Our subject is the recent riot in Vancouver, Canada and le grand baiser that is being fronted to mitigate the agonizing social malaise that is the basis of that riot. This now universal image and positive cosmic cypher is a fake, a staged event. It is very much a fairy tale, meant to allay the growing fear of social and civil fragility. It is an occult message.
|Oh, it happened, all right! But where?|
The depth of messaging is extensive, as it is connected to pre-existing forms dating to antiquity. Enough to fill a book, but we shall focus only on the following salient points...
- Catholics vs. Protestants
- The Dutch Connection
- The Hus of Windsor
- Wills and Kate visit Canada
- Israel Blues
We will not condescend that this kiss-off is a legitimately organic occurrence, caught on camera by an intrepid shutterbug. Such discussions are rightly confined to the realm of non-fiction. The fact that real reality is fiction is an accepted premise of our venture. Non-fiction is literally for the kids.
OK, to get right to it, what is shown in this erotical planking prank is Wills and Kate getting down to "bid-ness time". Because of the clarity of this manifestation, we suspect that the act pictured probably takes place at some kind of Eyes Wide Shut type of Sex Ritual Ball. The same sort of act is also depicted in the very final scene of A Clockwork Orange, where Alex wrestles with a naked girl as onlookers dressed in finery cheer on and applaud. Yet another likewise scene is staged in the Keanu Reeves vehicle The Devil's Advocate. To inflate our fiction to its maximum proportion, we aver that this union of Prince and Princess has resulted in the conception of a Moonchild and potential World Leader Anti-Christ.
Vancouver, Canada is a Dutch Settlement and bastion of Dutch Maritime Admiralty. The entire province of British Columbia is the safe zone for every kind of radical Protestantism and most notably those of Dutch tradition. William of Orange, ancient monarch of England and rightful Prince of Orange, successor to Dutch territories, fought Catholic influence fiercely throughout his reign. As we continue, please keep in mind that the current House of Windsor is the cryptic ancestry of the Princes of Orange. Windsor is a play on words meaning Wind of Gold, Wind of Orange and Wind of the Sun. William Windsor is to be the Sun King.
Boston, Mass. is an entrenched Roman Catholic magnet.
Thus we see that the Vancouver/Boston Stanley Cup Finals are in fact the continuation of a discourse that reaches back at least to the Dutch Reformation and the divisive schism between the RC's and the British Protestants.
For six games the series is terse and polite. Each team wins only on its own home ground. By the God given science of statistics, Vancouver has rights to the series. The final game is on Vancouver Ice, a privilege earned because of the team's overall league standings for the season. But the Catholic Bruins have a slap up their ample sleeve and turn about the series for Stanley Cup Glory. In yer face, Martin Luther!
To add insult upon the inglorious heathen Protestants, the Boston Altar Boys have prepped and prayed to capitalize on Vancouver's rep to riot when they lose at hockey. City planners have done everything possible to avoid this outcome, but the Jesuit insurgents, olds hands at this game and "disguised" as factions of Black Anarchists, aka "drunken Irish assholes", tear the shit out of beautiful downtown Van.
Something must be done!
Well it just so happens the timing is right for a touche distinctment grande.
Kate Middleton is nobodies fool. She knows going in that sooner or later, she'll be totally starkers, humping Wills madly at some weird druid ritual. And right out in front of the Mean Old Queen and her cronies from the Royal Garter, all of them naked and wrinkly, chanting some Satanic mumbo-jumbo, playing Pan flutes as they masturbate in rhythmic unison. Kate knows the game all right, but she has been a bit shy since the wedding and the Queen is getting a anxious to see some action.
The trouble in Vancouver is too much to ignore, and the Queen lays down the law. A real victory is required, to show those uptight faggots at the Vatican what's what in the World of Magick, and to restore some peace of mind to the violated Vancouverites. Ritual Sex is the solution.
Love conquers all and as Wills and Kate begin their horny, thorny embrace, and by the power of Magick denied by muggles everywhere, the lovely couple become manifest in a ray of light out amid the burning terrors of post-loss riot, right there on the streets of Vancouver. Of course, the blessed event is the conception of the child that will unite the world in peace as his father William Windsor, the rightful Prince of Orange will unite Europe and drive out the Roman Perversion for once and for all time. But for today, for Vancouver, it is just good Pubic Relations.
The next part of the clue comes from the so-called "non-fictional" account of the photo, given by the media. We are told the young lady stumbled from a collision with a "police shield". Shield is the term given by policemen for their badges. These shields are commonly six-pointed stars, especially in the Continental American West. And of course, the famed color of coppers is as "boys in blue". The coded message is that the girl is fallen upon by the Shield of David. David, the lover, who is the Seed of Christ and thus the seed of his antibody. The Shield is the numerical succession of of the three magnitudes of 6 that equal "six hundred threescore and six". 666. There are 6 (six points on the star, each equal to 1 and therefore Alef ), 60 (six triangles, each a Hebrew Yod and each equal to 10), and 600 (the central hex, which is final Mem when projected into 3d and thus equal to 600). It is interesting to note that to pronounce this sequence with Mem as a final would be "aaaaaayyyyyym", or an ecstatically articulated "I AM".
It seems that for the moment, some hope of Jerusalem's return to the shores of England's green and pleasant land remain on course, if somewhat tenuous in certainty. And we can all be sure the rotten Romans aren't finished yet. Old Papa Razzi is buckled in for a fight, and has his own miracle in store, snug as a bug in a trapezoid, beatified and fit to be cloned. A box of calcified Poop.
Of course, the author of this article does not endorse the Priesthood or the Empire or any of their nasty and highly entertaining trickery. We love to hate and hate to love them both with equal fervor.
We only recommend that it is all fiction and to stay tooned droogies, stay tooned.