IF THERE WAS EVER A TIME AND PLACE to pick up a book, it was the 1960’s in Greenwich Village. Joe Taylor grew up on the Bible. His dad was a minister, and his grandfathers were deacons, the results of which garnished him with a thorough New and Old Testament education. And then one day in 1967, while paying the bills in New York City, he stumbled upon a book about giants. Joe Taylor had always known about giants, he said. But this—this was Biblical.

THIRTY THOUSAND YEARS AGO CRO-MAGNON MAN made the final move from our treetop origins to live in caves, and though we coldly refer to them today in bland stepping stone terms, seeing as how the barbecue wasn’t invented yet, even going so far as to name our granddaddy ancestors Homo erectus, thereby accrediting their only meaningful accomplishment to posture, they gave their children such intimate names as Krog and Thag. Blah, blah, blah…You know how the rest of the story goes. A murderous monkey-man beats Cain to the punch, where after he tosses a bone up into the sky and, with a little help from Nietzsche and Zarathustra, it becomes one of Stanley Kubrick’s space ships.

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS. Moments before showtime our vacuum cleaner died, we discovered a nail in our truck tire, the air conditioner broke, and we had to evacuate our children to the living room for a camp out, once a dust bomb exploded upstairs. And we’re leaving for Europe in a couple of days. Regardless, I think we still managed alright in the end.

I WAS THRILLED TO BE INVITED BY ROB SKIBA onto Revolutionary Radio to discuss my book, WORTHLESS MYSTERIES. Years in the making, it’s 700 pages of meaty research and countless late night writing sessions. During our discussion I highlight my investigation into globe earths origin through Alexander the Great’s influence, Greek Hellenization, and how the globe (both Ptolemy’s universe and it’s occult counterpart, heliocentricism, which was developed in Alexandria), along with the immortal soul doctrine, came to fruition with Plato and the Eleusinian Mysteries.

I THINK I’VE DECIDED THAT “GETTING WOKE” is the essential equivalent for Millennial’s of what “being cool” was back in the day. As a Generation X-er, I have these distinct memories of turtleneck sweaters, mullets, slap bracelets, and Birkenstock sandals with socks—more specifically, when they were still a thing. It was the early nineties, and my mother would attempt to pull my brother and me away from the 16-bit console on our bunny-eared television with a dial knob for channels (or perhaps we were glued to the latest episode of Saved by the Bell) long enough to show off her latest mall-shopped mom jeans.

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JESUS APPARENTLY COULDN’T DO OR SAY ANYTHING RIGHT. Whether teaching the thirsty or healing the indisposed, it seems like His entire ministry was hamstrung by the bureaucracy of religious allegation and pleas for messianic impeachment. The scribes and the Pharisees, chief priests and elders, were always wishing to find fault in Jesus; always hoping to spring shortsighted booby traps and ambush Him with cagey questions or insidious, often unlawful, accusations—always trying to trip Him up over their words or His own. For all we know, they likely convinced themselves, to their dying day, that they did just that.