Tag: conspiracy theories

Part III: – Enochian Curious

There’s nothing like a cold, hard night on the streets of England to restore your ghetto. And if we are talking ghetto, perhaps no one knows that better than Rob Rider Hill.

“We gotta go to the Duke’s Head tonight.” Ben said as he prepared our stash. “Rob, is expecting us.”

“That’s fine.” I said. “But every time we meet up with another male Snowfrican, you guys tend to gang up against me. You also become an unbearable, condescending, patronizing asshole. Ever more so than usual.”

“I’m sorry it seems that way to you,” he said as he wrapped Rob’s souvenir. A statue of a Japanese demon.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about…” I said. But Ben had already done the thing and moved on to a different topic.

“We have to go to the British Library today. We should be able to get our hands on some book’s by John Dee. Oh yeah. John Dee!” Ben’s voice cackled with excitement.

“Yeah! Let’s get our Enochian on!” I said.

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave me the side eye. As usual, he was all in.

“Jose, I’m a bastion of good, informed decisions. I don’t fuck with Enochian.” Ben said. “And neither should you. We are going to use the knowledge in Dee’s work in our quest to stop the apocalypse.”

“Fine. Whatever. You got the joints?” I said

Ben, laid out seven joints on the table. Each packed with enough green to tranquilize an elephant. Then he hid them away in the inside breast pocket of his winter jacket.

“Let’s go.” Ben said.

After a brief stop at a Turkish restaurant where Ben ate half my falafel without my consent (the Italian dish he ordered, surprisingly, didn’t turn out well) we headed to the British Library. To our delight, the exhibition “Harry Potter, A history of Magick.” Was there waiting for us. And if you knew me and Ben, you know we are all about some Harry Potter.

“God, I hate Harry Potter,” I said. “I don’t care how nice J.K Rowling is.”

“Stop projecting your professional jealousy and let’s go inside.” Ben said.

Once inside the library, you could feel years and years of knowledge come down on you like an invisible hand. Just a couple of more steps, and we would have been bathing in the sweet aura of occult information that we’ve traveled through the frozen tundra of Snowfrica for. This moment, promised to be the accumulated effort of what was a years worth of blood, sweat, and marijuana. Then something happened.

“Holy shit.” Ben said. “They’re patting people down at security.”

“So what?” I said.

“I have seven joints in my jacket.” Ben said. We turned and left out the same we came. The security guards. Two brothers that had already made eye contact with me, also exchanged the patented upward nods that brown people exchange with each other. And so ended our quest to get into the British library. Sure, we could have easily come back on another day without so much weed, but if you knew us, you knew that wasn’t going to happen. We would move on to easier targets.

“Let’s go find Rob,” Ben said.

The Duke’s Head was a bar that lived up to its name. It had a unique charm about it. With its light green walls, wooden stools and tables, pretty candles, strategically placed crotch level fire extinguisher, and less than reasonable prices, it looked like a traditional British Pub, shit out another less traditional British Pub, which shit out a third, even less traditional British Pub.

“Which pile is Duke’s Head?” I heard a voice say from behind us. This was Rob Rider Hill. I didn’t expect him to be psychic, I also didn’t expect him to be this skinny in person.

If you haven’t seen Rob Rider Hill, he’s a strikingly handsome fellow who could probably dive through the center of a honey nut cheerio without breaking it. He’s also intense as fuck.

“Well, you gonna answer my question or not?” Rob said. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

“The third pile,” I said.

“Yeah.” Rob said. “That’s what we were going for.”

“Rob!” Ben said. “So nice to meet you!” To say Ben was enthusiastic about meeting Rob doesn’t exactly tell the entire story. Seeing Ben and Rob together was like seeing two long lost twin brothers finding each other after several years of separation. Did I feel like a 3rd wheel? Dude, for this bromance, I wasn’t even in the same vehicle. These two Snowfricans were made for each other.

It took all of three minutes for them to start talking about the occult. We already had a table full of drinks. Another thing about Rob is that he is pretty much good at everything. Cooking, music, tarot, rolling joints, esoteric shit, but his most endearing quality is the one thing I respect above all other qualities, telling the truth.

“You know Jose, you’re short, bald, and kind of funny looking, but you’ve got a lot of confidence.” Rob said.

“Enough about him,” Ben said. “I got you a little something.”

Ben handed Rob the demon. After a couple of more drinks we stepped outside for our hourly joint which had suddenly become our European tradition. In this state, we could start talking about some real shit.

“You boys ready for the show tomorrow?” Rob said.

“Hell yeah we are.” I said. Ben was not so sure.

“Well, you better be. The venue will be accessible around 7pm. So don’t be late.” Rob said. “We got magicians coming in from everywhere including Lori and Jo Sims. If I were you two, I’d start rehearsing now.”

“Rehearsal?” Ben said as we both looked at each other. “Yeah. We’d better get on that.”

Just one more day to the show, and we weren’t even close to the illuminati…. yet.

Next: the 33rd Parallel live show: Io Pan!

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David Icke: The Turd In The Punch Bowl

David Icke: The Turd In The Punch Bowl

If you haven’t heard of David Icke, he’s a “conspiracy theorist” whose combative debating style and often spectacular claims have made him both the subject of ridicule and fascination over the last twenty odd years. 
When it comes to conspiracy theories, you really haven’t heard anything yet until you’ve heard David Icke.

Illuminati?

Training wheels.

JFK assassination?

Kids stuff.

Roswell?

You really like wasting your time, don’t you?

How about ancient shape shifting reptilians from another dimension controlling the world through an elite bloodline (like the British Royal Family) who use the moon (which is an artificial construct) to direct a reality altering frequency from Saturn that hides their reptilian nature from us? “They Live” style.


If you are an aspiring conspiracy theorist, or an Alex Jones for that matter, you really have nothing on David Icke. Because if he is willing to say that, what could anyone do or say to shame him? And here’s the thing; why should David Icke be ashamed? He gets paid a good wage to do what he loves most, slander people, say crazy shit, travel the world, and be the center of attention. 

To write this post I consulted the all knowing Wikipedia. But I got bored of that really fast and just started watching old videos of him. To be fair, there seems to be just as many videos of David Icke as there are on Michael Jordan. Certainly more of him talking about himself or his beliefs (and defending them) than there are of people like Aleister Crowley and Jack Parsons, or even more contemporary figures like Terrance McKenna and Robert Anton Wilson. The former two men who seem to personify the kind of evil, alien, occult conspiracy David Icke is trying to warn us against. And let’s be clear, I’m not saying that there isn’t an evil, alien, occult conspiracy, I’m just saying that David Icke is completely convinced that there is one, and most of us are not. I also asked some of the mega minds over CMG for their opinions. 

I could have picked up one of David Icke’s books, but I can’t picture myself sitting through any of them just to get a better idea of why he thinks the Queen of England is a lizard. But if you can, by all means,  knock yourself out.  Perhaps, if the comparison was a metaphor of some kind. But that isn’t the case here. (Or is it?) 

Looking back at David Icke’s career, the one thing that stands out is the progression. We go from here to there fairly quickly. He starts off by getting some type of vision proclaiming that he is the son of God. After that, he finds himself in South America receiving another vision, somehow downloading the real truth into his brain and “waking him up” to the realities, or in this case, unrealities of the world around him.

Now, David, seems to have forgotten (okay, not completely) that he is the son of God. And has instead propelled himself into the forefront of even crazier sounding ideas that’ll get you ridiculed by even the most hardened, unreliable conspiratorial narrators. 

Like the aforementioned Alex Jones, who once compared David Icke’s rhetoric to finding a “turd in a punch bowl.” Jones, has come around on Icke and now counts him as a friend, but they got off to a rocky start. 

Then there are the charges of anti-semitism. Which seem pretty obvious to some being that Jews have been subjected to reptilian slander for hundreds of years. David Icke’s bigotry is more sophisticated than calling someone a kike. His slander is vague, with the exception of the reptilian talk. He will talk around it and take the Anti-Zionist angle, and even sprinkle in “some, not all” rhetoric along the way to further throw you off the trail. But if you listen, it’s there. I would go as far to say that he’s embraced the literal reptilian angle to avoid charges of anti-semitism. Problem is, some of remember those anti-Jew rants.

It’s really hard to appreciate David Icke’s good points with all this other shit circulating around him. I could say that he is an eloquent speaker who brings a lot of confidence to his lectures. He handles interviewers like a champ as well. And he’s now a master at deflecting the reptilian skepticism he faces at the beginning of every mainstream media interview he does. I also applaud his willingness to tell the elite families to go fuck themselves. However, if I were to weigh the good and the bad, I would say that there is much more bad here.