I can’t help wondering if America is on some collective, weird ass hippy acid trip of self- discovery. Consulting pages from the Almanac of Weirdness I can’t determine if Donald Trump is just another manifestation of the trickster or a demiurge made flesh. I’m leaning toward demiurge in all its malign, orange faced bluster. It’s possible that the bronzer Trump is using is leaching poison into his blood via his face.
Tricksters aren’t necessarily benevolent, but they lead us to awareness if we endure. A demiurge imprisons – enslaves – other beings forcing homage to their twisted egos. Trump has that whole, “Behold, I’m a jealous God and you shall have no gods before me,” sensibility rather than a Coyote or a Loki leading the warrior to freedom ethos. It’s hard to say whether Trump is more Yaldabaoth or angry blowfish. It might be wise to stay away from the sushi for a while.
Somewhere, Sophia is weeping quietly into her morning coffee. Given the current state of the union there may be more bourbon than coffee in her coffee. Hillary is behind the bar serving up drinks with a tired, yet smug look of satisfaction on her face. She isn’t saying, “I told you so,” but she sure as hell is thinking it.
Hillary might be Sophia and not the bartender. She could be both in that confusing, nonsensical Thunder Perfect Mind contrariness that is part and parcel of her public persona. She’s wise mother and hated ball busting bitch that even feminists have taken issue with, although all but, Camille Paglia seem to have forgotten. Dr. Paglia is underappreciated by many so- called feminists. That’s too bad. She doesn’t need empowering. She’s a powerful force in her own right and one that I respect.
Women don’t need to be empowered. You already have the power. It has been increasing in leaps and bounds since 1920, thanks to our nation’s grandmothers and great grandmothers. Stop telling your daughter’s (yourselves for that matter) that you are being oppressed by a patriarchy. That exists only in your mind. Calling America, a patriarchy is akin to whining about the Vatican being the last vestige of the Holy Roman Empire – irrelevant and who gives two shits anyway? Our duality is awash in false equivalencies pretending to be paradoxical truth.
Only you are preventing yourself from doing and having what you want. If you believe otherwise you have no power and no amount of sloganeering and shouting down your hated opposition will ever empower you. How you feel is also irrelevant. Your preferred identify is your perfect prison. Big Whitey only argues with you because it keeps you enslaved. “This is beautiful,” says Big Whitey as he lights his fat cigar with a crisp new one-hundred-dollar bill. He hopes you never figure this out and thus awaken into your fullness.
“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.”
Decode this axiomatic occult statement and take your place on the thrones of the Archons.
Stop obsessing over that rapist in the Oval office. Many of you have voted for a rapist yourself and you reelected him to a second term; lest you forget the sexual antics of one William Jefferson Clinton. Your objections to that statement falls on deaf, uncaring ears. All I hear is that you prefer your rapist over the rapist currently pretending to be President. Just stop it.
The point of power is always within you. Let’s set aside these political rape fantasies or, if you insist on keeping at them, examine the archetypal messages encoded therein. You object to Trump because he’s gleefully vulgar. He also used the word pussy. Feminists hate it when we use the word pussy. Clinton was still grabbing pussy, he just had the good sense to not get caught on tape taking about it. Therefore, we can be justified in ignoring what happened. Today if you must use the word pussy you spell it like this, p**sy. It’s like Judaism and G-d. Let’s face it, P**sy is G-d for many of us. The drive to scatter seed wide and far in the quest to perpetuate our species until the dire end is strong in us.
The same goes for the word cunt, which far more powerful word than pussy. Pussy is purely sexual. Its women objectified to their lowest common denominator. Cunt is powerful. If a man calls you a cunt you can rest assured he feels threatened. He knows he’s lost and he has nothing left to fight with. The insulted woman has been victorious. She just needs to recognize it and go for the kill. Cunts are warriors. We must spell cunt this way, c*nt. We’re not fooling anyone, but I guess it makes us feel more civilized.
Back to Hillary.
The more radical feminists maligned Mrs. Clinton over her treatment of Monica Lewinsky. I’ve never held it against her. Even for an experienced politician used to doing damage control and spinning current events to her truth, Bill’s affair with his young White House intern was a very public humiliation. It had to be answered for. I don’t necessarily condone it – mostly because it wasn’t my humiliation – but I do understand it. Sometimes justice must be set aside and your enemy dealt with harshly and without compunction. Let’s also forget that Mrs. Clinton is also a human being – a mother and wife – which informs her public life intimately. I am not sure I would have acted any better – Hell, I know I wouldn’t.
All these erstwhile feminists, except Dr. Paglia and a select very few along with her, chose to overlook Mrs. Clinton’s treatment of Lewinsky. It makes no difference to me. I like Mrs. Clinton and I voted for her. I moved my support from Bernie to Hillary very early on. I thought it the wiser choice and think so now. Bernie’s democratic socialism is outdated.
Now we move on much in the same way that Monica Lewinsky has moved on. I really like her too. She embodies one of Nietzsche’s great axioms of self-overcoming: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I certainly don’t blame her for her youthful indiscretion. I had a few of my own involving older women when I was a young, wide eyed school boy entering the beguiling world of adulthood. I once had to climb out the window of my best friend’s mother buck naked. Power and sex dazzle. Don’t judge. Do behold her becoming.
My essay digresses terribly thanks to my disordered mind. I will make one last point about Hillary Clinton. This time in the negative. She failed spiritually (politically a different story maybe) because she was too busy measuring words and trying to be all things to all people when she wasn’t busy deflecting Trump’s insane bombast with attempts at wit. Mrs. Clinton is the master of the back pedal. If you don’t believe me recall what happened when she misspoke and said, “All lives matter” instead of pandering to the Black Lives Matter movement. This was Kerry vs. Trump all over again: a candidate and a party with no message other than we hate this GOP dude.
What Mrs. Clinton needed to do was channel her Margaret Thatcher; Margaret Thatcher in a leather pencil skirt, starched white blouse, dominatrix stilettos and accessorized with a wicked looking riding crop. America needs discipline. We are a bunch of petulant teenagers with no sense of reality. We’re just spoiled brats. She needed to crack our asses a good one.
As I contemplate my image of the archetypal Clinton forcing the archetypal Trump to fellate her 8-inch stiletto heels or using them to do some seriously dangerous testicle popping I have answered my previous question. Trump is all demiurge. He’s all angry, wounded child made lonely and insane by his mother Sophia’s abandonment. Sophia – Mrs. Clinton – can’t even bear to look at the twisted little godling her arrogance gave birth to.
Out of his fear and loneliness Trump- Yaldabaoth creates the shimmering bauble of this world and entraps the otherwise free souls of the cosmos so that he may have friends to play with. However, grand the palace is if it’s made from excrement it will only be an edifice of shit. We must leave the castle and venture back out into the playground of the God above Gods. We’re all playing at a game that no longer works for anyone. Not even Big Whitey.
We must give up our orthodoxies to succeed. Liberals have been attuned to social justice and for good reasons. Unfortunately, our good intentions have caused us to abandon the cause of liberty mistaking dignity in identity and equity. We are killing our world with ideologies. Feminism, libertarianism, conservativism, socialism, anarchism, capitalism and everything else must be set ablaze. These are the prisons of our own devising. We rely overly much on the government to do for us what we can do for ourselves through mutual collaboration. Think of it this way. Legislators enact laws. They regulate behavior. Then they create a legal system of enforcement to ensure that these rules are followed. Rules are always created and enforced by the people they benefit the most. We should be careful just what rules we agree to live under. They all carry with them unintended consequences.
Now I’m getting preachy. It’s time to stop.
The crux of my heresy is that politics won’t be the solution. Democracy is too important to be left in the hands of the typical voter. We are all the typical voter- you and me. It is a trick of the demiurge, this ugly, orange would be god that makes us think otherwise. The soul that liberates itself learns that it is not unique, it’s not special and the world doesn’t need it. The world got along with them before they came to be and it will continue its merry way once they are dead and gone or liberated. To be in the world is to belong to the demiurge. It’s an agreement to live by his terms. The god of this world’s plan for your life may just be cancer or something worse, servitude.
How the demiurge came to rule our present reality I’m not sure. I’ve stopped blaming evangelical Christians. It’s not really their fault. They worship a war god after all. They don’t understand all this Prince of Peace bullshit. The Peace of God comes after you cut a bloody swath through Canaan. First war, then the land flowing with milk and honey. They were dazzled just as we all are.
Godly, though Jesus may have been in spirit, his body died like that of a man. His bowels loosened and he crapped himself while sporting a final hard on in a farewell salute to this world of blood, bone and excrement. The real Jesus hovered above the meat pupped dying slowly by crucifixion laughing at the unnecessary spectacle of it all. Let’s follow suit.
That sound you hear is my thighs slapping hard against the flabby, white ass of your orthodoxies. I’m pulling your hair as I grunt, “Fuck you ‘isms’. Fuck you ‘ology’s’. Who’s your daddy now?”
Who’s your fucking daddy?
I am Abraxas.
So are you.
Our adventure begins…