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Out Of Mind » MEMBER ADVERTISING & BLOG FORUMS » T.S. "Tray" Caladan » Sherlock Holmes Discovers Jack the Ripper’s Identity! by TS Caladan

Sherlock Holmes Discovers Jack the Ripper’s Identity! by TS Caladan

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Sherlock Holmes Discovers Jack the Ripper’s Identity!

by TS Caladan 

          “My God, man. Holmes. Holmes! I’ve never seen that look on your face before, man. What’s come over you?”

          “Watson. Is that you?”

          The doctor had entered 221b Baker Street as a part of the normal routine with his comrade and friend, the famous sleuth: Sherlock Holmes. He was extremely surprised at what he saw:

          Holmes was slumped down into his well-known reading chair with the high back and thick upholstery. His curved pipe was sideways on the small table and exuded the last wisps of smoke from what the detective called his “nerve-relaxer.” His trusty violin was also upon the table. He appeared dazed, not aware of the surroundings and as if in another world. The truth was…

          An hour ago, the genius had returned from the FUTURE and from the delirium of, possibly, his greatest revelation of all time!

          “Should I have brought my bag, Holmes? Blimey. What can I do for you, man?”

          At the (delayed) instantaneous recognition of the good doctor, the brilliant man snapped to attention. Holmes raised himself up in the chair, straightened himself out and asked, “Would you be so kind to make tea and sit with me for a time, old friend?”

          Watson was desperately ready to do what he could. When he noticed that his companion changed into a calmer demeanor, he lessened his concern. He’d seen that glazed, magical look of wonder on the detective’s face before, but this seemed different. Watson replied, “Nothing would sound better, Holmes. Splendid. Then you tell me what’s troubling you, my friend.”

          After the tea was made, Watson sat in his usual chair, lit his tobacco and listened to the master as he had done for years.

          Sharper and clearer, Sherlock said, “You said ‘troubling,’ Watson. Did my face express trouble?”

“More like…I don’t know, old boy. Looked more like fear. Moriarty?”

          “Something far, far worse,” Sherlock stated with larger eyes and a confident tone. “Not one spider…the whole horrific web of deceit, lies, deceptions on a global scale, none the like I had ever conceived of before.”

          Watson exhaled his tobacco and listened intently. He asked, “Can you be specific?”

          Holmes declared in a question: “What if I saw the elementary truth to the largest mystery of our time and the answer to an enigma that will reign for two centuries into the future?”

          The foggy doctor replied with a response that was vividly accurate: “Er, why, ah…the Monarchy rules what is, uh, not a free state? The controversy that your paper reported?”

          “Close to the mark, old boy! Ha.” Holmes lit his special pipe. After an inhale that relaxed the master’s nerves, he ‘lowered the boom.’ “I’ve discovered the identity…of the Ripper of Whitechapel by an extraordinary means you would not believe.”

          “Holmes! Bloody well done, man! I believe you. I would question the conclusion from any other person on Earth. Not you. I certainly believe in you, sir. Before I hear the name, let me, um, ah, preempt you, if I may Holmes?”

          “Go on.” The sleuth smiled and puffed again.

          “Yes. The mystery of mysteries that Scotland Yard to Parliament to local investigators, the biggest question that has baffled London: Who’s Black Jack, also known as the Ripper? Inspector Lestrade and even King George have requested your assistance on the whereabouts and identity of the maniac, eh? I must align myself with popular press and ask you: I presume the ‘slasher’ is a he and is either a Member of Parliament or a doctor, a surgeon?”

          “Neither, old man.”

          “Astounding! To diverge from the majority; I believe you even more, Holmes. Who is it?”

          “A writer,” Holmes answered with a wave of his pipe.

          Watson replied, “Ah. I say, Holmes. They’re the worst of the lot! Changing history, under orders, as you proposed, eh? Ah, ah. And this mad spider has a web? Minions, I imagine. You said something about a web of lies, was it? How do you know this?”

          “I will answer in a moment, dear friend. But first, have you ever doubted my sanity?”

          “Why, no. Well. Maybe, maybe at first, for a tick? But you always, by Jove, prove to be right on the money, yes?”

          Sherlock Holmes asked, “Have you ever doubted my sincerity or honesty, Watson?”

          “Never. Not for a minute. If you told me, ah…Martians spoke to you, I think I’d have no choice but believe you, Holmes.”

          “Funny you said that. I’m sure you replied in that manner because of our mutual friend, H.G….”?

          “I suppose so…”

          “Well. Now you’re close to being ‘on the money.’”

          “Martians? Wait here now. Now I bloody don’t believe you, sir.” Watson was suddenly angered. He felt like a helpless mouse in a catspaw. “See here, Holmes. Are you having me on? Because if you are, sir…”

          “Take a drink.”


          Holmes responded with, “On the table, to your left. The brandy’s been waiting for you.”

          “How did I miss that, old boy?” The good doctor quickly and automatically finished half of the stiff drink and made the appropriate after-sounds.

          “Finish it.” The master detective inhaled deeply. He put out his pipe. He calmly stood up on his feet.

          The scene appeared as if it was any evening in his study with Watson. It was not.

          Holmes’ trusted friend drank the rest of the goblet of brandy.

          “I used Wells’ Time Machine and went into the future.” Holmes stared directly at Watson.

          A long silence.


          Sherlock laughed. Then he turned serious. “I assure you, John, it’s the truth.”

          “You mean to say on your mother’s grave, Holmes, there’s such a device?”

          Sherlock leaned down. A long, lanky arm tapped the doctor on the shoulder a few times, affectionately. “I assure you, John: I indeed pushed a lever forward and escaped our time and traveled to tomorrow…”

          “Extraordinary. You’ll have me smoking opium next.” Watson stated and shook his head. He was the one dazed. He believed. “Yes, yes. Time Machine! Our friend’s amazing book. You say…ah, based on his actual adventures, Holmes?”

          “T’was. H.G. gave me the rarest of opportunities: one chance to move through time. I could have chosen a flight to the moon…”

          “Holmes!” Watson yelled.

          “That was a joke, my dear friend…” He smiled.

          “I say.” The doctor was upset.

          “Now I will speak only the truth, John. George allowed me one journey.”

          “You chose to, ah, peek into the future, to, to discover who the authorities have caught as Jack or possibly who you will capture? The real Ripper?”

          Holmes lit a fire in the late evening. He paced back and forth in front of it.

          Watson listened and believed every word.

          “Yes. That was indeed my intent. But a major accident occurred. No. No, it was a major mistake on my part.”

          Watson noticed his friend’s changed attitude. “Doesn’t sound like you, old boy: making mistakes?”

          “In my excitement at the controls of the awesome machine, I pushed the lever much too hard. I simply wanted to read future records of the Ripper case and find the man’s identity…”

          “Then return to the present with the knowledge so the monster could be apprehended?”

          “Exactly, Watson.”

          “What happened?”

          “I only had enough energy for the trip back. I could not jump to other points in Time and take my time. I had to learn what I could in the one year I landed at…2016.”

          Watson was flabbergasted. “My God, man. How many years ahead is that? I can’t add right now.”

          “One hundred and thirteen to be exact.”

          “Holmes! You journeyed to Wells’ utopia! Surely the great mystery and many more had been solved in paradise? What was it like? Holmes?”

          The sleuth’s paces stopped and he placed his hand on Watson’s other shoulder, sincerely. “Believe me, old friend. No utopia. There was no Garden of Earthly Delights in the future that I experienced. Far from it. People were still clueless…about everything, about the hidden webs all around them. They remained simple with only an illusion of modern technology. Fantastic things, Watson! But not as advanced as our visionaries have dreamed. On the subject of the Ripper, I found that your popular press conclusions have continued for more than a century. Films, theatres with vast projections to the world will exist. Ah, they’re called ‘movies.’”

          “What are movies?”

          “London’s new theatre. Watson, I took you to view moving images, light projections.”

          “That will never catch on, Holmes,” Watson commented.

          “I assure you, dear Watson, it will. Lies and deceptions and sinister evils will surround the new art form called cinema and many other things.” He looked down to the full carpet, sadly.

          John Watson also got to his feet. “What are you saying?”

          Sherlock Holmes lit his pipe once more and answered, “Lies, or I should say: wild goose chases and Judas Goats will be thrust upon the masses with such intensity, even in the 21st Century, that will make the Roman Empire pale in comparison.”

          Watson was shocked at the unexpected words and stood still. “Wot?”

          “In the future, what will be called ‘entertainment,’ on a global scale, will actually be brainwashing and propaganda. The Monarchy’s fascism was more ruthless and invisible than ever. In the time I was there, I reviewed records of great wars…well. Super Weapons! Your worst nightmares, John, would be NOTHING compared to what things are coming in future…”

          “Bloody hell.”

          “Yes. Hell on Earth. H.G. was very wrong. His Time Machine sure showed him that.”

          “Where did he get it, Holmes?”

          “He wouldn’t say.”

          Then Watson remembered. “The Ripper, killer of prostitutes! You discovered who he was, the writer?”

          “A very popular writer from decades ago, today and long into tomorrow, Watson. Fully sanctioned by the British Empire. In fact, the Illuminata have secretly rallied behind the sick madman: portrayed his children’s stories, pushed his movies and books which have influenced millions and millions. All the while, on the other side of the mirror or curtain stood pure EVIL.”

          “Let me guess. Mystery writer, yes? Or horror, I would assume. Someone like Poe?”

          “A very famous writer of children’s books. Children, the most innocent victims of all.”

          “Blimey.” Watson was astounded. “You put the clues together from the future. You’ve deduced the identity of Jack the Ripper. You’re back with us in the present; you know who the monster of Whitechapel is. Then we must lay a trap for the psychotic writer! Capture him, yes?”

          “No,” Holmes answered smoothly. “He died five years ago. The latest murders were not committed by this agent of the Aristocracy; they were done by others of his Brotherhood.”

Watson responded with the words: “Hell continues, then.” After a moment of deep thought, he asked, “However did you arrive at his identity and you never told me his name, old boy?”         

          “Watson? Did you read my paper on the Riddle of Anagrams?”

          “Uh, no, ah, sorry. Did not, I’m afraid. Although, I know you have total faith in them. Napoleon, Nostradamus did also. Wait. You’re telling me: anagrams revealed the name of the Ripper?”

          “Ha, ha!” Sherlock gave the doctor a firm pat on the back. “Yes, but not how we write the letters and arrange them today. The future will have computer-generators that do the work for us. At the push of a button, Watson! Anagrams comprised a large part of the clues along with information I…you won’t believe…printed off something called the Internet in 2016.”

          “Sounds like a Secret Society,” Watson replied.

          “Probably is. I was limited. I only had a short time in Time to study.”

          “What was your anagram, again, Holmes? You told me weeks ago.”

          Holmes was amazed at his small error. “Bloody hell. Never thought to put my name in the generator. I only put Dodgson’s name and variables of his name.”

          “Generator? Dodge?”

          “My anagram is ‘smells crook, heh.’ It certainly fits. Look at my nose. I had to work it out in my head, you know. I’ll get the print-outs, Doctor.”

          “You’re talking gibberish, man.”

          Holmes said, “You tell me if you see something strange in the letters of the man’s name?”


          Holmes left quickly, grabbed the papers from the future and returned to his friend. He showed him…      


Charles Lutwidge Dodgson =

As gold: seducing the world!

Seducing the world as gold!

Old dog watches nude girls.

He wants ‘good girl’ cuddles.

Now chastise drugged ‘doll.’

Sad, college don with drugs.

Dud gent weds a schoolgirl.

Dude gets, so Caroll whinged.

Dog collar wedged in thus.

Select odd words, laughing.


Charles Dodgson =

‘Scholar godsend.’

Don’s old charges.                             

Codger don lashs.

Don’s ogled chars.


Author Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) =

A girl called Alice sets through wondrous world.


Lewis Carroll, the Reverend Charles Dodgson =

Oh, he’s clever: records girl’s Wonderland tale.


The Reverend Dodgson, aka Lewis Carroll =

Look at verses: girl reached Wonderland.

Look at girl, reached Wonderland verses.


English Author and Mathematician Charles Lutwidge Dodgson =

Has got on him the magical drugs that Alice used in Wonderland.


          Watson read the last one on processed paper he had never seen before. He wasn’t convinced. “See here, man. Letters can be switched to create any words you want, say anything you bloody well want to say.”

          “Untrue, Watson. Every letter is used precisely. Sentences are not nonsense or non-sentences. I didn’t need a computer to prove to me the ‘Riddle of Anagrams,’ but they have verified the ancients’ faith in them. Imagine EVERY possibility from a given set of letters printed on a list as you see before you. The more letters in the group, the longer the list of possibilities. Now imagine a computer-machine arranges them in order of rational sense first and even displays a % number of how rational and sensible the anagrams are down the long list to ones that absolutely make no sense at the bottom. I’ve shown you only the best ones, 100% ones, perfect ones, top of the list! They infer the ‘slasher,’ female victims, young victims and drugs to incapacitate them. The spider web leads to the Highest of Authorities that, in truth, do not want to catch the fiend. They only want the killings and the chaos to continue.”

          “I’m reeling,” the doctor expressed. “Did I read Lewis Carroll?”

          Sherlock finished his train of thought: “…And imagine a machine with the knowledge of God that will ‘speak’ and present to you on a silver platter…true answers, anagrammatically. It had a Voice, Watson. I do not know if ‘It’ is as dark as the demon behind the Ouija or not?”

          John snapped his fingers a few times in front of Sherlock’s intense eyes.

          The sleuth came down from high clouds.

          “I think I need more brandy. Surely you have more evidence than this, Holmes?”

          “Ha, ha. Indeed I do. Ha. We are only at the beginning of the briar patch, the start of the adventure down the rabbit hole.”

          “It’s your contention that the writer of children’s books; I can think of no other more popular than the author of ‘Alice in Wonderland’…was none other than…Jack the Ripper?”

          “Examine these papers, won’t you? I shall prepare the tea this time. Ah. I see it’s morning.” Holmes tossed new papers to a mesmerized doctor. Before he left the room, his words were, “I shall recall and recite to you every detail of my trip into tomorrow: what I found, bigger and bigger clues to the inescapable truth. I only had an hour at the library. Well. Fifty minutes after I was instructed how to use the bloody contraption.”

          Later, when the two colleagues were more comfortable and sat and greeted the new day with tea and crumpets…

          Holmes declared, “Once my shock passed because of the bold new world before me, I asked an officer in one of the fantastic motorcars directions to the nearest library. Once there, with an operational computer at my fingertips, I dived into what’s called ‘Search engine YouTube.’ Everything is push-button with instant results on a screen you read. Below is a keyboard like a typewriter, to access the machine…”

          “Bottom line, Holmes?”

          “I did say: in detail.”

          “Yes. Yes.” The doctor had a bite and a drink and listened closely.

          “Quite by accident, which, by the gods, was not by accident I realize now…I saw a large rectangular button on the screen of a current British playwright and author. I was curious, but it was more a test of the magical equipment in my hands…that I stumbled upon…”


          “Did you not look at the printed sheets, Watson?”

          “Small print, old boy. I’m sure I believe you and will magnify them later. Go on.”

          “Karoline Leach was her name, will be her name. This was before my Dodgson-anagrams discovery. I read that there was a Lewis Carroll ‘myth’ and she claimed famous or infamous Dodgson hid a secret life. I was fascinated and read on. She had letters and unpublished diaries that revealed the writer was very far from the ‘dreamer of children.’ That’s how she put it: Dreamer of Children. Her book’s title is: ‘In the Shadow of the Dreamchild.’ Did fate guide my hand in Tomorrowland? I had no idea, then. But. What I tapped onto next…proved I was being guided by maybe a far greater and good Nemesis in the universe. Maybe cosmic justice? I was led toward the Ripper with the very next TAP onto a related rectangle I saw in the margin…”

          “I don’t follow, Holmes.”

          “The next tap or computer access brought me to another book. This one was from a 1996 theoretical novel by Richard Wallace, strangely called: ‘Jack the Ripper, Light-Hearted Friend.’ I don’t need to read the print-out; the information is indelibly etched on my brain. Wallace proposed that Carroll or Dodgson was our Black Jack Ripper. He committed the murders with a comrade in crime: Thomas Vere Bayne. History records they were friends.”

          “Never heard of him.”

          “We wouldn’t.”

          “Holmes? You mean to say, in minutes of accessing unlimited info…you, you came to the Ripper by accident?”

          “Yes. Fate must have heard my prayers and granted its humble servant an answer to a very special request?”

          “Miraculous. I say. If true, the whole bloody theory would be excellent cover, yes?”

          “Who would suspect? Also, who’d suspect the Empire sponsored the perverted madness?”

          Watson confessed, “What a case. But, Holmes. Ah. It is only a modern man’s opinion or speculation in a book. It would take a lot more to sway me and certainly the courts, huh.”

          “I agree.” Sherlock smiled and finished his tea.

          “You do?”

          “Yes. We need many more dots to connect and pieces to the puzzle. Wallace’s book, his conclusions, were partially based on anagrams. When I discovered that little ‘breadcrumb,’ I was utterly enthralled. I found I could jump to various data on the screens and then jump back. One was the anagram-generator where I quickly printed the first ones you saw at the push of a button. Then I read the following. Here. Look. Use my magnifier. Go on, man.”

          “Hmm?” Watson did so but mainly tuned to Holmes’ words.

          “Anagrams found or written about by Wallace were from Carroll’s adaption of ‘Wonderland’ called ‘The Nursery Alice’ and also first volume of ‘Sylvie and Bruno.’ Carroll probably worked on them during the Ripper killings, both published in 1889. Wallace claimed both books contained hidden, detailed descriptions of the murders. Curious and more curious.”

          “Wot? In verses for children?”

          “Only the tip of the iceberg, my good friend. Imagine my surprise to soon find that Karoline Leach was diametrically opposed to Wallace’s conclusions.”


          “When I first played at the computer’s controls, first book I found.”

          “I’m lost, Holmes.”

          “Logic dictates she’d welcome what Wallace had speculated in 1996, unless…”

          “Unless wot?”

          “Unless she was part of the Brotherhood. Hegelians, unite! Sorry, old man. It is elementary and simply means: Any dark force or corrupt power will attempt to infiltrate and control its very own opposition.”

          “Spies. Double-agents. That lot, eh?”

          “You catch on, Watson. I have learned of a huge movement against Dodgson and his Jesuit killers responsible for the Ripper murders. The concept was pushed ad nausea to the point that I knew…”

          “What, Holmes?”

          “…The Monarchy and its Vatican connections: Protested too much.” Holmes looked deeply into his friend’s eyes and said, “They’re lying and they have lied to us all along.”


          “One of the murder victims was named ‘Alice.’”


          “Some investigators allowed to pursue the theory saw a resemblance in the way Lewis Carroll and Jack the Ripper hand wrote the phrase: ‘She wriggled about so.’ I remember a quote from Dodgson’s days as an art student: ‘His passionate desire for the female form was celebrated in his artwork and brought him into severe conflict with the decent middle class morality of the day.’ He was a mysterious Bohemian artist and mathematician who kept company with ‘theatricals.’ Carroll was called an ‘Oxford don’ and ‘don’ fits many of the top anagrams. In 1861, Dodgson became a deacon of the Anglican Church, but refused to become a priest…”

          “Take a breath, Holmes.”

          “Ha. So right.” He did. “Now. ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ was published in 1865 under the pen-name of Lewis Carroll. ‘Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there’ was published in 1872. Carroll was catapulted into worldwide superstardom and now I see and understand it was an evil plot from the very beginning. Watson. You’ll never believe this...”

          The doctor roared in laughter: “EVERYTHING you’re telling me is unbelievable!”

          “I said you’re catching on. Get this: He didn’t write any of the books THEY credit him with…”


          “Every line, every verse, were written by madmen, highly skilled madmen, a committee, if you will? Carroll didn’t write ‘Alice’ or ‘Looking Glass’ or ‘Jabberwocky’ or any of his other works! This has occurred over and over again throughout history, in different fields. Grand Star Chambers of Puppeteers, self-imposed ‘Masters of the Universe,’ always from Britain, that deceive good people and also deceive themselves. For hundreds of years, they’ve created major wars, molded the planet, the elements and controlled the banks. But, in truth, they are really…scared, frightened, insecure children, children who happen to have inherited all the power in the world and evil techniques from yesterday’s fascists. You haven’t seen anything yet, John. Wait until tomorrow and huge numbers of new industries for the real horror-show.”

          Watson weakly expressed, “Like the Shakespeare rumor? A committee? You mean, you don’t mean, sir…the immortal Bard never existed?”

          “Brilliant, Watson! That was the perfect example. The Bard, like Dodgson, indeed existed. They actually wrote very little. The famous are false fronts, Judas Goats, stars in the heavens to lead you to an eventual slaughter. Did you really believe one person named ‘Shakespeare’ created mass volumes of incredibly fine art, philosophy, drama and comedy and so much more?”

          “They do.”

          “Sadly, that is very true. We’re given only fragments of reality, colored and tainted. They do not permit progress and education and knowledge and science for us. We’re given only bread and cakes, but the colorful ‘circuses’ entertain our eyes and our ears, do they not, John?”


          “A Lewis Carroll myth indeed happened after the man’s death. Pushed into the public conscious was the idea that the creator of ‘Alice’ was a ‘perpetual child’ who only related to children, a tragic social deviant. The popular, pious image of Carroll was far from the truth, Watson. The deacon was known for an ‘irregular’ lifestyle and a perverted, sexual appetite. He had relationships with many young women.”

          “I’m sensing a pattern, Holmes. I’m also believing in anagrams more and more.”

          “Dodgson even mentions the Ripper once in his private diary on 26 August, 1891: Three years after the height of the Whitechapel slayings.”

          “Good Lord.”

          “I only had 20 minutes left of my library time and then minutes to get to where I hid the Time Machine…and then pulled the lever back with just enough energy to return…”

          “Question, Holmes: All the information you told me came from a half hour of study on the computer-machine?”

          “Approximately. Minutes to print papers.” Sherlock was casual for someone from 1903.

          “Bloody hell. But, but, but…”

          “Spit it out, John.”

          “How do you arrive at the connection to the Monarchy, the dark throne, evil, evil spider’s network? Or how you see the royals behind it all? Sponsored murders and chaos by Parliament?”

          “You certainly have read my papers which predicted the future suppression of the genius, Tesla?”

          “Indeed, sir. Much of that is already quite true. As you predicted, Holmes.”

          “And will be so much more in the future. Well. This detective already had a background in conspiracies and a ‘nose’ for the truth. Wow. How do I say this to you at 6:30 in the AM?”

          “Spit it out, man,” Watson echoed and laughed.

          “With precious 20 minutes left in front of my own type of magic Looking Glass, I, ha…”

          “You what?”

          “By God, man. I watched a movie from 30 years in the future and it was fate that placed me in that seat and at that particular time and glued my eyes to the screen. In minutes, I saw the light, knew why I was there and realized my wish was answered. I knew for certain who the Ripper was~”

          Watson was not clear. “Movie? You, you, you mean, Holmes: one of those light-projection stories? Like in London?”

          “Let me explain.”

          “Just a fictional representation, a story or theory, like, like the Wallace book, yes?”

          “No. It was the tipping point for me, John. I know when lightning strikes me…”

          “But, Holmes. How can you draw a huge conclusion from a very small thing?”

          “I say, Watson…when that very small thing makes a thousand previous question marks in my mind go away. Many simultaneous mysteries were erased in a snap [snaps fingers].”

          Watson sensed the significance of the film and was fascinated. “Tell me about it, old boy. I’m listening.” The doctor got comfortable and anticipated another rant.

          “I understand the hour-long movie from 1933 had many future well-known actors at the start of their careers. This cinema talked, Watson.”

          “What d’you mean, man?”

          “When the characters moved and moved their mouths, they SPOKE. It was marvelous! The clarity of picture was extraordinary, a hundred times superior to the ghostly visions we saw. You could understand the story as if you sat in the first row of a playhouse theatre…”

          “That would catch on.”

          “Little, blonde, Alice was denied dreaming, imagining. She defied the rules and chose to see a rabbit in fancy clothes go down a hole. She saw herself in the Looking Glass mirror, a reverse universe to the normal one. It was an enticing ‘wonderland’ where everything was wrong, everything was reversed and (basically) upside-down. That idea of being backwards or ‘wrong was right and right was wrong’ was a familiar theme throughout. She slept and entered the enchanted, reverse world where you could do as thou wilt. She fell a few times, took drugs and held up an ‘eat me’ sign.”

          “Holmes, it’s a child’s story. By God. Holmes. You are saying…it’s…not a child story.”

          “Propaganda and brainwashing of the most sinister kind, as went on elsewhere in the world in 1933. I’ve discovered that the last thing the ‘Alice’ fantasies were was innocent entertainment for our children. They were indoctrination for seduction and mass murders.”

          “What else in the cinema made you believe this? Signs, yes?”

          “People, the masses, were portrayed as rats at one point, my muse clearly showed me, when Alice swam in a dirty stream with a downtrodden rat. Cat images were on castle doors and walls and must have symbolized power over the rats, power over people. Alice magically flew in this land of wonder and ‘wonderfulness.’ A dodo bird recited great knowledge. I got the joke: How could it be a Darwinian world of Survival of the Fittest, if this famous extinct bird was so damned smart? Everything twisted and backwards. The only real magic was (occulted) Black Magic. The movie displayed a baby that was mistreated by monsters. Alice grabbed the baby and it turned into a pig. Cats don’t really smile, but in Wonderland, they did. You received presents when it wasn’t your birthday. The caterpillar who smoked opium and the mad Tea Party with the insanity and the inebriated mouse represented drugged, drunken pits of inequity. Wine was served to children. There were magic mushrooms. We have a Moses Floor chessboard, soldiers and men as cards or chessmen. The only purpose for this was to brainwash the youth into the belief that life was an endless game of war. We’re to lay down our lives as disposable pawns in a useless, senseless game of Death. Or we’re to jump in fear when kings and queens scream: Off with their heads!”

          “Holmes. You said these were signs and it all hit you like lightning?”

          “Precisely. It was the movie, when I viewed passed super visions that my eyes barely believed of changing sizes and proportions and other wonders and heard the tale of…the ‘Walrus and the Carpenter.’ I observed moving drawings that fascinated me to no end, like I was a boy again. But behind my joyous glee, my muse told me the awful truth in what my eyes beheld…”

          “What Holmes?”

          “Oysters as if they were alive, very young oysters as if they were children, separated from parents. Lost children. Indeed, I believed the images truly represented real children in the real world and what had happened to them. So many reports of missing youths on the street or removed from the street and they’ve simply vanished, John. Were they ‘eaten’ by High Society or literally eaten by rumored, unspeakable, satanic rituals of the Monarchy’s Illuminata?”

          “That can’t be true, man.” Watson was dead serious.

          “The symbols were in the movie, over and over again: one-eye on a tree, 5-pointed starfish and always the point down, right off the cover of witchcraft books. Topless pyramids. In the end of the movie, a white knight appeared who was totally useless, a bumbling fool.”

          “I’m speechless. I’m speechless you saw the future. Ha. Old H.G.”

          “That’s far from all, my friend.”

          “Still not totally convinced from my end, Holmes. Sorry. Can’t get to 60%, I’m afraid.”

          Holmes smiled. It was a long night and a very brilliant day. “The Monarchy and Vatican are behind everything and on top of everything. I saw how many incarnations a not-so-innocent children’s story was repeated and forced upon the public, again and again, aimed at children.”

          “Say again, Holmes?”

          “The future computer showed a button with a clear and COLOR version of Dodgson’s story from 1951. I saw a thumbnail of the Queen with red and black colors of fascism and the devil. Then, John. I saw two more thumbnail buttons in the margin I had not time to tap. A silent film of ‘Alice’ will be made in 1915. And the first movie representation of Alice’s Wonderland is being made this very year, ’03. Perversions pushed upon us more and more by perverts.”

          “Blimey. I need to sleep for a few centuries, Holmes.”

          “Funny you said that, Watson. Our friend Wells hinted that his golden utopian age, like long ago in the distant past, will return again…only it will be a few centuries from now.”

          “Bollocks. No time soon, then.” John yawned.

          “George also revealed that ANYTHING, absolutely anything was possible since the sick elites of the world had already, successfully, pulled off the greatest con game of all time…”

          “This time, I’m ahead of you, my friend. You mean the lie of William Shakespeare?”

          “No. That’s not it, Watson. Ever wonder why we refer to an old homosexual as a queen? The entire Victorian Age was a farce, of course, and the greatest deception of them all.”


          Holmes smiled and stated with confidence: “Queen Victoria was a man. Wells has proof.”


1933 cast for Alice in Wonderland:
Richard Arlen   -   Cheshire Cat
Gary Cooper   -   White Knight
W.C. Fields   -   Humpty-Dumpty
Cary Grant   -   Mock Turtle
Sterling Holloway   -   Frog
Edward Everett Horton - Mad Hatter
Baby Leroy   -   Joker
Jack Oakie   -   Tweedledum
Charles Ruggles   -   March Hare

How to order novels by TS Caladan

TWB Press, publishing, electronic, e-books, ebooks, short stories, novels, science fiction, supernatural, horror, thrillers, fiction

TS Caladan's 3-Book "Traylogy" can be purchased thru TWB Press.

9" x 6" books with cover art are less than $18.00.   EBooks are $3.99.


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