Archive for the ‘Neverman History & Mythology’ Category

March 2015, Argentina somewhere near the Paraguayan border, beneath the slithering vines of jungle and within a forgotten stone structure, a horde of happenstance archaeologists struck gold. Nazi gold. The diggers of the University of Buenos Aires uncovered a trove of swastika-stamped coins, neatly deposited in an evil little cubby-hole awaiting collection from its owner, undoubtedly some long-dead, god-forsook, goose-stepped, villain reeking of schnapps and dry-roasted Pan Am peanuts.

Who owns this treasure?

Is it Argentina, the country which welcomed fleeing Nazis in the late 1940’s with open-arms and spread-legs? Yeah, I am looking at you, Evita: sleeping your way up the fascist food-chain until Juan Perón became dictator of Argentina and you, enterprising slut you, went on your European shopping spree, the “Rainbow Tour”, seeking out hidden Nazis in Franco’s Spain and inviting them to bring their loot back to the banks of Buenos Aires via the ever-accommodating Swiss (so typical, Switzerland). After all the Nazi riches Eva (aka Evita aka Madonna “Don’t cry for me Argentina”) Perón brought into Argentina, what’s a few more coins?

Nazi Gold? You have (Madonna) Evita's attention!

Nazi Gold? You have Madonna Evita’s attention!

Or should the gold be shipped back to Germany where the keepers of a guilty conscience might sift through the loot in order to decide of whom it was stolen from in the first place only to be lost in a bureaucratic boondoggle?

Perhaps you (You, dear reader) have a claim… Your grandparents’ gold fillings in their teeth may have been seized by Nazis marauding through the Old Country and those fillings were melted down into swastika-stamped dimes and now you want your dimes back. Go grab your International Law barrister and argue your heart’s content!

You see, I don’t give a damn. The Nazi coins can be wished away in wells for fuck-all I care.

NAZI GOLDAye, you may think this a hypocritical stance for a renowned treasure hunter, such as Victor Ulysses Neverman, to take. Chances are you are right. Au is still Au on the periodic table, regardless of whose eagle is emblazoned upon it. Yet… Nazi Gold is Nazi. Fucking cursed. I would argue the gold of El Dorado I searched for in 2000, 2007 and 2013 was not cursed or the byproduct of evil men. The Spanish Conquistadors never found ‘the Gilded-One’ and never had a chance to collect the gold they shed blood over. No, when it comes to El Dorado, the only curse is on those foolish enough to seek it and… well, I didn’t have anything else going on at the time, so why not head down to South America for some high stake hijinks?

This Nazi Gold, though, is a different story.

All that glitters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

– Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

Nazi Gold in South America: WHAT? WHY? HOW?

There is plenty of Nazi Gold to be found in South America and Nazi Gold is much easier to stumble upon than the famed riches of the mythical city of El Dorado. These coins found in March of 2015 represent a larger collection of stashed-away loot which is not just a relic of the Third Reich, but rather the spilled coffers of the Fourth. Yes, the Fourth Reich, the Nazi leftovers already integrated into the global political and economic system.

Allow me to take a deep quaff off of this draft before I elaborate…

In the mid-1940s, as the drums of impending doom could be heard in the Berlin bedchambers of sleepless Nazi party officials, a scheme was hatched. Not by Hitler. By then, Adolf’s nerves were woven into a case of baskets and his wits congealed into tapioca. It was Martin Bormann, the head of the Nazi Party, who designed Aktion Adlerflug (or ‘Operation Eagle Flight’ to us of the English persuasion). The plot was to continue National Socialism beyond the inevitable fall of Germany. Aktion Adlerflug was devised as a means to send capital abroad to be absorbed into American corporations and South American fascist regimes. Certainly, the United States and the Soviet Union picked their own kickball squads out of the Nazi scientists they captured (‘Operation Paperclip would send the Western kickball squad back to America).

Martin Bormann, leader of the Nazi Party.

Martin Bormann, leader of the Nazi Party.

It would be those Nazis uncaptured – the war criminals and party officials too infamous to return to Rhineland agriculture or apply for a job as a machinist at Bayerische Motoren Werke – who required ulterior methods for escaping Nuremburg justice. For these, there were the ‘Rat Lines’ of Aktion Adlerflug. ‘Rat Lines’ were smuggling routes for assisting Nazis out of Europe. Otto Skorzeny ran Die Spinne (‘the spider’) route through Franco’s Spain. ODESSA (‘Organisation der Ehemaligen SS-Angehörigen’) is another Rat Line glamorized in literature and rejected histories. Even if ODESSA did not exist, as many historians argue, the safe passage of many Nazis to South America cannot be argued. Both Argentina and the Vatican issued thousands of blank passports to fleeing Nazis (courtesy of Juan Peron and Pious XII, who historian John Cornwell wrote about in his 1999 book Hitler’s Pope), allowing them to reinvent identities elsewhere. Elsewhere, the USA & USSR indiscriminately absorbed Nazis into their military industrial ranks. This migration of Nazis isn’t a simple conspiracy; it is a goddamn flea market of auctioned-off evil.

Yeah, so, you know why Paraguay has the most identical twins in the world? Because of Nazi genetic experimentation!

– Jacobo Van Buren, who studied paranoia under the tutelage of Vic Neverman
Nazis in South America


mengeleEver hear of SS Doctor Josef Mengele, aka “Angel of Extermination”? He performed genetic experiments at Auschwitz and had a fascination for twins. Josef left the concentration camp one step ahead of the liberating Russian army and made his way to Argentina in 1949. Pursued by the Mossad Israeli Intelligence, Joseph fled to Paraguay in 1959 and to Brazil in 1960. One step ahead of the Nazi hunters, Josef Mengele would never be captured. He suffered a stroke while swimming off the coast of Brazil in 1979 and drowned. He was buried as Wolfgang Gerhard; a 1992 exhumation identified the body as Mengele.

EichmannHow about Obersturmbannfuehrer Adolf Eichmann? Eichmann was one of the masterminds of the Holocaust. He too eluded fled to South America. In 1960, however, the Mossad found him, captured him, double-checked his identity, smuggled him out of Argentina (who refused to extradite former Nazis) as an unconscious flight attendant (they actually flew a commercial airliner to Senegal and then Tel Aviv with Eichmann sedated) to Israel where he was tried and eventually executed.

Whatever happened to Martin Bormann, the leader of the Nazi Party at war’s end? Officially, West Germany says Bormann died trying to escape in 1945, but their case was based on a Nazi-loyalist dentist’s memory of Bormann’s teeth when the remains of his grave were presented in the 1970s. Paul Manning, a journalist for the NY Times once wrote of Bormann’s actual escape from Berlin, a passage that includes Bormann posing as a Dominican monk in Spain before arriving in Buenos Aires in 1947. Manning received a report from the FBI (yes, this would be the American Federal Bureau of motherfucking I) which tracked Bormann’s progression from 1948 through 1961 through Argentina, Paraguay, Brazil and Chile. In 1998, fragments of the 1945 skull of Bormann found in Berlin were “conclusively” tested positive as Bormann’s despite all the evidence of his extended mortality elsewhere. Written history is a bitch like that… a fitting end justifies ill-fit means. Just a hunch, but I would guess Bormann expired in South America and his remains were secretly transported by the Fourth Reich to Berlin where skulls were swapped and a conspiracy buried.

Just in case you wanted to read Manning’s book on Bormann, it is available to read here.


Seek Nazi Gold at your own risk. As a man who has wandered South America in search of riches, this is one carrot I haven’t reached for. I have a compadre who created a bird-watching association for the sole purpose of wandering South America with a “red herring” excuse as he searches for leads on Nazi Gold. While I have, indeed, joined his Avian Society Of Lake Eola as the official photographer and bird identifier, this was more of a social maneuver to get myself invited to parties to be nearer a certain woman whose presence escapes me.

Lo! my point remains – leave the Nazi Gold. Instead, grab a caipirinha or a pisco sour and find yourself a local to teach you how to not dance like a gringo. Now that is worth its price in gold.


There is no missing link. The gap between ape and man was bridged by the gods.

– Brother Rufus

Brother Rufus, in a scene from his 'Hurricane Survival Inflatable Rufus Board' brochure

Brother Rufus, in a scene from his ‘Hurricane Survival Inflatable Rufus Board’ brochure


Testing, 1, 2, 3… this is Vic Neverman narrating to you, an audio-recording device I have set to record my vocalized words.

On close inspection, you wouldn’t think Brother Rufus a proponent of Intelligent Design theories. His hair is sun-bleached, the wrinkles around his eyes are a murder of crow’s feet and his chipped teeth are representative of a few too many beer caps pried-off unconventionally. I find this leathered beach-monger on the backyard patio of a suburban South Daytona (long-vacant) home, standing beside a pool filled with rainwater, palmetto leaves and brackish soot from the risen inter-coastal waters nearby. He climbs aboard an unstable raft within the pool, his white-knuckled monkey-toes clinching to the synthetic fabric beneath his soles. “This board” Brother Rufus tells a crowd that consists of: yours truly – Vic Neverman, and then beside me there is a scowling California girl in jean shorts and next to her a wayward online consumer whose instinct is to wear t-shirts a size too small so that his flabby breasts give life to the eyes of the game fish depicted in the print there. “This board is made from NASA technology and is the future of doomsday TEOTWAWKI preparation.” The wayward consumer may assume TEOTWAWKI is some Native American term for oatmeal, when in truth it is a popular apocalypto-prep acronym for the end of the world as we know it.

“I know what TEOTWAWKI is!” The wayward consumer bleats at me like a damn ninny goat, his hyper-caffeinated eye balls jiggling in perfect sync with the chins beneath his quivered lip. “Spare me the play-by-play narrative. Okay, buddy?”

The California girl is condescending in her tone as she points her thumb at me and makes note of my behavioral pattern, “He does this… speaks about people aloud as if he is writing their obituary.” Her dialogue is directed to Brother Rufus, which means there is one bloke free from her wrath of silence. Her determination to not speak to me has the strength of Legion.

Brother Rufus, from his peaceful perch aboard the inflatable raft, nods at the demonstrative wayward consumer in the shirt with the dancing fish-eyes and points at me, “Yuh, tell him I don’t have monkey toes.”

“He doesn’t have monkey toes.” Wayward consumer confirms, a bit of spittle hanging to his bottom lip. He wipes the regurgitate free with his bare forearm. “Gosh darn it!” He curses and stares at me before turning to our host. “That’s it, I am out of here. Have fun with mister stream-of-conscious.”

Brother Rufus is still standing on his paddle-board as it floats in the pool. He turns towards me as the wayward consumer leaves the patio. Rufus is a little stoned, so his words are slow, “I think that was you he was referring to you as ‘mister stream-of-conscious’. Where did I leave off?”

“TEOTWAWKI.” I hint. “But, I’ve already bought one of your doomsday boards. What we are here for is to hear about what happened with you and Volusia County School Board.” The “we” I speak of is inclusive of my guest from California: a former-sushi chef with a Portuguese temper and an Irish grudge who isn’t speaking to me for god know’s why.

“He knows why.” Desdemona Riley tells Brother Rufus, who stands aboard his stupid board in the tumultuous pool. She certainly isn’t telling anything to me. Not that I know why she isn’t speaking to me. “He does. He knows why.” she insists, when, in fact, I don’t.

“Ahh, shit.” Brother Rufus shakes his head and reaches for an aluminum can of cheap domestic swill that is sitting in his left ass pocket. He offers his board to Des Riley, “Maybe you’d like a turn.” Des, in her jean shorts and bikini top (which reveals the fox tail tattoo on the small of her back) hovers over to the pool to climb aboard the doomsday craft and, as could be expected of a dune-buggy racer, is at complete ease with imbalance.

See the paranoid profiles of both Brother Rufus and Des Riley

Genetic engineering via Angels fornicating with 'daughters of man'

Genetic engineering via Angels fornicating with ‘daughters of man’

At last, the discussion can begin. The oft barefoot monk known as Brother Rufus, who describes himself as “an aerospatial engineer”, has recently given his intelligent design argument to local schools in attempt to get his theory included within the science curriculum. He begins his presentation to me as Des Riley balances upon one of his synthetic rafts in the dark pool, “We have as much freewill as a genetically modified soybean can tell Monsanto which insecticide it prefers. The gods that made us, made us in the image of slaves. We are ape-hybrids with big egos that assume we’re built from a better cookie cutter mold. But really, if you want to read the Bible and want to talk about God’s image you have to examine the fact the original Hebrew word was ‘Elohim’ which doesn’t mean ‘God’s’ but rather ‘gods’, in that there were more than one God. Elohim is plural for ‘god’. The power-that-be was actually the powers-that-be when they made us. Man was made in the image of gods. Made to be slaves.”

“So what are we then, a science experiment?” I mumble as I watch Brother Rufus monitor the California girl’s progress on the paddle board.

“No, bro. We’re way beyond experimental phase. Have you heard of ‘Nephilim’?”

“Bad angels.” I nod. “They came down from Heaven and fell in love with our women.”

“Nephilim are not the angels.” Des Riley says as she balances on the board. She isn’t correcting me directly, but rather speaking for the sake of Brother Rufus. “Nephilim are the byproduct of angels coupling with man.”

Brother Rufus’ bleached eye-lashes flutter as he watches with admiration, “Man, yeah, she’s good. Yeah, so, no the Nephilim aren’t angels, they are the offspring from when the angels met the ape-ladies of earth. Follow? Yeah, so the Nephilim were born when the ‘sons of god’ sought ‘daughters of man’ for unlawful carnal knowledge. Y’know, ‘FUCK’. Excuse my french, miss…”

Des Riley scowls at him from atop his rig, “Fuck your french, continue.”

“Nephilim are the giants of Canaan. They are Goliath. This is all just Bible story, but what we have is celestial creatures coming down from the heavens to genetically engineer the people of earth. If they are putting Bible stories in science class, then my theory fits too.”

“Which is fine.” I shrug from the pool deck, which is hot enough to keep my soles dancing. “But why do your gods want to make ape-man hybrids? My problem with the Ancient Alien theory is that I don’t understand why they would come all this way across the universe to play god and then disappear.”

Des Riley critiques to Rufus about me, “He can fathom a higher intelligence, but cannot fathom how a higher intelligence might have different reasoning capacity than he.”

“Yeah! L-O-L, right?” Brother Rufus’ sun-burnt eyebrows dance a quick tango on his leathered forehead. “But those aliens, you know, they aren’t gone. I mean, do you know why we love money? Why we love currency? Because it has value. Why? Because it has purchasing power? Why? Because it is backed by gold. Gold. Gold, so the fuck what? So what the fuck is gold? Gold looks pretty, sure, but if I had my choice of what to adorn a beautiful naked woman with…” Brother Rufus pauses and smiles his stoned smile up at Des. “I would choose pearls.”

“Ehh.” Des shrugs, her cheeks betraying a blushing smile.

Brother Rufus continues, “Give her a few pearl necklaces bouncing around; that’s my vote. So what do I care about gold? Why do you? Tell me, Vic, what is it we want with gold? If you are a knight from the iron age, you would love to encounter a knight with a golden sword. You would cut through it like butter. So why gold? What is the true value of gold?”

Feeling I should know the answer, I give a guilty shrug.

Nephilim - the giants of yesteryear & the offspring of gods and daughters of men

Nephilim – the giants of yesteryear & the offspring of gods and daughters of men

Brother Rufus, monk of the Sacred Order of Uncanny Punters, taps his temple with a forefinger, “We love gold because we have been programmed to love gold. The engineers that came down to make man – they programmed us to lust for gold. They did this because the Elohim want us collecting gold to put in big old stockpiles that they can take from us when they visit Earth.”

“This is ridiculous. Your claim is that aliens created homo erectus (upright man) just to mine gold? Is this what you told the school board? Why would aliens come from Elohim-knows-where on the other side of the universe just to take a bunch of gold flakes home? You yourself prefer pearls, why do aliens prefer gold?”

Brother Rufus grins in his typical eat-shit grin that he grins when he knows he has just won. Check-mate. “I give you credit, bro. You ask the obvious question, so at least you are not entirely oblivious.”

Des Riley zinged, “He has that on his business card, right next to ‘conspiracy theorist’ it reads ‘not entirely oblivious’.”

“Don’t make me ask thrice.” I beg. “Why do aliens want our gold?”

“Uranium.” Brother Rufus smiled. “What’s better than lead for containing uranium for a long period of time?”

“Gold!” Des Riley smiled with the epiphany.

Gold & Pearls: secrets of the universe

Gold & Pearls: secrets of the universe

“Gold.” Brother Rufus winks at her. “Uranium is quickly contaminated if it rubs elbows with unstable elements. Gold and lead both have radioactive shielding properties, but gold is a much more stable element which makes it ideal for storing uranium 235, a rare isotope that can sustain an expanding fission chain reaction. We know this because we make nuclear bombs so that we can drop said bombs on people and make them go ‘boom’. The aliens may very well use fission to propel their craft through wormholes. Hell, they might use fission in some way to open wormholes! Combine our creators’ ability to genetically engineer apes into cognizant homo sapien with whatever heightened quantum physics they possess to manipulate Higgs-Boson dark matter –  who knows what they can do?”

“Fold space and time into an origami swan.” Des Riley suggests. “They exist beyond our sight – these engineers, yet they come and go as they please. Our ancestors had plateaued as a species until some 12,000 years ago when something set the Agricultural Revolution into motion. All of a sudden you have Nazca Lines, Giza Pyramids, fucking Tupperware. Tupper-fucking-ware! This wasn’t all by accident.”

“Exactly.” Brother Rufus nods along in admiration.

“Okay, so who are the unmoved movers? If these aliens put us into play, who created them?” I ask.

Des Riley turns towards me and made eye contact for the first time in hours, “that’s like asking the cannon ‘Who shot the Big Bang?'” Des, quickly realizing the mistake of acknowledging my existence turns away and scowls at a lizard doing his mating dance along the patio.

Brother Rufus offers his answer, “You’d have to ask them. Of course, you would be like the split-pea that asked Gregor Mendel who invented him. But it’s worth a shot!”

Nikos Michaloliakos and his Golden Dawn: Nazis with fanny packs

Nikos Michaloliakos and his Golden Dawn: Nazis with fanny packs

The Golden Dawn made their entrance to the cocktail party like a pachyderm on roller skates – all violent momentum destined to doom your seersucker with spilt vermouth. The party host, left flummoxed, was impotent against the impolite immigrant-bashing and the beastly slaughter of charcuterie. The neo-fascist Golden Dawn regurgitated behind the sofa, wiped shit off their shoe and made off with the silverware. In the ruins of Greece’s economy, such manners were tolerated. The Greek people were desperate and their desperation gave way to anger, anger fueled by the vitriol nationalism upchucked by this upstart – the political party of the Golden Dawn.

Contemporary Golden Dawn with Nazi symbolism

Contemporary Golden Dawn with Nazi symbolism

The Nazi-ish organization known as the Golden Dawn had not completely taken over Greek politics, but they goose-stepped their way into a sizeable foothold in the Greek parliament with 2012’s elections. The rise of the Golden Dawn, however, lurched to a halt this last week after members of the party were linked to the gruesome murder of outspoken liberal Greek rapper Pavlos Fyssas. The police, who were once supportive (the BBC reported that in Athens’ elections last year, 1 in every 2 police voted for a Golden Dawn candidate), now turned on the Golden Dawn on suspicion of being a criminal organization. While previous orchestrated violence against immigrants was ignored, the murder of a left-wing artist of Greek blood was enough to finally begin the crackdown on party organizers.

If the name sounds familiar, it should. A hundred years ago, the Golden Dawn was a Hermetic Order whose occultist members included Bram Stoker, W.B. Yeats and Aleister Crowley. The two separate organizations could not be more unalike, yet this did not draw pause in the scrutiny of yours truly. Last year, I compared the two organizations – the Greek Neo-Nazis with the Victorian Era wizard cult

It befalls to me, Vic Neverman, or someone like me, perhaps less-bearded, but someone who is an apt student of the occult with a keen eye on current events to explain the ironic difference between two unrelated groups with the same optimistic name. Please allow me, dear trusted reader, to explain to you both the Golden Dawn and the Golden Dawn. Neither of these groups include amongst their ranks Goldie Hawn, but I have not fact-checked this. If you came to this blog in search of Goldie Hawn news, I plead you to please look elsewhere.

– Vic Neverman, May of 2012

While the coincidence between the two groups would seemingly end in common names, the earlier, mystical Golden Dawn was not wholly without Nazi ties. Please allow me the luxury of harping back to Europe, 1941… England and Germany were at war. Hitler and the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht are not entirely occupied by English aggression because to the east all they see is Red: Communist Russia. In his dreary memoirs, Mein Kampf, Hitler mentions that an Anglicized-ally in England would be important to defeat communism. Back in England, Winston Churchill would have none of it. Churchill seemed unwilling to budge in his distaste for Germany, despite England being on the verge of collapse after the pyrrhic victory of the Battle of Britain. The British Royal Family, however, was not entirely united with Churchill.

it was reported that the Duke of Windsor entered into an agreement which in substance was to the effect that if Germany was victorious in the war, Hermann Gering through his control of the army would overthrow Hitler and would thereafter install the Duke of Windsor as the King of England.

– FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover in a memo to President Roosevelt

Rudolf Hess, Hitler's left hand man

Rudolf Hess, Hitler’s left hand man

Enter the Nazi 3rd in command, Rudolf Hess. Rudolf and Adolf were playmates in the early days of the Nazi party and were a part of the 1923 failed German coup known as the Beer-hall Putsch. Both men would eventually serve time for their rebelliousness, allowing them to grow faster friends (and collaborate on Mein Kampf). Adolf Hitler and Rudolf Hess were also associated with the mysterious Professor Haushofer, who was a member of the Vril, a secret society who believed in the Aryan ubermensch. Sound familiar? This occult shit was all the rage. Years later, as war between England and Germany dragged on; Professor Haushofer was a known supporter of peace with England. His pupil Rudolf Hess felt the same. Rudolf Hess may have also been influenced by a Swiss Astrologer who passed him advice advocating a peace mission to England. Curiously, the Swiss astrologer was likely under the employ of British Secret Agent, Ian Fleming – the very man who would go on to author the James Bond novels. Complicated story cut short: there were vast undercurrents pushing for peace in both England and Germany in the first half of 1941.

Haushofer and Hess, Professor of the Occult and his Pupil

Haushofer and Hess, Professor of the Occult and his Pupil

In May, Rudolf Hess flew on an apparent peace mission to England. In his possession, he had contacts given to him by Professor Haushofer, including names of members of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. Occultists of the world unite! The alignment of planets in the constellation of Taurus made 5/10/1941 the best day for Hess to make his trip. Perhaps the astrologer did not properly calibrate the density of Uranus… Low on fuel, Hess had to bail from his plane somewhere south of Glasgow and was promptly put under arrest by some lymie bloke with a pitchfork. Hess begged to see the Duke of Hamilton, but was eventually thrown into the Tower of London. Hitler spurned his old chum, calling Rudolf Hess insane for making such a journey. Winston Churchill called Hess’ peace mission a “frantic deed of lunatic benevolence.”

Rudolf Hess, second in line of succession behind Hermann Goering, was a Nazi with a plan for peace. The friends he sought were the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. For his deeds, Hess was tried as a war criminal at Nuremberg and spent the rest of his life in Berlin’s Spandau prison. In 1987, the 93 year-old Rudolf Hess committed suicide. No good deed goes unpunished.

And so the historical “what-if?” must be asked… If Nazi Germany allied itself with England, it would by extension be allied with the United States. Perhaps the Germans calm their Axis partners in Tokyo and Pearl Harbor is left in tranquility through 1941. Perhaps, then… instead of the eventual cold war between western Europe and the USSR for the next forty-odd years, we would actually have had a hot war between western democracies (with plenty of National Socialism in the mix) and Communist Russia. What sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland would Europe be now if that were the case?

We shall never know. After Rudolf’s “suicide”, the Hess family insisted on a separate autopsy. This new investigation found the body exhibited signs of strangulation versus hanging from a noose. What’s more – Rudolf Hess’ nurse claimed he would not have been able to raise his arms above his shoulders to assemble the self-euthanizing bow-tie. Conspiracy theories abound that Her Majesty’s Assassins where there in Spandau and put an end to Hess before he was released in order to ensure the Truth about a potential peace was kept from the public.

Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin enjoying the spoils of war

Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin enjoying the spoils of war

A Prince without a Castle... young Phil

A Prince without a Castle… young Phil

Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh, is more victim of circumstance than he is a sinister conspirator. Said circumstance is pretty heavy, mind; dense and thick like blood pudding on a gut tumbling with guilt. Haphazard happenstance put this bellicose outsider inside the British Royal Family – the most scrutinized clan this side of Billy Ray’s Cyrus brood. Prince Phillip has been blamed for dastardly deeds of indescribable inhumanity (though, herein, we shall certainly attempt to describe) and after 90 years I am sure there are innumerable sins unaccounted for. It is for his reputation, not for any facts or lack thereof, that we present Prince Phillip the Vic Neverman Conspiracy Lifetime Achievement Award of 2013.

Before he wooed the future Queen Elizabeth, Phil was merely the Prince of Danes. Oh, and Greece. He was born with some pedigree in 1921 as a member of the House of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg (oh yes, that house, you know the one – end of the block with the trimmed hedges and gloomy post-modern undertones, where the matron lives in her negligée, the mail man comes twice a day and their Halloween candy sucks) and could trace his bloodlines to both Queen Victoria of England and the Russian Czars – Y’know, before they were killed off by the Bolsheviks.

I would like to go to Russia very much – although the bastards murdered half my family.

–          Prince Phillip, in 1967, after asked if he would like to visit the Soviet Union.

At 18, the Prince of Danes met his distant cousin Elizabeth (5 years his junior) the same year he joined the British Navy. Phillip would fight in World War II in both Mediterranean and Pacific theatres and would eventually marry that distant cousin, tossing away his Danish and Greek nobility and adopting his mother’s Anglicized maiden name, Mountbatten. Of course, at the bequest of know-it-all Winston Churchill, Phillip’s progeny were to remain members of Elizabeth’s House of Windsor.

I am nothing but a bloody amoeba. I am the only man in the country not allowed to give his name to his own children.

–         Prince Phillip

Elizabeth and her distant cousin Phil

Elizabeth and her distant cousin Phil

Phillip would remain in the Navy long enough to put enough medals on his chest to make Qaddafi spin in his grave. Post-military, Phil was quite the busy-body. He would serve as UK President of the World Wildlife Fund from 1962 to 1981. This prestiged position was the basis of a rant of American conspiracy theorist, Lyndon LaRouche, who blamed Phil for using his position to fight overpopulation.

The 1994 Rwanda genocide is but the latest instance of the WWF in action. How did it work? Since 1990, the WWF has been managing a “gorilla protection program” in Gorilla Park in Uganda… all these parks served as training bases, staging areas and arms depots for the invading ‘rebels’ – who were in reality all soldiers and officers in the Ugandan Army of the British puppet Yoweri Museveni… so the entire Rwanda genocide had nothing to do with tribal or civil warfare. It was a British-orchestrated assassination and invasion program.

–         Lyndon LaRouche, Executive Intellgence Review, 1994

Another conspiracy theorist, David Icke, named Phillip and the House of Windsor as being Nazis tied to the Illuminati-Babylonian Brotherhood. Oh yes, and that they are all 12 foot-tall shape-shifting lizards.

David Icke eats English Royal Lizards with Catsup

David Icke eats English Royal Lizards with Catsup

Shape-shifting withstanding, Prince Phillip was certainly an ornery chap and often meddled in familial romances. In the early 1950s, Queen Elizabeth’s sister Princess Margaret was in love with a divorced older man, Peter Townsend (not of The Who), and after Phillip pushed his sister-in-law to avoid scandal, the relationship dissipated. In the early 1980s, Phillip’s eldest son was dallying too long in a relationship without commitment and Phil told Charles he should propose to Lady Diana Spencer or break-off the courtship. Soon after Prince Charles was engaged to Lady Di.

The rest is History. Or conjecture, for that matter. It would be Lady Di’s death in 1997, years after the divorce from the Royal Family, when Prince Phillip would be deemed a murderous bastard by conspiracy theorists world-over.

8/31/97, Paris

Diana, Princess of Wales, was killed in a car-accident along with her lover, Dodi Al-Fayed, and the driver Henri Paul. The one survivor was Dodi’s bodyguard Trevor Rees-Jones who was seriously injured enough to retain no memory of the accident, conveniently enough. The accident officially occurred because Henri was drunk and trying to elude paparazzi photographers when he spun off the bumper of a Fiat Uno and struck a pillar within the tunnel they travelled. Dodi’s father, Mohamed Al-Fayed, the owner of Harrods department store, became the chief conspiracy theorist on the event, stating that it was Prince Phillip and the MI6 who assassinated Lady Di and Dodi.

Dodi and Di being all scandalous and stuff

Dodi and Di being all scandalous and stuff

The motive? Di was pregnant with Dodi’s spawn. A birth would give princes William and Harry a bastard of a half- Moslem brother, something Grampa Phillip could not live with. Not under his watch. At least this is the truth according to Mohamed, who is likely to not receive a Christmas card from the House of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg anytime soon. Mohamed said that Diana had come to him to claim Phillip was threatening her with her life. Her own butler, Paul Burrell, made a lot of money with his 2003 book when he mentioned Diana prophesizing she would be murdered by manufactured car accident. Her voice coach, Peter Settelen, claimed Diana told him her former body-guard lover was murdered in a faked motorcycle crash. Do you believe in coincidences?

Mohamed Al-Fayed does not believe in coincidences. But he does believe in Fashion! C’est Chic, it is the return of Happy Hour with this sleek ensemble…

fuck fuck fuckin fashion!!!

fuck fuck fuckin Herrods fashion!!! Just a thousand pounds for a gdam cocktail dress

Circumstantial coincidences about the Parisian car crash:

–         Why had the security cameras been turned off right before the crash?

–         Why did the ambulance take so long to take Princess Diana to a hospital that was not the closest?

–         Who was the driver of the Fiat Uno?

–         How could Rees-Jones not remember anything?

–         Why had Lady Di’s body been embalmed before an autopsy?

It is clear, then, at least according to Mohamed, that Prince Phillip is the bastard who blew out Elton John’s Candle in the Wind (the non-Norma Jean candle, that is). <– watch this if you want to get all teary-eyed and stuff

However, we more skeptically minded conspiraciologists must take into account a few bonus details. No one else knew of the engagement between Di and Dodi other than Mohamed. Diana’s postmortem blood tests proved she was not pregnant and her holistic healing masseuse even claimed this to be so. In 2006, the Independent newspaper found of the 14 cameras in the Parisian road tunnel, there are only 10 and all were security cameras trained outside of the tunnels except for one which was turned off after 11 pm when the traffic unit closed down. The ambulance ride was not 43 minutes, but almost half that, and it was to the closest trauma hospital that could be found. Al-Fayed could not prove that the driver Henri was not drunk. He most certainly was fucking three-and-thirty sheets to the wind. And all those who perished in this grisly accident? …they weren’t wearing seatbelts. I repeat, Di and Dodi were not wearing their seatbelts as they sped away from paparazzi, well over the speed limit in a damn tunnel!

Lo! Prince Phillip, the always outsider. Born in Greece and quickly booted out. He served Her Royal Navy during World War II, yet many in England referred to him as “the Hun” for his German ancestry. At one of the Queen’s Jubilees, Phillip quipped that he should have stayed in the Navy. Indeed, good sir. Indeed. Yet in this world of chance and circumstance, the people are not at rest with random occurrence. Surely, there must be a power behind the darkness, some evil causing such events… Surely, there must be a reason for this madness. And so Conspiracy Theory is born. Thank you, Prince Phillip, for being a plump vessel to carry the weight of so many theories. Congratulations on being the recipient of the Vic Neverman Conspiracy Theory Lifetime Achievement Award of 2013!

Heavy is the chest that bears a hundred and fifty medals, Prince Phillip on ParadeTo celebrate your 90+ years of our scrutiny, I present some of the best Prince Philip quotes as provided by British media:

If it has four legs and is not a chair, has wings and is not an aeroplane, or swims and is not a submarine, the Cantonese will eat it.

–          Prince Phillip, 1986 statement, BBC News

If you stay here much longer, you’ll all be slitty-eyed.

–          Prince Phillip, Said to a group of British students in China in 1986, BBC News (in all fairness note: the Chinese students in England were forgiving of this grandpa faux pa as their families told them to return before they became “round-eyed”)

I just wonder what it would be like to be reincarnated in an animal whose species had been so reduced in numbers than it was in danger of extinction. What would be its feelings toward the human species whose population explosion had denied it somewhere to exist… I must confess that I am tempted to ask for reincarnation as a particularly deadly virus.

–          Prince Phillip’s Foreword to If I Were an Animal (1987) by Fleur Cowles

Aren’t most of you descended from pirates?

–          Prince Phillip, Said in 1994 to an inhabitant of the Cayman Islands  BBC News

You are a woman, aren’t you?

–          Prince Phillip, After accepting a gift from a Kenyan woman, BBC News

How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to get them through the test?

–          Prince Phillip, Asked of a driving instructor in Scotland, BBC News

You managed not to get eaten then?

–          Prince Phillip, Said to a British student in Papua New Guinea, BBC News

Do you still throw spears at each other?

–          Prince Phillip, Said in 2002 to a Indigenous Australian businessman, BBC News

Do you know they’re now producing eating dogs for the anorexics?

–          Prince Phillip, Said to a blind, wheelchair-bound woman who was accompanied by her guide dog, in The Telegraph (3 May 2002)

While presenting a Duke of Edinburgh Award to a student and informed the young man was going to help out in Romania for six months, Prince Phillip asked if the student was going to help the Romanian orphans and was told that he was not, Prince Phillip responded

Ah good, there’s so many over there you feel they breed them just to put in orphanages.

–          Prince Phillip, as quoted in The Scotsman (8 July 2006)

Get me a beer. I don’t care what kind it is, just get me a beer!

–          Prince Phillip, On being offered the finest Italian wines by PM Giuliano Amato at a dinner in Rome in 2000.

If a cricketer, for instance, suddenly decided to go into a school and batter a lot of people to death with a cricket bat,which he could do very easily, I mean, are you going to ban cricket bats?

–          Prince Phillip, In a Radio 4 interview shortly after the Dunblane shootings in 1996. He said to the interviewer off-air afterwards: “That will really set the cat among the pigeons, won’t it?”

Cats kill far more birds than men. Why don’t you have a slogan: ‘Kill a cat and save a bird?’

–         Prince Phillip, On being told of a project to protect turtle doves in Anguilla in 1965.

(image taken from

After 20 years of drilling, the scientists employed by the mafia-state of Russian have dug over 12,000′ into ice to discover one of the largest bodies of water in the world. Lake Vostok had been relatively untouched for at least 14 million years… until now. The Russians brought back a glass of melted ice for their thirsty dictator, Vladimir Putin, who called it “a drink fit for dinosaurs”. It can only be speculated how much vodka he mixed with the lake water before consuming. Let us hope, for the sake of his innards, that his KGB nickname of Vlad “Old Iron Gut” Putin still holds true.

What secrets lie in this murky glass of water? What might be discovered from the distant past… or, perhaps, the more recent?

“They say the Vostok waters are heated by geo-thermal springs.” Spake Brother Rufus, a self-proclaimed expert in all things ancient who is also known as the barefoot profit in Central Florida. “And that the concentration of oxygen is higher than any other known body of water. Cosmologists and exo-geologists think the creatures that live within Lake Vostok could resemble those found on the icy alien moons of our solar system. I am more curious about the aliens living in Lake Vostok.”

Brother Rufus can seem a bit ridiculous during interviews when he hypothesizes about ancient aliens with donut jelly dripping down his stubbled chin, but he makes an interesting point.

“You’ve seen a lot of what I have seen, Vic. The Inca fortresses, the Rig Veda scriptures, all of the evidence for a pre-historian super-civilization. They say Atlantis sank beneath the waves… what if it just fell beneath the ice? An advanced civilization would be able to take advantage of the high amounts of oxygen and be able to subsist, though in a different state than what we are accustomed to. No satellite television, for example. They would probably have poor sight and develop sonar over thousands of generations. The water in Vostok is a temperate 65 degrees. An evolved homo species is not out of the question.”

I asked Brother Rufus if he believes the Russians are drilling into the ice to find these Atlantean manatee-monkey hybrids. “No…” Rufus shakes his head, the dribble of jelly lingering. “Putin doesn’t give a shit about mermen. Vlad is is looking for Nazis.”

Vic Neverman in New Zealand where he studied the reactions of skin to varying levels of heat

And here is where the Antarctica story becomes a little hazy. For such a gigantic landmass where so little is known, Antarctica harbors many mysteries. When I visited the Antarctica Research Center in Christchurch, New Zealand, I learned the human epidermal system works over-time in extreme cold (faster growing nails & body hair), but nothing about Nazis and mermaids. In my travels, the most interesting thing I have learned about Antarctica came in a fishing village near Galipoli in modern Turkey. It was the hometown of one of the world’s greatest navigators, the Ottoman corsair, Piri Reis, who helped give the Turks a naval advantage in the Mediterranean during the height of Ottoman rule of the Renaissance period. One of the keys to Piri Reis’ navigational mastery was his collection of maps… maps collected by the Byzantines of Constantinople… maps originally taken from the library of Alexandria before its destruction…. maps which accurately describe the true terrestrial coastline of Antarctica… coastline we can only now locate using satellite and sonar technology due to the mass of ice that has been sitting atop it for millions of years.

Bust of Ottoman Corsair Piri Reis (photo taken by Vic in Turkey)

What I, Vic Neverman, love most about history is the missing pieces of the puzzle. How can it be that the ancient libraries of Alexandria have maps of Antarctica drawn based on knowledge of the land from a time before civilization? A map older than mankind!?!?

And then, there are the Nazis.

South of Africa is an area of Antarctica called Neuschwabenland where the Germans built a scientific base that has long been rumored to have been a Nazi refuge after WWII. Kapitan Alfred Ritscher claimed vast territories of Antarctica in his 1938 expedition, supposedly including caverns heated by geothermal springs, rich with plant life. During the mid-1940s, the Nazis began building submarine bases in Neuschwabenland to increase their U-boat influence between South Africa and Argentina. Base-211 would become nicknamed “New Berlin.”

At the close of WWII, 100 German U-boats were not accounted for (based on the math of British historian Basil Liddell Hart). In July, 1945, the Argentine Navy captured U-530 at Mar del Plata. The Chief Torpedo Officer aboard U-530, Wilhelm Bernhart, claimed his U-boat had just returned from a trip to Antarctica where they delivered a vast amount of supplies, documents and Nazi relics.

What is most intriguing is the post-war expeditions underwent by the Brits and the Americans in the years following the 2nd World War.

British historian James Robert has interviewed surviving members of “Operation Tabarin” about “Britain’s secret war” against Nazis in Antarctica in 1945. Curious stories exist about genetically modified “Polar Men” who were hairier than the typical Nazi, better suited to extreme cold and possessing a propensity for ripping out throats.

(seriously, look this shit up…)

Torpedo man, Bernhart, also explained to American historian Colonel Howard Buechner that U-530 delivered the ashes of Hitler, Hitler’s still-living honey pot Ava Braun, and the true (mythical) Holy Lance (Longinus’s spear used to coup de gras Jesus) to Antarctica.

Seems far-fetched, sure… But in 1946, the United States initiated “Operation Highjump” led by famed polar explorer, Admiral Richard E Byrd, which was the largest Antarctica expedition ever (4700 men, 13 ships). Was this expedition, military in-nature according to Byrd, an attempt at grabbing land and uranium? Or was it a force meant to destroy the remaining Nazi forces? While the expedition was supposed to last 6-8 months, Byrd’s troops returned home after 6 weeks in what was declared a success.

If there is, or was, a Nazi base in Antarctica, what would the Russians hope to find in Lake Vostok?

“Nazi UFO technology.” Brother Rufus replied with a straight face. “Admiral Byrd warned us about flying craft in Antarctica that could reach the north pole in startling speed. Who knows what sort of toys are frozen in that ice?”

Of course, if this German Shangri La did exist, its vacancy would prove useful to a mafia-state looking to exploit the natural resources that will become available in the polar regions thanks to global warming. Russia is already circling its ice-breaking wagons around Santa’s Shop up north, why not get a toehold in the south?

“Well yeah, I guess there is that.” Brother Rufus admitted. “That and the UFOs.”

UFOlogy is often viewed by mainstream media as being an obsession with alien spacecraft, but the UFOlogy question is merely, “What is in our skies?” Alien technology is just one possible response to this question, but not the only. Unmanned drones have been seen over American skies for decades, but until these craft became popularized in modern warfare publicity these flying metal insects were classified by investigators as “unidentified flying objects”. Well, now they are identified and they are striking fear in “the bad guys” from Libya to Pakistan and many points in between. My point is this: UFO investigations cover more ground than just the extra-terrestrial lifeform question. Still, UFOlogy is constantly drawn back into a discussion on aliens.

common alien portrayal

To examine why, let us go back to the birthplace of modern UFOlogy – Roswell, New Mexico. In 1947, as the story goes, a crashed UFO and its inhabitants were transported to Area 51, a “non-existent” military base in Nevada. The events around the Roswell crash are the genesis of both UFOlogy and the popularization of bipedal aliens that emerged in the contemporary media. Now, there is a new book “Area 51” that claims the crew of the Roswell craft were not aliens at all, but rather deformed Russian science experiments designed to strike fear in America.

Through her research, author Annie Jacobsen posits this: inspired by the hysteria of the American panic in 1938 caused by Orson Welles’ broadcast of “War of the Worlds”, Joseph Stalin used captured Nazi* technology and science to build and send a remotely piloted craft full of genetically mutated children on a fateful trip to the American Southwest to purposely crash and set American media ablaze with paranoia. Stalin wanted to scare the shit out of the American public.

From Roswell springs forth the bulk of alien conspiracy thought. Consider the familiar image of the alien: one head, four limbs, two eyes, nostrils and a mouth – all positioned much as it would be on a human. How can an advanced race of extra-terrestrial beings exist on a parallel to our own civilization (assuming no cross-pollination**) and evolve to have such overwhelming similarities with us Earthlings? If you consider the vast differences between New World monkeys and Old World, or even of terrestrial iguanas and marine iguanas of the Galapagos, then it is ridiculous to think any alien race of separate origin would so closely resemble homo Sapiens (sorry Star Trek fans). It is akin to tossing two water melons off two different ten story buildings and expecting the splatter of seeds on the street to be exactly the same.

Supposed autopsy footage of Roswell alien

Popular thought on aliens all derives from origins in New Mexico and Nevada. All of the alien images: those bulbous heads, almond eyes, small mouths, spindly arms, comes to us from images of the alien autopsy supposedly performed at Area 51. The new book on the subject of this military base would have us believe these “alien” features are those from the bodies of humans (perhaps children) genetically altered by Russian (ex-Nazi) scientists. The aliens of popular media might not be so extra terrestrial after all…

This, of course, does not disqualify the existence of aliens. It should, however, change how we perceive the suggestion of alien life in our skies. The widely held thought of bipedal humanoid aliens may just be a smokescreen, distracting us from the truth. In her book, Area 51, Annie Jacobsen quotes sources who say the alien hypothesis was useful by the CIA/Military present at the base as disinformation guarding the true work of what was being done at Area 51 – mainly espionage technology.

Stalin wants you to think aliens are in the White House

If Joseph Stalin was the progenitor of the bodies found in Roswell, then he could be called one of the greatest contributors to conspiracy theory and science fiction ever!

*Nazi scientists were collected by Russia at the close of World War 2 just as the American space program originated with the smuggling of German scientists back to Huntsville, Alabama, in “Operation Paper-Clip”

**The assumption of no cross-pollination is in reference to Ancient Alien theory. This premise, of which I continue to study greatly, suggests that there did (perhaps does) exist a superior race of beings that directly engineered the current civilization of man on Earth. This theory supports bipedal aliens being similar to humans as the two races would come from a similar origin. The recent series of Battle Star Gallatica popularizes the reverse version of this theory where refugees from Earth are the “gods” that populate planets in a separate solar system.

Dr Zahi Hawass

National Geographic’s stooge in Egypt has been overthrown… and subsequently returned to the throne of antiquities with the stamp of “temporary”. Dr Zahi Hawass is an Egyptian nationalist to his core and while I respect his passions, I have long tired of his thick-headed stubbornness and catering to the traditional western interests. Time and again, Dr. Zahi, the head Egyptian Archaeologist, has quashed alternative thought in the fields of Egyptology. The academic establishment, figure-headed by the National Geographic Society, is not interested in change and Zahi has been their puppet in Egypt, keeping the new ideas out and rewarding the conservative mindset of yesterday’s historians.

Last week’s “Destination Truth” aired on SyFy with an investigation into the curse of Tutankhamen. In the half hour (less including commercials) segment, DT was granted access to the tomb of Tut. Sure enough, a sandstorm struck and someone had an asthma attack after being locked in the tomb with the mummy. The curse lives! Yet, there was not one shred of anything that hasn’t been recycled countless times before. Dr Zahi must have been pleased.

Where is this hospitality when it comes to True scientists of alternative thought? Sure, Destination Truth sells itself on paranormal investigations, but it is nothing but brainless fodder I watch while ironing my telekinesis-resistant aluminum suits on Tuesday evenings. The half hour shows put more emphasis on the host’s horse mastery and the crew’s aversion to exotic foods (this episode: egyptian bull cock, boiled it seems) than any sort of investigative technique. My former hobbiest monster squad in Oregon (grown up Goonies) was more professional than these scripted actors. Back to my chief qualm about this and every other show Dr Zahi has allowed within his Valley of the Kings: censorship. There is no chance Destination Truth would have gotten out of Cairo with their video tapes intact without Dr Zahi’s approval. Why? Because all things Egypt have already been decided upon by Zahi and his Nat Geo cronies. Case closed!

Until now… With close ties to Mubarak, Zahi Hawass is on the brink of extinction. In fact, the only reason he is still employed (though closely scrutinized and facing charges of corruption) is because no one else knows how to do his job. How is this? He has never allowed anyone else access into the realm he controls. He has made himself indispensable, but as is always in the case of revolutions, shit changes.

Cue Graham Hancock. Bring in Bauval and Robert Schoch, John Anthony West, and WTFN? (ack. for ‘why the fuck not’, something I am pushing in cyber media), my buddy Michael Tsarion. Let those that have been barred from truly investigating ancient Egypt arrive in Giza and allow them to have a voice. Why have they been restrained for so long? Because they mostly all agree – the pyramids and Sphinx all predate the recorded history of Egypt. Much as the Inca ruins of Machu Picchu and Ollantaytambo predate the Inca civilization. Why is this all so dangerous? If established thought slips away in the Sahara sands, what does this do to the academic establishment? It debases them.

It is the same story of corruption everywhere. Those in power do not wish to relinquish their power. When might alone doesn’t work, those in power resort to corruption. There is nothing unique about the tyranny that had sprouted (and is hopefully being weeded out) in North Africa. This is what we people do.

I wish Zahi Hawass luck in stemming the flow of museum robberies post-revolution (the black market for artifacts is swamped with fresh booty of Egyptian treasures) and I hope one day we will be able to acknowledge the good he has done, outside of his suppression. I also bid Dr Zahi and his regime farewell as I welcome in the potential for a new age of thought along the Nile.

See below for Washington Post’s Article on Dr Zahi’s troubles…

Part 1 of 2 blogs on Pisco, Peru

When it comes to drawing lines in the sand, no one outdoes what the Pre-Columbia peoples of modern Peru have done. While the Nazca Lines (another topic, another time) were actually created by turning over stones, the “Candlestick of the Andes” is nothing more than a series of trenches dug into the hard sand thousands of years ago. The great question is why?

Candelabra: Holy Trinity? Alien Antennae? Divine Lightning?

My Spanish interpreter and redneck buddy, Jahosephat, and I had come to the Ica Region of Peru’s Pacific Coast to find this Candelabra. Having recently concluded my studies on Cereology (the study of cereal manipulation, or more commonly, the study of crop circles) in England, I was familiar with strange phenomena of the sort, especially hoaxes. There was some talk the Candelabra was a hoax, but rest assured, after my visit to Peru I do believe we can put this talk to rest. This is no contemporary trick to draw tourists, there are Paracas pottery shards from the first millennium BCE as well as accounts from the marauding conquistadores who saw this as a sign of the Holy Trinity.

Through our investigation, Jahosephat and I stayed at the nearby town of Pisco, known for its grape (and more so for its grape brandy), a flourishing fertilizer plant, and Paracas National Reservation “the Peruvian Galapagos” (as someone who has been to the Galapagos Galapagos, trust Vic Neverman when I say this was no Galapagos). The islands of the reservation habitat furious flocks of birds and barking sea lion, but ultimately, these isles are no more than thousands of years of fossilized bird shit. The only thing keeping these islands from rivaling the height of the Andes is the local fertilizer industry that mines the guano as a production resource. The result of living near the factories of ‘Guano Beach’ is that everything in Pisco literally smells and tastes like shit. And not just any shit, but bird shit – that noxious mixture of white feces, undigested fish bits, and avian urine. Everything that gets close to Guano Beach reeks of this smell – clothes, pillows, sleeping bags, pop-tarts.

But they say necessity is the mother of invention. To combat the overwhelming guano fumes from the smoking stacks of the factory, the locals cultivated pisco grape brandy. While there is a long-standing dispute between Peru and Chile over who has the right to market and sell grape brandy branded as “pisco”, both countries do find a common ground in their national drink: the pisco sour. This queer, frothy, concoction is made with egg whites, lemon or lime juice, bitters, and of course, pisco brandy.

But I digress…

The Candelabra is called thus because of its similarity to a candlestick. I think it greater resembles an antennae or cactus in bloom. It is approximately 595 feet long and a meter deep into the hard sand of the island. It faces east and can be seen as far away as 12 miles out at sea. Below are some of the theories many have devised on what exactly these mysterious lines in the sand represent:

– Conquistadores, as mentioned, believed this to be a good omen representing the Holy Trinity. Certainly not a good omen for the Peruvian peoples who dug the damn thing.

– Frank Joseph hypothesizes it represents the jimson weed, something that could be smoked for hallucinogenic purposes. His theory does require Paracas-era sailors from ‘before Christ’ to journey to California to collect this weed, where it naturally grows. I do not know about that, but I have long thought there was great seafaring civilization lost to history (i.e. Atlantis) and such a possibility would certainly corroborate with this story. Let’s just assume the Chinese were that advanced seafaring culture that traded with all ancient Pacific peoples (Polynesia, Oceania and the Americas). Perhaps the Paracas people were eager to buy some jimson root from the Chinese and thus perhaps the Candelabra is the very first billboard – not to advertise a product, but a demand…

– Ancient Astronaut theorists like Erich von Daniken (author of “Chariots of the Gods”) claim the nearby Nazca Lines are some sort of communication with the “Gods” and are perhaps even “drawn” by the celestial beings, as navigational instructions. While the Ancient Astronaut theory, that posits humans were seeded by an extra-terrestrial race/specie, is certainly gaining in popularity, I do have my doubts about the use of Nazca and Candelabra in this theory. Yes, perhaps the primitive hybrid apes left behind by the aliens were drawing in the desert to get the mothership to return, but I do not believe any superior advanced race would need a candlestick in the sand as a compass for them to find their way.

Viracocha, creator god

– Local legend will likely suffice as truth for now. Folklore tells us that Candelabra was made to represent the lightning rod of god Viracocha. Viracocha is a story unto itself. He rose out of Lake Titicaca to create the universe. He first created giants by breathing life into stones. Displeased by these giants, he drowned them in a massive flood (Gilgamesh anyone?). He then used smaller stones to give life to man. Viracocha would disguise himself as a beggar and walk amongst his peoples in a white robe, with a staff and a book, preaching on how they should live their life. Viracocha eventually left his people, walking on water across the Pacific with the promise of return in times of trouble. Oddly enough, Viracocha like the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl, was a bearded god amongst a bare-faced people. It is no wonder the canon-blasting, bearded, Europeans were confused as gods upon their arrival before the indigenous peoples of the new world.