Like great theatre and fiction, real life would be a lot less interesting without grand villains. And who better to fill that role than a master thespian like Kevin Spacey Fowler? Especially seeing how he once filled the shoes of one of the great super-villains of modern pop culture.
No, not Keyser Soze, the other one. But Keyser Soze too, now that you mention it.
No, not Keyser Soze, the other one. But Keyser Soze too, now that you mention it.
This is probably old news for most of you, but Spacey returned to YouTube for another Christmas message, wielding the bizarre accent and oily persona of his House of Cards character to...um, do what, exactly?
Insert his narcissistic ass back in the news cycle?
Warn his rich and powerful friends that he'll ratfuck them a thousand times harder than they've ever been ratfucked before if they kick him to the curb?
Let the world know that some motherfuckers gonna be dying real soon?
All of the above? Probably.
Warn his rich and powerful friends that he'll ratfuck them a thousand times harder than they've ever been ratfucked before if they kick him to the curb?
Let the world know that some motherfuckers gonna be dying real soon?
All of the above? Probably.
Because the very next day this aristocratic fellow was found dead, allegedly by his own hand. Hard accent on the allegedly, given the timing and all.
Was the poor, unfortunate Herr Behn's passing conspicuously un-suicidal? Are the authorities putting the kibosh on that fact as to quell any kinds of unfortunate rumors as to the dread hand of the Spaceman reaching out and smiting his enemies?
I guess we'll never know.
Either way, you gotta admit that Spacey has had a remarkable run of good luck since his last Christmas message. William Little dropped his assault case and another, unknown accuser had themselves a fatal accident in Quincy Center (Just a few hundred feet where my novel He Will Live Up in the Sky opens, incidentally).
And then Jeffrey Epstein got himself iced in federal custody, diverting all the attention away from Spacey's own transgressions, which as far as we know pale in comparison to the late honey-trapper.
Odd how all this skullduggery always seems to fold in the Clintons and the Windsors, but that's for someone else to puzzle out.
Odd how all this skullduggery always seems to fold in the Clintons and the Windsors, but that's for someone else to puzzle out.
Bryan Singer, who directed Spacey as Lex Luthor, has had his own sweet-tooth scandals to worry about. Sadly, Singer doesn't seem to possess the bowling ball cojones his old friend has. Even so, I predict the director's troubles will pleasantly waft away in the next few months on their own, so he doesn't need to worry all that much about it.
Singer's an insider, and insiders look after their own in Tinseltown. At least until their grosses fall. Either way, don't ever count the Kevin Spacey's and Bryan Singer's of the world. They're one hell of a lot smarter than the dumb fucks in the media these days.
And now that you mention it, they're probably a lot smarter than the corporate drones running Hollywood these days too.
Singer's an insider, and insiders look after their own in Tinseltown. At least until their grosses fall. Either way, don't ever count the Kevin Spacey's and Bryan Singer's of the world. They're one hell of a lot smarter than the dumb fucks in the media these days.
And now that you mention it, they're probably a lot smarter than the corporate drones running Hollywood these days too.
In light of the Lex Luthor connection between the two predators, I should remind you all that my money's on Lex Luthor being modeled after Aleister Crowley by Superman creator Jerry Siegel, who certainly knew his occultism. Or at least the kind of occultism a nerdy kid from Cleveland would soak up through the pulp magazines of the 1930s.
Which, come to think of it, probably beats anything your average Williamsburg witch knows all to hell. By the way, are those the most phallic-looking Ionian columns you've ever seen?
Aside from the obvious physical resemblance, both Luthor and Crowley share a first name (Alexander) that they hide beneath assumed names. Both had pretensions to science and aspirations towards sorcery. Both are/were insatiable megalomaniacs with pretensions to godhood. Both presented themselves as anti-Christ figures, with Luthor playing that role against the more obviously messianic Superman.
I'm sure Kevin Spacey ticks off a few of these boxes as well.
Which, come to think of it, probably beats anything your average Williamsburg witch knows all to hell. By the way, are those the most phallic-looking Ionian columns you've ever seen?
Aside from the obvious physical resemblance, both Luthor and Crowley share a first name (Alexander) that they hide beneath assumed names. Both had pretensions to science and aspirations towards sorcery. Both are/were insatiable megalomaniacs with pretensions to godhood. Both presented themselves as anti-Christ figures, with Luthor playing that role against the more obviously messianic Superman.
I'm sure Kevin Spacey ticks off a few of these boxes as well.
Luthor was a pretty generic comic book villain in his early incarnation, but with his cultic robes there certainly bridged the gap between the evil wizard and the mad scientist archetypes. That mix of the occult and conventional science would become a mainstay for the character and would inspire a number of other super-villains like Doctor Doom and Darth Vader.
And in the villain's origin story, Siegel had the young Lex Luthor create an homunculus through alchemical means to impress Superboy. But Luthor turns against his crush after he loses his hair when Superboy blows out the fire Luthor whipped up with his scientific witchcraft.
Sure, it's stupid af but vanity is vanity. Bald wasn't in in the early 60s.
Anyhow, call me crazy but I kinda doubt that Siegel pulled this particular subplot out of a hat, given Crowley's obsession with doing the same. Just one too many coincidences for my liking here.
And given the timeline and the rumors that a Thelemic scientist had blown himself up following one of Crowley's formulae for an homunculus, you also can't help but wonder if Siegel were throwing a little bit of Jack Parsons into the mix to boot.
This animated retelling is a bit different from the Siegel story. It's also considerably more homoerotic than the comic it's based on, if that's even possible. I can't tell if that's intentional or Freudian, but it certainly won't lead the dogs off Aleister "Power Bottom" Crowley's scent in the creation of the Luthor character.
By the way, if this isn't proof that the people creating cartoons in the 70s didn't bear a psychopathic hatred for children and an overweening desire to annihilate the imagination of America's youth, I don't know what is.
Every time I look at the garbage animation, garbage toys and garbage TV shows foisted on my generation, I picture a legion of burnt-out old hacks in toupees and plaid leisure suits, driving boat-sized sedans to the local watering holes to contemplate if tonight-- TONIGHT-- will be the night they summon the courage to finally end it all. With that trusty .45 they held on to from their wartime service in the Coast Guard, protecting Islip and Montauk from the Jerries.
Siegel's other big creation in the Golden Age of Comics was the Spectre, an explicitly supernatural strip in which a dead detective rises from the dead as a ruthless crimefighter.
As with a lot of Siegel's creations, the Spectre wandered into some dark, occult thickets from time to time, most famously during his 70s revival, which had the character disposing of criminals in outlandishly sadistic yet fiendishly clever ways.
As with a lot of Siegel's creations, the Spectre wandered into some dark, occult thickets from time to time, most famously during his 70s revival, which had the character disposing of criminals in outlandishly sadistic yet fiendishly clever ways.
The Starling is pretty fucking terrible, but it does have an alien demon come to Earth, take on a stereotypically androgynous angelic-superheroic persona and then knock up a Daughter of Man, in this case an aspiring novelist who gives birth to his hybrid child.
His shapeshifting hybrid child, who can transform into a Reptilian.
Crowley probably would've enjoyed it. Jack Parsons definitely would have, given the similarities between it and Darker Than You Think.
And given some of the drawings of Nephilim Boy here, I dare say Kevin Spacey and Bryan Singer would as well. Also, Aleister Crowley.
Crowley probably would've enjoyed it. Jack Parsons definitely would have, given the similarities between it and Darker Than You Think.
Anyhow, Lex Luthor's gone through a number of different iterations, most of them stupid and forgettable. But then there's this great graphic novel from the Eighties that lifts the trade dress from Donald Trump's autobiography. Ironically so, given the writer in question here was pretty right-wing. But I guess back then everyone thought Trump would run as a Democrat.
Either way, Luthor looks as Aleister Crowley as he ever would, just to add to the cryptosemiotic mindfuckery. All this stuff flies in the same highly-weird orbit, Captain. Like it or not.
Hey, you got a gift card burning a hole in your pocket?
Well, seeing how we're on the cusp of the worst goddamn time of the year, why don't you pick up a copy of He Will Live Up in the Sky to brighten the dark, gloomy days?
Just to sweeten the pot-- and raise your low winter spirits-- you can now get the He Will Live Up in the Sky ebooks for half-price!
Who says I don't love my readers?
And listen, people are loving this shit. So if you've been fretting, thinking this is another crappy slab of pseudo-fiction foisted on you by some alt.researcher, fret no more. This is the real deal.
ANGUS ROBERTSON
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UPDATE: He Will Live Up in the Sky
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