Sharif Don’t Like It

house of candy.jpg

. . . deep in the forest.  And the house was made entirely of candy!


Hinky-dinky parley voo.  Slayers of kingship, western cradle of The Peoples Endless Revolution, co-conspirator with America in masonic births.  Tribally, America kins Great Britain.  But politically and spiritually, via Continental occultisms, the U.S. is get of France.  Sisters, perhaps.


Donor of the Trojan Hor. . . Statue of Libertas.  Champion of the Enlightenment, humanism and ‘rights’ instead of obedience to God.  Liberte egalite fraternite — Goddess Libertas, egalitarianism/equality, and masonic fraternal guidance of Western nations.  Invoked ghost-hordes of moonfaced Cathari and Albigenses, tuneful gnostic heresies congealing onstage, infusing the balconies of the Bataclan (Bat Clan) Theater.


The Mooslims Did It?   Again?  Well maybe they did.  But who called it down?


Somewhar in yon fur Seventies, it became Edgy and Cool for bands, and individuals, to identify openly or symbolically with Satan.


We endured death-heads, skin-skulls, party hearty, meth, nazi gear, anti-intellectualism, flaming flames logos.   Trying real hard to shock.

It became sufficient to screech and crash overamped chords.  Instead of songwriting, black clothes and metal studs and faux-demonic ‘tudes for the Doople, the sad doomed Doople, ever-hungry to rebel, providing no personal cost accrues.

Like tats and green hair, like terminal irony, nose rings, and deconstructionism, going tribal with the Bat Clan felt good.  And the Bat Clan felt so damn empowered, they prayed to Kiss the Devil.


Certainly, the scenes at the Bataclan concert hall—where, in one more horrible irony, the American band Eagles of Death Metal (a pop-rock band; their name is ironic) had just begun singing “Kiss the Devil” when the slaughter began—were those of a madness beyond any normal credibility, not of hostage taking for some goal but slaughter for its own sake.


Irony?  Madness?  Neh.  Nor was it ‘slaughter for it’s own sake’ whatever that nonsense means.  The agent isn’t the reason.  Tellingly, an American band led the invocation.  Then the People asked to kiss the devil; he showed, and they got kissed.  The madness was imagining that satan doesn’t exist, doesn’t have servants, doesn’t influence persons, can’t take shape.

Might as well provide ‘global security’ for —







Be sober and vigilant; your adversary the devil walketh about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.

(1 Peter 5:8)




Some fans can been seen making the horn hand gesture that is popular within the heavy metal culture


Whooooo-hoooo!   Hail Satan!  I think I will . . .



Hey somebody help!  Are my parents around?  Where are the real police?  Can I borrow your Smartphone?   (Windows = DOK was in.)



Nupe no satanic hand-signs here, either.  No haughty poses.  No chants about kissing the devil.

For the survivors, just the long walk, back home.  To his home.  With black clothes and tears.  Afoot.  Because the taxi don’t go that way.

‘Course, we are all full of faults, problems, and sins against God.  Everybody on Earth currently.  Even Sweetlings have their moments.

But that doesn’t mean we have to brag on our sins, turn our rebellion into fests, and mock the Father who created us in love.

The spoiled brats of the West strutted, pomped and postured.  Pop pop and it wasn’t the Charts, it was


your father the devil, and the lusts of your father it is your will to do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and standeth not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father thereof.  (John 8)




France invited in; America invited in.  Project ISIS onto the Empire State Building; then attend Candlelight Vigils for Peace.


New Atlantis rising and New Babylon burning, while the hand of the Lord recedes.  Out of a sickle moon the Eagles of Death descend, sudden in presence, red in tooth and Metal in claw, and you are diving under your kit.




Zipper Down, Friday the Thirteenth: Templar Massacre in 1307.  Thirteen = biblical number of rebellion.  Usual red/black motif, Black Paloma kali figure, barack-bolt thru the O, at-breast like Barry.   Oh, and Sam’s Grand Mix Tour is coming.  (Tourcoing is a French town.)


The large lettering evokes EDOM.  Considered an archetypal adversary of Israel, ancient Edom was located in the Southern Levant, ever linked with idolatry, particularly Baal and Asherah worship.  So, ritual blood sacrifices and, really, just the same old game.

Edom means red.  Esau brings the bowl to his lips, but spills his mess of pottage onto the black-tiled floor.  The lumpy crimson spreads, seeking  lowest levels.


Behold, I will stir up the Medes against them, who shall not regard silver, and as for gold, they shall not delight in it.

And their bows shall dash the young men in pieces; and they shall have no pity on the fruit of the womb; their eye shall not spare children.

And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldeans’ pride, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah.  (Isaiah 13)


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