Conversion

I've been reading Michael Tsarion lately, just web pages mostly, devoted to the idea that the Hyksos Pharaohs and Akhenhaton were the real Jews, and that the entire religious "sham" known as Judeo-Christianity is founded on this ancient sun worshipper. According to Tsarion, the Freemasons, Illuminati, Catholics, etc. are simply different shadows of the same black sun, all artfully controlled through the Black Pope and the Jesuits, the original secret agents.

It makes fascinating and difficult reading for a Christian, and Tsarion makes many incontestable points that cause a bit of indigestion in the swallowing, I admit. I have enough solar "worship" synchs in my life that demand to be accounted for, Virgin Mary beach towel included (see In the Shadow of Giants for more). Something deep inside says he's right, or at least half right, and my thinking about this very strange religion called Christianity has been CONVERTED.

What IF solar worship was really what Egypto/Judeo/Christo religion was all about? And... would that necessarily be a "bad" thing? The Navajo are sun worshippers, and they know that they only worship the sun as a SYMBOL of their real God. So they don't actually worship the sun, they worship their God THROUGH the symbol of the sun, sorta like the symbol is a gateway (stargate) to their true God!?

Which is exactly what Christians do with the cross and what Americans do with the stars and stripes and I suppose Freemasons do with capstoneless pyramids and such. And honestly, it's what I do with cock. I'm a fag and I worship cock. I worship cock because cock is the best symbol for God that I have, better even, I must say, than the sun. But that's just my opinion, and I'm not really prepared to kill you if you prefer another symbol for God (or no god).

That would put me in the minority, because Jews, Catholics, Protestants, Americans and Moslems all have a tradition of conversion by the sword. Which is so crazy, because they all say the SAME THING about God. It's like you're in the supermarket soup aisle (isle) and one soup is Moslem and the other is Kosher, and they both come at you with swords demanding you choose THEIR brand, even though the cans are all filled with exactly the same thing!

Homosexuals have long been targeted for Conversion - from gay to straight. The Christians are always seeking converts, and electro-shock (to the balls) aversion conversion is one of many perverse methods of the Ex Gay "ministry". Abu Ghraib was probably run by an X gay.

Burn the witches!

Darth Vader is also interested in conversion:

"He will join us or he will die!"

Which kinda reminds me of the warning Yah makes to Adam concerning the tree.

And of course, the Borg also convert you. The borg have the added wrinkle of removing free will from the equation - once converted to Borg catholicism, always converted (unless you're 7 of 9).

Which brings me to one of the stranger wings of the gay erotic library: forced conversion from straight to gay (see here or here). Erotic mind control, muscle growth, etc. A wing I admit to spending considerable time in. It's actually offensive, the idea that straight guys can be made gay... against their free will. And it's not all just leather and chains, those are merely crude symbols. The best stories are when the straight guys convert because of lust, pure and simple. Desire. The fuel (faggots) of Conversion. God, my cock LOVES those stories.

Which is of course... ridiculous. It would be morally wrong to MAKE someone a fag. Which is exactly what God did to me... against my free will. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Caroling With Shiva

I've been considerably amazed by our man in London and his microscopic examination of the Mumbai Massacres at The Daily Behemoth. Bloodhound Ben tracks every synch to ground, pinning the symbols to the internet like an entomologist pins butterflies to his board. The nefarious goings on in Mumbai somehow struck a chord with me also, (see Rudderless) the strings of which continue to vibrate.

In his recent, Jubu-ga-joob!, he ties the Synchronystic Foundation victims to 'Mara':

...in Sanskrit and Pali, mara means 'death-bringing' or 'destroying'.

In Germanic and Scandinavian folklore, the Mara is a creature akin to a succubus, associated with the 'Old Hag' known to sufferers of night terrors and sleep disorders.... In German-speaking countries, the phenomenon of 'Old Hag' was known as Mare- the word from which our own 'nightmare' is derived.'

Mara synchs with all things maritime and Mary, toward which these symbols are always pointing.

Which is interesting to me on three points, one being the relation to Shiva, the second being my documented record of sleep disorders, and third, the fact that the Synchronystic Foundation is FOUNDED upon sightings of an entity they have interpreted as Mary (the divine feminine) in NELSON County, Virginia.

Nelson is my mother's maiden (Virginian) name. My mother has always held a "larger than life" position in the family, and considering her mastery of the 'domineering mother' it's a wonder she had any straight kids at all. Carol has always been a firm and loving parenting figure who I remember commanded respect from even my teenage and young adult friends - they would joke about Carol as if she were the kind of person who must be appeased. A Queen Victoria type? To my mother's credit she never threw me out for liking boys and as time goes on she has come to accept and even enjoy Varen as my chosen partner, though like Sarah her hopes for grandchildren grow dim.

But this is where it gets strange... because Varen's stepmother was ALSO named... Carol Nelson!! His birth mother died of cancer when he was young, and his Jewish father (not religious) married his second Shiksa, who was the personification of his blonde goddess fantasies, who was born in Walhalla, North Dakota! Where HER father was the undertaker at Nelson Funeral Home, which seems an appropriate occupation in the "Hall of the Slain".

THIS Carol Nelson apparently had a near supernatural beauty and glamour about her, I heard tales of it on my visit to Varen's family in NYC. However, this Valkyrie turned out to be every inch the demoness from hell, becoming the classic wicked step-mother to my partner Varen. He remembers cocaine driven rampages and dodging vases...

Later, Varen's father set Carol up with her own boutique in Englewood NJ - an "upscale" women's handbag store. Handbags are 'vessels', synching with grails. Eventually (inevitably?) Carol becomes enamored with a young and handsome handbag designer of Egyptian descent: Sharif. She leaves Varen's father for Sharif (Paris?), who quickly realizes that this Helen is actually a she-devil and well, the rest of the tale's not pretty.

Which is all exceptionally strange, even for me. The symbolic capstone to the story is that my own Carol was born in Tacoma within sight of the Narrows Bridge to the Olympic Peninsula, which has become my personal concretized totem of the Stargate/Bifrost bridge - the stairway to heaven and... Valhalla.

NOTES:

The name Carol is tied to the Grail Legend through the Carolingian Dynasty (known variously as the Carlovingians, Carolings, or Karlings) who, through conniving with the Papacy wrested the Frankish throne from the Merovingians in 751.

The trident symbol has long been documented at Through the Looking Glass. Todd's recent post: WTC: World Trident Center confirms the trident symbolism encoded into the twin towers (I seem to recall Aferrismoon synching the same?)

We were walking through downtown Kirkland ("church" land) yesterday and we passed a small office that was having some work done by the CARDINAL heating and A/C company. We BOTH noted that the owner of the office was unusually handsome and dressed in black, very stylish. Our own little Jesuit?

Sol Food

I read some fascinating homoerotic superhero fantasy fiction last week: 'The New Supermen', by Absman420. Until now I've avoided it because of the title. Superman slash fiction is about as retread as it gets, and isn't it taboo for someone of German descent to dream about being a Superman? Despite my misgivings it was a great imagining of what it might be like to be a gay solar-powered super hero - as well as letting me get in touch with my inner Nietzsche.

The plot revolves around Superman deciding to leave earth for a while, "seeking answers to questions", so he creates a formula that turns ordinary Terrans into solar Supermen by sending them into his Super Tanning Bed! It's hilarious and wise all at the same time and it's one of the things I love about Absman's stories.

Secret Synch Confession: I jerked off once in a tanning bed.

One of the things Absman examines is the concept that Superman is "good" simply because he is Superman, and how that goodness manifests in the Terrans. The reason Superman is good is that he gets his solar energy directly from the source, no middleman. Everyone is technically solar powered, except the solar energy is sent first through plants and animals and then to our bodies via food. Which opens us up to corruption from all sides because we all have to eat, and the builders of civilization figured out a long time ago that he who controls the grain controls the nation. Anarchy 101.

Farming was the germ of civilization, and remember that Cain was a farmer. As was Pharaoh, and Monsanto, and Prince Charles. All in the family?

I imagine who might be put out of "work" if suddenly we all got our food direct from the Sun/Son...

Revision 12/16: I changed the title from Superfood to Sol Food.

The Holy Tugboat

A wonderful maritime blog has recently come to my attention: Tugster, devoted to all things boatish on the Hudson River, but especially tugboats. Tugboats are essential in seaports; the local guides who bring the giant ships in for a safe landing. Since the Hudson is symbolically the River Jordan and Manhattan is symbolically New Jerusalem, I found it instructive to view the job of a tugboat.

A tugboat is a small but immensely powerful little boat able to push or pull ocean leviathans to their docks. Tugs have a pugnacious, bulldog air about them, and tugboat captains are famous for their ability to stand up to the high brow Captains of liners and freighters and convince them to "tow the line".

Theodore Tugboat is the personification of the brave little tugboat, who is similar to 'Little Toot', and also 'The Little Engine That Could'.

A great ship has to surrender its helm to a tugboat, and this is where the friction between captains occurs, because the captains of great ships aren't used to being put in the subservient position, and it makes me think of myself as a great ship - an enormous Ego floating on the Sea of Being. Except this ego is kinda weary of being at sea, and would like to come in for a landing, maybe a little R&R? But maybe the only way to actually dock is to (temporarily) surrender my free will to a tugboat?

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him, and I will raise him up at the last day. --John 6:44

So maybe Jesus is my tugboat? And I'm not saying there aren't other tugs in the harbor, most of them a lot newer and shinier than the ol' J, but I'm an old sea dog - I'll take the reliable tow.

Which tugs me to pop sci-fi, and the invention of the Tractor Beam - an invisible ray that draws things towards it, like a tugboat.

As Han Solo (representing the Luciferic Ego) approaches the "small moon", he and the Millennium Falcon are immediately caught in a powerful tractor beam.

The first time Jean Luc Picard (representing the Luciferic Ego) encounter the Borg cube, he and the Enterprise are immediately caught in a powerful tractor beam.

The Borg is a perfect cube, and the Death Star is a perfect sphere. Both of which 'comply' with John the Revelator's measurement of New Jerusalem.

Hmmm. Maybe tractor beams represent the Holy Spirit drawing us to the Father... like a tug boat? Gravity is the classic example of an invisible yet inexorable tug, and my sneaky spider-sense says that this is indeed what is happening... God is turning up the gravity of the situation!

Rocketry is the study of escaping gravity, of which the Nazis were particularly adept and taught the Americans all they knew. If gravity is literally "The Force", then what exactly is it we are attempting to escape? Does Gravity = Judgment? Are Masons subconsciously hell bent on the "X-Prize" because they are trying to get off the planet before... Judgment Day?

And maybe not just Masons, but their Archetypal Masters too... the Old Gods. Rats deserting a sinking ship. But not REALLY sinking, because that's just ANOTHER illusion of the Projectionist!? Maybe he's the one who is sinking, and his time is short! Spaceship earth is caught in the Tractor Beam, AKA the loving and mighty arms of the Most High Tugboat. Maybe resistance really IS futile.

Heathcliff Notes:

On the summer of '07 camping trip to Lopez Island (see The Wreck of the Zodiac), we came upon an amazing sight in the village: a perfectly restored old tractor, painted fluorescent orange and adorned with an MM logo. Still processing...

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!

Rudderless

A few weeks ago I attempted to describe my ongoing foul mood - Gone Fishin'. From the comments section I stated on Nov 18: "I seem to have lost my rudder for now, and that is always disconcerting." My sense of unease amped up after the election and the latest atrocity in India has only fed it.

India, the fabled land of the Vedas and the most ancient of spiritual traditions. Many say we are in the Kali Yuga, the Indian name for the End Times. Trident wielding Shiva is the active archetype, AKA the Destroyer. The Trident symbolism abounds in the Mumbai attacks, see Through the Looking Glass for more. You can bet the symbolism won't be lost on the Indians either. The Mumbai Massacre is likened already to 911, and this is the reason: the Indians will see the mighty hand of Shiva in it. Read 'Little Shop of Miracles' for my strange experience of Shiva in a high school musical production.

We went out to the family beach cabin for Thanksgiving, just us and the terriers this time. The cabin is on Hood Canal, the "gateway" to the Olympic Mountains, and also home base to the Trident nuclear submarine fleet.

On a parallel course, I committed myself to learn a free 3D program called Google Sketchup over the long (internet free) Thanksgiving weekend. I proceeded to create a rudderless sailboat. (for those who don't know, I spend a considerable amount of time "messing about with boats" - mostly small ones) I was inspired by Frederic "Fritz" Fenger, who back in 1911 sailed Yakaboo, a diminutive 17' sailing canoe through the Lesser Antilles on a voyage from Grenada to St. Thomas, a distance of 500 nautical miles. Yakaboo ("good-bye" in one of the Polynesian dialects) was a rudderless canoe, balance was achieved by shifting the centerboard fore and aft, and adjusting the rig.

Home again from Thanksgiving isolation I read Ben Fairhall's take on Mumbai (The Dark Tower), and his intuition that the Goddess may indeed be invoked: "The criteria of a true occult vortex, however, or so I believe, is an affinity not merely with the Grail/goddess, but also to water and towers: as I have attempted to demonstrate repeatedly at BTB."

You will already know that I consider any vehicle of transportation to be symbolic of the Grail, and most especially those that travel on the sea. All boats are feminine, and sailboats seem particularly "alive". My own version of Yakaboo was a schooner rigged catamaran - twin hulls and masts.

But this is what really got my synch wheels spinning, via Loren Coleman's blog, The Copycat Effect:

Two other American individuals have been identified as Alan Scherr, 58, and his daughter Naomi, 13, both there on a spiritual trip with a group called the Synchronicity Foundation. Alan Scherr was a Vedic astrologer.

It was that spiritual journey that led the former art professor at the University of Maryland to be in Mumbai Wednesday evening, eating a late dinner with his 13-year-old daughter at the Oberoi Hotel, when armed gunmen attacked. Both Alan and Naomi Scherr were killed.

...Garvey identified those from the group who were injured in the shooting as Helen Connolly of Toronto, who was grazed by a bullet; Rudrani Devi and Linda Ragsdale, both of Nashville, who both underwent surgery for bullet wounds; and MICHAEL RUDDER of Montreal, who remains in intensive care after being shot three times. Other members of the mission narrowly escaped the attack.

The Oberoi, as Ben Fairhall suggests, is synched with Oberon - the Lord of the Elves. I became aware of Oberon via research into Tim Burton's remake of The Planet of the Apes. The Oberon is the space station that carries the genetic researchers (Nephilim) around their Saturnian orbit. See 'Marky's Mark'. Interestingly, Burton imagines captured humans made to take a brand from their ape masters: the trident.

Hmmm. The synchronauts nearly lost a Rudder. Named Michael. In a carefully synchronized attack on a city associated with the Goddess (the Grail), and also Oberon (aliens/Nephilim) and through the Trident... Shiva (the god who is half woman). Hood Canal is home base to the Trident Submarine Base. On whose shores a rudderless sailboat/Grail is devised via a free 3D program of the Google - the concretized "I Am".

With hindsight, I see that I have been in the Dreaming Mind for weeks, the experience of disquiet and unease are the signs. If I were to interpret my "dream", I would say that Shiva is taking our collective rudder, which I interpret to mean our left brain, logical, book-learned mind. The rudder might even represent the illusion of autonomous free will. Common sense says that a rudderless ship is doomed, and yet...

Perhaps Yakaboo knows another way?