Friday, November 10, 2017

"Full of Ritual"

I'm not sure why The Guardian chose to write about it now, but the city of Perth has its arts festival coming up in February. And apparently the program for the festival is-- and I quote-- "full of ritual."

Of course it is. Because sooner than you think, everything will be. 

In this case, one of the rituals in question will be the citywide performance of  an installation involving hundreds of loudspeakers blasting out a sonic collage that sounds very, very much like an outtake from Victorialand.

"Siren Song" was performed this past June in Hobart on the island of Tasmania for the Dark Mofo festival. 450 speakers and a helicopter were deployed to bathe the streets in the Siren's call.

The work was performed at dawn and at dusk throughout the riverfront city. 

As you can tell it was very, very loud and very, very eerie. The piece is essentially a drone with a soprano singing wordlessly. Other sounds are heard- the soprano breathing heavily, some various dissonant noises, and so on and so forth. Très Fraserique.

You can see the helicopter flying over the harbor in this clip. 

There it goes. Wave.

And if you've been following this Siren archetype for the past several years here you know exactly what happens next...


Because the Siren's Song is deathAlways has been, always will be.

Corbin, an accomplished pilot, was pivotal in "Siren Song" performance of this piece and now his death leaves behind a grieving family. Yet again.

Yet again.

I keep saying this and people keep laughing at me: The Siren is Abyzou, the Siren is Tiamat, the Siren is Derceto. Admire her beauty if you like but back the fuck away. 

Sure, Mermaid-Mania is cute and fun and charming and oh look at the little darlings swim and all that. But what we are really seeing is a ritual summoning-- all across the world, every minute of every day-- of a force that was impossibly ancient before us hairless apes starting roaming around.

None of this is going to end well. I just want to go on the record about that, right here and now.

Which brings us to Tampa-- yet again-- and the death of All-Star pitcher Roy Halladay ("King's Holy Day"), who crashed into the Gulf of Mexico in his semi-experimental ICON A5 racing plane.

It appears Halladay took the ICON out for a spin for the first time on October Friday the 13th, which I would have never recommended. He tweeted this prophetic shot here. 

This culture really needs more symbolic consultants.

A lot of people have written about this situation and Doc Holliday of OK Corral fame but I was more interested in the sync of this Roy Halladay and another pilot- Roy Halliday, the British fighter pilot who also crashed into the ocean, though he survived. And was rescued by none other than Prince Phillip.

And there we see that shape yet again. 

Which we were reminded of the same day as the crash when NASA released footage from the Juno probe.

The Halladay death didn't seem to garner all that much attention until this Boston sports talk host whipped up a controversy about it when claimed Halladay got what was coming to him for his recklessness.

I may have to coin a new Knowles' Law for this one.

And the Tampa Son of Son of Sam case seemed to heat up again in local media for some odd reason, though no new deaths have been recorded.

As then there's this case, about a Neo-Nazi-turned-Muslim named Devon Arthurs who murdered his roommates who he subsequently claimed were part of a shadowy cell called the Atomwaffen. 

As it happens several documents pertaining to the case have been "heavily redacted," which in plain English means "classified."

"He didn't feel like a monster but he doesn't feel sane."  Right

Well, we know the name of this tune, don't we?

I wonder if Devon Arthurs suffered from chronic ABS, as Devin Patrick Kelley obviously did.

ABS is short for "Amy Bishop Syndrome," an acute disorder that causes dangerous psychopaths to "slip through the cracks."

Kelley was court-martialed, imprisoned and institutionalized-- not necessarily in that order-- for a number of major crimes. But wouldn't you know it, someone in the Air Force forgot to make note of all this on his military record. 

Maybe we should start a GoFundMe and get the poor Air Force some computers so they don't have to bother with all the carbon paper and index cards they use now. Or at least get them a refurbished mimeograph machine and some nice pencils.

That way they won't let any more "serious problems" slip through those cracks.  

And as we saw before, Kelley was stationed at Holloman AFB, right outside the Trinity Test Site.

Which brings us back to Garlands, of course. Because everything does eventually.

It just occurred to me: the cover art looks a lot like an editorial illustration for an article of ULF mind control.

Something along the lines of this. Weird, huh? 

Go figure.

Interesting though that we looked at another Kelly-- the Orange Appled NASA twin, Scott Kelly-- so much in the weeks leading up to the shooting.

Kelly is still on his book tour, incidentally.

And, oh look - yet another new ritual. 

This one is called "Scream at the Sky" and was held on the first anniversary of Donald Trump's election. It should more accurately be called "Scream at the Stars," since it took place after sunset. 

But maybe that would be a bit too on-the-nose.

The name comes from the iconic footage of a Hillary supporter of indeterminate gender screaming into the air when Trump was elected. Apparently Yoko is involved in this somehow but whatever. Yoko.

But wait- what's that image at the bottom there?

The Siren? What's she doing there? The link offered not a single clue.

Well, since every event of this kind has to be assumed to be the revival of some arcane ritual until proven otherwise, I wanted to see what all this may be in fact reviving. 

Just because I like to know these things. 

Also because all this shit will be mandatory sooner than you think. 

And I didn't have to look too far: 

Ritual Laments have an interesting history. In Laconia- which is to say Sparta- there was a ritual lament for Hyacinth, one of Apollo's catamites. 

Y'know. Because Sparta.

But a curious little detail popped out at me while researching the ritual laments:

They were referred to as alyros, or "lyreless."

And it just so happens that November is the month when Lyra begins to fade from the sky in the Northern Hemisphere, not to return until the Month of Aphrodite.

Same month all those Shepherd Boy consorts were said to return from the Underworld. 

With their lyres.

I wanted to look further into this but a strange thing happened when I did a search on this:

"Scream at the Sky" results came up instead. 

Gotta love those syncs. 

And sure enough, hot on the heels of the release of the Masonic Tercentennial stream and the opening of the Bloomberg Mithraeum, the all-new, all-transgendered Doctor Who (Enigmus Nymphus) was shown off to the world, wearing Masonic-Blue and Gold and a Rainbow on her tunic. 

Get used to it.