Friday, April 22, 2016


   “See, we’re not interested in what U know,
But what U are willing to learn
Come on y’all, uh, leave that blood alone
Don’t ya know dead blood kills interferons?
We ‘bout to get deep tonight y’all
And that’s the only way that we can rise up…”

     “I expected so much more from a lovin’, a lovin’ society,
A truthful explanation, U know what?
I got another, another conspiracy.
While the helicopter circles us, this theory’s gettin’ deep
They’re spraying chemicals over the city, while we sleep.
Last time I checked U were sleepin’
But U can call me a dreamer too.”
                            Prince    Xenophobia/Dreamer

     Nature abhors a vacuum, so why can’t more of us begin seeing the world that way?  No event ever occurs in isolation, and neither, today, did the death of Prince Rogers Nelson.  James Brown with a guitar, they said.  Little Richard with lyrics.  Jimi Hendrix & Miles Davis without drugs.  A self-professed little “nappyhead” pioneer that started out focusing on sex, ended up focusing on God, only to discover that they met in the middle and needed each other.  He was a messenger for all the signs of all these times we’re living through now.  And that’s the reason for this, what could be the closest this blog will ever come to an on-the-fly, emergency transmission.

     We diverge from the standard narrative here to engage in something I usually don’t.  A “celebrity” death.  But as always, all narratives eventually converge, and so it was that Prince passed away at 57 on the same day the Queen Mum turned 90 and word again rose in the mainstream that the planned 3-D Temple of Baal went up on schedule in Trafalgar Square.  And all of these headlines come together to spell out something more than merely the sum of their parts, as we’ll see by the end.

     In his mid-to-late 1980s heyday, Prince went on a kaleidoscopic night run of fevered inspiration not seen since the Beatles’ color palette, when he conjured, from 1982-1987, 1999, Purple Rain, Around The World In A Day, Parade, Sign O The Times, and The Black Album in a psychedelic row, a creative apex he would never attain in the zeitgeist again, though his talent and imagination never permitted him to stop trying.  Indeed, he and his music in the Eighties embodied the final flowering of the Sixties’ twin pillars of protest and idealism thru social commentary.  It was the last stop for those in both music and popular culture distilled to such extremes – with a few fleeting fringe exceptions nowadays such as the Smashing Pumpkins and Purson, such verities have long since departed from the popular culture “scene” as a whole.  Whether they will ever return with that same type of vengeance is an open question.  The mounting claustrophobic paranoia, turned both outwards in protest towards the world and equally inwards towards the protagonist, is especially evident on Parade, Sign O The Times, and The Black Album, ratcheting up in intensity over each successive release until the psychological derangement threatened to reach into the red to almost Hitchcockian levels.  This was truly art of the highest order, and nothing quite the same has been produced by anyone, in any entertainment medium, since.  David Lynch, in his skewed, apocalyptic warnings about what’s underneath the American veneer might come closest overall, but Prince at that point filled fans and observers with anticipation once reserved for new work by Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones.  Firing on all cylinders, he was in that exclusive of a club. 

     What is known at this point is that 6 days ago, after leaving a concert in Atlanta, his plane made an emergency landing in Moline, Illinois, where he was taken by ambulance to a hospital there sometime after midnight.  Such was the nature and severity of this event that this stop was made even though they were only 40 minutes out from their final destination of Minneapolis.  Word was released then that Prince was suffering either from, according to differing sources, either the flu or a “flu-like” illness for which he had been treated.  It was at this point several strange things happened.  At approximately 8:30 the next morning, still at the hospital in Moline, Prince tweeted “I am #transformed.”  From what I can gather, this appears to be a twitter-nation, grassroots gathering point, fairly new, for Christian evangelicals where they can meet, correspond, and share stories.

      Next Prince changed his instagram image from a three-lobed sunglasses one, to one without sunglasses, eyes closed, and with a third eye in the middle of his forehead opening.  This is believed to be one of his last actions before he died.

     Finally, in a concert the following night after his hospital stay, he issued a cryptic message to the crowd: “Wait a few days before you waste any prayers.”  After all this, and less than 5 days later, he was found dead inside an elevator at his home/recording compound Paisley Park in Minneapolis.  Ratcheting up the psychic creepazoid factor, and proving the Cosmic Tricksters are not without a warped sense of humor, is his indelible famous line beginning his hit “Let’s Go Crazy” from Purple Rain: “And if the elevator tries to bring you down…”

     A notorious night owl, often not beginning recording sessions, or after-concert small club shows, until 2 or 3 in the morning and then continuing until well past sunrise, Prince and sleep were not always on the closest of speaking terms.  Not totally vampiric, it IS known he did sleep, what is not so easy to pin down is exactly when.  What, if any, kind of role this played in debilitating a 57-yr-old constitution is unknown.  What is known is that Prince would routinely stay awake for several days without sleep.  Make of that what you will.

     More than a few internet posters are pointing to a Youtube vid of a segment he did with Tavis Smiley on PBS outlets in 2009.  It runs for 8:19 and is called Prince, Dick Gregory on Chemtrails & Manganese, and is readily available. Check it out, because it leads into my final point for now, because something is going down here, and I believe it’s bigger than Prince and his untimely death.

     Late breaking word from now multiple sources, just as I was beginning this, is pointing to the fact that the reason his flight made an emergency landing in Moline 6 nights ago was for an opiate overdose.  He was given a “save shot” of Narcan to counteract this and was advised to stay in the hospital for at least 24 hours for observation since he “was not doing well.”  When informed that there was no private room available, Prince and his entourage at the time decided to bolt for home in Minneapolis instead, and you know the rest. 

     It is also known that he had needed a hip replacement since at least 2005 due to the nearly 30 years of James Brown splits, poundings, jumpings and landings, all performed in high heeled boots, that had taken their toll. (Since around that time in 2005 he had also always been seen at nearly every public appearance sporting a stylish cane.)  Being a Jehovah’s Witness however, prohibited him from any blood transfusions, even of his own blood, so any kind of operation was out of the question for his faith.

     Knowing that the option of a hip replacement wasn’t for him, he would have needed to explore the option of painkillers, which leads straight to the opiates, which could have significantly impaired his immune system and internal organs enough so that any “flu-like” illness could be deadly.


     Recently Merle Haggard succumbed to a “flu-like” illness and very quietly, large portions of the country are currently under siege to severe, mysterious respiratory conditions being described carefully by doctors as being “flu-like,” and which are afflicting people for 4 and 5 week-blocks at a time, sometimes longer.   I have no idea what happened to Prince, but at this point, a fateful swirling confluence of events seems to have conspired to take him out.

     A larger sphere of concern in this scenario is the gradual engineered degradation of the physical systems of large numbers, indeed huge numbers, of the public.  Mentioning just one factor, at this time it is still largely unknown what the continual exposure, since late 1998, to increasing concentrations of heavy metals in our ecosphere (aluminum, strontium, barium) has done to our collective physical health.  The accumulating rise of afflictions like Epstein-Barr, fibromyalgia, all manner of joint and connective tissue problems, and even declining cognitive function, as well as the aforementioned respiratory onslaught, can no longer be ignored.  In the absence of any large scale research projects or investigations having been undertaken, the evidence at this point must largely be anecdotal by definition, but ask yourself, in the past 7 to 8 years, just how many of your friends and loved ones have exhibited symptoms just such as these?  How many Americans are on prescription painkillers, and why?  Because they are in pain, of course.  But from where does this pain originate, and what kind of increases over this same time period are we seeing?  In 2010, 6 years ago, over 12 million adults had used prescription painkillers in that last year.  How many now?  If this latest news leak proves correct, the death of Prince darkly illustrates a much more sinister, and serious, long-range scenario than does even the death of Bowie, just 3 short months ago.

     Will the long-range full-scale breakdown of the human organism play right into the hands of the Transhumanists and those that would seek to insert us into a biomechanical matrix?  And, we must ask, is all this too by design?  Is our ultimate fate being engineered and “prescribed” to us via a host of ‘black’ vectors like aerosol operations, GMOs, prescription painkillers and SSRIs, and suffocating vaccination protocols? 

     In an increasingly fragile world for both our bodies and our spirits, the death of this talented Messenger has much to teach us, if only we can learn before it is too late.  Before we are all underneath the purple rain.

     May We All Live 2 C The Dawn.   


  1. you ought to don a purple majestic robe yourself my friend for being such a royal sleuth! a needed piece of journalism is what this is!! sharing to my tumblr!

  2. Wordman... your mesmerizing flow of information is simply.... marvellous! I love the way you write my friend!