I know right?
So yesterday I was recovering from my New Year’s Eve shenanigans by lazily surfing the internet, which everyone knows is the best way to handle any problem. I ran across this completely batfuck video which, if you can’t be bothered to sit through 42 minutes of paranoid insanity, explains in a disjointed and poorly edited fashion the real reason why Michael Jackson is dead.
It opens with like 5 solid minutes of clips of every known song mentioning the words “Illuminati” and “New World Order” with relevant lyrics posted in text on the screen. It continues with all kinds of fascinating speculations about how they turned him white and engineered the child molestation charges and eventually killed him through his doctor. They being the Illuminati. Because he refused to allow them to embed any more Satanic messages in his songs. Any more.
I watched it and thought, “Someone here is on a lot of drugs. Wait, is it me?”
It totally was not.
By the last 10 minutes I began to suspect that the whole thing might actually be a Muslim PSA as it had various citations of rappers who embraced Islam and Jermain Jackson in a keffiyeh saying that Allah would have been his protection. Which is totally fine and everything, just a twist I hadn’t been expecting. Usually if I read that many references to Satanism it’s Pentacostals.
Anyway at one point it talks about how the Illuminati knows how to use your psyche against you by, seriously, Satanic messages heard in music when played backwards.
I so thought we got over this in the 80s. Kind of like female reproductive rights. Nothing like a good rehash to put things in perspective.
My favourite was Stairway to Heaven, a song which makes not much sense anyway and was clearly written under the influence of a lot of drugs. It’s still not me, right? No.
Easily the scariest part of Backwards Stairway is,
So here’s to my Sweet Satan.
Whose little path
Would make me sad,
Whose power is satan.
He’ll give those with him 666.
And there was an evil toolshed,
were he made us suffer sad-ly
But I don’t like to be sad! And oh my God an evil toolshed? Not like Hell isn’t bad enough, Satan whose power is Satan! You had to go all inbred serial killer on me and make me suffer sadly in a fucking toolshed! That’s just creepy. Fuck you, Satan, you flesh-crawlingly weird bastard.
But he’s a handsome devil nonetheless.
I really shouldn’t diss. I blame the Illuminati for pretty much everything. Racism, AIDS, traffic, missing keys, candy not tasting as good as it did when I was a kid, stupid people.
Ooooh. Especially stupid people.
Because seriously, why is it so hard to remember to stand back from the goddamn train doors to let other people off before you try to cram yourself in there? Me not on train means more room for you! Get the fuck out of the way!
Become or cause to become more intense or serious.
To increase, as in the speed at which you can travel upwards or downwards. And you know, if you just can’t bring yourself to pick up your feet and walk in order to take advantage of the escalating properties of the escalator, why not at least stand to one side so I’m not trapped staring at your behind on a purgatorially slow moving staircase? Please? I’m serious. And about to get pretty intense.
I decided to design Illuminati business cards so I can infiltrate Illumicorp. I had a great idea for a logo but I’m too tired to create it right now so just picture a pyramid with an escalator going up the side and a REALLY frustrated figure at the bottom. Actually the symbolism is pretty damn poignant if you think about it. I really wish I had the energy to make that right now. It would go totally viral I bet and I would be the heroine of conspiracy theorists everywhere. Now someone is just going to steal my idea. Probably the Illuminati.
Look how credible these guys are. Between the poor animation in their training video and the inconsistent grammar on their website I’m kind of wondering if we really have all that much to worry about. Or maybe that’s just what they want me to think.
He’ll give those with him 666 what, anyway? Dollars? Virgins? Years of torment in his Unholy Toolshed? Is there a lawnmower in there? Pruning shears? Dear God, not a weedwhacker! Aaaaargh!
I’ll take virgins for $666, Alex.
Magic and intelligent subject matter next time. I promise. Possibly. Sometime.