Go eff yourself, Science
As usual it's been a week filled with syncs, signs and signals. So much so that it's time to drag out the card table, serve up the artisanal cheese puffs and strawberry-wheat microbrews and play a few rounds of Secret Sun Scrabble.
And why not? Everyone else out there seems to be.
Ah yes, I believe that's good for the All-Important 44 points. Well done, Sunners.
What's the occasion? Well, our old pal Elizardbeast Battenberg-Saxe-Gotha and her new BFF, the Duchess of Dew-Drops, had a girls-only outing the other day. They hopped aboard a train (I believe it was the Entrainment Express) and went gallivanting around their green and pleasant dominion together.
Lizzie Batten even gave her gal-pal a nice set of pearly earrings to show off for the cameras. I'm not exactly sure what kind of hex she put on them but I'm sure it was a doozy.
But this was shortly after Sotheby's announced they'd auctioning off the pearly dew-drops of the last Queen of France, who had to surrender them seeing as she had a brunch date with Madame Guillotine.
Hmm, this on top of the blessed chymical nuptials falling on the anniversary of Anne Boleyn's unfortunate haircut and the arrest of Mary, Queen of Scots, who suffered a similar fate to her English and French counterparts.
Sensing a pattern here?
Kazakhstan, Princess Pearly. I hear it's lovely this time of year.
One of the whistle stops on the Royal Scam Special was Chester, where the Queen Bee and her protege took in a performance by the Fallen Angel Dance Theatre, a troupe made up of England's large and growing army of recovering addicts.
No seriously: THE FALLEN ANGEL DANCE THEATRE.
Hey, the opium war worked in Hong Kong, right? That's what the ruling class likes to call "proof of concept."
And tickle me with a feather if the vocal ululations in the soundtrack to this little performance doesn't sound distinctly Fraserfarian. Surely a coincidence.
Has to be because we know the Royal Family have no interest in symbolism and ritual or anything, right? I mean, it has nothing to do with the hypothetical...
Which reminds me;all you gamers out there, mark your calendars: Monday sees the debut of The Lost Child, which I believe is available for the new Nintendo Nephilim 666. Aren't familiar with this franchise?
Here, read this:
El Shaddai: Ascension of the Metatron director and character designer Sawaki Takeyasu helmed the project. NIS America describes the game's story, which is connected to El Shaddai: Ascension of the Metatron: Occult journalist Hayato Ibuki encounters a strange girl during his investigations into a series of mysterious suicides in Tokyo.
She implores that Hayato must live, before bestowing upon him a mystical device that allows him to capture celestial and arcane creatures.
Then check this trailer out:
Sounds like a hoot and a howl. I'm still rocking my old PlayStation but I think I'll upgrade to the new Nephilim666 so I can properly entrain myself with Vega worship.
But you know the old saying, it's not really a Nephilim invasion without an army of transgenic kill-chimeras, so let's play the next round...
And boy, do we have a shocker for you!
It's a prototype for the be-CRISPR'd floor model for Humanity 2.0, brought to you by none other than the BBC, AKA the House that Jimmy Savile Built.
The perfect human body has elements you've been entrained to expect- an androgynous, vaguely-female frame with no apparent reproductive organs or breast tissue, and a whole host of the latest and greatest CRISPR upgrades like ostrich legs, cat ears, octopus eyes and marsupial pouch.
I don't think the pouch will be part of the final production model since Human 2.0 (which will sold under the brand name NuHu®) will be grown in birth-bags a la Altered Carbon.
I actually think the baby head is kind of like a hood ornament for the Nu-Hu®.
Wait; I think I read on Buzzfeed that the pouch is actually a fanny snack-pack.
You do realize the NuHu® will be cannibalistic, right? Like their designers? Case in point...
Those Vice hacks are so clever- "Our DNA might be the most valuable thing," indeed! Hilarious double entendre there, Vicers! You may end up losing countless millions for your investors but you've done more than your fair share of entrainment and brainwashing.
In a related story, SETI actually picked up a recent transmission from the planet Nephilium-9, located in the Belt of Orion. Here it is, hot off the wires:
WE'RE NOT HERE TO DESTROY- STOP
WE ARE HERE TO EMPLOY- STOP
FIRST WE GAVE YOU THE WHEEL- STOP
THEN WE MADE YOU LIVE TO KILL- STOP
SO THE BEST STOCK WILL SURVIVE- STOP
WE EAT YOU ALL ALIVE- FULL STOP
If you get this you're old. Stop.
Not sure if CRISPR-CAS9 pioneer Jennifer Doudna (pronounced dude-na) was consulted on the NuHu® but she's got other plans, apparently. Hey, why not revive extinct species and create new ones?
Better yet, why not create entirely new hellbeasts out of the recovered DNA of ancient predators and giant alien demons? There are too many people on the planet anyway, right?
Oh, but wait; here's a real shocker for you...
Wow, cutting and pasting genes willy-nilly can cause cancer? Now I've heard everything.
That's gotta be another one of those data-errors. A few well-placed "undiagnosed heart defects" or "horrific automobile accidents" will clear up that misunderstanding in a jiffy. I mean how else will we create those...
Like this unfortunate fellow. They're saying it has a pigeon head but looks more like a seal head to me. But what do I know? Don't go looking for the video of this thing now. It's really upsetting.
And then there's this CRISPR critter. Someone told me they're calling it Kek (or Pokedomna-Kenma-Kek) but I think they've actually named it "Jeremiah."
After the apocalyptic prophet, not the Three Dog Night song.
It's a-rrrr-aining octopus, hallelujah, it's raining octopus, amen
And China makes the makes the news with this charming little account of a rain of sea creatures, ostensibly caused by a big storm at sea. Ostensibly...
Let us not talk falsely now: you and I know it's really just another sign of...
Define "perfectly symmetrical."
Yes, the death of language is one of the hallmarks of any halfway-decent Apocalypse.
And what's the Apocalypse without Belarion Armillus Al Dajjal, the Antichrist Superstar?
Not much of an Apocalypse at all, Sir Ridley.
But is it my imagination or does this publicity shot remind you of an old Harry Hamlin movie poster? Something with Sheriff Truman and one of Charlie's Angels or that girl from The Partridge Family? Or am I thinking of LA Law? Damn, it's on the tip of my tongue.
Speaking of TV Land, remember that the Prophet Friedmaniah predicted that in the future everyone would look like Ernest Borgnine. OK, admittedly he lifted that prophecy from St. John, the Cooper of Clarke. But it makes no nevermind anyway. Why?
Because in the future, everyone will look like Gwyneth Paltrow.
Well, except for the NuHu's®.
You know it, I know it. And the rich Paltrovians all hope to be living in orbit as the Fallen Angels and their battalions of NuHu's pick their teeth with the bones the last of the human resistance.
No, I mean a real Resistance.
Of course, the rich will all look like Gwyneth Paltrow (or variously, Solange Knowles) because they'll be trying to emulate their Nephilim role-models.
Oh wait; are you trying to tell me that you actually didn't realize that...
Or maybe it's just the Archangels. Wait, I'll be right back....
No, actually I'm pretty sure it's the whole lot.
I'm sorry, I don't mean to burst anyone's bubble but the evidence is in; from the earliest Byzantine depictions right through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the Angels are all transgender. Or drag queens at least.
Sure, there are a few later depictions that try to kind of Barry Smith them up a bit but those are the outliers.
Hey, quit being such a friggin' transphobe, Ted Nugent. You're looking at the future.
If you don't believe me, check it out for yourself. I don't think I'd have noticed it myself if not for my hundred-thousandth viewing of Our Blessed Lady's startlingly-prophetic canticle to the Ruby Star Dorado.
Compare Michael's dragon-killin' duds with Katy Peristalsis's number from the Met Kalu. Or maybe it's a CRISPR hybrid of that and Cardi B's pearly number.
Speaking of the twelfth chapter of the Revelation to St. John, here's one hell of sync for you, quite literally:
Ugh, horrible. Poor soul. I hate the Apocalypse already, and it's just warming up.
However, I'd be delinquent if I didn't mention "Die Hand Die Verletz," which featured a similar event. Bonus sync: "Mrs. Paddock."
But the symbols don't stop there- this unfortunate woman was checking on her corn, and all you astro-buffs out there know what that means....
...the Virgin, the Beauty to the Beast, the Cocteau Twin.
And no, that's not the Archangel Gabriel, or Saint Faith. They came around much later.
Bible buffs will recognize the parallels here to Rev. 12:4, in which the Dragon (apparently a catch-all for all the snakey-type constellations) tries to eat the Woman's baby as it's born.
Hmm, maybe the Dragon is actually a NuHu®.
Just so we're clear, this is the Revelation 12 star-map, a trip just north of the ecliptic from Virgo (Rev 12:1-2) to Serpens (Rev. 12: 3-5) to Ophiucus (Rev. 12: 7-12, with a considerably butched-up Michael) to Aquila (Rev. 12: 14) to Aquarius (Rev. 12: 15-16).
What does it all mean? I haven't a clue.
But the real question remains: were the Sabs big Kirby fans? Before you answer remember that there're also the tunes about Iron Man and Mister Miracle. Cheers to Ned for the reminder.
Not pictured: actual crowds
Seriously. Can we get onto the next phase of our entrainment? It's getting so I'm losing my taste for tuna. But there was the big Mermaid Parade in Brooklyn and all the rest of it and for f**ks sake, enough all-f**king-ready. F**k me sideways.
But we need to be re-paganized whether we like it or not so the show must go on.
The future is Mermale
I can't wait for when things really start cooking and spirit-filled Mermales go full Galloi and saw off their own junk with a broken Orangina bottle in a Mer-frenzy of Mer-adoration and hurl the offending bloody appendages at horrified diners in the nearest Gray's Papaya or Ray's Original Pizza.
I don't know, I thought these were funny. Stop being such a killjoy, Triggly.
Though I'd advise aspiring Mermaids and Mermales that the Sibyl--aka the Kwi-Scots Haderach-- refused to invoke the "Song to the Siren" for 13 years, believing that the song brought darkness and ill-fortune into her precious, porcelain-skinned life.
In that light, do note that the Oracle shopping mall in Reading, England was evacuated to deal with a suspicious package.
Did such a package exist or was it all an elaborate Crown ritual meant to call our attention to the fact that the House of Clan Fraser produced the Oracle of the Apocalypse?
You already know my answer.
Speaking of the Kwi-Scots Haderach, elections for the new Mother Superior of the Orthodox Fraserfarian Bene Gesserit are coming up fast and furious. And it seems Sister Shirley Manson of Garbage and Sarah Connor Chronicles fame is throwing her cybernetic swordhand in the ring.
Showing her Traditionalist colors, Manson gave a very 1986-vintage statement of faith in a recent interview with The Quietus:
When I heard Elizabeth Fraser for the first time, first of all I was so excited that they were based in Scotland and hearing her sing felt like I was in touch with alien life...
I felt like every time I listened – and I still have the same reaction – when I listen to these records I feel like I'm literally being transported in angel wings...
...I always think it's like music from the Gods. It's not of this world.
I don't know about you but Manson sure gets my vote. For Mother Superior and for honorable mention in the Secret Sun Scrabble Sweepstakes.
The only question that remains is....
