I step outside on nights like these, where the wind is blowing fast, with a touch of violence in it and it feels like its ripping at the edge, like its just the start of something wilder and far less controllable. I begin to wonder about massive bodies moving through space, Planet X getting ready to get naked for Generation Y and the rest of us. I wonder about how long that kind of info could be withheld from the masses before the skies would split and the winged terror would be upon us. And once it was fast on its approach, how long would we have? If you had an e-ticket to a cushy DUMB, when would you get the urgent text on your cell phone? One day? Two days? Two weeks before God sinks the eight ball in the side pocket?
I remember when Elenin fever was at its pitch. I watched, and I watched, and I watched as people got sucked into the data vortex straight up into Google Sky, where a portion of space had been blocked out, giving rise to apoplectic blasts of dire warning and apocalyptic foaming at the mouth.
I witnessed one poor bastard on Facebook lose his mind and then his family over his obsession with Elenin. He was so convinced that we were being lied to he furiously copied and pasted as many claims as he could that supported the arrival of Elenin. It came and went and so did his marriage. His wife left him. So in some ways, Elenin did bring him the end of the world, his world as he knew it.
The global brain is still connecting the synaptical circuitry of invisible cords, firing etheric neurons that pulse and flash like quarks impersonating as inspiration. We’re working out the kinks, so we might lose a few every now and then in the beta version. They’re out on the front lines, getting their circuitry fried, trying to ground the current long enough. It takes practice. It takes patience. It takes blowing a few fuses every now and then to know how to modulate the voltage, filtering out the hum and distortion. You have to eliminate the noise.
But for all of our thinking and linking, we’re still just scratching the surface of other worlds. For all we know the guy that lost his wife due to Elenin madness might have been right. Maybe there were ships up there that scattered the space debris far and wide of the Sun. If there were, would NASA tell us? This is the world we’re living in now. On a macro-level, its on a “need-to-know” basis. We’re only gonna get the vital data and stats when it doesn’t matter.
So we’re opening our channels and it leads to proclamations like, “These are the last 26 days of your life.” Yes, that’s a reference to Clif. We’re all still here on the West Coast. Instead of going after Iran, Israel has decided to take some target practice at the Palestinians. For now, WWIII has been averted or at least pushed back.
Jupiter keeps moving placidly ahead, forming a sensual trine with Venus and Pluto. Oh la la. Who cares if Mercury has moved backwards as long as it takes us right back to bed and hopefully not alone. Over the next 24 hours, you should definitely be making love and not war.
Speaking of “love not war” and especially speaking of Taurus, there’s something that’s been spotted in the constellation of Taurus that to me, looked like some sort of freaky sex toy, but upon further review might actually be one of those massive ships that can eviscerate rogue asteroids or carriers of Dracos, if indeed its reflecting all that Tauran positivity in the grand earth trine. Go to Message To Space Eagle to catch a glimpse of this peculiar looking object, captured again, in the still frames of Google Sky.