Biden tells the truth

No one can tell me that if it had been a group of Black Lives Matter protestors yesterday that they wouldn’t have been treated very differently than the mob that stormed the Capitol.

We all know that’s true — and it’s unacceptable.

— Joe Biden (@JoeBiden) January 7, 2021

Yes, we all know that's true.

If it had been BLM, they would have been called "protestors" rather than "the mob."

Every headline covering the event would have included the words "mostly peaceful."

If it had been BLM, expressions of solidarity, not condemnation, would be universal and de facto mandatory, and every corporation, media outlet, and church would be falling over themselves to provide the same.

If she had been a drugged-up petty criminal of the sacred race, Ashli Babbitt would have been elevated to sainthood, her name printed on football helmets, and the cop who murdered her doxxed and harrassed.

But of course if it had been BLM, they never would have wasted their time storming the Capitol in the first place. They would have targeted a real symbol of oppression: the local Louis Vuitton store.

⁂

(By the way, what do you think of this post? I think it's Nebula material.)

Whatever happened to being more subtle than any beast of the field?

Remember when John Ashcroft had himself "anointed" with Crisco? Those were the days! Antichrists used to have some style.

Seriously, what were the people behind this photo thinking? Literally no one is going to look at this and think, "Wow, he looks just like a saint!" Instead, if my own experience is any guide, people are going to clean the coffee off their keyboards and then say, "Who does this jackass think he is, Antiochus Epiphanes?" And what's that say on the wall behind him? "Press eject"?

Break their teeth, O God, in their -- oh, never mind, they're doing it themselves.

In hoc signo vinces?

One-card Tarot reading today: "What's going on in Washington?" And the answer come back* . . .

And -- okay, you're not going to believe this, but . . .

The caption reads: L'espee couronnee, ensemble deus fleurs de Liz, reluisans iadis en l'enseigne de la Pucelle d'Orleans, est un perpetuel moniment de la defense et proteccion de France.

The French is a bit archaic, and I don't really know French anyway, but the meaning is clear enough: I just happened to draw the one Tarot card that features the standard of the Maid of Orleans.

Here is the document granting Joan a coat of arms, drawn by Charles VII himself.

⁂

* I knew that the line "And the answer come back . . ." came from Chico Marx but couldn't remember the context. Looking it up now, I find it's from Animal Crackers.

In a case like this that is so mysterious, you gotta-a get-a the clues. You gotta use-a the Sherlock-a Holmes method. You say to yourself, "What happened?" And the answer come back, "Something was stolen."

Take your pick . . .

On the menu today: chef salad.

From the cover of a notebook made in Taiwan, discovered today in an unused classroom.

Minor synchronicity: The TMBG song I linked to in my last post includes the line "The kitchen cooked and ate the cook."

The Hill is alive

Vox Day: Do you hear the people sing?

S. K. Orr: The first three notes just happen to be -- Dom-ré-my

There are no coincidences. Maid of Heaven, pray for us!

By the way, I haven't changed my prediction about how this all ends: It is written in the Book of Thoth.

However, the line just popped into my head, "But February made me shiver . . . ." In the context of this post, I certainly hope that means something other than what it very obviously seems to mean!

Joan of Arc under the sun of Sorath

In my post "Can you just choose a patron saint?" I quote Mark Twain's preface to his book about Joan of Arc, in which he emphasizes the contrast between the perfect goodness of Joan herself and the extreme evil of the times in which she lived -- "the brutalest, the wickedest, the rottenest in history since the darkest ages."

The purest form of evil is called Sorathic, from a word created by Rudolf Steiner out of the Hebrew numerals for 666. Steiner characterizes Sorath as the "Demon of the Sun" -- an evil Sun in opposition to the good Sun which is the Christ. This theme of the good and evil Suns is something I have explored in some detail at The Magician's Table.

Today an email correspondent mentioned that he had first learned about Joan of Arc by typing "joan the maid" into a search engine. For some reason, after reading that, I was immediately moved to do the same thing myself -- and then, when the search results came up, my mouse hand sprang into action as if directed by an intelligence not my own. Click-scroll-click-scroll-click, just like that -- so fast that I didn't have time to read anything and had no conscious knowledge of what I was clicking on, as if executing a series of steps long since rendered automatic by habit -- and I found myself staring at an article about a 1926 novel by Georges Bernanos called Sous le soleil de Satan -- Under Satan's Sun.

I am not exaggerating how very quickly this happened; and happened is the correct word, since to say I did it would imply that the conscious mind played a role. Checking my browser history to retrace my steps, I find that Joan the Maid is the English name of a 1994 French historical film starring Sandrine Bonnaire in the title role, and that this same actress starred alongside Gérard Depardieu in the 1987 film version of Sous le soleil de Satan.

⁂

What does this mean? Well, the most natural interpretation, I think, is that Joan is back because Sorath is back. She is here because she is needed. Maid of Heaven, pray for us!

⁂

I end with a quote from Oliver Cowdery which has been on my mind recently.

Man may deceive his fellow-men, deception may follow deception, and the children of the wicked one may have power to seduce the foolish and untaught, till naught but fiction feeds the many, and the fruit of falsehood carries in its current the giddy to the grave; but one touch with the finger of his love, yes, one ray of glory from the upper world, or one word from the mouth of the Savior, from the bosom of eternity, strikes it all into insignificance, and blots it forever from the mind.

Joan and the fairies

Of all the many works on Joan of Arc that are available, the one I felt moved to download was Mark Twain's Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc. I have already discussed the frontispiece and quoted from the preface, but that's about as far as I got until today.

It turns out that the first episode involving Joan herself -- the one Twain chooses to give us our first impressions and to establish the character of his heroine -- involves the young Joan taking the side of the local fairies against a priest who has just performed a ceremony to banish them.

"Then the matter stands like this. They were banned creatures, of fearful origin; they could be dangerous company for the children. Now give me a rational reason, dear, if you can think of any, why you call it a wrong to drive them into banishment, and why you would have saved them from it. In a word, what loss have you suffered by it?"

How stupid of him to go and throw his case away like that! I could have boxed his ears for vexation if he had been a boy. He was going along all right until he ruined everything by winding up in that foolish and fatal way. What had she lost by it! Was he never going to find out what kind of a child Joan of Arc was? Was he never going to learn that things which merely concerned her own gain or loss she cared nothing about? Could he never get the simple fact into his head that the sure way and the only way to rouse her up and set her on fire was to show her where some other person was going to suffer wrong or hurt or loss? Why, he had gone and set a trap for himself -- that was all he had accomplished.

The minute those words were out of his mouth her temper was up, the indignant tears rose in her eyes, and she burst out on him with an energy and passion which astonished him, but didn't astonish me, for I knew he had fired a mine when he touched off his ill-chosen climax.

"Oh, father, how can you talk like that? Who owns France?"

"God and the King."

"Not Satan?"

"Satan, my child? This is the footstool of the Most High -- Satan owns no handful of its soil."

"Then who gave those poor creatures their home? God. Who protected them in it all those centuries? God. Who allowed them to dance and play there all those centuries and found no fault with it? God. Who disapproved of God's approval and put a threat upon them? A man. Who caught them again in harmless sports that God allowed and a man forbade, and carried out that threat, and drove the poor things away from the home the good God gave them in His mercy and His pity, and sent down His rain and dew and sunshine upon it five hundred years in token of His peace? It was their home -- theirs, by the grace of God and His good heart, and no man had a right to rob them of it. And they were the gentlest, truest friends that children ever had, and did them sweet and loving service all these five long centuries, and never any hurt or harm; and the children loved them, and now they mourn for them, and there is no healing for their grief. And what had the children done that they should suffer this cruel stroke? The poor fairies could have been dangerous company for the children? Yes, but never had been; and could is no argument. Kinsmen of the Fiend? What of it? Kinsmen of the Fiend have rights, and these had; and children have rights, and these had; and if I had been there I would have spoken -- I would have begged for the children and the fiends, and stayed your hand and saved them all. But now -- oh, now, all is lost; everything is lost, and there is no help more!"

Then she finished with a blast at that idea that fairy kinsmen of the Fiend ought to be shunned and denied human sympathy and friendship because salvation was barred against them. She said that for that very reason people ought to pity them, and do every humane and loving thing they could to make them forget the hard fate that had been put upon them by accident of birth and no fault of their own. "Poor little creatures!" she said. "What can a person's heart be made of that can pity a Christian's child and yet can't pity a devil's child, that a thousand times more needs it!"

She had torn loose from Pere Fronte, and was crying, with her knuckles in her eyes, and stamping her small feet in a fury; and now she burst out of the place and was gone before we could gather our senses together out of this storm of words and this whirlwind of passion.

The Pere had got upon his feet, toward the last, and now he stood there passing his hand back and forth across his forehead like a person who is dazed and troubled; then he turned and wandered toward the door of his little workroom, and as he passed through it I heard him murmur sorrowfully:

"Ah, me, poor children, poor fiends, they have rights, and she said true -- I never thought of that. God forgive me, I am to blame."

Of course I realize that this is a work of fiction not necessarily reflecting anything about the real Joan, but it still struck me. My post "Can you just choose a patron saint?" begins and ends with fairies, and indeed my experience of Joan's presence was accompanied by a strong sense that the term "synchronicity fairies" was after all pretty close to being literally accurate -- that most of the synchronicities I experience are neither "naturally occurring" nor divine interventions, but are the work of, as I put it, "good people, not exactly human."

Although I didn't mention it at the time, I also had a strong sense that there is some special relationship between Joan and the fairies -- "like Snow White and the seven dwarfs" is the somewhat absurd expression that presented itself to my mind.

In my "patron saint" post I relate how I had literally told the sync fairies to "take a hike" and how my encounter with Joan then caused a change of heart -- a remarkably close parallel to what happens to Pere Fronte in Twain's novel. I again stress that, although I quote Twain's preface in that post, I had not yet read any other part of the book.