Black Sun

We only have one sun, but that wasn’t always the case. Some star systems have multiple stars. It happened right here a long time ago. The new coming star was much brighter than the old one. The second star, very close, shone much stronger than the first. Near the new one so close, so lively and so clear, the old sun was too pale and far away.

What star is it? I come to it. But let me give you a little introduction that has nothing to do with it, but it explains everything.

Androphagous

It was millenia ago. The women were 4-meter giants. The little males watched them from afar. Terrifying, the females back then. And even now, many small males are scared of women. And yet they’re a more reasonable size. But if the brain memory is short, our aura remembers. It plays back images, very old archives, we shit in our ben’s. You have to see these horrors!

Anthropophagous or worse: androphagous. They only eat males. We move from one side of the street to the other when they appear in packs, claws out. We make ourselves very small. Tiny. But when they see us, they grab one, always the fattest. And off to the barbecue! They devour it whole. These big guys always have their fangs, and we little guys always have our panties in a twist.

But first things first.

There was a time when black women descended from the Great Luminary to populate the earth. They went to Africa. They mined minerals, precious stones and uranium to feed the Luminary, to power the thousand circuits of the Great Ship of the goddesses of old. They were as black as night and as long as a day without bread.

The black race

There was a time when there were no whites, reds or yellows among humans. There was a time when all humans were as black as ebony and as bright as suns.

The blacks of that time were the fifth humanity to populate this planet. All Sons of the Sun, they are the Great Old Ones. By age, not by size.

Before them, there was another people, the fourth humanity. They were all women. 4m tall giants. And these giants were black. They taught us everything we need to know, just before they started munching on us.

May the sexists leave me, may the racists change website, it seems to me that God is the Goddess and She is Black.

In a recent article, I enumerated several avenues that give consistency to what I’m saying. I feel obliged to reproduce these links here so as not to overload the present article with repetition. Readers concerned by this issue are invited to refer to them.

Black Lilith – Prehistoric Reactors – Maputo Eternal Africa – The Sudean Epic – The People of Osiris – Pre-Diluvian Peoples – Black Celts and Vikings – Black Buddhas – Black Gods of America – Olmec Heads – Astronaut Olmec – Black America before Columbus – Back to Yoruba Country – Abu Bakari, Mansa of Mali

First Breed Created

It’s hard to imagine that this big, beautiful planet, with all its diversity of life, inhabited by so many different animals, so many plants with multicolored flowers, is populated only by one kind of human: black giants, uniformly black, without the nuances we know today. Shades that come from the many inter-ethnic crosses between the first black males, our ancestors, and the other skin colors that only emerged much later.

But how? If the whole human gender has been black, how did yellows, reds and whites emerge? From what? Once again, without recourse to the former gods, their genetic maneuvers and their taste for sex fun, we seem at a loss for explanations. The geneticians undoubtedly have their ideas, otherwise their science would be shaky. But their silence is deafening.

Would you like to hear what I have to say? All life sciences are flawed because they avoid the essential: life itself. It’s a mystery that science tries to trivialize. You can’t trivialize a mystery. You can only trivialize the discourse on the mystery.

Thought itself is not life, but a discourse on life. This world we believe to be real is a fable, a crude falsehood. Only the astral world, where we drift every night, is real.

Consubstancial

This is one of the valuable contributions of Wittgenstein to scientific thought. Carefully distinguish between the thing and the state of things. Don’t confuse the thing in itself with the description of the thing, by our perceptions, by our brain, by our a-priori, and so on.

Clearly, firstly, a thing is modified by its environment, and secondly, a thing remains resolutely external to the observer. He cannot attempt to reach it other than through a description: text, image, sound, olfactory capture, etc.

Is this the difference between God and Man? While we can only describe or feel what is external to us, God shares the intimate substance of all his creation. God is consubstantial with the created, says Christian theology. And this morning, for me, that makes sense. I’m buying.

But beware! By a dialectical subterfuge, I’ve swapped two notions that have nothing to do with each other: an uncreated God as the Source of the created, and the terraforming gods who are nothing more than ingenious tinkerers alongside that God… if he exists.

For me, he doesn’t exist, but SHE does. We call her the Great Goddess. The terraformers are her employees who participate – as we all do – in the Glory of the Living… even if I’m quite embarrassed to grasp that level.

My ‘consubstanciality’ extends only to the description of the thing and not to the thing itself, to the thing itself. La chose en soie, la chose elle m’aime, says the Gosling Language.

The Great Luminary

It shone with a wild glow that splashed all the northern skies. It was called the Sun, with the capital letter, not to be confused with the little wolf, the distant sun while pale all falot. Its inhabitants were called the Sons of the Sun, and we find this title to designate the highest nobility of all countries that have very ancient cultures.

The Great Light was not a star. It was inhabited as the planets are, but it was not an ordinary planet. Its tough skin like the hardest metal could become supple and transparent to diffuse the most radiant light. The Great Light was a spaceship inhabited by a race of visitors from the Big Dipper, Ursa Major or Ur Samaj Or.

The Great Luminary was a spaceship inhabited by a race of visitors from the Big Dipper.

A black-skinned race. Thin translucent scales, the legacy of a distant reptilian past, covered their shoulders, legs and forearms. These visitors were lady visitors. 4-meter giants. Dangerous, deadly athletes. Against them, little Adam’s under 2 meters were no match. With a flick of the wrist, they sent them into the stratosphere to circle the earth three times. Beasts, beasties, bestiasses.

They were the queens of the Great Luminary. They loved to eat, fight and make love. But not with the Adamses. They preferred Lucifer the light-bearer and his merry band of humanoid lizards.

Two Black Descents

In fact, there are two original black races: the human black race developed by the former gods, and the divine black race that provided genes to the human black race.

Taking into account an external intervention, everything becomes clear. The Black race appeared first because it was designed first, programmed for two specific tasks, mining work and war. The bellicose instinct was pushed to the max in the genetic scrubs that served as a model for the first human clones. The black gods and the white gods mingled with each other from the first terraforming operations. As I said, if the presence of blacks is certain, the presence of whites is less evident. Likewise, if the reality of the goddesses and the Great Goddess is beyond doubt, that of the gods is subject to caution.

The fact that the human race at its origin was limited to women, accompanied by in vitro reproduction by cloning, seems to come from a custom of the visitors of the stars. That of feminine power. That of the supremacy of women among the former gods, which I better call the former goddesses.

Male Chauvinist Pigs

On this planet so resolutely macho, male power is a recent thing. It lasted very little time compared to the hundred thousand years of the matriarchy. Super-women, four meters tall, strong like ten men and black skin. My blunt deformation makes me see them as big black mamas such as the Master Robert Crumb croque. Visionary and caustic, this genius doesn’t respect anything, that’s why we love him. It’s the Woody Allen of comics, who without him would be walking around. He went to the Akashic annals to find the ancient prototype of the black mama, as the former gods wanted it: an uncontrollable sex bomb and a hennising mare under the effect of a permanent rut.

It’s shameful, inappropriate, incorrect, obscene, and totally dubious, I love it.

Dormancy

I am convinced that the eternal misunderstanding between the sexes originates in the cruel twists and turns of the ending matriarchy. After a very long period of social peace in the adoration of the benevolent Mother Goddess, the matriarchy began to decline, leaving the hands free to the imperial guard. Fearsome and cruel, the warriors charged to watch over the Goddess have turned into hordes of murderers, relentlessly tracking down the little males to castrate, eviscerate and grill them on large barbecues.

They were very fond of the male genitals that they liked well grilled. You can see the origin of the famous barbecue sausages.

The guys didn’t like it. They got together, chattered, sharpened their fake, sharpened their false eyelashes and hammers. Two hundred to one, they rushed on the giants who perished under the number.

So they made a decision: no more power to the girls. Piss off too much. That’s the reason why. We are made like rats. Condemned to hate each other. To face each other without fail. To stand firm. And that is not going to end.

What did I say?

I’m convinced? How could I be? Do you know who I really am? I don’t. I don’t know myself. Have you looked at me? Me? Convinced? Come now. Not a thing. Nothing at all. I would have laid all this for quetsches? Que tchi. Some see me as the Statue of Doubt. Nothing lasts very long. Idea, hypothesis, conclusion, solution, analysis, decision, nothing lasts, I have a hard tooth and an insecure Adam.

Do you even know who you are? No? You amaze me! Nobody does. Here’s the heart of the mystery, pulsing red with life, torn from the chest of the First Man who lived this universe billions of years before it existed.

He, the First Adam, his companion and his mate, gigantic humanoid ophidians, manipulators of life, magicians of physics, metaphysical sorcerers, were killing non-time in their uncreated virtual laboratory. While they played for fun, studious brainless thinkers, they inadvertently invented the Big Bang. It was a Monday.

A noisy invention. Its echo has barely reached us. Wait until it explodes! Tomorrow we’ll be deaf.