Come What May

Halloween — or All Hallows’ Eve, or Samhain if you’re a LARPing Celt — fast approaches.

Across the Anglosphere and beyond, people are decking out their homes with plastic skulls, paper mâché spooks, gutted gourds, and other macabre displays. They are also planning their costumes, of course, and prepping for an invasion of tiny, humanoid muggers wearing masks. They demand sugar, backed by the explicit threat of mischief and chaos for the cheapskates.

This year’s festivities will include the arrival of an interstellar trick-or-treater in the form of 3i/Atlas, set to reach perihelion on October 30th (a.k.a. Mischief Night, for Anglospheroids who acknowledge that pseudo-holiday).

For ganja enthusiasts, Tylenol-Americans, and other excitable stargazers, this position will mark the cosmic visitor’s literal Heel Turn. According to their calculations, 3i/Atlas will reverse slingshot around Sol, use the deceleration to alter its course, and then, sometime before the New Year, decloak in low Earth orbit, revealing itself to be the mothership of the Flubotnian Transgalactic Navy from Zardoxx-7.

In the wake of this epic unmasking, reality as we’ve known it tumbles into chaos. Governments fall. Markets crash. Traditional religions fly apart like sand castles in a typhoon. The philostafarians sprout eight new chakras and gain Jedi powers.

Alternatively, 3i/Atlas continues on its merry way, missing us by 170 million miles or so. Neither tricks nor treats. Just space trash doing its space trash thing.

If I know my cult logic, such an outcome will be instantly and conveniently reframed. The Flubotnians got a good gander at us and said, “These puny hu-mans are not ready yet.” That’s what’s fun about joining a cult: you might give up your family, friends, cash, liberty, and sanity, but at least you’ll never be wrong again.

Here’s another possibility: the rock is just a rock, jogging a blind lap through the cosmos, but the “invasion” happens anyway. Mashing up a theatrical blend of top secret tech, holographic projections, deepfakes, sorcerous apports, and born-a-minute suckers, huge swaths of the global population will be convinced that the End Times are nigh. Chaos will ensue, same as if the Navy showed up.

Why?

Fear, obviously. A worldwide panic that would herd humanity into a New Age.

As the theory goes, a series of orchestrated events would dismantle all traditional concepts of religion, government, trade, and science. These events would likely include both supernatural and rationalistic qualities, and even blend the two. A central figure would soon emerge, offering a new vision of reality that coincidentally aligns with the interests of the Intel Blob, the banking industry, the surveillance state, and, ultimately, the Luciferian cult that’s been pulling the strings for centuries. This figure will be recognizable to many Christian observers as the Man of Lawlessness or the Antichrist.

A little too recognizable, is my guess. Like an actor hamming it up for the cheap seats. And that’s exactly what he might be. Same goes for those little gray dweebs, who will manifest as more explicitly demonic than often depicted in pop culture. Even many longtime UAP researchers will notice the strong religious connotations. The uncanny resemblance of these actors and acts to the events of Revelation, or of other eschatons, will be pointed out loudly and often. But many keen observers will get the sensation they are sitting in a movie theater, being forced to watch a schlocky show.

But that’s okay, because the movie isn’t meant for them. The producers are scripting it for a secret audience of gullible outsiders, who’ve become convinced they’re the ultimate insiders. This group will include powerful and influential Christians, Jews, and Muslims. For them, the alien gag will look like just another dance step, required to pull off a worldwide summoning ritual. They will accept any simulation as real, because they themselves have been deeply involved in key aspects of the choreography.

And which great demon are they trying to summon?

If you asked “Christians” like Ted Cruz, Mike Huckabee, and, apparently, Marco Rubio, the name they’ll give you is so insane, even Clownworld’s headshrinkers would throw them down the booby hatch.

These people believe the Revelation of John of Patmos is some sort of cookbook recipe, and that God needs their help in the kitchen. They must therefore twist and mutate every organ of earthly authority to task, no matter the cost in blood and treasure. They will cheat and steal, lie and betray, all in service of helping to fulfill a prophecy that explicitly condemns them to the Pit.

Note: This might actually be the stupidest thing that anyone has ever believed in the history of Believing Stupid Things. Its proponents are apparently so anxious to meet Jesus, they simply can’t wait for their allotted day and hour. They also seem to want to skip that whole nasty dying part of the introduction, which has been the traditional method across all space and time.

As I age, I realize that people who fear death more than they fear God cannot be trusted with even a teaspoon of real power. I used to think that this group was mainly composed of egomaniacal atheists, but the fear and the ego comes in all shapes and sizes. There’s also the heady trip of Revelation itself: to witness and participate in the penultimate story sounds like the adventure of a lifetime, even if you were taught to believe that victory was assured.

Ergo:

Apocalypse Now!

False flag wars! Mass poisonings! Texan red heifers on demand! Third temple or bust!

And maybe you decide to sprinkle in a few great signs and wonders while you’re at it, just to be sure. Kabbalists think they can trick angels by speaking Aramaic, so maybe the same idiots think God Himself can be tricked into joining the Partygeddon. If that includes uncorking a Project Bluebeam scam, so be it. A sizable fraction of the UAP crowd is already convinced the flying pottery and their goblinoid pilots are demonic entities. But for the End Times engineers, whether they are or not is just a technicality; they were raised in a Baudrillardian Babel, where the difference between simulation and reality is just, like, your opinion, man. Same with the line between good and evil, or between artificial intelligence and the Real Deal.

Who’s to say that summoning the Beast 666 isn’t a good idea, if that in turn summons Christ and Kingdom Come?

And if an “alien invasion” would force a diabolical One World Government into existence, why not cook one up? That ought'ah get the Lord's attention. Deus Vult!

Meanwhile, even that old interstellar blowhard Captain Kirk knows the score:

All of these outcomes are pure speculation, of course. But I’m not worried, whatever the case may be. Worrying is one of those sneaky sins that that looks like strategic thinking in certain kinds of light. There’s enough trouble in a day.

So, if the three-eyed Titan does turn out to be the Flubtonian Navy in disguise, I’ll be sure to ask Ensign Gleepglop if he’s heard the Good News. Or shoot him, if it comes to that. Same rules apply.

And if it’s a genuine eschatological power play, I just feel bad for those players who get roped into it. The ones who aren’t actively worshipping Satan in God’s name have been put under a spell. The casting agents are likely a mixture of twisted theology, corrupt clerics, Scofield bibles, and a postwar consensus that exploits good intentions for evil ends.

There’s been some hopeful signs this particular spell is starting to wear off, but I imagine the road back to sanity will be very rocky. If you read the Book of Revelation and come away thinking the good guys are supposed to start the war, you might be brainwashed in ways that no mortal man can blow-dry. If so, I will keep you in my prayers.

Or shoot you, if it comes to that. See above.

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