Guest Post: An Essay on Se7en. Eye in Pyramid.

seven4Was Detective Mills (Brad Pitt) being cucked by Detective Somerset (Morgan Freeman) in the movie Se7en? Directors have always hidden away secret nuggets for the discerning viewer and though not an explicit plot point, it is hinted at during the film.  Taking the time to dig into and analyze the movie, certain gems start to appear. Presented below are evidence that director David Fincher left bread crumbs for the hungry theorist to uncover the torrid affair between Somerset and Traci (Gwyneth Paltrow.)

What follows is a plot summary for those of you unfamiliar with the movie.  Se7en follows the story of two homicide detectives in a perpetually dreary, nameless city, tracking down a sadistic serial killer (Kevin Spacey) who chooses his victims and their deaths, according to the seven deadly sins. Brad Pitt stars as Detective David Mills, an energetic but naive rookie who finds himself partnered with veteran jaded Detective William Somerset (Morgan Freeman). Together they investigate grisly murder scenes with no clue as to who the killer could be.  The director, David Fincher, intentionally keeps his viewer from knowing crucial information which makes multiple viewings of the film a must, if one wishes to analyze it. No wonder that even though 21 years old, people are still theorizing about it and enjoying it to this day.

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It wasn’t rape if I don’t remember it, and I didn’t know he was underage, or that I was gay. What?

Now dig right in and see if Fincher gave us subtle clues about the beautiful woke interracial romance between Somerset and Mill’s wife.  The movie beat us over the head with the differences between Somerset and Mills and nothing sets up an affair like filling in a missing need for the disaffected partner.  Somerset was a world weary traveler, close to retirement, Mills was eager, ambitious, reckless. Somerset makes no mention of family or romantic interests and this sets the stage. The first clue we get is when Mills receives a phone call from his wife at work and asks to speak to Somerset.  Not only is this a slap in the face to Mills, but then later we discover she invited him over for dinner and didn’t ask her husband or even bother to tell him. Compounding this is the awkward dinner itself. The dialogue between Somerset and Mill’s wife traces an outline of two lovers who are trying and failing to not make it obvious to the other party.  Detective Mills seethes with rage during the dinner with no clear answers as to why, but a discerning viewer can clearly see the cucky pieces of the puzzle.

A further examination of Detective Mill’s wife Traci shows her character has almost no development in the film and very little screen time.  But, the screen time she does have tends to show her in a very dissatisfied light. She is unhappy that she has to leave her rural home and move to the big city.  Their apartment just so happens to have a subway pass under it and when it does it shakes everything like a mini earthquake. Her husband is always away at the office working  leading her to loneliness. Clearly the director is painting a picture of a disaffected young woman.During one scene she waits until her husband is in the shower and calls Det. Somerset.  Not only is this highly suspicious behavior but later on we find out she asks for him a secret rendezvous at a diner. The diner scene then takes an odd twist as we find out that Traci is pregnant and is scared to tell her husband.  Why would she be scared to tell her husband but not some police officer she barely knows?pitt1

Shortly after this Somerset has a brilliant idea on how to track down the killer’s apartment.  He supposedly uses illegal library information to find out who has been checking out certain books.   Might this be a convenient cover for already knowing where the killer lives? This leads him to the killers apartment where the killer fires off several rounds at the detectives.  All the shots miss even though a few minutes later, the killer is shooting out glass at more than 500 feet away. During the famous “box” scene the killer tells Mills that it is easy to purchase info from men inside his precinct. Why say this, both Spacey’s character and from the director’s point of view, what does this accomplish?   Somerset, who doesn’t seem very upset by all the commotion so far gets angry and slaps the killer when he mentions that Traci was pregnant. Why would this upset him enough to assault a suspect? Lots of suspicious behavior from Somerset, the killer and the wife.

So, is there sufficient evidence to suggest that Traci was having an affair with Somerset?  Maybe, but if not, then it seems to me like Fincher went out of his way to make you think something was going on.  The awkward dialogue, the strange looks, and the scene at the diner really seem to set the mood for a lurid love affair.  Mill’s character, it seems, not only has to struggle with a terrible apartment, an unlikable partner, but also an unfaithful wife.  Now go into your DVD collection, dust off that old copy of Seven, and pop her in. All the while being a detective yourself while you ponder whether or not Morgan Freeman was pounding dat ass!

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5 Times. I only banged her fives times!

Corporations are legal entities. They are alive. They hunger.

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Are corporations people?  Unless you are a flaming cuck-bot you answered yes.  You answered yes because it is the truth.  We the feckless, sportsball obsessed, consumer whore johns, have watched as hundreds of years have passed granting entities the rights of humans and done nothing to stop it.  Judges, ruling from the bench, have solipsistically granted life to faceless sets of books, charts of numbers, procedural documents and codes of conduct. These frankenstein’s monster’s take in human life and vomit up pain, and heartache, and suffering.  They produce beige committee produced non-offensive rubber protected plastic feces, guaranteed to do nothing but dull your mind into a stupor. Hail these corporations, they are our lords.  We kneel to Duchess Starbucks, and delicately fondle the testicles of Lord Apple as we fellate his protrusion, our money, our time, the lubrication, our posteriors raised in the air, expectantly awaiting.

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The more libertarian among you might scream in objection, “Corporations are run by a board of directors and the public who own the stock.”  If you honestly believe that you must also think that police are only out to serve and protect you, that most politicians live to serve the people and that our government never injected hundreds of people with syphilis just for fun.  Nature abhors a vacuum.  Power is never, ever, vacated for long, someone or something will fill the position.

So who sits atop the mountain of rules and regulations, the tower of file cabinets, the empire of cubicles?   Cuckstians will swear that the bible is what they believe in and that Christ was born of a virgin (unless they are true cuckstians and view Joseph as the pen-ultimate CUCK), and then turn around and deny that evil and malevolent entities exist.  Cuck-bags are wrong again.  Your own book says demons are real at least 7 times.  Their is absolute beauty in watching weak chinned cuckstians do mental somersaults to try to deny the existence of malevolent extra human beings.

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The plain fact of the matter is that demons, devils, god, demigods, etc, are all real, just like gravity.  We can’t explain them, we can’t account for their actions, and we sure as hell cant stop them, but denying their existence is as stupid as denying the existence of gravity.  These corporations are real, they are alive, and they do hunger.

Where does this end?  Hopefully with the corporations claiming first amendment rights finally creating mercenary armies, flying their flags on the shoulders of their soldiers,  and pushing hostile takeovers into the land of blood soaked reality.

 

Guns for Fags. Muslims for Rape. All Hail Moloch.

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Since the Orlando Worship Festival a host of patently silly ideas ranging from funny to funnier has emerged, each as separated from the truth as the last.  The “official” story is just as ludicrous as well, but the story the public will accept or wishes to believe is as meaningless as the stories are from the event.  In the end all events serve the glory of Moloch and all of his children have a part to play.

The illumined know that nothing is beyond the reach of Moloch.  Every plot, every scheme, every twisted thought are all part of the maze of collective consciousness, prayers easing their way downwards like sweetest incense.  Moloch receives your worship gratefully and yet still hungers.

The living sacrifice, the bountiful offering of sodomic flesh fills the ever yearning nostrils of the Great Brass Bull.  Those engaged in an orgiastic expression of the nihilistic hedonism were the perfect willing oblation unto Moloch.  The tears and fears created through this event nourished our master, both in the preceding acts as well as Orlandogayfacesculmination.  Through this crisis those most in need of self defense will refuse it and strip those most desirous.

Rest assured Moloch does not desire that the beautiful male on male sodommation should stop. No matter how many pink pistols are pressed into the hands of the victims, they will fall limply away from self defense.  More importantly these victims will promote further victimization by decrying the very thing that could have saved them.  No guns for me and no guns for thee.  The irony is a sweet savor unto our lord.

The irony continues as the self loathing perpetrator, the founder of the feast, so-to-speak, may have been a reluctant participant in the festivities.  The vibrant Muslim orchestrations (killing) generated 72 crystal clear raisins and more precious souls secured for Moloch.  That two dedicated victim classes  rose against one another would seem to beOmarMateen a blow to our mission, however this is not the case.  A reshuffling on the victim totem pole is to be expected from time to time.  This should not be viewed as a setback but as a testament to the perseverance of our worshipers devotion.

Regardless of who kills whom and for what reason Moloch will remain triumphant. Whether this results in a further restrictions of firearms, a retaliation of the Americuck Plebes against musloids, an LBGT gestapo enforcing sodogomous cakes across the nation, the glory of Lord Moloch will only increase.

 

Blackest Friday. Mammon Monday. Give us your thanks.

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Hordes of hungry holiday shoppers rampage through the vast tundra of stripmalls and shopping centers.  Lust, envy, covetous yearnings raging, a miasma of animal instinct, atavistic hatred roiling in their veins.  Thank Mammon it is Black Friday yet again!

A day when the corporations accept your worshipful donations and celebrate their personhood.  If material wealth, if the latest in status affirming technology can’t  bring the masses happiness then what ever could?

However there is never enough!  There is a desperate need to increase the amount of ennui of the standard shopper lest the gapping jaws of Mammon go hungry.  The masses must feel as if their very salvation is derived directly from the amount of goods they purchase.  Their soul and sole nourishment must be directly correlated with their shopping stamina.  Mere money is not enough, time no longer suffices, worship, Mammonplain and unadulterated at the feet of great Mammon is the next and only way forward.

We the illumed realize the only true worship is sacrifice.  The greater the sacrifice the greater the harvest for our great lord.   While Moloch is the undisputed successor in the reaping of innocent souls, lord Mammon has made excellent strides in fomenting an unquenchable desire to purchase in the feeble simpletons that populate this world.

Look at the bountiful harvest of greed driven violence reaped during this black Friday.  However, times are lean.  The frivolous spending of boom times is quickly coming to an end as are the unrepentant ravings of spending drunk lunatics.  Austerity produces a serenity and sobriety that cannot be allowed.  The ideal subject is one as maladjusted, as envious, conniving, and manically seeking to acquire as our lord hmammon3imself.

The only cure is to create an addict.  A fiend so addicted to acquisition that they must consume ever more.  The goal is to force them into precarious situations where by acquisition is both a necessity as well as a penalty in and of itself.  Our end is the man who will go into debt to purchase objects of no use that are nigh worthless.  Our goal is a man who will trudge through danger and depravity to obtain things he neither wants nor needs for reasons he cannot understand.  In the end we want the soul of the man and to give him nothing in return.

In the end the converts of Mammon are so devoted they are void of humanity.  Hungering only for their next purchase they wander in a daze, led where we will them.