Mystical Mole Monks From Under The Mountain
Thursday, 16. October 2008, 15:04:12
To Starboard: a brace o’ Lemurians,
up to see the world, gold coins an' all
Old Cap’n Ben from time to time makes his stumpy way across the land the better to visit old shipmates ‘n’ ex-prisoners, all which he remains on the finest of terms and continues to praise most happily, the joys of friendship bein’ what they are. But the land be a passin’ strange place, and ‘tis there ye’ll find all manner of hodgepodgy beliefs, catechumins, oraculars, spindizzies and philosophicistical sump pumpers; in short, the daft.
Now harken to this: I be here to tell ye of a secret mighty race what live below the mountain! Belowdecks, as ye might say, but certain sure below what pass for real in any world Ben’s e’er sailed on, o’er, across, or even under (for oncet he were dragged a goodly league by a whale, and him losin’ the most part o’ his leg in the chase and now his tread a most unsubtle ta-DUMP forever and anon), aye lads, well below the waterline of reality it be.
And ye thought the Theosophists were cracked! Well then, sit yerself down and examine the landlocked loons what do inhabit the fabled land o’ California, northlike I be speakin’ on; and that bein’ the itty-bitty burg they do call “Mount Shasta”. Stankers alive but there be some half-rigged topgallants afore the breeze there!
Lemurians, don’t ye know. Castaways from the sunken land o’ Atlantis, queen o’ the Hyperborean myth tales. Under Mount Shasta.
When I were just a wee tadpole I mind hearin’ tales o’ the place: monks what come out o’ the mountain, all dressed in their robes they were, and gold coins for the barter’ o’ goods (not that any o’ the locals would turn down a fine golden ducat oncet he’d assayed it!), and the sound o’ great bells tollin’ from deep in th’ Earth as a traveller passed by under the strange and eery dishlike clouds what are wont to hover o’er there to this day. But I ne’er believed ‘em.
Aloft: Mount Shasta
Oh now, to err be human, to forget be da bomb, as me young snapper Pud be mindin’ me. Pud be only IX years old and ye’ll forgive his manners an’ all, but he’s a good boy and ‘tis thanks due to him that I recollect th’ origin o’ the word Lemurian as it were told me many cold winters ago: ye see, le mur bein’ the French for wall, it were plain they’d quite arranged to keep a tidy distance ‘twixt themselves and the rest o’ the world - down to this day it seems. I b’lieve them to be successful! Ah, but mûr (wi’ th’ wee carrot on top) be also a French word, and the meanin’ o’ the thing be ripe, and could you not cry aloud for the sheer ripeness o’ such a tale? The Ripe Ones, do ye really say so? Anyroad, the name stuck and Lemurians it be. Oh aye, do not get me started on th’ others, what be the lost continent o’ Mu and all the rest - one be enough fer this soggy tale. Take yer Pantologists, Astrologists, Scientologists and dangle!
To Starboard: Mount Shasta when the Lemurian Epoch begun
Cap’n Ben could not make up better spindrift than the Ologists o’ Mt. Shasta, and he be searchin’ far and wide ter find ripe examples o’ their unstoppered daftitude. Funnier in its original foreign lingo, it is - when put into proper Pirate it makes more sense so ye’ll be excusin’ me fer printin’ it like I found it:
Those who went underground, the survivors of these cataclysms, were able to gradually, little by little, develop a way of life underground that was far superior and wondrous than what surface people were subjected to. At the time, various bands of marauding extraterrestrials came to dominate and prey on the people of Earth who were struggling to survive as peacefully as they could[...]Life underground had much more security, stability and peace to offer then than life on the surface. Until today, this fact has remained the same...
We need to start perceiving that the kind of weather we are getting on this planet, as a barometer of the thoughts and emotions the mass consciousness holds.
In the subterranean cities, there are those who have evolved to a fifth dimension consciousness and those who have evolved to a fourth dimension consciousness, while retaining an immortalized body that is totally free of the human limitations we are still subjected to on the surface. All of them live in a kind of wondrous paradise they have forged for themselves over the thousands of years they have lived underground. Our ways of life here is very far remote from theirs.
Inside the Earth, the subterranean people live in houses that seem like very luxurious palaces comparing to ours on the surface. Wealth is unlimited for all. There is no money system, but a very effective barter system. There is no taxation of any kind, no I.R.S., no banking system, no credit card system, no realtors, no mortgage companies, no hospitals, no doctors because no one ever gets sick, no lawyers, no law enforcement officers, no labor unions, no prison nor mental institutions. There are no retirement homes because no one ever gets old, all can maintain perfect health, youth and vitality for thousands of years, until they chose to move into their next calling somewhere else.
In the subterranean cities, people are mostly vegetarians. The Lemurians under Mt. Shasta are totally vegetarians. No one eats any other, including the animals. All animals are also vegetarians, including the lions, tigers, panthers, etc. Because there is not the violence of the killing of the animal kingdom underground, their land is pure and very blessed. In Telos, they need only seven acres of land to feed one and one half million Telosians.
I could go on and on -
Oh, I’ll wager ye could aright, an’ ‘twould be six o’ one a baker’s dozen o’ t’other that sensibility wouldn’t enter into a bit o’ the gassy stuff. Eye has not heard, ear has not seen such rich fruitlike ripeness o’ thought these many years without it be summat to do wi’ folk from under the ground.
To Starboard: A Lemurian visitor in broad light o' day
To Port: the same monstrous Lemurian after nightfall
Now I do cry out “I have heard that before!” and upon my soul! I have. Now, where were it? Righty-o, give a listen:
One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fire was burning
Down the track came a hobo hiking and he said boys I'm not turning
I'm headin for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains
So come with me we'll go and see the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains there's a land that's fair and bright
Where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars are all empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees
Where the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft boiled eggs
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh, I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains you never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
You can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short handled shovels, no axes saws or picks
I'm a goin to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
I'll see you all this coming fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains *
But just ye wait and see the news ol' Cap'n Ben has for ye in the next watery blog, for not content to stay under their California mountain, Lemurians went south...and ye've seen 'em!
Next: Lemurians in Hollywood
* Big Rock Candy Mountain by Harry McClintock
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