The trail of blood through the centuries is an
unerring and infallible mark of their activity.
It covers a period of six thousand years of history. Metatron, aided by Melancthon, have traced a
$500,000 wire transfer from the bank of Commercial Finance in Geneva,
Switzerland. They are contending against
a massive organization of terrorist operatives within the Mainstream
Media. Religious, or more accurately,
Irreligious persecutions in Tunisia and England are linked by this same trail
of blood money. These are acts of terror
and tiresome lectures, a satanic sign in this contemporary dark age. Look for the Ankh sign in her face-an ankh
cross symbolizing sexual intercourse.
The mainstream media does not see the evil here. They are blind. Oblivious.
The Second Amendment was granted to us by
God. I have, you have, we have a God
given right to bear arms. The amendment
is divinely inspired-inerrant and infallible.
An inalienable right, and not for illegal aliens, sneaking into this
country to steal our jobs and our women.
You are an enemy under an umbrella, kicking me in the teeth.
There are machines that can help you to meet
attractive women, sensual women. There’s
music and they sing…it’s great. You’ll love it.
I’m not a poet. I write in
FORTRAN. I compose in Cobol. What was
she wearing? She wears the sun and the
moon. She is clothed in the sky. She hides in the desert where she imagines
that she is secure. The machine pursue
her. It is now or never, close upon the
point of no return. Your world is on fire.
Your world is on fire. Can you see what is happening to her? It is a disaster. The whole world is on fire. This is why she flees: she is soft and
beautiful. She is brittle.
The prophet-the TRUE prophet- is honored to be
mocked on the internet. He has a
feeling. He has an intuitive
appreciation of these things. Korean pop
stars are completely unable to answer the questions that he asks. The AntiChrist will stand trial in a US court
– but not today. Today is he being held
back by the prophets Enoch and Elijah.
MONDAY: And these signs shall follow them that
believe; in my name shall they cast out lawyers and other devils; they shall
speak with new patronizing tongues. They
shall take up serpents. They shall
swallow swords and snakes, and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not
hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick and they shall recover.
Interviewer: Do you believe this?
Interviewer: Do you believe this?
John: Should
I? Dr. Domitian says that he’s been
bitten, that he’s survived over 446 snakebites…but no. I don’t think I believe
him. There’s death in the box. Painful death and long lasting tissue damage.
Interviewer: So you don’t believe it?
Interviewer: So you don’t believe it?
John: No. I think Dr. Domitian has been lying to
me. He lies. I don’t trust him.
TUESDAY: The flood did not kill all living
things. The deluge that missed some of
the Nephilim. Did they cling to the
sides of the Ark? Did they escape on an
ark of their own construction?
The Great Mother, Babylon, came in remembrance
before the Lord God, an apostate, rebellious woman in purple and scarlet. Myriads of precious stones were scattered at
her feet, silver strands were spun into her hair, and flakes of gold drifted
through the air. Despite this, the price
of Gold on the worldwide market is in decline.
She is the mother of harlots, drunken with billions of dollars in blood
money disguised as foreign aid.
This is a cause of wonder to John. He cannot understand it. It is beyond him. He is astonished, for the angels said nothing
to him about her. Why wouldn’t they tell
him? Did they forget? Or were they hiding her from him. And if so, what else were they keeping
secret. He trusted them. They were his friends. No one else would visit him, talk to him like
they did. And now he discovers that
they’re keeping secrets! Lying to him! Misleading him!
The beast that he saw was and is not swimming up
from the bottomless abyss into perdition.
This world is hell. When that
lizard breaches the surface and steps one scaly foot upon dry land, he is setting
foot into hell. And here in hell, this
hell, there are seven hills and seven kings.
Interviewer:
What does that mean? Seven hills and
seven kings?
John: I don’t know. They told us about it at school, something about Rome? There was a dictator, a triumvirate, and an empire. Oh, and the pope. Right?
John: I don’t know. They told us about it at school, something about Rome? There was a dictator, a triumvirate, and an empire. Oh, and the pope. Right?
Interviewer:
I don’t know. You tell me, John. That’s
why we’re here.
John: Overthrow the government is always money in the bank.
John: Overthrow the government is always money in the bank.
Interviewer:
What?
John:
Money in the bank. But I’m broke.
WEDNESDAY: The UFO was an abandoned Russian
satellite. Its booster rockets failed to
fire and it dropped out of orbit, crashing into the Pacific Ocean sometime
early this morning. I’m seeking a
presidential order to have all the pertinent surveillance systems audited for
errors and malfeasance. I just need one
hour, one hour of power with the Beast.
The Kingdoms of Europe have already given their unanimous support for
this investigation. Why won’t the
president drop the pretense and let us know what is going on? They shall hate the harlot and make her
desolate and naked and eat her flesh and burn her with fire. Is one hour too much to ask before all of
this?
When the gods wish to punish us they answer our
prayers. The list of possible targets is disturbing. Air Force patrols have been placed on high
alert. Unidentified planes (not to
mention UFOs) will be shot down without warning or hesitation.
Make war with the Lamb. Make war with Cuba and Puerto Rico. But for God’s sake, try to appear impartial. Make the Whore desolate, strip her naked, and
leave her abandoned on an inflatable life boat on the waves of the Pacific,
drifting aimlessly without food or fresh water, but don’t take sides against
the family. Don’t disparage the
country. Never, on any consideration,
oppose the interests of this great organization.
Tortured and depleted uranium fuel rods are
inadmissible. We will burn her with
fire, with Thorium. Thorium glows blue when it is superheated. Widespread panic and chaos, darkness and
corruption-this is the theology of the end of days. Relics of prophecy, discarded remnants of
the reformation. Her virtue is weak, yet
she is convinced of her invincible righteousness. She retains in her barely
covered bosom a desire for ecclesiastical worship-the prick of the little horn
and she bleeds. She bleeds, but she will
burn.
THURSDAY: Her Spiritualism is astonishing. The real people of the world are astonished,
but it is her elemental power. She calls
upon the wind, the water; she calls upon scorched earth and fire-the fire that
will eventually consume her. We have
intercepted cellular calls between her and her agents in Kuwait. All available American carriers are already
on route to the Gulf of Suez. But put substance over shadow and you will drive
out the counterfeit sheep. She is
clothed in ribbon and wires found in dungeons of stake and blood. She wears the Pope’s tiara. She wears the number 666, and she wears it
with pride. It is not the number of a
man, it is her number. She was offered
the hereditary government of Egypt and Syria, from the Gulf of Suez to the Lake
of Tiberius. The Ottoman fleet is
returned to safe harbor. And where is
the Sultan’s independence? GONE! Who has the Ottoman Empire in her smooth
hands? Her well-manicured nails are
already tracking down our spine.
Make a note of these judgments: the events that
will transpire under the thunder of the sixth trumpet. Call Anastasia. Ask her if you doubt, but
make note of these judgments.
The worship of devils-all demons and dead men
deified-will be brought into the light.
Idols of silver, statues of gold and brass, little gods carved of wood,
and stone, and water, all of them exposed to the sun. Wars need to be declared in public if they
are to be legal wars. No jus in bello in the dark, in
secret. Murders, sorceries, pretend
miracles, fornications and thefts – this is not at all humorous. We are not laughing. Manifest Destiny was an undeclared war
trumpeted in every newspaper from coast to coast. Hordes of Saracens and Turks were loosed upon
the world as a scourge and punishment are nothing compared to what we
deserve. Men suffered but we do not yet
know the lesson thereof.
I’ve been following the angle of prophecy, but I
think that I’m lost. I stumbled
somewhere in Daniel’s 70 weeks. The
little horn, tin horn dictator shouting in my ear, “And some of them of
understanding shall fall. To try them, and purge them and make them white, even
to the time of the end.” The Red Mass
appears here. I’m white with fear. Bloodless. Pale. I’m white, not clean.
Interviewer:
Tell me about the year A.D. 1798.
John:
What can I say?
Interviewer:
I don’t know, John. What can you say?
John: The year 1798 started on a Monday… by the Gregorian calendar, anyway. It was a Friday by the Julian calendar, but I don’t think that means anything.
John: The year 1798 started on a Monday… by the Gregorian calendar, anyway. It was a Friday by the Julian calendar, but I don’t think that means anything.
Interviewer:
Anything else?
John: I
think that was the year that Saint Helveticus hid from the French in Geneva and
Napoleon defeated the Ottomans near the Pyramids. I can’t tell if that was a good year for the
French or not.
It has been said by those who have examined French
records that France is one of the ten horns that gave their power and
strength to the beast, filling France with bloody carnage and horror. Well supplied infidels and survivalists with
guns have barricaded themselves within their Iowa farmsteads. They are making graves for themselves and for
our children. They are bringing down the
wrath of man, employing wicked men to tarnish the glory of God.
Behold! Let the third woe come quickly. The fearful second woe has passed, but we
cannot long endure the sounding of the trumpets, neither can we withstand the
flash and bang of flash-bang grenades with light seven times brighter than the
sun.
John:
Did I tell you that the prince of hell, Satan himself, is fully aware of his failure?
Interviewer:
How do you know this?
John:
Because I’m him.
Interviewer:
…
John:
It’s me. I’m him. I’ve read the owner’s
manual. I’ve read the ending; I know how this all turns out. I am trapped in a corner, raging against the
heavenly foes arrayed against me. I know
the mystery of iniquity. I know how to
pretend and prevaricate. I am God- this
is what I will tell you. I am the mongrel
son of perdition. I was conceived in
sin. I live in the hidden recesses of the wind. I was spewed out of the serpent’s
mouth, born of deluge of water and foul spirits.
I have no children. And God! if that isn’t a
relief. They, the children I don’t have,
won’t inherit this curse. My brother,
though, will take the throne, sending his ambassadors out and presuming to call
himself the new sovereign.
Did you know that a prophetic year is only 360
days? The other five days - those missing days are stampeded by an innumerable horde of horses ridden by
Turkish warriors the color of fire, the color of jacinth, the color of
brimstone-that is sulfur. Red. Blue.
Yellow with a star in the center of their heads. The riders discharge their firearms from
horseback in a cloud of smoke. The artillery of Mahomet. I remember Goths, the Huns, the Avars,
Persians, Bulgarians, Saracens, and Russians, Turks, and Kazakhs. They were all reduced to rubble and rune by
the cannons, hostile violence, the sound of musketry, the smell of blackpowder
smoke, collapsing towers mixed with blood.
Interviewer:
Tell me more about the angels that visit you.
Do you see the Archangel, Michael?
John:
Just the once.
Interviewer:
Gabriel?
John: No.
Interviewer:
How about Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Remeil, or Saraqael? … Why are you looking at me like that? I read.
I know things.
John:
No. I’ve never met any of them.
Interviewer:
Which angels have you met?
John:
Phenanthrene, Chrysene, the Twins: Pyrene and Benzopyrene, and Ovalene.
Interviewer: Ovaltine?
Interviewer: Ovaltine?
John:
Ovalene. He has orange hair and likes
deep-sea diving. He swims down around the
hydrothermal vents. Chrysene dresses in
gold and always smells like pine. The Twins
smoke incessantly. And Phenanthrene is
nearly insoluble in water.
Interviewer:
Nearly?
John: Nearly insoluble.
John: Nearly insoluble.
I once saw 240,000 meteors falling above the
horizon of Boston. The firmament
descending in fire and hail mixed with blood.
Never did rain fall so thick, never a snowstorm so dense as these stones
from space. I lay on the ground,
prostrate, speechless. How was it
formed? Of what was it composed?
I have no weapon against idolatry. No cannon. No rocket. No sword. I can only write, making scribbles on scraps
of loose paper that I lose in my pockets. Illegible. I am unarmed. Powerless.
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