Winter Olympics For One Welcome Our Updated Vega Overlords




The Winter Olympics opened in a subtler and more understated manner than we've become accustomed to, symbolically-speaking. 

But then again, the Somme Offensive was subtler and more understated than the mass rituals we saw in London back in 2012.

Luckily,  those of you who've been witnessing my descent into a Lovecraft character-type madness reading the blog over the past several months were uniquely positioned to decode the signaling we are seeing this year.



For instance, the Illuminated Vega up top, which some other bloggers might call a Phoenix. I guess it could be, only in that the Phoenix itself actually symbolizes the return of the Vegas from the metaphorical Infernal Realms. 

The word "Phoenix" itself points us to Mount Hermon, the mountain in which the Vegas made their pact to spread their seed amongst the Daughters of Men. 

And where they will one day return to so they can get back to tasty seed-spreading. The name points us to the heartland of the Phoenician Empire, where Mount Hermon sits today.



Plus this.




Of course, judging from all the press coverage, the most earth-shaking event at the ceremonies was the buff Tongan flag-waver who paraded around in the freezing cold shirtless and slathered in coconut oil.


Speaking of technologies so advanced they're indistinguishable from magic, remember those Phantasm-type hunter-killer orbs we talked about a couple weeks ago?  

Well, thanks to the power of Intel, they can apparently be reprogrammed to murmurate like grackles. 

Plus, make funny Shaun White cartoons in the sky over rebel districts before they liquidate their insolent populations as examples to any other willful quadrants that may start to get big ideas about resisting. 

No, I mean actual resistance.



And for a moment there it was as if the Pearlies themselves were a-dew-droppin' from the skies. 

An audible gasp was heard, followed by a solemn hush as the assembled crowd lost themselves in prayer and quiet contemplation of the day when the Pearlies are bound to their souls.




Then of course we saw the Giant Robot Fire Penis, which I expect will be the name of a thousand different metal and horror-punk bands this time Monday morning. 

Hopefully it was well-oiled as well.

But was that thrown out as a red herring to distract the cowans audience from another symbolic message altogether?

Like what, you ask?



Well, correct me if I'm wrong but that flaming cauldron looks at least vaguely Pearly, no?



A reader likened it to the Tripods in War of the Worlds. Makes sense.


And I'm guessing this charming fellow here woke to light the fire. 


And then they threw in some ersatz sacred-geometry Navel of Gazing or whatever, just to throw the YouTruthers and New Agers off the scent.


Then again, that might be a wormhole diagram. Or a remote targeting test.




Yeah, definitely some kind of cosmic GPS thing there. Kind of like "Track your package" on Amazon or something, but more "track your galactic Overlords."





Be that as it may, some local pop stars dropped by to belt out the current heat-seeker in the Amazon category, Top Socialist Anthems Written by Abusive, Dysfunctional Multi-Millionaires, "Imagine." 

All the Davos types sipped on the hot Thiel Farms� child-slave hemoglobin they keep in their thermoses and gently swayed to the beat.  


 

And of course, the philosophy of that opening many doors will then open a big gate-- a remarkably orthodox Stargate in this case.

The original Olympics were a ritual intended to show off the most desirable pets to the gods watching from above. How little has changed.


Sadly, it wasn't all fun and games and glistening Tongan musclemen last night. Apparently, the "perfect human pathogen" is spreading at the games.

Some choice NLP there; the subliminal messaging here is that "humans are pathogens."




It looks as if it's getting pretty dicey over in SK (and other parts of East Asia), if reports are to be believed. Let's wish all concerned good health, and a speedy recovery to those who've been stricken.




So then we can try to unpack the timing of this little tidbit in the news today. While we're at it, let's all hope and pray that the Microbes aren't ready.


Finally, someone on the FB group posted this fascinating snap of a graffiti observed on the streets of a Chilean city. It reads, "After God is the Vega," which definitely has the ring of prophecy to it, no? 

Certainly to you good Sunners out there in Cyberspace. Let's all hope that prophecy doesn't become our epitaph.


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Twilight of the Immortals