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For who hath despised the day of small things?  for they shall rejoice, and shall see the plummet in the hand of Zerubbabel with those seven.   (Zechariah 4:10)

 

AF’s latest highlights the District of Columbia’s subway system, featuring the Red Line running along the Roslyn MaryLand border.  AF and Egg Salad Annie saw MedUSA in the system layout — tho typically Yrs Trooly missed it.

Doe from Prover!

Master-Mason Gen’ral George’s city, in The Goddess’ District, envisioned, designed, created, constructed, and operated for Her Herness – the head/brain of Noo-vo Atlantis and its New Wroman Order. 

 

 

Reviewing last week’s a-sign-ment:

Yeah now I’m running down California 5
with your laughter in my head
gonna have to block it out somehow to survive
’cause those dreams are dead
and I’m alive

 (Jax’ son)

 

Jackson 5 demarcates our prior psychotic break literary gem something, wherein we stared down MedUSA in Cybergulch, Air-a-Zona, while the Townspeople scurried to grab the last Red Line outta Doomsville.

A few hours after posting “All Along the Red Line,” Michael Jackson succumbed to bladeless — but no less effective – regicide.

“Jax” above is Clyde Jack Browne, father of Clyde Jackson Browne of Lost Angeles.  Jackson’s pop “Jaks” was an ex-serviceman and musician with Django Reinhardt, Mahalia Jackson, and others.  Jaks worked for Stars and Stripes in Germany, where Jackson incarnated.  (See Jim Morrison, the band America, etc.)

 

 

Like Jackson Browne, Michael Jackson is a puer aeturnus, that mysterious entity so fascinating to Jung and von Franz, to mystic and theologian alike.   The collective conscious knew Michael as King of Pop, but in Snorry Mindburg he’s apriori, his semi-divinity as obvious as that of Christ, Dionysus, Attis, or John Barleycorn.

Like fellow pharmaki JFK and Elvis, Michael Jackson’s death was collective regicide – I shouted out “Who killed the Kennedys?”/when after all/it was you and me — with guidance by the Secret Commonwealth, who take microscopic interest in the puer, for reasons we’ll skip at present.

Neither JFK nor Elvis were puer, but all three deaths were preparatory rites in an overarching masonic working – one of the lesser-known rites.

Returning to the subterranean Red Line Strand of Goddess Columbia’s snakewig, Fairhall’s “Twilight Over Mumbai” of Dec. 20, 2008, cites another aspect of these Rose Line cereal-moany concertos:

 

In this post from last December, I reviewed the movie ‘I Am Legend’; a film described by the uber-geek at my local SynchComp Odeon as concerning ‘not zombies- but vampires.’ Lodging itself snugly in my gourd, that little nugget of reportage seemed keenly significant even then… but why? I began understanding why a couple of weeks later, when, in the midst of investigating the (morbidly fascinating) story of Meredith Kercher- and Amanda Knox, America’s Favourite Bad Girl- I discovered a YouTube video posted by Rudy Hermann Geude, currently beginning a thirty year jail sentence for his part in the murder. It was a story with considerable occult pedigree, and Guede’s self-description, captured on video and transcribed below, seemed to encapsulate that perfectly…here.)here. According to this theory- devised by Gabriella Carlizzi, a psychic investigator who claims to channel Padre Gabriele, a charismatic priest who died in 1984- the manga-fuelled murder was part of a broader Satanic rite of human sacrifice originally planned for the night of Halloween. (See here.)

‘Oh my God,’ said the well-refreshed Guede. ‘I’m an extra-terra. I’m from alien earth who must be called human people. Oh Mamma. I’m a vampire. I’m Dracula. I’m gonna suck your blood.’ (Article

Vampires were evoked for a second time in that case when Italian prosecutors identified a vampire-themed manga comic owned by Guede’s co-accused, Raffaele Sollecito, as having inspired the killing.

 

Plenty o work for Professor van Helsing in today’s Free Fly Zone! 

Vampire and murderer Rudy Guede’s middle name, Hermann, matches Lake Herman – Ness West – prominent in our last post.  On Vallejo’s Lake Herman Road, near the marshy and low lake itself, Zodiac enjoyed his first public ritual slavetaking, shooting two local kids to death.  Then he plopped in his car and pulled away regally, his tail-lights crocodile eyes, sinking into the tule fog. 

Last rumble we soldered The Willow Palin Incident to the subsequent 5.5 shakeytown at Willow, Alaska.  Willows thrive in the Valley of the Moon . . . and at Blue Rock Springs, site of the second slaying . . . probably some on the banks of murky Lake Herman, too.

Water-loving Willow, one of Wicca’s “nine sacred trees.”  Witche’s Tree.  Tree of the Goddess.

 

 

Zodie’s first rite-site was Lake Herman, just downhill from the Water Pumping Station, on almost the exact borderline between Vallejo and Benicia, the latter perched coquettishly on Carquinez Strait’s north bank.  Both Mari-time towns are in a County named after a Suisunes Tribe injun, but adhering to occult solar overlays:  Solano.  (Recall here the Rafael Sollecito moniker.  San Rafael is about 20 miles southwest of Vallejo.)

Next,  Zodie – in his Lord High Executioner drag from The Mikado, the little snipe – struck literally on the shore of Lake Berryessa . . . a site frequented by teen  l.d. . . .- and then killed a taxi-driver (hell-o de niro) atop Pacific/Presidio Heights in San Francisco, overlooking the bay, ocean and Golden Gate Bridge.

 

Kalifornia State Capitol at Benicia (active 1853-54)

 

Benicia was named after General Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo’s wife, Francisca Benicia Carillo de Vallejo.

A century after Benicia’s inheritance of Kali’s Forum Legislature, little dynamo fell into the world, enjoying uncountable outings over the years at Blue Rock Springs Park and Golf Course, where his grandfather was Course Marshal.   Fifteen years later, on July 6, 1969, Zodiac killed two kids in their cars, under the willows and eucalyptus where l.d.’s father once parked, treating his sons to a late-Saturday afternnoon nine holes.  As a toddler, l.d. was already a clubhouse regular.

The operations of Pharaoh and the Mom-in-Chief are no less overt — though perhaps less conscious — than the death-rites of Sollecito, Rudy Hermann Guede, and Zodiac.  [It'll piss him off to get grouped with these others!] :O)

la la la . . . anyway, all are involved in blood-magickal rites as instruments of necro-cults — no less than the Bushies and their Boney-Maroneys.

There has been no change in the Agenda.  Thank Goddess the nation’s delivered from those East Coast spook-o-frats and their horrid whitemaleness, and given into the soft, clever hands of Pharaoh, cyborg changeling of the Multicorrect Matricks.

Zodie loves to dress-up too, Mr. President!  Pageantry and theatre!

 

 

Barack Zodiac

 

Happily, we’ve fabricated encountered many occasions to drag out our BarackZodiac shtick.

Consider this another. 

Don’t even click away.  We’ll know before you do!  Deserters will be found. 

Egg Salad Annie – whose front porch lately confirms her name, according to Robin Hood – humours us by viewing Obie’s signature through the eyes of Gregg Shorthand.  Back in the Pliocene, when Annie and Little Dynamo roamed the Erf, secretaries codified dictation via a system of standardized notations, example:

 

 

 

 

Annie, apparently dissatisfied that her autistic kid merely humiliated Ms. President at The Wonder Bowl, cites our BarackZodiac templar-twinning, then reproduces Obie’s book cover sig: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gregg Shorthand compresses vocalizations into discrete squigglets.  In Pharaoh’s sig:

* the first half of the B, beginning at lower-left, corresponds to the dev sound

* the bottom curve of the B plus the curlicue/loop = the er or ur sound, or alternately, the oi or ou sound

* the mark between the B and O  = the il or ur sound

. . . roughly then, as the beest flies, devoil or perhaps devour 

Moving to the surname sig:

* the circle with vertical slash = an “exaggerated” I sound

* the squiggle emerging from the vertical slash, looking much like the P-wave of the sinus human heartbeat = am sound

So, devoil or devour I am interpreted by a former Gregg Shorthandist, combined with the ZodiacBarack “O” (=the world) – well, let’s say it’s suggestive.  Mite ’spicious.

 

 

Well, that’s about all we have time to traumatize you with for the moment.  No doubt meaty enough to tide us all over.

Ah Dios!

Ninth-inning note: check Mr. Pasta Bake for “felicitous” willow-watching.

* The kruggerands are still unarrived.  Please tell us the error’s in shipping.

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