Easter Mass and Mini Elephants

I attended Easter Mass this morning with Our Lady, the Star of the Sea, whom the Catholics call St. Mary, the Greeks called Aphrodite, the Egyptians called Isis, and the Babylonians called Ishtar. I expect the average Christian isn’t fond of the idea that all their icons are re-booted pagan gods and goddesses, but for me it is a comfort. It helps me keep faith in the archetypes, even as they change their names over the eons.

Anyway, the service itself was straight out of Star Trek: The Return of the Archons episode. A bunch of primates worshipping a computer. They even carry an ornate bible down the center aisle - the Word, you know. Let’s call it a computer chip - the “Code”.

Set in the 23rd century, the series follows the adventures of Captain James T. Kirk (William Shatner) and the crew of the Federation starship Enterprise. In this episode, the crew of the Enterprise encounters a seemingly peaceful world controlled by an unseen religious leader, but discovers that the end of social evils has removed everyone's individuality.

I’m not exactly against the idea of worshipping a computer, as long as it was, you know, God-like. Philip K. Dick called it VALIS (Vast Active Living Intelligence System), and the study of sync certainly reinforces the idea that we are all essentially sub-routines running inside a universal, holographic computer program.

This service was marred by a bad, buzzy speaker, you could barely understand the words being spoken. I took this as a sync metaphor for a lack of communication skills with the mainframe MCP. We’ve lost the code, and all we can do is blindly follow ritual, pushing the Jesus Submit button over and over again but nothing actually happens.

The reason nothing happens is not that the computer isn’t there, but that we simply don’t have the right passwords and protocols anymore. The Elders of Zion don’t just give it away. “In the name of Jesus…” is simply saying the password and expecting results, as if the Jesus was your best app ever. Maybe it really IS the best app ever, but it’s name isn’t Jesus, it’s probably a lot closer to THX 1138.

Sync is the study and re-learning of this ancient protocol, the symbolic language of VALIS. As we learn it, the world is gradually revealed to be a giant Donkey Kong simulation. (see what I did there?) And that’s the fun, because we are learning to push the right buttons on the game console.

Earthquakes

I’ve been having extremely vivid earthquake/landslide dreams over the past month. The most recent was last night, where Var and I were driving the VW somewhere, the ground began shaking, and soon every mountain range around us began crumbling, as if the entire world is going down. The dreams feel very real and very troubling, but I don’t fear them anymore. The earthquakes are the result of Poseidon banging his trident upon the ground. Poseidon is the god of the sea, or the subconscious. So quite naturally, the ‘quakes are heard first in the dreamspace holodeck of the subconscious, which then manifest and become our dimension, through a process of 3D printing.

For in him we live and move and have our being
~ Acts 17:28

Mini Elephants

What kind of reality will we create? Mini-elephants is the best we can come up with? For some reason I keep seeing miniature elephants. Stardust, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, The Mysterious Island, all feature mini-phants.

Ganesh is the elephant bringer of good luck, but you know, he rides on a mouse. Maybe because he has to obey the click.

Your Humble Servant

One King, One Soldier, my latest Holy Grail book is turning out better than I thought it would. There’s even a coy reference to Mark Twain’s No. 44:

I just, you know, was sitting by myself on the curb and all of a sudden this beautiful girl comes up and we have a drink and now dinner, and... man, it’s kind of like a dream. Something you’d see in a movie. The Mysterious Stranger.

Like all books about the Grail, it dances around the subject and the only time it says straight out what the Grail is, you know its a lie. But a lie that tells the truth... like a Picasso painting. I suppose that’s why Twain named his character Satan... a lier who only tells the truth.

Everything I say is a lie...

In One King, One Soldier, the Satan or Joker character is Jack Spicer, a mysterious and angry homo poet who knows more about the Grail than most. He’s called a “Lonely Faggot”:

You’re just a sad, lonely fairy, Jack. LF, Jack. There’s a million like you. When you’ve crawled into a bottle and died, Carol and I will be living in Marin with three kids and a new Buick. Suck on that, faggot.

God’s lonely man? The “LF”, or Aleph, is the first character in the Jewish alphabet. Jack is also the first character that our modern King Arthur must duel: win, lose or come to terms.

Continuing with the “lonely” theme, The Mysterious Stranger, says:

In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever--for you will remain a thought, the only existent thought, and by your nature inextinguishable, indestructible.

This is oddly similar to the speech that Grima Wormtongue gives to Éowyn, his “bride”, who is played by Miranda (“I am no man”) Otto:

Oh, but you are alone. Who knows what you’ve spoken to the darkness, in the bitter watches of the night. When all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you, a hutch to trammel some wild thing.

The name Gríma derives from the Old English or Icelandic word meaning "mask", "helmet" or "spectre". In the profoundly disturbing Claymation film: The Adventures of Mark Twain, The Mysterious Stranger is portrayed as ‘no man’, behind a mask.



The rest of No. 44’s speech is saved for King Théoden:

Tolkien: “I have only ever SERVED you.”

Twain: “But I, your poor SERVANT, have revealed you to yourself and set you free.”

We note that directly after the Wormtongue is cut OUT (revealed) by Gandalf (Grand Elf or LF?) the King is indeed set free.

Come out, come out, where ever you are...

Much thanks to Alan Green, Eleleth, and Ishmael for shedding light on some inner demons.

A Tribute

I think maybe Osiris just died in my neighborhood. John lived off exit 17*, and he went to church at 1717* Bellevue Way. A Facebook page made to honor and encourage him - “Get well John” - had 1700* entries.

John died after a brutal 3 year battle with cancer, and he never once gave in. He taught high school science, and he was one of those teachers who invested all he had into his charges. He also played guitar for his church - again, in order to reach the youth. Last year, John had just completed another bout with chemo, feeling like total shit, so of course he was off to play guitar for the prison inmates at the Monroe Penitentiary. That’s just who John was.

Last Saturday was the memorial service, and the church parking lot was packed, every pew was filled. I doubt I will ever see anything like it again, as long as I live. John believed in Jesus. Or in more ancient iconography, he believed in the Son/Sun of Osiris - the falcon-headed Horus. He believed in his children. Curiously, there was a great sun dog “halo” visible around the sun on that day. And since his death, there have been eagles circling directly overhead.

* According to Greek historian Plutarch, the ancient Egyptian god Seth murdered his twin brother Osiris in the twenty-eighth year of the latter’s reign, on the seventeenth day of the third month. Twenty-eight divided by 17 approximates the square root of e. If the date- setting priests were aware of this constant and wanted to express the nature of the festival by its date, they could have found no better way than to so assimilate the god’s death with the root -- or cause -- of new growth.

Upside Down

Artist Ross Watson depicts gay porn icon Francois Sagat as St. Peter:

"I was motivated by the Vatican's position on homosexuality, and its ban on condom use, to create a painting which references Caravaggio's ‘Crucifiction of St Peter', and features French gay porn icon, Francois Sagat."

"Francois Sagat continues to play a valuable role in the area of HIV/AIDS prevention and education. I wanted to acknowledge that in the painting, whilst tying it to the Vatican," comments Watson. "In contrast, the Vatican uses its status in the UN General Assembly to obstruct the promotion of condoms as protection against HIV/AIDS, and sexuality education in school curricular."

"Some will regard the painting as provocative, but I don't believe it is in contrast to the Vatican's position on these issues. The Pope's 2nd in charge recently claimed homosexuality and pedophelia are linked. That enraged me. It seems just and deserving to depict Francois Sagat as a contemporary saint, given he is helping to save lives, rather than contributing to causing illness and deaths for millions."

Hat tip to Unnatural Devotions.
Synch hat trick by Sean at Buff Muscles, who's latest post "Upsy Daisy" features an upside down gymnast, and is also featuring NEW erotic stories by... Peter!

After Math

The author known as AKA has another hot installment of his Transform series up at the Evolution Archives - After Math, and this time the lead character is high school math teacher Billy Titus. AKA is to Gosporn as Chris Carter is to The Secret Sun, with his writing chock full o' homo-religious synchiness. AKA's always got one hand on the pen and the other on the one-eyed monster of the Id.

Anyway, the name Titus is a loaded gun. Titus Flavius Vespasianus was the name of the Roman general who conducted the siege of Jerusalem in 70 AD, resulting in the destruction of the Temple and the city. Titus was acting under orders of Nero (a classic anti Christ figure and recently recast in the new Star Trek movie as a vengeful Romulan). I often think of George W. Bush as a "Nero" figure - consumed by the revenge archetype. The most telling mediabyte was George's love of the guitar - "fiddling" while disaster mounted in New Orleans.

King George has pretty much destroyed everything in his short eight year reign - Iraq (Babylon), the dollar, the Constitution, the little left of American global cred, even the collective belief in a positive future. All done in the name of Jaysus and with the full support and blessing of "his" church. No wonder I see Jesus as Shiva. I'd curse him, but deep down, I know that every knew church is built on the smoldering ruins of an old one. Shiva is just the B side of Brahma.

It's easy to see the destruction going on, it's everywhere. What's more difficult to see is the new Temple being built, and I don't mean the "new temple same as the old temple" bullshit. I mean something REALLY new. I figure that God's no fool, he wouldn't abandon an old house without breaking ground on a new one.

The Transformed Titus worships at a new Temple - a vessel of smoldering sexual perfection. A vessel - perhaps - much closer to the truth about God than any Ark of wood, or Temple of stone. Maybe I'm a futurist, after all.

Perfection

My Mother the Car

The solar chariot - note his mother peaking...

I saw a gorgeous orange Porsche 914 the other day - nice ones are quite rare these days. Ricardo Montalban died on Jan. 14, and the High Noon post got 14 comments. 914's had removable SUN roofs, orange... you get the drift. 914's are a crossbreed between the noble Porsche brand and the peasant VW engine, so they are considered less valuable and collectible. However, judged simply on their merits, 914's were very good cars, and by volume, Porsche's most successful model - "the people's Porsche". Like most of my favorite cars, it was rear engined.

The legendary Dr. Ferry Porsche is the father of both brands - Porsche and Volkswagen. He developed a "people's car" for Hitler prior to WWII (another false sun god/antichrist), which became the VW, which eventually became a symbol of 60's counter-culture. How weird is that?

Now that I think about it, the most significant cars in my history were ALL crossbreeds of one sort or another. The Ferrari 246 Dino is perhaps the most beautiful Ferrari ever made - a cross between Pininfarina coach building and a 6-cylinder Fiat power plant. I loved this car. Still do. The name "Dino" honors the founder's late son, Alfredo "Dino" Ferrari.

The "Dino" brand was created to market a lower priced, "affordable" sports car. The first brochure described the Dino as "almost a Ferrari". --wikipedia

"What is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? 
 You made him a little lower than the angels; you crowned him with glory and honor and put everything under his feet." --Hebrews 2:6-8

Another is the De Tomaso (Thomas) Pantera (panther), a cross between "old world" Italian artistry and the brute force of a "new world" Ford V-8. Sold in the US through the Lincoln/Mercury dealerships, this car has perhaps the most gorgeous ass ever designed, but quality did not live up to expectations. Notably, Elvis Presley once fired a gun at his Pantera after it wouldn't start.

Auto-mobiles are symbolic of chariots, grails and vessels - and we human beings are literally spirit in vessels of clay. It makes me wonder...

Maybe I am a Halfbreed Prince - a Son of God and Gaia, Zeus and Europa - spirit and matter. I am Hercules. I am Orion. I am Jesus -the Son of the Father and Mary. I am a Porsche 914 - half immortal (noble) and half mortal (iron). This is the template. The new model. Adam.

So it is written: "The first man Adam became a living being"; the last Adam, a life-giving spirit.

The War of Heaven was because of this. Spirits do not willfully don feet of clay. But feet of clay we have, and warriors we are. Not against flesh and blood, but against the angels. The foot is the symbol of mankind - our earthborn 3D existence. Likewise the wing is the symbol of spirit - of the angels.

Ricardo Montalban sold the Chrysler Cordoba as "the affordable" luxury car. The 914 was the "people's Porsche". The 246 Dino was the "affordable" sports car. Both the Pantera and the Lincoln Mercury brand were sold as "affordable" alternatives. Hello... is there an echo in here?

I wonder... maybe God found the angels to be "unaffordable"? Maybe wars in heaven (like in Iraq) simply cost too much. So maybe He created this third dimension (Middle Earth) that would supply him with ecstatic experience for wholesale. Mankind, the affordable alternative! No wonder the angels fear/hate/abuse us, we work for practically free!

It's not being a worker that bugs me. I LIKE to work. I just want to feel appreciated. I think I've just founded the first automotive religion/union. Teamsters of the Universe... Unite!

My Tiller

I've been sincerely touched by the letters of encouragement y'all have sent my way over the past few weeks. Maybe this blogging thing really does have something going for it. So... thanks. Words of encouragement are like flowers in a hospital room, maybe not the cure for what ails you, but REALLY nice to have around.

Anyway, I realized that I have not been practicing what I preach, which is to listen to Cock. I've been ignoring the Little Boy, immersed in this or that sense of impending doom and nothing takes away a chubby quicker than religious dread. Judge Dredd?

Anyway, I finally put that aside and just had some really great orgasms, and it's truly amazing how those few seconds in Nirvana can screw your head back on (pardon the expression) straight. Highly recommended. Three thumbs up!!

One of the things that helped was that I decided to read an old homoerotic story by FanTCMan (my Old Faithful...) called 'Fantastic Island', which contained this little gold nugget:

"Soon he reached the narrow end of the island. Rocks jutted into the water, and he had to wade into the water to get around them. The water felt good on him, and he dived under and swam. He felt again how muscular he was becoming as he used his muscles to swim, and he marveled at how his cock felt like a RUDDER in the water. He did like the feeling of his cock growing large and thick and heavy."

I think I know where to grab my tiller... made of wood? To get to the good stuff... scroll down, to the Land Down Under.

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Bull's Eye!

Three Legs of Man

I was thinking about kilts today, that Scottish anachronism. Yes, I'm witnessing the meltdown of the global financial markets, and I want to talk about FASHION!

Seattle is home to the Utilikilts Co. - devoted to making "Men's Unbifurcated Garments". They're a pretty cool company, and about ten years ago I was "this close" to getting one, even though it was way over my budget (which is closer to Salvation Army chic than I like to admit). I was totally into the idea because a guy wearing a skirt is so counter-culture, and this was like a manly skirt, so rock on! So why didn't I?

Two reasons: 1 - tall guys with wimpy calves do NOT look good in kilts, and 2 - kilts pretty much ruin any chance of showing a basket - so basically, it didn't make me look HOT. There was a brief gay kilt fad back in the 80's, and some guys did look kinda sexy in them, like hairy Catholic high school girls.

Utilikilts mocumercial: Don't Ask

A pair of Scots

Utilikilts sells "freedom" - and they make some good hay out of that. But it's freedom with a smirk, because phallic-shamed Adam can't actually show his phallus in public without risking arrest from the protocol droids. In a way, a tight pair of jeans reveals more freedom than all the kilts in Scotland (the liberation of bondage paradox). Whatever, their heart is in the right place.

The Utilikilts logo is a grunge rock triskelion - a radial pattern of three.

It reminds me of the flag of the Isle of Man: three legs. A man is essentially a three legged beast - two for man and one for Min. Sorta gives "walking with God" a whole new swing. In War of the Worlds, the tripods from Mars invade earth.

Men are from Mars

Tripods in Seattle

The Min In Me

I've been grooving on MIN lately, the pre-Dynastic Egyptian Creator God. He sounds a lot like YHWH:

As Khem or Min, he was the god of reproduction; as Khnum, he was the creator of all things, "the maker of gods and men". --wikipedia

Ithophallic Gods are shown with full-on erections. For me, they are truer to the idea of Creative GOD POWER than a thousand weepy Catholic icons. God isn't ashamed of his phallus like men are. It's his glory and power, his sword and scepter! Maybe that's why he's always being symbolically castrated - at least by hopeful usurpers. My cock is a Mini-Min, and I'm a MininMan! OK, enough PUNishment!

Find the Min on the Man

Min's sacred animal was a WHITE BULL and his special plant, long LETTUCE, lactuca sativa, (read Lettuce Pray) was believed to have aphrodisiac properties. Lettuce is believed to be associated with him, not due to its vaguely phallic shape, but rather to its white milky sap which is reminiscent of SEMEN.

Church back then sounds like fun: his statue would be taken out of his temple and brought into the fields, where participants would sing praises to Min and play games in the nude. Pharaoh (being Min's representative on earth) would then plant his "seed" in the earth, assuring a good harvest. Talk about performance anxiety!

Taurus IS a great sexual icon - all puffing and pawing, horny and hung... not so smart. The Bull is about as MALE as it gets. Lamborghini - famed Italian exoticar builder, names all its vehicles after prize bulls. The signature colors are "lettuce" GREEN and "semen" WHITE. Lamborghini's most famous product was the Countach (Piedmontese for 'FUCK'), and if Lamborghini isn't channeling Min, then I'm Thoth's uncle.

The flag of Piedmont, white cross noted.

The Lamborghini Countach was designed by Gandini at Bertone in 1971, and is perhaps the most iconic sports car in the world. The design was GROUND breaking (like a plow!) in its day, and still looks fantastic. I remember that it wasn't officially imported into the USA for a long time, because it couldn't meet collision safety regs - too DANGEROUS for Columbia. They finally DID make the Countach comply, but the solution was an outrageously UGLY bumper, thus removing virile sex appeal, and much of the reason for desiring the car in the first place! Male sex sorta likes looking dangerous...

Acting the FOOL for his God. From House of Vader.

Today I was perusing the magazine rack (sounds military, no?) and my BULL'S eye spies the September issue of Sports Car International, featuring the "SUPERCAR SAVIOR" - a white Lambo Gallardo. Page 22! Synch, game and match.

Ferdinand the Bull. One of my childhood favs! Ferdinand was a 'gay' bull who preferred to sit beneath the great cork tree smelling flowers, but was stung by a BEE and momentarily appeared all killer ferocious. He survived the Bull RING by refusing to be provoked... turning the other cheek.

Bully for Bugs. What a gull-a-bull! What a NIN-cow-poop! In this WB classic, Bugs (the trickster) bests the bull, and sets him up with AXLE (axis) grease, sandpaper and TNT, sending him crashing into a shield emblazoned with the Fleur-de-Lis - sign of the Merovingian BEE!

I realize I DO have a tendency to be easily provoked... may the inner Ferdinand win out.

SYNCH WINKS

Last week my HONEY was stung TWICE by BEES in the space of five minutes, while mowing the LAWN.

ADMIRE is featuring green this week.

'Ferruccio Lamborghini was a TRACTOR MAKER (used for mechanical SOWING) in Cento (near Ferrara, Italy). Ferruccio became a man with enormous financial resources and a great passion for fast and expensive cars; he owned the most beautiful cars of his time: Morgan, Jaguar, Alfa Romeo, Maserati, Mercedes and, of course, Ferrari. According to legend, the history of the Lamborghini automobile started from frequent clutch problems with a Ferrari 250: Ferruccio sought explanation directly from Ferrari himself. The answer was something like: “A tractor maker like you does not know how to use a clutch of a special car like a Ferrari”.' --Baltic Classic Cars

Ferrari presenting a perfect RED CAPE to the bull.

The Free Monty

Fremont is a Seattle neighborhood known for it's funky, post-hippie vibe - even after the gentrification. It's home to the Solstice Parade, and about as Pagan as they come: Head shops, bicycle shops, bookstores that are always full of the latest Bush whacker, even a statue of Lenin! I've become perfectly comfortable there. It's also the place where I was "initiated" into the Mysteries.

Fremont calls itself "The Center of the Universe", which may very well be true. It's central signpost points to Atlantis and the Milky Way, among other interesting destinations. This Galactic Center - (Lodge No. 11?) even has a rocket ship stargate idling at "ground zero". In the Shadow of Giants, I note it even has an El Camino restaurant, named after "the Road", or the Rainbow Bridge.

Fremont itself sits across a deep and narrow watery channel from Seattle proper - called the ship canal, or "the cut" for short. Seattle might represent the busy and self-important egocentric left brain, while Fremont represents the All creative, All knowing right side. Fremont is accessed from Seattle by the Fremont Bridge, a narrow, (and oftentimes traffic choked) draw bridge over the Cut. It's blue and orange. But there is another way...

Over-arching this small bridge is the great AURORA Bridge, resonating rainbows and toroid radiation belts. Grail energy! The Aurora Bridge is a suicide MAGNET, its stargate resonating power obvious to all. Just beneath the Aurora Bridge in Fremont lies a great troll that is ready to devour you and your chariot as you cross the great DIVIDE. It has a VW BEETLE(Juice) in it's grip.

The CUT leads to Lake UNION (with the Divine), and way out West we have many train stations named UNION STATION - after the Union Pacific Railroad. Here's one in Tacoma, and here's one in Seattle - both fine temples/dynamos.

My personal initiation ritual took place inside this building - currently occupied by the Theo Chocolate Factory. Yes, Charlie, Fremont even has a chocolate factory (organic and fair trade certified, of course).

At the time (four summers ago) the building was in transition, the former home of the Red HOOK Ale Brewery (note the Giza-ish pyramidal pines in the logo) and before that the old Fremont Trolley Barn. By rail, beer, chocolate or Fly Agaric (all Foods of the Gods), this building has always been a symbolic stargate.

How and why these symbolic buildings exist is a matter of opinion, and yes, Freemasons built them. The Seattle Union Station was designed by the same architect as Grand Central Station! Considering my personal history and resonance with occult architectural shamanism, I think these dudes were seriously tuned in - like Solomon.

And yet... I can't help but think these great architects somehow missed the point. The Temple of God is NOT a building of brick and mortar. It is a MAN. We are the holy temple/chariot/grail/edifice of the ALL. My BODY is the Temple/Battery of Solomon.

A spiritual battery - just like Solomon's Temple. Holy Fuck!

Without Form and Void

Religion is a story the left brain tells to the right brain.

In 1996, neuroscientist Jill Bolte Taylor (lighting’s tailor?) suffered a debilitating stroke that also acted as a doorway into another perceptual world - a stairway to heaven. She’s one of the rare scientists who’ve experienced the other side and returned to tell the tale. Her book, ‘My Stroke of Insight’, was featured in a recent NYT article.

Most religious visionaries are, well... religious, so their interpretations are necessarily cloaked in heavy religious garb. Jill - being the strict Puritan scientist - doesn’t wear the fancy shaman drag. Being the ecstatic poet type myself, I’d call her experience an ”ego death“, or an ”anointing of the Holy Spirit“. She just calls it a stroke. But call it what she wants, the experience has had the same effect on her as it has had on so many before her: changed her life and now she’s on Oprah ”witnessing“ to others.

In her talk, Jill describes what it’s like to be cast loose from the anchor of the left (rational, analytic, contextual, judging) brain. Where does consciousness go when its usual left brain home is under attack? To the right brain... across the great divide, the river, the chasm: to the Other Side.

Jill describes an experience of transcendent power and growth as being like a genie let loose of her bottle. ”A whale swimming through an ocean of ecstasy“. Nirvana. The creative right brain let loose of the left, the ”feminine“ loosed of her ”masculine“ master. The left brain is the Ego: ”I Am“. The right brain is everything else: Universe.

I’m wondering if the division between left and right brain might be the key to all of this. Left hand/right hand path; good/evil; black/white; male/female; Kansas/Oz; Heaven/Earth. This ever present duality of experience is echoed once again in the split nature of the human brain, the computer that perceives the duality. Hmmmm.

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. --Genesis 1:2

Every religion/belief system is a creation of the left brain - the storyteller. Maybe it’s the left brain’s attempt at describing it’s perfect twin: the right brain. Every attempt is doomed to failure, because logic, language, every skill of the left brain (The Tree of Knowledge), is an incomplete and corrupted vessel in which to ferry the perfection of right brain being - the Divine Feminine. In a way, the left brain is always the lier, always the Devil - even with the best of intentions. It can’t help but make a sin of commission or omission when describing the complete and awesome perfection of the right.

I think it knows it’s doomed but it can’t help but try, being forever bewitched by the image in the magic mirror - through the looking glass.

Maybe the divine consort is male. The right, female brain, is the source of all power and light, and is thus sought after by many suiters. Many suiters would rape or subdue her, but only one is her true husband. The one who loves her for her virtue, not for her power. In other words, the one who would NOT turn her into the scarlet woman, AKA Jezebel/Magdalene.

In I Dream of Jeannie, Tony Nelson was the ancient astronaut who knew the power of the Jinn. Jeannie desired only to serve her master. In this case, the master didn’t much appreciate what he had, much like Darren never appreciated Samantha. That is of course exactly WHY these beauties loved their masters, and why they chose to submit to them and their silly bourgeois aspirations. These men desired them for their charms - not their god-like power.

In Disney’s Aladdin, the excruciatingly queer Jafar is pictured scheming and plotting for the hand of Jasmine, AKA ”The ultimate power of the universe!!!“ He knows the power of the divine feminine, and his "love" is only the love of a gold digger. Jafar is a classic alchemist/magician, a Wormtongue.

Gay muscle growth fiction revolves around the idea of a man growing immensely huge and powerful, blown up as if by magic... like a Jinn. The growth is all male (giant muscle and cock) but in order to GET the growth, an action is required of a symbolically feminine nature: the guy has to suck cock or get fucked to receive the gift! The man has to symbolically become a woman - the male made female. I think this gay male sexual fantasy is seriously tied in to all of this.

While Jill was experiencing her right brain/Nirvana, she experienced extreme difficulty functioning in the material world. She couldn’t speak, read, understand language, symbols or even the idea of time passing. Using a telephone to call for help was an excruciating experience.

She was an idiot savant, a deaf mute, a Helen Keller. In other words, the creative right brain needs the left brain to create order. Order out of chaos. An orderer needs to be master, and at the same time, should understand it is only the servant of a much greater power. A cosmic paradox - husband and wife - Mars and Venus. I know many husbands who refer to their wives as SWMBO - "She who must be obeyed".

It seems to me that we have the War of Heaven going on right between our ears: Enki vs. Enlil, Satan vs. Jesus, Troy vs. Sparta. This is NOT the war between the right lobe and the left, because the right lobe doesn’t war. It only loves. All war comes from the left lobe, and it is the competing I Ams, (males, memes, suiters), that are at war. In the end, only one can survive - only one sperm wins the whole egg. "Co-create" my ass.

We sperms may fantasize that the race is won by the swift or the bold, but I think it is the egg who decides. Who is the suitor who pleases her most? Jesus? Buddha? OO7? Or maybe you?

Video: How It Feels to Have a Stroke.