In our holofractal operating system of mundane chaos magic, our mutant augmentation of demiurge delights, Trump continues to be Imperator Maximus. Perhaps the Antichrist too, but y’know, potato, potatoh. It’s all reconcilement of dualities in our Luciferian apotheosis. Abracadabra! Women now have penises!
In Clown World, all the old rules have imploded and exploded. Thought-form tulpas and every shadowy fairground grotesquery hidden in the corner of the psyche has become animated, spilling onto the streets, and we have found ourselves living in a 3d circus of the imagination and disembowelled esoterica That Always Was, but with their separating veils ripped away. Revelation. I’m still not convinced though that at least some of the Bible was not the pure pre-programming of its time.
Even Google has seeded a messiah timeline for us. And I don’t trust those DARPA bastards.
Playing within this realm with the Jungian Archetypes of Man, we see Patriarch ‘God Emperor’ Trump as King; loving and loyal to his country as an extended family, protective and pro-active. He has played in the elite’s occult realm of money manipulation and won; he has risked failure and has fallen only to have his business empire rise again. In the guise of Lover, he is offered pussies for grabbing and marries multilingual Slovenian supermodels.
In his Warrior, when not fighting wars for his handlers, he achieves historic breakthroughs through diplomacy and strength. Unlike flyblown Obama’s, Trump’s voice is not the hypnotic soothe of an NLP adept, deepening our somnolescence. Trump has Twitter in his pocket and he’s not afraid to use it. An archetypal Magician is master of technology and communication. Trump tweets with a wave of his modern wand and the world hangs on his every covfefe. Shitholes are called shitholes. The spell is broken, the Goblins of State gibber and shriek at the blasphemies, its machinery whines and sparks fly.
Trump is Daddy, the id, the great white hope, a threat, a heralding, a dark omen, a saviour, literally Hitler, reincarnated King Cyrus, and Horus. He is Man himself, flawed and lusty and magnificent. Man against the Beast and the Deep State Machine.
Or was Pepe and the resurrected Egyptian Frog God, Kek, magically memeing him into victory, merely a hijacking of our deepest deplorable yearnings, a triplecross from our Talmudic chessmasters to install him as the messiah of 3rd temple prophecy? Chaos magic and psyche manipulation is their world and their method after all, from the wizardry of Solomon to Tavistock.
Damn it, I want to love Trump. I want him to be real. Suffocating under cloying Big Mommy State and the feminisation of bloody everything, I want him to be The Daddy We Need. Even to be the Daddy that the shit-testing pussyhats and unicorn soyboys who I swear have a sexual lusting in their political tantrumming, don’t even know that they want. Daddy issues in the streets, daddy issues in the sheets.
Please smite us. The man who says NO. ‘No’ is a border.
No postmodern dissolution of truth. No false song of globalism. Women do not have penises. Build us that big beautiful wall. No wars for I s R a E L.
Alongside his trajectory in the carnival toward his victory, we saw the rise of characters that could have been pulled straight out of a tarot deck freak show tent and breathed into life.
Cultural warriors such the mercurial trickster archetype Milo Yiannopolous; ancient androgynous Greek truth teller god Hermes, flamboyant in his spirit and branded on the scarf around his neck. Of course, the black dick-sucking jooboy faqqot was tHe nEw nAZi. But Milos’s brand of libertarian degeneracy is so 5 minutes ago. White sharia is the new #MAGA.
Modern Psychopomp, “fascist mystic” and Professor of Psychology Jordan Peterson synthesised a liberating message distilled from mythology, philosophy and pop culture and championed us to craft order from chaos and Fight The Dragons within ourselves and broader culture. Rescue Western Civilisation, our father, from the underworld, become the lobster and f*ck your pronouns. Is he a UN stooge or just an ultra keto’d neurotic hyper-individualist who has orated himself up his own axiom? Either way, his ‘meta Christian’ emphasis upon meaning, purpose and responsibility has been a gateway from Sargon to Hoppe for some, for others from nihilism to faith. Maybe the West isn’t lost after all. Those damn collectivists!
Richard Spencer, metaphysician and philosopher avatar in his own Duginesque Bolsh-Nietzschean dreams, continues to have the sneakily cheeky and somehow slightly sheepish look of a boy who only a few moments before has been caught with his thumb up his bum.
Our own Moses Aspostaticus, neoreactionary historian of snark and sensibility, tormented Marxist ghouls who attempted to chew off their own ears when confronted with their own rotten ideological carcass triumphantly held aloft. Moses got doxxed. Red pills became the Scarlet Woman. End Times Herald arose.
Based stickman, tradthots, Moldylocks, feminist jihadis, fellow white people, witches-against-trump, activists in flagrante Munchausen, elite Gileadeans, big dick energy and dragons blood. Nazi larpers have morphed into 6 gorillion real ones.
The Adversary by nature, the left has only one enemy but needs to conjure it’s own bogeymen.
CERN plants as its icon Shiva, the destroyer of worlds and opener of dimensions. The quantum field and retrocausality was hinted at with the unearthed book ‘Baron Trump’s Marvellous Underground Journey’ published in 1893. The author’s next book was called ‘The Last President’ in which there was a cabinet member named ‘Pence’.
The timelines have collapsed, absurdity reigns and yet out of this confusion and nihilism, the reverence for the sacred reclaims a space in the heart of thirsty post-ironicists. Retro futurism, fashwave and metamodernism rises, the shitposts wink, but the serfs are revolting and the souls are Deus Vulting. Masonically manipulated or not, at least the aesthetics are top tier.
Trump’s King shadow side is evident, and it’s a whole ‘nother depressing Ziosubject to explore whether he is sovereign or a puppet. Along with a few other fulcrum points from which I believe we cannot return, contemplating this sent me full BPBAR (black pilled beyond all recognition). But I retain a strong soul, a smile and a sparkly eye – I enjoy keeping those reptilians hungry 😉
In our Technocratic Babylon, we are broken humans yearning to be gods, steeped in the gnosticism of the left’s social and gender constructivism and relativity, and the right’s Promethean, transhumanist dreams. We flail within a culture that demonizes and attempts to neuter the positive male energy, and Trump, ultimately just a man, has perhaps unwittingly given permission by his very being to nascent stirrings within a younger generation of men. Have we evoked him to ask what does it mean, and what should it mean, to be a hu/man in the world?
Enlivening the fierce Love in our blood and essence, for our civilisation and spiritual sovereignty, resurrect not the black sun, but your books, your sword, your body and your wand. Get your hands dirty and turn your women on. Invoking, developing and expressing as integrated male, the King is the call to our men, as our men are called from deep within their own souls, to step out of the NPC matrix and awaken with a Roar.