Who is number two?
..and who does he work for?

Saturday, May 18, 2013

THEE GRÆNN BÖK BUY P. ORNOT


They speak Panic. They conquer from within. From within. Whispering words of Panic to an inner ear, suggesting, conniving, adding brush-strokes to the pictures of the Last Few Days. And we are mere understudies, mere look-alikes.

The curtains rose on these histrionics with the birth of Man. Long before the first crude figures were daubed in the half-light of ancient caves, they were here, waiting, with Infinite Patience. We have never been alone. There are others indigenous to this spinning ball, trapped in some Phantom Zone, waiting for the kill, the sacrifice, the Second and Final Death.

The father of Grock the clown, having had his legs broken in eight places by his father for professional reasons, broke Grock’s legs in eight places to be certain that the child would grow up walking grotesquely so as to ensure his eminence as a clown.

We are the spinning, hobbling,  waddling clowns in the eyes of our secret police. The livestock and the Farmer.

Humans can be programmed with any belief or attitude. The human does not possess “free will.” We do not control our personal convictions, our opinions, our feelings. None of these are constant. We are composed of many “I”s, each a crystallization of opposite belief. When the wind changes, one “I” blows away, another steps forward. All of these “I”s revolve around an absent center. Penetrate the veils of personality. Within, there is nothing. Beyond a series of successively more tenuous masks, a hollow core. But, not quite hollow. A Puppet- Master sits and presides. A foreign body.

When you walk down a street your eyes are presented by a continuously changing perspective, every visible
object slides across your field of vision in a precise geometrical relationship to reinforce the illusion that one is really walking through three-dimensional space.

I thought it was permissible to sit in my comfortable armchair and doze, as it didn’t seem anything particular was happening. No-one is demanding my attention, so why should I feel guilty to just drift?

Once, I opened my eyes again, and I saw the facts of my situation. My comfortable chair became the seat in the cockpit of an aircraft, flying 50,000 feet above the earth, quite out of control, guided only by a long obsolescent automatic pilot. Despite the enormity of danger this situation presented, I sought the oblivion of sleep once more. It’s hardly ever now that I panic, and stirring briefly, kick spastically at the controls, striking random levers.

We are content to see nothing.

We have no control.

It doesn’t even feel like failure.



We thought the world was merely a question of gathering. We didn’t understand that knowledge is kept
under heavy guard. We thought that to see a door implied the probability of its opening. We waited and waited, until finally such a great lethargy came over us that we were compelled to drop our aspirations, or seek their fulfillment in a purely imaginary landscape.

We have never been alone. The door is fastidiously patrolled. There are, and always have been, those amongst us only seemingly human.

Reality is there, but we do not see it.

It is fashionable these days to view the Universe as an “associative domain of consciousness.” The notion of an observer-created Universe, that reality is in essence subjective, might perhaps appeal and comfort, but it is an imaginary state of affairs. It is a tremendous conceit. There is a Reality that in no way needs our participation to ensure its continued existence. The Universe is not conditional on human population. Our notions that we have only to “become whole,” filled with joy, to see a corresponding change in the Universe, contacting friendly angels and so forth, is really an insufferable arrogance. There is nothing out there that cares. There are no guardian angels, holy or otherwise.

Were we to possess any real degree of consciousness we would have the facility of being able to immediately discern truth from falsity, reality from fantasy. There is a distinction.

Individuals approaching critical breakthrough point, on the edge of evolutionary transition, the strange attraction to a new order of being, are ruthlessly attacked by the Fear Arm. They are either broken down—paranoid schizophrenia, demonomania, cardiac arrest, chronic migraine, suicide, radiation sickness—or initiated into new belief systems, arteries quickly hardening, lusting to re-locate the nullity of mind on earth. Individuals are attacked and herded like sheep, duped into a false flower garden. Like pawns in a vast Chess, our magnetic center, that part of us which is drawn towards the search for freedom, is taken with consent, because we are believing creatures. Born to grow fat on belief. Forcefed with belief. Turned towards blind alleys along which we will forever stray. We sleep on eternally, dreaming that we are awake.And the Ultra Terrestrials (UTs) are the Dream-Masters.

Our conclusion: UTs draw their vital sustenance from the tapping of the human state of arrested evolution. At critical transition points in human development, belief-circuitry is activated, which acts as a conduit for the life-energy.

That we are not in control; that we are not alone. These are facts of our existence. Everything you have “known” and thought to be true up until this point is a lie. You are stupid, and you are asleep. All your systems of knowledge are based upon an absence of understanding. You talk of progress, yet you still have to begin. What you have is worth nothing, because it was not had through struggle, but through “accident.” You have wandered clumsily. And beneath everything, underlying all your squalid joys, hopes, trials and tribulations, your vestigial dances, you are overwhelmed with misery. A suppressed emergency. Not one person understands another. Almost everything in life is wrong. There can be no accurate meaning. It is all accidental, nothing is controlled, at least by us. We are thrall to the Law of Accident. A tall story of hypnotic alliance, and every little thing, every little thing. A foul fix of blank kidnapping time.

Our experience of life is of a continual succumbing to inertia. Always abandoning for the anesthetic solace of black wings.


We talk about love, about truth. We have never known love or truth. Up until now they have not existed. They are but a distant rumor. We are like spoilt little children. We presume consciousness, but we are asleep. We presume the Universe accommodates us, but it does not care. We presume our thoughts can change the Universe, but it will never change. Forget the Universe, forget your “humanity.” At the end of the day, there is only YOU. You in your small corner. You in your Hell. You and your Personality.

What is it that sucks the spit from your eye? What dim crave is the sound of your love? See it parade everything it can not uncover. The world blocked out with one hand.

The only way to begin is to try and realize that you are asleep. It is no good to say, “I am asleep.” You have to realize it. There is a great inertia which works against us in this. There is the inertia which had been imposed throughout long years of social conditioning. Even should this inertia be overcome, additional external pressures come into play. Simply put, there is something out there that doesn’t want you to learn.

Some people are very conceited indeed. They decide that they can perform “magick” and influence the very fabric of time and space, in a cat’s whisker. And all of this without ever pausing to remember that they are asleep. Western “occult” traditions are practically valueless. If you want freedom, if you really want to wake from your sleep, then the “occult” is probably the last path you should follow. It is the idiot’s road. The idiot’s love of distraction. Another game to keep you from the real work.

Forces malign, coupled with typical human inertia, generated through thousands of years of false learning, combine to produce a deterrent so powerful that it is a rare individual indeed who could possibly hope to persevere through such an ordeal. The ordeal: objective verification of all experimental hypotheses through intense study of oneself.

Resignation, however, is not an option.

If escape is not achieved, and if the hidden hand does not snuff out your candle, the likelihood is entrance into, and adoption of, a rigid system of beliefs based on certain “clues” or “keys” occurring in the original work.

These clues may have originated from dream, vision, visitation, voice, etc. Once keys have been formulated as such, and begin to cohere into a belief-system, the real work has, for all practical purposes, been terminated. What then happens is a gradual slide into redundancy, stagnation, and obsolescence. Such beliefs present only minute fragments of a larger jigsaw, and in themselves, are an index to nothing.

Their beliefs are wholly induced by external agencies in their bid to prevent the larger picture coming into view, and to rule out the possibility of real breakthrough with the work.

The so-called “born again” phenomenon is one clear example.

The UFO and associated phenomena constitute a vast panoply of bizarre and inexplicable events, spawning an equally broad spectrum of theory and belief. Evidence contradicts itself. It is like a box full of parts from fifty different jigsaws. This is called “the confusion effect.” It is quite intentional.

The pivot of meaning, the space between a possibility and a belief, is the threshold of knowledge. The agencies which subvert real knowledge and channel it into harmless and passive beliefs are the guardians of the threshold. Through the manipulation of belief, a shiny silver slug’s trail of disparate clues, these agencies seek to control the destiny of life on this planet.


By default.

Sentient, discorporate beings. Ultraterrestrials (U.T’s). From neither outer, nor inner space. An order of beings which resides within the same spatio-temporal co-ordinates as ourselves, on a different vibratory level of matter. Clearly, they possess the facility to access our vibratory level of matter, and can “phase” into our physical reality.

This act of intervention requires energy: blood sacrifice, vampirism or simple appropriation. A dead cow, or a stalled engine.

The Men-In-Black (M.I.B.) are amongst the crudest, yet paradoxically most sophisticated, manifestations of the Ultraterrestrials. Apparently minions, shock troops, as it were, they come from below, and have a sense of humor to match. Their aim is the inculcation and escalation of fear. They circumvent possible transmission of witness accounts. If necessary, they have license to kill.

Another level of UT manifestation is as the Knowledge-giver. The Dispenser. The Great Holy Pharmacist. This is the direct “hacking” of human herding disposition, laying down “bugs” with post-operative, delayed effect, often years. (Look back into your childhood, down a foggy grey tunnel. A guy dressed in all black ever whisper in your ear?)

Carefully staged theater. Visitation. Dream. Vision. Angelic conversation. In the midst of a subtly induced delerium, certain knowledge introduced. Small scraps of panic. Little shards of a counterfeit heaven. And then God disappears, leaving you on a yellow brick road, preternaturally glowing.

Puppetry. True knowledge is a matter of control. Counterfeit knowledge is a matter of promulgation and worship.

Our growth is forestalled, deferred, by the “friendliness” of Gods and Angels. We have no will of our own, because we are bound to beliefs generated from without, spoken within. Every belief is the ragged claw mark left by a long-gone parasite. The vital sustenance has been drawn. We are dead. Until the next time, asleep, and in very great danger. On the wings of nightmare.

One minute, absolute confidence and assurance. The next, all is lost. That is the way we are constructed. Built up to fall down. No substance, no backbone. Transported by brief glories, only to end up more crippled, more irrevocably broken than ever before. And all to no purpose of our own, because we never retain anything, never build on anything other than sand. Never reaching and touching, never finding anyone. Your mute suffering achieves nothing. Doubled over with gut pains, gut suffering, black vomit accreting on your feet. Never finding anything worth finding. Always thrown back into the same freezeframe of horror. You. You found comfort with others, apparently sharing the same misery. There was solace in that. A small place to stay and breathe in, look out of. Never daring to remember you had to leave. Be alone once more. It has to happen. Others forget you, achieve some miracle escape of circumstance, spinning off into further mad orbits of their own. The trappings don’t matter. All that matters to you is that they’re gone.Your haven destroyed. Perhaps it’s the same for them. There’s really no way of knowing. This is what it’s like to be asleep. No comfort. No escape. No presence. No satisfaction. It’s the warmth where you just sat, as you leave for another cold seat. That’s what hurts.

Nowhere left to go. No place to stay.


They were consigned to their phantom zone before we were a glint in Horus’ eye. Turning in fear and loathing. Gradually sieving through the sands of knowledge and being, locating their truth, finding their source and path and way to do. We can’t call it consciousness. It’s merely a modality of instinct. Having no sex, they located ours. As surrogates. They don’t need it, don’t want it. Need only to play with our fascination and horror of it, to further their escape. If they draw us away from the body and what it means, the further bodies attainable and what they mean, the Law of Reciprocity, then they win. We approach the Second and Final Death. Which means death for us all, death for the believers. Another Holocaust. The Infidels live, and escape their prison, their karmic cycle.

The Angels and Gods know no sex. Are completely without passion. Their seeds in our physical reality are sterile. Jesus on the Cross. The cold plague of mass religion. Sexless, denying carnal experience. Mirroring the Ultra-terrestrial landscape. Jesus was an Ultraterrestrial.

This state of sexlessness is called “iesu.” A bitter joke. Sexual molestation is one of their most cynical manifestations. The Christ- Spirit is a shadow of a ravening thing, a twisted mirror of a wormbrained deity, struggling to escape the confines of its narrow cell, sending its spirit-spores across to Earth, to wriggle in the body of a man on a cross.

And the future?

We live in screens. Pure screens. The removal of ourselves, our identities, from the organic to the solid-state. Our symbolisms are a succession of steps away from corporeal existence. We drive our cars as extensions of the physical body. We conduct our lives through the screen, through the shift of perspective, barely deigning to move slow, leaden limb across the flat earth. We never leave our homes. We observe the Other on the screen of our projection. Repeatedly, steps removed. The ecstasy of information. Information vertigo.
The vertiginous heights of our ambition. The cold sheen of the new orgasm. Leaving behind forever the Ancient Mysteries, for a New Sacred. The Information Ecstatic, the imminent execution of World Holocaust through the neutral screen, is the countdown to the Second and Final Death.


From Religion to Technology.

The voice whispers, babbles on, in the inner ear.

How would an eagle feel if it were hatching chickens’ eggs? At first the eagle thinks that it will hatch little eagles whom it is going to bring up to be big eagles. But what comes out of the eggs is always nothing but little chicks. Desperate, the eagle keeps hoping that the chicks will turn into eagles after all. But no, at the end they are nothing but cackling hens. When the eagle found this out, it had a hard time suppressing his impulse to eat up all the chicks and cackling hens. What kept it from doing so was a small hope. The hope, namely, that among the many cackling chicks there might be, one day, a little eagle capable of growing up into a big eagle, capable like itself, to look from its lofty perch into the far distance, in order to detect new worlds, new thoughts and new forms of living.

You want the truth in a mirror, where you can’t grasp it. You have entered this world quite accidentally and will silently leave it again. Only the truth in your own fist will make you the master of this Earth. You set security before the truth.

You are cowardly in your thinking because real thought is accompanied by bodily feelings, and you are afraid of your body.

You have built everything upon sand; your house, your life, your culture and civilization, your science and technology, you love and your education of children. You don’t know it, you don’t want to know it, and you slay the great man who tells it to you. You built your house on sand and you all did this because you are incapable of feeling life in yourself, because you kill love in your child even before it is born, because you cannot tolerate any alive expression, any free, natural movement.

With the greatest consistency, your thinking always misses the truth, just as a playful sharpshooter is able to consistently hit right beside the bull’s eye.

You always think in too short of terms, just from breakfast to lunch. You must learn to think back in terms of centuries and forward in terms of thousands of years. You have to learn to think in terms of living life, in terms of your development from the first plasmatic flake to the animal man which walks erect but cannot yet think straight. You have no memory even for things which happened ten years ago or even this year, and so you keep repeating the same stupidities you said 2,000 years ago. You cling to your stupidities as a louse clings to fur. You do not dare see how deeply you stick in the morass of your misery. Every once in a while you stick your head in the morass of your misery. Every once in a while you stick your head out of the morass to yell, Heil! The croaking of a frog in a marsh is closer to life.

There is never any progress. Everything remains the same.The same as it has been for tens of thousands of years. The outward form changes. The essence does not. Man remains just the same. “Civilized” and “cultured” people live with exactly the same interests as the most “primitive” savages. Contemporary civilization is based on violence and slavery and fine words. But all these fine words about “progress” and “civilization” are merely words.

There are machines, not people. People who no longer consider why they are here at all. They merely exist. Surrounding themselves with false illusory reasons for living. To pass the time before they die. Millions of dead souls. The children are already dead. They were dead before they were even born. The cycle has come full circle and we are living out our last moments. It is five minutes to midnight. Yet people refuse to recognize it as such. They are told lies and they believe them.


The End is Here or There.

The beginning is nowhere.

The struggle from the exterior to the interior. From the interior to the exterior. In between is the void. Yet the pain of anger is never enough. Whoever put you here is manipulating you. It’s always been that way. Now it destroys. To many of us, only the sound and rhythm of our breathing reminds us that we are alive.

Upon Melanicus Wings it broods over this Earth. Deriving the energy that will sustain and evolve it. An evil thing that is exploiting us. It obscures the stars. A vast, black vampire.

The flux between that which isn’t and that which won’t be, or the state that is commonly and absurdly called existence, is merely a rhythm of heavens and hells, and is intermediate to both.


Uninhabited.

We are all uninhabited. Inside of all of us is Nothing. This manipulation comes from the initial incursion of Ultra-terrestrial influences into the human life-wave, attracted to the individual embryo or sperm as an effective means of incarnating genetic mutations.

We’ve been damned by giants sound asleep, or by “civilized” concepts and abstractions that cannot realize themselves: those little harlots have visited their caprices upon us, those dark clowns have anathematized us for laughing so disrespectfully, because as with all clowns, underlying buffoonery is the desire to be taken seriously. We’ve been damned by corpses and skeletons and mummies, which twitch and totter with pseudo-life derived from conveniences.

Once upon a time this Earth was a no-man’s land, that other levels of vibratory existence explored and fought over for colonization. Mankind won that battle for colonization, yet now the Earth is literally owned by something. All others are warned off.

The Ultra-terrestrials are the beings which exist in the same spacetime coordinates as life on Earth, yet on a different vibratory level. They exist as parasites on human consciousness. As beings that exist as pure vibratory energy, they need the energy that human consciousness contains in order to sustain themselves. That human energy has to be controlled if it is to be tapped effectively. And that is what they have done.

We have been, and continue to be, consistently manipulated into belief systems that lead us to accept that we matter. We believe. We have Faith. We accept. Why? To some it represents a fundamental inherent human trait; the need to believe in something. All beliefs are based on the promise of the afterlife, but it is a promise based upon adhering to rigid behavioral rules during life. A life consisting of unquestioning acceptance of fundamentals, unquestioning belief and dedication to the rules significant to the particular belief system. They are, in all cases, structures that guarantee non-development and human involution resulting ultimately in global destruction.

There is something of ultra-pathos—of cosmic sadness—in the universal search for the belief system that one
feels has been revealed by either unworldly inspiration or analysis. Clinging to it long after its insufficiency has been revealed is utterly hopeless. The only seemingly conclusive utterance, or seemingly substantial thing to cling to, is a product of dishonesty, ignorance and fatigue. All belief structures go back and back, until they’re worn out or until something occurs that indicates a move forward.

Belief systems limit human consciousness, inner development and evolution. That is their sole aim. To bring human consciousness under control so that it may be farmed.

We are the cattle for these ultraterrestrials. Belief systems are the green grass upon which we spend our short lives grazing, safe and satisfied. Faith, prayer, rigid behavioral traits such as hatred, ignorance and unquestioning obedience to all are the milk upon which these beings feed off during human life spans. Physical death and the transference of the undeveloped human consciousness into oblivion is the survival factor of these beings. It’s the meat that keeps them alive, as it were, on their own plane of existence as forms of pure energy.



Yet a characteristic that is inherent in human nature is the question of whether or not the grass we are made to eat is greener on the other side of the fence. Or if some other kind of vegetation growing on the other side of the fence would be tastier. Small minorities are constantly searching and questioning for real answers to the question of absolute truth. They do not recognize any answers in any past or present belief systems. These minorities  represent the gravest danger to the ultra-terrestrial conspiracy. These minorities search for the expansion of the human consciousness and the development of the different levels of the human animal. The danger is not in the small minorities in themselves. They can afford to dispense with a few of the cows if
they escape by breaking down a section of the fence once in a while. But wait. Can they really afford to?
Of course they can’t. Cows on the other side of the field may spot the break in the fence and escape over it too, if they had the inclination, and soon the small break in the fence would become a gaping hole and the minority of escaped cows would become the majority. So no escapes can be allowed.

Any individuals or minority group who threaten escape are subjected to the harshest punishment. The majority are also subject to this punishment, they know this and they present a formidable force working against the minorities seeking to escape from the grip of the ultraterrestrials; from the grip of the status quo. The ultra-terrestrials deliberately manufacture confusion across the globe, manufacture wars, sabotage any attempt at global cohesion. A close analogy would be a prisoner of war camp.

The rules laid out were that anybody caught trying to escape would be immediately executed; they installed fear. However, if anybody had the courage to attempt to escape despite this fear (which could only effectively occur in small numbers; all prisoners can’t escape at once) then the majority of the prisoners in the prison would suffer terrible hardship and torture at the hands of their captors. Therefore there is the installed omnipresent pressure from the prisoners themselves to resist any small minority plans for escape. And so it is on Planet Earth.

Every man and woman who reaches a higher level of spiritual and intellectual awareness becomes more aware of the presence of a higher intelligence that is separate from the human animal. They have become incorporated into rigid belief structures as Angels or Gods, but they are seldom viewed objectively. Any form of Gnosis is destroyed. Any large-scale group illumination is usually forced to an end, either by majority human pressure or a breakup in the catharsis.

Small minority groups are faced initially with the full force of mass human hostility, violence, destruction and murder. However, they are also faced with a more sinister danger from the non-human sources, the ultra-terrestrials themselves. These beings play nasty and sometimes extremely violent and psychological games with these individuals and groups. The aim is to lull them into a dark dead-end belief tunnel by exploiting the very strengths that set the individual apart from the mass in the first place. Those strengths are a willingness to observe the universe in a way that is totally removed from the mass perception of it.


The tutelage. Of poles of belief.

The ultra-terrestrials play with their perceptions of these individuals and minority groups. They do their best to lead them down avenues of pure self-deceit, by presenting them with vivid alternative visions of reality and existence that are mere fronts for dead-end belief structures. Occurrences such as UFO sightings, contact with extraterrestrials, visions of angels, demons, gods, fairies, voices of superior beings informing them of the ultimate secret knowledge of the universe. These are presented in such a real way that to escape the trap of being led into a belief system is almost impossible. It is very difficult to un-believe something that is presented in a vivid way, yet even more difficult when it is presented in such a way so as to align itself with your thought patterns at any one time. The ultraterrestrials seem to have worked out a method of exploiting the very state of mind that such an individual may find him or herself in at any one time.

However, individuals do exist outside of the effect of their belief engendering processes, and these individuals are ruthlessly hunted down and haunted by the Men in Black. These are the ultraterrestrials assuming some kind of human form. They are very crude and imperfect human forms that exist as “shock troops,” and they have the ability to phase into our vibratory level from their own, with the sole intention of guarding the knowledge that they possess of the real state of human consciousness. They are the guardians of knowledge.

The individuals who assume an intermediate position are in the gravest danger of all. The Men in Black hold high positions of power in world government. Their controls are explicit in some countries manifesting as mass extermination; in others it is so insidious as to be invisible.

Everything in intermediateness is not a thing, but an endeavor to become something—by breaking away from
its continuity, or merging away, with all other phenomena—is an attempt to break away from the very essence of a relative existence and become absolute—if it has not surrendered to, or become part of, some higher attempt.

To this process there are two aspects:

Attraction, or the spirit of everything to assimilate all other things if it has not already been assimilated by some higher attempted system, unity, organization, entity, vibratory level.

And Repulsion, or the attempt of everything to exclude or disregard the unassimilable.

A universal process.

Anything is permitted. Everything is true.

To the intermediatist, everything that seems to have identity is only an attempted identity, and every species is continuous with all other species, or that which is called the specific is only emphasis upon some aspect of the general. Every idea and belief is a mere conflict. Every conversation is a conflict of missionaries, each trying to convert the other, to assimilate, or to make the other similar to himself. If no progress is made, mutual repulsion will follow.

Beings on other vibratory levels have attempted positivizations: to extend themselves upon Earth, to assimilate the indigenous inhabitants of this Earth. All things merge away into everything else. That is continuity. The system merges away and evades us when we try to focus against it.

Out of the negative absolute, the positive absolute is generating itself, recruiting, or maintaining itself, via a third state, or our own quasi-state, it would seem that we’re trying to conceive of universalness manufacturing more universalness from nothingness. Out of unreality, instead of nothingness, reality, instead of universalness, is, via our own quasi state, manufacturing more reality. Intermediateness is a relation between the positive absolute and the negative absolute.

In intermediateness there is neither free will nor slave will but a different approximation for every so-called person toward one or the other of the extremes.

All intermediateists feel a lurking fear that they will be forced into solidification and dogmatism and evolve into higher positivists. All things in this intermediate state are phantoms in a super mind in a dreaming state, striving to awaken to realness.


By manipulating the human race globally into pure and simple ignorance and by engendering human systems based on fear, hatred, war, mass extermination, destruction and death concurrently with enormous developments in terms of technology, it seems inevitable that we have only a short time left before mass destruction occurs. This seems to have been the ultra-terrestrials’ plan all along. To have developed a global scheme where all human animals are at the very moment of global destruction in a state of total confusion, undevelopment in terms of human life and each and every person fragmented from each and every other person around. All so that they may at that moment of mass human destruction and death feed off of the sheer mass of unfocused and undeveloped human consciousness that will be thrown into oblivion.

This massive release of human consciousness will enable them to ascend to a higher level of energy, and one which doesn’t depend upon the existence of human life at all. Our urgency is great. But we fear that mass human ignorance is the end that has already occurred. What remains is nothing, with merely nowhere to go. In the end we are all still cows, even if we do manage to escape over the fence. The only mass change in consciousness which will occur is the one that will happen one second from the end. Then all will become realized. And, of course, it will be too late.

The Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, the first and the last; and now the last is reaching the first, and the end is the beginning.

All things are returning to their Original. The heart shattered to shivers, ground to dust.

Everything in the world obeys the Law of Three, everything existing came into being in accordance with this law. Combinations of positive and negative principles can produce new results that are different from the first and second only if a third force comes in. The Absolute creates in accordance with the same Law. Take the Ray of Creation. At the top is the Absolute, God the Word, divided into three: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost. In our human systems we are the same as God—threefold. If we consciously receive three matters and send them out, we can construct outside what we like. This is creation. All three forces manifest through us and blend outside. Every creation is either subjective or objective. The life of man plays the same role as planets in relation to Earth, Earth in relation to Moon and all suns in relation to our sun.

Passive man serves involution; and active man, evolution. In both cases we are slaves, for in both cases we have a master. We are a whole system within. One center of us affirms, the other denies. It is impossible to free oneself from it. Only he is free who stands in the middle. Intermediately. It is very difficult. We are slaves. We are weak. In order to become intermediate one has to go against the law of nature itself.

The power of changing oneself lies not in the mind, but in the body and the feelings. Unfortunately, however, our body and our feelings have been genetically constituted so as to not care about anything so long as they are happy. They live for the moment and their memory is short. The mind alone lives for tomorrow. Each has
its own merits.

The key to all of the manipulation is the fact that a lack of connection in us between the body, feeling and mind has not been recognized. The majority has become so deformed that there is no longer any common language between one part and another. It is irretrievably lost. The only thing left for those individuals who seek intermediate existence is to establish a connection in a roundabout way, a “fraudulent ” way. And these ways must be very subjective since they must depend on a person’s character and the form his inner make-up has taken. Establishing subjectivity in order that this connection may be built requires that the individual takes himself ruthlessly apart, becomes totally aware of the false layers of illusion that make up his or her
character, and rigorous self-remembering. Associative thought and behavior has to be destroyed.

Conscious faith is freedom.
Emotional faith is slavery.
Mechanical faith is foolishness.


The only worthwhile existence is to strike whilst all fists are clenched. Fear is the refuge of the weak. And we are all riddled with it. The only aim is to find the pearl buried in the manure.

He who fights with monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.

Truth asserted against, and triumphing over error.

Evil is outlived Virtue, or incipient virtue that has not yet established itself.

We are faced with a new dominant.
Thee PANDROGYNE…

In the darkness a contorted face writhing in agony appears before us. It is our own face reflected in the darkness of our own pain. Screaming in the agony of a birth long overdue.

We shall have an outcry of silences.

I leave you all in a fine mess…



CHANGEDPRIORITIESAHEAD

TOPY STATION UK, 1991







Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Revelations from Demian by Emil Sinclair


"We were lying on the floor by the fire and he was talking about the mysteries and forms of religion which he was studying and turning over in his mind and the future potentialities of which preoccupied him. All this seemed to me more an object of curiosity and interest than a really vital matter; it had a pedagogic ring about it; it sounded like tedious research among the shattered remains of ancient worlds. And all at once I felt a repugnance against the whole business, this cult of mythologies, this mosaic game he was playing with fragments of traditional religious beliefs.
. . . 
I spoke suddenly in a fit of malice which both surprised and frightened me. "You ought to tell me a dream - a real dream - one you have dreamed during the night. What you are telling me is all so damned antiquarian!"

He had never heard me speak like that before and I immediately realized with a mixture of shame and horror that the arrow which I had fired at him and with which I had pierced his heart, had come from his own armory- and that I was now returning to him with sharpened bards the self-reproaches which I had sometimes heard him utter in his ironical way.
. . . 

A voice inside me said, 'No,no, I am wrong,' but I could not say it aloud. I knew that with brief words I had put my finger on his fundamental weakness, his affliction and wound. I had probed the place where he was unsure of himself. His ideal was 'antiquarian'- he was a seeker in the past, a romantic. And suddenly I realized very forcibly that what [my friend] had been and had given to me was precisely what he could never be and give to himself. He had shown me a way which even he, the leader, must by-pass and abandon.
. . . 

When I hit out I thought I was aiming my blow at a tough, well-armed man but now it turned out to be a quiet, suffering defenseless creature who was surrendering without a protest.
. . .
Now for the first time I understood [my friend] and was able to reconstruct in my mind the whole dream he had set himself to fulfill. He had wanted to be a priest, to announce the new religion, provide new forms for the movement, serve it with love and devotion and create a series of new symbols. But it was beyond his power to do so; this could never be his function. He lingered too much in the past, his knowledge of ancient days was too precise; he knew far too much about Egypt, India, Mithras and Abraxas. His love was bound up with symbols that the world had already seen and in his heart of hearts he realized that the New must be really new and different and must spring up from new soil and not be created from museums and libraries. Perhaps his function was to help lead men to themselves - as he had done in my case - not to provide them with the yet unspoken message and their new gods.


And at this point I felt the truth burning within me like a sharp flame, that there was some role for everybody but it was not one which he himself could choose, re-cast and regulate to his own liking. One had no right to want new gods, no right at all to want to give the world anything of that sort! There was but one duty for a grown man; it was to seek the way to himself, to become resolute within, to grope his way forward wherever that might lead him. The discovery shook me profoundly; it was the fruit of this experience. I had often toyed with pictures of the future, dreamed of roles which might be assigned to me - as a poet, maybe, or prophet or painter or kindred vocation. All that was futile. I was not there to write poetry, to preach or paint; neither I nor any man was there for that purpose. They were only incidental things. There was only one true vocation for everybody - to find the way to himself. He might end as poet, lunatic, prophet or criminal - that was not his affair; ultimately it was of no account. His affair was to discover his own destiny, not something of his own choosing, and live it out wholly and resolutely within himself. Anything else was merely a half life, an attempt at evasion, an escape into the ideals of the masses, complacency and fear of his inner soul. The new picture rose before me, sacred and awe-inspiring, a hundred times glimpsed, possibly often expressed and now experienced for the first time. I was an experiment on the part of nature, a 'throw' into the unknown, perhaps for some new purpose, perhaps for nothing and my only vocation was to allow this 'throw' to work itself out in my innermost being, feel its will within me and make it wholly mine.

That or Nothing!"


Sunday, March 3, 2013

The Gnarly Tree by Chuang Tzu


“Once a master carpenter named Shih was travelling with his apprentice on his way to the state of Chi. When they arrived in Chu Yuan village they passed a huge old oak tree sheltering the village shrine. It was huge, large enough to fit several thousand oxen under its branches. It was 100 spans and towered over everything else in the village with its lowest branches a full 80 feet in the air. These branches were so large they could have been made into a dozen boats. Many people were standing under it, their necks craned as they tried to see the top. But the master carpenter did not even turn his head as they passed it; but walked on without stoping for a moment.

His apprentice took one look at the immense tree and ran after his master saying: “Since I first took up the ax to train with you Master, I have never seen a tree as magnificent. Yet you do not even look at it, much less stop. Why is this?”

The carpenter said, “Enough! Not another word about this tree! Its wood is useless. A boat made from its timber would sink; a coffin would rot before you could put it into the ground; any tool you made from it would snap. It has too much sap in it to make a door, and a beam made from its wood would be full of termites. Altogether it is a completely useless tree and that is why it has lived so long.”


One night, after he returned home, the ancient tree came to the carpenter in a dream and spoke to him. “What are you comparing me too,” it asked, “useful trees like cherry, apple, pear, orange, citron and all the other useful trees? Yet for these trees, as soon as the fruit is ripe they are stripped; their branches are broken and torn off. It is their usefulness that causes them so much abuse. Instead of living out the years heaven has given them they are cut off halfway through. So it is for living things. This is why I have worked so long to cultivate the spirit of uselessness. I was almost cut down several times but I have been able to attain a great level of uselessness and this has been very useful to me. If I had been more useful I would never have attained the great age that I have, and grown so large.

“The two of us are similar. We are both just beings in the world. How is it that we go about judging other beings? You, an old and worthless man, about to die, how can you judge me and call me worthless?”


Shih the carpenter awoke then and spent a long time lying in his bed trying to understand this strange dream. Later, when he shared his dream with his apprentice the young man said, “If this ancient tree is so interested in being useless why has it allowed itself to become part of the village shrine?”

His master said, “It is only pretending to be a shrine. It is its way of protecting itself. Even though its timber is useless, if it were not a shrine it would have been cut down long ago. It is totally different from other trees. You cannot hope to understand it!”


Thursday, January 31, 2013

What is Music? by Yamataka Eye

I don't know what music is. Just what is it really? Is it an exchange of energy? Is it a process to arrive at a thing called harmony? Or thinking in reverse, is there anything that is not music? A conversation of young lovers has a musical rhythm to it, as does their bickering.

A good cook can whip up natural ingredients with water and fire, often with split-second decisions ... this requires time and timing - like music, it is an art that happens in time. These actions are often more like real music to me than music that is commercially packaged.

Some things are musical or contain an innate musicality ... Like the beautiful motion of planets revolving and orbiting around the sun. Just what is the origin of these natural phenomenon - these repetitive motions that are so like music to me ... These must be a terminal somewhere, a station that is actually transmitting them ... And what we call "music"  is downloaded directly from home base, which is broadcasting it beyond time and space.

Is musical phenomena equivalent to living phenomena, like an insect camouflaging itself, transforming itself into nature - into a leaf, for example. When you make music, it is your interpretation of nature.... And the more you try to create, the more it becomes nature, just like an insect. By making music, you are actually sending the sound back to its origin - back to the universe.

I think of myself as an organic life phenomenon, and try to listen to myself as music....

A wolf howling at the moon is the singer.
Thunder is the guitarist.
The crashing of waves is the bassist.
The tremors of an earthquake are the drummer

If one wonders where to find a recording of music by such and amazing band ...

It's been right here with us all the time.

Friday, January 4, 2013

Sub Rosa: Behind the Veiled Narrative from Mumbo Jumbo by I. Reed


"Studies of the magic and ritual of Africa have...established with some certainty that all systems for the disturbance of consciousness practiced by the African Negro are derived from ancient Egypt"
Witchcraft (1965) - Pennethorne Huges

"Some unknown natural phenomenon occurs
which cannot be explained,
and a new local demigod is named."
-Zora Neale Hurston on the origin of new Loa



...If you must know, it all began 1000s of years ago in Egypt, according to a high up member in the Haitian aristocracy.

A certain young prince who was allergic to thrones attended a university in Nysa, a town in Arabia Felix (now Yemen). It was a land of dates coffee goats sheep wheat barley corn and livestock. Across the Red Sea were Ethiopia and the Sudan where the young man would commute bringing his knowledge of agriculture and comparing notes with the agriculturalists of these lands. There were agricultural celebrations; dancing and singing, and in Egypt this rhythm was known as the Black Mud Sound. At this time in history those who influenced the growth of crops and coaxed the cocks into procreation were seen as sorcerers. The theater accompanying these rites, these agriculturalists' rites, was a theater of fecundation generation and proliferation, a theater that Victorian Sir James Frazer of The Golden Bough calls "lewd and profligate." The processes of blooming were acted out by men and women dancers who imitated the process of fertilization.

The would play upon instruments, reeded stringed and percussive, as they acted out the process; open their valves  and allow nature to pour through its libation. Osiris was so adept at the mysteries of agriculture that people began to circulate stories that his mother was the sky Nuit and the earth his father Geb.

As Osiris danced he would experiment, but the dances were not esoteric, they were in fact were quite basic and they caught-on. In the Sudan and Ethiopia he became known as "the man who did dances that caught-on," infected other people. Well, Osiris lived many years studying under the elders at Nysa until he returned to Egypt. (Some say he was driven out of Ethiopia, where his dances were banned.) In Egypt a dark cloud lay over the land. Cannibalism was still practiced.

Osiris was regarded by his brother Set as a dilettante  a recipient of a far-out education and one who would not know how to deal firmly with the enemies of the Egyptian people. That was Set, the stick crook and flail man. Dealing firmly with enemies, holding them by the hair and chopping off their heads. Set wanted to use the death of their father as an excuse for invading foreign countries. Set hated agriculture and nature which he saw as soiled dirty grimy etc. He was arrogant jealous egotistical and when Osiris issued a ban on men eating men, introducing the techniques he learned from the long-bearded Black men in the university at Nysa, Set began to plot his brother's downfall. He was also jealous that Osiris was to marry their sister Isis. Fine as she could be. Firm breasts, eloquence, all of those qualities that are later to show up in her spiritual descendant Erzulie (love of mirrors, plumes, combs, an elaborate toilet) whom we in the United States call the girl with the red dress on. (Bessie Smith and Josephine Baker are 2 aspects of Erzulie.) People hated Set. He went down as the 1st man to shut nature out of himself. he called it discipline. He is also the deity of the modern clerk, always tabulating, and perhaps invented taxes.

The eating of barley wheat and corn spread through Egypt like a prairie fire and the people began to do the Black Mud sound, to do alchemical theater (theater of the "Black country"), and that got Set even more annoyed. The people would plant during the day and at night would celebrate dancing singing shaking sistrums and carrying on so that Set couldn't get sleep and was tired when he went out on the field and drilled marched and gave commands to others. 1 day Osiris performed a miracle. He danced so well that the vines began to imitate a particular slow sinuous movement and from that day to this we have the creeping vine. Osiris was called the Bull by the Egyptians who loved him and greeted him as he toured Egypt with his musicians and their sets of decoration having to do with procreation.



Set couldn't stand it. He would stand off to the side mad, balling his fists and spouting invective. He considered the music "loud" and "boisterous." Sometimes the dances were performed by pigmies Osiris imported from the South because they were able to execute the "dance of the Gods." 1 night Set went downstairs and told everybody to "cut out that racket." He was greeted only by catcalls and boos and when a young woman tried to persuade him to dance with her he hurried from the room to the general amusement of the court. And when later a guard came upon him trying out these dances himself in secret, the gossip leaked all over Egypt and he became the laughing stock of the country. Set can't dance became the cry.. Even Hully Gullying children on the street would point out Set as the man who can't shake it 'til he breaks it. The freak from Matovani. That did it. Set would show them. Happy all the time. Enjoying themselves when there was hard work to be done, countries to invade, populations to subjugate. Egypt was prospering under Osiris and there was peace.

People were eating good, the crops were abundant, things were going smoothly and Osiris and Isis were happily married. Their sister Nephthys and her husband, their brother Set, didn't make out so well. He spent most of his time "out with the boys"; legislators, an unpopular group of poets who went about Egypt telling Egyptians that they could do better that they weren't ready and that they ought to try to make something out of themselves. Make ready for what? 1 man asked at one of their whistle sops. Ready for progress? Invading foreign countries and killing? The people didn't go for it and sarcastically called them The First Poets because in Egypt at the time of Osiris every man was an artist and every artist a priest; it wasn't until later that Art became attached to the State to do with it what it pleased.

Then something strange happened. People began to do the dance of Osiris and it would interrupt their tilling of the soil. It would hit them at all times of the day and some of them would wander through the streets talking out of their heads and making strange signs. Set circulated a rumor that this was because Osiris didn't really know the alchemical arts and had brought a curse upon Egypt. Osiris was aworried and the people were grumbling. Well, there was a certain artist down near the harbor who painted arks. He was a man who had once made-out with Osiris' mother and had a big reputation for his decorative work. He called on Osiris 1 day and argued his theory that the outbreaks occurred because the mysteries had no text to turn to. No litany to feed the spirits that were seizing the people, and that if Osiris would execute these dance steps for Thoth he would illustrate them and then Osirian priests could determine what god or spirit possessed them as well as learn how to make these gods and spirits depart.

And so possessed, Osiris did his basic dances for many days until Thoth had them all down. A Book of Litanies to which people in places like Abydos in Upper Egypt could add their own variations.

Guides were initiated into the Book of Thoth, the 1st anthology written by the 1st choreographer.


Soon after, peace was once again restored, Osiris became bored. Sailors had come to him with tales of much suffering and cannibalism in many parts of the world. Osiris announced that he was going to leave his wife Isis in charge of the affairs of Egypt which was a little thing because at that time as 1 historian wrote "The Egyptians had little difficulty in being good." Set saw this as his chance. He yearned for the old days when he went out to the people to "Move that chariot to the side of the road, O.K. where's your license," you know, stuff like that. On the day Osiris left there was a big celebration down at the port with guides from all over Egypt doing the dances of the gods. With tons and tons of cereal, Osiris Thoth and a crew and a fleet of 34 papyri boats set sail. It was midsummer, the 10th day of July, that he left.

Osiris toured the world with is International Nile Root Orchestra, dancing agronomy and going from country to country with his band; and a choir directed by a young up and comer named Dionysus whom you don't hear very much about in his Egyptian setting because the Egyptian writing is "royalty centered." With Thoth he taught people to permit nature to speak and dance through them, for so many 1000s of eyes looked through Osiris that he became known as "the many-eyed."

Just as fast as Osiris would teach these dances the people would mimic him and add their variations to fit their country and their clime. People began to welcome Osiris the Bull, the Seedman, and he became a familiar sight walking down the ramp or rather trucking down the ramp, his pet eagle "Jackie" perched on his shoulder, his faithful Birdman Thoth at his side, taking it all down. And people of all the many ports of the world where he traveled would say "Hey Seedman, what's going down?"

It was on his 2nd trip to South America that the rumors reached him. Because Osiris was teaching people how to make wine and if they didn't grow grapes, beer, Set was going about Egypt telling everybody that Osiris was a fraud and that he was traveling the world "drunk" and "fornicating," disgracing the name of the Fatherland. Set issued a challenge which travelers brought to Osiris. He was saying that if Osiris was so smart and a Human Seed and all, a Germ, would he perform the feat of the Germ. Could he be planted in the Nile and then spring from the waters. Surely if he had learned the arts of sagacious bearded Black men in Arabia Felix at the University of Nysa he could perform this act. He said if he would do this that he, Set, would go somewhere and sit down and never complain again if people danced and sang. He didn't want to go down in history as a "party pooper." The devil was even hitting on Isis because he had eyes for her but she would just look upon her brother with disgust, this man who was going around putting the bad breath on Osiris. Osiris at the time was in Teotihuacan in South America where people of all races and from all over the world had arrived to watch the space ships their astronomer predicted would land. They landed after Osiris made a side trip to Olmeca where he remained long enough to pose for a portrait which was done in terracotta. He attended a 2-week festival as guest of an Inca King. It was here that he practiced Set's challenge for days at a time. It was easy. Osiris had developed such a fondness and attachment for Nature that people couldn't tell them apart.

He had never performed this trick but he knew that Nature wouldn't let him down for long. When Osiris and his band returned to Egypt the people turned out to greet him, dancing and being possessed as the guides led them through. They laughed as Isis blushed because they knew that that night he would give her his "rod of authority."

Set and his followers watched from the windows. That isn't a bad piece of tail, Set said commenting upon the attributes of his sister in the presence of Nephthys whom he treated like a dog, and called her a bitch a tomato a heifer a cow and all other words related to farming he hated so.

That night Osiris and Isis made love and the result of this Union was the child Horus.

The next day was the day of the test. The people gathered at the mouth of the Nile as the legislators placed Osiris in the coffer and drove nails through it. Molten lead was used to keep it airtight. Osiris winked at the people before the lid was closed. The coffer was sunk into the water on October 24th.

That night the legislators came to the Nile and raised Osiris. They lifted the lid and saw Osiris lying thre smiling in a deep death-like slumber, a trick he had learned "down home" among the heavies in the Sudan and Ethiopia.

They mutilated him and made believe that he was torn in to 14 parts, and from that day forward fish have been considered evil in Egypt. On October 31st the people came and saw the mutilated corpse, parts of which had been washed up on the shore, and the open coffer lying not far away.

Set, stood there in triumph. There goes your Seedman eaten by fish, let's cut out all this farming jazz and go back to eating each other. Come here you, Set said in his John Wayne voice, swaggering toward a luscious woman, a succulent dish standing in the crowd.



Thoth knew this to be a lie. He had seen Osiris perform this act during their sojourn in South America. Among the Navajo Indians in North America, at Aztec festivals, around West African peoples who were known to repel an invader by "playing whistles and beating on drums," the news had circulated through many tribes that Osiris could perform this trick.

Thoth spoke up, demanding an autopsy, an investigation of Osiris' death. Set had Thoth arrested for his proposal. Thoth was taken into custody but escaped through the help of some of the guards who were still loyal to the memory of Osiris. Before going into exile, he ran to Isis and left his sacred Book in her hands; and then he went away. Some say he went into exile in the hills where he wrote magical books under a pseudonym which survived until the "Civilized" Romans burned the library at Alexandria.

Isis began to walk about Egypt, screaming lamentations for her husband. At the moment of his triumph  Set began to hear unsettling stories. Osiris had been seen in the land. He had been seen wherever Isis had left a backbone, or a toe or an arm belonging to her dead husband. The people were beginning to call Osiris the Bull the Human-Seed as well, and wherever they found a Bull with a scarab under his tongue, an eagle on his back and a square on his forehead they began to celebrate Osiris' "living Spirit." When he heard of this, old Set ordered the murder of the Bulls and being a particularly mean cuss, ordered they be tortured 1st. (This led to the sport that the American writer Ernest Hemingway took such delight in.) But wherever the Black Bull God Apis appeared and was murdered another Bull would take his place. Well this was driving Set up the walls. This was October 31st, the night the people went about wearing masks, being whatever they felt like in honor of the man who Nature spoke through. Set sent out warrants for the Osirian guides who had learned The Work and they fled. Some of them fled to Down Home where they matched knowledge with the necromancers in Ife, Nigeria. Dionysus traveled to Greece where the Dance "spread like wildfire" although Homer doesn't mention it. He nevertheless helped himself to the stories Dionysus brought concerning Osiris, the man who traveled through the world and returned home to a wife under siege by conspirators. Dionysus kept the faith of his school chum and home boy. (Dionysus can be read as "God From Nysa.") When the King of Thebes forbade the feeding of Dionysus, the angry loa influenced the young people to revolt. When Proteus, King of Tiryns, closed a temple dedicated to Dionysus known as "the man of the black goatskin" a contemporary writer described the ensuing choreomania:

They rushed out of doors and in frenzied dance raged over the countryside, singing weird songs, tearing their garments, unable to stop dancing.


Dionysus taught the Greeks the Osirian Art which lasted until the Atonists in the late 4th century A.D. convinced the Emperor Constantine to co-sign for the Cross. Dionysus taught the Greek guides to identify the Nature that spoke through mankind. The Work. Listen Hippocrates:

If they imitate a goat, or grind their teeth, or if their right side be convulsed, they say that the mother of the gods is the cause, but if they speak in a sharper and more intense tone they resemble this state to a horse and say Poseidon [Neptune] is the cause.


NOTICE
RICHARD, CHUCK AND JOHNNY WISH TO REMIND CALIFORNIA'S ROCK FANS THAT THE STAGE IS VIRTUALLY INDESTRUCTIBLE. ONE MAY ATTEND WITH NO FEAR OF MORTAL INJURY, SHOULD HE OR SHE FEEL THE CALL TO COME FORTH AND DECLARE HIS OR HER SOUL TO THE GLORY OF ROCK 'N' ROLL


The Greeks established temples to these Egyptian-derived mysteries where people would go out of theri heads so that the gods could take them over. (About the 10th century the Atonist priests will call this diabolical possession or corrupt the Greek word daimon so as to have evil connotations. Freud, the later Atonist [according to 1 biographer, a big fan of Moses, Cromwell and other militarists], is to term this "hysteria.")

The Greek and Roman masses were crazy about the Egyptian mysteries and celebrated them in Temples of Osiris and Isis, much to the chagrin of the satirist Lucian, who in Dialogues of the Gods derided the animal figures associated with the royal couple; but religions were too popular for criticism to affect anything and the people danced and sang and were touched by the Spirits under the careful watching of trained priests of Dionysus the choir master. They, the Greeks, would have never though about calling these Hosts schizophrenics or catatonics, which were after all their own words. Paranoia and the like were clinical Atonist words invented by people who having lost the knowledge of what they were doing just kinda threw these terms out there. These rites lasted on up to A.D. 378 when the Atonists made havoc upon the temples of their opponents' "pagan" systems. Prior to their sacking, jealous politicians had burned the temples in 58, 50 and 48 B.C. Formerly the people could go to the temples and get away from it all through the guidance of a priest; now they were tortured and any Osirian behavior was seen as an escape from reality and such. All of the gods who were rivals of the 1 they called Jehovah (the cover-up for the Flaming Disc God, Aton) were driven underground and the many were reduced to 1; even Muhammad, 1 of Jehovah's allies in the priesthood, is depicted in a church carving as the devil.

The 4th century A.D. was crucial period for both Atonism and the mystery Dionysus had brought from Egypt. Atonist scholars up to their old yellow journalism of the Daily Heliopolitan decided to depict Osiris as Pluto, a castrated god of the underworld but they kept on Isis as Virgin Mary. In fact in many African locales the passion for Isis was transferred to the Atonists' Mary. This occurred in Africa and southern Europe. Mary was the mother of the Atonist compromise Jesus Christ. They made him do everything that Osiris does, sow like a farmer, be a fisherman among men but he is still a bokor, a sorcerer, an early Faust. Lazarus was a zombie! He was a sorcerer, a Maharishi yoga type who went around the countryside performing tricks. The quality of which the great man Julian the Apostate Emperor (called Apostate because he wanted in the 4th century, to revive the religions Dionysus brought to Greece) was to comment

. . .  Yet Jesus, who won over the least worthy of you, has been known by name for but little more than three hundred years: and during his lifetime he accomplished nothing worthy hearing of, unless anyone thinks that to heal crooked and blind men and to exorcise those who were possessed by evil demons in the villages of Bethsaida and Bethany can be classed as a mighty achievement.

Julian knew the difference between a houngan and bokor, having surrounded himself with the solidest post-Osirian priests of his day. And Julian fed the loas publicly, to the ridicule and scorn of his countrymen who had been converted to Christianity. On February 4, A.D. 362, he proclaimed religious freedom in the empire and ordered the pagan temples restored. But the Atonists were too powerful for Julian. He was assassinated on a Persian battlefield 12:00 midnight June 26, 363. He failed in his gallant attempt to reverse the Atonist challenge. He foresaw the Bad News it was going to bring to the world. John Milton, Atonist apologist extraordinaire himself, saw the coming of the minor geek and sorcerer Jesus Christ as a way of ending the cult of Osiris and Isis forever.

The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
Isis and Horus, and the dog Anubis hast.


Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove, or Green
     Trampling th' unshowr'd Grass with lowings loud:
Nor can he be at rest
within his sacred chest,
      Naught but profundest Hell can be his shroud;
In vain with Timbrel'd Anthems dark
The sable-stoled Sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.

This from his Hymn in "On the Morning of Christs Nativity," which is nothing but a simple necktie party out to get Osiris' goat. And those "Timbrle'd Anthems dark" is the music that old Jethro played, the music of the worshipers of those festivals where they had a ball. Boogieing. Expressing they selves. John Milton couldn't stand that. Another Atonist; that's why English professors like him, he's like their amulet, keeping niggers out of the departments and stamping out Jes Grew before it invades their careers. It is interesting that he worked fro Cromwell, a man who banned theater from England and was also a hero of Sigmund Freud. Well the mud-slingers kept up the attack on Osiris, a writer Bilious Styronicus even rewriting Osirian history in a book called the Confessions of the Black Bull God Osiris in which he justified Set's murder to Osiris on the ground that Osiris made "illicit" love to Isis who, he wrote, was Set's wife. He was awarded the Atonists' contemporary equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize for this whopper. Others went about calling Osiris, Moloch, which translated means "nigger cow."

Well the Atonist Church becomes stronger as the years pass but a strange thing happens. The rites associated with Osiris and other pagan gods continue underground. The only remedies the Church knew was to "beat the living shit out of them." Throwing those possessed by demons into dungeons, torturing and burning it out of them. They killed millions of people this way but it didn't put an end to the dance epidemics, heresies, witchcraft, infidels, and remnants of "pagan" religions. Well, if the Church had continued dealing with the foe in this manner, beating people up. raiding their apartments at 2:00 A.M., burning them at the stake, it would have wiped out a good portion of Europe's population. The rest of the population was being depleted by physical plagues. Much later came another Atonist compromise, Sigmund Freud, who refined the rhetoric of the Church and eased the methods of dealing with the problem. Freud saved many lives which would have ordinarily been dealt with by the Church in an inhumane manner. But when Freud came to America and saw what was going down over here it was too much for even this man. Freud fainted.


After the exile of the Osirians, Dionysus, Thoth and other members of that fabled entourage, Set had problems. Every time he'd got out on tour his convoy was stoned. He had outlawed Dancing. Everything that Osiris stood for he attempted to banish so that he would cut this figure out of his life forever. Next he banished Music. And as his mind deteriorated he banned Fucking.

And later even Life itself. He began to groove behind a real death cult that grew up around him. His legislators and their wives resembled a Billy Graham audience at Oakland Coliseum. The people began to grumble. There was talk of revolution. Talk that Horus had grown up in Koptos where Isis had gone into exile and was prepared to march on the old man. When the child was younger Set had dispatched an arch poisoner, but he failed because Isis was in possession of the Sacred Book and had developed some pretty strong garde.

Set decided that he would fasten his hold on the populace by performing a miracle the way Osiris used to. He had 1 of his bokors who practiced the art of the Petro Rites with the Left Hand to "come on up and give the folks a show." Well, being insufficiently trained the bokor didn't know what he was doing; he only knew Dirty Work and raised the temperature of Egypt to over 50,00 degrees resulting in something resembling and A-bomb explosion. Set and his followers fled to Heliopolis City of the Sun and decided to rule Egypt from there.

Set grew worse. The people began to return their old ways, dancing and performing the rites as they remembered them, but without the Text and someone to tell them what to do- Osiris' assistants now dispersed in West Africa, southern Europe, and elsewhere- it resulted in degeneration. Se began to develop a weird relationship with the Sun. If you can understand Los Angeles you can almost get the picture; imagine 2 or 3 Los Angeleses and you got Heliopolis. The legislators lay around in the Sun all day and developed a strange Body Building scene on the beach. Set decided that he would introduce a religion based upon his relationship to the Sun, and since he was a god then the Sun too would be a god. Of course this was nothing new because the Egyptians had worshiped the "heat, light, orbs, and rays," had worshiped the Sun in a pantheistic manner. With Set, the Sun's flaming disc eclipsed the rest of its parts.

He made the legislators serve as his writers, as Thoth had for Osiris. Maybe this would do it, he thought. And so the legislators went through the old texts and started rewriting things and doctoring them to make Set look good and Osiris look bad. By establishing his own religion based upon Aton (the Sun's flaming disc) he felt he would overcome the nature religion of Osiris. He would be the reverse of Osiris who was associated with fertilization and spring; he would become Aton the "burner of growing things," the Egyptian Jehovah who causes famine pestilence and earthquakes. Before he died he was in such a state that he believed that the Sun was dependent on him and thus he would walk around in circles all day thinking that when he walked the Sun made its course about the planet.

He really flipped. And he was to die watching the Bull God Apis rise all over the land. The Temples of Osiris and Isis were constructed in southern Europe, Nubia and the Sudan. It was becoming a world-wide religion. It was successful everywhere the remnant of the Osirian priesthood was; they knew what it was capable of and knew how to draw it out or make it depart. But in places where The Work wasn't known it would spring up unexpectedly and cause disastrous results or be mistaken for entertainment or be practiced with the Left Hand. Try as they may to popularize Atonism, the Egyptians weren't going for it. It became nothing but a club of old grumblers located in Heliopolis.

That was until Amenhotep 4 (about 1400 B.C.). He was a frail tall and weakling interior-decorator type who became an Atonist and changed his name to Akhnaton (devoted to Aton) while he spent sometime in Heliopolis hanging out on the beach the Atonists made popular, now a decadent, Joe Atlas scene.

When the fool moved the capital to Tel el Amarna they knew they had another Set on their hands and the Amon sect, the ones in charge of maintaining the Osirian mysteries, had the sucker offed. To make an uneasy pun they quit this 2nd Set.

Fortunately Tutankhamen came to power and the people were allowed to do their stuff, working out this way on the wall in the hall every which-a-way. That was until Thermuthis, the stubborn, self-indulgent daughter of a weak Pharaoh. 1 day while bathing she discovered a child in a basket and against the advice of Baria, an old HooDoo woman, brought the child into the palace. No 1 could tell her anything. Thermuthis had had her "been to": her expatriate fling in Europe. Hadn't she hung out in the cafes and listened to Greek, the language of "civilization"? Hadn't she learned how to be vague? To flim flam? She looked down on her own people whom she joined her friends in mocking as they went about "practicing that superstitious mess." The Osirian cult had lost its prestige and now did its stuff "way out on the outskirts of town." There were rumors of dancing and "getting happy" and singing out here in the roadside temples. At Thermuthis' request the Pharaoh would have them raided once in a while. But since the Osirians were giving the guard some "ice"- emeralds, diamonds, lapis lazuli- as soon as a priest, houngan and houngonikon or mambo or an elder and his sisters were arrested he was soon back on the street in circulation. Thermuthis and some of her Greek friends went down to these places one night and were appalled at the frankness of these rituals; the Pussies and Dicks on the walls as decoration, the low-down gut-bucket music. They were snobs. (The opening night crowd of charlatans at a racist N.Y. museum.) All day they stay around discussing such things as "If I stand in the water today am I the same person who stood there yesterday etc. etc." you know. Jiving the citizens of Egypt.

Her adopted son Moses (1350-1250 B.C.) had different ideas. He sneaked off to the Domain of Osiris every time he had a chance. Manetho the 3rd century B.C. Egyptian historian contends that he even became an Osirian initiate and changed his name to Osarsiph.

The people, down at these places which bore the aroma of plants growing wild in the fields, called him Pharaoh. The Egyptian scribe Manetho also refers to him as Pharaoh, most likely the successor of Thermuthis' father. These orchestras of brass, sistrums and drums would play a music that was influenced by the stars. They played under the stars to 1000s of what they remembered of the Osirian Mysteries. Moses, the young Pharaoh-to-be, would sit in and join in with his brothers. The fingers of these men who worked the crops brought the electricity of the earth to their strings, these men who drank from the cold Blue Nile, whose lips had touched the waters of this magic river, brought this Nile sound to their instruments. Well 1 night they were sitting around and Moses asked them what was the heaviest sound they had ever heard. All the men agreed that it was old Jethro the Midianite who could still play the sounds of the spirits and had a legendary instrument that sounded like an orchestra and knew all the "old songs." It was rumored that he was 
a descendant of an actual follower of Osiris who had gone into exile after Set's purge. They said that he could play so well that lions assembled on the ground of his farm and went to sleep, that the crops would weave their leaves toward the huts and climb into the bedroom window. That Nature had blessed him with daughters so that there would be more like him. Moses felt that he would have to study under this man. he would have to somehow gain this man's confidence and perhaps he would teach him everything he knew.

The next day Moses set out to see Jethro. When he came upon the town in whose suburbs Jethro dwelled he went in to the local Spirits Temple and made inquiries about Jethro. The Spirit Tasters told him all about Jethro and that he could see his daughters tending to Jethro's cattle if he went outside of town. They told him where and how far to go. Moses revealed himself as Pharaoh-to-be and hired the men to stage an episode for him. They would go and pretend to rustle Jethro's cattle and Moses would come riding out of the hills and divert them. (Moses really liked melodrama.) Well this was done and Moses came out of the hills and repelled the rustlers whom he had paid to perform such a stunt at the Temple of Spirits. The women took their rescuer home and introduced him to their father Jethro. Jethro was happy and persuaded Moses to remain at his home and "drink and eat as much as you and make-out with my daughters."

Why not? Moses thought. They weren't bad and he could just write down everything that Jethro said and when he returned to Egypt he would turn the place out. That night Jethro took out this instrument that must have had about 25 strings. He then put some kind of early styled harmonica in his mouth. And with his feet he beat on some kind of tinny thing. Then he started twanging on that many-stringed monstrosity and zipping his fingers up and down that thing and making that thing cry so that several times Moses leaped in the air and said, Damn! If he could learn that he could be the Hierophant of the surviving Osirian Order. Moses asked Jethro would he mind if he wrote all of this down. Jethro was grateful to the man. He almost considered him a son and told him that this would be fine.

Well the next few months Moses would help the women tend the cows, using them any way he desired, and at night, Jethro would play and Moses would write it all down. Soon they were doing duos as Moses slowly learned Jethro's art. Well when Moses had learned all of Jethro's songs and had made Jethro create upon these strange instruments he played, Moses packed his papyri instruments and was bidding Jethro goodbye. He said he would play his songs in the temples and while he was playing them he would always have a kind place in his heart for Jethro.

Just as Jethro was bidding Moses goodbye Jethro told him "It's too bad you're leaving because that's not enough. You must know the words to the songs and that's a family secret." Moses paused. "Family secret?" "Yes unless you know the words the music becomes 1/2 right, not all right." Moses told Jethro and his daughters that he was going to set out but the moon looked ominous. Perhaps he could remain with them for a few more days. That evening Moses asked Jethro to teach him the words. Jethro told him that they were family secrets. He would only pass them on to a son-in-law.


Well, the next day Moses told Jethro that he was in love with Zipporah and wanted to marry her. Jethro, trusting, was overjoyed because he had developed a great fondness for Moses. Moses married Zipporah and as her dowry Jethro taught Moses the family words. Well, Moses and his wife Zipporah were about to leave because he wanted as quickly to return to Egypt to "show off my lovely Black bride to my stepmother, The Pharaoh and my high-yellow sisters and brothers."

1 day when you return, Jethro said, you can take a trip to Koptos where there is in existence the Sacred Book said to have been written by Thoth himself.

What? Moses asked.

I said 1 of these days Isis will show you the real Book of Thoth-the original sound. The 1 located in her temple at Koptos, guarded by the deathless snake. It has to be gotten during the right moon or it will be the Book in its evil phase.

Moses sighed, Now he tells me! He told his father-in-law that Zipporah didn't look too well and that he would remain a few more days before they set out on such an arduous journey. Zipporah pleaded that she felt all right but Moses insisted. Jethro was pleased that Moses was so concerned for his daughter Zipporah and rebuked her for sassing her husband. Moses after a few weeks told Jethro, his wife and her sisters that he felt like going on a camping trip to get some air and that he would return soon.

Moses went into the woods and traveled to the mountains. He wanted to contemplate. He went atop Mount Horeb and fasted and meditated for days. On the night of the 12th day he was so weak, having lost many pounds, he thought he was doing to die. It was then a vision came to him. It seemed, the Specter, to be a man dressed in old-style Egyptian clothes 1000s of years before even Manetho had recorded the 30 Dynasties. He told Moses he knew his problem. He knew that Moses wanted to find out how to circumvent the deathless snake who guards the temple at Koptos: Isis and Osiris' Temple. The Specter said he knew that Isis would succumb to a certain line because it was "that time of the month." He said that he would tell Moses what to do, but first Moses had to promise he would restore the cult of Aton to Egypt.

Moses laughed. Man, the way people are into animal and vegetation rites and calling everything that moves a spirit, I would be the buffoon of Egypt restoring something as arid as that. The present mysteries, although frowned upon by the aristocracy, including my mother, are extremely popular with the masses. Why there would be revolution. The Specter began to fade-out when Moses reconsidered, i must play this Book! I must find it! He had developed a real thing about it.

Wait. Wait. Of course I will do what you say. How do I go about getting this Book?

You have to talk trash and feed her.

What is that? Moses said recognizing this as ancient dialect that would have to be revealed to him.

Set told him what he meant by these things and after Moses had gotten it all down he returned to Jethro's ranch looking like a new man. The next day Jethro was sitting on the porch, chewing on some herbs and swinging in a hammock he had made for himself. Some of the old red-eyed Black men from the hills were gathered about the master playing their stringed and percussion instruments, cowbells, mouth harps, calliopes.

Moses seemed like he was trying to tiptoe away when Jethro stopped him because by now Jethro knew he was being used.

Where are you going, son? Koptos?

The men ceased playing their instruments. It became so quiet you could hear the crickets for it was the crepuscule.

Aren't you taking Zipporah with you, said this man, his face a dark wood, his grey hair blue in the early twilight.

I'll . . . I'll er return for her before I go to Egypt, Moses said.

The men returned to playing their instruments. Jethro stopped them. He rose and addressed his son-in-law.

IF you get it out of her it will be useless to you; only a few things about converting rods to snakes; simple bokor tricks, the rest will be so awful that you wish you had never known The Work. Son, she's in that Aspect of herself with this Moon and you won't be able to receive the better side of her Book . . .

Look, leave me alone. Silly old man out here in the backwoods. How dare you talk to me that way. I'm a Pharaoh, or soon will be 1.

Moses jumped on his horse as tears came to Jethro's eyes. As he was about to ride away Moses rode to Jethro's porch where all the men were assembled and he dropped "a couple of bucks" on old Jethro.

Here's the copyright fee for the junk you taught me, he said sarcastically.

Jethro took the dollars and flung them at Moses who rode off into the night.

He wouldn't listen and now he will be merely a 2-bit sorcerer practicing the Left Hand.

It wasn't your fault, Jethro, you warned him, a friend consoled.

The old men resumed the playing of the instruments.


Moses arrived in Koptos a few weeks later. There were statues all over the town devoted to the ancient them of Isis and her child Horus who according to some versions returned and overthrew his father's murderer, Set. It is also said that Horus was the result of a coupling of Isis with the deceased Osiris. People were wearing emblems of the Mother and Child and their pictures were etched on coins. Moses was directed by a traveler to the Temple of Osiris and Isis. He walked until he came upon the temple outside town. He entered between 2 of its 6 columns. In the main room was a smoking pit, a retainer of sacrificial refuse; a statue of Osiris and Isis, holding the child Horus; and friezes depicting Sea Fights, the mysteries: Thoth, Nephthys, Horus, Anubis. Osiris the Eater of the Dead armed with two knives, Osiris Khenti, Amenti, Lord of Abydos and others. There were the animal-shapes: crocodiles serpents birds and rams. The colors of the room were green blue and yellow. Grains were scattered about the floor. The room was littered with tom toms pipes and drums. The air of funk was being dispersed by burning incense. It had been quite an afternoon. Several pigmy kings of about 4' 10'' had danced all afternoon intermittently, leaping into the air. Moses went into the kitchen and munched on some cereal that had been left in some ritual bowls. He drank some wine; he went past the dining room and into the bedroom of mysteries which was covered with pictures of male and female genitalia. Fatigued from traveling, Moses lay down on the bed and went immediately to sleep. At about 2 A.M. he awoke to someone running her hands through his hair and kissing him. It was Isis in the Petro aspect of herself. She was dressed in a scarlet see-through gauzy gown and covered with the odor of a strange perfume. He had never smelt anything so intoxicating to the brain. Her hair was giant black-bird feathers, her eyes blazing.

He would have to be careful. There was stories of mangled bodies carried through the air in the cruel beaks of giant birds. Men "bleeding like hogs," wandering about the temple senseless at dawn. There were tales of her victims condemned to traveling the world. Headless, pitiful men who brought the plague to cities.

I will give you what you want if you give me what I want.

She was so fine that if she dived down the abyss Moses would have plunged in after her. Moses was sweating as she removed her gown and began to make love with him. Moving her thighs about his legs, running her hands across his penis.

Well, Moses thought, as he responded to her caresses, I only hope the bird handles me gently.

Suddenly she leaped to her feet, her prominent firm black breasts swinging, her hands on her hips.

What have you brought for me?

Moses remove from his satchel everything Set instructed him to bring: brightly colored scarfs and liquors, jewelry and delicate chickens for her to eat. She handled the scarfs and tasted the liquor. Moses, when he saw her delighted expression, thought that he had passed the test but she hurled tht things to the ground with 1 gesture.

That isn't enough, she said, returning to the bed and lying next to him. You must talk to me. Baby, please talk to me.

Set knew his sister all right and Moses began to talk to her the way the Osirians talked to her in their rites. He told her how much he loved her and that he would die for her. Cut his throat swim in a river of thrashing crocodiles fight lions for her pussy. He said that he would cuss the day he was born if he couldn't have it and that he would walk all over Egypt crying like a baby. He said that he would gouge out his eyes and dust off the feet of all the dock workers in Egypt, jump off a cliff and lock himself in a cave for the rest of his life. And every time Moses would say another lie Isis would moan and sigh and whimper and purr like a kitten as Moses' hand moved down and touched her Seal. He fished her temple good. She showed him all her rooms. And led him into the depths of her deathless snake where he fought that part of her until it was limp on the ground. He got good into her Book tongued her every passage thumbing her leaf and rubbing his hands all over her binding.

When he was through he had gotten it all down. All down. Had it down pat. He left the goddess in slumber as he rose, collected his gear together and then set out for Egypt.


Well, Moses announced to the populace that he would give a concert with music and songs better than the Black Mud Sound, which was dying rapidly and played only by a few old fools in the hills. He said that this would be a dignified concert and that everyone would have to leave them old nasty-assed animal fetishes and "rattlers" and all those other "flesh-pipes" back home and that there would be no savage dancing. Don't be bringing none of that silly shit to my gig, Moses said. I'm the 1. For once music wouldn't just be used as a background to dancing but he would be a soloist and no 1 in the audience would be allowed to play a whistle or beat a drum or rattle a tambourine. The Osirians were furious. They knew this to be an Atonist trick and decided to disrupt the concert.

Well, the night of the concert the people were herded into the concert ground. (Non-attendance was equated with treason.) Moses began to play Jethro's songs but they weren't coming across like the way they had at the old man's fireplace. They sounded flat, weak, deprived of the lowdown rhythms that Jethro had brought to them. An applause sign was placed up and Moses received applause. A man who didn't go along was taken outside and beaten with flails and crooks. From a box seat, Thermuthis and her expatriate friends applauded loudest of all; 1 Greek said he would return to Greece and announce that Moses sounded even better than Osiris must have sounded himself. Moses then played the songs of Jethro with the words but his voice sounded feigned, his mimic of Jethro's dialect phony, and at this point some grain was thrown up on the stage and people were imitating snakes by HIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGGG. That corner of the park was beaten until blood streamed down the aisles.

Well, during the intermission Moses went back stage and his Atonist supporters, ass kissers who traveled with him everywhere he went since his return to Egypt, were drinking beer and told Moses how good he was and began to pat him on the back. Moses knew something was wrong. He was told by 1 of the ushers that fights were breaking out in the stadium and that they would have to call for the Army if the violence got out of control.

Don't worry, Moses said, I will do the songs and dances I learned from The Work, the sacred Book, and that way the people will rejoice and love me and young girls will follow me everywhere.

Well, Moses went on stage and began gyrating his hips and singing the words of the Book of Thoth, and a strange things happened. The ears of the people began to bleed. Some of them charged the stage and tried to get at Moses but the Atonist thugs beat them back. 1 Osirian priest could not longer take it. He and several others knew what Moses had learned and knew how it was using him.

Moses couldn't understand. Why hadn't the rites and the words and the dances congealed? Why hadn't the contagion broken out? Why weren't people talking in strange tongues and having happy convulsions?

Moses examined his guitar. Something was wrong. But then the Osirians rose from the rows they occupied and began blowing their whistles and the beautiful sounds filled the air. They didn't know The Work that Moses knew, but in his hands it wasn't doing him any good anyway. The people began to relax. Removed instruments of their own they had smuggled into the park and began playing them along with the Osirians who were marching toward the bandstand playing the instruments. The people began to dance. Moses couldn't stand it.

Arrest those men, he said as the men came closer to where he stood and began to mouth the steps. 1 Osirian-a Black Osirian, a crocodile wrestler known by his friends as "The Hunter"- lunged for Moses but the Atonist thugs surrounded him, stabbing him and making him bleed and then stomping him while he was down until he lay on the floor dead. Seeing this, the whole audience charged the bandstand and Moses was whisked away by some Atonists. People began stoning the royal chariots as they raced for refuge in the Palace. Looting and the killing of Atonists went on all night.


The people surrounded the Palace. Some of them leaped over the barricades set up by the Pharaoh's militia. They hurled missiles at the residence; inside, Moses' mother Thermuthis sobbed softly. She cried the way they did in Greece, civilized, dignified, not piercing walking from the viscera associated with the mourning of Isis who walked all over Egypt sharing her pathos with her people after husband's murder. (Thermuthis cried the way 1 of my relatives from Alabama described as "crying proper."-I.R.) The Greek friends were trying to reach the boats as quickly as they could- 2 of these loafers, brothers, thought of supporting themselves by selling an idea of frieze dealing with the murder of "The Hunter" at the hands of the Atonist thugs.

Moses thought that he could calm the multitude by going out to the balcony and "reasoning" with the people (his mother's sophist friends had gotten to his head too), warning them that he would not truck any rowdiness and that horrible punishments were in store for those who persisted in this unruliness.

Ladies and gentlemen of Egypt. I will unleash the Holocaust upon you this time if you persist in this action. We must have sanity and logic during these times of change and upheaval.

A rock busted the cat's lip.

In anger Moses flung his rod to the ground where it immediately transformed into a snake.

The people laughed. They called him mountebank and sorcerer, fakir in a pejorative sense of the Petro Asson, and other names associated with cheap charlatans who would raise the dead for 15 dollars and change.

The crowd began pushing into the Palace. Moses then ran back into the apartment where his mother was sobbing softly, touching her soft smooth flabby face with a handkerchief.

He berated her: For heaven's sake will you cut that out. I'm trying to concentrate.

Then the idea hit him. Moses ran into his apartment and removed a leaf from the Book Isis had given him. He returned to the balcony where below the crowds had taken trees and were now using them to pound on the Palace gate. Moses uttered The Work aloud. 1st there was silence. Then the people turned toward the Nile and they saw a huge mushroom cloud arise.

A few minutes later, screaming of the most terrible kind came from that direction. The crowd dispersed, trampling 1 another as they rushed for the shelter of their homes. This was a turning point in the Book's history.


The practice of the Left Hand has now arisen to the level of that of the Right Hand. As the distinguished musicologist Fats Waller was to comment later: "Formerly the right hand was given all the work and the left hand shifted for itself, thumping out a plain octave or common chord foundation; now it's more evenly divided and the left hand has to know its stuff."

Moses' explosion made even Set's magicians look small. The next day fish and other river creatures dead and dying washed up on the shores of the Nile.

The VooDoo tradition instructs that Moses learned the secrets of VooDoo from Jethro and taught them to his followers. H. P. Blavatsky concurs: "The fraternity of Free Masons was founded in Egypt and Moses communicated the secret teaching to Israelites, Jesus to the Apostles and thence found its way to the Knights Templar." But this doesn't explain why he received the Petro Asson instead of the Rada. My theory is that it was due to the fact that he had approached Isis at Koptos during the wrong time of the Moon and stirred her malevolent aspects thus learning of the Book. Others say that shortly afterward Moses and his Atonist followers went into exile.

When Jethro heard of the incidents occurring in the North, the nuclear attack and the outrage mob, he told Zipporah. She took it well. She was glad that Jethro hadn't, in a fit of rage, sent the white leprosy to Thermuthis, Moses' mother. Jethro was a good man and once you begin the Petro work it's hard to quit.

Many years later when Moses returned home 1 day from "communicating with his God" he found his children dancing before the despised Bull God Apis, the animal which carries the living spirit of Osiris. Moses heard the "heathen sounds" (timbrel'd anthems dark, boogie, jazz, down-home music, funk, gutbucket) he hadn't heard since his old days in Egypt. Moses grabbed the awful Book from his sons and daughters who were enjoying themselves, dancing their tails off. Moses wanted to get rid of the Book, having sworn off it, but was afraid to burn it. He feared The Work's power. So instead he hid it in a tabernacle where it was lost and become known as 1 of the "lost Books of Moses."..........


Centuries went by until 1118 [A.D.] when the Knights Templar built their headquarters on the site of Solomon's Temple. The organization was an imitation of Hasan-ibn-al-Sabbah's Assassins which had similar offices: Grand Masters, Grand Priors, Priors, Knights, Esquires, Lay Brothers, and the the Templars even adopted the Muslim colors so as to distinguish themselves from their rivals the Teutonics and the Hospitalers. They were a bunch of filthy ruffians, thugs and excommunicated "holy sinners" who wore their clothes until they rotted off their backs; maybe not so bad when you consider that this was a time when the King of France only changed his clothes 3 times a year. They were bully boys who justified their existence by harassing "sacriligers adulterers and others in the name of the Cross." (As usual they left themselves to be the judges of who was guilty of these vaguely defined crimes.) Their stock rose and when they saved the 2nd Crusade from annihilation they were in a position to write their own ticket. . . . One night while stacking books in the basement of the library [they] came upon a secret passageway which led down some concrete steps into an ancient room. It was here [they] came upon the Book of Thoth, the sacred Work Isis had given to Moses. The Work of the Black Birdman, assistant to Osiris......