Sunday, 28 December 2008

Bad Santa (Part I)

The Santa Massacre, here, horrific though it was, is not of those class of events we mainly concern ourselves with here, principally because of the high level of planning that contributed to its (ahem) successful execution. The unusually-named gunman, Bruce Pardo, was clearly what we Britons would describe as 'handy', knocking up a home-made- if malfunctioning- flame-thrower as easily as if it were a couple of shelves for the wife. (Perhaps being a former- newly redundant- aerospace engineer might have something to do with that.) And the fact that he had the presence of mind to don the infamous Santa suit before launching his murderous spree indicates that, unlike truly occult operations, these events did not unfurl of their own, involuntary accord; in that fugue-like state of consciousness which is the key to it all.

These disclaimers notwithstanding, there were a few aspects to the story which did still manage to tweak my occult radar; not least the very obvious fact that it occurred on Christmas Eve: a valid, if inauthentic, 'Portal Date' of sorts. Whilst lacking the deeper resonance of heavyweights like April 20, July 7, or any of the crossquarter dates associated with the Sabbats of the pre-Christian world, December 24-5 commemorates the re-birth of the sun after its three-day hiatus following solstice on the 21st, and thus is no mere modern accretion, despite contemporary appearances. The location of the event is also mired in strangeness; as Loren Coleman reported a few days ago, Covina (in Orange County, California) served as a makeshift Roswell in the Warner Brothers network TV series of the same name (see here.)

I have long been fascinated by the presence of the feminine-sounding prefix 'ros' at the heart of so many occult events: a true Rose Line, if you like, connecting Rosslyn Chapel, alien landings, and genetic engineering. (Britain's 'Dolly the sheep', the first mammal to be cloned from an adult somatic cell, was born at the Roslin Institute in Edinburgh. It also connects to 9/11- Rosslyn, North Virginia is an unincorporated area of Arlington County, directly north-west of the Pentagon and Arlington Cemetery; a clear-view of its skyscrapers can be had from the offices of the Pentagon itself.)

In that sense, then, Covina makes a very fitting stand-in for Roswell, because its name also references the Feminine Principal or goddess, coined, according to legend, by the city's founder in honour of the 'cove of vineyards' arraigned in the San Gabriel Valley nearby. Both vine and grape are paramount symbols of the Grail, the 'underground stream' of goddess worship and the phsyical survival of the Desposyni, the royal bloodline of Mary Magdalene. Connected to this, perhaps, is the claim of its police station to being unique in the United States in boasting a replica of a giant Olmec head outside it: a gift to the city in 1989 by the Mexican state of Veracruz.

Is it symbolically-fitting, then, that in a city named for the bloodline of the goddess, a man should go beserk in a red costume? Oddly enough, as many conspiracy lovers will know, it is only since the dawning of the Age of Isis in the mid-twentieth century that Santa Claus has worn red- helped in no small part by an advertising campaign for Coca-Cola designed by the Swedish artist, Haddon Sundblom, which ran from 1931. (Prior to that time, Santa- a complicated figure, an amalgam of Christian and mythological traditions- was dressed in robes of varying hue, including green, purple, brown, and on occasion, black.)

Is it this well-known association with the Coca-Cola Company which is responsible for the ambivalence with which this once-beneficient deity is now regarded? Perhaps it's politics: an old, bearded man who takes such an interest in small children was never likely to wash in our present paranoid age of 'Enhanced Disclosure' and Megan's Law. There has, moreover, been a wave of debunkers encircling the palsied corpse of Christmas, many of them drawn from the ranks of the conspiracy community... or its evangelical Christian wing, anyway. In asserting the 'Satanic Santa' meme as vigorously as some of them have done, were they unconsciously creating the perfect psychic culture for the new archetype of evil to physically manifest?

From them, we learn that Santa's origins lie squarely in the Norse character of Odin; that the non-biblical Saint Nicholas- traditionally regarded as Santa's Christian equivalent- was associated with an unusual companion: Black Peter; and that in many versions of his legend, the saint was effectively merged with this demonic character. Who was this 'swarthy' Black Peter? According to certain Christian fundamentalists, the Devil himself... whose trademark utterance in medieval passion plays, take note, was none other than 'Ho! Ho! Ho!' (See here.)

Indeed, the promotion of the 'Bad Santa' meme has so advanced in recent years, it seems almost surprising that an event of the kind witnessed on Christmas Eve in Covina did not happen sooner. As the existence of the Coen Brothers movie of the same name, released in 2003, indicates, the idea has existed (in the imaginal) for long enough, and with sufficient intensity, for anyone suitably sensitive to 'download' it into reality.

None of these points, however, piqued my interest as much as two examples of that 'miraculous' quality so often present in the midst of occult operations: the point made in our last Mumbai article, here; and the point to which we will be returning as we continue this short investigation next time.


Anonymous said...

Covina purportedly was named for "cove of vineyards" (wine=blood etc)

city's slogan is 'One Mile Square and All There' coined by one Mrs. F.E. Wolfarth in 1922

a hem

West Covina's seal is Mari-timey shell-like, sorta triangular but reminiscent of a baseball diamond, enclosing a sun

located in the st. gabriel valley in lost angel's county, kali for nea

see wikipedia's page for the Wells Fargo bldg. photo remindful of the N.Y. "revealed" step-pyramid that Secret Sun has covered in depth

covin in espanol = popcorn (father corn/first father, sacrificial god eg maya "myth" -- involving bloodletting esp from penile wounds)

and of course Coven a' the West...


Anadæ said...

Horrible spree, that. The news made me nauseous. Still, your salient observations were stellar; us Germans have another name for the attendant Yuletide devil to Father Christmas, that being Krampus, said to be most unrelentingly cruel to those bad boys & girls who merited worse than coal in their Christmas stockings. Also, it'd be interesting to note when it was that the Coca-Cola Bottling Co removed cocaine hydrochloride from its world acclaimed soft drink as an active ingredient. Nutmeg, a well known psychoactive botanical, is still used as its prised secret additive, please take note. And, of course, then there is that power of names related to this case, something that the distinctly elven among us 'Gno' all too well as a potent adjunct to enacting change in the world, this one & the other two. After all, Oxford schooled storyteller extraordinaire as well as (ironically enough) a devout Catholic 'til the end, JRR Tolkien, had dubbed the Elven Race the Quendi, meaning Speakers, who, according to his mythos, knew the power of the spoken word & naming with fortuidous result. Another name for them was also the Eldar, aka the Starry Race. It is at this time of year that the constellation of Orion, pursuing the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters, is most easily seen in the southern sector of the vault of the heavens. The septenary (the seven-point star) has been adopted by those who pursue elfin-faery traditions as their religio-spiritual pendant, much as Christians wera the crucifix, Jews the Star of David, and Wiccans the upright pentacle. Best to you & yours in aught nine, Ben ~ Anadæ ( :-)}

Anadæ said...

Correction: I meant to use the word "formidable" earlier, not the word "fortuitous" (which itself I misspelt, along with "wear", yeesh!), so, it looks as though it's high time to hit my grammatical studies, not to overlook my grammarie ones ( ;-)}

Up on Apple Mountain,