We could see nothing
but David Icke onstage and the omni-pierced usher
beside us who sniggered, “Do you believe this
shit?”
Onstage, David was surfing a tube: “Osama bin
Laden was a ‘prime suspect’ for 9/11 just
two days after it happened.” he crooned. “I’m
not even sure if Bush had finished reading to that
second grade about the goat!” The audience laughed.
Dave walked a line of potted plants with a charismatic
smile. “Your government reached that conclusion
after — quote — ‘looking at the
terrorist organizations that have the capacity to
conduct such actions.’”
He paused here with perfect timing. Mock astonished:
“Like the CIA and the Pentagon?”
Big laughs, and applause.
David Icke is a classic English charmer. He’s
an alpha male, with the voice and moves of Dudley
Moore in an aging rock star package. He’s got
that ‘thing’ Clinton has, a kind of erotic
multi-tasking, seducing the ear with agile ideas and
wordplay while his eyes say I Could Fuck You For Days
With No Mercy.
A prophet, an opportunist, a danger, a kook —
Icke is one or a combo of these, depending whose dogma
is barking. He is earth’s most credible voice
touting earth’s most incredible theories. For
instance:
‘The Illuminati,’ an elite cabal, controls
all of humanity and the direction of the world. They
are descended from a few, interbred families —
hybrids of humans and Reptilians, an alien race that
lives in the fourth dimension. The Reptilians easily
puppeteer these space-time mulattos, as they are ‘vibrationally
compatible.’
They work through secret societies, like the Masons.
Yale’s Skull and Bones is a ‘feeder’
group, one of many examples. Members are chosen after
research confirms the right bloodlines.
Our country is in senseless, endless decline because
the Reptilians are setting the U.S. up to destroy
itself. The goal is to erode humans’ power and
will, castrate the Superpowers, install a World Government
and dominate all.
“You know those Reptiles are, like, Alien trailer
trash,” Tricks stage-whispered as we found our
seats. The theatre was packed, at least a couple of
thousand. “They’ve basically hijacked
the earth. The other Aliens can’t bear them,
and neither can God, the Force — whatever. They’re
ashamed of the whole damn mess.”
A cheerless Women’s Studies major type turned
to glare, but aborted the plan when she saw Tricks’
black, spiked cheesecloth cape, African earlobe extenders,
and headband embroidered with ‘Namaste, Dickhead.’
“And the Illuminati,” Tricks continued,
“They’re like those hairy hillbillies
where the brother marries the sister. I mean, look
at Dubya’s filmy little crossed eyes.”
We went outside at a break to inspect the crowd,
passing an ad-hoc boutique of Icke munitions —
books, videotapes, audiotapes, even posters and t-shirts.
The prices were more ‘I want a private plane’
than ‘I’m here to save the world.’
People swarmed the tables of wares like drunk Bar
Mitzvah guests at the smoked fish buffet.
Sunlight revealed that the Icke aficionados were
a hash of old hippies, new hippies, scenesters bored
of Kaballah, chicks who only do anal for guys with
Ferraris, a dose of (seemingly) true seekers, nutballs
and a few hot men with poetic scowls who, if they
play their cards right, could parlay Dave’s
vision into lucrative careers as ‘gurus’
for rich, unhappy wives.
“You know, that intense, ‘I’m Dangerous’
glare thing really works for me,” said Tricks,
eyes super-glued to a dreadlocked Adonis. “And
if a man can fuck up the planet, it’s even hotter.”
He dropped his voice. “I mean, I know I’m
not alone in thinking that Osama was dope sexy in
those nasty ‘Die American Dogs’ videos.
I’m just brave enough to say it.”
“Not just brave,” I exhaled, “Heroic.
Hmm — was Jeffrey Dahmer sexy too?”
“Don’t be a stooge,” Tricks replied.
“Who wants to kiss a guy with, like, toes on
his breath?”
Icke was back onstage when we re-entered the sanctum.
Images of our Commander-in-Chief and Fashion Don’t
poster girl Queen Elizabeth popped onscreen. Both
photos were cyber-patched with reptile skin and some
lizardy features. The audience found this hilarious.
“We are all told that the United States is
the most powerful country in the world,” Dave
said when the chuckles died down. “But the U.S.
has always been controlled from London, and still
is. The Bush and Windsor clans are, in fact, related.
They share ancestors that go back to the Egyptian
Pharoahs, including Ramses II.”
How piquant that the glorious Ramses is now best
known as a condom brand, and that the name of his
temple, the Luxor, brings to most minds the slimy
image of the Vegas hotel.
David Icke started out as a pro soccer player, but
arthritis felled his career. He became a journalist,
then scored big as a BBC sportscaster. He left that
job because either (a) it bored him or (b) he was
canned when, suddenly, he would only wear turquoise
and declared himself the Son of God.
Dave went on to become Britain’s Green Party
spokesman. He left that job because either (a) he
found them corrupt or (b) he was canned when, suddenly,
he would only wear turquoise, declared himself the
Son of God and knocked up his personal assistant (wife
not happy), in order to ‘heal Earth’s
energy spots.’
Accounts vary.
Tucked into those years were several transforming
hallucinogenic experiences. Ultimately, Icke was pulled,
by some instinct, to Peru’s Lake Titicaca, where
he received the sacred transmission of knowledge that
really revved up his jets.
I have zero problem with Dave’s past, or path.
I will even admit a certain enthusiasm for his theories,
especially the one that describes how your brain can
be invaded/re-programmed to suit the Reptilian Agenda
without your knowledge or will.
Clearly, that’s what happened to David Icke.
If the earth is under siege, if we have devolved
into automatons, if our way of life is dying, if our
future holds scant hope … why the FUCK is this
‘Prophet’ big pimpin’, living the
glam life, charging fifty plus bucks to do vaudeville
in chic cities for rich fans who use his schtick at
art openings to try and get laid?
Why ain’t ol’ Chosen Dave in the streets
every second, minute, day enlightening us oppressed
chumps, haunted by his purpose, preaching for free,
brawling with skeptics, world-wide, selflessly, constantly?
This ‘Son of God’ should really steal
the moves of his more famous ‘brother’
if he’s no shill… because if Icke doesn’t
care enough about earth’s doom to lie his life
down for our souls — why should we?
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