I awoke in Manitou on Monday and decided to drive to Denver to check out the Osage address where Sean lived before coming to Montana. There was also a bookstore I was planning on visiting, since they were advertising a first edition of Octopussy on their website. ”Would you like some Octopussy, Tentapus?” The stern look on my stuffed animal’s face made me smile, and smiling is important when facing a global death cult.

The weather was terrible, but I made it to the store unscathed. I can’t say the same for the electrical infrastructure of the bookstore, since the storm had knocked out power to the back of their building, resulting in me having to search for books by the flashlight of my phone.

After making my purchases, which included a book about Lemuria, I plugged the Osage address into my map-app and made my way to the location. What kind of signs did I see along the way? I’ll tell you, because this is a good example of how I derive meaning from the data I see in my immediate surroundings.

The first thing I noticed was a black spiral spray-painted on the side of a gas station. The spiral looked exactly like the spiral in True Detective. Then I saw a sign that said THE SOULS OF BLACK PEOPLE, promoting an exhibit by the artist Amoako Boafo. Did I mention Monday was MLK Day?

On my way to the bookstore I had seen a KOBE restaurant, which I also took notice of because of the podcast interview with Michael Wann I had listened to. You see, Kobe Bryant’s fiery death in a helicopter kicked off a major synchronicity storm of meaning for Michael, and it led him to suspect ritual activity was afoot, and that it related to the “pandemic”. Did that make the road sign CORONA silently scream at me when I saw it? Yes, because when you get to this many synchronicities in a condensed amount of time, it becomes clear an esoteric level of communication is happening.

Kobe’s death, at the time, was also associated with Whitney Houston’s death, which occurred, we are told, in a bathtub. Why? Because of the award show happening when they both died. Here’s how one media commenter framed the connection:

It’s happened twice now in eight years.

The Grammy people were ready for the usual fun and flash and spectacle. Then, at the last moment, there was a stunning death.

In 2012 it was Whitney Houston, who had some of her greatest moments at the Grammys. This year it was Kobe Bryant (shown here), who had his greatest moments at the Staples Center, where the ceremony is held.

Ceremony? Ritual? What do we have going on here?

This takes me back to the show, True Detective, and the opening song by Billie Eilish, titled Bury A Friend. Just like using Leonard Cohen (a subject for another post), Eilish is used to convey key themes important to the death cult, themes like drowning, suicide, and selling one’s soul. Here are some of the lyrics:

Today, I'm thinkin' about
The things that are deadly
The way I'm drinkin' you down
Like I wanna drown, like I wanna end me
Step on the glass, staple your tongue (Ahh)
Bury a friend, try to wake up (Ahh-ha)
Cannibal class, killin' the son (Ahh)
Bury a friend, I wanna end me

I’ll throw a few more name-associations spinning around in my head to wrap this up, like how Houston makes me think of both football (the Texans won their playoff game) and rockets, and rockets makes think of Elon, and Elon has a Space X facility in Texas, and X is a really hot letter right now, since X is the latest fear virus, and also this year’s solar eclipse makes an X when you track its trajectory with the last eclipse.

Keeping with football, I’ll also note that Pittsburgh (where Sean was born) played Buffalo, and Buffalo is a place I visited during my last trip, and when I think of Buffalo now I think of both Nikola Tesla and Timothy McVeigh, two people I have mentioned recently in conversations as I’ve traveled. 

Maybe I’ll expound more on this later, now it’s time to get back on the road. By 10am the temperature is supposed to reach a balmy 0 degrees. Whoopee!

One final thing, since name association is such a fun game, and since William (my middle name) is a name that comes up everywhere I look, I’ll note that where I stayed last night, Colby, just reminded me of CIA Director, William Colby, the man who oversaw the OSS transition into the CIA, an evolution similar to that of the FBI after the Osage Indian murders.

During World War II, Colby served with the Office of Strategic Services. After the war, he joined the newly created Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). Before and during the Vietnam War, Colby served as chief of station in Saigon, chief of the CIA’s Far East Division, and head of the Civil Operations and Rural Development effort and oversaw the Phoenix Program. After the war, Colby became Director of Central Intelligence (DCI) and during his tenure, under intense pressure from the Congress and the media, adopted a policy of relative openness about US intelligence activities to the Senate Church Committee and the House Pike Committee. Colby served as DCI under Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford until January 30, 1976 and was succeeded at the CIA by George H. W. Bush.

I could keep going, but it’s time to get back on the road.