Tuesday, April 17, 2018

It's the End of the World As We Know It (and Larry Fine)

Hey, giant extraterrestrial demons on the roof of the most prestigious museum in the western hemisphere? Sure, why not? Go for it. I mean it is 2018, right? 

Take a good long look, my friends. You're looking at the future. 

Don't worry, they come in peace. Don't he look peaceful? A regular pussycat.

Now, the future faith is being rolled using two very powerful tools of persuasion and/or coercion; the arts (particularly public art) and intersectionality. And the piece in question-- titled We Come in Peace-- is the creation of Huma Bhabha, a female-identifying Pakistani artist who works with recycled materials. And who I'm going to go out on a limb and guess is maybe not real into guys. 

Perfect. Just perfect. You couldn't script it more perfectly.

So let me just warn you folks now, if you're planning a trip to the Met and you fail to regard this charming little display here with the sufficient degree of reverence, you can bet your bottom Bitcoin you'll not only be seen as a Philistine and a religious fanatic but that there's a laundry list of -isms and -phobias you're probably guilty of as well.  

I mean, we looked at your Twitter feed and you don't seem to be suitably angry about the evil, wicked Russians endlessly plotting to destroy our democracy and our way of life. And we understand you weren't all that enthusiastic about the Syria bombing either. 

And I didn't want to have to bring this up, but our people at your credit card company informed us that you never ordered your pussy-hat or your evil-eye gloves. I really hope that's some kind of computer glitch somewhere. For your sake.

Is there something you'd like to get off your chest? Like now? First-time-last-time offer here. 

Don't worry, We Come in Peace helpfully provides an example for you to follow when facing the hideous giant demons our Space Brothers. Because the Vegas our Space Brothers love you and care about you and the planet.

Aren't you grateful to the Angels Who Watch our Space Brothers? 

Sure, you are. We all are. We're more grateful together.

I mean, you're not like one of those Golden Dawn Nazi Christians who knocked down our infernal master Semjaza the Phylax statue, are you? 

What? The Golden Dawn are Hellenic pagans who hate Christianity? 

Hey now; what did we tell you about that mansplaining? Shut up and listen already.

Don't run; I love you.

I mean, you have a nice job and a nice house. It would be a cryin' shame if something terrible happened to all your nice things and your kids ended up working in our, uh, secret movie studios, don't you think? 

You don't want the local Antifa freedom-fighters showing up at your front door with aluminum baseball bats and a five-gallon bottle of industrial drain cleaner, do you? 

Of course not.

So fall to your knees and repent, if you please. Don't forget to wear your Orange. I'm sending you a text reminder now.


Oddly enough, We Come in Peace not only coincides with the onset of the Lyrids and Beyonce debuting her newest alter-ego "Beyophomet" at Coachella, it also ties in with the latest "let's make those kooky Christians look insane and dangerous with some made-up bullshit" psy-op.

And this time it's Nibiru that's bringing on the doom. I'm not going to go into the details here because they're all intentionally stupid, these alleged preachers of doom are the usual ridiculous shills no one's ever heard of and it's nearly impossible to find anyone but YouTube bots that actually believes any of this crap.

I mean, they roll out all these clowns and they all perform like trained snake-handling monkeys and everyone just shakes their heads and rolls their eyes in disgust. It's the old tried-and-true Westboro two-step, that zany disinfo program that works like gangbusters every time.

I mean, what the hell kind of expert on the apocalypse runs around making these kinds of predictions and doesn't cite a single Cocteau Twins song to back up their prophecies?


That's how you can be absolutely sure these shills are all full of shit.

But by sheer coincidence, April 23rd coincides with the peak of the Lyrids and mirrors the 9/23 "Beauty and the Beast" alignment we've spent so much time analyzing together.

But then again maybe this latest fake-Apocalypse scare is meant to inoculate everyone against, y'know, the actual real Apocalypse.  I mean, Megiddo seems to be an ever-present possibility with the nonsense going on in Syria and we have stories like that to process. 

And this map here is a record of all the earthquakes in the Ring of Fire in the past month. I should remind everyone that the temblors in question seem to be inching their way up the Richter scale with every passing day.

And it also seems like we've been seeing an awful lot of near-misses out there in space these days as well. This latest one reportedly came barreling towards us out of nowhere and is said to have astronomers totally by surprise. Allegedly.

And we keep seeing these crazy blizzards well into springtime. And despite the reported melting in parts of Antarctica (which were reported as being to be the result of underwater volcanoes) the Upside Down seems to have gotten a record amount of snow in the same time period we're being told it's all melting away into the sea.

Maybe the world will end in ice after all.

And if this isn't an omen, I'm not exactly sure what is. Interesting times we live in. Sadly.


The Cinderella sports story of the year is the incredible rise of the Vegas; the Vegas Golden Knights Vegas, that is. This expansion team burst out of nowhere to the playoffs, so to commemorate their remarkable ascent, the Trans-Mithras at the New York, New York casino was endowed with a Vegas jersey.

Now you know these guys mean business. So you have to root for them. 

Don't let us go finding out you didn't root for them, now. Hear?

Do check out the Vegas' little ritualistic mystery play, though, which has to be a first for pro hockey. Though I'm guessing it won't the last.

The Vegas so far have power over the Angelic Kindreds in the first round of the playoffs, because it was given to the Vegas to make war with the powers and principalities, and overcome them. 

In other playoff news, the Templar Bay Lucifers are beating the New Caesarea Satans in the usual kind of power struggle Tartarus is notorious for. 

Kind of like The Sopranos, just with pitchforks. Place is a fucking zoo.

Since a Red Dragon would be a bit too on the nose, the Vegas use a gila monster as their mascot.  Equally smelly and toxic, but more family-friendly.

Make sure you root for the Vegas. We'll be monitoring your Internet traffic. For your own protection.

A reader sent me this poster- this year's San Diego County Fair actually has a "Paddock Stage," which is headlining country singers Jason James and Lee Greenwood. 

I mean, what do you say at this point? Just rub our noses in it, why don't you?


A lot of readers have recommended Requiem to me and I finally got a chance to binge on it. And I must say it's terrific. It's essentially a six-hour 70s folk-horror movie, just minus the poor production values and period cheese-flutes. 

Top-rate and filled with spicy angel-magicky goodness. Well, angel magick, at least.

The cast is as terrific as you'd expect, though I must say I didn't recognize Tara Fitzgerald for quite some time. She's still a perfectly fine-looking woman, just not the irresistible manic-pixie cupcake she was back when The Simpsons was still funny. If the name doesn't ring a bell, Fitzgerald's first big role was opposite Hugh Grant in Sirens.

Remember Hugh Grant? Remember the 90s, when everything wasn't fucking terrible? Misty water-colored memories. Could it be that life was oh-so-simple then?