Get ‘Em Young Using Predictive Programming in Cartoons—and Why Your Awareness Is Power

Ask someone about their favorite cartoon, and depending on their generation, they might start reminiscing their cherished comic books or reference a popular animation series that, since the advent of the television, has captured the term cartoon.

Indeed, cartoons are often very entertaining with storylines that pierce the crux of human nature: our desire for a connection with others and our desire for a sense of significance. For instance, wanting to connect with friends and family, reach a particular social status, and the need to feel appreciated and respected drives our day-to-day actions.

Cartoons are a great way of projecting such desires and imparting knowledge to fresh, unblemished minds through humor, and featuring anthropomorphized animals and superheroes.

Since the 1940s, children have been kept amused by the rivalry, antics and friendship between Tom and Jerry, two supposedly natural enemies with the former a cat and the latter a mouse. In the late 1980s, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles burst onto the screen; viewers learned about Splinter, the mutant rat who serves as a mentor and father figure to the turtles living in an abandoned subway station. Finally, children of the 1990s might recall Pinky and the Brain, the latter a genetically modified mouse who wants to “try to take over the world.” 

Ever wondered why it’s easier to influence children than adults on average? The former is more open to exploring new ideas, quicker at absorbing information disguised as ‘facts’ and generally more adapting to changing circumstances—unlike their grandparents, who are inclined to remain rigid in the status quo. Children also have the energy of youth on their side, and a subset will become activists. What better way than to get ’em young.

In late September, Variety reported on an “anticipated LGBT-inclusive superhero animation project” which describes “a witty, heartwarming superhero romcom in 2D about the troubles of juggling a job as a superhero, a husband, and a cat.” My Superhero Husband targets children over 12 years old and is carefully crafted to pull at their heartstrings and promote the normalization of homosexuality.

But My Superhero Husband isn’t the first LGBTQ cartoon, nor will it be the last, for as long as the masses continue to accept or passively allow their children to absorb the promotion of sodomy masked as a “loving relationship between two consenting individuals.”

Children are consistently familiarized with diverse “LGBTQ characters” in cartoons, as highlighted by the Insider in June 2021. They are often portrayed as the “hero,” with whom the viewer emotionally bonds and cheers for them to “win.” As Pride magazine conveys, at least fifteen cartoons have “amazing LGBTQ+ representation in animated children’s shows.” Mind you, some of those cartoons are fairly graphic—with kissing.

Thus, children have learned about the main character’s best friend in The Loud House, who is the adopted child “of an interracial gay couple.” They also watched the “wedding” between popular teacher Mr. Ratburn and his “special someone” in the premiere episode of Arthur’s 22nd season.

Predictive programming influences perceptions on a specific matter of interest through repetitive subliminal messages through mass communication systems—and cartoons are an excellent medium to reach the minds of children.

Let’s consider a different matter: the famous Twin Towers’ tragic attack and collapse on September 11, 2001 or “9/11.” Is it a coincidence that from the late 1980s through early 2001, the Towers were depicted as being targeted by bombs, missiles or airplanes in at least eight cartoons?

For example, a 1994 episode of Iron Man shows a terrorist warplane heading to New York City; eventually, several missiles hit the Towers, and a warplane deliberately crashes into the Pentagon. In a more subtle form, a 1997 episode of The Simpsons shows a magazine with “9” dollars next to the Towers’ shadow, which eerily resembles number “11.”

So were these “inserts” warnings of future events, constantly reminding children they live in a dangerous world, and to justify further reliance and compliance with the government for perceived safety? Or were these added scenes the result of the writers’ imagination, who figured the Towers were the most likely target on American soil?

Indeed, we could go down a rabbit hole with many more scenes that have since come to pass in the real world. But let’s pause and define predictive programming; although it varies in degree of aggressiveness and subtlety, the method and objective remains the same.

A post from The Ohio State University attempts to dissuade the reader from “conspiracy theorists who think there will be a totalitarian government takeover” but provides a solid definition:

Predictive programming is a subtle form of psychological conditioning provided by the media to acquaint the public with planned societal changes to be implemented by our leaders. If and when these changes are put through, the public will already be familiarized with them and will accept them as natural progressions, thus lessening possible public resistance and commotion… As always there is a reason why movies and television are used as the common vessel. When watching something a person typically perceives it as entertainment and their theoretical guard will be lowered and the subliminal messages will be directly go to the subconscious [mind]. It also is used as a sort of self fulfilling prophecy because once an expectation is created then when these events start to happen the population may seem more likely to accept the fate.

Given the above, it might be worthwhile to differentiate between scenes promoting LGBTQ lifestyles versus the sprinkling of individual events, such as Donald Trump coming down the escalator and becoming U.S. president. 

The Simpsons have offered no shortage of predictions that have come true, closely come true and some that have yet to pass (or perhaps will never pass.) Whether the series’ writers have a brilliant understanding of the depths of ruthless monopoly capitalism and power dynamics in America, or otherwise, a reported infectious outbreak has been featured—more than once.

A 1993 episode featured a storyline about a virus outbreak in the primary setting, Springfield, after residents ordered juicers from Japan. The episode shows a worker at a factory saying, “Please don’t tell the supervisor I have the flu.” He then coughs into a box containing a juicer for shipping, which sends the virus to the U.S and into Springfield. Most of the residents fall ill, after which an anxious crowd demands the local physician for a cure, but in their panic they shake a truck and release killer bees.

Yet, it’s a 2010 episode that eerily foreshadows the reported outbreak of 2020. The episode begins with a helicopter dropping off a Fox News representative at a secret meeting held inside the crown of the Statue of Liberty; we are exposed to a “secret conclave of American media empires” plotting a virus crisis.

Indeed, the man running the meeting conveys the goal is to “put Americans back where they belong: In dark rooms, glued to their televisions, too terrified to skip the commercials.” This secret cabal agrees they “should go with a good old-fashioned public health scare” with a new disease where “no one’s immune.”

But here’s the fascinating part: we firstly observe a “deadly disease” injected into the character representing NBC for testing purposes.

“So, we’ve got our deadly disease,” says the meeting’s leader. “Now, we just have to blame it on something that’s in every household.” Thus, the residents of Springfield learn about an outbreak of “House cat flu,” in which symptoms include “mild thirst, occasional hunger, tiredness at night.” Indeed, very uncommon symptoms.

Following a scene of paranoia among residents, “free cat flu vaccinations” become available. But there is an apparent scarcity of these injections, which induces further panic. Mr. Burns, the main antagonist of the series, drives past a long queue and slyly demands to obtain a large proportion of the vaccines, justifying that he is “the only taxpayer in this town.” Indeed, we observe the consequence of seething public resentment towards an elite attitude of—for me but not for thee.

Whether The Simpsons contains deliberate predictive programming or mere predictions stemming from the genius of the series’ writers is up for debate. The key is looking for a repetition of comparable subliminal messages across diverse media outlets, including news channels.

Netflix began showing Stretch Armstrong & The Flex Fighters in 2017. One particular episode shows a large crowd excitedly receiving a device or microchips, “smartmark,” implanted in their wrist.

It’s not coming. It’s already here. A previous article highlighted that a company in Wisconsin and Sweden have already inserted microchips underneath the skin of several employees’ hands as a means to enter company systems and buildings, and carry out financial transactions without requiring credit cards or specific passes. The justification is none other than “convenience” and “safety.”

Back to the episode from Stretch Armstrong & The Flex Fighters, and we’re shown a media commentator saying, “The smartmark is more than just a phone. It’s part of you. Use it as cash, book your travel, and even shoot video.”

“I never knew how wonderful technology could make me feel,” says a beaming member of the public, showing her microchipped wrist. “The smartmark brings order to my life.”

It’s not coming. It’s already here. According to a New York Post article in 2019, employees at Amazon’s New York offices tested scanners designed to identify their hand, connect to a system containing their credit card, and potentially accelerate store purchases. Perhaps such a technology, which still heavily relies on personal data access, is less intimidating than being microchipped—that is, until enough predictive programming convinces future generations it’s completely normal.

Yet, the Stretch Armstrong & The Flex Fighters episode shows the ultimate power struggle between an autocratic leader who seeks to put his “new recruits to work, subtlely” and the Flex fighters’ committed resistance toward a totalitarian government.

We observe the masses controlled through the smartmark as they are instructed to track down the fighters. And while the brainwashed search commences, the autocratic leader says that “order has finally been established” in the city and that “no child will have to fear for their safety again.”

Order. Safety. From chaos. That’s a euphemism for complete and utter control of each and every individual.

And yet, perhaps a warning and message to the viewer, the resistance fights back with one fighter saying, “People think smartmarks are brand new tech that will improve their lives. They don’t know they’re being tricked.”

Given the above, was the episode more of a warning than predictive programming, or a combination based on the high likelihood that any attempt to microchip the masses will undoubtedly evoke a degree of militant resistance?

Often, institutions that aim to influence the public on a global scale openly write about and discuss their plans. For example, the World Economic Forum and The Rockefeller Foundation constantly publish articles and reports about their ambitious goals.

Indeed, a major motivation is to stimulate support from the public, particularly the youth and the activists among them. But, perhaps, they are also testing to see how easily—or otherwise—the American people will accept and comply with their vision?

Before any of these institutions emerged to script their plans, the Founding Fathers had already given we, the people a toolkit of guidelines and principles—that these tools ought to be used to create our vision for a united America, in which an individual has certain inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.