OCCULT BLOODS: Prince Philip and DMX are Dead and the Queen's Not Looking Too Good Either
Foreshadowing
[Originally published on MEDIUM 13April2021; Censored by Medium 30June2021]
Ah, patriarchal purveyors of the dark arts…how little the hoodwinked plebs really know about you. Or want to know about you. Or see the “hidden in plain sight” stuff, like the white horns atop bloody DMX’s head on the boy-that-sure-looks-satanic-to-me! album cover above.
Synchronicities and Signs O’ The Times…Ever since I discovered JFK, C.S. Lewis and Aldous Huxley all died on November 22, 1963, I’ve tried to pay close attention when a couple of famous people die the same day, see what it signifies, if anything.
Two legendary Patriots and Presidents, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, both died on July 4th, 1826 (Adams’ famous last words, ironically, were “At least Thomas Jefferson still survives”). Two gifted French creative artists, filmmaker Jean Cocteau and singer Edith Piaf, died on October 11, 1963. (Dark?) Occult Auteur Orson Welles and “Magnificent” Oscar-winning actor Yul Brenner, also died on October 11 (1985). European cinema’s Occult Auteurs Michelangelo Antonioni and Ingmar Bergman both died July 30, 2007. The last musical genre crossover superstar Michael Jackson and America’s last sex symbol pinup Farrah Fawcett, both exited too early, on June 25, 2009.
I could go on, but you get the idea. Dig around, you’ll find other patterns, similarities, “coincidences” in death dates.
So it caught my attention when creepy cadaverous father of at least one pedophile and probably more Prince Philip and scary\tragic corpse-fucking\child abuse victim\rapper\actor DMX (“Dark Man X”) both died the same day last week, April 9th.
What does it meeeeeaaaan? Two guys who couldn’t be more dissimilar, or so we all presume. Unless Prince Philip was a “dark man” himself, and of course he was. Dying on the 9th day of the month at 99 on the 99th day of the year, 33x3, LOL. The secret society jokes all but write themselves, except 1/3 of you wouldn’t get them and never will.
Anyway, I’m not here to bury the alter egos of Philip Mountbatten or Earl Simmons, nor to much praise them, but I do have to give DMX some props for inadvertently being the role-cast catalyst for one of the all-time greatest movie-going experiences during my years as a film critic (not a movie reviewer!). So let’s talk about that for a couple minutes, since it’s a fun throwback. Fun is in short supply nowadays, and even if this de-occulting composition turns into a throwback throwaway, it’s my birthday so give me some leeway for a change, willya?
After being a top dawg film critic in the ATL for the end years of the last Millennium, I moved to Baltimore (2000–2004) and became low-man on the totem pole writing for the late, great Mobtown alt-weekly CityPaper. Basically, I got assigned all the movies nobody else in the pecking order wanted to see. It was a pretty big comedown from being Film Editor at INsite Magazine, The Cherokee Tribune and Well-Rounded Entertainment (R.I.P.com) in Atlanta, but I had sold out by that point. I’d left journalism and taken my first marketing job, flacking for Charm City’s best ad agency. Writing for CityPaper was just a side gig, for kicks and caché around town.
But wow, did I see a lot of lousy movies. One of them was the terrible 2003 DMX/Jet Li mismatched buddy action flick Cradle 2 the Grave. Such a crappy movie…but what a great experience, and a timely reminder of how much fun going to the movies can be when it becomes a communal moment with an engaged audience.
One thing studios do when they know they’ve got a stinker on their hands is hold the critics’ pre-release screening close to the film’s opening date, so you don’t have much time to think about it. They pack the theater with an audience demographic that might be more easy on the film than a general cross-section of the public, and hope the critics get swept up in the moment with the crowd.
Thus, the Bawlmer critics’ screening for Cradle 2 The Grave was folded into the city’s public premiere, sponsored by a local Urban format radio station in a predominantly Black section of town. The place was packed, SRO, there were maybe seventeen White people in the audience, my (now ex-) wife and me included.
The movie was awful, but not boring. It also co-starred then-rising leggy, confident and adorable actress Gabrielle Union, who had playfully been on my “Freebie List of Five” for a few years, since turning my head in Bring It On and Love & Basketball. (Hey, when it comes to beautiful women, I’ve always been all-in on diversity; I’m no John Mayer).
Gabrielle Union plays DMX’s GF in Cradle 2 The Grave, and at one point she has to mislead some gangsta guy while DMX is stealing something somewhere else in the building (I think? Whatever DMX is up to at that point is the least noteworthy thing about this memory). So Ms. Union’s comely character starts doing a very fluid, sensual and distracting strip tease for the bad guy.
Once the sexy heroine gets shimmying, some dude in the back of the theater starts egging her on….”Oh! Oh Baby! Yeah! Do it! You do it!” People in the theater chuckle and laugh. As more clothing comes off, this guy’s getting more and more animated and entertaining: “YEAAH!! Oh my God, girl! Yes! Yes!”
When the scene cuts away to whatever it is DMX is up to, the guy in the back of the theater starts complaining: ”Nuh-Uh! Don’t nobody care about this! Get back to Gabby! Get it back!” People in the audience are really laughing now, including me, and soon we are “back to Gabby,” down to bra and panties, the ultimate temptation for the obviously and justifiably awestruck villain, and the guy in the back of the theater is about to blow a gasket: ”Naw, she ain’t gonna do it! Is she gonna do it? Is she gonna do it???”
She does it. Unsnaps the bra, goddess-like glory falls free. Dude in the back goes ballistic in ecstasy. “OH MY GOD!!! She did it! She did it!!!”
The packed audience breaks into spontaneous cheers and applause. I’m about to applaud too, but catch myself, and cast a glance at my (now ex-) wife, who rolls her eyes and flaps her hand like “go ahead, whatever.” So I did.
I literally remember almost nothing else about that shitty DMX movie, but I do remember that movie-going experience. It’s the type of communal thing that can never happen when you’re sitting home alone, or with just a couple other people in a room inside your house looking at a big screen TV.
Keep that in mind when journalists claim to not understand why Godzilla vs. Kong is the first movie to put butts in seats at the multiplex in more than a year, compared to all this year’s soul-deadening Oscar nominees that nobody’s going to see. Like 2020 itself, 2020’s Oscar-nominated movies are a depressing and divisive drag. But nearly everybody is in agreement about Godzilla vs. Kong: It’s ridiculous, terrible…and an absolute escapist blast.
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On a far less communal note when it comes to remembering the recently dead, let’s point and laugh at the comical hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance of the corporate media and SJW PR Karen types as they lined up and lamented the passing of one of the planet’s pre-eminent patriarchal White guy sexist snobs, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, born Philip of Grees and Denmark, later Philip Mountbatten, and the longest serving consort in world history, 49 years.
As usual in Law of Inversion Land, no clown seems to realize how preaching about the importance of “equity” and taking down “White supremacy” while at the same time prostrating before the whitest-of-White British “royal” family patriarchs is a bizarre, self-owning paradox.
So let’s break a few U.K. laws. Did you know it is against the law to advocate the abolition of the Monarchy in the UK? You should.
Like almost every other thing, the corporate media has misled the public into believing that Queen Elizabeth is merely a symbolic ceremonial figurehead, with little or no real power. Nothing could be further from the truth.
As British Monarch, Queen Elizabeth II is one of the wealthiest and most powerful people on Earth. Don’t listen to the bought-and-paid-for subjects in corporate media about the Queen’s alleged liquid assets; she owns more land than anybody on the planet — or, pardon me, the “Royal Trust” does — with more than 6.6 BILLION acres of land (six-point-six! You can’t make this shit up), including Britain and 31 Commonwealth nations still possessed by Britain, which nobody really talks about because they don’t want you to know or understand.
But understand this: The Queen’s no figurehead. She’s a MONARCH. A monarch reigns, but does not rule. She gets other people to do the ruling; she possesses all the power but gets the chess pieces moved without moving them herself. The throne behind the power, to invert a phrase.
Prime Ministers in Commonwealth nations, like Canada’s pretty boy cretin Justin Castrudeau or Australia’s Scott Morrison, are subservient to the Queen. They are basically her spokespeople. The governor generals stationed in the Queen’s commonwealth nations represent and exercise the Queen’s power on her behalf. Did you even know that something like a Governor General exists? You should.
The general public does not realize that Commonwealth nations’ leaders are only representatives of the Monarch. They do not possess the power. They exercise the power. In other words, they do not reign — they rule.
By delegating the power instead of exercising it, the Queen remains safely above and outside petty political conflicts, divisions, and disputes. She is protected from becoming a target of political hostility. Meanwhile, the general public is kept in the dark about the powers that the Queen possesses — possesses, but we’re told does not exercise. Yet…do you know anybody with that much power who doesn’t use it?
Now, what is “The CROWN”?
“The Crown” are executive powers exercised in the name of the Monarch. The physical crown is a symbol of the Queen’s executive office. The Parliamentary Oaths Act of 1866 requires all leaders of Commonwealth nations to swear an Oath of Loyalty to the Queen, not to the people who elected them. Those who do not swear allegiance are deemed unfit for office.
This doesn’t just mean Prime Ministers. It means police, military, judges, legislators, lawyers, and public servants. New citizens also swear allegiance to the Crown. Public land in the Queen’s colonies like Canada is called “Crown Land.” Government corporations are called “Crown Corporations.” The central bank of Canada and the Canadian Mint are Crown Corporations, independent of most government controls.
All Canadian warships and Australian warships belong to the Queen. All government contracts are between a company or individual, and “Her Majesty.”
So the Queen and “The Crown” are a bigger deal than anybody on the public stage lets on, which makes her dead husband the Prince and all her kids a much bigger deal than anybody lets on.
But let me ask you: When’s the last time you saw Queen Elizabeth II wearing The Crown or State Diadem tiara? Have you seen The Crown or State Diadem since, er…Corona took over? I daresay you haven’t. She didn’t wear either during the Royal Ceremonies marking the opening of the U.K. Parliament in December 2019. Prince Charles didn’t don his military uniform, either.
So who’s wearing the Crown now? Anybody? Or is some kind of real-life Game of Thrones still being waged? After all, as a Dark Man told us, “It’s about being the motherfucking King.”
