Mean Time

Your Unintrepid Dynamo entered the grocery today (Oct. 28) incogno, shades drawn and top up, and upon opening the restroom door encountered two towheads, perhaps three and five, who turned from the faucets and their dad to regard yrs. Trooly with astonishment, full of trust in life.

A strange land is it, and every stranger in it, upon father business.

Where we need is his kingdom, where we are is Cutty Sark.

Kali-fornia scorched beneath the Witch Fire. Real dragon breath as opposed to vidgames and pretend.

Drought in the Land simultaneous with deluge.

Heaven shuts. Can't be bought or forced. What's a nation to do in face of such unreasonableness?!

Rivers in the Southeast are turning to dust. Ditto New York, California, Florida, Australia, Africa etc.

"The need to reduce water waste and inefficiency is greater now than ever before," said Benjamin Grumbles, assistant administrator for water at the Environmental Protection Agency. "Water efficiency is the wave of the future."

"Ben Grumbles"?! Say it ain't so!

:O)

In the category Perhaps They Didn't Realize They Were Missed, we discover Hundreds of 'Missing' Black Holes Found.

[Well . . . they did add quotes]

Using NASA's Chandra X-ray and Spitzer Space Telescopes, the team detected unusually high levels of infrared light emitted by 200 galaxies in the distant universe. They think the infrared light was created by material falling into "quasars"—supermassive black holes surrounded by doughnut-shaped clouds of gas and dust—at the center of the galaxies.

Mmmm . . . DOUGHNUTS!!

The Vatican took a shot at the global Left today. The Cardinal performing the mass beatification, Jose Saraiva Martins, is Portuguese.

Just in case you don't get that channel. :O)

(Portugal figures prominently in the McCann saga and in nautical and occult contexts.)

The Nations are increasingly masonic and matriarchal, and the Church -- divided in house -- smells doom.

In his Greenwich Layer Cake posts, Ben Fairhall (even if unintentionally) shows a Magickal Working from the inside. We see not the hocus-pocus of outer (profane) rituals, but the series of manifest phenomena comprising the material aspect of sorcery, the "working."

The image below is from Fairhall's Goddess of New York post.

In the Cage

The Lamb Lies Down on Fifth Avenue, eh Peter? (Mr. Gabriel is Co-Founder and financier of The Goblin Elite oopz The Global Elders.)

[She pulls hard to port, Pete. Y'all will get used to it.]

Ennyways, especially in Greenwich Layer Cake, Fairhall connects Freemasonry, holograms, Fatima/Mariolatry, Templarism, the Madeleine McCann invisible circus, and Global Timekeeping/Greenwich Mean Time (and thus, longitude and other tessellative potencies.)

The surfacing of the Beast over the past century, in particular, means subjugation to its powers, but also slowly brings its "heads" into consciousness, like the surfaced Worm surrounding North America in Manson's "artwork."

Fairhall reproduces the above biohazard symbol found April 13, 2007, on the Dover cliffs -- supposedly a commercial advertisement for a film.

However, its appearance on Dover -- with its "subterranean" military and psychospiritual history -- suggests, as Fairhall posits, the triune moon or Triple Goddess. Crescent manifestation denotes Hecate, the deathwitch, and, by extension, Typhon (Set, Neptune, Leviathan, etc., interlocking crescent moons.)

The meaning, commercial silliness aside, is possibly: the Rock of England -- and the Anglosphere -- is poisoned. Air, water, soil, body and spirit. And here's the symbol of what (who) is contaminating -- in fact, condemning -- it.

A few months after the Dover Biohazard appeared, Anubis, Opener of the Ways, satanic herald, cruised through London's Tower Bridge. Another (ahem) advertisement.

Via the Greenwich Foot Tunnel, Fairhall tracks the Green Witch to, well, Greenwich. (Thrice.) He lands -- que milagro -- on the slick crimson decks of the Cutty Sark.

In one sense, Cutty Sark stems from Burns' Tam o' Shanter -- the term is Scottish for a chemise or undershirt -- a garment just coincidentally too short to cover the "modesty" of a young witch named "Nannie." A Cutty Sark is a sort of illusion, really. A lure. Effective and ancient.

Prow of the Cutty Sark -- with "Nannie" brandishing her prize

In related sense, the Cutty Sark is Brittannia, that is, the Goddess. The ship embodies Hecate. Empowered by certain ambitious "sailors" and nautonniers, by an ancient suboceanic current, the Goddess seizes the lead, at prow. Compass and square, the masonic emblems -- construction, yes -- but also navigational tools, especially mapmaking and, of course, plotting!

:O)

"All Will Fall," Caprichos, Goya

Of course, Goya was a migogynist. Most modern commentary on him -- what exists -- assures us, one way or another, that ole Francisco was just another patriarchalist, busily oppressing the girls. Male Chauvinist Pig. Hater. Afraid of strong women.

Loser.

In May of this year, a "mysterious" fire extensively damaged the Cutty Sark.

Fairhall then discusses Greenwich as site of time's beginning and end in a followup post, Greenwich Layer Cake, Second Slice. Therein, he identifies September 11, 2001 -- and not January 1, 2000 -- as true beginning of the century (and of the millennium too perhaps, tho he doesn't state that.)

Greenwich is Temporal Ground Zero, the sipapu of maritime chronometry (Saturnian) and longitudinal mapping (navigation, trade, war, precise tessellation coordinates.) Green Witch is the fixed point around which the artificed aspect of Earth rotates. A kind of Faerie Queen at forest's heart.

We're talkin' prime meridian!

Cutty Sark Station is at the center of Greenwich, Lincolnshire. Nearby, on the Thames' banks, is the Old Royal Navy College. Likewise the Royal Observatory. You get the idea.

The Sark was built in 1869 for the East Indian tea trade (formerly monopolized by the East India Company.) S he "came into her own" not via tea, however, but as a "wool trader." That is, dealing in shorn sheep. (See Goya.)

In 1905, the Sark was sold to the Portuguese Ferreira Brothers, and re-named the Ferreira. A later Portuguese owner named her Maria do Amparo.

Wikipedia observes:

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck part three-and-a-half: The Cowboy Captain of the Cutty Sark by Don Rosa features the ship herself. In the award winning science fiction novel Blue Mars, by Kim Stanley Robinson, the Cutty Sark is portrayed sailing in one of the newly created channels on Earth following a major flood bought upon by volcanic activity in Antarctica. Cutty Sark is also mentioned in a song "Single-handed Sailor", performed by Dire Straits.

Fairhall's Second Slice concludes that 'Green Witch' represents the "sliced and diced" Earth. And to some extent, that's true.

But his entowerd princess has many phases and tales untold. Perhaps the "corn goddess" that Fairhall cites turns away and weeps not from injury, but from the sight of what -- who -- makes the corn grow.

William Cutting. Cutty. Saur. k. Quite a pair.

Greenwich Village, boho home to the East Coast Beats and many U.S. cultural icons, including Bob Dylan, clearly inspired San Francisco's Haight Ashbury counterculture: twin transcontinental hotspots. Both coasts are steeped in occulture. Other Village residents include(d) Eleanor Roosevelt, e.e. cummings, Twain, Dylan Thomas, Barbara Pierce Smith (first daughter), E.A. Poe, John 'n Yoko, and Margaret Sanger, influential feminist and eugenicist.

In 1919, The Village (as in "It Takes A") hosted Crowley's Dead Souls "exhibition."

LAM is the Tibetan word for Way or Path, and LAMA is He who Goeth, the specific title of the Gods of Egypt, the Treader of the Path, in Buddhistic phraseology. Its numerical value is 71, the number of this book. [frontispiece, The Lam Statement]

LAM

In came Wepwawet Anubis.

On October 19, 2007, the Dalai Lama was welcomed for the first time by an American President -- and presented with the Congressional Gold Medal (highest civilian honor.)

Last Sunday, the Dalai Lama arrived in Canada. He'll soon meet PM Stephen Harper. Tonight (this post was begun Oct. 28, and will be posted Oct. 30) the Dalai Lama is scheduled to deliver a lecture on "The Art of Happiness" at Rogers Centre in . . .

Toronto!

The link immediately above includes a photo of the Lama presenting Candian Senator Con Di Nino [huh!?] with a white scarf, called a kata.

Well, OK. Chocolates, tho, next time pls. . . . .

Anyway, when l.d. was, uh, even littler, his shorin-ryu sensei taught him katas -- not white hankies of peace, but ritualized martial arts patterns.

Glove in the fisted-rose Lama?

From Crowley's Nineteen-nineteen Greenwich "showing" of Lam, we skip to the Village's hosting the overtly masonic Washington Square Arch, at the terminus of Fifth Avenue.

Washington Square Arch

The Arch rings back the crucificato scene in Sergio Leone's "Last Judgment" epic, Once Upon a Time in the West. There, the stand-alone Roman Arch, much like the Arch at Washington Square, appears magically amidst the U.S. Southwestern desert, as Hangman's Tree -- a tool for destroying brotherhood, and for extending the Crucifixion and the Empire indefinitely. Greenwich Village was once called Washington Square [what, no Compass?!]. It was also called the "Empire Ward."

(Films like Leone's West, Scorcese's Gangs of New York, and Peckinpah's Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid aren't about the past. As with the greatest art, these films use the past to tell of current and near-future events carrying collective implications.)

London's East Greenwich is, apparently, the "gateway to Blackwall Tunnel."

The southern entrances to the Blackwall Tunnel are just south of the O2.

Wikipedia call the Tunnel "a notorious bottleneck."

Yeah. All choked up.

Originally called the Millennium Dome, the Oz-suggestive O2 opened on June 24, 2007, and hosts the World Gymnastic Championships in 2009, and Artistic Gymnastics during the 2012 Summer Olympics. (Greek Pagan Festival . . . Torch-Bearing . . . Girls running around in "Cutty Sarks" . . . 2012. OK.)

Sorcery runs off libidic juice, fear, like that -- the hypnosis of The Dance. Selling the Fantasy. 40,000 Virgins in IslamoParadise.

Salome.

Bigger audience, bigger juice.

The Jubilee Railway Line serves the Greenwich O2 site. Ho Ho Ho and it ain't even Xmas.

Interior design for the O2 Arena's suites was by Christopher Ciccone -- Madonna's brother.

And they say manhood is dead!

Oh Too, pictured from the Isle of Dogs

Does this place remind anyone else of a mine? Like touch one of those golden spikes and ka-boom? The sea-urchin spines extend into both water and sky, similar to the illuminations of Yoko's Peace Tower.

Peace Fountain, St. John the Divine, Greenwich Village

Above is what Fairhall, in his blogpost of October 24, 2007, calls "a real gloomer of a monument." Amongst other correspondences, Fairhall links Greenwich, NY and Greenwich, England via a "sacred alignment."

Certainly, the crustacean-like O2 ('Millennium Dome') resembles the crabby "base" of the Peace Fountain, though the O2's claws are apparently hidden.

The thing about Mean Time, whether in Greenwich or Paris or elsewhere: it is an illusion, an artifice.

Latitude is sun, horizon, noontime, the spinning Earth. Done deal.

Longitude, tho, is a gesture, a wish, a mere convenience for various purposes, amongst them early navigation at sea. The Prime Meridian -- the zero-point basis for time calibration on Earth -- is entirely arbitrary. Might just as well be in YOUR backyard as in Green Witch, Jolly Olde.

Final Noodlebaker: an authentic Prime Meridian may exist, elsewhere from Greenwich. We must wonder if Greenwich wasn't chosen, long ago, to synchronize and effect important future events.

That, after all, is the purpose of navigation.

Opener of the Ways

This one's obvious (almost too coincidental, in fact):



Knights Templar win heresy reprieve after 700 years


Fri Oct 12, 2007 4:10am EDT



By Philip Pullella



VATICAN CITY (Reuters) - The Knights Templar, the medieval Christian military order accused of heresy and sexual misconduct, will soon be partly rehabilitated when the Vatican publishes trial documents it had closely guarded for 700 years.


A reproduction of the minutes of trials against the Templars, "'Processus Contra Templarios -- Papal Inquiry into the Trial of the Templars'" is a massive work and much more than a book -- with a 5,900 euros ($8,333) price tag.


Strange time for a Vatican kisskiss with the KTs, given the vast influence of templarism/masonry in the modern West.


L.D. gave 2nd thot to his suspicions re the World Peace Tower, and is happy to report he now feels even queasier about Yoko and her projects.

























thar she blows!!


Been Rong many times, could be Yet Agin. Maybe L.D. is just a spoilsport, a hater. Perhaps the Peace Tower is well-meant.


And still . . .



Lookit that photo. What business of earth to illuminate Heaven? Don't we have that backward?


Yoko Croconile Business, methinks. One cunning Egyptofeminist.

Super-rich, too. And influential.

Woman's business, from Eden on. Upside-down planet.


Trojan Horse of a Tower.


Words of Peace, within which is hidden the global Gynogulag, America's matriarchal net cast planetwide.


The peace light we can see, with war we can't see made daily on the weak, the poor, the helpless, and especially the righteous.


War. Back for a bow is our old friend Anubis, father of Wepwawet:




















Wikipedia:

Over time, the connection to war, and thus to death, lead to Wepwawet also being seen as one who opened the ways to, and through, duat, for the spirits of the dead. Thus this, through also the similarity of the jackal to the wolf, Wepwawet became considered connected to Anubis, eventually becoming considered his son, and seen as a jackal.


Or, in DeadSpeak --


In the backwash of Fennario, the black and bloody mire
The Dire Wolf collects his due
while the boys sing round the fire:
"Don't murder me, I beg of you, don't murder me
Please don't murder me."


(Garcia, Hunter)




Peter Goodgame's Red Moon Rising chips in:



Most scholars view Sarapis as a combination of the Greek god Zeus and the Egyptian god Osiris, who was also worshiped as Apis the bull of the Nile. Thus, Osir-Apis, or Sarapis. On the other hand, Samuel Noah Kramer is inclined to see the cult of Sarapis as a return to the direct worship of Enki:

"In his survey of Akkadian epithets of the gods, Knut Tallqvist gives many citations for the title sar apsi, king of the Abzu (Apsu). Only one god is called sar apsi, Ea. E. Douglas van Buren was intrigued by the possibility that the epithet of Ea gave rise to the popular Hellenistic god Sarapis.


The story of the invention or discovery of Sarapis is reasonably well attested in antiquity, but the origins of the god remain obscure. Tacitus was told by Egyptian priests that Ptolemy I received a dream of "a young man from heaven" who told Ptolemy to send for the statue of Sarapis. At Sinope the statue was found, worshiped as Jupiter Dis along with Proserpina.


Priests of Apollo at Delphi advised the Egyptians to take the statue of Sarapis to Alexandria, but to leave his consort behind. The statue arrived in Alexandria and a shrine was built for it, where the Egyptians assimilated Sarapis to Osiris. The god caused a good bit of etymological and historical speculation in the ancient world, but the explanations of Sarapis are not very convincing.


Van Buren's suggestion that Serapis is Ea is based on knowledge that Sinope had been an Assyrian seaboard colony... Sarapis was widely popular as one of the great savior gods, a miracle-worker and healer. Zeus Sarapis was a benefactor of humanity, especially those like sailors who made their way by water." [26]

If the tale of Ptolemy's dream is true, and a statue known to depict "Sarapis" was found in Sinope in Pontus on the Black Sea coast, a colony with Akkadian connections, then it is virtually a foregone conclusion that the statue was in fact a statue of Ea/Enki, the only Akkadian god ever known as Sar Apsi, the Lord of the Abyss. Supporting this conclusion is the fact that "Sarapis" was especially favored by Alexander the Great. . . .



Alexander got "lost" in darkest Inja. Note the Black Sea reference in relation to current Turk affairs. Also the "statue" that "makes it's way by water."


Ptolemy, one of Alexander's most favored generals, received a lion's share of territory upon Alexander's death via the "Partition of Babylon" -- including Egypt, hence the Ptolemaic Dynasties in Egypt. Ptolemy was Satrap-king of Alexandria, hub and repository of Old World knowledge (including occult formulae.)


Hardly stunning to find via Samuel Noah Kramer et al. that the first "divine conflict," preserved in Sumerian cuneiform, involves the "brothers" Enki (lord of earth) and Enlil (lord of air, sky.)


The Sumerian tablets consistently favor Enki, portraying him as the Friend of Man. He was, as Goodgame writes, the "personal god" of the Sumerians -- and was opposed, if not in "historical concurrence" then in spirit, in Reality, by Yahweh, the "personal god" of the Hebrews. In ancient Sumer, Enlil was considered a Mean Old Daddy. He didn't let the Sumerians do anything and everything they wished . . . necromancy, human sacrifice, so forth. Hence his (continuing!) unpopularity.


So when Wepwawet Anubis, Opener of the Ways, comes sailing in power through the parted, upraised Tower Bridge, "Lord" Enki ain't fur behind, and London is indeed falling down. My fair lady.


Goodgame, btw, does an excellent job of showing the Luciferian/Enki bias of "experts" like Sitchin and the ghoulish Sir Laurence Gardner. Fanciful writing, but what a couple of pussies.


Goodgame connects Enki with the serpent, etc etc, anybody already reading this far can fill in the rest.


A dios.

Abominolation

Ono to unveil peace tower in Iceland







By GUDJON HELGASON, Associated Press Writer Tue Oct 9, 9:42 AM ET





REYKJAVIK, Iceland - Yoko Ono urged the world to give peace a chance with the unveiling Tuesday of the Imagine Peace Tower on Videy island on what would have been husband John Lennon's 67th birthday. . . .




The tower is a stories-tall beam of light that will radiate from a wishing well bearing the words "imagine peace" in 24 languages. The plan is for the tower to be lit each year between Oct. 9 and Dec. 8. . . .




Ono, 74, has said that she came up with the concept for the light tower in 1965, and that Lennon was interested.




"This is the biggest birthday present I gave to John," she told The Associated Press last month. "He's very, very happy about it, I know."





Ono said she chose Iceland, the world's northernmost country, because it is a very eco-friendly country that relies on geothermal energy.




"It's so beautiful," she said. "There's a certain strangeness to it. I would like to say it's magical."





[Note author's name -- Good John Hell Gas On . . . On was one name for the city of Heliopolis in ancient Egypt; it also suffixes Babylon.]






A Fox News account of the upcoming event from 9/27/07 includes this:





"I was collecting the wishes for world peace, of course," she said. "I thought: `I have to put them in a tower or something ... a peace tower.""





Oh! Oh, yeah, right, hon. A Peace Tower. That's where you'd put, ah, "them."





All of them, wouldn't you, dearie? Aggrieved Victim, perilous snake, goddess-ette that you are. Lock them in The Tower, and their little dog too.





How's the Egyptian Artifact Collection coming along, Ms. Love-In?



Below is a quote from our post of November 9, 2005. That post , focusing on Dragonlady Ono, is required reading to grok fully the information following. (The post, titled Love Hertz, Chapter 27: Yoko is God! is about halfway down the linked page. The connection between electromagnetism (hertz) and Yoko's interests are explicated in that post, and further below.)





PLAYBOY: To what extent do you play the game without getting caught up in it -- money for the sake of money, in other words?



ONO: There is a limit. It would probably be parallel to our level of security. Do you know what I mean? I mean the emotional-security level as well.



PLAYBOY: Has it reached that level yet?





ONO: No, not yet. I don't know. It might have.





PLAYBOY: You mean with $150,000,000? Is that an accurate estimate?




ONO: I don't know what we have. It becomes so complex that you need to have ten accountants working for two years to find out what you have. But let's say that we feel more comfortable now.





PLAYBOY: How have you chosen to invest your money?




ONO: To make money, you have to spend money. But if you are going to make money, you have to make it with love. I love Egyptian art. I make sure to get all the Egyptian things, not for their value but for their magic power.





Well shitfire. Make money with love. Sorta like Chevy Trucks: An American Revolution!





So that's what love is for! [L.D. slams palm into forehead.]




Little dynamo cannot understand why The Global Elders haven't already embraced Peace Egalitarian Oh No as their Second Ambassador (Oprah being The First, of course, as she's even more gluttonously wealthy and demented by hate.)

The Love Hertz post cited above also contains this:

Jesus is perfoming a kind of mass-exorcism on his fallen generation, through the temporal vehicles of the Wicked Priests ("Pharisees") and the transtemporal, or atemporal, vehicles of the "seven wicked spirits" -- both groups not only maintaining, but increasing power sevenfold during the intervening millennia. Likewise, the beast of the Book of Revelation is seven-headed, and thus hydra-like.)

it's critical that Jesus' exorcism operates both inside and outside of time, because the beast is atemporal

magnification of evil in the endtimes via the "seven spirits" or "powers" carries strong devolutionary overtones ("the last state of that man is worse than the first")

Seven-headed Hydra, seven planetary "rulers," seven-levelled underworld, seven-tiered Tower of Babylon.

The Imagine Peace Tower setting in the extreme north latitudes of Vioey, Iceland, recall prior posts herein concerning the "Beast from the North" and Charles Manson's occult leviathan, the Arctic Sea Basilisk, or Cockatrice. The beast, like American Masonry, hatches around Columbia, South Carolina, mushrooming into Full Screech amidst the Arctic. (See prior posts, including Ragna Rok and Man Son Roll for more info.)



























Paul Harding's Iceland reports:




The tiny island of Vioey (Wood Island) . . . is actually the tip of a long-extinct volcano . . . the town has figured prominently in the history of Reykjavik and Iceland. Vioey was originally part of the estate of Iceland's first settler, Ingolfer Arnarson, and an Augustinian monastery operated here from 1226 to 1539, when it was sacked by Danish Lutherans.




Iceland's last Catholic Bishop, Jon Arason, seized the land by force in 1550 and built the fort Virkio to protect the island, but he was captured and beheaded during the Reformation and Vioey became crown property. [emphasis added]


The sheriff Skuli Magnuson built the stone mansion Vioeyjarstofa here in 1751 . . . the house is the oldest stone building in Iceland and now houses an upmarket gourmet restaurant. The wooden Vioey church was constructed in 1774 and still contains all its original fittings.




Over the next few centuries, Vioey was home to Iceland's first printing press, and then a small fishing cooperative before it was donated to the city of Reykjavik in 1986, on the 200th anniversary of its municipal charter.





Harding goes on to discuss a monument to Sheriff Skuli and a "tiny grotto" called Paradishellir (Paradise Cave.) He also mentions basalt columns on Vioey Island. And, obviously, the guiding mythos on this site has been Ragnarok/Norse.







Ok whaddawegot? Paradise Cave was just mentioned herein as the illusory "Cave of Treasures" assoicated with Egyptian magick, necromancy, and Belial/Faerie Queene. So was basalt, the stone used to represent the Sons of Darkness in the Jerusalem Qumran exhibit. Grottoes ditto, see posts on Garabandal etc.





Sheriff Skuli = Skull Island, of which two exist in Washinton State, and one in Kongian fiction. Skull-and-Bones also, obviously.





"Ingolfer Arnarson" sounds like a cross between Tolkein's Elvish and Numenorean Kings (both races, btw, inhabited "Island Kingdoms") -- one prominent, ancient Elfking was Fingolfin, for example, and a recent post discussed gol prefixes and roots.





The name also suggets mega-golfer Arnold Palmer who just happens to be . . . waiiiit, now, waiiiiit for iiiiiittt . . .




Yup: Old Arnie -- 33rd degree, Loyalhanna Lodge No. 275, Latrobe PA





Palm-er . . . hmm . . . welcomed Jesus? . . . oh well, no time for it now . . . .











Ennyway, Tolkien or no, this isn't "PBS Booknook" or Valinor. The Peace Tower is decidedly nonfictional, temporal, and queasy -- tho it might be a fantasy, dubble-time.







The Radiating Peace Tower switches on today, and you have not been consulted. Might be illuminated, tho! :O)





Three centuries of Augustinian monks. Then the Catholic Bishop -- the last Catholic Bishop -- clutches vulcan's corona like Masada's pate, before being sniffed out and beheaded by the English Crown.






Our pal Shurruf Skuli turns out -- wonders unceasing! -- to have been a stone mason . . . built him a Mason Mansion on Old Wood Island, did he.






For the original Vioey church, however -- the one now, uh, vacant of pastorage -- wood was good enough. Built in 1774, it still contains all its original fittings.






How about that.







Iceland's coat-of-arms is the red-and-white Templar Cross, and its flag is the same Templar Cross, offset -- unsurprising, given significant Templar exploration and navigation in the North Atlantic and Arctic long before the founding of America.


















































Iceland is also an axis, a central terminus, a geo-vulco-magnetic hub of the principal planetary spine, the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, that vast undersea mountain range that looks for all the world like the spine of a creature, thrown down and long buried -- not in the abyss, but beneath it. Perhaps Iceland is the overt (as opposed to occult) organizational node, the surfaced evolution, of the Ridge Reptile -- it's midbrain, pons, medulla, cerebellum . . . possibly the creature's entire brain structure. Not like Lovecraft's Cthulhu.





Just plain old Cthulhu. Bigger-than-life. MUCH bigger.





























Now the Mid-Atlantic Ridge Reptile sports a shiny new Imagine Peace Tower. One glance at the photo below tells you what kind of Peace you'll be Imagining (and only imagining.)




























Do you know that some day you have to pay, man?
Have you anything to say, man,
except"make no mistake about it,
I'm the president, you hear?
I wanna make one thing clear,
I'm the president, you hear?

"Woman power! (woman power!)Woman power! (woman power!)


You don't hear them singing songs,
You don't see them living life,
'cause they've got nothing to say,
but"make no mistake about it,
I'm the president, you hear?
I wanna make one thing clear,
I'm the president, you hear?



"Woman power! (woman power!) Woman power! (woman power!)
Woman power! (woman power!)Woman power! (woman power!)Woman power!Woman power!Woman power! (woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)(woman power!)


"Woman Power" (Yoko Ono)





She's right, too. She IS the President.


She's the Congress and the Military and the Courts and the Cops and the Corporations too. Most of us pretend she isn't.



But she damn well is.



Jesus knew it. Shame on this upside-down, crucifying world. Here, darkness is called light. A prison tower is called Peace.




Why would Yoko Ono, Egyptian artifact snatcher, real estate tycooness, ardent feminist and matriarchalist, and spooky reptile-lookin' bee-eyed dragonlady, construct a Tower on possibly the hottest, most volatile and energized soil on Earth?




Yoko's Icelandic Imagine Peace Tower is as artificial as her intentions.


More "Eldering" methinks.





Preparations, preparations. Busy is the Bee.

The unity of humanity -- united under Lucifer, that is -- allied with powerful occult Architecture (sorcery) mandated the destruction of the Babylonian Tower.

The lesson is not complex. Heaven ain't for forcing, and human beings are not God.

Nor is Lucifer.

Global Elders and the East Witch, up from the starry abyss. Spinning houses will take thy measure.

"It's Like the Beatles"

{Le chien est le meilleur ami de l'homme}


Maniac creature with gigantic teething


Pay attention to that killing machine


Staring (at) me with eyes of hate


And growling like a truck engine


Appeared from nowhere


Barking and foaming


Having a terrible urge (To) Grub my ass


(And) Shred my balls


There's only one solution if I don't want to die


It's to run! Run! Run! Run!


Scared to be devoured


Running for my life


If I am lucky


I'll get out alive!


Fucked


"Black Dog" (Fate)



___________________




Crummy translation, but you get the idea.


Oh . . . and that "running" stuff?

Good luck. Can't outfoot this beast. It's in the very air.

Face it.


On October 1, 2007, London's Tower Bridge spread, hailing Jackal Anubis, Epyptian God of the Dead, as he barged into the West, rod of power held forth in ownership.



Supposedly, the "model" is advertisement for a London exhibit called Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs.''




Anubis is associated with the masonic Eye of Horus. Wikipedia reports:




No public procession in Egypt would be conducted without an Anubis to march at the head, the "go-between" of gods and men. The ancient Egyptians swore "by the Dog" when making oaths they would not break.



No public procession without Anubis at the head -- meaning the "parade" is just beginning.



Like Anubis, Belial is part beast, featuring prominently in key Qumran scrolls, especially the War Scrolls.


Sons of darkness, sons of light, winner take all. Jerusalem expresses it architecturally below -- the basalt block is meant to represent Belial and his lot, the nipplish dome the righteous.

















Today also new footage of "Diana's Final Hours" was released. Some bloggers have theorized, fairly persuasively, that her death was blood-ritualized murder for occult-energetic purposes, a la Downard on JFK.


Speaking of hatching snakes and old business, here's "Archbishop" Desmond Tutu -- Chairman of the Global Elders -- mewling about how the world's Last Hope is that women depose Failed Men, and rule our endangered planet under kinder, gentler guise.



Ever been to Walmart during a DVD Player Sale, Toots?



Don't get out much, do you?


In, either. Why don't you check with The Goddess and discover what bright ideas she has. Get back to me on that, OK? Be sure to learn ASL!


;O)




You sure you've been baptized?


You're not an Elder, Desmond. You're just old.


Think the "Archbishop" merely pursues an unachievable Loonie Leftie agenda?


First lady praises 'sisterhood' of female business owners




"With 10 million business owners in America, when it comes to entrepreneurship, it's increasingly becoming a woman's world ... and the sisterhood just keeps growing."



Yeah. So does a staph infection.

This from the party supposedly running against Hitlery. Sure.



Or:



In Basra, vigilantes wage deadly campaign against women



By Jay Price and Ali Omar al Basri, McClatchy Newspapers Thu Oct 4, 5:03 PM ET


BASRA, Iraq — Women in Basra have become the targets of a violent campaign by religious extremists, who leave more than 15 female bodies scattered around the city each month, police officers say.


The article goes on breathlessly to insinuate that females are the main victims of violence in Iraq, and that "religious extremists" wage constant war against their own women, singling them out for atrocities.


Want a bodycount gender-breakdown from Iraq? It will not support the bias and propaganda of the Western matri-media.


Conned. Monkeywrenched. Hoodwinked. The pressure is extremely subtle but relentless for the Global Gynasty.


And who's the King of 'Nasty?

















Be-lial.


That sleek reek is Dead Dog, come sniffing around the Remains of the West.

















And there was a famine in the land, beside the first famine that was in the days of Abraham. And Isaac went unto Abimelech king of the Philistines unto Gerar.

And the LORD appeared unto him, and said, Go not down into Egypt; dwell in the land which I shall tell thee of.

(Genesis 26: 1-2)



Abimelech was a common, perhaps generic, name for Philistine kings/kingship. During the period of the Judges, before Israel had kingship proper, self-styled ur-king Abimelech enslaved Israel from his HQ at Shechem.


Shechem denotes Egypt, especially in its spirituo-generic sense. Chem or Khem means darkened or black. The ancient name for Egypt is Khem.






















The philologic relation of Chem to chemistry and its father alchemy connotes the magico-ancestral relation of Egypt and Babylon with grand astro-architectural foci (Giza; the Tower and Gardens). The extended nigredo phase of alchemy is "the blackening," and its profane purpose transformation of "base metals" (typically lead) into gold.



The demon Abimelech ruled Shechem, a "dominion" conquered with connivance from his mother's brothers. RED FLAG, in modern parlance. Red Dragon, in anachron.



This is the archetypal Maternal Uncle, the Flint-Knife Psycho of old, acting as an extension of the "Goddess" (the extant, though amorphous, matriarchal orders) that terrorized early human groups, engaging in mass torture, despoilation, and human sacrifice, especially of children. In the Egyptian pantheon, the chief Mother's Brother is Set (Satan in Christianity.)



J.J. Bachofen, the almost-unknown Swiss scholar and author of the magnificent Myth and Mother Right, writes succinctly concerning the aboriginal/primal Maternal Uncle, a figure now institutionalized throughout the West as the State, overseen by high Ma/Sonic placements. Ma-Son-ry is, of course, the Terrifying Uncle in modern guise, who rules occultly via coercion and fear, as the "Builders" of Babylon and Egypt. Butcher Bill and Tammany in Scorcese's Gangs of New York.





Abimelech and the Mother's Brothers are the principal adversaries of the Biblical Yah. The demon and Co. gather their forces at Shechem (= feminine sorcery), then slaughter their seventy half-brothers (i.e., the paternal line) at Ophrah.



[Yuup. She's that old! Creeps outta her hidey hillhole like a scorpion enmooned.]



:O)



The powerful and primal alliance between the Maternal Uncle clan and the Goddess/matriarchy/female collective was common knowledge to ancient philosophers, scholars, prophets, and other wingnuts.



In our modern world, the alliance is occulted -- it is the background muzak of Western culture, just beyond consciousness, scraping faintly at our cerebellums, impugning and denying God, poisoning our institutions, crushing masculinity, and enacting quite remunerative vengeance whilst preaching family values or diversity.



Now that's showbiz!



It's the regressive urge for Mother to make it all Right, jungle serpents and tribal brethren that never broke from Mommy -- and never will.



It's war, and it just sailed through the wide-open legs of Queen Brittania, into your living room and noggin.



Come sniffing back for its Koh-i-Noor?



Hail Anubis, King of Carrion! Hail Belial, two-tongue trickster!


Is that Yoo I see Chairman TooToo? Floating regally, piercing the virgin water of the West, Wand of Horus before you, conquering host behind?



Whassup with the was, Toots?



Gonna crack somebody with that snotknocker?


As events play out, remember: it is not only humanity that's at risk, but all the creatures of Earth. They wait to love and be loved, trusting in the ultimate goodness of human beings.

The enemy is the greatest intelligence ever created. Intelligence ain't everything, tho.


Smoothly smoothly, gently bobbing, slides the past into the present. Charming.


Will George Bush be put forward?


Don't be silly. Used goods.


A Teflon Model, an unassailable and unimpeachable figure, will be poked across the checkerboard, dancing the Tessellation Twostep. Someone known and generally trusted, yet someone whose past cannot be smelted into a weapon by enemies. Hilary Clinton. Desmond Tutu. So forth.


Mother Teresa's dead. Darn.


Mebbe they'll revive her, eh?



Finally, to round out this Inaugural Squaredance Procession of Death, an example -- rather randomly discovered and chosen -- of the "atmospheric pervasiveness" of Anubis the Prosecutor, of Belial the False, silvertongued destroyer.



'Hannah Montana' concert tix too hot


10/01/2007 11:36 AM, AP


The Police, Justin Timberlake or Bruce Springsteen. The undisputed hottest concert ticket of the year is for 14-year-old pop star Miley Cyrus, star of the Disney Channel's "Hannah Montana" TV show.


Fans are so desperate for seats to her 54-date tour, kicking off later this month, that venues have sold out in as little as four minutes and scalpers are getting four to five times the face value — creating a torrent of complaints from frustrated parents.


"We knew it was hot, but we had no idea it was this crazy," said Debra Rathwell, senior vice president of AEG Live, which is handling her tour. "It's like the Beatles."



Indeed. And hedgehog shit is like chocolate mousse.



A mildly talented child actress with a bubblegum sitcom outdraws some of the greatest artists in the world -- people who have struggled and suffered for their pearls, not personalities and spinoffs manufactured by cynical, greedy, sterile networks.


Two problems. Uno. If non-substance is lavishly rewarded, substance doesn't bother. Leaves town. Extrapolate the near consequences.



Dos-o. God creates beings out of intention and love. Each being is invested with unique qualities, contributory and complementary to the whole, appearances occasionally otherwise.


To enshrine Miley Cyrus disservices both God and Miley. Miley, handed fame and riches without merit, is cheated of earning her accomplishments, of developing true character.




The Beyonce Syndrome.


God is cheated in his aims for Miley, and also in his purposes for those he created to comfort, teach, heal, and enspirit with song -- those whose dues have been paid.


Anubis, Eye of Horus. Horus, Age of the Child.

As Philip Kindred Dick illustrates in his inspiring and amazing The Divine Invasion, Belial is the Spirit of Dis(spiritment) -- the Spirit of illusion and artifice. A world under Belial's power (that'd be this world, folks) has lost its ability and desire for what is REAL (however imperfect), instead settling for the Pretty Illusion and Comfy Lie.

We cry at old movies but permit torture. We exhibit courage and daring at the vid console, but fail to make war on the substantive evil of the actual world. Hannah Montana is equivalent to the Beatles.

Anubis, fake as a six-dollar-bill, sails into our lands and psyches. God who made all REAL things is ignored, unknown, and worse. The species disappear and the earth writhes while we twitch in webs of cotton candy. No wonder Bobs wants to "overturn these tables/disconnect these cables."


Fourteen-year-old girls steer America, shape the West. They're just as capable as men, right? Men, foul men, who cause all the wars, oppress the weak, and ruin the planet. Now it's Our Turn, says Sis Dis.


Bye bye Miss American Pie.


Golden blackness, floating in on an idol tide. Scavenging. Substanceless as Ho-Hos. (L.D. prefers Ding-Dongs!)


Nothingness, gilded and empowered.


We have gone down, down into Egypt.



____________________________



Addendum(b) -- the above post was finally edited and uploaded on Oct. 5, at which time the following two Yahoonews stories appeared with relevant "black" themes.



Rice issues new rules for Blackwater USA



Condo has landed in Da Black Whole previously.


This time she's supposedly reining in the corporo-mercenaries of Iraq.

So, at taxpayer expense, feds will guard the private guards who are guarding the diplomats. While folks sleep in America's streets.



Spooks within spooks within spooks. Makes damn good sense!



Blackwater USA boasts execs like Joseph Cofer Black. The business of war.



However, given the Anubis Biz supra, along with a very recent tip concerning Bob Dylan's film masked and anonymous -- which documents a post-revolutionary, imminent Multicultural Madland America -- the A.P. headline above got my attention: "new rules" made by a powerful black female overseeing a "Blackwater USA."





Blackwater USA's logo is a lion or panther-paw (Black Panther?) within an ocular-shaped, red field.



















[The paw is usually presented in black. L.D. has already ordered his Blackwater Ballcap!]



Leonine/feline paw. Blackwater. Vengeance and "propitiatory" blood-rites.



Souds like Sekhmet, a.k.a. Bast or the Scarlet Lady, in honor of her bloodlust. The lioness/cat Goddess of ancient Egypt who protected pharaoh. She'd probably chum right up to Anubis.




Wait'll you see the last piece, below.


Is that Charles the Jackal, the Race Warlock, snickering in his cell? Some voices can't be bound, riding the frigid waves.



Helter Skelter in a summer swelter
the birds flew off for the fallout shelter


(Don McLean)




Wikipedia sniffs:


November 2006 Blackwater USA announced it recently acquired an 80-acre (30 ha) facility 150 miles (240 km) west of Chicago, in Mount Carroll, Illinois to be called Blackwater North. That facility has been operational since April 2007 and serves law enforcement agencies throughout the midwest.




"Blackwater North." Catchy.


Mebbe L.D. can secure employ there. He's in the Masonry Repair Line!



Choo-Choo! Coming through!



:O)



Finally, here's another A.P. release by Sam Gross. It's Sufficiently Weird to post in full:




Dedication at NYC African Burial Ground

By SAMANTHA GROSS, Associated Press Writer


Fri Oct 5, 7:10 PM ET

NEW YORK - It was a day that had been a long time coming, and for the community leaders who gathered Friday to dedicate a memorial at the once-forgotten grave site of thousands of African slaves, it was also a day of regret.

"Forgive us for disregarding your precious gifts to this world," the Rev. James A. Forbes Jr. said to the long-dead slaves and free blacks who were interred beneath lower Manhattan, then forgotten for decades as the city sprouted skyward above their remains.

[boldface added; WTC, of course, but also recall that the neo-apocalyptic Gangs of New York is set in Lower Manhattan's Five Points neighborhood.]

Many speakers at the African Burial Ground memorial lamented the lack of recognition those buried there had experienced in life and after death, and vowed to make the memorial a permanent reminder of their sacrifices.

Sixteen years after the remains were rediscovered, onlookers lined two city blocks on Friday for a chance to file through "The Door of Return." The entryway is named in contrast to the door of no return, the title once given to departure points where slaves were stolen away from their African homelands.

Walking through the narrow, reflective-granite structure, the memorial's first visitors stepped out into a sunken court engraved with a map of the lands and waters that once supported the slave trade, as well as the identifying details of some of the women, men and children buried nearby.

"Bid 'em in," poet Maya Angelou sang to the crowd assembled for the dedication, telling the story of the auctioning of a young girl, stripped nude on the block.

"All of us are being 'bidded in' according to how we forget you," she said to those interred beneath seven grassy mounds alongside the memorial. "And we will not forget you."

Mayor Michael Bloomberg told those assembled that forgetting might sometimes seem the easier route. New York City thrived during the slave trade and much of the early metropolis was built with slave labor.

The construction workers who stumbled across the site "brought to light one of the most uncomfortable and tragic truths in the history of our city," Bloomberg said. "Part of atoning for such a terrible injustice is to acknowledge it."

The Manhattan site was declared a national monument last year. At the dedication ceremony, Lt. Gov. David Paterson decried the lack of a national memorial in Washington, D.C., to mark the sacrifices slaves made throughout the nation.

About half the skeletons unearthed at the site were those of children under the age of 12. The vast majority died as a result of violence, Paterson said.

Performances by dancers in slavery-era costume and drummers in traditional garb punctuated the ceremony. Actor Avery Brooks performed a spoken-word piece, and the trio Three Mo' Tenors gave a sorrowful rendition of "Make Them Hear You," from the musical "Ragtime." Actor Sidney Poitier joined in a processional through the site.

It was not always clear whether the grave site, much of which is still undisturbed beneath several square blocks of office towers, would be marked. When the skeletons were first discovered, protesters called on the government to stop construction of an office building planned for the spot.

After archeologists unearthed the bones of 419 individuals, there were numerous delays as the remains were studied and researchers and the government fought over funding. Eventually, the bones were placed in hand-carved caskets and buried in crypts alongside what is now the memorial. The project cost more than $50 million.

Organizers are still hoping to add a museum, which is in the planning phase.

Mass disinterrment of bones. "Bidding in" by a black female. Door of Return?!

"Return?" Who authorized that? Anubis?

Fuck Anubis. Ain't no kin of mine.

Yes, Slavery Really Was Horrible (tm). Hell, it is horrible.

However, most of the people that built New York -- of all colors -- were slaves, or near-slaves, including the Irish in the mid-nineteenth-century.

Something, a lot of Somethings, is not right here. Somehow the legitimate grief, emphathy, and resolution ring false here. A false atonement, covering Something Else.

The stripped girl -- on top of the slave-guilting itself -- now, that was Genius. Virtually irresistible. Reminds me of you-know-who.

Could be Rong, o'course, been Rong many times, but somehow we're getting a picture of Charles Manson in the bed of Anubis with Condo Ricecakes.

I didn't say it was pretty. Just a picture. Thousand words of years.

Guess I shoulda titled this one "Anubis, Sekhmet, and the Door of Return."

But then, perhaps "It's Like the Beatles," still applies, whatever It ends up being. World famous. Super rich. Immensely powerful and influential.

Belial.

Don't suppose It'll be long now.

Lucifer's Crown

Koh-i-noor.



















From mysterious origins, into the bowells of Earth, through the hands of power-mad regents across darkest India, thence via the British East India Company to Queen Victoria, and eventually to the "Queen Mother," Elizabeth I, thence to Elizabeth II. [Here's a link, for those interested, in the recent Annie Liebowitz/Queen Eliz Two fiasco. More on this below.]


Fittingly, perhaps, the diamond rode atop the Queen Mother's coffin during her funeral procession in 2002.


Koh-i-noor. A trail of blood, greed, torture, murder, and psychospiritual desolation.


All roads, as with Philip Kindred Dick's Black Iron Prison, Rome Eternus, lead back -- and forward -- to the Queen, and to the Queen Mother. (Yes, I know the Queen Mother is dead. So was the Koh-i-Noor Diamond, once.)


Queen of Illusion, Princess of the Cave of Treasures, that is our Faerie Queene!


Queen Elizardeth is Matriarch of the House of Windsor, which, along with the Mountbatten House are, according to some, primo European players amongst Earth's "Black Nobility."


Srrnakes in high places.


In 1851, the British East India Company (featuring notoriously in recent posts herein) deposed the Maharajah of the Punjab, and walked off with his goodies, including the Koh-i-Noor. Hold in mind the BEIC's legacy of global drugs/arms manufacture and dealing, and its ties to the British "aristocracy" (whether titled or simply enriched/ empowered), and the BEIC's probable transition into Western (U.S./British) Intelligence and government (think Iran-Contra.)

That's not proof, of course. But it's enough for scrutiny. And proof isn't relevant anyway. If this shit's true, their asses will fry.


In the U.S. the neo-BEIC nexus is the East Coast academic cryptocracy, most famously (though by no means solely) the Skull-and-Bones fraternity of John Kerry and the Bushies. The Bush family, as earlier documented, became wealthy via the Harriman family, all with neo-BEIC connections.


It's a pirate logo, people. Theft. Enslavement. Torture. Murder. Grog. Invitation-only H.M.S. Pinafore at eleven. I'm on. Where's my masque?


Bistea Neptunis, Beast from the Sea, Leviathan, Babylon, Jormungandr: the names are legion, but all describe a rising current, a dis-spiritualization, an oceanic, primal Force consisting of many "heads" -- multitudinous spheres of influence in every part of the globe (and, of course, above and beneath it).



The wealthiest woman on Earth is also the Queen Matriarch of the planet. Elizabeth.

___________


Tolkien's brilliant and stirring The Silmarillion traces Middle Earth back from the days of Bilbo and Frodo (Third Age) to cosmogenesis. The Silmarilli themselves -- note the aquatic "mar" core -- are three jewells that conserve primeval power in starlight form. They aren't merely jewells, as the Bible isn't simply a book.

The Silmarils are sentinet beings of ur-mana. Consider how much mineral, rock, and stone figure in the phenomenal universe. See?

Well . . . the Silmarilli are the universal Gods, the Lords, of this Mineral Realm. Tolkien doesn't discuss the properties of the Silmarils much. His work exudes authenticity, and endures, precisely because he didn't write about what he didn't know. (And did write about what he did.)

The Elf-Lord who fashioned the Silmarilli, one Feanor, transferred part of his spirit, his life-force, to the gems. Following sundry misadventures, the Silmarils were stolen, under blood, by Melkor Morgoth, Dark Enemy of the World, also a Vala, who displayed them -- a captive audience, lumen naturae -- in his Crown.

The Hope Diamond, like the Koh-i-noor, was unearthed at Golconda (see discussion below), and the two gems -- exactly like the Silmarils -- are transtemporal mineral tapestries of horror, suffering, and tragedy. The Hope Diamond is housed at the suspect and skulky Smithsonian. In reality, however, perhaps the Queen owns both, as part of her "extended" Crown Jewell, America.

Revolution? What Revolution? I don't gots to show you no stinking Revolution.

Rule Brittania.

:O)

Tolkien masterfully weaves almost the entire history of Middle Earth around the Silmarilli, hence the tome's title. Indeed their Living Light, released from the service of power and cruelty, restores the world following Middle Earth's "armageddon."


J.R.R. was almost certainly aware of the Koh-i-Noor, of the true history of the diamond and other Crown Jewells, and perhaps even of its connection to the (il)legitimacy of European "sovereigns" -- particularly the masonic Mountbatten (Battenburg, a German 'Royal' House) and Windsor families.


Despite the ludicrous new age gaga over crystals etc., certain stones do have unusual properties, as do certain pieces of wood -- properties which, in some cases, science has not yet discovered, and in other cases, only partially discovered and utilized. Medmen amongst indigenous language groups in what's now Southern California (e.g. the Cohuilla) also understood arcane properties of certain rocks and stones -- and so did Yah, thus forbiddance of "working" or inscribing stones, especially large, rare pieces of extreme clarity, particularly susceptible to influence.


ClearChannel, so to say.


Ridikillus, you riposte. Rocks are as dumb as, well, a rock.

True. Rocks are dumb. Tongueless.

But they ain't stoopid!

The Earth is quite alive. Understanding and utilizing this constitues a tremendous advantage for an adept over a modern, post-Cartesian citizenry. Dig.


On the globo-celestial chessboard, all squares and roads lead back -- and forward -- to the Queen, and possibly to the European "Black Nobility" of fraternal occultists.


Wikipedia's first paragraph notes that the Koh-i-noor was found at the curious site of Golconda in Andra Pradesh, India -- near the occult mecca of Hyderabad (Hydra-abad).


The East -- India -- stopped Alexander. He weren't no piker.


Killed him, it did. The land itself, and its oatmeal air. That might be a conspiracy, but it ain't a theory.


Inja is a darkly dark place, full of skreeking and kronking thangs, many of them (putatively) human, and India's deep places of the earth nurture things better left undisturbed.


However . . . bit late for that. Apparently the Stone has already found its Owner.


The "Gol" in Golconda has negative connotations too numerous to mention, but including Golgotha (Aramaic, 'Place of the (a) Skull) . . . that is, the place where the Serpent Forces re-enacted their matriarchal rite of blood-sacrifice, the pagan fertility King Killing extended into infinity, most recently JFK.



The snake's priests and government officials knew Christ was a king. Check the inscription. We rule, you don't . Har Har Har.

The Light of the World rots in the Tower of London.


Same old Skull and Bones. New millennium, same Templars.


Goliath, of course, was the behemoth Philistine champion, the Giant of the Land. Not that Western market-ethics bear any resemblance to philistinism. Nrrrkpfffftt with Grok Sauce.



Gollum was the transformed, de-evolved hobbit in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. He carried the Ring (the later One Ring of Sauron, Morgoth's servant, not the Silmarilli) for many years, then lost his Precious 'Birthday Present' underground, when the Ring -- volitionally, as with its sentient relatives, the Silmarilli -- electromagnetized its will in dark sympathy to Bilbo's desperate need, in a literal attempt to re-surface and return to its master, at which point global conquest was fait accompli.

Gol suffixes Mongol. The diamond dwelt among the Mogul Empire kings for at least four centuries. Morgoth is Tolkien's Lucifer. So forth.


The Indian word conda is "rock" or "mountain." Koh-i-noor translates "Mountain of Light." Obviously, it's also the suffix in Anaconda -- the large, mostly aquatic, omniverous snake.


Saur-on is Tolkien's Serpent-Lord, the Ringlord. Tolkien's "tale" is about power -- specifically, the nature of power, and the abusing and forgoing of power.


Wikipedia's second paragraph on Queen Brittania uh Elizabeth's sconestone reads:


Like all significant jewels, the Kohinoor has its share of legends. It is reputed to bring misfortune or death to any male who wears or owns it. Conversely, it is reputed to bring good luck to female owners.


Eh. Phuket. Coincidence.


Still . . . Lucy/fer, the feral firelight, morning star . . . stone is bad luck for males . . . luciferian/templar/matriarchal Queen . . . eh.


Probly not.


:O)


Continuing the Tolkien/Morgoth theme, Tracy Twyman's "The Real Tomb of God: The Grail, The Ark, the Emerald Tablet, and the Forgotten Father of Mankind" posits:


Far from being the dumb jock that modern conceptions depict him to be, with the physique and mentality of a WWF wrestler, Hercules was actually very wise. In fact, according to Plato, he was one of the kings of Atlantis. And just as Hermes possessed a magick stone which fell from Heaven (according to legend written on a jewel out of Lucifer's crown) and which had strange electro-magnetic properties, and which has been associated with the Holy Grail, Hercules also possessed a Heavenly stone, and a special golden cup that he put it in!

Writes Ignatius Donnelly in his book Atlantis: The Antediluvian World:
"The Magnet was called the 'Stone of Hercules.' Hercules was the patron deity of the Phoenicians. He was, as we have shown elsewhere, one of the Gods of Atlantis - probably one of its great kings and navigators. . . .


Yoop. Dere's dem pesky Navi Gators again.


Note also the reference above to electro-magnetism (attraction or 'sympathy' in magickal systems.)

Apparently the Queen got a little untidy . . . well, let us say indisposed . . . during a recent portrait session with the (massively over-rated) American photographer Annie Liebowitz.

The Queen arrived in white fur stole, gold-embroidered evening dress, Order of the Garter robes and diamond tiara, as requested. But Leibovitz, a perfectionist who once persuaded Whoopi Goldberg to pose in a bath of milk, had a change of heart.


“I think it will look better without the crown,” the film shows her informing the Queen. “Less dressy. The garter robe is so . . . extraordinary.”


“Less dressy?” the Queen says in response to this display of lãse-majesté. “What do you think this is?”


The Queen is then shown walking angrily from the drawing room. “I’m not changing anything,” she fumes at a flunky. “I’ve had enough of dressing like this, thank you very much.”



Hah! Actually I kind of like them snippets! That sounds decidedly human, not reptilian!

Buckingham Palace, and much of the British public, predictably fumed at release of this tape, with the Palace calling the vid "doctored" then demanding, and of course getting, an apology from the Beeb. (Can't recall if they finally got the BBC CEO's resignation.)

Bizzarely, apparently only the order of the Queen's ingress and egress from the White Drawing Room was, for reasons unexplained, confused.


The Queen's indignant blurts -- the Unroyal We must assume -- were NOT "doctored." It appears from this untitled (and unentitled!) American's POV that Buckingham Palace just wanted to shift the lens to the BBC and its execs, play Aggrieved Monarchy, and spin the whole episode as "fake."


In 1997, when Elizabeth II visited Pakistan, the Sikhs demanded return of the Koh-i-noor.

Um, sure, Sikhs, let me just get my purse . . . .

Even more dumbfoundedoodly, in 2000 the Taleban petitioned Britian for the stone's return, claiming primacy in its journey to India from Afghanistan.

Just stop, now . . . breathe, pause a moment . . . waaaaaiit . . .

The Frucking TALEBAN!? Aaack . . . lemme adjust my Trepanning Nozzle, fuzzy reception . . . .


Okee. Well. I don't make the facts. I hope.

One must nogginskratch the Taleban's detente here, tho. The Invading Infidels will voluntarily return one of the most expensive and powerful diamonds on Earth, based on . . . what? The Whiteboys might have Millennium Fever, and just box the booger back UPS?

The sun's hot in Afghanistan, yes? Yes?

Turn up the turban.

(Hey Maw! I think the noodles is cooked!)

And do we, Fellow Foozlers, despite the microanalyses of science, really know what a diamond is?

Don't be silly. Didn't make them, now, did we?

We know a tad about their uses. Thassit.

The mojomen of the Cohuilla knew more. That tradition is largely dead, as are their deepest practitioners. Good thing on both counts, probly.

Some things have wi'ii. Power is dangerous, and attracts the flies.

Yah's advice is still sound. I am stunned.