Wednesday, April 19, 2017

THE ILLUMINATI KING SPEAKS ..The Doors - The Crystal Ship .. 4/19/17

 

Once inside the large, classic, manor house the man with long salt and pepper hair led me across a dim entry hall floored with black and white marble tiles. We went into what I assumed to be an 'assembly' space used for dances and receptions during the season. Were such things part of my world?... No, they weren't. But I had a vague idea. In my little hamlet, we used to watch from the hedgerows and wave to the black or dark, red burnished, lacquered carriages as they passed, delivering the various landed families to balls and festivities.

The room was large and set up for some type of meeting. Thirty high backed chairs flanked each side of a rectangular, parquet expanse. A throne-like dais occupied the far end. Brass chandeliers and sconces bathed all in a soft, golden candlelight. The walls and ceiling featured a restrained, elegant plaster-work. The man with long, salt and pepper hair directed me toward a chair far down from the dais. I looked at him. He nodded. I sat. He walked across the polished hardwood and took his place in a seat much closer to the 'throne.'  Liveried footmen gave each in attendance a glass of wine. The right arm of each chair ended in a small platform with slightly raised edges apparently meant for drinks. I studied  my fellow congregants, a mixed group of men and women attired in fine, though somber garments. Some looked at me. Others chatted quietly with their neighbors. Then a door opened  right by the throne. All stood in unison. An older gentleman entered and sat down on the large carved chair. The other sixty people in the chamber, of which I was one, sat down too. Upon closer inspection I realized we were a mixed group representing humanity in its entirety.

Then the man on the dais began to speak.... Welcome to this synod.  May we accomplish much. - That's what he said... It was all so straight forward, like a meeting of the brethren in a Methodist church. I wasn't sure what it all meant then. Odd, how quickly I forgot about the tiny, human shaped creatures with the sugar-glass wings, but I did. There was a light incense in the air. Maybe it sedated us?... The man on the dais spoke of pigeons. They communicated through pigeons. Homing pigeons, they were. But I didn't know that then. Illuminati all had coops and the birds flew from 'light' to 'light.' That's what they call each other, 'lights.' In places with multiple 'lights,' not many, but enough to form a small congregation, they call those groups 'beacons.' He asked a few people if their flock was healthy and strong. He asked others, who I assumed were philosophers, or writers, if their tracts were ready. A woman from Krakow said her 'beacon' needed a new printing press, for their old one was smashed by the Czarist police. Most of Poland was ruled by Russia and that autocracy (an absolute, brutal, crushing, 'monarchy') was a particular nemesis of  theirs.

You see, Illuminati were never involved with dark art. They (we) were just the first people to 'know.' They realized life could be better and they understood that certain organized forces did not want life to get better. Oh, the elites lived wonderful lives... the ecclesiastic elites, the ruling elites, the financial elites... all of them. To be truthful, we had 'lights' among those powerful groups too. It's always better to reform from the inside, though progress was slow. Few people realized there could be anything better. And we did not preach violent political upheaval. Tolerant, progressive, constitutional kingdoms suited us just fine. You know what we were? We were children of The Enlightenment... Voltaire, Spinoza, De Carte, Goethe, Tom Paine and the like. Doctor Franklin, in America was part of it too.

The sad fact is 'common people' lack confidence. Give them a friendly taproom and a congenial company of fellows who share the same burdens, fears and biases. That's all they want.. a refuge from their troubles. Do you think Old India was the only land with a caste system? England was just as bad and we considered ourselves a 'modern' western country. ... Look, it's as they say at the top of this 'blog' --- Everything is everywhere. What choices do you make?

But I wax too philosophical . Let me return to the wonder of it all. I remember so much.

The Illuminati sometimes 'planted seeds.' I was one such seed. They placed me with foster parents, so that I might grow up and see the problems of the world. Then they snatched me back from that modest existence in a none too gentle way, as a demonstration of their capabilities.... And they (we?) are capable of a lot.

Sometimes 'retrograde souls,' that's what we call obstinate, powerful types in our way disappear. None take credit. It just happens. Is that a 'dark art?'... I don't think so. I don't know. Is it?

Come back next time.... We'll explore... Never be afraid to 'feel' the world... Never be afraid to dream...

<more to come>

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Tuesday, April 11, 2017

DO NOT ENCOURAGE UNCONNECTED PEOPLE TO READ THIS .. 4/6/17

 
Although some facts are changed, this leads into material that is very spot on and not meant for everyone. Please know that.

Lawrence Edgerton speaks -

I was in a dome, a large, rustic, grey stone dome. The interior vault was studded with windows. Some were round, some triangular, others had a long, rectangle shape and they pointed everywhere. The center of the space featured a seaman's glass, only bigger, much bigger. It was brass, perhaps eighteen feet long and maybe one and a half feet across.... a tube such as a  giant admiral might use to track his ships at sea. The oversized thing rested on a fulcrum, also brass. The large end faced a triangular window. The window was open. I could see a star, or what I took to be a star. Everything in the sky was a star to me, save for the moon. I knew nothing. But that in no way indicates a lack of intelligence, merely a paucity of opportunity. And even a moonbeam can pinpoint a mouse.

Then a man stepped out of the shadows. His salt and pepper hair was long, reaching his shoulders. Dressed in black, he was. I'd never seen a man with black linen (shirt and neck cloth), but that's what he had.... He nodded. I nodded back... He gestured toward a stool positioned by the 'eye' end of the glass and said - Take a look..... I hesitated.... He went - Go on. Sit down..... Can I move it? - I asked..... Just look - he said..... And then I saw the golden rings of Saturn... For the longest time neither of us made a sound... Finally, the man said - Nine hundred million miles. What you're seeing is a giant world nine times as far from you as you are from the sun.... How big is it? .... Well, let me see. If it was a fishbowl, seven hundred and fifty Earths would fit inside.... What makes the halo? - I asked...... The pulverized bones of all the souls in hell.... I just looked... and then he smiled.... Why am I here? ..... Why are any of us here?....

He opened a door-like triangular window down by the floor and disappeared into it. I heard him say - Follow me.... And I did.... We walked across a broad lawn. There was a Greek revival manor house in the distance, quite new and probably an updating of an earlier structure. You know, the Romantic crowd and all? Most of the windows were dark, or nearly dark. A few, on the first floor were somewhat brighter... not by much, though considering the darkness of the night, the low, coppery light seemed mysterious and inviting.

I said - Who lives here? Who's house is that?.... He said - Think not of it as a private residence, but more of a religious order, or a retreat...... For whom? - I asked.... For many people - he said.

Now the men driving the conveyance that saved me uttered one word --- Illuminati... and I had no idea what that meant. I asked the astronomer with salt and pepper hair if he was one. .... I thought it might be a family. People from the Italian Peninsula had been coming to England since George II's time... The man said - We are all Illuminati. You are Illuminati too. Ah, how nice. They come to greet us..... I looked up to see a swarm of  what appeared to be at least a dozen, glowing, night flying dragonflies, but they were not jewel-like insects. Each proved to be a tiny being with human form and two pair of 'sugar glass' wings. The man chuckled, as one of the creatures whispered in his ear. I suppose it tickled...

It that manner we progressed  o're the lawn and toward the weathered bronze doors ( a find from an old Venetian palazzo ), softly lit by two exterior, glass lanterns.

Whoever these Illuminati were, they certainly had good taste.. and, from the look of the place, quite a bit of power too.

Just before entering, I turned to look at the sky and for the first time in my life saw the great and terrifying arc of The Milky Way rise up over the moorlands.....

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Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Snatched By The Illuminati 4/3/17 ..Candide Overture: Leonard Bernstein conducting

 

Lawrence Edgerton would die today. Was he guilty? Did he steal that watch? No. Might the punishment fit an earlier, undiscovered crime? Not at all. Courts were not too particular in Regency England and a good show was a good show. Country folk from round about liked it better than the opera. Not that any had ever seen such a spectacle, but if they had, a good public hanging trumped everything.

Jemmy, the jailer's boy, unlocked the iron door. Lawrence was ready, standing erect in the middle of the small cell, bathed in a wee bit of gray dawn coming in through the high porthole. He'd smoothed his clothes as much as able and finger combed his hair. The thick quilt (used as a mattress) and the two thin ones were rolled and towed by the foot of the sleep shelf.

Jemmy said - No rush, ye know. There's still a bit of livin' time left. I've got a heel of bacon if ye want it?.... Lawrence just shook his head... Jemmy went on - Was last night's bowl to your liking?.... Lawrence nodded.... Jemmy said - A homemade shepherd's pie it was. Not from the poorhouse kitchen. Got it from Mrs. Spencer what cooks for the vicar. She does all the 'd.m.d's' around here. That's 'dead man's dinner.' Prison term, don't ye know. How's yer gut? Ya gotta use the pot? Seein' as it's yer final performance, I can take ye out to the real privy in the closet down the way. Clean enough, it is. I use it and the Mister too, when he comes by. He's me gov'ner, the real jailer..... Lawrence didn't move.... Jemmy went - Here, take me hand. I'll walk with ye. Best you take the chance. Them what don't tend to soil their britches and ye don't want to die with a load, seein' as how they box ye up and plant ye right after. Don't want to take that into the Next World...... Lawrence didn't move. Jemmy took his hand and led him off..

Now there were a few other unfortunates scattered among the other cells. Maybe five or six in all. They knew today was a killin' day. Everybody in that sad, sad place eventually faced a killin' day. Best not get caught on that stretch of road. But they sit quietly in their cells. Well, not sit. Most lie wrapped in the quilts, staring toward forever.

So Lawrence used the privy, went back to his cell and waited. He could hear the muffled sound as yokels gathered for the show. Children laughed and yelled. Farm wives waved 'yoo hoo.' A man set up a brazier and sold chestnuts. The glass in the porthole up by the ceiling hummed and rattled. And then they came for him.

He never saw the actual jailer before. Looked more like an undertaker... tall and thin... black serge suit... high, white neck linen. Maybe in this remote spot he was like an undertaker?... Maybe he was both? Somebody has to bury all the poorhouse bastards.

And now we see things through Lawrence's eyes.

Five heartbeats later, the man in black offered me a small sack and spoke.... He said - Put these on... I reached inside and took out four heavy, golden 'cuff' bracelets. Each snapped open and closed. The inner surfaces were covered in a rich, soft, black velour. Two pairs they were. .... I asked - Why? Why do I need them?....Jemmy chortled. The boss pinched his ass real hard he did.... Jemmy went - Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Then he just stood there all chastened and silent.... I couldn't help but smile... Gallows humor, you know. The man in black barely noticed before continuing - Death can be hard, or death can be easy. Please, do as you're told, lad. The smaller ones go 'round yer wrists. The biggers are for yer ankles.... From the tone and timbre of his voice I could tell resistance was futile and I did not like the part about 'hard death.' I just wanted it to be over. I was caught. I was helpless. The world was not mine. Odd how people think. Maybe there is no death? Maybe it's all just life? Maybe it's like heat? You know, we speak of 'cold,' but there is no cold, just the absence of heat. Death is simply the absence of life and when it ends, we're not even aware of the cessation. We simply stop. Thought stops. Light Stops. Sensation stops. In my case, just because I've fallen into this cesspit. Like a fly caught in a web.

They ushered me outside into the chill morning mist. The crowd cheered. Farmwives munching raw turnips cackled like tortured hens.  Their grimy offspring snaked through full grown people's legs, grabbing chestnuts from the chestnut vendor and whatever else they 'found' on the ground. My sleeves covered the wrist cuffs. My pants drooped over the ones on my ankles. They fit very well.

Jemmy rang a big, brass, clanging bell and yelled - Here ye! Here ye! Here ye!.... Mothers grabbed their children. Men kept the stern, tight, flinty-eyed faces they always wore. Then the assistant jailer, or whatever he was, gestured toward the jailer-jailer who stepped into the bare earth clearing 'round the gallows, cleared his throat and read from a sheet of parchment. I figured it was about me, but I paid him no mind. Anything they had to tell me would be communicated by shoves and pokes, or worse. Two crows tracing varied patterns high above against a bone white featureless sky drew my gaze. I was mesmerized.

A sharp jab sent me up the steps to the hangin' stage, perhaps twelve feet above the crowd.. Odd that my wrists were not manacled. Maybe somebody forgot? Maybe the metal cuffs had something to do with it? At the time, I don't think I even noticed. What I did see was a square, black conveyance off beyond the edge of the restless throng, probably there to bear me off after the deed... Though I thought the doomed were buried soon after on poorhouse grounds?... Who knows?

The vicar prayed, or appeared to pray over me. We all went 'amen.' I was asked if I had anything to say, but I didn't want to talk to those pigs. As the executioner had picked up the noose and prepared to slip it over my head, the herd let loose with yells, whoops, cheers and calls. They'd not have heard me anyway.

In an eyelash width of time, before the paid-county-killer caught me with his rope, the back doors to that black, windowless conveyance slammed open. Then a deafening CRACK, as blinding, white arcs of electronic discharge snaked through the air just above the heads of the amazed farm-folk and locked onto my four metal cuffs, violently JERKING me up from the platform and yanking me toward the maw of the dark, unmarked cube.

An instant later and I was in. The steel framed doors BANGED shut, just missing my feet, as I collided with the padded front wall of the thing and fell 0nto a large mattress. Then blackness, as six matched chestnuts tore off over the empty moors. One heartbeat later the small portal by the coachmen's seat scrapped open and someone yelled - Be ye Lawrence Edgerton, boy?... I yelled - Yes! Yes! Yes! Who ARE you?! Please, who ARE you?!..... I heard one word - Illuminati... as the screen scrapped shut once again.

And then the ride went on...

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