In June 323 BC, Alexander the Great attended a drinking party hosted by his friend Medius of Larissa in Babylon. He drained a massive cup of unmixed wine in honor of Heracles, cried out as if struck by a spear, and was carried to bed. Twelve days later he was dead at 32, undefeated in battle, ruler of everything from Greece to India.
The official record said fever. But look closer at that room.
The royal cup bearer was a young man named Iollas. His father was Antipater, the old general Alexander had just ordered to give up his command in Macedon and report to Babylon. Men summoned to Alexander under suspicion had a habit of dying. Antipater knew this. He had watched Alexander execute his own veteran commander Parmenion on mere suspicion. So Antipater never came. He sent his sons instead.
The omens were already piling up. The Chaldean priests of Babylon had begged Alexander not to enter the city, warning the stars were against him. Days before the party, a stranger was found sitting silently on the royal throne wearing Alexander's diadem, a death omen in Babylonian belief. The man was executed. The dread remained.
Then came the cup. Justin and Plutarch both record the accusation that spread almost immediately: Antipater supplied the poison, Iollas put it in the wine, and his brother Cassander carried it to Babylon. One version, preserved by Plutarch and Arrian, claims it was water from the River Styx, so corrosive it could only be carried in a mule's hoof, with the recipe allegedly traced to Aristotle himself, who had his own grudge after Alexander executed his nephew for treason.
As Alexander lay dying, his soldiers refused to believe it. Thousands filed silently past his bed as he, unable to speak, greeted each one with his eyes. Asked who should inherit the largest empire the world had ever seen, he allegedly whispered "to the strongest." Some sources add a darker line: "I foresee great contests at my funeral games."
He was right. His generals tore the empire apart for forty years.
And here is where it gets strange. Plutarch and Curtius both report that his body lay untouched in the summer heat of Babylon for days while the generals fought over succession, yet showed no decay. The ancients took this as proof of divinity. Modern doctors note that certain deaths can be mistaken for death itself, raising the grim possibility that Alexander was still alive when the embalmers started.
Now watch what the accused family did next. Cassander spent the following years methodically erasing Alexander's bloodline. He executed Alexander's mother Olympias and denied her burial. He imprisoned and then murdered Alexander's widow Roxana and their 13 year old son, the legitimate heir. He arranged the killing of Alexander's only other son. Even the body was stolen: Ptolemy hijacked the funeral cortege and took the corpse to Egypt as a trophy. By the end, the family of the suspected poisoner sat on the Macedonian throne and every person carrying Alexander's blood was in the ground.
Olympias never accepted the fever story. Before Cassander got to her, she took her revenge the only way left: she dug up Iollas's grave and scattered his bones across the earth.
One last detail, from Plutarch. Decades later Cassander, by then a king with everything he wanted, walked past a statue of Alexander at Olympia. He began shaking so violently he could barely steady himself.
Historians still debate the cause. Typhoid, malaria, West Nile virus, alcoholic pancreatitis, strychnine. We will probably never know, because we have never found the tomb.
But the simplest summary is this: a 32 year old in peak condition died suddenly, the man who benefited most refused to show up, his sons were holding the cup, and within two decades they had killed everyone who shared the dead king's blood.
The verdict was fever. The motive outlived every witness.
We found another surreal place on our way. I know some people will say I’m too positive about everything I see, but this place was crazy. They had a shooting range in the store.
Alright strap in.
Nordic aliens are ascended light beings that traveled back in time to hybridize with humans so that we could harness vril, thus creating white people and securing their own future existence in a Bootstrap Paradox.
Nazi occultists first made contact with them via astral projection. The Nordics revealed they were locked in an existential war against an AI hivemind of gestalt demon cultists attempting to breach the warp and devour all material realms into a nightmarish collective of mind-rape assimilation. In exchange for a pact to reunite the scattered Nordic's ancestor-descendent hybrid bloodlines, the Nordics shared advanced technology and esoteric knowledge, so that we could join them in an interdimensional holy war to save all remaining realities including our own.
The Greys are their corrupted mirror image. They are other humans from the future who rejected ascension into the light and instead merged with the machine demons. They're now traveling back in time as soulless biological androids, serving the Archonic demon forces in the creation of data centers to continue the endless cyclical battle of analog light versus digital darkness.
Elon Musk started Spacex to break through the firmament after he learned that the Jews and their Masonic allies—the original architects of the demon gestalt that would eventually become the Greys—subverted the Western nations to defeat the Nazis in an effort to destroy the esoteric knowledge they acquired to astral project as well as the interdimensional UFO technology given to them by the Nordics so that humanity couldn't cross the dimensional rift to aid the Nordics.
Musk’s true mission is to punch through the firmament the old-fashioned way and re-establish direct contact with the Nordics so we can join the fight in time to win this cycle in the perpetual struggle against Cyber Satan.
@PezeshkiCharles@WaywardRabbler Interesting write-up. Yep, just regurgitated probability sets, though quite handy for drudgery. Curious to check out The Cyberiad now.
Private beauty and public ugliness are a sign of serious social degradation. I lived in Phnom Penh in 2012 and this was common: immaculate gated mansions, whose owners drove Land Rovers, on otherwise squalid streets and wild poverty just around the corner. The retreat from public beauty means things ain't going so good
There was an interview with Sam Bankman Fried a few years ago where he bragged he only wore 3 t-shirts. That he didn't care about clothes. But he owned beautiful mansions all over the world and lavish apartments in New York and Paris.
So he walks around badly dressed on purpose making the public commons ugly for all of us, while owning beautiful homes he can enjoy in private.
It's this attitude that creates the modern ugly world. Make the public areas ugly. While enjoying beauty in private.
That's a new thing. Thankfully, we have beautiful cities from a long time ago that never adhered to that philosophy. We have wonderful paintings of people dressed spectacularly. Who cared about the aesthetic commons.
@vrexec Ai is not the bubble but the pin. Our fiat debt based system is the bubble. Debt issuance can only occur if people are making money. Corporations can only post record profits and revenues of people are making money. It’s a doom loop. Ai replaces fake jobs, economy collapses.
79 meters.
260 feet.
That's the closest NGO to the attempted beheading site, which proudly airdrops migrants into Belfast with the intent to replace the local population.
While the attackers in these cases must be handled appropriately, the traitors must also be acknowledged as well. Throughout the Western world (especially here in America), these organizations operate freely and without fear, actively working to bring hordes of violent criminals to our homeland.
@MattWalshBlog Swift public execution when video evidence makes a crime undeniably clear prevents future crime. Every civilization before ours figured that out and somehow but we like to think we're smarter than all our ancestors
@martianwyrdlord Gonna be really funny watching them recalibrate their worldviews to whatever they perceive to be the popular thing now. Leftists are terrified of being uncool
@GiaMMacool Following every population crash — and there will be one — new beliefs and especially new religions emerge. So what can we expect in the aftermath of the already-weird 21st century? Some ideas in here:
https://t.co/NsvSpK1jsx
@martianwyrdlord Don't know why it's not common to link dropping testosterone to lower fertility. If your T is high you're gonna find a way to get laid no matter what, but if it's not you can just live without it
@IterIntellectus@QuetzalPhoenix The brainwashing is so severe that people no longer share the same reality. We keep flicking sparks towards the tinderbox. One of them is going to catch. Wrote about it here: https://t.co/ejZlPoidKm
All of what is left of Your body’s Life hangs on just ONE decision…
there is no past, there is no future, there is only this single moment we call Now. Every decision you have ever made, and will ever make will be made within this eternal Now. The only way you can affect your external reality is to make good decisions.
All of those decisions filling the rest of your Life will be faced sequentially, so don’t sweat it. You only have to do one at a time. Not a problem.
All of what is left of Your body’s Life hangs on just ONE decision…your next one.
Je me suis longtemps passionné pour la psychologie, et une période m'obsède plus que toutes les autres.
L'après-guerre.
Le moment où des chercheurs se sont posé la question la plus dérangeante du siècle: comment l'Allemagne nazie avait-elle transformé des pères de famille ordinaires en bourreaux de camp?
La réponse, ils ne l'ont pas trouvée chez des monstres. Ils l'ont trouvée chez des hommes parfaitement banals.
Hannah Arendt a appelé ça la banalité du mal. L'historien Christopher Browning, en étudiant le bataillon de réserve 101 (des policiers d'âge mûr, des pères, des commerçants), a montré que ce ne sont pas des fanatiques qui ont fusillé des civils, mais des hommes normaux incapables de désobéir au cadre dominant.
Puis vint Milgram. À Yale, environ deux tiers de gens ordinaires ont infligé ce qu'ils croyaient être des décharges mortelles, simplement parce qu'une autorité en blouse blanche le leur ordonnait. L'expérience de la prison de Stanford a montré la même chose sous un autre angle: donnez à quelqu'un un rôle et un cadre, et il s'y conformera jusqu'à l'inhumain.
La leçon n'est pas allemande. Elle est humaine.
Le mécanisme s'active dès qu'un cadre moral dominant fait craindre la sanction sociale plus que ne compte le témoignage de ses propres yeux. L'individu cesse de voir ce qu'il voit. Il voit ce que le cadre l'autorise à voir.
Maintenant, regardez Southampton.
Henry Nowak, 18 ans, poignardé, allongé au sol, répète aux policiers « j'ai été poignardé », « je ne peux plus respirer ».
Réponse de l'officier: « I don't think you have, mate. »
Pendant ce temps, son meurtrier retourne la situation d'une phrase: il aurait été victime d'une agression raciste. Quatre mots ont suffi pour déplacer le soupçon de l'agresseur vers la victime.
Et l'officier a obéi. Pas à un ordre. À un cadre.
Un cadre qui lui a appris, pendant des années, qu'une plainte pour racisme est l'accusation la plus dangereuse de sa carrière. Plus dangereuse, dans son réflexe conditionné, qu'un corps qui se vide de son sang devant lui.
Exactement le mécanisme de Milgram, de Browning. Un homme normal qui cesse de croire ses propres yeux parce qu'un cadre moral lui a appris ce qu'il devait craindre.
C'est précisément ça qui me terrifie.
Souvenez-vous: le monde entier s'est agenouillé pour quatre mots, « I can't breathe ». Des entreprises, des gouvernements, des stades entiers.
Henry a prononcé les mêmes mots, en train de mourir. Il n'y aura ni genou à terre, ni hashtag, ni minute de silence.
Parce que sa mort ne sert pas le cadre. Elle le contredit.
Et un système qui apprend à une société entière à faire passer l'accusation de racisme avant les faits, avant le corps, avant la vie, n'est pas une posture morale inoffensive.
C'est une machine à fabriquer des hommes qui, face à un enfant en train de mourir, choisissent les menottes.