Ice Water Mansions Revisited (Part 2)

 

May 27, 2022

Mom had killed herself the night before, my 17^th birthday. The following day, I was stood leaning against the counter where the dishwasher was. My father was stood glaring at me from a few feet away, stood in front of the kitchen sink. My brother was stood in the doorway that was the vestibule to the back door and led to the stairs to the basement, fear writ large in his eyes and body language. I was stood facing my father, matching every angry eye blink and shift of balance. I was not afraid of him in that moment, though I probably should have been, because he was still a powerfully strong man. Mom was in hospital where a machine was breathing for her uselessly as she was brain-dead and would not be drawing breath on her own ever again.

This individual is on ventilator, not dis-similar to the one my mother was on.

Dad was speaking in that cold, quiet, deadly furious way that told you in no uncertain terms to run for the hills and keep running for your life past the hills. I had no fear of him. I mean what was he going to do, beat the shit out of me while his wife was laying dead in a hospital bed? I found the notion almost funny, and was the only thing that kept me from going at him, because I was sure I could now handle him easily.

He was going on about how I had not been to see mom since I had found out about her death the night before. He was right, I hadn't. I didn't care, and cared even less when dad told them to pull the plug the next day. I was not there for that either. While he had been blathering on about my lack of love and respect for my mother, I interrupted him by asking if he remembered that day at the cottage where my brother got tangled in fishing line and got a fish hook stuck through the palm of his hand. His face turned purple from being interrupted, and I was now on the balls of my feet waiting for him to strike. He somehow contained himself, and his eyes were clearly asking “what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” 

I further asked of him, hardly able to control myself at this point the rage was rolling through me so powerfully, if he remembered, or even knew what she had done to me after he had stormed out of the cottage when they had arrived back at the cottage from Toronto? After leaving 7 year old me alone locked out of the cottage for more than 16 hours. His only answer was a shake of his head, no. I pursued my questions further, did he know, or at least have an idea of what she was going to do to me? To this he answered yes. And I asked, if so, why the fuck did you let her do it? His head and shoulders dropped and the threat of awful violence was over, and said only “I didn't know how to deal with her”. My only thought was, are you fucking kidding me? You knew who she was, knew she'd beat me unconscious. I pissed blood for weeks after, and couldn't stand up straight for weeks. You fucking useless fucking coward is what I was thinking.

I don't know what he saw in my face, but he very quickly took three paces away from me, and the arms length apart where we had been. Still looking him square in the eye, I said to him that since he had gone into recovery, and if he thought that he was the only one in this family who had issues, he was blind and stupid beyond measure. His head dropped to his chest, and he stumbled on nothing as he stumbled away, saying only that “kids are resilient”. My brother now looked terrified, and like he might have shit himself, retreated to the basement where for the last few years he had hid while playing guitar and eating spaghetti. I kid you not, that was his life. I continued to stand there in the kitchen typically alone, as I struggled to process the events of the last 24 hours.

The event in question took place when I was seven years old. I had been beaten unconscious by my mother, she had also done severe damage to my testes. The story here The beating hat damage was only repaired five years later because my right testicle was swollen to the size of an average apple, and it was interfering with my ability to walk.

The morning after the beating, my mother had treated my injuries like they were not there. I had needed her to wash the blood out of my hair, I could not do it because I could not lift my legs up far enough to get into the bath tub, nor could I kneel in front of the sill of the tub because I could not get down on my knees. Further, I was not tall enough to do it in the bathroom sink because I could not straighten up from being bent over double. She did it in the bathroom sink where she forced me to stand upright and mercilessly bashed my head into the water spout, and roughly washed the area around the orange-sized lump on my skull from where she had knocked me unconscious with her fucking oar. And every time I cried from the agony from my testes or the orange, she said,”Shut up!, Stop whining! I don't care!” Yup sure dad, I'm supposed to love and respect this individual, the lousy cunt!

The beatings continued with that type of intensity until I was ten, that is when I found where she hid the oar, and I dropped it down the sewer grate in front of the house while she watched and I called her every nasty name that a ten year old knows while I did it. Still the beatings continued with her normal weapon, a red stick about 18 inches long by 2 inches thick by 2 inches wide, the oar had been for what she thought were “special” occasions. The red stick was the bane of mine, and my brother's existence, until one afternoon shortly before my surgery to repair my testicles. I came home from school to find my brother and mother, locked into a physical struggle for possession of the red stick, he was losing that fight, until I leapt in to the fray, and pried the fucking thing out the cunt's hand. 

The morning after the beating, my mother had treated my injuries like they were not there. I had needed her to wash the blood out of my hair, I could not do it because I could not lift my legs up far enough to get into the bath tub, nor could I kneel in front of the sill of the tub because I could not get down on my knees. Further, I was not tall enough to do it in the bathroom sink because I could not straighten up from being bent over double. She did it in the bathroom sink where she forced me to stand upright and mercilessly bashed my head into the water spout, and roughly washed the area around the orange-sized lump on my skull from where she had knocked me unconscious with her fucking oar. And every time I cried from the agony from my testes or the orange, she said, ”Shut up! Stop whining! I don't care!” Yup sure dad, I'm supposed to love and respect this individual, the lousy cunt!  

Not long after this, she tried to replace her weapon. I stole and disposed of that one too. After which, I issued a deadly threat, telling her that if she ever hit me again, I'd ambush her in her sleep, and beat her to death. Typical of the cunt, instead of looking scared, or like she respected my words, her face just closed up into icy nothingness. The same look she wore while at my surgeon's office, while he was trying to determine how the injury occurred, and why it was left untreated for so very long. Five years plus a few months. Sorry Doc, but the cunt was not going to raise her hand and say, yep, I did it to him because I could.

That was the thing of it, she did it because she could. I was seven years old when this occurred, my brother had been seriously injured, and they had panicked and had raced off to the local hospital. They had abandoned me and left me on my own for more than sixteen hours, they had made no effort to contact anyone at the resort's administration and ask them to keep an eye on me. By the time that they had arrived back at the resort, it was after two in the morning, I was exhausted and very cold. Upon their arrival no effort was made by either of them to ascertain my condition, and certainly no apologies were offered. Ever. 

When they had arrived home, my mother's countenance had been icy, and it was abundantly clear that mom and dad were very upset with each other. That scared me because historically speaking, every time that they had ever had even a spat, I became mom's whipping boy. Seeing mom's face now, I knew that this was going to be much worse than normal. With terror clutching my heart, I got into my jammies and climbed into bed, grateful at least to begin to get warm. My mother had then entered my bedroom, and had proceeded to beat me unconscious. For no other reason than, at some point that day, someone had noted that I was alone, there were no sign of my parents. 

Its likely that someone had witnessed my father's return with an injured boy. Somebody had got half smart and called the local hospital, from which interaction mom had decided that, I had wrongly in her eyes, informed an adult that I needed help. Hence her shrieking while beating me senseless, about telling people our business. She had already hospitalized me too many times, for me to have even considered doing that. Our every interaction was a secret. 

She did it because she could. She had been brought up in a loving supportive environment. Her father had been strict, but far from violent, and had never hit his daughters with anything except his hand on their backsides, as a regular spanking. And only as needed, as opposed to the routine beatings my brother and I received from her. My brother and I had expected to die by dad's hand after we took her sticks away. His reaction surprised me. I overheard him tell my mother and I quote, “Norma, you cannot continue to beat them. You have to expect them to fight back, hard”. We did fight back, hard, and she had made a mortal enemy of me. She had been grousing about my stealing her stick, and threatening her. I had taken the new one and burned it down to a twig, and had pissed on it to put it out. I had then returned it with a note saying something to the effect of, here's your stick, have fun with it. I had wanted to give her the stick back shaped like a dildo, with a note saying here's your stick, go fuck yourself. But I hadn't known how to shape the wood.

She did it because she could. From about the age of three, I had begun to wonder why things between mom and I were always so difficult. I, of course, was too young to have any kind of vocabulary for such thoughts, but I knew she treated me very differently than she did my brother. By the time that I had threatened her, at twelve years old, the elephant was apparent in the room, and that terrifying question was thought, but unspoken in the back of my mind, had she ever wanted me?

 That question would remain unanswered for another four years, until three months before her suicide. Then one afternoon, on a beautiful early June day, while dad was in rehab, mom and I were at each other's throats and the truth came out. That is when I discovered, at least according to her, my thoughts, needs, desires, opinions had, and never would, matter to her because she had never wanted me. Nor would anyone ever. This uncomfortable truth had enabled her to commit atrocious acts of emotional, physical, spiritual violence against me.

For the next 12-13 years, I fought this devastating blow to my psyche the best I could. Even though I had known this intellectually for my entire life, there was really no way that anyone is going to accept it and say, well, that's okay then. The utter rejection of my needs, desires, thoughts, and opinions were the primary reasons that I was unable to communicate them to the Nanny, I will never forgive that cunt, my mother for working so fruitlessly hard to turn me into the non-person she needed me to be, fuck you cunt!

Having taken this out and examined it, I don't feel any different about her. If she hadn't wanted me, she should have kept her legs closed, or aborted me. In the least, given me up for adoption. Her decision to keep me, echoes her every decision that she made. She should have done anything but that. Mom's tale is a tale of tragic consequence of poor decision making. Several key ones come to mind. Discovering she was a type 1 Diabetic at age 16, and giving up on life. Marrying a teen drug addict. Staying married to him when his former circle abandons him due to his drug use. His best friend's wife had divorced the guy, because of his drug use. Took his kid and all. That should have been a wake up call, "Hey Norma! Get out while you can! Get safe, get healthy, save your children!".  

  

The Friday

 

May 27, 2022

During the last few weeks we have learned quite a bit about Christ and the people around him. Distressingly, we have learned that the church has perpetrated a lie for the last couple of thousand years, and we have learned that Christ himself was something quite different than what we have been told he was. When we look at his accomplishments, or lack thereof, he seems a failure. In his defence though, the guy had a lot going against him, beginning with his birthday. He was born out of turn, from then everyone doubted his veracity, he really could have used the political support of the Baptist, but instead John made it known that he supported Jesus's brother James instead.

Even though the Essenes were a tough bunch of hombres, and what they wanted to do was admirable, together as an organization and as individuals, they acted far too rashly. Jesus was too hept up on being the heir of David and his royal roots, as opposed to what he should have been doing. For his rebellion to have worked, he should have used the means at hand, meaning that he should have taken the anger, terror, resentment of the Romans, and whipped that up into a frenzy.

He needed Israel united with him. Throughout history, when people have united in resistance against a common oppressor—such as the Roman Empire—they have formed powerful social and political bonds. These groups, forged in the fires of protest and shared struggle, took many forms: coalitions, alliances, movements, and collectives. Each reflects a spirit of defiance and unity in the face of domination.

Coalition:
A coalition often emerges when diverse factions set aside their differences to confront a mutual threat. Against Rome, rebel leaders, tribal chieftains, and religious communities sometimes forged coalitions to coordinate uprisings or defend their homeland.

Alliance:
Alliances, particularly among neighbouring nations or tribes, were formal pacts of mutual protection and resistance. In the shadow of Roman expansion, such alliances were crucial to organizing defence strategies and sustaining morale across regions.

Movement:
A movement embodies the will of ordinary people rising up together—driven by shared purpose, often spiritual, cultural, or national. Resistance movements against Roman rule, such as the Jewish Zealots or early Gallic uprisings, show how powerful a united populace can become when inspired by a collective cause.

Collective:
Collectives represent grassroots unity—where individuals band together, not through formal contracts, but through common identity and struggle. Farmers, tradesmen, and citizens could act as a single body to oppose taxation, military conscription, or cultural erasure under Roman rule.

Caucus:
Though less common in ancient terminology, the idea of a caucus—a focused political gathering—captures how local leaders might have met in secret to strategize resistance, choose emissaries, or organize revolts under the watchful eyes of Roman authorities.

Then built an army out of that, then after the expulsion of Rome from Israel, he could have touted his royal lineage and crowned himself King. Then he could have used his philosophy of love to bind the people together as an unstoppable force that the Romans or anyone else would not be able to defeat. People understand fear and bigotry, look at trump and his supporters - to speak of love and a pacifist way in a time of war is idiocy. Perhaps it would have been better if Jesus and his zealots had first joined a foreign army, Romes' or an east Indian force, yes the Israelis acquitted themselves well against Rome, but what if from the very start they had used tactics and strategies that Rome was completely unfamiliar with? Obviously if that had happened, they would have won the fight. There is no historical record of any direct military conflict between the Roman Empire and the Indian kingdoms. Despite limited contact through trade and diplomacy, Roman and Indian forces never met on the battlefield.

Key reasons for this absence of conflict include:

1. Geographical Distance:
The vast expanse between the Roman Empire and the Indian subcontinent made direct military engagement highly unlikely. Rome's expansion was concentrated around the Mediterranean basin, including North Africa, Europe, and parts of the Middle East—regions far from the Indian frontier.

2. Different Historical Timelines:
By the time the Roman Republic rose to power and later transitioned into an empire, Alexander the Great’s brief incursion into India in 326 BCE was already a distant memory. India during Rome’s peak was divided into various kingdoms, such as the Kushan and Satavahana empires, which coexisted with Rome but never clashed with it.

3. Limited Roman Exploration Eastward:
Although there was substantial trade between Rome and India—particularly in spices, gems, and silk—Rome’s military focus remained west of the Indus. Its eastern campaigns were primarily directed against the Parthian and later the Sassanian empires, which acted as buffers between Rome and India.

As a result, the Roman army never had to contend with Indian military tactics. If a confrontation had occurred, Roman forces might have faced significant challenges and losses due to unfamiliar terrain, climate, and battle strategies that differed markedly from those of their traditional enemies.

Jesus really was a strange guy. He spoke in parables, a way of drawing pictures with words to make meanings easier to understand. They too disguised actions of the Essenes from the Romans, and they spoke of spiritual things as well. What most people do not realize is that the Indian civilization is old, it very nearly matches that of Shumer, the land of Abraham and the Annunaki in age. The Indian subcontinent was given to Inanna, El Shaddai's grand-daughter. Some have accused her of leaving her society unfinished, and I have no idea of how one might measure that. Speaking for myself, there is a depth and richness to India that is quite special. They have somehow learned to master life's energy and walk on fire without being burned by it. Lay on a bed of sharpened pointy nails and not suffer a single scratch, or even to levitate themselves without the use of MFKZT. 

Levitating Monk. Here we see one with fully activated crown Chakra, and the extent of his bodily auras.

We know that Jesus was confused as to what role he had to play, was he a teacher, a military leader, or a gold smith? He was all of those things, and with the ignominious failure of his rebellion, he was now in a position that allowed him to seek further understanding of his spiritual teachings. Remember that the Essene community was a place of higher learning, it was compared to Sodom and Gomorrah, which were both noted for the excellence of their learned citizens, before the Annunaki blew both to hell with nuclear weapons. The church tries to tell us that this took place because the cities were full of sin, but that is church contrived nonsense. They merely seek to hide Jesus's connection to the Grail. 

They were centres of learning and peace, destroyed in conflicts with Marduk

  It is understood that it was the Jews who wanted Jesus and his family killed, the Romans as they chased them from Israel were merely tools of the Jews. It made good strategic sense for Jesus and Mary to go in opposite directions, she to the south of France (Gaul) and he to India. She had royal connections in Ireland and would be relatively safe in western Europe. (We will come back to this.) He went to India, there is a school of thought that thinks he went there to seek the aid of Annunaki who were then active there, just as his ancestor Alexander the Great had been. I tend to believe that he went there to hide and live out his days in relative peace as both a teacher and student, especially since the Annunaki had departed Earth some 500 years before he was born. But wait! you say, did he not die on the cross? And since he did, how the fuck is he in India?! It is a good question, and there is an equally good answer.

As we have learned, the Romans had no particular wish to see Jesus dead, all of that was on the Jews. The Jews hurried the event along because it would soon be the Sabbath, and too soon the fateful Friday took place. The crucifixion took place at Qumran thanks to the influence of Jesus's brother James, who was also known as Joseph of Arimathea. Here we meet the sneakiness of the Jew, and their bravery. That they were able to pull this off is remarkable, and it is a telling sign as to how little interest the Romans had in the death of Christ.  

 The act of crucifixion is a form of capital punishment, it originated in the 6^th century B.C. with the Assyrians and Babylonians, it was brought back to the Mediterranean by Alexander the Great, perhaps the most famous example of it being the death of Christ. The process involves the victim being nailed or tied to the beams of a cross. If nails were involved, they were about 15cm long by 1cm thick, and were driven into either the victim's wrists or forearm. None of the Gospels state clearly if Jesus was nailed or tied to the cross, however, the gospel of John reports wounds in the risen of Jesus's hands. This is not conclusive evidence that he was nailed to the cross, it is equally possible that the wounds were incurred when carrying the cross to Golgotha, I mean think about it, you are going to hurt yourself when trying to man handle several hundred pounds of rough hewn wood; and even if you have gloves there is going to be chaffing.

Death from crucifixion usually took anywhere from 4 hours to 6 days, and was caused by progressive multi-factorial pathology, which involved hypovolaemic shock and pain. As an individual is suspended on a cross, he or she struggles to breath and is forced to move about 12 inches up and down which causes catastrophic damage to already damaged tissue and veins, and the lack of oxygen causes blood to leak into the lungs which increases the speed of asphyxiation. Sometimes executioners would break the legs of victims, this to inhibit the ability of a victim to use their thigh muscles to help support them, generally speaking though, even if a victim could use their legs, the relief provided was negligible. In the case of Christ's crucifixion, Pilate was somewhat surprised that it had only been half a day and Jesus was dead. Jesus had been young and in seeming good health, he should have lasted much longer.

Jesus's trial was hardly a trial at all, as described in the Gospels it is full of ambiguities. The Book of Mathew 26:57-59 describes it “They that had laid hold on Jesus led him away to Caiaphas the high priest, where the scribes and elders were assembled ... Now the chief priests, and elders, and all the council sought false witness against Jesus”. The funny thing here is, even if it can be accepted that all these officials were gathered all at once together, it was illegal for the council to sit at night, or during the Passover. When we cut through all the double speak of the Gospels, what we get is three prisoners were brought before Pilate, Simon, Thaddaeus, and Jesus. The case against Simon and Thaddaeus were clear, they were zealots who rose against Pilate; Jesus, on the other hand was only there because the Jews wanted him out of the way.

With some angst Pilate asked the Jewish council to give him at least a pretext for putting Christ to death, the council outright lied and said that it was illegal for them to sentencea man to death. There then ensued a bit of questioning of Jesus by Pilate who eventually determined that Christ was innocent in his eyes, and told the Jews to do with him as they pleased. On the way to Golgotha, a curious event occurred involving a person called Simon the Cyrene, who was obliged to carry Jesus's cross Mathew 27:32. We are not entirely sure of his identity, but it is important that he was there. We find a further reference to him in a document from the Nag Hammadi codices, The Second Treatise of the Great Seth. In this document we find that there was a substitution made for at least one of the victims, and quotes Jesus saying after the crucifixion “As for my death, which was real enough to them. It was real to them because of their own incomprehension and blindness”.

Simon the Cyrene was a substitute for Simon Zelotes, the execution of two such as Jesus and Zelotes could not go unchallenged, and so a sneaky plan was orchestrated to outwit the Jewish authorities. It is highly likely that Pilate was quite aware of the subterfuge because the plan would not have worked without the Romans being inattentive. The plan involved a comatosing poison and the substitution of people. If anyone could pull off such a feat, that man was Zelotes, he was Head of the Samaritan Magi and was renowned as the greatest magician of his day. Both the Acts of Peter and, The Apostolic Constitutions tell the story of how some years later, he levitated himself above the Roman Forum. But that day, at Golgotha, he was on his way to be crucified.

The deception began on the way to Golgotha where by accepting Jesus's burden, the Cyrene was able to incorporate himself into the assembly. The two men switched places at the site where the crosses were erected. Now that Zelotes was free, he could now stage manage the saving of the Davidic heir's life. While Jesus was on the cross, he was given vinegar, which had mixed in Gall, which was soured wine with snake venom. This mixture soon put him in to a near comatose state that mimicked death. Not long after the three men were brought down where their injuries were tended to and Jesus slept off the poison.

He Didn't Go Viral

May 11, 2022

When the Shaw of Iran fled the country back in 1979, Iran was in the midst of a revolution. Of all the people who made that happen, the most noteworthy personality was the Ayatollah Khomeini. It was odd how he affected the people of his homeland, considering that he was in exile in France. He was noted for giving long somewhat rambling speeches about how he thought his country should be run. At that time there was of course no internet, the only source of mass information dispersion was either radio, or TV. In Iran, both of these mediums were tightly controlled by the Shaw's government. The technology that allowed for the tapping of telephones was coming along, but fortunately for the Ayatollah, in Iran, it had not yet hit it's stride. What the Ayatollah was doing is, he would call a select bunch of numbers in Iran from France, and the individual on the other end would record the Ayatollah's words on a portable tape cassette player, and then make copies of that cassette, and then disperse those cassettes around the country.

 Cassette Player. If you pressed the red button, and the play button, it would use its internal microphone to record. Or some models allowed you to plug in external micro-phones.

Those cassettes became very popular and can be said to have gone viral. This was probably history's first instance of violent revolution being induced by wired telephone and those crappy useless tape cassettes. You younguns have no idea of the struggle. It did not matter how much you spent on a cassette player, the damn things would never play back at the same speed and, they always sounded like shit. Eight tracks though, we have to work on bringing them back, their sound was real.

We learned in our article “Eighty-Two” that Jesus had 82 apostles, and that he sent 70 of them out in to the world to tell everyone about him. We know that their true purpose was to recruit people, and to bring them back to Israel to be part of Jesus's army. It may be possible that they were somewhat successful in that endeaver. Rome needed to throw great resources at the problem Jesus created, at least five legions. Five Roman legions typically consisted of approximately 25,000 to 30,000 soldiers, depending on the historical period and the organization of the legions at the time.

Level	Unit	Approx. Strength	Commanded by
Legion	1 Legion	~5,000–5,500	Legatus Legionis
↓	10 Cohorts	~480–800 each	Tribunes / Praefectus / senior centurions
↓	1st Cohort	~800–1,000	Senior Centurion — Primus Pilus
↓	9 Standard Cohorts	~480 each	6 Centurions per cohort
↓	Century	~80 men	Centurion
↓	Contubernium	~8 men	Decanus

In the late Republic and early Empire, a Roman legion had a theoretical strength of about 5,120 men, including both combat troops and support personnel.

• Cohorts: A standard legion was divided into 10 cohorts, each containing roughly 480 soldiers.

• Additional Personnel: Beyond the rank-and-file troops, each legion also included officers, cavalry, engineers, and other support staff, bringing the total strength to between 5,000 and 6,000 soldiers per legion.

Total Force: Five Legions

Based on this structure, five legions would amount to a combined force of roughly 25,000 to 30,000 soldiers.

It’s important to note that the actual size of a legion could vary due to casualties, recruitment levels, or the specific needs of a campaign.

One of which suffered catastrophic losses in to the quelling of that rebellion and the subsequent destruction of Israel. The point here being is that Jesus and his apostles, did not have telephones or tape cassettes to record messages and reports on.

As we saw in our article “Lazarus”, Jesus suffered from a lack of recognition, when he entered Jerusalem no one knew who he was. This was a fundamental flaw in his strategic planning. Yes he toured around Israel and talked his head off, and had knocked a few tables over in the city of peace. Still no one knew who he was. It seems that in many ways our human god was a bit of an idiot. Yes his intentions had been good, but he acted far too rashly. He fell into the same trap as today's Israel struggles with, orthodox Jewry failing to act in a cohesive manner.

1. Clarify Timeline and Context:

• 1 CE to 1948: There was no State of Israel. Jewish communities were under Roman, Islamic, Ottoman, and European rule. Cooperation with "governments" would refer to local rebellions (e.g., Bar Kokhba revolt), diaspora relations, or Zionist movements.

• 1948–present: The modern State of Israel exists. Now we can talk about cooperation with legal Israeli governments and their military/political structures.

2. Revised, Flowing Text:

The relationship between Orthodox Jewry and Jewish political authority—whether rebellious or state-sanctioned—has fluctuated over time. From the Second Temple era through the Diaspora, Orthodox Jews often viewed political sovereignty as a divine promise, not a human endeavor. During the Roman and later Islamic/Christian empires, cooperation was minimal or limited to religious survival.

In modern times, especially since the establishment of Israel in 1948, Orthodox communities have split: some (like Religious Zionists) actively support the state, including its military, while others (like the Haredi and ultra-Orthodox) maintain a more conditional or even oppositional stance, particularly regarding military service and secular governance.

Below is a pie chart illustrating approximate levels of Orthodox cooperation with either rebellious Jewish movements or legal Jewish governments from 1 CE to the present:

3. Approximate Pie Chart Data Breakdown (Interpretive):

Category	Approximate Share (%)
Non-cooperation / Isolationism	50%
Conditional cooperation (post-1948)	25%
Rebel support (e.g., Bar Kokhba, etc.)	10%
Active Zionist/state support	15.00%

4. Generated Pie Chart:Orthodox Jewish Cooperation with Jewish Governments (1 CE-Present)

Active Zionist/state support

Rebel support (e.g., Bar Kokhba, etc.)

15.0%

10.0%

25.0%

Conditional cooperation (post-1948)

50.0%

Non-cooperation / Isolationism

He had needed the full support of all of Israel's people, all of the political factions, everyone. Instead with his arrogance and rash behaviour, he had alienated the Sanhedrin, the Sadducees, and Pharisees. He had needed those people, he needed swords in their hands, and he had needed their political power to help cover their activities from the Romans.

After his disastrous failure to enter Jerusalem as Israel's Messiah, he was at least smart enough to realize that all of his ambitions had failed. A great deal of effort and thought went into the events at Golgotha. That half day, and the following weekend would change the world, and leave us, 2,000 years later scratching our heads and saying, “what the fuck?” Sadly Christianity has been so manipulated that it is hard to tell what is real.

Now let us figure out where Golgotha really was. The church's first pope was Emperor Constantine, he had a wife named Helena, who toured the holy land and was the one who name/placed most of the “holy” sites in Israel. Most these places were so named because she had a “feeling”, not because they were historically accurate. Remember that this took place as long as 350 years after JC's “demise”. The present day Golgotha is not where his crucifixion took place, plus that hill does not really look like a skull. The church leads us to believe that the event was fairly well attended, but in reality, the crowds were kept well away because the event took place on private land at the cemetery at Qumran! The Romans themselves had no issue with Jesus because he had not done anything, his attempt at rebellion had fizzled and come to nothing. To the Romans, Jesus was just some idiot who talked too much.

The Gospels make no mention of a hill, John 19:41 in fact says that the event took place in a garden where there was a private sepulchre owned by Joseph of Arimathea – Mathew 27:59-60. Deuteronomy 23:10-14 says “without the camp”, which describes areas set aside as unclean, meaning cesspits, latrines, and graveyards, this is important because such areas were identified with the sign of the skull.

Further the Book of Revelation 11:8 says that Jesus was crucified in the great city which spiritually is called Sodom and Egypt. We know that regardless of what the church says, Sodom was a centre of great learning, the Egypt reference is from the Ascetic Order of the Egyptian Therapeutate – medicine.

Jesus even though he had been an idiot and burned most of his bridges with the Sanhedrin and other powerful Jewish sects, he was not to be put to death as a common criminal. And if the Essenes had anything to with it, he was not going to die at all, this thanks to Joseph of Arimathea. So who was this guy? The Gospels describe him as an Honorable counsellor of the Sanhedrin, he was also a disciple of Jesus but secretly so. This was known to Pontius Pilate who accepted this without question. Neither Mary – mother or wife questioned this either. Some confuse the name to relate to the town of Arimeh on the plain of Gennesareth but no, as we are finding with the New Testament, this title too has more than one meaning. Arimathea is in fact a descriptive title, it represents high status and is derived from the Hebrew ram or Rama- height, and the Greek theo- of God together meaning divine Highness. Jesus's father was Joseph, and Jesus was the heir to the Davidic line and had been the Joseph while his father was alive. The patriarchal title of Joseph was applied to the next in line to the succession to the Davidic line. Because of this, Jesus as the David, made his brother James the crown prince or Joseph of Arimathea, at least until Jesus and and Mary had kids and the succession was assured. But that child would not be born until after Mary fled to the south of France, bringing the Grail to Europe.

Here we see Mary landing in France, Gaul. Safe, the Mother of a Dynasty that would dominate the political environment for the next 2,000+ years.

Understanding who the Divine Highness is allows us to see why the women in Jesus's life accepted the arrangements to save his life without question. It also gives us clarity as to why the Romans washed their hands of what the Jews were going to do about the “death” of their Messiah. It also allows us to understand why the tightly controlled events of that awful Friday worked, Jesus lived and was able to on the third day begin to make his escape to Srinagar Kashmir, essentially right under the noses of supposedly pissed off Romans.

As we continue our study of the Grail, we will continue our disavowing of the church and it's fiction of Christ. We will soon discuss the actual crucifixion and see how it was that he lived through it.

It Was Unexpected

May 2, 2022

I was up in Dead Horse, Alaska. The storm had blown in that morning. It was now around 2200 hrs and I had spent most of the day curled up snug in my bunk. I had been startled awake by what I was not sure of, it had either been the violence of the wind blowing my truck and it's 78,000 LBS around or, the incredibly vivid triple x-rated dream I had been having about the Nanny. It had been more than five years since she had married, and at this point I despaired that I would never be able to stop consciously or unconsciously thinking about her.

The loss I felt made me want to cry, but the thing there was, I had not cried since my mother's funeral, and then it had not been for her loss, it had been about the senselessness of her death. The lousy cunt had taken the easy way out. I must have fallen back asleep because the next time I woke up my alarm was telling me it was 0700 and as I opened the drapes, it was still dark and would continue to be until early February, depressingly the storm was still blowing and seemed to have intensified. When I had awoken earlier I could see the lights at the fuel pumps, they were invisible now. I was headed for Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada to do a drop and hook back to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. Awesome miles but gruelling work.

A few months earlier I had been laid low by a stomach bug, and a waitress-like shape had suggested beef barley soup for my buggered tummy. I had kept it down, and dispatch had plugged me into this dedicated run. I enjoyed the challenges of running north, but I had now been out for nine weeks, it was time to go home and this stupid storm was preventing that. In the meantime all I could do was wait for the AKDOT to open the road. I got lucky and dispatch switched me out with another driver in Montreal, Quebec and I got home three days earlier than expected. Walking into my basement apartment made me wonder why I had been so anxious to get there. I think I had literally cringed when I had not seen a note from the Nanny pinned to my door, and I know I called her every nasty name in the book and invented some for her when there were no messages from her on my answering machine.

I kept trying to tell myself, “Chris, she's married for fuck sake, let her go”, I could not and would not. My heart kept telling me that the asshole she had married was going to isolate her, and fuck her over, and in umpteen years she would come back to me and I would have to clean up the mess. Knowing that and being unable to do anything about that was eating me alive. I could not fathom the choices she had made, and it would be a long 21 1/2 years until I would find out why. In the meantime I called my friend Tom and went for coffee, he was with his girlfriend Kathy, Jimmy's sister. I had known Jim for 10 plus years and we were good friends. Kat and I had never hugged, so it surprised the hell out of me when she got up, and came to me and hugged me too closely, and for too long. As she pulled away she had tears in her eyes, and I was like, what the fuck?

I then learned that Jim had taken a massive stroke and had died at 32 years old on the day that I was stuck in Dead Horse. It was likely his death that had startled me awake. His funeral had been while I was switching in Montreal. It was at times like this that I really hated trucking, the times and distances involved, and cell phones were not yet a common thing, though it would be soon after this that I got my Bell Bag Phone. I loved that thing. It did not matter where I was, I got out on that thing.

There that day too was this east Indian fella, he was in his mid fifties and had lost his wife of 25 years earlier that year in a car accident. The two of them would come in to the coffee shop in the early evening and drink tea, she would always get a powdered donut of some sort, and giggle sweetly as she spread powdered sugar all over the known universe. It was obvious to everyone that they had been very much in love, and I had envied them. The poor guy though was really struggling with grief, he now often stank of body odour and alcohol. This day though he looked clean, and did not smell like a distillery, though he did seem to be trembling some. I could not tell if it was because of nerves or the DTs. That afternoon for the first time ever we actually sat down and talked, after he had made the unexpected statement that he had often felt not compelled, but actual need to talk to me. It was his assertion that he felt a very real sense of familiarity with me.

I was somewhat taken aback by that but, for the first time I was able to put what that feeling was with the Nanny back in school, when I had wrapped her in my arms for the first time was, utter familiarity. Back then I could not begin to understand it, all I knew was that I loved it, and did not want it to ever end. As we continued to talk that day, I was given a crash course on something called Krsna, that in my arrogance, I could not begin to give due credit to.

Still being locked out of any sense of being able to connect with my sacred feminine, did not allow me to appreciate spirituality in any way. Even though my friend had just died, I did not seek solace for the grief that I felt in thinking that he had gone to heaven, or was with friends and family in some other realm. The only thing I was sure of was, that this realm was hell, and that we should not have climbed down from the trees. It was rage that was blocking me, and in less than a month I would start attending AA meetings where I would learn to confront that rage, and take personal inventory, and learn to see god in a new way. But before I could do any of that, I first had to learn how to accept the things I could not change, and have the courage to change the things that I could.

Even though I had lots of friends in Toronto that I would remain in touch with for the next seven years, I was miserable, mostly because of my own unreasonable expectations. To some of the people that I knew, my leaving Toronto was because I was running from my problems, I understood why they thought that, but that was not the truth of it. The simple truth of it was, that there was nothing left for me in Toronto, and it felt like I was beating a dead horse. It was the same feeling as I had when I left school, as when I left the whore, my previous employer, what was to be gained or lost by continued association was over. At the time I thought that it was about freedom of choice, little did I know that that particular feeling was absolute knowledge that the lesson was done. And it is that precise feeling that accompanied other changes in employment, and the end of the narcissistic leprechaun.

Though I did not understand it at the time, the universe was telling me that it was time to continue my lessons. A couple of years previously my 3^rd eye had pried itself open, and at that time it really did not seem to make a whole lot of difference to me. The only notable change seemed to be that, if I was in a place, or saw a book that I was supposed to read, that place or thing would be limned in light. And I would always feel a sense of well being about it. That had been the case in Toronto and my coffee shop where I knew Tom, Kat, and Jim from, it too was the case in London and Mike's Coffee Shop. I had learned to trust this, so Mike's was it, the question was why? Some of the people there thought that I was some kind of cop, because I was overly observant, this I later learned was a trauma response – hyper vigilance.

I was in London a good three months before I met my saviour. I had done a quick load to Winnipeg, Manitoba then back between his doing his strip show and my actually being asked to go to a AA meeting with him. His strip show had been a bit disconcerting, but I learned that he had been a professor at Western University and had lost it all through addiction, and had now drug induced Schizophrenia. When on his meds he was truly an angel, and was the first person I ever met who actually cried for me as he learned my story. As my story came out either in the rooms, or in quiet with him, he would see how I would have these violent crying jags come on, and how I would savagely beat them down and maintain icy control. He would encourage me to let it out, but I did not know how. Acknowledging those tears meant that the pain was real, and that meant that I was real, and I had no idea of how to deal with that.

So the question came down to, how do you acknowledge yourself when you had spent your life being trained to not do so? Finding that question enabled the healing process to begin, and it gave a focal point to the rage that had always been part of me and had fucked up so many important things in my life. Making this realization now gave me a starting point, a really shitty one, but it was more than I had a month earlier, and that was truly unexpected.

Lazarus

April 18, 2022

It was not long after Jesus began his mission that John the Baptist was arrested because he had pissed of Herod-Antipas, the Govern of Galilee. Antipas had married Herodias the divorced wife of his half brother Phillip – Thomas, and John the Zadok repeatedly condemned the marriage in public declaring that it was sinful. As a result he was imprisoned for a year and then beheaded. After his death many of his followers turned toward Jesus, some had thought the Baptist was the Messiah, but since a number of his prophesies had failed to materialize, he was discounted. Part of his problem was the differences in the calendars used, there were three - solar, lunar, and the Roman Julian.

Quick Comparison Table

Calendar Type	Example	Days in Year	Alignment	Used For
Solar	Gregorian	365.24	Tropical year	Global civil calendar
Lunar	Islamic (Hijri)	~354	Lunar phases	Muslim religious observances
Lunisolar	Hebrew, Chinese	~354–384	Lunar + solar	Jewish, Chinese festivals
Solar	Julian	365.25	Solar year	Historical, Orthodox liturgy

LZ Table Graphic Grout

The Essenes were advocates of the Greek philosopher Pythagoras (570 – 500) B.C. who in his great study of arithmetical ratios, searched for meaning both in the physical, and metaphysical worlds through mathematical proportions. Over the centuries using his methodology, world events were foretold with surprising accuracy. One event in particular was forecast, the beginning of a New World Order, the coming of a Saviour Messiah. As it turned out, the prophecy was off by seven years when applied to Jesus, which explains why he was born in the year 7, and not in the year zero, later to be determined as A.D. 1.

James, Jesus's brother was born in the right year, and because of this, many considered him to be the legitimate Messiah. As the Baptist's influence waned, King Herod Agrippa began to regard Jesus as the lawful heir to David, leaving few to champion for James. Jesus saw this as a great opportunity but he acted too rashly. Jewish custom says that Yom Kippor is a day of atonement, where people might be absolved of their mis-deeds and takes place generally in the month of September. For the Essenes, this ritual was held at the Holy of Holies at Mird, the rite itself was performed by the Father. This monastery was called the Wilderness. To witness the atonement, the Father was allowed one co-celebrant, a symbolic “son”, in 32 A.D., the Father was Simon Zelotes and the son was, Judas Sicariote. John 13:2 gives Judas's status as Simon's son but the priestly significance is not clarified.

When the act of atonement was complete, three deputies were authorized to proclaim the fact from a high location west of the temple, spreading the word to Jewish residents in other lands – the Jews of the diaspora. In this case the deputies appointed were, Jesus representing King David, Jonathan Annas representing the great mystic Elijah, and Thaddaeus representing Moses; thus they represented the symbolic roles of King, Priest, and Prophet. When the time came for Jesus to make the proclamation, he was supposed to have been representing King David, no instead he appeared in the guise of a high priest.

LZ Jesus as High Priest in the Holy of Holies with the Ark of the Covenant.

Not long after this Simon Zelotes fell foul of the local authorities, he had led a revolt against the governor of Judaea, Pontius Pilate. The reason why, was that Pilate was accused of using public funds to improve his personal water supply. The complaint was lodged against him in court and, his response was to have the complainants murdered. Insurrection followed immediately thereafter, it was led by the prominent zealots Simon Zelotes, Judas Sicariote, and Thaddaeus. To no one's surprise the revolt failed and Simon – Lightening was excommunicated by edict of King Herod Agrippa. Simon's political opponent Jonathan Annas – Thunder, was enabled to accede to the supreme office of the Father.

Excommunication took four days to implement, and the excomunicatee was dressed in a shroud and put away and was said to be, as sick unto death. In view of Simon's rank he was shut away in the patrimonial burial chamber at Qumran that was known as, the Bosom of Abraham. Simon's sisters (not related sisters) Martha and Mary knew that his soul would be forever condemned – lost to death, if he was not reprieved – raised by the third day, so they sent word to Jesus that Simon was sick. John 11:3 At first Jesus was powerless to act because only the Father or a High Priest could perform a raising. At that time Jesus held no priestly office whatsoever. In a stunning twist, at the same time King Herod Agrippa had an argument with the Roman authorities and lost his jurisdiction to the short term benefit of his uncle, Herod Antipas, a supporter of the zealot action against Pilate. Antipas then countermanded the order of excommunication and ordered Simon to be raised from the dead.

This left Jesus in something of a quandary, yes he was heir to the kingly line, and yes he too had ambitions to be the high priest, but he had transgressed at the atonement, nonetheless he had really wanted to come to his friend's aid. Throwing better sense to the winds, Jesus did indeed come to Simon's aid, acting from the position that he had been Simon's appointed deputy at the atonement, assuming the raiment of a priest, Jesus performed the release of Simon even though the fourth day, or death day had arrived. In so doing, he confirmed the spiritually dead Simon's rank as that of Abraham's Steward, Eliezer- which the translators of the Gospels mangled so it became Lazarus; and summoned him under that distinguished name, to come forth from Abraham's bosom.

LZ Lazarus in Abraham's Bosom.

So there he was, resurrected without official sanction from the new Father, the High Priest, nor the Sanhedrin Council. The oh so perfect Son, God, or Holy Spirit had transgressed once again. It was thanks to Herod Antipas that Jesus did not face great sanction for his behaviour. Even though the politicos knew what had taken place, the lay Jew did not, Jesus's slight of hand had worked, He had performed His third miracle. When we look at this situation critically, we find that Jesus was quick on his feet and, an opportunist.

LZ Mary

With this bit of theatre behind him, he only needed to be formally anointed and appear before the people as their Messiah. How he was to appear was long established because it had been foretold in Zechariah 9:9, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem; behold, thy King cometh unto thee; he is just, and having salvation; lowly and riding upon an ass”. The arrangements for his “arrival” were made while he and his apostles were in Bethany, during the week before Passover, March 33 AD. Mathew 26:6-7, Mark 14:3 tell us that it was Mary of Bethany who poured an expensive box of Spikenard over his holy head, then an ass was located and then according to Zechariah 9:9,

Jesus then rode into Jerusalem on the Ass. The church says that this was done because of His great humility, they are right, but as usual, are really wrong. From the time of King Solomon to the fall of Jerusalem and the Babylonian captivity in 586 BC, all Davidic Kings had ridden to their coronations on an ass. This act of humility told the masses in no uncertain terms, that the King would treat with any and all persons of his Kingdom, man, woman or child, rich or poor. Another example of the Messianic Grail Code of Service.

Throughout these articles I have referenced the Magdalene, and how she was married to Jesus, let us now explore that a little more deeply. To understand her a little better, see our article “Mary the Wife”. It is odd how the New Testament treats this subject, it neither says definitely that they were or were not, married. The Gospels do contain a number of pointers that strongly suggest that they were. If he was indeed of the Messianic bloodline, it is almost impossible that he would have remained single. The dynastic regulations are quite clear in this regard, the heir to the dynasty is required by law to marry, and he was required to sire at least two sons onto his wife. This was a twofold thing, firstly it was because he would be guaranteeing the hereditary bloodline, and secondly, it was an integral step in the progress of the heir from initiation to full Community membership in the Kingly line.

The rules of dynastic wedlock were anything but ordinary, there were defined parameters that dictated a celibate lifestyle that was excepted only for the making of children at regulated intervals. There was a lengthy time of betrothal which was followed by the first marriage in September, after which a physical relationship was allowed in December, if she got pregnant, a second marriage was celebrated in March to legalize the union. During that first period, and until the second marriage pregnant or not, she was regarded as an almah – or a young woman, not as is mistranslated, a virgin. 

Order From Chaos

 

April 21, 2022

Normally my essays do not need to be read in any particular order, however my last few beginning with “Political Jesus” should be to gain the most from them. When I was a young child I had been thoroughly indoctrinated into my my parent's beliefs, mostly my mother's. She was a Presbyterian and held her belief in the holy trinity close to her heart. Her actions proved her to be a complete hypocrite but that is too often the case with most people. In my mid teens I began attending a Presbyterian church myself, I was desperately trying to find something to hold on to as the situation at home became ever more desperate. In that place I found some true believers, two or three who came to understand their version of Christianity, and a whole bunch who did not have clue one as to what being a christian meant.

It was those clueless individuals who made me, that 15 year old boy feel the most unwelcome there. Though there was nothing overtly said about me, there was more than enough innuendo and dirty looks to make me quit the place. Needless to say that experience left a pretty rotten taste in my mouth that was only worsened by my parent's behaviours. From then I pretty much dropped my quest for some type of spiritual holding point, and for the next 12 years lived in the land of the dead. I ended up marrying Toronto's biggest whore, you know the one, she's got a turnstile and you take a number then you can take caving expeditions in her.

The end of the marriage and the loss of the nanny were pivotal moments for me, I was in Alaska and I hallucinated the nanny on the side of the road, my rational mind knew that she was in Toronto newly married to the piece of dead wood that he always would be, but my emotional side, was screaming in agony at her loss. As horrible as that experience was, it provided the impetus for me to do something about the things that had contributed to her loss. The next five years was a really difficult time, and I came out of it mixed up with the narcissistic

A narcissist is an extremely dangerous individual, if you find yourself involved with one, RUN!!

leprechaun that I spent the next twenty years with; of which I regret almost as much as I regret marrying Toronto's whore.

Some people describe their emotions as being numb, that they feel nothing. For myself it was worse. I was dead inside. I literally had to intellectualize my emotional responses. I had to think about then act out what should be the appropriate response. I was never accused of being phoney, but many thought that I was hollow. This sad state of affairs had been brought about by my mother forcing me to turn myself off so that she did not have to acknowledge my existence. By the time I got with the leprechaun I was in chaos, and had been for as long as I could remember. One of the first things I had to do was learn how to feel again, and that task was made almost impossible because, how do you learn to feel and trust those feelings when you have a narcissist gas-lighting you?

In many ways this job, trucking, made that easier. Being away from home for long stretches of time enabled me to counter her gas-lighting with logic. Unfortunately it too, allowed excessive amounts of time to pass between incidents which allowed a calming effect. Nevertheless when home there was always the last incident's elephant in the room which she would never acknowledge or apologize for, as is the narcissists way of maintaining power and control. Sometimes there are things that you do not know that you do not know, in this case it was the term narcissism, I had always thought that the word was just something that got thrown around like how you might call someone an idiot, or stupid. I had no idea that it was a real word, and that it is a real mental condition for many people. In all honesty, I had thought that her narcissism was just how she fought, and it was mean.

When I first got with her, some had warned me about her, no one had said she was a narcissist and run, but some had said she's “funny”, and not in a good way. I had taken that in and accepted it as people talk, because they do talk about other people. Mostly though I got with her because I was coming at the relationship from a position of weakness, I had spent the previous 31 years in chaos, and I had been terribly wounded by both my marriage, and my hopes for the future had been shattered by the loss of the nanny. For the previous five years I had been stuck in this pus filled hole where my heart just would not heal and I was obsessed with the loss of the nanny, getting with the leprechaun I had thought that I was being relatively smart. She was as opposite to the nanny as is humanly possible, everything about her was different and opposite, from the physical, mental, even spiritual.

The spiritual, when I first met her she was attending this new wave evangelical type church and had just been through her christening, and was as excited about her spirituality as anyone can be. Initially I was pleased for her, spirituality is important I knew. It bugged me that she urged me to accompany her to these church things, and when I would not go, she did not either, for reasons that I did not understand, this behaviour set off soft alarm bells in me.

I think here I can speak for everyone who has been abused. We see the signs, but either can't, or won't accept that its happening. Its gotta be a one off, I'll threaten them with the cops, that'll stop it for next time. Her not going to church had nothing to do with the emotional violence that was coming, it was however a strong indicator of her lack of conviction. Her lifelong tendencies to abandon things that shouldn't have been.

It was a behaviour that she would exhibit for the next twenty years that drove numerous wedges between us. The truth of it was though, that I had no interest in anything that approached a christian ideal towards spiritualism, my awakening would have to wait just a little longer.

The thing with being with her was this, the environments from which I had come from had been full of violence, lies, and anything that could be used against you would be. With her initially, there was none of that, she initially from day one attempted the power and control thing which I brushed aside, and I warned her in no uncertain terms not to try that shit with me, then forgot about it expecting my position to be respected.  

A narcissist has no respect for your boundaries, he/she will lie and cheat to maintain power and control

Needless to say, confronting a narcissist does nothing but trigger them, and so was the case here. From that point forward, instead of her taking normal sized bites out of me, she pursued a policy of taking micro bites and razor blade nicks. Stuff that as an independent activity you brush aside as an annoyance, but over time does an enormous amount of damage.

Trust became a fundamental issue between us, this should have been where I kicked her to the curb but, this was where I had lived for 30 years, so in too many ways being distrustful of a woman was completely normal for me. At this point I was still way too out of touch with my emotional self to make that realization. It would be quite some time yet before I did. During those first five years I continued to do the work that I had promised the hallucinatory nanny that I would do, find a way to change the things that had made me lose her. I continued to hit at least one AA meeting a week when I was home. Going to those meetings though was proving a little problematic, it was not that I found the subject triggering because it was not. It was the reality that I was and had never been an addict, instead I had been trained since birth to think and act like an addict.

And it was this that was getting in my way as I tried to deal with the leprechaun, was my alcoholic thinking making me too sensitive to things that a “normal” person would just brush off? That question as well as the gas-lighting left me in a real quandary. Here I was discovering a type of hell that I had not thought existed, all the time that I had spent with the whore, cow, snake had not prepared me for what was now taking place in my life. Then one night I was sat working on my other blog, Woody Hollow Distributors, which I reference in my first article “Getting Organized It's Been Awhile” and I was working on an article about the Mothman; and the truth of him out of the blue suddenly clicked. As scary serious as he is, he is no more or less, than a pan dimensional influencer as well as a gatekeeper

Now you would be right about now to ask, what in fucks name does a narcissist and a pan dimensional gatekeeper have to do with each other? In answer, on the surface nothing, but let us dig just a little deeper. During the next year or more the theory of how we are here to learn and teach each other slowly developed. I had left the whore, I had nothing more to teach her, and I was happy to finally be rid of her. I then banged around for the next five years a bit lost, kinda feeling like I was sat on a shelf. Then one night I am sat in Mike's coffee shop in London, and my saviour does a strip tease down to his neon pink boxers comes in and I find AA, which is where I met the leprechaun. Alright so nothing truly weird happening so far, except for the person I had been talking to before the strip show.

I had been getting up to leave because I was on my way to work, this guy comes in and very directly walks up to me and announces that he was an ex British Commando with the Marines, SBS (Special Boat Section) to be exact. I knew a little about the world's special forces units (thanks Sly Stallone and Rambo) and knew that these SBS dudes were a tough bunch of hombres. Nevertheless I was not interested in whatever delusion the guy had and I told him to fuck off, The guy looked at me like I had really wounded him and then tottered off, I sat back down to let the guy clear the area, and as I was waiting that is when the strip show dude came in. Sure weird things happen, but two in a row? I figure that commando dude showed up to delay me long enough to meet stripper dude, which eventually allowed me to meet the narcissist. And yes the Mothman influenced SBS dude or caused him to be there.

So the quandary I was in did not matter at all. I had left the whore, lost contact with almost anyone who had known the whore and I, and had had some time to recover and gather strength for whatever layed ahead. At that time I had no real idea of what ego was, other than it was about self, and I definitely had no idea of how my ego needed reorganizing. In fact if you had asked me at the time, I would have told you that I had no self esteem at all and therefore ego was not a problem. Enter the narcissist because as usual I was off course.

I had spent the previous 30 years of my life being rejected by people as a whole, severely disrespected by a number who are supposed to supply you with love and support, all of that designed to crack my ego open, but it did not. Sure I was saddened and wounded, but I always remained the same. So here the universe said, “Christopher, you're not learning, now I'm gonna fuck you up!”, and placed me in front of the narcissist and her wrecking ball, and the complete dismantling of my ego began. Her methods were systematic and insidious, involving everything from how I peeled an apple to my sexuality. I had thought that I was in bad shape back in 1993, that was kindergarten compared to 2017. That said, the universe had achieved it's purpose, I had become ego-less, and was now ready to be put back together properly.