Uma Thurman is from Venus

Is Uma Thurman a descendant of the race of tall blonde aliens often referred to as Nordics, and sometimes thought to be from Venus?

Some would say: Yes.

In the late 1940s-50s, there was a fella, George Adamski, who'd met Venusians, he said. This was one of the drawings he did of one of them:

At a 1950s Brazilian UFO conference, a mysterious Venusian queen with her two consorts showed up and savvy (or paranoid) attendees pegged her instantly for the Venusian in Adamski's drawing:

The Nordics are one of the alien races that monitors our progress here on earth. What does that mean exactly? Just remember when you were a kid in grade school. Parents and teachers made sure you got the right tools, but then they'd hang back and let you figure it out, learn, for yourself. Now imagine the Venusian Nordics are your parents, and if they go home after dropping you off at kindergarten (at the dawn of human history) and come back to pick you up at 3 PM when school's out, we're talking maybe a million years instead of six hours. Adamski was likely an NSA disinformant, but the Nordics might be real, they're our space mom. We've already forgotten we have a mom coming to pick us up. We think we live here, in grade school Terra. 

The Nazis got involved with these beings via mystics and human sacrifices (maybe), and its thought the blue-eyed blonde haired Aryan represents a strong Venusian/Nordic alien genetic splice bloodline. This through the Thule society. Check out this hot psychic who channeled UFO technology to the Nazis, Marija Oršic:
 

Part Nordic goddess? I'd say yes. She so fine. (1) So now let's get over to Uma:

She even played Venus! In Terry Gilliam's Baron Munschausen. (above, below). Notice the similarity between the shell and a flying saucer? Was it a saucer earlier chroniclers saw when they wrote of Venus arriving on a giant seashell? Stranger things have turned out to be far truer.

Uma's father, Robert Thurman, is a renowned scholar whose translations of Buddhist texts like the Book of the Dead have helped bring eastern philosophy to the west. In a future post I'll detail some of the connections between alien races and the demons and spirits of Buddhist mythology, but for now, let's just imagine a Buddhist scholar chosen by ancient gods to raise one of their own, ala the myth of Moses. Just imagine the shell that bore Venus from the sea was an underwater spacecraft (USO, like the raft that bore Moses) bringing her to the shore to spread love, poetry, chivalry and a hierarchy of beauty with her blonde, blue-eyed self as the perfect 10, thus ensuring her race's descendants in the human gene pool are given preferential treatment from then on.

Utsuoro Bune 1803, the Japanese alien 'Venus')

Some Nazi-alien connection buffs theorize that the Nordics and grays are collaborating on this human experiment / boarding school we call life. Apparently there's some contention over the Jews, because the Jewish soul is old and too hard for the reptilians to eat. If the Nordics are the mom, the reptilians might be the evil principal of the school, controlling, punishing and shooting down your ideas of being an artist because 'you're too stupid, and he needs more factory workers.'

Like, why are we torn between the herd mentality of the mammalian instinct and the 'every man for himself' cold heartedness of our reptilian cortex? Who profits from our remaining in dark ignorance and suffering? Have you ever meditated and felt that your magnetic energy was flowing northwards, as if it was being siphoned off you by some giant magnetic vacuum? That meditation only began to return this energy to your own form, recycling and retaining the energy in a loop rather than producing it and losing it to the northern current?? And so it becomes like some inner circuit-breaker interrupts your newfound self-containment and gets you to stop meditating?

There's room in this world for a million interpretations of any single event. What we can all do as we cycle through them, in the meantime is try to understand just how important and vital every single second of our lives truly is. As vast as the universe may be, a single selfless gesture or act of random anonymous kindness can shift the whole cosmos into a higher level. Feel it to be true, feel how each next right action is the only action there ever was or is - and next time you meditate and pray to the Gods, give some love to Uma.... sweet Uma. Can she please come pick us up, and take us on a magic carpet ride or at least get us out of goddamned school?

Onwards to PART TWO!

For more on Adamski and his Venusian friends, check out this blog entry at: Lon Strickler's essential Phantoms and Monsters.

NOTES:
1. Some documentary recently put forth an interesting idea - that this could be a nameless German model, as Goebbels was fond of switching models in for normal Aryans in his propaganda. I guess we'll never know.

Hawking's Speculation Vs. Real Truth About Aliens!

Now first off, I love Stephen Hawking and think it's great he's warning us not to talk to them in a show about aliens. However, I'm shocked at the way the whole show--at least in its promos--fails even to mention or address the huge body of evidence that not only have we been visited by aliens in ancient times, but that we're still invaded, even occupied, even enslaved on some cosmic frequency, to the soul harvesting experimentation of the grays, while we await the cosmic shift and the arrival of the Pleiadians and all that 2012 jazz. Instead these scientist look at SETI, and wonder if alien life might be giant microbes in space, etc., yeah, dudes, by now you should realize that the universe is infinite and not only can all these variations exist, but you create them just by thinking about them! Somewhere a giant space amoeba is being eaten! Won't you please help?

Science has a very bizarre "see no evil" policy towards that which it dubs fringe science or paranormal research. Once mainstream science dumps you into these categories, it will never believe a word you say. The scientist sit there and wait for evidence, yet the evidence is overwhelming and all around. So there's something deeper at work here. It's denial of any theorem of reality that might negate any of their findings or the feeling that "We're Number One!" You can see it for example in the way parents will REFUSE to believe their own children on a subject, instead basing their unshakable opinions on anything they may read in the paper or hear over the water cooler. Their kids could tell them their house is on fire and they'd be written off as little liars until the smoke choked them and beams started crashing down on their heads, then the parents go "suddenly I remember reading in USA Today that my house is on fire," - and they can leave - anything but admit their own kids may know something they don't.

I believe ancient astronauts visited us in the past, but at the same time I feel a kind of instilled resistance, based no doubt on my education which was a public school trip through a cosmos in which we're all alone but... maybe one day soon a visitor will land on the White House lawn with presents for all. I can only imagine how much harder the ancient astronaut theory must be to accept for someone who's about to finally after years of work and countless grants earn, say, a doctorate in astronomy!

And then there's things like sleep paralysis and hallucinations; science is missing a fascinating opportunity to study the bedrock of reality and perception by delving more into the nature of hallucinations and visions rather than just dismissing them as "not real." If the doors of perception were truly and completely cleansed, I believe we'd see a lot of beings from a lot of different dimensions intersecting with ours in ways so perfectly intertwined its beyond our comprehension.

After all, humans are very complicated machines and we existed long before western science came along and broke us down into organs and glands. The much older eastern science, like Chinese medicine, sees humans more in terms of energy flow, a model western science, which like a wiz kid infant compared to the wise old sage of Chinese medicine, is only now reluctantly accepting.

So while I respect western science, I don't respect its closed-minded know-it-all bullying, the way it doesn't respect anything outside its own borders. Since it only believes in things it can measure and experience directly, it shuts out 80% of "the real"... i.e. right brain associative non-linear Dionysian abstract thinking vs. left brain logocentric positivism and empirical deduction. Western science has convinced itself it has the whole picture, even as it regularly reverses its theorems and deductions. Meanwhile ancient astronaut theory, UFOlogy, witness testimony, crop circles, demonology, astrology, etc. is all thrown out of "serious academic consideration" - largely due to peer pressure in the scientific community, and fear we may find out too much, guilt by association with the "lunatic fringe." That is, until they're forced by consistent results, or one or two brave researchers (like Rick Strassman or Terence McKenna) to reconsider, as in the way acupuncture and eastern medicine has slowly and reluctantly been admitted into hospitals and insurance coverage.

I was thrilled to read of a scientist in the same article noting that alien life to us might be as hard to imagine as quantum theory is for a dog. I use the same analogy all the time! Though I always said "like a dog trying to understand math by chewing up a text book." Western science needs to learn that wild free-form speculation and theory shouldn't be shamed and condemned just because some of the speculators are total flakes. They shouldn't be scared if people "want to believe" in something science prefers, by inclination, to doubt, just because they're scared people will use it as an excuse not to care about the planet (i.e. "Left Behind").

Western science needs to not start barking and biting at the very notion of something being it doesn't understand and can't measure outside its own parameters. Rather, western science should take a hard look in the mirror at itself before it judges the rest of us as flakes and crackpots. At least we admit we don't know what's going on, and we stay open to new evidence and ideas. One can live a great life without believing or disbelieving in anything (ala Sherlock Holmes or Charles Fort). Keep an open mind. Nothing is true or false except in our perceptions. Ask any doctor who's seen the effectiveness of placebos and prayer on terminal illness. The Bud Hopkins or Whitley Strieber of today might be the Galileo or Copernicus of tomorrow.

Scientists need to ask themselves if they want to go down in history as exactly what they once fought against, i.e. hostile ignorance from the power elite against any form of change, or as cutting edge researchers for whom any evidence is interesting, even science fiction. Remember, in a universe that is vast beyond our imagination it's probable there's an actual planet out there somewhere (or in here somewhere) with a million monkeys at a million typewriters, clacking our very universe into existence.

The Pyshcedelic Coziness of Chelsea Rose

Chelsea Rose: my kind of artist - doin' it for herself, selling an array of cool, reasonably priced T-shirts and prints on her site, working a blog that mixes biography, thoughts, observances, and artistic output, and generally blowing minds and opening inner doors while remaining unique but comforting and true to her clearly gentle and sweet self. I especially love the mermaid above, with the mix of chaotically/adorably swirling sea hair and full lipped, contented smile. The body art at top is amazing in its uniformity and tribal power. I found her only because she replied to a post on here, in February that I just now found. I'm so glad I did! Check her blog out here and Fine Arts shop here.

Annunaki Stole My Heart

In the Egyptian cosmology, the Annunaki weigh your heart after death, and if it's heavier than a feather, they feed it to their monstrous hound, Ammit (pictured below left).

This is TRUE! And it aligns perfectly with theories of reincarnation from the East, and heaven/hell from the west. In other words, if you don't want to me be melted back into raw soul material to be recycled for alien experiments on earth, again and again, by evil gray alien reptoids, then do good deeds, be selfless and meditate on the joys and sorrows of existence. Mwahahaha!

When I first saw the image of the reptoid thing above, I jumped, because I've seen him in my dreams all throughout my life, each time I jump out of bed shaking like "that really happened!" but weirder than "really happened" if you get my meaning.

Stills from the upcoming LACAN HOUR 2: Death & Desire (2010)

If Urine be the Jazz of Dogs, Pee On

In my opinion, based of course on my love of leisure and dislike of classroom, to be a good writer you need to live a little, make mistakes, wander off into the night, almost die, recover, kick a little ass and get your ass a little kicked -- all of which is sadly what's lacking in a lot of academic theory, fiction and poetry. A good writer should be in therapy, or at any rate have an editor. Or both, or neither if they're two-fisted. But as it is, there's a weird unearned sense of entitlement that goes with a doctorate or master's degree. As I work in higher education I see it all the time. A rough estimate, I'd say at least 30% of higher ed teachers suffer from this problem. They earned a degree, so they are qualified to teach, but in reality, what do they know? Let's face it, anyone with a lot of time and money can get a doctorate. But have you learned to think for yourself and relate to life, or did you just learn to parrot someone else's insights and filter them through your thesis advisor? When they kick at your front door, where you gonna run?

The types who teach are the types who learned to enjoy sitting in libraries for hours on end, as opposed to spending time in the drug dens and pool rooms they will then write novels about. The freaks fail, or graduate with their BFA and carve themselves an obscure corner in which to get to work.Well, I guess you can tell which side of that coin I fall into. But while I concede there's a lot of sour grapes at work in this rant, my point is still valid, as I say, not for all professors, but for a good number, especially once they get tenure and get all sucked into academic politics, which are just as immature and irrational--if not more so--than our current situation with tea party extremists.


For example, the issue of spirituality is often ignored in academia, and over-stressed outside it. There are ways to see God and what lies beyond space and time, but many "serious" intellectuals would never dream of looking there, or even acknowledging such a place exists. A tea party extremist would have them burnt at the stake for denying it.

If you got straight As in grad school and a doctorate and then tenure and are the type who lives in the library and your little world where your views are exactly those of your peers and no one ever challenges whether everything you know is wrong, well that's groovy, but I worry that maybe you aren't the best person to teach Jack Kerouac or Ingmar Bergman or Freud or jazz. If you've never been in therapy or on psychedelics or yoga class there's a good chance you've gotten all the way to the tenure track without having a single iota of "self-awareness." If there's no distance between you and your own ego, you can end up a pretentious dogmatic left-wing conservative before you know it, right down to refusing to validate any opinion but your own in class discussions or faculty meetings.

But there is also the too far into themselves problem, the doorway between conscious and unconscious can wind up broken, allowing any old demon to come on in and sit on your chest in the middle of the night. That's my problem. I look too deep and have a nervous breakdown, the endless mirror within mirror reflections that add up to ugly truths no amount of booze can wash away. Yet awareness is the true currency of our age, the most obscure and rare commodity.

The conscious remembering of past life deaths is much more profound than remembering of birth. These memories are not "direct" but they are deciphered. Meditation is not, as those who don't do it think, merely some kind of mental calming system; it's a journey, akin to an unending novel. You pick up almost exactly where you left up every time, it's an excavation, an endless window cleaning, and more than that, the "active meditation" of doing everything from a loving yet detached angle of self-awareness, gradually you are face the harsh scary truths of your own past and future deaths. The awful gasp of terror that comes from knowing this is it, the murky acceptance, the white light, it's a recurring act; and the trauma of what goes on in between the doors, when the greys and demons try to pull you down, rip at your soul to see if it's hardened enough to eat, when your soul gets measured against the feather. That's why they makes us have those wars and diamonds and furs, get our souls shrunk and juicy tender with hatred and ego. If you want to avoid getting eaten, just be light and porous, like the Buddha bubble, the heart that weighs less than a feather does not get eaten by the hounds of Annunakai.

 

Media Eats its Young

Study for Lord Ganesha #4

We feel like there's space vultures who detect us from way high above when we become too alive, when we start to feel too much, when we taste chocolate without guilt that it's too fattening; when we love someone too much, when we become enlightened and brave off a cigarette.

So we smoke but don't notice the effects, we wolf down chocolate with our nose closed, we love someone then split, betraying trust, hiding instead of fighting, cultivating our regrets like a garden which we can then sit in when we're old and gray as the vultures couldn't sense our euphoria, so flew long past.

I say come on down, space vultures, bring the noize! Let's not be afraid of death, or finding out what's behind the curtain of the great and powerful Oz. There's nothing there, nothing but this, which is where you are already, so just let the plowmen dig your earth, none of them will own the mine, or know what any of it is worth (that last part's Dylan)