Monthly Archives: March 2016

Two Comets Plus a Hopi Prophecy Do not Equal Doomsday from a Twelfth Planet

So, two comets are visible in the night sky this past week. This occurrence has resulted in an over stimulation of the residual gray matter left in the skulls of Zecharia Sitchin fans. These poor souls believe that ancient aliens roamed our planet early in human history, mucking about with our DNA, building pyramids for us, and generally edumacating us in all skills useful in becoming civilized.

I have seen any number of posts, sharings, news alerts, and what have you, declaring that a Hopi tribal prophecy says that when two comets appear in the sky at the same time, the planet Niburu will begin its return to the inner solar system, Niburu being the twelfth planet that Sitchin declared to be the home planet of our alien masters. The Annunaki will thenceforth wreak havoc upon us.

It is well known that Sitchin pulled his theory out of his butt. It is also known that the Hopi’s knew nothing of a twelfth planet, let alone one named Niburu.

Which brings me to the whole Niburu being the home planet of the Annunaki aliens concept.

Niburu is an ancient Sumerian word. It is one of the many names of the Sumerian sun god, Marduk. Sun god, as in the god of the sun. Not the god of an unknown planet out there in the Kuiper belt, but the sun around which earth orbits, you know, that big bright shiny thingy up in the sky that causes what we scientists call day time.

The Annunaki are the Sumerian pantheon of gods, of whom Nibiru was one. Annunaki is a compound word. Anu is the god of the heavens. Ki is the goddess of the earth. The Annunaki are, collectively, the gods of heaven and earth. The Sumero-Babylonian mythology is essential the same as the mythology of the Egyptians, Greeks, and Celts, and it is very comparable to Hindu and Zoroastrian mythology. None of these ancient peoples thought of their gods as physical beings, alien or not.

As the great mythologist, Joseph Campbell wrote:

Fortunately, it will not be necessary to argue that Greek, Celtic or Germanic myths were mythological. The peoples themselves knew they were myths…”

Sitchin, von Daniken, and all their ancient alien silliness, is becoming a sort of modern mythology. The difference between now and way back then, is that the ancient mythologies actual make sense, when you know how to understand them. And they are to be understood as myths. The ancient gods had no interest in anal probes, and they needed no saucers to fly about in.

This has been Dean Cooper, quasi-scientist, enlightening you with my quasi-theory of the week.

Originally presented on The Squatchers Lounge Podcast

Ah, Easter!

Easter surely scoots about, calendar-wise.

The reason is obvious: it is always on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the first day of spring. Not expecting that were you? The key to it is in the name Easter itself.

The name came into English from an old Germanic goddess named Eostre, the goddess of the dawn. Her holiday was celebrated at the spring equinox, when the path of the sun, or the ecliptic, crosses the celestial equator, and the length of day and night are equal. She was also the goddess of fertility, therefore eggs, bunnies, and lambs were associated with her. She is cognate with the other Mediterranean fertility and love goddesses like Astarte, Ishtar, and Aphrodite, who were all considered aspects of the one mother goddess. There’s some scholarly arguments about all this, but I’m the quasi-scientist around here and this is my quasi-theory.

Now, how do we get from the equinox to the correct Sunday for Easter and what does it have to do with the moon and what all?

Many forms of the mother goddess had sons and the father was usually a sun god and the son was equated with the father. Many of these sons of gods died, and resurrected, for the sake of their followers, and they did it on, or near, the spring equinox. The path of the solar ecliptic and the celestial equator make an x where they cross, both in the spring and fall. These various sons of god, many of whom were crucified, died, in the spring, at the point when the sun is at the center of that big x mark in the sky, the big cross in the sky. Having your son of a sun god resurrect on a Sunday is highly appropriate. Most of these goddess mothers of a son of god were moon goddesses, so you had to get the moon involved, and the full moon has been associated with regrowth and fertility in many cultures.

On the other hand, officially, Easter Sunday is the first Sunday after the first full moon after the first day of spring because the bishops at the Council of Nicea voted to make it so in 325 AD. On the third hand, that council was ruled over by the Emperor Constantine, who had a hard time distinguishing Jesus from Solus Invictus, the form of the Persian god Mithras that he previously worshiped. Go figure.

Originally presented on The Squatchers Lounge Podcast:

Some Observations On My Beard

A recent preliminary study has found that men’s beards, when allowed to grow to at least an inch or two, grow a species of bacteria, Staphylococcus epidermidis, that has anti-bacterial properties, possibly even against the dreaded Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, or MRSA bacteria.

This has induced me to examine my own beard. I have not the facilities for proper bacterial culture, so I limited myself to visual observations. Here are my conclusions:

Firstly: It is almost all white, but there are a few dark brown and a few gray ones left.

Secondly: it is not as long as it looks. The longest individual whisker I could find is about 6” long, it is at the bottom of my chin. I had allowed all of them to grow as long as they wanted to, a couple of years ago, but I had to stop that experiment when they reached ZZ Top length and would get stuck in my armpit when I rolled over in my sleep.

Thirdly: here’s a fact that is little known among those who can’t or haven’t grown a beard: yanking on a whisker is like yanking on a pubic hair. They have large roots and it can hurt like the devil. Getting my beard caught in my armpit would literally yank me awake. Whence forth its current length.

Fourthly: not all whiskers grow to the same length. For example, the little inverted triangle just under the lower lip, the ones the hipsters grow these days. Those grow to only a couple of inches long and rarely need trimming. The ones on the upper lip seem to want to grow forever, and mine want to grow straight, forming a classic soup strainer. I therefore trim them short.

Fifthly: having a longer white beard, coupled with long white hair, will get one mistaken for a number of other people. Santa Claus, of course, or a wizard. I have heard background comments, when out in public, of a fat Gandalf being in the area, or a Hogwarts professor. I prefer to be thought of, by Terry Pratchett cognoscenti, as being employed at the Unseen University, where all us wizards never actually practice magic much, due to the widespread destruction that occurs when we fight. Pogonophobes would be justified in their fear.

Boy, I enjoy being obscure.