MY WIFE has a working theory that Hadley men are incapable of creating women. This is undoubtedly due to her careful observation that several generations of the Hadley family tree have only produced a lineage of sons. We’ve looked. We cannot find a natural born female anywhere in our ranks. Only sons. Apparently, Hadley men have little choice but to enlist women as hired-on help. It’s become somewhat of a wager between us. I am insistent upon having a daughter. And so far, Mrs. Hadley has proven me wrong every time.
So, I am potentially incapable of fathering a daughter. Now that we have gotten that out of the way, I can only gaze around at the commercial options thrust upon girls today and attempt to scrub away the distaste with a mild degree of civility. As the father of boys—likewise raised in a family of boys—I have often imagined my daughter as someone to drink tea with. Otherwise, while I cannot claim to comprehend the psychology of little girls, let alone womanhood, and as the subject of this paper, why they are obstinately determined to love unicorns, I do consider myself somewhat researched on the topic.
Well, no. Not unicorns, per say—
But I do know a thing or two about the Mysteries from whence they derive. Read practically any article of mine. Let’s pick a random one. “They Call Her the Black Dahlia.” Go with that. Or I’ll save you the trouble of reading and give away the ending. The Mystery religion is a sex cult that has infiltrated every possible level of society. They pass your laws. They educate you. They entertain you. They brew the very coffee you drink. They even run the toy companies. This is how we know it’s the end game, because they’re bringing everything hidden out into the open, thereby initiating everyone. When E.T. lit up Elliot’s third eye and told him he’d be right here, the Ascended Master wasn’t kidding.
And yes, even unicorns play a part in it.
If you have a girl in your household, then you too have undoubtedly been inundated with them. Perhaps it started with the birthday cake. You thought it was a cute idea to make something mythical, and spotted far less than Sasquatch, the theme of her party. The invites and gift bags were unicorns. Even the balloon animals were unicorns. And then the gifts started piling up. Unicorn. Unicorn. Unicorn. You thought you were safe with the Barbie unicorn and something called ‘Poopise Slime Surprise Unicorn,’ but before you even had time to blink, you were tucking your daughter into unicorn bed sheets while she was wearing unicorn pajamas. There were unicorn slippers waiting for when she awoke, and on the weekends, unicorn ug boots. Come autumn, you sent her off to her first day of school with a unicorn backpack, complete with a unicorn notebook and a unicorn eraser to top off the unicorn pencil. Even her sweater and her earmuffs have unicorns on them. In a few years, if she hasn’t already, her fingertips will be colored with glittery unicorn nail polish.
You know that scene in Charade where Carey Grant and Audrey Hepburn turn in every cardinal direction at the Paris market, finally realizing the significance of her murdered husbands hidden fortune? Stamps. Stamps. Stamps. Stamps. It was on the envelope all along.
This is like that. You’re a father of daughters, and the secret to their initiation all along was unicorns.
The unicorn goes all the way back to Babylon. There’s your first clue. If you’re entering Babylon by any one of its gates and you see one, then know that it is part of your initiation.
Now, let’s go ahead and get this out of the way, because we’re probably already thinking it. In modern sexual terms, a unicorn refers to a bisexual woman who is willing to swing with an established couple. Both of them. And I know what you’re probably already writing a rebuttal. They simply corrupted the unicorn is your reply, precisely how the LGBTQ Movement corrupted the rainbow. It’s interesting, now that you bring it up, because the gender unicorn is being used to sell your children on the rainbow—if you get my drift. The process of indoctrination is purely alchemical. Speaking of which—alchemy, that is—the unicorn was associated with the male-female symbol or androgynous mercury long before transgenders ruined a good thing. So, there you go.
Let’s put it this way. The unicorn cannot be separated from the Virgin. There’s your next clue. And yes, I may be prone to spelling errors and typos, but that’s not one of them. The V is capitalized with purpose. Remember Babylon and your first initiation through the gate of the gods? There has never been a time in human history when the unicorn, sex, and the mother goddess were not adjoined at the tit and hip.
The Renaissance was especially skilled at masking Occult knowledge with a thinly-veiled Christian facade. Even before then, in the Middle-ages, the unicorn could incite visions of a wild beast which cannot be captured. The unicorn can only surrender. It takes a virgin. The virgin must be beautiful, and according to some legends—undressed. Only then will the untamable creature come out of the woodwork in order to thrust itself upon her. She will offer the unicorn her breasts. The creature will suck upon them. She will then open her lap in order that it may recline upon flesh. Only when the woman has grasped its horn for the first time is the creature rendered capturable. According the to the 16th-century Italian poet Natalis Comes, it is the virgin’s sexual embrace which the wild beast desires. The unicorn can only be tamed should innocence expose herself—once and for all.
So, there you have it. V for Virgin. As in—the Queen of heaven.
Oh wait, I forgot to mention that very important detail. In medieval Christian esotericism, the lady was identified with the Virgin Mary. Lady Madonna. Isis. The unicorn the Messiah. The Huntsman, who coaxes the unicorn with the sensual delights of a virgin, is the Holy Spirit acting through the angel Gabriel. Everything in-between is ecstasy. That—and Virgin worship. In Venus and Tannhäuser, English writer Aubrey Beardsley assigned Venus with a pet unicorn, who’s only mate was the queen herself. According to Beardsley, the queen of heaven “commences her day by masturbating the unicorn and drinking his semen as an aperitif before breakfast.”
I know you didn’t ask for that visual, but there it is.
During the Luciferin Enlightenment, the unicorn materialized as a symbol of the coming Messiah—its horn a stand-in for the pineal gland. The Lion and the Unicorn coat of arms testifies to Imperial enlightenment and her future conqueror to come. Its horn is a symbol of the illuminated spiritual nature of an initiate. Spirit of anti-Messiah. But really, there’s nothing new about that. In my paper, “The Copernican Revolution Was a Hoax,” I reminded you that sun worship has always been a cosmic stand-in for the pineal gland; how awakening the pineal gland is akin to enlivening the divine within. You figure somebody in the ancient Mysteries had the bright idea to calculate one plus one makes two by taking Osiris’ penis, in the shape of an obelisk, and strapping it to his forehead. Look at me, ladies! My penis is my third-eye!
The unicorn horn is the best of both worlds.
Manly P Hall said the unicorn’s horn, as a symbol of the pineal gland, was “adopted by the mysteries as a symbol of the illumined spiritual nature of the initiate, the horn with which it defends itself being the flaming sword of the spiritual doctrine against which nothing can prevail.”
That’s pretty intense, Hall.
But it is what it is. Everyone is being initiated back into Babylon these days—even our sons and daughters. And if everything I’ve so far mentioned refuses to incite your fatherly discretion, then let us once more return to the wild beast scenario of its origin and the Virgin who can only once tame it.
The unicorn is free advertisement for pedophilia.