This Damned 2012 Nonsense Explained Part 3

By David A. Kearns


Chimpanzees of the hairless type, we are a superstitious lot, to be sure. A few beads, baubles, a mirror or two, tell us you are God, and we can be made to do just about anything you ask us to.
I give you any number of examples: Cortez conquers Mexico with less than two thousand men. One of the ways he did this was, see, there was an apocalyptic prophecy given out that fair-haired Quetzalcoatl would return on such and such date from the horizon to the east.
During the time frame from 1515-18, there were the Cordova, Grijalva, Cortez, Narvaez expeditions to Mexico; any one of whom could have been the agent of doom. They were all fair haired, fair skinned and bearded. Cortez chose to be the bad guy and went for the gold.
Venezuelan President Jugo Chavez got up and the United Nations two days ago and pointed out that prior to the arrival of evil, badass, white Europeans there were some 90 million Americans (Amerindians, Native peoples) and by the time Cortez was done with his business in Mexico, there were as few as 4 million. He fails not only to mention his own evil, badass, light-skinned ancestry, Chavez being a Spanish name, not Taino or Arawack, he also fails to note that microbes did most of the apocalyptic work.. aided, of course, by burnings, rapine, strangulation, robbing, thievery and slavery of the conquest machine.
I like the murals of Diego Rivera, rather than the ignorant belches of Jugo Chavez; just my own personal choice.
The point is, white people of European descent were coming across the sea, no matter what. And whoever this Quetzalcoatl was – speculation runs from a blonde Viking blown of course, to one among St . Brendan’s Irish missionaries, to survivors of a Roman expedition also off course – he knew, he wouldn’t be the last Honky to reach these shores because the event was a force of history.
All the superstition regarding this pending event, this myth building did was pave the way for the conquest of Mexico, then the stronghold of native America.
Mexico has had a hard time with its Gods and Goddesses. For some reason, this part of Central America, required a great deal of blood offerings to the gods.
Speaking of Mayans, they were so obsessed with looking like their gods, they attached boards to their babies heads TO GET THEM TO LOOK LIKE THEM. High crested flattened skulls, catlike eyes.
What? Yes, now truth gets weird. You don’t hear about this much in these specials about the Mayans. But if you go to Central America and really tour places like Copan, Honduras; Palenque, Mexico, and Tikal in Guatemala, plus a few other places in Belize, you get a closer look at the Maya. Disney won’t tell you all you need to know. Go down there, go to a few museums!
Another weird thing? Inbreeding was stylish! It meant your BLOODlines (there’s that word again) ran right back to the gods! The more inbred you were, the thicker your god-blood ran! Women were so convinced of the need for their children to at least seem royal, they frequently tied devices to their babies’ heads to get the children to focus on dangling beads, thereby rendering them cross-eyed! Hey, better schools, better chance to gain enrollment. “Just keep an eye closed, Johnny!”
In fairness, some Asian cultures a woman’s feet are painfully constricted to give them the desired tiny look! Weirdest of all, in some chimpanzee cultures, woman cut off their own breasts, replacing them with bags of silicon! Guess who those folks are?
But, what is this business of head binding? Apparently the Incas also did this sort of thing. Now, as you go to research these things on the web, you will find the subject stove-piped with dipshits and wizards, alongside excellent sources so be careful. But the baby binding, and the cross-eyed thing is very real. The ancient headgear can be found in many museums.
Bake your noodle and ask yourself why they did this? Who were they trying to look like? Go a step further and ask yourself why the gods demanded “bloodletting”?
Switch gears. This business of “rapturing” and revelations, and the “coming apocalypse” as History Channel would have you believe in their highly alarmist series Nostradamus Effect.
The futurist view of Revelations, a book strangely in the bible, although arguably not written by any of the twelve apostles who actually heard Christ speak; Christian, we a reminded, techno-chimps, being the operative term in the religion, “following Christ.”

This “John of Patmos” was exiled or lived on that island in the Med around 65 a.d. is the author of Revelations, many believe.

Seventh Day Adventists, Futurists, and Hal Lindsey, all fans f John of Patmos, and the Book of Daniel from the Old Testament, are in agreement that three things will happen at the end of days: The Antichrist will make himself known, Israel will be attacked, European or “new Roman Empire” will be centered in Central Europe (Can you say European Union?) and “The Rapture” of the faithful so the earth can be scorched of the evil non-believers. This rapture deal is, well, you just sort of swoop up into the air like an alien abduction, maybe? Not sure on the mechanics of it, other than roads will prove particularly unsafe for fellow drivers, if you believe the “rapture” license plates.
People are touchy about the rapture. If you notice, they’re okay with talking about it on THEIR license plates but, DON’T YOU HAVE YOUR OWN “rapture is bullshit” license plate baby! No! That’s not allowed! They will also brook no argument about this rapture deal. BUT YOU KNOW, READ MY DAMNED LICENSE PLATE AND KNOW THAT YOU AREN’T WORTHY OF RAPTURE BUT I SURE AM!
Hal Lindsey, multi-million seller came to speak in Melbourne Florida recently at churches; a rare honor for a fiction writer, the pulpit! According to my local paper there was a suggested fee of $15 per person to keep the crowds down. Don’t know what a “suggested fee” is and the paper didn’t have the guts to dig on this one, rapture being a touchy subject, but the events were well attended. And it’s all good, because, you know, it ain’t about the money, is it?
Okay so where does this all leave us, with regard to 2012? The short version of my personal belief is this: someone is planning for a bottle neck again, and we are playing right along.

And who might that be? Who might be staging this bottle neck?
Was the last segment weird? Grab your ass with both hands for the next one!

This Damned 2012 Nonsense Explained Part 2

By David A. Kearns

As we continue this little talk, Monkey-Children, Fetus-baby-coders, gamer-dweebs, jokesters, cube-jockeys, corporate-feed-baggers, crazed unemployed underwear scratchers, let me just say the Mayan zero-event, or the Mayan-switch doesn’t need to actually be anything calamitous; unless it is tied to unknown geophysical or celestial forces, and/or unless we make it such, and/or unless all three occur simultaneously.

Okay, scratch all of that, we’re screwed with our pants on, dead, this is it! Grab your ankles, grab your snorkels and your cigarettes!

But wait, this panic could equally and just as logically be applied to (what? wait for it!) every single day you get up and put your feet on the floor.

There, there, now breathe …just breathe. Look around, and say, “whew, not today. I’ve got one more to set things to right!”

The Aztecs had one of these scary days, every 52 years. They relit the fires in their temples, if you believe author Gary Jennings, and carried the light all over the valley of what is now Mexico City. During that zero day, it was customary to stay indoors and wait it out. If you were in labor you held your water and counted the hours hoping the kid wouldn’t come until the following day, lest he be born with three heads, gills, that sort of thing.

They, Aztecs AKA the Mexica, were also told “the end is near!” leading up to that day, that “sacrifice” was necessary to make the sun rise again. And we’ll talk about blood-letting in the later sections of my little talk here.
This zero-day is likely going to shape up to be a market mover, one way or the other, speaking of metaphorical blood-letting. In fact, I believe that any day now there will be a composite stock, an ETF, playing on the Mayan switch. Believe it. Anything can be traded on the stock market; even exotic, self-fulfilling prophecy.
Okay, back to cases, and we mentioned the Bible.

Well, you have the tale of Sodom and Gomorrah. The Bible says these places were sooooo sinful - you know, strip clubs, drugs, drive-by’s or the equivalent – they were nuked. The angels came down, warned everyone, then nuked the shit out of them. And Lot’s wife stood up and turned to the blast like those old army specialists with the dark goggles on during the 1950s, but too close to the blast radius, she was turned to a pillar of salt. You also have this flood thing mentioned; world gone haywire, either an earthquake tsunami or magnetic pole reversal. Some suggest this flood was the result of a land bridge collapsing in the Caspian Sea, flooding ancient shorelines with more than 1,000 feet of water. Oceanographer Robert Ballard hunts for the ancient, submerged villages and coastlines as we speak.

This story of Sodom and Gomorrah would be rather silly were it not for some evidence that there have been detonations which resemble nuclear explosions in archaic prehistory. Namely north Africa and India. Glass shards found here, exactly mimic those found at ground zero during testing in the Mohave desert. Specific conditions, instantaneous heating to temps found only on the sun or elsewhere. A blast. Of course, a comet might also suffice?

Okay, some folks like Jim Marrs, as detailed in his work Rule By Secrecy believe the former blast or blasts is evidence of a series of nuclear (former president Bush, that’s noocular) detonations during a war that included places as far away as South America, India, Africa and a continent that was then known as Atlantis. Combine it all together and we’re back to just 2,000 inbreds walking around, sniffing each other then, wham! Civilization again.

All good? Of course not.

You find this hard to believe. And this is understandable. Well, all I can say is hold onto your hat; things are about to get weird.

This Damned 2012 Nonsense explained! Part 1

By David Kearns

Fetus -Monkey -Children, and I say that with all due respect, the enslavement of our species by the ALM (alien lord and master) is perhaps nearly complete.
Say it with me now, sort of hum it, in middle ‘D’ like a monotone song; “FETUS MONKEY CHILDREN, FETUS MONKEY CHILDREN”, c’mon now. Rejoice in it. It’s who we are.
Aside from random neilasparaphobia, the irrational fear of extraterrestrials, there are ample signs around us, that something is coming of a rather unpleasant nature, and that something has been planned and staged, like a bad, self-fulfilling prophecy since the birth of religion out of chaos.
A good idea, that we should give thanks to whoever created all this, has turned into a venue for us to tear it all down in HIS/HER/ITS name. The sad truth is that, likely, this has all happened before.
Yes, yes, if you read the Mayan calendar, there have been perhaps four iterations of civilization prior to the one we are experiencing now. The Mayan Calendar "Long Count" says you ought to be a little wary on Dec. 21, 2012. History Channel wants you to believe it’s the end of the world, for whatever secret agenda they have, and I still haven’t figured that out other than the increase in ad sales.
What the calendar actually does, experts point out, and History Channel always seems to ignore them, is recycle itself on that particular date, and reset to zero again. And this reset can, as luck would have it, be associated with calamity much like we expected from the Y2k bug.

You can psych yourself into a tizzy and then have a shit fit on the day in question by self actualization, as any freshman psychology student can tell you. These little zero-hours tend to bring this trend out in humans or lemmings. Only if we participate, which we don’t have to if we don’t want to, but, hey, it sells newspapers, ad space on television shows. So let’s go for it I suppose. C’mon, follow me over the damned cliff. I’ll bring the flute.
This reset, a function of the three interlocking wheels of the Mayan cosmology, (sun, moon, earth) happens in 26,000 year increments. So the date coincides with one long revolution of our earthly axis of rotation. In other words, the big wobble.
What? You’re looking at me like the RCA dog in those old LPs. Don’t worry it took me some time too.
Okay. You spin a top, it starts to wobble on its axis and then that wobble begins to rotate, but at a much slower rate. Are you still with me? In our planet’s case that wobble’s rotation, once around, lasts about 26k years.

The question with this Mayan thing is, how did they know all this? How did they sync the zero hour up with the sun falling and rising smack dab in the middle of the Milky Way in our sky? Someone want to explain that to me, because it blows the top of my head off every time I think about it. No? Nobody?

Mayan codexes were translated into Spanish, some of which surely would have explained all of this, where they came by the information and what it meant to them but religious missionaries thought it the devil's work so THEY BURNED THEM! Thank you, Bishop Diego de Landa y Calderon.

Think of it, on that morning of Dec. 21, 2012, the winter solstice, the sun will rise directly into that cream colored sash of stars on the darker background, and that instant the center of the earth will reside in a direct line, from our point of view, running into the center of the sun, and (not finished yet!) on through to the center of the galaxy, from our perspective. This is when the sun (or father) goes home to the mother of everything (the galaxy).

The Mayans, if we believe prosaic conventional wisdom, are one of the few cultures EVER who began their calendar at a date which preceded their own existence as a culture, by THOUSANDS OF YEARS! Like, they knew this celestial event happened thousands of years ago, and they knew it would come to pass again, AND they knew, THE VERY DAY IT WOULD HAPPEN in the past and into the future!
Okay, that’s celestial mechanics any way you look at it. That bespeaks capabilities of advanced origin, and we will come back to this.
What no one will ever sit down and explain to you, or me, or to the television cameras is HOW this primitive culture gained a knowledge of celestial mechanics that would do shame to the average modern, bumbling astronomer? “Er, uh, yeah, this is something we would rather not, er, talk about, like fucking ever so don’t ask.”
The Mayans were the recipients of the Olmec culture before them; some say the oldest known culture in Mesoamerica. The calendar was something they either developed themselves, all without the aid of telescopes, or gained from some previous culture, or source.
I tend to believe this concept that we have lived all of this civilization business before, and we’ve buggered it up previously, having to start from scratch all over again. Yes, that’s us, clearly written on the page. This is who we are. Archaic prehistory, they call it: what went on before writing, before the Olmecs or the ancient Sumarians.
Consider Sumer. Take Sumer, please! No, not Donna Summer, Sumer, remember? Hammurabi’s code and that rubbish? The Rosetta Stone? Jaysus! What the hell is wrong with you people? Oh, now I remember, they took away reading. Well, suffice it to say, like, between six to four thousand years ago we had bupkiss going on in the way of smarts; pretty much dipshits, walking around. Then like magic, wham! Writing, farming. This latter piece is how modern historians describe the transformation and, even I can tell you this doesn’t make a lick of sense. You don’t go from wiping your ass with both naked hands to civilization in a heartbeat.
Enter archaic prehistory, stuff that happened before the stuff we actually know about.
Science tells us that genetically speaking we are one of the most inbred creatures on earth. That is to say, each one of us is more closely related to all others of our species, than are two dogs, located three residential lots away from each other. A half of one percent genetic drift, that’s us, cousin. Will you pass the mashed potatoes please? And can I have a turn with cousin Thelma tonight?
According to National Geographic’s The Human Genome Project, you can actually clock this genetic drift, and run it backwards like a program. From there, come to see that as recent as about 60,000 years ago, there were as few as 2,000 human beings on earth.
Now you can sit there in that chair right there and argue this science with me, if you want to. Suffice it to say the clock is well documented, and spelled out in the work mentioned above. Chemistry is chemistry, certain things take a certain amount of time, it takes two-to-Tango, and you run the math.
They call this a genetic “bottle neck”: prior to that, there were hundreds of thousands, to millions of us, then, wham, that number dropped down to 2,000 of us from which we have been gaining numbers ever since. Now there are more than 6 billion of us. Rats, I tell you! Rats! That’s us.
Okay, but what caused it? H1N1? AIDS? War? All of the above? Let’s look for anecdotal evidence. Best place? The anecdotes of all anecdotes, The Bible. Let’s start there at the beginning in the pages of Testament 1.

Dan Brown's Latest Mal 'Akh

By David A. Kearns

I've decided to send my kids to Harvard to study symbology. Apparently, it's a really good gig. Sure and if you get good enough at this symbology stuff your emergency Gulfstream rides - and you'll have these, from time to time - are all comped; anywhere you want to go.

Okay we start each one of these Dan Brown dealios, following behind the illustrious likes of the tweed-frocked, Robert Langdon as he takes yet another comped jet-ride to a new locale where a colleague is in the midst of yet another symbology crisis/meltdown.

Mary Magdelene, these can be a real pain in the ass! I had one on the pot, just last week, so I did.

When he arrives someone has either been murdered, hacked into all meat and graffiti, or had pieces just lopped off of them. This newest in the Langdon series is no different, only it's set in Washington D.C. and this time, he's going after the Masons, and it's about BLOODY time, everyone knows what a bunch of dangerous drunken roustabouts these guys are, and it's high hour they were knocked from their alabaster horses!

But not so fast. The lesson here, again is? Symbology can be dangerous, children, so play along carefully.

The most recent villain is someone named Mal 'Akh. Mal, as any of us familiar with Latin, via eighth-grade Spanish, means "bad." Akh, is likely Arabic, or ancient Sumarian, or - whatever - for "ass". So, we ammatuer symbologists can be pleased with ourselves, straight-away, for having identified who the villain might be? Perhaps?

"Who is Bad Ass, Alex?"

Isn't it neat the way these writers make things subtle so you have to work for them?

The way the whole marketing machine works, (and you better comply and conform!) is that they are already busy casting for the part of Mal Akh, and it's important they set the right tone with this one. Very crucial casting decision. And I have a feeling he will be just as hard to spot, as His Assness-of-bad, in phenotypic form, as he is in the literary sense. That is to say, he will likely bear a passing resemblence to either a Nazi, or someone resembling a big-eyed Sheik, with a very long schiminctar? Just spittballing, not having read the book, and you can't make me, either, so there. It was hard enough getting through a fawning AP review (vomit sound, here! )

(right: Hanks, just making a gal want to drop those 'Mom Jeans!')

Once again Tom Hanks, the man's man, will stoop to play this strangely-effeminate, virginal, quasi-priest-like figure Robert Langdon: a successful atheist, yet jet-setting, bachelor (really? Can't imagine why!) symbologist at Harvard University. The department chair, in fact of symbology, who never asks for a cent in perdium in spite of his expensive flitting about, not to mention a man who doesn't like girls so much that he will attach himself, physically, to any of these rare creatures of exquisite beauty he comes across, in these little symbolic adventures, least of all the really hot, descendant-spawn of the Lady Maggs and Jesus Christ himself in the first one.

Ooooh Sophie, I was blind, but now I can see you be lookin' fine!

Because, well, that would be just akhward.

Anyhoo-

As long as Hanks is getting paid, right? And, after all, since the point of the entire exercise is the continued, symbolic, iconographic emasculation of the already gelded American male, and the destruction in symbol form of all American, and Christian icons, onward ye non-Christian soldiers. Right? Are ye with me? Tear it all down. Offend everyone in the heartland! Stick a fork in their eye! Bloody hayseeds descerve it! Arrrrrr!

Gee, I don't know: I guess I'm wondering who might be behind all this?

Anyhooo, part two- Long and the short of this whistling? The bullet? The nut graph?

"The point, damn your eyes man, the point!"

Yes, well, sometime this week, yet another 10,000 writers out there will be misled by agents, themselves who have been left outside the joke. These boys and girls will begin penning "the next Dan Brown novel," like Vegas grannies banging on the one-arm bandits.

The 10,000 hastily written tomes will involve religious iconography being studied by another bland character of androgenous leanings, and an improbable, not to mention, medieval, occupation. (Really? Why didn't a first-reader catch this first-time round? A world famous symbologist, working for Harvard? Really? Does he wrestle as well in the WWF? Or is a video game base on him? Really? Really? Uh-Huh? Oooo sure, nothing strange or bizare about that, is there?)

Rather than a symbology Phd at Harvard, for instance we might see an alchemy wizard at San Jose State University, or perhaps an astrology expert at Slippery Rock State College Pennsylvania, or perhaps the chair of Nostradamian Studies at MIT? I mean go for broke, go big or go home, like the skateboarders say.
But, alas, they will be met at the gate by agents and publishers who are inside the joke; those who know all the secret handshakes, passwords, so on and so forth, who will curtly inform these hapless aspirants after months of toil, "hold on there Sparky, you can't write this. You're not Dan Brown."

Because the point of this excercise, on a macro-scale, is not only to emasculate the American male character, it is to futher eviscerate and demoralize the American writer, who would be stupid enough to lend themselves to this goddamned hamster wheel of misery/stupidity, even for the price of the matinee.

Inside the joke, we find Dan Brown himself, dutifully playing Hyram Abiff to all of us, who is then clouted on the head by the Cowan likes of me demanding "what is the code-word, Master Mason!?" (ask it three times, kids!) and YET he WILL NOT REVEAL THE SECRET.

Why? Because, Sweet Susie, there is no secret. Like much of corporate nonsense, social engineering, religion or Masonic ritual, at the heart, it's all bullshit, designed to frustrate and brainwash you, and at the final hour, or the 33rd degree, it all smells like Mal 'Akh warmed over.

"I am Spasticus!"