Sunday, April 29, 2018

NXIVM: Eros Ouranos Thanatos

Well, I have some good news, some bad news and some insanely-terrible news. Which do you want to hear first?

OK, the good news? The world is being re-paganized at an almost-unimaginably rapid pace.

The bad news? The world is being re-paganized at an almost-unimaginably rapid pace.

The insanely-terrible news? The world is being re-paganized at an almost-unimaginably rapid pace.

This is pretty much why the NXIVM cult fascinates me.  Actually there's a number of reasons. First of all, I wonder what the bust-up of it means in the grand scheme of things, and what it might be saying about the ever-shifting internecine struggles taking place in the corridors of power. 

This cult's shenanigans have been known for a very long time and discussed in major media outlets. So why drop the hammer now?

Second of all, I can't for the life of me figure why anyone found this Keith Reniere schlub so fascinating and why all these C-list starlets found him so alluring. Is he packing horsemeat in the icebox, if you get my meaning? The whole thing just boggles my mind. 

He reminds me of a not-particularly-competent youth fellowship pastor from some dreary. fading mainline church who bullshitted his way into the gig so he could diddle himself some 'tweenies. Which he basically is, come to think of it.

And you know where he got his code-name "Vanguard?" From a dopey 8-bit Atari arcade game. I mean, the cringe-force is strong with this one. Or the banality of evil.

Third, there are so many tantalizing tendrils leading into this utterly-insane constellation of themes and symbols I've been ranting about these past several months like a mental patient. I have no idea why this would be so, but I really don't have much idea about why anything is so. Not anymore. Just being honest here.

Then there's the fetid, sulphury stench of the Deep State that you seem to catch a whiff of with every door you open with this bunch of lunatics. 

There are so many layers here; a bullshit pyramid scheme stacked atop a sicko sex cult stacked atop an MK op. I have a feeling there are several more layers besides, maybe some we're better off not knowing about.

And for very good reason, I might add.

Then there are all the connections to the ruling class (even the Dalai Lama), the usual suspects bouncing about hither and yon (three of the cult's top directors are members of the Clinton Global Initiative), and even several unusual suspects (ostensibly, at least) like Alex Jones' drinking buddy, Roger Stone.

Keep an eye out for any anomalous movements in the news. Strange deaths, sudden retirements, etc. Set your news alerts.

And then, for our purposes, there are the weird connections to the Vancouver TV industry, not the least of which is Raniere's bananas-cute Number One, Allison Mack. That takes us into the orbit of the almighty X, whose recent and probable-final season is laden with apocalyptic portent that may take a bit of time to bubble up from the depths.

The other name you keep hearing in conjunction with Mack is Kristin Kreuk, who starred in the CW suckfest Beauty and the Beast. See what I mean? Along with the well publicized wooing of Emma "Belle" Watson we find ourselves right back in the swirling Secret Sun maelstrom of star-sync.

Anyhow, I wanted to revisit the NXIVM saga because of a few choice morsels of information a commenter left for me in the previous post. First of all is that Reniere was busted in a villa in Puerta Vallarta on Mexico's Pacific coast...

And sure enough, Puerta Vallarta is a veritable symphony of symbol, including the now-familiar seahorse icon and the swordfish, which we'll be hearing more about in the near future.

The reader in question also informed me that Puerta Vallarta is also well-known for a week-long festival for Our Lady of Guadalupe. Perhaps not surprisingly there's a cathedral for the Virgin of Guadalupe in Monterrey, where NXIVM keeps its Mexican headquarters. So me being the nice, little sync-addict I thought it might be a good time to take another look at this world-famous icon.

And lo and behold, we find ourselves back among the stars.

The Lady of Guadalupe is literally cloaked in the stars and is surrounded by an aura that reminds me quite a bit of a nebula or a supernova. And yes, I'm familiar with the other interpretations of it as well, smart-aleck.

So poking around the web I found this fascinating little diagram, that features a whole roster of our old pals, not the least of which are the Beauty and the Beast, smack-dab in the upper torso area. The Virgin's crown of stars here is Corona Borealis and the ostensible crescent the Lady stands atop is no such thing but in fact the horns of Taurus.

Makes sense to me. Mind you, I don't want to reduce this all to an dreary Astrotheological circle-jerk. I'm thinking more Theo-Astrological. I know it sounds stupid (and it probably is) but it will have to do for now.  

As an aside here, I'm really losing patience with all the Solar wankedy-wank in Astrotheology. The stars are where the real action is. Those cats back in the day knew something, something we really don't give them enough credit for. The sun stuff was for the mooks, the thugs in the Mithraist-type cults with their blood-baths and animal masks and naked Twister.

So what do you say we take a look at the Mexican national seal? 
C'mon, lets!

And hey, wouldn't you know it? There's our old buddy Lyra again! Small world, eh?

Oh, I hear you out there; Christ, Chris: give it a rest, will you? You're going to break your hobbyhorse's back. Plus, we all know you're only jonesing on Lyra on account of your psychotic fixation on that crazy-eyed sylph from the 80s you're always babbling about like a wet-brained hobo.

Why, you wound me, sirs and sirettes! Well, not to worry; class is now in session....

OK, there's the cover story, some blibbedy-blablabla the high-initiate Masons who founded Mexico dreamed up to keep the cowans off the scent. It's all nonsense, of course, so just put it out of your minds. You have enough to worry about.

OK, so we know with cosmic certainty that the Eagle is Lyra--specifically Vega and Mu Lyrae AKA Alathfar, AKA "the Talons of the Swooping Eagle."

So the Mexican Seal is Vega capturing the serpent, which is Draco in this case.  I still have no earthly clue why all these weirdos are so bloody fascinated by Lyra but unfortunately they never seem to take my calls down at International Star-Cultist HQ. 

I keep trying to leave voicemails but the mailbox is always full. I hate to say it but I think they're avoiding me.

So what's the cactus then? Glad you asked. Thank you. 

Well, the way I see it the cactus is the Milky Way, which Lyra borders. Do note the same exact intersection we're talking about with the Mexican Seal is exactly where the Kepler telescope is focused. 

Don't you just love a nifty coincidence? Fun.

But Chris, you say, how do you figure a cactus for the Milky Way? I think you're reaching here. 

Well, I hear you and I want to you to understand that I value your you-ness and hope you can recognize my me-ness, but the fact that the white sap of the cactus is called "cactus milk" kind of nails down that particular parallel. For me at least. 

And do note this is all adjacent to our pal Herakles curb-stompin' on Draco's head in exactly the same fashion the woman's seed was destined to stomp on the Serpent's.

Theo-Astrology. It's new, it's now. Get in on the ground floor while you can. I think it's the next Bitcoin.


So yeah, this NXIVM thing. It's the tip of a very big and very bad iceberg by my reckoning. All the pieces are in place here. And there are going to be more. Postmodern culture might expect people to be atomized consumers adrift in a meaningless sea of isolation but we don't simply work that way. 

Sorry, Georgie-poo.

I don't care what your favorite pink-haired millionaire Maoist tells you, we are not social animals, we are tribal animals. This is why socialism always fails, from a Warsaw Bloc kakistocracy all the way down to your local vegan co-op. I mean, it's a nice dream but dreams have an irritating habit of failing to translate in meatspace.

This is why Globalism is not only destined to go ass over tea kettle, it could well take human civilization down with it. The fundamental premise is not only flawed, it's stupid.

That looks healthy.

Paganism and tribalism aren't social constructions, they're default settings. 

Anyone who thinks otherwise-- even for a second-- is spending too much time on Twitter. And untrammeled hedonism has a terrible habit of leading people to some very dark corners, because Dionysus is a sick, straight-up motherfucker and Eros is almost as bad. They need to be kept on a short leash.

No one ever starts out thinking, "Hey, raping and torturing a five year-old from Guatemala sounds like a bloody capital idea." Well, almost no one, there're always your Ted Bundys and your Jeffrey Dahmers. But the data is in, folks. 

I mean, no one wants to be a stuck in the mud and a schoolmarm and a fuddy-duddy, but the unfettered pursuit of gratification--fueled by jet-black symbolism-- can walk some folks, step-by-babystep, into the waiting arms of atrocity.

Case in point: we've talked about this before, how these vulnerable children seem to "slip through the cracks" and end up in Hell on Earth, but it just doesn't seem to quit. What happens to these kids once they fall off the radar? 

 Any questions?

And of course, the epidemic of violence in Latin American countries is only making things worse. Gang-rule and official corruption, supercharged by the growing popularity of very, very dark occultism, are kicking up fresh clouds of abject horror in their wake. 

You see, I realize our popular mythology likes to paint all those sad and tired old papists as unrelieved Torquemadas, but there are actually very good reasons authorities have brought the boot down on the Left-Hand Path over the past several millennia or so, even way, way back in the pre-Christian era (believe me, the Romans had zero patience for witchcraft or magic). 

As satisfying and deliciously consequence-free it may be to paint pictures of innocent wise-women and blameless heathens victimized by big-meanie Christians, it's almost mind-numbingly ignorant of history and the very nature of paganism and witchcraft. 

At its core, real paganism is about blood sacrifice-- often human sacrifice in the case of the Celts and the Vikings et al

Even the touchy-feely mystery cults charged punters a lamb or a piglet at the gate as the price of admission. Not throwing shade, just natural facts.

You simply can't be a witch and a vegan, I'm sorry to say. Witchcraft is the art of taking life as currency for horsetrading with spirits. 

You think all those jokes about "wing of bat and eye of newt" have no basis in reality? Think again.

And I'm not saying the other guys have unsoiled garments either. Hey, it's a brutal, fallen, irredeemable world. 

But there's also a reason the early Church fathers devised this whole idea of Christ as the ultimate sacrifice. It was to stop people from killing stuff for their religion. It ended up being kind of like shoveling against the tide, but sometimes you gotta try anyway.

I don't want to add insult to injury here, but maybe--just maybe-- this hideous murder epidemic in Mexico has something to do with this whole, y'know, Death worship business. Plus, the Satanic stuff.  

Just putting that out there on the table. Like a fruit display that no one ever eats.

And come to think of it, Santa Muerte is not entirely unlike Coatlicue, is she? The old snakehead didn't buy that necklace of human body parts at her local SS Kresge's, right? She was known to devour everything in her path, after all. 

Sure, I suppose there was a proper goddess of death back in the Aztec days, but as far as I can tell she didn't seem nearly as badass as old Serpentskirt. And it seems that other folks have picked up on the parallels, too. 

Now, I'm crazy and all but I can't help but have noticed that when you go knocking on the dark gods' doors, they're usually more than happy to let you in. Yeah, they might seem hospitable and accommodating at first. But that's only until you wander into the pantry and see your name atop the grocery list. In the meat section.

I'm not going to pretend that anyone down there gives a single fleck of shit what I think but maybe some of all y'all can keep that in mind when traveling through the aisles of the spiritual supermarket. There's a lot of spoiled produce on the shelves these days, if you get my meaning.  

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that symbols have meaning. They're not toys. They're incredibly powerful tools and incredibly potent weapons. You can be as psychological or as magical as you want to be on the subject. It works the same way, regardless.

What I'm ultimately trying to do with this blog is point all this out because they're are way too many people fucking around with way too many symbols and I'm very much afraid it's not going anywhere good. I keep feeling like it's October 1967 and I'm hearing the rivets creak on the Silver Bridge. 

Hey, I get it; I'm nobody and nobody gives a shit what I think or say, but when it all goes tits-up at least my conscience will be more or less clearish. It's a terrible thing, I know, but the sad fact is I just want everyone to be happy and want everything to work out OK.