Crash Gordon and the Mysteries of Kingsburg (73 page)

“I’m pretty sure they had their share of control issues, too,” says Gordon, thinking about his mother.

“Yes, but sexual repression wasn’t one of them,” Lloyd says. “As I mentioned earlier, certain Catholic priests are in the habit of molesting little boys, but nothing is being done about it. The Church just keeps covering it up, transferring the guilty parties from church to church so they can go on molesting victim after victim. That’s happening because some of the most illustrious (and supposedly celibate) leaders in the hierarchy and bureaucracy of the Roman Catholic Church also happen to be sexual deviants–and they refuse to take any disciplinary actions for fear of exposure. They don’t want the public to see what sexual repression has made of them, no more than those child-molesting priests do.”

“That’s so twisted,” Twinker says, “I can hardly believe it.”

“Unfortunately, it’s true. The stories are already creeping into the newspapers.”

“Yeah, but aren’t the newspapers in on this whole game, too?” Gordon asks.

“Newspapers have certainly been used to promote evil agendas,” Lloyd admits, “but a free press is still one of our last, best hopes for preserving our democracy. And although American democracy might be more myth than a reality these days, evil hasn’t completely overrun the country. There are good men and women in the Catholic Church, and good people who choose to become journalists.”

“But if the guys at the top who own the newspapers refuse to run their stories, then how will we ever find out about this stuff so we can do something about it?”

“Messages get slipped between the lines, or sometimes journalists find smaller venues. Somehow, the word gets out. What you should always remember is that there are far more people like yourselves–people of good intent–than there are of them.”

“I’m not sure my own intentions are always that great,” Gordon confesses.

“You’re still young, and it’s a struggle, to be sure…” Lloyd says, “but trust me, you and your friends are already well along the path in the right direction.”

“But not me!” Jimmy pipes up from the backseat.

“No, perhaps not you so much, you little shithead,” Lloyd jokes with him. “Even with the top down, I can still smell that hideous thumping fart of yours.”

“That’s because I just let out another one,” Jimmy says with a malicious grin. “It was SBD this time.
Silent, But Deadly
.”

“Charming,” says Lloyd.

D.H., Twinker, and Skip cover their noses and groan.

By the time the air clears, they’re six miles further up the road, approaching San Simeon and Hearst Castle. Zebras graze among a herd of cattle in the barbed wire fenced pastures to their right. Lloyd points to the high white castle on a distant hill and says: “Now there’s a monument to alien-inspired megalomania and journalism used for evil ends. Have you heard about the cable that William Randolph Hearst sent to Frederic Remington in Cuba before he goaded the U.S. into the Spanish-American War? Hearst said, ‘You furnish the pictures, and I’ll furnish the war.’ History shows that he got what he wanted. And so did his unseen controllers.”

“Did a bunch of aliens start flying around after that war, too?” asks Skip.

“Just prior to it, actually…” Lloyd answers. “There was a wave of mysterious ‘airship’ sightings being reported across the U.S. in 1897, while in nearby Cuba hundreds of thousands of ‘rebels’ were dying in concentration camps run by the occupying Spanish forces. The Spanish-American War was declared in February of 1898 after the sinking of the USS
Maine
in Havana Harbor–a false flag terror event that may have provided later inspiration for Pearl Harbor. But as wars go, the Spanish-American War was relatively minor… especially in light of what came after. It was really just a convenient excuse for the U.S. to take control of the Philippines for reasons having to do with the opium trade.
That
, however, is beside the point. The point I was trying to make was that Hearst and his well-compensated crew of yellow journalists were reliable agitators for war from about 1897 onward.”

So now Gordon knows the true meaning of that phrase “yellow journalists.” They’re agitators for war–purveyors of jingoism,
Schadenfreude,
and disinformation. Flack men for the Anunnaki.

“Okay, here’s another thing I’m kind of confused about,” says Gordon. “You say that interdimensional aliens, or the Lam, feed off wars and human fear and suffering–and so do those old Mesopotamian gods whose name you won’t let me say, for some dumb reason…. But what about the egregores? I mean, don’t some of
them
get stronger from fear and suffering, too? And if an alien or the CIA’s egregore was really controlling Mark David Chapman, then why didn’t he pray to
that
thing before he shot John Lennon, instead of praying to Satan?”

“Well, you have to understand…” Lloyd says, taking things slowly, “Satanism, at its core, is really about the manipulation of another person’s consciousness and the theft of their life force–or
orgone
, as Wilhelm Reich called it. And Satan, of course, is a malevolent egregore that has taken on an independent existence of its own. The Satan egregore captures and absorbs the orgone of others–and puts it to no good use, I might add…. So when Mark David Chapman was praying to Satan, he might as well have been praying to the Lam or to any other interdimensional entity that feeds on the life force of others. Archons, Egregores, the Watchers, Those Who Were Cast Down–in a way, all those names are interchangeable. They all refer to something similar. In this case, it was an entity that came here with the intent to feast on the blood and orgone of John Lennon. I can use a more familiar term for that entity, if that will make it easier for you to visualize:

“We’re talking about a fallen angel.”

“So fallen angels are running global corporations and giving orders to the CIA?” Gordon is having a hard time believing that.

“And those angels are getting off on assassinations?” D.H. is equally incredulous.

“That is…
so…
great!”
Jimmy exclaims.

“You shouldn’t act so surprised,” Lloyd chides Gordon. “After all, you’re the one who’s studied Gnosticism. The Gnostics suspected something like this all along.”

“Yeah, but when you put it like that–
fallen angels
–all of a sudden it just sounds so weird… and, I don’t know…
Christian
. And then they want our blood?”

“Yes, fear and suffering makes them stronger, so they can physically manifest in our world through the interdimensional portals that have been opened. Then, once they’re here, the orgone energy they absorb directly from the blood of ritual sacrifices allows them to maintain physical form.”

“Bloodsucking angels…” Skip muses aloud. “That’s seriously fucked up.”

“In a way, the situation is to our advantage,” Lloyd explains. “You see, if they don’t get that blood, they have to turn right around and head back to the inner realms. The fallen angels really aren’t supposed to have much to do with us here, so it’s difficult for them to spend time on Earth without revealing themselves for the vampires they’ve truly become. We hide from them in the material world until we’re spiritually strong enough to confront them on more level ground.”

“Yeah, but from the way you describe things, they’re having way too much fun with us already,” Gordon complains. “I mean, you make it sound like there’s so much evil around that we’re practically soaking in it.”

“Well, what can I tell you, Gordon?” Lloyd shrugs. “Life is a river–and that river is full of lost sharks.”

□ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □

You could be forgiven for assuming that Lloyd is getting off on some kind of sick mind-trip that involves scaring the piss out of gullible teenagers (to paraphrase Dorothy on her way through the spooky forest of Oz: “Vampires and Archons and demons–oh my!”). That assumption, however, would be wrong. While Lloyd, on his fat surface, might seem like a walking, talking sausage casing filled up with nine different kinds of asshole, I can assure you that in the murky, polluted depths of his soul he genuinely wants to help. He just has a daimonic way of going about it.

You should actually give Lloyd major points for trying to pull back the curtain on consensus reality and show Gordon and those guys what the Dark Brotherhood wants to keep hidden. After all, the world won’t get any better unless darkness is exposed to the light. Most abuse happens when the abuser thinks no one is watching. Elitists exploit the masses while hiding behind their multimedia smokescreens. The CIA sends its assassins in the guise of ordinary slobs like Mark David Chapman. But when everybody can see what’s going on, the bad stuff has to stop–or at least slow down some.

The trouble with conveying the truth about the realms of deep politics and high weirdness is that most people just can’t get past the cognitive dissonance (their brain’s childish way of shutting down and saying, in effect: “I don’t want to know about all this horrible stuff! It’s too much!”). But even once you’ve gotten past the cognitive barriers to entry, once you’ve begun to understand just how bad the situation really is, you still have to figure out how to do something about it. And that’s hard... but it gets easier as more people find out about it. So the First Rule of Fighting Evil (or confronting Archons or integrating the shadow or whatever…) is simply this:

Find out what they don’t want you to know and spread the word.

Let me give you an example: You know all about the Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover, right? How he ruled the FBI as its Director for almost fifty years. How he lived with his mom for a good portion of that time and then spent his last four decades in an intimate relationship with a guy named Clyde Tolson. (But he wasn’t gay! J. Edgar Hoover persecuted the hell out of people who were gay!) How he obsessively built up dossiers full of incriminating evidence against friends and enemies alike–using wiretaps, buggings, burglaries… whatever he deemed necessary. How he then used those dossiers for purposes of blackmail whenever the mood suited him. How he
really
went overboard in the mid-fifties, when he started violating the constitutional rights of U.S. citizens by spying on them with COINTELPRO, a counterintelligence program designed to “expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize” the activities of so-called “subversive” groups and their individual members. Targets of COINTELPRO included the Socialist Workers Party, the Students for a Democratic Society, Martin Luther King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference, and almost any anti-war protestor who could be considered a significant asset to the New Left–including Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, and John Lennon. Techniques used by COINTELPRO agents and their paid informants included covert infiltration, psychological warfare, dirty tricks, false arrests, harassment through corrupt legal systems, unfairly targeted tax audits, “accidental” violence, brute force, and (of course…) assassinations.

And how do we even know that COINTELPRO existed? It was kept secret until March 8th, 1971, when a group of left-wing radicals calling themselves “The Citizens’ Commission to Investigate the FBI” broke into an FBI field office in Media, Pennsylvania, and stole hundreds of the agency’s files, which were then passed along to news agencies that published the juiciest extracts. Shortly thereafter, J. Edgar Hoover was forced to publicly declare the reign of COINTELPRO over. Then he died in 1972, most likely from aggravation.

Let us now spend a moment in silent praise of certain left-wing radicals….

Of course, the FBI didn’t stop spying on U.S. citizens after Hoover died. That would’ve been about as likely as every crooked politician suddenly deciding not to run for office after Nixon resigned. The FBI just got sneakier and the Republicans elected Reagan and Bush. And who knows what happened to those left-wing radicals? You can bet the FBI wasn’t planning to just leave them alone. Maybe some of them went into hiding, like Abbie. Maybe some of them made the transition from yippies to yuppies, like Jerry. Maybe some of them met violent ends, like John…. (Let’s hope not.)

Violence is pretty much an unsolvable riddle while you’re spending time on Earth. It’s like a fucked-up Zen koan. You can’t just be a coward and roll over when someone threatens you with violence, but you can’t meet violence with more violence, either. Martin Luther King eloquently explained why when he said:

“The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.”

Of course, we all know what happened to Martin Luther King….

So what’s the best way to deal with violence? Mahatma Gandhi’s path of non-violent resistance looked like it had potential–and he accomplished great things with it, like the independence of India in 1947. But we all know what happened to Gandhi…. When a guy goes around saying there are lots of causes he’d die for, but none that he’d kill for, I guess some people think he’s just asking to be assassinated. But we should also remember that Gandhi said this:

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of love and truth has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall–think of it, ALWAYS.”

Anyway, fuck assassins and their bone-deep dumb methods of dealing with people who are superior to them in every important way. From the perspective of your immortal spirit, knowing that consciousness survives on the Other Side, do you really want to live in a world where some dark-minded dickhead gets to take you down whenever you try to do the right thing? No, I didn’t think so… which brings us to the Second Rule of Fighting Evil:

Don’t play by the rules of their games.

So speak up, do what needs to be done, but don’t make yourself an easy target for the shooting gallery. And don’t go to war, kids. Avoid all needle drugs (Abbie Hoffman said that first, then he added: “The only dope worth shooting is Nixon”). As a general rule, try to avoid becoming addicted to anything, if you can. Don’t become stockbrokers or gamblers or mindless consumers of products you don’t need. Corporatism will collapse if we don’t buy what they’re selling–their weapons and waste, their fear-spreading memes, their self-serving versions of history. Lloyd is absolutely right when he talks about the fascist tendencies of corporate egregores. But don’t just take my word for it. Benito Mussolini, the 20th-Century Poster Boy for Fascism, said it best: