"Still a Mystery

. . . at this hour" intoned the studio host, speaking "mystery" at the 33- second mark  . . . at which instant Michelle Obama (Robinson) manifested, just to the video's side -- the "2012 Barack Obama" ad.

At the 28-second mark, the light appears just over the left (unconscious) shoulder of reporter Andrea Robinson.  The companion ad shows Michelle jovial (and in Campaign Form, i.e., pre-chunkette).  Just to the Most Worshipful Lady's left, Obama's sun-rise/highway logo indwells the O.

The son, embryonic in the planetary O.  The Mother is manifest, exultant, and the son is potential, looming.  The scale of the two entities is life-size, naturalistic . . . a classic mother-son cult, Egypto-Chaldean religion disguised as ideopolitics, as nation-state.

The sun is continuing its active streak this week, firing off another solar flare late Thursday (March 8) from the same region that produced this week's strong solar storm.


Prior investigations sussed binary Sirius, specifically in context of the Obama campaign and installation.  In the youtube Phoenix Phlash/Obama Ad side-by-side, both featured females are surnamed Robinson.  Checkerboard chippies.

When one side has both the black and white queen, the board tends to tilt.

The new equality.

Michelle invites us to powercruise down Liberty Road, into red-white-and-blue solar everlastings: the fay-row shuffle.  The ad, like the campaign, isn't sold through the actual President, who's just for show.  For the rubes.

Barack serves the American Woman, and the ad targets the U.S. feminine, and the leftist male enablers of feminism.

The 2012 ad doesn't suggest joining America in a common cause.  We aren't even directed to join Barack Obama, the President.
We are directed to join Michelle.  That's how we "tell Barack we're in."  Because anything the actual President needs to know, well, she'll let him know.  On our behalf.

Unintentionally honest, the ad underlines that access to male power in the U.S. -- even at the level of the supposed most powerful man -- is available only after female approval.  The only way to "tell Barack you're in" is via Michelle.

Want to get elected in America?  Want to have any political, legal, or institutional influence?  You best go supplicate Michelle and Co.  She'll see what she can do for you.

And that's all you need to know, sucker.  And that's all the ad's consumers want to know.

The red button indicates you are either In . . . fly with Team Amerifem, World Ruler . . . or you are Out. 

Mark.  No mark.

Like Michelle Robinson, Andrea Robinson is a Goddesszilla, towering over eight traffic lanes and the Phoenix skyline.

In the Phoenix Phlash still, the highway to heaven finds the Goddess at one end, and what's probably downtown Phoenix at the upper terminus -- the Phlash stairway at slightly less incline (degrees!) than the First Degree version.

Upon this magickal Bifrost souls only descend, as on the First Degree Board. 

In their clever and attractive system, nobody ever seems to go up . . . hm.

Like Liberty Road: a one-way street.

The gnostic soulsparks stream from their stellar source, miniatures, replicants, to the birthbelly of the Great Goddess, Earth.  Gaea.  Andr-ea.

But nobody ever goes the other way.

Apparently when you Tell Barack You're In, you stay In.

Denver International Airport (back to the tarmac)