Yesterday was a big day! Var and I signed a Domestic Partnership Declaration in Washington State, which is not such a big deal for us since we've been domesticated for 10 years, but on the other hand it was a nice feeling to be "official" - I felt like the tin woodsman who was given a heart by the Wiz, something I already had, but hey, it's nice to have it recognized. It was very low-key and just paperwork, mostly. We toasted the Union, and that was about it.
We had to get the document notarized, so we went to the bank, which is a U.S. Bank (luckily not collapsing just yet) which also uses a red shield in their logo. Var joked about being carried across the bank threshold, and how we got married in a BANK... etc.
I've also had lots of Superman synchs goin' on this month, with that S shield poking up in the oddest places, and of course, the S is the dollar sign, of which banks are so fond.
Last night I had a short but memorable dream: I was scrambling down a small, tunnel-like rocky canyon or creek bed (strange, white, pointy egg shaped rocks, "dragon's teeth" maybe?) and eventually the bed opened up to a sandy beach on the ocean that held two pillars. I can't tell you what they looked like except they were very old and made of stone, but not a ruin.
And I knew that I'd found the Pillars of Heracles!
The googoracle reveals:
The Spanish coat of arms has two columns, which represent the Pillars of Hercules and an “S”-shaped ribbon around each, with the motto “Non Plus Ultra” originally, and later “Plus Ultra”.
The original dollar sign "derives from the Spanish coat of arms engraved on the Spanish colonial silver coins “Real de a Ocho” (”piece of eight”) or Spanish dollar under circulation in the Spanish colonies of America and Asia, as well as in the English Thirteen Colonies and later the U.S. and Canada." --Mike Tomlinson
America: Tin Man
Oz never did give nothin' to the Tin Man, that he didn't already have...
Anyway... Happy New Year! I have to say I won't miss 2008 even a little bit, so I'm partying a little extra hard.
Ben Fairhall posted this interesting pic of twin white stags at the Daily Behemoth, which has since gone missing. White stags have some kind of English symbolism attached to them (of which I remain oblivious), but to me they're simply beautiful masculine icons.
Here's a pic from the latest gay porn brand: Stag Homme, the child of my golden jockstrapped muse Francesco D'Macho and his latest BF: Damien Crosse (is that possibly the most Hollywood antichrist name ever devised?).
Just so we don't forget what branding means:
We also have a stag at home, because Var brought home the CUTEST stag centerpiece for the dining table last month. It's a terra cotta figurine of some masculine deer-like figure, though by inspection of the underside, it's apparent the deer is a doe, or perhaps a eunuch? Anyway, the stag's name is ALFREDO. Varen is big on names, and thus we have names for various plants around the house, as well as terra cotta figurines. Aelfraed is "elf counsel". He's also Batman's faithful butler.
As luck would have it, we had pasta with ALFREDO SAUCE a few days ago, which gave me pause, but then I dove in with bon gusto!
Updated Dec. 27. We watched 'Doctor Who: Voyage of the Damned' this week, finally available for rental. Dr. Who is said to be the sole-survivor of an ancient cosmic war, possibly the War of Heaven? I synch him with Titans, Enochian Watchers, and the Fallen Angels, perhaps even Lucifer himself. A charming rogue. (see Dr. Pooh for Tardis ravings)
In this episode he finds himself aboard a gigantic intergalactic cruise ship christened with the unlucky name Titanic. It's a ship of the Max Sagittarius Cruise Lines, and since I know from The Blob that Sagittarius points toward Galactic Center, I'm thinking maybe Max represents the Most High God? And not in a very good light, I might add.
Just in case we were wondering, the ship is full of the (heavenly) 'Host', who are all identical (cloned?) golden angel-bots who act as "messengers". Dr. Who casts Max Sagittarius as an embattled and corrupt CEO who's board has plotted against him, which is an interesting re-telling of the Book of Enoch and the story of the rebellion of the "Heavenly Council".
Max plots to regain his position by framing the board for his deliberate sabotage of the Titanic, sending it hurtling into Earth and killing all aboard, not to mention the entire planet. The ship is set to crash into Great Britain (of course) aimed directly at Buckingham Palace.
The ship is struck by three asteroids, synching with the weapon of the trident, which is only possible because the ship's shielding was deliberately dropped by an act of internal sabotage, resonating quite strongly with the fall of the twin towers and the unaccountable collapse of air defenses on that day. Subtle rumors of sabotage circle around the real Titanic, and also the attack on Pearl Harbor, where the radar inexplicably went dark. Yesterday, Maui was struck by a strange power failure while Obama was vacationing with his family.
Anyway, the Doctor saves the day, and as the great ship careens safely over the rooftops, the Queen waves goodbye, wishing him a happy Christmas. They seem to be on a first name basis, which would be only natural for the earthly representative of the Reptilian "seed".
Interestingly, this episode costars Kylie Minogue (the Illuminati "goddess" from Oz) and headliner at the recent Atlantis Rising ritual in Dubai. She plays a cocktail waitress named Astrid - "divine beauty" - a Nordic Goddess. She plays a Helen-like (grail) character, a beautiful woman who regrets her employment at Max Sagittarius Cruise Lines. At the end, she kisses (gives herself to) the Doctor by stepping up to him on a red cross box, which is probably the most symbolically loaded scene in the episode.
I have a fascination with the Titanic and the Hindenburg, which (to me) are mythic equivalents. There's something about these disasters that transcend the actual events, if I may be so bold. Could they be fractals? Diamond fractals pointing to a larger event that happened long ago, and will happen again.
Is the Titanic 'Wormwood'? (see The Wreck of the Zodiac) The great starship crash of 2012.
Honestly, I feel like being on earth right now is like being aboard the Titanic!?
The Morning After: Maureen McGovern (MM).
That would be the song I sang in church as a teenager. I chose it, and I have no idea WHY I would choose a song of hope aboard a doomed ship named POSEIDON (care for a stick of Trident?) to sing to the congregation. Another doomed Christmas Ship.
Waking up this snowy Christmas (the first white Christmas in Kirkland since... well I can't actually remember the last one) I check my email to find a Christmas card from some old friends who just got a new dog, a German Shepherd they named SHIVA!!
I've decided dog breeds are like archetypes, with shepherds, retrievers and terriers representing parts of our psyche. I've posted often about Oliver, our little Australian terrier who has dug up many a synch, perhaps the most interesting being his love of wormwood. We just returned from our morning dog walk, which was unusually exciting because the dogs were attacked by two giant off-leash German Shepherds! The dog's owners were nearby and much yelling and cussing ensued in the panic, which happily didn't result in any real harm to the terriers. I'm sure if the shepherds had REALLY wanted to hurt the terriers, they would both be dead.
Shepherds are DEFENDERS, and watch dogs - GUARDS. They look wolfish, even devilish, and let me tell you, the sight of a German Shepherd barreling at top speed down a snow filled street directly AT you is not pleasant. Jesus calls himself the Good SHEPHERD, and Helios is the DEFENDER of Rhodes. Interestingly, Michael, one of Shiva's new parents, is from RHODE ISLAND.
Inspired by Aferrismoon and Through the Looking Glass synchro-coverage of sporting events, I've decided to bring you the Gosporn coverage of the 33rd Official America's Cup! Think of me as your gay, nautical Jackie Stewart. Gentlemen, start your symbols!
Ho hum, sailboat racing is like watching grass grow. Let me pique your interest with the name of the American challenger: Larry Ellison's Dogzilla: a giant 90' trimaran.
The America's Cup is the world's oldest active trophy in international sport, predating the Modern Olympics by 45 years. The cup, originally offered as the Royal Yacht Squadron cup, was named after the winner of the first challenge between the Freemason Limeys and the Freemason Yanks... the schooner yacht - America. America was a black schooner (twin masts/towers) and you can already see where I'm going with this.
Sailing ships are the most romantic and Grail-like symbol of all modes of transport, and the Freemasons must have been acutely aware of this. Lovers of wagers and competition, this naturally lead to sailboat racing, often with extravagant bets made in the outcome.
The Auld Mug (the Cup's "ugliness" is often remarked upon) was held by the venerable New York Yacht Club for 131 years (1852 to 1983 - the world's longest winning streak) and the cup was enshrined within the club's Holy of Holies at 37 W. 44th St. It was said that the cup would be replaced by the head of the skipper who lost her. That would be a Masonic joke.
One of the most famous and determined challengers was Scottish tea baron Sir Thomas Lipton. Between 1899 and 1930 he mounted five challenges, all in yachts named Shamrock, two of which were designed by William Fife. --wikipedia
So we have the Scots in for five, but it took the lads from Down Under and the Australia II to finally wrest the cup from the clutches of the NYYC. Barons of industry are drawn to the cup like bees to honey, with Ted Turner, Alan Bond, and Michael Fay all playing a round or two.
'Mermaid' the Young America defender painted by Roy Lichtenstein in 1994. Now resting at Storm King Art Center.
The history of the race is outrageously symbolic, with wild antics from all sides - including the March 1997 attack on the cup (then residing in New Zealand) by an agitated political recidivist with a sledgehammer. This reminds me of other attacks on symbols of the divine feminine, such as the two attacks on La Gioconda in 1956, and indeed... the Mumbai Massacre.
Anyway, this 33rd running promises to be a spectacle of spectacles, beginning with the perps: Larry Ellison, (A Russian Jew who's father literally took the name of Ellis Island as his own upon immigration) of Oracle Corporation, born Aug 17, 1944 in Manhattan. In 2003, Larry married Melanie Craft (a romance novelist with a name that synchs both Melusine and Masonry) in a wedding ceremony that included Apple CEO Steve Jobs as official wedding photographer. Larry co-owns with David Geffen the megayacht "Rising Sun". Oy vey!
In the other corner is Ernesto Bertarelli of Switzerland, land of the Catholic Swiss Guard and many a white cross synch over the past year. His team is called Alinghi, which is obscure enough to not raise my synch hairs. Anyone? Ernesto, born Sept. 22 1965 in Rome, moved with his family to Switzerland in 1977, where he eventually became CEO and Deputy Chairman of Serono, a Swiss Biotech company, that gained fame from its discovery of a natural hormone used in the treatment of FEMALE infertility.
All righty then! We have two mighty champions of the divine feminine... let the games begin.
Ernesto makes his first defensive move by accepting a "challenger of record". His patsy/proxy challenger of record is Club Náutico Español de Vela, a club with no yachts and no members except a few with large bank accounts and certain aligned Euro business associations. Hmmm.
Understandably outraged, the Americans mount a challenge and legal protest, which is made by the Golden Gate Yacht Club on behalf of BMW Oracle Racing. Oh yes, the Germans are involved. And the Franciscans, and the most iconic symbol of the Stargate in the West.
The protest is made to the NY Supreme Court, which is named as the court of last resort in the Deed of Gift. Much legal wrangling ensues, with the decision and appeals still undecided.
However, Larry has continued development of his radical challenger, a 90' x 90' "on the square" trimaran with a mast "taller than the statue of Liberty". A trimaran yacht is the conchretization of the Trident - the triple pronged spear of Shiva/Poseidon. It is no idle threat, Shiva's spear is THE greatest weapon of destruction. Period.
Larry's "sea monster" is nicknamed Dogzilla, synching with Sirius and the Japanese (rising sun) monster of the Abyss - which in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek is called Apollyon - the Destroyer:
They had as king over them the angel of the Abyss, whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek, Apollyon. --Revelation 9:11
Ummm.... 911? Enough said. This sea monster was created in Anacortes WA - made of solid (black) carbon fiber - the building blocks of life. It is currently undergoing sea trials in San Diego, which has it's own America's cup history, as well as housing the largest base of MARINES in the West. Ladies and gentlemen, this is WAR.
NOTES:
My own growing awareness of Shiva is well documented on this blog, but I keep uncovering more synchs. In Revelation, the actual identity of Apollyon is left in question, with most of the church calling him the Devil, but the Seventh Day Adventists saying that he is, in fact, Jesus. A wonderful and deliberate confusion of Archons. My first boyfriend was the owner of the "Dick of Death", and he happened to be a recovering Seventh Day Adventist! My own childhood church (Rose Hill Presbyterian - yes, another symbol of the divine feminine) was vandalized and burned to the ground when I was in my teens, and the congregation found shelter at a nearby Seventh Day Adventist church, who lent us their sanctuary on Sundays. Synching them with Shiva, I see the church finding refuge within Shiva/Jesus... the calm in the eye of the storm.
Solar rays: check. Humble servant: check. Worshipful hands: check. GIANT CROSS THAT COULD ALMOST BE A COFFIN: CHECK! My anxiety about this business continues to ratchet up. I mean Jeezus, Michelle dressed like a black WIDOW spider at his acceptance speech!
Then one of them, named Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, spoke up, "You know nothing at all! You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish." --John 11:49-50
My first boyfriend had what is called a "dick of death" - a cock so big you're afraid you're gonna die! But you don't, and pretty soon the pain turns to ecstasy and the doors of heaven open wide. I guess I've always been "up" for a challenge?
The first (and only) Atomic bombs used "in anger" were the spawn of the Manhattan Project, synching them up with Masonic Manhattan, AKA New Jerusalem. The Hebrew's secret weapon was the Ark of the Covenant, a box of mysterious power that some have postulated was a radioactive device of alien origin. The American Freemasons saw America as New Israel, and this "anointed" sense of self-righteousness sits just below the surface of American culture and politics. The latest Chosen People.
Every Chosen People needs a Weapon of Mass Destruction, and so we built one.
Raiders of the Ark. Fanning the flames?
The hydrogen bomb has that iconic H, which I take to represent masculine twins - guardians. The Ark of the Covenant was topped by twin Cherubim, and the twin bombs dropped on Japan were nicknamed 'Little Boy' and 'Fat Man', which also happen to be terms of endearment for the masculine organ. Cock = Bomb = Ark of the Covenant. The "love gun".
An orgasm is called "the little death", alluding to the temporary ego destruction of orgasm, AKA "release". So the penis is the bringer of both life and death, and life after death - the agony and the ecstasy. A God-like production indeed.
Homosexuals have become all too familiar with the "death" aspect of cock. AIDS is literally "death from serving cock", and so, like modern Levites, we've developed safeguards and rituals that keep us alive even in the presence of the Ark. We're told to always wear a condom before penetration, which would be written by Levites as:
"Cloth yourself in a robe of radiant latex before entering the Holy of Holies or else bring down the wrath of Jehovah upon you and your family for seven generations!"
Levites had their customary outfits, and so did the gay priests of St. Francis (AKA Starfleet HQ): Levi's Jeans. Red tag, gold thread and all. Which leads me to an interesting aside.
A friend came to visit the other day wearing a pair of Quicksilver brand jeans. I noticed they had a red tag, and I asked if they were Levi's, because (since I used to know a Levi's exec) I know that Levi's guards it's red tag trademark like a Levite guards the One True Name of his God. And yet, here were a pair of jeans that had a red tag but were NOT authentic Levi's. They were Quicksilver - AKA Mercury, AKA Hermes/Thoth/Lucifer. Apparently the devil has gotten around the copyright. The anti-jean?
Levi's jeans were once literally currency. Back in the day, an American could help fund his backpacking grand tour of Europe by packing extra pairs of Levi's (purchased at the GAP?), to be sold to grateful Europeans for double keystone markup and STILL undersell the rapacious Euro retailers.
And do you know WHY the New Levites chose the Levi's 501 jean as the "uniform"? Because no jean, before or since, has ever shown off a basket of cock or a bounty of ass like Levi's 501 jeans. So I dunno... maybe a quality brand still matters.
My hubby sent me this today: Jesus (Al Parker) both in uniform and out. (note the fireplace) Slay me!
Jesus says: "I have cast fire upon the world, and see, I am guarding it until it blazes." --Thomas 10
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.
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?
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.
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...
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.
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...
I'm suffering from a melancholy state of mind. No idea when or if it will lift, but it has settled, and I think I will take a leave from blogging. I can sense many reasons for it, the general malaise of my country being an obvious answer, but I usually manage to rise above that. I really do feel like a Jeremiah after the election. My brothers celebrated in the streets with Obama's victory, delirious with the idea of "real change", but somehow I feel it is all so staged, so pat... I guess that's what we are reduced to scrabbling over these days... the change. Meanwhile the fat cats continue to take all the cream. Jeremiahs are party poopers.
But it goes deeper than that. I was recently told that I was "demon possessed" by someone who I held in some regard. Not that I haven't been told that before. I'm demon possessed not because of my record of violent crime or anything like that, but just because I'm gay. It's especially great to be called demon possessed after you try to help someone out - an excellent incentive program!
I sorta thought I'd gotten way over that witchy charge, but the thing is, I've lately come to consider the reality of spirit entities that might be called demons, and considering my archetype theory, where all human beings are "avatars" of the spirits, then being "demon-possessed" is just a fact of life, not anything special. Still, I'd prefer a nice demon, one that doesn't totally trash the place.
And this week I read a tract that is essentially Neo-Calvinist in doctrine - Calvin being the cornerstone of the "predestined to damnation" doctrine so popular with the right crowd. Fags are always damned, kinda like Huckleberry Finn, except we didn't even DO anything obviously wicked like help a slave to escape, we're just damned for our lustful thoughts.
But, I think the real reason I'm so blue, is that I wonder why God doesn't answer prayers. I mean, MY prayers. Why not? Why the fuck NOT? Why doesn't God want the guy across the street to be cured from cancer? Why doesn't he want my own sister freed from alcoholism? Only a total JERK wouldn't answer prayers like that. The obvious answer is that he doesn't exist, so get over it. The typical Christian answer is that it's because he doesn't answer a fag's prayers, so again... get over it.
But it's not like the bible believing Christians are out there casting out devils themselves! Where are the miracles? Where ARE the fucking MIRACLES? It's a legit complaint, considering the bible is basically one long and tedious record of miracles. So basically, I'm at a "show me the money" stage. Which is... how long can I go on deluding myself that there is an omnipotent and loving cosmic super intelligence that gives a shit about tiny little intellects AKA human beings?
(OK, I just got a strange email seconds before I posted this, but it's not a miracle, it's just an email. So the post stands.)
The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons. Such teachings come through hypocritical liars, whose consciences have been seared as with a hot iron. They forbid people to marry and order them to abstain from certain foods, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and who know the truth. --1 Timothy 4:1-3
Why do I love the bible? Because it makes such a great defensive weapon against bible bashers! Paul calls everyone behind Prop. 8 a hypocritical liar and follower of demons! How awesome is that? You go grrrl.
The demonizing of queers is SO predictable. Finally the 2x4 has hit even the mainstream, and every American gets it - "God's Country" is being taken down. If that's so, then it must be because of some great sin, am I right? Who could it be... who could it be? Boy, I'd rather not look in the mirror... Oh, I know... faggots!!
I've got news for them. We're not playing the docile scapegoat this time around, and we're most certainly not turning the other cheek.
As noted in in the previous post, the symbolism surrounding John McCain's concession ritual was wildly evocative: Gold, Nazi-style banners, twin phallic pillars, and above all, the silver 5 pointed star of Venus/Ashtart/Ishtar/Asherah - the Queen of Heaven.
Looking again at the twin banners, so evocative of twin towers, Solomon's Temple and of course, 911. McCain stands before us a "fallen" man - his Presidential aspirations laying like rubble around him. Might he be standing in for those twin towers? Christopher K. at The Secret Sun has pointed out that when the towers fell, they "revealed" the symbolic architecture present in the World Financial Center - a dome, a pyramid, a stepped pyramid, and a star. Buildings that until 911 had been overshadowed by the massive towers. If the towers represented the Jewish/Solomonic/Freemasonic tradition, then the WFC may represent an older tradition - that of Egypt. Combining the fall of "Solomon" McCain with the rise of Egyptian Pharaoh resonating Barack Obama, we get Egypt rising again - like the Phoenix.
Solomon was famous for being exceedingly rich - especially in gold.
The weight of the gold that Solomon received yearly was 666 talents, not including the revenues brought in by merchants and traders. Also all the kings of Arabia and the governors of the land brought gold and silver to Solomon. --2 Chronicles 9:13
Ah... that lucky number. McCain is noted to be very rich, and his campaign "temple" was literally dripping in gold. If McCain is symbolically Solomon, he is also symbolically the USA (New Israel), which until recently was exceedingly rich, and received tribute from all the kings of Arabia in the form of - black gold.
Solomon was an apostate King, forsaking Jehovah for the Babylonian mystery schools. He was the one who brought Mystery Babylon into the "Promised Land", and he is the one Freemasons venerate even today. The Babylonian tradition is essentially the Egyptian tradition - same Goddess, different names.
If McCain is Solomon, then HE is the one who brings Mystery Babylon into New Israel. I wonder where she is? Maybe standing on his right and left, where the real star power shines... McCain's Asherah poles.
The woman was dressed in purple (blue) and scarlet (red), and was glittering with gold, precious stones and pearls. She held a golden cup in her hand, filled with abominable things and the filth of her adulteries. This title was written on her forehead: MYSTERY BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF PROSTITUTES AND OF THE ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH. --Revelation 17:4-5
"The human male cock is the tentacle tip of a joyous multidimensional shapeshifting multi-modality ecstacy experiencing BEAST of enormous proportions..." more
