Category Archives: Hollywood

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016)

Part of me thinks the best thing about this film is Psylocke’s kink/bondage combat outfit. Enjoy it while you can, folks. Sexy superhero costumes are headed for the memory hole.

Anyway.
Meh. It’s okay.

I’m generally cool with the Marvel franchise, but if I’m paying more attention to the political subtext and the symbolism than the story, something is off. I don’t mind that Marvel movies are overt pieces of military-industrial globalist propaganda. I just hope that the characters and storytelling are compelling enough to lend a smidgen of dramatic heft to the destruction porn. Sadly, in X-Men: Apocalypse, it’s lacking in this department.

But boy oh boy, is this movie packed to the brim with symbolic inversions, historical revisionism, geopolitical and deep state intrigue. Yes, these are superhero destructathons, but these movies wouldn’t be made if the various institutions behind them weren’t deeply invested in the messaging. People are way more interested in watching J Law kick ass in a body suit than Hillary Clinton cough up a lung in a pantsuit.

Between the Avengers and the X-Men, there are lots of overlapping ideas and themes. Since the X-Men are mutants, there is a little more emphasis on genetic engineering, mind control, panopticism, and believe it or not, geoengineering. I also propose that Magneto’s ability to control magnetic fields suggests aether based occult physics that are also a feature of the Avengers series.

As the film opens, we’re taken to the Nile Valley circa 3600 BC where our antagonist, En Sabah Nur (aka Apocalypse), is attempting to transfer his consciousness into a younger body the old fashioned way: through ritual magick. The proles revolt and he’s buried in a tomb.

From a symbolic perspective, Apocalypse is a Luciferian mutant inversion of Adam. He has a veneer of Egyptian and pagan mythology, but he’s grafted with elements from Christian theology. Apocalypse is presented as The First Mutant, but because he’s a bad guy, Marvel have been very explicit about his demonic origins. His adoptive father is Baal. Baal is an actual character in the MCU, but Baal is known more widely as one of the seven princes of Hell in goetic occult texts or as a Phoenician deity from the Old Testament. He is guarded by The Four Horsemen; entities that are associated with The New Testament and herald the rise of the Antichrist. So remember, kids. Despite Christianity being a bunch of dogshit that’s only for brainwashed Trumptards, it seems that the geniuses at Marvel need to borrow and invert all this religious stuff in order to generate their own superhero mythology.

Could it be that metaphysics and theology provide the foundational maps of being from which we derive guidance, inspiration and purpose? Could it be that these logoi form the basis of our entire knowledge of ourselves, the physical world, and our underlying assumptions about how reality itself is ordered?

Nah! We’re just sacks of meat floating through a universe of chaos and meaninglessness fighting off delusions of free will, dude.

Naturally, Apocalypse is eventually stirred from his slumber after our Indiana Jones wannabe/CIA asset, Moira MacTaggert, starts digging some shit up amongst the Egyptian pyramids. Finally revived after a successful occult ritual, Apocalypse is displeased with humanity, and sets out to wipe the slate clean with a master race of mutants leading the way. Of course, Apocalypse is just updating an idea that Blackwolf already tried in Wizards back in 1977, but whatever. Luciferian mutants just wanna fuck some shit up, I guess. It’s just the latest cycle of creative destruction in an endless wheel of time man!

Essentially, what the X-Men mythology presents is the idea that mutants have Luciferian origins, but being bestowed with superhuman powers isn’t grounds for being shunned or hunted down all by itself. They’re just different and special, bro. More evolved. If they go to Charles Xavier’s Hogwarts School for Gifted Youngsters, they’re good mutants. If they get too caught up in Apocalypse’s depopulation agenda, they’re bad. Don’t worry if there’s massive collateral damage, global surveillance, or if one of the baddies succeeds in killing off some of the population. Just accept the idea that there are people working in the corporate military-industrial complex and the deepest recesses of the state on harnessing these powers for good. And they definitely don’t have any nutty ideas about depopulation despite the fact that nearly every sci-fi offering presents some kind of doomsday scenario that wipes out humanity.

What Marvel and Bryan Singer have done is subvert your expectations by making the X-Men heroic embodiments of ideas that might not go down so easily if you think about the ramifications for five minutes. Ororo Munroe/Storm is essentially a one woman geoengineering facility. Perhaps even a proxy for HAARP itself. Cyclops is a living Directed Energy Weapon. Wolverine is a genetically engineered, MK Ultra super soldier. Charles Xavier and Cerebro together are the most powerful global surveillance operation ever. Not only does he have total information awareness, but he can steal memories and manipulate thoughts. Apocalypse wants to control Charles’ mind because when he does, he’ll be able to control every mind. Don’t think for a minute that this is just a comic book driven flight of imagination either.

There are interesting geopolitical details as well. When Raven liberates Nightcrawler from the mutant cage fighting match, she takes him to Caliban so he can forge IDs and passports and gain entry to the US. Because our sympathies are with the X-Men from the start, we’re totally distracted from the fact that they’re running an underground ID forgery operation. By extension, they’re creating a fast track for illegal immigrants to enter the US that bypasses the standard protocols. Does this have a real world analogue? I know which side of that bet I’m on.

I also propose that film, including and especially these Marvel movies, are subtle forms of historical revisionism. They reference actual historical events, but are refracted through the lens of fiction. They’re giving you grains of truth, but they’re occluded and distorted by the fictional packaging. When we’re introduced to Scott Summers (aka Cyclops), he’s learning about a big showdown between Mystique and Magneto. There was a Paris Peace Summit in Paris in 1973, but I’m certain that Magneto and Mystique weren’t there. What were the filmmakers saying about this event if Mystique and Magneto represent two competing sides of a mutant class of super beings? Perhaps that the two factions represented at the Paris Accord was a completely controlled dialectic from the start and the whole thing was a stage managed PR stunt? Kind of like a real life X-Men movie but without Olivia Munn in a kink/bondage combat outfit? You decide!

Above all else, the X-Men franchise is promoting transhumanism. Whether they’re scientifically engineered or innate paranormal/occult powers, these films want you to accept the idea that mutants and mutation represent humanity’s future. The people you think are outcasts or freaks are really just potential X-Men who haven’t yet been initiated into Charles Xavier’s Hogwarts School for Gifted Children. That article you just read about “brain-computer interfaces”? That’s just the next Jean Grey, man. Don’t be such a paranoid, conspiratorial bigot. It’s only the natural course of human evolution, bro.

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Thor: Ragnarok (2017)

Considering the fact that Marvel is a multibillion dollar engine of deep state psychological warfare, I am astonished by how much enjoyment I’ve received from the various cinematic installments of the Avengers franchise. Despite repeatedly obliterating the bounds of physical reality with generous helpings of a somewhat formulaic brand of snark, the MCU remains a surprisingly vital blockbuster series. When you have an entertainment property with that much cultural cachet, you can bet your bottom dollar that there will be some deep social engineering behind the cosmic mayhem and Thor: Ragnarok is no exception. Ragnarok is the third installment in the Thor series and the seventeenth MCU film overall. Besides advancing Thor’s arc and teeing up Infinity War, Ragnarok also gives us a very clear window of insight into the agenda of the elites. Specifically with respect to the people of Northern European countries.

Ragnarok opens with Thor in a seemingly dire situation facing off against the fire demon, Surtur. Surtur believes that it is his destiny to fulfill prophecy of Ragnarok and destroy Asgard. He confides that Odin is not really in Asgard and that’s enough for Thor to summon his Mjolnir and start kicking some demonic ass to a choice bit of Led Zeppelin. The decision to use “The Immigrant Song” to accompany Thor’s ass kicking is an inspired and appropriate soundtrack choice, but it also connects to the larger themes of the film as I’ll elaborate below. Thinking he has forestalled Ragnarok by claiming Surtur’s horn/skull helmet, he returns to Asgard to place the object in the vault along with other artifacts of mass destruction. Upon returning to Asgard, he discovers that things have gone awry. Not only has Heimdall been replaced at the Bifrost Bridge, but while disguised as Odin, Loki has rewritten Asgardian propaganda to emphasize his heroism in the battle against the Dark Elves. Thor forces Loki out of his charade and insists to be led back to their father. Being the self-centered twat that he can be, Loki has the geriatric Odin committed to a nursing home in New York City. The Asgardian brothers are dismayed to discover that the facility to which their father’s care was charged had been completely bulldozed. Apparently, if you commit your elderly parent to a NYC nursing home, it’s going to get paved over to make room for parking lots and smart condos. Just remember that, folks.

After discovering that the nursing home has been demolished, Loki is sucked through a dimensional portal, and Thor is led to Dr. Strange’s Sanctum on 177a Bleecker Street. Picking up where Dr. Strange ended, Strange reveals that Odin is chilling out on an empty field in Norway. Hoping to avoid the impending catastrophe of Ragnarok, Strange sends both of them through another portal to join him in the fjords. Odin confesses that not only will Ragnarok proceed as prophesied, but Loki and Thor aren’t his only progeny. They have an elder sister, Hela, who happens to be a goddess of death and he no longer possesses the strength to keep her contained in her extra-dimensional prison. Sorry about that, boys. You’ll have to deal with Asgardian armageddon and your bitchy genocidal sister after all. With great power comes great responsibility. Just then, a gothed up Cate Blanchett shows up in the requisite Marvel bodysuit wearing way too much eye makeup ready to start some shit. Thor hurls his Mjolnir at her and she’s able to crush it likely a plastic toy. Sensing that the things have taken a turn for the worse, Loki and Thor jump through the Bifrost Bridge portal with Hela hot on their heels. She casts them out at different points and arrives at Asgard to begin her reclamation of the throne.

She’s just having a bad hair day.

Thor is deposited on a garbage dump planet called Sakaar inhabited by a multicultural population of slaves who are kept perpetually distracted by a gladiatorial contest. I propose that not only is Sakaar a proxy for the EU, it is a representation of the New World Order envisioned by the elites. Sakaar is a synthetic hellscape of artificial stimuli, and its inhabitants are dispossessed of their culture, history and people. It’s little more than a techno-prison whose sole purpose is to keep the population occupied with the neverending indulgence of pleasure. In other words, it’s an extrapolation of the present. The fact that the Grandmaster of Sakaar is played by Jeff Goldblum, a Jew, is not an inconsequential casting choice. As the Grandmaster, Goldblum’s character is roughly analogous to the oily, soulless showboat played by Stanley Tucci in The Hunger Games, Caesar Flickerman. A name that also has a bit of a Semitic ring to it I might add. The fact that the Grandmasters of the MCU pleasuredome itself were mostly Jews is also noteworthy. In fact, you don’t have to look very hard to find Jews who inhabit every conceivable sphere of influence pushing a multicultural agenda with near unanimity.

Thor is at first attacked by scavengers, but is soon taken into captivity by an alcoholic former Valkyrie of Asgard. She is able to subdue Thor by placing an electronic device on his neck which allows her to administer crippling electrical shocks to his system. I suggest this is yet another piece of predictive programming which reveals the agenda of mass microchipping the technocrats wish to administer to the lowly proles. Excited by his latest acquisition, the Grandmaster forces Thor to compete in the gladiator games against a fellow Avenger, genetically engineered MK Ultra super mutant, the Incredible Hulk. The fact that we’ve seen this same kind of mass media gladiatorial contest in so many films suggests that this is a key component of the NWO agenda. Whether it’s Rollerball, The Running Man, Death Race, Battle Royale or The Hunger Games, an idea that gets repeated that many times is deployed in order to warm people up. The envelope is already being pushed in that direction.

Don’t tase me, bro.

You just said MK Ultra trigger word! Hulk SMASH!

Meanwhile, back in Asgard, Hela has dispatched Volstagg and Fendral. Of course, we’re not allowed any strong, heroic white men anymore, so naturally, they must die at the hands of Hela/Kali the goddess of death. Not only does she wipe out the entire Praetorian guard, she knocks off Hogun, the last remaining man of the Warriors Three. With her main opposition vanquished, she recruits beta cuck, Skurge, to her cause by appointing him executioner. Upon entering the throne room, Hela is disgusted by the quasi-Orthodox iconography in the frescoes which emphasize Odin’s triumphs of multilateral, transdimensional diplomacy within the Nine Realms. Hurling a spear at the ceiling, the facade crumbles to reveal Asgard’s hidden history of unrepentant bloodshed and conquest. With Hela and Fenris at his side, the hidden icons of Asgard reveal an occulted history which casts the ascendancy of Asgard in a much more warfaring light. Extrapolate this into the real world, and that gives us the theological foundations for the entire narrative of the European white man as being irredeemably tainted by the stains of colonialism. Of course Asgard must endure the cataclysm of Ragnarok in order to atone for the sin of existence. And for the unspeakable crime of being home to white Europeans.

Wakanda forever! Wait..no. For Asgard!

As order breaks down, Asgardian loyalists led by Heimdall have sequestered themselves in a Helm’s Deep-like stronghold presumably safe from Hela and her demonic legions. While I don’t have any issue with Idris Elba as an actor, the decision to cast him as Heimdall is one of the dumber moves of this film and the Thor series. Just as the decision to cast him as Roland Deschain in the recent adaptation of The Dark Tower recast the dramatic arc of that story, this decision has similar consequences. Everyone knows that the Thor mythology, both within and without Marvel, is fucking NORDIC. As in the North Germanic peoples. Yet on film, the Asgardian population is also portrayed as being mildly multicultural. Why was Wakanda a racial monoculture whereas Asgard is multicultural? Why did they cast a black man as Guardian of the Bifrost Bridge when he was originally written and drawn as a white Asgardian just like everyone else in the Thor mythology? The answer is obvious to anyone who isn’t a rabid anti-white SJW. The MCU is a vehicle for transmitting the #WOKE racial pieties of the moment, and Asgard cannot possibly be portrayed as a white monoculture because it’s #RACIST or some shit.

The same goes for the casting of a Latinx Valkyrie. Tessa Thompson carries off the role adequately, but why was she cast other than to check off a box on the PC checklist? Why can’t they just be faithful to the way the Valkyries were drawn in the comic canon? How else can this decision be explained other than it’s a subtle form of social engineering? Making this decision even more dubious is the now predictable parade of media lackeys divulging the scuttled plans to make the characters even MOAR LGBTQ/Non-binary/#WOKE. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The stories of the #BRAVE actors and directors fighting back against the bootheel of cisnormative oppression crushing the dreams of LGBTQ #EQUALITY. Yawn.

And why the fuck did Valkyrie need to be bisexual? How would that have advanced the story in a meaningful way? OH, THAT’S RIGHT. IT DOESN’T. But Marvel will continue to plant these stories because they want people to want them. And it gets worse. The Hollywood Politburo will begin to apply a new metric on Hollywood scripts to ensure they meet the new mandates around LGBTQ #EQUALITY. That’s right. It’s not enough to pass a Bechdel Test anymore, bigots. You gotta up your #DIVERSITY game to the next level and pass the Vito Russo test, too. It’s like the Hays Code, but new and improved for the Aeon of #SocialJustice.

This media strategy seems every bit as calculated as the casting decision itself since the exact pattern repeated itself when it was “revealed” that the Dora Milaje in Black Panther were almost lesbian! Way to keep the outrage mob perpetually exasperated by your lack of #WOKENESS, Marvel. I’m sure they’ll finally be placated when you ditch Brie Larson and make Captain Marvel the genderfluid, body positive, trans-racial superhero xe was meant to be.

I know! Let’s make her Latinx!

Ah yes. Much better.

Does the ADL know about that Valknut?

From a symbolism perspective, Ragnarok contains a few noteworthy occult references. As our heroes escape Sakaar, they must steer the spacecraft they stole from the Grandmaster through the Devil’s Anus. It may seem like more juvenile yuks, but I suggest that there’s more to it. The spacecraft is acknowledged to be a party ship on which the Grandmaster hosts orgies. It plausibly sounds like the exploits of a decadent ruler, but given that there are real world stories involving power elites being shuttled to secluded locations to engage in all manners of sexual deviancy, Marvel is probably tipping its hand with this reference. Add in the Crowleyan sex magick connection to the anus, and this strongly suggests something much darker than a cheap laugh.

As expected, an apocalyptic showdown between Hela and the Asgardian loyalists led by Thor ensues. Ironically, the remaining Asgardian civilians are herded onto an ark-like spacecraft by Loki, the Luciferian trickster icon. Thor also suffers the loss of his right eye during combat with Hela. From an occult perspective, the left eye symbolizes the moon, rebirth and magical illumination. From a biblical perspective, the left eye symbolizes a blindness to the good. Not only does this symbolism occur repeatedly in the MCU franchise, it’s nearly omnipresent throughout Hollywood iconography.

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The All Seeing Eye of Agamotto

Ultimately, Thor realizes it’s not about stopping Ragnarok, but causing it. He realizes that Surtur must be summoned in order to defeat Hela. As he sends Loki to the vault, he proclaims that “Asgard is not a place, it’s a people”. Got that, proles? There’s no such thing as a homeland, really. Forget what Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz. Asgard is wherever you are. Whether your home is decimated by a war, destroyed by a fire demon or your entire population is replaced by immigrants from other countries, it doesn’t matter. Anyone can be Asgardian and Asgard can be anywhere! You should feel no compunction about summoning fire demons who will destroy your land nor should you heed any calls to preserve your “country”. It’s all in your heart. Or something. And we know it’s true because not a single Asgardian shed a tear as they watched Surtur lay waste to their former home. Asgard is toast, but it’s no biggie.

Does all of this mean Thor: Ragnarok is a shitty movie? Of course not. On the contrary, it’s solidly entertaining. They wouldn’t have gotten this far if they weren’t very good at what they did. It’s serving its larger goal. Can they keep this up? Can they continue to make entertaining films while intentionally inserting so much misanthropic programming and heavily politicized content? I guess we’ll have to wait for Captain Marvel and Avengers 4 to know for sure. But even if they tank financially, I don’t expect them to ease up on the agenda.

Mandy (2018)

If you liked Panos Cosmatos’ retro-futurist sci-fi/horror mind trip, Beyond the Black Rainbow, you’ll absolutely love his follow up film, Mandy. Even if you didn’t, Mandy is for you if you want the cinematic equivalent of a Black Sabbath collaboration with Lustmord. Equal parts surrealist Lynchian fever dream and low budget Clive Barkeresque phantasmagoria, Mandy is a heavy metal laden tour de force of postmodern pastiche. Its status as a modern cult classic is guaranteed. When a film features “Starless” by King Crimson over the opening sequence, you know you’re watching a movie that’s swinging for the fences.

Plot wise, Mandy is a fairly straightforward revenge fantasy that’s a grittier arthouse analogue to the gothic industrial urban fantasy portrayed in The Crow. Similar in tone to the foreboding mysticism of Nicolas Winding Refn’s Valhalla Rising, the effectiveness of the film lies in Cosmatos’ expert pacing, psychedelic visuals, brooding soundtrack and ever escalating aura of cosmic doom. Like his prior film, Mandy is also loaded with esoteric symbolism.

As Red Miller, Nicolas Cage adds yet another iconic performance to an already eclectic and celebrated body of work. Is it his best? I don’t know, but it’s a supremely entertaining performance and he inhabits it with all of his Cagey charm. As he shared in an interview with Empire Magazine, Cage will go the extra mile to ensure that a performance has the right….spirit. There are at least a couple scenes which belong on a Cage career retrospective highlight reel. Miller is a lumberjack somewhere in what we presume to be the Pacific Northwest who lives a peaceful life of seclusion with his girlfriend, Mandy. In the titular role, Andrea Riseborough channels an equally iconic metalhead chick who is both an accomplished illustrator and avid fantasy novel reader. In her two pivotal scenes, she’s wearing a vintage Mötley Crüe pentagram shirt and Black Sabbath shirt from the Never Say Die period. Like Quentin Tarantino, Cosmatos is both attentive to detail and explicit about his sources of inspiration.

I wonder if Nic Cage is into the occult.

The film contains a lot of occult symbolism, and one of the most significant ideas is revealed during an intimate moment between Red and Mandy. Mandy asks Red to name his favorite planet, and he confesses that Saturn is his favorite. This foreshadows Red’s supernatural rampage to come and casts the overall story arc in a distinctly Gnostic light. Within the Western esoteric tradition, Saturn has a myriad of associations with Yaldabaoth the demiurge, the Lord of Time and Death, the black cube, the devourer of children and the dominion of this world. Even the bedroom in which they sleep resembles a black cube.

Mandy is also reading a book called Seeker of the Serpent’s Eye. It’s a fake book, but it sounds like something that could have been written by Michael Moorcock or Robert E. Howard. As we hear Riseborough’s voice over, the film cuts over to an animated segment that’s a double layered reference to the 1981 classic, Heavy Metal. We see a naked woman who extracts a green orb from the corpse of some fallen creature. The green orb is the Serpent’s Eye, but it’s also a reference to the mysterious Loch-Nar that was the embodiment of all evil in the universe. I suspect this also ties into the reference to the demon Abraxas that will occur later in the film.

Under the crimson primordial sky a wretched warlock reached into the dark embrace. His fist closed around the serpent’s eye, strange and eternal. It glowed from within, strange and eternal.

Miller reads as a Gen X-er who has chosen a simple life over the materialistic rat race that was ushered in by the Reagan administration. As he drives home from a job, we hear Reagan delivering a homily which extols traditional American pieties. Miller promptly switches off the radio. I believe this was meant to be read as a boilerplate rejection of American conservatism and strip mall Christianity, but given how the rest of the film unfolds, I think the film can be interpreted more broadly as Gen X meting out a brutal vengeance against the false utopianism and plastic idealism of the Boomer generation.

Their life is torn asunder when a hippie Jesus freak cult discovers Mandy taking a walk through a normally untraveled country road. As the leader of Children of the New Dawn, Linus Roache’s Jeremiah Sand is a captivating amalgam of Charles Manson, Jim Jones, and David Koresh. Using a perfect combination of slow motion, colored filters, and a doom laden soundscape, Cosmatos imbues this meeting with a menace and dread that you don’t encounter often enough in contemporary horror.

Though they are properly viewed as a representation of cults like the Children of God, the Process Church of the Final Judgment, or the Branch Davidians, Children of the New Dawn will be seen simply as a proxy for all of Christianity for most viewers. For the average person who watches Mandy, they’ll see no distinction between Jeremiah Sand, Pope Francis, Joel Osteen, Billy Graham or John Hagee. At the end of day, the theological distinctions between these individuals may be negligible, but the fact that this film can present such a lurid caricature of Christianity and get away with it says quite a bit about how effectively Hollywood has both hastened and capitalized on the decrepit state of the Christian church in America.

Jeremiah is obsessed with claiming Mandy as a new concubine/disciple so he summons Ned Dennehy’s Brother Swan to his side. “You know what to do,” he says as they exchange a knowing look. Sand asks if he has the Horn of Abraxas and Brother Swan offers a smile of reassurance. He sends Brother Swan on his way and then summons the mind controlled Sister Lucy to his room for ritual abuse.

Brother Swan drives to a clearing in the forest with his dimwitted lackeys in tow. He walks into the field and pulls out what appears to be an ocarina. With a name like the Horn of Abraxas, you expect something like what Tibetan monks play, but the ghostly melody that emanates from the instrument is sufficiently creepy. Up until this scene, Cosmatos has been skirting the edge of reality, but this is the point when it tips over the edge into madness. After Brother Swan admonishes his dimwitted lackeys to shut up and wait, a demonic biker gang that looks like leftovers from the Hellraiser universe emerges from the forest. Astride very loud motorcycles and ATV’S and decked out in infernal, post-apocalyptic bondage gear, you just know some bad shit is going down. Their entrance alone is one of the film’s best scenes and reveals Cosmatos’ visual panache. Upon their arrival, Brother Swan offers a jar filled with a gelatinous substance that’s some kind of highly concentrated LSD paste which will figure prominently in subsequent events.

Mandy is abducted and Red is bound with barbed wire. Before she is brought before Jeremiah, she is dosed with LSD and intentionally stung with some nasty looking giant insect. In a parallel of Beyond the Black Rainbow, Mandy presents a charismatic hippie-esque cult leader who uses drugs to seduce and control his subjects and to artificially enhance his promises salvation and spiritual liberation. I believe both films open a window of insight into experiences and events which shaped Cosmatos’ worldview. Since drug induced mind control is a prominent theme in both films, the question over whether these experiences involved mere observation or his own trauma and emotional distress is an open one.

As she is escorted into their inner sanctum, she’s wearing the 44 jersey we see on Miller in the film’s opening. IMDB claims this is either a reference to Reggie Jackson, Mark Twain or serial killer, David Berkowitz, but I suspect it’s a Crowley reference. In chapter 44 of the Book of Lies, there is a ritual called the Mass of the Phoenix. The ritual calls for the consumption of a “cake of light” which includes bodily fluids. Nothing resembling this cake is eaten, but I suspect Mandy herself is the cake of light. Both Miller and Sand represent two different but pure expressions of the Luciferian ethos of Do What Thou Wilt. This above all else appears to be the film’s overriding message.

Sand is modeled after Manson, and like Manson, Sand is a failed musician who uses music as a method of mind control. In yet another Cosmatos masterstroke, Jeremiah pulls out a vinyl record of his own music which features an original folk prog track called “Amulet of the Weeping Maze” that sounds like an outtake from Jon Anderson’s Olias of Sunhillow. Sand hoped that the drugs and the music would elicit the feelings of ecstatic reverence that it apparently inspired in his flock, but Mandy’s reaction was not the one for which he hoped. For the transgression of humiliating Sand, Mandy is subjected to a horrific execution while Red is forced to watch. Cage channels a level of emotional anguish that’s pretty wrenching.

From this point forward, Mandy takes on a supernatural, post-apocalyptic fantasy horror vibe. The film suggests that the drugs aren’t just tools for mind control, but are a simultaneously a portal into other dimensions, a source of superhuman strength and a conduit for demonic hallucinations. After Sand and his minions leave him in his state of despair and trauma, Miller frees himself from his barbed wire bondage and sets out to exact his revenge. He takes on the quality of a superhuman, Saturnian dark avenger.

Red seeks out the one man who can supply him with the weapons of vengeance he needs, and that man is named Caruthers. He is played with the slow burn gravitas of Bill Duke, and he evinces the steely cool of a man who is completely comfortable with the idea of taking a life. It’s a vibe that one gets from quite a few actors in Hollywood, and it makes you wonder whether or not it’s acting. After acquiring a crossbow from Caruthers, Mandy goes completely batshit as we suddenly find Miller in a metal forge. In what is by far the film’s greatest scene, we are treated to Nicolas Cage in mirrored shades making a battle axe by hand from molten steel. This scene is worth the price of admission all by itself. Besides being an utterly outrageous weapon, it’s also intentionally shaped like the ‘F’ in the Celtic Frost logo. Since Celtic Frost famously featured Giger artwork on their album To Mega Therion, I believe this is another meta-reference to Crowley.

Armed with his mythical Luciferian battle axe, Red ingests the LSD paste and sets out on his quest for retribution. We’re treated to some brutal combat scenes mixed with dollops of black humor. Just when you think the Celtic Frost battle axe couldn’t be topped, Cosmatos scores another victory of sheer excess by giving us a chainsaw duel. After dispatching the demonic bikers and delivering a gruesome comeuppance to Brother Swan, Miller’s bloody trail of corpses finally leads him to the Temple of the Children of the New Dawn.

The Order of the Trapezoid.

The film concludes with the inevitable confrontation between Miller and Sand, but Cosmatos sets it up with a long march through torchlit tunnels and grinding doom fanfare that is completely epic. You’re rooting for Miller, but what Cosmatos is ultimately serving up is just another serving of black hearted negation and nihilism. The Luciferian dark avenger vanquishes the corrupt Jesus cult leader. The penultimate vision of the film is seeing the chapel crucifix burn as the triangular A-frame is engulfed in flames. It’s tempting to think Cosmatos was showing us that the god of the Children of the New Dawn was actually Satan in first place. But I don’t think that’s what he was saying. There’s a vague sense of cosmic justice being delivered, but it mostly feels like he wants to revel in the smug satisfaction of watching his Christian straw man get crushed and burned. There’s nothing wrong with art that’s a descent into the abyss, but when that idea comprises most of the messaging coming out of Hollywood, it feels a tad malevolent and misanthropic. Don’t get me wrong. This film is among the finest of its kind, and if you have any appetite for what Cosmatos is serving, this film is unparalleled.

The author wishes to thank Eddie for offering his deep insight on the symbolism contained in this film.

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)

After enduring the abomination that was The Last Jedi, I found myself tempted to forswear the franchise along with other old school fans. Why participate in the further vandalism and degradation of a beloved cinematic mythology at the hands of people who clearly do not care about the story, have pure contempt for the core audience and are using it as a transmission vessel for their demented ideological jihad? Furthermore, a Han Solo origin story feels especially unnecessary at this juncture in the new series. After dying a very undignified death at the hands of Kylo Ren in The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi’s very explicit message of “killing the past”, why try to revive the memory of Han Solo after you’ve closed out his story arc and signaled the desire to wipe the slate clean? Rogue One managed to split the difference by leveraging aspects of Episode IV while still presenting something that felt genuinely new. This film already feels like blatantly opportunistic mythological cannibalism. Just because you can make a Han Solo origin story doesn’t mean you should.

Call it masochism, nostalgia or just plain stupidity, I had to see Solo just to assess how bad the damage was. Admittedly, Kathleen Kennedy and her minions have made it eminently clear that she doesn’t give a single fuck about the core audience and is solidly intent on utilizing the franchise as a political bludgeon. That said, Solo wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. It’s a serviceable, if pointless, addition to the franchise that has a couple genuinely rousing moments which approach the old Star Wars magic.

The main question surrounding Solo is why? Rogue One pulled off its central premise by fleshing out the Rebellion’s daring acquisition of the Death Star plans. You could say it was equally pointless, but it was just enough to justify its existence as a standalone Star Wars film. Whereas Solo’s existence only makes sense as an exercise in franchise vampirism since The Last Jedi nearly milked every last drop of residual goodwill from the fanbase reservoir.

Agenda? What agenda?

Solo is essentially Smokey and the Bandit crossed with Game of Thrones set in the early years of Imperial dominion. It’s a lite heist caper set in the pre-New Hope gangland. If you don’t ask too many questions and go along for the ride, it works pretty well. As a Han Solo origin story, it’s a functional connect-the-dots which asks for relatively modest cognitive leaps. You know how things will end up, so the outcome is never really a surprise. Director Ron Howard manages to throw in enough twists to keep your attention.

In the titular role, Alden Ehrenreich has the thankless task of reimagining a beloved character whose memory is already firmly cemented through Harrison Ford’s iconic performance. Maybe there’s something to the law of diminished expectations because I didn’t think he completely sucked.

What’s perhaps most disturbing about Solo and each new installment in the Star Wars franchise is the way the films manage to make moral relativism and the brute acquisition of power seem virtuous and cool. This is, of course, entirely consistent with the progressive agenda behind them, but it’s astonishing to see increasingly overt nihilism being packaged as family entertainment. Forgoing the standard crawl that’s featured in the canonical installments, the film opens with a simple text frame which outlines the dire state of the galaxy.

It is a lawless time. Crime Syndicates compete for resources – food, medicine, and hyperfuel. On the shipbuilding planet of Corellia, the foul Lady Proxima forces runaways into a life of crime in exchange for shelter and protection. On these mean streets, a young man fights for survival, but yearns to fly among the stars…

So the Old Republic was so shitty at governance and maintaining a stable social order that the transition to empire resulted in the mass dissolution of families and the immediate rise of crime syndicates? Didn’t the Republican Senate approve Palpatine’s expanded executive power in Episode III? And these are the people we want to have returned to the seat of power? And if society deteriorates into a shitstorm of resource wars and competing crime lords so soon after the dissolution of the Old Republic, what does this say about the prevalence of ethics under the Old Republic? I’ll tell you what it suggests to me. They were incompetent and corrupt because those sympathetic to the Old Republic are in a constant state of revolution against some version of Imperial government in every film. Neither the Rebellion nor the Old Republic are capable of translating military success into stable government. Way to go, Disney. You guys are validating the existence of every The Empire Did Nothing Wrong subreddit and meme page.

Of course, our hero is the quintessential lovable outlaw, so we must understand the world that shaped him. As Darwinism and #WOKE materialism dictates, man is just a semi-conscious sack of meat who is simultaneously biologically hardwired for toxicity due to his genitals, the beneficiary of immutable social forces which accord him countless privileges and yet perpetually at war against bourgeois delusions of free will. A man whose only credo is to do what thou wilt for the highest bidder can only be understood by setting up a sociopolitical order that’s devoid of man made law. Because, after all, that’s the highest authority. What Solo presents is a sanitized variation on the type of world with which we’re presented in Game of Thrones and numerous other similar shows. In other words, the acquisition of power is the only objective. Ethics are bought and sold. Blackmail and the threat of deadly force is the only surefire way to ensure compliance, obedience or loyalty. Individual freedom and defiance of any established authority is the highest virtue.

Just as we’ve seen in all other installments, there are no real parents, no legitimate or virtuous authorities, and the universe is a seething snake pit of lawless brigands, Imperial tyrants, and ruthless slave lords. You have no organic ties to family, religion or nation. Just a collection of atomized individuals who seek either a big payday, ultimate power or salvation in revolution. In a pivotal scene in which Solo sees enlistment in the Imperial army as his only ticket to liberation, the Imperial officer asks him about his family name. “I don’t have one,” he says. Got that, kids? Your parents are useless, the world in which you live is poisoned and corrupted beyond hope and you can’t trust anyone or anything.

This is the Aeon of #SocialJustice so you know you’re going to get the SJW Catechism in one form or another. While not nearly as cringeworthy as The Last Jedi, Solo still serves up some groaners. Despite Solo being a rare new film featuring a white male hero, you know Disney isn’t just going let this film be made without swinging the wrecking ball at the male hero archetype in one way or another. Naturally, we get no insight into Solo’s childhood or parents. Like Luke and Rey, Solo is another rootless youth set adrift in a sea of galactic chaos seeking some semblance of freedom and, in this rare circumstance, a romantic connection with Emilia Clarke’s Qi’ra.

He finds a paternal proxy in Woody Harrelson’s mercenary, Tobias Beckett. Through the course of the series, we’ve seen the father figure go from Jedi Knight to Jedi muppet to communist revolutionary to Jedi incel to amoral criminal degenerate in ten films. Good work, Disney.

While impersonating an Imperial officer on the front lines of a “pacification” operation, Solo discovers that he has designs on a coaxium heist. Sensing a ticket out of Imperial servitude, Solo ingratiates himself with Beckett and his team. Early on, Beckett advises Solo to “assume everyone will betray you, and you will never be disappointed.” Given that advice, it’s not difficult to guess where this story arc ends up. In a remix of the Greedo confrontation and a foreshadowing of The Force Awakens, Solo couldn’t be more explicit about Disney’s contempt for fatherhood. Besides being utterly predictable, it is by far the most malevolent subtext.

Lando Calrissian’s co-pilot droid, L3-37, can be read either as a sop to militant SJWs and transhumanists alike or it can be read as a vicious lampoon of both. Given what Jonathan Kasdan tweeted about Solo, it’s obviously intended to be read as the former but that doesn’t exempt it from Poe’s Law either. L3 joins Jar Jar Binks, Rose Tico and Admiral Holdo as one of the series’ most irritating characters because she is basically a feminist activist in the form of a droid. She is annoying, preachy, narcissistic and domineering. Her heroic moment amounts to fomenting a droid revolution at a critical moment which buys our heroes a narrow window of time to escape. The choice to have this character embodied in a droid speaks for itself.

As one would expect, the L3 character was used as a pretext for engineering an utterly idiotic revision of Lando Calrissian as “pansexual.” That’s right. The suave smooth talker who couldn’t stop putting the moves on Leia throughout The Empire Strikes Back is really “pansexual” and has the hots for an anthropomorphic SJW garbage can. An attractive human female, a blob of alien slime, a droid. It’s all good, brah. Like clockwork, the lemmings in the media heralded this #WOKE revision with the same fanfare that Rose Tico received upon the release of The Last Jedi.

Though one could make a case that the Original Trilogy had more complex politics, the blatant leftism of the new films leaves no such room for nuance. To be fair, the politics in Star Wars have always been confused so it seems pedantic to analyze them too closely. Regardless, they require some inspection because there’s no doubt that they’re meant to transmit a political message. On the positive side, Solo is pretty explicit about the fact that Crimson Dawn and other crime syndicates are the shadow masters behind the Imperium. Whether it’s the Trade Federation, the Hutts or Crimson Dawn, the economic elites are able to buy influence within the Republican and Imperial power structure. Like their real world globalist counterparts, these are the people who buy off the politicians while the utopian rubes in the #RESISTANCE continue to romanticize the idea of a #WOKE, progressive Democracy despite being in a state of endless rebellion.

Solo’s hopes for rekindled romance with his lost sweetheart, Qi’ra, are dashed upon discovering that she has sworn allegiance to Crimson Dawn. His sole motivation entering the Imperial military and making an alliance with Beckett was so that he could earn enough money to buy a ship and rescue his bae from the Corellian hellhole from which he escaped. No such luck though, pal. This is the Aeon of #SocialJustice, Solo, and you don’t get to have your heterosexual, cisnormative romance.

When Solo finally reunites with Qi’ra, she’s already in league with Crimson Dawn capo, Dryden Vos. She’s cagey about the nature of her allegiance, but she makes it clear to Solo that there’s no going back to The Way We Were. And she’s got the Crimson Dawn insignia tattooed to her forearm to prove it. I suggest that this is a revealing insight into the culture of blackmail within Hollywood. While women in Hollywood talk a big game about female empowerment and equal pay while being sanctimonious about the evils of sexual predation, the culture of silence we saw from these very same actresses around Harvey Weinstein’s transgressions speaks volumes about their true loyalties. Qi’ra’s Crimson Dawn tattoo also bears a similarity to the marks women received during branding rituals that were utilized in the NXIVM sex cult.

Solo’s bond with Chewbacca feels rushed and arbitrary. Given that this is a character whose relationship to loyalty is initially sketchy, we want to understand how he forged such a deep bond with a creature who resembles an anthropomorphic dog. It’s a strange scene and the speed with which he earns Chewbacca’s trust as well as his mysterious grasp of Kashyyykian grunting is a bit of a leap. Why he needed only to speak in Chewie’s native tongue on one occasion and speaks to him in English from that point forward is a mystery that will have to be pondered on a subreddit.

Maybe I’m seeing Star Wars through the rose tinted glasses of nostalgia, but a Star Wars film used to feel special. Maybe they were fated to end up as bland corporate Product and Content from the start, but at least George Lucas made me feel like he actually gave a shit about the story he was telling. The same claim cannot be made about Kathleen Kennedy and her cohorts at Disney. Sure, Solo managed to be passable entertainment, but that still doesn’t explain why this film had to be made in the first place beyond lining the corporate coffers. Sure, Ron Howard managed to prevent this from being the turd it could have been, but is that really the best that can be done with this property? Maybe I’m asking too much from Kathleen Kennedy and the Disney Corporation.

No one in the progressive establishment will ever acknowledge it, but Han Solo is a kind of Randian übermensch. In the materialist dialectic, he has opted for individualistic self-interest over revolutionary collectivism. At least in this stage of his character development. In the final scene, he’s offered the opportunity to join the #RESISTANCE, but he opts to fly to Tatooine so he can score some cheddar smuggling for Jabba the Hutt. In the original Star Wars trilogy, Han Solo was the lovable wiseass in contrast to Luke’s overly earnest farmboy romanticism and Kenobi’s stoic mysticism. His character made sense within that story arc and his development felt heroic. Whereas using Solo as a subject for a heroic arc of his own feels like thin gruel for a standalone story. Why do you want to see a man become a narcissistic loner outlaw who has issues with honesty, debt, and commitment? Sadly, the only answer that’s apparent is that this is exactly the message Kathleen Kennedy and the Disney Corporation want to send with the Star Wars franchise.

Black Panther (2018)

Similar to the prejudices I harbored going into The Last Jedi, I went into Black Panther fully expecting to hate the film simply because it was being pushed so hard by the progressive establishment. While it is certainly filled to the brim with all of the requisite SJW talking points and orthodoxies, it is also another surprisingly entertaining addition to the MCU franchise. As is the case with every other Marvel installment, there are a lot of esoteric symbols, religious archetypes and geopolitical themes which warrant a deeper look.

We Wuz Kangz!

The fact that Stan Lee, Marvel and Disney are in the business of manufacturing myths that are designed to subvert and supplant any conventional real world religious or cultural history should be self-evident to everyone. When examining the significance of Black Panther from the perspective of symbolism, one must not forget that Black Panther was aimed primarily at black Americans and white progressives who desperately want to virtue signal their solidarity with blacks.

Since the black community has been so mercilessly politicized and exploited by the progressive establishment, a black superhero archetype fills a spiritual void that has been eclipsed by a neverending mantra of oppression and subjugation at the hands of the evil white man. So what kind of archetype do Stan Lee and company serve up? A genetically engineered KANG, muthafuckas!

That’s right! When the mythmakers of Hollywood want to conjure a fantasy of black technological might, cultural solidarity and national unity, they go all Old Testament and give us T’Challa, King of Wakanda. Long live the king! In the age of democratic triumphalism, Black Panther presents a fantastical, isolationist, racially homogeneous hereditary monarchy as the ideal socio-political order. Given the prevalence of illegitimacy and fatherlessness in the black community, I suspect this myth taps into a primal psychological and spiritual yearning. It’s a society in which competition for the throne is settled by male on male combat rituals. It is, in essence, a patriarchal monarchy. Since the film has a politically correct vision of black empowerment which includes an elite all female praetorian guard, a female scientific genius and a cat goddess, you won’t hear a peep of dissent from feminists about this portrait of a patriarchy. Besides, it was enough that they “leaked” about the deleted lesbian love affair between two members of the Dora Milaje. We’ll have our black, non-binary, differently abled Disney princess yet! More on this later.

Needless to say, you don’t have to look very far to find people who are convinced that Black Panther reveals some actual hidden history that’s been suppressed by the white man.

Wakanda Forever!

Besides being an Afrofuturist spin on the Masonic myth of El Dorado and the latest black power meme, Wakanda represents something even deeper. Home. Since the black American identity is so tightly wound up with slavery, the Civil War and the Civil Rights movement and Africa remains a country rife with corruption, poverty and political instability, the search for a historical narrative which elicits pride might seem elusive. So let Marvel create one for you! Blacks have always asserted a collective cultural identity, but Wakanda is probably the first large scale pan-African mythological homeland. It has different tribal factions, but everyone swears allegiance to Wakanda and calls it home.

W’Kabi: You would kill me my love?

Okoye: For Wakanda? Without Question.

Herein lies one of the numerous absurdities in the ever changing Catechism of progressive racial pieties. Blacks are always permitted to express different visions of leftist black nationalism. With the release of this film, it can now include sci-fi black nationalism for a country that doesn’t even exist. Cuz Institutional Racism and Historical Oppression and shit. Or something. Who can keep up with the latest #WOKE protocols anyway? Whereas a white, middle class person wearing a MAGA hat is basically worse than a KKK Grand Wizard and a dude in a SS uniform combined.

But what a grand vision of fantasy nationalism it is! When we’re introduced to Wakanda, we see it from the cockpit of T’Challa’s hovercraft as it swoops through the idyllic plains. As the ship penetrates the cloaking system and careens through the neo-Babylonian spires of the utopian futurescape, the music ratchets up the drama and you can easily imagine fists being pumped in IMAX theaters all over the world. “This never gets old,” proclaims T’Challa as he beams with pride. It’s a scene that tugs at the heartstrings in a manner that’s reminiscent of the scene in Star Trek: The Motion Picture when Kirk is reunited with the Enterprise.

Also like Star Trek, the Wakandan origin story is a very clever and daft mixture of sci-fi esotericism and bonkers economics that’s common of both the Trek and Marvel universes. 2.5 million years ago, a vibranium asteroid crashed to earth somewhere in East Africa where Wakanda is located and remains hidden from the surrounding world. The vibranium infected the flora and fauna and imbued certain plants with mutagenic properties. Guided by a vision from the panther goddess, Bast, a warrior named Bashenga was guided to a special herb which gave him supernatural strength when ingested. Transformed into the first Black Panther/King David, Bashenga proceeds to unite four out of five tribes of Wakanda. Sitting atop the most valuable resource known to man, the Wakandans proceed to build a society of unimaginable technological innovation and economic prosperity.

It’s easy enough to suspend disbelief when being presented with the origins of superhero powers, but the ascendancy of Wakanda as an economic and technological superpower just beggars belief. We’re to believe that Wakanda developed itself into a technological behemoth by maintaining a completely homogeneous population and an isolationist economic policy while simultaneously maintaining ancient tribal rituals and traditions. With no visibly adverse effects on the environment and not a trace of economic inequality. Right. Besides withholding this technological might from the world, they don’t even make an effort to improve the lot of the remainder of the African continent! What a bunch of bigots.

The fact that Wakanda Forever has become a cultural meme shouldn’t surprise anyone. Every Avengers film henceforth which features Black Panther is going to have some rousing scene in which the phrase is uttered. It’s the new May the Force Be With You. The larger question is over the true provenance of the Wakandan salute and what it may represent.

Glory to Aiwass!

Black Panther is rife with pagan, occultic and esoteric religious overtones. The majority of the Wakandan population swear allegiance to the panther goddess, Bast, while the dissident Jabari tribe worship an ape god, Hanuman. Bast is a twist on the Egyptian goddess Bastet, but was portrayed as a male god in the original Marvel canon. Since we live in the Aeon of #SocialJustice, Bast is made into a goddess. This inversion and connection to Egyptian mythology casts the overall theology in close proximity to all of the expected associations with Masonry, Thelema, Theosophy and all other related occult traditions.

Aside from the Wakandan ceremonial combat, there is also ritual magick. The victor ingests the mutagenic vibranium herb as he is buried in red soil. He enters a supernatural realm called Djalia and communes with ancestral spirits. It’s roughly similar to Aleister Crowley’s communion with the entity Aiwass which allegedly inspired The Book of the Law.

Speaking of Crowley, I think the true origin of the Wakandan/Wonder Woman/Wolverine/Deadpool salute is not quite what the media would lead you to believe.

Wakandan Spooks or Marvel Spooks?

It is supremely ironic that “spook” is both a racial slur and a slang term for people who work in clandestine services because Black Panther is loaded with geopolitical espionage subtext.

For starters, the presumed villain Erik Killmonger, is T’Challa’s first cousin. His father, N’Jobu, was Wakandan deep state. While on assignment in the oppressive, racist world of the white man, he becomes embittered by the subjugation of his people at the hands of the white devil.

N’Jobu: I observed for as long as I could. Their leaders have been assassinated. Communities flooded with drugs and weapons. They are overly policed and incarcerated. All over the planet, our people suffer because they don’t have the tools to fight back. With vibranium weapons they can overthrow all countries, and Wakanda can rule them all, the right way!

He tries to redress these inequalities by hiring another unscrupulous white man, Ulysses Klaue, to steal vibranium from Wakanda. He is discovered by King T’Chaka and killed for his act of treason. His death is hidden from his son, Erik, and he grows up with nothing but hatred and animosity for the evil white man. Imagine my surprise.

So what does angry Erik Killmonger do? He ends up working with the CIA! This is the part of the film where they’re actually telling you the truth. As we learn from token white CIA hero, Everett K. Ross, Erik worked with the CIA on destabilizing foreign governments during election cycles! Remember, everyone. Election meddling is fine when we do it. But if Trump wins against Hillary, the progressive establishment will get apoplectic and manufacture a story about how this is the worst possible crime imaginable.

Everett K. Ross: He

[Erik Killmonger]

Everett K. Ross: worked with our CIA to destabilize foreign governments… during election cycles.

They’d never do that here though, right? Nah!

After all, Black Panther was first published in 1966, and the Black Panther Party, a radical Marxist, black nationalist party also surfaced in 1966. I’m sure it’s just a strange coincidence. It’s not like Marvel is working with the Pentagon and the CIA or anything.

This is also where the movie tries to have it both ways. The film wants you to believe that Erik Killmonger is Black Hitler. In reality, his rhetoric mirrors the radical BLM/socialist element of the progressive Left very closely.

Erik Killmonger: I’ve waited my whole life for this. The world’s going to start over. I’MA BURN IT ALL!

How many amongst the black demographic actually found Erik Killmonger’s rhetoric distasteful or disturbing? Much like Avengers: Infinity War sparked the Thanos Did Nothing Wrong meme, Black Panther inspired a Killmonger Did Nothing Wrong campaign. Of course, the progressive establishment doesn’t want to own up to the hatred and division it has actively cultivated, so they deployed their minions to attempt to tamp down the flames. Erik is the archetypal broken, angry black man who’s been ground up by the system and dispossessed of his family, country and past. They want you to believe that Erik is light years apart from T’Challa, but the system thrives by cultivating Erik Killmongers every day.

Erik Killmonger: I lived my entire life waiting for this moment. I trained, I lied, I killed just to get here. I killed in America, Afghanistan, Iraq… I took life from my own brothers and sisters right here on this continent! And all this death just so I could kill you.

Wakandan SJW shit is this?

As I expected, Black Panther is chock full of SJW bullshit. With one notable exception, the characters and the story are sufficiently engaging that it doesn’t derail the movie. Of course, we have the powerful warrior womyn archetype. Somehow, being a member of the all female Dora Milaje and swearing an oath to protect its male monarch is super empowering and #WOKE for some reason. Apparently, women have to be portrayed as asexual badasses in EVERY GODDAMN MOVIE these days.

Not only that, just like Charlie’s Angels and Wonder Woman, they refuse to use guns. Got that, guntards? The Dora Milaje don’t need no guns, coloniser! They have vibranium spears, really bitchen outfits that don’t turn them into sex objects and the best CGI money can buy, so give up your constitutional rights already!

But you can tell that Coogler and company don’t really believe the horseshit they’re serving up. Early in the film, T’Challa sets out to rescue Nakia and a group of burqa-clad women from a Boko Haram-style group of militants. Yeah, sure. Okoye shows up to help T’Challa out of a jam, but this group of women were pretty ordinary in that they had neither super strength nor combat skills. It was a welcome bit of realism from a film that’s very high on its own helium.

What sci-fi film would be complete without the requisite female scientific genius? Hollywood actresses and their feminist foot soldiers love to talk about smashing stereotypes and subverting gender roles, but they seem blissfully ignorant of the degree to which they’ve mainstreamed a handful of absolutely predictable and idiotic SJW stereotypes. Right behind the asexual ass kicking warrior womyn is the scientific super genius. How many times do we need a character whose sole purpose is to hammer home the idea that MORE WOMYN SHOULD BE IN STEM FIELDS? Besides being an irritating bigot, Letitia Wright’s Princess Shuri has no real flaws or weaknesses. This isn’t a real character. She’s just a progressive virtue checklist who is given some sassy lines of dialogue while being Q to T’Challa’s Bond.

Rounding out this collection of dumb clichés is a shout out to veganism. We already got a generous helping of racial politics and feminism, so that pretty much leaves us with climate change and veganism. It amounts to one wisecrack, but it’s extraordinarily stupid and contrived. Upon discovering that T’Challa had survived his confrontation with Killmonger and was convalescing among the Jabari tribe IN THE FUCKING MOUNTAINS OF WAKANDA, our heroes attempt to negotiate his return. M’Baku threatens to feed the party to his kids. After a pregnant pause, he breaks the tension and confesses that the Jabari are VEGETARIANS. Hardy har har.

Now remember, the Jabari have REJECTED technology and LIVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. They’re big and physically imposing dudes who wear ANIMAL FURS. But we’re expected to believe that they’re VEGETARIANS. Give me a fucking break, Ryan Coogler. This is what happens when ideological correctness overrides basic storytelling common sense.

The entire issue of immigration was so hot, I’m not surprised they completely bulldozed over it by the film’s end. To my surprise, they allowed a moment of honesty. Because W’Kabi sides with Killmonger, his argument is not meant to be taken seriously. After all, he sided with the self-proclaimed Black Hitler, so pay him no mind.

W’Kabi: You let the refugees in, they bring their problems with them, and then Wakanda is like everywhere else.

This is the issue progressives refuse to confront. Culture is something that’s nurtured and cultivated over centuries within a homogeneous society. Cultural traditions exist for the purpose of affirming a unitary identity. When you have a minority population within a largely homogeneous population, the minority are naturally going to gravitate towards their own just to have a sense of shared cultural solidarity. Ideally, the minority population will assimilate to the culture and traditions of the host country because they actually want to be citizens. If there’s no incentive to adopt the customs of the host country, they’re going to assert the identity they already possess. But when you’ve got a class of elites who despise the native population and are intent on inculcating the notion that national identity and pride is the sole province of non-European cultures, then multiculturalism isn’t really about affirming all cultures equally. It’s about hating whitey.

In light of everything happening in South Africa right now, the entire post-apartheid biracial dream of unity is unraveling. Even under the SJW definition of racism, we’re seeing a white minority being dispossessed of their property under a black majority government. But progressives don’t care. They’re too invested in pushing their one sided narrative.

T’Challa the Globalist sings Kumbaya

By the film’s conclusion, Black Panther sidesteps the entire immigration question. T’Challa’s renounces isolationism and joins the United Nations, but we never learn whether he alters Wakanda’s immigration policy. We just see him turn into another milquetoast political hack mouthing the same idiotic, braindead appeals to Brotherhood and Unity we hear all the time. Sure, he sets up Wakandan CIA field offices from which to conduct psychological warfare…I mean….EMBASSIES in which inner city youth will get Wakandan iPads and learn sassy wisecracks from Princess Shuri. But it never addresses the question of whether Wakanda will be multicultural and #DIVERSE henceforth. I have a hunch I already know the answer.

Despite all my gripes, I enjoyed it way more than I expected. The template for the MCU franchise is well established, and for the time being, the Marvel team are able to crank out new additions to the Avengers saga that manage to be slick, stylish and entertaining. Yes, indeed. Black Panther is a clever, Afrocentric spin on the superhero archetype. Chadwick Boseman is quite likable in the role and he plays it with a slow burn charm that really works. I even bought the phony accent. Lupita Nyong’o is equally appealing as T’Challa’s lover, Nakia. It’s also nice to see a bit of romance at the end. Aside from Wright, the only other off key performance was an overwrought turn from Angela Bassett. Too bad Bobbi Kristina isn’t around to weigh in.

Is Black Panther also a wildly manipulative and cleverly deceptive piece of globalist propaganda? Absolutely. Anyone who isn’t drinking the #SocialJustice Koolaid knows this film is little more than a multi-million dollar virtue signal and a long running targeted psychological operation. It’s a chance for the black target demographic to flood social media with fist emojis and Wakanda Forever gifs while white progressives wring their hands and get hyper self-conscious about asserting too much white privilege in a moment that’s about “uplifting POC voices” or some shit. Like everything in the progressive movement, it’s a collection of platitudes that has the aura of unassailable righteousness but masks unpleasant realities and inconvenient facts. But progressives don’t care. You too will learn to say Wakanda Forever and mean it, coloniser.

Or else.

2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984)

2001: A Space Odyssey has inspired numerous analyses over the years, but considerably less attention has been devoted to its successor, 2010: The Year We Make Contact. Following up Stanley Kubrick would be a difficult task for any director, and Peter Hyams deserves more credit than he’s been given. Written, directed and produced by Hyams, 2010 is completely worthy follow up to Kubrick’s 1968 landmark film. Set 9 years after the events of the first film, 2010 portrays the US and USSR simultaneously engaged in a race to recover the Discovery from Jupiter’s orbit and unlock the secrets of the monolith while trying to prevent Cold War geopolitical tensions from escalating.

Just as 2001 could be described as the first significant Masonic evolution allegory with transhumanist overtones, 2010 touches on all the same core ideas. It distinguishes itself by placing greater emphasis on the globalist and scientistic ideology through which these more esoteric ideas are transmitted. The Luciferian spiritual implications of the story are considerably more explicit in this film as well.

2010 features the incomparable artistry of Syd Mead.

I further contend that 2010 is an overt nod to Russian Cosmism; the ideology that appears to be the forerunner to transhumanism as it’s currently being promulgated. Aside from sci-fi films that were made in the USSR, 2010 is perhaps the only film I can recall which takes place on board an advanced Soviet spacecraft. The name of the spacecraft is itself a reference to Soviet spacewalker, Alexey Leonov. This serves two purposes. It portrays the socialist USSR as being technologically superior to the US despite the opposite being true. Second, it makes you sympathetic to the Soviet crew and their thirst for knowledge while eroding the stigma that was built up around communism throughout the the Cold War. Don’t listen to those dumb conservatards who bash communism, proles. They’re just aping the fearful, warmongering douchebags in the GOP who have no empathy for human progress! It lends credence to the possibility of the entire Cold War dialectic being at least partially engineered. In other words, communism and capitalism are just two sides of the same ideological coin which have been pitted against one another for the express purpose of creating manufactured global tensions. It could very well also suggest that these two national space programs were part of the same global psychological operation from the start.

Besides being the more technologically advanced society, the USSR are also portrayed as being more advanced on gender equality. As Captain Tanya Kirbuk, Helen Mirren plays the steely but vulnerable feminist archetype we continue to see portrayed in film and television ad infinitum. This is arguably the one time we’re seeing feminism so explicitly connected with its socialist roots. Kirbuk is also Kubrick in reverse, so it’s also one of two overt references found in the film.

Fake Time magazine cover featured in the film. Art imitates life.

The opening scene sets up a perfect visual metaphor for the entire film. Roy Scheider’s Heywood Floyd is working atop one of the radio telescopes located at the Karl G. Jansky Very Large Array. Dana Elcar plays Soviet scientist, Dimitri Moisevitch, and approaches him to discuss the US efforts to retrieve the Discovery. Floyd is symbolically sitting atop the lofty perch of presumed technological and political superiority of the US talking down to the dirty commie scientist from the USSR. Mirroring the US geopolitical stance of opposition, he is reluctant and initially refuses. Reminding him that they both have higher allegiances to scientific discovery, he offers to meet him halfway up the tower. Floyd assents to his overture and agrees to two minutes of truth telling. Moisevitch informs Floyd that USSR will reach the Discovery two months before the Discovery II. Subsequently, the Leonov crew will need the expertise of the Americans in order to make the journey worthwhile. After offering to allow an American team passage on the Leonov, they proceed to speculate about how they must sell the proposal to the politicians to whom they’re beholden. Complicating the entire mission is a Cuban Missile Crisis-type entanglement which carries the threat of total nuclear annihilation. Where politicians routinely engage in rhetoric veiled in dishonest platitudes, bellicose posturing and vacuous pronouncements, scientists must fearlessly seek truth wherever it may lead! Once again, we’re presented with space exploring scientists as the vanguard of discovery, bravery and enlightened, cosmopolitan virtue.

Like 2001, transhumanism plays a very significant role in 2010. As Dr. Chandra, Bob Balaban is the AI specialist who is conscripted for the mission to reactivate HAL and discover the reason for his apparent malfunction. Mirroring the plot device we saw in Ridley Scott’s Alien, we learn that HAL did not malfunction. He was assigned to hide the fact that the NSC programmed him to go after the monolith at the expense of the crew and simply had the AI equivalent of a mental breakdown trying to reconcile conflicting protocols. At a crucial turning point in the film, Chandra is himself emotionally distraught over the prospect of explaining to HAL that he and the Discovery may very well be destroyed in order to make their accelerated launch window. After all, AI’s have RIGHTS, you know. While the idea of according rights to an artificial intelligence is now somewhat commonplace in media and entertainment, this was certainly one of the early examples of this phenomenon in film. In Arthur C. Clarke’s book, we learn that HAL’s “soul” joins Dave Bowman in the presumed elevated realm of consciousness to which he has ascended.

The full title of the film is 2010: The Year We Make Contact. Since most major films contain pieces of predictive programming, with what exactly were Hyams and company predicting contact? One of the big moments in the film was the discovery of chlorophyll on the surface of Europa. Some unknown energy surge conveniently destroys the ship logs and, ironically, the crew are expected to take their observation as an article of faith. It oddly mirrors the recent revelation that the original moon landing tapes have been mysteriously “erased”. Obviously, we didn’t discover a monolith or travel to Jupiter, but lo and behold, there were claims of possible microbial life coming from NASA. I suppose the launch of the space shuttle Discovery was also another coincidence. Though it was launched in 2011, the Juno mission also seems to dovetail into this narrative.

Perhaps this quest for contact wasn’t limited to the possibility of alien life. Maybe it was an encoded reference to the search for the infamous God particle being carried out by CERN.

Other pieces of predictive programming include Roy Scheider’s Apple IIc home computer and the biometric scanner in Chandra’s corporate office. Another oddity is the inclusion of Floyd’s two pet dolphins. While this could be a reference to John C. Lilly’s LSD experiments or the militarization of dolphins, it could also be an early step in the normalization of interspecies “love”. It is also noteworthy that Scheider went on to act in the Spielberg produced SeaQuest 2032 which featured a genetically engineered dolphin.

The fact that this was released in 1984 shouldn’t be overlooked either. The film was extrapolating a mere 26 years into the future, but was speculating about astronomical leaps in technology and space travel. Like many early works of futuristic sci-fi, 2010 presents a future of unbounded scientific progress. In comparison to the neverending conveyor belt of dystopian hellscapes to which we’re routinely subjected, this film’s optimism does seem refreshing. That said, I also believe it was presaging the world of total information awareness in which we live. Just as feel good cinematic messages can mask nefarious agendas, feel good political legislation can be passed in order to advance the goal of full spectrum panopticism.

Above all else, 2010 is presenting another Luciferian spin on man’s origins and destiny. In 2001, humanity was raised up from primordial ignorance by the material manifestation of a higher intelligence. This allowed Dave Bowman the ability to achieve his transhuman gnosis. In 2010, Dave Bowman is both a reincarnated transhuman Jesus and Yahweh. Bowman appears to Floyd/Moses like a holographic burning bush and instructs him to leave Jupiter’s orbit and return to Earth in two days. Filled with gnostic revelation, he disregards the diplomatic sanctions placed between the crews and boards the Leonov. Once again, the hard bitten scientists are faced with knowledge that transcends the material and enters into the realm of the spirit. Should the Russians forego the political tensions in which their earthbound compatriots are embroiled and trust the Americans? As ascended beings who are engaged in their own communion with the cosmic infinite, they agree to heed this seemingly miraculous message from the Beyond.

As they blast off, Jupiter begins to implode. Just as they reach safety, Jupiter ignites into a new sun which bears the name Lucifer! As in, Lucifer the light bearer. As they witness this miracle, the instructions from Yahweh/Bowman appear on the monitor screens on the Leonov and everywhere else on Earth. The voice of Yahweh will come to you too through the television screen or the computer monitor, proles. We will learn to unite as One World just like the crews of the Discovery and Leonov.

Sounds like utopia, doesn’t it?

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part Two (2015)

In contrast to classic dystopian sci-fi like Orwell and Huxley, there’s something really dishonest about The Hunger Games franchise. That’s not saying it’s devoid of revelation, but the fact that it’s sugar coating its true intentions and the nature of armed revolution makes this an especially pernicious piece of filmmaking. Despite its surprisingly pro-life conclusion, Mockingjay Part 2 is burdened by stilted performances, dumb PC cliches, a leaden tone and an absence of any real tension or adrenaline rush.

Mockingjay Part 2 finds our heroine, Katniss Everdeen, in the midst of an armed and surprisingly well supplied District 13 insurrection against President Snow and the Capitol. Peeta Mellark is still recovering from the MK Ultra mind control program to which he was subjected. Jilted former lover, Gale Hawthorne, is bummed about Katniss’s torn affections, but remains loyal to her, the revolution and Primrose regardless. President Coin and Plutarch Heavensbee are still running psychological warfare operations and propaganda campaigns from the cushy confines of the District 13 centcom.

The power of propaganda and psychological warfare is the overriding theme of Mockingjay. By the final film, Katniss’s status as Victor Tribute morphs into Revolutionary Messiah. Katniss was exploited as goddess-like heroine through the Games, but the Resistance have simply capitalized on her cult of personality to galvanize the masses for their revolutionary goals. She defies Coin’s orders to make propaganda videos from the secure confines of District 13’s Lookout Mountain Airforce Station and takes it upon herself to personally assassinate Snow. Like their real world globalist counterparts, Coin and Heavensbee resign themselves to her decision and resolve to make her moves seem controlled by the Resistance. When she arrives at the Resistance military compound, Katniss is greeted by a mass display of cultish obeisance. Upon being recognized, everyone stops whatever they were doing and huddles around her hoisting the three fingered salute that was used throughout Panem while she was a Tribute. Once the command forces accept that she can’t be controlled by Coin, they place her with what’s essentially a high tech special forces bomb squad for the express purpose of diffusing traps and weapons in between propaganda videos. Both sides are utilizing psyops and see it as essential to demoralizing the opposition.

The Hunger Games is doing the same thing every action/sci-fi/superhero franchise is doing when it comes to presenting what was once a relatively clear delineation between good and evil. It’s trying to eke out a grey area of Greater Good in a corrupted world of perpetual violence that sees the acquisition of “democratic” power as the highest goal. While the Resistance tries to carry out its carefully laid military plans, Katniss gets to be the voice of would be moral authority by pointing out that civilians and children will be killed along with Capitol Peacekeepers. Tough shit, honey. This is war, Katniss. Of course, Katniss can claim the moral high ground cuz she’s female and she’s the Mockingjay. Or something.

Of course, once they undertake their mission, they don’t hesitate to use deadly force. The film gets to sidestep this moral conundrum by making their enemies Peacekeepers or mutants. The Peacekeepers are just faceless goons in military regalia and the mutants are anonymous monsters whose existence is never explained to my knowledge. Perhaps they’re just the Capitol’s genetically engineered super soldiers.

The film is also showing the rank duplicity of the Left’s relationship to authority and hierarchy. In yet another resemblance to their real world globalist analogues, the District 13 shadow government is highly resourced and safely secluded while the rubes who fight in the trenches are kept compliant with propaganda videos and braindead promises of democracy. They exploit Katniss’s image by presenting her as mythical, quasi-divine icon just like every other pop culture heroine. The entire Resistance is no less hierarchical or authoritarian than the Capitol. They display total deference to Coin’s leadership and military command structures. Katniss is, however, the notable exception. Her journey began as an act of selflessness to protect Primrose, but her entire character arc since then has been defined by defiance. Herein lies the absurdity. Progressives have built an entire philosophy that’s designed around a posture of rebellion wrapped in flowery rhetoric while simultaneously seeking total domination and control. The film wants to have it both ways by showing that Katniss’s acts of defiance bring about #EQUALITY and #SocialJustice while ignoring that everyone else is required to fall in line.

It also sidesteps the bloodlust and hatred that had been stoked amongst the proles by both the Capitol and most especially the Resistance. Though Suzanne Collins really wants you to think that her story wasn’t just a retread of Animal Farm, it ends up being that anyway. By taking out Coin, Collins undoubtedly wanted to show that Katniss knew that she was just as corrupt as Snow. By removing him, she’d presumably forestalled a new dictatorship to replace the old. But assassinating Coin only unleashed the desire to exact bloody revenge on Snow. The proles essentially tore him to pieces. You can’t unleash that kind of revolutionary bloodlust and expect to control it. The Resistance would have had to resort to the same iron fisted military force that their deposed enemies did. The idea that everything just worked out peacefully after Snow’s death is ludicrous.

One theme that seemed curiously absent was the actual presence of food and hunger. Hunger was a more prominent theme in the first film, but by the final film, it seems to have diminished in significance. The first film did a good job of showing how food deprivation was used as a control mechanism and the excess of the Capitol was seen as decadence. If anything, the only hunger was a desire for vengeance. The one time there is an overt reference to food is when the remaining Capitol civilians are being herded to safety after the Resistance forces had infiltrated the city walls. The citizens walk in a zombified trance as the promise of medicine and food is looped over the PA.

The Hunger Games is a sad commentary on the world of perpetual revolution and panopticism that all of the post-Boomer generations have inherited. The very act of revolution becomes the final Hunger Game. Even in their final attempt to depose the despotic Snow, they submit completely to the very media driven bloodsports that were used to keep the population under control. The spectre of totalitarianism and dystopia in cinema isn’t presented as a warning anymore. At this point, it’s just telling you what’s coming. Siberia already has their own real life version of The Hunger Games in production. That’s ultimately what the entire social media experiment seems geared towards producing. It’s merely a giant psyop that’s designed to engender hostility and pit people against one another. It appears to be succeeding.

With the possible exception of Donald Sutherland’s President Snow and Woody Harrelson’s Haymitch Abernathy, the remaining cast and characters are forgettable and devoid of charm. Jena Malone’s portrait of shaved head smack addict, Johanna Mason, struck me as the archetype on which Emma Gonzalez was based when the CIA and FBI were seeking poster children for the Marjory Stoneman gun confiscation movement. Once again, the filmmakers are at pains to present the Resistance as colorblind, multicultural gender egalitarians where women don’t just occupy military and government leadership roles, but they’re completely proficient with firearms and combat. It’s so boring, stupid, and unrealistic, but anyone who isn’t drinking Hollywood SJW Koolaid already knows it at this point.

Like many others, I was smitten by Jennifer Lawrence’s gritty turn in Winter’s Bone. I liked Katniss at the beginning of the series, but just as I’ve grown weary of Lawrence’s hollow preening in real life, the character and the performance became increasingly intolerable. It seemed like a mirror image of her J Law persona. In other words, someone who was once probably really down to earth and likable but has put herself in a position in which she has to play her own version of Mockingjay: Young, Powerful Hollywood Womyn. To my great astonishment, Katniss ends up marrying Peeta and becoming a mother. It’s such a rarity to see that in film these days, and it feels weird to praise the film for portraying something that used to be quite normal and commonplace. Given Hollywood’s pathological obsession with feminism and the entire array of items on the SJW agenda checklist, heterosexual romance and marriage takes a backseat. But Katniss and Peeta both played the role of being media puppets in the service of globalist shadow government. Perhaps the film is telling us that the life of domestic bliss is only reserved for the elite. For the rest of you….may the odds be ever in your favor.

National Treasure and The Masonic States of America

I was dismissive of Disney’s National Treasure when it was released in 2004. It seemed like a more sedate remix of The Da Vinci Code for a Disney audience, and neither the premise nor Nic Cage’s cinematic charms were enough to make me care. Art hits you in different ways at different times in your life, and I doubt I would have been attuned to the significance of National Treasure’s subtext at that time. Time passes and perspectives change. National Treasure is exactly what I sensed it would be and succeeds as a light espionage/action mystery thriller. But there’s a lot going at the symbolic level that’s very explicit and warrants a deeper examination. Because this was a Disney production aimed at a young audience, I suggest this movie’s pro-Freemasonry message is kind of a big deal from a cultural programming perspective.

I’ve been paying more attention to the architecture of morality and the ways in which it interacts with the belief apparatus. This has led me to examine the sturdiness of the underpinnings of the Enlightenment and American republicanism. Despite being largely perceived as a turn towards secularism and scientism, one of the hidden hands behind these revolutions is in fact an occulted spirituality of another kind: Freemasonry. Though “occult” broadly refers to esoteric spirituality of every kind, it also means “hidden”, and in the case of Freemasonry, it is certainly applicable. The fact that this film is linking Freemasonry to America’s foundations is intentional and borne out by history. While there’s certainly dramatic license taken in the details, the underlying truths are noteworthy all by themselves.

National Treasure is basically a variation on Raiders of the Lost Ark with overt references to Freemasonry instead of encrypted ones. As Benjamin Gates, Nic Cage is a adventurer/historian who’s dedicated his life to unraveling a mystery that was revealed to him by his Mason grandfather, John Adams Gates. As the elder patriarch, Christopher Plummer spins a fantastic tale of the Knights Templar and the untold riches they kept hidden from the Muslims and the British. The Knights managed to conceal the treasure in America, but the map is encoded in disparate objects and letters that are only decrypted by initiates of Masonic mysteries. Fast forward to the present, and Ben Gates’s quest has taken him to the arctic regions of the globe to unravel the mysterious message he uncovered that fateful day. Once the object is discovered, it unlocks another clue which points them towards a hidden map on the back of the Declaration of Independence. Sean Bean’s Ian Howe gets greedy and the race to acquire the Declaration is on. Accompanied by trusty sidekick, Riley Poole and sexy museum curator, Abigail Chase, our heroes scramble to outsmart the dastardly Howe and his goons.

While the conspiracy community is awash in theories over hidden Masonic messaging in entertainment and the Illuminati conspiracy it conceals, National Treasure is one film that isn’t hiding its symbols or their connections to Masonry. They’re front and center. The controversy is whether these symbols are benign or malevolent, and the conclusion you reach will depend completely on your moral, ideological and spiritual frame of reference. National Treasure clearly wants you to see them as benign. Not only that, it wants you to equate Freemasonry with the Founding Fathers and American values themselves. This isn’t far off the mark, either.

American republicanism is seen as the fulfillment of the Enlightenment consensus enshrined in the formation of a new nation. For the first time in history, religious morality was mostly decoupled from the state, and compulsory religious practice was expunged from the law. Religious pluralism, secular reason, the scientific outlook, radical egalitarianism and democratic cosmopolitanism would be canonized as the gods of a new civic religion. This collection of presuppositions formed the basis of what we now simply identify as the pillars of classical liberalism. Depending on your point of view, it’s a set of ideas you want to see conserved for posterity, consumed in a brand new revolutionary conflagration or rejected as a Gnostic heresy.

How does Freemasonry have anything to do with classical liberalism?

While I recognize this isn’t a popular thesis amongst the woke intelligentsia, I’m inclined to believe that the Enlightenment, the French Revolution and the underlying ideals of American republicanism are Masonic in nature. Freemasonry doesn’t officially call itself a religion but it asks its initiates to accept the existence of a Supreme Being. Not unlike the deism for which Thomas Paine advocated in The Age of Reason. A single, infinitely mysterious, divine monad which unites all religions, creeds and races and can never be fully understood by the human mind. Though his status as a Mason is unconfirmed, older editions of Paine’s Age of Reason even featured an essay on the origins of Freemasonry. Most people don’t self-identify as deists or take the same view towards spirituality that Paine did, but his worldview prevailed. The deistic universalism for which he advocated can now be found in the Christian ecumenical movement, New Age spirituality, Buddhist hipsters, and the various manifestations of UN-affiliated, syncretistic Blavatsky lite which also includes Freemasonry. This spiritual mindset came bundled with all of the presuppositions that accompany classical liberalism. Paine’s deism was repackaged and continues to be sold as a perpetually revolutionary set of American ideals with new labels like “liberty”, “democracy”, “equality” and perhaps most importantly, #TOLERANCE . These lofty ideals mask the Promethean promise of a very seductive spiritual truth: apotheosis of the individual.

The fact that these words occlude their Masonic origins is consistent with its nature as as a secret society and a “peculiar system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols”. Throughout the film, Ben Gates has to decode various ciphers, messages, and hidden cryptograms. While this makes for lots of intrigue for the viewers, this is a bit of revelation of the method. Masonic symbols are hidden in plain sight and embedded in every corner of the culture, but invisible to the profane masses due to their ubiquity. Whether they’re used in corporate logos, rock band album art, or the infamous All Seeing Eye that adorns our Federal Reserve Notes, these symbols are imbued with meaning and work at the subconscious level.

Because humans are wired for belief, the question merely becomes one of the awareness of the belief mechanism and the direction in which its pointed. If you are atheist, agnostic, an occultist or subscribe to any non-Orthodox Christian or Islamic faith, the mysticism of Freemasonry is probably no big deal. From an Orthodox Christian or traditional Catholic perspective, this is probably seen as another example of pop culture trafficking a Luciferian doctrine packaged as family entertainment. Freemasonry, or Gnosticism, was challenged as heresy first by Saint Irenaeus and much later by Pope Leo XIII.

However, herein lies the film’s and Freemasonry’s great sleight of hand. Conservatives proclaim the belief that America was a Christian nation while progressives generally claim that it is secular and pluralistic society in which American propositions supersede proper religion. I suggest that the progressives are fundamentally correct. Conservatives may grouse about the erasure of quasi-Christian norms and traditions in the public square, but the ideals of American republicanism were departures from traditional Christian theology in the first place. The Christianity that took root in the early colonies was mostly Puritanism which in turn gave rise to increasingly atomized denominations. Add in Roman Catholics, Baptists, Unitarian Universalists, atheists and a dozen different versions of Protestantism and the idea of a unified Christian body politic becomes an increasingly untenable proposition. Subsequently, progressives are constantly able to capitalize on a fractured conservative constituency by painting themselves as the pious majority and their opponents as callow hypocrites. Perhaps America’s true national religion is the Cult of the Individual smuggled into the psyche through veiled Masonic euphemisms and symbols. Perhaps Freemasonry’s great triumph was that it swapped out religious orthodoxy in favor of a doctrine of radical individualism divorced from ethnicity, history or an abiding national identity. 231 years after the ratification of the Constitution, Disney decides the time is ripe to canonize Freemasonry with a family friendly action movie which blurs reality and fiction sufficiently well that the public likely remains anesthetized to the possibility that they’re unwitting vessels for a spiritual worldview that goes unquestioned.

Most people would shrug this off under the presumption that there’s nothing to question in classical liberalism. It gave birth to America, so what’s the problem? That’s a reasonable question, but I’m dubious on where the classical liberal framework is leading us. While those who claim a stake in the so called “intellectual dark web” are attempting to tend the breached walls of classical liberalism in order to forestall the continued advance of neo-Marxist identity politics, the #EQUALITY goalposts move further and further into the Twilight Zone of pure insanity. Classical liberalism has begotten postmodern identity politics. Classical liberalism has created a marketplace for Marxist academics, feminist hacks, despotic technocrats, racial demagogues and globalist sociopaths like George Soros who engineer social unrest, capitalize on the chaos, and then fund the fifth column organizations who work to unravel society even further. It’s the freedom to accept a marketplace for depravity, degeneracy and perpetual revolution. It’s the freedom to be mocked and demonized for even suggesting that there are traditions that are worth conserving. Progressives like to see themselves as uniquely empathetic and attuned to the suffering of the underdog, but somehow, this empathy can only be realized through neverending political protest, language policing, and exerting absolute dominion over the cultural dialogue. The subsequent result of this worldview has been an atomized population, moral relativism, postmodern subjectivism, and the radical quantification, automation and commodification of life itself. We’re at a point where the simple desire to marry someone of your own race is considered a shudder inducing rallying cry of “white supremacy”.

Paul Revere. Grand Master Freemason.

By the film’s conclusion, Gates uncovers an enormous treasure of what appears to be Egyptian artifacts and relics. The film ties Freemasonry back to its pagan and polytheistic Egyptian roots. Since these artifacts were of incalculable value to civilization, both Gates and the Freemasons come out looking like heroes and stewards of ancient mysteries that would have been destroyed in different hands. Regardless of how much dramatic license is taken in the details, the mere fact that our very first president, George Washington, was himself a Freemason lends weight to the myth. America’s list of known Freemasons who’ve occupied the Oval Office, worked in powerful federal agencies or scaled the heights of pop culture success lends even more gravitas to the claim of Freemasonry’s widespread influence in American life and thought. When Harvey Keitel’s Agent Sadusky flashes his Masonic ring, we are to understand that the Brotherhood extends to the highest echelons of power throughout the nation to this day. Naturally, Gates is exonerated from criminal charges because his higher service to mankind is recognized by the Brotherhood. Besides, laws are only for the peasants anyway.

Ben Franklin. Freemason.

As is often the case with Hollywood films, the fictitious veneer often masks a reality. The film propelled the heroes through the National Archives, Independence Hall and culminated in a church in lower Manhattan. Gates had to uncover secrets from historical documents and objects hidden within the buildings. Three years ago, when the Massachusetts State House politicians hosted a ceremony to unearth the time capsule buried by Paul Revere 220 years ago, the Freemasons were the ones who were entrusted with the task. Just like the film, the contents were passed to the Museum of Fine Arts staff. Not exactly a roomful of Egyptian artifacts and relics, but of significant historical value nonetheless.

In a manner that was very similar to the film, Freemasons are present at the unearthing of a significant piece of American history and their connection to our national heritage is cemented into to minds of the public. Freemasons are woven into the fabric of American leadership, history and ideas in ways that, prior to this film, go mostly unrecognized. On the surface, it seems pretty benign and even downright noble. That’s certainly what Disney wants you to think. But Disney is in business of manufacturing symbols that create new realities. You could say it’s a kind of magic. They say Disney is “the most magical place on earth.” Something tells me their fascination with magic makes them natural allies with Freemasonry. I’m just not sure it’s as benign as they want you to think.

David McGowan: Weird Scenes Inside the Canyon

When I first started putting my liberal assumptions about the world to the test, I really thought that libertarianism had done a pretty thorough job of slaughtering all the sacred cows with which I’d grown up. Little did I know that an even more powerful red pill lay between the covers of David McGowan’s chronicle of the bands that defined the flower power counterculture, Weird Scenes Inside the Canyon. If you’re at all like me in that you bought the mythology of the 60’s being an era of enlightened emancipation and a fearless rebellion against repressive norms and reckless imperialism, then you are well advised to brace yourself for a severely rude awakening. Weird Scenes may, in fact, shatter your world. It’s not that McGowan has uncovered lots of brand new revelations that have never come to light. It’s simply that he’s peered between the cracks of both the public record and the mythology of these artists and dug deeper to reveal a mosaic of facts that can hardly be dismissed as mere coincidence. McGowan’s work will doubtless be viewed as conspiracy theory to many, but his sources and methods are very conventional. What McGowan himself concedes as the hurdle of disbelief that the reader might encounter is the manner in which he’s pieced together the history and the implications thereof. What we learn from Weird Scenes is that not only were the movers of the 60’s musical revolution mysteriously concentrated in the very exclusive Laurel Canyon area, but what bound all of them were three common threads dangling against the backdrop of one highly curious phenomenon.

  • Family connections to the military or intelligence community
  • Connections to the occult
  • A long chain of mysterious deaths and brutal murders
  • Laurel Canyon was home to a top secret military intelligence film studio whose presence and purpose remain largely unknown to this day

All of the information presented runs completely contrary to the mythology of the Peace and Love 60’s counterculture. In fact, McGowan’s work doesn’t just cast doubt on the idea of an organic social and cultural phenomenon, it detonates the very foundations of the popular myth. At the core of the book are simple but mind blowingly provocative questions:

What if the counterculture revolution was engineered?

What if these artists were working in concert with the military intelligence establishment to mainstream rock culture and decadence?

What if the goal was sabotaging both the antiwar Left and hastening the break down of the social order?

I know what you’re thinking. That sounds like crazy talk, but McGowan’s thesis is reasonable. He posits that there was an active and engaged antiwar movement on the Left. He also delineates between the real activists and the decadents who were eventually branded “hippies.” He is suggesting that this decadent strain of counterculture was the unique export of the Laurel Canyon phenomenon. And despite the weight of the lore surrounding the Haight Ashbury scene, the Laurel Canyon scene preceded it by a couple years. Obviously, McGowan doesn’t unearth the secret white paper or the definitive proof of the CIA’s hidden hand. Rather, what emerges is a series of patterns that suggest that the convergence of so many artists with so many common connections who left such a large pile of corpses in their wake is something other than cosmic serendipity.

McGowan begins by sketching the broad strokes of his narrative arc and fills in the details in the subsequent chapters. I don’t think I’m alone by saying that I had to shake off brain scrambling bewilderment at every turn of the page. I was suspicious of the monolithic leftist messaging of the music industry, but I had no idea how deep the rabbit hole went. I suspect I’m no different from others in thinking that that the industry is corrupt, and any artist’s untimely death, eccentricities or habits can be chalked up to that simple fact. We accept the notion that the industry places incredible pressures on artists while offering unlimited access to every vice and pleasure. But is it mere coincidence that nearly every one of the characters in the Laurel Canyon scene was connected to the military intelligence community somehow? And if this was a collective act of rebellion, where are the public denunciations of their parents’ actions and allegiances? Is the confluence of all this talent, both real and imagined, and the speed with which they were catapulted into the limelight a purely organic phenomenon? If the establishment really saw them as a threat to the social order, why weren’t law enforcement officials making routine sweeps of the Canyon? Why did the media establishment trumpet these artists with enthusiasm if there wasn’t a tacit acceptance of an overall lifestyle message from the highest echelons? How did these artists routinely escape the draft or any convictions?

Weird Scenes focuses on the prime movers of the early Canyon scene. These included The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention, Captain Beefheart, The Doors, Steppenwolf, Love, The Beach Boys, The Monkees and The Mamas and the Papas. This scene also included what were then considered the Young Turks. Dennis Hopper, Jack Nicholson, Warren Beatty, Bruce Dern, Peter Fonda, Sharon Tate, and Jane Fonda all have intelligence community connections just like their rock counterparts and are an integral part of this tapestry. It’s odd that a pack of up and coming actors wouldn’t mind being canonized in the press by being associated with the folks who initiated the Armenian genocide, but then again, the fact that this name lives on in alternative media as a leftist propaganda and current affairs show tells you a lot about this industry.

There are also fascinating side stories about some lesser known artists who all had links to the Canyon scene in one way or another. Fans of Roky Erickson, Judee Sill and Phil Ochs will appreciate the depth of McGowan’s research. Each band achieved different levels of public success, but each story peeled back new layers of intrigue, pathology and decadence that was a way of life in this exclusive enclave nestled in the Los Angeles hills.

I don’t know how these individuals fare in other rock history books, but no one comes out looking particularly great. Since so many of the Laurel Canyon luminaries were children of the military establishment, the fact that several notable figures exhibited domineering control freak/cult leader-like tendencies should come as little surprise. Stephen Stills, Frank Zappa and John Phillips in particular all fell into this category. Though it’s largely peripheral to the Zappa saga, Don Van Vliet (aka Captain Beefheart) is exposed as something akin to a pathological Mansonesque cult leader. This is also chronicled in all its cringe inducing detail in Zoot Horn Rollo’s extraordinary memoir, Lunar Notes.

If it seems like every couple years, we get a new telegenic boy band to ignite the hormones of the tweener set, you can thank The Monkees. The genesis of the manufactured media friendly boy band can certainly be traced back to them. As it turns out, very few of the Canyon bands were actually very good in a live setting. The story behind The Byrds in particular will definitely leave you a little slack jawed. Most of these early acts relied on the talents of a group of studio musicians that eventually became known as the Wrecking Crew.

Zappa’s tale is a particular standout because he stands apart from virtually everyone else in the history of rock both artistically and politically. Zappa remains highly regarded by musicians because his oeuvre is such a singular achievement in the history of 20th century music. Setting aside all other concerns and caveats, Zappa’s unique gifts and prodigious output are legendary when measured against artists of any genre. Needless to say, Zappa was also a complete totalitarian. Even if he was shilling for globalist institutions like the IMF and the World Bank, his anticommunist/neoconservative political convictions also set him in sharp contrast to virtually every other major artist. Zappa also notoriously ridiculed hippie culture while actively trying to consolidate that very audience for his band. If you strip away the avant-garde nature of his music, you have very unique window of insight into this entire cabal. Culture creation that emanates from the globalist/military intelligence complex which presents an illusion of freewheeling bohemianism but masks a uniquely authoritarian and pathological mindset.

Then there are the myriad stories of rampant sexual promiscuity and sexual depravity. Before Manson hit the Canyon scene, Vito Paulekas and his entourage of Freaks apparently single handedly launched the phenomena of the Free Love Hippie. Rock has long been associated with sex and drugs, but Paulekas in particular seems to have played a significant role in cementing that association in the public mind. The fact that this routinely included teenagers is yet another eyebrow raising revelation. In fact, sex with underage kids and pedophilia is an undercurrent of more than a few stories. It is howlingly hilarious that pop stars are now publicly preaching the #MeToo hashtag as though they’re these pious crusaders when everyone knows that the industry’s history and underlying message has always been one of pure sexual decadence.

At the bottom of the depravity barrel are the two sets of murders that betray the heart of darkness that seemingly defined Laurel Canyon. These were the Wonderland murders and the Manson murders. It even includes possible connections to the infamous Black Dahlia murder. Needless to say, connections to the occult go hand in hand with all of these stories. What is to be made of the string of torched homes and unexplained or mysterious deaths surrounding so many of the Canyon’s brightest stars? What is up with Gram Parsons’ death? What should we conclude about Gene Clark’s bizarre demise? What really happened to Jim Morrison? The list goes on longer than you can imagine.

It’s mostly a secondary theme in the book, but mafiosi and serial killers are also part of this sordid tale. Between this book and Fredric Dannen’s Hit Men, the full weight of the music industry’s degeneracy begins to show in its Dorian Gray-like visage. Ironically, McGowan took up this project based off the work he did exploring serial killers in his 2004 book, Programmed to Kill. It’s a merely a side dish in the Weird Scenes narrative, but Rodney Alcala’s story alone should leave you asking a few questions.

The one aspect of the McGowan’s work which is probably unique among all historical accounts of this scene is his exposé of the top secret military film studio, Lookout Mountain Airforce Station. It was billed as a film processing studio for nuclear testing footage, but that just doesn’t add up. Why would the military schlep film all the way from Nevada to Laurel Canyon? They could’ve done that anywhere. This was a fully equipped studio with sound stages, screening rooms, an animation department, climate controlled vaults, a bomb shelter and a helipad. This sounded more like a prototype for ILM or WETA. Hollywood luminaries ranging from Ronald Reagan to Marilyn Monroe all had clearance to work there on undisclosed projects. I suppose that like every other phenomenon of life in the Canyon, it’s all just a big coincidence. Right?

McGowan concludes with the transition from the 60’s and 70’s Canyon artists to the origins of 80’s New Wave. Rock was a well established phenomenon by that time, so if you think that puts a kibosh on all this conspiratard nonsense, you’d be dead wrong. As every rock fan is aware, a little record label called IRS Records run by a gentleman named Miles Copeland III was home to more than a few big names in 80’s pop. His brother Ian Copeland also ran a booking agency called Frontier Booking International (aka FBI). Combined with the IRS roster, FBI’s contact with other major artists extended their influence over the New Wave era even further. Their little brother, Stewart, formed a little band called The Police. Big deal, right? Plenty of families go into the entertainment industry. It would be easy to dismiss if the patriarch of the Copeland family weren’t a well known CIA operative. So I suppose the children of a spook who collectively form a label called IRS, a booking agency called FBI and a band called The Police and end up dominating the 80’s is just another coincidence. Right?

Right.

This book was a revelation, but it was also really difficult. Even if I didn’t own records by every artist, they collectively formed the background soundtrack to growing up in California in the 70’s and 80’s. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking that the pioneers of counterculture were brave contrarians, rabble rousers, eccentrics and visionaries. In a world of phony politicians, bloodthirsty war hawks and corrupt businessmen, the artists were supposed to be the fearless truth tellers and the guardians of the human soul. They might’ve been decadent, but the art made up for their excess. How wrong could it be to try and create a Brotherhood of Man through rock n’ roll? The fact I completely handwaved away the implications of someone like Charles Manson ingratiating himself with the leading lights of counterculture is certainly a testament to pop music’s effectiveness in engineering a perception of unassailable righteousness. But what if the gulf between the fantasy and the reality was wider than you ever imagined? What conclusions are you supposed to reach about an industry packed with connections to the intelligence community, gangsters, occultists, control freaks, pedophiles, and otherwise pathological degenerates? Even if you really, really loved the music that came from it? The prospect that the entire rock revolution was a giant military psyop is among the bitterest pills I’ve ever swallowed. That’s not to say that there was no organic artistry or genuine greatness, but once you peer behind the curtain, the rock n’ roll wizard loses some of his mojo. Sometimes, the truth hurts. Dave McGowan deserves credit for administering the tough medicine.

Smokey and the Bandit (1977)

Widely perceived as throwaway 70’s kitsch, Smokey and the Bandit deserves a second look for numerous reasons. Not the least of which is how far Hollywood has moved the PC threshold. Smokey and the Bandit is a mere 41 years old and it already feels wildly transgressive with its unabashed glorification of the the Southern rebel archetype, fast muscle cars, heterosexual romance, unforced biracial harmony and the sweet glory of black market Coors. Admittedly, it was also a seminal entry into a subgenre of trucker-themed 70’s films that canonized the mythology of the modern outlaw in his 18-wheel stagecoach. Smokey and the Bandit is properly viewed as a contemporary Western with cars and trucks instead of horses. Where classic Westerns glorified law and order, this film inverts those classical conventions and places your sympathies solidly with the outlaws. With a plot that amounts to an interstate beer run set in motion by a couple of oligarchs, Smokey and the Bandit sanctifies the presumed American virtue of profit and glory for its own sake.

Bandit: For the good old American life: For the money, for the glory, and for the fun… mostly for the money.

Featuring a star making turn as the Bandit, Burt Reynolds’ character is the kind of leading man Hollywood once served up regularly without reservations. A handsome, lovable rogue who was a brash, reckless show off, but had a romantic heart and sweet side underneath it all. Unequivocally masculine, charming, and tough, but unpretentious and easygoing at the same time. Intentionally written as his diametric opposite, Sally Field’s Carrie is neurotic, artsy, cosmopolitan and flaky. After a hasty roadside introduction, Carrie hurls herself into the Bandit’s caper after fleeing marriage to the son of the film’s villain, Sherriff Buford T. Justice.

As Justice, Jackie Gleason absolutely dominates the film with an outrageous performance. Spewing vitriol and contempt in every line, Gleason is a veritable supernova of politically incorrect piss and vinegar. Besides setting the template for Rosco P. Coltrane in the Dukes of Hazzard, Gleason’s character is also the bumbling, racist caricature of Southern law enforcement that will repeat itself in countless subsequent films. Seething with rage over the Bandit’s consistent ability to outmaneuver him, Justice is Ahab to Reynolds’ Moby Dick. Ironically, in our age of revolutionary orthodoxy, Gleason’s character has come full circle. While there’s never any doubt that the film wants you to root for the Bandit, the overwhelming prevalence of the outlaw antihero casts Justice’s most famous line as a perfectly valid commentary on the present.

Buford T. Justice: What we’re dealing with here is a complete lack of respect for the law.

Smokey and the Bandit is also noteworthy from a predictive programming perspective because it is unequivocally a film designed to mainstream the subversive nature of the CB radio. The Bandit and Cledus are consistently able to outfox law enforcement by tapping into the CB radio underground. The film portrays a perfectly coordinated #RESISTANCE whose allegiance to the Bandit and his mission are never in question. The Bandit was just trying to give the people what they wanted! It’s just plain un-American to deny Coors, dammit! I suggest that this was a precursor to the smartphone revolution and a critical building block towards the larger goal of global digital panopticism.

Most of all, Smokey and the Bandit succeeds because all it wants is to make you smile, laugh and cheer. While Hollywood seems increasingly reliant on CGI driven sci-fi and superhero franchises, Smokey and the Bandit feels downright organic and tactile by comparison. Films like Fast and Furious certainly lay claim to this film’s legacy, but there’s something refreshingly simple about Smokey and the Bandit. The car chases nowadays may be more outrageous and the actors more ripped, but the self-conscious multiculturalism feels forced and the cool, sophisticated outlaw is now a boring cliché. Perhaps it’s the rose tinted glasses of nostalgia, but this film feels like a pop culture high water mark. It may have been a harbinger of a deluge of SJW degeneracy to come, but it had a joyful, old fashioned spirit that’s sadly absent from any contemporary film you can name.

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