Saturday, April 21, 2012

Conspiracy facts, not theories. (Reblogged from Relaxed Focus)

Reblogged from Relaxed Focus: Conspiracy theories don't require "belief."  People, groups, organizations and governments conspire all the time.  It's their natural state.  Which is why criminal law throughout the world recognizes the crime of conspiracy.

Just read one link, read about Operation Northwoods.  And once you read that the Joint Chiefs of Staff proposed false flag terrorist attacks on American targets to provoke & justify conflict with Cuba, then you realize the government is capable of anything.  Then consider it was proposed in 1962 and wasn't made public until 1997.  Thirty five years.  Then extrapolate all the things going on now that you won't find out for years, if ever.

via Reddit:  61 years after the failed Bay of Pigs invasion, the CIA still claims that the release of its history would "confuse the public." (nsarchive.wordpress.com)
[–]Negro_Napoleon 1275 points  ago* 
This should be standard reading for all US citizens.
SURPRISE. YOUR GOVERNMENT LIES.
This is why no matter what they ever say or do, you should not trust them completely.
Its why I can't get over the 9/11 conspiracies totally.
Its funny how people can see this shit and just say "fuck conspiracy theorists"
No. Fuck you.
There is a difference between just utter bullshit and really plausible events that HAVE happened.
The unfortunate thing is that people aren't even aware of the stuff thats in public domain and how utterly crazy it is before they can assess what is going on.

Reblogged from Relaxed Focus!

deadmau5 - Raise your weapon


Rippin' my heart was so easy, so easy
Launch your assault now, take it easy
Raise your weapon, raise your weapon
One word and it's over

Rippin' through like a missile
Rippin' through my heart
Rob me of this love
Raise your weapon, raise your weapon and it's over

Love your ego, you won't feel a thing
Always number one
The pen with a bent wrist crooked king
Sign away our peace for your war, one word and it's over

Dropping your bombs now
On all we've built
How does it feel now to watch it burn, burn, burn?
Raise your weapons, raise your weapons and it's over

Rippin' through like a missile
Rippin' through my heart, rob me of this love
Raise your weapon, raise your weapon and it's over
How does it feel now to watch it burn, burn, burn?

Friday, April 20, 2012

Illuminatus! Excerpt: Profundity or asininity?

"You've got to realize," Hagbard went on, "that life is a coming apart and death is a coming together. Does that help?" 

("I never know whether Hagbard is talking profundity or asininity," George said dreamily, toking away.) "Reincarnation works backward in time," Hagbard went on, as the narcs opened drawers and peered under chairs. 

"You always get reborn into an earlier historical period. Mussolini is a witch in the 14th century now, and catching hell from the Inquisitors for his bum karma in this age. People who 'remember' the past are all deluded. The only ones who really remember past incarnations remember the future, and they become science-fiction writers."

More (there was always more, with Hagbard), he had been impressed, on reading Weishaupt's Uber
Strip Schnipp-Schnapp, Weltspielen and Funfwissenschaft, by the passage on the Order of Assassins,
which read:
Surrounded by Moslem maniacs on one side and Christian maniacs on the other, the wise Lord Hassan preserved his people and his cult by bringing the art of assassination to esthetic perfection. With just a few daggers strategically placed in exactly the right throats, he found Wisdom's alternative to war, and preserved the peoples by killing their leaders. Truly, his was a most exemplary life of grandmotherly kindness. 

In a second, he remembered: the Mu-Mon-Kan or "Gateless Gate" of Rinzai Zen contained a story about a monk who kept asking a Zen Master, "What is the Buddha?" Each time he asked, he got hit upside the head with the Master's staff. Finally discouraged, he left and sought enlightenment with another Master, who asked him why he had left the previous teacher. When the poor gawk explained, the second Master gave him the ontological hotfoot: "Go back to your previous Master at once," he cried, "and apologize for not showing enough appreciation of his grandmotherly kindness!"

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Not feeling it


Thursday, April 19, 2012

In the beginning


Illuminatus! Excerpt: Now look what you made me do!

Is the thought of a unicorn a real thought? In a sense, that is the basic question of philosophy— 

I thought you were going to tell me a story, not launch into some dreary German metaphysics. I had
enough of that at the University.   

The thought of a unicorn is a real thought, then, to be brief. So is the thought of the Redeemer on the Cross, the Cow who Jumped Over the Moon, the lost continent of Mu, the Gross National Product, the Square Root of Minus One, and anything else capable of mobilizing emotional energy. And so, in a sense, Eris and the other Olympians were, and are, real. At the same time, in another sense, there is only one True God and your redeemer in His only begotten son; and the lloigor, like Tsathoggua, are real enough to reach out and draw you into their world, which is on the other side of Nightmare. But I promised to keep the philosophy to a minimum.

You recall the story of the Golden Apple, in the exoteric and expurgated version at least? The true version is the same, up to a point. Zeus, a terrible old bore by the way, did throw a bash on Olympus, and he did slight Our Lady by not inviting Her. She did make an apple, but it was Acapulco Gold, not metallic gold. She wrote Kallisti, on it, to the prettiest one, and rolled it into the banquet hall. Everybody— not just the goddesses; that's a male chauvinist myth— started fighting over who had the right to smoke it. Paris was never called in to pass judgment; that's all some poet's fancy. The Trojan War was just another imperialistic rumble and had no connection with these events at all.

What really happened was that everybody was squabbling over the apple and working up a sweat and pushing one another around and pretty soon their vibrations— Gods have very high vibration, exactly at the speed of light, in fact— heated up the apple enough to unleash some heavy fumes. In a word, the Olympians all got stoned.

And they saw a Vision, or a series of Visions. 

In the first Vision, they saw Yahweh, a neighboring god with a world of his own which overlapped theirs in some places. He was clearing the set to change its valence and start a new show. His method struck them as rather barbarous. He was, in fact, drowning everybody— except one family that he allowed to escape in an Ark.

"This is Chaos," said Hermes. "That Yahweh is a mean mother', even for a god."

And they looked at the Vision more closely, and because they could see into the future and were all (like every intelligent entity) rabid Laurel and Hardy fans and because they were zonked on the weed, they saw that Yahweh bore the face of Oliver Hardy. All around him, below the mountain on which he lived (his world was fiat), the waters rose and rose. They saw drowning men, drowning women, innocent babes sinking beneath the waves. They were ready to vomit. And then Another came and stood beside Yahweh, looking at the panorama of horrors below, and he was Yahweh's Adversary, and, stoned as they were, he looked like Stanley Laurel to them. And then Yahweh spoke, in the eternal words of Oliver Hardy: "Now look what you made me do," he said.

And that was the first Vision. 

They looked again, and they saw Lee Harvey Oswald perched in the window of the Texas School Book Depository; and he, again, wore the face of Stanley Laurel. And, because this world had been created by a great god named Earl Warren, Oswald fired the only shots that day, and John Fitzgerald Kennedy was, as the Salvation Army charmingly expresses it, "promoted to glory."

"This is Confusion," said Athena with her owl-eyes flashing, for she was more familiar with the world created by the god Mark Lane.

Then they saw a hallway, and Oswald-Laurel was led out between two policemen. Suddenly Jack Ruby, with the face of Oliver Hardy, stepped forward and fired a pistol right into that frail little body. And then Ruby spoke the eternal words, to the corpse at his feet: "Now look what you made me do," he said.

And that was the second Vision. 

Next, they saw a city of 550,000 men, women and children, and in an instant the city vanished; shadows remained where the men were gone, a firestorm raged, burning pimps and infants and an old statue of a happy Buddha and mice and dogs and old men and lovers; and a mushroom cloud arose above it all. This was in a world created by the crudest of all gods, Realpolitik.
"This is Discord," said Apollo, disturbed, laying down his lute.

Harry Truman, a servant of Realpolitik, wearing the face of Oliver Hardy, looked upon his work and saw that it was good. But beside him, Albert Einstein, a servant of that most elusive and gnomic of gods, Truth, burst into tears, the familiar tears of Stanley Laurel facing the consequences of his own karma. For a brief instant, Truman was troubled, but then he remembered the eternal words: "Now look what you made me do," he said.

And that was the third Vision.

Now they saw trains, many trains, all of them running on time, and the trains criss-crossed Europe and ran 24 hours a day, and they all came to a few destinations that were alike. There, the human cargo was stamped, catalogued, processed, executed with gas, tabulated, recorded, stamped again, cremated and disposed.

"This is Bureaucracy," said Dionysus, and he smashed his wine jug in anger; beside him, his lynx glared balefully.

And then they saw the man who had ordered this, Adolf Hitler, wearing still the mask of Oliver Hardy, and he turned to a certain rich man, Baron Rothschild, wearing the mask of Stanley Laurel, and they knew this was the world created by the god Hegel and the angel Thesis was meeting the demon Antithesis. Then Hitler spoke the eternal words: "Now look what you made me do," he said. 
And that was the fourth Vision. 

They did then look further and, lo, high as they were they saw the founding of a great republic and proclamations hailing new gods named Due Process and Equal Rights for All. And they saw many in high places in the republic form a separate cult and worship Mammon and Power. And the Republic became an Empire, and soon Due Process and Equal Rights for All were not worshipped, and even Mammon and Power were given only lip-service, for the true god of all was now the impotent What Can I Do and his dull brother What We Did Yesterday and his ugly and vicious sister Get Them Before They Get Us.

"This is Aftermath," said Hera, and her bosom shook with tears for the fate of the children of that nation.

And they saw many bombings, many riots, many rooftop snipers, many Molotov cocktails. And they saw the capital city in ruins, and the leader, wearing the face of Stanley Laurel, taken prisoner amid the rubble of his palace. And they saw the chief of the revolutionaries look about at the rubble and the streets full of corpses, and they heard him sigh, and then he addressed the leader, and he spoke the eternal words: "Now look what you made me do," he said.

And that was the fifth Vision. 

And now the Olympians were coming down and they looked at each other in uncertainty and dismay.
Zeus himself spoke first.

"Man," he said, "that was Heavy Grass."

"Far fuckin out," Hermes agreed solemnly.

"Tree fuckin mendous," added Dionysus, petting his lynx."

"We were really fuckin into it," Hera summed up, for all. 

And they turned their eyes again on the Golden Apple and read the word Our Lady Eris had written upon it, that most multiordinal of all words, Kallisti. And they knew that each god and goddess, and each man and woman, was in the privacy of the heart, the prettiest one, the fairest; the most innocent, the Best. And they repented themselves of not having invited Our Lady Eris to their party, and they summoned her forth and asked her, "Why did you never tell us before that all categories are false and all Good and Evil a delusion of limited perspective?" 

And Eris said, "As men and women are actors on a stage of our devising, so are we actors on the
stage devised by the Five Fates. You had to believe in Good and Evil and pass judgments on your
creatures, the men and women below. It was a curse the Fates put upon you! But now you have come
to the Great Doubt and you are free." 

The Olympians thereupon lost interest in the god-game and soon were forgotten by humanity. For
She had shown them a great Light, and a great Light destroys shadows; and we are all, gods and
mortals, nothing else but gliding shadows. Do you believe that? 

"No," said Fission Chips. 

"Very well," the Dealy Lama said somberly. "Begone, back to the world of maya!"

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Better

"Better to die on our feet than to live on our knees!"
Emiliano Zapata Salazar

Illuminatus! Excerpt: Excerpt from the Dishonest Book of Lies

There came unto the High Chapperal one who had studied in the schools of the Purple Sage and of the Hung Mung Tong and of the Illuminati and of the many other schools;
and this one had found no peace yet.
Yea: of the Discordians and the teachers of Mummu and of the Nazarene and of the Buddha he had studied; and he had found no peace yet.
And he spake to the High Chapperal and said: Give me a sign, that I may believe.
And the High Chapperal said unto him: Leave my presence, and seek ye the horizon and the sign shall come unto you, and ye shall seek no more.
And the man turned and sought of the horizon; but the High Chapperal crept up behind him and raised his foot and did deliver a most puissant kick in the man's arse, which smarted much and humiliated the seeker grievously.
He who has eyes, let him read and understand.

—"The Book of Grandmotherly Kindness," The Dishonest Book of Lies, by Mordecai Malignatus, K.N.S.

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Illuminatus! Excerpt: Who

WHO 
IS THE ONE MORE TRUSTWORTHY 
THAN 
ALL THE BUDDHAS 
AND SAGES 
??
The Robot
The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Illuminatus! Excerpt: "Him"

Even so, the Aztecs grew more frantic toward the end, increasing the number of sacrifices, doubling and tripling the days of the year that called for spilled blood. But nothing saved them: just as Eisenhower's army advanced across Europe to end the ovens of Auschwitz, Cortez and his ships moved toward the great pyramid, the statue of Tlaloc, the confrontation.

"I've got it, I've got it!" Saul said, laughing, "I looked every way but the right way before. He's inside the Pentagon. That's why they build it in that shape, so he couldn't escape. The Aztecs, the Nazis . . . and now us ..." "Yes," Mavis said grimly. "That's why thirty thousand Americans disappear every year, without trace, and their cases end up in the unsolved files. He has to be fed."

Five hundred thousand dollars this house and grounds had cost, including the cottages, and it was only one of his eight estates. Money. What did it mean when Nyarlathotep appeared and "the wild beasts followed him and licked his hands" as that damned stupid-smart Lovecraft wrote? What did it matter when "the blind idiot God Chaos blew earth's dust away"?

For once, curiosity surpassed cupidity in Drake; he asked, "Are you really keeping him in the Pentagon?" "Would you like to meet him, face to face?" Winifred asked with a faint hint of a sneer in his voice. "No thank you," Drake said coolly. "I've been reading Herman Rauschning. I remember Hitler's words about the Superman: 'He is alive, among us. I have met him. He is intrepid and terrible. I was afraid of him.' That's enough for my curiosity." "Hitler," Winifred replied, not hiding the sneer now. "Saw him in his more human form. He's ... progressed ... since then." Tonight, Drake thought, as the thunder rose to a maddening crescendo, I will see him, or one of them. Surely, I could have picked a more agreeable form of suicide? The question was pointless; Jung had been right all along, with his Law of Opposites. Even Freud knew it: every sadist becomes a masochist at last.

The next day he (Drake) was shot, several times, in the head and shoulders, dying of natural causes as a result.

One hundred thousand marched to the Pentagon and some of them tried to expel the Demon (the Illuminati foiled that at the last minute, forbidding them to form a circle).
The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

He is Risen



Not really a hologram, still cool.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Only this moment forevers



Deep down inside I know love will survive

"Only this moment forevers." 
Paul Reps

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Religion + Internet = Stuffs







Manual of Evasion w. RAW, Terence McKenna & Rudy Rucker


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 - Cloudbusting

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.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Legalizing Marijuana is the best thing for America and everywhere else

Have a listen, have a scroll, have a toke. 
Can you imagine what a global turned-on Fifth Circuit would mean?
The end of politics and religion as we know it.
Going Green

Random Dedroidify Blogpost

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.

Illuminatus! Excerpt: Right & Wrong - Darshan - Hour of the Evil Eye

To the creative mind there is no right or wrong.
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
death." 
"All 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
moralist, 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.
"What's 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?" 
Hagbard 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 triumph."


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."

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Bob Dylan Time Magazine Interview



Bob Dylan high as a kite schooling a Time Magazine reporter who has no idea wtf is going on.
(accidental repost :p)

Friday, April 13, 2012

Illuminatus! Excerpts: The Pyramid, Sons-of-Bitches, 23


"And the real symbolism of the pyramid

is 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 from physiology."

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.

Dillinger 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.

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Illuminatus! Excerpt: A dictatorship that would last forever.

A dictatorship that would last forever.

"Who did you say was looting this temple?" he asked Hagbard. 
"The 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. 
"Well, 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." 
"And?" 
"You 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?" 

"More 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. 
Gun 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. 

"The 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?" 

"No. 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."

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Illuminatus! Excerpt: Entropy

"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

Entropy
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. 
"What?" 
"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.

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Crown


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

Illuminatus! Excerpt: Didn't seem to do much for the Nazis did it?

"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."

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

"A professor is a policeman of the intellect."

"A professor is a policeman of the intellect." 
 Hagbard Celine
Illuminatus! Trilogy

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson. 

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Illuminatus! The excerpts continue! Hail Eris!

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. 
THE MGT. 

This replaced an earlier sign that had hung on the main showroom wall for many years, saying only 
NO SMOKING 
THE MGT. 
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]

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson. 

Titans of Yoga

Ringos Bank

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Zen Monk Banter

Two Zen monks meet in the road. "Where are you, Brother?" asks the first.
"I'm in the place where nothing ever changes," comes the reply.
"But I thought everthing was always changing."
"Yes, that never changes either."

Dimethyltryptamine (DMT) - Chronicles of the Mind



Whoa dude.

The Symbolism of World of Warcraft

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:
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.
  Therazane, the Earth Mother. Seemingly inspired by the Venus of Willendorf.

Water: Vash'jir
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.
Of course there are tons of different types of dragons in world of warcraft too.
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.

So that's just a short overview of some of the Symbolism of World of Warcraft! I'll leave you with the infamous & hilarious South Park episode: Make love, not Warcraft.