The Further Adventures of Mr. Potato Tut

hieroglyph of Qar, Egyptian priest and judge

 

REALM

 

Hereabouts we assumed equivalence of Pharaoh & Queen Tiya with both geophysical and spiritual Khem from Jumpstation Uno.   Thus routine Anubis-mockings and Michelle MAulings.  

A homecoming long-anticipated in many quarters.  Dol Guldur, re-possessed. 

Certainly Pharaoh as leader of Earth’s most powerful nation caps the triangle for diverse interests.  Spiritual Egypt empowered, manifested as premiere global force.  The ancient Ban restored, mater magna-d, Orwell valedictus, masked and anonymous unmasked.

The celestial going-forth of Pharaoh, and earthly re-arrival as deity, is at kaabic kore of ancient Egyptian cosmology, that mondopagan civilization’s guiding intent and religion.   Djedic loops sealed, tail-meets-mug, Big Gulp Serpens.

 

 

As with the Special Olympics bowling bumble, Obama’s attempt at self-deprecation goes ker-splot .  (Sports Recap:  Autistic Kid 63, Pharaoh 37, victory by 26 yhvh.  Special Effects: pros from dover.)

From CBS News on June 4:

Serving as Mr. Obama’s guide in Giza was Dr. Zahi Hawass, Secretary-General of Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities. He led the way in and around the pyramids and the Sphinx, including a visit to the Tomb of Qar, who Hawass described as a well-known priest, scholar and judge in ancient Egypt. On the wall were hieroglyphs of Qar, primitive images engraved in the stone. He was a thin man man with big ears.

“That looks like me!” exclaimed President Obama. “Look at those ears.”

The president summoned to his top aides to take a look, and repeated his observation about the Qar hieroglyph.

“Look, that’s me,” he told them. None of his senior staff was willing to disagree with the boss. Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel smiled politely, if not knowingly.

 

Yeah.  If not.

Presiding as co-priest with Zahi (“Happy”) Hawass, Chief Rahm — who we sheesh-ka-bobbed onced or twiced ourselfs — confirms Pharaoh’s Return, after the Glorious Descent down Starecase Sirius, incarnation in Uttermost West, domination and indoctrniation by mammy and mammy grandy, thenceforth initiation at Columbia and Harvard Law.  Djem-stone polishing in Columbia’s own Heartland, Chicago.  Loki Coreuptus.

. . . and Saul wed Jezebel, aligning to her grid-nexus, the Daley Demo Deal Machine.   Ley Lady Leyl

Hawass unveiled the Boy King’s face in 2007, so his current touting of Tut-to-Barack wasn’t exactly a blurt.

Barack Hussein Obama is a boy, initiated into everything but manhood.  Born in the Matriarchal Matrix, lacking even the tribal rites that atttempt to separate boys from maternal dominion,  Barack’s never broken the apron strings.  He’s a biological father, and a psychological child, all id beneath the Teleprompter.

Standing next to Michelle, Malia, and Little Sasha, he’s not a father.  He’s just another of the kids.

He’s not a man’s man.  He’s not even a woman’s man . . . and pity these.  He’s just a big, goofy, cunning kid.  With a wife more subtle by far. 

Chief Exec, starchild of Grendel Modor.  Khaos Monstitution.

Suited to devotees of an Age of Horus, Barack’s global popularity, for a political leader, is already far beyond precedent. 

 

 

  

Tink supplies the “Monster Jellyfish Crop Circle” new-etched in Oxfordshire.   Note the kabballic seven segments rung by Ma Bell.  (Oxford’s a frequent victim herein, and Ben Fairhall speared the Mari-time NWO Cthulhu Jellyfish well before It surfaced, in his Tentacle/UFO series from January at the DB.)

Battling the Behemoth, from “That Hideous Strength“:

But by far the most significant forerunner to the Conisholme event was an extraordinary report filed on New Year’s Day and published in the Daily Telegraph on January 12. Its author was one Lyn Meall, who was returning with four others from a Hogmanay celebration in the Scottish Highlands. ‘We were driving through forestry when we spotted four orange balls of light in the sky ahead of us,’ she is quoted as saying. ‘Then another one emerged to our right which had silver tentacles reaching down from it towards the ground, like an octopus.’ Of the similarity between this and the description given by John Harrison just three days later, Meall said she was ‘convinced that they were the same things.’

 

 

Ben also mentions the Fortean sesame of Bell — well-depicting the Oxfordshire design.  (Bel being  deific cognate.)

Re-gandering the Qar hiero, the reusrrected Obie ET. . . the “body” is composed of a triangle/pyramid, thus pharaoh as human capstone.  (Recall our posts on OS University’s doliocephalic Head Coach Robinson, Michelle’s brother.)  

 

 

Hey, either that or it’s a little girl’s dress.  Which fits too.

‘Mongst Egyptian iconography, Ole Qosmic Qar conjures the Osiric “resurrection bulbs” of the djed apparati.

 

 

 

 

 

In the bottom image, the entities flanking the djed, and closing its circuit (ObaPharaoh back in Egypt) likewise dopple the Priest Qar.

Only because you’re You, at no Xtr charge we’ll also toss in Them Grey Ale Lee Yunz and Crowley’s LAM:

 

. . . and seeings how we’ve prised open the Dion Fortune-Warwick Psycho Hotline

 

  

You better believe it, buster.  Mr. Potato Tut.

Shoes: blue suede.  Suggestion: do not step on.  He is in a snit.  Fried.  Oooh!  Tap tap tap.

Nor does the hat suggest gruntledness.

Now, l.d. isn’t saying the U.S. President is the reincarnated Egyptian Priest Qat, indwelled by a (likely Sirian) extraterrestrial (LAM?) and by Mr. Potato Head.  He’s not staking his shaky cred on fringe shit like that.  Smudges the conservative image.

It’s not like Obama’s actually Priest Qar.  More like a sum and synthesis of all pharaohs.  All the liars.  All the enslavers.  All the dickless fuckheads.

Hydra Fay-row, not the archetype’s result but its source, impressed on Brittanic grainland, druid soil long familiar with Cerelean/Demetrian rites.  Soil once fed, always thirsty.  Agegypt Aggre gat US.

 

 

The HQ of the Vile Valley, Egypt, where Ramesses II Our President debarqued el suncharioto lustrously to champion that most downtrodden and oppressed of all creatures since creation . . .  that Vast Sistern of Bottomless Aggrievment . . .  the American Woman.  (Cue Guess Who.)

 

The sixth issue — the sixth issue that I want to address is women’s rights.

(APPLAUSE)

I know, and you can tell from this audience, that there is a healthy debate about this issue. I reject the view of some in the West that a woman who chooses to cover her hair is somehow less equal. But I do believe that a woman who is denied an education is denied equality.

(APPLAUSE)

And it is no coincidence that countries where women are well-educated are far more likely to be prosperous.

Now let me be clear, issues of women’s equality are by no means simply an issue for Islam. In Turkey, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Indonesia, we’ve seen Muslim-majority countries elect a woman to lead.

Meanwhile, the struggle for women’s equality continues in many aspects of American life and in countries around the world. I am convinced that our daughters can contribute just as much to society as our sons.

(APPLAUSE)

Our common prosperity will be advanced by allowing all humanity, men and women, to reach their full potential. I do not believe that women must make the same choices as men in order to be equal. And I respect those women who choose to live their lives in traditional roles. But it should be their choice.

That is why the United States will partner with any Muslim-majority country to support expanded literacy for girls and to help young women pursue employment through micro-financing that helps people live their dreams.

 

Attractive lies, comfortable lies, profitable lies, charmingly popular lies.  Lies worthy of Belial!!

 

 

More Bel wringing: seems our Wise Latina Woman, Sonia Sotomayor,  is an active member in a secretive, female-only group, the Belizean Grove, founded as “the female answer to the Bohemian Grove.”

The scamps.

Turns out that, opposite of Pharaoh’s claims,  Ms. Sotomayor has been touting with frequency and full smugola her Latina Wiseness and Superiority  over those mutants of a lesser god, Uncolored Males.

Now that’s Egalitee!  The Empowered Ones – dissatisfied with elite manlings snurfing after the goddess and each others’ bungholes — form their own coven.

Sotomayor proudly chirps, to all who approve, that she’s an Affirmative Action Baby.  For every one of her that got Full Rides to Princeton and Yale Law, some working-class white shmuck — often brighter and more industrious than our Wise Latina — went to the local junior college, then wiped tables in pizza parlors to afford a cheap state uni.

Many of those guys were veterans who risked their asses so Ms. Sotomayor could twinkle along the Yellow Brick Road to certain power.  Ms. Sotomayor, brimming with Wise Latina Superiority, will now further disenfranchise and war upon the EWM from behind the Goddess’ gavel.

 

When the Confederate army that had been defeated at the battles of Champions Hill and Black River retreated into the fortifications of Vicksburg, they were greeted by scornful women. The ladies told the common soldiers that they should be ashamed to have been beaten by the Yankee army.

 

From Sotomayor’s fem-only Belizean Grove — cause Moloch is so yesterday — we reel back to yet another idol outpost, the Midnight Oasis itself, old kountry-ways Khem, fragrant as the dragon’s tail, where Barack Hussein laid out The Rules under today’s New Woman Order.

In America, the stronghold of that Order, men and boys grow desperate and feral.

 

The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain

(“Visions of Johanna”)

 

All the incidents have readable signatures, but perhaps the most recent of note is the slaying of Wesleyan student Johanna Justin-Jinich in Middletown, Connecticut on May 6.

. . . middle (earth) town in the coagula-et-solve  State.  Another U.S. male giving his Class Evaluation to alma mater, this time while Justin-Jinich worked at a campus cafe, Broad [slang for "woman"] Street Books.  Wesleyan suggests West-Law — the brand name of standard Western legal tomes in common use . . . so, Dea Ley.

Jinich = djinn-itch.

The middle name, Justin, is also a hidden legalism, combining justice and tin.  (Jump on The Weirdwagon to visit the Tin Man in Chicago’s Oz Park.  Annie reminds that D-Day — June 6, two days after Pharaoh revisited Giza — was Operation Overlord, and the assault phase Operation Neptune.)

 

 

 

The day before Stephen Morgan killed Johanna Justin-Jinich, he packed everything, telling his father he was moving to Newport, Rhode Island.  (From the Dreaming Mind’s perspective, Stephen told God that he was relocating to the beast’s belly — that is, going to war.)

Rhode Island (Cecil Rhodes, a crucial NWO devotee and financier) ought be sufficiently erk-y.

Ditto new and port.  The New Port is the NWO.  Fay-row’s even a lefthanded leftist.

But Newport, R.I. (P.) harbors one of the most mysterious megaliths in the New World, the pillared Newport Tower.

 

The circular fortress migdal is typical of pagan ceremonial designs for the Magdal or Goddess of matriarchal ages.  The Newport Tower smells like pre-colonial Templarism, Henry the Navi-gator or somesuch.  Planting the Homeland Flag!  (Could certainly be earlier in construction however.)

Stephen Morgan is a name long known to l.d.  It’s the (purportedly) pseudonomic screen-name of Sir Dole of Scum, whose link is featured on this blogroll.  He long posted many years under that name on Usenet as — among other things — an antifeminist.  His most recent post, “A warm gun” (har har) combines sensible observation and solid occult analysis.

In a tour-de-force of noncommittance,  Stephen claims “no memory” of the Johanna shooting.

“Morgan” of course is the most infamous name in modern Masonry.  Capttain William Morgan was the nineteenth century victim of a (likely) Brethren-hit that provided impetus for many decades of widespread anti-masonic movements in the U.S.

Just to chap Oprah’s nipples , Dole Scum’s Stephen Morgan links to Glenn Sacks’ post in which Sacks quotes The Nation’s Katha Pollitt:

 

But in one way, she (Justin-Jinich) was far from unusual.  She was a woman killed by a man because she was a woman.   (The Nation, 6/1/09)

 

Justin-Jinich’s killer had an anti-Semitic fixation, and apparently a romantic obsession.  Sacks is right to call Katha Pollitt, The Nation, and the American Medea on its misandry.  Pollitt’s rhetoric is intentionally incendiary, pandering for more fem-power by equating Morgan’s action to an attack on all female-kind.

Which, as you’ve been shown, it was.   Inside the Dreaming Mind. 

But neither Pollitt nor The Nation knew that.  Heck, Mr. Morgan very likely didn’t know it.  He was spluttering about Jews.

There’s no evidence that Morgan targeted Justin-Jinich as representative of femininity.  The Dreaming Mind leaves fingerprints, not DNA and screeds.

Pollitt and The Nation got caught with their fat little hands in the Unconscious Jar, trying to agit-prop a glassy and unfathomable  sea.  

Pollitt and The Nation assure that it’s commom for men to kill women simply becuase they are female.   This is absurd, it’s actually quite rare but — thanks to The Gynogulag — is becoming more common.  Pollitt, like almost all Western Medea, expresses a collective paranoid fear as a reality, and then by attitude and policy, with an impetus of empowerment, goes about forging her dysfuction into reality.

The Medea seek to stimulate and further co-opt the collective female hindbrain, exciting and confirming its fear/selfish repto-centers, medulla mumbojumbo that convinces US Consumers that

1) money must be spent and things must be purchased to Be Secure and fill The Abyss within

2) harsher measures (on males only) are required; The Gulag is not only necessary, not only inevitable, it’s all that stands between American girls and Stephen Morgan.

 

The Dreaming Mind, like the Moon, mirrors the Gorgon’s true face, filling it with the harsh light of incarnation.  We see the Beest a-Pollitt-ticking, electromagged to Earth, raging against its confinement, constellating Stephen Morgans licketysplit, means to its own end.

 

I don’t know why I done it
Honest it ain’t like me
But I ain’t sad now I done it
‘Cause a baby boy has got to be free

(“Pigeon Song“)

 

 CONQUEST

 

The Pokemon, X-Box, Nintendo and Wii worlds of modern Western boys grasp subliminally the “invisible” reality of spiritual warfare on Earth.  In Michael Clayton, George Clooney confidently underplays a character who has been Set-up for dismemberment (via carbomb) by monitor-lizard and super-lawyer Tilda Swinton.

In an affectionate gesture, Clayton’s little boy lends another character a Realm & Conquest speculative-fiction book, called Summons to Conquest.  When that character, Arthur,  is murdered Clayton investigates his apartment, finding the book handily prominent, pagemarked, and illustrated by a horse and tree atop a hill’s horizon-line.  Subsequently while driving, on noticing three horses, tree, and hill, Clayton impulsively (unconsciously) pulls off a country road. 

Clayton gets out, drawn to the horses his personal Dreaming Mind already knows, introduced “outside time” by his son . . . while back downhill, the bomb harmlessly explodes. 

The skeleton-key nature of the boy’s “little book” is artfully done, and eminently missable given the film’s temporal discombobulations.  Yet the whole matter turns on the boy’s loving gesture towards Arthur, which “indirectly” saves his own father.

Bad news for Tilda Krippen Swinton and The Firm.

 

SERVICE

 

Nick:  Yes.  South Oleo interest.  You should understand Thin Tin Man Roi to us.  You not in outside lane to us. Tin Man I O U.  Your to Most High for us! 

(“Qim Tunes”)

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