The Ugliest Grail in Town

Father Juliano's Dream Car

Put a Bag On That Car. A NYT story about Branford Connecticut Catholic priest, Alfred A. Juliano, and his obsession with car design. Father Juliano, attempts to create the world’s safest car, which results in the ugliest thing ever seen on four wheels.

If you’ve been following along, I’m considering cars to be symbolic of vessels/cups/grails - the divine feminine. Any story combining Catholics and cars is like nitro-powered symbolism. Catholics (the traditional guardians of the grail - Mary) have, like Father Juliano, turned the grail religion into something pretty damn ugly, and then top-coated it with a gorgeous “candy apple” paint job. Silk purses come to mind.

Lately, the Catholic paint job is showing obvious wear, which opens the meme gates to the Jedi Knights Templar - the next pretenders to the throne. Which to me is small comfort - kinda like choosing between Democrats and Republicans. At the end of the day, they’re all playing on the same team.

It may well be that the divine feminine is inherently wild and dangerous, like a big cat, and while the attempt at Catholic abstinence (or Red Cross Safe Sex) is understandable, that is entirely missing the point. Maybe sex isn’t sexy if it’s not somehow... dangerous. LIke a sports car. Car = risk = sex = grail.

The Shaguar

In Austin Powers - International Man of Mystery, Mike Myers drives a Jaguar XK8 - a spotted cat. Austin is a male sex god - Dionysus - an archetype that really IS a mystery to the West. Overt male sexuality, while no longer strictly taboo, is still strongly discouraged. Men can be men in every way a man can be, as long as we don’t show actual dick. See Adam Star’s post at Inside the Cosmic Cube: Mystos Mustela for his inspired take on another Dionysian - Wolverine.

After Austin is revived from cryogenic sleep, he is taken to a room where he is presented with his possessions - which include a “male enhancement” vacuum pump (the black hole/vacuum/ultimate power source of the universe). Like Peter, Austin denies ownership at least three times - though in the end, he confesses. A remarkable scene.

My middle name is "Danger”

The short-lived television series The Ugliest Girl in Town made its debut in 1968:

Timothy Blair is a Hollywood talent agent. He falls in love with Julie Renfield, a British actress, visiting the United States to do a movie. After that movie is finished, she returns to England. To get his mind off her, Timothy dresses as a hippie and poses for his brother Gene, a photographer. When the photos appear in a magazine a modeling agent in England sees it and assumes that it's a woman, and he offers "her" a job. Knowing this would be the only chance to be with Julie, Tim accepts and dubs himself Timmie. Tim has two weeks vacation time to spend as much time with Julie as he can, but when as he is about to leave with his brother, Gene loses £11,000 gambling. Unless he pays him back, Tim has to continue being Timmie for a while longer.

The Ugliest Girl in Town... is a boy.

Agent Smith relaxing around the house

Back in the day, women were forbidden to act in theatre, so men played the feminine roles. The sex of the actor is actually besides the point, and if you’ve ever seen a good drag show, you understand - it’s all about attitude. The feminine must be expressed, even when men are the only actors available. The masculine is made feminine. It’s a drama still playing out in gay bars, every night of the week.

This is a disjointed post, and if you've followed along it's in spite of my writing, not because of it. I'm grappling with the roles of gender, the masculine and feminine, tops and bottoms, and the mercurial nature inherent in the sexual unions of men. When I look at the world as a sort of divine play - a cosmic dance, then I begin to wonder about my role, and the role of my people. In less than 40 years, gayness has come along way, baby - from "the love that dare not say its name", to the favorite vice of priests and senators. I suppose that's progress, but I could wish for more.

Sometimes I think gay people are ugly ducklings, somehow lost from our true home, being raised by another species! We're not ducks at all - we're swans - and one day we'll real-ize it. In gay slang, a bodybuilder is a “Muscle Mary”, which pretty well wraps it up.

Tom Katt - born again porn star

Eye on the Tiger

Tigers are on the loose this week - three separate boxing day stories - all involving tigers.

San Francisco Police probe fatal zoo attack.

Sri Lanka military says 40 Tigers killed in sea battle.

Thailand Could Host 2000 Wild Tigers.

The Eye of the Tiger

Eye of the Tiger: a song performed by the American rock group Survivor . It was released on January 1, 1982, and was written at the request of Sylvester Stallone for the film Rocky III. More boxing.

Eye of the Tiger (film) 1986: Buck Matthews (played by Gary Busey), a former Vietnam veteran, returns to his old hometown and finds the place has since been a target of a motorcycle gang. Shortly after, the bikers murder his wife and traumatize his daughter. Buck has a problem; his parole officer is also the sheriff of the town and is in league with the bikers. Buck seeks the help of a drug lord, a prisonmate, and an old friend, J.B. Deveraux (played by Yaphet Kotto), who was also a veteran. They vow to eradicate the gang.

Another revenge driven gore-fest, which seems to be the theme for the season, see Battle of the Titans.

India (and Pakistan) is the fabled land of the tigers, and today, Benazir Bhutto, Oxford educated pussycat of the elite, was killed in an attack remarkable (even in this day and age) for its deadly violence.

Benazir Bhutto, 54, Lived in Eye of (the tiger) Pakistan Storm. NYT obituary.

“Play as cornered tigers”

The 1992 Cricket World Cup in Australia & New Zealand marked Pakistan's first World Cup victory. It is remembered for the comeback Pakistan made after losing key players such as Waqar Younis and Saeed Anwar, and being led by an injured captain in Imran Khan. Pakistan lost 4 of their first 5 matches and were nearly eliminated in the first round of the tournament after being bowled out for 74 against England, until the match was declared as a "no result" due to rain. Captain Imran Khan famously told the team to play as "cornered tigers", after which Pakistan won five successive matches, including, most famously, the semi-final against hosts New Zealand and the final against England.

The tiger finally beats the lion at his own game.

India and Pakistan have long suffered under British rule. The East India Company "found India rich and left it poor," says author Nick Robin. Though England no longer rules the colonies by name, it still wields power via corporate/banking proxy, the instruments of occult global empire. Interestingly, the 1899 Chinese (Also called a tiger) peasant revolt against the corrupting influence of empire was called the Boxer Rebellion.

Interpreting the media tea leaves to see vengeful tigers on the loose says more about my own feelings of political impotence than I really care to admit, and though I might wish for bloody justice, I’m cautioned by the words of another English educated Indian:

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. --Mahatma Gandhi

The Chronoliths

The Chronoliths by Robert Charles Wilson

American software developer Scott Warden is living a careless expatriate life on the beaches of 21st century Thailand when a monolithic pillar, sheathed in ice and composed of an unknown, indestructible material, appears in the jungle. The artifact is a chronolith, a memorial commemorating the conquest of Thailand--20 years in the future. As Warden follows his estranged wife and badly injured daughter back to the U.S., more chronoliths celebrating future victories appear, to devastating effect. Bangkok and Jerusalem are destroyed, and societies worldwide dissolve in chaos or teeter on the brink of collapse. As the chronoliths close in on America, Scott joins with biker and undercover agent Hitch Paley and experimental physicist Sue Chopra in a literal race against time to find a way to change the future--which has already happened. --Cynthia Ward

Chronoliths are Pillarmids from the future - gigantic stela that suddenly erupt out of nowhere, commemorating a future victory of a future warlord - Kuin (Cain?). Time’s arrow. Wilson presents the “freeze-pop” theory of temporal events. An Age can be thought of as a glass of water that is gradually freezing, from the bottom up. As time progresses up the glass, all possibilities are frozen below, while still fluid above. I admit to being fascinated by this idea, because it explains a lot. 32 degrees F is the cut-off, and interesting to my third Masonic eye, 33 is the final degree of possibility for free will.

If we are nearing the end of an Age, then all the “water under the bridge” is now frozen, and there are only a few degrees remaining of possibility. As the glass freezes solid, all the threads of possibility crystallize into the grand finale, and what once appeared to be random events are now seen as inevitable. Like a cosmic Holmes explaining/illuminating the scene of the crime. Pre-destined, so to speak.

Crystalline Entity - Star Trek TNG

Maybe synchromysticism is the recognition of this crystallizing nature of space-time. All these crazy coincidences, all these names/numbers/people/events that are suddenly related to each other, as if they’re all connected in a fractalline, crystalline nature/entity.

As the cosmic Margarita freezes, sometimes “ice cubes” of frozen possibility float to the surface “ahead of their time”, which we notice as syncs. That’s what prophecy is - the notice and subsequent interpretation of bits of frozen possibility drifting past. Sometimes the ice cube is an ice berg, and when it strikes the Titanic or even the island of Manhattan (Ground Zero = freezing in Celsius), we all feel it.

I’m wondering, maybe “global warming” is the last gasp of this Age. The attempt at a few more degrees of freedom. Which is a fine thing for everyone, but especially for a leopard desiring to change his spots. There's still time.

Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard its spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil. --Jeremiah 13:23

I Just Wanna Fuck and Dance

I'm a little jealous of Jake Kotze's recent takeover of the gay meme over at The Blob, so in order to assert my own queerness, I present the ultimate synchro-homo mashup - I Just Wanna Fucking Dance. By some anon VJ in Ibiza (which is no doubt very close to Patmos, St. John's mushroom isle). Via the keen eye of Doug over at Unnatural Devotions.

I have just one thing to say: any clip that both opens and closes with JA is mighty fine.

The Queer Underground Stream

Dagon Rising

Mer-people were on the rise this year, surging along with the record floods. Sonar sync pings abound, and one of my favorite boatnut blogs - Never See Land (a blog worth visiting for the pun of it) devotes a post a day (!) to mermaids of every stripe (as long as they’re feminine). Mariners and mermaids go together like love and marriage - a horse and carriage. Which is a bit odd, because mermaids are infamous for luring mariners onto the rocks - Sirens. They’re not to be trusted, as Disney’s Peter Pan clearly shows:

"I was only going to drown her"

As a child, one of my favorite picture books was about merfolk (sadly, I have no idea of the title or author) who, Disney notwithstanding, attempted to WARN mariners about the dangers of the rocks - not lure them to destruction. Sometimes Sirens sing to warn, and sometimes to lead astray. Hmmm. Maybe the Siren song was always the same (the song remains the same), but some mariners heard the song and were warned away, while others heard it and were attracted. Same message, different reading. Its all in the interpretation.

The Media is the Siren of our age - the Dagon rising, now almost fully born. The internet is the last step toward it’s realization - the capstone within view. Some (most) sing her praises (thus suiting her vanity), and even those who would warn us are using her (that whore of babble on), which in the end, only fills her cup "double tall". She can’t lose, and she knows it. No such thing as bad press - the media IS the message.

In just six years, the 911 Mega-ritual has achieved a level of mythic collective consciousness that formerly required centuries, if not eons. The Media is the reason (for the season). From its birth via C(NN) Section to its instant propagation on the internet, the ritual is subject to a thousand interpretations, from the official version to alien holograms to... whatever you want. The Siren call/warning of 911. Emergency. Emergence Sea. Emerge Agency ...the beginning of birth pains. --Matthew 24:8

Ulysses and the Sirens --Herbert James Draper

In order to make his way safely past the Sirens, Ulysses plugged the ears of his crew, but he had himself bound to the mast with ears bared, so that he might hear the Siren call, yet be powerless to follow. Sometimes I think of gay men as “bound to the mast” (the phallus) like Ulysses - hearing the siren call of the feminine, but powerless (impotent) to follow.

I have a feeling that this war will not be won with words, even blogosphere words. The pen is mightier than the sword, but there is something even mightier than the pen. The MESSAGE that is the message. Now that would be something to witness.

No “mermaid problem” here.

The Golden Retriever

As many gay men do, I sublimate (admittedly feeble) child rearing urges onto my dog Oliver, a spunky terrier who stands about three apples tall. His coat is even a little blue if you catch him in the right light, but whether it’s blue or really grey, I can’t tell.

Oliver and I have recurring themes in our lives, which happen to be played by golden retrievers:

• Oliver was attacked and mauled by a golden retriever when he was just a puppy.
• Maya was the name of our (then) land lord’s golden retriever.
• Oliver and Maya grew up together, they were great friends.
• In 2003, our Russian friends got a golden retriever puppy, who they named Paris.
• On the day after the 2004 presidential election, Oliver was attacked by yet another golden.

In Hinduism, Samsara is seen as ignorance of the True Self, Brahman, and thus the soul is led to believe in the reality of the temporal, phenomenal world. The state of illusion is known as Maya. Maya is probably another word for Satan - the deceiver.

I think of the Maya (illusions) I grew up with, and how warm and fuzzy they appeared - God and country, family and property, and Santa. Santa (anagram of Satan, BTW) is perhaps the cruelest trick ever pulled on a child, growing cynicism in one so young. When you find out that it’s all a sham, and that your most trusted guardians are all IN on it, it’s like... Monarch programming isn’t just for the elite anymore. No, Virgin(ia), there really isn’t a Santa Claus, and let me totally fuck you up with that.

Elections and the sham of democracy are another grand American dream/illusion, which that golden retriever eloquently underlined. Even Paris, the 'Grail thief', is a golden. Which makes me wonder what this drama is really all about:

Is Maya (Santa/Satan/Paris) retrieving something golden for God?

Dr. Pooh

Dr. Who uses a police box as a disguise for his magical TARDIS - tesseract home/office/stargate. Which is no doubt fine for merry old England, but would attract far too much attention here in the colonies. Even Superman’s once ubiquitous phone booth has gone the way of the Dodo bird, thanks to mobile phones. There IS however one cuboid found on nearly every street/park/event/construction site, and raises not a single eyebrow... the portable john. Indeed, Its scatological contents are a virtual force field to keep curious cats away - a perfect disguise.

Here in the ‘Emerald City’, we have portable toilet contractors with names like Wizard of Ooze and Honey Bucket, which are synchs I’d rather not follow too closely, considering.

From a little Wikipedia research, I was amazed to discover:

"TARDISes are grown, not made. They draw their power from several sources, but primarily from the singularity of an artificial black hole, known as the Eye of Harmony. In The Edge of Destruction, the power source of the TARDIS (referred to as the "heart of the TARDIS") is said to be beneath the central column of the console, with the rise and fall of the column an indication of its functioning" (Ahem).

Translating: a TARDIS is a heavily cloaked starship of Vulcan design (powered by a black hole - the divine feminine). In other words... a Holy Grail. On second thought, perhaps a plastic portable toilet doesn’t convey the proper aura of grandeur. Maybe something closer to Solomon’s temple would be in the ballpark?

Before the TARDIS, there was the temple.

Rose's Turn

The Divine Miss M playing Mamma Rose - it doesn’t get much better than this. Venus come out of her shell:

Stephen Sondheim’s Gypsy - the 'Great American Musical' - “The ‘King Lear’ of Broadway”.

Pissed-off Crone archetype played by: Ethel Merman (ummm.... merMAN?), Angela Lansbury (the Transformer), Maureen Moore, Rosalind Russell, Bernadette Peters (strangely evoking Madonna’s latest drag), and last but not least - a drag queen (via a Jerusalem drag bar).

Queers love this character. The boys can't help it.

Battle of the Titans

Bill Thuther has been going on lately about a Masonic “spell” being woven and cast this month, something entwined with Orange, Revolution, Oz, Eden, Cain, Christmas/Saturnalia, Benjamin Franklin, Mel Gibson, Johnny Depp and George W. Bush - an irresistible mix. The great Archetypes are being invoked, from the Munchkins of Oz to Saturn himself. Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy night.

As these things happen, On December 3rd, 16 American intelligence agencies released their report on Iran which emphatically stated that Iran is not endeavoring to achieve nuclear weapons capability, and has not since at least 2003. Which is a massive, lead-weighted “white glove” in the face of the power behind the Bush administration and its endless “War on Terra”. Suddenly, all the wind is taken out of their sails (pitch) - the pirated ship of state ghosting to a halt. Bush is seen as the boy who cried wolf - the emperor with no clothes. This is huge. HUGE. Big pieces on the chessboard are at play.

Xymphora has been going for some time about the War Between Establishments in America, and I am strongly suspecting that this Christmas spell is connected to political events. We can even connect the Hollywood/Broadway writers strike as pawns at play.

“In the Reuters article about the event (the Munchkin Star in Hollywood), it's said that it was made possible because of a petition drive and support from illuminati members Steven Spielberg and George Lucas.” --Thuther Thoughts

The two mightiest Hollywood myth WRITERS. Is the strike another slap in the face of those whom these American Masons see as interlopers? The “money men” who have stolen their wife and muse (Lady Liberty) and her daughter (the USA), and sold her into slavery (the imminent collapse of the Hermetic dollar), even using her mythos as a weapon against them!

This old American establishment has witnessed, in seven short years, the sudden erosion and near total collapse of everything they hold dear (Classic, 20th Century Fox America), and perhaps they have finally decided that enough is enough. They have seen no justice, and are taking the law into their own hands. Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd and Cain, straight from hell.

This all gets rather complicated, but it’s clear that the Hollywood Masons see themselves and the USA as the New Atlantis - the ‘good guys’. They’re the spiritual descendants of George Washington, Benjamin Franklin and Paul Revere. Nobody loves the American Dream more than they. So perhaps (and just perhaps) we are witnessing a sort of battle - a Wizard War - Gandalf vs. Saruman, the defense of the Emerald City against the Dark Arts.

Running directly after the famous Imagination Land episode/indictment, was The Daily Show with John Stewart. It featured an ersatz global warming clip that exclaimed:

“...and what about the moon - who’s side is it really on!?”

Which is another calling out - who and what does the moon represent?

The Omaha shootings (close, very close to Kansas) are interesting if taken as a Black Lodge reply to the White Lodge's calling out. Perhaps a warning of what they could do if the White Lodge persists. All this black and white, checkerboard symbolism - these symbols represent Masonic reality - and they are acting out on their board.

I’ll root for the White Lodge for obvious reasons, but honestly, do these Hollywood producers really know what they’re up against? The Black Lodge plays to win - no holds barred and no spell too dark. Superman vs. Lex Luthor. We’ll see how Superman does in the “real world”.

Little Greys II

Aferrismoon has contributed some powerful grey characters via comments in the margins Inside the Cosmic Cube:

Oh and GREYHOUND, not including the Lady Jane Grey-Jean Grey Hellfire sizzle. but GREYS = Aliens and the HOUND has to be another DOG which is kinda SIRIUS so the GREYHOUND Bus Co. is the Tardis no one noticed. Why didn't they spell it GRAYHOUND, some form of Imperialist Coach Co.

Jean Grey is from X-Men - the personification of the (unchained) divine feminine/black hole. Can I even begin to grok the political blasphemy of this concept? Probably not.

Lady Jane Grey was the nine days Queen of England - Protestant vs. Catholic, according to the history books.

Greyhounds are the dogs of kings - canine thoroughbreds - which reminds me of horses, bulls, and falcons. All creatures bred by royalty, which is itself a product of selective breeding. Greyhounds are known to be particularly prone to psychotic behavior, which perhaps explains the state of the world.

Be that as it may, Greyhound Lines is a cultural icon - "I was born in the backseat of a Greyhound bus; Rollin’ down Highway 41” --The Allman Brothers Band, Ramblin’ Man, 1973.

Cinderella's Pumpkin in Mosaic

Coaches imply pomp and circumstance, pumpkins and fairy godmothers, as well as steerage class - the “coach” class of modern air travel.

In Star Wars, Episode II, a desperate Padme Amidala is reduced to taking a greyhound bus of the skies back to her home world. Padme is Diana, and if we remember, Diana (Cinderella) became our Queen of Hearts via a magical coach ride - her wedding day. Diana married the Sun King, who traverses the skies in his chariot (coach, ship).

But in the margins of all the above grandeur, homo sexual connection is rampant in the plane/train/bus/automobile iconography - Senator Larry Craig being only the latest example. From the “mile high club” to an 18 wheeler to the backseat of a bus, there’s something about transportation that is inherently erotic and delightfully sleazy. As if sin and virtue play by different rules on the road - whether the pavement of Route 66 or the yellow bricks of Oz.

Dreams of Future Past

Part I

I was aboard the star ship Enterprise, in the corridors of the vessel. The ship didn't actually resemble the Enterprise, but it was she, I can assure you. Dreams are funny that way.

The ship was under alien attack. I observed events as if via a remote-controlled camera on a dolly - detached but present - a Watcher. The battle was intense, and the corridor walls of the vessel would glow bright white from the energy beam attack, and then dissolve away. The crew (with whom I identified) was losing the battle, and the aliens had boarded, and I could see them moving in the corridors.

Then, I became aware of being present in my body. Suddenly, I felt a sense of dread, and it was known that the alien commander was aboard. He was called "Being" and I never saw him, but I knew that he was just up ahead - in the bridge. And then I heard him say "Hello" to me (telepathically), as if he knew everything about me - and that wasn't a good thing. My sense of anxiety spiked, and then I woke up.

I tossed and turned for a long time, and I was afraid to go back to sleep, because I felt I would meet him again. I finally gave myself a pep talk (It's only a fuckin' dream!) and drifted back to sleep - maybe an hour later.

Part II

This time I was in the lobby of an elaborate old movie house of neo-classic style. It was amazingly vivid - carved wooden columns and arches, red velvet and chandeliers. I moved through the silent hallways of the movie house (it was totally empty) like a camera on a dolly - present, but again - not in my body. I felt wary but very calm, the anxiety had not returned. The detailed clarity of the "movie" was remarkable. Definitely HDTV.

A figure approached me from behind, I turned to face him, and I was in my body. I saw a man dressed in a style to fit the theatre - the 1920's? He wore a red satin vest - an usher? The proprietor? Whoever he was, he wasn't exactly human. Not a freakin' alien, but all the proportions were just a bit off. He appeared about 5'-6" tall, medium build. His skin was sallow, with a look of ill health, and though he was beardless, he was very, very old. Ancient. His eyes were yellow and black, and there was no warmth in them.

I said, "It's you" (meaning Satan, the adversary) and he confirmed my statement with the expression in his eyes. He said, "Its the neck" and his head suddenly morphed into a monster - a half snake thing and his mouth yawned wide (as only a snake can) to reveal hundreds of needle sharp fangs, and the mouth lunged for my throat. Immediately I shouted, "No!" and the creature fled as if it was sucked down a trans-dimensional drain. I felt no fear at all. It was a strange combo of horror movie and silent zen tranquility.

Part III

Then I woke up. It was morning, and golden sunlight beamed on the white comforter, even the air was beautiful and golden. I was in bed with my lover, and I was telling him about my dreams. He was lying on his back, and I was straddling him, sitting facing him. He was absolutely beautiful - skin like milk, black hair, perfect body, gorgeous... everything. He didn't actually look like V, but it was he, I can assure you. Dreams are funny that way.

I was feeling great warmth and affection for him. Then while I watched, his head transformed into the snake monster. I wasn't afraid, and my affection for him remained constant. I touched the head gently but firmly on the center of the forehead, and immediately the snake monster vanished and my lover's head returned, and then he spontaneously ejaculated. --Dream 4/08/06

I've long pondered this dream, because it was by far the most vivid I've ever experienced, and because the memory lingers, it hasn't faded like so many dreams do. I appreciate how it was a tale told in three parts, that it had "dream within a dream" elements, and how it began in battle, defeat and fear, but ended in bed, victory, and orgasm. Happy endings are always nice.

I've shared this dream with a few others before you, and one of the comments was concerning the timing of the three "acts". The first dream set in the future, the second in the past, and the last in the present. Yet after The Quest articles, and the revelation that we may be fallen angels from the War of Heaven, then it makes more sense that the dream acts were performed in chronological sequence. Which to me is a fabulous thing - to consider that Star Trek isn't a vision of the future, but a memory of Ages past.

Drawing Breath

I've fallen in love with these drawings by Angel de Castro. It's as if young Leonardo Da Vinci took notes during his 'Summer of Love' tour through California, and between orgasms, he got the Laguna Beach boys to pose for his sketch book.

"Castro" is from the verb "castrar" - to castrate. Which makes perfect sense, considering it is the San Francisco neighborhood of born again eunuchs.

Little Grey Cells

HTML and CSS use hexadecimal notation (hex triplets) to specify colors on web pages. The absence of color is black: 000. All colors together are white: FFF. Midway (the cross) between black and white is grey: 666. Hmmmm.

Alien Greys. Gandalf the Grey. The Moon Temple atop the Tower of Babel:

The actual Ziggurat pyramid of the Tower is just a base for the temple which sat on top. The layers of the ziggurat were painted according to the planet they represented. (Seven layers for the seven luminaries/planets) The foundation layer was painted black for Saturn, and the temple on the top of the ziggurat was painted gray; it was a temple to the Moon god, Nanna. -- The Stygian Port

The Grey Album:

DJ Danger Mouse remixed the vocals from Jay-Z's The Black Album and the Beatles' White Album and called his creation The Grey Album.

Earl Grey Tea:

The Earl Grey blend is named after the 2nd Earl Grey, British Prime Minister in the 1830s, who reputedly received a gift, probably a diplomatic perquisite, of tea flavoured with bergamot (orange) oil.

The tea proved so popular in the Prime Minister's drawing room that his tea merchants, Twinings (more twins) in the Strand, were given a sample and asked to come up with a close match. Twinings sold the first "Earl Grey's tea" in the British market.

Jacksons of Piccadilly claim that it was they who originated Earl Grey's Tea, Lord Grey having given the recipe to Robert Jackson & Co. partner George Charlton in 1830; according to Jacksons the original recipe has been in constant production and has never left their hands. This rivalry between the two brands continues despite both being owned by the same parent company today.

Like the Catholic Church and Freemasonry brands?

Fictional characters who prefer Earl Grey tea include Jean-Luc Picard of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Bruce Wayne in the comic book series Batman, Dr. Eleanor Ann "Ellie" Arroway in Contact, James Bond, Frasier Crane of Frasier, Artemis Fowl of the Eoin Colfer books, Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard of NCIS, Piglet, Sir Leigh Teabing from The Da Vinci Code, Trent from Kim Harrison's Dead Witch Walking. Mario Santos, from Los Simuladores, always drinks Earl Grey tea.

That's quite a list.

A Bee at Sea

This is an illustration I did for Rhisiart, an online friend of mine until 2004. We shared a common interest in multihull sailboats, Oceanic culture, politics and environmental issues, etc. Rhisiart and I decided to enter a short story contest - he'd write, and I'd illustrate. The story would be a distillation of ideas from the novel he was working on - a post apocalyptic tale of how life might be after the Great War - if things turned out well. It was a vision of a semi-nomadic tribal culture who had returned to the old shamanic traditions of ancient Albion, and it also involved bee-keeping and sailing boats and mysterious silent, black triangular flying craft of immense size.

As it so happened, I was going through my own "awakening" at this time, and so we shared many an insight, mostly revolving around mushrooms and Robert Anton Wilson type things. And then in early 2004 I told him that Prince William was the anti-christ, and I never heard from him again.

In hindsight, I understand. You can't say something like that without betraying an underlying belief system. But since then, I've come to think that the last thing anyone wants to hear is that an archetype can be personified. As in touchy-feely flesh and blood. That Satan is more than an idea, but might be an idea that desires 3-D physical expression - an idea who is a person. Just like God is personified in Jesus, and you and I are personified in you and I. We have over six billion personified ideas walking around on the planet right now, and that's only including the human ones.

God is a person. Someone who has feelings too.

Marky's Mark

Marky Mark and Kate Moss - beauty and the beastess.

Back in the day, Mark Wahlberg was Marky Mark, the sexy, shirtless, and white rapper. After that, he became a Calvin Klein icon, and after that, an actor. This week, I caught Mark in Tim Burton's 2001 "vision" of Planet of the Apes, and though his physique is better than ever, as an actor, he's no Charlton Heston. Which leads me to a rant, because Heston (who I suppose was fine beefcake for his day), rode around practically naked in the original Planet of the Apes, while Wahlberg, who's only ace is his studboy body, never, ever, EVER even takes his shirt off. Was Burton afraid that the sight of all that hunky muscle might distract from his performance? Christ, if only.

Planet of the Apes is best understood if we see the "apes" as the humans, and the humans as the "angels". Thus we have Wahlberg playing Leo Davidson (sun god, son of David) and his angelic host (all dressed in space-aged white) circling Saturn in the Oberon (Merovingian King of the Elves), with bio-engineered proto-humans/servants aboard. Something goes terribly awry, and the space station crashes down on a planet with twin moons (like Tatooin), where the proto-humans revolt against their masters, and eventually evolve into... us. A heartwarming tale of Illuminati inspired Panspermia.

On Tim's planet, the gorillas are big, black and brutish, and they sound black. While the "enlightened" chimps (Ari and family) are light skinned, and somehow speak with an English public school accent, and since Helena Bonham Carter plays the Princess Chimp, that would make sense. The humans playing humans are blond and beautiful (though in dire need of a bath). The apes follow a superstitious religion based on Semos - the first ape - a sort of Adam/Jesus hybrid.

The apes make the human slaves take a brand - a "mark" - which happens to be the symbol of the trident - Poseidon/Prince Namor/Dagon. See The Trident Strikes Again at Through the Looking Glass, and Adam Star at Inside the Cosmic Cube has more (much more) on the comic book incarnation of Poseidon - The Submariner.

When Leo departs the planet, he kisses Ari goodbye, which I take as symbolic of the angel/human genome project.

At the climax of the final battle between men and apes on the plains of Calima (Armageddon)... "a familiar vehicle descends from the sky and is identified immediately by Leo. It is the pod piloted by Pericles, the chimp astronaut. Apparently, Pericles got pushed forward in time just like Leo and has just now found his way to the planet. When Pericles lands, the apes interpret his landing as the arrival of Semos, the first ape, who is their god. They bow, and hostilities between humans and apes immediately cease." --wikipedia

I swear, if "aliens" pretending to be Jesus don't land on earth in 2012, I will be so fucking disappointed.

Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch - Good Vibrations

The Animation of Matter

It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life. --John 6:63

In our dimension, the animation of matter follows strict laws of biology and physics, which of course instantly tempts mad scientist Dr. Frankenstein to overcome them - to attempt "The re-animation of matter!!!" Horror films are all over the frightening consequences of the unauthorized animation of matter, but oddly enough, "animated" cartoons are full of examples of this same phenomena: the animation of normally inanimate matter, The Sorcerer's Apprentice in Disney's Fantasia being the classic example.

Mrs. Pott-er?

In Bedknobs and Broomsticks, budding witch Angela Lansbury animates (enchants) formerly inanimate objects, giving them sentience and the ability to move (act).

Naive Mrs. Potts and her two guardians: Lumiere and Cogsworth.

In Disney's Beauty and the Beast, Angela voices Mrs. Potts... an animated (sentient) teapot in an enchanted castle. The enchanter becomes the enchanted. I always thought that the Beast's enchanted castle was cool, and wished that I lived in a place like that, with all the vessels serving themselves, and even cleaning up afterwards.

Children are the target market for movies about improbable animations, and when you think about it, the concept of inanimate objects come to life might make a kid a bit paranoid, but it doesn't. Kids seem to know that the animated objects are friendly. Maybe they're re-membering how things are in Imagination Land.

Angela! Are you in there?

However, children aren't the only ones with animated fastasies. The star ship Enterprise, thanks to her ginormous computer, is essentially a flying, enchanted "castle" in the sky, whose only desire is to serve the humans within. "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot!" Apparently Dame Lansbury lives on as a Replicator.

Harry Potter's Alma Mater, Hogwarts, is kept in tip-top running order by House Elves, who seem to desire nothing more than to be used as servants. For a time, Hermione even attempts to organize them for better working conditions, but gives up when they can't see their forced labor as anything but the greatest happiness. They're sort of like enchanted dishes, but not quit as elementally cool.

"Our collective conclusion seems to be that nature, both in whole and in many parts, is magically self-reflecting and aware E N T I T I E S"

Terrance McKenna claimed to meet the "machine elves" on his DMT trips. Machine elves were tiny, friendly, shape-shifting entities. They greeted him as if they already knew him. Maybe machine elves are like House Elves that BECOME the Animated Matter! How cool is that?

The Lady in Red: Jessica Rabbit

In Who Framed Roger Rabbit? Animated characters are visualized as "separate but equal" life forms. They live in their own ghetto(dimension) called Toontown(heaven?), and they're essentially immortal. Toons are allowed to break the laws of physics if the result is humorous, sorta like Super Funny Heroes. Toontown is apparently a wholly owned subsidiary of Marvin Acme - the pinnacle. Toons can't normally be killed, however, they're subject to the "Dip" - a mixture concocted of acetone, benzene, and turpentine, which is the only sure way to kill a Toon (spirit). Dip = Lake of Fire?

Prince Valiant? Veritas. And wouldn't you know it, he's a Templar. Click image to enlarge crest.

An extremely animated yellow checker cab in Toontown.

Toontown would make a pretty nice place to live, except I'd want to live in the red light district - Porntown - where the laws of physics can be broken, as long as it's erotic. I'd work for cheap to be a cartoon muscleboy... very cheap. Like a horny Pornhouse Elf.

Guardians of the Cube, from Class Comics. The week's very best find.

The Quest, Part V

What strange creatures we are. The spirit of fire - Elohim, crossed with the dust of earth - Man. A crazier half-breed won't be found, not even in secret Monsanto/alien labs. Enoch spoke of the angels taking wives and begetting children. If we are the spirits of angels "born of water" (incarnated on earth), then the fact is (and with apologies to David Icke), WE are the dreaded "Nephilim" - the angel/alien/reptilian and human "crossbreed". They are here, and we are them.

"We have met the enemy, and he is us". --Pogo

If we are soldiers in some kind of bizarre cosmic battle, then the battle really IS within - against our own wicked, angel spirits. That is so totally fucked. How does a character "act" against the actor? It doesn't happen. The Devil made me do it.

Unless... the two party system has a third party. If the Creator is Love (yea, he really is) then he wouldn't leave us characters defenseless. Maybe the spirit of the Creator - the Holy Spirit - is hidden within. The Trojan Horse. The Holy Virus.

There may or may not be a Cosmic Cube buried somewhere under "Paris", but what is certain is that every person on the planet is a "holy grail" - a vessel of "clay" filled and activated by spirit - an oyster making a pearl. Satan is the suitor, and Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, is the bridegroom. What totally amazes me is that it's our own weakness - our experience of mortality and suffering, and our faith in spite of it, that saves us - along WITH our sorry rebel angel asses. It's as if the roles are reversed, and the character saves the actor. It's not all about us. It's about the angels - the Prodigal Sons.

Are we there yet?

Kinda like the decrepit actors in Galaxy Quest - who are saved by their characters. The angels aren't coming to save us. We've come to save the angels.

Samson destroying the Temple of Dagon

In a way, I see humanity as Samson, chained to two pillars - one is the pillar of the Rebel Angel, the other of the Holy Spirit. When we find our motivation and act in character, may we be like Samson, and bring down the house.

Viva Las Vegas

In Michael Bay's Transformers, the Allspark/Cosmic Cube was said to be hidden beneath Hoover Dam, which is both profound and hilarious, because the cube represents a black hole - the "vacuum", which is also a power source... like the dam. It's also sorta cool, because Hoover Dam is one of those places that oozes occult megalithic energy. It's a stronghold - like Helm's Deep or Minas Tirith. On the day I visited, they were washing off the blood from another jumper - the dam is a suicide magnet.

Electromagnetic Genesis

"One of the most interesting facts about the Hoover Dam is that it contains more masonry than the Pyramid of Giza".

Interesting phrasing, that. Hoover Dam is in Boulder City, Nevada, which is a stone's throw from Las Vegas, and If ever there was a city on earth worth calling Sodom, it is Las Vegas. From the slot machines in the airport debarkation ramps to its grand casinos, this city stands above all others in its commitment to fleecing the sheep. Vegas is synchromystically always in the news, but especially lately, with Richard Branson's recent stunt, see The Show Must Go On at Through the Looking Glass.

Vega was the pole star, when the Egyptians named it Ma'at, the Vulture-star. The Assyrians named this pole star Dayan-same, the "Judge of Heaven", while in Akkadian it was Tir-anna, "Life of Heaven". In Babylonian astronomy, Vega was one of the stars named Dilgan, "the Messenger of Light". For the Roman Empire, the start of Autumn was based upon the hour at which Vega set below the horizon. --Wikipedia

The Prol Star?

But far more interesting is that the Chevy Vega was the first car named after a star - which is like naming the pot after the kettle. Las Vegas implies two... twin stars?

Nice halo

Casinos and gambling have always been at the center of media glamour. From Monte Carlo to Las Vegas, James Bond is there. His boss is "M" (played by a woman, most recently) and his secretary is Money Penny. Hmmm. James is routinely found at the roulette wheel - gambling with the Queen Bee's money. Diamond's Are Forever is the Vegas Bond movie, which is a very poor movie, but rich in synchs.
Bond is only the tip of the Vegas pyramid scheme, which encompasses Elvis (see Ben Fairhall's latest: E.P Phone Home), Liberace, Howard Hughes, The Rat Pack, Ocean's Eleven, and even the great pyramid itself: Luxor - site of the most powerful light (Lucifer) on the planet.

A 3D model of a Vegas model of a Giza model of an archetype (model)

However what I find most interesting about Las Vegas is that it stands in the desert (Egypt, Arrakis), like the climactic scene in Dune, when the great Houses all land on the desert planet, and set up their "tents" - representing their respective planets.
The casinos, which all represent archetypes, lend their symbolic power to the town, which somehow, takes on the aura of the archetypes, even though they are total fabrications. We have Stardust, Pirates, Egypt, Rome, Excalibur, New York, the great cities of Europe, all represented in heraldic form, flags a waving.
According to Jung, the "gods" are personified archetypes, and I see the casinos as temples to the archetypes - to the gods - which have, for some reason, all assembled on the plains of Nevada (Giza, Cydonia, Arrakis, Tatooin).
What do they want? Not money, surely. Gods aren't interested in greenbacks except as a vehicle of human control. What IS "currency" to a god? Jake Kotze's comment "X marks the spot" got me to wondering about the X's that might be "hiding in plain site" in Vegas, and what to my googling eye in the sky should appear, but a great X - a grand casino in the form of a cross-quarter Templar Cross - the Paris Casino.

The Grail is "under" Paris. If the Grail ain't in Vegas, it aughta be.

NOTES:

The Epcot Cube. Amazing.

Disney's Epcot Center in Orlando, Florida is similar, with all the archetypes of the world represented by little mock-ups, a "World's Fair", surrounding the great Bucky dome (Cosmic Cube/Sphere/Divine Feminine).

Golden Gothic arches of science

Seattle was put on the cultural map by a world's fair, the Century 21 Exhibition of 1962, which spectacularly presented the Space Needle, and which even now, 40+ years later, still serves as the city's occult/cultural symbol, which is maybe yet another re-presentation of the same dam thing.

"Google released some very high resolution (3 inches/pixel) imagery for a part of Las Vegas. You can see an example here of the Luxor Hotel (a pyramid with mirrored windows). If you visit the Luxor Hotel in Google Earth, and lower yourself (or zoom) to see in detail, you can easily read advertisements on the side of the building, see cars reflected in the windows, and if you look around the area you can not only make out car types, but can even see people (and their shadows). Google didn't give any reason for why they released this new high res imagery for Las Vegas. Maybe they are taking a gamble?" --Google Earth Blog