The Wizard of L/Oz\T
Or: The Wickedest Ghost in the World Turns 149
It’s October 12, 2024—at least it was—otherwise known as Aleister Crowley's 149th birthday.
Another year, another sync.
Last year, the sync was that Crowley’s ghost turned 148, which converts to 1776 months, a span of time noted in the first post on this blog, where it was found between the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and the 2013 Boston Bombings. On the day Crowley would have turned 1776 months old, Hollywood spit out the final trailer for Wonka, a movie whose whole incoming existence inspired my series Purple Reined (which I created this blog to publish). The Crowley connection is literal: if you didn’t read Purple Reined, you might not know that the production designer for Wonka was Nathan Crowley, the descendant of Aleister. His project before that was about time-travel (Tenet), and before that was about the life of Neil Armstrong (First Man).
So that means Nathan Crowley—descendant of the author of a novel called Moonchild—was in charge of recreating the lunar Apollo sets on the 2018 film directed by Damien Chazelle. Are we to take anything more from this bit of central meta-casting, or just note it and move on?
While 148 years handily converted to one of the 5 Seals, the number 149 (the 35th prime) is relevant to Crypto-K due to Arthur C. Clarke’s novels and the sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey—2010: The Year We Make Contact (released 237 weeks after The Shining)—in which the physical dimensions of the Monolith are given as a ratio: 1 : 4 : 9. Interestingly, 237 = 149 + 88, the mph required for time-travel in Back to the Future.
In other words, the DeLorean + the Monolith = Room 237?
Presently, on Crowley’s monolithically-charged 149th birthday, powered by the dual-success of Wonka and Dune, Timothée Hal Chalamet has morphed into Bob Dylan, the role it seems he was conceived in a test-tube to eventually play. The most recent trailer for A Complete Unknown (releasing on Christmas) was ‘dropped’ on 10/8, so, not quite on Crowley’s birthday like last year, but in the same week. 108 has its own sync properties, like being the mean radius of the Moon—1080 miles—or the number of stitches on a baseball, or beads on a mala. Or in media, it’s the number of minutes you have to save the world in LOST, where “saving the world” means you must every 108 minutes input into a computer a specific sequence of 6 numbers that ends in 42 and sums to 108, and press execute. Any similarities between that tremendous plot-line and Crypto-K are purely coincidental—or are they?
On his Great-Great-Uncle or whatever’s 149th birthday, Nathan Crowley has shifted his focus from Wonka to work on Wicked, the big-screen version of the Broadway musical based on characters from L. Frank Baum’s The Wizard of Oz. Wicked is set to release on 11/22/2024, or 42 days after Aleister Crowley’s 149th birthday—look, that means that the JFK assassination occurred on the 42nd day after Crowley’s 88th birthday.
How appropriate—the living descendant of the so-called Wickedest Man in the World working on an Oz movie called Wicked—and that release will also be the 61st (19 + 42 year) anniversary of the JFK assassination, a span otherwise known as exactly 732 months.
So 19 + 42 + 88 = 149 and 149 + 88 = 237. Wow!
The release of Wicked will also, funnily enough, mark 93 years (the # of Thelema, which is also 23 + 70) since the 1931 dual release date of Frankenstein and Possessed, the latter of which kickstarted the career of Joan Crawford, her relationship with Clark Gable, and the apparent ritual of marrying her to the number 237 on film.
It happens at 3 minutes and 51 seconds into Possessed (1931), when her character Marian, after leaving her menial job at a paper box factory, approaches a passing train with its engine labeled in large block numbers: 2037. This encounter sets the plot in motion.
It happens (again) at 3 minutes and 51 seconds into Possessed (1947), when Crawford’s character is hauled out of the diner she wandered into, Lew’s Cafe (address 237) and into an ambulance. These events set the plot in motion.
The spell was first cast in 1931 and then reinforced 16 years later in 1947 by the 2nd Possessed film, released on 7/26/1947: Kubrick’s 19th birthday and the day Truman signed the National Security Act, codifying the clandestine possession of the entire nation by a cabal of entrenched military and intelligence interests, and setting the ground for the foundation of the state of Israel—a final agreement on the issue of who would possess the lands of Palestine—exactly 42 weeks after that.
It can’t be an accident.
So much to unpack with these films, but first let’s back up to something already mentioned: LOST. The plot of LOST (some slight spoilers here) concerns a group of plane crash survivors on a small tropical island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. One of the show’s main characters, John Locke, immediately realizes the mystical power of the island due to the fact that before the crash, he was disabled and without the use of his legs, but upon arriving on the island, found he could walk again. In season 2, in the course of his quest to understand the island, Locke finds a hatch in the jungle leading to an underground bunker. There he finds a man (who looks kind of like Jesus Christ) whose life revolves around “saving the world”—the aforementioned punching of a series of numbers into a computer—4 8 15 16 23 42—every 108 minutes. Note that the LOST number sequence ends where the Crypto-K sequence begins: 42.
You might be wondering, where’s the 237? Well, you can see in the video Shawn made exploring this scene that the moment Locke first sits down at the computer terminal (at gunpoint, by the guy who looks like Jesus) is accompanied by 2:37 on the countdown clock, clipped by Locke’s shoulder as he sits down. Actually it spends a few frames at 2:38, before Locke’s shoulder almost seems to knock it down to 2:37. Watch the rest of that video to get an idea of the meaning of the shoulder trope and how Kubrick deploys it in The Shining.
But besides the 237s, why do we bring this up in connection with Possessed, a movie which came out seven decades earlier? It’s about one small detail: the fact we learn that, in his normal, broken-down life, John Locke works for a paper box manufacturer just like Marian in Possessed! Desmond (Jesus) calls him box man. John Locke, who despises his menial job just like Marian in Possessed, now, also like Marian, finds himself looking up at the number 237, and about to be possessed: by the need to press the button (Locke) or run away to the big city (Marian). For both of them it begins as a quest to find meaning and purpose in their otherwise dreary lives—and of course, where it ultimately takes them they could hardly predict.
In other words, the story of John Locke in LOST in some respects mirrors the story of Marian in Possessed, and both are synchronistically glued together by the presence of 237, the 3rd Seal—and boxes. It’s hard to believe that the writers (and directors and editors and production designers) of LOST in 2005 would be referencing Joan Crawford movies from the 30s and 40s, but then again, is it? Perhaps the point here is not that they are intentionally referencing Possessed: it’s that they are themselves possessed. Just like the writers and editors and production designers of either Possessed film didn’t know they were possessed by a directive: “put 237 in the movie with Joan Crawford at 3 minutes and 51 seconds.” Now the question is, who or what gave them such a bizarre and, on the surface of things, inconsequential directive? Who, indeed…
There’s someone else we can connect to the idea of manufacturing paper boxes: Stanley Kubrick. If you have seen Jon Ronson’s documentary Stanley Kubrick’s Boxes, you’ll remember that Kubrick’s meticulous nature and frustration with the commercially available options led to his designing his very own form of cardboard box for use in his home archives. On dying on 3/7/1999 he left thousands of these boxes behind at Childwickbury, the contents of which were eventually archived in London. Kubrick was the box man, in other words—and doesn’t his name—cube-brick—just give it away? There are many more levels to the boxing pun, but this isn’t the place to go into it (see a future post).
By all accounts Joan Crawford’s real life was not that much different from Marian in Possessed. Going from the equivalent of working in a paper box factory to becoming one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, later in life she became even wealthier due to her husband’s sudden death, as she wound up in possession of a major share of the Pepsi Corporation. And it was supposedly just business that brought her to Dallas on 11/22/1963—32 years since the release of Possessed (and Frankenstein)—where she and the whole Pepsi Convention were stationed, blocks away from the JFK motorcade, as the shots began to ring out.
What’s that all about, eh? Was it really coincidence that Joan Crawford had a front row seat to the Killing of the King? Or was she secretly hooked into the elite Texas oil and banking circle that planned and executed the assassination—the CIA, in other words? Fact: the same forces that conspired to create the CIA and the rest of the intelligence agencies on the day the 2nd Joan Crawford Possessed film was released would later conspire to assassinate JFK (who threatened to “splinter the CIA into a thousand pieces”) with Joan Crawford chilling only a few blocks away when it happened—32 years since the first Possessed film released (the 32nd degree being next to the highest in Freemasonry).
So Joan Crawford witnesses 237 in Possessed 1931, then again in Possessed 1947, then she witnesses the death of JFK in 1963, 32 years since Possessed 1931.
And then RFK is assassinated 237 weeks after that.
WTF?
The Crawford/Kennedy connection runs deeper, though. According to Joan herself, it was also in 1931 that she first met JFK’s father Joseph P. Kennedy when he was working in Hollywood, and so taken with him that she nearly began an affair with him—though she remained true to her original illicit lover, her Possessed co-star Clark Gable (she was married at the time to Douglas Fairbanks Jr). Yes, it was in 1931 that a) Possessed was released and b) Joan Crawford and Joe Kennedy didn’t hook up. Apparently it was she that didn’t want to start an affair with him, though that’s how she told it in retrospect. Let’s speculate and say Kennedy actually rebuffed Joan Crawford in 1931. Would a woman like that possibly hold a grudge? Food for thought. Crawford would meet Joe’s son, an 11 years younger Jack Kennedy for the first time in 1945 (it doesn’t say how well they got to know each other), and then it was in 1947 that the 2nd Possessed film (a story about an older woman driven mad by her unrequited love of a man named David) was released, with another visible 237.
Joan Crawford and JFK would meet again more formally on 4/17/1959 when she and her husband (the Chairman of Pepsi, Al Steele) granted the Senator an award for his service to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. Oddly, Al Steele would be found dead of a massive heart attack 2 days later—roughly 42 hours after the meeting with JFK—and then JFK would be killed 237 weeks and 19 days after that.
A few years later Joan met with President Kennedy in the Oval Office on behalf of the “Stars for Mental Health” organization. And in another instance of bizarre synchronicity manifesting in the life of one of Hollywood’s greatest stars, the same day she met with JFK in the White House—5/3/1963—her estranged brother Hal LeSueur died of a ruptured appendix. Odd how the deaths of two men in Crawford’s life were aligned in time with her meetings with JFK. Crawford would outlive all of them—JFK included—by more than a dozen years, eventually passing away on 5/10/1977, or 19 days before JFK would have turned 60.
One more thing—in her duties as the public face of the Pepsi-Cola corporation, Joan Crawford attended many a Pepsi bottling plant opening ceremony, a schedule helpfully chronicled in detail at this fan website. Joan’s final plant opening of the year 1963 happened on October 25, roughly 1 month before the JFK assassination. Where did this final plant-opening of 1963 attended by Joan Crawford happen? New Orleans. You know, the home base of David Ferrie and Lee Harvey Oswald, and the entire (surface-level) JFK assassination plot? Yet another interesting “coincidence.”
According to IMDb, before its general release on Kubrick’s 19th birthday (the day the CIA was created on paper) the 2nd Possessed premiered in NYC on 5/29/1947—this just so happened to be the 30th birthday of JFK.
After the US release, Possessed came out next in Canada on 9/18/1947, which was, remarkably, the day the National Security Act took effect and the CIA opened for business.
In November 1963, the CIA puppet-masters’ clandestine possession of the USA revealed itself like an Alien chestburster with the assassination of JFK—but then it happened again exactly 237 weeks later, with the assassination of RFK at the Ambassador Hotel. Funnily enough, this locale had decades early been a hotspot for the stars of Hollywood Babylon, Joan Crawford included. Joan Crawford especially, in fact: on the hotel’s wiki article, check out the synchronicity of proximity between the quote regarding Joan Crawford “standing at the stand” and singing to her fellow stars, immediately followed by the section on the RFK assassination:
Weird, but still vanishingly within the realm of… probably just a coincidence—except what does “coincidence” even mean anymore, in the light of all this?
Do the dual assassinations of the Kennedy brothers 237 weeks apart, with Joan Crawford in attendance for the first one, have anything to do with the two Possessed films, both starring Joan Crawford and featuring the number 237?
Open question.
Now that we have the premiere date in hand—5/29/1947—we can move on, and finally demonstrate another remarkable property of the two Possessed films starring Joan Crawford.
If you take the premiere dates of Possessed 1931 and Possessed 1947 and make of them a parent-thesis, the mid-point comes to 8/25/1939, which happens to be the 237th day of 1939, and the general theatrical release date of The Wizard of Oz (only 1 week before Hitler’s invasion of Poland and the beginning of WW2).
So we are back to Oz…
Downard’s thesis seems to be that the killing of JFK and the ensuing public execution of his supposed assassin Oswald was a mass-ritualized psychodrama conceived by elite CIA puppet masters and carried out using the fruits of their mind-control projects like MKULTRA: hypnotically-induced flying monkeys like Oswald, Ruby, and later Sirhan Sirhan, or Charles Manson, and that every aspect of the JFK hit was magickally tuned. We couldn’t agree more. Downard saw the synchro-sorcery in the blasted alien geology of the American Southwest—the 33rd parallel, Truth or Consequences, NM, the Trinity explosion, Roswell, etc. Crypto-K applies its own sync-science to time, to not just where they killed JFK, but when.
It’s been claimed by some and theorized by others that Lee Harvey Oz-Walled might have in his own mind been trying to stop the assassination from taking place when he, much like Dorothy, was swept up into the tornado (literally plucked out of the audience of a movie called War is Hell) and tragically framed for the crime of the century. Downard’s analogy compares Oswald with the Wicked Witch being destroyed by Jack Ruby, but from Lee's perspective (assuming innocence) he was, as mentioned before, as much as anyone can possibly be, swallowed up into a vortex of media attention on 11/22/1963, and then was sent “over the rainbow” on camera (by the guy who ran that night-club) two days later. This makes Oswald a secretly sympathetic character, and thus more comparable to Dorothy, whose life was also upended for reasons she hardly understood—her crime of killing the Witch of the East with her house was fate or synchronicity, as was, ultimately the death of the Witch of the West when she accidentally has water spilled on her. The famous role of Dorothy was played of course by Judy Garland, who was alive at the time of JFK and Oswald’s death, but went over the rainbow herself later in the same decade on 6/22/1969.
Question: how long after the assassination of JFK was the death of Judy Garland? From 11/22 to 6/22 would be an even number of months, yes, it’s (2+3) years, 7 months exactly. But that works out to 2039 days, which means if we measure from the death of Lee Harvey Oswald 2 days after JFK to the death of Judy Garland, it’s exactly 2037 days, the precise number visible on the train engine in Possessed (1931).
The more you look at this—what Shawn and I have come to call “the Possessed Matrix,” the more Possessed becomes the most appropriate title ever, for not just these movies, but our whole gosh-darn reality.
If nothing else, reality (and media) seem to be possessed by the number 237.
So with all that out of the way, now we arrive at what actually inspired this whole chapter of the maze—yeah, all that you just read? That was context. On 10/12 we were informed by RetroNewsNow (one of these X accounts tailor made to help people like me in our quest to catalog and then every year re-commemorate every prominent release in history) that David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive opened in theaters 23 years ago, as of 10/12. That would have been 10/12/2001, also known as Crowley’s birthday 23 years ago in 2001, the 126 (42 x 3) year anniversary of his birth immediately following the events of 9/11, events shown by many researchers already to have been laced with Thelemic symbolism, as if the whole day’s proceedings were conducted in order to best please the Master Therion himself. And it’s true, this was the day Mulholland Drive finally released to US theaters after its run of festival premieres. Specifically, Lynch’s film premiered at Cannes on 5/16/2001, an inclusive 17 weeks or 119 days before 9/11/2001, then it finally released to the public here, 2 x 16 days after 9/11, on Crowley’s 126th birthday.
That might have been a what-do-you-call-it? coincidence?
But then there’s the mid-point between the birth of Crowley and his birthday in 2001. That comes to 10/12/1938, his 63rd birthday, one he lived to celebrate.
Here’s what connects what we were on about before with what we’re on about now.
Crowley would have had no idea, but it was the day after, on 10/13/1938, out in Hollywood, with the unknown Judy Garland and a hundred little persons on a sweltering MGM studio lot that production began on The Wizard of Oz.
Remember that The Wizard of Oz did not immediately take the world by storm. Its indelible place in US popular culture wasn’t really made clear until at least a decade after Crowley had died. But according to his end-days landlady Kathleen Symonds, Crowley—being a legit wizard himself who in 1941 authored a widely distributed flyer on the Rights of Man called Liber OZ—had heard of the film and was interested in going to see it late in his life. Symonds let him know it was a picture for children that would be of no interest to him, and so he never bothered to go. What a missed opportunity. She didn’t know that the movie was secretly all about him (it seems), and so perhaps saved him from something akin to the protagonist’s ego-shattering theatrical experience in the final scene of Babylon. Had he viddied The Wizard of Oz in the 1940s Crowley would have been treated to a stiff dose of the way in which the cinema can act as a magickal transducer of synchronistic feedback effects, and learned that a mere movie can sometimes be a door into hyperspace, capable of (for example) anticipating significant future events, or even interfacing directly with the viewer, physical celluloid perhaps an actual potentiator of the living logos, every bit as much the divining rod as, say, the I Ching, or Tarot, or the Tree of Life.
Funnily enough Babylon is now the most recent film from earlier Nathan Crowley-collaborator, the First Man director, Damien Chazelle. Drawing heavily on the vibes of Kenneth Anger’s Hollywood Babylon books to portray in rich detail the southern California desert as the birthplace of cinema, and also LA and Hollywood as a “wretched hive of scum and villainy,” Babylon (2022) is a bell-clear evocation also of BABALON, the entity invoked by Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard (students of Crowley, whether he approved of them or not) in the same scorched desert in 1946 (who then did seem to appear in the flesh in the form of Marjorie Cameron—the film’s equivalent character happens to be played by Margot Robbie—both ‘Cameron’ and ‘Robbie’ reduce to 33).
In one scene of Babylon, Brad Pitt’s aging silent film star is given a lecture on how he shouldn’t mourn his present-day irrelevance, because he gets to be immortal due to his onscreen exploits, the very soul of a man preserved on celluloid. He shoots himself in the bathroom (shooting oneself in the head—a classic Kubrickism)—so much for immortality. Isn’t this also a little bit like what the end of The Shining seems to be saying, with Jack and the other party ghosts ultimately compressed into a photograph? Can a picture be haunted? What about a moving picture? Is that the real message of The Shining (and Babylon)?
In 2023 a documentary was released called Lynch/Oz, methodologically similar to Room 237, where a panel of voices share their idiosyncratic takes on a single cinematic subject—here the discourse revolves around David Lynch’s relationship to his favorite film, The Wizard of Oz. The main takeaway from Lynch/Oz? David Lynch really likes The Wizard of Oz—he thinks about it every day, and has consciously or unconsciously laced his cinematic corpus with ubiquitous references to it.
Having watched Lynch/Oz a few months ago, and to then find that Mulholland Drive, the movie Lynch released in 2001—his final project shot on 35mm, his paean to Old Hollywood (and, imo, to Elizabeth Short, the Black Dahlia) was released to theaters on this day, such that it enfolds the first day of the troubled production of his favorite movie, The Wizard of Oz between itself and the birth of Aleister Crowley… I don’t know, man. I just don’t know. Some days it seems like David Lynch’s school-boy persona is an act and he knows exactly what he’s doing, as much a seasoned member of the cult as Stanley Kubrick might have been. And that was before I noticed that exactly 666 days had passed since the finale of The Return when the interview was published in which he responded to my article that brazenly declared the last two episodes were meant to be watched at the same time. Another plain instance of, was that an accident? Or was that evidence of some kind of systematic response from the matrix?
So, yeah—the mid-point between the premieres of Possessed (1931) and Possessed (1947) was the day The Wizard of Oz released, the 237th day of 1939.
And the mid-point between the birth of Aleister Crowley and his birthday in the year 2001 (the release day of Mulholland Drive)—was the day The Wizard of Oz began filming.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it. But if you’ve made it this far, I know you high AF already.
OK, a note about the “+1” there, and the fact that it’s the day after Crowley’s birthday that The Wizard of Oz began filming. It has nothing to do with fudging, or even the (convenient) cabalistic principle of “and 1”—it’s that every day carries a sync-shadow, which includes its yesterday (-1) and its tomorrow (+1), and what interests us is how the different days’ sync-shadows relate to each other. For instance, when I started writing this it was yesterday, 10/12, but now it is what was then tomorrow, or what became today, 10/13 (at least it was when I wrote that particular sentence). Besides 24 hours, what’s the difference between 10/12 and 10/13?
The day after Crowley’s birthday, 10/13, every year marks another, deeper anniversary, as it was on this day 717 years ago in 1307 that the Knights Templar were arrested and dissolved, on the original ‘Friday the 13th.’
It’s also the birthday of Danny Lloyd, who played Danny Torrance in The Shining.
In fact, Danny Lloyd was born on Friday the 13th, 10/13/1972, which means that Danny Lloyd’s 1st trip around the Sun was the 666th one since the day the Knights Templar were eliminated in bloody fashion. That’s a hell of a temporal pedigree for your screen horror boy protagonist, Stanley.
But really, do you think Stanley Kubrick ‘grokked’ these facts before he decided on Danny Lloyd for The Shining?
The evidence for Kubrick engaging in just this sort of meta-temporal typecasting (timecasting?) certainly doesn’t stop there, because the day of Danny Lloyd’s birth also happened to be the day Uruguayan Air Flight 571 crashed somewhere in the Andes Mountains, kicking off a months long ordeal known as the Tragedy of the Andes, during which the crash survivors were forced to resort to cannibalism to avoid starvation before their eventual rescue on 12/23/72.
Recall that on the way to the Overlook Hotel, Danny discusses this very subject (cannibalism) with his parents in their saturn-yellow VW. It’s Wendy who first brings up the question, when she asks, “hey, wasn’t it around here that the Donner Party got snowbound?” Jack: “I think that was farther west in the Sierras.” Danny: “What was the Donner Party?” Jack: “They were a party of settlers in covered wagon times. They got snowbound one winter in the mountains and they had to resort to cannibalism in order to stay alive.” Danny: “You mean they ate (8) each other up?” Jack: “They had to, in order to survive.” (Wendy now gives Jack a half-hearted whatfor, but she brought it up!) Danny: “Don’t worry mom, I know all about cannibalism. I saw it on TV.” Jack: (gleefully) “See? It’s ok! He saw it on the television.” This scene hits a little harder when you realize that Danny might have actually watched a TV-show about the (well-publicized) occurrence of cannibalism that began with the plane crash in the Andes on the day actor Danny Lloyd was born. Again, did Kubrick know about this? Did he see Danny Lloyd’s birthday on a call-sheet during casting and use his photographic memory to recall what happened on that day to take all of 30 seconds to realize “fuck, this is the boy?” It’s hard to imagine he didn’t know about this, but it’s also easy to imagine someone like Jan Harlan or the late Leon Vitali calling me a nutter for even suggesting it.
Note also how Andes is pronounced compared to Danny, and that Andy is the name given to Rosemary’s baby—the Antichrist—in Rosemary’s Baby, as well as the name of the boy in Toy Story (another kids movie that is full of references to The Shining). It’s also the first name of Andy Kaufman, but that’s also for another chapter, maybe call that one the “Tragedy of the Andys.” The Shining could also be called Danny’s Tragedy, which was when his Dad decided to—much like the god Saturn—resort to cannibalism to survive.
But it doesn’t stop there: the Friday the 13th on which Danny Lloyd was born saw another plane crash, when Aeroflot Flight 217 crashed on approach to Moscow, killing all 174 occupants in the deadliest airline accident ever at that time. So not only was there a plane crash in the Andes leading to cannibalism on Danny’s birthday, halfway around the world there was also the deadliest plane crash ever! Flight 217 recalls Room 217, the nerve-center of the Overlook Hotel in Stephen King’s version of The Shining that Kubrick would, of course, change to Room 237.
Again we ask, did Kubrick know about all this subtext when he cast Danny Lloyd in his film (and changed the number)?
How could he have known all this—and yet, we must wonder, it’s so perfect, how could he have not?
Here’s one more item that Kubrick could not not have known about, and that’s the proximity of his own birth to that of Danny Lloyd: 2307 weeks.
Well, and 1 day, because it’s 2307 weeks from Kubrick’s birth to 10/12/1972 (Crowley’s 97th birthday), with Danny Lloyd born the day after that—another example of the apparent interplay between 10/12 and 10/13. So Kubrick was 2307 weeks and 24 hours old on the day the boy named Danny that he cast as Danny (wearing 42, watching Summer of ‘42, then visiting Room 237) was born.
What’s truly amazing about this relates to something briefly glanced over in Purple Reined, which is what you find when you (again) make a parent-thesis, and rewind 2307 weeks from Kubrick’s birth, to 5/8/1884: the birth of none other than Harry S Truman, the 33rd US President (and 33rd degree Freemason), the man who dropped the Bomb on Japan in 1945 and, crucially for our purposes here, signed the National Security Act in 1947 (on Kubrick’s Possessed 19th birthday), creating the modern-day military-industrial complex with a stroke of his pen - quite the resumé for a man born 2307 weeks before Stanley Kubrick.
What was then pointed out in Purple Reined was that 2307 weeks was the same amount of time between the birth of David Lynch and the premiere of Twin Peaks (and thus the debut of Lynch’s fictional Sheriff Harry S Truman).
Now we can combine this old info with the new, what did not get pointed out in that article: that you can find the birth of Danny Lloyd (both DLs) the same length of time (plus 1 day) on the opposite side of Stanley Kubrick’s birth from Harry S Truman:
By the way, given that Danny Lloyd was born 24 hours after Kubrick was 2307 weeks old, do you want to know who was born the day after Twin Peaks premiered? Why, Kristen Stewart—KS, whose star-making Twilight saga was a clear resonator with the occult melodrama of Twin Peaks—was born on the day when everyone was talking about Twin Peaks e1 ‘around the water cooler.’ Funny.
Anyway, we will soon let you go, but not before the final piece of this puzzle, and that concerns the death of Harry S Truman, and how the day of his earthly exit lines up with all that we have been discussing here.
Harry S Truman, born 5/8/1884 (a day leaving 237 days in the year), died on 12/26/1972.
His life ended at the ripe age of 32373 days.
Yes, that’s a 237 sandwiched between a 33 (for the 33rd US president?)—no, I am not making that up.
Truman’s death at 32373 days old on Boxing Day ‘72 was, if you recall the timeline of the “Tragedy of the Andes,” only 3 days after the survivors of Flight 571 had been rescued on the 72nd day of their ordeal in the mountains. Truman would die 3 days later, meaning 74 or 2 x 37 days after the plane crash and Danny Lloyd’s birth, the same day two Chilean newspapers printed front-page photographs of a half-eaten human leg. Even the fact that there were two newspapers printing two photographs seems relevant, in the light of the two Possessed films—the two Harry S Trumans—the Twin Peaks—and on and on.
So, the world had just begun processing the death of Truman when the survivors of Flight 571 held a press conference to tell their story, one that would be soon dramatized and even parodied, such as in 1976’s The Big Bus. The craziest part of this is what you can see illustrated in Shawn’s video—The Big Bus, despite having been released years before The Shining, is about a bus driver named Dan Torrance, who has gotten a bad reputation because he supposedly resorted to cannibalism to survive a terrible bus crash on top of “Mount Diablo.” Dialogue heard in the film spoken to Dan Torrance: “Before the crash you weighed 180, when they found you picking your teeth, you weighed 237. Explain that.”
Off-hand, how much time between, let’s say, the day the Flight 571 survivors were rescued and the day The Big Bus was released, making a farce of the whole thing?
Why it’s exactly 42 months (aka 2 x 3 x 7).
Yes, explain that.
From what David Lynch has said, the job of directing a film is about how well you can manage the flows of synchronicity—and from what Marjorie Cameron has said (as related by Peter Moon), “synchronicity is the fundamental basis of all magick.” I think it can be said definitively that cinema eclipsed private ritual magick in the 20th century, as the most potent tool in the prospective magician’s bag of tricks for affecting the mass psycho-sphere (though that era also may now lay behind us)—and also that for those with eyes to see, Stanley Kubrick (and David Lynch) were far greater practitioners of “magick” than the “Wicked Mr. Crowley” ever was!
In my most science-fictiony of speculations I’ve honestly wondered if Stanley Kubrick wasn’t someone brought in by the universe—by our alien zookeepers—by god—by whatever metaphor you like—out of necessity, like a Fixer-type, a Winston Wolf to clean up the mess made on this planet by, well, us, and maybe get us back on the right track (through a program of conscious evolution via media reflection, or what might more crudely be termed a planetary exorcism). But maybe that’s being too optimistic.
On 10/13/2024—Danny’s 52nd birthday—a new first was made in rocketeering when Elon Musk’s SpaceX launched and then subsequently caught the falling booster stage of its massive Starship rocket with mechanical arms dubbed ‘chopsticks,’ a feat which would seem to have completed a circle of engineering kickstarted by men like Robert Goddard and Jack Parsons.
Another year, another sync.
On 10/16/2024, one of the stars of Wicked—remember that it was finding the release date of Wicked to be on the 93rd anniversary of Possessed 1931 that originally sent this piece flying off the rails—Cynthia Erivo made headlines when she posted on Instagram decrying a viral fan-edit of the Wicked poster that brought it more in line with the original Broadway show’s playbill art, due to the fact that it covered up her distinctive eyes—in other words, rendering her eyes wide shut—which she apparently took personally, as an attempt to erase her existence.
We bring this up because of how old ‘Cynthia Erivo’ (= 149, standard gematria) was on 10/16 when she made this complaint about her (green saturnine witch character’s) eyes wide shut and stirred up these headlines—40 weeks, 2 days, 37 years—which is cute, 42 and 237 sharing a 2 like that, but it’s also like a sign-post drawing our attention, specifically to look into the mid-point of this configuration.
The midpoint between Wicked Witch actor’s birth and the day of her complaint: 11/26/2005.
Quick research reveals this to be the death-day of none other than Stanley Berenstain, or one-half of the writer couple Stan and Jan Berenstain, the ones responsible for creating the Berenstain Bears, a series of children’s books about anthropomorphic bears that is now inexplicably the central axis of a mainstreamed conspiracy theory about timeline manipulation—a theory with more than a few similarities to Cryptokubrology, like the fact that—
But… maybe it’s best we stop here, and save those bears for another time.
Hey reader, consider all this a bonus, as I could not stop myself after finishing Give Me (More) Time. But the truth is I’ll have to get back to some more productive ($$$) work now, to make up for all the time I spent writing this. But if you want to help me chop away at the icy seas of inflation and my soul and contribute towards the possibility of more of what you got in this article, please upgrade to a paid membership, or even become a fully-fledged CRYPTOKUBROLOGIST by making a one-time founding member’s donation of up to $237 for a year’s subscription. That would be cool, dope, sick af, and I would really appreciate it.
After all that, you might wonder, how could there possibly be more to talk about?
*laughs in Crypto-K*
Until next time, find me on X.
Regarding LOST.....remember that, towards the end of the series, John Locke's body is literally possessed by the "man in black", who then uses it to try and destroy the "island"
Wild stuff. No idea how it all fits together but the coincidences/synchs are other-worldly to be sure. Thank you for your work!