I find myself suddenly in a dark pit, illuminated only by scattered fires and glowing lava pools. I fumble with my phone, but there are no bars. I start recording…
Me: Wow, it’s hot! And what is that smell?
The fiery pit is large and barren of life. Despite the overwhelming heat, the center of the pit appears to be frozen and covered in ice.
I search through the dense, noxious vapors when suddenly I am startled by an old, filthy, bent, solitary man in rags standing in a mist and staring upwards towards the center of the pit.
Old man: The odor is a mix of sulfur and decomposition. And it’s always hot in Hell.
His descriptions seem melodramatic, but they certainly fit. I slowly work my way towards the wretched figure.
Me: Who are you?
Old man: I am the great Greek philosopher, Plato.
Out of courtesy and pity, I attempt to conceal my skepticism. I smile at the old man, but he continues to look away.
Me: If you are now in Hell, then I’m not sure you were such a great philosopher when you were alive.
Momentarily irritated by my comment, Plato continues in a practiced, haughty tone.
Plato: Transformed into icy granite, I am frozen for eternity with my gaze fixed upon my master.
I look around and see no one else in view.
Me: Who is your master and where is he? I don’t see anyone else here but you and me.
Surprised by my questions, Plato indignantly responds with a booming, though trembling voice.
Plato: My master is none other than Lucifer himself! Bow to his magnificent beauty as he towers before us with majesty and power in the center of this very pit.
I carefully follow the old man’s gaze towards the frozen center of the pit. It is empty, save for a large pool of ice.
Me: Sir, you are mistaken. There is no one else here in this Godforsaken place besides you and me.
Plato is unsurprised.
Plato: You lack discernment.
I won’t argue with him there, but I cannot help but begin to question his grasp on reality.
Me: You are also not made of stone. Here, let me help you sit.
I step towards the miserable figure when he suddenly erupts, halting my progress.
Plato: No! It is you who are wrong! Do you even know what today is?
Me: It’s November 6, 2012, Election Day in my country.
Plato: By the numbers it is 11:6, a day for the occult invocation of the uncompleted Tower of Babel. The old order was torn down on 9/11/01 — 9/11 is an inversion of 11:6 — the Tower was completed anew on 1/4/10 and the final chapter before the birth of the New Order starts today, 23 days after my master fell to Earth a second time.
Numbers. The occult loves numbers like 2,717, the secret height of the Burj Khalifa, which I had derived directly from the proportions of the Georgia Guidestones months before the Burj’s true height was publicly known. 2,717, the first Greek number skipped in Strong’s Numbers for the New Testament, a number that some say foreshadows the Antichrist, a number that corresponds to “make waste” or “to be made desolate” in the Strong’s Hebrew Concordance.
One of the most diabolical examples of Georgia Guidestones numerology involves the Magnitude 9.0 Tōhoku, Japan, earthquake that claimed nearly 16,000 lives. This massive disaster struck Japan on March 11, 2011, exactly 11,311 days after the Georgia Guidestones monument was officially completed on March 22, 1980. The number “11,311” in day/month/year format (“little endian,” which is most commonly used around the world) or year/month/day format (“big endian,” which is used by the military and also in Japan) can be written 11/3/11. This corresponds to March 11, 2011, the actual date of the earthquake.
Furthermore, the earthquake occurred exactly 9 years, 6 months after 9/11/2001. Treating these dates as vectors and adding them together we get: [ 9, 11, 1 ] + [ 3, 11, 11 ] = [ 12, 22, 12 ] or December 22, 2012, the day after the end of the Mayan calender, or, more appropriately, the first day of a new age.
However, regarding the old man’s last assertion, try as I might, I cannot contain my laughter.
Me: Are you saying that Felix Baumgartner is Satan?
Plato: Fool! Ceremonies on the mortal plane open portals within the spiritual realm. You claim to be an expert on the Georgia Guidestones, so how many days will it be since the day the monument was completed until December 21, 2012, the Mayan Day of Destruction?
I’m startled that he seems to know who I am.
Me: It would take me a few minutes to figure that out with no computer here. My phone has no signal…
Plato: You should already know the answer. It’s 11,962 days. Does that number look familiar to you?
Me: No. Let me think; I have an app on my phone that might help. 11,962 is an unusual number since it has only two prime factors: 2 and 5,981. Why should I know more about it?
Plato: Your country uses many codes, this is one of them.
Me: Codes? Yes, it does look like a Zip Code, but I have no idea what community it corresponds to.
Plato: It is the code for Sagaponack, New York.
Me: Really? I recall Sagaponack was listed as the most expensive small town in the country. The median house price in Sagaponack is over $4-million! I think Jimmy Fallon lives there among the 500 or so residents; it’s a tiny place.
Me: Jimmy Fallon. He is a comedian who appears in credit card commercials trying to convince a baby to take money. The baby keeps throwing the money back in his face.
Plato laughs uncontrollably for several seconds before recovering himself.
Plato: And you still do not understand? You are being mocked, ridiculed! That baby has more wisdom than you!
Me: I guess I do not understand. Please explain.
Plato: Sagaponack is the home of Lloyd Blankfein…
I turn white and my stomach tightens.
Me: You mean the CEO and Chairman of Goldman Sachs?
Is December 21, 2012, a financial doomsday that will bring down the world’s nations, or does it have some other significance? You need to answer that question yourself. What I will tell you is that The Georgia Guidestones, 9/11, the Burj Khalifa, Ted Turner, Goldman Sachs, the Mahdi, today’s elections, earthquakes, storms, riots and the war to come are all part of the same ceremony that balance on the fulcrum that is the date December 21, 2012. And it is all made possible through an illusion. Your money holds no value, but its illusion of value has been maintained by your world’s insatiable love for base, material things.
The moneychangers are the rulers of your world and now they plan to bring it all down through a final series of Grand Illusions. They will wipe the Earth clean, disposing of billions of human lives, and, using the benefits of high technology, erect a New World Order for their master, Lucifer. This New World Order is a society I designed thousands of years ago; I am the architect.
My head spins with this information. It is hard to dispel, but I don’t want to believe it. If all he says is true, then a supreme irony is that at least part of the Georgia Guidestones project was not funded by money, but rather paid for with gold. Last summer, my wife contacted the publisher of Common Sense Renewed, the companion book for the monument. The aging publisher told her that the book was paid for anonymously using South African Krugerrands, gold bullion coins. More ironically, the publishing company is located in Mason City, Iowa, a town founded by Freemasons.
I reach out my right hand to help the old man sit, but I slip on the icy ground and grab his arm for support. His arm is frigid and hard and unyielding like rock. I look at his face closely for the first time and his eyes are gone, clawed from their sockets. The life I saw in him has vanished and his form has been replaced by a crudely hewn granite statue.
I step back in terror when I am suddenly gripped with pain in my right hand. The color drains from it and I can no longer move my fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a massive figure looming overhead. Unmistakeably, it’s winged Lucifer, frozen in the center of Hell.
But he’s melting and his huge head pivots towards me. I recognize him! How could I be so stupid not to have known sooner? I must warn everyone before it’s too late!
But I can’t move. My feet have turned to stone as has most of my body. I only have a few more seconds before I’m completely rendered in granite. Maybe if I shout loudly enough, someone will hear me.
Me: Lucifer walks the Earth again! His name is…