A Burning Ring of Fire [V]

I have a Christian friend, who while we are quite far from seeing eye to eye on a multitude of issues, has my respect, because unlike 99% of the fools who call themselves “Christians,” she has actually read the Bible for herself. Regardless of our differences, most of which stem from her literal inference of said book, I do love her. One thing this friend pointed out to me when I told her of my ark project, is of how the Biblical Noah, endured years and years of ridicule while undertaking his project. I guess I should have assumed, that I might suffer same.

In case anyone plans to have a laugh at my expense, and hopes to ridicule this Rebel by coming by the property and photograph me building some type of monstrosity, I’ll save you the trouble. There are many different types of arks out there, some of them metaphoric, and some of unobservable ephemeral energy.

I’ve been saying for a while, that I’ve got some words to share with some idiots who have taken the time to leave incendiary little comments on my blog, and this seems as good a time as any. If Dennis will excuse me then, I’ll have to blow off some steam, and will then move on with the “burning ring” topic, which requires my resonating at a higher frequency. Any turned off by me cursing, feel free to skip this article. Those who like the “angry rebel,” you’re in for a treat.

We’ll call this segment “time out for dumb cunts.” Presenting the first such vacuous hole: some blogger who left a clever little missive a few issues ago implying I was an idiot and he actually had some idea as to what the fuck was going on. Had this “opinion” come from someone in possession of their own brain, it may have bothered me. But, the boy in question, had, by some stretch of the word, “selected,” a V for Vendetta mask icon to represent himself.

Are you fucking kidding me? Among the stupidest of all mother-fuckers on this planet right now, are the guys/girls out there protesting anything while wearing those ridiculous masks. I begrudgingly applaud the Wachowski Brothers for the predictive programming bit of Luciferean edutainment disguised as liberation [note the V’s and the incomplete upside-down pentagram, see 07:37 of my last vid]. Also, it should be of interest that the protagonist, “V” was bourne of a fiery hole.

Honestly, I would have preferred the producers of the movie decided to replace the alleged “Guy Fawks” [FOX? 666?] mask with one featuring a rubber phallus attached to the forehead and a prickly scrotum attached to the chin. It might have helped others laugh along with me at the sad joke all these “V” truthers have turned themselves in to. Perhaps, the subterfuge was the whole point. Test? Fail!

I have no idea what the fuck is going on in the above picture, but am rather enamored with the fiery redhead. Anyway, while I will admit guilt to granting this idiot [commenter/blogger] a significant portion of his 15 minutes of fame herein, I will not dignify him with an original response that requires mental effort from myself. Instead, I’ll use someone else’s words, which are extremely fitting:

“If I thought you could find a way
I’d tell you to go get lost
But why ask you to pay attention
When you brain can’t stand the cost?

You oughta scratch from the human race
You are a waste of a name
A waste of time and a waste of space
You’ve only one claim to fame
[and that is] I don’t like you

If a thought came in your head
It’d die of loneliness
You rate absolute zero
No more and not even less”

Those are the words of Stiff Little Fingers, a band from a time before the record industry was completely hijacked by Lucifereans/Dionysians. To add a few more seconds to person in question: “You don’t entertain ideas, you simply bore them.” I recalled that one of the album covers synced with the image of the falling Comedian (from part iii), and hence, came across two others that are pertinent/illuminating.

One reader had asked, “What kind of Ark can withstand fire?” Well, you have your answer about what type of [inflammable] material the ark will be built with. The 9/11 sync, is uncanny [but can actually be put down to coinsyncidence]. As for the ark/arc itself, found an extremely intriguing article from Noel Huntley entitled: The Ark of the Covenant – The Most Fantastic Technology in the Universe?

“Although ‘Arc’ refers to an extremely advanced technology, fundamentally it means the same as ‘arc’ in, for example, arc welding – two terminals at different potential/voltage giving rise to a spark across the gap – an electrical passageway (even so, the original word was ‘Arch’). Thus the Arc of the Covenant is a portal, bridging dimensional frequency bands and locations, somewhat similar to what one might imagine is achieved by the so-called ‘wormholes’ of physics and science fiction. This is one of the Arc’s functions.”

Technology is a form of magick, which is a mental construct. I know the boat is a reactive metaphor, but others have tried such folly, with predictable results.

I guess those who opted to skip this article, will miss out now and I guess I should have also warned off those unsettled by gratuitous nudity. Which reminds me, I attended a local festival a couple of years where, per memory, drunk women freely flash their breasts for beads. As if you hadn’t guessed, I like titties. Anyway, I only stayed for about half-an-hour, because during that period, I witnessed seven fights and three titties (no, not three sets, individual breasts). Oh, the humanity.

Which reminds me: I’ve managed to get this site blocked by a religious internet content filtering service bearing the synchromystic name of “Covenant Eyes.” It happened right after I shared how the heart/valentine symbol is actually a vagina.

The simplistic beauty of arbitrary reason. Sites selling people religious hypocrisy, idolatry, deceit and obedience are approved and even promoted. However, one that tells Romanized Christians to get up off their damn knees and stop praying to Lucifer’s vagina, rid themselves of idols of their tortured savior, and stop the ritualistic acceptance of the cross that is their prison space … can’t have that.

“They tell you not to worry. They say they’re terribly sorry.
But that’s the way it has to be, for the likes of me.
Just be good and know your station, always look on the bright side.
Keep your faith and keep your patience.
Your reward is after you’ve died.”
–Stiff Little Fingers, “Silver Lining”

Wisdom? Verbotten! The whores of degeneration, which are the modern Medes, while devoting copious energy “crafting” brain-washing rubbish, do occasionally, for some reason (which we’ll explore before this is over), feel compelled to share a few seconds of genuine wisdom with us. One such golden nugget dropped during Good Will Hunting. It is the confrontation between Will and the idiot Harvard graduate to be. Will sums up in one elegant sentence exactly why his adversary will never ever amount to anything other than another turd in the human shitpile:

That’s about as honest a “revelation” as one could ever hope for. Regardless of how “far” most rats get in the game, [99.9% of] those who took the golden path (the “higher education” route to riches), will never be anything more than a compilation of the ideas and opinions of their programmers/masters. I’ve had more rewarding conversations with third world peasants than I’ve had with Ivy League grads, Mensa members and others of such ilk who haughtily pass off indoctrination as their intelligence. It’s like conversing with an automated printing machine.

The system has been beautifully architected/crafted. The further “ahead” you get, the more successful you become. The more successful you become, the less and less original you will be. But, why the hell is there fire in this movie poster too? Notice how every W has been converted into a VW/666 symbol? Of particular interest to the Rebel, is the highlighting the words “Rebelle” and “totally rebellious,” and what do they mean by “until it met his match?” Matt “Dæmon?”

I have a statement that I now feel compelled to proclaim: “I AM the Celtic Rebel!” Actually, I kind of enjoyed this movie, and aside from the standard societal conforming memes (which may or may not have been intentional), I think a lot of even the surface story was surprisingly positive. The only thing hurting this movie, was the presence of Ben Afleck. But, it did lead me to recall that he played a rather satanic fire resonant character, Matt Murdock, aka Daredevil.

The most significant aspect of the character, is that even though he is blind, he is more aware of his surroundings than the average rat. Well, I can think of a few significant blind men, starting with the preacher from They Live (expanded on):

In the scene featuring Jordie from Star Trek, his blindness allowed him to see an [illuminating] doorway, that even the best technologically enhanced automaton overlooked. Also worth noting, and of grand significance, is that in The Matrix, Neo was only able to see the “real world” [the matrix beyond the matrix] as it really was, after his adversary removed his eyes. Oh, there was also the prophet from O Brother Where Art Thou [your homework assignment: find more].

In the interim, a new Star Trek has been released, and though it may not be as relevant to this series as Generations, it did prove a point to me; they will spend millions of dollars on a movie, just to get across a few key predictive programming memes. The brain-drain in society is definitely being reflected in Hollywood as a whole. A concise summary of the latest formula: Average Dawson’s Creek Episode + Great Special Effects + Severely Retarded Writers = New Star Trek. {*1}

One example [of the “creativity”]: future Spock comes and tells present Kirk how to assume command of the ship over acting captain present Spock. Got that? It’s the Star Fleet regulation that requires any CO with an emotional connection to the mission step down (Nero, the villain, killed Spock’s Mom). But, barely 30 minutes before, we were shown how Kirk’s dad was killed by same Nero. Is there anyone on this damn ship who Nero hasn’t killed a relative of? Ah, me little cabin boy, Ensign Turd Blossom. Take off your tutu and put on the captain’s hat my laddie!

I should move along, but one more: the older Vulcan boys bullying weakling Spock, to prove he has emotions. Would the fucking retard who wrote this please leave the set? Yea, you sitting there smelling your finger for that lingering feces scent. Ciao! Were Spock so “logical,” he’d have concurred with the boys who called his mother a “whore.” The present-day whorification agenda, is parabolically driving up the percentage of human woman that are whores. Logically, in the next 100 years or so (when this movie is supposed to take place), all Earth women will be whores.

So, yea. They were probably right. Rodenberry’s Spock would have said: “You are correct, but everyone in the quadrant knows that. Why do you think anyone ever goes to that shit-hole of a planet anyway? For the whores. Your logic seems adrift.”

I’m not necessarily claiming the latest offering is worse than priors. The list of priorities for movies have long been: (1) social engineering, (2) predictive programming, (3) marketing, (4) rewarding boy-toys/girl-toys who bent over for, or sucked-off the producers. With rare exception, plot and storyline are usually dead last. Here’s an excellent and quite humorous web page that summarizes the last Star Trek before this (Nemesis, written by same mental deficients, or their clones).

What’s that Pluto? You see some dead penis-shaped flesh you want to consume? Who’s a good little dog/god of wealth and death? Who’s a good little dog/god?

Now, to move on to one truly dumb cunt, who accused me of being “a hypocrite and a liar,” due to my mentioning that I’ve found vegetarian women generally smelled better “down there.” Are you accusing me of lying about my personal experience? The point of that would be to??? Did I touch on sensitive subject? Were you imagining this Rebel might actually one-day pay homage to your foul-smelling hole?

While you may have learned a few big words in your life and garnished the ability to string them together, common sense is obviously not your forté. You put a rotting corpse in one end of your stargate and think that for some reason, despite it decomposing inside your body for a period of 24 to 48 hours at a temperature of 98.6 degrees, the area around your stargate exit will miraculously smell like gardenias? You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid? Well, maybe.

And now I’m going to [try and] stop cursing. I know it’s unbecoming. If everyone could just follow the above wise man’s advice, I won’t have to. As for the latter picture, I found it kind of interesting yet another woman randomly chose to tattoo the extremely bizarre above artwork over her [actual] heart. Plus, it brings us back around to approximately where I left off at the end of last article.

Now to explain my [heightened] aggravation: a weird series of events transpired after I began this series, immediately after I made the discovery about Peter Tosh’s “timely” murder and his words in regards to the vampires and Lucyfer [part ii]. Within minutes of my contemplating possible implications and connections … BLIP .. my computer shut off, yet the UPS/Voltage Regulator was unaffected. Odd, but nothing to contact Ghost Hunters about.

I then hosted a dinner party, and in the middle of it, for lack of better words, my mind left me. I could not process thoughts and short term memory was failing me. For example: I’d start carrying the tray to the grill, stop mid-tracks, then ask, “Where was I going?” I’d ask someone if they wanted something (e.g., a drink), then go off to get it and then turn around and ask them the same question again. I may be somewhat absent minded, but this was on a whole new level [plus, I have witnesses]. Some kind of psychic attack was under way. A gypsy cure, which I’ll not mention, helped secure my mind and bring the attack to an end.

Later that same night, I went up to my “hang-out,” and while my person was secure / protected, another weird event occurred as I left to return home. I tried to start my car, and it wouldn’t. The lights flashed on and off, and the stereo alternated between loud and dead, but the ignition wouldn’t turn over. “Enough of this nonsense,” I shouted. “I WILL not permit it.” The car then began sans the silliness.

One of the possible reasons a lot of people never heard of Peter Tosh, is that one of the adversary’s minions was sent to interfere with his career. That minion would be, the queen’s lap-dog Sir Micky Jagger. Another old song comes to mind, a subliminal syncromystic clue that light is not always a positive force:

“The stars are not as bright as they would seem
From a distance, the reflection is lighting up the screen.
The stars are not as bright as yesterday,
And yes it seems that every time, the light gets in the way.”
–The Long Ryders, “The Light Gets in the Way”

Some sunglasses may be in order. Tosh’s thoughts on Mick(aEl) undercutting him:

“He felt that, for reasons unknown to him, his records were under-promoted and poorly marketed. Many of Tosh’s critics felt that the work he did with The Rolling Stones was the worst of his career.”

Another minion may have been sent my way. One morning/afternoon, I was entreated to a dream visit by one half-naked Britney Spears. What’s odd about this? I never cared for her music, and am quite unfamiliar with her, save the occasional song I’m enforced to endure at a club, most of which I could not name by title. Honestly, I’ve never really even found her all that attractive, nor wank-worthy.

But, here she was in my dream, saying ALL the right words that I my ego needed to hear. I was on top of her and about to shag her. Coitus interruptus. Some child outside [either real or imaginary] shouting, demanding my attention. The dream faded away. Vile union incomplete. Was the child an angel? From what I understand, Britney may have Herpes. Eek! I don’t think I’d even want dream herpes.

Speaking of Herpes, while watching Arc from Synchromystics Forum video about Paris Hilton, I learned she also has Herpes [btw: his video is amazing, more eyes definitely need to take it in]. From there I discovered a hole slew of celebs who’ve given “the gift” to each other, including primary carrier Derek Jeter. While Hilton’s underwear-devouring mound [below] may look tempting, it’s prob’ly best avoided.

Second, does anyone reading this actually believe that Herpes is incurable? If you do, it’s because you either, (a) don’t “think,” or (b) are just a complete idiot. There’s definitely a cure. But, why sell someone a $100 cure, when you can make customers for life out of them (giving them daily pills that have little effect, but some “lucrative” side effects). It’s just business. You can bet Prince William [who I may or may not expand on one day, in relation to “the ring”] has been cured.

As for Paris, the reason she is taking Valtrex is cause the whore spreading the disease to other celebrities and the brainless fans who then spread their legs for them is far too value to the pharmaceutical powers that be. So sorry, Paris! {*2}

Switching from negative to positive, not all energy and beings sent in my direction has/have been malevolent. On another night/morning, I was entreated to an extended period, a waking dream, where I floated between the two realms on either side of the veil. Some wonderful female entity came to me and showed me how to focus using my third eye (instead of trying to visualize with the material ones).

Looking at Arc’s video, and considering the implication that in Hilton’s only significant Hollywood role to date, she was literally impaled through the third eye, would seem to make a little too much sense. The material princess, for the material world, condemned to rule in this world, would have little need for that third eye. Back to the blind(ed) people mentioned earlier, the one thing they all had in common, is the ability to see, after their material eyes were taken from them.

They [the eyes] can be a distraction. It’s so hard to see truth in this specturm of visible light, and all so easy to be distracted by the harlot in red. I’ve also seen my own magic ring uncanny in this period. The circuitous inexplicable route I took from Téa Leoni to “I Alone” [explained in part iii] was one of those “things.”

How many times had I heard the song in the past? Like every other idiot out there, I thought it was about “love,” and sang along, but just the lines applicable to me, just like all duMbASSES. Johnny Lydon now screams, “This is not a love song!” Is “Live” aware, programmed, or as clueless to their role at the rest of us?

I’m not sure what to make of it. At one time, many thought that I was the devil. My mind, after viewing this, went from Live to Blind (a great rock band from Estonia I used to hang out with), and a song they had which reminded me of girl from uni named Scarlet. She was as lovely as she was stupid, and convinced I was the devil.

Scarlett Johansson also comes up cause (a) of the obvious, (b) she co-starred in If Lucy Fell (1996) [part iv], (c) she too has Herpes, and (d) her name syncs with the woman in red. From there I found an image of the “next” Peter Pan, which shows us that dimensional rift again. I am gowning convinced that such a thing is either coming, or already happening. Yea, I know, this is going all over the place. {*3}

As for my Scarlet, she may be one of the few girls in my life I regret not shagging. But, I can only blame myself. When God-fearing Bible-belt born/bred Scarlett, asked me in her cute Southern drawl, what my nick-name stood for, I told her it was short for “Bielzebubba.” I thought she was just “flirting” when she’d run away from me.

Her roommates confronted me and told to please “stop making the evil laugh” around her, cause “she actually believed I was the devil.” I was hosting regular parties that summer, and they were tired of missing them. Occasionally, Scarlet would turn ghostly white as they approached my house and would scream murder.

But, everything happens for a reason. One possible outcome of our infernal coupling, could have been my making the evil laugh while she was orgasming, and then, in deep baritone, adding, “And now your soul is mine.” I was a bit more evil in those days, and that would have most likely resulted in her spending the rest of her life in an asylum somewhere. On the other hand, my synchromystic crystal ball may be telling me she’d have given me Herpes. Another regret now gone. Am I the devil? We’ll have to explore the notion before this is over.

A couple of hours before I released part iv [which I feel, reveals Lucifer], I got bit by, off all creatures, some brightly colored fly. By publication time, my entire left hand had swollen to the point where typing was impossible. I looked up the creature online, and learned I was bitten by a female yellow fly. Argh! Thank you Lucy!

I’m not one to give up., but I do find myself asking myself once again, “Why am I doing this?” Or, more so, who am I doing this for? I already said that I’d given up on humanity. As if I needed another reason, this past weekend I went out and saw two guys get in a fight over Michael Jackson. Over Michael Fucking Jackson!

What is the point of trying to uplift humanity if it doesn’t want to be lifted? They are content in input/output mode of breads and circuses, hooking themselves up to the grid to receive whatever new programming the social engineers decide on and then acting out that program, in other words, “expressing themselves.” Is there a point in trying to stop mankind’s voluntary march charge into the fire?

I’m not trying to fearmonger, but WWIII does seem to be an awaiting anvil for forging this new society. It is part of the grand plan. Next year, a Pentagon-funded recruiting movie from Hell is coming out, The Expendables. It features every male role model you could imagine (i.e., expendable stars) and they’re even dusting off Arnold Schwarzefucker for it. A winged-disc skull? An orgy of blood awaits!

Those holding out hope mankind will somehow resist the propaganda to kill their brethren this time around are fooling yourselves. If they can get people fighting over Michael Fucking Jackson, how hard will it be to get them brutalizing [insert ethnic slang of choice here]. Hell, I’ve even heard some idiots bad-mouthing “those damn Venezuelans!” This coming from same guys who wouldn’t know a Venezuelan if one stuck his cock up their ass. Yeah, I’m cursing again. I’m pissed off, OK?

Based on the number of articles flooding the mainstream, the alternative media, and even the synchrosphere on Michael Jackson alone, I can only surmise even many of us who think we’re above someone else are just fighting over scraps. The blatant programming of duMbASSES is far less destructive than the agenda-serving nuggets slipped to the intelligentsia. First, it was Charles Dickens, via Tale of Two Cities, telling us: “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” words spoken by a “noble” hero willing to sacrifice himself for the “greater good.”

Then, in the best Star Trek ever, we received a slightly modified version via the Qabbalist Leonard Nimoy. Why is Kirk so damn focused on the Luciferean V that Spock is making in his moment of self-sacrifice, instead of the eyes of his dying comrade? Oh, no! Fuck that! Fuck “the many!” What is the point of losing even one “unique” expressive individual to save a bunch of media-programmed replicants?

The time for the self-sacrfice of great men and women has come to an end. Better to lose several million zombies I say, than even a handful of thinking feeling individuals. Screw that programming. screw it right up its sanctimonious ass!

I recall a pivotal plot scene in another movie featuring a man, who [coincidentally] could not see so well in the light, but could see with great clarity in complete darkness (Pitch Black). The co-star of this movie, Radha Mitchell, was confronted by the protagonist at the end, “Will you die for them?” This was her moment of Catharsis [“cleansing through fire”]. This was her Jesus moment; where she would elevate her status [for audience] by sacrificing herself for weaker underlings. {*4}

I won’t. It’s gone long past the tribal obligation of the strong protecting the weak. It’s about sacrificing the strong to protect those who’d commit suicide if Hannah Montana came on TV and said, “It’s like really neat and stuff.” Am I guilty of underestimating man? I can sum that up in three words: Michael Fucking Jackson!

As I said in my last series of some consequence, those hoping to uplift all of humanity and save mankind, are fighting a lost cause. I’ll admit the architects of the system have a far better understanding of gravity than those of us foolishly struggling to hoist all of humanity up on our shoulders. Common sense dictates such efforts are in vain. You can not lift up one who has no desire to be lifted.

Why combat free will? Why combat gravity? The below scene is from Logan’s Run, where those who’ve outlived their usefulness to society, don their flame-resonant garb and sacrifice themselves for cheering brethren. Given more time, I’d have inter-cut image against the recent MJ Memorial Service in Los Angeles. Were they to blow up the volunteers/fools in latter audience, I’d pay good money to see it.

Am I starting to sound like one of “them?” Well, on this issue, “they” are correct. Michael Jackson, who’s greatest contribution to mankind was being a primal force in the worldwide consolidation of the music industry. is finally dead. He was no Ian Curtis [and neither was Ian]. If I’ve offended anyone, let me ask you a question: “Did you know him personally?” No? Well, shut the fuck up then.

If, like the 12 idiots who’ve offed themselves, your outlook on life is based on the veneration of “personas” in the field of entertainment, well good luck to you … the Carousel awaits. When I saw the lines of people camped out along Princess Di’s funeral route, I wondered, “How many of those same fuckers, had missed funerals of their own relatives, cause of work, distance, or other rationalization?” Renew!

The pyramidal chart I found/modified is based on one expounding the horrors of “capitalism.” Dialectically impaired fools might reason the model for any form of socialism might look somewhat different. How does changing the outfits of some of the stick figures change anything? But for me, the most significant detail of all such structures, is whatever entity is at the top of the pyramid is detached and not of this world/plane. If you’ll recall, J.R.R. Tolkien’s Sauron while exerting great control, influence and vigilance (through his one eye, perhaps his third eye) on the affairs of Middle Earth, resided on some dimension outside it.

So, who is this “sacrifice” for? We hear stories of how back in the Mayan days, it was considered a great honor to be selected for ritual sacrifice. Yeah? Considered so by whom? The brainwashed peasants? The duMbASSES? I can guarantee you the elite nobility and priest class didn’t queue up for the “privilege.”

The people who are on top, say that you should keep your chin up
And they are keen to show you, the unhappy ones below you
But I want no more of that stuff, that’s looking at it upside down
–Stiff Little Fingers, “Silver Lining”

Back the Wrath of Cohen, thanks to Michael Tsarion, I was able to see a similarity of colors between the “good” crew of the Enterprise and other fascist regimes of note. That is a very specific red: blood red. Note the blood on Kirk’s shirt.

The scene involves a young awkward “trainee” [¿a virgin?], who “stayed at his post,” while explosions and fire raged around him … unlike the other “not so brave” individuals in engineering, who said “screw this shit, I’m saving my own ass.” The young boy dies. Scotty cries. As Kirk leaves the infirmary, we’re treated to the fire-resonating sign of where the virgin died [Cool! Sick Bay picks up YouTube!].

By chance, while trying to find the image from the movie, I came upon the below old movie poster [“filmed in blazing tropicolor”]. That synced with an image my memory couldn’t recall, but I figured must have been in my article about human sacrifice patterns over the years. Wow! Another exact match. Oh how they twist and turn the minds of us fools. Oh, the “glory” of dying for your [true] master! The middle poster makes “who” clear: dead between the V as the bloody sun sets.

To all those brave souls, who refused to serve in all the great wars, I salute you! I can imagine it must have been pretty hard to be an “able-bodied” man anywhere during WWII and show your face publicly, had you not “volunteered” to kill and maim your brothers in some far off land, for the benefit of your masters. Come kill and die for Queen and CUNT(Re:) … the nobility and the priest class need not apply.

Anyway, I’m just making a point. I’m not giving up on the ark. It ain’t for everyone. But, I’ve got the sneaking feeling that whatever adversarial forces are maligned against me, are now attempting to manipulate this effort by producing items leading to muddy rabbit holes of little significance. That tactic, I know of no gypsy cure for and am presently a little overwhelmed to put this jigsaw together.

Back to the positive again, I got a love note of my own from one of the writers on South Park [it’s at the end, when the aliens quarantine the Earth, to prevent its idiocy from infecting the universe]. {*5} I did say the Medes were responding to us didn’t I? Even though they didn’t get it quite right, I appreciate the gesture. I also appreciate the solar harvest corn sync to Cage’s Wicker Man.

Said episode (Pinewood Derby) was a surprisingly honest reflection of humanity’s gullibility and ego-driven folly. As an added bonus, the same week, through sheer coincidence (as far as idiots are concerned), General Motors also launched their Nationwide “Pinewood Derby” commercial, proving my thesis that (a) the Medes work in unison, and (b) those who think otherwise are [being made] fools [of].

Another point the “creators” either missed (or intentionally de/re-flected), was that, the box itself (more accurately, the act of confining ourselves to the box) is not an external construct. Ultimately, it is one that we willingly and eagerly throw ourselves headlong into. As for the “grid” outside the box, I believe such a structure is (a) spherical, and (b) of external scheme. The latter is what my ark will seek to demolish or somehow slip/bridge/arc through.

The South Park episode which came up in part iv, on the other hand, didn’t sit so well with me. I couldn’t quite place my thumb on why, but it had something to do with the number of times they stressed/emphasized the JB concert being in “3D.”

Since then, someone commented on an old article (appropriately entitled, A Match Made in Hell), and I took the time to reread it. While I do make a genuine effort to not let my ego suggest I’m the only one capable of stringing certain ideas together, I do ask you to tell me, should one read said [August 2008] article prior to viewing said episode, they wouldn’t find the confluence of themes highly suspicious.

I know some of my fellow bloggers have seen their ideas borrowed (sans credit), if not outright pilfered. Still, a mention or credit would have been preferable to South Park “paying tribute” to the Celtic Rebel [as one commenter said in some forum, to the chagrin of the show’s legion of “fanboys:” “South Park pays tribute/steals ideas quite a lot”]. Considering the kind of mullah the show rakes in. I’d have preferred they stick to the archaic definition of paying “tribute,” hence receiving a check.

For what it’s worth, said episode is entitled, “The Ring.” Note the odd “Jonas Brothers Burn Me Up” sign made it into yet another shot. The above [left] scene is from where the Brothers play fireman and take out their firehoses; to spray down their [prepubescent] fans with their hot sticky fun foam. I’d give kudos to South Park for the “advisement,” but today’s parents are so fucking stupid, they’re beyond reach of “advice” … oh, is there really a point to covering this topic again?

I was tired of the mental combat and exhaustion brought on by this series, so broke it up with a few side ventures into easier arenas (e.g., the Sex and the Shitty series took little time/mental effort). Afterward, I found myself pondering whether I really even wanted to step back into The Burning Ring. I had also decided to the ennui of my present life was resulting from having settled into too much of a routine.

That same night, I received a random call from a rather insane character I do my best to avoid, asking me to join him at some remote hillbilly “bikini bar.” Well, I couldn’t exactly say “no,” could I? The synchronicity began to flow. As I was pulling up, a fire-resonant song off an old Paul Kelly CD I grabbed on the way out came on [which I’ll close with]. I walked into the bar, and my friend was standing in the middle of a checkerboard floor singing Karaoke. The lyrics caught my attention:

Well they call me the fireman that’s my name
Makin’ my rounds all over town puttin’ out old flames
Well everybody likes to have what I got I can cool ’em down when smolderin’ hot

Last night they had a bad one a mile or two down the road
Well my buddy walked out and left this woman burnin’ out of control
Well I was down there in bout an hour or so
With a little mouth to mouth she was ready to go

I work twenty-four on, and twenty-four off
When they get too hot, they just give me a call
They call me the fireman, that’s my name
–George Strait, “The Fireman”

I guess it [the universe] was telling me it was time to get back into The Ring. I foolishly contemplated running away from all of this, a Charles Schulz mental imprint saying, “There is no problem so big it cannot be run away from.”

The Paul Kelly song brought up the above memory, which grows hazier as the days, months and years pass. Is Shangri-La still there and is the above creature still awaiting my return? “Oh minha garotinha. Tem que entender, meu coração já quebrou um milhão vezes. Eu vou voltar uma dia. Mas, não posso ainda.” And, I’m not even quite sure what the repeating chorus of the song that sent me imply:

“Oh, my angel, I’m carrying the can
Oh my angel, you’re pouring petrol on a burning man”

To be continued. We’ll finally get back to Cage, Knowing, Lucyfür, and a bunch of other smoldering embers…

 

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*1: I originally created this image the day after the movie came out, and had called it “Dawson’s Creek [in space].” Since then, Secret Sun put out an article called “Dawson’s Trek,” and I like that title better. Surprisingly, I found a “Dawson’s Creek” font with little effort. [LB]

*2: Many years ago, there was an amazing fever blister/cold sore cure I picked up at a Southern Alabama town drug store, that worked miraculously (though, looking back “miraculous” means “as one should expect.”) The main drug stores, i.e., pharmaceutical outlets, didn’t carry it. Over the years, the product became harder and harder to find, then Colgate-Palmolive bought it out. First, they diluted it and eventually, they took it off the market. That’s just the way [modern] medicine works. [LB]

*3: Peter Pan in Scarlet is the follow-up to [note initials] JM Barrie’s “original.” It was put out by the highly suspect Oxford University [Disinfo] Press [I wouldn’t trust a single word that came out of that organization.], but I’m staying out of that rabbit hole. Of course, it syncs us to the one-gloved child-lover, which led to and article by Time [another disinfo source] Magazine’s “Michael Jackson: The Death of Peter Pan,” which chose to picture him at age 13. [LB]

*4: I’m trying to stay out of Radha’s rabbit hole [not pictured], but her resume seems to be a synchromystic treasure trove. I feel my image tells enough of a story, but she would make a good article should anyone want to probe her. The few movies I picked out contain: two fire references, two V images [one with teeth], a hard to see cream “heart” in a coffee cup, and an ooh, Neverland/Lucifer’s Rainbow reference. She played the “Queen of Hearts” in one role, and I had to laugh, cause I found the pictured clip online (solely, out of curiosity, of course), and the image is taken right after she’s slapped some guy for calling her a “cunt.” [LB]

*5: In the middle of this series, a friend passed along a six hour lecture from a woman named Ashayana Deane (The Phantom Matrix). Some of what she talked about seemed “out there,” and then she mentioned how a “fractal fence” was being built around us. My sis, who’s visiting, mentioned the patterns in South Park’s “cube” reminded her of chem-trails. Are the chemtrails [also] being used to create an energy barrier within the ephemeral one? I have no f’n idea. [LB]

~ by celticrebel on July 9, 2009.