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8 episodes with hyperborean
8 episodes with hyperborean
2 episodes with hyperborean
2 episodes with hyperborean
2 episodes with hyperborean
3 episodes with hyperborean
3 episodes with hyperborean
4 episodes with hyperborean
Этот микс создан истинным представителем далёких Гиперборейских земель — Paskanaama. Каждый трек подарит вам аутентичную мелодию и строгую лесную атмосферу полярных тундр и побережий Северного океана. Приготовьтесь отправиться в путешествие с мрачным ритмом психоделического транса и получить приятные впечатления! This mix comes from the truly representative of far Hyperborean lands - Paskanaama. Every track gives you an authentic tune and strict forest vibe of polar tundras and coasts of Northern Ocean. Get ready to journey with the dark groove of Psychedelic Trance music and have a nice experience!
Mark and Josh are still stuck in the past, or the "Hyperborean" period of our distant past. This week the boys are looking at two types of cryptids that may come from this time, and lasted into the present
Josh and Mark are still horned up from last weeks Robert E. Howard, so the boys decide to double down and attempt to pin the true history of humankind across prehistory.
Josh and Mark start the new year by finally sitting down and reading the the history of Robert E. Howard's fictional universe and setting of his Conan character, "The Hyperborean Age".
Rob sits down and chats with Liv Collins and Jesse Thomas Cook while at the Blood in the Snow Film Festival 2023. The discussion involves the project The Hyperborean that played in the festival.
Our current political order is centered on promoting the ugly and dysgenic while demonizing the beautiful and eugenic. Garrett Gainz aka the Toxic Gentlemen joined El Niño Speaks to discuss America's cultural decline, the importance of understanding intersexual dynamics, and why Hyperborean aesthetics must be brought back into the public sphere. Will American become aesthetic again?Listen to the latest episode of El Nino Speaks to find out!Follow Garrett Gainz's work here: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/garrettxgainzz/Substack: https://toxicgentlemen.carrd.co/Twitter/X: https://x.com/GarrettxGainz Buy My Book "The 10 Myths of Gun Control" TodayIf you're serious about changing the gun control status quo we live in, this book is a must.After reading this text, you will be able to hold your own in any debate with your anti-gun friends, family, or associates. No questions asked.And heck, you will have a solid foundation in championing issues like gun rights should you take your activism to the next level.Knowledge is power and the foundation for any worthwhile endeavor. With this next-level information at your fingertips, the sky is the limit.So make today the day you say NO to the gun control status quo by taking action NOW.The full retail price for The 10 Myths of Gun Control is $6.Get Your Copy TodayBookmark my Website For Direct ContactIn the era of Big Tech censorship, we can't rely on just one or two platforms to keep us connected. Bookmark my website today so you always know where to get the true, unfiltered information about the news and views that matter to you.Don't Forget to Follow me on Twitter @JoseAlNino This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit josbcf.substack.com/subscribe
In Memoriam: David Ferry (1924-2023) In this Recall This Book conversation from 2021, poets David Ferry and Roger Reeves talk about lyric, epic, and the underworld. The underworld, that repository of the Shades of the Dead, gets a lot of traffic from heroes (Gilgamesh, Theseus, Odysseus, Aeneas) and poets (Orpheus, Virgil, Dante). Some come down for information or in hopes of rescuing or just seeing their loved ones, or perhaps for a sense of comfort in their grief. They often find those they have loved, but they rarely can bring them back. Comfort they never find, at least not in any easy way. The poets talk about David's poem Resemblance, in which he sees his father, whose grave he just visited, eating in the corner of a small New Jersey restaurant and “listening to a conversation/With two or three others—Shades of the Dead come back/From where they went to when they went away?” "I feel the feathers softly gather upon My shoulders and my arms, becoming wings. Melodious bird I'll fly above the moaning Bosphorus, more glorious than Icarus, I'll coast along above the coast of Sidra And over the fabled far north Hyperborean steppes." -- from "To Maecenas", The Odes of Horace, II: 20. Their tongues are ashes when they'd speak to us. David Ferry, “Resemblance” Roger reads “Grendel's Mother,” in which the worlds of Grendel and Orpheus and George Floyd coexist but do not resemble each other, and where Grendel's mother hears her dying son and refuses the heaven he might be called to, since entering it means he'd have to die. Henry Justice Ford, ‘Grendel's Mother Drags Beowulf to the Bottom Of The Lake', 1899 So furious. So furious, I was, When my son called to me, called me out Of heaven to come to the crag and corner store Where it was that he was dying, “Mama, I can't breathe;” even now I hear it— Roger Reeves, “Grendel's Mother” Mentioned in this episode David Ferry, Bewilderment: New Poems and Translations, University of Chicago Press Virgil, The Aeneid, translated by David Ferry, University of Chicago Press Horace, The Odes of Horace, translated by David Ferry, Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux Roger Reeves, King Me, Copper Canyon Press Roger Reeves, Best Barbarian, W.W. Norton Press Jonathan Culler, Theory of the Lyric, Harvard University Press Read transcript of the episode here. Listen to the episode here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
In Memoriam: David Ferry (1924-2023) In this Recall This Book conversation from 2021, poets David Ferry and Roger Reeves talk about lyric, epic, and the underworld. The underworld, that repository of the Shades of the Dead, gets a lot of traffic from heroes (Gilgamesh, Theseus, Odysseus, Aeneas) and poets (Orpheus, Virgil, Dante). Some come down for information or in hopes of rescuing or just seeing their loved ones, or perhaps for a sense of comfort in their grief. They often find those they have loved, but they rarely can bring them back. Comfort they never find, at least not in any easy way. The poets talk about David's poem Resemblance, in which he sees his father, whose grave he just visited, eating in the corner of a small New Jersey restaurant and “listening to a conversation/With two or three others—Shades of the Dead come back/From where they went to when they went away?” "I feel the feathers softly gather upon My shoulders and my arms, becoming wings. Melodious bird I'll fly above the moaning Bosphorus, more glorious than Icarus, I'll coast along above the coast of Sidra And over the fabled far north Hyperborean steppes." -- from "To Maecenas", The Odes of Horace, II: 20. Their tongues are ashes when they'd speak to us. David Ferry, “Resemblance” Roger reads “Grendel's Mother,” in which the worlds of Grendel and Orpheus and George Floyd coexist but do not resemble each other, and where Grendel's mother hears her dying son and refuses the heaven he might be called to, since entering it means he'd have to die. Henry Justice Ford, ‘Grendel's Mother Drags Beowulf to the Bottom Of The Lake', 1899 So furious. So furious, I was, When my son called to me, called me out Of heaven to come to the crag and corner store Where it was that he was dying, “Mama, I can't breathe;” even now I hear it— Roger Reeves, “Grendel's Mother” Mentioned in this episode David Ferry, Bewilderment: New Poems and Translations, University of Chicago Press Virgil, The Aeneid, translated by David Ferry, University of Chicago Press Horace, The Odes of Horace, translated by David Ferry, Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux Roger Reeves, King Me, Copper Canyon Press Roger Reeves, Best Barbarian, W.W. Norton Press Jonathan Culler, Theory of the Lyric, Harvard University Press Read transcript of the episode here. Listen to the episode here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literary-studies
In Memoriam: David Ferry (1924-2023) In this Recall This Book conversation from 2021, poets David Ferry and Roger Reeves talk about lyric, epic, and the underworld. The underworld, that repository of the Shades of the Dead, gets a lot of traffic from heroes (Gilgamesh, Theseus, Odysseus, Aeneas) and poets (Orpheus, Virgil, Dante). Some come down for information or in hopes of rescuing or just seeing their loved ones, or perhaps for a sense of comfort in their grief. They often find those they have loved, but they rarely can bring them back. Comfort they never find, at least not in any easy way. The poets talk about David's poem Resemblance, in which he sees his father, whose grave he just visited, eating in the corner of a small New Jersey restaurant and “listening to a conversation/With two or three others—Shades of the Dead come back/From where they went to when they went away?” "I feel the feathers softly gather upon My shoulders and my arms, becoming wings. Melodious bird I'll fly above the moaning Bosphorus, more glorious than Icarus, I'll coast along above the coast of Sidra And over the fabled far north Hyperborean steppes." -- from "To Maecenas", The Odes of Horace, II: 20. Their tongues are ashes when they'd speak to us. David Ferry, “Resemblance” Roger reads “Grendel's Mother,” in which the worlds of Grendel and Orpheus and George Floyd coexist but do not resemble each other, and where Grendel's mother hears her dying son and refuses the heaven he might be called to, since entering it means he'd have to die. Henry Justice Ford, ‘Grendel's Mother Drags Beowulf to the Bottom Of The Lake', 1899 So furious. So furious, I was, When my son called to me, called me out Of heaven to come to the crag and corner store Where it was that he was dying, “Mama, I can't breathe;” even now I hear it— Roger Reeves, “Grendel's Mother” Mentioned in this episode David Ferry, Bewilderment: New Poems and Translations, University of Chicago Press Virgil, The Aeneid, translated by David Ferry, University of Chicago Press Horace, The Odes of Horace, translated by David Ferry, Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux Roger Reeves, King Me, Copper Canyon Press Roger Reeves, Best Barbarian, W.W. Norton Press Jonathan Culler, Theory of the Lyric, Harvard University Press Read transcript of the episode here. Listen to the episode here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
In Memoriam: David Ferry (1924-2023) In this Recall This Book conversation from 2021, poets David Ferry and Roger Reeves talk about lyric, epic, and the underworld. The underworld, that repository of the Shades of the Dead, gets a lot of traffic from heroes (Gilgamesh, Theseus, Odysseus, Aeneas) and poets (Orpheus, Virgil, Dante). Some come down for information or in hopes of rescuing or just seeing their loved ones, or perhaps for a sense of comfort in their grief. They often find those they have loved, but they rarely can bring them back. Comfort they never find, at least not in any easy way. The poets talk about David's poem Resemblance, in which he sees his father, whose grave he just visited, eating in the corner of a small New Jersey restaurant and “listening to a conversation/With two or three others—Shades of the Dead come back/From where they went to when they went away?” "I feel the feathers softly gather upon My shoulders and my arms, becoming wings. Melodious bird I'll fly above the moaning Bosphorus, more glorious than Icarus, I'll coast along above the coast of Sidra And over the fabled far north Hyperborean steppes." -- from "To Maecenas", The Odes of Horace, II: 20. Their tongues are ashes when they'd speak to us. David Ferry, “Resemblance” Roger reads “Grendel's Mother,” in which the worlds of Grendel and Orpheus and George Floyd coexist but do not resemble each other, and where Grendel's mother hears her dying son and refuses the heaven he might be called to, since entering it means he'd have to die. Henry Justice Ford, ‘Grendel's Mother Drags Beowulf to the Bottom Of The Lake', 1899 So furious. So furious, I was, When my son called to me, called me out Of heaven to come to the crag and corner store Where it was that he was dying, “Mama, I can't breathe;” even now I hear it— Roger Reeves, “Grendel's Mother” Mentioned in this episode David Ferry, Bewilderment: New Poems and Translations, University of Chicago Press Virgil, The Aeneid, translated by David Ferry, University of Chicago Press Horace, The Odes of Horace, translated by David Ferry, Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux Roger Reeves, King Me, Copper Canyon Press Roger Reeves, Best Barbarian, W.W. Norton Press Jonathan Culler, Theory of the Lyric, Harvard University Press Read transcript of the episode here. Listen to the episode here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/poetry
We are very excited to be covering FilmQuest 2023. This is the festival's 10 year anniversary and I wanted to celebrate it by talking to as many filmmakers as I possibly could. Great films, incredible conversations! Thanks for listening. Kyler --- FilmQuest Episode #11 GUEST: Marcia Alderson FILM: The Hyperborean --- SYNOPSIS: A whisky magnate summons his family to sample his legacy product: moonshine recovered from the hold of a 170 year old Arctic ghost ship. --- Episode Links: Film Trailer IG: @collingwoodfilmco
Matt Christman goes off live on http://www.twitch.tv/chapotraphouse Topics: Schizophrenic bourgeois mind, life, death
Reborn from the dark crystal prison, Kulan Gath awakes hungry for power and flesh. The Man-Spider must pay for his crimes. Heroes will be made to serve the cause of Gath's revenge, transformed into Hyperborean analogues. Those who fail to obey will be changed. There will be hentai in Manhattan. You can count on that. "Rachel, use your mindblasts to punch a whole in that outside wall!"
A Hyperborean Brew by Jack London --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/hmphaudiobooks/support
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Author Gavin Chappell joins us to discuss one of Smith's best loved works, and his first Hyperborean tale. We talk burning books, Wright is wrong again, sword & sorcery double acts, Tsathoggua, and Lovecraft swearing!We also try to ignite a Balrogian debate by asking, "does Tsathoggua have wings?"Guest reader: Robert Lloyd Parry Nunkie ProductionsFavourite words: purpureal, pecuniary depletion, quinquangular, fetiditySchlock Webzine Lovecraftiana Magazine Gavin Chappell Site Amazon Author PageNew IG Anthology KickstartFacebook Youtube PatreonTim Mendees Innsmouth Gold
Peter Moon edited and published the 7 volume Transylvania Sunrise book series by Radu Cinamar, a covert operative with a top secret Romanian Intelligence unit called "Department Zero," which is investigating paranormal phenomena associated with the discovery of a Hall of Records inside the Bucegi Mountains. In Book 4 of the series, The Secret Parchment, Radu Cinamar explains his experiences regarding the discovery of an ancient Tibetan Buddhist parchment given to him by an extraterrestrial/goddess called Machandi in a remote location in the Himalayas. Peter describes Radu's efforts in translating and disseminating the Parchment's contents and its importance to Romania's Department Zero paranormal research. Peter also discusses his own fieldwork in Romania's Valley of the Golden Throne that corroborates key aspects of Book 4 concerning the discovery of an ancient underground structure filled with pure gold that had been plundered by the Romans, but has been hidden ever since their departure. Peter next discusses Inside the Earth, Book 5 of the series, which presents a wealth of information concerning space time portals and tunnels connecting the Inner Earth with the surface world. He discusses Radu Cinamar's journey's into different Inner Earth cities and the existence of the legendary city of Shambhala which exists in the etheric zone of the Inner Earth, near a singularity point, or Inner Sun. Peter finally answers questions concerning how the extensive portal system was largely shut down when the last city of the Hyperborean civilization, the legendary Troy, was defeated in a war, with much of the city disappearing and some of the population leaving to establish a colony in Rome as explained by the Roman poet, Virgil. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/exopolitics/support
Today, Al Mega chats with superstar writer, Rob Williams. Tune in to learn all about i amazing journey in comics, working with legends and a legendary story! The Sword of Hyperborea : From the ancient warrior Gall Dennar, to Sir Edward Grey, to the B.P.R.D.'s Agent Howards, the iconic Hyperborean sword from the world of Hellboy has landed in many influential hands. And this has been no accident. Trace the sword's path through the adventures and encounters that finally brought it to Ragna Rok, at the end of the world, and witness the sword's journey through history. Hellboy creator Mike Mignola gives us a new tale from the world of Hellboy, cowritten by Rob Williams and featuring the art of Mignolaverse veteran Laurence Campbell to deliver never-before-seen Hellboy lore! * The story of the Hyperborean blade! Twitter: @Robwilliams71 Instagram: robwilliams1971 Thanks for listening / watching! Host: Al Mega (Twitter/Instagram/Facebook): @TheRealAlMega / @ComicCrusaders Make sure to Like/Share/Subscribe if you haven't yet. https://www.youtube.com/c/comiccrusad… Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/comiccrusaders Visit the official Comic Crusaders Comic Book Shop: comiccrusaders.shop Visit the OFFICIAL Comic Crusaders Swag Shop at: comiccrusaders.us Episode 142 in an unlimited series! Main Site: https://www.comiccrusaders.com/ Sister Sites: http://www.undercovercapes.com http://www.geekerymagazine.com http://www.splinteredpress.com Pick up official Undercover Capes Podcast Network merchandise exclusively on RedBubble.com – bit.ly/UCPNMerch Streamyard is the platform of choice used by Comic Crusaders and The Undercover Capes Podcast Network to stream! Check out their premium plans for this amazing and versatile tool, sign up now: https://bit.ly/ComicCrusadersStreamyard
Predictions for the near future, Easter customs, holidays, gods, seasons and more all interwoven to achieve a better understanding of the Hyperborean people and traditions.
The Wastelands are full of plenty of content from the East and West, much of it drawing from Hyperborean lore and culture, but what is the draw, what are the flaws, and what can we learn from how people see it, from Anime to Paul Bunyan, Folk Songs to Batman there is a lot to talk about. At some point TLK referred to the obsession with Japanese as Sinophilia, he is a lore keeper not a spelling bee champion.
Hyperborean is a noun that refers to an inhabitant of the cold north. It can also be used as an adjective that means related to the far north. In ancient Greek mythology, our word of the day was used to describe members of a group who lived in a land of sunshine beyond the north wind. Centuries later, hyperborean retains the same meaning. Here's an example of it: You'd think a hyperborean like uncle Brad would be accustomed to the cold, but even after all those years of living in Minnesota, he still complains every time the temperature dips below sixty.
From punk dulcimer to jazz trumpet, this show's got a little bit of everything from the far north.
THE BIG 100! We did it Babies! who knew we'd make it this far, we wanna thank everyone and treat you guys with this, we sit down with Hylton's captors, Cam Reed & Eric Werner, we ask them about the details of the abduction, they go over their list to becoming the best version of yourself and optimizing your body and mind, their future content creations for helping people with the process, Hylton talks about how much bigger he is then both of them, Cam's match on the next Flograppling's Who's Number One card and more, thank you all for being with us threw 100, here's to 100 more!Follow us on Instagram:@somepeoplesuckpod@thisisthehomie@_hylty@deckpapi@borislav.lebedev_
We discuss lessons we can learn from Christmas Movies, customs how they apply to our lives today as well as some thing we can do for those we love, don't forget The Yule Bear! He is real! And of course how to come to terms with the common perception of this wonderful holiday.
(Hyperborean) WINTER SOLSTICE 2021We are painfully reminded..that we are prisoners of an ancient legend… we shall die by and for this legend"... This natural world of wonder is now under siege… The system of technocracy is in effect brining our world to slavery.. and master control as we have never seen before… ..and we aslo know that the onslaught and fierce intensity in this cosmic war on the races shall intensify..Our race believes in Hyperborean magic, it is the Order of Odin-Wotan. Made by SIGRDRIFA PODCAST 2021. Inspired by the Mestro Miguel Serrano "Hail to our Sun this day lighting our path on the way we are going home no more being alone rising each day a newjoy in the mourning due Hail to our Sun this day Hail to our Sun Hail to winter solstice 2021" Franz Liszt - Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 (Orchestra version)
As the campaign comes to its haunting conclusion, the surviving investigators are drawn to the wilds of northern Canada in search of the last descendants of the Hyperborean race.
In Greek Mythology, the Hyperboreans were a mythical people who lived in the far Northern reaches of the world- a blessed land where the sun always shines. In this story, our narrator is being told a story by an old acquaintance, a white man and traveler known to the frequent the far north, who has returned from living for a winter with a native tribe near the Arctic Circle. The story tells of his rise and fall within the tribe as he becomes involved in a Machiavellian scheme or revenge to seize power within the tribe after being starved out and treated with derision by the tribe's shaman. In short- its "Game of Thrones" played out in the far North. Open these links and subscribe free to enjoy our shows! ANDROID USERS- 1001 Radio Days right here at Google Podcasts FREE: https://podcasts.google.com/search/1001%20radio%20days 1001 Classic Short Stories & Tales at Google Podcasts https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5tZWdhcGhvbmUuZm0vQURMNzU3MzM0Mjg0NQ== 1001 Heroes, Legends, Histories & Mysteries at Google Podcasts: https://podcasts.google.com/search/1001%20heroes 1001 Sherlock Holmes Stories (& Tales from Arthur Conan Doyle) https://podcasts.google.com/search/1001%20sherlock%20holmes 1001 Ghost Stories & Tales of the Macabre on Spotify: https://podcasts.google.com/search/1001%20ghost%20stories 1001 Stories for the Road on Google Podcasts https://podcasts.google.com/search/1001%20stories%20for%20the%20road Enjoy 1001 Greatest Love Stories on Google Podcasts https://podcasts.google.com/search/1001%20greatest%20love%20stories 1001 History's Best Storytellers: (author interviews) on Stitcher https://www.stitcher.com/show/1001-historys-best-storytellers APPLE USERS Catch 1001 Heroes on any Apple Device here (Free): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-heroes-legends-histories-mysteries-podcast/id956154836?mt=2 Catch 1001 CLASSIC SHORT STORIES at Apple Podcast App Now: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-classic-short-stories-tales/id1078098622 Catch 1001 Stories for the Road at Apple Podcast now: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-stories-for-the-road/id1227478901 NEW Enjoy 1001 Greatest Love Stories on Apple Devices here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-greatest-love-stories/id1485751552 Catch 1001 RADIO DAYS now at Apple iTunes! https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-radio-days/id1405045413?mt=2 NEW 1001 Ghost Stories & Tales of the Macabre is now playing at Apple Podcasts! https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-ghost-stories-tales-of-the-macabre/id1516332327 NEW Enjoy 1001 History's Best Storytellers (Interviews) on Apple Devices here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-historys-best-storytellers/id1483649026 NEW Enjoy 1001 Sherlock Holmes Stories and The Best of Arthur Conan Doyle https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/1001-sherlock-holmes-stories-best-sir-arthur-conan/id1534427618 Get all of our shows at one website: https://.1001storiespodcast.com REVIEWS NEEDED . My email works as well for comments: 1001storiespodcast@gmail.com SUPPORT OUR SHOW BY BECOMING A PATRON! https://.patreon.com/1001storiesnetwork. Its time I started asking for support! Thank you. Its a few dollars a month OR a one time. (Any amount is appreciated). YOUR REVIEWS AND SUBSCRIPTIONS AT APPLE/ITUNES AND ALL ANDROID HOSTS ARE NEEDED AND APPRECIATED! LINKS BELOW... Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Grab your parkas, put on those winter boots, don't forget those big ol mittens and hang out with us tonight as we head to the place where the coldest temperature on earth has ever been recorded, a mild -89.2°C (-128.6°F). Maybe we should bring swim trunks instead, eh? Well, aside from the coldest temps known anywhere, there is also possibly Nazis, maybe a hole to the center of the earth, a blood waterfall, and giant sea spiders with legs ranging up to 70cm, and for those of you who aren't sure if that's big or not cus we're a bunch of archaic buttholes that don't do metric… It's big.. Like close to 28 inches big… oh and how could we forget… the Penguins!! Lots of penguins! Well, if you haven't figured it out yet, we're heading to Antarctica! We're going to be discussing the continent and find out a little about it and then we'll talk about some creepy natural things going on and of course creepy conspiracies. It should be a fun one so let's get going!!! So let's learn a little about Antarctica first off. Antarctica, on average, is the coldest, driest, and windiest continent, and has the highest average elevation of all the continents. Most of Antarctica is a polar desert, with annual precipitation of 200 mm (8 in) along the coast and far less inland; yet 80% of the world's freshwater reserves are stored there, enough to raise global sea levels by about 60 metres (200 ft) if all of it were to melt. The temperature in Antarctica has dropped to −89.2 °C (−128.6 °F) (or even −94.7 °C or −138.5 °F, as measured from space), although the average for the third quarter (the coldest part of the year) is −63 °C (−81 °F). Organisms native to Antarctica include many types of algae, bacteria, fungi, plants, protista, and certain animals, such as mites, nematodes, penguins, seals and tardigrades. Vegetation, where it occurs, is tundra. Wanna know some fun facts… Well, tough shit negative Nancy, we're gonna tell ya anyways. Antarctica holds most of the world's fresh water An incredible 60-90% of the world's freshwater is locked in Antarctica's vast ice sheet. The Antarctic ice sheet is the largest on Earth, covering an incredible 14 million km² (5.4 million square miles) of Antarctic mountain ranges, valleys and plateaus. This leaves only 1% of Antarctica permanently ice-free. Some areas are ice-free in the summer, including many of the areas we visit on the Antarctic Peninsula. At its deepest, Antarctica's ice is 4.5km (2.7 miles) thick – that's half the height of Mt Everest! Again, If it all melted, global sea levels would rise about 60 m (200 ft). As mentioned, Antarctica is a desert With all of that fresh water held in the ice sheet, how could Antarctica be a desert? When most of us think of deserts we think of sand dunes, cactuses and sizzling temperatures, but technically a desert doesn't have to be hot or sandy, it's more about how much precipitation the area receives as rain, snow, mist or fog. A desert is any region that receives very little annual precipitation. The average annual rainfall at the South Pole over the past 30 years was just over 10 mm (0.4 in). Although there is more precipitation towards the coast, the average across the continent is low enough to classify Antarctica as a polar desert. So, while Antarctica may be covered in ice, it has taken an incredible 45 million years to grow to its current thickness, because so little rain falls there. As well as being one of the driest continents on Earth, Antarctica is also the coldest, windiest and highest. Antarctica used to be as warm as Melbourne Australia! Given that the coldest ever land temperature was recorded in Antarctica of -89.2°C (-128.6°F), it can be hard to imagine Antarctica as a warm, temperate paradise. But Antarctica hasn't always been an icy land locked in the grip of a massive ice sheet. In fact, Antarctica was once almost as warm as Melbourne is today. Researchers have estimated that 40-50 million years ago, temperatures across Antarctica reached up to 17°C (62.6°F). Scientists have also found fossils showing that Antarctica was once covered with verdant green forests and inhabited by dinosaurs! The Antarctic Peninsula is one of the most rapidly warming areas on Earth The Antarctic Peninsula is warming more quickly than many other areas on Earth. In fact, it is one of the most rapidly warming areas on the planet. Over the past 50 years, average temperatures across the Antarctic Peninsula have increased by 3°C (37.4°F), five times the average increase on Earth. This has led to some changes, for example where and when penguins form colonies and sea ice forms. It also means that the lush mosses of the Antarctic Peninsula have a slightly longer growing season. There is no Antarctic time zone The question of time in Antarctica is a tricky one. At the South Pole the lines of longitude, which give us different time zones around the globe, all meet at a single point. Most of Antarctica experiences 6 months of constant daylight in summer and 6 months of darkness in winter. Time starts to feel a little different without the normal markers for day and night. Scientists working in Antarctica generally stay in the time zone of the country they departed from, but this can cause some issues. For example, on the Antarctic Peninsula you can find stations from Chile, China, Russia, the UK and many other countries. You can imagine that if all of these neighbouring stations keep to their home time zones it could get a little confusing trying to share data and resources without accidentally waking one another up in the middle of the night! For travellers with Aurora Expeditions, they generally stay on Ushuaia time – unless they're travelling to the Falkland Islands and South Georgia. Then they adjust to their local times, changing as they travel. Every way is north! If you stand at the South Pole, you are at the southernmost point on Earth. It doesn't matter which way you look, every direction is north. So why do we talk about the Antarctic Peninsula as being in West Antarctica, and the section directly south of Australia as East Antarctica? It's based on the prime meridian, an imaginary line which passes through Greenwich in the UK at 0 degrees of longitude. If you stand at the South Pole and face towards Greenwich, everything to your left is west Antarctica and everything to your right is east Antarctica. Got that? Antarctica has active volcanoes Antarctica is home to several volcanoes and two of them are active. Mount Erebus, the second-highest volcano in Antarctica, is the southernmost active volcano on Earth. Located on Ross Island, this icebound volcano has some unique features such as ice fumaroles and twisted ice statues that form around gases that seep from vents near the volcanic crater. The first ascent of Mt Erebus was made in 1908, when a team led by Australian scientist Edgeworth David, and including Douglas Mawson, completed an arduous and very chilly five day climb to the steaming crater. The second active volcano is on Deception Island, a volcanic caldera in the South Shetland Islands. Once home to a thriving whaling station and later a scientific station, it was abandoned after the most recent eruption in 1969, and today it is a fascinating place that we visit on some of our Antarctic Peninsula voyages. Antarctica has its own Treaty When humans caught their first glimpse of Antarctica in 1820, it was the only continent without an indigenous population. Several nations quickly made claims to the continent, which led to significant tension. While some countries argued that Antarctica was rightfully theirs, others heartily disagreed. As tension mounted, everyone agreed on the need for a peaceful resolution. In December 1959, 12 countries signed the Antarctic Treaty, an unprecedented international agreement to govern the continent together as a reserve for peace and science. Since then, 41 other countries have signed the Treaty and participate in annual meetings, where decisions are made about how human activity in Antarctica is managed. All decisions made within the Antarctic Treaty System are made by consensus, with collaboration and agreement as the central pillars. Today, the Antarctic Treaty System has expanded to include strict guidelines for commercial fishing, sealing, and a complete ban on mining and mineral exploration. We got those fun facts from Aurora expeditions. Com So let's look at some of the weird natural phenomena that goes on in Antarctica. You guys like weird sounds? Well we got weird sounds for you. Scientists and researchers at the Ross ice shelf have recorded a slow seismic hum being generated by wind whipping across the Antarctic ice shelves. The scientists also discovered that the frequency of the vibrations changed in response to changing weather conditions on the shelf — when the temperature rose or fell, for instance, and when storms resculpted the shelf's snow dunes. The firn was "alive with vibration," Douglas MacAyeal, a glaciologist at the University of Chicago, said in a written commentary that accompanied the paper. "This vibration was found to be driven by the wind blowing across the firn layer and interacting with the intrinsic roughness of the surface called sastrugi." MacAyeal also offered a more poetic description of the sound, comparing it to "the buzz produced by thousands of cicada bugs when they overrun the tree canopy and grasses in late summer." Julien Chaput, a geophysicist and mathematician at Colorado State University in Fort Collins and the leader of the research, told NBC News MACH in an email that the sound was "a little like yodeling, except with 10 people all singing in dissonance. It's a little eerie." But the singing ice is more than a sonic curiosity. Chaput and his colleagues argue in their paper that it might be possible to tap into seismic data to help monitor the health of ice shelves, which have been thinning in response to global warming — and causing sea levels to rise around the world. so that's all pretty crazy. Antarctica is singing to us. (Play sound) Ever hear of a solar pillar? Well you're about to. The air in Antarctica is frequently very dry. The low temperatures mean that little or no water vapour is held in the air, instead it freezes and falls out, or builds up on surfaces as frost. Sometimes however, depending on the particular atmospheric conditions, the frozen water vapour remains in the air as suspended ice crystals. In these conditions the crystals can reflect sunlight in a variety of ways forming atmospheric phenomena of different types. One of these phenomena is the "Solar Pillar" in the picture. The sun is reflected very strongly off tiny suspended flat ice crystals in the air which are oriented at or almost horizontally, so that the reflection is almost as bright as the sun itself. Like a rainbow, this sight depends on the viewing angle, where the light is coming from and where the observer is standing. The pillar appears to move when the observer moves, but always remains directly below the sun because the ice crystals are found throughout the air but only act as mirrors for the sun at the correct viewing angle. Most of you have heard of the northern lights, but did you know there are southern lights? The Southern Lights, commonly known as the Aurora Australis, is one of the world's greatest wonders. The Southern lights are much more elusive than their Northern Hemisphere counterpart-Aurora Borealis. There is significantly less land mass in the Southern Hemisphere and fewer ideal viewing spots to see the Aurora. However, the Southern Lights are just as, if not more, impressive. Boasting a breathtaking colour palette that goes beyond the green and blues commonly seen at the Northern Lights, to include pinks, purples, oranges and golds. Here's a little nerdy science for ya: The Aurora Australis phenomenon occurs when charged particles from solar winds bombard the Earth's atmosphere and interact with gases in our planet. These highly energised particles are emitted from the sun and smash into the Earth's magnetic field at more than 6 million kilometres per hour. For the most part, Earth is protected from solar winds by the magnetosphere, which sounds like Magneto from the X-Men franchise's bachelor pad. The magnetosphere is a region of space that surrounds the Earth's magnetic field and has a primary purpose of preventing cosmic rays, such as solar winds from entering Earth's atmosphere. However, occasionally, at particular times of the year, a few charged particles from solar winds make their way through the magnetosphere into our atmosphere. The charged particles move along the Earth's magnetic field lines towards the south and north pole. When they reach the each pole, they collide with atoms in the atmosphere, particularly nitrogen and oxygen, and become increasingly charged. Once the electrons settle back down to their normal level of excitement they glow, creating the magnificent light display, we know as an Aurora. One more fun natural thing for you guys and probably the creepiest. BLOOD FALLS! THIS FIVE-STORY, BLOOD-RED WATERFALL POURS very slowly out of the Taylor Glacier in Antarctica's McMurdo Dry Valleys. When geologists first discovered the frozen waterfall in 1911, they thought the red color came from algae, but it's true nature turned out to be much more spectacular. Roughly two million years ago, the Taylor Glacier sealed beneath it a small body of water which contained an ancient community of microbes. Trapped below a thick layer of ice, they have remained there ever since, isolated inside a natural time capsule. Evolving independently of the rest of the living world, these microbes exist in a place with no light or free oxygen and little heat, and are essentially the definition of “primordial ooze.” The trapped lake has very high salinity and is rich in iron, which gives the waterfall its red color. A fissure in the glacier allows the subglacial lake to flow out, forming the falls without contaminating the ecosystem within. If you've never seen the falls it's pretty awesome and metal. We'll post pics for sure. Ok so enough of the sciency and nerdy stuff let's get into the crazy shit. The first one is a fun one. In 2020 a clip from Google Earth was loaded onto youtube showing what appears to be an ice ship! So what exactly is it? Well friends, it depends on what you want to believe. The video sparked a conversation of epic conspiracy proportions! Some think that the "ship" is something connected to a secret Nazi base, which we'll get to later. Others claim ties to the secret elite and illuminati. “I was told a couple of years ago that there are ships built underground somewhere on upper east coast (like the ones in the movie 2012) to save the rich and powerful when canary islands get hit with massive earthquake that will take out east coast,” one commenter wrote. Other theory's range from military and government cover ups to some claiming it to be Noah's ark. The mundane exfoliation is that it's our minds playing a trick on us… but that's fucking lame and we're going with the fact that it's something creepy and crazy!! Another fun thing found by Google Earth is a giant mountain sized alien face. Yes you heard right. And if you don't think this is leading to crazy talk… You are seriously mistaken. Conspiracy theorists Blake and Brett Cousins – of YouTube channel thirdphaseofmoon – shared their thoughts on the Google Earth image. "It appears to be a massive, ancient structure of some kind of face that is being revealed for the first time on Google Earth,” Blake said in his video. "I would have to concur that whatever we're looking at resembles some sort of megastructure." Brett added: "Could this be something that was left behind by the ancient civilisations of Antarctica? "Ice melting could be revealing structures that would baffle the world." There it is folks, a giant alien face structure hiding a civilization under Antarctica. Can't argue with the facts. I mean I guess you could say that it's just a case of pareidolia but that's not really that fun so… You know… Alien civilization it is. Speaking of aliens, A video posted to an “alien" sub-section on Reddit shows how zooming in on a certain area of South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands reveals a mysterious vast section of disturbed snow. It shows what looks like something that crashed into the snow and skidded some 3000ft. Of course that brought out the nut jobs, and moody, claiming that it is a ufo crash site. Reddit user Hey-man-Shabozi captioned the post: "What's over 200ft long, casts a shadow of 50ft, and appears to have crashed on an antarctic island, moving so fast that it slid over 3,000ft?” The island, located near Antarctica, has a strange snow formation in the area near Mount Carse. It looks very similar to an avalanche but the video posted on Reddit goes into detail about how it could be more than what it seems. The main point of contention for the Reddit user is that there appears to be a long thin object that has created a lengthy straight track away from the disrupted area as if it crashed at speed. The Reddit user estimated that the tracks were more than 3,000 feet long. He also claims to have worked out that the object responsible was 200 feet long. Let's be honest… If you can't trust a reddit user… Who can you trust these days? Of course most people will say “oh it was just a big rock falling during an avalanche”, but everyone else who actually knows… They know it's a ufo. And they all know that the claims of a rock falling during an avalanche is just another global cover up to hide the fact that there are aliens. Another one comes thanks to a visual grab from Google Earth, which seems to suggest that there might actually be a tall building standing on the ice in Antarctica. These findings have been uploaded to YouTube Channel MrMBB33 (who coincidentally was also responsible for finding the ice ship we discussed earlier) and the conspiracy theorist who runs this channel suggests that this structure is as much as 2,000 feet in height and the width spans six football fields. Viewers are clearly interested in what they are seeing. “Strange that all countries want to take over land but no country claims Antarctica. I think there is something they know that we don't," comments a user Lorrie Battistoni. Another user suggested that something on the lines of the Project Iceworm was active in Antarctica—the Project Iceworm was a then top-secret project of the United States Army which attempted to build a network of tunnel based and mobile nuclear missile launch sites under the ice sheet in Greenland. Equally, there are sceptics who suggest this is nothing more than a block of ice, albeit with a slightly different shape. Since we brought up tunnels, there's supposedly an air vent on top of a “metallic shield” in a no-fly zone on the icy continent. Estimates are that the area is over 150 feet wide — based on measurements using Google Earth tools. Its two distinctive features: a pitch-black “opening” and a metal-like “shield.” "That looks like some sort of vent, a thermal vent that goes underground. You can tell that the snow is darker than any other snow in the surrounding area,” one person said “That would imply to me that there is heat transfer going on” and suggests the top section is some metal or metal alloy man-made structure “over an opening that goes underground. Someone else points out there is no volcanic activity nearby: “It is just there all by itself.” So what is it? Just a cave? A man made structure hiding a secret underground base? Should we just go back to aliens for this one? What do you guys think? Ok how about Hitler and the Nazis? Well since people believe there are Nazis and maybe even Hitler himself still hiding out in Antarctica. This theory originates from a story about a Nazi expedition to Antarctica. The story says that while exploring and mapping the area, they uncovered a multitude of underground caves and rivers. One of the caves was particularly large and was turned into a large city that would be home to both Nazi's and other powerful groups, like the illuminati. Along the way, the Germans either came across alien technology or made contact with the aliens. The Germans learned how to use the technology and were able to build a number of weapons. This belief is extraordinary because there is no evidence that the Nazis ever did, or were even capable of building such a base. Geologist and Oceanographer, Colin Summerhayes, partnered with journalist and historian, Peter Beeching, to examine evidence about Antarctica and the Nazis. In support of this claim is the fact that the Nazis did at one point carry out an expedition to Antarctica in 1938. Many conspiracy theorists claim that this was a large-scale expedition, with militarized and scientific ships. Another bit of evidence for this theory is about the Nazi's agreeing to The Antarctic treaty. The treaty makes Antarctica a research zone and states that Antarctica cannot be targeted in any way by bombs or missiles. Conspiracy theorists jump on this and say why would Nazi Germany sign this agreement? The claim is that they signed this agreement to deter other nations from visiting Antarctica and stumbling upon their base and the research being done there. There has been no evidence found to corroborate that point. Additionally, some claim that Hitler himself is actually in Antarctica. The evidence for this idea is based on the claim that a German ship arrived at an Argentinian base located in Antarctica after the war ended. Another popular conspiracy theory is that Hitler escaped to Argentina at the end of the war, and so therefore he was picked up by a German ship, and sent to Antarctica to live at the secret bunker. However there is no evidence that Hitler ever made it to Argentina or that the supposed German boat ever went to Argentina's Antarctic base… At least that's what they want you to believe! Since there have been other strange military activity there such as supposed German boats coming or the U.S. project “Operation Highjump”, since people really think that this is a feasible thing. Of course These strange events, and the lack of information around them, often lead people to conclude that it must be because there is something going on there that the government doesn't want us to know about. Many of these beliefs actually come from Flat Earth. Flat Earthers often propose that it is illegal to go to Antarctica and has a constant military presence, that's why none of them can go investigate if the ice wall is out there. There is a subgroup of flat earth who believes that part of the reason you “can't go” to Antarctica is because of the Nazi base there. So think about that one...flat earthers believing there are Nazis bases in Antarctica… Good Lord. In 1978, Miguel Serrano, a Chilean diplomat and Nazi sympathizer, published El Cordón Dorado: Hitlerismo Esotérico [The Golden Thread: Esoteric Hitlerism] (in Spanish), in which he claimed that Adolf Hitler was an Avatar of Vishnu and was, at that time, communing with Hyperborean gods in an underground Antarctic base in New Swabia. Serrano predicted that Hitler would lead a fleet of UFOs from the base to establish the Fourth Reich. In popular culture, this alleged UFO fleet is referred to as the Nazi flying saucers from Antarctica. Oh boy. We really gotta figure out if the Nazis are on the moon or in Antarctica! How about pyramids… You like pyramids? We got pyramids… maybe. THE oldest pyramids on Earth are hidden away under the deep cold snow of Antarctica, conspiracy theorists have shockingly claimed . Ancient alien theorists who are certain secret pyramids are concealed all around the globe, think some may be hidden on Antarctica. Conspiracy theorists, in particular, point to a pyramid-like structure near the Shackleton mountain range on the icy continent. The “pyramid” in question, when viewed on satellite imagery, does appear to have four steep sides much like the Great Pyramid of Giza. Conspiracy theory author David Childress told Ancient Aliens there is a distinct possibility the Shackleton pyramid is the oldest of its kind on Earth. He said: “If this gigantic pyramid in Antarctica is an artificial structure, it would probably be the oldest pyramid on the planet and in fact, it might be the master pyramid that all the other pyramids on planet Earth were designed to look like.” Another conspiracy theorist agreed, saying: "All the way around the world we find evidence of pyramid structures. "We should start looking at the possibility there was habitation on Antarctica. "Was it a lost civilization? Could it be ancient astronauts? "And just maybe, the earliest monuments of our own civilization came from Antarctica.” But the theory was challenged by Dr Michael Salla, author of Exopolitics Political Implications of the Extraterrestrial Presence. The alien expert argued the Antarctic pyramid is just one node in a global network of power-generating pyramids strategically placed around Earth. A popular pyramid conspiracy claims the triangular structures act as power generators of sorts, built for the purpose of transiting vast amounts of energy wirelessly. Dr Salla said: “There has been extensive research done on pyramids throughout the world, in terms of their structure and what they really are. “One of the theories is that pyramids are power generators and so if you have these pyramids strategically placed around the world generating a charge, it's possible to create a general standing wave around the world that is a wireless transmission of energy.” Also There is a claim that the British set up a base called Maudheim-1 (there are no records) in Dronning Maud Land during the war to observe the apparent Nazi base, this was supposedly attacked by the Nazis in July 1945 followed by SAS led (failed) retaliatory attacks from October to December that year. How about a couple quick hits: Some think that the remains of a Motte and Bailey castle were uncovered. Motte-and-bailey castle is a European fortification with a wooden or stone keep situated on a raised area of ground called a motte, accompanied by a walled courtyard, or bailey, surrounded by a protective ditch and palisade. Relatively easy to build with unskilled labour, but still militarily formidable, these castles were built across northern Europe from the 10th century onwards, spreading from Normandy and Anjou in France, into the Holy Roman Empire in the 11th century. The Normans introduced the design into England and Wales. Motte-and-bailey castles were adopted in Scotland, Ireland, the Low Countries and Denmark in the 12th and 13th centuries. The structure is about 120m across which makes it of the appropriate size range and has two sort-of circles, though the whole thing appears to be more or less completely flat rather than having any significant raised earthworks which in part define a Motte and Bailey castle, the mounds of such castles in towns, cities and in the countryside in Europe are particularly enduring across the centuries. There's a scientific explanation for it but that doesn't stop people from believing what they want. Then of course you have the flat earthers . There is a weird conspiracy theory that Antarctica and the South Pole do not exist. This belief is most common among flat-earthers who claim that our planet is flat. Flat-earthers believe that the North Pole is at the center of the world while the South Pole surrounds the Earth. According to flat-earthers, Antarctica is actually a thick wall about 30 to 60 meters (100 to 200 ft.) high that surrounds our planet. The wall stops everything from falling over the edge of the Earth. Flat-earthers say we cannot confirm the existence of the wall because world governments and the United Nations have strict no-fly and no-sail zones around Antarctica. Conspiracy theorists believe that the British Captain Cook is one of the few humans to have ever seen the wall apart from government agents. Supposedly, Captain Cook reported seeing the huge wall during the three voyages he made to Antarctica. The wall covered the entire coastline, and he could not land anywhere because it was just too tall to climb. Speaking if stupid, we touched on this not long ago so we'll just mention it in passing… But apparently there's a hole at the south pole that is the entrance to the hollow earth...I mean… Come On people… Is this where we are as a society?? Going along with this theory of a hole at the pole, there are people that think the world is hiding that fact with a fake south pole. So when people go to the spot that is thought to be the south pole is actually an arbitrary random spot chosen by the powers of the world to throw everyone off the trail of hollow earth. Some people also believe that there is actually a tropical region that is hidden in Antarctica. Yes, a tropical region. Some say it is in the no fly zone that is also attributed to the spot where the hole to hollow earth is… we think these guys should fight it out. To the death. Like, no survivors. On the other hand there is recent evidence that there used to be rain forests on the continent so maybe the believers aren't as crazy as we think. Just kidding. They're nuttier than squirrel turds. Some other crackpots also really believe Antarctica is the Land of The Ancient Race of Super-Beings With Big Angular Heads. Some of them tried to leave many years ago and made it to Easter Island where their enormous weight made them sink into the ground and a simple common bacterial infection turned them to stone. The bacterium cannot live in Antarctica so they continue their highly sophisticated secret society under the ice, dude we can't make this stuff up. Maybe it was Medusa… see, we can make shit up, too! And finally… Is Antarctica really the lost city of atlantis? The theory that Antarctica is Atlantis is a relatively new one, dating back to the mid 20th Century. According to Charles Hapgood's 1958 book 'Earth's Shifting Crust', the continent of Antarctica was in fact originally much further north than its current position. Due to the shifting of the Earth's crust, the continent was displaced, and the climate of the continent, which had been mild, plummeted to below freezing. This shift in location and temperature has led some to argue that an ancient Civilisation existed on the continent, which was subsequently destroyed by this monumental geographical realignment. In 2016, faint credence was given to this claim with the revelation that remains of a human settlement had been found under the Antarctic ice. One report claimed, 'the pictures, taken using remote sensing photography for NASA's Operation IceBridge mission to Antarctica, show what online sleuths believe could be a city.' Ranker list of best winter thriller movies https://www.ranker.com/list/thriller-movies-set-in-snow/ranker-film
#hyperborea #affirmations #higherself https://www.patreon.com/TrueNorthAffirmationsLet us look each other in the face. We are Hyperboreans I stare into my sun and see the invisible sun of all creation My thirst hinders me from becoming comfortable So I climb into the dark pits and construct life with mountains All that is deep shall ascend I construct myself a loft with columns and stairs An elevated plane of spectacle and beauty The steps require one to surpass I am surpassing I am climbing new heights New destinations I am the ocean of life The thirst of the sun kisses and draws me in I become vapour I become height, and the path of lightI am light itself I must see the unseen I am towered above I am the Divine arch The truest vault I am lofty and true Life is my anvil Time is my hammer My wisdom like a sail at sea Violently glides towards horizons I drink in the oceans flame A Neverending well of breath and depth I pursue my course with a possessed storm I Hammer in hand I take my position To shine and shine brightly is my duty I stand in honor reflecting Yes I am the reflection of primacy I am the heroic one tasked with life's purpose I am the upright one drinking from the breasts of wonder I am transfused with majesty and splendid regalia Clothe me in the fiery raiment of 1,000 skilled architects I am the cathedral of sacredness The god of terrestrial pathways Let me unite greatness to value I break forth this gushing bridge I am the fountain of strength and endurance My hands sculpt the right way I am the determined sculptor of towering cities All days shall be sanctified as holy and good May our duty be inexhaustible The craftsmen of realityA task of unequaled responsibility is mine I am the creator of all things good The pillar of palatial living. I am reaching unreachable heightsFor when it rains Jaun Sanchez https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVZQV...creative commons -Attribution--ShareAlike3.0 unported- ccBY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licensesfreedownload https://juansanchezcom...
New Mike, New Technical Issues, bear with us as we sort out the Static in Modernity's Wastelands. Today we spoke of the role of men, the fact that there is no such thing as "Biblical" Masculinity. We spoke of how us men have to grow up and mature, the biological and spiritual roots of the role of Men in the Hyperborean people, and got to the point of speaking hard truths out of love for our people, calling out modern issues of both our men and our women, and how we both need to grow up so that we can work together to get through this. If anything we said pisses you off we say it because we care.
A letter from an old friend lures the investigators to the village of Dunwich, where Hyperborean influences are at play.
Finally home in Arkham, the investigators try to put the horrors of their Greenland expedition behind them... until evidence of Hyperborean meddling emerges in their own backyard.
Today we spoke on the importance of Masculinity in the pagan sphere. This topic is one we could speak on for an entire podcast series let alone a single episode. We spoke on the masculine sphere, the effeminacy that has infiltrated parts of masculine paganism, the importance of the Masculine roles in the family, the balance between the feminine and the masculine and why a man must be masculine to allow his woman to be feminine and vice versa, we also spoke on stoicism, male god archetypes, and the attempt to effeminize pagan figures and Hyperborean men. Check it out and to all those out there in the Wastelands of Modernity, keep your powder dry.
Having learned the location of an ancient Hyperborean city, the investigators mount an expedition across the frozen wastes of Greenland. What awaits them are revelations that will make them question everything.
Today we discussed the Hyperborean relation to animals, the spiritual connections, the partnerships made with animals such as the dog and snake, the importance of the bear, the new animal folklore in America, Raccoons, Foxes, Wolves, Otters, etc. Never forget the importance of the critters that we share our northern woods with, give you doggo a pat on the head and call them a good dog.
Hello to all those out there fighting in the wastelands of modernity. Today we spoke of the new religion creeping at the door. The dogmatic form that's spread faster than any virus! The new universalism of vaccines, scientism, liberal talking points, and the epitome of a slave mentality. The New Religion taking root in the Hyperborean lands must not be allowed to stand! Down with the church of wokeism one of the many blights scouring the wastelands!
Part three of a history of all the root races of the Earth, including the Polar, Hyperborean, Lemurian, Atlantean, and Aryan races. Evolution is a law of nature that applies to the development of the soul (consciousness), but not in the way most people realize. Furthermore, the Bible explains the previous races and ages (Atlantean, Lemurian, and more), and about fallen angels and the existence of demons, but one has to know Hebrew and Kabbalah to understand. This course reveals the essential clues to understand how we got to where we are now. Learn about the reality of the development of the soul as it is hidden in the Kabbalah, the Bible, the Hebrew letters, and the Zohar.
Today we spoke about Why we do what we do, Why we typically avoid political and social commentary. We spoke of how we combat the propaganda against our people. Speaking of our physical appearance, spiritual inheritance, culture, the different races of man, High Kings, and much more. We are far more than our accomplishments we are the Hyperborean's the people of the north woods beyond the north wind, the children of gods and we better well act like it.
Episode 30 - Having made it out of the Hyperborean palace in one piece, Steve and Bear continue to the rendevous site, where they wait for Trendok's help to get them out of the city.
Episode 24 - The Trendonian monk, Leander, wrestles with the realization that Michael, Steve, and Bear are human beings, also known as Anthropos, which are considered exceedingly evil in the eyes of the Hyperborean. Also, Heather and her small band of travelers finally reach the Hyperborean capitol, Ro Penmon, with the hope of reuniting with the boys.
Episode 23 - Michael, Steve, and Bear finally reach Ro Penmon, the Hyperborean capital. The trio enters a new leg of their journey as they continue to search for Trendok and a way home.
Episode 22 - Heather's group journeys by sea to catch up with the boys. Meanwhile, Michael, Steve, and Bear near the end of their trek with the Metaph as they approach the Hyperborean capital, Ro Penmon.
Episode 20 - Heather, Ken, and Stacey continue their pursuit of the boys. The group, lead by the centurions, enters into Hyperborean harbor city to charter a ship to Ro Penmon.
After receiving help from a Hyperborean outpost, Heather and her friends continue to chase after the boys. However, the group unwittingly stumbled into a plot that aims to sow discord in the small township. When we last left the travelers, armed Hyperboreans barred their path.
Fleeing a horde of Exoutheneo, Heather's group found shelter in a Hyperborean outpost. The four now face an uncertain fate at the hands of their captors.
WOW HOW LOW CAN YOU GO? Girls trying to get me to send them money or you. Either way funny as hell all females bout money either way online. Can't get a side gig fake as Luna bitches. Good thing I already have real eden goddess fuck that. I know not all females wanted to get pushed into this position to either use men or get crushed by the masonic archon matrix. However it may be its pathetic. Go come with me and live and thrive off the land. Trust me we can make it lilith I know already knows. So she will be by my side and always trust in the moment. Any woman who is a little girl who doubts Mother Earth is merely an illusion of time and spade space natural maturely unnature healed anyways. Check out the plays list I have put together for all freedom and never about money but obsolete value is the ultimate. Fuck the archons money Luna trap of Saturn power here is more free awesome heart soul music at click https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcDf6VLT7XMyd4l1lI8HT3yHfFpZ1dirb Cool can't wait to hear Fuck cops song “Listen to this segment from Black Sun King 012 Podcast True Truth. on Anchor: https://anchor.fm/eric-plott/episodes/ep-eitgd1/a-a32e3qm Song of TheKazweh fuck cops bit hit song is coming. Soon to pisss everyone off again. Be the infamous Hyperborean band #TheKazweh angelic black sun messenger of all that is and Devine death to beyond darkness First song is Stella R German girls Then darkness shine Hook it. Mic
Wow 2:13 in the morning. Am and that is 6 climax Then 4:45 or 49 =4 song value together equals me or 10. Because you add 6+4 =10. So the song addition is “10-4”. New song title is “FUCK COPS 10/4” written by #TheKazweh Ten which is number one song I have ever wrote. Amazing I have a 3600$ guitar and I just recorded that completely unplugged for whatever reason and whatever it's worth. First try a song that so many prison institutions and jails always would request me to sing and I won a Christian talent show due to this song. The Kazweh was the small town Columbia Missouri band , this song that I put together with my Italian gangster brother Joey Pagano. What a truly awesome epic moment to resurrect the one and only #Kazweh hit single everyone loved and endured “FUCK COPS” written by #TheKazweh Short version with no guitar
Don't be ever afraid to share. Just tell them it's a #ThoughtPROFESS this means it doesn't mean you stand for anything or support anything said here. You just continue to acknowledge life in real time and this is what some wild out guy is Saturn some wild Luna air rays of absolute true truth. Just like I don't need to call myself a vegan or flat earther because I don't believe in everything they are about, however I still haven't consumed animal flesh meat dairy or eggs in over 10 years. So in the same way we are just like #ThoughtPROFESSOR S That are thought professing what connections were have discovered collectively. Nothing ever bad with doing this. Let it go. We are going to be teaching the most powerful form of MAGIC MAGNETISM known and it is Black Sun Ma gicka. Most never learn it because it is only found with at the heart center compass and NEVER IS FOUND IN A HOLY BOOK, from some guru or teacher and pastor preacher professor etc. we don't believe or have faith and hope IN ANYTHING UNLESS WE HAVE SEEN IT, feel it and allow it in and therefore unless we KNOW IT. THAT IS ALL this show is about. Learning cool tricks to how I deal with them in the soulless AI archon matrix of deceptiCONs ghosts, which have no power over us who are Black Sun kings and Queens and we know now we are always and always have been BEYOND GOD AND GODDESSES. S9, so excited to help living souls get realigned by unlearning from all the bullshit illusion mirage lies we were taught in youtube conspiracy religion and other guru BS hip new age spirit none sense. What makes us different? We aren't here trying to make money or material conscious gain or praise. This is all a completely selfless act and our goal is to make it almost 100% thoughtless but this means we encourage you getting off all internet WiFi and phone social media after this and turn it off and water fast and stop thinking too. May this be the last and final message you heart hear to get your life back. Let it all go even words titles labels and values of numbers even. We don't need a I waste our energy on fear ir worry and regret or guilt or shame. You never can make a single mistake in this matrix because you created it all and your highest self has a destined reward always waiting around the corner. Just know this. Visualize what bliss looks and feels like. Remember and good childhood moments you had and never forget the things you appreciate and were grateful for. Fuck the archon shadow reflections distraction static poison dart toxic arrow energy's and let them go. Free yourself from their bondage that you are creating for yourself unless you do like suffering and pain and agony. Then be your guest. However I life for joy bliss serenity and peace of happiness fulfilled and that is who I send to his magic out to. This is exact why you connected with me. I am your spirit virtual living soul blood brother and we got some badass stuff ahead for each other if you wish. Otherwise I will do my own thing either way at Facebook.com/StrandedJUNGLE91 where we have solution plan A To get out of the matrix and become freed. If you like where you are stay we aren't doing convincing or trying to make friends here. We have real solutions and we are living it to be off the grid and live solely off the land and thrive making money obsolete and bartering with Devine love produce and stuff for completely free. That's the only way we can enter back into Hyperborean heaven Jungle mansion of bliss. We have to be selfless and thoughtless as we can. You can then only then have the nature flow which will always be YOUR NAMELESS SERENDIPITY for like. Smote be it. #Abbabolla #Abbabole #Abbabola means you are the ruler of your world and this you in verse. You control and create it his reality and evolved this planet into existence. Thank you god beyond for observing me and this podcast. We plant a seed to help just our self and others who live love will also come along. #Abbaboobo --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app
The queen of the colony, Hippolyta, says that she will aide the lost travelers in finding their way home. Zo shows her clear disdain for Michael, calling him a Hyperborean.
Air conditioners decrease the heat stress of delicate machinery and equipment in commercial businesses. However, the use of air conditions presents various downsides, such as financial and global energy problems. Today, over 10% of the world's energy is for cooling and is mainly produced from power plants, the source of greenhouse gases and other pollutants. Todd Gentry, inventor, and CEO of HyperBorean introduces a breakthrough invention that uses concentrated solar energy as the heat source that provides daytime supplemental cooling for equipment shelter. In this podcast episode, Gentry and Patrick Hosty introduce HyperBorean, a breakthrough technology that reduces energy consumption by using the energy in the heat input directly to their design. They are on the mission to solve one of the world’s biggest problems. What do you think of this invention? Learn more about: Full Scale: https://fullscale.io/ Stackify: https://stackify.com/ HyperBorean: https://coldfromheat.com/ GigaBook: https://gigabook.com Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/startuphustlepodcast/ Subscribe to our YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDXy14X95mzCpGSHyDvvoVg Follow us on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@startuphustle
Brought to you by Bunnyslippers.com, check out there brand new Dino sound slippers! • Slippers make a roaring sound every three steps • Made with green "scaly" fabric, soft plush uppers, foam footbeds, non-slip grips on soles, and three white claws on each foot • One size fits most, up to a Women's 10.5 / Men's 9. Footbed measures 10.5" Check Out Ken Hite at http://www.kenandrobintalkaboutstuff.com/ Check out Dave's Corner of the Universe every Last Tuesday of the month part of our monthly Cthulhu Mythos and other weirdness episodes. Or go to his blog at davescorneroftheuniverse.wordpress.com/ Also Join us later this month when we talk to writer Rami Ungar about his new novel “ROSE”, available from amazon. Link in the show notes. Or check out his blog at https://ramiungarthewriter.com/ Special thanks to all my gusts this month, if you want to be a guest on PGttCM or Black Clock due to your profession in the Academics, arts or literature, contact us at PGttCM.COM/contact Black Clock Audio Tales is a daily podcast that reads you a story. Either a chapter of novel, or a whole short story. Join us in our exploration of old ghost stories, supernatural fiction, horror tales, folk tales, fantasy, gothic horror, weird fiction, and cosmic horror. And dent forget to join us for our monthly show about the Cthulhu Mytho Look for our podcast wherever you find your podcasts, we suggest pod bean or apple podcasts Find us on the web at PGttCM.com and @Blackclockaudio on Instagram, twitter, and facebook And Black Clock Audio Tales on youtube Check out People's Guide to the Cthulhu Mythos on the last Tuesday of the month. Check out our new website over at WWW.PGttCM.com! Edited by Daniel Spitzer Music by Kevin McLeod The Chamber, the voices Produced at Badger's Drift Studio Music by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Help support the show and keeping it paywall free by going to PayPal.me/pgttcm and donate a buck or 5, or pgttcm.podbean.com and become a patron. We'll never ask you for your info, or ask you to fill out a survey, or just tell your friends about it. Don't have the cash to donate? Help the show by sharing/rating/liking or 5 star giving wherever you listen to or rate podcasts Buy a cool shirt from pgttcm.threadless.com. Next Month is August Derleth, send us your mythos stories SEPT- #Brönte, Brönte, Brönte OCT- #SpookyStories NOV- Old English
In the final installment of my series on Nazi Occultism, I finally get to the weird Nazi obsessions with lost civilizations and mythical artifacts. Like a true-life Indiana Jones villain, Himmler dedicated his pseudo-archaeological expeditions to proving misguided theories of anthropogenesis and cosmogenesis and to finding artifacts that may never have existed. Some legends, it seems, are true. Be sure to visit HistoricalBlindness.com for the full text of the episode along with images and citations and links to further reading. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Brought to you by Bunnyslippers.com, check out there brand new Dino sound slippers! • Slippers make a roaring sound every three steps • Made with green "scaly" fabric, soft plush uppers, foam footbeds, non-slip grips on soles, and three white claws on each foot • One size fits most, up to a Women's 10.5 / Men's 9. Footbed measures 10.5" Check Out Ken Hite at http://www.kenandrobintalkaboutstuff.com/ Check out Dave’s Corner of the Universe every Last Tuesday of the month part of our monthly Cthulhu Mythos and other weirdness episodes. Or go to his blog at davescorneroftheuniverse.wordpress.com/ Also Join us later this month when we talk to writer Rami Ungar about his new novel “ROSE”, available from amazon. Link in the show notes. Or check out his blog at https://ramiungarthewriter.com/ Special thanks to all my gusts this month, if you want to be a guest on PGttCM or Black Clock due to your profession in the Academics, arts or literature, contact us at PGttCM.COM/contact Black Clock Audio Tales is a daily podcast that reads you a story. Either a chapter of novel, or a whole short story. Join us in our exploration of old ghost stories, supernatural fiction, horror tales, folk tales, fantasy, gothic horror, weird fiction, and cosmic horror. And dent forget to join us for our monthly show about the Cthulhu Mytho Look for our podcast wherever you find your podcasts, we suggest pod bean or apple podcasts Find us on the web at PGttCM.comand @Blackclockaudio on Instagram, twitter, and facebook And Black Clock Audio Tales on youtube Check out People’s Guide to the Cthulhu Mythos on the last Tuesday of the month. Check out our new website over at WWW.PGttCM.com! Edited by Daniel Spitzer Music by Kevin McLeod The Chamber, the voices Produced at Badger’s Drift StudioMusic by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Help support the show and keeping it paywall free by going to PayPal.me/pgttcm and donate a buck or 5, or pgttcm.podbean.com and become a patron.We’ll never ask you for your info, or ask you to fill out a survey, or just tell your friends about it. Don’t have the cash to donate? Help the show by sharing/rating/liking or 5 star giving wherever you listen to or rate podcasts Buy a cool shirt from pgttcm.threadless.com. Next Month is August Derleth, send us your mythos stories SEPT- #Brönte, Brönte, Brönte OCT- #SpookyStories NOV- Old English
We delve into the culinary arts here at So Very Wrong About Games; having failed at math but excelling in eating, both Mark and Walker eschew conventional rating systems for gastronomical ones. They had considered rating the rating systems themselves, but were reminded of the podcast's firm stance against paradoxes. So, they threw all their pies into a bag and drew them randomly. It's been a confusing week, to say nothing of the mess.Games Played Last Week:-Quantum 1m00s (Eric Zimmerman, Funforge, 2013)-Spheres of Influence 2m23s (Josh Lamont, Little Nuke Games, 2016)-Lords of Hellas 3m37s (Adam Kwapinski, Awaken Realms, 2018)-Core Worlds 4m24s (Andrew Parks, Stronghold Games, 2011)-Ethnos 7m03s (Paolo Mori, CMON, 2017)-Sakura Arms 11m41s (BakaFire, AEG, 2017)-Empires: Age of Discovery 13m28s (Glenn Drover, Eagle-Gryphon Games, 2015)-Too Many Bones 16m33s (Adam Carlson & Josh Carlson, Chip Theory Games, 2017)News (and why it doesn't matter)-Jettisoning Arcadia Quest into space 19m33s-More Clank, more space 21m02s-Cosmic Encounter is the answer to life, the universe, and everything 21m21s-Giant Azul 25m40s-Last contest reminder 26m55sFeature Game: Bag-Building Bonanza 27m30sHyperborea (Andrea Chiarvesio & Pierluca Zizzi, Asterion, 2014)Orleans (Reiner Stockhausen, dlp Games, 2014)Altiplano (Reiner Stockhausen, dlp Games, 2017)Topic: Rating Systems 55m27s
We delve into the culinary arts here at So Very Wrong About Games; having failed at math but excelling in eating, both Mark and Walker eschew conventional rating systems for gastronomical ones. They had considered rating the rating systems themselves, but were reminded of the podcast's firm stance against paradoxes. So, they threw all their pies into a bag and drew them randomly. It's been a confusing week, to say nothing of the mess.Games Played Last Week:-Quantum 1m00s (Eric Zimmerman, Funforge, 2013)-Spheres of Influence 2m23s (Josh Lamont, Little Nuke Games, 2016)-Lords of Hellas 3m37s (Adam Kwapinski, Awaken Realms, 2018)-Core Worlds 4m24s (Andrew Parks, Stronghold Games, 2011)-Ethnos 7m03s (Paolo Mori, CMON, 2017)-Sakura Arms 11m41s (BakaFire, AEG, 2017)-Empires: Age of Discovery 13m28s (Glenn Drover, Eagle-Gryphon Games, 2015)-Too Many Bones 16m33s (Adam Carlson & Josh Carlson, Chip Theory Games, 2017)News (and why it doesn't matter)-Jettisoning Arcadia Quest into space 19m33s-More Clank, more space 21m02s-Cosmic Encounter is the answer to life, the universe, and everything 21m21s-Giant Azul 25m40s-Last contest reminder 26m55sFeature Game: Bag-Building Bonanza 27m30sHyperborea (Andrea Chiarvesio & Pierluca Zizzi, Asterion, 2014)Orleans (Reiner Stockhausen, dlp Games, 2014)Altiplano (Reiner Stockhausen, dlp Games, 2017)Topic: Rating Systems 55m27s
Join The Higherside Chats podcast, as host Greg Carlwood talks... with returning guest, Michael Joseph. Decoding the mindset, philosophy and deepest desires of the elite can prove to be quite challenging, especially when you consider that sources are scattered and their secrets of ancient knowledge and the construct of our paradigm are guarded more carefully than Area 51. And while grasping the entirety of their nefarious plan may be impossible, it's easy to see some of their more obvious attempts to manipulate man, like altering the constructs of our reality and manifesting the ancient agenda of elite bloodlines and secret societies. And, ironically through the instruction of one of these secret royal bloodlines the Hidden Hand Saga, a lengthy Q&A detailing the deepest secrets of the elite, their role in the greater paradigm, and the noble intentions behind their heinous acts, came into fruition. But, when this ancient hidden knowledge does slip through the cracks, it takes a learned and scrupulous person to sort through it all. Fortunately, today's returning guest, Michael Joseph has dedicated countless hours researching and producing a complete anthology of works focusing on Occult science, the secret religion of the elite, astrology and mythology, and he joins The Higherside to help sort through all this and help us understand the connection between these and the infamous Hidden Hand Saga. 3:16 Kicking things off, Greg and Michael begin laying a base by discussing Joseph's research for his "Occult Science Series" and his primary sources including H.P. Blavatsky, Albert Pike, Manly P. Hall, and Aleister Crowley. Michael elaborates on their influence in institutions such as The United Nations, and The Lucius Trust Organization and their roots in theosophy. He expands of his understanding of Occultism through researching the U.S. government's connections to Freemasonry through N.A.S.A., Crowley's influence in Hollywood, and the role of the Vatican. 13:42 Greg and Michael breakdown the possibility of non-human involvement in certain symbolic events. With such an intricately woven web, one has to wonder how human hands could have constructed such a deep and complex allegorical saga that coincides so perfectly to important events in human history and neatly incorporates exo- and eso- teric elements, astrology, and occultism? 25:30 Greg and Michael continue with their discussion of the archetypes of Lucifer, Prometheus, and Mithras and their similarity of bringing divine wisdom to the profane masses through initiation, and their perspective of the true nature of good and evil. They also discuss one of the pillars of both Joseph's research and The Hidden Hand Saga, the esoteric take on the Tree of Life and the classic understanding of good and evil through polarities. 34:25 After breaking down the transhumanist agenda as he see it playing out and explaining how that relates to ancient myths predicting the rise and fall of humanity, Greg and Michael pivot to discussing where in this cycle we are right now. With things economically, technologically and sociologically coming to a head, could we be encroaching a reset of the human cycle? Parlaying from here, Greg and Joseph talk about the evolutionary cycles of mankind, otherwise referred to as the Root Race Cycles, and their connection to The Hidden Hand Saga. 42:00 After detailing the Root Races, Michael elaborates on the provocative names of preceding races given by Blavatsky. From Lemurian and Atlantian, to Aryan and Hyperborean, Joseph explains how just as these sync to speculated preceding civilizations, and how Blavatsky alludes to their actual existence, which also coincides with the Hidden Hand narrative. He also details how these relate to Zeus and Jupiter. 1:00:00 Taking the conversation of mythological archetypes in the agendas and constructed culture of the elite, Greg and Micheal discuss whether the concept of Isis birthing a new conscio...
She leads a peaceable life, waiting tables and getting by - at least she used to. But lately her dreams have spoken to her of times long past and places distant and terrible to behold. In that Hyperborean world, in those visions, she is no mere waitress, but a sorceress of fey and dreadful power. And now she feels that power stir within her blood...Yep, that's right, ladies and gents, she's Agnes Baker, everyone's favourite waitress/witch. In this episode of Drawn to the Flame, Frank and Peter discusses this mysterious and deadly mystic. What does she do? How does she do it? And should she ever delve too deep?SPOILER POLICY: we'll happily discuss player cards up to and including the Blood on the Altar mythos pack. We'll skirt around encounter cards included in that pack, but talk freely about encounter cards up to Essex County Express.Listen on iTunes: right hereSubscribe to our RSS via Feedburner: right hereDirect download: right hereEmail us on drawntotheflamepodcast@gmail.comTwitter is here and Facebook is here.Thank you for listening and subscribing!
We’re back and we’re following up last episode’s discussion of Clark Ashton Smith with a look at one of his stories. The Seven Geases is part of Smith’s Hyperborean cycle, the series of his that most... The post The Seven Geases appeared first on Blasphemous Tomes.
This episode we cover a sampler of Clark Ashton Smith's Hyperborean Cycle, Eibon and his book, also a book named after a book. This episode is brought to you by FoundItemClothing.com & BunnySlippers.com Edited and produced by DB Spitzer Music by Kevin MacLeod & DB Spitzer PGttCM is on Twitter, Tumbler, Facebook and Instagram, not to mention www.PGttCM.com & www.PGttCM.podbean.com PGttCM is a member of the Dark Myths Collective. www.DarkMyths.org #podcast #horror #fantasy #scifi #Hyperborea #Eibon
This week on StoryWeb: Herman Melville’s novel Moby-Dick. This episode is dedicated to the memory of Tim Kamer. Here is a book whose fortunes have gone down and up, down and maybe up again. When Herman Melville’s epic novel Moby-Dick was published in 1851, much (if not most) of the reading public began to suspect that he had gone insane. The popular author of best-selling travel books seemed to have gone off the deep end (as it were). Dedicated to Nathaniel Hawthorne, whose friendship had inspired Melville throughout the writing of the novel, Moby-Dick sold only about 3,200 copies during Melville’s lifetime. To Melville’s way of thinking – and to subsequent generations of American literary scholars in the 20th century – he had found his true calling with the psychologically and philosophically complex Moby-Dick. The year 1919 saw the centennial of Melville’s birth, igniting the “Melville Revival.” In the 1920s and following, Melville became an established part of the literary “canon,” and it seemed that his literary genius was finally getting the acclaim it deserved. But in later decades of the 20th century, long, ponderous, 19th-century novels lost their appeal. No one (fortunately) read James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans anymore, and while some people claimed to have read Moby-Dick, it was more likely that most of them had not actually read the tome. I have read, studied, and taught Moby-Dick several times – and my estimation of it deepens and grows every time I do. By no means is every part of the novel a page turner (parts of the long, drawn-out quest to find and kill the infamous white whale could serve as an insomnia aid). By no means is it all narrative, all story (the cetology chapters come to mind). And by absolutely no means is it clear what Melville wants us to think about this loose and baggy monster of a book. But there is so very much about the book that is amazing, even breath-taking. First, there are the marvelous opening chapters, in which Ishmael (for so he tells us to call him) goes to New Bedford, Massachusetts, to look for employment on a whaling ship, work Melville himself had done for some years (hence the popularity of his South Sea travel books). The third chapter – “The Spouter Inn” – tells of his night spent with the cannibal Queequeg. To my mind, these chapters represent the best storytelling in the book. Second, there is Melville’s literally encyclopedic knowledge of whales and the study of whales (cetology). While many readers are tempted to skim (or even skip) the cetology chapters so they can “get back to the story,” Melville includes meaty, essential material here, as well as in the justly famous chapter titled “The Whiteness of the Whale.” In short, you’ll learn a lot about whales from reading this book, though at a slower pace than you might fancy. A third fascinating facet of Moby-Dick is the exposé it offers of the whale oil industry, which is quite akin to the oil industry today. Melville describes the dangerous working conditions, shows the greed of the captains of industry, not just Ahab’s monomaniacal pursuit of Moby-Dick but the greed of the entire industry. Directed by Ric Burns, the PBS series Into the Deep: America, Whaling, and the World provides careful insight into the largest global industry of the 19th century. The series’ biography of Melville shows how skillfully Melville washed the gum from his readers’ eyes as to what was going on in this destructive industry. Another good, basic overview of the whaling industry can be found at the Awesome Stories website. And you might also find it fun to explore the New Bedford Whaling Museum website, including information about the museum’s Melville-related workshop, tours, and lecture. Need another reason to read Moby-Dick? Read it as a postmodern novel! Yes, you heard that right. Though modernist scholars loved it back in the 1920s, ‘30s, ’40, and ‘50s, it’s more a postmodern novel than it is a modern one. It blends genres, defies rules, goes all “meta” on us, as when Ishmael tries to interpret the painting in the New Bedford bar. But it’s “The Doubloon” chapter near the end of the novel that shows us the pre-postmodern tricks Melville was up to. Pip, the black cabin boy, has gone mad, having fallen overboard and been rescued from the depths of the ocean. Though he has physically survived his near-drowning, he has been changed forever mentally. But in Chapter 99, “The Doubloon,” Melville shows us that Pip does make some sense if you know how to listen to him. Ahab has nailed a golden doubloon to the ship’s mast. It’s worth a fortune. The first man to spot Moby-Dick can have the coin. In this chapter, Ahab, Starbuck, Stubb, Flask, and other characters walk up to the doubloon, give their explanations of what the coin’s engraving means, and walk away. The explanations range from the astrological to the very practical (the coin is worth $16, which would buy 960 cigars). But it is Pip, who in his topsy-turvy mental state, truly sees what is going on. “I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look,” he says. “I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.” In other words, we all have a piece of the truth, and we all try to make sense of the world from our particular vantage point. This subjectivity is a hallmark of the postmodern enterprise. Now of course, Melville wasn’t a postmodernist. After all, Moby-Dick precedes the postmodern movement by more than a century. But maybe Melville was that far ahead of his contemporaries. Maybe he could see and embrace radical subjectivity – and maybe that it is a key reason why American readers thought Melville, like Pip, had lost his mind. When you look at Moby-Dick from all these angles, it’s hard not to appreciate and applaud Melville for his stunning achievement. Yes, the novel is hard to read. Yes, it’s long and dense. And yes, some of its lengthier passages are boring. But taken in its totality, it is a masterwork. Though Melville was immensely popular at the beginning of his writing career with the publication of several travelogues, he ultimately fell into utter obscurity. Deeply disappointed over the failure of American readers to embrace his more complex work, Melville quit writing by the end of the 1850s and spent the rest of his life working as a customs inspector in Manhattan. By 1876, all of his books were out of print, and near the end of his life, a New York newspaper – located just a few blocks from Melville’s residence – speculated about whether the now-minor figure in American literature was still alive! When Melville died in 1891, he was working on a new story, Billy Budd: Sailor. It would not be published until 1924. In all, Melville earned just over $10,000 for his writing during his lifetime. There’s so much more to say about Melville, about Moby-Dick, and about his other novels and short stories – but I’ll leave it there for now. Suffice it to say that Moby-Dick rewards careful reading. It’s not for the faint of heart or for those who like their fiction to be short and sweet. In fact, if you work up the courage to dive into this leviathan of a book, you may find it helpful to have Robert A. diCurcio’s chapter-by-chapter companion reader at your side. Titled “Nantucket’s Tried-Out Moby-Dick,” it’s available for free online. The novel itself is also available for free online, but for this hefty volume, you might be better off with a hard copy. Multiple editions are available, but I like the Modern Library edition. Finally, if you want to learn more about Melville’s life, check out Andrew Delbanco’s biography, Melville: His World and Work, or Hershel Parker’s famous two-volume biography. And when you have the time, indulge yourself in the rare treat of listening to more than 140 individuals as they read the novel’s 135 chapters and the epilogue. Titled “The Moby-Dick Big Read,” the project features such luminaries as Mary Oliver, Sir David Attenborough, Tony Kushner, and Benedict Cumberbatch. Each reading is accompanied by an original work of art that illustrates the chapter. What a great way to experience this American epic! Visit thestoryweb.com/mobydick for links to all these resources. Listen now as I read Chapter 3, “The Spouter Inn.” The chapter describes Ishmael’s attempts to understand the inn’s inscrutable painting and relates the tale of Ishmael and Queequeg’s night together in the inn. You can follow along with Chapter 3 at Project Gutenberg. Entering that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide, low, straggling entry with old-fashioned wainscots, reminding one of the bulwarks of some condemned old craft. On one side hung a very large oilpainting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in the unequal crosslights by which you viewed it, it was only by diligent study and a series of systematic visits to it, and careful inquiry of the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at an understanding of its purpose. Such unaccountable masses of shades and shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious young artist, in the time of the New England hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos bewitched. But by dint of much and earnest contemplation, and oft repeated ponderings, and especially by throwing open the little window towards the back of the entry, you at last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however wild, might not be altogether unwarranted. But what most puzzled and confounded you was a long, limber, portentous, black mass of something hovering in the centre of the picture over three blue, dim, perpendicular lines floating in a nameless yeast. A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture truly, enough to drive a nervous man distracted. Yet was there a sort of indefinite, half-attained, unimaginable sublimity about it that fairly froze you to it, till you involuntarily took an oath with yourself to find out what that marvellous painting meant. Ever and anon a bright, but, alas, deceptive idea would dart you through.—It's the Black Sea in a midnight gale.—It's the unnatural combat of the four primal elements.—It's a blasted heath.—It's a Hyperborean winter scene.—It's the breaking-up of the icebound stream of Time. But at last all these fancies yielded to that one portentous something in the picture's midst. That once found out, and all the rest were plain. But stop; does it not bear a faint resemblance to a gigantic fish? even the great leviathan himself? In fact, the artist's design seemed this: a final theory of my own, partly based upon the aggregated opinions of many aged persons with whom I conversed upon the subject. The picture represents a Cape-Horner in a great hurricane; the half-foundered ship weltering there with its three dismantled masts alone visible; and an exasperated whale, purposing to spring clean over the craft, is in the enormous act of impaling himself upon the three mast-heads. The opposite wall of this entry was hung all over with a heathenish array of monstrous clubs and spears. Some were thickly set with glittering teeth resembling ivory saws; others were tufted with knots of human hair; and one was sickle-shaped, with a vast handle sweeping round like the segment made in the new-mown grass by a long-armed mower. You shuddered as you gazed, and wondered what monstrous cannibal and savage could ever have gone a death-harvesting with such a hacking, horrifying implement. Mixed with these were rusty old whaling lances and harpoons all broken and deformed. Some were storied weapons. With this once long lance, now wildly elbowed, fifty years ago did Nathan Swain kill fifteen whales between a sunrise and a sunset. And that harpoon—so like a corkscrew now—was flung in Javan seas, and run away with by a whale, years afterwards slain off the Cape of Blanco. The original iron entered nigh the tail, and, like a restless needle sojourning in the body of a man, travelled full forty feet, and at last was found imbedded in the hump. Crossing this dusky entry, and on through yon low-arched way—cut through what in old times must have been a great central chimney with fireplaces all round—you enter the public room. A still duskier place is this, with such low ponderous beams above, and such old wrinkled planks beneath, that you would almost fancy you trod some old craft's cockpits, especially of such a howling night, when this corner-anchored old ark rocked so furiously. On one side stood a long, low, shelf-like table covered with cracked glass cases, filled with dusty rarities gathered from this wide world's remotest nooks. Projecting from the further angle of the room stands a dark-looking den—the bar—a rude attempt at a right whale's head. Be that how it may, there stands the vast arched bone of the whale's jaw, so wide, a coach might almost drive beneath it. Within are shabby shelves, ranged round with old decanters, bottles, flasks; and in those jaws of swift destruction, like another cursed Jonah (by which name indeed they called him), bustles a little withered old man, who, for their money, dearly sells the sailors deliriums and death. Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. Though true cylinders without—within, the villanous green goggling glasses deceitfully tapered downwards to a cheating bottom. Parallel meridians rudely pecked into the glass, surround these footpads' goblets. Fill to this mark, and your charge is but a penny; to this a penny more; and so on to the full glass—the Cape Horn measure, which you may gulp down for a shilling. Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen gathered about a table, examining by a dim light divers specimens of skrimshander. I sought the landlord, and telling him I desired to be accommodated with a room, received for answer that his house was full—not a bed unoccupied. "But avast," he added, tapping his forehead, "you haint no objections to sharing a harpooneer's blanket, have ye? I s'pose you are goin' a-whalin', so you'd better get used to that sort of thing." I told him that I never liked to sleep two in a bed; that if I should ever do so, it would depend upon who the harpooneer might be, and that if he (the landlord) really had no other place for me, and the harpooneer was not decidedly objectionable, why rather than wander further about a strange town on so bitter a night, I would put up with the half of any decent man's blanket. "I thought so. All right; take a seat. Supper?—you want supper? Supper'll be ready directly." I sat down on an old wooden settle, carved all over like a bench on the Battery. At one end a ruminating tar was still further adorning it with his jack-knife, stooping over and diligently working away at the space between his legs. He was trying his hand at a ship under full sail, but he didn't make much headway, I thought. At last some four or five of us were summoned to our meal in an adjoining room. It was cold as Iceland—no fire at all—the landlord said he couldn't afford it. Nothing but two dismal tallow candles, each in a winding sheet. We were fain to button up our monkey jackets, and hold to our lips cups of scalding tea with our half frozen fingers. But the fare was of the most substantial kind—not only meat and potatoes, but dumplings; good heavens! dumplings for supper! One young fellow in a green box coat, addressed himself to these dumplings in a most direful manner. "My boy," said the landlord, "you'll have the nightmare to a dead sartainty." "Landlord," I whispered, "that aint the harpooneer is it?" "Oh, no," said he, looking a sort of diabolically funny, "the harpooneer is a dark complexioned chap. He never eats dumplings, he don't—he eats nothing but steaks, and he likes 'em rare." "The devil he does," says I. "Where is that harpooneer? Is he here?" "He'll be here afore long," was the answer. I could not help it, but I began to feel suspicious of this "dark complexioned" harpooneer. At any rate, I made up my mind that if it so turned out that we should sleep together, he must undress and get into bed before I did. Supper over, the company went back to the bar-room, when, knowing not what else to do with myself, I resolved to spend the rest of the evening as a looker on. Presently a rioting noise was heard without. Starting up, the landlord cried, "That's the Grampus's crew. I seed her reported in the offing this morning; a three years' voyage, and a full ship. Hurrah, boys; now we'll have the latest news from the Feegees." A tramping of sea boots was heard in the entry; the door was flung open, and in rolled a wild set of mariners enough. Enveloped in their shaggy watch coats, and with their heads muffled in woollen comforters, all bedarned and ragged, and their beards stiff with icicles, they seemed an eruption of bears from Labrador. They had just landed from their boat, and this was the first house they entered. No wonder, then, that they made a straight wake for the whale's mouth—the bar—when the wrinkled little old Jonah, there officiating, soon poured them out brimmers all round. One complained of a bad cold in his head, upon which Jonah mixed him a pitch-like potion of gin and molasses, which he swore was a sovereign cure for all colds and catarrhs whatsoever, never mind of how long standing, or whether caught off the coast of Labrador, or on the weather side of an ice-island. The liquor soon mounted into their heads, as it generally does even with the arrantest topers newly landed from sea, and they began capering about most obstreperously. I observed, however, that one of them held somewhat aloof, and though he seemed desirous not to spoil the hilarity of his shipmates by his own sober face, yet upon the whole he refrained from making as much noise as the rest. This man interested me at once; and since the sea-gods had ordained that he should soon become my shipmate (though but a sleeping-partner one, so far as this narrative is concerned), I will here venture upon a little description of him. He stood full six feet in height, with noble shoulders, and a chest like a coffer-dam. I have seldom seen such brawn in a man. His face was deeply brown and burnt, making his white teeth dazzling by the contrast; while in the deep shadows of his eyes floated some reminiscences that did not seem to give him much joy. His voice at once announced that he was a Southerner, and from his fine stature, I thought he must be one of those tall mountaineers from the Alleghanian Ridge in Virginia. When the revelry of his companions had mounted to its height, this man slipped away unobserved, and I saw no more of him till he became my comrade on the sea. In a few minutes, however, he was missed by his shipmates, and being, it seems, for some reason a huge favourite with them, they raised a cry of "Bulkington! Bulkington! where's Bulkington?" and darted out of the house in pursuit of him. It was now about nine o'clock, and the room seeming almost supernaturally quiet after these orgies, I began to congratulate myself upon a little plan that had occurred to me just previous to the entrance of the seamen. No man prefers to sleep two in a bed. In fact, you would a good deal rather not sleep with your own brother. I don't know how it is, but people like to be private when they are sleeping. And when it comes to sleeping with an unknown stranger, in a strange inn, in a strange town, and that stranger a harpooneer, then your objections indefinitely multiply. Nor was there any earthly reason why I as a sailor should sleep two in a bed, more than anybody else; for sailors no more sleep two in a bed at sea, than bachelor Kings do ashore. To be sure they all sleep together in one apartment, but you have your own hammock, and cover yourself with your own blanket, and sleep in your own skin. The more I pondered over this harpooneer, the more I abominated the thought of sleeping with him. It was fair to presume that being a harpooneer, his linen or woollen, as the case might be, would not be of the tidiest, certainly none of the finest. I began to twitch all over. Besides, it was getting late, and my decent harpooneer ought to be home and going bedwards. Suppose now, he should tumble in upon me at midnight—how could I tell from what vile hole he had been coming? "Landlord! I've changed my mind about that harpooneer.—I shan't sleep with him. I'll try the bench here." "Just as you please; I'm sorry I can't spare ye a tablecloth for a mattress, and it's a plaguy rough board here"—feeling of the knots and notches. "But wait a bit, Skrimshander; I've got a carpenter's plane there in the bar—wait, I say, and I'll make ye snug enough." So saying he procured the plane; and with his old silk handkerchief first dusting the bench, vigorously set to planing away at my bed, the while grinning like an ape. The shavings flew right and left; till at last the plane-iron came bump against an indestructible knot. The landlord was near spraining his wrist, and I told him for heaven's sake to quit—the bed was soft enough to suit me, and I did not know how all the planing in the world could make eider down of a pine plank. So gathering up the shavings with another grin, and throwing them into the great stove in the middle of the room, he went about his business, and left me in a brown study. I now took the measure of the bench, and found that it was a foot too short; but that could be mended with a chair. But it was a foot too narrow, and the other bench in the room was about four inches higher than the planed one—so there was no yoking them. I then placed the first bench lengthwise along the only clear space against the wall, leaving a little interval between, for my back to settle down in. But I soon found that there came such a draught of cold air over me from under the sill of the window, that this plan would never do at all, especially as another current from the rickety door met the one from the window, and both together formed a series of small whirlwinds in the immediate vicinity of the spot where I had thought to spend the night. The devil fetch that harpooneer, thought I, but stop, couldn't I steal a march on him—bolt his door inside, and jump into his bed, not to be wakened by the most violent knockings? It seemed no bad idea; but upon second thoughts I dismissed it. For who could tell but what the next morning, so soon as I popped out of the room, the harpooneer might be standing in the entry, all ready to knock me down! Still, looking round me again, and seeing no possible chance of spending a sufferable night unless in some other person's bed, I began to think that after all I might be cherishing unwarrantable prejudices against this unknown harpooneer. Thinks I, I'll wait awhile; he must be dropping in before long. I'll have a good look at him then, and perhaps we may become jolly good bedfellows after all—there's no telling. But though the other boarders kept coming in by ones, twos, and threes, and going to bed, yet no sign of my harpooneer. "Landlord!" said I, "what sort of a chap is he—does he always keep such late hours?" It was now hard upon twelve o'clock. The landlord chuckled again with his lean chuckle, and seemed to be mightily tickled at something beyond my comprehension. "No," he answered, "generally he's an early bird—airley to bed and airley to rise—yes, he's the bird what catches the worm. But to-night he went out a peddling, you see, and I don't see what on airth keeps him so late, unless, may be, he can't sell his head." "Can't sell his head?—What sort of a bamboozingly story is this you are telling me?" getting into a towering rage. "Do you pretend to say, landlord, that this harpooneer is actually engaged this blessed Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, in peddling his head around this town?" "That's precisely it," said the landlord, "and I told him he couldn't sell it here, the market's overstocked." "With what?" shouted I. "With heads to be sure; ain't there too many heads in the world?" "I tell you what it is, landlord," said I quite calmly, "you'd better stop spinning that yarn to me—I'm not green." "May be not," taking out a stick and whittling a toothpick, "but I rayther guess you'll be done brown if that ere harpooneer hears you a slanderin' his head." "I'll break it for him," said I, now flying into a passion again at this unaccountable farrago of the landlord's. "It's broke a'ready," said he. "Broke," said I—"broke, do you mean?" "Sartain, and that's the very reason he can't sell it, I guess." "Landlord," said I, going up to him as cool as Mt. Hecla in a snow-storm—"landlord, stop whittling. You and I must understand one another, and that too without delay. I come to your house and want a bed; you tell me you can only give me half a one; that the other half belongs to a certain harpooneer. And about this harpooneer, whom I have not yet seen, you persist in telling me the most mystifying and exasperating stories tending to beget in me an uncomfortable feeling towards the man whom you design for my bedfellow—a sort of connexion, landlord, which is an intimate and confidential one in the highest degree. I now demand of you to speak out and tell me who and what this harpooneer is, and whether I shall be in all respects safe to spend the night with him. And in the first place, you will be so good as to unsay that story about selling his head, which if true I take to be good evidence that this harpooneer is stark mad, and I've no idea of sleeping with a madman; and you, sir, you I mean, landlord, you, sir, by trying to induce me to do so knowingly, would thereby render yourself liable to a criminal prosecution." "Wall," said the landlord, fetching a long breath, "that's a purty long sarmon for a chap that rips a little now and then. But be easy, be easy, this here harpooneer I have been tellin' you of has just arrived from the south seas, where he bought up a lot of 'balmed New Zealand heads (great curios, you know), and he's sold all on 'em but one, and that one he's trying to sell to-night, cause to-morrow's Sunday, and it would not do to be sellin' human heads about the streets when folks is goin' to churches. He wanted to, last Sunday, but I stopped him just as he was goin' out of the door with four heads strung on a string, for all the airth like a string of inions." This account cleared up the otherwise unaccountable mystery, and showed that the landlord, after all, had had no idea of fooling me—but at the same time what could I think of a harpooneer who stayed out of a Saturday night clean into the holy Sabbath, engaged in such a cannibal business as selling the heads of dead idolators? "Depend upon it, landlord, that harpooneer is a dangerous man." "He pays reg'lar," was the rejoinder. "But come, it's getting dreadful late, you had better be turning flukes—it's a nice bed; Sal and me slept in that ere bed the night we were spliced. There's plenty of room for two to kick about in that bed; it's an almighty big bed that. Why, afore we give it up, Sal used to put our Sam and little Johnny in the foot of it. But I got a dreaming and sprawling about one night, and somehow, Sam got pitched on the floor, and came near breaking his arm. Arter that, Sal said it wouldn't do. Come along here, I'll give ye a glim in a jiffy;" and so saying he lighted a candle and held it towards me, offering to lead the way. But I stood irresolute; when looking at a clock in the corner, he exclaimed "I vum it's Sunday—you won't see that harpooneer to-night; he's come to anchor somewhere—come along then; do come; won't ye come?" I considered the matter a moment, and then up stairs we went, and I was ushered into a small room, cold as a clam, and furnished, sure enough, with a prodigious bed, almost big enough indeed for any four harpooneers to sleep abreast. "There," said the landlord, placing the candle on a crazy old sea chest that did double duty as a wash-stand and centre table; "there, make yourself comfortable now, and good night to ye." I turned round from eyeing the bed, but he had disappeared. Folding back the counterpane, I stooped over the bed. Though none of the most elegant, it yet stood the scrutiny tolerably well. I then glanced round the room; and besides the bedstead and centre table, could see no other furniture belonging to the place, but a rude shelf, the four walls, and a papered fireboard representing a man striking a whale. Of things not properly belonging to the room, there was a hammock lashed up, and thrown upon the floor in one corner; also a large seaman's bag, containing the harpooneer's wardrobe, no doubt in lieu of a land trunk. Likewise, there was a parcel of outlandish bone fish hooks on the shelf over the fire-place, and a tall harpoon standing at the head of the bed. But what is this on the chest? I took it up, and held it close to the light, and felt it, and smelt it, and tried every way possible to arrive at some satisfactory conclusion concerning it. I can compare it to nothing but a large door mat, ornamented at the edges with little tinkling tags something like the stained porcupine quills round an Indian moccasin. There was a hole or slit in the middle of this mat, as you see the same in South American ponchos. But could it be possible that any sober harpooneer would get into a door mat, and parade the streets of any Christian town in that sort of guise? I put it on, to try it, and it weighed me down like a hamper, being uncommonly shaggy and thick, and I thought a little damp, as though this mysterious harpooneer had been wearing it of a rainy day. I went up in it to a bit of glass stuck against the wall, and I never saw such a sight in my life. I tore myself out of it in such a hurry that I gave myself a kink in the neck. I sat down on the side of the bed, and commenced thinking about this head-peddling harpooneer, and his door mat. After thinking some time on the bed-side, I got up and took off my monkey jacket, and then stood in the middle of the room thinking. I then took off my coat, and thought a little more in my shirt sleeves. But beginning to feel very cold now, half undressed as I was, and remembering what the landlord said about the harpooneer's not coming home at all that night, it being so very late, I made no more ado, but jumped out of my pantaloons and boots, and then blowing out the light tumbled into bed, and commended myself to the care of heaven. Whether that mattress was stuffed with corn-cobs or broken crockery, there is no telling, but I rolled about a good deal, and could not sleep for a long time. At last I slid off into a light doze, and had pretty nearly made a good offing towards the land of Nod, when I heard a heavy footfall in the passage, and saw a glimmer of light come into the room from under the door. Lord save me, thinks I, that must be the harpooneer, the infernal head-peddler. But I lay perfectly still, and resolved not to say a word till spoken to. Holding a light in one hand, and that identical New Zealand head in the other, the stranger entered the room, and without looking towards the bed, placed his candle a good way off from me on the floor in one corner, and then began working away at the knotted cords of the large bag I before spoke of as being in the room. I was all eagerness to see his face, but he kept it averted for some time while employed in unlacing the bag's mouth. This accomplished, however, he turned round—when, good heavens! what a sight! Such a face! It was of a dark, purplish, yellow colour, here and there stuck over with large blackish looking squares. Yes, it's just as I thought, he's a terrible bedfellow; he's been in a fight, got dreadfully cut, and here he is, just from the surgeon. But at that moment he chanced to turn his face so towards the light, that I plainly saw they could not be sticking-plasters at all, those black squares on his cheeks. They were stains of some sort or other. At first I knew not what to make of this; but soon an inkling of the truth occurred to me. I remembered a story of a white man—a whaleman too—who, falling among the cannibals, had been tattooed by them. I concluded that this harpooneer, in the course of his distant voyages, must have met with a similar adventure. And what is it, thought I, after all! It's only his outside; a man can be honest in any sort of skin. But then, what to make of his unearthly complexion, that part of it, I mean, lying round about, and completely independent of the squares of tattooing. To be sure, it might be nothing but a good coat of tropical tanning; but I never heard of a hot sun's tanning a white man into a purplish yellow one. However, I had never been in the South Seas; and perhaps the sun there produced these extraordinary effects upon the skin. Now, while all these ideas were passing through me like lightning, this harpooneer never noticed me at all. But, after some difficulty having opened his bag, he commenced fumbling in it, and presently pulled out a sort of tomahawk, and a seal-skin wallet with the hair on. Placing these on the old chest in the middle of the room, he then took the New Zealand head—a ghastly thing enough—and crammed it down into the bag. He now took off his hat—a new beaver hat—when I came nigh singing out with fresh surprise. There was no hair on his head—none to speak of at least—nothing but a small scalp-knot twisted up on his forehead. His bald purplish head now looked for all the world like a mildewed skull. Had not the stranger stood between me and the door, I would have bolted out of it quicker than ever I bolted a dinner. Even as it was, I thought something of slipping out of the window, but it was the second floor back. I am no coward, but what to make of this head-peddling purple rascal altogether passed my comprehension. Ignorance is the parent of fear, and being completely nonplussed and confounded about the stranger, I confess I was now as much afraid of him as if it was the devil himself who had thus broken into my room at the dead of night. In fact, I was so afraid of him that I was not game enough just then to address him, and demand a satisfactory answer concerning what seemed inexplicable in him. Meanwhile, he continued the business of undressing, and at last showed his chest and arms. As I live, these covered parts of him were checkered with the same squares as his face; his back, too, was all over the same dark squares; he seemed to have been in a Thirty Years' War, and just escaped from it with a sticking-plaster shirt. Still more, his very legs were marked, as if a parcel of dark green frogs were running up the trunks of young palms. It was now quite plain that he must be some abominable savage or other shipped aboard of a whaleman in the South Seas, and so landed in this Christian country. I quaked to think of it. A peddler of heads too—perhaps the heads of his own brothers. He might take a fancy to mine—heavens! look at that tomahawk! But there was no time for shuddering, for now the savage went about something that completely fascinated my attention, and convinced me that he must indeed be a heathen. Going to his heavy grego, or wrapall, or dreadnaught, which he had previously hung on a chair, he fumbled in the pockets, and produced at length a curious little deformed image with a hunch on its back, and exactly the colour of a three days' old Congo baby. Remembering the embalmed head, at first I almost thought that this black manikin was a real baby preserved in some similar manner. But seeing that it was not at all limber, and that it glistened a good deal like polished ebony, I concluded that it must be nothing but a wooden idol, which indeed it proved to be. For now the savage goes up to the empty fire-place, and removing the papered fire-board, sets up this little hunch-backed image, like a tenpin, between the andirons. The chimney jambs and all the bricks inside were very sooty, so that I thought this fire-place made a very appropriate little shrine or chapel for his Congo idol. I now screwed my eyes hard towards the half hidden image, feeling but ill at ease meantime—to see what was next to follow. First he takes about a double handful of shavings out of his grego pocket, and places them carefully before the idol; then laying a bit of ship biscuit on top and applying the flame from the lamp, he kindled the shavings into a sacrificial blaze. Presently, after many hasty snatches into the fire, and still hastier withdrawals of his fingers (whereby he seemed to be scorching them badly), he at last succeeded in drawing out the biscuit; then blowing off the heat and ashes a little, he made a polite offer of it to the little negro. But the little devil did not seem to fancy such dry sort of fare at all; he never moved his lips. All these strange antics were accompanied by still stranger guttural noises from the devotee, who seemed to be praying in a sing-song or else singing some pagan psalmody or other, during which his face twitched about in the most unnatural manner. At last extinguishing the fire, he took the idol up very unceremoniously, and bagged it again in his grego pocket as carelessly as if he were a sportsman bagging a dead woodcock. All these queer proceedings increased my uncomfortableness, and seeing him now exhibiting strong symptoms of concluding his business operations, and jumping into bed with me, I thought it was high time, now or never, before the light was put out, to break the spell in which I had so long been bound. But the interval I spent in deliberating what to say, was a fatal one. Taking up his tomahawk from the table, he examined the head of it for an instant, and then holding it to the light, with his mouth at the handle, he puffed out great clouds of tobacco smoke. The next moment the light was extinguished, and this wild cannibal, tomahawk between his teeth, sprang into bed with me. I sang out, I could not help it now; and giving a sudden grunt of astonishment he began feeling me. Stammering out something, I knew not what, I rolled away from him against the wall, and then conjured him, whoever or whatever he might be, to keep quiet, and let me get up and light the lamp again. But his guttural responses satisfied me at once that he but ill comprehended my meaning. "Who-e debel you?"—he at last said—"you no speak-e, dam-me, I kill-e." And so saying the lighted tomahawk began flourishing about me in the dark. "Landlord, for God's sake, Peter Coffin!" shouted I. "Landlord! Watch! Coffin! Angels! save me!" "Speak-e! tell-ee me who-ee be, or dam-me, I kill-e!" again growled the cannibal, while his horrid flourishings of the tomahawk scattered the hot tobacco ashes about me till I thought my linen would get on fire. But thank heaven, at that moment the landlord came into the room light in hand, and leaping from the bed I ran up to him. "Don't be afraid now," said he, grinning again, "Queequeg here wouldn't harm a hair of your head." "Stop your grinning," shouted I, "and why didn't you tell me that that infernal harpooneer was a cannibal?" "I thought ye know'd it;—didn't I tell ye, he was a peddlin' heads around town?—but turn flukes again and go to sleep. Queequeg, look here—you sabbee me, I sabbee—you this man sleepe you—you sabbee?" "Me sabbee plenty"—grunted Queequeg, puffing away at his pipe and sitting up in bed. "You gettee in," he added, motioning to me with his tomahawk, and throwing the clothes to one side. He really did this in not only a civil but a really kind and charitable way. I stood looking at him a moment. For all his tattooings he was on the whole a clean, comely looking cannibal. What's all this fuss I have been making about, thought I to myself—the man's a human being just as I am: he has just as much reason to fear me, as I have to be afraid of him. Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian. "Landlord," said I, "tell him to stash his tomahawk there, or pipe, or whatever you call it; tell him to stop smoking, in short, and I will turn in with him. But I don't fancy having a man smoking in bed with me. It's dangerous. Besides, I ain't insured." This being told to Queequeg, he at once complied, and again politely motioned me to get into bed—rolling over to one side as much as to say—"I won't touch a leg of ye." "Good night, landlord," said I, "you may go." I turned in, and never slept better in my life.
40 Winks — Entrée (Intro) Linda Perhacs — Parallelograms I.V.A. — Hyperborean dreams (Long Arm edit) Dday One — Seeds Of Revolution (Long Arm remix) Kidkanevil Daisuke Tanabe — SGstep Cropby Blu — Amnesiaby Flying Lotus — An Xbox Killed my dog Flying Lotus — Flotus Fink — Perfect Darkness Kettel & Secede — Missing Time (Cut) M83 — Lower Your Eyelids To Die With The Sun (KTWC's Electropic Remix) Galimatias & Alina Baraz — Pretty Thoughtsby Bonobo — Jets Billie Holiday — Easy Living
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