Eso's Chronicles 188/2 Clever John & Crazy Jane

Eso’s Chronicles 188/ 2
Clever John & Crazy Jane
© Eso A.B.

4 Dawn of Reality

Clever John explained: “Look, bros. The innkeeper is no angel. Indeed, I’ve heard it said that She is the Mother of the Devil himself. She is angry with you. You fell asleep last night and did not singing praises to her this the morning. She would as soon as….”(here Clever John drew a finger across his throat) “…do this to you”. “Her daughters are no ordinary barmaids as you may think. If they were ordered, they could as easily strangle as pet you.”

“What kind of idiots do you think we are?” replied the brothers. “Our brides purred us to sleep last night. They said they would be happy to marry us?”

“Yes, but that was the price to learn how little you honor their mother.”

The brothers thought that over. The truth dawned on them gradually. “Bros, we are into big doodoo,” said the oldest.

“Here is my plan,” began Clever John in an encouraging voice. “Listen! When the Mother of the Devil bids us good night, she will—just to fool us even more—give each one of us a kiss. She will also hand to each one of us a pillow. Those for her daughters will be white; the ones for us red.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” replied the brothers.

“But that is not all,” continued Clever John. “The Mother will instruct her daughters to sleep on the left side of the isle, while we sleep on the right side.”

Clever John then upturned one of the Devil’s boots he was taking to his mare, and shook out seven cream of milk candies. “These are for our brides,” Clever John said. “If they ask what they are, tell them it is a love potion. They will not mind. Just make sure they eat them. When they do, they will soon be snoring.

“When they are asleep, we will roll them to the right hand side of the isle. Then we will put our red pillows under their heads and put under our heads their white ones—that is if you want to live.”

Clever John looked around to make sure there were no spies, then invited his brothers to listen closely. Their eyes opened wide. They could hardly believe what they heard.

Later, as the brothers were sitting with the bacchantes and having a nightcap, the innkeeper finally came out of her room. Though she was dressed in a red dress, she hardly looked like the Mother of the Devil.  She gave everyone a kiss, gave each one of them a pillow, and bid them all a good night. Then she went back to her room.

 

The bacchantes and the seven brothers went to the hayloft. Everything happened as Clever John had said (which was only what Crazy Jane had told him). The bacchantes soon were asleep, but the brothers lay with one eye open.

 

A few minutes after midnight the hatch of the door to the hayloft creaked, and up the ladder climbed the innkeeper. This time she did look like the Mother of the Devil. In her hands she held an axe that was as big as a half moon. She did not waste time, but swung immediately at the heads of all who lay along the right side of the isle and had a red pillow under their head.”

 

In about a minute’s time, the Mother of the Devil had cut off the heads of all her daughters—including that of Crazy Jane.

 

After she was done, the Mother of the Devil let go a roar of relief. All seven brothers turned pale. But as soon as the innkeeper had gone back into the Inn, they all jumped out the barn window and run for their horses. They rode like hell was on fire. The Devil’s boots on the horse of Clever John carried him to the head of the pack. Of course, Crazy Jane was not with him, unless she held her head under her arm.

 

The brothers rode all night, and noted nothing amiss. But toward morning they, nevertheless, noted a strange thing. The night did not seem to want to end. There was no streak of light along the eastern horizon. They passed several farms, but heard no roosters crowing.

 

Then Clever John had one of his inspirational ideas.

 

He reined his horse and waved for his brothers to stop also.

 

“Listen, bros,” he said, “we are out of danger. The witch will not catch us now. But something else strange is going on. It is getting to about four o’clock in the morning, but there is no dawn. This is not how it is usually on Midsummer. As you know, at this time of year, the sky is bright as dawn all night even in the north. It might be a good idea for us to visit the Sun and ask her why she did not show on Johns Day, and why she still delays?”

“Are you crazy, bro?” asked all six brothers. “We just escaped from the Mother of the Devil and are lucky to be alive. We’re not going anywhere but home.”

“I am not crazy,” answered Clever John. “I am as smart as always. I saved you your lives once and may save them again. Trust me. Let’s go.”

“You are crazy all the same,” the brothers insisted. “You promised us brides, and here we are still bachelors. You have no more smarts than there is dirt behind your fingernails.”

 

5 The Second Adventure

Clever John continued the journey on his own. His mare, who he had named Rocinante http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rocinante  after the name of another famous mare, seemed to know where to go. After riding for a while,  Clever John decided he had done enough riding for the day. Since Midsummer is haying time, he took the Devil’s boots off Rocinante, tied her ankles, and found for himself a hay stack to sleep in.

 

The next day, after Clever John had dressed Rocinante and they had traveled until about noon, horse and rider came to a tall pine.

At the tip of the tree sat a raven and cawed: “Where you going, Clever John?”

“I am riding to ask the Sun why this is the second day she is not shining,” answered Clever John.

„Ai, be so good, Clever John, and ask mother Sun for how long will I to be tied to this tree.”

Clever John continued his journey. On the following day he came to a sea. He saw a fish as big as the sea itself.

The fish asked: “Where you going, Clever John?”

“I am riding to ask the Sun why this is the third day that she is not shining,” answered Clever John.

“Ai, be so good, Clever John, and ask mother Sun when she will untie me from the shore and let me swim free?”

On the fourth day Clever John came to a river. To his surprise, he saw Crazy Jane standing in it up to her knees. She held a bucket with no bottom. As soon as Crazy Jane had put the bucket in the river, she pulled it out empty again. She did so tirelessly, bucket after bucket.

“I wondered what had happened to you, Jane,” Clever John addressed her when he had come close. “What are you doing? I thought that you were dead.”

“The Devil’s and the Sun’s children have ways of coming to life again,” answered Crazy Jane. “I will tell you how it is, Clever John. This is my punishment for trusting you with my mother’s secrets. By the way, where are you going?”

“I am riding to ask the Sun why this is the fourth day that I must walk in dusk and she is not shining,” answered Clever John.

“Ai, be so good, Clever John, and ask mother when she will allow me to stop bailing?”

By the fifth day, Clever John arrived at the Sun Mountain and rode up as high as Rocinante would take him. They came to a castle that gave off light as if all by itself. No guards stood at the gate, but there were lots of towers with bells. Clever John shook them all https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xW51zWSPyg0.

As if She knew he was at the gate, the Sun herself came to meet him. She was very kind. She brought Clever John a large iron chair and put around his shoulders the thick pelt of a black bear. After a few minutes Clever John was pouring water like he was a rain cloud. Steam rose from the chair. To help him endure his troubles, a black angel (so he could see her in the bright light) brought him a glass of lemonade.

The Sun spoke: “Clever John, where are you going? It is five days since the skies are cloudy, and I cannot see is happening on Earth.”

“That is what I came to ask you about,” answered Clever John. “You stuck out of the clouds a few rays on Johns Day morning, but then went away. Everyone was sad to see you go.”

“I know,” answered the Sun. “But you all made me cry. You were not at all like the Latvians that I used to know.”

“Thank you, Mother,” said Clever John. “The raven asked me to ask you for how long she must he be tied to the tree?”

“As long as it is necessary,” answered the Sun. “She will be tied to it as long as  the child of the king’s chambermaid lies dead and unburied. Once the child is buried, the raven is free to go.”

“Thank you, Mother,” answered Clever John. “The great fish wants to know for how long she will be tied to the sea shore?”

“That will be a long time,” answered the Sun. “No fish can be larger than the sea. But if you know how to untie it, go ahead.”

“Thank you, Mother,” answered Clever John. “Crazy Jane wants to know for how long she must bail the river.”

“That may not ever end,” answered the Sun, “if she does not answer why she stole from her father his boots? But if you return the boots to her, she is free to go.”

Clever John was sweating unbearably. As soon as the Sun finished speaking, he sprang to his feet and with many bows and walking backward, he left the court. Once on the back of Rocinante, Clever John

rode down Sun Hill as fast as Rocinante could carry him. When he was finally out of the heat, Clever John was so tired that he decided to spend the night where he was.

To be continued.

Socialist Villages: Chinese concentration camps for Tibetans: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-china-23100427

 

187/1 Clever John and Crazy Jane

Eso’s Chronicles 187/ 1 
Clever John and Crazy Jane 187/1

© Eso A.B.

This is an old Latvian story retold. For the original see 3.A.327.B.460. A.K. Bramanis Rīgas apg. LP,V,36 (3,1): “A Journey to the Nether Sun”. Herewith retold:

Seven Crickets and Seven Horses

Once upon a time there lived seven brothers. Of the seven, the youngest was the smartest and most clever. This is why his brothers called him Clever John. Even at a very young age, Clever John had enough authority to call his brothers together and tell them:

“Bros, because I am younger than any of you, we are in luck. You see, I had a dream last night. It led me to an inn, where the innkeeper is the mother of seven wild daughters. The daughters, are called bacchantes. Well, these bacchantes have dowries stuffed to the rim with gold and other goodies. They are also said to be good weavers. These daughters of the Sun have been promised us as brides. The trouble is, we cannot marry them until I grow up. If anyone marries them now, their dowries will turn to dust. Bros, you must wait until I grow up before you marry.”

A brother then asked: “Why must we wait until you grow up, bro?”

“My guide in the dream was none other than the mother of the bacchantes. She said that her daughters were under my spell and that they dreamt of marrying me every night,” answered Clever John.

The brothers, all poor country boys, agreed to wait. It meant a wait of about ten years. Some of them believed the wait could be quite pleasant: they lived in a village where there were many young women and not enough young men for all of them. There was no law against boys and girls petting to pass the time.

Time went fast, and it was not long before Clever John was a young man. He then called his brothers together again and said:

“Bros, the Summer Solstice, will be upon us the day after the day after tomorrow. This is the day when the mother of our seven brides has her birthday and will throw a great bash at her Waysiders’ Inn. Last night, I had a dream in which she sent me an invitation. Listen, what she writes:

“Greetings, Clever John! You are the handsomest goatherd in all of Latviaand my daughters are aching to meet you. If you come, you will get to pet all of them before you die.”

“Ha, ha!” Clever John laughed. “Of course, I do not wish to die. Besides, one of those bacchantes will be enough for me, which leaves one over for each one of you, bros. Therefore, let us get on our horses and ride to the Waysiders’ Inn. When the bacchantes ask you your names, give them my name: ‘Clever John’. They are sure to swoon the moment they hear who you are.

“Now let us saddle our horses and off we ride.”

“Nice idea, Clever John,” answered the brothers, “but where will we find seven horses. We don’t even have one.”

“No problem,” answered Clever John. “Go catch me seven crickets and I will fix it.”

The brothers looked at each other as if to say “Just listen to this, bro”. On the other hand, Clever John had done many clever things, and perhaps this was going to be another one of them. So, the brothers caught seven crickets, put them in a sack, and brought them to Clever John.

Clever John looked into the sack, counted seven crickets, then invited his brothers to follow him to the sea. At the sea shore, Clever John opened the sack and shook the crickets into the water where the waves were as thin as a leaf on one’s palm. The crickets splashed in the water for a while, but grew tired and went limp. It seemed they were about to die.

One of the brothers, not wishing to think himself stupid, was about to start laughing. He believed that Clever John was pulling off another joke on them. However, unexpectedly, the crickets started to shrink until they became small as small shrimp. After shrinking, they blew themselves into large bubbles. Inside each bubble was a horse. Soon from of each stepped out a fully saddled horse.

“Did I not say wonders will happen?” asked Clever John as he puffed out his chest.

2 The First Leg of the Journey

Clever John puffed himself up in vain. By the time he looked around him, his brothers had mounted their horses and were at a full gallop over the dunes to the Waysiders’ Inn. Clever John was left with the seventh horse. He jumped into the saddle but now it was his turn to feel foolish. Nothing happened. He realized that he was left with the last horse out of the last bubble, the nag. Reality is such that one has to accept it.

Clever John could ride only at a slow pace. This is why when the evening came, he still had not caught up with his brothers. Not surprisingly, they were at the inn, and did not wait for their clever brother to arrive before begin to celebrate. “We have waited for Clever John often enough,” they agreed and sang: “Baccha! Baccha! Baccha!” and everyone had a bacchante on his knee.

Only the innkeeper, the mother, did not seem happy. Indeed, she locked herself into her office and stayed away from her own birthday party.

By the time Clever John reached the Waysiders Inn, it was time for Midsummer’s morning and Sun rise. However, the Sun was not happy with the way the Latvians had greeted her on her birthday. Unlike other years, no people had climbed trees or come to greet her on the hilltops. She threw a peak into the windows of the Waysiders’ Innand discovered that everyone had had so much fun that almost everyone was asleep. Her face turned black like that of the “Mother of the Devil”.

The morning sky turned dark blue, and a low and rumbling peal of thunder was heard.

3 Crazy Jane Meets Clever John

When Clever John opened the door to the inn, he saw that what had taken place was not a birthday party, but an uncouth wedding. Because everyone’s face was streaked black, he could tell that they all had been to ‘sooty sauna’. Everyone lay where they had fallen, some were still embracing. John counted all six of his brothers; all were with one of the innkeeper’s daughters.

Then Clever John saw in a far corner of the dining hall Crazy Jane. His brothers, believing her a less pretty bacchante than the others, had left her for their youngest brother. She was the only one with a clean face.

As Clever John had opened the door, the Sun, too, cast a shaft of light into the room and fell on Jane’s face, upon which Crazy Jane saw Clever John. In an instant, she knew she had not waited in vain.

As for Clever John, he was no dummy. “There is nothing I have lost,” he told himself. “The more this Jane is lanky, the more she will bend.”

Crazy Jane invited Clever John to come inside. She fried him bacon and eggs, and served it with home fries. Then she sat down across the table from Clever John and asked: “What took you so long, Clever John?”

“My brothers played a joke on me,” replied Clever John.

“Yes, my mother told me,” answered Crazy Jane. “She’s unhappy with what happened, but told me to wait up for you. Would you like to take revenge on your brothers?”

“I will be much obliged,” answered Clever John as he sprinkled more caraway seeds on the home fries. “I am much taken with you. Let us play at husband and wife. I, too, am the owner of an inn. I have many horses.”

Just then Clever John’s brothers and their brides began to stretch and awaken. You could tell from their bravado that they were familiars all night long. They were as uncouth as uncouth could be. The brothers put on their hats and went to the stall to take care of their horses. They hardly gave Crazy Jane or Clever John a look.

After her look into the room, the Sun withdrew behind the thunder clouds. Tears poured down her face like rain. After telling her sisters to wash the soot of their faces, Crazy Jane invited Clever John to her room to rest.

After he was in bed, she was not too shy to lie down beside him and whisper a secret or two into his ear. She gave Clever John a warning. It was about how she and her mother planned to give the six brothers their reward for not tending the Johns Eve fires and teaching her daughters about sooty sauna.

Clever John thanked Jane for the secret information and went to sleep.

When Clever John awakened, Crazy Jane had prepared a surprise for him. On the bedside table, Jane had set a clean and colorful scarf. On top of the scarf was a gold ring or brooch, and next to the bed was a pair of new riding boots. Crazy Jane told Clever John that she had stolen the boots from the Devil. And then, as if to prove that she was in fact a little crazy, she told John to put the boots on the legs of his nag.

“With those boots, your horse will carry us without ever tiring,” Crazy Jane told John. “If you are ever in trouble and rub the brooch, magic will happen.”

Clever John put the neckerchief around his neck and secured it by putting its ends through the gold loop. Clever John then went to put on the Devil’s boots on his horse. On his way to the stall, Clever John met his brothers. They were coming back to the inn.

“Hey, Clever John, where are you going with those boots? Are you going to put them on that nag of yours?” The brothers asked and broke out laughing. “Ha, ha, ha!”

Another brother hm-med and asked: “Did you ask Crazy Jane how many men stretched her before she got so lanky?”

Clever John winced, then let them have it: “You dum arse horseflies,” he yelled as he turned on his brothers. “What would you do without me? Do you have any idea what awaits you tonight?”

The brothers gathered around Clever John pretending to be curious, but were still laughing: “What’s this? What can happen to us? Our brides are like honey covered strawberries. Are you jealous or something?”

Chinese concentration camps for Tibetans: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-china-23100427

Eso’s Chronicles 186/ 8
Postscript: Mono No Aware
© Eso A.B.

If the ancients knew of a time when the Sun was in danger of not rising, but the post-moderns cannot think of the knowledge any other than ‘ridiculous’, the post-moderns are ridiculous by the fact that in their time the Sun set before sunset and that the shadowless dusk they walk in is the light within the hologram of eternity: they are neither post-moderns or ridiculous, but simply the living dead.

There may be others, but for me the dream mirrored in Ingmar Bergman’s movie “The Seventh Seal” https://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=mbgiWPJLSsM is a fitting recreations of this strange and unusual hologram; strange, because a hologram is space without time, a space where time is replaced by sound, where words once spoken as in a dream are no longer remembered. Eternity replaces itself by becoming a mother, a child, and a King dying to present them with the illusion that things make sense.

The sons of the four Suns—Moctezuma, Pentheus, Basil, and Clever John visited in the preceding blogs—are only a few of the stars that play on the moonlit stage at the Extinct Caldera Theatre.

Some of the performances are comedies, like the one starring the Kenyan actor Obama in Washington, D.C. A farce adds what is called Mono no Aware http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mono_no_aware or what the Germans call Weltschmertz. Surely, mother, child, and King need be on the stage and in the audience. The latter are to watch how mother and child are eternal, and how the King dies. A mix of tragedy and farce makes for half a step toward immortality. Though humankind never reaches it, the phenomenon gives it succor (a la: Mono no aware!).

But watch what happens when the King is played by Clowns—and Cameron, Dombrovskis, Hollande, Merkel, Obama and Putin, et al are among them. While claiming authority that arises from ‘lawful’ elections, where votes are said to have been cast by ‘real’, passported, and numbered voters, actual authority rests on the ability of governments to visit violence from within the realms of the virtual out into the real. Thus, ‘war crimes’ are not perceived as ‘real’, because they originate with such who live by ‘virtual’ reality. It is like the tiny hole in a brown hazel nut, which when cracked open may still contain something of the hazelnut, but tastes like wormwood if put to the bite.

So, while on grounds of habit and ‘common sense’ the triumph of the virtual over the real appears to make sense, in actual life it lacks real authority. Though the absence of authority may not bother some, the majority do not trust its absence to cause the Sun to rise in the morning.

The ‘real’ human inhabitants of this planet appear to be among the increasingly certain dead as the leaders of the ‘democratic’ order pursue their fantasy of ‘human rights’ within the shell of what once was a community. In fact, except for government sponsored aberrant communities of warriors for whom reality is realized when women are raped or paid for in a whore house, humans may be no more.

Therefore, if resurrection is not part of the story that Basil (perhaps also known as Prester John http://geography.about.com/od/historyofgeography/a/presterjohn.htm ) told his people, then perhaps rebirth or transmigration is. The latter may explain why it may coexist with the hologram as a timeless space—because ‘time’ is taken up by the present.

  

Eso’s Chronicles 185/ 7
Will Sun Shine Again?
© Eso A.B.

If as the following link claims, Europeans share a common ancestor as recently as one thousand years ago http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/350267/description/Europe_is_one_big_family then all the talk about ‘fringe’ and ‘pseudo’ history by establishmentarian historians and ecclesiasts is hog wash’, a fairy tale cooked up and preserved in an ‘academic’ pickling jar. If the ‘history’ of the parents of most Europeans does not go further back than a thousand years, then Catholic Christianity does not go back two thousand years.

So much for the ‘morality’ of ‘religion’ in our time and the ‘spiritual’ house of cards it has built. So much for ‘literary criticism’—a fish that walks on water with its head underwater. So much for ‘deconstruction’ living with the conviction it has been imprisoned in the Eifel Tower, while the next mile high tower is already off the drawing table.

In a small country in the northeast of Europe there live a people who still have a tradition of offering to the Sun a celebration. The celebration occurs on Midsummer’s Day, which is also known as Johns Day. Traditionally, John was the son of the Sun. He does not, however, have a ‘sacred’ function anymore, because the story permitted for Latvian ears by the Catholic Church took it away, and replaced it with one where the ‘sacred’ was replaced by ‘glory alleluia!’

The story once told among Latvians of why the Sun may not rise and why it needs to be encouraged to do so is, but for the guessing, lost. Yet some little hints remain. One is a statement of fact: of all the nights of the year, Midsummer’s Night is the shortest of them all. Behind the statement of fact hides the knowledge that if you or I were to move north, the Sun would not set https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhIJO0_lrGg .

Then there is another fact: there is a fire. The fire is, so to speak, to tide the Sun over the gap of darkness, while it is under the horizon. Ideally, the fire would be lit the moment the sun sets and the sacrifice makes his or her quantum leap to rebirth. Mind you, this is not a leap to resurrection, but to rebirth. In this manner, the Latvian psyche resembles that of the Tibetan Dalai Lamas: when one dies, all the monks go and search the land for a baby born at the precise moment of his predecessor’s death. The Tibetans believe in giving a life worn down to boredom another try, though ideally meditation brings them to such perfection that they need not ever be reborn.

For most of the celebrants of the Sun’s high point on summer solstice, these are anxious moments, because this is also a day when—if there is to be sacrifice—this is when it happens. The celebrants need, like it or not, contemplate death, and whether they can weather it. Many celebrants rather pass the time getting drunk, because alcohol simplifies thought. On occasion, when wannabee self-sacrifice fails, being drunk helps the executioner do his job.

In the long ago, before the days of festivals as spectacles, an explanation for the ritual was available through a story told by a poet. In our time, silly girls and boys prattle about jumping over a bonfire and the fun this is. No one believes that a day will come, probably at old age, when one may have to see one’s life in the perspective of a hologram. It is then that the Devil’s daughter may put the Devil’s boot up one’s crotch—as she does in the story below.

For over half a century, Latvian churches have been hoisting on the folk tradition of Midsummer in place of Latvia's own story, one and the same comedy, a humorous play of country life during the Midsummer festival. The evangel machine insists that Johns Day is a ‘family’ day. Some festivity organizers even propagate the notion that Midsummer need not be celebrated on Midsummer, but at any time summertime is fine. This last message results from ‘globalization’ efforts at the Vatican of politicians in Brussels and thins ever further the traditions of the past to suit the urban desert. The Sun, after all, keeps rising according to scientific theory, the stories of old myths to the contrary notwithstanding.

In one Latvian story that has to do with the Sun, seven brothers turn seven crickets into seven horses and ride to seek for themselves brides among the daughters of the Sun. Clever John gets to ride the nag and arrives at the party late, long after his brothers are already under the table. Not surprisingly, Clever John gets to choose Crazy Jane, the not so pretty Sun’s oldest daughter.

Like his brothers, Clever John also behaves in a high-handed manner. Nevertheless, when the morning nears and it is time to go to sleep, Crazy Jane—in spite of a number of rejections--whispers to John that her mother did not take a liking to the brothers and is likely to turn into a hag and when all are asleep come to cut off the heads of everyone who sleeps on the outside isle in the hayloft. Jane also offers John two pairs of her father’s (the Devil’s) boots, if John promises to take her with him when he rides home. The Devil’s boots, when put on the legs of the nag will enable Clever John to ride at double normal speed.

Clever John listens, then does as he likes. He makes for all the Sun’s daughters Valerian tea http://www.gnet.org/ease-your-worries-and-drift-off-with-valerian-root/ and arranges it so that all the daughters (including Crazy Jane) go to sleep on the outside of the isle.

After a while a hag comes to the loft with a big knife and chops off the heads of all who sleep in the outer isle. As the hag leaves, the hayloft is enveloped by a blinding darkness. Nevertheless, the brothers manage to jump from the hayloft out of a hatch. While six of the brothers are agreed that they have had enough of experiences and are ready to ride home, Clever John announces that he would rather go seek after the Devil’s own daughter and only then come home.

Clever John then puts on his nag in the Devil’s boots, and—Surprise! Surprise!—Rozinante, the nag, takes him to the Devil’s castle. The Devil tells John that he can have his daughter, but not before he brings him a pile of gold as payment.

After a series of adventures that include a flight  on the back of a raven, Clever John—Wonder of Wonders!—learns that the pile of gold is in the backyard of the Sun. Unfortunately, the Sun has set and is on the other side our planet, and to get there the raven has to fly through a landscape in perpetual dusk so great that it cannot determine in which direction the Sun is closest.

The entire story is too long to tell here, but Clever John does eventually discover the pile of gold. When he brings it to the Devil, he also discovers that the Devil’s daughter is none other than Crazy Jane, who is also the daughter of the Sun. Of course, by this time Crazy Jane has recovered from Clever John her father’s boots, which she insists both she and John wear to bed on their wedding night.

  

Eso’s Chronicles 184/ 6
The First ‘Written’ Story
© Eso A.B.

‘Basil Ludieorum’, or ‘Basil Luduseorum’, or ‘game(s)’ was indeed but human sacrifice presented as theatre. That the words ‘ludi’ and ‘ludus’ should later appear written as ‘iudi’ or ‘iudus’ is easily explained by several pathways.

The first explanation clusters around the easy mispronunciation of words that may to some ears sound alike.

The second explanation is that once a mispronounced word is ‘fixed’ in writing, and the fixation is repeated over and over again, because certain interest groups may wish the fixation to become indelible.

Another explanation may arise over whom the words may be assigned to. Here perhaps the explanation is somewhat ‘Machiavellian’, but certain ‘Machiavellianisms’ are rather commonsensical.

For example, if one group wishes to exploit another group by force or lies or both, the politically most expedient way to do this is through a ‘middleman’. It is well known, that the Russian tsars oppressed other minorities under Russian rule by using a war-like people called Cossacks http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cossacks . Perhaps not so strangely, no one quite knows whence the Cossacks. Some say that they originated out of the Khazar Empire http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khazar . Some say that the Khazar Empire is whence the origin of the Jewish people.

Does Iesu and the Jewish people have Cossack roots? The Jewish people are in denial http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Thirteenth_Tribe. So are Catholics, aka neo-Christians.

Nevertheless, the above link has, among other things, the following to say: “…the lesser king was called îšâ and the greater king Xazar xâqân”. The so-called lesser king or Īšā is easily imaginable as a name whence Iesu, even though Iesu’s original governing duties are likely those of a tax collector of fur pelts (hence the name refers to a military rank ishad (a Göktürk military rank) from the Evanks, a huge tribe of wandering nomads. It was elementary tax collecting that established the first permanent bureaucracies. Since Fomenko’s and Koestler’s opinions on the subject more or less coincide, the death of Iesu in the 12^th century approximates the time that the Khazar Empire eperienced its demise, and—when for reasons not clearly understood—Īšā may have been imagined to be Xazar. Still, we may perceive through the ‘fog’ how the ‘Double Kingship’ continues to have its echoes to our own day: re the Pope as the spiritual leader of the West, and Ayatollah Khomeini as the spiritual or Supreme leader of Iran http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8051750.stm , not to mention hereditary royalty in some historically old kingdoms.

If as I wrote in the previous blog, Iesu Rex was once commonly referred to as ‘Iesu Basil’ and died in Constantinople and not Jerusalem as insisted on by neo-Christian authorities, the changes occurred not for some profound religious reasons, but due to changes on the political power structure. As we experience that power structure to this day, it is alleged to be ‘democratic’, while there is, in fact, little ‘democracy’ to be found in it. As in the English Magna Charta, the alleged democracy is for princes and not the commoners—even though it ‘sounds nice’ to apply democracy across the board. If economic abundance enabled the commoners to occasionally allow them the illusion that ‘democracy’ was real, across the board spying today by NSA http://www.infowars.com/nsa-spying-on-and-blackmailing-top-government-officials-and-generals/ on anyone it chooses, also represses (blackmails) anyone it chooses.

This dismissal of real history as ‘fringe’, ‘pseudo’, and inconsequential will continue until the ever growing princely system meets its apocalypse. While no one knows the day of its end, the havoc the system wreaks on humankind is universal http://rt.com/shows/keiser-report/protests-brazil-banksters-economy-051/ . The Sun may well soon stop shining on the West http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/sunearth/news/gallery/20130618-coronalhole.html . Extra ordinary measures will have to be initiated, including self-sacrifice by leaders, for human kind to survive. “There will be weeping and gnashing teeth.” Judging by the witless bravado and obviously low level of education strutted by the young of our day, their elders (responsible for upbringing of them) are as likely to perish as they are. “There will be weeping and gnashing teeth.”

The future for such awesome consequences was initiated when humankind made its first steps from organic reality—to which belongs spoken language—to the virtual reality of written communication. Language changed in a fundamental manner. It took on different characteristics, and replaced direct communication with that of story telling. The fixation of lies in runes and hence into simplified script and print has created a civilization that does not know how to sustain itself without unsustainable violence, which is why it eventually must return to the wood by its own designs.

When Īšā of the Khazars, a government officiating over a nomad people, was humiliated by Emperor Alexis I, and his reindeers were slaughtered and stripped of their skins for back taxes, all Iesu was left with was one reindeer to ride into town with. [Not surprisingly, the populist mind has reinvented Jesus as Santa Claus arriving from the North Pole, this time not with pelts of other reindeers, but anything that Money can buy.] As we know, in later years the reindeer was changed to a donkey.

As for Īšā Basil, since it was his lot to be the sacrifice and Judas had confirmed this “…the Holy Synod, the chief monks, as well as the patriarch of that time (Nicolas) unanimously decided that he must be burnt. The emperor, who had interviewed the man at length on many occasions, cas his vote for the same verdict. He had recognized Basil’s perversity and knew that his attachment to the heresy was permanent. So a huge fire was kindled in the Hippodrome. An enormous trench had been dug and a mass of logs, every one a tall tree, had piled up to a mountainous height. Then the pyre was lit and a great multitude of people quietly collected on the floor of the arena and on the steps; everybody waited impatiently to see what would happen….” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexiad (Book fifteen).

By this time, in sympathy with Basil, the Sun, who had begun her rise over the eastern shore of the Bosphorus, gradually slowed, until by the 9^th hour it stopped moving. A full moon moved across the face of the Sun and extinguished what daylight there was. The only remaining light was that of the fire pit.

“See! Emperor! Observe the Sun is no more,” cried Iesu. But the emperor only laughed and said: “Fool! It is nothing but an ecclipse.” The emperor then waved his arms and his gendarmes quickly seized Iesu and threw him into the fiery pit. All of the other Bogomils except two drew back, which is why these two also were burnt.

Eso’s Chronicles 183/ 5
A Midsummer Supper
© Eso A.B.

A long time ago, at a time that may seem like fairy tale time, a ‘King’ was called ‘Basil’ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basil_(name) . A number of words that are still with us derive from that time. For example, the word ‘basilica’ or ‘church’ or cathedral; ‘basil’, the king of savories; ‘base’, which is synonymous with ‘headquarters’. The word derives from Greek language.

Thus, the sign “INRI” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus,_King_of_the_Jews  that is often seen in old paintings above the crucified Jesus, and which we are told is an acronym for ‘Iesu of Nazareth, King of the Jews’, was originally read as INBI, “Iesus Nazarenus, Basil Iudaeorum”.

Though a ‘king’ is a king by whatever name, what we should note is that ‘Basil’ stands for a special king—a king of the people. This is one reason why in former days many saints were given the name of Basil. This is as good a reason as any why originally Jesus was likely called Basil. Moreover, if ‘Iudae’ is a deliberate misspelling of ‘Ludi’ http://ancienthistory.about.com/od/games/g/ludiromani.htm  (games, from ludus, people), then INRI should read INBL, “Iesus Nazarenus, Basil Ludusorum”, Basil of the People; or ‘Basil Ludiorum’, Basil of (religious) Festival or Rites. As the link tells: “The ludi were public Roman religious festivals started, before 220 B.C., as annual communal games to give thanks to the gods.” The word ‘games’ in context can only be a cynical derivative from ‘religious rites’, the rite being a human sacrifice. Moreover, if ‘Roman’ stands for the Byzantine Empire, as the Russian mathematician and historian Anatoly Fomenko http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Chronology_(Fomenko)  claims, the date of the rite is closer to 1118 CE than it is to 220 BC. Notwithstanding post-modern historians, who view Fomenko’s work as that of a “fringe” and “pseudo” historian, the reverse is likely true.

In fact, the story of Jesus, as I have written in other blogs (srch ‘jesusthebogomil’), is the definitive False Flag of Western Civilization, with its post-modern banner seized by the ‘democracy’ of the U.S.

If the reader is familiar with the story of Jesus, he-she will remember that Jesus-Basil and his bookkeeper and disciple Peter are closely associated with a bonfire, that burns early on the morning of the day Jesus-Basil is to be (gamed) crucified http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denial_of_Peter . While in Europe most traces of the ancient Rite meant to assure that the Sun rises have been erased, there remains enough to suggest that the Sun had indeed ceased to rise that day http://biblehub.com/luke/23-45.htm from “…about the sixth hour (in the morning)… there was a darkness over all the earth until the 9^th hour… (in the evening)”. The ‘clock’ that measured the time was a sundial http://www.nist.gov/pml/general/time/revol.cfm .

While the reason given why the Sun is not moving is different from Aztec and Greek versions, it is no less weighty. It concerns the celebration of the Name’s Day https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Name_day  of the son of the Sun: Dionysus (Huan, Ian, Ivan, Jean, John, Zhan, etc.) by those who make laws on a planet where the wood has been cut, the land has been turned to desert, people have been driven into cities, and all other forms of life have been belittled as ‘the Devil’s work’ and are further exploited by corporation scientists through genetic modification. The Name’s Day of Iesu/ Iannis falls on Midsummer’s Eve or Summer Solstice Day, when for about three days the Sun appears to hang in one and the same place in the sky.

On the evening before he is betrayed by his Public Relations man, his disciple Judas, Jesus and his colleagues sit down to an uncommon meal. Jesus’ companion Mary Magdalene, said to be his ‘financial’ benefactor, presents as the main dish a very special kind of pie. The pie has baked into it a fingernail sized piece of coal. Mary Magdalene did not bake the pie herself, because the pie is to be part of a draw (in which she too participates): whoever draws the piece with the coal, must prepare him- or herself to offer his-her life to the Sun on the following day.

What we know as The Last Supper http://www.paintinghere.org/UploadPic/Leonardo_da_Vinci/big/picture%20of%20last%20supper.jpg occurred on the evening the day before Midsummer Day, a day that was also celebrated as Iesus’s Name’s Day. This fact elevates Iesu twice, first as Basil (King) of the day in his own right and, second, as the son of the Sun, who by giving him birth on that day also elevates herself to prominence.

The disciples of Iesu argued that Iesu should not be the only one to fight the laws made up willy-nilly by secular rulers. There was an agreement among them, that all would draw lots. By participating, all signaled that they were ready to offer their lives to the Sun. Iesu made no objections.

It happened that the ruler of Byzantium at the time was King Alexius I. The King had heard rumors of resistance to his ruling among the people. He, therefore, wanted to discover who their leader was. The Emperor had heard that a ‘King of the People’, came from a country of nomads—a people who moved with the Sun and the seasons and herded reindeer for their livelihood. Emperor Alexis sent spies try recruit a spy from among Iesus’s closest followers.

The follower most accessible was Judas. Judas had his reasons: he did not believe that the Sun was a divinity. He was recruited for thirty pieces of silver (we have no real idea of what it was worth then). It also happened that Judas’s piece of pie had the coal in it, but Judas did not let on and swallowed it. Later, a troubled Mary Magdalene spoke to the baker, but was assured that everything had been done right and there were witnesses to prove it. Iesu said: “Do not be concerned. It was and remains my lot to be the son of the Sun.”

While walking along the shore of the Bosphorus that night (there was a full moon), Judas, as if overcome with grief for Iesu’s lot, came up to him and embraced him. This was the signal waited for by the King’s spies, who were hiding among the people of Constantinople, who, too, were talking a walk and enjoying the moonlight.

Shortly thereafter, Iesu and his colleagues (also known as disciples) were surrounded by the Emperor’s armed police and taken into custody. Iesu was brought to the court of the High Priest. The name of the High Priest, some say, was Yannas. He headed Emperor Alexis’ own religion, which was named Christianity. The name was borrowed from the Slavs, among whom the word meant “criss-crossers or ‘markers’ of earth” or more simply plowmen. In those days agriculture had just made its appearance http://p2.la-img.com/249/28182/10780046_1_l.jpg . The ‘Christians’ had no plows as we know them today, but were using stumps of trees with the branches cut down to the length of a foot or a foot and a half. When a a man stood on the stump, and an ox or mule was made to pull it, the ‘plow’ scratches deep marks into the face of Earth.

To scare those who opposed his order to end all celebrations of the Sun (or Midsummer, or Johns Day) and Earth, Emperor Alexis had his gendarmes (armed police) dig a large pit at the Hippodrome. The pit was filled with logs and these set ablaze. The fire burned and sparks rose high into the air all night long and was the talk of Constantinople. Some said that the King had defeated his own purpose, which was to have ‘no’ celebration whatsoever.

There is great confusion about the ‘true’ story of Iesu Basil or what I prefer to call Iesu The Bogomil (Jesus God lover). The reason is that there are at least two stories of what happened.

The Catholic Christian or canonical version of the story has had a wide distribution. The story is accessible in every country and in nearly every language. The ‘Other’ story, however, is not only denied, but the fragments continue to be denied validity. Among the two best ‘other’ stories is that of Basil the Bogomil, whose death has been described in Anna Comnena’s biography of her father Emperor Alexius I of Byzantium http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexiad ; and in the story of Polycarp the Bishop of Smyrna https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polycarp .

Unfortunately, the story of Jesus Christ is a wholly made-up story (probably by the forebears of the modern French) with nearly no recollection of things holy in proto-Christian times.

Eso’s Chronicles 182/ 4
The Aborted Head
© Eso A.B.

When King Pentheus had climbed into the pine tree in which the Sun had got herself stuck, the King could not quite reach Her from his perch. So, he reached up with his spear and gave her a few pokes with it.  

Try as he might, Pentheus had no luck getting the Sun to move. He thought of climbing yet a little higher, but the heat of the sun was boiling the resin of the pine until it broke through its bark, whence it dripped and collected on one of the edges of the perch where Pentheus was to stand.

Meanwhile, Dionysus and the maenads had began to crowd into the grove below. Everyone who came to the mountain and entered the grove fell on their knees and looked up to the Sun in the pine tree. The would be revelers set up a chorus of moans and wailing. Pentheus, not wishing to be seen, moved to the opposite side of the tree, where he was well hid by the pine’s branches. Unfortunately, the heat from the trapped Sun was melting the resin on that side of the pine as well. Soon King Pentheus’ hands were not only sticky from resin, but the resin was hot and stayed hot for long enough to raise on the skin of his palms painful blisters. For fear of his hands sticking to the bark and tearing the blisters open, the Pentheus hardly dared touch anything. He was forced to move back to his perch, a place where his overcoat was likely to be covered with dripping resin and seen by those looking up from below.

Indeed, it was not long before King Pentheus was seen. There then arose a loud cry and many hands and fingers pointed at him.

“May the Sun burn you to cinder!” a maenad screamed guessing that the King had come into sight because the Sun had scorched him.

Another shouted: “What are you doing there, King!?”

“Jump, King!... Your face is ugly!... We’ve been waiting to show you a porno!...” screamed others.

Still others shouted: “We’re coming after you!” and rushed at the tree and began to climb after the King. When a number of women had reached him, they grabbed his legs and let themselves hang loose. There was nothing Pentheus could do (because of his blistered hands, he could not grab hold of any branches to hang on to), but had to allow himself to be dragged down. Pentheus fell together with three or four maenads holding on to him. They rolled out of the branches and fell into a crowd of outraged women, who had gathered at the bottom of the pine. Pentheus was seized by many women, all of who bit or tore his flesh.

Even as the King felt being torn apart, he suddenly heard a voice close to his ear. The voice was that of his mother. It said: “Be brave, my son. The sacrifice has been foreordained. You must die!” Then the King received a blow to the back of his head, upon which he lost consciousness.

The King’s mother, whose name was Agave, was among the Bacchantes and among the first women to seize Pentheus and wrestle him to the ground. She had then laid herself on the King’s back and killed him by driving a sharp end of a piece of flint into the back of his skull. Now she used the same flint to cut off Pentheus’ head.

Once the King’s head was severed from his body, Agave seized it by its hair and held it up for all to see. “Here! Here!” she shouted, “Here is our offering to the Sun! May no man ever dare to take Her place!”

Another maenad snatched the head out of Agave’s hands and put it between her legs and held it there in an up-side down position. “Here is the abortion!” the maenad screamed with her skirt turned red from the King’s blood, then passed the head to the maenad standing next to her. This one put the head between her legs and began to hop with it—until her knees could hold it no longer and it fell to the ground. In this way the head made its way around the crowd, until Agave retrieved it.

Holding the King’s head by the hair and holding her arm extended before her as if she were holding a lantern, Agave began to run to Thebes. Soon  the head was again snatched from her by another maenad who had joined the run. With the head changing hands frequently, almost the entire band of Bacchantes was soon back in Thebes, where the head was taken to the outhouse at the marketplace and dumped into the excrement hole.

After all the Bacchantes had relieved themselves on the head, Agave had it retrieved and washed. Then she held it aloft once more, screaming: “O, what made you compete with the Sun!? O, Pentheus! O, my son!?” Only now did the Bacchantes awaken to the fact that the King had been killed by none other than his mother. Many now joined the mother in howling and screaming louder than they ever had at any other human sacrifice.

After a long dirge, Agave seemed to have an idea. She asked her attendants to bring her a barrel of pine resin, such as was kept in Thebes for lighting torches. When the barrel was brought, Agave took off its lid and glued the head of the King onto the barrel. Then she proceeded to lead the Bacchantes back up Mt. Cithaeron.

At the ceremonial grove, they were awaited by Dionysus, who had remained there with all too old  to run back and forth. From what everyone could see, the Sun was still caught up in the tree.

However, Dionysus and his companions had dug at the center of the grove a deep pit, which they had filled with dry moss, loose branches, and trunks of fallen trees. When Dionysus saw the head and the barrel of esin, he asked everyone to come to dig the pine tree free of earth. When the tree stood free, it fell, and so did the Sun. Everyone could now see that the Sun was but a large disk of charcoal covered wood that had been dipped in resin, tied to the top of the tree, and put to light.

Dionysus was not for a loss of what to do. He had the pine tree cut in half, a man’s and a half length above the base of the roots, then the top of the trunk was pushed into the pit and raised and secured in such a way that its roots stood vertically into the air.

Agave put the bucket of resin with the head of the King on top of the roots, and someone brought a fire. Dionysus ignited the moss in the pit. Slowly the moss and wood there began to burn and the fire rose to surround the uprooted tree. Eventually the flames came to lick the resin and the contents of the barrel began to burn and boil. The King’s head sunk ever deeper into the pitch until the wood hoops burnt through, the barrel spilled open, and the fire dripped as flaming drops into the pit.

It was at that point that Dionysus raised the cry: “The Sun is risen!”

“The Sun is risen!” echoed the Bacchantes.

Someone brought up a donkey cart that held a cask of wine. A wild dance of maenads began around the fire pit. The dance lasted until the trunk and roots of the pine had burnt and the bony burnt skull of the King had been retrieved as a holy relic. Thereupon the pit was dug shut. When the ground was level, and it was clear to everyone that the Sun had traveled its course and was almost to set, a new sapling of a pine tree was planted on top of this now invisible altar.