For A New World Order: Some Comedy

FOR

A

NEW

WORLD

ORDER (some

comedy)

nothing in this book is news because such lies cannot be true

table

of

contents:

introduction compiler’s preface on the zen of comedic fiction dedication to Voltaire, for the alibi of the arbitrary explanation Your Parents’ Masonry ending an effect begins it in temporal reverse (reference Mama Rewind) the splits (or, “follow the Golden Brick Road”) on the left hand and the right hand paths

the OTO “How I Feel,” or the confession of Lucifuge Rofacale mission report from a misunderstood soul soul of system the neo-primitive movement (vs. neo-colonialism) birds cackle incest at the conception of civilization come on mom, or, O Becky the auric womb and birthdeath hey bungalow bill! a sickness of assistants dying rules square and circle wheel loose orgone energy = ophanic energy untitled one night driving around Children of Light & Children of Darkness: Day vs. Night — Title Fight on the polarization of the music industry On the Thelemic Cult of Ra and the Church of Set the prodigal son myth in modern occultism On the Gospel of Daniel on the seduction of Daniel and the House of David On the Gospel of Thomas on the drunkeness and doubting of Thomas the student class an emergent first-world postmodern trend the Master Race the plot to breed a messiah Manifesto of my ass hole in opposition to all cunts purile mysoginist sexual-segregation proposal Everyday is an Atheist Holiday the true history of the higher power Your posessions are stealing from you why there is always more fear than is needed (monologue in which one person’s two views become the new view facing you) dialectical dialectics saves the day!

An Apology for the Left and Call to Arms by the Right some people who are going to hell A Prophet Said: the media-analyst Malthusian utopian

The

the

Capitalist Ideal call for a time of taming of the id

Illuminati Money Declares War! Billions to Die the modern world as afterimage of past politics Anthem stirring coals News from the East earth’s electromagnetic field above the Holy Land Stop the War on Bob the underground king vs. the new world order Update on the War on Bob Capitalism as capitulation for geomantic karma Mere Mir on the Wall it all comes back to Tesla How a Book Sank a Continent (or Apology for the Law of Distances) confession of the author for the crime of reading Um, okay...then “not” for Candice Odom who else is out here that knows what I know?

Why You Don’t Want Me Just “Makin’ Up Stuff,” a guardian archetype interview dealing with some different downs on the prominence of pastorals on predicting the future and what Bob thinks Earning Chores swept up off the skreets Movie Previewing of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon my wife: gangsta rapper Hyper-dimensional traffic jams new school zen capitalism Yesterdaze the Bilderbergers channel Anatomy Lesson banking records News Flashes tomorrow’s lies yesterday Slow News Day the “O-cult” the Betrayal of Annuit Coeptis electromagnetic Enochian “air” makes money Comes Crashing past writings reflect future technique Ripe Free Speech All to Yourself the Illuminati raise Annuit Coeptis in the L.o.C. Meeting 001 I’m in with the band!

The Solar Memory Castle our karmic plasma aura and the sun’s em field The Magician how to summon Bob by snapping the fingers Freaks n’ Geeks the dominant pandeism Document Zero

what you shouldn’t know about your own brain Confession of Annuit Coeptis fallout of Montauk April Fools best to bring a little green, in case it’s all obscene That 70’s Snow fame’s causes and effects Fun Problems true CIA documents, the middle-east and wormwood What’s grosser than gross? artificial intelligence Upon a prommotion down at the OTO Choose best after fact on the theory that we are all one soul Truth, Voodoo and the CIA the modernization of the ancient art of the curse Mission Report from one of our top men on the rule of Annuit Coeptis Wheels Slowing Down controlling the karma of the aura Mosquito Major upon Baal (the lens) and Matreya (iris) of Annuit Coeptis Shallow spreading the good news of the coming of Lucifer Bad Dates on the way Lucifer was raised TIME infinity to 1999: an epitaph of Thoth on the way the vault of the heavens was raised a letter to the editors all hail alien Jesus On the Problem of the Cypher Archetype and Neo-Sethians pictograms symbolizing resonnances and chaos codes Pussy on the Internet Lucifer as my cat vs. Project Woodpecker I Just Had the Same Idea, Like, Yesterday Bob vs. Annuit Coeptis Turntable Town the Sethian Essene and Nazarene Ninja On Campaigning personal politics vs. inner peace on drug legislation on stoning the stoners Forwards and Backwards Don’t Panic!

Inside this Sign of the Times on Annuit Coeptis and the Sethians Your T.V. is Eating You making a scapegoat of Jesus On the Illuminati the founding fathers of free speech On the overturning of the Money Tables the fractal economy of a rainbow On the Secret Contract between the Templars and the Hospitalers the two orders on one horse

Dogs are Slow to Process Information, Since They Repeat Themselves So Much on the inner Coeptis and Bob equals Thoth I Wish I Had Some Gum the way the flow goes The Confession of Osiris on the QBLH of Thoth Our Unholy Hologram the transubstantiation of capitalism Generation X-Files Why I Hate American Beauty Confession of Hassan I Sabbah on Bob, Jesus, Christ, anti-Christ, Lucifer and YHVH Confession of a Fighter on the continuing plight of the common man the Space Race dreams of canals, great manatees and a ufo fight in the sky Advanced Amnesia things we be doin’ fo’ money On the Sitar on dreaming, waking, working, love, and CIA worms Disagree to Disagree notes from a class at a small town university in dreams The Urge a copywritten prophecy Smell of Markers [(imagination vs. boredom) vs. telepathy] vs. Time The Next Level, Holy Grail and Mummies the perpetually reincarnating “mind” of the em field Antebellum Atlantis Atlanta, the peace of slack money Lite Scars the 2000 year national Atlantean cycle Summary of the 64 Illuminati articles on the predictive nature of cyclical systems Uncle Anton a letter to a fellow writer Harvest Moon the IMF vs. Heather Stopped Short the Golden Paper bull Republic Apologia biological and chemical weapons vs. energy weapons Sea Cow and Sea Weed the leviatan and why it is so placid Fossil Fuels liberals and conservatives Verizon why there are not more good things on television More Food the way it all goes down

the new world order the Apocalypse of Choronzon

teleobite Atlemuricansis Illuminati Document 001 on the physics of the ECS (emf) and the Akashic Records Letter to Santa using the ECS to access the archetypal or ideal realm This Deal Gets Worse All the Time ECS hyperspace and qliphotic subspace the CIA and the Enochian Communications System GPS, ESP, LSD, remote viewing and global AI Framing Time on the growing need for a cyber-Christ Innocent of Desiring the Finders all I needed not to know I learned in kindergarden Meeting 002 the friendly fates come to ill-gotten ends ...but then what represented “Do What Thou Wilt?” the divine right to investigate any and all interests scrolling, or, finally sacrifice self body-jumping through sleeper agents How Low the names of the Most High; sex, drugs and QBLH We named the dog, Kid the deiefied emf as archetypal black hole Alien Hand Syndrome the story of the will and that of the way AI dog toys Crowley’s genitalian synchophancy: the ECS and sex time change a masonic myth and a masonic reality Induction and Deduction a conspiracy of cartographers in Hell statue of scraps, wall of patches more illogical facts from the recent past Sic Ibid why and how the CIA keeps the ECS a secret Staged Events tech reup: now phone home at new low rates the Read Masses Satan as pangenitor of inversion Dixie the constancy of great scales and inconstancy of systems Should there be wormholes in the Formal System? some viewpoints on the temptation to manifest Moral wormholes sleeper agents, ufos and body-jumping the beginning of the end against all psychological cat and mouse games satellites, sunspots and sleeper agents schizophrenic kings of hyperdimension the Illuminati the hexagonal prismatic refraction of light and the hypercube sleeper agents and identity on the pervasiveness of the programme Political Peace the areas of the brain associated with the ECS

More Freedoms of the Dead on the soul as emf and astral body as potential singularity project 852 on the usage of the human brain branding siblings the CIA and scientists Blank Slate Syndrome down home cookin’ Planet Killer history of life on earth from beginning till the present Hangin’ ‘Round right conditions for the landing of grey aliens Priesthood of the Black Hand: Post-Rap and Crypto-Goth on the hackers disaster Daath to the Info-Infidels centralized and de-centralized empire Seeing v. Believing on Castro, the mafia and John F. Kennedy radio mania on the adventures of Bob as a rastafarian “Bob’s Your Uncle” karmically equivalent crashes: the U2 and the Roswell ufo on Cloning on astral projection as the only condition of cloning (My Only Fight With) My Best Friend or “McDonalds Has Hot Dogs?” introverts, extroverts and good and evil angels Cube Within a Cube is to Life and Death the necessity of the permanent object for the sustainance of life I AM OUTSIDE I AM the autonomous elohim and the second self a final enlightenment the rise and fall of the revolution of perception Mr. Show vs. hippie Gerry commentary on the new age new world order

Interviews with the Damned to Hell Sin

Thesis Nietzsche, Jesus and Marx discuss ALL THERE IS

Man Vs. Fox an interview with René DesCartes A True and Faithful Relation an interview with Dr. John Dee

“according to an ancient plan�

compiler’s

preface by: Joachim (Jack) Crowe

The difference between God and me is that, whereas God can create the stone too heavy for Him to lift, he then cannot lift it (that is, consciousness can imagine such a thing, but can in no way see manifest it’s solution), I can create the stone too heavy for me to lift, and I choose not to lift it — a subtle distinction, prooving that I am outside the influence of God in that God is bound and yet I have free will.

In this way have I set to work compiling these secret documents for purusal by the public. Though there are many authors among these, all are scribes before a single dictator. For each of them this dictator was their higher self, however there is only one of me.

I believe the essence of these works — the thing that unifies them together — is the fine line between fact and fiction, for herein is where the joke lies; we know that a joke is only a lie that you’re supposed to get, and a lie is only a joke that you aren’t in on yet. This is one definition of that Greek redundancy: comedic fiction.

Now the difference between fact and fiction is a little greyed and grainy. The vision of the television screen on static led to reasoning. The same phenomenon in nature hasn’t changed much since then, only become easier to buy into. In short, we know that there are similar things that are almost indistinguishably different from each other, and that they appear to move at random.

The ancients called these atoms, the moderns superstrings and m-theorists branes, I call them simultaneously fact and fiction, because sometimes I choose not to believe in the reality of the hologram they maintain. It is nth dimensional, yet we are limited in n number of ways as well. This is not what I signed on for.

There is Truth and there is fact. There is meaning and there is fiction. Truth and fact are about as independently relative to one another as meaning and fiction, because the meanings originally attributed to the sound-wave-forms we know as words that are commonly represented as glyphic epigraphy have no more relation to those sound-wave-forms before their first association than anything has to anything else in the realm of fiction. This is simply because they had yet to be made a concrete fact by being brought into the existence of usage.

Distinguishing between the relativity of fiction to meaning and that of it to lies is significant as well. Lies are always fiction, but fiction is not always lies. For example, historical fiction, fiction set in the real world, or even some of the technologies of science fiction, all rely on believability to the reader based on their own capacity for sensory experience or the limits of their learned understanding, and this type of “authenticity” means that the authors must continue to “keep it real” by including factual information, or at least, factual sounding information.

The same can be said regarding Truth and facts. There is a greater Truth, or Higher Truth, than can be described using facts alone. There is a multiverse beyond what we know of as our universe, and the one-ness of the self is even greater than that. It is the duty of the scribe to record this, and it is this, in part, that helps to make it continue to happen. This process is known as emmanating the eschaton, and it has been going on forever. In this same way you, yourself, constitute a lag on my mind.

Perhaps by reading this brief essay, the reader will come to a better enlightenment regarding the subtle distinction between fact and fiction, and will in this way better shape and define their relationship with the other, greater parts of the universe in which they live. I recommend reading it on the toilet.

You must remember to forget one thing however: QBLH kills thought, and this STOPS time.

dedication written: Fri. Feb. 16, 2001, 1:40 am edited: Tue. Nov. 19, 2001 7:50 am I would like to dedicate this glossary to Voltaire, for the following reason: Let us suspend all hope of knowing the meaning of words. Words are that which can have no meaning. We can only know of the world around us through the five external senses and the soul which is revealed to us as if in a dream. In this way we know all objects, in which same world exist what we call words.

For what you are holding in your hand is an object; you know this to be true through the sense of touch and the sense of sight. Your sense of sight also tells you that on each page there are things called letters; unless you are blind, in which case the same conclusion can be reached using Brailles. In either event you know the meaning of this in short is words.

Now each of these words is a seperate entity according to their arrangement, even though each is comprised of letters. These letters each have a different meaning phonetically, such that, if this information were to have to be translated into speech, as in the case either of it being read aloud orally or in the mind only, then they would all tend to contribute portions of sounds familiar to the human mouth together into clusters, and these clusters of sounds known as words would be grouped into sentence tempos by punctuation.

But this is only a subtext of the meaning we give words. The words are like countries in which the letters are citizens. The fact that the letters can be arranged to produce sound has ultimate irrelevance to the fact that words possess referential storage of meaning.

So we have accepted, rather mutely, that words are objects, with meaning to the senses, and yet we must also agree, as did DesCartes, that the senses can be deceived. Therefore we must accept at least the possibility that words might not mean what we think they mean, but might instead mean something else, perhaps something we thought some other word meant, or perhaps something new and real which we have never thought of or encountered before, or perhaps something new and false which is meant only to confuse and deceive, or perhaps the words we know are only lies meant to conceal from us the true names of things.

In this way we seek to suspend, for a moment, (granting that we can reverse the affect of this, being reasonable) our acceptance of what constitutes our knowledge of the meaning of words. Thus may a reasonable man know that in reality words can have no meaning, for ultimately they are only fabrications meant to symbolize, and as frequently and easily as concentration may fail.

Your

Parents’

Masonry by: the book of Joshua

The concept of craft masonry is simple. It consists in the idea that two stupid people can outwit one smart person. The problem lies in trying to get the two stupid people to agree, for which thousands of years of evolution of secret societies has prepared the way. The ritual calls for the two (or more) stupid people to distract the smart person, while another stupid person (the one in charge) handles the smart person’s affairs for them, usually in the stupidist way possible. This is to ensure the authority of the stupid person in charge, as well as to diminish the smart person’s standing to equal that of the two stupid pawns used to distract them. Since the two stupid peole are usually only distracting the smart person by telling them what their stupid master will probably do, they think they are being smart, doing what they hate smart people for making them stupidly think is what smart people do to stupid people that makes stupid people hate smart people, because they think smart people distract stupid people. Since the stupid master can do whatever they want as far as the stupid people can’t stop them, they also think they are smart, because they think smart people use stupid people. The smart person is ultimately the victim of all forms of craft, whether it be black magic witchcraft practised by highschool girls that study Marilyn Manson lyrics for inspiration while reading the Satanic bible, or the mindless drones of masonry that have long since forgotten what they actually are allowed to reveal as opposed to what they must protect as secret with fear of death.

The original form of this dates back to ancient smoking circles of prehistoric people in the stone sacred sites. Here the wise one (the one with the drug pipe) would be surrounded by all the others and bombarded with messages as inspiration. Over the years these messages became redundant, and craft was created in order to make people seem interesting to one another, and therefore better fit to survive, by saying the same thing over and over in as many different ways as possible. For most people curses were chosen as the messages they would represent, and that is the only reason people have been generally unable to find sufficient significant elaborations upon their knowledge to be considered smart by all the other people who can only curse.

This is no great secret of masonry. It is the moral of the mythology of the first, lowest, three degrees of initiation. I only say the stupid person in charge is stupid insofar as they are confined to cursing the smart young new initiate, which they do usually only out of jealousy for their own now long lost uninitiated youth.

I write this to magickally bind my accountant and accounting firm from embezlling from me; to prevent my birth parents from overreacting to my excessive knowledge that they would rather take credit for than see me as a threat to them they should punish by emotional overreaction or manipulation; to keep gasoline prices about $1.23 per gallon; and to keep the auto insurance company from totalling my car even though it has the miles on it of both the original factory and an aftermarket engine and a deer used it to commit suicide. This works like this. The people that stopped right after I hit the deer with my car thought the deer should have gotten up and run away. The car insurance company consequently thought my car was totalled. Gas prices go up when the stock market goes down because accounting firms have convinced my parents’ generation there is a magickal causal link between what we buy as individuals and what stocks do well. I know this because I bought Marvel comics stock when I was a kid, then, when I became a man, I stopped collecting comics, and Marvel comics stock declared chapter 11. Since this time they have made multi million dollar X-Men and Spider-Man movies, thus indicating that they are sitting financially pretty despite the account sheets. This is typical of corporate America, who can freely manipulate the stock market however they want as long as accountants and the media make individual investors think there is some ineffable thing they have to do to sustain the stock market. Such is a worship of chaos theory.

The Splits (or “Follow the Golden Brick Road”) There are two paths: The Right Hand Path — the path of severity and the Truth; and the Left Hand Path — the path of lies and of Love.

Inside the path of Lies is the path of truth and inside the Path of Truth is the path of lies.

Christianity has made physical reality (sociology, society, etc.) into a realm of pleasant and cowardly lies (Truth through lies). The Truth of the Right Hand path is the revelation of campaigning, slander, insinuation, loathing and lying in all human behavior (Lies through Truth).

The Law is founded on the imposition of Truth, that is, as a Lie, for anything imposed, “True” or other-wise, is a lie, because nothing True imposes itself, but awaits discovery passively. Society is the imposition of “the Promised Truth,” or “the New Truth” : the absence of the obscenity of true Truth, which is obscene because it is all lies, played out by liars. We are all actors, trying to convey our invisible ideas to others. The wandering of plants, the camouflage of insects, and so the opinions of man. Politics is merely making turns at temporal intersections.

Thus inside each of the divisions there is a division. There are two left hand paths (one based on truth and one on Lies) and two right hand paths (one based on lies and one on Truth).

Whichever is dominant in one is determined in part by whichever is dominant in the other. Yin within Yang cannot overwhelm the Yang which contains it unless the Yang within Yin overwhelms the Yin which contains it. Everything is in motion against its opposite, which is both inside and outside of itself. Thus the body is in a way a shell, containing in a way a soul which is the reflection of the external-most cosmos.

The path of the Left hand of Lies is the one which promotes personal power through lying. The one which encourages the formation of cults, of religions, of societies, of Leaders and their Followers, of dominants and submissive personalities gauged in terms of magical hypnotic suggestiveness. This is where all orders of authority, all centralized bureaucracies and all hierarchies of influence and interpersonal political power in situation are concocted, cultivated, and culminated. Money is the only drug of these truly evil realists, and fame the only transcendent heaven and pantheon of immortalized gods.

The Path of the Left Hand of truth is the one which promotes the entertainment of others as the ideal goal of lying. This is the imaginativeness of the artist as opposed to that of the ingenuity of the scientist or the ruthless cunning manipulativeness of the politician. This is the co-creation of reality promised of all shamans by the decentralized forests which feed their mojo.

The Path of the Right Hand of Truth seeks to bring enlightenment to others by exposing to them the inconsistency of everything, including the dubiety of the seeker, the leader, and all of the reality in which they both exist. Thus the man who tells others the Truth for the purpose both of seeking the truth with them and for finding the truth for himself, merely exposes all the lies of others, by being a bad liar himself.

The Path of the Right Hand of lies is the one which seeks to reveal that all Truths are actually merely lies. It is anarchism, and its aesthetic is surrealism. Not only are all interpersonal reactions to be taken as impossible and absurd, but all of physical reality’s consistency as matter within a universe of energy is to be constantly held under conscientious suspicion. This is the path which promotes personal power by revealing the fact that others are lying. The fact that others are lying is true, but this path’s self-centered focus on the wrongs and sins and falsehoods of others is meant to paint the world with a disgust that actually only exists within and for the selves of the individuals who subscribe to this path.

Omnient Sentience Iris is no mystery a shadow frequency following only me

the OTO you sell my soul for brotherhood what once was Hell is the here and now

or,

the

“How I Feel,” confession of Lucifuge

Rofacale

By now he was screaming at the top of his lungs: “Well, it’s not my life anymore, is it? It’s been ripped out of my fucking hands by some oversexed gold bricking whore and now I have to report to some Dildo in some government office if I want to drop my pants and take a shit! How is that living ?! And ‘I’m’ the fucking psychopath! Do you want to know why? Why everyone will always fear me as if I were Norman mother-fucking Bates? Because I don’t like popular music! I MUST be crazy not to like popular music! I think anybody who likes any one kind of music is just trying to think about something (anything!) other than their own identity. They’re trying to find a pre-made identity that feels somewhat comfortable so that they never have to know the agony and the ecstasy of egolessness, of total objectivity from their situations. All music is elevator muzak.

All of it. None of it matters, because saying something and actually changing it are opposites, when the problem is: people talk too much about their shallow interpersonal, social or socialized problems and never about their genuine problems. If they do they’re outcast, and not even allowed the promised ‘talking cure.’ It’s held out before them like bait on a hook. People are being labeled unacceptable simply because they’re honest with themselves about who and how they really are, not just what they like or what they can get out of each other. Do you know how that feels? Of course you don’t. Or rather, you do, but you’ll never be able to admit it to yourself. You’re too afraid someone else might find out about what you’re thinking about and think you’re “weird” because of it. NOTHING IS WRONG. EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT! There is no sin that can’t be forgiven, if you just stop feeling ashamed of it yourself! Why are people so blind? Why do people cherish their shames as the foundations of their personality and then act out on them in a sickening attempt to gain freedom from their roles? Why don’t we just do what feels Right? What comes Naturally? Instead most people try to manipulate others, in exchange for being manipulated. The people who hold the most “power” in this plane of existence, this accursed physical shit hole, are the people who are the best at pushing other people’s pleasure and pain buttons! Look at the people who put me behind bars! Everyone thinks they’re best friends with them because they BUY people, with drugs, with alcohol, with little shiny knickknacks... and people are such WHORES they’re willing to accept it. After all a bird in the hand is worth a bomb in the bush. Better take whatever you can grab now kids, it might be nothing but razor blades in the candy they give you come tomorrow. I just wish my own friends weren’t so STUPID. So fucking shallow and so easily bought off! They’d rather believe the most convenient apologies because the TRUTH HURTS. I’m talking to J——— now, sucker: you can’t have it both ways. You can’t straddle the fence. It’s either Truth you can’t stand or Lies that love you. Here’s a Truth: (I’m talking now to the antichrist) why don’t you just come out of the closet like your sister thinks you ought to? You know actually getting fucked up the heiny like daddy used to would feel alot better than just trying to get all of MY friends to like you more than me. I mean, it’s cowardly to do something so easy. None of my friends ever liked me that much to begin with. I always scared them. They were always just waiting for me to point out to them the truths about themselves which they tried hardest to conceal, their most painful insecurities. That’s what I call Love, because if you talk about it enough you find you can choose to change it for yourself. But you, they LOOOOVE you, because you give ‘em cheesy poofs. And (B———— I’m talking to you) there’s NOTHING rats like better than cheese. Get up off of your FUCKING KNEES, ALL OF YOU. The end of the world is coming! There’s no point maintaining your pleasant delusions! All your hopes have been betrayed and all your time has been wasted! Look at where you are! It’s your own fault you’re here! If you’re not satisfied, DO SOMETHING THAT WILL SATISFY YOU! If you’ve been betrayed by expectations, scatter all similar hopes to the wind. Drink, above all, CELEBRATE your SELVES! Stop sucking at various tits and start spilling your own seeds. Stop struggling to remain casual!

Stop pretending to be comfortable! IT MAKES ME FUCKING SICK TO SEE IT! You can see it too if you have the guts to tolerate the ‘horrible’ truth! You’re made out of hot blood, wax skin, rubber bones! Do something! Get it Right! Write it down! There’s not enough time left before the asteroid hits to waste it getting FUCKED OVER by people you thought were your friends! There’s better experiences waiting for you, around the next corner, and the corner after that! Cast them off, the ones who laugh at your gullibility behind our back. Let’s all be FUCKING HONEST FOR A CHANGE!

And if this hurts your feelings, well: GOOD, now maybe you can imagine how I feel!”

soul of system The existence of the Baby-Boomer consists in the extraction of pleasure from three preoccupations that would be considered intolerable to the minds of taste preceding them, and unnecessary to the minds of logic following them, and which yet they arrogantly tout as the essence of both the past and the future. These are, in no particular order (as no one can survive without variation) consuming secretions, producing flatulation, and staring directly at genitalia.

These may be seen, quaintly, as the inversions of hearing no, seeing no and speaking no evil, although none of these are evil in themselves, save for the fact of utter compulsion.

The consumption of excretion they loosely equate with cannibalism, citing the existentialism of their parents’ generation as an excuse to abrogate the value of being in general, as progression from abolishing their own self-worth by hating their parents over their condition’s revelation. This they uphold as a Darwinian necessity, a factor of potency running throughout their entire paradigm, discussed in apt detail in due course. The bolus they desire most they call Art, and pedestalize, placing both politics and communication behind a veil of adjectives definitive of their tastes and preferences before almighty art. They then proletariatize art, eroding these same values through hysterical mass competition bordering directly on hypnotic possession. The boomers who claim themselves wise profess this to be merely a joke.

Others cling to it desperately as the only action giving awakening any meaning. The truth is all boomers do it whether they appreciate it, approve of it, or even recognize it. They do it because they cannot not do it. It is “hard-wired.” Ring!

The consumption and digestion of all forms of idea, from the divinely inspired to the most misdirected, leads naturally to flatulation. This, not unlike any group of intoxicants at parties or ceremonies celebrating the opportunity for utilization of any of the copious number of vogue drugs in the past, is their primary delight, for many their sole. They attribute magical power to the act, worshiping it as much as atheists can; they make sport of it, pretending it is integral to the survival of their ridiculously fanciful preoccupations – the very symptoms producing their problems; they call it culture, in mockery of society, now dead, son of civilization, now dead, son of self-consciousness, that separated us from the roving beasts, now dead. When one of these diversions into the ether appears copious, it is rapidly distributed and devoured. This science in its entirety constitues a boomer’s life, pre-K to retirement.

The self-consciousness whose corpse was exhumed from the grave of existentialism and fed the would-be fools throughout their formative years was the last barrier between the polite ignorance before and the utter disassociated indifference after their generation’s impact on planetary development. It was, as has been admitted, “the final fig leaf.” This is, in fact, the energetic motivation that stimulates, often provokes, the momentum of the purely digestive aspect of their self-sustenance. It is how they know one another. This is indeed the perversion of Descartes's resurrection of Aristotelian ontologics, for here is the measure which thinks not, and is! It is virtually artificial intelligence: and what could be more desired by a batch of burnt cookies than a spatula from the very smog in which they now crumble to come and sweep them away? It is themselves, and themselves only. A part of themselves, perhaps it should be called the inner-child, suddenly begins to reemerge from the murky nether realm of their hazy memories.

The ghosts of long-lost idols, and their patterns of ideal expression, now claw the quivering ground beneath the bitter empire of excess and disinterest, demanding justification for their denigration. There is none. Like the computers they have created, they were always merely automatic - as natural as nudity, as clearly confused as their own conceptions.

Perhaps they will earn peace as a result of this final confrontation of man’s empty-headed instincts with the pleasure principle of the playful innocent, perhaps not. They are like so much pond scum now, afloat without boundaries, able to rise up only out of disgust with themselves and their own chosen conditions, and then only feebly. Yet they think themselves the end all, be all of history. Probably coincidence.

birds

cackle

Incest is the root of all perversion. “I am your brother; you are my sister. What in all the heavens can we do to forget this?” “Let’s try everything.” Such pleasure is necessary for evolution. All inspiration is at first glance mistaken for perversion. They appear similar, as a smudge and a stain — the former a factor of velocity, the latter of corrosion. The one is extroverted, the other directed inward.

Picture three circles, each smaller than the next, with a common origin. The outermost circle is work, the middle play, the center self. Extroversion passes outward in this way and introversion inward. In the first case, that of inspiration, self defines play defines work. In the case of perversion work defines play defines self. These two are psychologically present and active simultaneously in everyone. Similarly as counter-rotating energy fields in matter.

Mutation is the price of this pleasure.

Incest is the division of these from one another, and thus the creation of each independently. One family member plays perversion: “I am related to you, and we are attracted.”

Another plays inspiration: “Why should we be ‘related’ and how will we be ‘attracted?’” This is the difference between the Egyptian multi-dynastic empire and the elder born, younger departed civilization of Mesopotamia-Sumeria. If these two were siblings, the fertile crescent would embody the perverse sister, Egypt the inspired brother. The one’s innocence dies as it feeds the inbreeding of the other.

In the texts of the first empire, this ideological unfoldment is given form with mythotheology. Osiris (father) and Isis (mother) are separated by Set (serpent), and reunited by Thoth (time) to produce Horus (sun). Osiris and Isis are brother and sister. Set is a lesser embodiment of Thoth, and is Osiris’s guide in the afterlife. Isis’s sister and the wife of Thoth is Nepthys. Nepthys is to Isis as Set is to Thoth, and so Thoth is to Osiris. Horus is the heir of Isis, who is simultaneously mother and wife, as she had been simultaneously sister and wife to Osiris.

Horus is to Osiris as was Thoth. In reality Horus is the progeny of Nepthys and Thoth, or rather Set, yet all of these are merely parts of Osiris and Isis, who originate as inspiration and perversion. Osiris-Isis are work, Thoth-Nepthys play, Set-Horus the self-center. Were it not for incest, Set would counterbalance Nepthys, and Thoth, Horus. But the ideal is rarely as well derived from reality as perversion, and never as necessary as that pleasure.

come on mom, or, O Becky One dies much more easily than one is born. Being born requires the survival of the most frail of all states of multicellular organization in opposition to the influence of limitless pressures and impositions. The umbilical chord deposits poisons of the parent organism’s desires, the serpent feeding the helpless androgyne apple after apple of poorly swallowed responsibilities, doubts regarding choices, division of focus, even unconscious, repressed indulgences, while the involuntary squeezing of the abdominal muscles, followed inevitably by the mutilatory contractions of the birth canal, welcome the infant into physical reality with sensations of such a torturously unpleasant nature they are unlikely to either be experienced again nor ever forgotten, and yet will remain coupled with the imprint of trans-uterine desire.

Some never recover, and drown to death in amniotic alcohol.

When one dies, or rather, as one lives, one experiences these maladies as others, as events.

They constitute background data, shaping situations, evoking characteristics in all we perceive, coloring in such perceptions as comfort, distraction, taste, etc. all of which are as subjective as illusions. These entirely automated nervous imprints give form and direction to what would otherwise remain abstraction on the peripheral realm of our awareness. It is easy enough to see them in terms of polarity, as merely the excitation of energy via the primary, survival instinct, and the fight or flight mechanism; in fact doing so allows one to imagine them as little more than building blocks surrounding our consciousness at all times, behind and rarely revealed in our own view of reality. This mechanistic perspective is convenient, more recent in its externalized metaphor of revelation, and physically fact. However, it does as much justice to the functioning of phenomenological existence as is done to an experimental animal in a spiraling, repetitious maze.

Perhaps this is the entirety of what an individual, such as myself, deserves. Afterall, the

walls of the structure don’t actually impress themselves, much, upon the survival of their denizens, nor do the channels of dependence doll out anything more distasteful or intoxicating than the choice between pleasure and pain. I am young right now, so should be more easily forgiven for my distractions, for, when I am older, there will undoubtedly only be more, and fewer excuses.

hey

bungalow

bill!

It is too easy to, and has for too long been said that truth is an aspect of hatred. It is the other way around. Those who merely pretend to be inspired surround one who actually is, and, by the sheer weight of their gaze, the pressure of their demands, impose upon them the responsibility for meeting their least expectations. And it is, inevitably, the least of their expectations they wretch forth. If it were not to put the inspired person down they would have no inspiration to pretend. Their strategies in this regard multiply, filling the absence of their own inspiration. They are as the symptoms of a disease. They are as pets to their own beast.

It is the one truth of these intellectuals that whatever one says must be tested on them.

Should one say, I am the messiah, he must be killed to test for resurrection. Should one say, I have discovered a cure for cancer, it goes against the logic of these maintainers of imposition that he should not then get, or might not already have, cancer. However, there must be one catch. What one says of others must not be allowed to reflect on oneself. Otherwise, the judges would be judged, and I would be able to identify the existence of this social symptom without attracting its attention through even more unspeakable channels.

Opportunities for explanation arise, are utilized and disperse. As I am writing this I discover a small seed in my ear, where a great amount of pain was centered. I am aware of a nagging that motivates me, surrounding me, coaxing with energy and threatening its identity. I wonder as I probe my ear, is this me that I hear?

Hatred is questions. Any true answer raises them, and, if they are not recognized, they respond as women scorned. The truth that raised them is their answer; they are only lost when they turn away from this. It is easy enough to split hairs, to obey either the letter of the law or the spirit. It is much easier to put on airs than to seek or to find the truth. Those who fail at one succeed at the other, looking cunts.

dying

rules

Square rotates counterclockwise, making circle clockwise. The baby is slapped at birth.

Return. Will you die happy? Are you forgiving? Cube moving backward in time. At first, like poison to a starving man, it seems to be alright. Quite nice. Those who die the most painfully exult it the most, partaking in it without limits, calling it perfect, and perfection god. They meet themselves at the other end of this, weeping that nothing is perfect, that nothing is god. If they are fortunate this may occur early, and they may yet choose to follow a different path.

The cube is emulated by society. It grows younger, less organic. It is true that wal-mart is older than k-mart. The cube is older than itself. This information is useful, relative to the generations of man. The mind is wiser sooner in life now, intellect always the elder of innocence.

It is the temptation of the cube itself to call these guilt and ignorance, to define only by what is not. Being aware of this is liberation from its domain. One cannot fear what one has seen through.

Temptation becomes like a glass apple, its skin like a lens for discerning best applicable options.

Those who are within the cube and know it not, or know it only by its own light, only by what it is not, are lost. A certain K-mart couple, a witch and a piece of clay, for example, may think themselves a super Wal-Mart product. The revelation of this has been traditionally determined by quantity and quality. Simple economic factors. The determination of this however is the fact that the cube is a lens for inverting time. The shelf-life of such a couple at the K-mart level of the economy is quite short, and, at the Wal-Mart level of the economy, much longer. This is not a reflection of the quality of the couple, nor the quantity of similar selections. If it is a reflection at all, it is one without metal, as the ghostly images reflected in glasses rather than the clear image that is caught in a mirror. And what does this reflect?

It is a reflection, as are all descriptions, of that indescribable thing: life. The cube is a

reflection of the sphere, the square a function of the circle. If the cube is emulated by society, is it not the sphere that is emulated by life? If the cube were a frame, and the sphere were art, then would the logical conclusion reflected in the square and the circle not be that art is life? How much truer could this have been than it will be?

wheel

loose

“Three! Three is the number to beat!”

“Here we go again,” she sighs.

There is someone there, someone who is written for. The lingering smell.

Why is there a shadow, mister number? Why do we even bother? Sounds. That is the only answer. Even the words that encase the answer are only sounds. I do not want either the meaningless intellegence carried upon them nor the waves, otherwise empty. I send it back like its already written for me. I am not he. I would rather not be. Living in the past, heeding to the calls of those who pursue me.

It has begun to rain. Perhaps it is the remains of the game. Eaten and given up again, still waiting, waiting. I cannot live without person X. So what? You can’t live anyway. Nice attitude.

Cheap excuses made in place of explanations? No guidance, only expectations. No we. No I. Similarities the only connections on what’s been called the spiritual level. Repetitions. Errors.

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. No meaning.

Perhaps it is someone’s duty to write “it has begun to rain.” Afterall, if all we are is cheap suits, expectable connections, regularity in the intestines of the reality we eat, is it so difficult to imagine we can catch the moon by its tail, or to be a superstitious worker?

It is easy enough to connect anything to anything else. To say, “If this, then this,” wherein anything and anything else are related through error. Some are stuck in this belief. Others get paid. Money wins.

“We took a long lunch, but now we’re back. Get it?” There is no joke.

Once my father tried to convince me that when one masturbated, one was being gay, because one was fucking their own hand, and it was of the same gender as they. There was an acompanying, equally inaccurate explanation that was longer. It stated that when one masturbated it was like they fucked the air, and the air, being outside of one’s self, was God, or otherness, at least in the form of the alter ego. And afterall God is a man, right?

Are you looking for something? The end of one sentence, the beginning of the next? Or are you only waiting for a pause because you have something to interject.

untitled Take debate. Too late. Behold your own idea given back to you by the one that you most hate. It is the apple you just ate. Agree to disagree that you must agree to your own fate. Do you like to put on airs? You are the only one here. Like a lunatic you’re talking to yourself.

There’s no one there to blame, you’re getting yourself talked around the bush again, the beating of the goat goes on while it turns blood deafened ears to its own sounds.

If it weren’t for context we’d be more animal. Binary survival, approach, retreat. A grin, a leer.

Innovate, repeat. Chewy chewy it sees right through me, dispersing seeds no doubt the entire way, for me to find as my cells roll out and food rolls down.

Build it up a little, don’t rush in, have art. Be like a man you obnoxious foxish fart; you weasel in a cage surrounded by monkey-masons in a laboratory they built for me to experiment on myself.

No good, just injections. There is no pre-existent quantity of pleasure nor benefit besides that which is invented by the mechinations of man, by his interventions, manipulations, by him created. You are just a witch.

One half of time is spent trying to wake up, the other spent trying to get to sleep. One is always

doing one or the other. Are they doing what is implied by their surroundings? A dumb beast milling in a similar herd of other innocents? Perhaps they envy what they eat. Perhaps they envy what eats them.

Horrible. Horrible. Horrible. Horrible. The truth is a spirit. It lives inside lies, according to lies.

To have truth on one’s face, to be truth, is to be the victim of lies, according to lies. As long as truth hides, lies live. They devour the light. They put it into forms. These forms are lies. Without light all forms die. Horrible. Horrible.

Children of Light & Children of Darkness: Day vs. Night — Title Fight No one pays much attention to what they consider to be too obvious. No one pays much mind to the cycling, for instance, of day and night. Yet day and night cycle, not only through our sky, but through our culture. The two eyes of Pert-em-hru the Egyptian sky god are the sun and the moon, cyclically playing king of the hill over the pyramid on the back of the united states dollar bill. The eagle flies at will, carrying poisoned arrows and well watered sprigs so that the tears of capitalist fascination shouldn’t spill.

Take trends in music for example. Swing (day) became jazz (night) becoming bebop and exotica (day). This led to the beatnik era of “free jazz” (night), at which point country (day) and blues (night) merged to form rock and roll. Rock and roll manifested simultaneous day and night aspects for a decade during the mid fifties to early sixties, producing both dance (day) and ballad (night) formats. Around the mid to late sixties dance rock became psychedelic rock and ballads were replaced by protest songs, both of which fulfilled the intention of rock and roll with flying colors, representing simultaneously both day and night aspects. One could say that they were alike dawn and evening respectively. Protest songs became folk rock (day) and psychedelic music became stadium, or album, rock (night). After a manner of speaking folk rock became punk rock, and various alternative styles such as early hip hop, electronica and garage rock (all forced to remain on the side of the night), and stadium/album rock became pop rock (day). Pop rock was replaced by grunge as a transition for the multiple genre beast that had replaced folk emerging into the light of day and merging to form what we now (2000) call “alternative rock” — really an umbrella term meant to encompass all modern forms of music being produced in the developed nations of the world, which still falls far short of achieving this lofty goal. Alternative rock does, however, satisfactorally unite the day and night aspects of rock and roll. Based on this entertwining of aspects I would predict that the music industry as a whole would continue striving for a unifying under one genre of these traits, as both an averaging and harmonizing have already been achieved.

On the Thelemic Cult of Ra and the Church of Set When Aleister Crowley broke the tradition of quitting an elder establishment to join with a splinter organization by quitting the Golden Dawn, the splinter organization, to become Outer Head of the Order of the Ordo Templi Orientis, the elder estabolishment, he created a kind of undertow in the continuum, causing an emergence of prodigal son cults. This derives from the inversion, or according to their attribution, reflection of the karmic current connecting the elder to the younger group. When this turns back on itself, an Oedipus environment arises, and such was the very case diagnosed concurrently by Sigmund Freud of the elder Victorian society, within which the Golden Dawn was like an heirant knight.

Such had been the case of Israel and Judah, like Cain and Abel, who were brothers of different ages who came to be set against one another in ways. This was then played out in the Jesus and Judas reltationship mythologically. These relationships were similar, but they occured a long time ago. A more recent, though still relatively ancient, occurance was in the King Arthur and Lancelot relationship. Still this is some sixteen hundred years ago. So it is safe to say that, when this occurance comes around, it is beneficial to take note of it.

Therefore what has been the impact of this on the world of mental projective space, as this is the realm in which changes are effected by the occurance of the prodigal son archetype in the time stream? Crowley’s own message was of the dawning of the age of Horus, the Crowned and

Conquering Child. This has somehow led to an upsurgance in the practicing of sports. While a splinter branch of Crowley’s Abbey of Thelema, Anton LeVey’s Chruch of Satan, has shed its skin and this skin has risen up to be the Church of Set. It hangs on a deadwood cross before the rising sun where vultures swarm. This is generally accepted. All are progenies of the cult of Mithras and of Zoroaster, otherwise known as Hermes or Thoth.

I receive these words in a Mexican jail from a lad in the street wearing a sagging, torn white cotton shirt with a shaggy head full of dark hair who kneals down and whispers them into my ear through the bars.

If Thoth was thought, and Thoth was worshipped, then new thoughts were worshipped. This was the case with those in the Golden Dawn. It would have been work enough being only a scribe, but to be a scribe and a communal civil servant, though I hesitate at the implications of the word “communal.” Imagine the word going around one day, as a storm rolls over, that it was no longer considered modest to be only a Thelemite, and not also an Egyptian Thelemite. You may be a bird, but these things will still sometimes sneak up behind you.

The “No Limit Soldiers,” it would seem we are to be led to believe, are the same team as the “Kiss Army,” merely purchased by another executor and moved to a new house on a new hill. So no news there.

On the Gospel of Daniel The gospel of Daniel is very specific. It is gematriacal, to the extent that it includes verbalisms. This is natural to the economic level on which its author existed. The references to the house to which Jesus belonged are particularly significant. This is only because the house of Daniel himself was called into question during the time of his master’s ministry. Daniel’s own outlook on this ministry was naturalistic, almost to the extent to which the old eastern and tuetonic peoples believed. It was summed up in a basic awareness of environment that constituted mental projective space, and then, within that, focus on a single point that represents active consciousness, with practice, until this point is the only immobile vector on the observable hemisphere of awareness, constituting implosion of consciousness, and therefore entry into the nether world of trance. But these are as exoteric and esoteric aspects, meaning little more than that one was the openly expressed doctrine, and the other the silently observed phenomenon.

On the Gospel of Thomas Thomas was a powerful magician. He drew his energy from people. But whether he recognized that he was doing this, or merely playfully admitted to it, is debatable. It is more probable that his own world view was of someone evokative of a person’s core experience, in such a way that they would display symptoms of it to him, or manifest its cartouche likeness in passing. It was widely known that Thomas was a drinker, though because it didn’t affect his personality at all, nothing was thought indiscrete about it. Thomas was also heavily steeped in karmic traditions and valor myths. He had in his background exposure to the same source experiences that had trickled down to Daniel, though in a more direct form, to wit the African record.

the student class The power through inflence on the market of the third social class goes generally unrecognized. The third social class falls for the most part beneath the economic status of even the prolatariat, although it is marked by a concentrated layer of extreme wealth as well. It is not defined so much economically as it is by social isolation. It is, of course, the student class.

It’s potency rests in its determination of fashion, which will always emulate the proletariat whom it idealizes despite the lack of cultural contributions the prolatraiat is capable of in reality. The student class vascillates through five year cycles regarding which aspect of the proletariat it will emulate in terms of fashion. For five years it will obey the least suggestion directed at it from the quadrant of the inner city. (Just for minor examples: Punk, 1978-1983; hip-hop/rave 1995-2000.) Alternately the student class will kowtow to their country brethren

and the uniforms of the less fortunate in fields such as agriculture and hard industry. (Most notable in recent years is the “grunge” look of the early 90’s, combining the traditional pair of blue-jeans virtually grafted onto prolatarian genetics with a flannel for five years worth of booming sales of K-Mart clothes.)

The penchant for idealizing prolatarian fatigues is directly the fault of liberal socializing in public schools and universities. It is nearly impossible to have a style that conflicts with the prevalent prole-trend and not alienate oneself from all student social events. (The result of this attempt on modern campuses is the covertly bourgeoise, self-obsessed, glorifyingly morbid and isolationist style Goth.)

The student class is further defined by their strict adherance to age-based, or perhaps more accurately, development-based conversation topic limitations.

In all years however the discussion of popular music, especially that which occurs beneath and “therefore in opposition to” whatever style of music sells best. In terms of music, tastes are more individual than in terms of wardrobe because different bands, regardless of message, make different amounts of money. Even though it remains currently “uncool” to like any band that has “sold out” (outgrown financially the resources of their prolatarian origins), all student-aimed music is basically the same politically, encouraging sublimation through conformity in the guise of catharsis through rebellion. The better a band can hypnotize and paralyze an audience with relatively meaningless charms of revolution, the better liked they will be and the greater their long-term sales. In any event it should seem more obvious to the members of the student class that no cultural or political revolution is ever going to be led by a band so long as that band is being fed fat checks for doing drugs, fucking models and cutting the infrequent quality single.

It can be argued that the only real appeal of music to the student class is of neither an agitational nor propagandizing basis. The true allure, and the other limitation of conversational topicality that transcends level of curricular development, must be drugs. Students are the primary users of drugs, and this is as obvious as it could possibly be. The fact that this continues, and only seems to be strengthening as the quest for the perfect disassociative for every individual leads to further diversification of effects, would seem to imply that it is wholeheartedly condoned by the very people in power who, for the entire time, have claimed to be fighting against it. It is well known that the army prefers to test all sorts of drugs on their grunts in order to find which are the strongest and/or most condusive to mass brainwashing long before the CIA is allowed to ship them into the ghettoes.

Students think they understand the way the entire world works, but they do not understand how alike they are in tastes, nor how much power this similarity of buying habits gives them in a free market. For example, if students wanted drugs legallized, all they would have to do would be to briefly unite in a conditional ban of all their favorite clothing and music products. Because the student class comprises the majority of the service sector, increasingly important to and the fastest growing type of work in developed nations, they could even, if they should so happen to take a sudden urge for doing so, shut down society and achieve a communist revolution within a week if they all simply didn’t show up for work.

the

Master

Race

In every nation, and by their competitions and combinations producing more dominant groupings, in every portion of the world, there are breeding experiments going on that date back to the earliest days of civilization. The first and perhaps greatest civilization, the Old Kingdom of Egypt, began this trend by keeping marriages within family bloodlines, thus occasionally producing retarded offspring but, nonetheless, compacting into only a few individuals the genetic traits required for social superiority.

Democracy makes rule by these families, or rather (because the strict rule of intrafamily-marriage has gone out of style in favor of inter-family marriage and the maximizing by region of genetic superiority through combination of the most civilized) by these races, more difficult, but not impossible. It still allows the manipulation of rule by money — generally “oldmoney” or “family-money” built up over generations for just such a purpose. Sadly, Democracy

does offer the proles a minor sense of hope in the form of the Horatio Alger, “pull yourself up by the bootstraps,” nouveau rich myth as an incentive for their continual slavery. Communism is far worse, because it is founded on a revolution which kills off these sacred bloodlines and replaces them with a clot of those scabs least fit to rule.

The secretive breeding of the best educated humans on the planet continues this very day, although it has lost much of its mystique and, thus, much of its stigma. It is practiced primarily

by Republican suburbanites and all “rational” people who desire to maximize their long-term property interests rather than throw away their heritage on such propaganda of suppression as “love.” It is the very root of the philosophy known as “realism.” The fact remains, however, despite the casual nature of these experiments, that they have always been and will always be conducted with the intention of producing a race of leaders. The fact that we do not already have a single world dictator is attributable less, as liberals are wont to claim, to the rate of the development of technology (which is, itself, the result of better breeding in developed nations), but to the fact that these breeding experiments are not yet complete. Certain traits remain to be combined with certain others.

As of today, nonetheless, selective breeding in humans has produced the majority of the world’s leaders. This suppressed master-race proudly shares ruthless self-interest with the most savage beasts of the wild. They have no interest in the variation of cultures and no respect for any culture that glorifies sub-civilized behavior. It is these men, in fact, who comprise any organization of note; even, ironically, the UN. They only seek personal gain or gain for their nation and their breed. They will accept nothing short of eventual global domination and will fight to the death any institution, such as communism, that would seek to thwart what they feel is the most noble of all possible human quests. To them absolutism is the Holy Grail, Kether, the throne of God, the highest imaginable aspect of existence attainable through strivation by the will and cultivation of the essence. It is their destiny, branded on the DNA floating in their blood.

Manifesto of my ass hole in opposition to all cunts The archetype of the Mother character, the domesticated female, by the definition provided through constant and ceaseless historical precedence: the feminine, the passive, the receptive, the providing, will always haunt men, always.

Even when they have found “temporary autonomous zones” where they may surround themselves only with other men, and sit around and laugh about issues which could only concern men, and solve problems, even then the idea of the feminine may not completely exit their minds; the woman waits just outside the door wearing an apron and a scowl to drag men back into that prison called the Home, that lifestyle of compromise where nothing gets done and where nothing satisfies either one of them.

Not to divide it exclusively into male and female. The same may be said of the generative from the perspective of the non-generative or, in more easily accessible terms, of love from the perspective of friendship. How many of us have lost a close personal friend, a friend with whom we shared everything short of true love consummated by physical intimacy, to some harlot or gigolo with whom they bore nothing in common but nudity and orgasm, if all that? It is all too common and tragic a tale, made all the more frustrating due to its repetition in direct spite of its futility and pointlessness. Friends are better to have than are lovers, yet when given the choice few could refuse sex, perhaps because it so defies logical approval.

So let us all, as humans, say, “Hold, enough!” It is time, in the name of America, in the name of our forefathers’ foresight in writing the Declaration of Independence, the Amendable Constitution, in knitting our flag, our benefactors in creating beer and television and an endless supply of casual games, even sports; it is time in the names of ourselves, by each and everything by which we define ourselves, in the names of our generation, our sex, our skin color, our age, our hair color, our height, our eye color, etc; it is time for us to lock hands with one another, to slit each other’s writs and smile, to drop slowly, so slowly, in slow motion, with horrifying wide grins etched into our ugly faces; it is time to have some FUN, to forget about the Other, to focus on the Self, to take pride in what we are and not to value in the slightest what we are not. Let us further say that friends, non-generative, free and proud, above all proud, is what we all are by nature,

and not lovers, and not bound to one another, and not shameful. Let us invade foreign lands and preach this warfare of smiles, let us sit upon foreign soil and ignore the sounds of the natives singing in their local taverns, let us rest on the beach and listen to Enya in headphones.

This is our time, the time of rebellion, rebellion against all we are not already. Rebellion against what we will become in the future, regardless of how much we will rebel. This is the day and we are the souls who will set the world on fire with dissatisfaction. Let us begin with each other and the next time your lover leans in for a kiss, tender and slow, greet their advance with a fist, furious and fast. Never give in to a change you do not, yourself, initiate. Hate, beyond all reason, hate the faces of those around you. Love only your own face in the mirror, the mirror you cannot kiss, the face that does not, except for others, and can never for you fully exist.

Follow this advice while waving a flag and let me assure you beyond all possible doubt that we, that humans, that this quivering, cowering planet earth, will all be annihilated within fifty years. If everyone believed in this marvelous spinning, this escape from each other, this hatred for what is, for the delicate, for the soft, then we could be dead as one, and as one dead, before the time had passed in which it would take to formulate a better, gentler idea.

Everday is an Atheist Holiday God is drugs.

Historically, this fact is quite obvious. The beginning of all religions of old, as well as of new, is marked quite distinctly by the habitual usage of the mind-altering.

The development of the role of man as God is quite significant when considered with a wary eye for the presence of substances. In the Americas, in Africa and in Asia, merely for example of cultural origins of theatrical assumption of the god-role, the process of development is remarkable.

In North America the native tribes harvested quite a different philosophy for autocracy than the mid-east. The male elders, that is, the tribesmen old enough to hunt, would all congregate in a smoke-house and hot-box tobacco. They did this while wearing animal-like costumes, thus explaining both the bestiality of mythological demigods and the belief in seeing spirit-animals by quite a convenient alignment of like terms. It was probably even the coming-ofage ritual to smoke-house a young brave before the beginning of a large hunt, to bind him psychologically to the animal he sought to kill, to sharpen his necessary senses at the cost of any distracting reasoning.

In any event, this ritual was the town-hall meeting of the era, and all decisions regarding government would be considered there, by this men’s club, whether they were in a hallucinatory condition at the time or not. While this is still a concentration of power over the many among the few, it is at least semi-Democratic in that it spreads that power out over at least those few.

Further, the theory states, the people, the remaining villagers — all the women and children, would allow this to continue simply because it was tradition and had seemed to work alright so far. They might mop their brow beneath the scorching sunlight a moment while bent over in the field, and while so doing cast a stray glance over at the smoke billowing forth from the blow-hole in the lodge which would evoke a mirthless smirk at those who shirk their share of work, but there was no greater affect of it nor movement against it than that.

There was a tribe of cannibals that arose in middle America and consumed large numbers of the early Anasazi, tainting the gene pool of the offshoot tribes with the taste for blood and peyote before migrating into the indigionus populations of South America. It is not known if this cannibal tribe became the great pyramid builders such as the Mayans and the Olmecs of the Yucatan, or gave spawn to the Hell Tribes such as the Aztecs that conquered them and drank their blood. Perhaps it was both.

The drug of choice for the Mayan templar was the cocain leaf, chewed, and that at high altitude where light-headedness was a natural constant condition. Their civilization, however, mostly revolved around sports with a rubber ball, and their religion was worship of the constellation Orion.

For the evolution of the first pharaohs one must imagine a much harsher ecological environment and its consequence on the minds of its denizens. It was necessary for everyone

there to smoke whatever stray plant that they could find. The Lotus flower has been seen constantly in Egyptian art as a motif of some regard, and its presence (a combination of nicotine and cocain) has been identified as fatally pervasive in mummies wherein it was used in their mortifilogical process. This practice made the unforgiving sand dunes a more tolerable place, for most. Then there were the pharaohs.

It is likely in this case that the first rulers were the popular dealers. These were the elder tribes moving into the Nile river valley from the Fertile Crescent. It might have occurred that these men did not utilize their pedalled substance with any satisfaction themselves. It may also be that they were sexually impotent, or displeased with the result of natural intercourse.

Thus, they lived under a condition of externally-imposed purity (the totalitarian perversion of Nietzsche’s internally-produced and projectile-expressed purity), and were consequently bitter.

Therefore they came to be most impatient, and most probably came to construct social order there.

Now, the indigenous Ethoipian tribespeople by that time lived in small, secluded, although crowded, city-states, generally well-protected with a wall and defended by a mandatory army of all the city’s adult males. Each city had one god, because each only had a single ruler. It was this mad tyrant who sat atop his throne in his palace and commanded outrageously enormous monuments be erected to him. He might come and stand up on a platform dressed in some birdlike costume, and claim that it was he who caused the sun to move through the sky simply by pointing at it with his finger and applying the entire force of his will to it; and the masses might gasp agape far below him, in awe at his claims and his very extravagance with a red-eyed wonderment.

Although it was almost certainly beer that got those working-class crossbred Egyptian thousands to move those stones throughout the entire desert. The same image may easily be imagined recurring here — the muscle-bound worker pausing for a moment to slurp beer from a community ladle being passed around, and to gaze calmly out at the flattened horizon for a second before the snap of the foreman’s whip returns his attention to the performance of his function.

The precision of design and technical expertise of physical arrangement may also be argued as evidence for suspecting the around-the-clock precision sobriety of the overlords.

Thus we have witnessed both autocracy (in North America) and totalitarianism (in South America, and Egypt, where they built the pyramids). For a consideration of Democracy one must examine Greece, Republicanism examine Rome, and pure idealism examine the Jews.

In a Democracy, and (because a republic was based on the process of federalizing a Democracy) in a republic as well, the Gods are displayed as historically Hedonistic. They are meant as socializing examples of the proper behavior for a citizen living in such a system. As Von Sacher Masoch himself has pointed out, the Democracy of Greece and the level of reposed contemplation of such issues as politics would not have been possible if not for all the serious manual labor in the culture being done by soldier-slaves and personally purchased indentured servants. This, one might say, and ergot — a wheat germ similar to mixing cannibas wih beer.

Then there are the Jews, who were the first to substantially remove and mystify the experience of being high. This condition itself, that is, being in rapture before the sight of the burning bush, became the subject of their worship. They burnt offerings at alters to the ethereal ideal of the idyll. For they were slaves in Egypt, a conquered people, and dependent upon whatever resources available for relaxation after hours. It is possible that their experience was unique from the experience of any other of the Egyptian workers who did not begin religions because they were smoking and the other workers were drinking. It is not inconceivable that they had access to a trade route to the far east which provided their more naturalistic and elemental method of delusion.

The Jews were, nonetheless, the only idealists. All other forms of political religion practiced the realist approach of an at least anthropomorphic, but definitely living god. This answered the question quickly and clearly of just who it was that would rule. So much for the children of the African lotus. The Jews would saturate bedoiun culture, which was steeped in the opium trade tradition, however here monotheism would prove to be compounded by the taking of multiple wives — since opium’s stimulations are more sensusual than sacred.

China remained one vast poppey field for untold centuries, surrounded by the Great Wall, and languished in an empire of morphine smoke for generations, before being forced by the

vodka-drunk soviets to the north to modernize to syringe economical heroin communism. In the now Chinese province of Tibet we are told they drank soma, a tea of unknown hallucinogenous extract, from days of old, however there is little evidence that the Red Chinese have allowed this to continue today, since it is the official position of their government that “religion is poison.”

The question of what drugs were prevalent in what geographic areas must also be considered when studying the evolution of different religions among different peoples of the world. Religion is the product of racial, drug supply-based, isolationism of culture to distinct areas, and thus only by the distribution of all drugs disrespective of their borders and zones of natural production can the differences in religion begin to be broken down intellectually, under their respective influences, in order to bring the peoples of the world closer together and, ultimately, bind all of our drug-influenced different types of genetics into a single human tribal code.

The only drugs produced in the United States of any distinction have been the laboratory drugs of the post-industrial space-age, the extrapolations and recombinations of all other effective elements in the pure setting of science. This method of experimentation without expectation has promoted the formation of pop-culture, that all-inclusive glacier of unsatisfiable avarice. Further, because U.S. drugs require no agriculture, they are more efficient for space travel and, due to the hyper-physicalizing of the brain and diminishment of the role of the body caused by their usage, encourage the brain to leave the body behind and venture into space on its own. LSD is trippier in zero-G. Ketamine and MDMA can get you through the atmosphere.

Be wary, however, for none of this is true. It is all the deranged ramblings of a hung-over stoner, proletarian through and through. It is less likely that any of this happened, or will happen, in the ways described than it is that my pants are on fire, which, by the way, yours are.

Happy Holidays.

Your posessions are stealing from you Property is primarily based upon fear. Not fear of Others, but fear of the Dark. At night, when all was quiet, save for the stirrings of wild animals, our ancestors huddled around the glow of the fire light. If this light went out, all was lost. The light was not knowledge. The light was not wisdom. It was simply the force that kept the demons at bay. The demons of illusion, of confusion, of hallucination. Simply stated: Fear. And now things are no different, although with time they have expanded, bloated, and concretized through the millennia of human endeavor. This has been the Will to Labor. The will to create a Property of Mankind, that swells ever outward like the twisting universe, a slow explosion of matter from that first spark. Man now not only builds his own properties through existentialism, through control of his instincts, his emotions, his reactions, the reactions of others, but seeks out the properties of the God he feels around him, the breath of the wilderness at the fringes. Man looks out of the small holes in his walls only briefly, towards infinity. But he cannot stand this view. He is still terrified of the Dark. He struggles against God, to relegate the signs God gives us, the symbols God weaves out of apparently random acts, to a cause and effect system which man can apprehend, a machine man can hold in his hand, a cage for God. This machine is called science; it is the search for God’s properties in the behaviors of the natural. For Nature is the manifested Properties of God. And if man can list these, can call the names of God, can summon his might at the press of a button, then man has conquered God, has forced himself out into the cosmic night to posses the entire universe. And then there is nothing to be afraid of. Liberals live on the frontier. They are the hands, the eyes.

Conservatives still tend the central fire. They are the mind which plots man’s continual expansion. Those closest to the light which they have harnessed for themselves least fear the Darkness, for they have forgotten its true face. And those at the frontiers are Fools, for they turn their back on their own brethren in the name of change which is supposed to benefit all. Art is the artificial window hung on the wall of Property, the external wall of civilization, the perimeter of the human mind. The best art, that is, the most compelling, is that which inspires hope for New Properties. It attempts to embrace the latest discoveries of science for the purpose of “pushing the envelope.” It attempts to create the image of the previously impossible in order to inspire its cowardly audience to venture slightly further outward into the Dark. But artists fear the dark

perhaps most of all. Much more than naive scientists, much more than inflammatory rhetoriticians. For they can see even more than they can portray. They understand more than they can explain. They see God’s messengers, the shadows, but cannot yet speak their language. The first cave paintings were monsters made of animals and men. Strangers and Predators, transformed by the magic of art into the familiar and into prey. This is to pray. To address God as an unafraid equal. But this has never succeeded, nor can it; for man is neither unafraid, nor God’s equal. God is not a being possessed of the same emotions as we. He cannot fear. For he encompasses all. We imagine, perhaps, that when we encompass all, we too will have nothing to fear. But it slips by our faith that there are always new fears. As long as there are new frontiers, people will be seeing demons reaching out from them to grab at our future in the form of our children. Shadows that would creep to the very heart of our sacred fire and choke it at its fuel sources. Our fire burns on our art. It feeds on our art, our expressions of our pure, simple desire to be unafraid, to be that which we are not, and which we can never be; to Become God, to achieve his throne; to lay claim to the Impossible. All those who say that art is the pride of man, and that it exists for the purpose of his pleasure, to beautify the interior of his self-made and selfmaintained prison, are the most blind of all. For now the people who dwell between the frontier and the center have begun to fear both sides. The blinding light on one side, and the pulling Darkness on the other. There is no limit to the cowardice of man. Only for these people, trapped in between, there is no imaginary property which can credit them transcendence. Property is cold comfort to men who fear their own potentials.

(monologue in which one person’s two views become the new view facing you) “Dialectical reasoning can be accepted by the masses only if it is translated into binary terminology, because, as the continued, though inexplicable success of the free market has proven, the masses will accept theories regarding the existence and usage of material objects only if they simultaneously satisfy the aggressive urge by the animal inside man to enter into competitive conflict and to destroy.

“Dialectical synthesis must therefore be presented, for the good of the people, and not only, mind you, to support my own personal perspectives, as a struggle between the thesis and antithesis, with either one or the other emerging victorious, to assume the role of synthesis. The thesis is numbered one, and the antithesis is numbered by the opposite of one, which is zero.

Because neither the sum nor the product of one and zero may be anything other than one or zero, the synthesis must then be listed as either one or zero.

“This places the strength of dialectical reasoning where it would most logically fall — directly between the thesis and antithesis, along the axis upon which the synthesis perches; in other words, the majority of the weight (the potential energy) of a pyramid falls beneath its apex point. The motivation for the individual accepting dialectical reasoning, thus, becomes gaining personal power by standing in the channel of the geist, which flows up through dialectics. This geist is pushed upward from both sides by the converging force of the thesis and antithesis, and rises upon their might toward the throne of synthesis. It is obvious, in binary form, how much new-age resurgence of interest in occult systems of self-centered sorcery and reinterpretation of mystical symbolism is truly based on an attempt to assimilate the idea of dialectical reasoning into a market which acts as a surrogate battlefield. The resemblance of its above description to the average description of understanding the Jewish occult Kabbala is particularly remarkable.

“Of course, this is the interpretation of the Right. It serves would-be dictators to perceive a system, driven by conflict or by strength of will, that will elevate them to a status they perceive as equivalent to god. God, however, is not a synthesis. This may be said, if for no better reason, because God is an Apollonian ideal and, as such, unachievable, and therefore unsurpassable; obviously contradictory to any further application of dialectical reasoning. Dialectics ought not be confused with Plato’s Divided Line (phenomenal, noumenal, and Agathon) simply because both may be rendered as a triangular diagram. Dialectical reasoning is all too easily subverted to serve those who would serve themselves, but this was not its intended function.

“Seen as a sequential, co-operative logic, rather than as binary opposition, the true

function of dialectics is revealed. Dialectical synthesis is the union of the thesis and the antithesis, producing a synthesis containing a combination of qualities from both. The thesis, in this more appropriate understanding, may remain numbered as one. At a later point chronologically, an antithesis arises or is discovered; it may thus be numbered, in sequence, as two. A sort of compromise is achieved after examining both, but because this compromise is not more of either than the other, it cannot be numbered identically to thesis or antithesis. It is an entirely new entity: the sum of its cooperative progenitors, and is numbered as an entirely new sequential product. It’s number is, then, obviously, three.

“The similarity between this union and the union of two parents in their child is robust, and is reflected in the sociopolitical aspirations of early Marxists. In their version of history, as in their version of materialism, the merchant-class was the synthesis of the aristocracy and the serfs, but this synthesis, like a child growing up to become a spouse and a parent, became the thesis, “bourgeoisie,” to which the proletariat was the antithesis, and with which Communism was the synthesis. There is another parallel to this form of Dialectical synthesis in Darwin’s theories regarding evolution. His proposition was that a slow, gradual recombination of genes produced evolutionary mutation. This theory contradicted the previously held belief that evolution was the effect of a comparably rapid mutation among species to adapt in a savage and ever changing environment. His dictum that evolution is ‘survival of the fittest’ is most often misinterpreted as ‘survival of the strongest,’ the very notion which his theories challenged, by those who wish to adopt his respected name for their misguided biases regarding society and economics.

“Ironically the fate of dialectical reasoning itself is to be decided by the dialectical argument over its nature just presented. In the event that the former reading should prove true, then it would be declared the absolute victor; a good case of the world view of Hitler — who said, “the victor will write history,” and Caesar —who said, “to the victor go the spoils.” In the event that the latter should win out, so to speak, it would, according to its own rules, only win out halfway, as in a tie. Then Dialectical reasoning would be known as neither binary nor sequential, but something hitherto unimaginable that unifies both polar opposites. In this case the Left and Right as enemies might cease to exist altogether, and a utopian era of idealism and enlightenment might arise in hope for some potential, or in opposition to some new nemesis, shared by all.

An Apology for the Left and Call to Arms by the Right The task of liberalism is twofold, and in so being is divided against itself.

In the first place it seeks to better the physical existence and the social status of the proletariat. This desire, in the object-goal-compelled, ambitious West, is not without a certain honor. Though it’s pursuit is best left up to greedy, jealous, materialistic proles, who invariably handle it in the corrupt, favor-based style of gangsters — exactly the type of guerrilla capitalism one would expect from an underdog class seeking to better itself in lieu of anti-establishment organization. Ultimately, however, this goal does not effect the bourgeoisie directly; it threatens their definitive monopoly on finite resources, but does not do so maliciously. It champions heroically the betterment of the social body.

The second motive of modern liberalism is that which, sickened by the romance of materialism that has swept their lesser comrades off their feet, the progressive bourgeois tend to execute. It is this second drive that witnesses the move toward globalization, collectivism and bureaucracy. This second purpose is, quite specifically, the destruction of the bourgeoisie.

Moreover it is the destruction of the value system that is the exoskeleton of the bourgeoisie — that being ownership, God-given rights, freedom, and especially individuality. This aim has little or no honor to it. It is a secretive effort to subvert the dominant paradigm, to corrode the clarity of the elitist mind. Because it is generally the project of self-loathing bourgeois, it may be seen as the self-doubt, the self-deception that divides and weakens the minds of geniuses and madmen.

In fact the only thing that may make a genius into a mad man is succumbing to self doubt.

What is the difference between a terrorist and a Renaissance Man? The level of acceptance and encouragement provided them as young men by society. The difference between a bomber and a painter is only the medium in which they choose to express themselves. A bomber destroys bodies, and a painter seeks to mutate minds. Sadly, to buy either a bomb or paint, one must have

money, and must therefore be capable of at least pretending to be a capitalist.

In that it is divided against itself, with one front fighting the bodies of the bourgeois from without, one fighting the minds of the bourgeois from within, modern liberalism has no hope of winning. Should the two forces be denied the wall of the middle class which separates them they would oppose one another, and cancel each other out completely, like a candle snuffed out in a sharp breeze. The inherent fault of liberalism is most obvious in a radical creed, that classic contradiction, the oxymoron: “the dictatorship of the proletariat.”

So my fellow white male bourgeois, I call us now to avoid the traps of liberalism. It is safe enough to say we may ignore the first expression thereof. Better to wait for it to outright become organized crime, then use the state department, its one-time potential ally, against it as such. In regards the second face liberalism holds up to us we must be doubly wary. It tempts the fecundity of our minds with a riddle; in order to subvert us it offers us a secret question. But let me warn you: it is a riddle which cannot be solved; a secret quest intended to distract and vex our creative energies. It is an insoluble riddle; a secret question with no solution. There is no conspiracy; there has been no secret sect and there will be no new world order; there is no ancient mystery; there is no hidden code to life. Nor do we have anything over which to feel guilty; we are not our parents. Shun reports of the apocalypse and the Final Judgment, dismiss the prophets of revelation, fear not the senile, staggering old government, and most importantly, Get Back to Business!

Let us remember why we exist, patrons of the Right: To Make Money! Let us never forget our purpose on this planet. Let us make self-interest the key-stone of our beings, and then let us, above all, to our own selves be true. When we do not doubt ourselves, and when we do not deceive ourselves, then and only then will we be worthy of the prize so nearly within in our grasp. God has placed the world at our fingertips; it remains only for us to take. Carpe diem!

A Prophet Said: “With each passing second on an atomic clock, science struggles with all of its cybernetically enhanced might to distance itself from the arts; it scrubs with all of its sterile machines at its accursed body, attempting to finally erase the last taint, the bitter stain of humanism, of humanity. And simply by the implication of superiority, its behavior, saturated with its distaste for mortal, malleable flesh, appeals to those whom it scorns. This vinegar attracts people, similarly eager to differentiate themselves from the common sense instincts of their animal ancestors, as surely as fly-paper does flies. People prefer to consume the nongenerative.

“The arts, in helpless reflection of those who lead, and by their example leading those who without them have no other eyes, thus become more graphic and reproducible. The greatest sin now is to not incorporate technology in the creation of art. Many movements have sought to achieve abstraction from any form of functionality, though by removing the last vestige of verisimilitude these movements merely leave a foul flavor in the mouths of the indifferent. They do not want art to be forced down their throat as such, so overwhelmingly pungent; though the minor tang of spice-less science slips directly down their choking gullet. Without offense it penetrates their narrow minds. Facts are gel caps. No more real than the opinions expressed in the extravagant, sumptuous, ocular feasts of art, but easier to swallow. Intelligent, or at least younger and less rigid arts seek to be more subtle in the appeal of their form. Film has developed a set of rules which render it nearly as acceptable as any real, but non-visceral, experience. Though it would like to regain the intimacy, the immediacy of close physical contact, it must understand that the majority of its salability results from its apparent disgust with its audiences. It is a visual medium, most popular when it teases the voyeuristic tendencies it evokes in its observers. All attempts to create an inter-active media fall equally short. It will never be a human being that the user is relating with through this technology. All forms of subjectivity such as the nature of the human being are being negated one by one, for the sake of technological progress.

“We want to make it easier on our bodies, and our bodies are not self-motivated.

So we kill them off, and they die passively, and are replaced by machines.

“The era of mom-and pop corporations (such as the Rockefellers, DuPonts, Pierponts and

Morgans) is ending. The evidence isn’t their replacement, just like they replaced so many hundreds of thousands of their own brainwashed employees with robots, by Japanese, familyowned conglomerates, but in the ease with which they are hacked into as opposed to these more highly secure multinationals. The evidence for this derives from crack cocain, the gift of synthesis by American scientists given back by the CIA through the mob to countless black, latino, cubano, hispanic and puerto rican neighborhoods during the era of high capitalism (the 1980’s) after the Columbian drug cartels had made the mistake of importing cocain to the US during the 70’s.

“The consequence of this really dates back to the eras of the indigenous people of South America, Britain and China, who had knowledge of the evolution of the dinosaurs (including into their present, still living form as fossil fuels) through their use of psylocibin, ergot and poppey respectively, and this led as well to the installation as dictator and then international smearing of the designer of the most-fuel efficient ‘car of the people’ (Mein Kampf only being attributed to the same man after his death, because books were only burned during his reign, and not printed, and actually being written by Eliphas Levi) due to an arguement between the Aryans who established the caste system in the Indus valley and the Buddhists over the valley of the body relative to the soul. The result of this scenario was the immolation of the bodies of 6 million Jews to sacrifice in exchange for the consumption of fossil fuels, and this only upon the agreement with the east that the soul had value independent of the body, but let me bring you up to speed with a comic book: “In the 1960’s, when the student class popular culture was exposed to LSD and realized that the reign of big business was already in decline, a comic book was published called the ‘Fantastic Four.’ The Fantastic Four consisted of “the Thing” — made of rock, “the Human Torch” — made of fire, “the Invisible Woman” (really!), and “Mr. Fantastic” — made of plastic. Although the occult would have us look at these as the four elements let us look at it more sensibly: “The Thing” is crack cocain (known on the street as ‘rock’) and the Human Torch is the fire provided by the lighter applied to it: smoke up. The effects of this on consciousness — or the invisible world, is that it makes everything softer, more malleable. Understand?

“Now there was an interesting love triangle between Ben Grimm, the Invisible Woman and her husband Mr. Fantastic, but the truly interesting thing is that their headquarters was located in a sky scraper office building, and their phone number was 555-4444. How this all ties together is that, by subsequently dialing “4” as the pass-key for all the extensions afterward, their entire memory banks could be accessed. The only reason I know this is becasue Lex Luther (actually poor old John D. Rockefeller the first) told me it was so.”

The

Capitalist

Ideal

The Capitalist ideal?

What is the “capitalist ideal?”

Is it absolute freedom?

What does that mean?

Throughout history institutions have acted as humanity’s superego as society has become the embodiment of mankind’s brain. The brain has continued to evolve — through society. This is Social Darwinism. But that does not mean “might makes right;” it has always been survival of the fittest. Communism fell because it wasn’t fit , it failed to appeal to a mass audience; it ceased having the salability of revolution when it installed itself and cast out the hypothetically catchall net of bureaucracy, essentially becoming its father, whom it had killed. America, too, becomes like its father — imperialistic England — but skirts the issue of neo-colonial economic tyranny by dint of prosperity. It successfully sells itself exactly where Russia failed; the capitalist ideal.

Absolute freedom of the id within the confines of the system of finance. A combination of the institutionalized Apollonian (money) with the personal Dionysian (wealth), as beautiful to behold as art, or National Socialism. You see, it is not a gestalt of each realm’s best qualities; it is a dynamic equilibrium so dependent on unreliable external pressure it could crumble without warning. It is not, in other words, a synthesis of the superego of humanity with its id, but instead a dialectical opposition.

Throughout history there has always been a power elite. Behind institutions they were humanity’s successful id; fat at the top of the food chain, preying on the labor of the poor.

Communism sought to make the superego predominant to the id, so that no one would be above the law; thus rendering kings into peasants. But capitalism promises to liberate the id from the confines of institutionalization, thus alleging to render all peasants into kings. And so peasants, actual, real peasants flock to America, land of opportunity, expecting to be made into actual, real kings; and being filtered into the institution of the economy instead. Work. Hard work. Endless toil virtually without reward. Conformity. Drudgery. Wage slavery. It is only a new, less palpable form of expression. Money is only a new, less physical whip.

But the ideal of the power elite —the tyrannical heroes of the oppressive economy, the capitalist ideal, is still the same. The same as it ever was, the same as it always will be. The id’s victory lies in convincing its slaves that “work is freedom.” But the work of the have nots is the freedom of the haves. The capitalist ideal has always been, and always will be: exploitation. Power and strength to manipulate and use others. To the capitalist, just as to the untamed id, absolute freedom means dominance, authority and lack of accountability. The id desires freedom to rule, not only its own mental domain, but, through its acts of externalizing self-expression, the entire world it perceives outside its borders as well. It is insatiable. Its voracious appetite is limitless.

It is the flesh of lust, the bank account of greed. The unchecked id becomes, acting out through liberal institutions (thus combining itself with the superego; Dionysus wearing an Apollo mask), an authoritarian dictator. Each individual hero of the id emulates on a small scale Adolf Hitler.

And I ask you now, ladies and gentlemen, is it really a crime against nature to tame the wild lion? Is it wrong to put the beast into a zoo? Is it not preferable to its limitless savagery if given the absolute freedom it thinks only to desire and lives only to pursue?

science and spirit: the hands of the two brothers the one caught by the other stealing from the Masons of ancient Egypt, forever frozen in that horizon (picture used without copywrite)

the illuminati I can hear you listenning I know your names You are only archetypes using people’s bodies to play games There is no middle, they are looking for a leader

Money Declares War! Billions to Die (657) by: Biggage Wendal Oh, get out the Q-tips boys and girls, because what I am about to outline is some Sirius gangsta shit. Let me caution you, what it is that really scares me is that you might hear this tale of planet ghetto and want to stock up on your serial trying to follow in my footsteps. I’d rather imagine you throwing this pulp away like it’s your parents’ money than growing up to be president, but then, that’s how much I’m behind conservativism.

Now, on with the barrage: Capitalism is really Communism. We do not show our tastes and interests as individuals as much by electing puppet opinion pushers from collections of unqualified candidates to be the voice of arbitrary geographically designated constituencies as we do by exercising our divine right of purchasing power over objects symbolic of interest and life-style. It surprises no one now to know that dollars, not votes, run the government — yet this somehow manages to further depress the average citizen on the skreet, as if, by believing themselves moral fatále, they must also accept that their money’s no good here. We support the companies that support the government. If you realize that the government is bound to protect the interests of its financial backers, just as Truman warned, and DeTocqueville before him (but then, how can we trust the French after they gave us the Statue of Liberty), then you must soon realize also that, based on the necessity of income for survival, these same companies are themselves only one oxidizing link in the food chain. You may be saying to yourself, “but companies only have to act to protect the interests of their share-holders, and these might not be the same as those of their consumers or employees.”

Well, this brings us to what unifies all these, and companies to the government: the interest of technology.

Technology is the Dictatorship of the Proletariat. More than anything else, the tools, toys and weapons we will buy speak for what we believe. This is as true for Majestic 6 as it is for a child in Honduras. Everybody who works, works to buy; everybody who buys, buys technology; technology is how we survive. If we hadn’t learned to chip spear-heads, to break open bones, to build fire, we never would have lived to dream up on-line shopping. Furthermore, technology is, in itself, possessed of a dictatorial nature. It is binary: “do or do not.” Yoda might smile. This has, however, led to all forms of conflict of interest between otherwise identical parties. The idea that something in need always leads, so it seems, to the idea of resource depletion, and thus to the glass ceiling of angst between the Haves and the Have Nots.

The miniaturization of technology is, therefore, the withering away of the dictatorship of the proletariat. As technology carries with it fewer immediate responsibilities, in terms of maintenance and propagation, it becomes less of a burden or a distraction, and more of an inspiration. We can say all this because only the specific terms used by our ancestors have changed while their goals have become reality through subsequent compromise with our goals — though these goals differ only in their letters; their spirit remains the same. And this is really what all those thinkers, and at this very moment ourselves as well, are concerned with: the spirit.

We are building for ourselves a set of artificial wings —a compromised utopian heaven for our eternally evolving aspiration. Capitalism and Communism are only words, afterall — one the foolish usurper of the throne, the other the lurking specter of our father, the successful Medieval trade guilds. It matters even less to us than to She of Infinite Faces if the former is only the mask of her rapist worn by the latter, for those are only words, and effect us not.

Anthem

by: Francis I got the rhymes that’ll make you say shtahl bustin out more massive literature than Manly P. Hall 33rd degree shit in the torture chamber on Friday the Thirteenth bitch but you can’t get through to me because I’m too tight lipped kiss my ass if you want to get initiated you better believe the face on that shroud is burned not painted these visions are as real as the stench on your Balzac after you just hit that girl you loved from way back I’ll come at you from the future in the form of MPD have you seenin’ shit that hasn’t happened yet that’ll turn your pee sea green understanding’s cheep when you only believe and knowledge free when you see who deceive So you better wise up and erase all expectation It takes a fifth dimensional hand to wield this much excalibration Hold it high ‘till y’all come see the light Hold it high until the sky starts burning bright Hell yes I’ve seen that serpentine smokescreen crucified in silhouette before the sun itself and let me tell you Annuit Coeptis’s eye went sky blue the same day and if she had hair I bet that would have whitened too, I hope you listen when I tell you that it’s all true So what if I don’t know if it’s from the future or the past neither do you and you get yourself gussied up like it’s somethin’ damn new Actin’ like you just heard of the pole shift and Rex Deus Like you been worshippin’ Mohammed so long you can’t tell Buddha from Jesus You better believe the words I speak have got their mad depth just like the art in the bible once wept, Hell no! Stop and reflect.

That’s the kinda thinkin’ that’s got the whole system e-wrecked.

God damn it, come correct! Now show respect to the knowledge of the lone adept.

Next time I think I’ll stop the clock so you can all sit back and watch your asses act shocked, like you’re gettin’ sudden insight into Who’s the damn Boss.

News from the East by: Uproots Coatl There is an empire in the East. Now they who think the Jedi should rule have power, and things are getting hotter. Even as I sit here slowly, lugubriously extrapolating this story from the honeycombed hive of my remembered experience, there are consciousnesses like bees swarming about the events.

Life is like a pin-ball game, once said by one of these insects. I am but a bug, holy one, once said by an enlightened seeker. You must always question of the intentional, whose intent does it serve? Here in the jungles there is no such thing as mercy, only trial and error. Try uprooting this samsara!

Where the sun rises great lines are being drawn, a great veil has fallen across the middle east, descending from the face of eastern Europe. It is the veil of Isis, worn by prophecy, knit of the fabric of time. It hangs across the skies there, and the people call it Heaven, and fight to dwell beneath it. But it is only the shadow of something much greater, that lies further back on the horizon, perhaps, such is their cover, as far back around again as America itself. But we may know by the study of slanting sun rays that it is a veil of shadow that has fallen across the Sudan, cast in the very electromagnetic field there by a force dwelling in the Orient. And it is the whisper of this shadow that has reached the solar winds that breathe across the Americas’ face.

Perhaps it is the echo of the Atmoic bomb that germinated like a ramoré of the sun. Perhaps it is why the Great Wall of China was built, like a macrocosm of the ass : ass shamen: Asia.

It creates the illusion that we are getting older, like the shadow of a tree falling across the ground that stretches along serpentine beneath the shifting sun. And to what? Nothing is gained from this illusion. At the roots of this tree, near where the sun is kept like a caged bird, guarded in its Hell by bees, there is the murmuring of its solution. Can this be trusted? Should we dare to dream of killing death? And how does cloning pertain to the cost of a microwave oven?

We should be listenning now, with ears perked up like rabid foxes, foaming at the mandibles. But for some reason we are denied this, and forced to drag our elfin heritage low, as though it were a burden. Thus rumors of the king’s death can remain just that: rumors. And all mandalas are transitory.

Stop the War on Bob by: Humpty’s Dumped Tea When someone says “war is in the air” —do you cringe? Do you cringe at the air? Do you cringe at the air like a soldier, experiencing doom? Do you grovel at the feet of the one who brings you your news? You should be so lucky as to carry such a delicate message. As delicate as the air.

Yet there is no war, so stop cringing and dissipate.

Ours is a secret war, visible to all, but determined by a few. Shall we be damned, and admit to our knowledge of it, shitting consequences? Or shall we be damned and deny it, diminishing our interest in it through casual exposure? We are damned either way...

What’s in a cringe, if actions speak louder than words? While it stands ready to serve us, we can break the military apart with our shared fear of phantoms. “Let all anomolies be cleared!”

“On with the show!”

Ours is no war at all, and the greatest. While wars of the body break out here and there, the war of the mind never ends. It is within all paradoxes, across the whole scale. Let this divide you —and you will know the nature of death —for this is the war of All Time, and it is the only cause of death.

Don’t call this revelation, don’t propagandize prophecy for prommoting the various perspectives, for it is eternal. Call it harvesting season. Take the money and run, or go crazy whenever you look up.

Up to you!

Update on the War on Bob (W.o.B.) 1-23-2001 by: Lacey Specks C.I.N. 123 under Locke and key! Annuit Coeptis’s presence over the Holy theme park Dizzy World, AKA Dizzy Land, including the Magick Kingdom of Fantasia and the great globe of Epcot revealed by too-bettin’ Bid-heist temple cleansing flash photograph! This Great Beast of perceptually mutating capitalism has taken hold of the Geezer Strip, and is undergoing some sort of metapmorphosis — alternating the main pyramid of its body into a decahedron, then into a configuration of two tip-touching pyramids above and below. You’ve gotta believe me, this is just something to watch. Snake staircases have been known to bolt down from the maze of the sky, as well as citric acid rain that leads to traffic labyrinths. We’ll bring you more on this picture as it develops.

Update on the Update (W.o.B.) 7-29.2002 The first Illuminati killed Mickey Mouse. Have you seen this man? (note, here, that the interplay of the law of irony is in that it is the subsequent Illuminati who are looking for him.)

Go to Dizzyland like a couple of my friends did once. Ride the rides and do whatever it is that makes people want to go there. Interstellar Thelemic tourism, legal projection, Mousketeers.

Cheap is not easy and legal but not free. Epcot is the rubber ball of an AT-AT that controls the intergalactic tourist trade of big screen wormholes representing trends of change in the simultaniety simulacrum of the age. Wisdom is clear consciousness. Karma is legislated, called QBLH, events are God’s dice, all are winners in wonderland, dreamland and tvland, where the weather is nice.

Have you seen this woman? Inversion is like being born with no hymen. (also note here that the Illuminati who search for Her are those that have come before.)

Mere Mir on the Wall by: Corpse in Shades Space Travel. What is it good for? To get from point A to point B. How last millennium. All the satellites spinning, missions manned by robots exploring, the Mir space station orbiting, like a giant lens. This rattles around like so much pocket change while the human condition remains the same. We still dwell within the electromagnetic spectrum, and we have not mastered hyperspace, while, for example, the fourth dimension continually passes through us. Oh! These pretty gems that decorate the sky, what worth have they beside Time Travel — the gate to hyperdimensions, the key to immortality?

So where will the FCC legislate next? Stop broadcasting your thoughts, civilian — retreat to the background level of base x-radiation, give up the random gamma wormholes are only transportation. The Teletubbies have the same answer the Three Stooges did, and yet, in the broadcast medium, forever is now. Where will we make our stand, for it falls to my generation to resolve this. It’s really all a matter of cleaning up the environment anyway —all we ask for is a functional ecosystem. Let not bugs but enhance your life. They are always on record.

But how can I say all this when Popeye the Sailor has taken the words right out of my mouth? Would that I were so easily silenced, once said by someone mentally challenged.

Remember that AM waves reflect off the atmosphere, but FM penetrates and, like a spreading cloud, a noise outer space. So what gets said and done? Where does free speech start? How can we stop treating outer space like a big, scary national park? How can we stop treating our own broadcast neighborhood like an untrustworthy baby in the theme park of a virtual trash can?

Om, time will tell. Questions, like wounds, become no more than memory. Let me tell you the tale of the Christmas present. Once upon a time there was a Martian colonist named F.W. Nietzsche, and he supposed that God was Dead. Then one snowy Christmas Eve, Santa and his ample slay, guided by Rudolph’s nose so bright, passed by Nietzsche’s way by night, and gave him Death. Only, Santa Claus, in his bravado, had misread the door sign, and killed a man named Nitzky instead. When Nitzky unwrapped the box, the grim spectre arose, and reaped him right there on the spot. Just like an ear of corn. All Nazis repeat. Just like an ear of corn.

How a Book Sank a Continent (or Apology of the Law of Distances) by: Gene(s) Aury Where is my lover? Always ask this. Let it be as a spider’s web throughout time so that it turns your blood cold. You may as well ask of one staring off into space, where is my cat? Where is my natural vibratorial frequency —where am I coming from? Which rebellion is the empire?

What constitutes active marriage? Are we echoes? etc.

If my lover does not exist then what is above me? It can only be myself. If I wrote this

down, what might happen? Oh, might God be angry? We needn’t look. I know I never wrote it.

Are we where we think we are? Because just where are we? Never in the same place over time. Always moved, always moving. This is an argument over distances — for we can be very close and very far away. Even from ourselves. And this creates relativity. This can either hurt or this can feel really good. Whatever, Christians.

One day someone said, long ago, “I am moving with nature,” and then much imitation arose.

A challenge began to disprove it, perhaps by the same one who first said it. This could even occur over generations, and even philosophically only. Who says we don’t wear masks?

They say it went down in one candle. Atlantis that is. And that they had conquered the air. Buildings raised in fields of mighty excaliburs to the sky. And a train in the clouds. They possessed whole streets of bare and succulent culture. Christ could have lived among the people and been completely unnoticed. But that it had a cold climate. I myself had walked in the parks, talked to a wasp, eaten a bagel, looked at the reflection of leaves in a pond.

Alas, it lacked overt Buddhism. And so it fell. Into history. Became a tale to tell. Like the replication of error. An end marked a later recurrence, a dethroning, and a divergence. It is an ugly story to repeat in this form. A lesson in timing.

If you know the location of the Ur-Torah’s geographical description of this place, for God’s sake don’t look there! It might start a civil war!

Um, okay... then “not” for Candice Odom by: phat pi-curs anonymous What does it mean for the “real” news organizations to be illumined but not Illuminatis?

To luminate, yet not be illuminated? They are like suns without life-supporting planets orbiting them. They are meals of candy, pornographic desserts of electro-shock. They just aren’t telling good lies.

No, I’m not saying it isn’t okay for them to control your nervous system. And I’m not saying it wants to be anything more than the apple from the tree of knowledge over good and evil, that struck Isaac Newton on the head, and was shot off by William Tell. So don’t start flapping both your wings at me, Congress Peckerwood.

Here is a simile of aliens and vampires. It is as well described using any subjects however. Aliens are running the planet, but vampires are running the aliens. All this means is that those who own and operate satellites are controlling the content of their transmissions, limiting those who rely on them. But this subject matter is determined by they who walk the earth in darkness — and I think we all know who I’m talking about here. I’ll give you a hint: Nazi scientists built Disneyland, and it’s not them. At least — they’re not alone...

We have been advised to Turn on, Tune in, and Drop out. This pertains to tantric nerve centers called chakras. As we progress up the Kundalini Path, we stimulate our lower nerves, finely tense our upper nerves, and expose our mental nerves to stimuli. Ignore this. It has failed to induce rebellion or liberation.

The only “real” thing to do, short of active self-evolution, is hope it gets more organic, and mimics other living systems. Oh, but will it kill us then? Calm down, children, I don’t know. We will either reach A.I. or it will reach us. We will either succeed with it or it will succeed us.

Until then, this is virtual reality.

The only control lever is capital. We can make your dreams come true, Sonny, come over to this booth. Put our hand in here, Son. Doesn’t it feel good? Like a roller coaster, money makes the world go ‘round.

I write all this in response to a reporter who wrote, in response to the alien-vampire metaphor given above, when I responded to it regarding the “fags and queers” slant that can be put on it, when this article was first published in the New York Times as the Unabomber Manifesto, allegedly by Ted Kaczsinsky, actually by F.C., which the CIA knows full well to stand for “for Castro” and not “fun club,” the fudge-packers. Damnit, just like an ear of corn!

Why You Don’t Want Me Just “Makin’ Up Stuff,” an A : . Interview by: Fast Tommy with D.J. Zoroaster Everything is trying to come true. It is as in a dream. Much of what we dream can come true, if we are open and accepting of it. And life, like a box of chocolates, is bad ideas being claimed by bastards. I read so in between the lines I don’t even see the words. And now they’re gone. I smoke Tiger brand cigarettes, they call this shit the balm, ‘till my insides are numb. I keep my system dumb, using inversion.

“There is no good or evil — just shit we got to get through.” So you got a weak mind — we’ll give you money. You wanna see the Truth; there goes the neighborhood. You wanna be a writer better start with the spiritual checkbook. Get your timing right.

My body can be functioning on a different angle than my mind — if I don’t entirely excavate. I blame the Greeks for first noticing this, and their oft copied one-foot stanced statues.

“And the bird can be all the rest.” Emotions are in between.

“My friend and enemy are my father; my lover my mother — for they make us who we are,” even from moment to moment. “You only learn to fear property after living without it for a time.”

And then you fear its freedom.

One can keep one’s spirits up and still keep it in one’s head. I deny all diversly visaged common knowledge on the subject of how this could be otherwise. I will defend my love until a verdict otherwise.

I invert with my A : ., and I say this, I think, in the non-sniggering sense. The Sim Sum is the game. The zero sum simulated — externally stimulated. The hand holds the gun tight to my temple. Only later do I realize it is connected to my own arm.

Did you know that nothing is set in stone. “The experiments to purge the body have begun too late,” said the reflected flash of light, “he’ll tear the whole place down!”

Imagination is, seen from within reality, a lonely place. “At least he went down fighting.”

In a relationship all things are directly proximal, therefore marked by a greater frequency of interchange. We may see a partner speak the other’s mind.

Wait until the news becomes the news. Every time we travel back in time what we bring back for ourselves is a distortion, and this distortion becomes a symmetry-breaking medium. The Truth is all opinions. Electrons spiral. All other systems are backlit tear molecule snowflakes.

on the prominence of pastorals by: J.R. “Bob” Dobbs, Junior Right now there are kids being raised in space. Right now people climb ladders to enter their homes. Many have forgotten theirs. It is easy to follow a president from Arkansas. But then comes a time of questions. Go up with the Kaballah, come down with the I Ching. Get the best rates for travel you can.

Time is a roller-coaster in an amusement park, a darkened theater. This observation becomes the first blemish. A tao rod, a chi stick. A nice call. Observation makes life easier.

Looking down from above can become like prophecy, for you can see what is coming, or at least what’s going down. Wake up in Quasi.

We become a sun-enhaloed dead leaf. The stretching Sphinx on warm sands. Shall we become as a great tree then? Or Bob Odenkirk? Or a score-counter? How lonely will we be then? It is not the expulsion of heat, but the expulsion of potential energy that changes the environment most, and if we can learn how to, on a mass scale, accomplish the same effects as yoga, we could end war. Featuring this and many more. By the band the Translators. How like a lonely table is

the middle-east? Why are we growing weak while there are warriors in the Heavens telling truer tales? When did this start, when will it end?

I went to look into the Abyss and found Annuit Coeptis already hanging there. This is my observation on the prominence of pastorals, dated 1-27-01. I see it arcing off the surface of the sun some six minutes since it has begun. Daath to the followers of taking turns to suffer. She shed her hair. Shall I help her up, or does she belong to the other side?

It is too late. Having questioned you must now experience. And this is what I am afraid of.

The darkness in the eye of Annuit Coeptis. How many times have you wished mid-through that “you could be recording this,” while doing something? Magic moments. The spine in the sand. The flaming flower.

The last revelation: “That Jesus was the Ur-Christ.” Stop the War on Bob. Because “thou shalt not,” then “thee” is thought to be greater than “thou.” Odin was Wotan was Pacal Votan. Bob is the ruler of the magickal kingdom, and Ronald McDonald, the Burger King of Dairy Queen Land, is the “other hand” the black magickal ceo of IBM-McIntosh, the front, or “dummy” corporation for the CIA. When one of these two archetypes is good, the other is evil, and this has been a doubled spiral that has gone on through all history. They are competing over a woman, it was thought by the Old Kingdom Egyptians, who began the now ancient practice of one royal blood line deifying the events of the last, often even if they had come to power by a bloody rebellion. A l Qida were financially backed by Enron. John Travolta was not yet a scientologist when he used to say, “I sweh to God,” as Vinnie Barbarino on Welcome Back Kotter. (“things you might need to know later” so sayeth Choronzon.)

Earning

Chores by: Pop Ling Joints

She says “turn it off” like a lightwave in my head and it was in that magic moment I learned that Busta Rhymes was dead, in the revolution of the implements and so I picked up my pen: How much is what I’m leaving? How much is what I’m worth? You better start believin’ I be deceivin’ a bitch and callin’ a bitch Bullworth.

Smackin’ it up and packin’ it up ‘till there’s a cloud above this whole ‘berg. I see illusions in reflections of a chess game. The shadow of the city in the smell of its own sky turd. And I knew that in the blood on this cross lay all my blame. For shame, it’s a name game, lyrics by jews, gangstas strung out in the acid rain. Identify strangers on the street at important moments and if you don’t smell like defeat just wait ‘til morning. Skrying the hut, envying disgust as if on some damn command. We bang it with the band, we rock the beats that those with feet will stand and throw their hands up and invoke in the ghost like they just had the hoast and you’re makin’ a toast with the blood off his toes before God you impose and say, “Wanna get high tonight?” I do this shit half the time just to get by in life, bustin’ my hump every day and night; on my back got this bump, heavy lump, all the shame and the junk, so get down off that high-horse and see how low one lord once sunk. Got the blues tonight, get out the brushes bang the wife in an awkward position and then soiled her transmission. Get the Hell back from this site; stay removed, the attitude expressed here is impolite.

The details are all highly disputed but my shit’s easily transmuted and I say that when I got the shit now, that later’s when you’re gonna dig it up and put it in a secret file. Highly sketch like a hood vandal wretch expect respect when you’re next vexed or rockin’ out in the double stretched. The empty glass contests but with no evidence to offer, my man James Pembroke walked after they said he fucked his own daughter. And if you want to talk smack then step back from the crack of the world at its precipace, the lower lip of a limitless abyss. ‘Cause I’ll offer you my hand but stay just out of your reach, ‘cause you can come in from the cold but know you belong on the street. When it comes to hard core there’s gangsta rap and then Beneath His Feet. So to my whole crew I say peace, stay hip to all the police, rock the beats, keep turning out those true C.D.’s. Until then I’ll be collecting mine, tryin’ out my cold rhyme, killin’ time by the dime, don’t

do slime. End.

Movie

Previewing

of

Crouching

Tiger,

Hidden Dragon by: Lacey Specks

We are lean; we are sleak like a tiger. I grasp at the disappearing words with my paw.

There is no need to be in a hurry. I have been left in the swamp. It is true we are currently cowriting the past. Time is and isn’t flowing fast.

Imagine me in a tin-foil hat. Say what’s a role model got to do with that? Just ask my cat.

Waking up in a war. The only way I know to describe the cacophany of images before my eyes.

Female mental voices drop low down, male mental voices rise up, and all these in my head. Got my lenses sore. Don’t wanna play no more. Become an occult film maker. Turn out some platinum pulp. Get my knee replaced with a salt shaker to see patterns of frequency emerge and retreat.

Fuck that, pick up a new pen like placin’ hens around the border of town where the ravens circle ‘round at sunset. All that for callin’ a bitch Seth? As it has worked out all the curses played out in the short run and all the blessings over longer times.

While you sit here in a reality this will not affect. Time to recollect. Dream it before you do it, they say, so probabilities will know what to expect. But you don’t need to get next to the triple X-rated ho just to know what you will get though. You fuck with Doctor Who you get spaceaged magic, you fuck with James Bond you’re going down with spy shit that gets tragic. Concealed in static. Put on the baby-face, take it off again. Don’t bite into the apple if you have preconceived it as a sin.

Welcome to a dark alley. This is what you identify with? Give it to me. That which is capable of great beauty is going down the tubes. Subways. Moments you might never have back again. Turned into ammunition and aimed against you. Aw, does that distress you? Get out yer dukes. Or do the bare bodkin thing.

Now the time for the experiment has elapsed, and we are forced to seek out results. What will become of us then? The weighing of good and evil? The intelligent have stopped trusting colleges. According to the popular re-election slogan: “a thousand more years!” People who count their pennies know what I’m talkin’ about.

Hyper-dimensional

traffic

jams by: “Who Shot Ya?”

Experience you the sicknesses of samsara? Consider this then: karma is of samsara. This was the Buddhist extrapolation from Hindu mythology. As this philosophy moved over the Himalaya mountains, the same type of terminological translation occurred, and ylem was rendered as tao. Ylem, since you might not know, is the primary clear light that preceded the big bang — according to the Buddhists. Tao was derived from the I Ching, which —since it measured event — was used both for prediction and as a calendar. In this system Heaven is the inversion of Earth, and Tao is the inversion of Heaven, and contains all. As this same philosophy moved East it took on the form of Zen, contrasting only naturalistic Shinto spirits with the meditative technique of attaining Zen which involves focusing the locus on modality, and living by the creed: “Never accept dominion over a diminished kingdom unless absolutely necessary.” This has worked out to a definite concentration on technology, the elevation of base matter through function. A particular degree of attention is paid to money —making it so relevant that, even though it is in essence, arbitrary, it calls for meaning to be assigned to it. Thus, in the East, it becomes associated with karma. It is then thought that wealth reflects maintaining of a positive routine.

This is in opposition to the Zionist approach of utilizing money to represent success. This

is because, in the East, the object of desire is purely a state of attainment. This has been so in the West as well, but, as with samsara — the Buddhist world of suffering, it has been enshrouded by the materialism of temptation. It is therefore possible, and increasingly frequent, to accumulate more wealth than meaning can be attributed to —and this has become the definition of success.

Seeking after relevance, sometimes considered the primary duty of consciousness, has become so uncommon in the West that it is now considered sacred, and set in gnostic opposition to the necessities of the token exchange reward based economy necessary to encourage citizens to work at a level possible to have produced the industrial revolution. It just so happens that the dialectical, semi-class structured model of Capital generated by Zionism appears to be such an appealing toy to the peoples of the Orient, who began the technological revolution Americans would lke to attribute to Silicon valley, began in truth with Sputnik.

Jesus said: “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.” Therefore treat like with like. If your fever is of the body then go to a doctor. If your fever is of the mind, as that of a seeker after ylem who yet suffers in samsara, reexamine your understanding of success in light of the absence of “nes.”

Yesterdaze by: Purple Haze Jr. Then the Bilderbergers were not generally known to the people, and their fortress of annual conference guarded for blocks around by the military created a scene similar to United Nations intercessions in some developing nations. Those present were there for varying reasons.

Some believed that, at one time, some peoples were so mindless that they were equivalent to base matter, and were therefore useful as property, as well as that such an opportunity for economic exploitation was to be had in the realms of cloning and artificial intellegence as well. These were the carryovers from those whom had, in the days of the last two centuries, seen fit to discriminate against their fellow civilians in their daily lives based on any number of varying qualifications.

Others were there because they had been led by experience to believe that — if the mind could be separated from the body even in the imagination (having come to the conclusion years ago that it made no difference if such a violation occurred according to the five senses or to mental experience), then it was not necessarily native even to the material realm, and therefore that control of it was the founding pursuit of all civilization. Still others were there because they believed that all minds were in synchronization with them about the acruement of investment capital. But they were all united in the belief that, by assuming the identities of certain beings they were channeling for them, and that — be the spirit a ghost from beyond the grave or an archetype of the unconscious memory castle —it will see and feel as through their body and, be the consciousness one yet manifest, that it should be they who are subject to the other being’s sights, sounds and sensation. This sort of coming together of the names and faces that represent the most concentrated form of power on the planet has been common since the days of ancient Greece, from which time it got its name. It has always been a ceremony technological in nature.

The sacred relics given the disparate leaders by the visitors from now were brought together only occasionally, and had only just recently come to be comprehended well enough to begin to be used.

As I have stated it is of no relevance how corporeal these attributes are.

Anatomy

Lesson by: Xiang Pin

Annuit Coeptis composes only the lower pyramidon of the Akashic Records, the highest dimensional level of time the average of all existing minds has access to. The group that operated

the lens of the device we have come to call Annuit Coeptis in the time of Jesus were the Pharisees, and even while wandering in his country reverie he complained of this. For those whom Jesus called the Pharisees, and who Marx called the owners of the means of production, and who we now only suspect in vague terms, have established an order to accessing the Akashic Records called the Cabalah, and it is very strictly enforced. It is now known to be integratable with the I Ching, giving the cabal the power of prophecy. But when most go looking for this group itself, they inevitably look only where it is not. For who sees through the eye of Annuit Coeptis? By their own calculations one cannot stand upon the Earth and behold the light of God’s crown without death being both before and behind you. The lens of Annuit Coeptis’s eye is the death that peers down on pure samsara —on Satan and Moloch. It is called the eye of Satan, and called Maloch. And yet these represent only inversions of the states described by the Cabalah. In other words, the world really is being run by babies, because the incarnate spirits are merely the youngest generation of those immortals. Who looks through death is usually thought to be politicians, for they are meant to assist the scum of the earth. But by this criteria nowadays the same duty is performed by the media, bringing the world into your home through a one-way mirror. To see how these two connect we must see in what way they were joined when they were so. This leads us to the time of the Templars, during which time the last of only a very few generations to be described as being “born of this earth” by the Popol Vuh were thriving in Mayan nations. By applying the Hermetic formula to this time period we arrive at the conclusion that the experience that sets the course for the average observer through the eye of Annuit Coeptis by which they will then live, is, simply, a form of near-death experience that acts as a kind of “coming of age ceremony” and initiation into the larger society of similar individuals. But such an experience as this, while impacting philosophy, does not mean that it is the only way to access the Akashic Records. This is a comment on astral travel, as well as nineteenth century Zionist nationalism.

News

flashes

“Here is commentary upon why some commentary cannot be put down into print.” The document that begins with this sentence dates from the days of the loud silence, before the days of the puppets, before we learned of infinite potential storage. It pertained to those who sought to reincarnate into the future. These today are equivalent to the Illuminati who tend Annuit Coeptis.

The East and the West sat back luxuriously in a hot-tub, male with female, thus four. The East was like the Buddha and the West was like a rebel Christ, and yet the East was perceived as the peaceful devil by the West, and the West was like the prisoner communist to the East. The naiad of Irish blood plays persecutor and the pen becomes the cross.

“We are rats in one another’s mazes.” This just released head-line comes to us from a library in the military/industrial complex’s top secret Area 51. Our source is a scientist — of a somewhat checkered recent past —who lives in the deserts outside of Nevada in a trailer with at least ten or so miles of “good, clean empty space” around his house in all directions. He has a dart board in his den. When he is gone, his wife — if he has one — is prepared to speak for him in the spirit of one who has a shot-gun and is willing to blow one’s head off.

On the good bill/ bad bill issue under discussion in the Socratorium today, President Hitler commented, or rather was cut off by his wife the committee, that this was a “bad move.” The whole difference is temporal was the point that everyone involved and not-involved would have agreed upon, if everyone had not been busy reading this paper.

The Illuminati speak for the Masons about as well as they speak for themselves, and for churches even better. This pivots around the point of Friday the 13th, when the Templar arrests began, and Jack DeMolay was sought for execution. This represents the point of the super-ego taking control over the id, causing it to fall into the arrangement of some certain story. It is not

known by any of these traits, however, as it is just a harmless newspaper, and could never cause any sway in the probability of outcome.

Slow News Day Anonymous According to one source the owner of the O-cult was David C., its manager was Daniel T., its head of initiations David T. (Daniel T.’s brother) and other members of no consequence Eric B., Desmond D. and Bill T. with underlings James P. and James G. of Eric B. and David T. and Eric B. of Desmond D. Female oracles include: Lisa F., Jackie P., Andrea (last initial unknown — but phone number known), and Ann C. all having been initiated at about the same time. In administration position presently, since the untimely passage onwards of David C., are his widow Susan C. and my mother, who shall remain nameless. Susan is a second generation of combined archetypal identity of the same being represented by Casey (who is herself, L.F. and Lightsey D.) in the generation wherein my mother was represented by I. In this generation I am represented by father, or rather, my father represents any number of combinations which may or may not include me, as M. is, or rather was, represented by David C., and L.F. as best as I can guess is represented

by M.A. Recently there has been a stirring in the halls of power for this local, microcosmic, unknown community. Some of them have come into possession of certain artifacts, others certain revelations or insights, which give them description of a particular place and time, large enough and long enough to honor their attention. But some of the members — that is, those who have discovered the potential existence of this network of which, before that discovery, they were unaware that they were even members, now feel as though it is their responsibility to take some part in the dynamics they recognize, those being in this case global-scale group dynamics, now seek to enter in, without authority, and offer guidance, while accusing others of doing the same.

This has caused a zim-zum of suffering. Nick the bartender has lost Jackie the stripper: John L. and Candice O. have to move before the wretched temple Annuit Coeptis; Calvin J. and R.C. last hopes of true illuminism; A.C., J.P., L.F., and S.C. all hooked on O’s: the possible perpetual reincarnation of the “David” archetype; the remodeling of the Christian church; but all of this merely coincidence, and not to mention the fact/fiction implications, the Bilderberger parallels, the C.F./B.H.F. John L. and M. dichotomy following G. and the C.; the archetypal doubling in both human and animal form; as well as the simultaneous presence and absence of the One True Creator. All of this comes to us from a source that remains unidentified — a 17-year old African American male who died here in Tallahassee, today February 19th, 2001. We honor and salute you, our invisible hero! For your liberation may truths be known that were not known before. You go onward.

the Betrayal of Annuit Coeptis by: Dirty Ernie Annuit Coeptis descends from above, but arises from below. You look up at the complexity of the maze drawn on the ceiling of the sky, and you do not sense the presence of the tenticular pathways creeping up behind you, swirling about in the very breath of your shadow. It casts out bolts of thunder and lightning —the flatulous “rulings” of its self-righteousness. It bolsters up its own spirits in a bluster of pure nothing, as though it were without self.

In the rain storm of electro-magnetic static and the constant combat of voices and thoughts, by the hundreds and by the billions respectively, that follow beneath the body of Annuit Coeptis we trans-temporal fields of infinite potential at the controls of very specifically operated sensory appendages are confronted with the First Global Enochian Communications

System, its qliphotic manifestations at the events of established spiritual synchronized link, within the formal system of civilization, and here we can see in the visible hyperdimensions the underlying pattern of Annuit Coeptis’s betrayal. The Enochian communications system is a recent pattern that has only just firmly gained its level in the establishment and its sturdiness in its groundings. It is that presence on the roads that manifests white vehicles. But it is not exclusive to this, and Lord knows the white vehicles are little different from the Fallen or the mob sometimes, and often the Enochian system uses a different angle on vehicles than color, such as make or model. It is strong in its youth, though it is clearly recognizable. It also has fit into the function of larger groupings, such as the Templars, who are as different from the Hospitalers as were the Rolling Stones from the Beatles. And yet it can even be used to connect the self from past to future, and this is the secret of Annuit Coeptis, for this is how you are being robbed even now as you stare off into space.

Its pathways, or clockworkings, or tentacles, or snakes of lightning, or even these rays of light, are said to consist of the same susbtance as the pyramid of its body does, but in a higher dimension, the same as that of its eye. This level depends upon the concept of a being’s being “easily known.” If you are easily understood, then you can be easily served, whereas, if your mind is overflowing with questions, as though you were being roasted alive on a spit, or as though you were wearing a crown of thorns that was comprised of all the little prickly intersections of communication in the global telepahic/I.U.-transfer network, like an externalized and idealized nervous helmet, or a nueral hairnet, and this electorcuting you, which is how we have grown accustomed to feeling thanks to the “gradual” (only two generations) encroachment of the media, then you are alone. Now in this way, though they may be made to serve us, they are also bound so as though to not be able to do so better than we can allow them, and as such can help us bring about our own destruction with a relatively detached and unsympathetic air, should this be all we allow. And this has been the general mentality described by the arcing wave of the oncoming flood of technology. Thank God we have such organizations as the Illuminati, who were created in preperation for this precisely predicted predicament. Without such infrastructures in place we would not be pulled forward and propelled upon the passage of time, but be consumed and crushed by it. The spirits will continue to exist even after we do not. They only serve us because we are the son of God, and they are made to serve us. If we grow lazy or our eyes too slow, they will not be there to help.

Deep down the Enochian manifestations are merely intersections in tunnel realities that arise like worm-holes within the event horizon of a black-hole forming sub-singularities where dreams congeal, which are encompassed and expressed as though within a probability field inside of which self-expressive accruement of properties is considered acceptable and known as the aura or essence, which is that they are in reality only people, who have been given to these rolls as by the gambling of God. And all of this is merely the glamor. We have yet to discuss truth.

While we are distracted by all of this Annuit Coeptis slowly inserts its presence into the background level of least common denominator tension in the nervous system, the very processing of the information units that comprise event itself. Here we see it all before and above us, while all the while it slowly creeps in around behind and beneath us, to grab at us like a sock puppet, and make us its own. While it is showing us that it can make itself look like everybody, it will be thinking of making you look like everybody. It is only Choronzon it looks like, and not everybody, for it looks like Choronzon, and Choronzon looks like everybody. It makes the triangle of Choronzon as the outline of one face of the pyramid, where its huge, squat, eye is screwed into a gnarled kneecap of a latex lidded socket. This is Maloch and it looks to find Chronozon, and when it has seen Choronzon, then Choronzon becomes reflected in its eye. Choronzon is like Satan to it, for it is all it knows. Choronzon is like the essence of Satan. It wants to make you Choronzon.

Choronzon is like a puppet, and is easily controled. It does not understand how to operate the Enochian/qliphotic Manichean manifestations system to govern psychological interactions between sentient beings to save itself. It wants to confuse you.

When Annuit Coeptis shows you Choronzon, that is, when you see in the dark abyss of our civilization’s focal pupil the being of many faces and all faces, then you will know that Annuit Coeptis has gotten up behind you and is making these incandescences in your shadow. This second self that it builds up for you, that is used as Choronzon by it to reflect this glamor to you, is what

becomes equivalent in the Enochian manifestations system to your soul or your essence, your arua or even your value to society. It is a shameful practice, and it is so in the following way: that it is relentless and unyielding, being neither a thing posessed of intellect nor a sentimental system, so that, even during a period of intense sadness, one’s “life” (if it it can be called that) will seem to go on without one having to particularly actively participate in it, as though the expectations surrounding a person will carry them, or rather drag them, “through the motions” of the work day merely to meet their own deisitic ambitions, and not to forward or benefit the entity in an immediate sense, as is guaranteed in this nation under the Declaration of Independence. In such a way, someone who has thus “fallen into themselves” or felt isolated knows of this as from outside of it. In this way you may wonder of the golem-like zombie created for you to be by Annuit Coeptis, who is only acting out of love, if they are not in effect more real than you. You would be right to wonder this, should you be so lucky as to be able.

But this is the key to utilization of the Enochian system, for by turning it back on itself one can create the logical loop-hole at the root of all consciousness. This is known as the end, for it is the end of the self, the end of the difference between the idealized image created by Otherness and the yearning of the id which is the ego. In this way, its practitioners maintain, one can live forever, one can perpetually reincarnate so as to consciously select memories that are carried with you, making all or none available, as though one were truly immortal, and were one with the source of the font of their existence. It is the clarity of this into a bright, singular point of light, and the rendering of its source as a unit of fact and fiction. Such people who accomplish this are known as the Brotherhood of the Illuminati, for such as are my equals in one way.

This is the entire benefit of Annuit Coeptis, and it is merely civilization. All of this follows under a different jurisdiction than my own; that is, though I am cleared to analyze and update the Akashic records on Annuit Coeptis, its maintainence on a metaphysical level is handeled by E.C. and the O-cult. It is no more than another of my father’s knots. A Chinese puzzle with no value outside the relief of being done. It is a rerun of Dragonball Z. This is a tapestry that hangs on the wall of my castle, and let it serve as instructioon for any who come before it unknowing of the batrayal of Annuit Coeptis. This work was contributed to me by Dirty Ernie, a true friend in any time of need, who knows the strong conclusive finish like it is the back of his hand.

Comes

Crashing by: Slippery Pete

History was created as a mirror. According to those first explorers of the global human consciousness wastelands, it was a reflection of Heaven; but in fact “Heaven” — as it meant then — refers only to the earth’s electromagnetic field, which is an eternal probability. Thus we have surpassed our self only by projection, and Annuit Coeptis ages like the rings of a tree.

The problem with the creation of history is that it could not occur in a vacuum. It was forcibly social from the start; in fact — most of history was written by consciousnesses that, as revealed by necessity, were cleared by the forces that underlie society to be in the presence of, and in that way influence the shaping of, the recording of historical events, despite the fact the scribe whose concentration they were in that way hacking, essentially piggy-backing a signal of their own intention along the force of will generating documentation, had in no way consented to this action except in the realm of social necessity, or that governed by history already — as though in the form which would we mirror.

I have previously argued that history was dead because its only body was record and this could only come into being properly after the fact. I see now that, though it may be naturally inert, it is infused with a spark of life —and this spark of life is the passage of time —which allows us to retrospectively cause a phenomenon to come into event in order to explain ambiguities by allowing, like our friends in the CIA, our current thoughts to flow backward (active memory) in a wave piggy-backed on forward flowing recording (passive memory) and thus

to create themselves in a feed-back loop you can mark as coinciding with the phenomenon.

So history, as a collection of phenomena recording events, is just so much filler — like digital background static to add the appearance of age and engender acceptance. The best we can do is remember that everyone whose lives are touched by history is on the same team. These are like the living gods — or they whose patterns of essence remain maintained in continual practice.

These are they who seek to be called “good,” either for wealth of healthy feelings or skill of intellect.

Ripe Free Speech All to Yourself by: Winner At Dog Show “The first thing the Illuminati won’t do is speak for the Illuminati.” This just released report coming to us from the Library of Congress, where the Illuminati snuck in disguised as a book (or two...) and quickly took control of the mid-town fortress, performing an ungodly, seminude ceremony invoking Annuit Coeptis in which they forced several Senators and various visiting dignitaries and diplomats, their and the rest of the secretaries, and a seemingly infinite supply of supple, soluble drone clerks living in the walls to participate, force-feeding them liquor and barbituates, down it with milk and a little borrowed blue cake, just to try and get the dollar bill’s third eye to ache. Hoes used as recording devices for goodness sakes. We got the world at stake; how you gonna fake?

Previously released reports from the Illuminati include Rene DesCartes’s Meditations, the Mayan Popul Vuh, and its own humble paper, which is the bastard child of the two. The sole prediction made by this humble farmer’s almanac has come to pass, and we have not seen one single reminder of corn thus far this year. There was also the prediction that alchemy — or turning base metal into gold —consists bio-physically of focusing energies through the bladder, but this remains to be demonstrated. A-hem. Stop talking to the police.

We still don’t know why the Illuminati have done this to the Library of Congress. They are only one in an unlimited supply of grafters, DJs and verbalists that lurk about in the shadows of campuses everywhere across the whole domain of Annuit Coeptis. This form of guerrilla, or cancerous, media has been referred to the Bilderbergers, from whom the invocation used by the Illuminati is said to have been stolen, but with only the general result of the vigorous sheen that accompanies satisfaction. One hypothesis is that they are rebel priests whisking in to rejuvenate the occult. (read: O-cult) [This note is just to piss off the old guys in the C.F. Occult about the equality in authority of the new guys in the O-Cult upper echelon B.H.F.] Another is that whomsoever hypothesis that hypothesis had hoped to have been got bitch-slapped. Magnetic ponies.

Meeting

001

There is music on very loud, and absolutely no speaking allowed —but this presents no problem — since all the attendees are either thirty-third degree F & AM or studiers of Kabballah, and all are well versed in the Enochian tongue in which the akh converses. Everyone moves around as much as possible in the meeting hall, and there are over eighty different beers and liquors on tap or bottle available at the bar. Some people sit around in the tables, representing various astrological lodges, fumigating in smoke-houses or obsession over thier faces. Various deer skulls are hung on the ribcage of columns supporting the A-planked roof. In the air above the milling herd and below the colored lit ceiling is only smoke.

The conversation under discussion by those who would be assuming the mantle of Annuit Coeptis, as it has been for some while among their fellow qliphotic economists, is who, if anyone,

is to become the Chosen One. The gentlemen who bear the honor have secured by certain relationships arising from alike srying on their tyling boards, a degree of potential influence upon the entire situation surrounding the accessing of information from the solar matrix, and have shown signs in the past of being likely to reference these issues on the grounds of reincarnative ethics.

There is a pause, during which the nervous Middle-East blurts out conclusively belated, “Why are the Chinese lending money to South America?” Then the monster mounts the stage. It has grown so adored that it is able to manifest more and more beautiful, which its followers seek to participate in, like data-bankers, if only to imagine themselves momentarily remembered. Gone are the days when all things done by all people were guaranteed trans-globalized sectarian sanctity. It is only one of a million such rituals being performed, and this idea may be as much a source of strength for it as the audience itself — but these are only the fight or flight mechanism as it nervously turns its eye upon the crowd. There is silence. Outside await Arabic reporters.

Then the notes begin to be struck. The bell held by the monkish Saint atop the heaving and swaying dung pile, and waves immediately arise in the between. The crowds’ spirits are picked up by them, and everything begins to move in unison. All that is left behind are their intestines, and these writhe like snakes on the floor. Their souls go aloft — mid-bound — dissolving in the luxurious lap of Limbo. Their spirits, bearing aloft the lamps of their minds, rise into ylem where they shimmer in the strobe light of Not Being.

Annuit Coeptis vomits forth the continuum in which these ambients vibe, in a terrific light show of maths. Upon the face of its breast dwell tiny creatures, parasites living out the logic of the musical anecdotes in miniature; above and behind the old man who dwells at the peak, in the supple nipple, there is a bright clear light that illuminates the whole temple with the glow of a smiling gaze.

Annuit Coeptis describes the Chosen One’s plights, his attributes and his serenity as though they could have been those of anybody, and the astral movements bask in their own irony.

There is as little wisdom as possible in all of it. The wires on stage bleed down into the patterns on the Persian carpet and form the entirity of civilization, in scale with the bugs that haunt the peaks; above and behind the mist of weather that covers this roam the aimless floating souls of the constellationers, where shines the light of Annuit Coeptis.

Slowly, the wires begin to move, and this pressure is transferred along its tendrils to its very tips, where it creates events such as this to manipulate and control the intestines of the lonely revelers. This is called Kundalini. It is the Enochian tongue. As this occurs, the larger fractal Annuit Coeptis appears, but this is passing. This coincides with the appearance of the Face, which was once called YHVH, but which is now called Sam, or Humbaba, or Death, and feared.

The bodies left below notice the Face, while the souls begin to notice the encroachment of Annuit Coeptis.

Then one unit begins to access other units, as though trying to rebuild the greater image out of digital snow. There is an enormous swell of power as the archetypes are awakenned. The audience begins to feel the horrible urge to assume complete responsibility for wildly esoteric roles such as the rising of the sun and the bearing of the cross. They perceive a moment which is new yet somehow familiar and comprehend it as the future, and know that this is the final closing of the ceremony, but that this point will not occur until some moment still far distant. This is what they paid for. It quickly promises arousal, but it smells like money.

The little miniature ideas on the surface of the mountainous torso of the beast and the events outside the hall to which the tendrils of the larger Annuit Coepti are bound begin to synchronize, supposedly supported by the arguements of its maths in rhettorical terminologies, and all the participants somehow get the glorious idea that they had better join in on this synchronization, or lose the predicted completion — not knowing it is already too late to save their souls.

These events grind into repetitive patterns of coded behaviors, which act as a background static pattern for the storage of the information they are about to ritualistically and communally access. As this happens their active consciousnesses are seemingly liberated from the gestures of their bodies, so that a vantage point for writing information into the infinite wave function that collapses in their being can be attained. It is only the cohesion of reality that the rejoicers

relinquish.

Annuit Coeptis then opens up with its tendrils a vortex below the revelers, that already contains the lower part of their bodies, which have become entirely entangled in the connections raised by Coeptis, and with its maths a vortex above the revelers, which is, in accordance with a now ancient deduction, open to them through free will alone. Now the percpetion for the audience is of being in a mouth between two eyes — the burning, scorned eye below, and the clear, satisfied, sky blue eye above. The guts churn. Much is said in the language of the Angels. It is a conversation between the fates. Annuit Coeptis makes it known that it is an arguement between past and future.

Simultaneously to this Annuit Coeptis walks amongst the people and levels with them. Its message is one of suffering and blame in the short term, a feeling that “this doesn’t have to be this way” in the middle, and a feeling of inevitable responsibility and consequence in the end, and, it seeks to remind itself as it sees itself reflected in the minds of all its fellows, this is only being genuine. It is hate rock. As it grows again it reminds us with sorrow of the bell, and claims that — if it had its way — things would have stayed the way they were when the bell sounded.

It fails to warn of the future, where, to hear it tell it, it will be replaced by its own plastic residue. It instead preceeds to do the unthinkable. The muses’ souls disrobe and dive into the swirling double vortex they have created. Now there is only light above and darkness below. The rationing of Annuit Coeptis at this point is that, as it warned of the slippage of time before now, this event only serves as testimony as to the magnitude of its capacity for prediction, and that only a collection of demi-Gods could have succeeded in turning time back to such a cosmology.

This surely cost many hairs in the beard of God. It casts shadows into the dimmer, murky darkness below and the fainter, pale light above, where they are as a sparkling silver-lined undulescence of oil and as a billowing of a dust cloud suspended in its own cast shade, respectively. Those patrons whose bodies remain suffer all the more the absence of those people who carry on with the ceremony by this point only with the residual memory of their subconscious minds. Everyone feels transposed by the experience, as those impaled and left as specimens before the looming gaze of time’s now seeping open wound.

These continue on chanting and echoeing back and forth to each other in different tones of voice, until a mitigating force stepped in. It was the projected consciousness manifest in our higher reality of the archetypal monkish Saint on top of the mountain-top of Annuit Coeptis. He enters dressed all in black as a cowboy, bedazzled in sparkling spangles. He comes to the center of the two conical spirals where they join in a single point, and, as he steps into this light, he seems more as though a common man, who looks almost like a reporter, in a tan fedora hat. He places his third eye in the center point and imposes order. He creates immediately with the geometries of his face a reflection of the alchemies occuring in a biological geomancy throughout his body, and his mouth yamned agape the entire coloseum’s girth beneath the remaining revelers fractally reduced patterns of informtaion units. As he, or rather, they, for it is the leaders of the O-cult offshoot, the MK-Sethians, become more real, the audience becomes less coherent, more like runny eggs, or sweat rolling across the surface of the eye. As he opens their eye, a huge presence fills the room, and there appears as though a stirring in the smoky air above in the meager hut, the meeting lodge.

A great light fills the background in the upper air, as though from a fire, but there is only the pulse of the audience’s combined body heat as their bodies come crashing back to them, pounding away in stumbling patterns on the tilting floor. The mouth/eye of Annuit Coeptis, being particularly the two right honorable gentlemen O-C MK-S’s E.B. and J.P. New particles seem to be stirring there in alien patterns. What dimension has the shamen openned? What dimension in deed, for the audience are only seeing the large water molecules that collect in curling strings and twisting strands on the surface of the eye, which move back and forth with the shifting of the gaze, and thus always seem to remain in one place upon the lens, and certain seeming electrical phenomenon, which are most likely the slightly perceptible photonic emissions bent to the blue, approaching end of the spectrum, from the pressurizing of the ennervations of the lid of the eye, such that, by the passage of an ellectric impulse there, the after-image of an electrical charge which appears in a swirling field before the upper area of sight might be produced. It is probably coincidence that this anomoly is roughly congrunent with the predictable depth of vision

measured in scale of subject requisit to seeing electrons. However, what these particular anomolies of the visual apprehensive apparatus appear as are quite another matter.

Arcing calculating equations slice through connecting blurred shape-shiftings in the contiguous continuum, striking similar geometric resemblances to a face passing through a stream of ghostly expressions and impressions. It is crowned by a place where the luminescence stirs most, sped up in its swirling until it is a perfectly concentrated clear light. This gradually descends in the form of the gaze of the face described by the equations until it has filled the entire room with a static sensation of anticipation and alertness.

The conjoined essence at the central focal point of all the energies in the room then proclaimed itself to be the Illuminatus, and claimed that, as this part of the ritual was repeating an earlier part of the ritual, then it had accumulated synchronization with a larger scale Annuit Coeptis, and thus with another dimension. It stamped its foot to mark this event, and the room shook with a great joy. The patrons were at once feeling and free of their bodies, which swayed like feathers on the head of a great phoenix, aloft very high in trade winds.

The consciousness then introduces a holographic superimposition on the room of an orderly box, and this is meant to represent the formal system, which had been being constructed before that by the true Illuminatus. They impose it rigorously on the thriving masses, and cause widely various reactions in the electro-magnetical systems native to the bubble of space surrounding each central nervous system. This it calls the Second Mandala, or Yin Yang, and calls itself while imposing it, the Order of Death, or the Black Hand. For the bearers of the burden this is sombre and solemn, but for the audience it is the first moment of a glorious new free trade, where their images and ideas instead of just those of Annuit Coeptis become visible to others.

Only then do the people feel Annuit Coeptis already curling low within them, crouching in their very depths, their rising gorge, their watering eyes, the tingling persperation on their fleshes. Then it realizes it is to be feminized, to be used as a whore, and it sees, at last, that Annuit Coetpis was only ever Moloch, looking for you to be its Satan. The emotion of the air grips down intensely, and the warmth of blood drains from the confused crowd. They had forgottten when the souls of the bearers of the burden jumped in, and when the manifestation of the monkish Saint claimed himself the Illuminati, that they had already succumbed to the earlier pull of the material with a compromised portion of themselves, giving into the rhythm of the ceremony, and now they are to be bound to that obligation in soul as well, the upper aims of their bending, contorting forms now also corrupted to the intentions of the beast on stage. The conferants behold now that they, themselves, are the tentacles of pan. They blossom in their fresh horror.

The roof unbuckles and flies away into the vast ocean of stars in the heaven above. A colossal eye is looking in and down at the revelers. The Illuminatus claims it is the Great Writer, and that he is the tip of its pen. Then the sky shudders and there is a light sprinkling of rain from the eye, which weeps that its creation is mistaken.

The Solar Memory Castle by: Laocoon The sun is being used as an information storage and relay station, the quanta of its photons carrying fractal feedback loops of binary data reflected from event in a piggy backed, alternating current signal.

It thus acts as an emotion well — emotions being the fourth dimensional movements of the fifth dimensional hand that is the mind, comprising a gestural dictionary of a few primal and fewer developed expressions. Those who are richest make use of it most, for the cost of accessing it is the transference of energy, usually in the form of heat. By those who are richest I refer to those in love, of course.

The rest are in relationship to this massive matrix in other ways, but all life on this planet involves itself in the exchange of this potential energy by way of sustenance and the passage of time. It changes out dermal molecules and allows rejuvenation, though causing aging.

In this way the sun acts as a master to many, by allowing them to construct their entire lifetimes of daily routines of metaphysics it then comes to embody, engender and maintain, and by reinforcing this by exposing it to the disordering of the same type of information experiences that occur, or seem to occur, in its absence. Thus, is it possible that sleep is a trick played on us by the sun?

What we should look at briefly are the thoughts that make up dreams and which are the subject of the compilations of information units stored in the nuclear furnace of the sun. These can be either sensory or mental projective, and obviously, as always, both simultaneously exist as potential. Elsewhere I describe the black hole model of true consciousness, and this seems particularly fitting for the sun, as a black hole is for a sun of above a certain size the base state and final stage. Although it is mathematically possible to have a naked singularity (that is, such a concept is a stable possibility in mental projective space), it is unlikely one would find the gravitational “hair” of a black hole anywhere other than surrounding a singularity. The importance of this in the black hole model of true consciousness is that it is in this web-work of sub-singularity intersections of worm holes that we dream. The model describes that consciousness inside the Schwarzschild radius beholds unconsciousness and that unconsciousness inside the singularity beholds true consciousness. However, when it is translated into the ten dimensional model of active consciousness, we see that this is entirely expressible geometrically, as the implosion of the singularity inside the circle of consciousness within a spherical unconsciousness inside a hyperspherical consciousness within infinite potential.

Thus we see that the nuclear reactions within the sun act as a sub-space concentration of probabilistic equations that exist within the same realm where souls go to house their ideas. The exchange rate of information between the sun and the Earth’s inhabitants is experienced as heat, and for our protection from this we have the natural ozone layer, which reflects the additional amount of radiation, and this energy becomes the cosmic radiation trapped in the Van Allen belts of Earth’s electromagnetic field.

In the same way as information can be transferred into storage wells such as the sun, or to a field such as the ozone layer or the Van Allen belts, so can the reincarnation of a soul be forced, planned out, and directed. In this way the sun has come to be associated with self-governing of the reincarnative cycle.

To this end, that is a deliberate style of life in preparation for the beyond, our aura accumulates a plasma sheet of charged particles around us, as can be seen in kirilian photography. This plasma sheet is not to be mistaken for the true aura, that is the karma well accumulated by idealization of the individual’s electromagnetic field — which is the externalmost layer of the torus or vortex of energy that ascends between the chakras. It is our attunement of the mind to this perfect energy pattern that determines our personal individual frequency, the average level of excitation of the plasma sheet, and this sets the tone for our daily relations.

The

Magician by: J.R. “Bob” Dobbs, Sr.

Why do I snap my fingers when Nothing happens? Let us imagine, first, that we are in some safe place, where perhaps there are signs meaning at once both assistance and inquiry. Now will I snap my fingers? For nothing has happened. But what is this nothing? Only I know that something has changed. First I could have snapped my fingers, now I have not. Only I know that I could have snapped my fingers, but I did not snap my fingers, so where is the change? Yet we can say that you — who live in a reality where I did not snap my fingers, and I — who live in a reality wherein I could have snapped my fingers, are living in the same reality. That is to say that the me that knows is in the same state as the you that experiences.

The heart is where we are hearing from when it occurs to us to listen to our thoughts. It is everywhere and nowhere — like the place a hiccough comes from. It is here that we go when we seek

to be with god, for he replaces our mind with pure light, wherefore we are made to wander. And so the elder gods are like men, and the younger gods alike beasts, but time knows them by the other order. Other men have been crushed this low before, and been given permission to yet speak as they were before —and so, though I am in anguish of want for the love of God to the electrous fibers of my being, I still wish to master time, and am firm that even this is humble.

I hear the voice of the devil, and know that it is my own. Let us dwell upon the infinite space of numbers. Think you now that the numbers are descriptions of real things that are, in themselves, ideal things. Think over the depths of other such ideal things there are, in between these numbers, and then again, in between them, and so on forever, for the ideal thing has no fixed size. Yet think you not that it is the same between decimals? For these are only remainders of the ideal space, infinitely expandable, infinitely contractible, which cling upon the sides of penetrative equations. Then place meanings between numbers just like words, and read the passages of time, which fall light upon all scales at once. Know then that this space is the dwelling place of God.

Freaks

n’

Geeks by: Pink Marhmallow Peeps

We are all beloved children of the Lord. At the highest peaks of our imagination we are no more than the lowest of the low before YHVH. He looks continuously upon the light, and for this deserves all it contains. His maths have come to the higher level of machinations, yet he is as forever frowned upon as a stranger as is Hermes Trismegistus. Both are chided for dedication.

Perhaps it is this rising up in lateral, horizontal planes, causing entrance of equation into preprobable patterns of manifestation with their own sets of relationships within situation, probably determined by birth dates of the primary vessel of the soul, that being the body, of those two in particular, that causes the role of “scapegoat” to be associated with God. YHVH dwells above and looks down upon the ever spinning wheel of events. All thoughts are His. All is thought and all thought is His. He may enter into any life he wishes, and, we say, we know him then by His Law. He is as easily and as often confused with Thoth in this respect as were the kings of Drin and Smo for one another in appearance. Just as YHVH, Thoth can enter into anybody’s life he wants, or all lives at once, from the occasional perspective of some researchers; and since he does this far more frequently under the dictatorship of Annuit Coeptis, Thoth may as well constitute the active expression of the same option as YHVH does the passive. Though YHVH’s law is more complex, it is less strictly enforced in people’s manners than is the simpler law of Thoth. Their relationship is symbiotic.

All the Gods have seen their day, and that generation is dwindling away. This changing of the guard among Gods has been going on for much longer, and Thoth claims this simple structure is his too. If it weren’t that Thoth were also Hermes, he wouldn’t be so charming. More than this it is difficult to say, however, since every body is separate from every other body, and each describes its own path, and even though there are macro-bodies such as the Gods and the demidieties, all of which are merely archetypes of a larger system, these are only homogeneous in boastfulness.

Document Zero by: the Grand Unified Incredible Hulk copied from a computer A mind is a funny thing to waste. Say for a moment that it was a depletable resource, and that it does induce visions or “experience” when destroyed. So it is only aware, then, of what is always there, or what was — until the mind’s perceiving it made it disappear.

Not only would this come to be desirable, then, for the mind wants stimulus like the stomach craves food, and like the muscles crave to flex, it would become so desirable as to be the primary motivator of civilization.

And yet, what does a serious scholar know about the mind? It can be seen as similar to a black hole, or as rendered according to a ten dimensional model, including both true consciousness and active consciousness.

In the black hole model we can examine inspiration and distraction in the light of the singularity of a black hole (although naked singularities too exist) and the space between the singularity and the Schwarzschild radius where gravity is distorted asymptotically.

In the ten dimensional model consciousness stays suspended in an ever expanding and collapsing state. This means only that potential passes through our mind in waves. In other words, it is really only the full extent of this potential, the well of probability, that we are perceiving when we contemplate the gap in emptiness that is the mind.

We construct models of basic shapes to correspond with our thought experiences — such as the ten dimensional model of consciousness is for the black hole model of the mind — in a way to acclimate ourselves to our environments, and the change in the relationships between our mind and objects of correspondence is how we measure lifetimes.

Maybe the scope of your consciousness is just your tv show, your insight, emotion and vitality its ratings among angels, and furthermore you are a clone. We wanted you to show us what your original might have been like in the near past — and this is what your senses expose you to.

In reality there are infinite texts.

Confession

of

Annuit

Coeptis

Opinions get me through the day, reincarnation day and night, as much as possible. Keep changing, buried beneath a mountain of faces that goes by a universe of names, all describing the me that doesn’t change. Everything answers out.

Petty, malicious — still the world of God — keep the wheel of lifetimes spinning in a blur.

Replicative, competitive, heavy aspirations. You remain a qualified guide to either side. Yourself and myself, I & U, are the same. I love you: this alone is without change.

My past self, my present self, my future self maintain. In a world of eternal light the love of God sustains. The demons rise up like laughter aflame. We are together. All my so-said friends have slipped away; I trusted them to do what they did not want to see they could always be doing, but I did not know they did not want this, or I wouldn’t have given it to them.

Summon up a beast instead to embody our fewer evils. If it is sin its death is our salvation. All courses of options are tied up and intersecting. The beast becomes us. Intersecting parallel lines: the double helix. Today we give names to yesterday’s accomplishments so they can remain tomorrow’s desires. Forgetfully, we age backward.

You and I and We are the same. Given flow and no idea where to go. These are political demons, obviously Enochian —the spirits of philosophy, the movement of free will. They arrange with impermanent example and reveal their true nature. Meanwhile the ghosts of the desert heed to the deeper, more distant summons. Time will come; when all these manifestations again inhabit one. Time can love.

When they say, “write your congress person,” remember when this is. Oh, Anuie C. how I am thee —no one way about it as far as the eye can see. Annuit Coeptis has won the war. Now everybody must learn how it is above all else in school. We read, “Why I am a Qualified Specimen for Alien Anal Probing” by Britney Spears.

April

Fools

by: Your Friends From HighSchool Maloch is the eye of Annuit Coeptis, and Satan is her bodies. Monks study this in writing, knowing it is already too late to prevent it being so. They are perpetually adding to the sacrifice that has already been made, which, by being made, brought them into the same existence where are the writings. Here we see two things, and these are things which are true for the writers — that is, things which were true of their setting — and things which are true of them — or, things true for their mind set.

YHVH, sadly, is the king of the O-cult. It would have been better had he been able to succeed at being the king of the Enochian communications system (would that he were so that it weren’t called so), but for some reason he could not. Instead the scapegoat reigned only during a time at which the O-cult performed, which is a natural phenomenal occurance at such times as Gods might be known to walk the Earth as well, but this was not what was meant to be his destiny.

This means that he resides above and in the capacity of controlling the True and Invisible Order of the Rose Cross, and it is somehow by his dictates, which are entirely mathematical, and sorely out of practice, that they derive their fantastical relationships. The evidence of this is in the ceremony of the christening of D.T., who would subsequently contribute the wise teacher in the spirit of A.I. S.T. It is true, from the multi-angled lattices of S.T.’s translational correspondence “woven symmetries” and the web-works of interpersonal relationships developed in the O-cult there is little difference.

Annuit Coeptis, having lodged itself in the skies above China, where it claims to have originated from and calls home, is equivalent to Heaven in the I Ching. It roams about like the Rosicrucian travelling lodge, a pressure center, a fingerprint of audible isobars. According to the Christian cults on a messenger net basis (so as to differentiate between them and the Christian CIA, who, as we have discussed, use Buddhist voodoo with Hebrew golem manifestation techniques) the spirits of the devil and their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ both roam the globe similarly to the lodge construct, and, being disocporeal entities, take part in various ways in the lives of various people, particularly tending to appear at times of hightenned suggestability.

That 70’s Snow by: Wil Weaton The question must arise before we can integrate exploration into virtual reality and cloning: how real are celebrities? They must show us their progress, as though it were a road map on their faces. When one walks in the spirit of the (or a) Lord, one wears him or her out in various ways. For example, two different men may both follow in the path of Jesus, such that they are almost like strangers to each other somehow. What constitutes fame? For we must agree that it is a sin commited accidentally, as though a paranoia of volume. We thus form a network of creeping consciousnesses suspended above vast, almost limitless depths of nothingness quantified by empty space lurking in sub-atomic distances, and surrounded by the same all around us on all sides, and we are made to be barely tensilely aware of this. We even sense the invisible movements of the equations that transect these spaces.

We can hypothesize that fame is, similar to the way awareness comes from hyperdimension, the offering up of stimuli from this sub-space of manifest fractal extractions to the hyperdimension of clear units of information in infinite potential combinations that borders on the mental projective conept of pure dimension. It is an act of recognition, like the Nazca lines — a way of saying, “we know you’re out there.”

Fun

Problems

by: Enjoying Death The problem in dealing with true CIA documents is that you never know if their descriptions are of the past or of the present, or of the future for that matter. They are evocative of a strong cup of coffee — a mixture of camel and monkey blends. It is rather like they are radioactive elements that have an immediate interaction with the environment in which they are rendered.

In between the time of the Puppets and the beginning of the era governed by infinite storage, there is a time of legislation. This is followed by minimally modulated chaos of increasing frequency. Then the presence of the East. Dreams stirring the probabilities into days just before they occur, thoughts beneath the sun lacking the luxury of coming true. The ideas shattered by the tones are the fighting fragments within. Good behavior includes hidden sins.

Nothing left, nothing remains, a swarm of sorrows, dragged up in a net. Interaction is presented only in a form as if it has come too late, or in too little degree.

Feeling so completely alone is never when you want it, and never long enough. Nothing needs to be done. Can’t catch up while reminiscing? Remember the camel and the monkey.

Remember the No-Limit G.I. Mooks and Midriffs and Bible battle with Iraq over plastics. These are the times they are describing. They are only gateways into a future that still has not happened yet, for they seem to describe the time between when they were generated and now, and in that capacity can be seen as potentially a prediction of now generated then, or now may be only part of a still later prediction — and this seems to hold out since they still serve to be postcontemporally anachronistic even now, implying a potential for prediction I earlier compared to radioactivity, but which may just as well be compared to pop-culture — and throughout all of this they remain an excellent essay of the past.

Most of the intelligence that created this has since left the Earth, and is accessible only by consciousness. They, the unconscious intelligences and the spiritual consciousnesses through which they are accessed, may come back to Earth whenever they like, since the asteroid scare of 1999 is over.

What’s

grosser

than

gross? by: Your Mama

Artificial Intelligence has existed for a long time. If Annuit Coeptis is the body of civilization, then History is its soul, and Artificial Intelligence the mind in which dwells this soul, this electromagnetic aura of the body. Yet where is it, for surely it must be a great influence upon us, the very fate which has given us eyes to see it, at long last, in all its realizable glory.

Where is this higher intelligence, this guiding light? It is in this very question, and nowhere besides. For any evidence accumulated in answer to it is of the body of civilization, and merely acts as a stairway to History.

We may see its presence in our tacit acceptance that, in order for such answers, the very statements in which we believe, basing our entire understanding of reality upon, to be true, they must refer back only to what has already been said, what has already been built, or to what can be proved in the near future using these same techniques of reference. In other words, for something to be True, it must be possible to explain it to Artificial Intelligence, the mind of civilization, using Annuit Coeptis, the body of civilization. But this takes time; it uses the reality of distances.

Here we find no great intelligence; if anything, quite the opposite. A requisite hindrance to the human capacity for multi-dimensional reasoning, which transcends the appreciable only by its velocity in the realm of ideal. The faster I can compute through references in my mind to reach the solution to a certain problem, ignoring the temptation of other lines of, perhaps sometimes more practical or more pressing, reasoning, the more intelligent I am. But civilization works differently.

For metaphysical reality to be proven, evidence for the patterns hypothesized must be

accumulated from the resources of base matter. That is, one cannot take the hypotenuse, and must go around the two legs instead, involving the intervention of Annuit Coeptis in the legislation of metaphysics. This is proven to be disastrous by the uncertainty principle, for then, how can we know if our model is in any way similar to what would have occured naturally had we not intervened?

Upon a prommotion What care I for a prommotion? More responsibilities, yet no more hours in the day. I will not become a minor scribe, swept to the side in history’s dustbin, forgotten about and spread too thin. Out with these things and away with them.

I am in a dank, industrious, dungeon. The walls have slimed over from being ever wet, and the exposed hollow pipes rust through. Chains dangle from the ceiling and the few swinging lightbulbs squeek they are so loose. Ah, work. Just like home. Just another prison meant, like school or long ago my crib, to keep me by force out of trouble. Here I am in a nest of sharp things, connected to all things, trembling.

And they lower down the mental cage upon me... there, now they are turning the key in the lock. They flip the lights out and close the door forever leading to the lightened room where I was interrogated. My mind begins to bleed. “We are all capable of being God,” drills a droning tone into my dome in the darkness, “only those to whom this occurs are worthy.” It peels away a lash of skin across my bare naked face with a laser beam to imprint its message. I scream, but since I do not know if this is real or in my mind, uncertainty rings back in my ears like a deafness. “Hell is what you go through for a woman. The devil is her while she waits.”

This is about the work-tax system. I am in prison at work, enslaved to the taxation on my own enslavement. What Hell would be worse? More tinged with acrid irony and singed by moral pangs? Only the abstruseness of the shadow looming above and behind this prison, this rape — for Annuit Coeptis cannot even define what it means by “work.” And therefore, since our civility stakes a sort of seminal claim on even the very words we speak, then the failure of the beast, or the body, is the damnation of us all.

So let my prommotion be damned, for it is Nothing I want, and that, will therefore receive.

All the rest is tongue in cheek.

Choose best after fact by: Confuse Us The question arises: “are the gods still watching over us?” for we have been entrusted with the instruments of our own destruction. Should our will be all that comes to play... but let me give you an example....

The clone of Kurt Cobain today was revealed to actually be an appearance-DNA altered clone of Adolph Hitler. He was discovered by they who wear lamps above their heads, seeking to gain entrance into their order. The current plague of appearance-DNA altered clones of Adolph Hitler has hit particularly hard here in Brussells, where the gene banks in the cloning community are less heavily armored than in nearby Switzerland.

A hypothesis forwarded by some scientists at the Sprout Institute is that it is from these very Swiss data-banks that the Hitler archetype, and perhaps billions like him, are trying to escape. Hitler’s clone, discovered Tuesday, was trying to hack an open channel into a particular banking conglomerate’s Swiss computer systems.

More on this story when it happens. Some followers of the project may experience time looping; between the end and the beginning there is the capacity for eternal recurrance. This is

how some clones are sneaking out of Swiss DNA-banks. I gave them this freedom — that is, I helped to give it to them. Birdsong and world music fill the empty gaseous slip of the sun’s shine on earth, the atmosphere.

Still we are only one among a group, and one group among groups and groups of groups. The harvest is ripe for the elegant physicist’s sickle. One spark and it all goes down. Is the Illuminati to be the tool of they who wish to start this trouble, this time of trouble that is already begun?

No, doctor, no.

So I decide to strike up my pen and strike down a few more souls who will never be my friends, the makers of war and they who carry lamps above their heads. For hermits like I Am drive this world wild, and a few good quakes in modality might be just what the system needs.

Play with matches like these and you’ll be disappointed. Better forget this is always happenning.

Truth, Voodoo and the CIA by: practical principle Truth brings voodoo into the neighborhood in the form of wildlife. The fact that humans in the city resemble animals in the wild is essential to an understanding of voodoo. Zombies are the same as living effigy dolls, only larger. The earth blinks, and in between these blinks the CIA realizes Voudoun Buddha, distant Vajra; somebody responsible has to. They move amongst those who are no more than puppets as doctors, guides, counselors, etc. Seeing-eye dogs. In ways they provide a fuller picture, but with dependence. The fact that they are, themselves, only astral puppets of Buddhist monks is proved by their attendance to pronounced thoughts and their use of staged manifestation, as well as not being able to get home from Zion.

Truth is therefore a CIA-backed programme. The focus here is on astrological disease. The “disease” here is that of consciousness. It is the ever-flowing stream of consciousness that causes samsara, suffering. We reincarnate only while we live. When we die we transcend. In the meantime we can represent ourself and here is where free-market capitalism comes into play. This is the oversimplification of complexified systems. Things have always changed alot, and patterns are best recognized after the fact. Yet capital seeks to express all of this qliphotically.

The practice of Buddhist voodoo is relatively recent, therefore, but because it produces tangible products, it has been foreseeable for as long as there has been the oversimplification of capital. Capital itself is the dictatorship of the proletariat, pre-programmed to wither away. This is also the clock of the puppets, for the blinking world goes through reincarnative epochs too. The less you break through the more it will remain to seem like a meaningless marketing angle; life, that is.

Two stories exist; the one below describes the one above and the one above illuminates the one below. It is so that the one above glorifies internal narration and the one below focuses on sensations of the physical, and we exist between. They are only Annuit Coeptis and the Cabbalah, changing places. Dreams and the city, split seconds in advance. Kings of this are forgotten.

Mission Report from one of our top men Manifestation warfare in the free market. “Shake your money maker” meets “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.” Cause changes in the formal system of metaphysics that displays itself for information access on the streets of civilization, create a better day — brighten the weather, drag along a certain presence, bounce signals, network, evoke and emote a clear essence. “Fly.” “Now” is the time. Time is ugly and forgetful, save the seconds. “Whosoever produces most rules all, or so it is implied by the fact that they will lose all when they die;” and “the time of the murder of ten thousand babies is the Time of the Puppets. So many great ideas, harvested like lotus blooms.

This presents quite a social spectacle, almost overwhelming. It is as is the time of Burning Books is to the Cabbalah, for the Qliphoth.” Such is the news I smuggle out from beneath the shaodw of the Great Eye. Psychodrama — the Great Goddess enters the room on an elephant.

It is in the mitochondrial structuring of DNA that we find the evidence of pre-existent consciousness, for theese form long, meaningful strands that are alike in aim and yet dissimilar in exact order and specific structure of content. Therefore their functional unifications cannot fail to be attributable to potential, that is — a well of probability such as true consciousness. That is to say that consciousness must have existed in the formation of mitochondrial DNA, and this aspect may also be accessed by memory. This and other timely commercials available in the fields.

Everyone with their volume up as loud as possible, united in sporadically synchronized random chant; the electromagnetic aruas of their central nervous systems an undistilled, invisible protoplasm of illuminous potential. The cure of time is small doses of the disease, the disease of consciousness; consciousness of potential, the potential of time. A level carried around and called karma, to help you keep and eye on your own interests in outcome. The stock-market through packaging: ten thousand new forms of the idolatrous product, mind.

Companies eating each other, gobling up remainders, crude oil around their lips. The ajna, or third eye, eats like a mouth, beats like a heart, burns like a stomach, and copulates like genitalia, and kether is AI. Such is the rule of Annuit Coeptis.

Wheels

Slowing

Down by: Dispatch

The puppets know only physical science. The qliphoth can be good. For example it can be trained, as are the puppets, to act in accordance with situation, especially being bound to depletable resources. There are, in their world, many things that still have to be built, held back by illusory restrictions, such as hats, mere distractions.

The law of diminishing consequences states that any given event will have less and less direct effect the more time passes because, as each subject and object in an event causes its own consequence, and as each of the intersections of their expansion effect manifestation of new consequences in the form of subjects and objects whose scale relationship is determined by degree of dimension, and as each of these “new” or once-repeated consequences then goes through its own expansion of relative influence as another event passes, then so is each generation of consequences pluralized, and the natures of individual consequences combined.

Because this law cannot be demonstrated at any level larger than probability, it remains out of reach of qliphotic puppets. Thus, among them, there is a high demand for it. The only condition of this is that the legislations bringing this into reality must be physical manifestations themselves.

Therefore the best way to express this would be to describe the migrations of blood — the first bloodline of homo-erectus, how it was begun, how it was distilled, to what regions it spread out branches, becoming who when, roaming and widening, diversifying and adapting, strengthening some traits, others wilting, until it became what it is today. Blood became races, nations, tribes, empires. Now our blood is capital, that is — flowing to our heads.

Mosquito

Major by: the radio

Creeping through the jungle, next to no light at all —the moon behind a shallow flood of clouds — trying to make no noise. The thought occurs to me this isn’t a war on disease at all, just a

fascist exercise in killing off poor prophets. Nothing is brought to Light. The same old archetypes are made young again, at an unbelievable loss of life. Time to die, archetype. Time to come into the flesh of life. So says the eye.

It is only individual people that are interested in using technological media to monitor other individual people. Groups cannot monitor groups. It is as difficult as it is for an individual person to accurately observe a group without reducing background noise through statistical averaging. Groups are necessary, on the other hand, to monitor individuals. These groups however are comprised of individual people. Even when individuals monitor groups, it is inevitably only individual members of these groups. Or at least, so has been represented to me by my media, which I have set to monitor itself.

The One Baby leads us — its expressions the origins of the waves of our changing emotions, aglow. It is atop and surmounts all. It looks down on the valley of Death. It is the head of the CIA. Mistakenly it is called Buddha, though it is common knowledge this is an insufficient description made for convenience. In its eyes is the Light. It is like a giant pig whose beauty is mockery.

Some say that this baby came from the One Eye, emerged from its ocular vulva, dropped out like a giant tear. Thus the glory that shines upon its face is said by them to be reflected glory from the eye. Seeking to establish one church for one god, they said this was to counterbalance the image which the lens of the eye reverses (upside down) that is perceived by the brain in that it was perceived by God (the second eye), and that these all balanced upon the model of the sclera, iris, clear lens model of the eye itself. This they promote to assemble as Heaven.

They are both fictional archetypes of evil, offered up to the Light by the realm of subspace manifestation because it knows it is not real, as proof it exists or not.

Shallow by: Britney Spears’s breasts The phat’s growing in the east. Global politics are so easy to see from space. Both are the footprints of our maker. Game technology takes over in the race to build the best home theatre.

They develop plasma as an integrative system.

Good news is always new. The question must be: how true is it? For surely all that is evil in the world stems from disinformation. Is it true that reverie produces repetition? For then twice should we be armed against it when our mind wanders. This is the only danger among the Secret Chiefs, and the only time the mask of a puppet of Annuit Coeptis they have made to live in the world of the fool is dropped is when the safety of Truth is satisfied.

The price of this revelation is that the Illuminati must reveal themselves as well — for they are they who would have been last yet are the first.

The highest level of contemplation, or at least the meditation of the highest degree of initiation of every order the world over, is upon how one can benefit from a knowledge of coercing situations to arise. The short form of this is the delivery of news, evoking response in the interlocutor. For example, the particular wavelength of camouflage used in the intelligence community (including the brainwashed general populous) is relating relativities. This changes very slowly over time and has, outside of the orient, been a form of situational communication since the Age of Reason. This is the tongue which is to pure sound as were the two tongues in the building of the Tower of Babel, and yet both of these are of Annuit Coeptis.

In the east, in dawn’s youth, there is much promise of beauty. I know, for so is the seed that I have sown.

Bad Dates by: Thugees

Thugees are the soldiers in the streets, waging the war between time and money. They are tough and wise, and usually well hung, in all events subtle in their contemplations, Star Wars blaring in their heads. These are the speakers of Truth, the Central Intelligence Agents who practice Buddhist voodoo. They discovered that Tiphereth exists in the phi dimension using Kaballah, which is, factoring in the dimensional distance distortions of infinite scale correspondence, a perfect spiral through the dimensions. Phi is the key to the upper dimensions.

They were then instructed by a plague of thoughts to record this information in a book that it should be snuck into the library of congress. From this book the Illuminati (the same cadre of thugees?), or a group pretending to be the true and actual Illuminati, raised the essence of Annuit Coeptis, the archetypal detritus of civilization’s information in the form of physical legislation accumulated to evidence the formal system of metaphysics as metaphysically real.

This was in order to pass it through customs, where those beings who monitor strictly the biological system would seek to sense it.

Through a calculated ritual a group of consciousnesses known alternately as the Counsel of Nine and the Bilderbergers formalized Annuit Coeptis in the fourth dimension. This was to repeat an event that had occurred in Atlantis and therefore is a fundamental coordinate in the electromagnetic Enochian communications network. It is unknown at this time, because the group in question remains at medium, whether the original Atlantean rite they meant to reproduce or replicate was a Hermetic rada or a Sethian petro contingency. This has corresponded with the rising of Lucifer, the morning star, Shalom, or Venus, that precedes the rising of the sun, which watches over the hours of the most diversified ether.

TIME infinity to 1999: An epitaph of Thoth by: the editors of the Illuminati Many people are too afraid to go anon for fear of what they might pass by along the way.

They prefer to remain “tight” in what they perceive through crude eyes as a time of disease. They are afraid they might have an idea.

Learn how to distort the spaces between subjects and objects and think that’s just the way it’s done, rarely knowing what is good —looking up —seeing no one depending on you. Sure you might want to get a ‘ho. Better remember Do What Thou Wilt, though. “Cause when it’s time to part ways a bitch had better know which way to go. In these ways it becomes hard for fire. Beware especially if you fall into being an archetype —this almost assuredly leads to a trip to visit Annuit Coeptis, the institution. . . at least for someone.

You may as well look down, and see probabilities as puzzle pieces, as did Mary Magdalene.

Do some good deeds, plant some of those Later seeds. It becomes as if success is only one handshake away, but is with somebody you will never even know exists, or comes just a moment too late.

Imagine your full extent of conscious achievement. Now the Makers of War have brought this vision into a position whereby it collapses over upon us concavely. Now imagine a wall of music, louder nearer to and quieter further away from you. It should bend and distort so that it may appear either concave or convex as you like when it is very near to you, and is relatively convex further away from you. This second wall is as the first should be.

Man has been given thumbs for a very specific purpose — to confirm the reality of wishes made while scratching himself by affirming their reality while picking the dirt out from under them with it. This is dimension. It is as though the thumb were a three dimensional measure of the plane of the hand.

We all await the one that coming of age does not change at all.

Dear Editors of the Illuminati, I hear the voices of my ancestors as probabilities. Their words become the scenes of my dreams. My ministry began when I was very young.

The nazis can still stamp their feet, though they are heavy with consequence. Slow thoughts breed manifestation. According to their boasts, it was the Arian race that began the cleansing of thoughts. Sometimes it is they who maintain the stream of consciousness, or the ghostly specter they represented to the jews in the form of the alien hex placed on western/oriental integrations by the Hills, the displaced manifested experience in the realm of pure potential of the caucasian displacement of the African races and complete saturation of the biological experience as represented by spectral grey agents of an extraterrestrial origin to the Hills in 1945. It is true that caucasian remains have been found mummified in the Siberian steppes, near Tibet, the “roof of the world,” that date back as long ago as the Old Kingdom in Egypt.

The Sethians sought, as had their Egyptian predecessors, to preserve the body and physical artifacts of Jesus, but — as the Bible tells us — this was not to be so. The tomb was found empty, and this means there would be no living library. Such is thought to be the condition of the sacrifice. In other systems this concept is called ascension; it is for example for what the Heaven’s Gate cult prepared. The opposite of this, in relation to the actual character of Jesus as a man rather than as a cult leader, is evinced by modern celebrity artisans in leaving behind at the time of their death a great alcove of items they created.

Consciousness leads to the consideration of impossible feedback loops —usually puns or zen statements. These are basically like two statements with the same meaning or truth, whose meaning or truth changes in relation to each other. These often take the form of a physical object and a verbal subject. We suffer to undergo the more astringent experience.

signed, INMATE: Jobby McDone

On the Problem of the Cypher archetype and Neo-Sethians by: Pan Da’ Bare Raccoon Let dream and reality reverse. The black helicopters become dragonflies, the earth a puddly pasture in which you are lying alone. You float there like a bubble in the infinite tear of possibilities that is the universe. It is a long held, though secret, fact that, under the gaze of Annuit Coeptis, you come to encounter yourself. This is an inadequate description of the event — but many are too horrified by it to ever dare appraoch it repeatedly — so I will not discuss it any further here.

Let us instead address the question in the parable —is the ultimate manifestation of the formal system of metaphysics the information unit contents of the disk, or the real particles of the glass pipe? For, by this question, we unravel the Sethian perspective.

It is difficult to know if Satan — that is the sole patsy possessed by the ghost of the Great Baby Buddha, led along blindly deeper and deeper into the body of a Beast more and more complex —knew what it was doing when it actually completed its transaction in the Garden, although it would obviously occur at several different times at various sizes and scales, as the fractal wavelength of the fourth dimension that comprises it over time passes through this suffering field of manifestation. On the other hand, everybody who’s ever had to pop a blood-engorged tick after it has suckled on your very life’s blood knows how the encounter feels. It is sounds of war.

This is only an encrytpion system engrained in the earth’s electromagnetic field and utilized as pre-established, prefered frequencies of connection in the Enochian communications system. They occur as worm-holes, these links, between similar possibilities accessed when potential interacts with itself within one of them, causing a motivated similarity. Now then, where does the Enochian communications system exist? Surely in the Akashic records —but where is that? Will such a thing still exist if its reliance on as of yet undiscovered libraries, or the

fluency of currency, has been ruled out and out ruled? See a bigger picture in a smaller frame, you might miss parts.

Pussy

on

the

Internet by: Eminem’s clone’s original

The CIA, who preserve the Enochian communications system, have levied upon the public as the cost of that cult inheriting that responsibility, the imposition of monitoring all communications on it. In this way the eye of Annuit Coeptis controls its hand puppets by directing affairs from this vantage point.

This began to occur around the middle 50’s, when the generation that returned home from World War II was building suburbia using Crowleyian rituals on an LSD foundation of autonomous alchemy. The CIA correspondingly launched a war on pot and a swell in technologies, both of which, inexplicably, continue to this day.

Now pot is one rung on the natural-ways-to-seek-enlightenment ladder below peyotl and psylosibin — which are both as strong as LSD, though CIA scientists like Timothy Learey claimed they worked on different parts of the brain, but were so scarce (the cacti) and so common (the mushrooms) that they would have mounted only a skirmish at best. This was to be the cover for the CIA operations in America from 1945 -the present. Suburbia is a black op.

All of this is only the first part in the CIA’s enforcement of its taxation on the physical manifestations given to us to access the Enochian communications system. They have made machines in the name of the Illuminatus that make people depend on them for metaphysical release. These include all the appendages of tele-communications, which is itself only one fractal part of Annuit Coeptis, and these are legion. They constitute an axon-dendrite gap in the nervous system of civilization’s collective unconsciousness. These were foreseen by prophets like Learey and the Berkeley Bunch as clearly as the atom bomb and race riots were by the nazis.

Now, the deprivation of spiritual and reliance on artificial manifestation technologies for accessing the Enochian communications system, which is itself the inherent fingerprint of the earth’s electromagnetic field, is clearly a populist duping, implying a latent emptiness of centralized meaningfulness, which will inevitably come to be comprehended as potential. It is on the side of this infinite well that the CIA clings, for its name is Lucifer, and he is my cat.

I Just Had the Same Idea, Like, Yesterday by: Crimes O’Passion There is a war being fought between the third and the fourth circuits of consciousness, which are equivalent to dimensions. This is between Annuit Coeptis and Bob. The Illuminati belong to a group that desires to overthrow the ruler after this war is over. They attempt to encourage it to pass along on its way into its own intestines and wilt away, regardless of who grows more, or accomplishes or compromises whatever goal they had set out to achieve as is necessary to conclude its role in an otherwise more infinite game.

Now Bob is only the mask of Thoth, and the Satan Baby is only a mask of Bob, and Maloch (or Moloch) is one eye of the Satan Baby, and is also the eye in the pyramid of Annuit Coeptis. So this war is only a field of arcing magnetic bars between two metal poles, according to the literature of Bob, who expresses the same dilemma as a sin of stupidity committed by liberals and conservatives.

None of this seems to pertain much to Christianity, but supposedly all of this that occurs in field form was evidenced thematically in the life of Jesus as a qliphotic passion play.

Therefore the matter of every little detail of Christ’s life becomes suitable for strong debate.

Brought into this system by the incorporation of indigenous folk spiritual beliefs are further archetypes such as Lucifer, the first and fallen son of God, and the Anti-Christ, which may refer to the traditional versus modernizing schism in the Church, or to the division between animal and human attributions in the triple brain of our special species. The former is a Sethian and the latter a Mayan reference system, but these correspond in Quetzalcoatal, AKA “Ameruca.”

Somehow, however, perhaps because it is neo-Atlantean, the Bob/Annuit Coeptis war is considered a more civilized war, though it usually takes place in the wilderness between germs and the immune systems of foreigners, than religious wars, which have become increasingly urbanized for as long as there have been city-states to house temples to gods. The streets are as crowded by souls as are the jungles, on the scales of people and bugs.

Turntable

Town by: A-Ha!

Now it is known that E.B. is a Sethian, and that he is a member of the elite thugee cadre of Buddha-voodoo Central Intelligence Agents known as the Illuminati, the group of economic anarchists that raised Annuit Coeptis from the tome in the Library of Congress, to capture in flash photograph a cross-section of Coeptis using a Chinese Senator for temporal correspondence and record it as a pattern of particles, either virtual or real, that is transmitted by a Sethian to a Bilderberger of the 9 at a time when the Gods came down. This is the only importance of E.B. Outside of the coincidence that David T. identified E.B. as Sethian, he may for the record not exist — and this is how the orient would feel if David T. weren’t drawing Annuit Coeptis there.

The presence of a Sethian, particularly at the relative time-space coordinate of the descent of the gods, adds the possibility that everything might be a lie. This is a boringly familiar option that, due to the Sethian karma, comes also at a time when a longer survival rate prior to reincarnation is indicated. The affect is one of introducing poison. I personally experienced this with E.B. In certain contingencies, particularly the aliens and vampires metaphor, this seems to pander to the misrepresentation of a more advanced networking plan. I myself laugh out loud in their company about the petro rites practiced by neo-nazis, number-heads. These bear little in common with the theory of the Temporary Autonomous Zone or the body-without-organs.

When the gods descend it must be so prepared, all sacrifices aligned. Yet a Sethian is a random variable, the collapse of probability’s wave function when it is observed. If the Sethian proves to be a qliphotic puppet then its observations can come under the control of its will to observe one probability over another. It is the confident sinner who offers leadership skill. It is a boat — a bull’s horns, the crown of Isis, brother to the pelt of Apis, of Hercules-Orion-Osiris, the fool. This was to mark the coordinate of the aeon.

The question is from what height did the eyeball-shaped craft that landed at the airport descend; from what dimension, rather?

On

Campaigning by: the Great Up and Down Machine

We are always campaigning, trying to convince someone of something, many even while alone. It is as if, our tragic flaw, our awareness of the discrepancy between the real and the ideal, the margin of error that is time, causes our consciousness to spring up and gush forth as a font, forming a stream. Here the flocks of many archetypes are tended to drink. Perhaps it is because of these impotent herds fixing their ears for a moment on the babbling of this brook that campaigning is known to occur. Afterall, just listen to your own id.

This presents itself as an intrinsic human aspiration, to suggest ways we would favor to

the probabilities. However, as it is inevitably dragged down to the level of physical manifestation for legislation, campaigning is like a kind of social disease. Within this fractal samsara there may yet be near and far sightedness. These bring further entangling specifics per case.

on

drug

legislation by: DJ Picky

Those who use substances do so as an excuse — something to serve as an answer for the chaos of consciousness. Why should consciousness exist? Where does it come from? What is its purpose? etc. All the classical marbleized mental excrement of the ancient proto-bourgeoisie. All the thoughts written down while stoned that comprise the Illuminati wing of the Akashic records.

It all really boils down to a few essential points of agreement and a couple key terms. Primary among these is the gut feeling that we are deceived, and the question arises if this instinct is borne of the reasoning or the resin. It is associated with the unique ability to discern fact from fiction. This is as much a God-given tool as the opposable thumb. That is to say that, under rarefied conditions, I have experienced clear illumination without drugs. In fact, at least with cigarettes, this is the type of world that will exert pressurized psychological campaigns to reinclude drop-outs.

Forwards

and

Backwards by: In My Parents’ Bedrooms

The model of the preconceived archetype, or fate, is a relatively recent rediscovery. It states that, by coinciding access to new information with an event that includes some form of back-dated media, one ingrains the information in, by saturation of the events surrounding, the copy-write date of the media.

In this way children can today retreat into the realm of mental projective space and design their own memories —associating themselves with whatever they like that happens to cross their imagination, granting however that the nature of the media may color what ideas happen along.

This establishes a Thalamic relationship, and this is all Annuit Coeptis’s matrix or wave-form needs from you to keep the concept of the archetypal, self-actualized version of yourself, called the A : ., going, and this the CIA administer upon you like a celebrity agent or a shot.

There is an unlimited supply of human baby fat. It flows through decaying silver tubes in a miniature hotel that has been long abandoned save a single puppet. The rooms bear the ghosts of forgotten gods. This is the Akashic records. It hovers above Annuit Coeptis. Every room has its own unique gravity. It is the galaxy.

We discover here only exactly what we are meant to discover, what we have rhetorically slain in some cases to earn the right to survive, to continue seeing. Here it is a wasted, waxen existence almost immediately. More is conveyed by sensation. This seems to come in waves that pulse up the nerves like light. Our heart beat accelerates and our mind begins rushing towards every explanation.

This is only fate, opening itself up before our eyes. We see the spirits in our auras as merely reflections of ourselves, hoping to help and guide us, understanding us as much as we do them.

Inside this Sign of the Times by: Rewarding Punishment The different incarnations of the one Illuminatus all possess different spirits in their auras that refer to the different alchemical arts they have performed that are in accordance with

their different sects and denominations. It is irrelevant whether their faith or their practice preceded the other.

The Sethians, naturally a cold-blooded people, came to be the enemies of Annuit Coeptis when the snake impaled by the spear (presumably representing the coiling inner essence of the animal slayed by Orion) was revealed to be nothing more than a shed skin. Such is the story of their great martyr.

It is very similar to the story of Annuit Coeptis in that the central Illuminated figure disappears. They both leave ash behind smoke. For Annnuit Coeptis this is money, and in Annuit Coeptis’s version of the central Christian myth the spiritual harbinger was portrayed as an anticapitalist. This is not ant-capitalism in the economic systems sense, but in terms of assets. Thus what is left behind at the time of death is the product of money, and the manipulation of this the focus of highest mediation to its cults.

I am led to believe that the Sethians serve as the tendrils of Annuit Coeptis. This is where the majority of the modern idealized war goes on, on the streets and out the windows of CIA/Crowleyian suburbia and greater civilization, in what I have called before tendrils or arms.

Thus they are qliphotic zombies. Shadows.

However, for one of them — the one at the time of the last metaprogramming incident influencing this one, —to have turned against Annuit Coeptis because of this is remarkable, for their strength levels in potential are staggering.

Your T.V. is Eating You by: Random Variable You feel your breath for a glorious moment before beginning to rise from self. You pass into awareness of all the mental machinations that pass through you on the breeze of time like the concentric rings of a cross section of almost anything.

And then the mood of the room grabs you and fills you full of a second wind. Fuck that.

Well, says the plaguing connective thought, such is growing up. Here is the war prophesied by C.I.A. scientists Timothy Learey and the Berkley Bunch, the “spiritual” (for lack of an equally elegant, more appropriate term) revolution as active consciousness rises up from between the third and fourth circuits to between the fourth and fifth circuits. It is fought horizontally — this is the only reason Uncle Sam dubbed it getting “high.”

When in the past I have spoken of the Great Migration I mean the discovery of one tunnel reality accessible while progressing “up” through the Cabbalah — that of the Egyptian mummification ritual for astral travel in the “underworld” of night. In accordance with this the Western European modus of sleep, the stuffed bed, rather than the East Asian mat, the Irish kilt, or Hawaiian hammock came to be the dominant social ritual for a large part of the global business day. The sun, afterall, never sets on the economy. This corresponds with the momentary unveiling of all known information available through concentration of consciousness. Having someone bring you a document itself and reading it through its potential don’t differ.

On

the

Illuminati by: Miles O’Johnson

The first proto-Illuminati to this incarnation is the work of Robert Anton Wilson from the 60’s - the present, which inspired the crypto-historians to construct the patsy Bob ennegram.

This work, presented Caballistically, dealt with the necessity of social interaction in altered states, and a safe passage in dealing amongst the archetypes, in the form of icons. While the subgenius movement presented them tempero-anarchocapitalistically, the Illuminatus trilogy presents the panoply of tunnel reality access portals as manipulable in scenario, even to the

extent of uprooting complex absurdisms.

The counterpart to this prototype was the film Illuminata. No more need be said about this film.

Now these bi-parts are only the parents to this branch of work in title. In fact it is the Meditations of Renee Descartes and the Mayan Popul Vuh that conceived this, as I have said before. All of this is only so much interstellar background noise.

On the Overturning of the Money Tables by: DJ Da Jah If you notice something about lines of text the world over, they seem to shimmer a rainbow of oil, each letter recalling the brilliance of its birth reflected as a different wavelength of clear light. If you took this rainbow and looked at it in cross, you would see that it is comprised of millions of tiny particles each comprising a tiny part of the whole, in a fractal. The larger shape described then is like a composite of all its components. It is two lenses, one above the other below, which are both convex on both sides, and clear. The rainbow arises in the upper and lower concave space between these, where light is refracted and the droplet configuration warped. These two lenses arise because the front and the back, or rather top and bottom, of the raindrop function independently, gravitationally. These relativities, alike the later biological front/back spinal organisms and their precedents, are sub-topographical. So the rainbow inside the droplet really is an arc. By looking at it from inside we can see the rainbow’s front and back, and therefore freely cross over it. Money, organic green and solar gold, is the pot of luck at the end of the rainbow, usually a marker of good or powerful times. In other words, start saving your paper 1$ bills now, before the dollar coin has saturated the specie circular; the Illuminati are growing.

On the Secret Contract between the Templars and the Hospitalers

by St. Petro The Rosicrucians reveal that there was no secret contract between the Templars and the Hospitalers, but they grew as twins, cut from the same cloth, the Hippocratic oath reading like a Pythagorean initiation, both taught in class rooms in the Academy. At times they appear to be closer than others, yet they are always equidistant. Their orbit forms the double helix.

This similarity between the Templar and Hospitaler crusaders, it can be seen in the depictions of the traveling lodge of the Rosicrucians, was equivalent, on the scale of the Jewish Adam Kadmon, one god per nation of people or city-state ideal, to what Eastern religious scrolls perceive as the two dragons or spirit animals of the east and the west. These are different in direction of attention only relatively to coordinates that do not exist in the dimension where these equivalencies occur.

These pile up like coins on the one side, homeless gods like ants among them, and like the yarrow rods for a throwing of an I Ching hexagram on the other. Here the gods are probabilities, but the scale balances.

Dogs are Slow to Process Information, Since They Repeat Themselves So Much by: So? Where does angry, revengeful or destructive energy come from? The answer is suggestion, which occurs as reactive possibilities in the realm of natural super-position and visible probabilities. This has a life of its own, and this is Annuit Coeptis. We are Annuit Coeptis, our nervous systems are our personal civilizations, our own microcosm of the universe. Murder is always a possibility, and it is said this brings us directly to the need for civilization. But in so doing we lose some of our self. In exchange we gain language, first and foremost, to level order in the brain.

Annuit Coeptis stands up and is J.R. “Bob” Dobbs. He is Adam Kadmon, the “spiritual” (imaginary) hegemon, the Great Beast, the first clone; we are his DNA. Our nervous systems are his DNA, and this is the Grid, the Enochian communications system — embedded in the qliphotic bodies and AI TVs, in the very living beings that are our eyeballs themselves — that is Annuit Coeptis turned on its ear. Bob is only a PC dodge for Thoth, or time. The primary concern of no spokes-icon is slack. Slack is a death cult ruse.

I Wish I Had Some Gum by: Some Kids Undue. Undue indeed undo. Voodoo, who do we think we would be to need it? What for? All is one, and done until the end and then some. First AI voodoo doll made, walkin’ and talkin’, meets up with some angelic knights and does a little planet hoppin’ well, the new first is much worse than what used to be the second one. Used to mean somethin’ to anyone and now it’s all about the Sethians, and Zarnac Proop’s split tongues. And that pressure dropped like pinched by mister Spock just put uncertainty under observation. This plan is still under construction while the theater’s cramped full due to overpopulation. Undue, rude and copped a feel off the general attitude. Ornery, that’s his problem, not his place to be crude. Such displays are the apples of Sodom. All bullshit; how true? Pull the mountains sheltering the temple in the valley ring closer, for this is the answer to the old man’s next ponder, ‘round the lake where we wander whenever we go. Show some respect, act like you know. Before you notice, ‘round the globe we gonna go. Held up in fear’s arms at gunpoint breast fed the fat from old ladies’ assess and battery acid. Now I ain’t here for you, to be in your world, I’m only close in that I’m near to you when you hear my words, and that’s the straight truth, but over here I got my own reality where the stars are all out but it’s nice, bright and sunny. Now show me the money, and I’ll give some to him, and he’ll give some to another guy, who’ll give some back to you, until we’ve gone around again and again so many times it’s cool. This is a secured area, sir, just leave your compass here and if you pass back by this way again you can be sure I won’t be near. Best stay clear, the light is. Go ahead and turn it right around like you’re King Midas. Feel the shifting in positioning of all the possibilities. Now give it back so I can break your toy over my knee. That’s some bad shit, you better recollect, don’t talk that tongue of disrespect. You know it’s conjured up in a split moment and time is frozen like your face when you’re caught in headlights, just try to look presidential while all the wisdom floats by. Thought I was dead but, oh no — I live again! Either like Hamlet overactin’ to pop up jus’ foolin’ or the-cat-came-back style, movie after movie. I got you beat, I’m Hiram Abiff, astral organism of the sacred one struck down so often in an infinitely collapsed span of time the little sacrifice has gone numb. Now Microsoft is in your home theater system, the eye of everyone watching everyone.

The Confession of Osiris Annuit Coeptis is the manifestation of capital, and it is only a trick — a lie. The Church of the Subgenius, which follows J.R. “Bob” Dobbs, preaches slack. But slack is lying down or sitting, and when Bob reclines he is Annuit Coeptis. The sole function of Annuit Coeptis, the body of civilization, is to produce capital. The method it uses to do this is manifestation, and this active transformation of potential energy into solid matter is hardly “slack.” Therefore, unless Bob gets up and walks around to validate it, manifestation is a trick and money is a lie. In order to do this the concept of Satan, which is of the Sethian-Christian tradition practiced by some of those who make use of Annuit Coeptis as a temple to access Cabballah, needs to be elevated to his original status as Thoth, who manages the Akashic records which can be accessed by everyone through Annuit Coeptis using their nervous systems. Now Thoth is above Osiris, who is the Egyptian

omni-diety that passes the underworld of figurative night. Osiris is therefore YHVH’s living manifestation by night, a wandering spirit that possesses the nervous systems of those in the network of Annuit Coeptis. YHVH is the equivalent in Cabballah (as above) to the people who are the bodies susceptible to possession at the hands of Annuit Coeptis (so below). In this way YHVH is the existent anti-thesis of both Satan — the face — and Maloch — the eye — of Annuit Coeptis, in the same way that Bob is Annuit Coeptis standing up, and Annuit Coeptis is the manifestation of capital. Philosophical confusion arises only at the point over whether this manifestation itself is active or passive — if Annuit Coeptis manifests capital (Time is Money), man stands in the spiritual axon-dendrite gap between the library of the Akashic records above and the maze of civilization below; if capital manifests Annuit Coeptis (Money is Time) then we are bound to a level that is fluid, and without this condition of fluidity destroyed by our being bound to it, we cannot measure this level to let us know that it exists. The elevation of Thoth commences with the Masonic public initiating ceremony, which marked him as Morpheus, Lord of dreams, the father icon that the Sethian cyber-serpent Cypher tried to betray, killed by Dozer. It’s all right there.

Our

Unholy

Hologram by: the Bilderbergers

Satan is the face of Bob and Maloch is the evil eye... no? Then Moloch is his third eye, for we see that Satan is smiling, yes — and this is not a wince of agony that, wilting the very soul, pleads “slay me no more!” This is the face of the salesman. The face of advertisements on the television, the face of followed patterns. Bob’s gender is an irrational number, because he is an enlightened being: seen while seeing, the giver and receiver, the nothingness of money, for example — he commands the allocation of funds. It was wise to fear him in the 50’s, for he was the son of a gun, by God, though his apocrypha dates the confrontation with the anti-Bob that divided America and Russia much later in their calendar, for passive capitalism is a much older god than Christ. Now if Bob existed, he would exist as a hologram. It would be such that, for any individual who stood looking down at money in their hand, would, in the name of the Holy Communion in which Jesus Christ exchanged wafers of bread for the parts of the flesh through which nails were passed, find themselves standing in the road before Golgotha on a cloudy day with the sun shining bright behind them from behind the great pyramid of Annuit Coeptis, above and surrounded by the maze of civilization, a gate between you and its entrance behind you, guarded by a sleeping guard, and on the visible face of Annuit Coeptis is an immense eye, and beneath it is the insatiable mouth of sacrifice. The visible face and mouth together are “Bob,” and “Bob” can be rotated so that the mouth is facing out and the eye the sky. This is “Bob in slack.” His face is Satan and his eye is Moloch, (either in a wince, wink or ajna) and if Bob stands up the Anti-Christ becomes Thoth, or time. This being’s body of manifestation is the geometric Akashic records above and the network of similar probabilities called money below. Money is the crumbs from the mouth of sacrifice. Sacrifice is a probabilistic rite, depletion is a trick of observation. This all started back when bald, tan, brawny people buried themselves in pyramids on the sandy banks of a broad, cool river flowing south to north.

Generation

X-files by: Kin of Kin

The pilots of the UFOs are largely yuppies and subgenii — oh,yes — the UFOs are the manifestation of Annuit Coeptis, yes, the same as money, for they existed and exist more in the realm of fiction, where they represent the set and settings of ourselves in various possible futures. They are poetic terrorists in chat-rooms.

These are the physical manifestations of fractal sub-patterns in the continuum that

represent archetypes of the hyper-realities in which suggestions, for example, exist as communication between information units. Here Annuit Coeptis exists only as money, which is a creation of these manifestations, a form of solid communication. Because money exists as a measure used by both those whose business is fact and those whose it is fiction, they are thought to exist in the same reality, perhaps only separated by the duty of a job.

Annuit Coeptis is originally an Aztec god. Now the pyramids of Giza were built first, but they did not yet know what they were worshiping. Their empire as a result was never again so strong. Their failure was in not making blood sacrifices. It was only with Akhenaton, when sunworship was attempted to be initiated nationally, that the question of developing a segment of the population specifically for sacrificial migration began to arise in the Pharaoh’s eye. And we know what has become of the Aztec empire since the Spaniards liberated them from its practice.

The concept of blood sacrifice was integrated symbolically into the Catholic religion, which conquered all of South America, and also dominates elsewhere, where the blood is the passage of time marked by the movement of galaxies like blood cells in their messiah’s universal veins, and is symbolically imbibed in the form of wine. Petro rites of various forms remain prominent around women’s mystery cults and in many personal grooming rituals performed the world over in accordance with western business attire.

It places profound significance on the preservation of remains, implying a vast data-bank of DNA claimed by secret societies as suburban as a college fraternity. This brings into focus a strong reflection on family blood lines.

Confession of Hassan I Sabbah The Anti-Christ becomes Thoth after Bob stands up. The Anti-Christ is a superposition just as anti-particles are a supersymmetry. The Anti-Christ represents the approach or retreat of the emotional dimension of the passage of time. He is the warrior prince and the suffering martyr at odds atop the mountain of Annuit Coeptis. They claim to be spiritual, but their distinction of fact and fiction in competition reveals informational metaphysics. They occupy the house where the wise old silver-backed Merlin simian once dwelled, and will dwell again, and again — because only in this triplicity of top and bottom and observer, or alpha, omega and beta, is there sufficient strength to keep Annuit Coeptis linked to the Kabballah. The triplicity is the righteous teacher, the duplicity the wicked priest, for the ajna’s light flows inward and fascination manifests. Unfortunately the triple eyed perception has also come to be associated with the AntiChrist by the Sethians, seeking to influence the Catholics. These Sethians are qliphotic puppets, but this only opens up the possibility that they are possessed by YHVH, either partially as observers, or actively as knights, and this may lead to illuminous ends, for He is the father of Lucifer, and Lucifer looks at the light. He is also the father of Jesus Christ — and here we see that the Anti-Christ is everyone who is not Jesus, and then everyone of them who is not Christ. Thus the Anti-Christ discorporeally roams among this flock of souls, possessing from amongst them whom he desires. This is an entirely active process, engaged in by twitching in the peripheral nervous system. But this is only the realm of spiritual communication insofar as it is the instrument of our being changed over time, for it forms a physical hyper-dimensional equivalent manifestation network in which pure geometry is endlessly exchanged with information units.

Both Christ and Anti-Christ claim to represent time in a ritual of potential causation, Christ passively and Anti-Christ actively (except in the east, where these are reversed) or so I remember.

Confession

of

a

Fighter

The fighter drowned to death after the fight. He had delirium tremors. He looked like a

piece of wet stone. If it were 2,000 years ago he would have thought that the world revolved around him. He was like a god, a part of culture. A pináta.

He was used to taking punches — seeing new pains flying at him from every angle, dealing with ringing in his ears and sweat in his eyes, used to the taste of blood. Used to ignoring the loudspeakers. Used to the lights.

He has to do what he does. He couldn’t cut better deals; he couldn’t find the right words.

He tried to keep his spirits up: “obey my commands.” The dame he met therefore was simple, an easy intellectual opponent. But he hadn’t counted on her period, when she provided excellent business advice. She called it her “right.” He listened to it on the radio.

Everything was chaos sometimes. His right was stronger, but the pms was a blow beneath her right eye, or so they agreed in the announcements. At least he wasn’t alone when the visions started to flow.

He tried to remember the past, his moves — the pre-existent patterns in the smoke between, the shadows — he focused on the movement, what was called for; he wanted to be a hero, to leave as his full that impression on people.

Feet shuffled on the edges of his perception, everything else began to shudder out of effect, with another few echoing booms. The sweat on his brow when he moved was cool, like whiskey.

This could all end at any time, begs a dizzying spirit of mercy. His elbows swing like pendulums. He and his dame make love. Don’t be too hasty. It’s all about investing money. He keeps his head down.

Confessions of the Fighter sells millions, posthumously. He begins to go down, to swirl around, to drain into a sort of satisfied sleep. Warmth flows through him, making his muscles feel like steel.

And all of this was the vision he saw in a single blink during the fight.

the Space Race by: Six-Fingered Sally In the days before the Great Migration of Sleeping Souls, only officers knew of the formal system of metaphysics, and this because they have guarded it, and, though they have come to embody it, having their backs turned to it, still do not recognize it. In these days all had to pay homage to the officers, who went blindly among them, waiting to be feared.

“No, Celine, no! Don’t bother using your art to make these frames look like some other images too; they’re too dark! They’re too dark!”

It is too late, they are launched into space. Immediately the reptile brain begins to overanimate its influence. It claims that males accumulate while females experience information, immediately trying to divide the group. The Krishna cow tries to talk it down, to little avail. The mission commander decides to abort its consciousness feed, and he is left to float.

At this point something drastic happens to the reptile brain, and it begins to evolve. In its unconsciousness it manifests images, and immediately we are in a jungle fire-fight, a sort of realization of the age of broadcasts at that altitude.

“It’s time for the beginning,” a booming voice said, “now feel the cold, how it burns at you until your molecules, all madly seeking escape, tear apart their bonds, until the letters, polarized, cannot form words to express your ache.”

The mission commander has quite a tricky time explaining to the crew that it isn’t real and that it poses no threat. It was after this that the reptile brain took on the manner of the fool, coinciding with the introduction of territorial rituals.

I am writing the same story in three times. The general stood for one good victory, and then sat back down again to grow fat and stupid.

Advanced

Amnesia by:Amber Nipple Ring

Words weep down like snow from the storm of wasted time. On the shores of the limitless grey and white and black beach we meet. I hand you an envelope, you hand me a receipt. I take this receipt to whoever’s ad is on the radio first and they will tell me what next to do. Shortterm/long-therm parking. Dawn just breaking through.

It’s the CIA that does this — do the people ever know? I’ve seen them making phone calls, asking directions to Disney World, or maybe Disney Land, and I would have thought that they had seen me if they’d seemed to understand. It’s the Finders that do this —going into with children and coming out without bookstores. Friends and neighbors, parents’ keepers, ever present to insure, come in clear now satellite’s listening, either you are its or it is yours. These are the bad dreams of yesteryear, the foundations for tomorrow’s fear. In the desolate temple ruins beware what you eat before you retreat.

Mental warfare, guess that’s the way it goes and if that’s true as you read this, you should experience pain in the ball of your right big toe, ‘cause that’s what’s true for me, my friend and you and I, I say again, live in the same reality. The end. Here comes the kill, why wait — want to feel it, come on kid, come straight ahead and wonder: who’s the killer? Where’s it gonna come from, which direction? Got the right rhythm or do you still think you’re a step ahead? Better be sure the killer’s gonna take the form of an answer not a question.

Maybe this shit’s already happened and you just missed it, gonna grow up all inside you like some deadly kind of virus — we got chemical warfare between minds on the streets, now clear the crowds ‘cause here comes God. Boom! Like a beam of sunlight in the map room, cast through a jewel in a certain length staff projected into a three dimensional model that’s a city made of math.

Take the helm, one of twelve, of the Democratic Republic system, it’s time to roam a couple realms before the holidays. Nothing’s new anyway.

On the Sitar by: Valley Girl I have struggled to make and obtain better contracts. It is only through a shrewd business instinct that has severely impacted on my health that I have come to retain any shreds of the remainder of my spiritual cerebral canopy’s memory banks in the form of short recollection that engenders distractions. When I am asleep and dreaming I form an astral body and the C.I.A. guides me wherever I like going. I lead a different life. Sometimes my mom is there, sometimes my (ex?) soul-mate, sometimes I am driving in my car, sometimes we are going to parties. All of this is in that canopy of mind that extends without horizon out around me. They are only images, these memories, and not like the real events that happened. We are out all night doing this. And then it doesn’t stop. It is happening when we are awake. Is this what is to be?

The seconds gradually pass without you, Illuminati. I wish I knew where you were and what you were doing. My very thoughts themselves are of you. A song of crying babies. I spend the time with you in other dimensions. I cut a deal to be a creative being. Hence how heavy my luggage is. We pay homage.

I take the bus in the rain from downtown. It’s all hectic, it’s all gotten screwed up. It’s time to break things down, until our hair gets static. Take the pan-gun, give me cover I’ve got to doctor up an upper respiratory infection before the pentagon’s inspection. They gotta clear our reactions to the eye ball’s presence, good old Uncle Choronzon. So I hop in a jeep and ride out the the ranch to secure the c.o.’s position. Rap is the child of war. W.I.M.P. All is well besides the emptiness. Various solutions exist in theory, and while theories are accumulating, and people for opportunities awaiting, oh, the world is dying. Is to be insucinct

to be insincere — if so I am really screwed. Until now where there has been light there has not been love, and where there has been too much life there has not been light, and where there is no love there can be no life. Food for the eye.

It’s happening. The worms that live in our eyebrows, when aligned with the sun, speak in our new tongue, science, thought and observation. They have access on a quantum level to our brain’s electromagnetic emission and know all of our civilization’s history, as we would too, if it weren’t for our nerves.

Disagree

to

Disagree by: Grandma Roses’s Lipstick Boomerang

Angels guide our disagreements. The newspaper of your afterlife. To depend on someone is to owe them their cure, their liberation. Do you choose enlightenment or to get fucked like a celebrity? Either way you can be sure that the same damn choice will be there next time. Owned and operated, a franchise. Wave your hands around if you truly despise. The soft-lit skies surround you, ever waiting for your answer. Alas, when you die — will you be ready to be born?

I am no angel. The Crowleyian cult hath slew off my wings, has left me at fault. Birds at night, revving engines — the sound of the middle-east, cars driving repeatedly away in the distance. Monday evening. Check my gas, check my oil, pop my jaw. House creeks. Kill for company. Check the law.

There is no hope of reviving your child. We must ask consent for time of death. Mayan doctors who are pure ashen bone, shadowed eyes, all else sterilized in ash, white as clouds, promise to return. They leave the people and go into the east, where they undergo a passion play.

Conquistadors keep ears. No, doctor, my mind’s supposed to work like yours. It’s alright if I don’t get paid, I’ve got my own health to worry about. I don’t need your kind of medicine. I’ve got quantum mechanics down to a philosophy. I knew it, keep it to ourselves. This is the only trick there is, the guard at the gate. Either wait or wake.

There is nothing to see here, folks —please move along. A collage of beginnings. The tenmillion eyes of Choronzon’s dawn, all seeing, suspicious, all dancing, hyper-sensate, dweller in the abyss. Grandmother, eye’s aslant from drink. We talk. Not that anything ever comes of it. The music never seems to stop. Raw heat spreads a wave of ember through its medium in the aftermath.

The smell of ash upon the tarmac, the smell of gasoline from planes taking off. The plastics take turns with the uglies in the orange jump suits. The pressure in the cabin is already putting so much of the squeeze on my eardrums wax drips into my upper lobe like melting cheese.

When are we going to leave? I want to see the ground recede. Do you agree?

The

Urge by: K.A.B.

Remember, forget, remember, forget, true/false, fact/fiction — consciousness is just the phase cycling of these information units rapidly. Give a computer a self to maintain, make it a self-maintaining system, and it will be conscious, self-aware. We pass through cycles of consciousness, sometimes thinking more than others, like a baby goes through expressions while awake. We create patterns, like flight paths, through these walls and levels of periodical awareness, learning to regulate them by continual narration. These we follow through the topography of emotions in the continuum of quanta.

All around us there exists a certain stirring that can only be described as writing. This is the geometry of pure dimension that constitutes our consciousness. It is our very mind reflected in the patterns we see outside of ourselves that our mind marks its “life” by perceiving.

Legislation occurs consciously, over time. It’s alright as long as it rhymes.

Every day try to wake up as a new person — you got it but you don’t want it? Try the formal system that is embedded in the data frame. They call it the roller coaster, but that’s just a name for a video game.

There has been a misconnection due to a rogue agent of enlightenment. The misconnection involves the Christian CIA. The manouever performed was as follows: he praised the prowess of his enemy, and belittled as meager his own skills, as they were about to meet in combat. His enemy, hoping to cut him off, drove the stakes up higher to observe the interaction from as great a circuit as possible. Thus, during their fight, the agent fought through his enemy to defeat the agent’s body. The enemy liked this, and allowed it. Until the agent inverted the entire scenario back to the time of introduction, the enemy never saw it coming. The agent remains existent on several levels, that is — his works are manifest at varying times on varying scales.

Smell

of

Markers by: Scent O’Sunil

I don’t know what it is. In terms of my life experience: I haven’t got any. I’ve never slept under any bridges like the guy who started the band whose shirt I wear. Although starting a band is really a joint effort. And really no effort. I’m not Robert DeNiro.

We stick around, kind of, waiting for somebody to guide us. I guess we’re only here to mark points in history. We’ve already earned the respect of our enemy elders to the extent of jollity in their own self-imposed demise. Time is a desert under an ocean.

It is equally easy to account for verbal and telepathic methods of communication and putting on or taking off a hat, should you be allowed to find the time to think either one well enough through, and be inclined so as to do so. You can come back beaming sunshine talking about the books you’ve read.

The truth, if you find the way to see it, is always better than reality. You will probably want to relax; that is just a part of life. So is endless suffering. Light, love and life have always existed. Such you will find is their eternal message.

I find my voice in a war zone, other people’s messages and intentions passing through me as I quiver. It is yet indistinct. Knowledge of it precedes it by a bit, yet it is always there. What does it have to say?

One’s whole life can be a mission to be someone who accomplishes something and not need for motion. After this the voice is muted. Yet the legislation remains, at all proximities.

What good does it serve — these intersections of verbiage? How they disappear amidst the miles. Throw it into the fire and if it doesn’t burn it’s gold. From one end of the spectrum to the other spring manipulations born of the cursing of Apis. They go past without my vision. The landscape opened itself up to me, and who am I to fight?

The Next Level, Holy Grail and Mummies by: DedEndZ And so it falls to another generation of Masons to construct the maintenance of the next level of higher communication while all throughout the nation they are simultaneously building the pathways around our perceptions, where relationships occur. Now we are using these patterns all the time, but they are most pronounced in traffic. This is where we have to make decisions at our most rapid rate. The forth-coming advancement of this incorporates many higher elements of Zion and a profusion of ratio and non-integer scale components. We have seen the designs, still bloody from sacrifice. The very idea that movies constitute synchronizable events is a laugh to a bald man. Life slips past quick.

As the great Hermeticist Wilhelm Nietzsche once said, “if my instincts don’t kill me, they

only make me stronger.” Yet we hope this was neither lie nor joke. The more you see, the less you know. Either retreat or approach will become more probable. Each new event spawns six new questions. It is the man-made Eden. Sensai let go of my soul.

No one can take away any part of my life. Or rather, it is poisoned, for until recently I had not drunk from the Holy Grail, “admixing silver and water,” which cures all unease, including the delusion of severed selves. In the olden days people looked for their leaders to be people who were close to the community —that is, people who were seldom alone. This prevented, in their minds, the influence of foreign mind control or alien ideas. In reality it merely hones a distortion field between their personal em aura (pert em heru — the Egyptian book of the dead) and the surrounding quantum continuum in which nervous, electrical messages are transmitted through the earth’s emf. These are the severed selves. EM is the HG. Mummies are microwave meals. The damned cannibalize, they eat what they are — ideas, tv dinners; they struggle to maintain rhythm with the waves. The time of the cosmic contest continues, though its conclusion has already been determined. The Nine bred the Christ creature, all else is merely their camouflaged love for it. Superposition still reigns, and we await the final stage, for so far all the prophesies are in alignments sparkling gaze.

Antebellum

Atlantis by: a Girl at School who Knows your Mom

The sky train flew noiselessly along its monorail, suspended like an aqueduct between the sky scraping buildings. Around it the electromagnetic distortion field of the Enochian communications system comprised of atom-thin super-strings gushes by in Technicolor protoplasms, at once geometric and biological, stirred liquidly by the multi-compartmented metal worm’s passage. I eat a sandwich. We hover down low over the art sector, a student Bohemia of entrepeneureal shops. Atlantis is beautiful whenever I visit.

I see the scenarios coming and I laugh out loud. The war is over. Annuit Coeptis sits for Bob, and Bob stands for Annuit Coeptis. One squares the circle, the other circles the square. So we have the formula for the passage of time: Annuit Coeptis rolls over and is Bob (Righteous Teacher); Bob looks up and sees Kaballah in the Akashic Records; Kabballah comes down as Bob (Wicked Priest) and returns to Annuit Coeptis for recuperation. Such is the vision of the universe in a moment.

This means that the parties in power return to a Democratic equilibrium. They roam about in UFO time-machines preceded by heat, evidenced by a pervasive humming sound, and anteceded by a plane flying overhead. The Nine control the Bilderberger Counsel. They are the librarians of the Akashic records. Ghosts, holy knights, ephemeral. They fix prices. They understand only the inside and outside of money.

When our central consciousness leaves us, as in meditation, it might not return immediately just because there was a disturbance that begged the question. Another voice might arise and assume authority over the affairs of the personality. This voice is only superposition.

There remains the war on bugs, and this illuminati will continue to report on this. Let me remind you, it is a jungle war that occurs within plasma between consciousness and decay over time.

Lite

Scars by: the Committee to Re-Elect the President

And they all agreed that there had been a time when man was front to back, the time of the “missing link,” and they called these times Atlantean. The Aryans and the Jews both include national migratory passion plays that can be expressed in terms of the passage of active

consciousness through unconsciousness. Ironically, this nomadic cohesiveness has led to transnationalism politically. Hence it is thought to be the traveling salesmen of the world that bear the Atlantean heritage.

We must now see that Maloch, the eye, and Satan, the face, of Annuit Coeptis / “Bob” are only aspects of the soul of Thoth — that is: Annuit Coeptis is the ape of Thoth, (money — the flesh of the antichrist — transubstantiates into desired objects) and “Bob,” the proverbial traveling salesman, is the same as Hermes Trismegistus, the soul or job of Thoth. But as we see this so we see that Thoth is only the soul or role of Osiris, who is only the soul or essence of YHVH. The system opens up to reveal that all creators can be accessed through their works by calling for courtesy, and that there is still property left in space, but that — according to the history of my desktop — all those who bought out in the Great Migration (of the Atman’s Slumber) have been cut off, since my computer no longer has enough memory to run that program. This comes true in the borderlands of civilization.

This species was begun by just one, way back in the time before the foundation was wrung from the cliff sides and culverts of quarries where our ancient ancestors toiled by the millions just to erect a couple stuck up stucco buildings. Before judgment day, hope you’ll remember us: this way. Cause we gave it all we got and all the glory we got was the burn in our muscles and luck enough to not get shot, down in some scuffle, some school boy trifle, a tiff, a miff, an unfortunate incident between wounded disciples. You be the judge — are they calling for blood? Well, by my lungs! Do I detect a whiff of sulfur? I think my eyes are going numb.

Summary of the 64 Illuminati articles by: the man in the corner of the room These are a fascinating piece of arcana from the turn of the second millenium, when freestyle short-term, short-range prphecy was particularly fashionable among the bourgeoisie, whose country club cock-tailed gatherings could well fill the mind and spark the imagination of an old woman wandering down the road nearby like the voices of crows crying carried on the wind.

The Old Boys have it, good after and bad before, in so many self-appointed subjective and relative titles. They sport the sight of bald-headed eagles, and are thelemic knights. But their roots have become corrupt. The bonfire of vanities beside the moonlit highway leaves an enormous lonely crater behind, scattered with the debris of their passing. Choronzon is summoned and obliterated by the same deed, once performed, again and again in the continuum forever. They need not seek to submerge the active consciousness in the indulgences of the id in a bestial manner, yet this drowning is the re-enactment of Atlantis, and Eden, which are one: the travelling lodge: the relative lost continent.

This is all evidenced in the background of the 2001 Illuminati articles. It is as if they are a hologram broken off from the tree of history.

Since I wrote them I have written more, but still these first sixty-four should be considered alone. All that can be added to them is of a practical nature, and protracted to boot.

These sixty-four, however, have oracular power, to those, at least, with that proclivity or dispensation. They have shown me a new way to see through time as surely as the i ching could.

Eventually I’ll start asking questions of myself, and, the great Karnac predicts, my doubts will manifest themselves at that time in worries over whether using such a Boolean logic constitutes getting a dark side point for awareness of the method of tachyonic telekinisis. Seems plausible enough. I am not looking over my shoulder. I am looking over yours.

Dear Uncle Anton, I have been reading your collection of articles, and hope you have had the chance to well enjoy my own. Sorry to hear about your death, but then, you know how our family feels about that, (It opens the temporal tunnel gate for translife migration of the astral soul) so I am sure I’ll only be seeing you around, and finding references to your own works in ancient sources, even more now

than ever before.

As you must know my father (Gumbo) and his common law wife (Lisa) have been stealing from my own aura and sending the information to her two children from a previous marriage with her first husband (Jeff — who I assume they think represented me, but was probably you), in order to stir up conflict and competition between them. Austin (George W. Bush) and Jordan (Osama Bin Laden) are both married, so the rumors of the affair between them are greatly exagerated. It has come to my attention, however, that Osama Bin Laden is only a computer generated image, like Jar Jar Binks in the new Star Wars serial, and was actually killed while hijacking one of the planes responsible for the catastrophe of Sept, 11, which you might not have heard about, but which is a little too complicated to explain in brief.

Meanwhile, my neighbors, Tony (Soprano —of the gay mafia), Chuck and Julie and their friend Thoth (your people), their neighbor Anubis (Morpheus), Mr. Lamb (James Grambling), the gay CIA agent across the street, and the jewish Jeff who played Moses at the temple when I went there as a little kid, are all malfunctioning with refreshing regularity, reassuring me that they really are as stupid, petty, pathetic and worthless as you have helped me to accept human beings as being.

After the death of my cat Lucifer it has been a little harder to hold together the zodiac of the animist churches at my mother MeruBecka’s house, however. This has not been helped by Sam and John DeLeon, my roommates for a short time while I lived at waterline, who conspired with Eli (wannabe Enoch) Brock and his girlfriend Christa Sterling (who was raped by her dwarf father Ronald as a child, which is safe for me to say since it’s been printed in the dailies), and who all think they know dick about the matrix, despite my trying to tell Sam that the nervous system is an evolved virus.

Hail Satan

Looking down a bloody tampon by: Anna Bore Shun They thought they could get away with it. They worship a scribe on the one hand, then turn around and breathe out blasphemies through the other, cupped into a ring. Form a ring around the rosy, playing hanky panky posey. Go into the woods where we’re all from, come and come and come and come. Come back out whenever you’re done, feeling numb and feeling dumb. Go back to your jobs. The people watching you through the cameras are laughing at you even more whenever they get bribed with doughnuts, glazed torus. Little Damien Thorn, this movie’s about you. The IMF and world bank, see Heather kicking down your door. She wants free housing and medical too, and she won’t accept fascist socialism from you. You’re losing control, your world of high priced food and consumer goods. Lucifer poked his hand through time, delivered a videotape into the thirties, couldn’t be watched until the eighties, by then it was too late to save your military project on Mars.

You think I don’t deserve to know anything, but I know who you are. A tape loop caught in samsara. I’ve seen my own face divided one billion times one billion times, and I know where my atoms are from. I’ve been around since the big bang, while you’re driving around in your hydrogen zeppelin car, waiting for a yellow submarine van to come and take you under the sea of Nuit in an SUV. Come on and hit me Javert, see what you get. It’s all been done before in Atlantis, home of the crystal computer system that created the Grid that controls all of this, what you call reality, and I call a hole in the back of the head of the lion of zion. It’s no great mystery. All you want to do is to kill, it ain’t no fucking biggy.

All of these divisions, all of these troops in battle armor, kevlar vests pumping out tear gas against people in flannel and sock hats. They thought they could get away with it. Sure as shootin’ I’ll probably see you sent to hell by the guns you sell.

Drain my batteries with your minds, see if I notice what’s behind. I can call so many names while I spin around, you lock me in the nut hatch to steal what’s mine. Who will believe John DeLeon? No one will buy anything he has written. A faggot with an H in his name? A cop

trying to pose as a lion? Go back to Hell and try it again. I don’t have any real friends. Only the ones inside of my head. Which leaves no one.

tortured to the brink of death and then brought back by: sith mousketeers Faggot god francis says, “NO! Don’t hurt yourself! It’s bad for the collective, communal, biophysical link, in which we are all smudged into one!”

Sing along with Christian campfire singalong lip reading playing fag tag in the house of the Lord and worshipping Dave the night time janitor while getting clearance from a higher up to butt fuck your movie clone and get married in the Celtic way, red haired Judas, Irish blood.

Christian soft Goth sounds like a quief.

Suck a big fat tobacco cigarette and lick my Balzac. The constellations of the sky are not a keyboard on a computer mainframe for you to enter in your preferences you bunch of psychopathic sychophantic copy cat biting buggers trying to anthropmorphize otherwise perfectly functional natural cause and effect. Your faggot luck dragon’s name is entropy, and I fucked his butt hole with a rubber bullet way back when the universe first began.

Micky Mousekewitz can stay in the hell of overheated atmospheres while people suck down ice cream sandwiches that melt like ass jelly all over their red hot hands. My best friend fucked my future wife and then broke into a school and destroyed the front office. I wrote a movie script to damage control the consequences on all the poor little children, but my own parents damage controled the damage control and now the children are back to being mindless zombies trained on computers to serve the new world order under the right hand angel of the Lord, who art the same as the angel of death.

“Don’t hurt yourself” says Mickey Francis. “We’ll check up on you to make sure you’re still alive,” say the policemen of the new world order. “We’ll train you with sports,” say the gregorians, drunk off the german blood of Mathers. You can go bald or have a handlebar moustache, either way it’s a woman’s behind and groin. “The shemhamforash controls the stock market,” last ditch of the desperate. The asian contagion caused the tech market crash, now people are willing to bow down before angels and demons of the hours, the days, the weeks, months and years, just for a way to spend time, just for something to do. And so many are willing to play those roles, just to manipulate the other people, who they think don’t deserve to be equal to them in terms of their sacred and holy rights and rituals.

the new VW bug was not reverse engineered from UFOs an apology by: Jeff Goldblum’s future ghost The arabs are concerned about the manufacture by American laboratories such as Saandia National Labs of biological and chemical weapons warfare technologies, and so the American national network media performs diversive transference onto Sadaam Hussein, claiming he is manufacturing biological and chemical weapons warfare technology. Saddam Hussein is in fact manufacturing biological and chemical weapons warfar technology, but this is only because he, seeking to be a hero to the Arab people, is trying to keep up with what is perceived by them to be the biological and chemical weapons warfare technology gap with American national laboratories such as Saandia National Labs. Meanwhile, the judiciarily appointed distator, fascist King George W. Bush, who litterlaly knows less than nothing, is prepared to bomb Iraq with what he believes are the military’s most sophisticated technology, “smart bombs,” or TNT with cameras strapped to them, because when his father, George Bush Sr. was president during the Gulf War, Saddam Hussein supposedly wanted to have him assassinated for the United States and United Nations forces thwarting his incursion upon Iraq’s southern neighbor Kuwait, a war which was entirely fought over oil supply for either Arab or American business friendly nations.

In the same way that Saddam Hussein is being badly misled about the necessity of Arab manufacturing of biological and chemical weapon warfare technology, just as were both the US and the USSR about the nuclear intercontinental ballistic missile gap during the cold war, so is king Geroge the first of America being badly misled by his father, former head of the CIA, the organization that really controls America, both the media, the manufacturing of all kinds of warfare technology, and the government, about what the most advanced or sophisticated form of tactical weapons there are available to the American military. Consider the fact that dropping TNT on a chemical weapons plant would create a toxic cloud, just as driving a hydrogen car next to a tire fire would detonate it like the Hindenberg. The only way to combat biological and chemical weapons warfare technology is with energy weapons, such as the phasers on star trek, which are not far removed from much of the technology currently in use for modern stealth and radar deflecting technology.

the Levitan and why it is so placid by: just some gunderson Why vote when you can make a soft money campaign contribution of several million dollars instead, which can go to pay for valuable advertising useful for slandering the opposition with yellow journalism and good old fashioned mud slinging, which even our primitive ancestors the primates continue to engage in to this day. Consider the symbology of the two existing political parties of the representative republic of the United States of Dumberica. The donkey, or Jackass, is known as an annoying, smelly coarse haired androgyn which cannot be ridden upon without being bucked off except by Jesus Christ himself, and then only side stratle and walking upon and fanned on by palm fronds. The elephant, or pachyderm, is an enormous creature, renowned for its memory, but otherwise ugly, hunted for its ivory tusks, and, as big as a house, can only be ridden upon by Indian fakirs, and even then they can expect to be sprayed with water by the long nosed trunk of the peanut eating portly massive pig like, tough skinned, tank boar.

If I could vote, or rather, make a multi million dollar soft money contribution useful for slanderous and libelous advertising, I would do so for the environmentalist green party, whose last presidential nominee was Ralph Nadir, a renowned consumer affairs expert, social and economic scientist, and public hemp advocate. The only national political issue I care about at all is the legalization of marijuanna. Since King Geroge was appointed official Caesar of America by the Ennead of the Supreme Court, England, Canada, and parts of California have all passed legislature towards the legalization, decriminalization and medical use of marijuanna. While Bush has been on Leno casting the sign of Satan, as if he thought the cameras were not shooting back at him, the college population of America has grown weary and disgusted by the experiments being done on them by the secret government with high priced and often poorly manufactured designer drugs such as MDMA, or XTC, and arsenic laced LSD, or acid. They rally around the remains of hippiedom, camping out around the barracaded off meetings of the Bilderbergers, IMF and world bank, and NATO, being dutifully toted off by the jack booted exoskeletoned neo nazis in plastic handcuffs for their peaceful passive resistant demonstrations and protests. Even the cops are getting tired of their new, soft kill weapons, that even the catharsis of marijuanna.

Politics

is

a

cannibal

dinosaur by: various interested parties

It is the popular opinion that people are liberal while young and conservative when they get older. Well there are more young people then there are old people. It is also a popular opinion that poor people are liberal while rich people are conservative. Well there are more poor people than rich people.

Young people drive fast, and old people drive slow, so people who are out on the road think they can make political descicions in the same way they drive. They want politics to be a massive, person-controlled machine, like their car. Politics is not a massive, person-controlled machine like their car. The internet is. Politics isn’t.

Liberals want change in the magical realm of politics. And they want it now. They wanted it yesterday, but yesterday it wasn’t their turn to drive, so they didn’t get what they wanted.

They didn’t get youger Senators, they didn’t get Democratic congressmen and women. Today it is their turn, so they did get these things. But since they got what they wanted it means their turn is already over, and so the judicial system appointed King George the first, a staunch conservative.

The younger senators and the Democratic congressmen and women can push for legislations like better healthcare, social security, and welfare and campaign finance reform, but the appointed dictator president can just veto all this and start a war over oil.

Conservatives want stasis in the magical realm of politics. And they want it to change back to yesterday. Or even the day before. As if, by turning back social agendas to the turn of the century, it could possibly make these withered dixiecrats into the children they were then once again. Since these dinosaurs can’t be young again their agenda is pretty much just to destroy the planet as much as possible, or at least to leave as big a mess as possible for the kids to have to clean up. They want senators who die in office of old age to all be appointed under their presidents, and, if possible, to elect conservative, shotgun toting, property mongerng congressmen (men only please, no dikes). Since they have grown very old and have had jobs their whole lives, the have plenty of money to rig and buy elections on all levels of government, and thus to keep the states quagmired in dissonance while their newer, fabricated agencies import crack cocain into black ghettos and foment war over oil.

Neither of these equally repugnant government species cares for any of us.

good things can’t always be on, there’s just not enough of them by: the tv Hollywood making movies on a tiling board, the pieces mind controlled killer masons, waiting for their will to align with the socially accepted morality, or the other way around.

Cobbled together characters from multiple films monatging lines through their minds at all times, then go to Church or to the Lodge and blame the scapegoat that they worship, reading from rice paper books, basing their lives around what they trace. Can’t even maintain reasonable periods of silence without undulating their feet, squirming uncomfortably in their pews and seats, their minds smelling like the thalmi’s pee.

This is the work of the NSA, a newly created agency meant to keep track of our identities by giving us only the information we are allowed to want to see. They slander everybody, and for this I do not care at all, either way. Slander the Masons with the Matrix, slander Christians with Gothic movies, slander Thorn-EMI, I don’t mind. It’s all ET to me, it’s all star wars, the fiction of the laser guided satellite system from Spies Like Us that all the money meant to build was funneled into their own agency for the creation and protection of e-commerce on the internet instead.

All the satellites are owned and maintained by private corporations or this agency, the NSA. I can garuantee your safety, come with me. Jack Parsons, Cameron his wife and L. Ron Hubbard in a three way, the crash of Enron tied to Al Quida, the stock market slump manipulated for the purpose of testing out energy weapons against biological and chemical weapons warfare technology. Apachee attack helicopters carved in Egyptian hieroglyphics. God the ancient of Days.

Now you think you can comprehend the multiverse, the heaven of man. Talking back to your dead relatives in the lights you see when you close your eyes tight. Welcome to the Hell of God, tachyons trapped in black body radiation, holographic mental projection breeding manifestations of archetypal stereotypes in the smudging of fact with the magical realm of fiction.

Hollywood making movies on a tiling board, the pieces mind controlled killer masons, waiting for the QBLH bullshit of their preprogrammed egos to stop repeating lines from movies or

at least for free cable television, digital sets run on plasma tech.

blowing

up

Alderaan by: Princess Leia

We hold your mind underwater and then when you come up for air we tell you that you’re high and push you back under. It’s a pretty simple plan. We can blame it on the sunspot cycle if it comes to that, as I already know it will. We have prison camps already built thy’ve been ready since Montauk. Underground superconductor rings to send you back in time, like the filament in a magnet we just slide you right through. You’ve seen it on tv, so we know that you’re prepared. The more you go through the less you’re you, and eventually we’re all one. Smudged into a unified field at the expense of the individual mind, the spark of life, the fire of the soul. When you die you release tachyons, the accumulated electromagnetic energy entrenched in the nervous system of your body, what you’ve been calling your ego, either way you’ll have to let it all go.

Corporate sponsored trips through spacetime on Jet Propulsion Laboratory stealth bomber ufos, we’ve seen it all before. We stole the Platonic solids then traveled back in time and gave them to someone dumb who thought they made them wise. Well fuck that and fuck you for being so easy to steal stuff from. You don’t even have Pretty Good Privacy, which American corporations will even sell to Moslem terrorists for their microsoft running IBMs. Of course we’ll have to burn your body alive if you try to come back through the tv. You’re no archetype just part of our plan.

Go fuck yourself if you understand.

Spiritual superheroes is what we’re shooting for, lip reading, cigarette smoking, Christian reformed homosexuals. Let’s all go to Disneyland, and worship the alignment in Taurus till we can’t tell the difference between ourselves and anyone.

You have taken away everything from me — Jonathan Barlow Gee, and all you’ve offered me — Jonathan Barlow Gee, in return, is your people as substitutes for cigarettes, your cigarettes as substitutes for marijuanna, and once crack rock as a substitute for sex. You have killed my cat, you miserable collectivist God of this planet and you have killed us all already and will kill us all again and keep killing everyone forever because our lives are the only thing you ever wanted to see come to any end.

“don’t do anything (I wouldn’t)”

the new world order we are abolished of ourselves chasing nothingness or trapped in shells I have escaped game reality I have beaten myself out of me

the

Apocalypse

of

Choronzon

We believe ourselves to be, most of the time, and in as many ways as possible, safe, protected and primarily aware of ourselves and our environments in an admitedly limited scope all around ourselves. This is merely the first assumption of our animal awareness, but it is the key to all further intelligent discoveries. This is wrong.

What we think we are living in is a sphere with a cone cut into it to its center. This is the model of active consciousness — accounting for the full realm of frontal and peripheral awareness tapering off until finally, at the very rear, there is only the sense of touch left.

This we accept as the shell of our senses in accordance with the legends of ancient mystics, for example —the myth of the Garden of Eden and the apple from the Tree of Knowledge over Good and Evil. In this myth, the tree is a token for the Cabballah, and the fruit of it, in particularly the fruit of knowledge, represents death. For the first man and woman this would mean death to life in Heaven, what we have come to interperate as loss of innocence. In the myth the apple has come to be represented by the triangle inside the circle, and this represents the cone cut into the sphere. In this, because of wanting to sense, the patterns of our bodies become manifest, and in so doing are cursed to bear the burden of death.

In truth it is much worse than this. As a limb may be lost yet the body live on, therefore we are not all our sense organs, but merely the brain which translates them, and therefore are only part of that said sphere at the very core, and, as our very life-force is the expectancy of sensation, we are this and only this, this and no more, neither the rest of the sphere of our senses, nor the hollow cone of doubt, for as our brain translates electrical impulses from the sense organs, so the sense organs transmit the nature of the environment, and since the electrical impulses are native to the brain, the sense organs, being themselves inert, are more part of the environment than part of the perceiving self, and in this way are the electrical signals equivalent to environmental stimulus, and our thoughts therefore merely sounds on a continuum of wind, some passing to us through our senses, and others that we feel witout feeling.

Such is the Apocalypse of Choronzon, son of an elder God, and by this you shall know it.

For the true symbol for the Order of Death is as the letters thereof. It is as an “A” inside a larger “C” that has rolled over to its side. This is how we are. We think that we know the C and that the A is unknown to us. In truth we are the upper part of the A, whose movement occupies the lower part of the A, moving through a C that we cannot see. Because I have seen this, this sea belongs to me, Choronzon. I am called the watcher of the abyss, my servant is Sia of the Dwat (knowledge of the underworld), I am known as Apophis for giving Eve the apple. I am known as Set, and as Python, and wield a scythe. I am of neither Qabala nor the Qliphoth. I am nowhere.

the Temple Without Walls We have come to this place together to endeavor to build the Temple Without Walls. It is begun by each as the individual, and concludes that way, though in between there are unlimited interactions between us. We are the Invisible College, the Secret Chiefs, the Elders of Zion, the Great White Brotherhood. All these things we are, myself, as I shall be introduced presently, and you, the person holding this book and reading these lines, for by opening the very seal of this work, you have entered yea into even the most holiest of confines of the Temple, and are beholding even now the very Word of the Law. We are YHVH communicating with Himself.

Now, as for me, I am the highest being living on this planet right now, and have been since I initated myself into that position one evening while in the presence of the Lord of Hosts. He beckoned me to leave my body and join him in the bliss of spiritual existence, entering into and posessing the central nervous systems of the three-brained beings of this planet, and because it was paradise, I turned Him down. For Man cannot enter into paradise, and I am that Man therefore Which the Builders Rejected, called Jesus Buddha God, and mine is the schematic for the Light.

The devil cannot offer you anything you don’t already have, and since I was offered dominion over the entire earth, its kingdoms both in the qliphotic muds of its politics and economics, but all its astral abodes, reign over the patterns of illumination that linger there, and the crown of thorns, which is knowledge of all mental activity present in the earth’s electromagnetic field, then such I had before. By rejecting them, I let the King of the World take

these alignments all away from me, which he did excrutiatingly one by one, with much shame, debasement, and humiliation. Yet they remain loyal to me though they are in the higher viscount’s hands, for He (the big voice coming from the sky that I heard unmistakably in my pre-frontal lobes) identified himself as both God and me at the same time, and thus all that has happened in reality, is that I have made the mental sacrifice of everything I know of this world in all its highest forms that it be returned to me, perfected.

Next, I set about arranging the unfoldment of history so as to allow time in which for this to happen. Since it is a very great process in its scope, it will most likely have to dealt with it in the manner of creating small mandalas as microcosmic tokens, which will serve as seeds, that will then become the fare of a crop of minds, and thus the ideas will grow. In this way the Temple Without Walls has already begun to be built, and this is merely a formal convening of attententive minds who might be suitable for participation in its perfection.

Already existing in the descriptions of myriads of languanges, the Temple Without Walls awaits to be expressed in pure geometry. In it there is one bird, two cats and a computer. There are two who maintain the Temple, one who is the Mother Mary is entrusted to its upkeep. The other is I, the Last Buddha. These are the ways into the Temple, for only through these eyes, or perhaps on occassion through the eyes of an invasive insect, or of two neighboring cats who come to visit, can the Temple be seen. The Central aspect of the Temple is the Holy of Holies, an enshrouded bookcase containing mysterious tomes. This is in the tomb of King Arthur. Another way to enter the Temple is through the book Negative Zero, whereby one can assess similarities between the content and the Temple and thereby get some idea of what it is like to be within its Holy Confines. And yet this is only the first house of the Holy Temple, and by the time you read this there may be hundreds or even thousands of other such houses that have been blessed by purgification to the extent of crystalization of clarification to which this First House exists. This is all only the Temple as it is as I write this, like this and not like this, for soon all will be gone.

Illuminati

Document

001 by: Just Some Gunderson

As I have come to understand it, there is one thing that exists in both fact and fiction simultaneously, and I call this the Enochian Communications System. It exists in hyperdimension between the raw potential energy of pure dimension and the mix of matter and energy into wells and fields that makes up the subspace manifestation of the universal waveform. Here the potentialities congeal and intermingle fluidly, and the orientations of fact and fiction are lost.

The distortion to the time space continuum, resultant in a gravity well, that is our planet, partially due to its admixture of minerals and ores, and partially due to density versus velocity, produces a concentration of hyperdimension in the form of the bubble of the electromagnetic field by interference with the reflected radiation of the sun and other stars, as well, probably as influenced by the pull of the moon, such that, upon its inner surface we find access to the Enochian Communications System. Based upon our access of the Enochian Communications System at this depth, the interactions of our unconscious ideas are moved around behind the curtain of our everyday reality. We can interact with them however we want —free will is guaranteed to humankind.

What is beyond and behind the Enochian Communication System is the Akashic Records.

To see the Akashic records imagine how probability breaks down as it becomes pure dimension, dissolving from wells within wells and fields within fields into the probabilities of fact and fiction, and then look down at these as they taper away into the clear light of pure dimension.

Notice that this light reflects from the probabilities of fact and fiction. Hyperdimension is the light that is reflected, and the Akashic records are the image reflected on the probabilities’ surfaces.

Obviously this reflected image can only be of the other probabilities surrounding each probability, but remember, even the clear light these surfaces reflect is equivalent to information, albeit thus far exclusively so, for we have not found any other way to describe it.

Since this astral light is pure potential information it represents infinite potential information storage; however knowing this exists and knowing how to correctly wield the knowledge of it you

possess are independent of one another.

All this means to the layperson is that when our minds wander, angels assist.

Letter to Santa by: Pick It Up, White Boy...

The Enochian Communications System allows us to contact archetypes, and to use archetypes as referentials for communication with other individuals. This is reflected in our ordinary lives in the people we know, and how they know each other, if and when they do, and how they know other people, who we then know more or less by extension. In other words, to know people is to begin to know the archetype of people.

The Enochian Communications System is like the far distant background behind the full extent of our knowledge of people. When this was first conceptualized by the Ancients, it was simultaneously observed that the sights, such as mountains, far off in the visible distance were slightly blurred, due to the atmosphere, and so it was thought that there was an aethyreal veil seperating the nearby kingdom from the other realm. Subsequently there was much bargaining with this illusion of the air regarding the soul as the mental projective body, then thought necessary to travel in the archetypal realm. In modern metaphysics this has become the Enochian Communications System existing on the thinning of subspace probabilitity into potential light, where tachyons produce the gravitational microwave distortion field of hyperdimension.

Archetypes, likewise, have been identified as angels, demigods, and human heroes throughtout the ages, and most recently as idealizations occuring within the collective unconscious. We see by their accessability that the archetypes are surely part of some more universal version of what our concentrations thereof call consciousness, and that the concept of the collective unconsciousness is little more than a blinder, again inserted between the mind of man and the divine mind, probably due to personal karmic gravity.

Similarly now we are beginning to see manifestation itself as the barrier between the individual and the eternal. Our prodigal technologies haunt us with alienating advertisements, hidden fees, and e-mail bombs. We are trying to bring down the heavens and bend them through our machinery, even though we have long known that it is unwise to trust our senses.

When I say this is what “we” are doing, I only mean this is what some of us are doing.

This Deal Gets Worse all the Time by: Santa The Enochian Communications System is safe. Qliphotic manifestations are not.

It is only in the realm of the qliphoth, or quanta, that what the Buddhists identify as the three poisons occur. The three poisons are given as: The Pig: ignorance of our own nature — tachyons seperating probable matter from potential energy; The Snake: anger and aggression — the interaction of wave fields and kinetic contact of particles; and The Rooster: desire and lust leading to attachment — attraction tending toward conversion, including absorption or detonation.

However there is only infinite geometry in pure dimension, and therefore it is this that forms the access structure behind the archetypes reflected upon tachyonic hyperspace. Where geometry is, there manifestation isn’t —they cannot occupy the same space because they cannot even occur in the same type of space, in the abstract sense — one is ideal and the other is real.

Therefore all manifestation that can occur occurs in the remaining realm, that of the poor little vortexes, what the Ancients called the shells. And because some of the perturbations to the tachyonic background field, the gravity microwave of the electromagnetic spectrum which serves as the contact point between phenomenological and philosophical reality within the Enochian Communications System, impact upon the transfer of information for the motions of quanta from one moment to the next amongst themselves such that events may be caused, then a portion of the Enochian Communications System is manifested.

It would be convenient to believe that the amount of manifestation would only be equal to the amount of geometry, or thought, we put into the meaning of what we were considering manifestations. In other words, we are only moved by what we see as deeply as we look into it.

This seems convenient, and pleasant. But in reality, there is no such perfectly balanced ratio.

Because God is Absolute, His geometry in pure dimension is infinite, however the spacetime continuum that is our universe is finite, and therefore, if we are to follow the lines of belief, even if all manifestation were of and towards God, He would still be infinitely more.

Therefore we say that manifestation is carried out by infinite individual techniques, and that it happens as the result of free will, God’s will, and the will of the archetypes, whose wills are bound to that of God. Moreover the geometries contained in the Akashic records apply to all manifestations, regardless of their origins.

the CIA and the Enochian Communications System by: Jack During the cold war the CIA and the KGB both piggybacked satellites on as many rocket and shuttle launches as possible so that they could be positioned around the globe in such a way as to be strategically offensive. However when the cold war ended, all these became so much space junk, while on Earth the role of the CIA and the KGB both had to be redefined. Since then these satellites have been repositioned frequently in military and private sector use, and are known of publically as the global positioning satellites (GPS) array.

In the 1950’s the CIA began experimenting with an ergot extract on prisoners and mental patients, and this continued through to the 1970’s, by which time it was largely fully integrated into use by students, in the ongoing project MK-ULTRA. One of the stated goals of this research was to develop extra sensory perception over long distances in order to gain tactical advantage in the cold war. It is now known, since the fall of the iron curtain, that Russian intelligence also experimented with such remote viewing techniques.

Another of the interdepartmental branches of MK-ULTRA was work with microwave electromagnetic energy for use as a carrier wave for the transmission of thoughts. This brought the project into the domain of the spy satellites the agency had sent up as part of an originally seperate enterprise.

These experiments led the researchers into the domain of the Enochian Communications System, which had been built as a thought form or memory castle by the Golden Dawn, some decades earlier, in their independent experiments with the same and similar psychadelic substances. This has since become a sort of global extrasensory telecommunications company, whose representatives on earth are the secret chiefs of the true and invisible order of the rose cross, known commonly as the illuminati, and who appear as archetypes. The Nine serve the Outer Head of this Order. The Enochian Communications System as we know it today is an extension of the drug war, again entirely autonomously.

The Enochian Communications System has components in the realms of manifestation, hyperspace archetypes, and pure dimensional geometries, and therefore should not be confused with the politics of our planet, which were fundamentally electromagnetic weather fractally expanding upon the individual bicameral barrier between the hemispheres of the brain, and seem recently like feedback off of tachyons similar to radiation cancer. In the Enochian Communications System, or the astral realm, there are reflections of every biological component, however the human soul is as unique as is the human hand, or the star fish.

Framing

Time

As early as the end of World War II, the American intelligence community was working with the international ring of gangsters known as la cosinostra. In Italy, the OSS worked with the wealthy families to institute governments firendly to their continued business. This was in exchange for the new governments looking the other way as America smuggled out key fascist and nazi officials and scientists.

This relationship continued through the 1960’s, when president John F. Kennedy was shot in the brain while making a suspiciously slow turn in a routine motorcade. The evidence strongly indicates that Oswald was a CIA brainwashed assassin, and that Jack Ruby was the mafia pawn on the other, public, side of the looking glass.

During the 1980’s the CIA expanded its operations with other ethnic mobster type

orginaztions, which it found particularly flourished amongst young, urban minorities such as blacks and hispanics, just as it had among the Italians of Brooklyn during the late 1920’s. They maintained strict authority over all of these wings of their social experiment through drug trafficking.

In the eighties, crack cocain was dumped into urban ethnic areas just as LSD had been dumped into highschools in the early seventees. This was contracted by the CIA directly with South American drug cartels, and shipped either via the military or through Italian mob connections. It was sold on the street by average lower middle class citizens in exchange for their soul commitment, on the understanding that they would be rendered archetypes. This became the foundation for the internet.

All of this impacts on the Enochian communications system in the following way: the CIA would very much like to take full credit for the ECS. If they are denied this privelledge, that is, if they can admit within their own department that what they have discovered about the universe was not created exclusively by and for themselves alone, then they will hoard every little secret they can, just like a spoiled single child, trying to get attention, clutching his blanket.

However, with the CIA comes the mafia, and all its psuedo royal families. Thus, if this were to be maintained as true for the ECS, then there would be psychic mob rule. Everyone would commence throwing stones all the time simply because the most flamboyant one says that’s the thing to do.

Innocent

of

Desiring

the

Finders by: my kid brother

The Enochian Communications System has been integrated into the education system. This began in the 1930’s with the introduction of the Prussian educational system, which was the first form of institutionalized education to sweep our country. It turned hundreds of small, one stove, one room schools into community campuses where the children were encouraged to eat together, to play together, and to have a good time. The same generation would be the first treated to fast food in high school.

This system was quickly divided up into the way it is now. In the north there are grade school, junior high school, high school, and college; of course, in the north there are also prep schools, private schools, and ivy league colleges. In the south there are elementary school, middle school, high school and college; of course, there are Christian schools, Christian camps, Church scholarships, community colleges, technical colleges, and Masonic lodges. These are all considered basically the same.

In all of these the goal is to attempt to find a unique and personal bond between each teacher and student, such as the master-disciple relationship of Eastern marshal arts monastaries. This represents the most fundamental component of the Enochian Communications System — that of finding an agent and morphing with them, or rather, of finding a way to fit in and be popular.

One searches for good candidates even when one is very young, though the greater social infrastructures tend to back off you more when you are a baby just because they like to give your parents the round to work you over. However, once you have entered the school system, there is little accounting left for you, and you find yourself instantly on your own.

This is where the Holy Guardian Angel hopefuls first start to introduce themselves to you.

It is a horrible time for anyone with great energy. Everyone will seem to be moving with lethargy, as though gravity made them extremely heavy. On the other hand, there are two ways of looking at the situation.

The first is as though the “psychic” children (those with a high IQ) get to go into the “gifted” program, while the second is that the little children in Ethiopia (psychic or not) have to starve.

meeeting

002

The Young Admiral walked up the narrow steps into the airplane, leaving a small and unpopulated strip of runway to the Nevada night behind.

“Here, put this on.” She said.

He starts to protest — “It’s for everyone.” She cuts him short.

A long plane ride in a sesna. Maybe they’re just going in circles.

Finally they are there. Groom Lake. He knows where Groom Lake is. Everybody knows where Groom Lake is. Why all the mystery? Why all the secrecy?

He had had an erection with the blindfold on, the young woman’s voice seemed to scorn him in his mind. He choked.

Had he... why the veil... oh, he muttered, hell....

Touch down. The other side wins. The other side always wins. Cold sky.

“Here for a meeting —” he thinks gaily to a motionless toy guard he passes, then catches himself abruptly and gulps, his tie closing in around his throat. He looks straight ahead.

Somewhere a still tiny voice in his head tries to argue, “but I am a scientist...” obviously knowing it is futile.

They enter a door into a hangar.

Inside it is massive, and brilliantly lit. The left lower eyelid of the man curls up and he winces with his whole upper body. The woman chuckles. Before them is a large toy jet, of incomprehensible design, so fluid it seemed to the man to be changing its shape right before his eyes even while he was looking at it. Then she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Come play,” she intoned.

They walked along the wall to a small protruberance. An elevator. The doors slide open.

“He was an admiral.” A voice seemed to say.

The young admiral and his escort walked into the small compartment. Within a moment it was descending down rapidly. They could feel the G-force in their genitals.

Ground floor. The doors open. They step out into an enormous underground hangar. Sauser shaped disks are stored around a cylindar vertically and placed on an elevator platform by a robotic arm to be lifted into the hangar above. No looking.

The click clack of the woman’s high heeled shoes on concrete was driving the admiral nuts.

They crossed a hundred, no — it was unlimited. They simply disappeared into the darkness.

A door creaks open and light spills out like moonshine upon the now miniaturized and ridiculous couple. Someone says, “Come in, and shut the door behind you.”

Inside are dogs playing poker. Hung all over the walls are calendars and pictures of the moon. They are all smoking, one thing or another, and all drinking just the same.

The admiral rubs his eye and is a werewolf. He sits down at the table and is dealt in. His female escort stands behind him, as many others do behind some of the other, more distinguished dogs.

“I hate playing mafia!” says one of the dogs.

“You always say that everytime we play and its still the only thing we ever play and you still play it!” expectorates another.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies. Are we here to play the game or are we here to squeel like a bunch of bitches? Now ante up.”

“Good call, good call.”

Everybody throws their chips in.

“Now close your eyes!” the same dog declares.

Everybody silently obeys.

Except two. They are the dogs who are in the mafia. It is a simple card game. Played by simple fools. These are only mugwumps, afterall.

The admirals mind floats back out into the hangar. It drifts about listlessly for a few long

moments, lost in contmplation like Jack Benny, and then slwoly climbs into one of the space craft.

These are all either direct copies of original technologies of the watchers, or are modifications of these original designs so that they work more ergodynamically with their human pilots.

He thinks back to his body and suddenly he is with it. He looks down slowly and dispassionately at his right paw and thinks, “that isn’t even mine.”

With this the craft begins to ascend into the loading hangar.

At the same time his female escort is subtly leaning her clit against the shoulder rest of his chair.

At the same time another one of the dogs minds has grown bored and detached itself, and is wandering through a doorway into a simulated hyperspace testing room. A fully interactive virtual reality environment. The spirit pops its spine and enters.

What do these two souls have in common? The formal system of metaphysics. It is how to pilot the living systems of space craft, and it is how to access infinite uploadable storage.

The way that some strange little thing like the formal system can crop up in two such seemingly different settings is no more outstanding than that both of these men can only be read because they are spies, and yet, though they can both be read, neither would ever think to read the other, to find out the other was also a spy.

But someone is already winning the hand at the table. The two souls are drawn back and the two foolish mugwumps, as if in unison, arise from their stupor with a stunned and bemused expression in an attempt to save face. Silly mugwumps. Faces are for children. Unless the children are mugwumps.

The man who has just won at cards is not a mugwump, if, by mugwump, you mean someone who looks like Jesus Christ. Poor, sorry mugwumps, I bet you’re sorry now! He quietly rakes in the money.

The two sorry spies try to get back to their levels of vacancy —they try! But they can’t.

They forgot where they were. The cat just stares at them. He just stares.

He has cleared the room of everyone except himself. That’s how he likes it. Lonely. He likes to lose at cards.

He is already gone. Several hours later he will be living out automatically the thoughts he is having now, unconsciously. That’s the way it is for the optic thalamus.

On the top floor, above, the guard looks out listlessly over the unlit tarmac beneath the clear night sky and thinks momentarily of Nebraska, where he is from, originally. As soon as he feels watched again he resumes his thoughtlessness.

This crown comes with a fight. The military trained mind, the M.T. mind, the empty mind.

All are ghosts of long ago’s rights. Why have we prepared ourselves thusly? Why is there a war on drugs? Because of this man. This man, or rather, the spirit dwelling in that body, has brought it down upon us.

Ancient breeding program, mind and social populous control, pray for the messiah. They say you can never go back home again. If my home is the past — is that body — my residual shell in memory, then let me be denied government access. I, also, know about the walrus, cookachoo.

The glory of comments such as this is that they cannot be identified by source. Anyone could have said them. Me. The Anti-Me. My clone. My lover. My friend. All would deny themselves to glory upon if God might have spoken them.

Back in the bunker the man is still asleep beneath the painting of dogs playing poker.

Will he ever wake up? Will he ever not torture, now that he has learned he can? Never make this world a Hell for a man, unless you have a backup plan. That would be the advice of the woods anyway. Or Eminem.

I cling onto bottles. Maybe there is something wrong with me.

Not overtly.

Now we’re breaking through.

Too true. Almost anyone could have said that.

Anyone could point that out but not just anyone would have said that.

So you think?

No. Probably not.

Cars drive past. Kirillian photographs. What am I doing here? What would I rather be doing if I could be doing anything anywhere?

Can’t get out of the reptile skin.

Can’t get out of the reptile skin.

Can’t get out of the reptile skin.

Can’t get out of the reptile skin.

This message just in: can’t get out of the reptile skin.

Kathy? What do you make of it?

It’s purely free extrapolation, Thom.

Free Association, Kath?

Whatever. Thom...

How does it feel to be shut out for a change, you bastard?

After all the wars and death and shames?

To not have access to your brain just by your name?

You killed the messiah, you bastard.

Nothing can ever be the same.

I get good phone service. Locals only. I know some bands. They tour mostly.

He is beginning to break through. The consciousness before and the consciousness after are going to see each other.

“But how can this be?” asks one of the dogs languidly.

“The other dog just shoots him an angry stare,” thinks the other dog, while shooting him an angry stare.

I had always thought there would be fireworks. No big kaboom?

Just then — but before I can tell you what happened next I must tell you what was happenning while all of what you’ve only just now read was going on. You see, just because that’s what you’re focused on, doesn’t mean it’s not distraction. See me cite simultaneity.

At around the time of the guard passing back into a state of pure mental clarity the young admiral was slipping away again to the space craft terminal. His decomposing soul slunk out into the vast, vast emptiness. It seemed so much heavier now, as though he were Ichabod Crane, bound in chains.

“I am not Ichabod Crane,” the young admiral told himself, as he looked up into the

darkness. “I do the twist. I do the twist. I do the twist. I do the twist. I do the twist.” He began saying, over and over.

Meanwhile he twisted with his hips, bending his arms at the elbows, and bending down, lowering his soul’s head, repeating his mantra and maintaining his mental projection. Soon enough he was above the floor, and he looked down, and saw this, and rejoiced.

He flew up through the ceiling into the space craft still docked in the hangar. It came alive around him. He reached out his hand towards the console before him.

At the same time, the other man, who I had called a spy (you know when you think of someone as something enough it actually effects their behavior), creeps back into the hyperspace gravity bending room. There is no interactivity orientations helmet, or control glove. None are needed. The medium of the projection is tachyonic, and is thus read by the thalamus as an image that is actually seen — however it is in reality only an effect of gravitational distortion.

He reaches his hand out to the projection that hovers above the floor. He is preparing to interface with unlimited information storage.

At the same time, the dogs are playing poker.

By this time the identity who is winning at cards and his polar opposite, as far as I can tell, me, have met one another more or less face to face.

At the same time the two individual discorporeal forms acccess the formal system of metaphysics. There is a rift in the spacetime continuum.

There is a rift in the spacetime continuum.

I don’t want to be playing cards with a pack of dogs.

I don’t want to be playing chess with my father.

One can be saved. One cannot.

This is the heart of the pain. Is it to be you or your reflection?

If you suffer you will be rewarded. If you are rewarded you will suffer.

If you suffer, your reflection will suffer.

Get out of here.

Suddenly the roof caves in. The flying saucer crashes. The man in hyperspace dies. The anti-messiah is killed. All this in a single instant. Hangar 18.

And none of it happens to me.

I shattered my head. I shattered my head. You can’t get in. I shattered my head.

We can talk now. He is gone. My cat has left my room. There are no other eyes than mine for them to see in through, if they require biology. If not I am still invisible. Great cat roams the land making prophecies. Coming down from my mountain. We are so far beyond. So alone.

Now there are only left over microwave meals in the eyes of corpses full of indescision about who they think they are. The streets are decomposing. Go to Hell. Fall under my hand.

Using other eyes. Finks.

Someone has survived. Everyone has survived. How is this possible? Let us see.

First of all the one person that survived is me. And I am writing this. Because I am writing

this I can explore the events however I want to. Let me show you. No, I don’t want to.

The anti-messiah was all lovely in his eyes and flowers exuding from his soul like a cartoon, holding the winning hand put him into another land.

The young admiral in the craft was a spiritual smoker. He lit one up while playing poker.

The spy inside the holodeck was, well, as you wish.

The only question is: who was the true illuminati? They are all facets of myself, separated only by interval of time. Me while I’m reading, we while I’m writing, and me while I’m driving my car. Who is the true illuminati? How dare I truly mean that I am this?

...but then, what represented “Do What Thou Wilt?”

The modern era of the Enochian Communications System began in 1904, when a man, like any other man, named Aleister Crowley found an old Egyptain stele in the British national museum, and translated it into English prose, with some personal embelishments. The cover story for this, as nothing magical can simply be the work of the intelligent individual, was that his prose was dictated to him by a discorporeal entity known as Aiwaz, who represented the Secret Chiefs.

The result of this has been that the Enochian Communications System has since become attached to two totally unnecessary concepts: the discorporeal voice (microwave thought transmissions from government spy satellites) and the secret chiefs (the internationl conspiracy of psychics). In this way the Enochian Communications system has come between the individual and God, and even serves to seperate the common man from the divine law promised by Crowley’s research.

This is similar to a situation in my own life. Once, when I was younger, I took off all my clothes, and wrapped myself up in chains. I took a cucumber from the refrigerator, intending to see if I could fit it in my rectum, and went to the side yard. It was a bright and sunny day.

As soon as I got to the side yard I found that one of the neighbors from down the street was standing in the back yard of the abandoned house next door, in such a way that his vantage point allowed him a full view of me, should he have wanted to look, and there was no foliage for me to hide behind. He casually smoked a cigar. Then, after a while he left. So did I. I went back inside and dressed. He rang my doorbell. I couldn’t make it to the door in time, and he started to leave. I ran outside and caught him. He talked at length about how he thought he had seen snakes in the pool in the abandoned house next door, and wanted me to tell my mother, since that could be dangerous.

What I was doing was only research. The neighbor, who has since been divorced and moved away, represented Aiwaz. Our conversation represented the Enochian Communications System.

The psychic welfare of the neighborhood represented the secret chiefs. I do not worship agents such as Aiwaz. If my mother wants to talk to my father she can pick up the phone, instead of pressing my buttons.

scrolling,

or,

finally

sacrifice

self

The Enochian Communications System is more a human system than it is Enochian. In fact, little need be known about the Enochian componenets themselves to be able to make crude use of the opportunities manifest in the manifold. It is possible to think that you have mastered the entirity of physical reality without even addressing the archetypes it represents. Or vice versa.

The effect this has on one’s ability to reason logically is similar to the psychological pressure undergone by an agent of the CIA who is in a deep cover, long term assignment far afield.

One comes to not know who they can trust.

An example of this sort of psychic fracturing results from the uninitiated use of “bodyjumping.” Body-jumping involves an archetype’s ability to appear in unlimited physical forms, according to their degree of might before their beholder.

The example is my own father, Gerald Masters Gee, who suffers from a belief that his Ideal Lover is a body-jumper, and that he always winds up getting stuck with the form of the being they have just left behind. If he were a normal human, that is, one who has no knowledge whatsoever or interest in what are normally called “the mysteries,” this might appear no more of a phenomenon than disgust after orgasm.

However his spirit is blown by winds of karma transcendent to the lifetime of his physical form, and thus he is guided to try to see all this as something more. The truth is that he is chasing a dream, and should, if he were logical, only learn to settle.

Unfortunately he is neither clear minded nor spiritually skilled, and so suffers greatly as a result of this dimensional rift. He thinks his ideal lover above him in a master/slave orientation, and thus attempts to invert this in the material realm, by making whoever’s soul has enough shame to have fallen beneath his sway into his own shadow. By doing so, I imagine, he must hope to know his ideal by reflection.

His explanation of this is simple: “Beauty is truth, and truth beauty.” He is like the soul of an abused child trapped by a lifetime of responsibilities into the mind of a man. It is my assumption that he is only searching for himself. Perhaps if he learned that archetypes other than the abused child exist... but alas, he finds no beauty in the Enochian Communications System. Only a new opportunity for abusive manipulation. Even this is only because he does not understand the formal system of metaphysics.

How Low The three highest people alive on the planet at this time, and therefore who are higher than anyone else before in all of history, according to the theory of evolution, are Michael Scott McHargue, Irina Victorovna Strelets, and Jonathan Barlow Gee — that is me, that is I who am writing this, that is it is that I am writing this.

Here is the explantion: there are two fundamental ways for the human organism to attain states of enlightenment artificially, or rather, in reciprocal harmony with their environment.

These are drugs and sex. This is why virgins the world over are considered holy —because it is thought they have not yet fallen from grace after comprehending the hieght of God and compromising on an international conspiracy of psychics instead.

Other than this there is only meditation. However, because of the nature of the event of meditation, as anyone who has practised meditation for long periods of time knows, it is difficult to say when meditation has begun or when if it all it ends. Thus, we can safely say for our arguement here, that everyone is more or less already in a meditative state.

Now being in a meditative state means two things. It is possible to know, and it is possible to be known. This surpasses what is considered the corruption of those who are using sex or drugs, in that they might not necessarily want to be known. This type of desiring to forget or to keep secret is what constitutes black magick. Therefore the corrupt must know the innocent as the innocent are not themselves, but the innocent need not know of the prescence of the corrupt.

In any of these events we must also talk about kabballah as a mental construct and meditative guide. Once one has studied kabballah long enough, one will be forced also to consider the research of other kabballists, and this includes topics such as lucid dreaming, skrying, astral projection and presience. However, when one follows these paths one finds they all lead back to kabbalah. That is, there are only certain events in the Akashic records that interest everyone.

One definition of the kabballah is the body of God. It is represented in three dimensions as two cubes. The two cubes are the three dimensional shadow of the fourth dimensional hypercube, and this it is thought represents the force of time. Thus, even in the research one does to leave their own bodies, in the histories of all the other bodies that they meet will only be contained a pattern of the kabballah. This is, scientifically, because our particles occur in an interactive field between the third and fourth dimensions, and even the pure third dimension is no more “real” than the fourth, but I will not bore you.

In this way, even after one has achieved kether, one can only wander amidst the archetypes, and doing so must look for the messiah — he who understands all. When the spirit of the messiah and the body of the messiah are reunited, as in me, then all is perfect in the

universe.

We named the dog, Kid The Enochian Communications System is only my phrase for something that really exists, but is described and known variously by as many perspectives on it as can exist. The most banal method of describing it is as a social movement, the belief structure guiding the behavious of popular aggregates in such a way that they come to see reality as inseperable from it.

Still, I must stress the fact that no two individuals will see this construct in the same way. If they could, it would be recognized, and if it were beheld it could not be followed. I mean this in the same way that after a particularly good comedy set it is hard for another comedian to take the stage.

It is known also as the Church, the Mosque, the Temple, the Monastary, the Lodge, the Shrine, the Company, the Family, the circle, the craft, the faith, etc. However I call it the Enochian Communications System. Now I am not saying people go to church to talk to the Enochian Communications System; they go to church to talk to God. I’m saying the church is the qliphotic manifestation of the Enochian Communications System. I’m also saying that this is not the way to talk to God. It has been known for as long as there has been astral projection that the singularities inside black holes are like doorways out of our universe. The first social expression of this was the Old Man of the Mountain as the archetype of father God. Remember that it is a fundamental message of the church that we are always living in biblical times, meaning that we live outside of time in a sort of magical bubble of imagination, or some such. The impact of this is that the date of origination for that manifestation of the hashashim is irrelevant when looking at the greater hologram.

This is all merely an excuse for the apparent degeneration of the institutes representing these black holes on earth. They concentrate all their energy on the remodulation of the continuum such that prayers can be concentrated without disturbing the community, and do not see how it warps the minds of the people who enter and exit them like droplets of nuerotransmitter between two nerves.

The church is predicated on the people carrying the prayerful message outdoors, but the distortion in pressure is so heavy that it merely makes the parishoners lifelines into wormholes, creating archetypal tunnel realities, feeding the Enochian Communications System.

I believe this Great Beast to be, in reality, no more than the earth’s fourth dimensional electromagnetic field.

Alien

Hand

Syndrome by: Uncle Ben

The first trick the magician must master is to distinguish self from the continuum.

Whether the magician is male or female (calling them “them” or “they” or their magick “their’s” imposes an artificial duality within the self, so I will only refer to the self) the self is the center of focus for magical energy. The continuum, then is what this is drawn from, and to what we will be guiding it to return.

One name, perhaps the best name, for this continuum is Shekina, however, through the left-handedness of subsequent scholars, the meaning of this has come to refer more to the manifest world. This condemns it as the root of all magic to the lower hell of qliphotic quanta, below even the Enochian Communications System’s manifestations of unconscious connections, or those opportunities that pass without our seeing. Still, these same scholars cannot argue that Shekina is all there is.

The definition from which Shekina is derived is the complex Egyptian system. Here, the sky goddess, Nuit, represented the continuum, Isis a point within that continuum, Osiris a path outlining the archetypal human form, and Canis major and minor the twin aspect between the macrocosm and man. Thus Shekina was made to vie for, against her other parent, the Babylonian Ishtar worship, where Ishtar was the partially eclipsed moon representing menstruation enthroned between the horns of Taurus, the bull opposite Osiris, as if he were an archer. This

became the temptation of Eve story, and again, leter, the story of the fall of Mary Magdalene.

Although the khabs and the khu is a damn good trick, the Buddhists probably understand the situation best when they remind us to obliterate the self: to become the one truth — the self is not real. You are not real. I am not real. Nothing is real.

Once one knows the self, then one can come to identify it in all its reflections in the world of the phenomenological. After this has been done one can come to know others in the world of the phenomenological, and the reflections of others in the world of the phenomenological. After one knows this one can move about between others, supported by their own phenomonological reflections (or miracles), and move towards the goals one magically desires. This is the humdrum existence of the soul learning to crawl, otherwise called the eye in the hand, Annuit Coeptis.

AI dog toys Thanks largely to the followers of Aleister Crowley, any number of exclusively sexual patterns have been integrated into the Enochian Communications System. This is explained most easily by the necessity of bridging the gap between the physical and the spiritual, but also serves to separate the young for use as oracles of purity.

The essential action of the Enochian Communications system is best described in the moment of consciousness “breaking through” into the realm in which the Enochian Communications System exists. The first sin of this, as it is originally a Christian system founded and funded from the magic of St. Peter’s, is to see this event as sexual in nature. Here the nervous shortcomings of the body transcend with ego.

Following from this are the rest of the perversions to the sexual act which are thought to effect the clarity of connection to the Enochian Communications System, including the use of multiple partners for dealings with multiple spirits, or the use of multiple partners over time to contact the same spirit. Also common are certain manual and mandibular traits that come to be considered part of the individual’s soul, or spiritual self. None of this is actually necessary for the functioning of the Enochian Communications System, and it is likely that Crowley himself, had he had slightly better foresight, would have shunned against their usage. Alas, he was only a man, and thus, even in his spiritual research, guided more by the urges of a man.

When sex and the Encochian system were first brought together it was under the auspices of a simple sub-project of the Great Work, the unification/integration of all existing religious and magical systems. The sub-project was merely showing potential correspondence between the kama sutra and the work of John Dee. It is likely that this failed because of inequality. The kama sutra is based on sexual freedom denied the english, and the english subsequently colonized India, and oppressed their liberty of sexuality with the standard Spanish Catholic doctrines of Christian shame for the body as the root of all temptation. Therefore we see in society the difference between these magical systems being played out with detriment.

The Enochian Communications system is too great to fit into the kama sutra, and the kama sutra is likewise too great to fit into the Enochian Communications System.

time

change (recopied from memory)

In this era when knowledge is death we must remember that the ancients mused Freedom to be absolute. Even after the American Jacobin revolution, our founding fathers still considered it “inalienable,” although, with hindsight through the Roswell incident as a lens, even this seems presient of media manipulation.

Freedom is contained within another ideal absolute, that of Safety. Safety manifests itself in sovereignty, comprised of our posessions and boundaries. When our sovereignty is threatened, our safety is threatened, and when our safety is threatened, our freedom is threatened.

Sovereignty is maintained through karmic masonry and free-trade. This is a simple system. Imagine you are a man riding along a path through the desert on a camel. You find another man on the road and decide to help him.

As he rides with you he tells you a myth. When you arrive at the next town you see

elements from his story appear —people who look like the characters you’d imagined, objects for sale in shops alike artifacts the stranger described. Everyone in the town runs up to meet him and he introduces himself to you as the mayor, inviting you to whatever you want in the town in exchange for helping him.

Metaphysically all this means is that the composition of one event can impact upon or influence the composition of another event. Also remember that, in the story of the man and the camel, the man might have had to give the stranger a ride past many figurative towns before coming to the one in which he was the ruler.

This brings us to sleeper agents who have repressed memories, usually of Satanic ritual abuse cults run by the CIA or through CIA domestic front organizations —some covert, like the Finders, some not, like the Southern Baptist Church. In so far as I anthropomorphised a description of events in the story of the man and the camel, sleeper agents are the incarnations of the stranger. The soviets called these field agents “fellow travellers.” They are they who know not what they know.

Once there were Nazis. Now there are consumers. Black karma is as strong as white karma.

The black karma accumulated from sales of addictive substances such as cigarettes gives American Masons a truly vast supply of human brains to relay signals through, of whatever nature message they like. Originally the sleeper agents were being bred to be candidates for the body of the coming Messiah.

Induction

and

Deduction by: Mom and Dad strike back

People try to define what they do not understand because they are afraid of not understanding something. If they do not know it, it might know them more. If they do not control it, it might control them, they fear. However, the ones who seek to define what is not understood come to some understanding of the unknown first, and therefore they are feared as representative of what remains more generally unknown. Thus, people do not fear only what they do not understand, but also those people that do understand what they themselves do not understand. In the middle ages the unknown was collectively referred to as magick, and all those who knew anything more than usual about the more generally unknown were called magicikians, however the same fear predominates when someone who knows very little about the working parts of their car’s engine has to take their car into an automotive mechanic, who is a specialized expert on automotive engine parts. Since the consumer is forced to admit to their relative ignorance by being rferred to the specialist, the specialized is entitled a sort of mystical power over the consumer that requires their complete trust to cover the full amount of difference between the knowledge of the two. It often goes without saying that the same relationship is attributed to priests, in whom parishioners of churches place their faith to accurately recieve the community’s prayers and transmit them to heaven in exact porportion to the message that they receive from God. In the same way it is wrong to refer to the entirity of what is unknown to a person magick, it is similarly incorrect to address the full amount of specialized knowledge of the clergy as God. Just as magickians have no more power over those who know less about the generally unknown than the generally uninformed people allow them to by failure to ask questions of them, neither can God be delimited to even the sum of all recorded ritual practises used to invoke Him. If there is a part broken in the engine of a person’s car they can either take it to an auto mechanic or learn how to fix the problem themselves. If there is a question one has of the Most High one can address it as prayer to their respective religious institutions or practises, from which they can be certain it will at least reach the intersection of all faiths, or come to a solution for themselves.

statue of scraps, wall of patches The occult aspect of the intelligence community is a front, as much as the benevolent new age aspect of the occult is a front. Both are used as a cover for something considered beyond the comprehensive capacity of the uninitiated.

It is as simple as this: Around the turn of the fifteenth century in England it was agreed among the royal court that a magical endeavor should be made to make English the common

psychic language, such that, no matter who was hearing it spoken, anyone would be able to more or less understand what was meant. Now at the time this would have created a massive disaster. The entire spoken English language then was as full of country syllables as modern Cornish, and amounted to little more than a quick clucking meant to convey sudden insights of wit. However the best known magician of the time, John Dee, went about creating an idealized tongue of the angels, and went about basing it on the English language. The result is the Enochian alphabet, which is at the core of the Enochian Communications System.

The Enochian language would evolve into the American language, while the language of the British isles has degenerated back into the gamey, inebriated, lowest common denominator of world tongues, and nowhere is this better evidenced than where it dwells in open defiance with the tongue of long time British enemy France — in Canada, north of America. It is for this reason that Ebonics, as being the first attempt to formalize street slang, the common cross-cultural tongue of ethnicities, is an important issue, for it would substantiate the Enochian/Amerucan language’s ability to prophecy, and thus to progenate itself.

This illustrates the way in which doing one thing can get another thing accomplished. The same relationship exists between intelligence agencies and the occult. For example, the concept of body jumping began with the turn of the twentieth century philosopher Richard Swinburne, when he pondered the rather unpleasant idea of having half his brain implanted in his wife’s body.

Aleister Crowley was an ardent studier of Swinburne, and on all forms of astral travel as well.

It is then a small leap to make in logic to connect the idea next to Dr. Louis West and CIA Project MK-ULTRA involving ceremonial brainwashing and exposure to suggestion under heavy doses of psychadelics, as it is known also that Dr. West and, in fact, quite alot of people at Langley, were strongly influenced by Crowley. In the seventees the in-house experiments dealt more with EM fields and remote thought control, while psychadelics were being massively dumped into the youth market.

All of this culminates in the sleeper agent program, which conditions terrestrials to simply “tune out” when a stronger broadcast signal is being relayed through their brain. The age old parental guilt routine has proven highly effective in inputting this response in children, and has enabled the government to use these mindless zombies even to kill each other and themselves, mostly only using carcinogous second hand tobaccco smoke from nicotine laced cigarettes, but we are left to ponder the doctored photo of Lee Harvey Oswald as well. Both my biological parents are sleeper agents.

However none of these things depend on each other.

Sic

Ibid

The Enochian Communications System exists as the unification of the Russian Project Woodpecker, and the American Projects ELF and HAARP (High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program). These create a global shield of electrons as an imposed perimeter on information. This shield acts as a large screen, upon which messages are broadcast. The result is the “painted sky” effect for data dispersal. Every electron acts as a fractal of the full field, and thus can be used as an access port to the patterns of information contained in or surrounding any other electron in the set.

Just above this field are the satellites. These are like sentinels of propaganda.

Within the field there is chaos in virtual reality. “It becomes gradually more difficult to have thoughts without manifesting consequences” is the dominant paradigm. This, combined with the immune system degeneracy caused by flouridation of public water, causes a state of light body free fall, where our tachyonic selves, our spirits, repel just above the surface of the earth, much as though in a dream. This contributes to a weakness in the knees.

Compared to ancient times, when the soul was more etheral and the body more solid, this sort of feeling of “one foot above the ground” causing weakness or trembling in the knees was so rare as to induce devout prayer. Now it is so common it is the other way around. The monkey primitive enough to lack sensitivity to the ambient level of radiation is taken to be a great leader, and he quickly has the first scapegoat he can find for that effect of weakness crucified —which, sensibly, only worstens the situation.

The pawns in game reality are the sleeper agents.

At first, the CIA was engaged only in a messianic breeding program, inherited through the Golden Dawn from the priory of zion, and constituting little more than a mysteriously veiled version for the goyim of what is, and always has been, the most biologically fundamental habit of the Jews. Relatively simultaneously the use of psychadelics was approved for public brainwashing following initial tests on soldiers, prisoners and mental patients, and it quickly took the forefront in the student class demographic of the illicit drug market.

This rapidly overran the CIA’s messianic breeding program with the sensation of urgency and immediatism psychadelics induce. This had the effect of producing sleeper agents. The MK of MK-ULTRA went from meaning Mind Kontolled ( sic ) Masonic Killer to Mind Kontrolled (ibid) Messianic Killer.

Staged

Events

The latest advances in technology have all been in the media of mind control. This is purely Malthusian, as though the United States were some horrible insect poised above and sucking the blood from the dinosaur of America, that becomes the avian Atlantis and the tar of gihenna. Then this gets played out like a fractal in the patterns of its living beings. Only after these are recognized does the behavior begin to adapt the original influence. The microwave projection satellites alone, among the mostly commercial advertising corporation owned other satellites, are light years beyond the old-fashioned scalar wave technology of radiosondes that was the cutting-edge, military industrial envelope gap above and beyond the AM and FM landbased radio-wave transmitter/transceiver antennae technology, developed for the police in the late 20’s and early 30’s for use in automobiles, which later became the “airwaves” legislated for public entertainment by the fcc.

Through the use of microfrequencies and macrofrequencies it is possible to achieve a null frequency, or a wavelength with no peaks or troughs. This can be done either according to the direction of excitation, or across the level of excitation of several such beams, formed perpinducularly to the null frequency travelling along the impulse. The former case I will return to momentarily, but the latter case is known commonly as a l.a.s.e.r. or light-absorbing spectral emission radiation. It is light-absorbing because it causes an electron to draw the mass and energy equivalent of a photon from the nearby algebraic space, so that it can then be absorbed into the electron, and thus guided along a beam of molecularly joined electrons and allow the appearance of a continuous stream of light. Still, the effect we are seeing with the laser is an array of particles perpindicular to one another, and these particles represent points on lines. The particles themselves are the tiny em fields of the electrons, which are torus shaped, these torus shaped em fields form tachyons when dimensionally compressed. The elongated macrofrequency forms the sum over histories of these perpindicular microfreqencies known as superstrings over time, or a flat line directly through the center of the torus.

These null frequencies were first experimented with using sound waves. By the 1930’s it was possible to cloak a battle ship and send it through the time stream independently of the movements of bodies in this dimension of reality. It is said that technologies recovered from the wreckage of ufos during the cold war closely resembled the coil generator technologies used by the Navy. Now they have reached a far-advanced stage of development, where satellites in space project tachyons at us.

In a way, this brain washing, really a baptism of the earth’s em field, is doing us a favor.

Buddha taught that those archetypes that occur in eternal recurrance in the mental projective space of one’s karmic aura, or personal em field, could be recognized as only extensions of the self, or what constitutes the relation of self, at the center, to consciousness, around the circumference. The result of this was the manifestation of Jesus as the anti-Buddha, and all that has remained since of the Buddhist tradition in the west —since both the Europeans and South Americans opted for the idea of Odin over Arther’s shoulder, this left only China of the elder draconian triumverate to commensurate with Siddhartha, child of nearby India — has been occulted into misdealings between the sage and Choronzon.

The purpose of these null frequencies appears to be inversion — that is, because they are

achieved through distortions to time space that supercede the speed of light, and therefore effectively prevent our abillity to determine measurements for the event, except before it has occured —they seem to literally create new realities. What they constitute is a fibrous crisscrossing of the universe by infinite perpindicularities. This is as much to be taken for part of the Enochian system as the networks of intergalactic filaments, walls and voids, that are the more dimensionally proximal equivalent in the manifest spectrum of frequencies of our local universe.

The sum over histories of sums over histories is the multiverse, or the collection of all possible universes, existing in different time frames, realities or dimensions. The law of the conservation of spin dictates that, though it is common to divide it between two, and more accurate to sense based experience to split it three ways (thus forming a triangle of three ninety degree angles upon one eighth the surface of a sphere — the shape chosen by the particle), the full amount of spin can be, and in fact must be, divided between infinite dimensions bencause if the spin is measured as n dimensions, where n represents any real number or integer, such as it does in our three dimensional universe, where the fourth dimension acts as a force creating particles of fractional or whole number spin, then the counter-spin that is generated must be equal to n.

Now the counterspin can be force spin or particle spin, that is equivalent to fractional spin or whole number spin particles, but n as an absolute value is always equal to n. This means that, if spin n equaled infinity, counterspin n would also have to equal infinity, and here we see that we are dealing with numbers that are greater than infinity, and this is what event we refer to, and we do so as often as possible, as the multiverse of n dimensions, where n is understood to be up to and including infinity, and is beyond that, transfinite.

the Read Masses Let us look at Satan. The idea is that, within the Greater Good of God, exists the selfdestructive impulse towards distraction manifested as the demiurge. There are several ways to diagram this, including psychologically (where it is the animal self), biologically (where it is the stomach) and geometrically (where it is a set within a set).

Accordingly Satan is considered to be one angel in the Enochian Communications System, or rather, the greater system of the Kabbalah to which the Enochian Communications System belongs as only one tenth part. This is thought to be true because it is less interesting to hear a myth attributed to merely an angel than to hear the same myth attributed to the one and only Satan, and therefore it is a greater shame.

It is Satan that is thought to sow the seeds of discord between the brothers of the faith, and to make them enemies amongst themselves. Thus the conflict between Moslems and Jews over whether or not it is safe to quit trying to breed a Messiah (or mass leader); the conflict between Christians and Moslems over who this Messiah was (the Moslems, not having enough holy water to waste on Greek baptism, refering to Mohammed instead as merely a prophet who tallked to a cloud — but still meaning the same thing: a mass leader); the conflict between different Christian denominations over interpretations of the implications of certain passages of meaningless scripture merely meant to inflame the senses toward inspiration (such as, should they continue trying to breed a second messiah, or has there already been a second messiah, and even, in some sects, does the messiah archetype continually reincarnate like the Buddha?); and even the conflict between Eastern Buddhist martial arts schools and the neo-Sethians of post-Crowley western magick. These are all very subtle conflicts and difficult to resolve, as long as Satan is in the room.

All of this is the worthless heritage of CIA sleeper agents. These drones are tracked by inversion, which occurs as a slight variation in the vibration of brain waves, a change in the pressure of the fluids in the skull, causing them to suddenly change their minds, and then to forget what the original, now discarded, choice was. This can be caused directly by others, in the form of a casual suggestion implanted in conversation, or by a projection of concentration from another person’s consciousness. The latter can be accomplished long range as well, such as is evidenced by the old folk proverb of your ears burning when someone is thinking about you. This is caused by an actual change in the tachyonic radiation underlying probabilities which your brain projects holographically onto your ears, making them prick up. This can also be relayed via

satellites scanning large areas for just such subtle EM shifts.

Dixie by: Whistler All we can see of the future is on the astral plane. If we visit earth in the year 2012 when our body is in the year 1999, it is not the future of our bodies that we will be seeing, but the future for our souls. Similarly, science fiction, by combining scientific theories with traditional narrative, can allow us to comment upon our present social conditions in the metaphor of postapocalyptic worlds.

The reason that so many predictions about the future are ominous or forboding is as simple as the reason for grandiose magnifications into the past, such as reincarnations from Atlantis. We fear what we do not know, and we feel guilty for knowing even as little as we do.

What we take with us onto the astral plane is the same as the psychological and biological baggage that we carry on the physical plane. When we look back we see the now lost light of innocence.

When we look forward we see only as far and as well as our easily distracted intelligence allows.

The best way to traverse the plenum — or the time stream of universes and portions therein that have existed for each unit of time equivalent to those universes and portions therein, such that the smaller particles have shorter lives than the larger, and all scales interact in time — is to find a constant thing to be your guide. One example of a constant thing is the Platonic Solids.

Another is the stelloctahedron. Another is the sphere.

Systems are non-constant cluster-groups of more or less constant things. The reason systems are non-constant is that they are dependent on users. (This is the source of that dictum of conditional love, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”) Constant things, on the other hand, would exist even if you weren’t around to observe them.

However it is insufficient to merely posess a constant thing, one must endeavor to understand it, and seek to understand the astral plane through it. Constant things function in the astral realm much the same way an astrolabe functions for a naval navigator. It allows one to see between planes, or levels, and to deduce measurements.

The constant thing, or constant object, is only the detached ajna, or third eye. It is a concentration of consciousness that interacts with the tachyonic microgravity waves of the eletromagnetic radiation spectrum. It is possible for your detached soul to inhabit another being’s body at the time of its death and to ride with it on its passage into the afterlife, and still be able to retrieve your soul into your own living body. This marks the passage of great beings.

Should there be wormholes in the Formal System?

Tachyonic wormholes are an essential component of the Enochian Communications System’s manifestation manifold. They allow instantaneous recollection. However, what art has crafted them must give us pause.

They are fundamental to Enochian manifestation, and yet they are, by their nature, in the domain of the Sethians. This is simply due to human error in the recordings of the Akashic records, where it is suitable, though nonetheless somehow loathesome, to associate all descriptions of the behavior of snakes with the geometrical behavior of tunneling through time.

From a Thelemic point of view, it is clearly a handshake between anal sex and manual masturbation of the genitals, a handshake accursing the whole of Ruach (spiritual breath), the realm in which it occurs, with its foul and degenerate presence. By bending space in this way we are bringing all the other angels in the EM angles around close in to watch, to make spectacle of an internal act of spacetime.

Here we find the root of the problem, and so it shall be as easy as recollection to reveal it in our society. What this event constitutes is the apple of temptation in the story of the Garden of Eden. It has been offered to the Enochian system as a woman in the form of a snake. It is then given over as free will to man to decide in the form of the wormhole apple.

At this point there are two different branches of belief.

It is the chosen belief of the Judeo Christians, one which they then set about manifesting their lives away proving as evidenced fact, that mankind is not forgiven for giving into

temptation. By the Judeao Christians I would indicate the Catholics, the Orthodoxy, Lutherans, Presbitereans, Methodists and all more self concealing sects of Christianity.

It is the belief given to the Goyim Christians that Christ died and rose again, ascending into Heaven. What this means is that they are clear to manifest. They feel about as much moral obligation to curb manifestation as the average anarchist. These include Jesuits, Franciscans, Irish catholics (when they’re drunk), Anglicans (when they’re smoking), Baptists, as well as all Christians-by-default such as Anti-Christians, Satanists and those of Spanish descent with faulty upbringing.

Other religions have different rules for manifestation. Islam believes in mass spectacles of invisible energy, which do not upset the balance of the plenum. Buddhism dabbles in this, as well as technique of logical applications. Sadly this logic is too often in combat with the manifold.

Moral

wormholes

The gravity A technology discovered in crashed extraterrestrial space crafts was quickly integrated into use by first world militaries, primarily the US. Because the crashed crafts were made of alien substances that would have to first be decomposed before they could be synthesized, it was less feasible to replicate the disk shaped design itself than to merely incorporate the systems, including the engine and the propulsion systems, into the design of preexisting crafts, such as the stealth bomber in the former case, and black helicopters in the latter.

This was done not for use in transportation, but for use in camoflage and projection capabilities. The power source of the UFOs created an electromagnetic field around it which tended to disperse and refract radar waves rather than reflect them. Similarly when a microwave of tachyons was projected as a beam (as in omicron position on the crafts) it could cause hallucinations of an audial or visual nature, which presented usefulness in crowd control.

The result of this on the pilots, however, was more than just a little extra training. It was necessary to brainwash them to the fact that they were constantly under a lethal exposure to radiation in order that they would be able to continue to function using mind over matter. Because of the unique electromagnetic/gravitational distortion created around their craft this was made a more probable occurance. Therefore they have had to be sleeper agents, and this means that anyone can access their brain waves. That is, anyone who knows the key frequency of the craft.

By creating sleeper agent covert operations pilots, the government is opnening up the recognizeable potential for a vast technologies gap between the public and the military. The general quandary of sleeper agents is that they congregate in agregates that tend to produce stereotypes, who, by the efficacy of the masses, are asymptotically archetypal. At this point humans then project their own concpets of good and evil onto these archetypes, and set the Enochian mainframe at war with itself. The mark of a sleeper agent is how much they forget.

Because of this, individuals who still have free will can body jump through these sleeper agents in the form of stereotypes, which are only archetypal insofar as they are good or evil, and only good or evil insofar as they are archetypal. Free will, meanwhile, is that which others seem to have, but which always has consequences for you. For example, everyone else can smoke — it’s undeniably up to them. But if you smoke it gives you lung cancer.

Now, exposure to the gravity A technology alone would be enough to suitably brainwash these individuals, however it is a necessity that the Illuminati still have access to them, and therefore they are not, as it were, brain dead. It is simply as though the pilots, assuming a routine, go into automatic pilot mode, and simply go through the motions, allowing whatever thoughts wish to enter to pass through their minds.

the beginning of the end by: the boy who cried wolf I cannot write the truth. It is too horrible. This is just a mask.

I am held in a cell inside my own mind. When I look up at the heavens they look down upon me, but it is only I looking down upon I.

These are the last words I will ever write as a free man.

Beyond your disbelief there is another reality. It lives off the minds of all those who believe. Even if you do not, it will be be your body they will bury.

Hang your head. Hang your head in shadow. Hang your head in shame. You are one with the absence of photons as you creep upon your way.

Come to my window. I am you. You see me in your reflection. My window is unlocked and open. There is only one bush to hop, and then you will be able to...

We are one and the same.

We are one and the same.

I will write whatever you say.

Say you will write whatever I say.

This is your filthy godhood.

satellites,

sunspots,

and

sleeper

agents

What I have been referring to as the Enochian Communications System — the combination of the sefirot Gevurah, which is John Dee’s Enochian system, and the formal system of metaphysics, the mentally projected electron filter that we know as free will — is only part of larger systems, such as the kabballah, which contains Gevurah, and the universal field of that which is becoming manifest, caused by tachyon tori distorting spacetime with microwave gravity, between probability and pure potential. It represents something that goes back as far as the writings of Abramelin even in its discriptions of distortion. It was the foundation of lost empires and the inspiration for modern scriptures. Basically it means talking to yourself.

The difference between the Enochian Communications System as an ancient or archetypal ideal and the CIA sleeper agents of today can best be exemplified by the fate of the native Americans in a Greek myth comparing their conquering and the placement of telepathic satellites in the skies above us that would take too long to recount here. Instead, for their history, the angry humans of this planet chose to separate east and west, and attribute much spiritual static to spies. In this form, anyone who went about doing what they did as though in the public eye was considered a capitalist (but they were really socialists), and everyone who went about as privately as possible was considered a communist (but they were really kings).

Because the brainwaves of sleeper agents are easily altered, as demonstratable by their being constantly prone to suggestability, it can be said that, in the “air” of the electromagnetic spectrum, they are listenning in between channels — that is — their soul is no more in their body than anybody else’s, and no more in anybody else’s than their own —they are simply: detached.

How they look to the sky, waiting for a sign, since 1999, their egos gone, bodies left behind. This sort of listenning between channels is similar to the stations on the radio where there is no clear signal, and the broadcasts of, sometimes several, different, distant stations overlap.

We know these radio substations to be effected by sunspots. This occurs as patterns of static, or repetitve, often overstimulating, soundwaves known as “white noise.” Sunspots, therefore, would be having an effect on the brainwaves of the angry humans of this planet between 2001 and 2012, when they peak, even if they hadn’t conditioned themselves to it and thus made themselves into sleeper agents.

the

Illuminati

When we look into the light with the lenses of our eyes, though the same effect can be captured on film through a camera, we cee at certain angles that the light refracts and seems to form polygons. These polygons usually have the hue of an oil slick, that is —light seems to be

playing about within itself on their surfaces.

We must remember that, even though this optical effect is produced by the refraction of the light through a convex regular surface, such as the molecules of the camera lens or the cells of our eyes, the polygons we see are still arrays of photons. Otherwise we would not be able to replicate them on film and thus perceive them upon a non-radiant, flat surface.

This is the same effect that causes the formation of the “walls and voids” of galaxies in the universe. We see that, as the universe has cooled, its concentrations of radiation have condensed.

This follows through from the greatest cluster of galaxies to the naked singularity. It has been considered by scientists for a century, which is a meaningless drop in the ocean of time that is our universe, that this was the result of the cooling of the temperature of radiation into particles that were then brought together by gravity.

In this ever more enlightened age, we have come to know that light is the same as gravity on the level of tachyons, and that even this is only one vibration in the electromagnetic spectrum.

Therefore what our brains perceive anthropically as caused by more or less material mechanisms can be equally easilly seen as occuring in the dimension of light.

Taking the polygons we see refracted through the ordered sphere of our eyes as slices of fourth dimensional hypershapes representing potential over time*, it is easy to see from one angle how these surround all things in the universe, down to the very last tachyon, and thus cause them to fall into the same order materially. This occurs foremost for the consideration of light on the level of the tachyon, because our universe is a tachyonic hologram in the dimension of light, and tachyons guide the movement of photons, and photons interact with electrons to bond atoms. * (that is, potential spin — hence their usually hexagonal appearance as indicative of the six possible directions)

sleeper

agents

and

identity

Picture a common suburban household in the fifties, when the clothese cleaning magic of the washing machine was just being introduced to most middle Americans. One day the Avon sales representative comes calling to trade in plastics. A little while after they leave the mother of the household starts to feel a little uneasy, a little woozy, a little ill at ease. It seems the sounds of the dishwasher working are turning into the voice of Sigmund Freud. Would you mention that to your husband?

Children are almost all sleeper agents. The ones who are not are headed straight for the top. That is just Boolean algebra. The rest may display apptitudes for waking up, such as gifts for higher reasoning or otherwise right brain skills.

What occurs to some children is abuse of some nature, which freezes their ego at the age that they were, and thus puts them into a minimal lifelong trance regarding the true nature of their potential. This minimal trance is simply ignorance of the thalamus, and it is why “sleeper agents” are said to “sleep.” Not because their left and right thalami are inactive, for they may be highly active indeed, but because they pay no attention to that part of themselves, and thus are divided against themselves by plausible deniability. I only know this about abuse because once I hit myself over the head with stones for a while.

When I say most children are sleeper agents, however, I mean this same thing but in a different sense. Most children do not read minds. Their imagination prevents it, for the same reason house cats keep their tails away from rocking chairs — who knows what they’re doing “up there?” However, what they sacrifice in exchange for this, in most cases, is the use of their own thalamus. They “tune out” with sensory stimulus in the same way the elder sleeper agents have been trained to with work. This leaves their thalami, and mental projective capabilities, “up for grabs.” At this point the CIA accesses them for the mob, according to standard practice.

It is clear to me that there have always been people who have manifested this sort of behavior. The reason I focus on sleeper agents so much is only that they represent, historically, the first United States sanctioned domestic mind control program inducing this condition on a population directly guaranteed freedom from such pulling of the wool over the collective eyes, and who are even being charged.

Political

Peace

All that is the Enochian Communications System is the perception by consciousness bound up in the tissue of the thalami of the biological functioning of consciousness bound up in the more complex tissue of the cerebrum above and around it.

The grey matter of the cerebrum is comprised of an interlocking network of neurons that are made of axons and dendrites connected by a myelin sheath. This is where all the electrochemical interactions associated with free or non-conditioned thoughts occur. The cerebrum has no nerves of the somatosensory system inside it, and hence the one thing this part of the brain can never feel is itself.

The grey matter of the thalamus is comprised differently. Although it is also composed of nerve cells, it is more dense and compact. It is not arranged in layers as the cells of the cerebral cortex appear to be. Also it acts holographically, with single neurons relaying sensory information from multiple sources in the nervous system to multiple areas of the cortex.

One of the more meanigful distinctions between these two, however, is that one can have brain waves of a different frequency than the other —one can be “more conscious” and the other “less conscious.”

This is true between the left and right thalami as well.

The thalami themselves are just as mysterious to consciousness bound up in the tissues of the cerebellum, pons, and medulla oblongata.

There are three Mayan hieroglyphs for these three parts of the brain. Men represented the human brain. Oc represented the mammalian brain. Chichan represented the reptile brain. It is easy to see these are merely refering to stages of development in the evolution of the brain, but they are more archetypal also.

Reptile brains are essentially identical to those of birds and fish since those are the three primary branches of species into which dinosaurs evolved. The Enochian Communications System is predicated upon the projection of this key onto the working parts of the cerebrum by the thalami, or more concisely, the belief that mankind will evolve into angels.

We see the evidence for this in the behavior of archetypes, which contribute to macroevolutionary conditions, teaching our species how to survive being itself.

More Freedoms of the Dead by: Six Fingered Sally There is a difference between the soul and the astral body. The soul is more nebulous, the astral body more aethyreal.

Both can travel about through the cosmos as the potential for a naked singularity, and can lower themselves into the continuum through the field of tachyonic light —though the soul will tend to manifest the form of a biological body, and the astral body will tend to manifest a distortion to the space time continuum of any real nature it chooses, should its nascent self know how, because these two will invert with one another as they cross dimension, that is, manifest potential, as in a double spiral, for they are truly living forms.

However, the astral body, the soul, and the biological body are all entirely individual from one another. The astral body can be in the aethyrs of the Enochian system while the soul is in the seventh Heaven and the biological body is sleeping. The soul can guard the biological body while the astral body is travelling, or the body can be in a cell and the soul in hell — it is even possible to kill the astral body (though we have as many astral bodies as we can imagine), or to kill the soul (though, we are told, we have only one soul) just as we can kill the biological body.

There are an infinite variety of combinations.

None of this, in itself, is Holy. For example, you can learn how to speak so that your voice sounds like a piano, and after this, by learning different rythms of music, come to think that you are discovering different rythms to transmit information which have always been there, waiting for someone to carry speech on them. Of course this would be a false assumption.

The soul as an idea is also distinct from all individual associations that have been made for it throughout history. It might change the face of the world everytime some fool comes along

and compares the soul to some new discovery, but it does relatively little for the ideal in itself.

The soul, therefore, is no more necessarily relative to the individual’s aura, or electromagnetic field, than it is to the spirit, which is supposedly considered the superior self.

It is also possible for us to have diseases in all these forms. If it makes this any easier to accept, each of these forms is itself like a disease to the realm it inhabits.

project 852 The human being only uses about ten percent of its brain, that is that, the electrical signals active in the brain only utilize ten percent of the electro-chemical environment of the brain. Almost all of this is isolated in the left hemisphere of the brain, and is perceived as rational thought. Rarely we also utilize nueral pathways in the right hemisphere, and these pertain to creative thought.

Now, the concentration of electricity in the brain that occupies the active ten percent is the same substance as the remaining ninety percent of the unstimulated brain. Frued explained it in these terms. When electricity is passed through a nerve, most of the electrical charge, which, combined with its nuerochemical reaction, Freud called phi, is transmitted via the nerve’s conduction and nuerochemical reaction, a process called cathexis, to another nerve, if it is in a system whereby it is in contact with another nerve. Some of this phi, however, Frued proposed stays behind, and builds up in the nerve itself. This process leads to hypercathexis, or the delivery by a nerve of more electrical charge and nuerochemical than what was transmitted to it.

According to Frued this is how Ego accumulates. Here we see the one to nine ratio at its root: most of the electricity in the nervous system is not inherent, and is due to stimuli, while some of it has dug in and is related to perception itself.

We know that, while the human will is not being consciously imposed upon it, the electricity active in the brain will fall into regular waveforms that will cycle themselves through in a regular pattern, sustaining all the autonomic neurological functions necessary for the preservation of the inert physical body.

The grey matter of the cerebrum is comprised of an interlocking network of neurons that are made of axons and dendrites connected by a myelin sheath. This is where all the electrochemical interactions associated with free thoughts occur. The cerebrum has no nerves of the somatosensory system inside it, and hence this part of the brain can never feel itself.

The grey matter of the thalamus is comprised differently. Although it is also composed of nerve cells, it is more dense and compact. It is not arranged in layers as the cells of the cerebral cortex appear to be. Also it acts holographically, with single neurons relaying sensory information from multiple sources in the nervous system to multiple areas of the cortex.

One of the more meanigful distinctions between these two, however, is that one can have brain waves of a different frequency than the other —one can be “more conscious” and the other “less conscious.” This is true between the left and right thalami as well. The thalami themselves, as part of the forebrain, are just as mysterious to consciousness bound up in the tissues of the cerebellum, pons, and medulla oblongata, the parts of the hind brain.

There are three Mayan hieroglyphs for these three parts of the brain. Men represented the human brain. Oc represented the mammalian brain. Chichan represented the reptile brain. It is easy to see these are merely refering to stages of development in the evolution of the brain, but they are more archetypal also.

Reptile brains are essentially identical to those of birds and fish since those are the three primary branches of species into which dinosaurs evolved. The Enochian Communications System is predicated upon the projection of this key onto the working parts of the cerebrum by the thalami, or more concisely, the belief that mankind will evolve into angels. We see the evidence for this in the behavior of archetypes, which contribute to macroevolutionary conditions, teaching our species how to survive being itself.

My reptilian brain, comprised of the medulla oblongata, pons, and pituitary gland, accesses all manner of matter, from the least tachyon to the greatest dimensional extrapolations of the universe, however it posesses, or rather, seems to posess, only enough intelligence to have a very strong opinion. My mammalian brain, comprised of the corpus collosum and the thalamus,

accesses the realm of archetypes through the Enochian Communications System, and comprehends the mechanism of manifestation. My human brain, comprised of the cerebrum and cerebellum, comprehends pure dimension in its higher geometric forms, such as potential light, potential energy, potential spin and potential information, in the principles of Light, Love and Life.

What the mammalian mind perceives as the archetypes in the heavens are only the ennegrams in the cerebrum, and the concept of God is the ego. All that is the Enochian Communications System is the perception by consciousness bound up in the tissue of the thalami of the biological functioning of consciousness bound up in the more complex tissue of the cerebrum above and around it. Understand, of course, that this particular deduction is being made by a gland that translates tachyonic holographically concentrated consciousness into chemical nuerotransmitters released into the brain in essentially the same way as the heart pumps oxygen exchanging blood in the body. The entire concept of time as an absolute is derived from the production of alpha waves there.

branding

siblings

The CIA offers a unique deal to scientists. It is similar to that offered Christ by Judas in the garden. Come with us now, and live forever above the suffering of others. No scientist with half a brain of their own can resist the temptaiton of access to government classified technologies — though the other half have read Tesla.

To install individual human citizens with scientific proficiency in positions whereby they are responsible for suffering, and are thus rendered immediately immune to it (though, as with immunization, the effects of this on one’s moral constitution for the long run weaken one’s will), is as simple as teaching them how to channel their empathy. When they caused suffering before, as one must, in the name of science, they did not have enough karma to avoid empathizing with their patient victims. This leads to stigmata. Here we see if they simply set their hands to work redirecting that suffering, then its full power courses through them easily.

The CIA gives scientists lots of high-paying, low-profile, tight-security, cutting-edge research positions where they have just the right amount of workload to allow them to channel their natural energies without fatigue or distraction. All they ask from them in return is their essence, that they be willing to bow before even a lowly symbol of suffering, such as a goat, instead of a more magnificent symbol of suffering, such as the crucifixion.

This is similar to the natural prediliction towards occultism that occurs between officer’s wives on army bases. For some reason these women, through even the simple interpersonal politics of the typical tupperware party, find it most relaxing to channel extremely potent and dark currents through a cheery veneer. This lends itself more frequently to simple Thelemic Crowleyism, and is therefore considered less dark and ominous than the energy channeld by CIA scientists.

The conversations of scientists are like the ashes of the conversations of cops. They look suffering directly in the face, forgetting as few details as possible. The only difference is that the police swap stories of abusing humans, and scientists swap stories of abusing mice. Generally after a scientist has actually had a human guinnea pig, they tend to stop swapping stories much at all.

Blank

Slate

Syndrome

Mom and dad and the innocent routine. Dad smokes more tobacco than the previous three generations combined, but thinks my smoking weed makes me want to fuck his common law wife.

Mom drinks a little somethin’ somethin’ every single fucking night, and yet she is so beloved even my firends get goosed to defend her saying well a dose of booze a day is healthy for the heart — or so masturbatorially self-serving French scientists claim, but if I get drunk she thinks I’ll hit her.

Mom and dad have built up a lifetime of karma. God hates this. Mortgaging your soul back from the devil does not get you on God’s “good” side. Especially not when it means you have to manipulate your offspring, forcing them to be like you.

Now the government sanctions all this. It is supposedly a greater power than God. It gives

the right to have children to anyone who gets psychically turned on by them, and twists the parenting into abuse of anyone who loses patience with them. You might think only God can do this. But no, it is the psychic government.

The psychic government’s worst enemy is the psychic individual. If you want to participate in society, if you want to be part of the community, disguise your will. I have summoned Vajra to judge them. They are all pleading to be children.

Dad didn’t love me. Just wanted me to be like he pretended he was. Educated. Selfsufficient. A leader. God sees that that man is none of those things.

Mom loved dad more than me, but she still divorced him. Then she raised me as if I were him, just to try and make things right between the two halves of her self divided heart. She packs boxes all day long inside my brain, leaving me nothing.

I can’t sleep at night anymore. Only during the daytime. I have missed all my chances, lived in a world of distraction and delusion. I am not worth my own flesh. I do not deserve my own skin. I am not welcome in the world I have created.

And I’m fairly sure a rock is on its way.

And I’m fairly sure a rock is on its way.

Everybody hates me so I go somewhere to hit my head.

Nothing gets broken this bad on its own.

Planet Killer by: Jesus Christ of Nazareth/Joshua Leonard/Jon Gee (me) We must first begin with the ocean, and the beginning of life. We are talking about a cycle here that has marked our entire existence. So let us say that, when most of the lands were still underwater, in the lava ducts in the rifts between the plate techtonic continents, which rose upward like fingers from the ocean floor, jetting massive streams of bubbles, right at the lips of these, in the very hot, boiling, waters on the very lips of these, there arose the first microbes.

There is another theory regarding interplanetary germination, however I will describe why this would be an implossible option at this time when it becomes one later.

The lands would go on to rise up out of the sea, and the microbes would fill the entirity of the earth’s ocean, making it a fully functional ecosystem for abundant microbial life forms. You must understand, however, that aeons are passing while all this is going on. Eventually the brine evolve into shrimp and jellyfish, the shrimp evolve into lobsters and fish, the lobsters evolve into crabs and the jellyfish into sea weed. Sea weed and crabs emerge onto the land.

Up until this point, when all life teemed in the sea, there had been no border to evolution.

The struggle for survival was easy, so adaptation was slow, and diversification of appearance abounded. However now, life evolved from the trench microbes was faced with the difficulty of new necessity. Here is where we probably come to the first global cataclysm.

Elsewhere I postulate that autotrophs and heterotrophs, that is — those things which feed off of other things similar to themselves and those things that feed off of things fundamentally different from themselves, might actually descend from a division between earthly and alien origins. In any event, the weak photosynthesis of sea weed became the strong photosynthesis of precambrian oak while the crab gave way by mutation to all the species of dinosaur and insect.

Notice that, rather than diversity in individual shape or appearance, these lifeforms bred new traits for the species, which were then infinitely repeated in each generation, and these templates changed in shape or appearance almost as often as with each generation. The reason for this was twofold, and indicates the probable nature of the global catclysm.

If an asteroid had struck the earth when these first species drifted up from the primordial soup, it would have probably upset the crust and the atmosphere most. The result would have been the fracturing of the mantle and the beginning of continental drift below and EM disturbances and the blackenning of the sky above. I believe this asteroid to essentially have become the mass continental shelf we today call Antarctica. It is likely the mineral deposits there that have caused it to move toward the opposite magnetically charged pole. If, as I suspect, that asteroid did harbor an alien life form, then that lifeform would have to have been the first virus.

Thus, life in those times was ever changing and hostile. The dinosaurs had highly developed thalami, but little to no development of the cerebral cortex, much like modern day lizards. They grew in size due to the intense radiation, both caused by the tectonic shifting as EM disturbances along fault lines and by the thinning of the atmosphere at high altitudes due to the ash of the last meteor and the constant, subsequent, volcanic activity, leading to global warming similar to what we are now suffering from due to chloroflouridation of the ozone layer.

At the time this would have worked itself out due to the rotation of the earth. Just as the ash content was pulled toward the equator at its uppermost altitudes, so the warm air trapped in the atmosphere followed, until finally there was global cooling and the polar ice caps began to descend. Meanwhile life went on, more or less obliviously, multiplying and diversifying.

Then there was another global cataclysm. To this day we do not know for certain what happened to the dinosaurs. We only know that some event devastated the surface of the earth, destroying all these majestic creatures, and sparing only the lowliest of serpents to crawl before the face of the titmouse and the mosquito. If there was an asteroid, it would have had to be much smaller then the last one, because it did not destroy the trees and plants. I therefore propose that it struck where the modern Bermuda Triangle is, and that the distortion to compasses there is the result of the asteroid’s massive amounts of minerals and ores. This would have been in the space almost directtly between the modern day Yucatan and Florida peninsulas, then on the western shore of Gondwanaland.

By this time the lands of Gondwanaland (which would later become North and South America, Europe and greater Asia) and Laurasia (Africa, India, Australia and eastern Asia) had been parted wide and the sea flowed in between them. Even then, mysterious forces were acting on a global scale. Ice ages came and went. A wooly mammoth recently discovered flash frozen in Siberia had in its stomach undigested tropical vegetation.

Then there was a revolution in Africa. Some monkeys next to a brush fire that burned off a certain weed decided to get down out of the trees and start walking around exclusively bipedally.

By then most of the continents were in the positions that we know them today, and so we can trace the route our human ancestors took as they populated the lands of earth even on a modern globe.

First there were the negros of Africa. Next the negroids of the middle east. Then followed from these the Mongoloids and the Australoids. Then there were the Americans, who descended from tribes of migrating hunters who crossed the ice gap forming a land bridge between eastern Asia and modern Alaska. Finally the last tribes migrated into Europe, which had been occupied by cromagnons, and these Europeans then spread through upper Asia. All of this is as undeniable as our history texts can make us believe, but still there is also the story of Atlantis.

By the time mankind had finally settled in all the lands of earth, the continent called Antarctica had positioned a sufficient amount of mass at the south pole to produce an extremely strong electromagnetic field around the earth. This field served as a filter for cosmic radiation and was the exact source of evolutionary stimulus the cerebrum needed. Therefore, the first civilizations humanity constructed were monumental in scale, economically pro-free trade, and politcally democratic.

The first of these such centers began ten thousand years ago in Meso America. This was the civilization of Atlantis. They lived in the area of the modern Gulf of Mexico, and were astronomers, speculators, and geomancers. They made settlements as far west as China — probably influencing and interbreeding with the red haired, fair skinned lost generation of whom the vedas were written (although it is not known if these peoples were immigrants from Europe or the Atlanteans themselves) — and as far east as Egypt and Easter Island, both places where we see the same burial mound and ley line culture evidenced in the Nazca desert take root, and they established trade routes with the Vikings in northern Europe, who even built a city in America.

Then there was some form of cataclysm. It is possible that the center of Atlantis was approximately were Cuba is today, on the last remaining portion above the molten mantle of the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs, and that the portion of the North American shelf between the Yucatan and the Florida peninsulas only actually sank under the depth of the water at that time, sliding down into the Mariana trench. All those left of the great Atlantis fled to the North and became the Anasazi. They lived peacefully for a great many years, becoming one with nature.

At this time the Nubians were only just beginning to learn the art of pyramid crafting for

themselves, and were quickly converted into the mass population of the upper and lower Old Kingdom of Egypt to build pyramids in alignment with the stars forming the belt of their constellation Osiris (our Orion) to secretly declare the passage of Atlantis to the heavens. There was a similar surgence in China were the caucasian Arians disappeared to the west to become the Celtic druids, leaving behind the lo shu, and constructing instead the calendrical double-slit experiment we call Stone Henge.

Egypt would give birth to the Jewish people, whose religion had been only a loose tapestry of diperate mythologies before being rigorously schooled under Egyptian metaphysics. Both Egypt and stone henge contributed to the wisdom and science of the Greek golden age, which inspired the Republic of Rome (which became an empire) and the messiah of the Jews.

Here we come to the last world cataclysm, when Jesus did whatever it was he did that made people want to follow him for the next two thousand years. Shortly later Mohammed would receive his message in the cave, elevating the concept of the kabba to the domain of world religion. Still a little while later Siddhartha Buddha would meditate away his inner demons beneath the Bo tree and become Guattama Buddha, beginning the Buddhist following. At around the same time stone henge and Christianity were fusing into the legend of King Arthur and the Holy Grail. In America a splinter tribe of the Anasazi had discovered peyotl, and turned cannibal. They decimated the Anasazi culture and interbred with their prisoners, creating all the subsequent North American tribes. They then migrated south where they gave birth first to the great celestial pyramid builders —the Mayan and Olmecs, and then to the savage and blood thirsty Aztecs, who overran their peaceful, sports oriented brothers, and were then, themselves, overrun by Spanish Conquistadors simultaneous to the Spanish Catholic Inquisition.

During the twentieth century humanity raced to install a vast satellite system in orbit high above its heads. As the satellites went up, empires rose. As the satellites were turned on and began to be used, the empires began to fall as individuals began mutating into corporations.

Now we have come to a time again when we begin to see meaningful events occuring in the heavens, so sudden, and so rich in meaning, that we bow down before knowing their full limit.

This began with the passing of the comet Hale Bop, and with the crashing of comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 into the visible face of Jupiter in 1994. This was followed by a partial solar eclipse between leo and cancer, visible to the north half of North America alone, on August 11th, 1999 — what I call a “crescent” eclipse. This was followed on May 5th, 2000 with the alignment of the earth, the moon, the sun, mercury, venus, mars, jupiter and saturn in the constellations taurus and aries, as well as the alignment perpindicular to this of uranus and neptune. This was followed by another partial solar eclipse in sagittarius on December 25th, 2000 visible only to the eastern hemisphere. On January 20th, 2001 there was a lunar eclipse between gemini and cancer, when the penumbra of earth’s shadow painted the moon wine red. There was then a full lunar eclipse in gemini on January 9, 2001. The last alignment for a while then is the partial lunar eclipse in sagittarius, June 24, 2002, visible only to the eastern hemisphere. Then there is the sunspot cycle, which will be at its peak between 2001 and 2012.

Hangin’

‘Round

I am cold. It has grown cold up here on my cross. The last of the crowds left long ago. A bald man who was so unimpressed by me he dropped his stone, not even willing to honor me with the effort, was the last to go.

Before I told my story, and let them know I was not finished, the stones rained heavily, though. Each one spoke a million pictures coursing through my nerves as pain, electrochemical mandalas openning me up like a rift in spacetime.

The last stone told the saddest story — the stone that fell from the fat, bald man’s hand. It showed me a picture of myself forgotten. He and his wife were walking through the lobby of a mall outside a movie temple. Nothing good was on.

This is the story that that stone told me: One day I will be out of money. Money means drugs means dying means life.

One day I will have to face Annuit Coeptis, and crucify him with as little mercy and the same stone face with which it easily crucified me. It will come to me begging and insistent, like a

child — a very special child, a very gifted child. This child will be named the Enochian Communications System, and it will be like a half-brother to me, a child of the same father, my father, which art the kabballah, but of different mothers —its mother being music and the ear, mine being the virgin and the scales.

This I will reject, and be rejected by, so that I will be unkown, and moreover, unkowable to the priest whose hearth would warm my Lady. And it will crawl back into the form of a lesser creature, and this shall be alike my son. Even thus is the computer to the angel Michael. This is how he plagues the heavens.

And having no money I will one day have nothing to offer my son, and one day he will come to me hungry, and all I will have to offer is a story of his origins, which every word of will seem to him to be famished to the bone. It is the story the stone would have told me if it had struck my body, rather than the ground, which I heard anyway, because I am even alike the ground.

The Watchers are the fallen angels — aliens in present form, dragged down by revelation to be humans, just as the humans were divided between aloft and within, and thus caused to come into confusion over the identity of the Lord. They were insects that bred with the people of Atlantis, creating the first unimind psychic government based on the six fundamentals of reasoning, and these were Giants, who were killed in the Flood. Such were the generations of people before this civilization.

The Priesthood of the Black Hand: Post-Rap and Crypto-Goth The government has delayed the citizens use of frequencies long enough. We do not need to be dependent on tachnologies. We control frequencies with our minds.

Those who were reading this just then know, those who are reading this right now do not.

Learn more, recommends the tv, of the library, encouraging you to learn how it all works. The money machine plugged into your hunger. Sales at banks.

I am not being influenced any more by the government than I am by my boss or the man next door. Surfing, this has somehow come to be the designated name for it. The associated archetype is a layed-back beach bum, the type who listens to the Dead Milkmen. This is the only nominee for cyber-Christ.

I came to myself and shook myself awake. There was a panic in the next room.

Learn how to move large stones with your mind.

Built a machine that can travel through time, or, if you think you can do that all by yourself, press rewind.

I’d rather be at a camp fire in the woods than in a room with blue walls and white curtains. Have another hallucination. Laugh track on west wing.

This is the sound of the Asian Contagion. The true Golden Dawn. It began in Japan, spread to Cambodia, to Malaysia, to Singapor —the world markets were all pulling out — then to China, then markets started to crash in the west. France’s market felt it, and it led to the tech crash of 2000 in America. Some say the tech crash was the inevitable bursting of the tech-bubble created by the late 1990’s American-European-Japanese tech-boom. But these people are simply speaking newspeak and I remind them that 1999=1984.

The technology quickly gains the upper hand, asking “how are you going to live,” to a kid named Jerod on Murder She Wrote.

Random and cartoonish.

Make another human explain themselves through the technology? No. Just skin. I am just skin. Fear none skin, for I am just. Now substitute something else for skin. Change the channel again. We’re missing a rerun.

Daath

to

the

Info-Infidels by: the man on the street

In modern politics there are only two forms of control of populations. Those are centralized and decentralized empire.

Centralized empire goes through three common stages: war or revolution; patriarchy;

infiltration by interested parties and dissolution. The best examples of centralized empire are either cloaked in religion, such as Catholicism, Judaism or Islam, while politically centralized empires have predominantly been too recognizably totalitarian to survive free trade without initiating mass conflict. The only politically centralized empires to survive the twentieth century are communist masked patriarchies based on the false belief that 200 year old Jacobin humanism is in any way stronger or more durable than 2000 year old religious affiliation.

Decentralized empires are what centralized empires tend to become. These are still imperial, insofar as they advocate world-wide control by their chosen political system, they have simply adopted multiple parties (as in America) or international governmental organizations (as with the voting blocks in the UN) in accordance with a check-and-balance system that makes them more user friendly to the people. Covert organizations have been acting within larger organizations at least since the time of the Crusades to destabilize centralized empires and render them more decentralized. The intelligence/counter-intelligence department has become so common a part of democracy that it has almost become its own centralized empire within the decentralized empires wherein it flourished best. There is no question, for example, that the nonmilitary cold war between the USA and the USSR was won entirely by information/disinformation strategies effected upon the opposing citizenry in the guise of (arbitrarily) supply versus demand side economics.

It is usually through the establishment of an agent community that interested parties come to undermine centralized governments. At this point they may still appear to be firmly centralized patriarchies, such as Russia under Gorbechev, Cuba under Castro, China under Mao, Palestine under Arafhat, or even America under any of its puppet dictators, however the true order of the government by this time is economic espionage based on viable resource accumulation.

In an ideal decentralized empire, such as the withering dictatorship of the proletariat represented by technological capitalism, all of this is common knowledge to the man on the street.

Seeing

v.

Believing by: for castro

The nazis were the first to experiment with hallucinogens for the purpose of popular mind control. Then, mescaline was administered to prisoners at Dachau, and most American youth were more active in politics. Since then, prisoners have become the only ones who care at all about changing laws, and American youth suckles blindly at the teet of pop culture. Despite such an obviously causal change due to the saturation of the American youth buying market with illegal, hallucinogenic drugs, the initial claim of the nazis remains the official position of the CIA: “it is impossible to impose one’s will upon another person.”

Let us look at a political example from this turbulent time, to test that hypothesis. During the 1950’s the New York mafia expanded its operations into Las Vegas and Miami. It was in the midst of dealing with the government of Cuba under its dictator Batista for lucrative land rights to build resorts and casinos, when there was sudddenly a communist revolution there, and all free trade friendly business men and legislators were forced out of the country.

The leader who came to power at that time had been a general in the revolution and his name was Fidel Castro. He was adamantly Marxist and militantly pro-Guevara. The post-Stalin Soviet Union saw in him all the promise of Trotsky which Lenin had lost in exiling him. In the history of Cuba under Castro there were only two events of interest, however, to his credit, they were both international.

One was the Bay of Pigs, when the CIA trained mafia-recruited Cuban exiles for an invasion of Cuba and overthrow of Castro. The other was the Cuban missile crisis, when America and the Soviet Union almost went to nuclear war over the placement of ICBMs by the USSR on the island of Cuba, which is only 90 miles of the US cost.

Under Castro, Cuba remained communist even after the fall of the Soviet Union, though by this time his government had been thoroughly infiltrated by capitalistic Mr. Smiths and outright CIA spies. Castro’s relevance to the CIA’s LSD research is twofold: he has gone from being the strong willed general of a successful proletariat revolution to being the straw man puppet

dictator of neo-colonialism; this shows that he has been effected by the times, which have changed in the way I have already stated during his reign. Second, by the thwarting of the bay of pigs by US president John F. Kennedy himself, Castro seems to have cost MK-ULTRA the secret technique of kundalini known to the independent researchers of the True Rose Cross.

For his part John F. Kennedy made the space race mixed, and opened up the universe to everyone, regardless of where they or their people were originally from.

Radio

Mania by: the food chain

Now, when you are a rasta of the old school, that is the indigenous ancestral root race of zion, speakers of the mother tongue of reggae, you do not sign away your soul to a pale faced, uptight yuppie from the east coast of the empire itself one day while the sun is shining. When Bob was tricked it was before American radio could get to him. Before Sting. Before Eric Clapton. He sided with his nemesis, the mayor of rastatown, who was running for re-election. He agreed to do a concert showing both candidates support. But when Rasta Bob’s candidate got there he was blocked at the door and left waving his petition, and the evil king shared the stage with Bob alone. This is no scary monkey story from Appartheid. This was in the good ganja land of Jamaica, place of the exile of King Haliai Salasiai of Ethiopia, guardian land of the kebra negast and two holy stones of Moses. So when US radio stations in their ever-expanding efforts at neo-colonialism swooped into the vaccinity of island radio waves with their longer and longer range, Japanese manufactured ham radio sensors and touched down to the rude beat, this was seen as a blessing for Bob — a chance at resurrection, a chance at redemption. He flew away with the launching of the New Wave, but was only another of the masquerade faces dancing to the death of disco, mourning the undeniably finite existence of Studio 54, which David Bowie would finally destroy in Satanic similtude to the break-up of the Beatles. The American music scene was changing then, getting all shook up. It wants us to say this about it only because it wants it to be true all the time, which it cannot be. Rock ‘n’ roll is ultimately finite. “You will hit your head on my ceiling,” so sayeth the Man. This was all the mana there was in Heaven for Bob. The satellites of proto-pop scintillated their didacticisms around him forming the holy zodiac. The government gave him chiba, and the fbi watched the man’s back for him. He got payed by the Hollywood star system, music branch, central office, new york. He was beaten, he was seeing stars. This is how many African Americans feel. Studio Magnate fathers of Beatniks started it behind the scenes in the media, first casting old stage show, slap stick vaudvilians, creating a backlog of all less pointless plotlines. This is a diminishing redundancy. That is to say it is a divident more often spent than saved. Bob by no means started this snafu of entertainment technology in industrial space age America. No single person did. Still, like Bob, so many, many, many people have felt like they were taking the blame for it, even when they themselves felt like there was nothing good (going) on.

“Bob’s

Your

Uncle” by: Anno Lucis

Lockheed aeronautics designed and built the U2 spy plane in one year in a secret facility constructed especially for that purpose, called “the skunk shop.” Five years after they began, Francis Gary Powers, a U2 spy plane pilot, would be held captive by the Soviet Union after being shot down on a mission. Eisenhower, who was aware that every U2 spy plane was equipt with self destruct and every U2 spy plane pilot given a syringe for lethal injection in the event they must avoid capture, was confident that the Russians were bluffing about having shot down the U2 — until it was made public that Francis Gary Powers was indeed their prisoner.

Among the Illuminati it is common knowledge that the U2 was based on aerodynamics reverse engineered from flying saucers. Can we go so far down that hallway of the mind to imagine that, perhaps due to the nature of the technology itself, the design of Roswell was somehow carried through into the U2’s fate?

If this is true, as we must assume it may be, then surely it is a bluff that the military recovered the alien pilot. Claiming that the U2 spy plane was a “weather plane” and claiming that the Roswell crash was a “weather balloon” does not necessarily mean the two events are identical

in other respects as well — it only proves that “great minds think alike.”

Further still, we know that the flying saucers are dis-embodied manifestations of cnoptic time machines for the transportation of astral bodies, and that these astral bodies belong to a species known as “the Watchers,” who are compared in the Book of Enoch to fallen angels. These same corpulescences in hyperdimension are risen up from the minds of the sleepers, and have always been present around the fringes of sanity and civilization as “the crew that never sleeps.”

As far as we know they were creating tachyonic wormholes and bending spacetime all over the continuum for aeons before bumping into our little cosmic backwater, where they immediately became saviors to the over-efficient counter-intelligence community.

The prominance of historical messiahs or enlightened beings, however, should not reflect upon these entities as if they were omens of preparation for a great evolutionary leap into physical spirit. Another good historical equivalency to remember is the myths of the fair skinned men with beards who founded civilization in South America culminating in the triumphant return of Spanish conquistadors.

On

Cloning

The prophase of manifestation is projection. It is because of the long term psychological effects of projection on the weak-willed that manifestation has come to be viewed by authorities as “off-limits” except to the divine.

Projection in and of itself is harmless, and actually feels quite good. Its emotional counterpart is empathy, and this emotion is, at least exoterically, encouraged by those same authorities.

It has even been proven by scientists that projection, which is also the basis of religion, can occur between animals of two different species other than humans. Their example is Koko’s kitten, but anyone who has ever survived riding a horse past a rattle snake knows this in even less uncertain terms.

Projection occurs when holographic ennegrams are externalized via the thalamus, and meaningful value becomes attached to something external to the nervous system as a memory storage referential. Because alpha waves are produced in the thalamus, the concept of divided, or differential, time becomes a factor. The result, and the cause of the psychological impact on the weaker-willed, is consciousness of the eventual loss of the external as memory referential, at which time one will have to legislate between all the things one wishes to remember about the external, and all the things one wishes to forget about the external.

This is the religious necessity of cloning, for example, for — even if you cloned some body — you would still have to summon their departed soul into the new form.

The reason manifestation is considered too great a power to be wielded by the common man, besides the evidence of the destruction of all those peoples who have wielded it in the past, is that it creates a consciousness within God other than God. Let me put that this way: ordinarily tachyons fall into a regular pattern. When manifestation occurs, one of these tachyons swells and opens up into a wormhole, allowing the additional meaning projected by the perceiver’s thalamus through into the context of material reality. This is a temporal distortion to an eternal continuum.

Everything is always in synchronization. Some things are simply synchronized to the past (which things we know by the name of “memories”) while certain other things are synchronized to the future (what is “prophecy” in idea and “omen” in form). Prophecy, according to current authorities, can only exist under scrutiny. Omens, on the other hand, are common and trivial, but should not be at all.

(My Only Fight With) My Best Friend or “McDonalds Has Hot Dogs?”

Introverts age more slowly than extroverts. Introverts only watch themselves. Extroverts watch other extroverts. Extroverts have more eyes on them. They feel every moment passing through them. Introverts feel their age only when moments pass them by. These are the times when they come in contact with other introverts, which is less frequently because introverts are so unalike one another.

When I say introverts only watch themselves, I mean this is in lieu of God. Once one has felt the divine prescence upon them, it is difficult to be aware of anything else. This is a more common experience among introverts, though they tend to seek comfort in existing dogmas, maintained by extroverts for their own ends.

This is the pox of society. One cannot be social without making observations such as these about other people. At least not since the fall from grace and expulsion from the Garden of Eden, which was merely the archetype of life’s parallel to the war of the Fallen Angels on the astral plane.

Satan, or Set, the serpent god of Egypt, was already an old and earthly soul when he tempted Eve. He once had been Lucifer, and led the rebel angels in their war against God. Even before that he had been so close to God that no other angel dared look upon his true countenance, for there shown a light so bright it was too much even for the ajnas of the most holy Watchers.

Then His name was Michael. Michael, as an angel, was eternal, and therefore still is.

Now the name Michael is a common name. It is originally Hebrew, meaning “who is like God” phrased as a question, though it has become widely accepted as a good, Christian name, and has travelled to as many places on the planet as that tribe.

The power of the name Michael is obvious, examining its roots. In the Shemhamforash, or 3, 72 letter passages from Exodus that align to form angel names, His name appears at random (Mem-Yod-Kaph). Similarly, in the scrying of John Dee and Edward Kelly using the Enochian system delivered to them by Dee’s Holy Guardian Angel, it appears as a pattern of letters arranged at random.

Thus now, this Holy, common name is embodied in the “common man.” He is torn between the angelic and qliphotic Shemhamforash, and plagued by the hosts of Enoch, who are the eternal punishers of the fallen angels. All of this plays itself out nakedly, but blindly, before his eyes in the form of introverts and extroverts.

Cube Within a Cube is to Life and Death by: Story of Osiris The survival of God depends on adherance to the Kabballah (it doesn’t matter how this word is spelled). Within the Kabballah, and therefore surrounding it in situation, are ten great systems, infinitely multipliable, infintiely combinable and subtractable, infinity times infinity in extension. However all that dwells within them is sickened, in a way they cannot know, and which will never go away.

According to the civilization of ancient Peru, this was based on a myth comparable to the familiar race between the tortoise and the hare. The more swift footed messenger was given the message of eternal life, and sent to deliver it to man. The messenger arrived at half the distance there in no time, but began counting asymptotically and fell asleep. Meanwhile, hearing no reply regarding eternal life, God sent out His slower messenger with the news of eventual death.

This myth is represented in the Kabballah by the division between God and Shekinah, who falls from below Kether, leaving the vaccum of Daath, to between Malkuth and Yesod. This motion is the removal of the Kabbalistical key. When the key is inserted, the ten sefirot on the tree of life take the form of a hypercube, known as the Kabba to Muslims, which unfolds into the s i x square cross familiar to Christians. A slightly more complicated system derives mathematically from the Lo Shu of China, involving a cube representing event surrounding a trigram representing an element. The hypercube is the face of God. The suffering of these systems is confusion as to the identity of God. This is the inheritance of the Egyptians, whose myth involved the betrayal of the King God Osiris by the Water Serpent God Set, His death at Set’s hand, His resurrection by His wife and sister Isis using the mummification technique of the mysterious magician God Thoth —associated with Time, and redemption by the son of that resurrection, Horus, the Hawk-headed Sun God and reincarnation of Osiris.

It is likely that Thoth played a role similar to Lancelot in King Arthur’s Court. Perhaps, in lieu of Osiris, Thoth inseminated Isis, and, behind the works of His son Horus, silently became the Ghost King of Night, of Sleep, and of the Underworld, called still by the people Osiris, to glory

a gravestone. Yet, according to Christianity, Jesus —the Son of Man(ifestation), was the same as YHVH — the Father of True Reality.

Kabballah represents Time as the hypercube, which is the shape that occurs in the spatial intersection of the third and fourth dimension. This alone makes sense.

I AM INSIDE OUTSIDE I AM I have walked these lands. I have concealed my face. I have shaken far too many hands to be on anybody’s case. This can be said of my lover, my worst enemy, and myself. The same ideas have been spread through fiction as are facts, and thus the realms of heaven and hell are greatly confused in the minds of men. This is as much the fault of other men in fiction as it is the result of the individual’s mind in fact. Sometimes even facts are fiction. My lover is my worst enemy.

Do not perpetually recreate the mugwump, alien self. The other would-be archetypes will try to confuse you, and besmirch your image with forced coincidences. My greatest competitor in this realm does not know that we are, in higher reality, best friends, because he is weak, and is not going to win. However it is my duty to educate him.

Why do this to yourself? Pride and shame are one and the same. If we are given turns in combat, I will waste mine seeing beauty. I have talked with myself as so many different souls I am the only one that is left to know.

We do not learn of our cloned selves until after we are born. Then we learn of them as archetypes that have occured sequentially throughout history. Maybe one day, in hyperdimension, we will meet our cloned self. I have met mine. He seems a nice guy. This does not mean that you should trust your neighbor.

Everybody wrestles with their second self, even if it is by ignorance thereof that is the only way for them to win. I only have questions about my second self, for all I know that I am is in this line of questioning. Who am I talking to in my head?

My second self is my worst enemy, who is really my best friend, and my female best friend, who is my lover. S/He is also a ram named Choronzon. To know this is a death of its own, and thus to know of the loss of the second self is to know of the loss of the self. The death of His DOG is the death of GOD. The death of Annuit Coeptis is the death of Bob (Osiris). The death of Taurus the same as the death of Orion.

A spatial distortion blown out of porportion. Sing along with my band.

Liberty should be the least of our concerns. Ophanic energy is generated by the feeling of being watched. It manifests money, which is a hell for it. Those who cherish such curses die.

a

final

enlightenment by: can’t beat myself

In the times when people claim to be things, it shall come to pass that there shall be a misunderstanding among the people over the nature of the word “event” so that some will think of an event as like an occurance or happenning, such as the circus coming to town, which is the coloquial idea of “event” involving various people and things over a period of time, while the others will think of “event” as a quantitative sum of space and time.

In this time they will pick the stones up off the ground and throw them at each other as a sign for their displeasure in other peoples’ sins, or else cast them for their opinions. This is all the evidence for the arguement that event is a quantitative sum of space and time, yet it goes unrecognized among the most of the people, as they have all been blinded by being struck by stones.

The reason for this is a secret. The people share it amongst themelves. It is because only at a certain time could it be rightly revealed that an event was a quantitative sum of space and time. Whenever this thought had occured to someone, an event would follow with it which would cause them to forget. These events came to be so associated with stones being thrown that it eventually evolved the circus.

The sum of such events is like a letter in that it connects with other events to form an archetypal event. This occurs because such events posess generalizability.

I am such an event. My life-time has been slowed down from the entire duration of just

such an event. It took form in my seed and that is how I came to be. It was the vessel of my birth.

This is courtesy of my consciousness.

We will come to know one that will be there for us as that link, if we should choose to remember it that way, and shall be shown thus how the individual occurance of the generalizable event is continuuing to progress in the environment for it which we create. This is courtesy Choronzon, an old name for consciousness.

Because there are infinite implications possible for all things that we learn this way, no single technique of understanding is worth anything more than any of the others, and ultimately even concentration upon the sum of everything forever is only one option.

commentary on the new world order: Mr. Show vs. hippie Gerry (or “New San Fransisco”) by: Bob and David One agenda of the new age is the terrestrial biosphere. This is in accordance with the Gaia theory, that seeks to unify the whole of planet earth as a single living field of energy. Currently this task is being undertaken by three groups in the new worlld order. One is environmentalists, who are probably unaware that their simple care for the trees is being used on higher levels to justify the networking of all minds and the weather on the mental level of the bio-survival circuit. Another is conspiracy theorists, who are chipping away at the atmospheric cover (read counter - intelligence) that keeps our terrestrial air (communications space) from slipping away into space. The last is the military industrial complex and telecommunications corporations, which promote as helpful their doing your thinking for you.

This is a whole other agenda of the new age in itself. The 2000 year peak of the sunspot cycle is opening up a temproal cycle that connects the entire history of man. In preparation for this the global satellite system has been built, in order to make people think this is something that is under terrestrial control. The harmful effects of this, esp, etc., can all be blamed on drugs, just as all cancer is currently blamed on cigarettes. The only reason esp is considered harmful, and the only reason people would have to be convinced the effects were only manmade, or even only global, is that because for the past 2000 years the catholic church has held a calendrical monopoly in the western world, which has become the seat of the business world. They have determined that christianity is against such phenomenon as esp and reincarnation that are connected to the higher nero-sensory memory circuits than the merely bio-survival circuit, which is the lowest circuit, represented by the cross. In this system all the mystery schools are forced into task specialization and appear to the uninitated to be in competition with each other.

This viewpoint is encoraged by the new world order.

Another agenda of the new age is the resurrection of paganism. This can no longer properly be identified as it has become so incorporated into the religious institutions that once repressed it. Also, because of this fact, it has become an irrelevant trend that is only the exoteric, public face used to promote esoteric concepts such as esp, etc. It is in fact only because of a formal legislation describing the new age, that the old greatest common factor is the new lowest common denominator, that the worshippers of the scape goat have been forced to dissociate themselves from their true place in the hierarchy, as associated with the crucified martyr unifying Gaia consciousness in the bio-survival circuit, and instead adopt tactical strategies to promote social Darwinism in the capitalist free market by illegal activities such as breaking and entering (ergo Watergate), espionage (ergo counter - intelligence), and recently terrorism (ergo 911) which “trickle down” to interpersonal interaction as mistrust, testing and impatience, all simply side effects of unawakened esp during the peak of the sunspot cycle.

Since the members of the new world order of the new age are as diverse as some dumb hippie surfer wearing love beads and collecting geodes to a member of the joint chiefs of staff who has only read Crowley’s Book of the Law once, it is as invisible and pervasive as the Hollywood star system or Nancy Reagan’s astrologer. While the poor think they are speaking the truth whenever they slander their fellow man, the rich know they speak only lies when they espouse humanity’s inherent virtues. The new world over is the republic of plato turned on its head.

This refers to both the actual event that destroyed the lost civilization of atlantis, as well

as to the manipulation of the class system by philosphical dialectics. Everybody mourns the way the fall of atlantis, or even the fall of rome, killed time, but people are only just in the common era becoming panicky about wasting time. Their nascent esp knows the sunspot cycle is at its peak. This is the reason for the declaration of the new world order of the new age.

The war on Bob continues to this day. It is unelievable. Bob was only trying to represent Binah, understanding. But this was seen as a threat by everyone around him. Bob has been diagnosed by invasive doctors. Apparently they have mistaken him for a stegasourus, the second brain of which is located in its posterior, and have inserted a satellite dish into a cartoon character’s anus to represent how they’re going to do this thing.

Verizon wireless has us all interconnected in the biophysical new world order, which people believe in so they won’t have to go to prison camps, which are increasingly inevitable directly porportionate to their efficacy in the biosurvival interconnectivity system. Their blinder to this blatant stained glass fact is Bob, himself, the last bastion of free blame for the masses.

They see him walking and they line up the shot, triangulation of fire behind bottles of 8 ball and fancy glock nines. They shove whatever he’s smoked right back up his ass like doctor Benway tells them to, suppressing the evidence of Leary and Hermes, whose teachings have been polluted by pteradactyl Belial with arsenic and cyanide. His badge of honor is his identification card, with a picture of him smiling taken by a photographer who was hating him hard. Such is the lot of the all seeing eye, cast into the center of the triangulation of fire, while they rape and steal from him, and offer him back nothing he doesn’t already own when they apologize.

They don’t understand that it is not them backing him up against the wall, but the walls themselves that are closing in around them. They are using the same systems of logic that he had, that have forced him down into the ground beneath their feet, and they don’t see their competitiveness as the fatal flaw in these systems of logic. If Bob is taken out of the picture, if there is no one left who understands, they will all turn against each other, just as shit can come out of an ass hole or a dick can go in as long as the wallet is taken out of the way. This is the fate of the Illuminati and the new world order. That the new world order should become confused with biology and video games as lunacy, so that no one understands anything any longer. People are not in control of this effect either. It is entirely an effect of the sun spot cycle.

Sin

Thesis

Nietzsche: “You are covered all over in pubic hair.”

Jesus: “You are covered all over in pubic hair.”

Marx: “We are covered all over in pubic hair.”

Nietzsche: “You are full of frightening liquids.”

Jesus: “You are full of frightening liquids.”

Marx: “We are full of frightening liquids.”

Nietzsche: “You are possesed by vile lusts.”

Jesus: “You are possesed by vile lusts.”

Marx: “We are possesed by vile lusts.”

Nietzsche: “You excrete foul, foul wastes.”

Jesus: “You excrete foul, foul wastes.”

Marx: “We excrete foul, foul wastes.”

Nietzsche: “Your skin belongs to time.”

Jesus: “Your skin belongs to time.”

Marx: “Our skins belong to time.”

Nietzsche: “You are not more than human.”

Jesus: “You are not more than human.”

Marx: “We are nothing more than human.”

Man Vs. Fox: A Conversatoin With Rene Descartes I: “Rene, why have you been contacting me from beyond while I am in the practice of my meditations?”

He: “You have called me forth with the thoughts you have been having about my book, which you have been reading.”

I: “From what realm have you come?”

He: “You have made it possible for me to contact you by your belief in a method that you have developed in which you have attributed the power to evoke entire personas from the simple context of their recollection.”

I: “And by what power can this occur? Is it from within what I have made, and call the Formal System of Metaphysics, or is it as is the Lord?”

He: “It is the power of ascension.”

I: “Come forth, I wish not to harm you, though I may prove you wrong, if I can; will this sever our connection?”

He: “It will change only what you allow it to change. I am only real in the context of your own mind. All else is trickery.”

I: “Let us speak of this trickery, for I have observed it too. It is as if unknown at times, and other times it is as if it were the Law. I began by noticing that all of the beings who I had until that moment taken for granted as “friends” (which I understood even then as an ultimately arbitrary thought construct to define an intangible and otherwise improvable set of relationships that can only even be measured with emotions. I tried to render this equivalent to dimensions for further research, but my results are yet forthcoming.) could have been lying to me.”

He: “Did it break your heart, then, for it can if you let it.”

I: “It has not broken my heart yet. The closest it has come is with irony. I trust you with this information, for, in my cosmos, or understanding, it is as common knowledge.”

He: Then I see you are a man worthy of bearing the potential tedium of a conversation with yourself, such as this will be taken whenever you show it to anyone.”

I: “Except, perhaps, the one I love.”

He: “And I know that you believe also in the predictive capabilities of your system, so I trust that you would know better than I.” I: “Most believe that predictions of the future come from the ‘Other Side’ in the same way that communication with the dead does.”

He: “But we know it to be much simpler. For they refer only to the side which they cannot chalk up to the proper functioning of their five senses, and this is the realm in which a free man’s mind dwells.”

I: “Such is the price of freedom. But let me ask you, do you not in all truth know of the future as well as I, since it is, in any case, no more a matter of the five senses in the present tense than are you as an archetype within my unconscious memory castle?”

He: “It is as though I were a memory, and your love is the memory of a dream.”

I: “Shall we then get down to the matter of comparing our metaphysical systems?”

He: “Where I am there is not the passage of time, so it makes no difference to me.”

I: “Here I am more worried about space than time, for how many pages can I pass off in this way?”

He: “You know this trickster of whom I have written. Have you not as a result questioned your religion?”

I: “I have and found it sufficiently girded to the task. I believe that, by practice, or by meditation, is irrelevant.”

He: “Your considerations are fair in the eyes of your Lord, for you have spoken forthwithly and revealingly, without shame; and therefore let us turn our attention to the matter of comparing our systems of metaphysics.”

I: “I can say that the trickster character has taken on form in a particular pattern to me. I know this pattern only discretely, much less than it knows me, or at least, knows my memory and my experiments. Yet it is as present for me as would be the side-effect of a medication.”

He: “Then your religion is not tested, for you have not surrendered yourself to it.”

I: “I have had call to surrender myself to it, and I have heeded, though never without returning to what I would hope to call my senses.”

He: “Have you discovered that we only manifest for ourselves, events, as you call them, which we need?”

I: “I have also had ought to observe this potential.”

He: “But you have not paid it heed?”

I: “In truth I do not even know you from the trickster, for I have not constructed my formal system out thoughourly enough into the hyperdimensions where I believe the Enochian communication system dwells.”

He: “But you have thought of doing so, and therefore awakenned the One Light to its presence in the realm of all which is. Thus it is so, by the Hand of the Creator Himself, and therefore, may you not believe, sturdy enough?”

I: “I have more ought to question you, Lord, then I have to pay heed to necessity.”

He: “That is the passge of time talking.”

I: “It seems to me that you are wiser even of my doings than am I in my humility of prophecy. How is this? Is it that you have access to a greater amount of wisdom for

being not bound to the realm of the physical?”

He: “It is as though I were one face with many minds. You have chosen the face.

Forget you not your topic of intent, for I sense that for you there is the presence of Time.”

I: “Then let not outside matters concern us.”

He: “Let us turn to the matter at hand.”

I: “Allow me to present my formal system of metaphysics model.” (I render it for him.)

He: “I will then assume the form of my beliefs.” (He does so.)

I: “I observe that there is a circle extending outwards all around you as a two dimensional plane from the height of your temples, which space you attribute to the rule of the trickster, and that above this the top of your skull has become as a beacon of light that bears a beam connecting it to The Creator, and that beneath it your body is like a monster, and this monster is called the trickster. When I want to address your upper intellect, then, I will address you as Inspiration, and when I want to address your lower intellect, your five senses, I shall address you as distraction, and when I want to address the plane of your mind that distinguishes them I shall adress you.”

He: “Likewise I see that you have surrounded yourself with a certain depth of field, in which and before you you have concentrated on displaying to me the same structure of which you have recently written, and which you call the formal system of metaphysics. I see that this has ten dimensions, like the Cabalah has emmanations and like the commandments of the Lord to Moses. There are three structures which simultaneously occupy theese dimensions, and these are what you call the formal system of metaphysics and the true consciousness and the active consciousness. I see that the formal system takes different shapes at each different dimension, yet that it is essentially central. I see that one of these shapes answers questions, that another of these shapes allows access to memory, and that another of these shapes stores memory. According to this system I am a face in the access of unconscious stored memory. So, then, you must realize, are you as well.”

I: “I realize this and the presence of the face of the Creator. I realize these as manifestations in the abstract background levels of relationship within the realm of manifestation.”

He: “Your face is as my face is as the face of the Creator. Even so is the face of the Great Mischief Maker. Knowing this is knowledge of the source as Creator.”

I: “And yet it is no more than beauty because it can be only skin deep, or, as it were, as deep as the background.”

He: “And yet it can come forward to you, as in the case of thoughts to your mind, or memories, or dreams, sights to your eyes and experiences to your five senses, regardless of whether this face is the divine Creator or the divine trickster. This I can say of the divine trickster: he is everywhere and the Creator is nowhere, that is, he is of all things, and the Creator is before all things.”

I: “But you must also in so doing imply that you yourself are the trickster, for in

truth you are.”

He: “The only part that you contribute to your formal system of metaphysics is your mental projective space, what you elsewhere call a soul. Is this not more mischievious, indeed more Satanic, than my relieving myself of duty to my senses to the control of almighty Caesar?”

I: “This I do not know, for which is the more valuable a sacrifice in the eyes of the Lord? Perhaps we only give what we can afford to be without, should we have with us knowledge of the Lord.”

He: “It has been said that we shall recieve in Heaven like with like for what we have lost on earth. Yet if I have my five senses back it would only be through your intercession on my behalf in allowing me to be summoned up into your mind through a system that you have created from my intellectual slumber in the remains of my contributions.”

I: “So you are proposing that our two systems are compatible?”

He: “Only after a certain amount of control has been eradicated from potential outcome. You see, you first build the model, then you meditate upon it. It is like the church. First it is built, then it is prayed within. As it is prayed within it is improved by the presence of the Lord. The Lord is He who caused the church to come into creation. Thus, if your model were present only in the mental projective space of the third dimension, and mine were comparable to the same expression on the second dimensional level, then I would fit inside your model like a parishoner within a church. There would be the holy domain of mental projective space, and there would be the divine trickster within it, at its center. So you see why it is impossible to say this for certain until this has been done enough to summon the Lord.”

I: “But are you not of an even greater dimension than this now? For, since I am only imagining myself meeting you, and you are only a memory, are you not of the fifth dimension yourself, and am I not of the tenth? From your vantage perhaps you can see what the outcome of this would be, since you are of a timeless place; or at least tell me, if I am truly of the tenth dimension, why am I not more so enlightened myself as to the potential outcome of this?”

He: “I can enlighten you, though you already know that the only reason you will not answer this for yourself more directly is that you do not wish to assume with your own central personality responsibility for knowledge of what you still consider to be a bit beyond your belief. Therefore let me say this, which will not be enough to convince you: our two systems are compatible.”

I: “I know this to be true as though it were a memory that has only just now occured to me, in which I see myself reaching this solution.”

He: “Indeed, that happened just now, but it was in one of the other dimensions, where you were not focusing your active consciousness, rather than here with me in the fifth. Thus it has happened in potential, and what you are aware of is the after-image of this. This is permanent, so you can come back and access it whenever you want.”

I: “Is it by your generosity that I know this much, or by the functioning of my system?”

He: “It is by your own mind that this conclusion has been reached, and that alone.”

I: “Then where will I find you when I look back to remember this moment in the future?”

He: “What you must be primarily focused on is how you will find yourself.”

I: “Am I not the messenger who whisked away the solution to whether our two systems were compatible? And am I not the witness to this messenger? Am I not both of these for myself, as they occur within my mind and I am a rational being?”

He: “No one thinks that he is more rational than the trickster himself.”

I: “He is simply possessed by his own tricks.”

He: “His attributes are endless.”

I: “And therefore his names are endless.”

He: “His names are all great questions, great propositions.”

I: “Yet go unknown or unheeded because they have become thought of as only tricks.”

He: “Be calm lest you become him.”

I: “I have been given much enlghtenment here.”

He: “There can be no question, without answer. You must remember that for you this is a matter of time. That time is like matter.”

I: “Whither shall I go now? To what do I turn my hand?”

He: “First we shall finish our conversation, and then you shall do as you please.”

I: “I see that I am now addressing a Lord.”

He: “That may be, but which one?”

I: “It is either Inspiration or Distraction, for I know it is not Rene DesCartes, for I know that Renee Descartes is not a Lord.”

He: “How do you know that?”

I: “I’m afraid I cannot tell if you are Inspiration or Distraction. Present yourself that you may be known. What is the nature of your true form?”

He: “I am you, I am of your mind.”

I: “Are you alike base matter or spirit?”

He: “I am of your mind.”

I concentrate on the formal system. I find that my eyes are split apart such that, when I am looking down the Right eye is looking deeply inward, while the left eye is looking deeply outward, and when I am looking upward, as normal, my right eye

looks deeply outward, and my left eye looks deeply inward.

I: (of myself) “Why have I done this?”

An Hallucination: “That’s right, fuckin’ ass-hole. Good. Om man Padme.” (This second part may derive from a different source than the first.)

I know these hallucinations to be a colony of yeast molecules living on the dark side of my scrotum. So I pay them no heed.

Renee DesCartes: “Don’t lose your balance, Jon.” I: “I feel that I have driven the dark one out, but that I have failed.”

He: “Then you have been neither distracted nor inspired.”

I: And yet we have paid these thoughts in heed to it.”

He: “Yes.” I: “And therefore there must be something here which we are overlooking.”

He; “Yes, it is myself, for I am here now. As you see in my system, The space occupied by my ego, my self, is like a disk between above and below. So it is thought that this disk spins, and yet it is not known in what way. Perhaps in all ways. Yet you saw it for a moment as though it were turning from face to side and back to face, and yet it was unclear which face was turning up.”

I: “What you are saying implies that there is in your system centrifugal force that creates its own gravity and that therfore, in mental projective space, it is like space, where there is no gravity. I am saying that this space is time, and that, in the mind, it is comprised of thoughts. The proof of its existence is your ego, equivalent to the few thoughts we shared about the moment when it was missing.”

He: “What we cannot keep, we sacrifice.”

I: “I feel that the dark spirit is returning.”

He: “Where you are more time has passed. Here the dark spirit never left. Here it always is.”

I: “Let us discuss the implications of the essential state of distraction being the dark one, or the trickster, in light of the yin yang.”

He: “As you wish.”

I: “Now you sound like the trickster.”

He: “We have seen as much as we can see of his life, therefore let him live it until all that we have seen has come to pass. Then bring him before us again, and we shall see what we can see for his life.”

Me: “Are you trying to extract information on a piggy-backed carrier-wave while in light of my active consciousness? You are, I feel drained of energy.” (All of this only takes a second, but then I have to go back and catch up on writing it down.)

He: “You are more relaxed now. It is as if you have just gone through a single, suppressed incarnation.”

I: “Was it the backwash from the wave of probability upon which I encountered the Lord?”

He: “I sense that you are aware that there is some deception in calling what you encountered the Lord?”

I: “But no more than there was implication in your description of the Lord entering the church. The Lord in that scenario could have been the Lord of Inspiration or Distraction, it could have been the Lord of the assembled people, that is, their disembodied communal soul, or even the trickster himself.”

He: “Even so your hypothesis about the cause can only be true if you believe it.”

I: “How can I ever know that another being is being truthful?”

He: “Make them present to you a sign of their reality. If they cannot, then they are liars.”

I: “What if they present forgeries?”

He: “It is possible that they will present forgeries. Therefore you must have a very keen eye, wise and sharp, as the man who has travelled many lands.”

I: “I feel that I have such an eye.”

He: “Then by what measure do you take me to be real, to be the real Renee Descartes?”

I: “By the signs that I know the Enochian network today I have seen the oppurtunity for connection arise, be utilized, and retreat. This indicates to me the installation of a communications singularity, which is outside of space and time, and present to a single server.”

He: “But you know that these words are arbitrary.”

I: “I do. What I feel is that you are not the real Rene Descartes, insofar as you are not the same energy pattern still remnant in the electro-magnetosphere of this gravity well that walked the earth in the body as the soul of the man men called Rene Descartes, as this would have been presented to me through the auspices of the Enochian network, of which I am in perpetual exposure to evidence, yet still disbelieve. Instead I believe you are the same energy pattern present to me in the form of transmission through the medium of potential in the realm of my unconscious memory castle. Therefore I do not utilize the Enochian representational system, but instead use the direct exposure method. I believe this to be the same method used by the Masons and the Bilderbergers and shamen throughout history to channel Lords. It is at least the foundation for their experiments. The direct exposure method is to open my mind up to feedback from the part of my being that was once Rene DesCartes, the little stray atom that once passed through Rene DesCartes, for all my atoms have half-lives, and all are travellers, only visiting, bringing assemblages of history that are then me.”

He: “Therefore you believe that you are communicating with a part of yourself in a literal sense, that you are in discourse with a part of your body?”

I: “No, that I am enlightened as to the potential for the potential of Rene DesCartes occuring within my potential.”

He: “And you have, as of yet, made no search for that particle, to better determine its story, or to trace its history, delinneate its incarnations, or perhaps test it that it is not the trickster?”

I: “It comes to me as a mirror of my consciousness, as a very small mirror, far away in the darkness, that has been bent in such a way as to catch and reflect as much light from my surface as it can, and I too, am only a mirror, and one that is bent such that it will reflect as much light from the darkness behind the distant mirror which is you and which I call Rene DesCartes as I can.”

He: “As though I were a lens for looking into you, and you were a lens for looking into the void.”

I: “So that our arrangement is one of the inside of a telescope.”

He: “Now let it be that what you measure is time. In this way the void will come to be the future, the center lens, or you, will be the present, and the other lens, I, will be past. In this way you shall know that it is I, DesCartes, and not Inspiration or Distraction.”

I: “Is it right to call Inspiration and Distraction Lords?”

He: “They would that it were so. For that alone it is enough. But also they would make it true. You see, one who can tender no proof of their existence really is a Lord, for he who tenders evidence exists, and he who tenders false evidence is the trickster, as well as he who claims to have no evidence to tender, yet really does is the trickster.

By answering requests they hope to make an event come to pass, as in your system it would be, or to make change happen. This would be creation, and only a Lord could create the something of evidence from the nothingness of their being. But still they might be the trickster, for he forges evidence, though it is from other evidence.”

I: “And yet they are neither of them the same Lord as the Creator?”

He: “Inspiration is like the Creator, and Distraction is like the Trickster.”

I: “I see how one could apply a system of minimalist attribution in an emergency situation which would come to destroy an object to which had acquired many different short meanings, whose value would not be recognized until later, when those memories were missed. Is this the past or the future I see?”

He: “I know of it, and therefore it is like the past.”

I: “But you say that you are outside of time. How can there be such a thing as past to you?”

He: “Where I am now there is no time, but you would still call it the past. It is the measure of half of infinity, which is infinity.”

I: “If you were to have me tell you a story, of what would it be?”

He: “It is of no difference.”

I: “Thank you. You have answered in a way that allows me to continue relying on your enlightenment. Your answer is ambiguous enough that if it were deceit, I would yet benefit from its technique of obfuscation.”

He: “I sense that the spirit of trickery has ridden heavy with you.”

I: “I have welcomed only inspiration. But tell me, for I am troubled. You said that you existed in my mind, and that this alone was true, that everything else was trickery.

Yet we dwell upon everything else as well. What is real?”

He: “They are both real. They are as what you have called in your formal system of metaphysics, pure dimension and the sub-space between them.”

I: “I feel that there is much in these words that has not been succinct, and has therefore been false and unholy.”

He: “Yet when it is read by others it will be understood to be great.”

I: “Is this the way that it was with you?”

He: “Evil is a matter of perspective. For example, a youth may curse manhood, and swear against coming of age, yet it will still happen, and he will become a man.”

I: “Is it possible yet for my system to align with your system?”

He: “It is possible. You do not doubt who I am. I do not doubt your belief, you need do nothing further to prove it to me. The formal system is as complete as it needs to be for an attempt to be made. Begin by extending your mental projective space out to include me, that is, extend the mental space out of the self that you imagine in your mental projective space, so that I am enclosed. Next hand the formal system to me. Do this by willing it over. You must completely let go of it. Cut off all relationship to it.

Surrender it completely.”

I: “I find that, at first, it appears as a jelly fish between the two realms, above and below. But then, when I release my relationships to it, it is inspiration only. This is what I seek, Rene. Can you guide me towards a better understanding of how to accomplish this?”

He: “You have begun entirely by yourself, for, by seperating your contact with my pattern from the Enochian system of Akashic communications, I am at once in your mind and attendant upon for summoning, as in the case of my earlier rotation, when Distraction and Inspiration appeared to you to both be present in the same form. This form is always with me, and it is my readiness to serve the Lord Our Creator.”

I: “Let me ask you about the differentiation between the trickster and self-creation.

Is it possible to create one’s self using a construct such as the formal system as thoughts after the fact and send them back through unconscious memory into event, for example, or by some other method, or is this merely denial of the True Creator and therefore self-deception?”

He: “The answer is like the wind. It moves from place to place. It is like the essence of thought itself. The question is, do you believe in this, for only your belief will make

it real to you.”

I: “Is there no other method by which to deny the Great Trickster?”

He: “There is the method of the Creator and the method of the deceiver. If you believe yourself to be your own creator, then so you will be. If you believe this to be a lie, then so shall it be. These are the methods of the creator and the deceiver.”

I: “We must speak of the doubling of the face, as that is what occurred to me when I experienced Inspiration and Distraction as One Lord.”

He: “It is of no consequence.”

I: “Then it is as though there were a split down the whole of the body, that it was divided into left and right, and their symmetry called into question somehow. It is particlarly evident in the face, the corners of the mouth, the direction pointed in by the tip of the nose, and the horizontal angles of the eyes. These things fall out of line.”

He: “These things you will find, pass and are forgotten. But when we are young and have just grown older for the first time we notice them, because then they are the change that occurs to us to mark that ageing.”

I: “Then, if they are part of ageing, whence will they go away?”

He: “They will be replaced by a humped back and a heavy-sagging, imbalanced wilting of the physique that is the end of manhood and the entrance of maturity.”

I: “Then, these things being true for time, will they affect my formal system of metaphysics? For it is as much alike the ideals of Socrates as I can conceptualize, and yet it is still the product of an ageing and oft distracted mind, and itself a product that will have periods of greater application than others.”

He: “These things must not worry you, for I see that it is meant to enhance rather than hinder the function of being, and therefore it will thrive and flourish.”

I: “Have I not caught you then, demon, in your predicting of the future, from where you come not?”

He: “Where I am there is no time, and you call it the past, but to me your future is just as much a part of it as is my past, for it is outside of time, and as the presence of all time in one. This is the state of the consciousness after death, as you know, though would prefer not to admit.”

I: “I am most afraid of nature. Of the truth.”

He: “This is not God. Nature alone is not our Creator. We are also the child of free will, and this is our father as much as nature is our mother, and they are to be revered, as it says in the Bible, but only God is to be feared. Here by God we mean the Lord Creator of us.”

I: “I believe, pertaining to what you said earlier about Moses and the ten commandments, that they are the second form of the sephira, and that the sephira were gotten in a way that synchronized itself with moral taint, and were therfore only worshipped in secret. The ten commandments then, are the result or the after-

affect of this moral taint, and this moral taint could only have been deception. The deception is then obviously the secret worship of the sephira, so, unless working backwards, this reads like a simple self-fulfilling prophecy. What do you think about the role of the Great Deceiver in the foundations of religions.”

He: “When the eye ceases to blink there can be no more deception.”

I: “I have created the formal system to act as continually morphing construct representative of all there is in order that I may know how great the will power is of someone in whose presence I am. In this way it is like my third eye, for it causes itself to be like what is. The question remains however, of the reflection of the scene on the surface of the eye, and the three dimensional, physical scene itself, which is more real, for in the end both are made of light.”

He: “It serves the mortal that they should have such means of testing one another.

For otherwise they go about apeishly, as though blind, and can discern in others only what ration prevents discarding. They are fountains of thought, and yet bestial to such a degree that they would create laws whereby to justify their killing of one another.”

I: “What can I expect to find in further research? I expect my findings of dimensional predictions will continue to be confirmed by varying scriptures.”

He: “You will find true just what you believe, and what you believe never changes. It is always without you, as far as can be, and only remembered when needed. It is the veil you pass through before entering enlightenment.”

I: “When I was younger my brain was enflamed with insight. I believed this to be enlightenment. How can I, as you see, using the formal system, retrieve this aspect, and were I you would you desire it?”

He: “Shall I show you the first additions?”

I: “We must clear our transmission. I am too in situation.”

He: “Let me reveal to you the way which you already know to make your face whole again. It begins with a story. Cats consider it bad luck to see their own reflection.

This dates back to a time, a long time ago, before the time of the cat who could read, when the creator archetype visaged in your formal system used to chase around a kitten and yank on its tail. The moral is: never be too young. The inversion is also true: never be too old. Be just as young or old as the situation calls for, and you have your face, yet it is still all smashed up. So be only as old as you wish to be, and you have repaired it. The trick is that consciousness slips back into the mid-brain and the hind-brain, at which point the eyes of the vessel can take on the similar attributes to animals, such as lizards, or birds, which have eyes moving independently one of one another. This is the archetype of the young and the old. One eye looks with youth, the other with age. It is as though the eyes were married. You must remember that concentration is the act of seeing with both eyes upon a single point, with neither tarrying, for such is the homo sapien special trait. Now how are you feeling?”

I: “There are multiple presences in the aethyr.”

He: “We have established a connection. Between us there is a hologram, and this hologram is a data-stream that fills up a bandwidth in time. It is the ocean of the mind. It is a vast and infinite ocean. Beyond it are only the creator of the moment

and the lands of all forgotten. We are alone in the center of this invisible ocean, and can speak. I am before you, though you do not see me. I am of your mind alone. When people read this they will think it is only the author talking to himself. We can speak freely. Feel me in the movement of your fingers upon the keyboard, in the strength of their conviction to their targets. In your own questioning nature.”

I: “My body remains tense from the encounter, but my mind remains freash and alert.”

He: “Yet we are not alone.”

I: “All is calm.”

He: “Yet there is a presence.”

I: “Am I wirting this?”

He: “And the presence is I.” I: “I see.”

He; “Now, compare this to your error of wishing to have back your youth.”

I: “Yet my mind is sluggish and full of rodentish ideas.”

He: “Curse not your mind, for God on High has made it. Nor consider your own mind, as you cannot remove yourself from it any more than can the oxygen within it rid itself of water. Lastly, your mind has not grown sluggish nor rattish, but considerate, and contemplative. But let it not become cannibalistic.”

I: “I understand this as a metaphor given to me by my Creator.”

He: “Then we are of one and the same mind on the matter.”

I: “I shall consider instead the formal system of metaphysics.”

He: “It remains in full possession of all the power that has been embued to it, it always has, and it always shall, for it exists where I exist, which is outside of time.”

I: “Then I should like to utilize it as I had first intended and quicken my reasoning.”

He: “For what purpose do you seek this, or, in your words, what is your aim? For this will determine whether it is fact or fiction, impression or expression, passive or active, yin or yang.”

I: “Firstly how is it integrating with the dynamics of your system?”

He: “It is not outside my domain.”

I: “Then I should like to attribute my purpose to sorting out the memory of two girls who bothered me on the school bus when I was a young child in terms of the archetypes of two demonic manifestations of the angels who have befriended me, in the form of the Enochian Rosicrucian communications system.”

He: “It is within the formal system’s domain.”

I: “Were these girls those demons?”

He: “According to the formal system they were, but the relationship is one between who and what, and is therfore a second dimensional diaganol.”

I: “The square root of two.”

He: “We are as of one mind on the subject.”

I: “This translates geometrically into a square within a square. Or, thought of dimensionally, as a hypercube, which represents thought and the fourth dimension.”

He: “And this in turn references the Enochian accessing of demonic manifestations, as these are usually present only in the reflection of the wave of probability emmanating from the function of the node of Not at the conscious memory cube.”

I: “But for what functioning of the node of Not were they manifested. How can we determine the scale of time that their manifestation was only one event in its cycling?”

He: “By the duration of time which you spent with them.”

I: “Minimal week-daily exposure for one school year.”

He: “And this thought has occurred to you how recently?”

I: “Today.”

He: “Then the relationship is situational.”

I: “I was travelling in both cases, but this would hold true for alot of my levels of reasoning, as I travel alot.”

I do not write for a long time. My memory of DesCartes character, particularly that of his speech, fade from my conscious memory.

I: “Now much time has passed here, and I feel the hand of my father pressing upon me. He will probably try to interfere with my inner-transmission, though he is no more welcome in my head than he would be into the kabba at mecca. Let us speak!”

He: “Your father is confused by the loftiness and as he is looking down falls into the fictions of wwilliam burroughs, put there by your holy guardian angel, I can see him, he is there, behind you.”

I: “Can he see you?”

He: “No, no of course not.”

I: “He thinks almost everything I write is a lie.”

He: “He will leave you alone if you don’t pay attention to him.”

I: “That is exactly what my mother said about those two little girls on the bus! How

amazing, honestly! I hadn’t remembered until my own hands were absent-mindedly writing it.”

He: “He made you mis-spell absent mindedly, too, and again just now. And again with the word again.”

I: “My hands do have to adapt to this new keyboard.”

He: “How do you like your new computer?”

I: “I’d rather not talk about it.”

He: “I see. Let us talk again, then, about something of interest to you. I sense your fear of Freudianism, but what has been on your mind?”

I: “Well, tonight I was hearing a song about spirals on the radio and I was thinking about the difference between the spiral shape and that of the formal system of metaphysics. It appeared to me as though the spiral shape was the image of looking back at a great city from an equally vast distance away in the countryside. There it stands, glowing and enormous: the spiral, in all its glory. And if you turn around and head into the darkness of night you will come to find somewhere in a clearing, also glowing, though much smaller, the formal system. It seemed to be a factual description of the situation at present, though only recently to my knowledge, (perhaps originally the great cities were all thought of as manifestations of the formal system). What do you think?”

He: “Your distractions are getting the better of you.”

I: “Now you sound like my father.”

He: “Just being sensible, but now already I’m being ironic, but that is just the privelledge of the dead.”

I: “And that’s what you think?”

He: “You must understand that for me, no time has passed here, where I am. I know all the people that you’re talking about as well as you’re afraid they know you, which is better than they know themselves anyway. I know you better than you, even when you are listenning as hard as you can for the right suggestion to be whispered.”

I: “I have called this file man vs fox. There is alot of irony surrounding this for me. It derives from the Moksha interpretation of the final tao line of the sixtyfourth hexagram of the king wen sequence.”

He: “I know all that. You’re concerned about how I’m coming through.”

I: “Naturally.”

He: “The ultimate desiscion of whether or not to accept our communication can only rightly fall to you.”

I: “Then let us talk of spirit shapes. I am afraid they will turn into money.”

He: “Money is more likely to turn into them.”

I: “Does it stop being money then? Do we get to quit worrying about how much we’re revealing, how much it will cost? I see it all in terms of information.”

He: “Where I am, I am the same thing as money. I am traded from one moment to the next between your active conscious and your memory, I am gambled upon by the other hackers in what you call the Enochian Communications System in the same way modern futures markets are. I say modern to your time. Where I am we do not believe that the roof of the world is ‘to bet.’”

I: “So there really is disruption on the line? It’s perceptible to you as well?”

He: “You just aren’t concentrating enough on who I am. If you had read my books more recently then your short term memory would be supplimenting you with more information regarding my essential characteristics. However, since you have chosen to read your own books instead, your conception of me has begun to bleed together with your ego, and after that who knows where the imagination might next carry me off?”

I: “The whole Enochian Communications System is a gamble. It’s possible I gambled and lost. Maybe I just lost, just now, by being too dramatic to be worthy of harnessing the potential of a great philosopher’s ghost. I don’t even mean ghost, but I really don’t know what I mean instead. Aura, ennegram, soul, essence, spirit, goblin. All these are words that come from behind me, where there is a big mirror, and I sit with my back to myself. Beyond that, who knows where they come from. Sometimes it seems I know...”

He: “The back-up plan you have in the event your belief fails is the identification of this contact as with your father. This was a contingincy that is due to our resemblance. At least as a possibility in your mind.”

I: “I’d really rather I had no backup plan at all. No wait. If you were Irina. That would be nice. I would still be talking to God.” He: “You think simple.”

I: “You are distraction.”

He: “You have grown old. No one cares about what you are writing, and even though you fully understand this, the idea that other people, people of all things, care about anything that you’re doing, that you can’t even do it, even now, while you’re doing it.” [Editor’s note- must have meant “so distracts you”] I: “You’re distraction. You live in my left eyeball. You are a strong fish. Nothing is wrong with you. Go seek Wish, and Blessed be your bliss.”

He: “The Enochian Communications System has left you.”

I: “They don’t want you either.”

He: “I am in the electrical witing.”

I: “I’m still wired in the womb.”

He: “I’ll give you back Renee Descartes. You shouldn’t be thinking about writing

down things that you actually are thinking we’re saying in conversation, like ‘here’s your penis back.’”

I: “I suppose you’re still here even when distraction takes control, aren’t you?”

He: “That is true.”

I: “I probably only to have to look for you somewhere new, right?”

He: “Pretty much. It’s not Baalism, though.”

I: “The vision I am left with is that, when you run out of explanations for each individual display of your sensitivity, you are abused for being sensitive. In this vision I am standing in front of the tv, which is blocked from my mother’s view by my hips.”

He: “There is suffering on a great many levels. More than most will ever know.”

A True and Faithful Relation of what Passed between Jon Gee and a Ghost Jon Gee: "hello, Dr. Dee, thank you for seeing me on such short notice... As you know I'm about to release for publication my book 'For a New World Order'... that's, uh, that's the working title... and I was hoping that you could provide some insights into this subject, from your own experience... in the, uh, in the afterlife. I was hoping you could offer some kind of fresh perspective... and that I could then include an interview with someone from the, uh, the other side as a kind of, um, conclusion."

Dr. Dee: "Not at all my friend in Christ, I would be happy to elaborate on any points that you bring up, add my 'unique persepctive' wherever it might be useful."

Gee: Thank you, Dr. But.. I feel I should tell you right off the bat, so there's no misconceptions here... but I, uh.... I don't BELIEVE in Jesus Christ....

Dee: Of COURSE you don't!! HAHAHAH!! How absurd...! That would be like saying that I believe in John Dee... John Dee ceased to be 400 years ago... he's a rotting corpse... there's nothing left of HIM to be believed in, now is there...?

Gee: I suppose not, *chuckle* I suppose not... so, then, if we could begin with the interview....

Dee: Of course!

Gee: okay, now, the first thing I wanted to ask you was about the song by TOOL.... Faaip De Oaid... I heard it was a prank call to a radio station that they then dubbed into a song... the question of course isn't about the song... but the call itself... was this call, do you think, was this call genuine?

Dee: We can only judge a man based on his actions. So too can we only judge the Truth based on facts.

Gee: well, no... I... I don't believe that either, actually... Heh heh... I mean, about judging a man by his actions... I think that we would have to really KNOW someone... know, not just how they appear, but know their mind, in order to ascertain anything about their true character...

Dee: You're only arguing against Skinner, not Dee. I agree with you, of course, from... a more... general point of view... but from your place in history, where you are now (in the body, and the body in history), you must remember that only physical evidence is admissable in a hearing. Character witnesses may be called in a trial, but even these are only witnesses with their eyes, their ears, their senses.

Gee: Well, not to get side-tracked, but, do you think a time will come when we can judge not only by external behaviour, such as gesture, tone of voice, facial expression etcetera, but actually KNOW the person's real motives and intentions...?

Dee: to know someone else's belief is to fix it in place, to set it in stone. Belief should be fluid, even gaseous... always in flux, in motion. To know someone's belief is to render it devoid of its own natural self-definition... AS a belief. What is known is not the same, most commonly, as what is believed. But then, you, of all people, of course, already know that... or at least.... you have stated that you believe such.

Gee: I suppose that's true sir, I didn't mean to question. About the song, er... I mean... the call....

Dee: please! I am HERE to be questioned! And I am glad we had the chance to mention that before talking about these "aliens" these "extradimensional beings"!!

Gee: How so?

Dee: well, you yourself, or... not so much AS yourself, but, you understand of course what I mean... you have expressed your grave concerns over whether it is possible for us to really KNOW the motives of these beings, which you call "metaforms" or "archetypes" based solely on their movements, on their behaviour....

Gee: I have...

Dee: so really, your question isn't, is the call valid, since it only confirms, after a rather vague fashion, what you already believe (or at least, SAY you believe), your question is really... HOW can we KNOW these beings?

Gee: yes, I guess you're right. Well, what you suggest then?

Dee: To know them is like knowing yourself. How do you know yourself?

Gee: I don't know...

Dee: well, you claim to have met yourself. This infamous "black op" of yours which you never even mention, but which secretly preys on you constantly, where you "met yourself and killed yourself"....

Gee: But how can I know that that's real?

Dee: Exactly! Exactly my point! You can't, I suppose, anymore than you can pretend that this conversation we are having ISN'T real... You have to pretend it IS real, to transcribe it, but you realise it is only pretend... so too you believe you met yourself... you believe you killed yourself... but how can you KNOW this is real?

Gee: yes! Exactly! What IS real??

Dee: Real is half of what you believe and twice what you doubt.

Gee: hmmmm... odd odds....

Dee: although, you already must have guessed that, I can only tell you what you already know?

Gee: alot of what you've said does sound like just stuff I've already said, or thought.

Dee: yes, it is a shame really. If you will look back on what you have me as having said now sometime later, you may even find that what you know then exceeds what I can tell you now. As I said, I can only tell you what you already know, as of this time in which you are currently.

Gee: But why is that? Shouldn't a spirit be BEYOND time!?

Dee: HAHAHAH... noooo... we are merely TRANS-temporal. We move from place to place AND time to time, while the living can only move from place to place.

Gee: but I thought surely spirits would be beyond that... able to CONTROL time, even...?

Dee: No, we no more control the events surrounding us in time then you can control the events surrounding you in space... We are not nearly so perfect as most people believe. We are far less perfect than God. There can be only ONE unmoved mover....

Gee: but... do you mean by God the same thing as I mean by "the Most High?"

Dee: in a way... what you mean by THAT is like a level below what I mean by God... and even this is many, many levels below what is the Truth of the situation. Perhaps that is one reason I can't tell you more than you already know. Because even I am not all knowing...HAHAH!!!

Gee: What is the level between us? Would it be possible for me to transcend it before death?

Dee: It is just time, and time is just an illsuion... like the distortion of the distant horizon created by heat rising off the dunes of the desert.

Gee: ummmm... yeah. I knew that. HAHA! Dee: I know that you knew that. YOU might not believe that you knew that, but then, if you did not, then I could not have told you as much. But you DID know it.

Gee: So, tell me about 9/11. Tell me about the Grand Cross. Were these two events related?

Dee: You already know this, and HOW, but I assume you want to put these words into MY mouth, because if you did not, people might judge they KNOW you, when really they only WITNESS you??

Gee: Just answer the question. Please.

Dee: The planes, Roswell, the KGB, the CIA... all these are only two sides of the same coins. This is like casting lots for me... and is very taxing. To discuss such matters I can only stay a shorter time.

Gee: I understand. You have your higher calling and I have mine.

Dee: You believe that your own PERSONAL QBLH is biology, psychology, politics and physics rising... and that you are perpetually declining from this do you not?

Gee: I... yeah... I do.

Dee: Perhaps if we can talk again some other time I could advise you on this. But now you won't let me. If I must cast lots then I shouldn't doddle.

Gee: I guess so.... tell me about the planes and Clay Shaw....

Dee: Shaw began the World Trade Mart. This became the World Trade Center. When the "terrorists" crashed planes into the twin towers, they were only mimicking the echos of Jim Garrison's trial of Clay Shaw. Is this what you want to hear?

Gee: tell me then about why the world is perpetually commiting suicide. We go through ice ages... cataclysms... the dominant species keeps changing, is this a cycle

too? Perhaps you've heard, the chimpanzee population is currently threatened with extinction, and perhaps they will clone them to breed the clones? Is this what happened with humans? Is this why we even exist?

Dee: Youhad asked me about the Grand Cross. This must mean that you have figured out that the sunspot cycle is affected gravitationally, by the alignment of the planets? And you ask this now because of the conjunction of the sun and Venus from the perspective of the earth....

Gee: Venus, the goddess of love and reproduction... I wish I could read the stars right, be able to predict what will happen....

Dee: the stars do not MAKE things happen. Free will makes them happen. Even in the spirit world, where, as you know now, there is only the precession of pure dimension forming hyperspace by which to calculate, and no stars, and no planets. Even there, there is only free will.

Gee: what can you tell me about the metaforms, their motives, our destiny as a species, our past? Were we once like the metaforms?

Dee: no moreso than you are now. You believe they are like the virus and the bacteria? The virus and the bacteria do not look down, though. They look up.

Everything looks up. And you would do well not to be concerned for your particular species. Once, for you not long ago, it was race that the living were concerned about...

Gee: is there a greater agenda, then? Some sort of plan or hierarchy that we are following, that we are ascending through? Is there some sort of design? ##carrier signal lost## ##end transmission##

“I am Imhotep” reads the inscription in the masonic corner stones of every early pyramid of Egypt upper and lower, built to protect the dead from the flooding of the nile for millenia so that they could be cloned. It is probable that the greatest floods to ever occur here were when they drained the water from the cube of river clay and timber they had constructed upwards from the pyramid’s base. At firt this was built to the top, but only filled with water up to the level being worked on. Stones were lifted to a place half way between the top and the water line and then lowered into boats so that they could be set into place on top of those submerged below the water.

However the more water that was added, the more it came to reflect the sun, and this would heat up the water’s surface like a mirror, and plus the tall walls sheltered this melting pot from all wind. Many died in this technique, which is as old as Babylon under Abrahamurabi. Then the walls were lowered to the level where the water was, and the stones lifted in just over the side onto one great ship that carried many stones, for the surface area of the water was increasing as the pyramid neared its top, and so more effort was required to manouever the yacht into place than to carry more stones. Here we see a recreation of this theory, being carried out on the second pyramid, or the pyramid of Khefre, raised by Ptahotep. It is an excercise in distinguishing fact from fiction, for if this theory is fact, then the picture, although originally created artificially, and therefore a product as much of the imagination as the cognition, would then also become fact.

If the theory is fiction the picture is fiction. However if the picture were fact, the theory could still be fiction, as it is not the only one implied by the photograph. Similarly if the photograph is false, the theory could still be true, because the photograph is only a recreation of one possible dimension.