal imaging. He makes a bow and arrows, which wound but don’t finish the job. He also rigs a snare for the creature, which works, but doesn’t quite kill the giant green-blooded lizard. (Interesting note: They went with a GLO-STICK concoction for Predator’s blood.)
Predator has an emotional outburst during which he fires uncontrollably, just like the men fired wildly into the jungle hoping to kill the monster earlier in the movie. We also see the Predator using a technologically advanced triangulation program that is able to locate Dutch after he throws a stone as a diversion. In addition, Predator administers first aid to himself by stapling a leg wound closed. He can walk through fire, and he has an exoskeleton to beat all exoskeletons, complete with a shoulder-mounted firearm. Note the ankle shackles and their resemblance to tracking monitors, subliminally telling us that Predator is a slave to his system. The only thing that rings the death knell for the Predator after being smashed by Dutch’s giant deadfall trap, is him flipping open his wrist-mounted control panel like a Sunday afternoon quarterback and punching in multiple codes. He self-destructs into what looks at first like an electrical storm but morphs into an atomic mushroom cloud. Sounds like the New World Order’s doomsday scenario, a perfect mix of Armageddon and nuclear war.
The most famous line of the movie—well, except for the one where Dutch uses a ginormous bowie knife to kill a guerilla fighter and says, “Stick around”—comes from a wounded Dutch, writhing on the ground, and screaming at the woman to “Run. Get to the chopper.” That line continues to be a mainstay within the veteran community and with pre-RINO-Arnold fans everywhere. She does what Dutch says and makes it to the chopper. Man then goes forth to slay the dragon. His shoulders are broad enough to carry the weight. He brings enough physical pressure and mental acuity to bear in the battle of primitive vs. technologic, good vs. evil, to bring the giant lizard to death’s door. In the monster’s final act of malice, he self-detonates in a nuclear blast meant to eradicate Dutch and probably the environment, to boot. Those wacky global elitists. Dutch survives and makes it to the chopper, but the pain of loss and seeing the world as it truly is, is evident in his eyes in the final, far-less-jovial helicopter ride out of the jungle. And that is life.
Man (and woman) must apply enough pressure to what is wrong in this country to the point where the evil ones cease in their tracks or self-destruct. Essentially, the non-violent pressure has to be enough to foil the NWO plan whether the elites and their transhuman supersoldiers self-destruct or not. Women cannot face it alone. Men cannot abdicate their position of authority. Not everyone will make it back to the chopper. The only hope is that man and woman go forward together as man and woman, and not into a virtual reality in which we cease to be fully human with all our fatal flaws and God-given strengths.
Now go back and watch that fight scene with Dutch and Predator. At this point, Dutch is getting the ever-loving crap beat out of him. Listen very carefully. What do you hear? What is the highest sacrifice? Virgins thrown into the volcano? Biblically speaking, the highest sacrifice is the first unblemished male issue. Whether you interpret the sound as Dutch’s inner boy terrified but standing up to evil anyway, or as an allegory for our country sacrificing the best men we have in war after war, once you hear the child struggling, you cannot unhear it. And we hear it through Predator. Predator can “read” emotions, as he does with Billy’s laughter and Mac and Dillon’s exchange over the scorpion. Give Predator 20 years and he’ll be able to read thoughts, daydreams, sleep dreams, and prayers. Oh wait.
P.S. Check out the crow cawing at Predator’s arm. Wow
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