MAYBE I’M JUST talking to myself at this point. I’m simply a researcher. I started this website five years ago in order to present my findings. Back then—in 2015, the talk of the town was Jade Helm and martial law and, as an added bonus, something about how satellites were fake. Today it’s essentially the exact same thing, only Jade Helm has materialized into a little ditty we call the coronavirus. If you look back at my earliest writings, I was far too concerned with insulting people to present my findings. So, I posted family photos and the places we were visiting. But I think the message was clear. We were fleeing California. New World Order occupied territory. We tried to warn people. Get the hell out of there. We knew something was very wrong with the world, but couldn’t make sense of it all.
It’s 2020. Just look at California now.
Any-who, I’m just a researcher. And people get so offended at my findings.
Dare to step off the slave plantation and the other slaves go ape-crazy—Why? Because life will become harder for them with the knowledge that someone has escaped. Not to mention the fact that they have to contend with the reality that they’re still slaves to indoctrination.
Or they can just shake their heads and call the runaway slave a bunch of baby names. A little self-righteous comedy goes a long way in the barracoon.
And speaking of the plantation—I simply cannot bring myself to attend a church, nor do I ever see myself in a situation where I will worship Yahuah, the Most-High, under a steeple again. It’s just not going to happen.
I guess I’m just not into phallus worship.
Church steeples can be traced back thousands of years to ancient Egypt and the Mysteries of Isis. There’s your first red flag. And in case you were wondering about the obelisk—yes, the adolescent rumors are true.
It’s a penis.
Contrarily to most ancient fertility worship, which centered around women, the life-giving Nile River seemingly defied logic by flowing backwards, south to north, and furthermore reversing the known laws of nature by swelling in summer and subsiding in winter, thereby informing much of Egypt’s belief. Essentially, they saw the river itself as Osiris’ sperm. The sperm is important. Osiris was murdered and then brutally mutilated by his brother Seth. Afterwards, Osiris’ wife-sister Isis was able to recover every body part. Well, almost. While employing the fullest of her magical powers, she was able to resurrect her husband from the dead.
But there was one problem.
His penis was not salvageable.
The Queen of heaven then saved her greatest miracle for last. She fashioned a phallus to conceive her son. Horus.
As a phallic symbol, the obelisk honored and celebrated the daily regeneration of the sun god Ra. Plato would later plagiarize the Mysteries and then package our soul’s relationship between heaven and earth as something akin to a hamburger franchise which might be fed to the masses. Most of our church fathers were unashamed Platonists. Do you see where this is leading?
If you can come to understand this story—the birth, death, and re-birth cycle as seen through the Osiris, Horus, and Isis narrative, which is retold yet again in Disney’s The Lion King—then you should have very little problem looking at the world we live in and realize, finally and truly realize, that the Mysteries surround us.
For one, the Copernican Revolution literally derives from it.
At the risk of sounding vulgar, these things need to be said. The obelisk. It’s a penis, everyone.
Steeples—the pointed roofs of churches, have been integrated into church culture since the time of Constantine. His Edict of Milan in 313AD brought Christianity into the Empire’s sheep-fold, rather than the other way around, and by the Council of Nicaea in 325, pagan and Christian symbols were openly blended together. New doctrines, eerily resembling ancient Mystery dogmas, were quickly introduced by men of the cloth. In the centuries to follow, the Catholic church strictly enforced them under penalty of death.
No surprise, there are more obelisks in Rome today than in all of ancient Egypt. Slap a crucifix on top of it and call it 66-Canonical.
I always used to wonder how the Hebrews found it so natural to set up erect-pillars and worship around them. Attempting to pull Yahuah’s congregation away from Baal and Ashtoreth worship was at times nearly impossible. In the days after Asa, third king of the kingdom of Judah, succeeded his father’s throne, the books of 1 Kings and 2 Chronicles record that he did what was right in the sight of Yahuah, like David his great-great grandfather.
For example, he put away the male cult prostitutes from the land and removed all the idols which his fathers had made. He also removed Maacah his mother from being queen mother, due to her dedication to Asherah. Asa went so far as “to cut down her [Aherah’s] horrid image and burn it at the brook Kidron.” Regardless, despite the fact that the heart of Asa was wholly devoted to Yahuah all his days, Kings and Chronicles pointedly remind us that “the high places” remained.
Throughout Israel’s troubled history, the presence of “high places” serve as a type of measuring stick for her morality. These “high places” were essentially pagan shrines and worship centers which the Canaanites, who worshiped Baal as their chief deity, were notoriously known for. Call them whatever you want. Obelisks. Steeples. High places had no bias. They could be found on mountaintops, in valleys, gateways, even city centers.
But are we any different today?
I mean, seriously, has the human condition somehow evolved on the slave plantation? For nearly two-thousand years, the scales have been placed over our eyes. That was us. We were like ancient Israel, who went whoring after other elohim. Our own eyes were darkened. But it’s time to wake up. The Most-High is waking us up.
In Scripture, the warning is clear, and it’s intended for men and women of every age—even our own.
“Neither shall you set thee up a pillar; which Yahuah your Elohim hates.”
Did you catch that? The Most-High hates the Ashtoreth pole; the high place; the obelisk. He absolutely hates it. And that’s why it’s not just a steeple. It’s not just an obelisk. Nor is it simply a phallus.
It’s deeply—deeply spiritual.