I intended to start writing this article several hours ago but received a visit from The Joker, which knocked me off-balance for a while. The result was a partial return to sobriety. No matter. After a few hours of pointless soul-searching – let’s say I was ‘temporarily light’ – I remembered that my credit in this joint is good. Now that Lloyd has served up some hair of the dog what bit me, I am, so to speak, back in the spirit of things and ready to finish the script. In some respects, I think this article is likely to be a little more personal than some of my other posts. I say ‘think’ because I rarely plan what I write. It just seems to come to me and structure itself along the way. In fact, if you’ll forgive my blatant solipsism then it all seems to come to me in one form or another. As I walked home from the Co-Op earlier today, I came across a young man having an animated mobile phone conversation. Something to do with prophet and loss, the only words I caught were “If we strip out the margin it comes to 44 overall”. Quite so.
These days, everyone seems to be reading my thoughts, and I theirs. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to know exactly where ‘I’ end and ‘the other’ begins, or to avoid asking who these mysterious ‘others’ really are. It’s odd I should even refer to them in these terms, given that I’d watched a video about Lost prior to popping out to the Co-Op. Odder still that the first thing to grab my attention was a locksmith’s van parked at the end of the road. It was emblazoned with the words “Don’t get locked out – have a key cut!”. A little further down the road, an empty cigarette packet caught my attention. Most would disregard it as random detritus. These days, however, I’ve learned that when my attention is drawn to something it’s usually for a reason. The message on the packet echoes comments left on my last-but-one post, and I have to say it’s a message that’s becoming increasingly hard to…ahem…Overlook.
These days, we have to ask what it really means to be a ‘smoker’. Consider this example of double-speak, which seems to be loaded with the kind of euphemisms the Nazi’s employed when referring to the ‘Final Solution’.
As noted, a reasonable provision of comfortable, friendly, and exhaust ventilated indoor facilities with ashtrays for smokers would likely remove the great bulk of this problem.
Piles of naked corpses and references to ‘camps’ in Europe. Makes you think doesn’t it?
Amidst such horror, you could be forgiven for thinking that the Apocalypse is Now.
As I’ve said before, our ‘reality’ seems to be multi-layered, a series of after-images or double exposures. Yet how many notice that Nuclear Armageddon appears to be an ever-present feature and part of our everyday lives?
The meltdown is collective…
The cry goes out…and up apparently…
And just like our computer screens, Windows display portents of impending doom…
Needless to say, all is not what it appears to be. The Apocalypse is here, and we are part of it. Yet the true meaning of the term is not death and destruction but something else entirely.
apocalypse (n.) late 14c., “revelation, disclosure,” from Church Latin apocalypsis “revelation,” from Greek apokalyptein “uncover, disclose, reveal,” from apo- “from” (see apo-) + kalyptein “to cover, conceal” (see Calypso).
Source: Etymology Online
In my series of posts about the Colossus of Roads, I examined what I believe is the source of these ‘parallel realities’. My conclusion is that they are ‘parallel’ in the Information technology sense of the term. Specifically, that the ‘reality’ we inhabit is an advanced (albeit incredibly weird) computer simulation. It’s a moot point and one which is quite beside the point. We all seem to have our pet theories, yet they all arrive at the same conclusion: that what we see ‘out there’ is not real. The ‘apocalypse’ or ‘revelation’ we’re being exposed to is the disclosure of this knowledge through a process of initiation. It turns our lives upside down and causes us to question and, finally, abandon all the assumptions we once held so dear.
The question, then, is why us in particular? Why have we been ‘privileged’ to see through the veil, while other remain insensible? Who are ‘the others’ we see out there? Earlier today, Vik posted a series of news articles in a comment on my previous post. Reading through them, it was apparent that all the individuals referred to in these articles, from 44-year-old computer hackers through to US presidential characters, are weird reflections of me, just as they are also weird reflections of Vik. Why is it that when looking to reply to Vik, using news articles relating to these same characters, the stories that emerged were perfect reflections of the thoughts I wished to communicate back to Vik? If this is the case (I assure you it is) then in what sense do these characters exist? Who or what are they exactly?
A friend of mine recently introduced a friend of hers to my blog. I think it must be a Mob thing because shortly thereafter Frank posted a warning which included a reference to red-hot pizza. It’s hot-hot-hot (it burns, it burns) and I immediately knew which Goodfellas he was referring to. Old Nick and the Jewson.
Prior to this, the friend of my friend also chose to follow my Twitter account. He’d picked up on a few Nazi-themed synchs relating to the Colossus of Rhodes, and I responded with a few ‘burning man’ synchs. I also ‘wrote’ an article (in Morse) on my other blog as a kind of experiment, to see if he could spot the interconnections. The reason I did this was his Twitter profile image, a biohazard symbol. This struck a chord with me for a number of reasons. First, because the friend who introduced this person to my blog also sent me a link to the following article.
Regular Merovee readers will know that Tyler Durden and I have ‘history’. It’s a film that keeps cropping up again and again for me. What I found particularly odd about the article was the ‘hazardous material’ in question: sodium hydroxide. Known also as lye, Tyler employs the same chemical in the film in order to inflict a burn on ‘Jack’.
Second, the day before this person followed my Twitter account I just happened to watch a trailer for the film Zardoz. Note the film-related dates that appear at the beginning of the trailer.
A few passages from Wikipedia should tell you all you need to know.
In a future post-apocalypse Earth in the year 2293, the human population is divided into the immortal “Eternals” and mortal “Brutals”. The Brutals live in a wasteland, growing food for the Eternals, who live apart in “the Vortex”, leading a luxurious but aimless existence on the grounds of a country estate. The connection between the two groups is through Brutal Exterminators, who kill and terrorize other “Brutals” at the orders of a huge flying stone head called Zardoz, which supplies them with weapons in exchange for the food they collect. Zed, a Brutal Exterminator, hides aboard Zardoz during one trip, temporarily “killing” its Eternal operator-creator Arthur Frayn.
Zed is less brutal and far more intelligent than the Eternals think he is. Genetic analysis reveals he is the ultimate result of long-running eugenics experiments devised by Arthur Frayn — the Zardoz god — who controlled the outlands with the Exterminators, thus coercing the Brutals to supply the Vortices with grain. Zardoz’s aim was to breed a superman who would penetrate the Vortex and save mankind from its hopelessly stagnant status quo. The women’s analysis of Zed’s mental images earlier had revealed that in the ruins of the old world Arthur Frayn first encouraged Zed to learn to read, then led him to the book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Zed finally understands the origin of the name Zardoz — Wizard of Oz — bringing him to a true awareness of Zardoz as a skillful manipulator rather than an actual deity.
As Zed divines the nature of the Vortex and its problems, the Eternals use him to fight their internecine quarrels. Led by Consuella, the Eternals decide to kill Zed and to age Friend. Zed escapes and, aided by May and Friend, absorbs all the Eternals’ knowledge, including that of the Vortex’s origin, to destroy the Tabernacle. Zed helps the Exterminators invade the Vortex and kill most of the Eternals — who welcome death as a release from their eternal but boring existence. Some few Eternals do escape the Vortex’s destruction, heading out to radically new lives as fellow mortal beings among the Brutals. Zed brings the immortals salvation by bringing them death.
For those unfamiliar with Zed, allow me to remind you that he used to ride a chopper. I say ‘used to’ because Zed’s dead, baby. Something to do with butt sex, a blowtorch, and a pair of pliers I believe.
Third, because I’d also noticed an article with a Wizard of Oz theme in the Daily Mail. It too is about ‘hotting up’, so I suspect I’m getting warmer…
The above article appears in the blog post I wrote for my friend’s friend. The ‘hidden world’ it refers to was discovered by The Wizard.
The findings stem from the Whillans Ice Stream Subglacial Access Research Drilling (WISSARD) project funded by the National Science Foundation (NSF).
Ice stream or ice cream? Someone wants us to think they’re justified because they’re ancient. I disagree. I suspect the Zardoz incarnation of Zed would also disagree with me. He is, after all, inside the ‘huge stone head’.
After I finished writing the article for my friend’s friend, I asked my friend to send it on to him, saying “We’re off to see The Wizard”. Included in the article is the below story about the discovery of Cook’s ship ‘Endeavour’ off the coast Newport, Rhode Island, plus references linking Endeavour to Morse. On my daily walk to the Co-Op earlier today, a coach pulled up next to me and the electronic board displaying its destination happened to catch my eye. Needless to say, its ‘final destination’ was Newport.
Zed the Savage makes an appearance in another work of ‘pulp fiction’ within our fictional reality. Specifically, Brave New World. Here, Zed is named John and he’s befriended by Bernard (burn hard) Marx. It seems that Marx is one of the intellectual and cultural elite, although his physical stature leaves a little to be desired. From memory, I believe his stature had something to do with a little too much alcohol added to his blood-surrogate in the decanting room. In short, Bernard’s problems derive from his ‘individualism’, a product of being ‘drunk in the spirit’. At the end of the story, John ends up in a lighthouse (more of that later) while Marx’s friend, Helmholtz, is exiled to the Falkland Islands.
The below article appeared today. Clarkson isn’t keen on his Big Brother Bolshevik overlords either.
On the subject of Argentina, I posted this on my Twitter feed shortly after I posted the blog article I refer to above. It depicts a young Magneto, played by Michael Fassbender, in the guise of an Eichmann hunter. He describes himself thus: “I’m Frankenstein’s Monster. And I’m looking for my maker.”
At the same time, I also Tweeted about Prometheus. He stole fire from the Gods and was chained to a rock. Oddly enough, the road at the bottom of my road is called The Rock. Prometheus also appears in the subtitle of Mary Shelley Wollstonecraft‘s novel.
Michael Fassbender also appears in Ridley Scott’s Prometheus. Regular readers will know that I’ve referred to the film on numerous occasions in relation to being ‘drunk in the spirit’. This was a key theme in my previous post. Once again, Fassbender plays Frankenstein’s Monster, this time in the guise of the amoral android David. Here, David is surrounded by his makers and it’s obvious he doesn’t think much of them. He is in fact perfectly prepared to sacrifice them in order to please his Father. For some reason, the Father goes out of his way to belittle David and remind him that he doesn’t possess a soul. David more than adequately proves the point as the film progresses. Ultimately, his maker’s maker rips David’s head off and beats his maker to death with it. It seems that the Father doesn’t take a shine to the artificial, the immortal, or the mortal. In his eyes, we are all equally worthless.
At the end of the film, Elizabeth the ‘true believer’ continues her quest with a decapitated David in tow. She wants to know why her creators wish to exterminate humanity. Curiously enough, my sister’s name is Elizabeth and she was subjected to the same ‘Christian death cult’ as myself. Her ex-husband’s name is David. He was an odd character, a kind of short and squat version of my step-father. Following their divorce, she had a nervous breakdown and moved to the south coast, just around the corner from the Seven Sisters, which lie in the constellation of Taurus, my star sign. I visited the Seven Sisters last year and had a bizarre experience. There are supposed to be two lighthouses on that stretch of coast, yet on the walk to Beachy Head, I saw three, and on the walk back, only two. The whole experience felt like a dream. I went there partly as an excuse to pay my sister a surprise visit – I haven’t seen her in years. At it happened, she’d gone away on a business trip…to Germany. I suspect she’s still dragging David (the image of her own father figure) around with her.
There’s a common theme here in the form of a controlling influence. It’s perhaps best demonstrated by the following clip with actor John Hurt. To paraphrase Tyler Durden: “This is your pain, don’t deal with it the way those dead people do.” Don’t just stand there and allow a chopper to chop off your head.
In 1984, the ‘opposition’ leader is Jew. Yet Goldstein does not exist. He is just a tool of The Party and Big Brother, who also does not exist.
Prison fires and Room 101. Featherstone Prison is a literal stone’s throw from where I worked as a (Final) Solution Manager.
What’s in Room 101? The worst thing in the world for John/Winston. It’s full of rats. The informers whose stock-in-trade is in-formation. Neatly lined up in rows like obedient soldiers.
All the above plays out like a surreal guilt trip, which is exactly what it is. It would be all-too-easy to see ‘it’ as hostile or malevolent, yet I know that if I hadn’t embarked on this ‘trip’ then I wouldn’t be as ‘light as a feather stone’. Ultimately, arriving at this point is a result of knowing – deep down and with certainty – that what I see out there isn’t real. Had I not been shown these things, I could never have reached this point. And the message is that we are literally writing our own destiny, our own history. We can be ‘the dead’ and do what everyone else does simply because they do and that’s what we’re ‘supposed’ to do, or we can say ‘fuck the pain matrix’ and just get out there and do it. Because, in the final analysis, IT is all IT is.
Some say we just need to have faith and patience. That freedom (if we’re talking about faith then perhaps what we really mean is salvation) is just around the corner, that we just need to sit back, watch the headlines, and wait for ‘the miracle’. I say the opposite. In fact, I say this reduces us to putty in The Joker’s hands. As Vik put it, we can become The Joker or we can allow ourselves to be the butt of his jokes. Those aware of what’s going on can hardly fail to observe the same jokes recycled over and over again. Cocks jokes, butt jokes, you name it. Here’s one for you – the call girl and the ‘gagging order’. Can’t imagine what that means…
Hilarious isn’t it? And let’s face it, sex jokes are funny, and God knows we need to ‘lighten up’ about all things sexual. That said, how many times have we seen these jokes? How many times do we want to see them? Personally, I tend to find that even the funniest jokes lose their appeal after the ‘nth’ repetition. I suspect they’ll continue for as long as we keep playing the Joker’s game (keep throwing the ball in the air and I’ll keep hitting it back) rather than playing the Joker. Even so, as I hope the above serves to demonstrate, the sex jokes aren’t the real joke. We are. We’ve allowed ourselves to be. I should imagine The Joker laughs loud and long too, but is he laughing with us or at us?
Listen to Delbert. He took a chopper and chopped his daughters to bits. Look at the fucking state of the cretin.
One of his daughters took a pack of matches and tried to burn it down.
Here’s what I say.
A few weeks ago, I discovered this. In light of my references to Prometheus, it will, I trust, make perfect sense to the Famous Five.
The five brightest member stars of the Hyades have all evolved away from the Main Sequence and now lie at the bottom of the giant branch. Four of these stars, with Bayer designations Gamma, Delta 1, Epsilon, and Theta Tauri, form an asterism that is traditionally identified as the head of Taurus the Bull. The other is Zeta 1 Tauri, which lies 2° further south. Epsilon Tauri, known as Ain (the “Bull’s Eye”), has a gas giant exoplanet candidate, the first planet to be found in any open cluster.
My friend’s friend wears a heavy hat. And in his own words…
I suspect that five may soon become sith.
And yet I can’t help but feel there’s one missing…
As for you guys ‘out there’…
How many oceans? How many countries? How many states? How many counties? How many districts? How many cities? How many towns?
How many people?
All lit up. It’s just the Son. He’s Shining.