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Ah Pook is here


The significance of the Burroughs story The Unspeakable Mr. Hart (later renamed Ah Pook is Here) was made apparent to me yesterday when I read a post on a blog called Falling Into Place (i.e. in synchronistic terms this was where it all “fell into place”):


“Mr. Hart intends on occupying a space in the Mayan pantheon as ‘Hunab Ku The One Divine’. Hunab Ku, an unseen god due to his never assuming a physical form:


…was in short the operator of the control machine and in consequence did not include himself as data…However, having reprogrammed the machine to eliminate the troublesome ‘good’ Gods and those of ambiguous allegiance, Mr. Hart will soon encounter an acute time shortage. DEATH now freed from all control will use up all the TIME. And any control machine needs time…”


This is the position I currently occupy—the “unseen god without physical form” (the unspeakable—indeed, Burroughs himself saw himself as synonymous with “Mr. Hart”). At the story’s end, the final manifestation is as Ah Pook—the god of death, whose eyes melt people on contact. Hence “the unspeakable” is masked, as the story was renamed, by “Ah Pook”.





The illustrations here depicted were by an English artist who Burroughs decided was the only person who understood him. These images depict America today—hell on earth.


As you can see, the images are dominated by androgynous forms—torsos with penises and breasts. This describes, from 1970, contemporary America and the trans craze (the story even features an “America First” rally—out of place for the time).


This hell on earth is that which I must destroy—as a servant of Alkaid, destroyer-of-nations (Pook-the-destroyer, as he is described in a video of Ah Pook is Here). The parallels fit—as you can see, after the white light of annihilation, where America and Israel are annihilated, we enter a heaven state with a beautiful bird (Horus).


Burroughs must have anticipated this situation through intuition. As the story ends:


“The battle against ‘evil’ cannot be won, simply because the concept of good relies entirely on bad in order to exist. Everything is determined by that which it is not. In order for bad to be banished from the world, good would have to go with it. The only way such an idea can be removed from human experience is by removing humans altogether. By truly ‘ending human consciousness as we know it.’ Given the mind-numbing insanity that prevails, this is not such a bad idea.”


We must remove humans altogether—which means the end of the kali-yuga, the return of the gods, and the annihilation of America and Israel (the concomitant cleansing of Hyperborean Britain).



Additional synchronicities: just before he died, Burroughs noted that among those traveling aboard the Titanic were “a Mr. Burroughs, a Mr. John Hart, and yes—a Mr. Pook. All three of them drowned”. Further, since we think in images, “Mr. Hart has all the pictures”—rather like this website.

There were also notable synchronicities between the illustrator of Ah Pook is Here, Malcolm McNeill, and Burroughs as regards a 19th-century Anglo-American pair with an interest in the Mayans, Catherwood and Stephens:

“…Frederick Catherwood was an English illustrator, and also of Scottish descent.


He also went to art school in London.


He also met an American writer who happened to be living in London at the time: John Lloyd Stephens.


Stephens had contacted Catherwood on the basis of his artwork and they too agreed to collaborate on a book together… about the Maya.

Catherwood met Stephens in Leicester Square. A few hundred yards down the road from Piccadilly where I met Bill. One “square” over, as it were…

It was an interesting discovery, but when it came down to it—so what? As I read on, however, the correspondences became so unlikely that they were hard to ignore.

Catherwood also moved to America to complete the work—and, just as I had—slightly ahead of his writer partner…


In Manhattan, his first home—like mine—was on Houston Street…

He also had a studio in Tribeca…


Like me, he moved from there to Prince Street…


We both had children born in New York, and both of us were separated from our wives there. His son, also born in December, was 6 years old at the time—as was mine…

We both quit illustration there…

He subsequently moved to California, where he too became an American citizen. He while living in Solano County, me while living in Solano Canyon…


As artists we shared a particular image style: panoramas. In New York we both became known for it. Catherwood through his panoramic murals, which he exhibited in his rotunda on Prince Street, myself through the panoramic images I created for television—while also living on Prince Street.


…Ultimately, Catherwood produced a folio edition of their collaboration and wrote an account of their history and friendship together….an account that had been published more than a century-and-a-half ago.


That I would be duplicating aspects of a dead man’s life was odd enough, but the nature of the coincidences and the manner in which they had been revealed evoked an even greater one…

The fictional Hart and his friend Clinch Smith searched for the lost Mayan books in a jungle. In real life, on the other side of the so-called line, Catherwood and Stephens had ‘searched’ for their Mayan books in the very same jungle… in fact. Both of these expeditions had resulted in books being found, one fictionally and literally, the other factually and figuratively.”





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