A USA TODAY analysis finds that states where the percentage of "nones" — people who say they have no religion — is at or above the national average of 15% are more likely to push expanding the scope of marriage, civil unions or same-sex partner rights. -- USA Today
The Lion's Alter Ego?
Shut up and drive. Herodotus, being provocative.
"An 18-year-old has secretly painted a 60ft drawing of a phallus on the roof of his parents' £1million mansion in Berkshire."
Mr. Green Jeans
A man taking his cock for a walk, through a bridge, wearing a stag, meeting a dog.
but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die. --Genesis 2:17
Yesterday, March 22, I found out (via Eunus Noe) that Jeff Fairhall, my Fly Agaric eating Light Bringer, is dead. He died on Sept. 5, 2007, of brain cancer, but I didn't even know until now because I had deliberately banished him from my life. Jeff was the man who pried open my third eye - a seer, a shaman, and one of the bravest men I'll probably ever meet. A man who put everything - his wealth, family and prestige (which was considerable) on the line for what he thought was a Message from God.
He was a gifted conspiracy theorist, and some of his ideas I have yet to see printed in any blog. He was fascinated by Curt Cobain, heroin addiction and trafficking, George "Poppy" Bush Sr., Skull and Bones, the Jesuits, all the usual suspects. But like many of us, the conspiracy was simply a stepping stone to greater revelation - an examination into the nature of our dualistic experience.
Jeff ate (like a starving man) from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, and he found a kinsman in Terrance McKenna, the entheogenic shaman and psychonaut. Much of Jeff's 2012 focus was due to McKenna's Timewave Zero theory, which postulated an alien encounter as the logical manifestation of the global consciousness - the Ultimate Novelty. McKenna died of glioblastoma multiforme, a highly aggressive form of brain cancer. Jeff often called Terrance a "John the Baptist" figure, because he was a herald of the coming Christ, and because he died by "losing his head".
How strange that Jeff followed perfectly in the footsteps of both John and Terrance - taking out full page ads in The Stranger proclaiming the End of the Age - "a voice crying in the wilderness", and finally succumbing to brain cancer. Is Solome the Mushrooms other name?
Jeff and I shared an affinity for the mystical environs of Hood Canal - gateway to the Olympics. He called it the Dead Sea. I performed my own baptism ritual in those waters just last summer, dipping my head under three times. I think maybe Jeff was there in spirit - the Baptist.
Being with Jeff, as "intoxicating" as it was, was also a road to ruin. Even I could see that. Jeff's kind of yellow brick road always seems to lead to self-imolation and Jonestown. John's Town. So I, reluctantly, left his sphere of influence. Jeff was a light bringer, but he wasn't the light. I think he might have confused the two.
It's fairly amazing that I would become conscious of his death on 3/22 - the Day of the Dead - by Skull and Bones reckoning:
Genesis 3:22 Then the LORD God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of Us, to know good and evil. And now, lest he put out his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever”—
The tree of the knowledge of good and evil has a price. And Jeff, Terrance, John and Adam all appear to be a testament to the truth of that statement. The mushroom has a price.
A California man died of mushroom poisoning just last week - an 82 year old who had picked and eaten wild mushhrooms all his life. Until he made a fatal mistake and chose Amanita Ocreata. His last meal. "for in the day that you eat of it..."
I had a very powerful mushroom experience a few years ago - because I nearly killed myself. I was in the middle of a "temple building" ritual, when I found a bumper crop of what I thought were Amanita Muscaria that had magically mushroomed in a neighbor's yard. I was about to consume them when my beloved intervened, and showed me that these magical mushrooms were actually "Panther Caps" - a cousin of the Muscaria - but far more deadly.
Perhaps the "relation" of the Panther Caps and Amanita is "familial", one simply works more quickly than the other?
It makes me wonder... The Tree of Knowledge seems to cut down the Tree of Life - George Washington the Freemason cut down the Cherry Tree. Or more accurately, eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge somehow makes the Tree of Life necessary - the Divine Antidote?
I think I will take these messages very seriously. Mushrooms and other entheogens aren't my path.
There is another tree in the garden.
Richard Arrowsmith at Black Dog Star has recently shared his Contact Device moment, and there were certain similarities to my own, so I thought I'd try to share, though words are poor tools for this kind of thing. I can see why the prophets relied on parable and myth to share their visions. You can't talk about it without sounding fairly nuts.
My Contact Horizon opened in 2004, after particularly difficult personal times. I won't go into the details, but let it suffice that the gravity of the situation overtook the cultural myths that sustained me, and like Icarus, I fell to earth. The movie house had shut down, the Wurlitzer had ground to a halt, Elvis had left the building.
I was in a particularly vulnerable frame of mind, and I went seeking. I found my prophet straight away - advertising in the local alternative rag - The Stranger. This prophet was Jeff Fairhall, Local Seattle organic bakery entrepreneur by day, Fly Agaric sucking shaman by night. Jeff had gone 'round the bend', buying full page ads to proclaim the End of the World, and his own Messiahship. My kinda guy! I immediately met him, struck up a friendship, and we had a short-lived and tumultuous relationship/love affair of the guru/student variety. It was Platonic (are you reading Var?) but that doesn't mean the relationship lacked passion. Far from it.
Jeff was definitely Linked In to the Right Brain, and he told me outrageous things that I somehow knew to be true, deep down. He showed me how to view current events in mythic context, with modern actors playing the parts of mythic archetypes, and he showed me not to fear making my own interpretations - to hold the consensus reality construct highly suspect. In a way, Jeff opened another dimension in my tesseract brain, as if it went from a flat, 2D view to glorious 3D! Jeff was also barking at the moon mad, and I eventually left. But his moonshine had left its mark, and I was forever changed. I was bitten.
So one beautiful morning in the fall of 2004, I went walking in the wood with Oliver, the Oztralian terrier. We weren't drinking or on drugs, so bare with me. But as we entered the woodland glade, something changed. I felt a presence, and a vibration. Like pins and needles. Something was happening. WTF?
I was like... bathing. In an energy of such refined frequency I can't even describe. It was raining down, and so I looked up, and I saw... everything. And it was Good. I mean, really good. Like your best fantasy of the best universe... ever. Who also is your lover. My cock responded to the vibration, and was soon standing at attention. Like some kind of "divining" rod!?
I could see inside the trees. I could see inside the cells and I could see something more... the tree was made of some kind of sentient matter - at some basic level deeper even than the atomic structure, the tree was made of... seed. Everything was made of this "matter". A matter that holds consciousness within it. Everything and everyone, "matters".
I'll just stop now, because I've gone way past the ridiculous already. I'll just sum up by saying that this little ten minute or so event changed my life, and yet... nothing has changed, except I decided to blog about it. Go figure.
One Man Shy - flick the switch for enlightenment. But wait... why is he frowning, and why does he cover his light (unto the nations)? Perhaps the Ood (see below) show a better light.
The Doctor blew my mind again. Season Four's 'Planet of the Ood' is set in the 42 century (Yes, that rainbow number again), when the human race/empire/virus has expanded to three galaxies (continents). The humans have a servant race called the Ood, who's tentacled visage resemble Cthulhu, or maybe the Flying Spaghetti Monster?
It dawned on me that the Ood represent gay men when we find out that the Ood have a "second brain", that they lovingly hold in their hands? Ahem. The Ood sing a psychic song that happens to sound exactly like a (male) monastic choir, and their speaking voice is a dead ringer for C3PO - the gay droid. I have a feeling the Ood eat at Hamburger Mary's.
The Ood had their secondary brain cut off by the human "Corporation", replaced by a "translator orb", which "civilizes" them. I'd call this a castration, which makes the Ood into a eunuch. Interesting that "Translator" is also one of the functions of C3PO.
The Ood, being faithful and loyal servants of the human race for hundreds of years, suddenly begin exhibiting decidedly anti-social behavior - the "red eye" syndrome. This synchs with the eye color change in 28 Days Later, which I examine in The Gay Virus. Curious that in homoerotic transformation fiction, the eye color change is often the first "symptom".
What's really wild is that the Ood have a third brain, which is a gigantic, central, communal brain. This is called the Ood's "Daddy" by the human antagonist, which synchs right around to the Abba (Daddy) of Jesus, AKA the Father. The Ood central brain represents Cosmic Consciousness (KK) - the universal intelligence that vibrates (throbs) in sync with the "second brain". The Ood Mega Brain is held in captivity in Warehouse 15, a nice reversal of Area 51.
The episode ends with the Ood gaining their freedom, and making their human tormentor into one of their own - transforming him into an Ood. In other words, making him queer. It might be a good idea... to keep an eye on the eyes of your gay hairdresser.
NOTES:
I found this episode of Doctor Who remarkable, so I checked out who wrote it: Keith Temple. It is apparently his only Doctor Who episode. It makes me wonder... perhaps the Ood have infiltrated deeper into the matrix than I ever dared hope.
The Ood with the highest rank in the human system (reflecting the prophet Daniel in Babylon) wears a distinctive mark: a Greek Sigma. I'll keep my red eye on that.
I've discovered a new car nerd blog: Bring a Trailer - the thinking man's Auto Trader. I'm loving it because he definitely has a gift for picking out wonderfully symbolic auto-grails. Like last April 22 (The real April Fool's Day) he finds this 1970 Lamborghini Espada for sale, green and gold livery.
You'll have to click to enlarge, but note the red, trident wielding Maserati zooming in from the upper right. No. 133.
According to The Secret Sun, green and gold are associated with Cybele, another mother earth symbol. Her Roman counterpart is Ceres, from which we get the word cereal.
Lamborghini's symbol is the bull, which resonates the Egyptian masturbating Creator God Min as well as the Minotaur, the half bull, half human creature of that ancient and ever present labyrinth on our own planetary island of Dr. Moreau. Espada is Spanish for "sword" so yet another phallic symbol, and green is also the color of Min, resonating the semen white sap of said vegie. Osiris is the Green Man, so I'm supposing Min became Osiris - the God with the detachable penis.
Which leads us to St. Paddy's Day and the wearing of the green. Again, according to The Secret Sun, our modern Bacchanal of St. Patrick's Day is yet another feast day of Osiris, with little pointers like the number 17 giving the game away. In Irish lore, the pot o' gold is guarded by those mini elvish - the leprechauns. The pot (care for a puff?) is found at the end of the rainbow, just like Oz, and just like every single gay pride parade.
"Pot o' gold" sounds very grailish to me, synching with cars and boats and any movable vessel. As the luck o' the Irish would have it, today I was searching for a pic of a catamaran (resonating H, the twin) for an unrelated project, and I stumbled upon this amazing vessel, who's name is Cybele! I swear to Min on a stack of lettuce. What are the chances?
I have one personal Lamborghini synch: one of my best friends (Craig) from my twenties rented a room from a gay couple in the Montlake neighborhood of Seattle, and they had an old blue Lamborghini in the garage, stored under a tarp. It was quit odd, because these guys were the outdoorsy bear type, not what you would normally associate with collecting auto exotica. Craig was practically addicted to cereal - he even ate it for dessert.
I haven't seen Watchmen, and reports are that it's about two hours overlong, and the main antagonist is subliminally gay, so really not that excited, blue bodybuilder notwithstanding.
But look at this amazing message - a Torah statement if we ever saw one. With the brain puncturing bullet entering the Smiley Face. It almost looks a giant spaceship hovering... This all happening concurrently with justice (of a sort) being served to a Wall St. swindler and the pill peddling killers of our latest 'Marilyn Monroe':
LOS ANGELES, California (CNN) -- Anna Nicole Smith's longtime partner and attorney, Howard K. Stern, and a doctor were jailed Thursday on charges of conspiring to furnish drugs to Smith before her death in 2007, authorities said. --via eLLUMINATI BLOG
Makes me wonder if we might even be told who really shot JFK - JR. But it got me thinking: Wouldn't all this tend to create a sense of personal moral anxiety? I'll bet attendance was particularly heavy in Confession this week.
The Chariot of the Gods
She came from Planet Claire, I knew she came from there. She drove a Plymouth Satellite, Faster than the speed of light... Planet Claire has pink air, All the trees are red. No one ever dies there, No one has a head. Some say she's from Mars, Or one of the seven stars, That shine after 3:30 in the morning. WELL... SHE ISN'T! --Planet Claire, B-52's.
I've been musing about the sudden rise of the "Synchromystic", as it were. New synchromystic blogs pop up like mushrooms these days, with more and more people catching the bug. Synchronicity is (IMHO) an attempt to "awaken in the dream", to consciously view everyday events and coincidence as personal messages from the Dreaming Mind. In other words, lunatic pot heads who think God is talking to them in secret messages that only they can understand! I say that with love, because I'm one of them.
My own path on the yellow brick road began in earnest on Sept. 11, 2001 (no points for originality, I'm afraid) and has included more than one credible VALIS experience. I know many of my fellow synchronauts can recount similar experiences, and sometimes I wonder, how... why? Why is synchronicity waxing?
William Thuther at Conspiracy Grimoire has been doing some really excellent work on "the Contact Device": that spinning, whirling, gyroscope-like machine that Jodie Foster rode to make first contact with aliens in the Vega system. It keeps appearing in the strangest places - American Idol, the sculpture garden of the CERN super collider, etc.
I've been doing a lot of musing about this machine, and what it represents. Jodie obviously didn't actually "GO" anywhere. The ball drops, hits the water, and she exits with wild tales. What Jodie experienced was not a trip to Vega(s), but a sudden and powerful connection to Universal Consciousness. She'd had a classic religious vision; an anointing of the Holy Spirit; an "ego death". She visits "heaven", which to her was the tropical beach of her childhood, where she meets her father, as in... "the Holy Father".
Ecstatic religious experience can be generated in several ways, including intense prayer, meditation, chanting, entheogens, sex, strangulation (sometimes employed in Tantric sex) and.... altering the local magnetic field by SPINNING magnets around the cranium. If you do all of them at once maybe you become Jesus. Or Jodie Foster.
The human organism, being an electrical energy device of profound subtlety, is sensitive to flux in the magnetic fields that surrounds it. Changes in our own brain chemistry or in the magnetic field (the "electrolyte") can cause changes in the way our brain functions, perhaps temporarily bridging the gap from right to left brain experience - the Rainbow Bridge.
Is the Contact Device essentially a system of rapidly spinning magnets that alters the magnetic field around a body so as to create perfect link to the right brain, Dreaming Mind? Contact, indeed.
You Spin Me right round, baby right round...
When I think back on my youth, I loved the merry-go-round the best. Spinning. Curiously, rockers, swings, merry-go-rounds, etc., are all designed to generate rhythmic changes in local gravity/magnetic fields. Perhaps children find this intrinsically pleasurable because it creates a weak electrical connection across the Great Divide?
The Mad Tea Party
Amusement parks all feature gravity altering rides; the Roller Coaster, Centrifuge, the Vomatron, etc. Along with seriously trippy iconography in the "Fun House". Maybe the spinning makes the fun house "fun". Like taking a toke.
Curiously, the Psychiatry Museum in Bern, Switzerland, features a model of Centrifuge Therapy, which spins the insane asylum patient around in an 18th century version of an astronaut training chair, a "literal" attempt to spin the mental patient (who's head was "spinning"), back into "synch" with sanity.
The octagonal Contact Device in CERN is called a Super Collider - a metaphor for the meeting of the left brain Ego with the Right Brain Id - when the immovable object meets the irresistible force. This is also the Stargate, made famous via synchromagician Jake Kotze. The Contact Device and the Stargate are equivalents.
But why me, why us, and why now? Why this sudden explosion of people who seem at least half-connected to the Dreaming Mind half the time? My personal ego death didn't involve drugs, sex(darn it!) or strangulation, and I haven't been sitting inside any spinning Contact Devices or Ferris Wheels. Or... have I?
Relax... You're Soaking in It
VALIS is Philip K. Dick's satellite-based personification of Cosmic Consiousness. Satellites spin around the earth, exactly like the Contact Device spins around the ball that surrounds Jodie Foster (female, "earth", and perhaps... "foster parent"). Googling satellite earth orbit gives us this:
The paths of geostationary satellites oddly resemble the paths of the Contact Device. And who is credited with the "invention" of the geostatic satellite? Arthur C. Clarke, the imagineer of 2001: A Space Odyssey, which resonates so strongly with Contact. David BOWman and Ellie ARROWway. I mean... quite.
According to Canadian engineers at Queen's University, there are now more than 8000 operational satellites orbiting earth. This only includes the ones we've been told about. Is it possible that satellites might effect the earth's magnetic fields, in a way so as to create a global "Contact Device"? A device that is, even now, relentlessly surfacing the unconscious Underworld - directly into the oncoming train of the consensus reality trance. A device that is, perhaps, to be completed in 2012.
Maybe my own brief connection to the Id was simply the result of a random triangulation of satellites, creating a momentary surge of VALIS magnetic field flux!? I'm trying to imagine the effect on billions of egos who suddenly come face to face with their own, personal, Jesus. While watching TV.
Maybe there's a very good reason to be off planet by 2012.
Today was a big day. We're using our inheritance to get the VW Golf back on the road! The aging Golf has been waiting over a year for the money to make it roadworthy again, and so today we called Eastside Towing to haul it over to the Wagon House.
I never much liked the name Golf. It seemed like unseemly "reaching outside of class" for the "People's Car". I mean,"people" bowl and play baseball, we do not golf. That said, the story of the pauper made a prince is always compelling.
So Eastside shows up with the Purple People Puller, and I'm reminded of the "tugboat" idea of Jesus, who is pulling us toward the I AM (see The Holy Tugboat). This particular tow truck is a "beast", in that it never saw a gas station it didn't like - according to the congenial driver. So we have a Purple Beast (aka Cock), drawing the People's Car (aka humanity) toward the Wagon House (aka the divine garage of eternal joy and free 10W-40).
Being thus purple sensitized, I immediately saw at least five amazing purple synchs, which I won't bore you with, however I do note that my chosen horny Avatar has a purple tinge. Or is that lavender?
Sirius Synch: Seattle's most famous, most iconic VW service and repair shop is Bow Wow VW, who's unbearably cute little sticker is properly displayed on micro buses thusly:
This challenging early Tom of Finland surfaced on Roids and Rants a few days ago.
The immediate visual impact is disturbing, yet the name of the drawing adds an entire story to this single image. According to hearsay, 20-year-old Tom himself was sexually abused by German soldier(s) during the WW2 while they were stationed in Finland. --R&R
However, if you read the comments, it appears that Tom may have actively sought out the German soldiers...
Meanwhile, Taschen has released the ultimate Tom of Finland companion, XXL, his complete works in 666 pages.
I remember my first taste of Tom, I think I had snuck (underage) into a dirty book store and found the gay section. It was like gasoline thrown on a fire I barely knew existed! The images of giant cocks, dominance and submission, it was very, very bad, but I knew deep down it was what I wanted. Hadn't I been drawing similar images in my own room and hiding them under the bed, ever since puberty? They say the devil hides under the beds of children, and in my case, maybe he really was.
In Jungian terms, Hitler refused to integrate his own dark side, and instead projected it outward to the "Enemy", which happened to be homosexuals, Roma and Jews. Go figure. I myself am guilty of the same charge, because I have projected my own dark side onto various people and institutions - such as Prince William, most notably - an easy target. Which doesn't mean that William is off the hook, it just means that from now on I wish to see him as a "lightbringer", an illumination into my own dark nature. Same as GWB was, and I presume, Obama - who already appears as an "angel of light".
Tom seems to have been entirely sanguine about the whole business, and really didn't care WHERE he got cock. Cock was cock, and if lonely and horny German soldiers was where he found it, no matter. At the time, Finland was torn between Soviet domination and German "help", and the Swastika wasn't the ultimate symbol of evil, it was just the German flag. (BTW, I have a feeling the Stars and Stripes are heading that way...).
As these things go, Tom of Finland, because of his rejection of the "status quo" power of symbols, manifests them even more deeply in his art. Symbols seem to have a life, even a will... of their own.
When I painted a red star over the LORD in the latest gosporn banner, I was considering a swastika (and a Baphomet and a Star of David and an Imperial hexagon...) because they are all symbols of the dark side, and somehow, Cock is "central" to all this. You can get arrested for showing a normal body part in public quicker than anything... even showing a swastika, God forbid it be shown in "anger". It's like, an ACTUAL penis is a RED FLAG to the powers that be, even though they seem to be perfectly happy with monuments that SYMBOLIZE exactly that. I strongly suspect that "idolatry" is the worship of gods of stone, iron, bronze, or gold, when the Living God is right between our legs. May I have the ability of Tom (Thomas) to see what's real.
I'm gonna teach you how feel, Open your mind to something real, Take your frustration, use it up, I'm gonna teach you how to touch. --Do U, SIRPAUL
Fascinating how he twins himself and promptly attempts to seduce his "better half".
"He looks like the gay jesus" comments a listener. Which indeed he does - Jesus, seducing Thomas. Here's a hot twin on twin pic, dining on tail. Via Roids and Rants.
When I was in school, I met a fellow named John (of Greek extraction) who was very gifted - handsome as Apollo, built like a Greek god, and (if rumors were true) hung like a Trojan horse. Not only that, but also intelligent and socially charming. He was exceptionally well-liked in our little Seattle gay community, but as it turns out, he decided to forsake all that for a career in the State Department, with the goal of becoming a diplomat. With that in mind, he ungayed himself, married, had kids, and I ran into him about five years after graduation (at the St. Demetrios Greek Festival) and I was stunned by the degradation of his once radiant appearance! The star of the gay bar was now a pallid bureaucrat.
Which brings me around to Dillon Buck, one of the UK's hottest exports. Dillon fascinates me. I follow his blog, and every week he's off to Paris, New York, LA, or Sydney for some fabulous trip. Pics of Dillon diving in the Bahamas, kite boarding in England, hiking in South Africa, driving his good friend's Aston Martin, on and on. Dillon lives the James Bond lifestyle, except without the nasty killing part. Dillon is handsome and fit in a British boy next door kind of way, though rather well endowed "down under". What really sets Dillon apart is his charm - his diplomatic skills - he plays the gay "porn star" with the same high standards that Cary Grant once played the Hollywood actor gig.
Dillon is both shy and unassuming (his friendly ego) and yet powerful and commanding (the Id). He is, in a nutshell, irresistible. He is as comfortable in a sling as in a tux (I should copyright that...), and his recent interview in the SA People Magazine only underscores it. The media loves him. But he's not one of them. He's just a guy with a big dick, and he's not afraid of it, in fact, he openly shows that it's his greatest attribute! He's like... the St. Paul of Cock!
Which brings me back around to my Greek friend John, who was considerably better endowed than Dillon for the job. But he chose to ignore his calling, in favor of the siren call of wealth and prestige. The siren gave nothing of what she promised, and my friend showed the disappointing fruit of his investment.
On the other hand, Dillon chose to follow his cock, and he becomes the toast of the nations, an ambassador of the LORD. My Greek friend John probably watches Dillon's blog (from a secret account on a secret computer), and he lies in bed every night, grinding his teeth, thinking "that could... that SHOULD... have been me".
He replied, 'I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but as for the one who has nothing, even what he has will be taken away. --Luke 19:26
I love how Dillon is posing in front of a Fiat. As in Fiat currency.
I've been taking another look at Seattle's famous obelisk, the Space Needle, seeking to unlock a few secrets. The monument combines the ancient with the futuristic in a remarkably elegant way, my hometown "ancient astronaut". The pillar (representing the Divine Masculine) it topped with a saucer, which I take to represent the Divine Feminine. It is also "crowned with the sun", so plenty of solar symbolism going around. This concept reminds me of the banners exhibited at John McCain's bizarre 2008 concession ritual in Phoenix - which featured golden pillars topped with a five pointed star - Venus. See Black Gold II.
To underline the point, check out this amazing 2007 Chrysler image: "Get Ready for the Next 100 Years". These are Asherah poles, all dedicated to the Babylonian (or Catholic!?) Queen of Heaven.
Always the focus of the city's New Years Eve bacchanal (a symbol of renewal, rebirth), the needle is, according to Matthew Delooze, an energy transmitter - sending worship energy into the lower fourth dimension for the dining pleasure of certain vampire-like non corporeal entities. Fittingly, the Needle includes an elite (very expensive) restaurant on top, and a larger, lower priced venue below, for the "porch brethren". As above, so below.
The Needle was the tallest building in Seattle from 1962 (the Century 21 World's Fair, for which it was built) to 1968, when the black box of 1001 4th Avenue Plaza eclipsed it. This 50 story building (originally the SeaFirst Building - maritime ping) was quickly dubbed "The box the Space Needle came in". Note the Venusian "5".
Loren Colman's recent post about Cleopatra's Needle struck a chord. The "needle" was an ancient Egyptian obelisk brought to England in 1877 encased in an iron cylinder dubbed "Cleopatra" by it's Masonic builders. Which would make it the "box" the needle "came" in. No double entendres here. Apparently, the voyage from Egypt to England was the 'voyage of the damned' - 6 men drowned in a storm in the Bay of Biscay when the Cleopatra broke loose. The obelisk did not sink, amazing considering it was encased in iron (an iron maiden?), and was eventually towed to London.
There are actually four ancient Egyptian Needles. One in London, with it's twin in New York City (something about that "unbreakable bond?"), and one in Paris, while its twin remains in Egypt.
The "needle" represents the disembodied penis of Osiris, and Cleopatra/the Seafirst building represents Isis. But let's take it one step further. In Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897), the vampire makes a long sea voyage from Transylvania to England aboard the Demeter, encased in a BOX filled with earth. (Dracula's planned travel destination was to be among the "teeming millions") This was also a voyage of the damned, with not one of the crew surviving the voyage.
Demeter is another "earth mother" goddess, the equivalent of the Roman Ceres. The 1988 Disney television movie Earth*Star Voyager features a vessel on a voyage to a planet called Demeter. I remember watching this little gem as a teenager, and strangely enough, Disney has steadfastly refused to release it to DVD or modern consumption. Perhaps it was a bit TOO forthcoming?
The voyage of Dracula from near death in Transylvania to youthful vigor in London represents the voyage of Osiris from the Underworld back to life - represented by London and her "teeming millions", AKA Earth/Demeter. Bram Stoker was sure to include the name Hawkins (Horus) in his mythos, and curious that Abraham Van Helsing is Dutch (Netherlands meaning Underworld) who is the one who sends Dracula/Osiris BACK to Hades.
Perhaps, the "blood" that Osiris requires for his rebirth is not literal blood, but the blood of worship - the unconscious worship energy of billions via his symbol of the disembodied penis - the Needle. And maybe, this energy is somehow stored INSIDE the atomic structure of masonry (the sword in the stone) - a spiritual "battery" or "storehouse".
According to the Athenian rhetorician Isocrates, the greatest gifts which Demeter gave were cereal (also known as corn in modern Britain), which made man different from wild animals; and the Mysteries which give man higher hopes in this life and the afterlife. --wikipedia
Remember how the family was feeding the seagulls hexagon CEREAL on the ferry? See The Lion's Gate.
Aston Martin announced today at the Geneva Motor Show that it would revive the luxury marque Lagonda... The concept vehicle, 5.2 meters long (17.16 feet), is based on the Mercedes GL, but it has much sleeker sheet metal... Aston Martin's rise from the dead in the past few years has been leveraged against a distinct bit of engineering, the alloy monocque VH (vertical-horizontal) chassis... --LA Times
About a week ago I was taking a ferry from West Seattle to Southworth. It was a beautiful day and I even saw a (rare) sailing catamaran from the ferry, but the most interesting thing was an unusual pattern of airplane condensation trails in the sky, which looked like this:
I realized that if you connected the ends, they would form a hexagon. The other interesting thing was that a family was feeding the seagulls from the starboard bow of the ferry, and they (the gulls) were crying and wheeling about, being the piratical little scavengers that they are. Seagulls have a special place in my heart, because for one they are beautiful in flight, but a long time ago Var and I decided that the ferryboat was the god of seagulls. They would accompany the boat on its passage from one side to the other, flying ahead and flanking it, and it almost seemed like they were heralds or guardians or something. So anyway, I was watching the family, silently disapproving of them feeding the birds sugary cereal snacks, and guess what they were feeding the gulls? Crispy Hexagons.
Note Lion logo in the upper left. Click to enlarge.
All righty then. A few days later, Var and I had to go into Seattle to cash a check at this bank:
Do we see a hexagon theme developing here? The HSBC (Honk Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation) logo is also a red and white bow-tie, signifying Orion. The bank is on the 23rd floor of One Union Square (2323 is the address, actually), you have to buzz to even get in the door. Upon entering, you are immediately confronted by a lovely bas-relief of the Crest of the House of Windsor. Lion on the left, Unicorn on the right, complete with Dieu et mon droit. Wouldn't you know it, we parked directly across the street from the Red Lion Hotel. And oh yea, the Lion King is in town, with giant lion banners everywhere, proclaiming "Now is the time!"
Is that a red BOW in your hair?
HSBC Holdings plc is a public limited company incorporated in England and Wales, headquartered in London. As of 2008, it is both the world's largest banking group and the world's largest company according to a composite measure by Forbes magazine.
OK, we are in a tentacle of the belly of the Beast, Suite 2323. Trying to cash a check. I'm practically hyperventilating!
Cashing a check takes a good while (since we are not customers), so I sit and look at their view, which faces south and features a fabulous shot of the Art Deco Amazon.com corporate headquarters on Beacon Hill. This building (a former hospital) is literally a pink version of Emerald City, and wouldn't you know it, Seattle calls itself the Emerald City. Oz had a lion (who was about as gay as it gets) and strangely, I played the Cowardly Lion in a high school play.
Synching around to this provocative gem (by Mike Jacobsen) snagged from Conspiracy Grimoire. The Lion realizes he can't get courage from Dorothy because she lacks the organs with which courage is associated. He'll have to grow a pair himself.
Now we go into gay land (somewhere over the rainbow... flag), because my MOST favorite homoerotic writer (PosingStrap) would occasionally describe his characters as... "Amazons", which I thought was really strange. As we all know, Amazons are the fierce female warriors of ancient Turkey, who chose to create a society free from male influence. Wonder Woman is an Amazon, and yes, she sports a RED STAR on her crown.
But Posingstrap is describing men: MALE Amazons? Perhaps male Amazons are men who choose to create a society free from the influence of women? Isn't that a Spartan? And bottom line, isn't that what a gay bar is? At least, some of them. Seattle had a bar called The Cuff which when it opened was an oasis of masculinity. No drag queens, trannys or fag hags. Blue and white collar guys, black and white, all mixed in a testosterone and stale beer laden fog. But one night I was there and I saw that someone had invited their girl friends in, and I was actually kinda pissed, like these women were defiling our little temple! Which, I am quick to point out, is NOT hatred of women, OK? It's just... female energy takes the edge off, and edging is what it's all ABOUT in a gay bar.
The Amazons couldn't reproduce, so one day a year they invited neighboring men in for sex (and men being men, they always accepted the invite). Gay men can't reproduce, which begs the question, why ARE there gay bars at ALL since gayness should have been the first thing on Gaia's list of "undesirable genetic traits"? There are many scientific apologists out there for the "gay gene", but somehow, they ring a bit hollow to me. The unfathomable success of homo-ness leads conspiracy-minded Christians to suppose that there MUST be some secret gay recruitment agenda. Which on a 5 sense, conscious level is laughable. But I have new theory, which is that queerness is part of the "invasion". On some pre-programmed, unconscious, Idsquid, genetic level, homosexuality IS on the agenda, and despite the numerous attempts at wiping us out, the Amazon/Spartans make headway. I think that perhaps... homosexuality IS the Trojan Horse.
The Lionfish Invasion.
Fun Fact: This is the species of fish in Captain Picard's ready room on Star Trek: TNG. Its name is "Livingston". (as in seagull, I presume).
