LIFE DURING WARTIME: VVitches in Space & Easter ‘Sinners’

The Occultocracy Will Continue To Double Down on the Divisive, Deceptive & Diabolical, Buuuut…

Apr 16, 2025

**“Pigs in Space” was a re-occurring sketch segment on ITC’s** **The Muppet Show, featuring a cast of stupid and incompetent yet hugely self-impressed swine puppets.**

“They might not know what is what / But they sure do know how to strut / Karma's no liar, she knows deceit / Time will tell, she keeps all the receipts…” Katy Perry, “Swish Swish”

“Everything is a lie. You realize that by now, right?” — Christopher Knowles, “Riding Lucifer’s Love Rocket”

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Happy Easter! Jesus is Real! Space is Not?

Only kidding, only kidding. I mostly have no idea what’s real and what’s not nowadays.

Though I do know one thing that’s not real: The laughably ridiculous girlboss narrative precariously constructed around smug CIA-creation-cum-Blofeldian-media mogul Jeff Bezos’s dick-shaped Blue Origin rocket ride for six Six SIX (!) celebrity vvitches: Jeff’s hard-to-look-at surgical disaster freakshow wyfe Lauren Sánchez; closeted child killer Orca Winfrey’s generally talentless wyfe Gayle King; creepy sandblasted washed up pop tart Katy Perry; plus (+?) of course a “social justice activist,” a DEI-imposed former NASA scientist, and an angry masculine-faced #MeToo documentary filmmaker.

A more nebulous collection of worthless and un-deserving “modern” women it would be difficult to assemble, unless maybe you recruited from the WNBA or the Teacher’s Union or the perpetually confused & bitter dried up hags who are still dumb enough to pay to attend The 3% Movement Conference.

What a unsavory clique of Pigs In Space! Not to mention the misleading and misinforming black magick linguistic contortions spun around this photo op propaganda for Amazon’s shaved-head second-tier technoligarch — not as smart as Lone Skum, nor as influential, while significantly more muscular yet somehow less physically attractive than the blobby Xwitter/Tesla King; say what you will, but Elon beds & breeds with crazy hotties like, well, crazy, while Jeff’s barely articulate Mockingbird-approved scientifically finessed arm candy is more like a Bogdanoff sister sporting a pair of lab-enhanced watermelons past ripe and near rot — would lead you to believe a celebutante sextet of Strong & Diverse Independent Women triumphantly piloted a cock-rocket ship to outer space.

An Inversion of Heroines! An America where singularly untalented vvitches, bitches, snitches, nuts & sluts are are elevated as mouthpieces of the Occupying Regime! Starring the 1980’s dream and 2020’s nightmare versions of creepy af Lauren Sanchez, a hellacious harbinger of what our country used to be and what it has become.

Actually no. No. NO. The six wealthy women were not “piloting” nor “crew” on Bozo’s Blue Origin rocket ship, but IRL passengers on a glorified amusement park ride. As pointed out by a few mainstream news sources, while the vast majority of #FakeNews hacks were pimping the six chicks as skilled “crew” members of the spaceflight, in reality:

“No pilots or trained active government astronauts are ever on board the spacecraft, composed of both a rocket and a crew capsule. Instead, the vehicle flies itself autonomously with up to six passengers, including notable celebrities like actor William Shatner and NFL legend Michael Strahan.”

Oy gevelt, Shat! While I like Bill Shatner in theory — even though I think he killed his wife (ever hear that 911 phone call? Not one of The Shat’s most convincing performances) — I also think the 94-year old sci-fi icon who mostly rides around in a gizmo-laden wheelchair is an bottomlessly-thirsty Holly Wood fame whore who would gladly fake a rocket ride to get his name atop the news cycle for a spin or two; not to mention compose a demoralizing pre-written essay (“All I saw was death. It filled me with overwhelming grief, sadness and dread. My trip to space was supposed to be a celebration; instead, it felt like a funeral.”) for another million bucks, or the devil-knows-what payoff.

Hey, just my opinion! Sorry Shat; I dig you, no question, but after decades of observation, I know you well enough to not trust you for a second, either. (PS: I’ve also observed enough to know you’re talented but no Patrick McGoohan or Jack Lord, two of your preferred period professional peers).

I don’t like Disney’s bought-and-paid-for mouthpiece Michael Strahan, though I wager he could make me some money if I bet a bitcoin he passed Diddy’s “Egg Test.” Any NFL figure who hits the corporate mainstream, presume the worst: He’s an actor pushing a Narrative who will do what he’s told, like refusing to put his hand over his heart during the National Anthem, and hanging out with other anti-American Disney wretches like little midget pervert Georgie Snuffilmopoulis, the proven liar who believes parents should watch pornography with their children.

It didn’t get the attention it deserved, probably because protecting all the child rapists in the occupying regime is priority #1 for corporate media (which is itself loaded with sex criminals), but during its most recent shareholders’ conference call the Disney Board confirmed it had voted to continue to support the sexualization of children, child sex changes and biological men in girls and women’s bathrooms and locker rooms, despite the majority of Disney stockholders wanting it to stop.

So I don’t necessarily believe or disbelieve The Shat and Strahan went up in a rocket. But I can tell you for a fact they did NOT go into “outer space” and neither did the six dumb media meat puppets and cosmetic surgery experiments in their bright blue boobalicious skintight uniforms, despite the breathless assurances from all the other dumb chicks and low I.Q. queers in the controlled corrupt collectivist corporate criminal clown media that they did. Even the allegedly intelligent former Foxbot-turned-top-tier controlled oppo and botox specialist Megyn Kelly was spewing the “outer space” misinformation yesterday, emoting what sounded like bitchy jealousy about the women riding the penis-rocket while she’s earthbound and married to a guy who makes less than she does (hey, she’s the one who keeps bringing it up).

As the great Christopher Knowles pointed out on his excellent Secret Sun blog yesterday, “In case some dimwit tries to tell you otherwise, this thrill-ride didn't even remotely approach even the absolute lowest possible reaches of outer space.” To whit:

So it’s all a giant lie, another corporate media lie, a faux feminist false flag and fake Mediagasm that will inspire no one. All that’s without broaching the pathological levels of narcissism that accompanies sending six celebutantes into a short not-space orbit for an embarrassing bonfire of vanities, with more than half the brief time up there spent taking selfies and playing games and giggling like middle school tween idiots, arrested development adolescents, theater kids. Meanwhile, surely dozens of far more accomplished, experienced, intelligent and worthy female scientists and astronauts sat earth-bound, cooling their heels and probably contemplating breast implants.

What’s the rocket-fueled takeaway message to teen wannabe STEM-sisters from these primping vanity productions in blue? “Don’t get educated, girls! Simply get massive amounts of cosmetic surgery, balloon those lips and tits up to zeppelin-esque proportions, and marry a short insecure billionaire with a wonky eye. THAT’s the road to success!”

Meanwhile, before I make my way out, I’d like to “circle back” to something I’ve pointed out in years past: Easter and Christmas movie releases always serve up something satanic, in either title or content or subtext or all of the above.

Last year, we got The First Omen, a prequel about the rise of the antichrist. 2022 was Fantastic Beasts: The Secret of Dumbledore; do you know what a “fantastic beast” is? J(ust) K(idding) Rowling is no big picture ally, trust me. 2021 un-blessed us with The Unholy, a cautionary tale about how the Virgin Mary is actually demonic. 2020 theaters were closed for the fake pandemic that was actually just a bad flu season, pretty satanic all by itself.

2019’s #1 box office movie Easter weekend was The Curse of La Llorona, about a supernatural dark spirit of child drowning murderers. 2018 was washed-up Steven Spielberg’s satanic-in-its-own-way dud adaptation of Ready Player One, a much better novel he ruined. 2017 Easter was the eighth Fast & Furious entry, maybe you’d consider that a wash but I wouldn’t; it was the first entry after Trump’s election and the symbolic Paul Walker “kill the leading white guy movie star” human sacrifice. A year prior, 2016 excreted the rancid Batman v. Superman, literally the single worst movie of the 21st Century, a multiplex brimstone fart from a bitchslapped pussy-whipped musclebound dwarf.

Keep going back, back, backwards on IMDB, year by year: A.I. horror Transcendence, alien parasite horror The Host, dystopian horror Hunger Games, black comic horror parody Scream 4; if it’s Easter weekend, you can bet on something nasty dropping in your multiplex.

This Easter weekend is no exception. The big release we’re all supposed to be getting excited about is an ultra-violent vampire horror flick named…Sinners. Shot in IMAX and selectively released in rare 70mm prints, it’s the latest from Ryan Coogler and Michael B. Jordan, who previously teamed on a couple Black Panther and Creed movies. It’ll probably be pretty good. I won’t see it, and hopefully not many other people do either, at least this weekend.

**“Happy Easter, honey! Let’s go see** **Sinners**!”

There’s more to say, much much more — Hell, cubism, Saturn, Picasso, tesseracts, modern block brutalist architecture, Minecraft and Mind-Craft — but what I’ve written so far today pretty much burns off my bile. What remains at the bottom of the bin is something I knew already: “There is no negotiating with Evil.” The only End Game for the stubbornly antichrist, anti-life, anti-woman, anti-America Holly Wood is apparently an ugly and humiliating death. It’s them or us, because The Town continues to go out of its way to say “There is no ‘we.’”

The half-humans who control America’s culture, from movies to music to rocket launches, are bad people. No sane parent would hold up crazy Katy Perry, talentless second banana Gayle King, scary clown Lauren Sánchez and the three other preening nobodies as worthwhile role models. Yet the Cultural Narrative creators think they are. They literally plotted this dumb rocket ship trip as a slam-dunk PR victory. They had absolutely no clue it was a predictable disaster rooted in a delusional emphasis on celebrity connection over skill, intelligence and experience.

Because that’s who they are. Lauren Sánchez is nothing, Katy Perry’s nothing, Gayle King is less than nothing. Every single one of them built their brand by leeching off somebody else, from bald and lesbian billionaires to record producers and Rusty Rockets, and parroting the Accepted Establishment Talking Points; they jumped out of the stands, ran across the playing field and planted themselves on third base, yet insist we all agree they hit a triple.

To conclude, I’ll mention again the guru I spoke with at Anarchapulco a half-dozen years ago, who told me that Evil was soon going to go public in a big way; it wouldn’t (or perhaps couldn’t) be able to control itself. I’ll also namedrop Fritz Springmeier, author of Bloodlines of the Illuminati, who told me basically the same thing.

It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it? I remain regularly amazed by the “masks off” moments of deeply evil people, either via egotistical shamelessness or situational delusion (or both). They simply don’t get it or don’t care. If the answer is the former, our victory is assured; if it’s the latter, all bets are off. Say your prayers.