The Corporate Media is throwing an epic hissy fit over ordinary people looking at pictures of the Astroworld stage set and seeing exactly what the producers are showing them. I don't know why they would care, never mind go to bat for a singer that doesn't exactly have a sterling reputation in the business.
And most certainly isn't what you'd call a feminist.
The Corporate Media (or the "Evil and Insane Corporate Media," in SecretSunSpeak) is clearly reading off a script, since we're seeing the same talking points over and over. The old chestnut "Satanic Panic" is even being dragged out of mothballs and thrown around, as if it has any relevance in 2021.
I haven't a clue how the hyper-privileged 27 year-old shitheads who spew out this nonsense (the same ones former Obama adviser Ben Rhodes famously said "literally know nothing") can speak with any authority about what is or isn't a satanic ritual, but again, they're clearly just reading from the same script.
Let's just forget for a moment that the Satanic Panic the Corporate Media is shrieking about was in fact created, driven and sustained by the Corporate Media itself. So don't listen to anyone who tells you different.
YouTubers love to recycle a bunch of stupid videos made by blow-dried Elmer Gantrys trying to ride the Satanic Panic gravy train, yet somehow fail to inform you that the audience for them wasn't even a speck of that for the daytime talk shows that were driving the whole thing. A narrative is a narrative is a narrative, and needs must.
We'll get around to destroying the Satanic Panic myth soon enough, don't you worry about that.
I DON'T WANT TO START ANY BLASPHEMOUS RUMORS
You have to have lived in the same pampered Woke bubble those "journalists" (sic) do not to recognize that the imagery Scott was using wouldn't be at all out of place at a Slayer, Venom, or Marilyn Manson concert.
That's neither here nor there, really; spectacle is spectacle and everyone loves a scary show. That's been going on since Alice Cooper and KISS, if not Screamin' Jay Hawkins. It's always good clean fun, until people start dying.
But let me just repost something I'd written more than five years ago now:
You take on the trappings of Satan, you call on his name, you don't get to choose what tags along for the ride. The same can be said for any number of entities, but all the more so for the Prince of Lies.
Spiritual forces don't work on human timetables and they don't follow human rules. If they want to reach down and fuck you sideways but good, they'll do it on their own time. Probably when you least expect it.
So expect it.
The Rolling Stones learned that lesson the hard way back in 1969, with the spiritual forefather of Astroworld. Being drugged-out fops with no grip on reality, the boys hired the Hell's Angels, of all people, to work security. Legend has it the Stones paid them in beer.
The Angels loaded up on that, as well as copious amounts of acid and speed, and spent the day beating the living fuck out of the assembled flower children. When they got tired of that, they went to work on the performers, and knocked the Jefferson Airplane singer Marty Balin out cold.
Reports from the show say the whole tableau was like something out of Hieronymus Bosch, with the gone-sour vibes of the Aquarian Generation reaching full poisonous flower. The Angels then notoriously killed a black man they claimed was pointing a handgun at the stage while the Stones lazily boogied away at "Sympathy for the Devil."
The whole mess was captured on film for posterity. You can see Jagger, who was fancying himself a Byronic Lucifer at the time, revert back to the pampered little schoolboy he actually was, shrinking in utter disbelief at the Devil's true work.
The demonic energies that so humiliated and emasculated Jagger were initially summoned by one Kenneth Wilbur Anglemyer, AKA Kenneth Anger. The one-time Crowley apostle and Kinsey consultant spread his Luciferic gospel deep inside the Stones camp and found willing acolytes there. Word on the street has it that Anita Pallenberg was especially keen on Anger's evangel of evil.
Meaning it won't surprise you to hear that she, Marianne Faithful and Keith Richards all got hooked on the devil's dick-cheese, by which I mean they descended into heroin hell for the entire decade to follow. They got off light compared to Anger, whose life since has played like a Thelemic spin on the Book of Job.
Incidentally, I just made "devil's dick-cheese" up now. Kind of snazzy, don't you think?
I don't much feel like getting deplatformed, so I won't speculate as to exactly why Anger was living large on the dime of mega-plutocrat J.P. Getty Jr., of all people. That said, Getty (along with the Ford Foundation) had taken a shining to Anger's obscure filmmaking, and was bankrolling Anger's Lucifer Rising project. It certainly couldn't have been because Getty expected a return on his investment.
OK, then: we'll get back to the Gettys in a moment.
Anger loved to glom onto celebrities. He glommed onto Jimmy Page after the Stones kicked him to the curb, and had palled around with Jack Parsons and Marjorie Cameron back in the old Agape Lodge days. Anger would later cast Cameron in his influential short film, Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome.
We'll get back to Hubbard in a moment, too.
And just because our new timeline has a sick sense of humor, there's also an Epstein/Ghislaine connection here as well.
HERMON'S MONSTERS
Back to Astroworld: Altamont is Spanish for "high mountain" and... well, you can see for yourself. Note what looks like an inverted crucifix inserted into the portal's orifice, as if piling on sacrilege upon sacrilege.
Surely a coincidence. It's not what it looks like.
The thing that struck me about the sync there is that it was a high mountain - Mount Hermon, to be exact - where the original Hell's Angels first descended. By which I'm referring to the fallen Watcher angels, according to the telling in First Enoch.
The Watchers did it all for the nookie, as you probably know, and were cast into the bowels of the earth - AKA Tartarus - for their transgressions.
Do note the rings: the entrance to Tartarus was said to be a ringed portal. Some believe Tartarus was within Mount Hermon itself.
I said Tartarus, not Tartaria.
The rings put my mind to Dante's Circles of Hell, and a Twitter follower did a bit of a matchup, as you can see here.
And then there were the flaming red figures walking through some kind of portal on Travis Scott's shirt, almost like those Hell's angels being freed from the depths of Tartarus.
Surely a coincidence. It's not what it looks like.
Oh, I've been remiss: some folks have asked me about the Smurfs. Here you go.
And just because my brains work wrong, I couldn't help but be struck by the coincidence of the COP26 ("COP!") crowd parading their hideous "Little Amal" puppet around.
If that's a little Syrian girl, then I'm Joe Biden. C'mon, man!
FRIENDS WILL BE FRIENDS
Around the same time people were dying in Houston, the Empire State Building was bathed in a hellish crimson, allegedly in honor of the Clifford the Big Red Dog movie.
I mean, come on already with the symbolism here. All too appropriate that the star of this film recently had a recurring role on the series Gaslit.
Should I mention that black and red are not unfamiliar at all to the Best Friends Animal Society, that cosponsored the lighting?
If the Best Friends Animal Society sounds familiar, you may remember them as the entity which arose from the official dissolution of the Process Church of the Final Judgment. Note that the Process arose out of the Church of Scientology, tying back to Parsons and Hubbard.
Best Friends is certainly popular these days. Lt. Col. Michael Aquino's widow seems to be a fan.
As is Miss Ivy Getty, grand-niece of the same John Paul Getty Jr. who floated Kenneth Anger the cash to make his filmic tributes to Aleister Crowley and Lucifer. Her grandfather Gordon is - like pretty much all of the richest people in America - a major owner controller "donor" to the Democratic Party, which is why he roped in Nancy Pelosi to officiate at Ivy's wedding.
Gordon's former mistress and three-time baby-mama made the news a few years back when it was discovered that one of her properties was being used to store thousands of firearms belonging to her new beau. If your first thought is "gun-running" there, I won't think less of you.
Anyhow, Miss Ivy's wedding took place the weekend after the Astroworld tragedy. And wonder of wonders, the nuptials even featured the same band: namely, (the fake) Earth, Wind and Fire. A nice little nod to our Alchemically-minded readers.
The Getty wedding festivities would be seen by the Windsors or the Grimaldis as excessively opulent, but just let the kids have their big day already. But it also leads me to wonder if the Gettys may not be our own royal family. Or one of them, at least.
They probably are the royal family of the coming breakaway province to be renamed the Thelemic Caliphate of California, I'd wager.
The filthy-rich Pelosi, last seen babbling incoherently on national television, looked right at home, as did filthy-rich Governor Gruesom Newsom, who'd been in hiding after having a bad reaction to his stabby-wabby. Rumors Governor Bateman was in Manhattan bashing stock-brokers' brains in are scurrilous lies, surely.
I think.
I did find it interesting the happy couple had a Swinging Sixties pre-party, where Ivy and her beau dressed up uncannily like Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful.
Maybe a kind of tribute to her great-uncle's favorite Thelemic auteur.
The lavish festivities even boasted Garlands-laden arches, reminding one of portals not unlike those we saw onstage at Astroworld.
Surely a coincidence. It's not what it looks like.
OR MAYBE IT IS
In other words, the past week has been like a mass-scale game of Secret Sun Scrabble, with all kinds of connections floating around to some very familiar names: Kenneth Anger, the Process, the Nephilim, Mount Hermon and so on.
In that light, and light of all the other weird little symbols folks have been spotting, the Corporate Media's frenzied pantpissing feels like a noble stand for tolerance and reason than it does a certain passage from Jack Parsons' favorite novel, Darker Than You Think :
Tell me: is that darker than you think?
You probably won't be surprised that Getty's and Jack Parsons Laboratories are closely linked, then.
I've unlocked a short podcast I did on Manly P. Hall's lucid diagnosis of the Sorcerarchy who rule over us all today. I'm personally agnostic on Hall, but it's eerily timely. Ironically, some of Hall's archives are now being held by the Getty Institute, who scooped them up after Hall's death.
I'll leave you with this very clever meme that I found on Twitter. It's truer than you think:
Tell us what it all looks like to you in the Den of Intrigue.
The Secret Sun Institute of Advanced Synchromysticism is waiting for you to take the next step in your synchro-journey. Come level up.
And don't forget the all-night 90s lotus party over at SHRR. We're presently up to 1998.
