Manual of Evasion LX94 a feature film directed by Edgar Pêra. shot in Lisbon 1994 with Terence Mckenna Robert Anton Wilson & Rudy Rucker.
"Can the future affect the present? Can the present affect the past? Well, according to Bell's Theorem it can. According to Bell's Theorem everything in the universe affects everything else everywhichway in spacetime..." - Robert Anton Wilson
Kate Bush's song "Cloudbusting" describes Wilhelm Reich's arrest and incarceration through the eyes of Reich's son, Peter, who wrote his father's story in A Book of Dreams, published in 1973. The video for the song was directed by Julian Doyle, conceived by Terry Gilliam and Bush, and has Donald Sutherland as Reich, and Kate Bush as Peter.
Added 52 72 blogposts to the randomized selection: press the button!
(on the right side-bar between the followers and the blog archive)
More will be added soon.
I was fixing broken youtube links but it's way too much work, youtube will just keep removing videos with whatever excuse, so please search the video title on youtube if a video is no longer working on the blog. Thank you.
Every action is an experiment, and every experiment yields its fruit in knowledge.
"Very few humans consider themselves sinners nowadays," said George. "But everyone is afraid of
human beings consider themselves sinners. It's just about the deepest,
oldest, and most universal human hangup there is. In fact, it's almost
impossible to speak of it in terms that don't confirm it. To say that
human beings have a universal hangup, as I just did, is to restate the
belief that all men are sinners in different languages. In that sense,
the Book of Genesis— which was written by early Semitic opponents of the
Illuminati— is quite right. To arrive at a cultural turning point where
you decide that all human conduct can be classified in one of two
categories, good and evil, is what creates all sin— plus anxiety,
hatred, guilt, depression, all the peculiarly human emotions. And, of
course, such a classification is the very antithesis of creativity. To
the creative mind there is no right or wrong. Every action is an
experiment, and every experiment yields its fruit in knowledge. To the
every action can be judged as right or wrong— and, mind you, in
advance— without knowing what its consequences are going to be—
depending upon the mental disposition of the
actor. Thus the men who burned Giordano Bruno at the stake knew they were doing good, even
though the consequence of their actions was to deprive the world of a great scientist."
"If you can never be sure whether what you are doing is good or bad," said George, "aren't you liable
to be pretty Hamlet-like?" He was feeling much better now, much less afraid, even though the enemy
was still presumably out there trying to kill him. Maybe he was getting darshan from Hagbard.
so bad about being Hamlet-like?" said Hagbard. "Anyway, the answer is
no, because you only become hesitant when you believe there is such a
thing as good and evil, and that your action may be one or the other,
and you're not sure which. That was the whole point about Hamlet, if you
remember the play. It was his conscience that made him indecisive."
"So he should have murdered a whole lot of people in the first act?"
laughed. "Not necessarily. He might have decisively killed his uncle at
the earliest opportunity, thus saving the lives of everyone else. Or he
might have said, 'Hey, am I really obligated to avenge my father's
death?' and done nothing. He was due to succeed to the throne anyway. If
he had just bided his time everyone would have been a lot better off,
there would have been no deaths, and the Norwegians would not have
conquered the Danes, as they did in the last scene of the last act.
Though being Norwegian myself I would hardly begrudge Fortinbras his
The Hour of the Evil Eye— the catastrophe that destroyed High Atlantis.
"How many of these Atlantean civilizations were there?" asked George.
"Basically, two. One leading up to the Hour, and one afterward. Before the Hour, there was a civilization of about a million human beings on this continent. Technically, they were further advanced than the human race is today. They had atomic power, space travel, genetic technology and much else. This civilization was struck a death blow in the Hour of the Evil Eye. Two-thirds of them were killed —almost half the human population of the planet at that time. After the Hour, something made it impossible for them to make a comeback. The cities that came through the first catastrophe relatively undamaged were destroyed in later disasters. The inhabitants of Atlantis were reduced to savagery in a generation. Part of the continent sank under the sea, which was the beginning of the process that ended when all of Atlantis was under water, as it is today."
"Was this the earthquakes and tidal waves that you always read about?" George asked. "No," said Hagbard with a curious closed expression.
"It was manmade. High Atlantis was destroyed in a kind of war. Probably a civil war, since there was no other power on the planet that could have matched them."
"Anyway, if there'd been a victor, they'd still be around now," said George.
"They are," said Mavis. "The victors are still around. Only they're not what you might visualize. Not a conquering nation. And we are the descendants of the defeated."
alchemical, of course. The traditional code represents the three kinds
of sex by a cube, a pyramid, and a sphere. The cube is that travesty we
call 'normal sex, in which the two nervous systems never actually merge
at the orgasm, like the two parallel sides of the cube. The pyramid is
the two coming together and joining, the magical-telepathic orgasm. The
sphere is the Tantric ritual, endlessly prolonged, with no orgasm at
all. The alchemists used that code for over two thousand years. The
Rosicrucians among the founding fathers used the pyramid as a symbol of
their kind of sex magic. Aleister Crowley used that symbol the same way,
more recently. The eye on the pyramid is the two minds meeting.
Neurological interlock. The opening of the Eye of Shiva. Ewige
Schlangekraft—the eternal serpent power. The joining of the Rose and
Cross, vagina and penis, into Rose-Cross. The astral leap. Mind escaping
You silly sons-of-bitches!
You silly sons-of-bitches!
You silly sons-of-bitches!
23. Two and Three. Duality and trinity. Every unity is a duality and a trinity.
made contact with the mind of Richard Belz, forty-three-year-old
professor of physics at Queens College, as Belz was being loaded into an
ambulance to be taken to Bellevue Hospital where X rays would reveal
severe skull fractures. Shit, Dillinger thought, why does somebody have
to be half dead before I can reach him? Then he concentrated on his
message: Two universes flowing in opposite directions. Two together form
a third entity which is synergetically more than the sum of its two
parts. Thus two always leads to three. Two and Three. Duality and
trinity. Every unity is a duality and a trinity. A pentagon. Sheer
energy, no matter involved. From the pentagon depend five more
pentagons, like the petals of a flower. A white rose. Five petals and a
center: six. Two times three. The flower interlocks with another flower
just like it, forming a polyhedron made of pentagons. Each such
polyhedron could have common surfaces with other polyhedrons, forming
infinite latticework based on the pentagonal unit. They would be
immortal. Self-sustaining. Not computers. Beyond computers. Gods. All
space for their habitation. Infinitely complex.
"Who did you say was looting this temple?" he asked Hagbard.
Illuminati. The real force behind all communist and fascist movements.
Whether you're aware of it or not, they're also already in control of
the United States government."
"I thought everybody in your crowd was a right-winger—"
"And I told you spacial metaphors are inadequate in discussing politics today," Hagbard interrupted.
you sound like a gang of right-wingers. Up until the last minute, all
I've heard from you and your people was that the Illuminati were
commies, or were behind the commies. Now you say they're behind fascism
and behind the current government in Washington, too."
Hagbard laughed. "We came on like right-wing paranoids, at first, to see how you'd react. It was a test."
passed. You didn't believe us— that was obvious— but you kept your eyes
and ears open and were willing to listen. If you were a right-winger,
we would have done our pro-communist rap. The idea is to find out if a
new man or woman will listen, really listen, or just shut their minds
at the first really shocking idea."
"I'm listening, but not
uncritically. For instance, if the Illuminati control America already,
what's the purpose of the assassinations?"
"Their grip on
Washington is still pretty precarious. They've been able to socialize
the economy. But if they showed their hand now and went totalitarian all
the way, there would be a revolution. Middle-readers would rise up with
right-wingers, and left-libertarians, and the Illuminati aren't
powerful enough to withstand that kind of massive revolution. But they
can rule by fraud, and by fraud eventually acquire access to the tools
they need to finish the job of killing off the Constitution."
"What sort of tools?"
stringent security measures. Universal electronic surveillance.
No-knock laws. Stop and frisk laws. Government inspection of first-class
mail. Automatic fingerprinting, photographing, blood tests, and
urinalysis of any person arrested before he is charged with a crime. A
law making it unlawful to resist even unlawful arrest. Laws establishing
detention camps for potential subversives.
control laws. Restrictions on travel. The assassinations, you see,
establish the need for such laws in the public mind. Instead of
realizing that there is a conspiracy, conducted by a handful of men, the
people reason— or are manipulated into reasoning— that the entire
populace must have its freedom restricted in order to protect the
leaders. The people agree that they themselves can't be trusted. Targets
for assassination will be mavericks of left or right who are either not
part of the Illuminati conspiracy or have been marked as unreliable.
The Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King, for example, were capable
of mobilizing a somewhat libertarian left-right-black-white populist
movement. But the assassinations that have occurred so far are nothing
compared to what will take place. The next wave will be carried out by
the Mafia, who will be paid in Illuminati gold."
"Not Moscow gold," said George with a smile.
puppets in the Kremlin have no idea that they and the puppets in the
White House are working for the same people. The Illuminati control all
sorts of organizations and national governments without any of them
being aware that others are also controlled. Each group thinks it is
competing with the others, while actually each is playing its part in
the Illuminati plan. Even the Morituri— the six-person affinity groups
which splintered from the SDS Weathermen, because the Weathermen seemed
too cautious— are under the control of the Illuminati. They think
they're working to bring down the government, but actually they are
strengthening its hand. The Black Panthers are also infiltrated.
Everything is infiltrated. At present rate, within the next few years
the Illuminati will have the American people under tighter surveillance
than Hitler had the Germans. And the beauty of it is, the majority of
the Americans will have been so frightened by Illuminati-backed
terrorist incidents that they will beg to be controlled as a masochist
begs for the whip."
George shrugged. Hagbard sounded like a
typical paranoid, but there was this submarine and the strange events of
the past few days. "So the Illuminati are conspiring to tyrannize the
world, is that it? Do you trace them back to the First International?"
They're what happened when the Enlightenment of the eighteenth century
collided with German mysticism. The correct name for the organization is
Ancient Illuminated Seers of Bavaria. According to their own traditions
they were founded or revived in seventeen seventy-six on May first by a
man named Adam Weishaupt. Weishaupt was an unfrocked Jesuit and a
Mason. He taught that religions and national governments had to be
overthrown and the world ruled by an elite of scientifically-minded
materialistic atheists, to be held in trust for the masses of mankind
who would eventually rule themselves when enlightenment became
universal. But this was only Weishaupt's 'Outer Doctrine.' There was
also an 'Inner Doctrine,' which was that power is an end in itself, and
that Weishaupt and his closest followers would make use of the new
knowledge being developed by scientists and engineers to seize control
of the world. Back in seventeen seventy-six, things were run largely by
the Church and the feudal nobility, with the capitalists slowly getting a
bigger and bigger piece of the pie. Weishaupt declared that these
groups were obsolete, and it was time for an elite with a monopoly on
scientific and technological knowledge to seize power. Instead of
eventually producing a democratic society, as the 'Outer Doctrine'
promised, the Ancient Illuminated Seers of Bavaria would saddle mankind
with a dictatorship that would last forever."
"You've refused Heaven, so you must travel the harder path through the halls of Hell."
Playboy bunny Virginia
"I wasn't disturbing the peace," I said. "I was disturbing the war."
I stole that one-liner from
Ammon Hennacy, Catholic Anarchist
A patrolman led me to the fingerprint room. This guy was a computer: "Right hand." I gave him my
right hand. "Left hand." I gave him my left hand. "Follow the officer." I followed the officer, and they took my picture. We went down some halls to the night court, and in a lonely section the patrolman suddenly hit me in the lower back with his club, the exact spot (he knew his business) to give me liver problems for a month. I grunted but refused to say anything that would set him off and get me another clout, so he spoke. "Yellow-bellied faggot," he said.
Just like Biloxi, Mississippi: one cop is nice, another is just impersonal, a third is a mean bastard—
and it doesn't really matter. They're all part of the same machine, and what comes out the end of the gears and levers is the same product, whatever their attitude is. I'm sure Buchenwald was the same: some of the guards tried to be as humane as possible, some of them just did their job, some of them went out of their way to make it worse for the prisoners. It doesn't matter: the machine produces the effect it was designed for.
Judge Bushman (we slipped him AUM two years later, but that's another story, coming up on trip) gave me his famous King Kong scowl. "Here are the rules," he said. This is an arraignment. You can enter a plea or stand mute. If you enter a plea, you retain the right to change it at your trial. When I set bond, you can be released by paying ten percent to the bailiff. Cash only, no checks. If you don't have the cash, you go to jail overnight. You people have the city tied up in knots and the bail bondsmen are too busy to cover every courtroom, so by sheer bad luck you landed in a courtroom they're not covering." He turned to the bailiff. "Charge sheet," he said. He read the record of my criminal career as concocted by the arresting officer. "Five offenses in one night. You're bad medicine, aren't you, Moon? Trial set for September fifteenth. Bail will be ten thousand dollars. Do you have one thousand dollars?"
"No," I told him wondering how many times he'd made that speech tonight.
"Just a moment," said Hagbard, materializing out of the hallway. "I can make bail for this man."
MR. KHARIS: Does Mr. Celine seriously suggest that the United States Government is in need of a guardian?
MR. CELINE: I am merely offering a way out for your client. Any private individual with a record of such incessant murder and robbery would be glad to cop an insanity plea. Do you insist that your client was in full possession of its reason at Wounded Knee? At Hiroshima? At Dresden?
JUSTICE IMMHOTEP: You become facetious, Mr. Celine.
MR. CELINE: I have never been more serious.
"What is your relationship to this young man?" Bushman asked angrily. He had been about to come when the cop dragged me off to jail, and he was strangling in some kind of gruesome S-M equivalent of coitus interruptus.
"He's my wife," Hagbard said calmly.
"Common-law wife," Hagbard went on. "Homosexual marriage is not recognized in Illinois. But
homosexuality per se isn't a crime in this state, either, so don't try to make waves, your honor. Let me
pay and take him home."
It was too much. "Daddy," I said, camping like our friend the Padre. "You're so masterful."
Judge Bushman looked like he wanted to lay Hagbard out with a gavel upside of his head, but he controlled himself. "Count the money," he told the bailiff. "Make sure he pays every penny. And then," he told us, "I want the two of you out of this courtroom as quickly as possible. I'll see you September fifteenth," he added, to me.
MR. KHARIS: And we believe we have demonstrated the necessity of this dam. We believe we have shown that the doctrine of eminent domain is on sure constitutional grounds, and has been held to apply in numerous similar cases. We believe we have shown that the resettlement plan offered by the government will be no hardship for the plaintiffs. . . .
"Fuckin' faggots," the cop said as we went out the door.
"All hail Discordia," I told him cheerfully. "Let's get out of this neighborhood," I added to Hagbard. "My car is right here," he said, pointing to a goddam Mercedes.
"For an anarchist, you sure live a lot like a capitalist," I commented as we got into that beautiful machine crystallized out of stolen labor and surplus value.
"I'm not a masochist," Hagbard replied. "The world makes me uncomfortable enough. I see no reason to make myself more uncomfortable. And I'm damned if I'll drive a broken-down jalopy that spends half its time in a garage being repaired merely because that would make me seem more 'dedicated' to you left-wing simpletons. Besides," he added practically, "the police never stop a Mercedes and search it. How many times a week do you get stopped and harassed, with your beard and your psychedelic Slaveswagon, you damned moralist?"
"Often enough," I admitted, "that I'm afraid to transport dope in it."
"This car is full of dope," he said blithely. "I'm making a big delivery to a dealer up in Evanston, on the Northwestern campus, tomorrow."
"You're in the dope business, too?"
"I'm in every illegal business. Every time a government declares something verboten, two groups! move in to service the black market created: the Mafia and the LDD. That stands for Lawless Delicacy Dealers."
"I thought it stood for Little Deluded Dupes."
He laughed. "Score one for Moon. Seriously, I'm the worst enemy governments have, and the best protection for the average person. The Mafia has no ethics, you know. If it wasn't for my group and our years and years of experience, everything on the black market, from dope to Canadian furs, would be shoddy and unreliable. We always give the customer his or her money's worth. Half the dope you sell probably has passed through my agents on its way to you. The better half."
"What was that homosexual business? Just buggin' old Bushman?"
"Entropy. Breaking the straight line into a curve ball."
"Hagbard," I said, "what the hell is your game?"
"Proving that government is a hallucination in the minds of governors," he said crisply. We turned onto Lake Shore Drive and sped north.
I've been feeling my Chakra Crown swirl for several weeks now, I've informed myself that it means I'm progressing spiritually or consciously which is nice. At first it was only when I was doing meditation, a ritual or reading about consciousness, today it has started to swirl seemingly randomly. Before my re-engaging in spiritual practice I only felt my third eye swirl sometimes and that was always at seemingly completely random times. I found this epic related song, pay attention to the lyrics.
People of the world
wherever you be
Welcome to Cosmic YOUniversity
Where life is the journey and love is the trip
And the study of them will make you hip
"The devil?" Father James Augustine Muldoon repeated. "Well, that's a very complicated story. Do you want me to go all the way back to Gnosticism?"
Saul, listening on the extension phone, nodded a vigorous affirmative.
"Go as far back as you have to," Barney said. "This is a complicated matter we're trying to untangle here."
"OK, I'll try to remember you're not in my theology class at Fordham and keep this as brief as I can."The priest's voice faded, then came back— probably he was shifting the phone as he got out of bed and moved to a chair, Saul guessed.
"There were many approaches to Gnosticism," the voice went on in a moment, "all of them centered on gnosis—direct experience of God— as distinguished from mere knowledge about God. The search for gnosis, or illumination as it was ometimes called, took many odd forms, some of them probably similar to Oriental yogas and some of them using the very same drugs that modern rebels against the slow path of orthodox religion have rediscovered. Naturally, with such a variety of paths to gnosis, different pilots would land at different ports, each insisting he had found the real New Jerusalem. Mystics are all a bit funny in the head anyway," the priest added cynically, "which is why
the church locks them all up in mental hospitals and euphemistically calls these institutions monasteries. But I digress.
"What you're interested in, I guess, is Cainism and Manicheanisra. The former regarded Cain as a specially holy figure because he was the first murderer. You have to be a mystic yourself to understand that kind of logic. The notion was that, by bringing murder into the world, Cain created an opportunity for people to renounce murder. But, then, other Cainites went further— paradox always seems to breed more paradox and heresy creates more heresy— and ended up glorifying murder, along with all the other sins. The credo was that you should commit every sin possible, just to give yourself a chance to win a really difficult redemption after repenting. Also, it gave God a
chance to be especially generous when He forgave you. Related ideas popped up in Tantric Buddhism about the same time, and it's a great historical mystery which group of lunatics, East or West, was influencing the other. Does any of this help you so far?"
"A bit," Barney said.
"About this gnosis," Saul asked, "is it the orthodox theological position that the illuminations or visions were actually coming from the Devil and not from God?"
"Yes. That's where Manicheanism enters the picture," Father Muldoon said. "The Manicheans made exactly the same charge against the orthodox church. According to their way of looking at it, the God of orthodox Christianity and orthodox Judaism, was the Devil. The god they contacted through their own peculiar rites was the real god. This, of course, is still the teaching of Satanists today."
"And," Saul asked, begining to intuit what the answer would be, "what has all this to do with atomic energy?" "With atomic energy? Nothing at all. . .at least, nothing that I can see. . . ."
"Why is Satan called the light-bringer?" Saul plunged on, convinced he was on the right track.
"The Manicheans reject the physical universe," the priest said slowly. "They say that the true god, their god, would never lower himself to mess around with matter. The God who created the world-our God, Jehovah— they call panurgia, which has the connotations of a kind of blind, stupid blundering force rather than a truly intelligent being. The realm which their god inhabits is pure spirit of pure light. Hence, he is called the light-bringer, and this universe is always called the realm of darkness. But they didn't know about atomic energy in those days— did they?" The last sentence had started as a statement and ended as a question.
"That's what I'm wondering," Saul said. "Atomic power releases a lot of light, doesn't it? And it sure would immanentize the Eschaton if enough atomic power was unleashed at once, wouldn't it?"
"Fernando Poo!" the priest exclaimed. "Is this connected with Fernando Poo?"
"I'm beginning to think so," Saul said. "I'm also beginning to think we've stayed in one place a long time, using a phone that is almost certainly tapped. We better get moving. Thanks, Father."
"You're quite welcome, although I'm sure I don't know what you're getting at," the priest said. "If you think Satanists control the United States government a few priests would agree with you, especially the Berrigan brothers, but I don't see how this can be a police matter. Does the New York Police Department now maintain a bureau of holy inquisitions?"
"Don't mind him," Barney said softly. "He's very cynical about dogma, like most clergymen these days."
"I heard that," the priest said. "I may be cynical but I really don't think Satanism is a joking matter. And your friend's theory is very plausible, in its way. After all, the Satanist's motive in infiltrating the church, in the old days, was to disgrace the institution thought to represent God on earth. Now that the United States government makes the same claim, well. That may be a joke or a paradox on my part, but it's the way their minds work, too. I am a professional cynic —a theologian must be, these days, if he isn't going to seem a total fool to young people with their skeptical minds— but I'm orthodox, or downright reactionary, about the Inquisitions. I've read all the rationalist historians, of course, and there was certainly an element of hysteria in the church in those days, but, still, Satanism is not any less frightening than cancer or plague. It is totally inimical to human life and, in fact, to all
life. The church had good reasons to be afraid of it. Just as people who are old enough to remember have good reasons to be panicky at any hint of a revival of Hitlerism."
Saul thought of the cryptic, evasive phrases in Eliphas Levy: "the monstrous gnosis of Manes . . . the cultus of material fire. . . ." And, nearly ten years ago, the hippies gathered at the Pentagon, hanging flowers on the M.P.'s rifles, chanting "Out, demon, out!" . . . Hiroshima ... the White Light of the Void. . . .
"Wait," Saul said. "Is there more to it than just ideas about killing? Isn't killing a mystical experience to the Satanists?" "Of course," the priest replied. "That's the whole point— they want gnosis, personal experience, not dogma, which is somebody else's word. Rationalists are always attacking dogma for causing fanaticism, but the worst fanatics start from gnosis. Modern psychologists are just beginning to understand some of this. You know how people in explosive group-therapy sessions talk about sudden bursts of energy occurring in the whole group at once? One can get the same effect with dancing and drum-beating; that's what is called a 'primitive' religion. Use drugs, nowadays, and you're a hippie. Do it with sex, and you're a witch, or one of the Knights Templar. Mass participation in an animal sacrifice has the same effect. Human sacrifice has been used in many religions, including the Aztec cult everybody has heard about, as well as in Satanism. Modern psychologists say that the force released is Freud's libidinal energy. Mystics call it prajna or the Astral Light. Whatever it is, human sacrifice seems to release more of it than sex or drugs or dancing or drum-beating or any less violent method and mass human sacrifice unleashes a ton of it. Now do you understand why I fear Satanism and half apologize for the Inquisition?"
"Yes," Saul said absently, "and I'm beginning to share your fear. ..." A song he hated was pounding inside his skull: Wenn das Judenblut vom Messer spritz. . .
He realized that he was holding the phone and seeing scenes forty years ago in another country. He jerked himself back to attention as Muldoon thanked his brother again and hung up. Saul raised his eyes and the two detectives exchanged glances of mutual dread. After a long pause, Muldoon said, "We can't trust anybody with this. We can hardly even trust each other."
Before Saul could answer the phone rang. It was Danny Pricefixer at headquarters. "Bad news. There was only one girl in research at Confrontation named Pat. Patricia Walsh to be exact, and—"
"I know," Saul said wearily, "she's disappeared, too."
"What are you going to do now? The FBI is still raising hell and demanding to know where you two are and the Commissioner is having the shits, the fits, and the blind staggers."
'Tell them," Saul said succinctly "that we've disappeared." He hung up carefully and began stuffing the memos back into the box.
"What now?" Muldoon asked.
"We go underground. And we stick to this until we crack it or it kills us."
Simon, in fact, had what can only be called a funky education. I mean, man, when your parents are both anarchists the Chicago public school system is going to do your head absolutely no good at all. Feature me in a 1956 classroom with Eisenhower's Moby Dick face on one wall and Nixon's Captain
Ahab glare on the other, and in between, standing in front of the inevitable American rag, Miss Doris Day or her older sister telling the class to take home a leaflet explaining to their parents why it's important for them to vote.
"My parents don't vote," I say.
"Well, this leaflet will explain to them why they should," she tells me with the real authentic Doris Day sunshine and Kansas cornball smile. It's early in the term and she hasn't heard about me from the last-semester teacher.
"I really don't think so," I say politely. "They don't think it makes any difference whether Eisenhower or Stevenson is in the White House. They say the orders will still come from Wall Street."
It's like a thundercloud. All the sunshine goes away. They never prepared her for this in the school where they turn out all these Doris Day replicas. The wisdom of the Fathers is being questioned. She opens her mouth and closes it and opens and closes it and finally takes such a deep breath that every boy in the room (we're all on the cusp of puberty) gets a hard-on from watching her breasts heave up
and slide down again. I mean, they're all praying (except me, I'm an atheist, of course) that they won't get called on to stand up; if it wouldn't attract attention, they'd be clubbing their dicks down with their geography books. "That's the wonderful thing about this country," she finally gets out, "even people with opinions like that can say what they want without going to jail."
"You must be nuts," I say. "My dad's been in and out of jail so many times they should put in a special revolving door just for him: My mom, too. You oughta go out with subversive leaflets in this town and see what happens."
Then, of course, after school, a gang of patriots, with the odds around seven-to-one, beat the shit out of me and make me kiss their red-white-and-blue totem. It's no better at home. Mom's an anarcho-pacifist, Tolstoy and all that, and she wants me to say I didn't fight back. Dad's a Wobbly and wants to be sure that I hurt some of them at least as bad as they hurt me. After they yell at me for a half hour, they yell at each other for two. Bakunin said this and Kropotkin said that and Gandhi said the other and Martin Luther King is the savior of America and Martin Luther King is a bloody fool selling his people an opium Utopia and all that jive. Go down to Wobbly Hall or Solidarity Bookstore and you'll still hear the same debate, doubled, redoubled, in spades, and vulnerable.
(While the most obscure, seemingly trivial part of the whole puzzle appeared in a department store in
Houston. It was a sign that said:
NO SMOKING. NO SPITTING.
This replaced an earlier sign that had hung on the main showroom wall for many years, saying only
The change, although small, had subtle repercussions. The store catered only to the very wealthy,
and this clientele did not object to being told that they could not smoke. The fire hazard, after all, was obvious. On the other hand, that bit about spitting was somehow a touch offensive; they most certainly were not the sort of people who would spit on somebody's floor-or, at least, none of them had done such a thing at any time since about one month or at most one year after they became wealthy. Yes, the sign was definitely bad diplomacy.
Resentment festered. Sales fell off. And membership in the Houston branch of God's Lightning increased. Wealthy, powerful membership.
(The odd thing was that the Management had nothing at all to do with the sign.)
[Sorry for the initial formatting, but blogger editing and copy pasting from PDF is a pain in the 3rd eye :p]
On the one hand World of Warcraft, like any other MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game), is a bottomless abyss of a time-vortex that is designed to keep players hooked, on the other hand though if you can see through the obvious ways to keep you playing continuously - people who study game-design get classes in psychology that focus on getting people as addicted as possible: leveling up characters, releasing new gear and rewards periodically, (daily) quests, weekly rewards for dungeons and raids, professions to level, 'farming' for gold, achievements, etc and sombunall MMORPG players are genuinely addicted - it's wonderful fantasy with rich storytelling and symbolism inspired by many different mythologies.
The elements of water, earth, air and fire are represented in many ways. In the last expansion Cataclysm the elements received their own zones and instances as well.
Earth: Deepholm aka Deephome aka The Elemental Earth Plane.
The Sunken City of Vashj'ir is located in a complete underwater zone, a heavy nod to Atlantis. Azshara, once the proud capitol of the Night Elves was submerged after her visor's arrogant experiments with magic unleashed the demons of the Burning Legion, exploding the Well of Eternity which submerged the city and was the end of one era and the beginning of a new one.
"The water spirits were called undines. These beings were thought to be larger and more graceful than the earth spirits, with beautiful bodies and lascivious minds." Jan Fries' Visual Magick
The Naga - Serpent People of Vashj'ir
Fire: the Firelands & Mount Hyjal
Air: Uldum & Vortex Pinnacle
Deathwing: the former Earth Aspect who went mad through "whispers of the Old Gods".
As anyone might go mad by being taken over by the primitive and/or darker aspects of their consciousness or ancient invoked gods without proper banishing or such.
His minions are part of a deranged cult called the Hour of Twilight who walked around major cities in "end is nigh" mode
High Priestess Azil and 99 (3x33) cult followers kneeling in front of her.
Before the Dragon that went mad through the Old Gods, the Lich King was the main villain:
The Lich King was sent to Azeroth through the Great Dark Beyond, landing in Northrend where the ice that encased him formed into the shape of a throne, The Frozen Throne. Here, he would begin the formation of the Undead Scourge and in the process weaken the world in preparation for the Burning Legion. This new army would not fall victim to the petty infighting that had caused the orcs to fail in conquering Azeroth earlier. Sent to watch over him were the dreadlords, led by Tichondrius himself. Within the Frozen Throne, the Lich King experimented with his psychic powers and enslaved the local indigenous life forms. The plague of undeath that came from the Frozen Throne transformed each of them into his undead servants. Thus, using his psychic and necromantic powers, he was able to conquer much of Northrend. As he devoured more and more souls, he only grew in power as the individual undead under his control gave him "much needed nourishment". (Some conspiracy theorists believe the Cabal that run the world have sealed a demonic pact and have to offer a steady supply of death to feed their masters.)
Before the Lich King, the Burning Legion, an army of demons led by the fallen Titan Sargeras.
One of his Generals, Archimonde performs an act of destructive magick:
The Dark Portal, a portal between Azeroth and Outland through which the Burning Legion tried to invade Azeroth again:
One of the Burning Legions Champions (or is he): Illidan Stormrage:
Illidan sacrificed his reputation and his life to infiltrate the Burning Legion in order to save his people. I like to equate him with Aleister Crowley who sacrificed his reputation and did tons of good for humanity too (like liberating and inspiring tons of new great inspirers), just like the Dark Knight. Telling symbolism: When he infiltrated the Burning Legion, his 'master' burnt out his eyes
and gave him Magical Sight instead. Illidan in the end was banished by his people because he drank from the Well of Eternity and through pouring 3 vials into a lake in Mount Hyjal started a new Well of Eternity which the people feared. In some vague way this could be some kind of reference to Crowley's Boleskine House antics at Loch Ness.
Documentary: Aleister Crowley - The Other Loch Ness Monster
The next Expansion will focus on Eastern Themes, the new class will be the Monk, and the new race the Pandaran, a laid back yin-yang brewmastering windwalking mistweaving Panda-bear!
Some class-specific symbolism
The warlock: A warlock controls several demons and can also turn into one through Metamorphosis. A warlock who wants to train new spells in the city of Stormwind, has to go to the basement of the tavern the Slaughtered Lamb to find his warlock masters.
The mage can spec either Frost (with a Water Elemental), Fire or Arcane (playing with the very fabric of time and space.) Mages and warlocks obviously use Staves, Wands, Athames, Grimoires, Magic Lamps and more!
Druids are able to shapeshift into Bears, Panthers, Owlkin/Moonkin, Trees, Jaguar or Stag (soon), Sealion or Orca (soon) and Birds. They control the element of Air (Hurricane and Typhoon), and nature energy.
A druid's Hurricane, like many other spells, is cast by placing a Magic Triangle within a Circle reticule on the floor:
Shaman use Totems of each Element and can shapeshift into a Ghost Wolf. Some noteable spells: Healing Rain, Lightning Bolt, Earthquake, summon Spirit Wolves, Earth & Fire Elemental.
A priest uses holy spells, Chakra and becomes a Guardian Spirit for a while after dying. They can heal through the talent trees Holy or Discipline, but they can also become Shadow Priests with the ability Vampiric Embrace.
Paladins are knights of the holy light, who wield holy power. Some of their spells are Consecration which emits a holy energy on the floor, or Divine Shield which is similar to the Energy Cocoon of Reiki practitioners.
A warrior in WOW uses Berserker Rage. From Jan Fries' Visual Magick: In times of war, some Fylgia would overwhelm and possess their human friends. 'Going beserk' refers to the old and honourable custom of being possessed bya Fylgia in fighting rage. In such trance-states, ordinary human consciousness would be flooded in a tide of beasdy rage and violence, leaving no space for the squeaky little ego to doubt, despair or flee. Berserkers (meaning 'in bear skins') were famed for their wildness, their 'inhuman' reflexes and their ability to endure severe wounds without noticing them.
Another excerpt of Jan Fries' Visual Magick: In the philosophy of the Greeks, starting with Empedocles (c.500-430 BCE), the world was considered as a blend of the four elements earth, water, fire and air. Quite naturally these elements had their spirits. Earth spirits were known as dwarves, gnomes, earth people and sometimes as giants. These beings were said to be the sentience of the earth, the consciousness of heavy, strong, formed and fertile matter. Some even considered the quartz crystals to be dwarves; the word 'quartz' comes from querch, which is a form of 'zwerch' or 'zwerg' meaning 'dwarf. (Image: An Earthen Dwarf.)
The Vrykul are heavily influenced by Norse mythology.
Professions in WOW include Scribes who make Glyphs. Enchanters that can charge equipment and weapons with power. Jewelcrafters who can cut citrines and other gems. Alchemists who make potions. Tailors who make flying carpets, etc.
The old and current glyph systems.
The Symbol of the Kirin Tor.
The magocrats in WOW formed the Kirin Tor as a specialized sect that was charged with cataloging and researching every spell, artifact, and magic item known to mankind at the time. The Kirin Tor became Dalaran's (a floating city) ruling power. The Kirin Tor’s headquarters was the Violet Citadel, an impressive building so named for its stone walls which gave off a faint violet light. The ruling council, six members in all, met in the Chamber of the Air, a room with no visible walls — the gray stone floor with its central diamond symbol stood beneath an open sky that shifted and changed rapidly, as if the time sped past within the chamber.
You may have noticed I am doing a redonculous amount of reading lately, some might wonder how I'm managing this, so in an effort to motivate people to read more (I know I have times when I just am not 'able' to read when I want to.) here goes: It's not that hard! first of all, I don't read one book from start to finish and then pick up another one. I sometimes read over 5 or more books at a time. Sometimes if I finish one book - I will have read parts of tens of books alongside it. I compare reading to watching several tv series rather than a long movie, a long movie is hard to sit through as the attention span of the average individual nowadays can't handle to keep focused that long. Yet you can always pauze in watching episodes of a tv series and watch an episode of another series and then watch another one a few days or even weeks later when you feel like it. I usually try to finish a chapter, though it's no necessity. It also brings some nice synchronicities and coming together or elaborating on certain subjects when mixing books.
Sometimes the author in a book will touch on something which just doesn't interest me or serves me little at the time, and I find when I pick up the book (open the pdf again) later, I seem to have more use for the information since I have learned and read other things connected to it by now. There's no shame in skipping chapters entirely either, you can skim through 'em to see if there isn't anything interesting there to be sure. You can totally stop reading a book for a while too. For instance I stopped reading Lon Milo Duquette's book The Key To Solomon's Key cause the next chapter is about Goetic Invocation, something I am not interested or ready for in my novice Magickal career.
Speed Reading is highly recommended to invest some time to learn if you want to do a lot of reading. Now speed reading an entire book won't work that well cause the comprehension drops as the speed increases, but it will inevitably speed up your reading and whenever it gets boring or less practical or useful you can speedread (which is grouping words or half-lines without subvocalizing them) through a section or chapter fast and gain a lot of time, the time invested in learning speedreading has been more than worth it! Download EyeQ and do it everyday (DO IT) and you'll be off in no time. I think I spent a month or more practicting speedreading and never had to use a program again after it.
The video is someone reading a passage from the book Visual Magick.
Jan Fries is a German freestyle Shamanic Magician and his book gives a lot of helpful pointers concerning sigils, mandalas, visualisation and lots more to do with visual magick. Together with Wicca: a guide for the solitary practitioner by Scott Cunningham, it's been quite helpful in helping me style and create my own rituals. At the moment I'm not too much into theatrics, I just find a way to optimally visualise a sigil while in some altered form of consciousness, or perform another act to represent my will. For a fast ritual, I visualise a sigil while spinning like a whirling dervish, weeee! I am working to prepare for some longer rituals though, for rituals involving Hermes, Aphrodite and lifting off to Astral Travel respectively.
It's also related, as coincidAnce would have it, to Energized Hypnosis as it also touches on language patterns and habits. You can read the full book here on scribd.
Energized Hypnosis is a collaboration between Christopher Hyatt and Calvin Iwema. Very fun to read as the text is very highlighted and uses NLP language patterns. I thought since I didn't get much out of the Undoing exercises I still might give this a try and didn't regret it. The book is quite short and you go through it in a breeze.
I also really enjoyed the audio hypnosis change session by Calvin Iwema which brought me quite deep (though I was already quite high from other meditations before so will see how another session goes tomorrow and let you know.) It also features a HILARIOUS mp3 of Israel Regardie's Guru Hymn to the Grinning Giggling Monkey-Faced Guru!
Yet another post about Dharana meditation, I've been doing this meditation near-daily (missing like 3 days the last month and a half) and while I still am not able to hold a triangle still in my mind's eye for a prolonged time, here's a tip for anyone else trying this and struggling.
Do not look at the triangle with your (closed) eye(ball)s, let your eyes rest however they may and visualise a 3D triangle hovering still in front of you. Now it will want to get away from you very fast by either disappearing or moving way to the sides, then just take control of it. Moving it yourself is considered more advanced, but you can move it anytime it acts up and then set it back into a comfortable space where you're able to keep it, for me that's hovering still just a few feet in front of my face and it's going pretty well recently.
So I've been exploring the Undoing Yourself stuff by Christopher S. Hyatt and at the risk of proving my extreme ignorance I really can't say it's doing much for me at all. Let me first say that I loved reading the book Undoing Yourself with Energized Meditation, I found the writing style hilarious at the time. Trying to re-read it however, it's a bit too grumpy for my tastes. I've got another double cd, and a dvd-cd-booklet package. Now the cd's are mostly just Hyatt bitching about the world and blowing up his own ego, almost nothing of worth is said in them and that's no exaggeration, the booklet for the first DVD, exactly the same, just mostly whining about random shit. Then we get to the DVD, now, the exercises in the original book didn't do much for me either. Since they consist of mostly pulling faces and kicking legs, I'm not too surprised. Same with the DVD, pull faces, do some stuff with your arms, roll your eyes and tongue around and say "ah" when exhaling.
I'm sorry, I know a lot of people reading this blog will be a fan of Dr. Hyatt and I was one too when first reading his book as he was part of my favorite 'crew' (even though he disses Crowley and Leary about every chance he gets, sometimes rightly so), but I don't see much merit in his system. In one sense I'm glad that half the material is just bitching sessions instead of actually useful information and guided audio, otherwise I might still be at it.
I think Hatha Yoga & Reiki will do about the same for energy blockages as this system will. I think it's not just the exercises and the few noticeable effects they cause, but also the way the man comes across on audio and video, he just seemed a grumpy old man. Just youtube him, I saw a video yesterday of him talking about his hobbies while sounding like he wanted to stab himself right there. I would have loved to see how he and Lon Duquette interacted when writing together as Lon seems such a cheery person. How can I follow a man's system to undo myself of emotional blockages, if the man who taught it seemed very emotionally blocked? He looked grumpy as hell when smiling!
Now I only judged after one book, double cd, a cd, a booklet and a dvd. But God help me if I have to listen to another hour of his bitching. I just can't do it just to see if there's a tidbit of actually useful information somewhere in there. I'm not saying there are no effects, sure there are. But the facepulling does just about as much as the 'body armor' exercise I usually do after a Hatha Yoga session, and of course the breathing has an effect but it's just like any other breathing exercise. According to the guy undergoing some exercises on the DVD, he had a spontaneous laughing session he couldn't stop, yet for some reason it's not on film... Later after showing exercises by his girlfriend, suddenly he is supposedly trembling after an exercise yet we don't see what caused it. I'm open to any comments or thoughts about this, but after putting in many hours exploring it for the last few days (and I realize they are supposed to be done longer than that), I can't say I will be Undoing myself anymore through these means. Let me know in the comments if you have undergone the exercises and disagree or whatever thoughts you have on the matter. Maybe I just need to keep it up longer to have any effects and I just made a complete fool of myself, but I just had to share.
These are all excerpts from the first 30 pages, brilliant!
Whatever the Illuminati were aiming at had not been accomplished. Proof: If it had, they would not still be conspiring in secret.
Since almost everything has been tried in the course of human history, find out what hasn't been tried(at least not on a large scale)-and that will be the condition to which the Illuminati are trying to move the rest of mankind.
Capitalism had been tried. Communism has been tried. Even Henry George's Single Tax has been tried, in Australia. Fascism, feudalism and mysticism have been tried. Anarchism has never been tried.
Anarchism was frequently associated with assassinations. It had an appeal for freethinkers, such as Kropotkin and Bakunin, but also for religious idealists, like Tolstoy and Dorothy Day of the CatholicWorker movement. Most anarchists hoped, Joachim-like, to redistribute the wealth, but Rebecca had once told him about a classic of anarchist literature, Max Stirner's The Ego and His Own, which had been called "the Billionaire's Bible" because it stressed the advantages the rugged individualist would gain in a stateless society-and Cecil Rhodes was an adventurer before he was a banker. The Illuminati were anarchists.
It all fit: the pieces of the puzzle slipped together smoothly.
Saul was convinced. He was also wrong.
"That's biological-bacteriological and biological-chemical," the President explained to the Vice-President, who was frowning. "It has nothing to do with B-B guns." Turning his attention back to the military men, he asked, "What have we got specifically that will curdle Ivan's blood?"
"Well, there's Anthrax-Leprosy-Mu. . . . It's worse than any form of anthrax. More deadly than
bubonic and anthrax and leprosy all in one lump. As a matter of fact," the General who was speaking
smiled grimly at the thought, "our evaluation suggests that "with death being so quick, the
psychological demoralization of the survivors-if there are any survivors-will be even worse than in
thermonuclear exchange with maximum 'dirty' fallout."
"By golly," the President said. "By golly. We won't use that out in the open. My speech'll just talk
Bomb, but we'll leak it to the boys in the Kremlin that we've got this anthrax gimmick in cold
storage, too. By gosh, you just wait and see them back down." He stood up, decisive, firm, the image
he always projected on television. "I'm going to see my speech writers right now. Meanwhile,
arrange that the brain responsible for this Anthrax-Pi gets a raise. What's his name?" he asked over
his shoulder going out the door.
"Mocenigo. Dr. Charles Mocenigo."
"A raise for Dr. Charles Mocenigo," the President called from the hallway.
"Mocenigo?" the Vice-President asked thoughtfully. "Is he a wop?"
"Don't say wop," the President shouted back. "How many times do I have to tell you? Don't say wop
or kike or any of those words anymore." He spoke with some asperity, since he lived daily with the dread that someday the secret tapes he kept of all" Oval Room transactions would be released to the public. He had long ago vowed that if that day ever came, the tapes would not be full of "(expletive deleted)" or "(characterization deleted)." He was harassed, but still he spoke with authority. He was, in fact, characteristic of the best type of dominant male in the world at this time. He was fifty-five years old, tough, shrewd, unburdened by the complicated ethical ambiguities which puzzle intellectuals, and had long ago decided that the world was a mean son-of-a-bitch in which only the most cunning and ruthless can survive. He was also as kind as was possible for one holding that ultra-Darwinian philosophy; and he genuinely loved children and dogs, unless they were on the site of something that had to be bombed in the National Interest. He still retained some sense of humor, despite the burdens of his almost godly office, and, although he had been impotent with his wife for nearly ten years now, he generally achieved orgasm in the mouth of a skilled prostitute within 1.5 minutes. He took amphetamine pep pills to keep going on his grueling twenty-hour day, with the result that his vision of the world was somewhat skewed in a paranoid direction, and he took tranquilizers to keep from worrying too much, with the result that his detachment sometimes bordered on the schizophrenic; but most of the time his innate shrewdness gave him a fingernail grip on reality. In short, he was much like the rulers of Russia and China.
The Presidents actual television broadcast was transmitted to the world at 10:30 P.M. EST, March 31. The Russians and Chinese were given twenty-four hours to get out of Fernando Poo or the skies over Santa Isobel would begin raining nuclear missiles: "This is darn serious," the Chief Executive said, "and America will not shirk its responsibility to the freedom-loving people of Fernando Poo!"
The broadcast concluded at 11 P.M. EST, and within two minutes people attempting to get reservations on trains, planes, busses or car pools to Canada had virtually every telephone wire in the country overloaded.
In Moscow, where it was ten the next morning, the Premier called a conference and said crisply, "That character in Washington is a mental lunatic, and he means it. Get our men out of Fernando Poo right away, then find out who authorized sending them in there in the first place and transfer him to
be supervisor of a hydroelectric works in Outer Mongolia."
"We don't have any men in Fernando Poo," a commissar said mournfully. 'The Americans are
imagining things again."
"Well, how the hell can we withdraw men if we don't have them there in the first place?" the Premier
"I don't know. We've got twenty-four hours to figure that out, or-" the commissar quoted an old
Russian proverb which means, roughly, that when the polar bear excrement interferes with the fan
belts, the machinery overheats.
"Suppose we just announce that our troops are coming out?" another commissar suggested. "They
can't say we're lying if they don't find any of our troops there afterward."
"No, they never believe anything we say. They want to be shown," the premier said thoughtfully.
"We'll have to infiltrate some troops surreptitiously and then withdraw them with a lot of fanfare and
publicity. That should do it."
"I'm afraid it won't end the problem," another pommissar said funereally. "Our intelligence indicates
that there are Chinese troops there. Unless Peking backs down, we're going to be caught in the
middle when the bombs start flying and-" he quoted a proverb about the man in the intersection when
two manure trucks collide.
"Damn," the Premier said. "What the blue blazes do the Chinese want with Fernando Poo?"
He was harassed, but still he spoke with authority. He was, in fact, characteristic of the best type of dominant male in the world at this time. He was fifty-five years old, tough, shrewd, unburdened by the complicated ethical ambiguities which puzzle intellectuals, and had long ago decided that the world was a mean son-of-a-bitch in which only the most cunning and ruthless can survive. He was also as kind as was possible for one holding that ultra Darwinian philosophy; and he genuinely loved children and dogs, unless they were on the site of something that had to be bombed in the National Interest. He still retained some sense of humor, despite the burdens of his almost godly office, and although he had been impotent with his wife for nearly ten years now, he generally achieved orgasm in the mouth of a skilled prostitute within 1.5 minutes. He took amphetamine pep pills to keep going on his grueling twenty-hour day, with the result that his vision of the world was somewhat skewed in a paranoid direction, and he took tranquilizers to keep from worrying too much, with the result that his detachment sometimes bordered on schizophrenia; but most of the time his innate shrewdness gave him a fingernail grip on reality. In short, he was much like the rulers of America and China.
"We'll just get our troops out of Fernando Poo," the Chairman of the Chinese Communist party said
on April 1. "A place that size isn't worth world war."
"But we don't have any troops there," an aide told him, "it's the Russians who do."
"Oh?" the Chairman quoted a proverb to the effect that there was urine in the rosewater. "I wonder
what the hell the Russians want with Fernando Poo?" he added thoughtfully.
He was harassed, but still he spoke with authority. He was, in fact, characteristic of the best type of
dominant male in the world at this time. He was fifty-five years old, tough, shrewd, unburdened by
the complicated ethical ambiguities which puzzle intellectuals, and had long ago decided that the
world was a mean son-of-a-bitch in which only the most cunning and ruthless can survive. He was
also as kind as was possible for one holding that ultra-Darwinian philosophy; and he genuinely loved
children and dogs, unless they were on the site of something that had to be bombed in the National
Interest. He still retained some sense of humor, despite the burdens of his almost godly office, and,
although he had been impotent with his wife for nearly ten years now, he generally achieved orgasm
in the mouth of a skilled prostitute within 1.5 minutes. He took amphetamine pep pills to keep going
on his grueling twenty-hour day, with the result that his vision of the world was somewhat skewed in
a paranoid direction, and he took tranquilizers to keep from worrying too much, with the result that
his detachment sometimes bordered on the schizophrenic; but most of the time his innate shrewdness
gave him a fingernail grip on reality. In short, he was much like the rulers of America and Russia.
Hagbard Celine's gigantic computer, FUCKUP-First Universal Cybernetic-Kinetic-Ultramicro-Programmer- was basically a rather sophisticated form of the standard self-programming algorithmic
logic machine of the time; the name was one of his whimsies. FUCKUP's real claim to uniqueness
was a programmed stochastic process whereby it could "throw" an I Ching hexagram, reading' a
random open circuit as a broken (yin) line and a random closed circuit as a full (yang) line until six
such "lines" were round. Consulting its memory banks, where the whole tradition of 1 Ching
interpretation was stored, and then cross-checking its current scannings of that day's political,
economic, meteorological, astrological, astronomical, and technological eccentricities, it would
provide a reading of the hexagram which, to Hagbard's mind, combined the best of the scientific and
occult methods for spotting oncoming trends.