Wednesday, 27 August 2008

Mtsar Does Travolta - Exclusive!

Forget about dancing with the stars ... those losers refused to have the man on the show - they knew I'd dance them into the new age. How the fuck they can have one legged gippo Heather Mills (I'd still bang her disabled ass) on there but not a half brown renowned fictional scholar with riverdance in his genes... I dont know - though I suspect this has something to do with the symbolism in the CBS logo.

I have been a life long fan of dance, especially the Riverdance - watching all those Paddy broads in spandex lifting their leggies up.. phew... it takes a lot of rapture juice to keep old paddy in his pouch watching that stuff. Equally, nothing did it for me more growing up on the streets of East Belfast than watching that poofter Travolta showing the world how to dance like a beast of a man.

So, myself and Jordan knocked up a great one hour feature-ette in which the man runs down through the whole Saturday Night Fever routine in my brilliant white Atlantean suit. There are extras too - including a Mtsar approved naked yoga dance instructional video - great for the maidens out there who want to learn to bend into sexual brilliance. And directors commentary by Jordan Maxwell in which he extends the visual dance to incorporate the symbolism of the dance moves and how it relates to the fictional pie in his mind.

This DVD is available for the limited special offer of $3 when purchased with my full Origins and Oracles 679 DVD set, (coming soon in Blu-Ray).

Get yours now from

More Filthy Images of Mtsar Proliferating

Listen, more of this filth is popping up on google every day. I'm sick of it.

My image is copyright Mtsar incorporated. Who do these punk's think they are defaming and ridiculing the man like this eh?!

If the Rapture doesnt get you then the copyright warriors will in the Lower Astral. Watch out scumlords.

Damn Atlantean Scum took me off Facebook

Holy Shiva, look at this disabled midget go!

My fans will know of my midget employment opportunities - these little guys are great for domestic work. They can really get into the hard to reach places. If anyone knows where I can contact this person, or if he has an agent, please do get in touch.

Mtsar doesn't discriminate.

Drunvalo Malcheezedick and the Flower of Shite

Just a quick note readers: I have just finished a Sedona colonic retreat with Drunvalo Malcheezedick, the great alien master of the realm of the Plaiedes. It was a truly revelatory experience, he described to me that you can see the flower of shite in everything, even in words.

Now, listen here, this idiot might be a fictional scholar of renown, but to tell me that theres hidden codes in my fictional works is clearly not welcome to the man. There is no hidden symbolism in my work, just good honest off the top of my head rubbish. Just so you know Ciao

Tuesday, 19 August 2008

The Mtsar August Newsletter

please read my new articles and visit my store on

This month we have several new exclusives including a review in the 'smell like the new age' quarterly newsletter on the new range of vegan, vedic cologne that I am manufacturing from my kitchen in the Bay Area.

We are also offering the chance for devoted fans to receive genuine Jordan Maxwell body pieces, which will be removed as part of his imminent autopsy. Details on the website.

There is also an article about a recent USA visit by UK comedian and fellow David Icke-ette Russell Brand.

This Russell Chap, yes... very funny. When he came to the Bay Area I was charitable enough to give him my sofa... when I woke up he had emptied my fridge of coconut milk (excellent for ascension symptoms) and stolen all my black clothes....

Still, we had a great evening out in the slut joints, drinking paddy power, picking up broads and banging them up the brown into the wee small hours. Russell has agreed to co-produce and finance my next DVD boxset 'The Mtsar Guide to Banging Broads in the Age of Aquarius'. It will include a bonus section on how to cope with hairloss, mainly by dangling gippo trinkets all around your face and neck to distract the honeys from your glorius half brown scalp.

Ful details can be found on Taroscopes, and hopefully I will feature on next weeks Russel Brand Show. I would love to get a chance to share my origins of disability research.

I am now endorsing the ipod touch, as it is black and shiny, like Shiva in the new moon. Nothing beats seeing your manly stare reflected in one of those beasts as you listen to metallica and sepultura in your inner ear phones (hidden from view by your glorious side mane of course). They are also a great way to store sick porn shit so you can jack off when and wherever you feel the schiziod burning need to do so as your atlantean side manifests. Some say 3.5" is too small... i say fuck them.

I take my music very seriously

this post is copyright mtsar incorporated. '3.5"', 'shiva', 'fictional scholarship' , 'disablity', and 'sepultura' are registered trademarks of mtsar

Exclusive Email Correspondance between Mtsar and David Shite

Mtsar: Tell me more about this brilliant full brown warrior Credo Mutwa.

David Shite: I see you're talking about my very special friend Credo! I was being interviewed by James Whale on talksport radio a little while back and I related this story of how I watched - in absolute astonishment, it has to be said - Credo literally battering to death five CIA agents with a dark mars bar. Now, trying to imagine that in your bloody head is something, but seeing the little shaman go chocolate ninja with your very own eyes brings a whole new meaning to the term problem-reaction-solution.

So, what I'm going to do is, I'm going decided to dedicate a chapter to this in my next book, which will be over 600 pages long and will retail in all good bookstores. Only good bookstores and not those ones that are run by the Illuminadee. The price will come in at around £17 and will include a free cd sampler of my son's new album, entitled It may be bollox, but it sure beats botox.

Mtsar: I have heard this 'dark Mars bar' myth in the past, I have actually decoded it though analysing the symbolism. It is in fact a chocolate snack with no milk in the chocolate.

'symbolism' is copyright Mtsar.

If I find who made this I will rearrange their face


Listen buster, If you want to call names then be man enough to draw your blade in person. Do you understand? I will fucking stab you, and you will die in a bloody mess.

This picture is no laughing matter, if not for any reason then for the sake of copyright, my face is copyright mtsar. And my earring was cut out of the shot - completely shattering my image in the process of violating my copyright. Have you any idea how much i get paid in sponsorship from 'Gippo relics and trinkets' in South LA for wearing that stuff??
No, i didnt think so... just rape and destroy the man who has given you all so much, all for the price of a brilliant DVD boxset.

Exclusive Guest Post from David Shite

Copyright David Shite, 2008. All Rights Reserved.

David Shite Snoozeletter revisited, March 16th 2008

Rules R Shite!

Pile of stinking shite, that's what it is.

Hello all ...

Inside my head lies a place where, collectively, little bunnies dance and flowers grow to be big and strong, basking in the glow of a golden-baked sky. But enough about my illness, let's talk shite.

What goes in, must come out. Or, shite, as we like to call it over on this side of the World. Not only am I shite, but my son, Gaymie, needs shite.

'You've got your father for that.' A crude little joke.

'If you don't do the potty, the botty will explode,' I told Gaymie. He just looked at me. And, oh, how he adores me. I can feel it in a kind of form that I can only describe as 'vibration'. It's the same feeling I get when I look at pictures of roadkill and the like.

'Oi, bollocks, mate!'

So there we were, me and Gaymie, Gaymie and me, the son and I, sitting in a car, out on the Motorway. When the need for dropping his baggage arose. We pulled off and spent the next 25 minutes searching amid the residential streets of a place called Bogleigh in Hampshire - until there it was, like an erection in the condom of love ... a petrol filling station and shop called 'Blackies' on Shaftfield Avenue.


In we marched, Gaymie with his buttocks ever so tightly clenched. I spied to make sure no one was taking photos from the rear. You got to watch some people, like taking pictures of other peoples' children, they do.

'Oi, bollocks, mate!'

I walked up to the girls serving behind the counter and demanded they find somewhere for my son to drop shite. I asked ever so politely, and all they could do was giggle. If these two had two pieces of rock to strike together, they still couldn't manage a bloody spark between them.

'It's coming out of my bumhole, man!' Gaymie yelled.

'Hey, what've I told you about talking jive, Gaymie!?'

'Sorry dad, but it's coming, as sure as a Hurricane across Louisiana in storm season!'

Just then one of the girls piped up. ' Wot's he on about?' she said, a confused look etched into her sickeningly pale features.

'Oi, bollocks, mate!' I yelled, and smacked her straight in the face. Down she went like the heaviest of all sacks of shit striking the limpid pale. The other girl gasped in horror, and jumped back like I'd just kicked her in the baby hole.

'Man, I need a shit now!' Gaymie cried.

'Don't talk fucking jive!' I screamed at the boy.

Just then, the manageress came strolling out. Looked like she'd just sucked the end of a manky cock.

'What on Earth's going on here?' asked old cock-face.

'My son needs a shite. Do you have a place to let him do it?'

'What?' she said, pretending to have no idea what was going on. Oh, yeah, it's always that way. That's how they're programmed. Don't believe what the eyes see, it's only a deception. Believe what we tell you. Teenage boys wanting to shite aren't really wanting to shite, they're wanting to rob and kill you.


Exterminate! Ex-terminate! Boy wanting shite! Kill! Kill! Kill!

By this point I was getting pretty desperate for a conclusion to this absurd situation.

'He punched Gayle,' the remaining girl said to the manager.

'No I didn't,' I protested.

Her mouth opened as wide as her eyes in surprise. She pointed accusingly at me. 'Yes you did. You punched 'er right in the mouth.'

'She fainted,' I said.

The manager was looking down at the girl. 'But she's got blood all over her face.'

'It was a nosebleed,' I quickly replied. 'She fainted cos of it.'

I felt Gaymie tugging on my arm. 'I've just shit m'self, man.'

'Oh, fucking bollocks!' I screamed. 'What's wrong with you people?! This is a bloody police state! The Nazi's are coming back - they never bloody went away, you mark my words, you jobsworth, you.

'Come on, son.' I grabbed Gaymie, who, by this point was honking louder than the congestion in London streets, midday afternoon. 'We're out of this place. I'll find you a field and give your arse a good wiping with my own two hands. If you want to get something done properly in this World....'

At the weekend, I was out with Gaymie again. He'd just played football and I'd just had a bloody good argument with the referee about taking pictures of other children.

'I like taking pictures of other peoples' kids,' I told him. 'Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.'

'Well, you can't do it here, mate. Piss off!'

Bloody jobsworth.

We pulled into the parking lot of a large Tesco. They're the enemy, of course, but were convenient for me on the day. I decided I needed a little drink after my battles with the state. Being one of the lone martrys for freedom is no easy task, but someone has to gut out all the shite and get the job done.

In I went, bought a case of Super Lager, picked up a 12 pack of Andrex in case Gaymie had another emergency then went to the express checkout.


Oh, but wasn't as simple as that. It never is.

'Can I see some id,' the tall, skinny weed behind the checkout asked.

'Excuse me?' I said, understandably surprised.

'I need some sort of id before I can sell you that alcohol, sir.'

Just then, Gaymie commented, 'Man, that blows.'

'Quit the jive, Gaymie - for fucksake, give it a rest. Who do you think you are? Some big MC Hammer type rap god?'

Gaymie looked a bit puzzled. 'Who's M-?'

'I need id, sir.'

'Persistent little fuck, aren't you?' I said to the lad, pointing at his chest.

'There's a queue forming, sir,' he replied in some kind of robot monotone.

'I know there's a queue forming. I can see that. Heaven forbid establishing freedom should actually take time to establish.'

It's always the way. Take life easy by coasting down the slow lane. It appears to be the fast lane only because it's convenient, but it's really the slow lane. A slow lane for slow-minded people who can't be bothered to take the time to stand up for what's theirs.

"May I have your freedom with that purchase, sir?"

"Will it get me home any quicker?"

"Oh, much quicker." Distracting smile on the face.

"With pleasure!"

'Do you have a form of id, sir? Perhaps your driver's licence?'

'Oi, bollocks, mate!' I yelled, and put the head on him. He went down faster than a 6 pack on Supers on a Saturday night in front of skating on ice. There was blood everywhere. Just looking at it all made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

'Fuckin' A!' Gaymie yelped in excitement.

'Oh, for fucksake!' I screamed, turning on my son. 'Stop talking fucking jive you silly little bastard! Don't you realise all that rap music is mind control? Don't you realise who manufactures it? Why it exists? What the hell's wrong with you? All I want to do is get home, wipe my arse and get pissed! Why the hell is that so difficult?! What the hell is this World coming to - look, there's cameras all over this shop! They're looking at me! Glaring at all of us!'

'You're frightening me dad!' Gaymie squealed.

People were beginning to distance themselves from the spectacle, and I could see someone who looked like the manager, marching across the shop floor. Looked like he had a rake stuffed up his arse.

And then Gaymie shit himself. Out of apparent fear. And it looked like i'd be needing that bumper pack of Andrex after all.

'What on Earth's going on here?' the manager demanded.

'My son's just shit himself in your shop.'


'He's just shit himself in your shop and I want to be drunk.'

'Shit himself? ... Drunk?' The manager looked like he'd never fully recovered from being born. I almost pitied him.

'Yes, am I allowed to wipe his arse here, or do I need a form of id?'


What a weekend that was. Thanks for allowing me to share this with you. I needed to get it all of my chest. It's like a form of therapy for me, paid for by you. You should all have a drink on me for this one. Yes, this particular newsletter is free. You can thank me later in the form of donations required to fight my ongoing legal expenses.

Legal expenses? I should laugh it off!


It's a funny old World, this Illusion. Just when you think you've got it licked, up it pops needing its arse wiped.

Saturday, 16 August 2008

The Mtsar Guide to Dating, as seen on Oprah and Rense TV

Dating, also known as 'Banging Broads' is a phenomenon that I predict will soon be spreading beyond the Bay Area. In order to get ready for this new age of dating I have provided a user friendly guide for all my loving fanbase, freely here of course on my favourite filth pool, the Mtsar Fringe.

First, you must get your body naked, work up a good sweat....generally not washing for a few days will ensure this look is perfected - and then get a good non gay friend to take some pictures for you. Jordan helped me do the picture below (censored for this forum). These pictures will be broad magnets. no one actually goes out to clubs anymore, that music is satanic and plays tricks with your mind... every song is filled with subliminals making you buy more beer, wear condoms and other such Jesuit propaganda. Its much safer to pick out potential broads on the internet and use your pictures to lure them into your shack. If you're not blessed with the Atlantean charms of a half brown, shiny lengthed, balding beast, then you may have to settle for second rate broads, transvestites or disableds. Still, every man has his needs - so do not be afraid my schizoid fellow men.

Once you establish the date, and get the broad back to your squat, make sure you have a good supply of paddy power and a good set of metal CD's in the player, this shit will get them thinking dirty thoughts and you can get your length out and show that broad what a half brown man is made of.

do not, and I repeat do not stop banging your broad until that bitch bleeds. Modern illuminati's have manipulated the sexual experience to make it unrecognisable from its true meaning - which is to batter the shit out of your broad until she bleeds and begs you to take her into the moonlight and spill your seed all over her face under the winds of shiva. You do not, under any circumstance want to spill your seed inside this maiden, as polluting the gene pool with half brown babies is not good for the Mtsar business. how many more DVD's and useless fictional tat would I have to make then to keep the small ones in rags and such. David Icke knows what i'm talking about, but then he never did take my advice.

Once you have finished, leave the broad naked in the moonlight and return to your shack - howling to the moonlight, naked as the day you were born. This manifests a very powerful type of energy from Pluto. With repeated observance of this ritual you too, can become a real man.

Yours in bloody vaginal glory,

'Pluto', 'Shiva', 'sexual', 'half brown' and 'disableds' are copyright Mtsar incorporated.

Children of Mu..... official transcript

This is a transcript of a speech the man made at the Ufocon in the Bay Area yesterday. This is pasted as reported by my personal assistant, who's commentary notes are in red.

Children of Mu,

The world is depressing today. People steal copyright [*laughter*], maidens are slaughtered at pre-pubescent age [*Rockefeller looks down and smiles*], bombs are dropped on the half brown populations [Hell yeah, sandnigger! cries are heard from the rednecks on row 4*], Jordan Maxwell lies dying due to a cancer caused by his weight and poor diet [*applause*], and more importantly no one has bought my second work of fictional scholarship and appendices, The Irish Origins of Civilization, leaving me brokeback as a skint mountain.

The truth is not out there, its in there, in my book [*the speaker points to a mountain of pristine, unsold copies of said book for sale in the theater and displays a slide on a black laptop showing a picture of a storage depot with several thousand books in boxes, appearing to be in long term storage*].

In desperate times like this there is only one recourse. Suicide scholarship [*a picture of Zechariah Sichin is displayed*]

I have been driven to this, you have been warned. from now on all alternative research will self destruct upon impact. we are not worth of the fiction we bring ourselves anymore. We have chosen to spend our money on DVD boxsets of Heroes [*cheering and applause: people are heard mentioning that they only recognise the first series as a quality purchase*] and Stargate Atlantis, and exercise videos ... whilst the man lies starving, rancid, and faces the imminent death of his mentor, Jordan.

Paddy power has never stood at a lower ebb people.

Tomorrow I return to west belfast, to my gippo caravan. I leave the proud man of the Bay area behind, and return to the taunts of the ghetto. Cries and taunts of 'ill pay you a fiver for yer ma' [*Art Bell looks embarrassed*] or 'tarmac my drive' [*Alex jones is overheard telling his personal goatboy, Paul Joseph Watson, to get a quote for his texas ranch after the speech*] will once again belittle the man. But, knowing that every time an alternative video is played on youtube, google, or a website is opened of the conspiracy genre, my well placed operatives will blow the readers/viewers to shiva will give the man recourse to survive through the pure lust of Blood letting [controversy as the attendees fear for their incomes. Alex jones is overheard shouting Super-MEGA-NOOOvaaaaa*]

War is no fun, but I have blood in my veins, and as long as I do, I will slaughter all the ungreatful scum who have robbed me blind and disrespected me. Time to burn fuckers. With Black Sabbath on the sound system, I walk forth to my new life. See you all in hell.

Copyright is copyright Mtsar.

Tuesday, 12 August 2008

The real truth of 9/11: Hulk Hogan

Now, ye hear do ye, I'm not saying this is confirmed via fictional means - i'm just suggesting that its possible.
This information and the supplied fictional pictorial evidence comes from a good source that I trust. Make up your own minds people. As ever, a good imagination is all thats needed to define the real truth.

Ask Mtsar

Please feel free my children to ask me whatever you want.

This service is offered free of charge, with the expectation that you will enter into a full course at the Taroscopes mystery school© in good faith.

Ciao, M.

Monday, 11 August 2008

Total Hit Piece!

Listen, I was ambushed in this interview, It was a stitch up. They gave me meth and told me it was vapourised vodka, and im not a man to turn down good spirits.
I woke up in my underwear with a used condom on my ring finger hugging a statue of Jesus outside a local bay area church. I have no idea how I got there.

If i find these cowboys ill wring their fucking necks with my bare hands and put my fist throught their heads. with Shiva as my witness, NO ONE takes the piss out of 'the man'. The fictional scholarship will go on, let the vassals laugh in their ignorance of the truths I make up for a reasonable price

'Jesus' is copyright mtsar

New Research - exclusive material!

Yes folks and folkettes I have compiled a very serious and exciting new piece of fictional scholarship that cannot wait until the publication of my forever delayed new collage of fairytales/book 'The Irish origins of Civilization according to the scholarship of Mtsar'

~firstly, a short word on the delay of the book, I have been spending most of my time chasing copyright violators and image defamers over the internets lately. The filthy pictures of my face doctored to remove my copyrighted features and trinkets are a damage and a foul to my mtsar product. i will never rest until all these scum are on the end of my shiny length. If I dont get to them first, the rapture will clean up their earthly mess for me no doubt.

Let it be known ye scum, the age of Vedication (copyright mtsar) will rid the world of the schiziod beast that mankind has become.

The new age of Vedication, Something I have abbreviated as 'the age of Vedic' for short (copyright mtsar) will enter Earthy consciousness early in 2008. People will be ripped a new asshole, suffering immense purging from the bowels literally ridding ourselves of the shit of ages. A good friend of the age of Vedic, a pioneer in his own right 'Bryanamsterdam' volunteered himself to go forward in consciousness and time and sample this new age. He is now back in the Bay Area squatting at my shack and he has brought me this fantastic news. I just HAD to share it here at Illusions and on Taroscopes.

People, listen straight. The Atlanteans and all their tinkering will be shat out. Just like that. Stock up on good bottled water and lubricant. All disease, sexual deviance, genetic browness, baldness, inferiority... it will all be purged. I have been regularly basking in moonlight manifesting this age, and the news of its imminency has awakened my rage more than ever. The human midget population and the worlds children will not be able to survive this process, their large intestines are too small to fill with the muck of ages, so i have taken it upon myself to call out a crusade to rid the world of these foul minature beasts. Who is with me?

People, this is the time of our lives, there will be no doubt that I, Mtsar, am 100% correct on this. It has been channelled directly from an ascended being that you all know and respect so well - oh and if anyone wants to buy gold now is the time. I can hardly maintain my brilliance, prolonged exposure to Sepultura and Megadeath are barely containing my rage for glory and blood. I fear I may ascend prematurely... if that is to happen you all know what to do thanks to my freely provided fictional scholarship.

Fear ye not children, go forward into the brown mess of ages in confidence for it was foretold in legend.


'Vedic', 'Vedication', 'Irish', 'Brown' and 'intestines' are all copyright mtsar

Buy my New Book!!

The Irish Origins of Civilisation Special Audio edition is now out, priced at a one time, illusions member special of $299 with a free signed photo of the least balding angle I could have the photographer take of my glorious face.

The narration is done by Jordan Maxwell himself, lending a weight of fictional scholarship that I alone could not give these beautiful fictional words. We have recorded many authentic sounds of Ireland, which play behind Jordan's soft narration. The sound of pikeys stealing your car, terrorist bombs, sheep, old men belching, and Dublin people pronouncing words like 'burger' and 'tarmac your drive?' in funny ways as only they can. These are just but some of the features that this once in a lifetime audio book can afford you not to miss.

My new newsletter is also out.. and despite putting the advertisement on Taroscopes only 17 people have signed up! What the fuck am I supposed to do.. waste my time and money writing for 17 people? This is a joke. Don't expect me to aplogise for sounding pissed off, because I am. Listen chaps and chapettes, I have already had to sell my entire Sepultura and Metallica back catalogues to finance the making of this audiotape. Self publishing isn't cheap ye'know. All I ask is a few hundred of you subscribe for $3 a month (far cheaper than David Icke) to keep me in vital writing stocks, paddy power and the occassional broad. Why should't an audience finance an authors life? Is that too much to ask? If it wasn't for me someone else would have to make up these fairy stories to keep you all entertained

anyway, Ciao, and remember fuckwits,

"life is like a box of chocolates, some are brown and some are half brown, the half brown ones are copyright mtsar" (Mtsar newsletter 1 2008)

'$3', '17', 'newsletter', and 'burger' are all copyright mtsar incorporated

The Origins of Homosexuality

Yes folks, I have previously published this freely distributed bonus content from my Atlantis book on the David Icke forum. Unfortunately, it was removed and my account deleted due to my rather frequent attempts to beat moderators and administrator scum with my length. I then tried to publish it on my 'Mtsar Fringe Blog' but it was deleted by google via some person claiming to be 'the real Mtsar' ... If I ever get my hands on that sick impersonating fuck I'll rip his imitation trinkets off his face and shove them up his rapture pipe.

The following extract was left off the Atlantis book due to my publisher insisting I keep the tome to 500 pages. What, with the 400 pages of appendixes (copyright other authors), I had to keep my own writings to less than 100 pages. Lazy say some, but those who challenged the man met a tall naked half Brown man on a cold winter night and have never been the same since.

Extract follows:

The Origins of Homosexuality

Long long ago in fictional times, after the Lemurians (of whom we are now descended) had left Atlantis to set up their own high-tech society. The Lemurians (themselves created by scientific tinkering by their Atlantean father race) began to experiment with science.

Thinking that they could perfect the imperfection that the Atlantans had built in to them, and realize their full potential, the Lemurians bred a very advanced form of female. This was a female like no other, a Goddess. Beautiful and fair. but, with one notable difference to her Lemurian brethren: She had no sexual organs. The Lemurians had deduced that the reason for the genetic defects they suffered was through deficiencies embedded into the reproductive functions of their women. Their strategy to negate this was radical, and bold.

Removing the sexual organs of these Goddess maidens meant that artificial insemination was the only way they could be impregnated. And, impregnate them they did with the semen of ten of the most beautiful, and well groomed men in the herd. The candidates were shortlisted in a holographically broadcasted show 'Lemurian Idol' and voted for by telekinesis. This was a truly democratic process, unlike the brutal satanic American system of today. There was only the purest symbolism used on the holographic broadcasting corporations advertising and the children often danced in the shivan waterways at the freedom the symbolism around them rewarded them with.

However, the removal of Sexual organs left an unintended consequence that was not foreseen. It has been anticipated that the newborns would be removed via surgery when fully developed, much like in the modern medical world.. as with no Vaginal or birth canal this was seen as the prudent solution. Complications soon ensued and this became impossible. The limits of fictional scholarship levy heavy here and I cannot go into detail, save only to say that the children were all born through the anus of the maidens, what we call 'yer arse' in East Belfast. This was something of a surprise for the Lemurian scientists, but they were welcomed with celebration (despite the assbirth) and cleaned down and worshipped by all of Lemuria Prime and beyond.

These children were raised like kings. Everyone followed their childhood and adolescence via the holographic blue beaming streaming service and Lemuria waited with baited breath for the time when they could reproduce and find out if the experiment had worked and their children would be free of the Atlantean defects. Disaster struck when disturbing rumors began to circulate of the children, now of sexual maturity, refusing to procreate with each other and instead, the boys chose to fraternize exclusively with each other. Homosexuality was invented. The Lemurian scientists could only deduce that the ass birth had led to the boys having an overwhelming sexual craving for anal pleasure. The maidens who bred these abominations were slain and the children were next in line - however, one was spared by a sympathetic Lemurian scientist who was still proud of his creation despite the negative results. He was sent away in secret to a distant Island, what we now know as Ireland.

The embarrassment over this issue led the Lemurians to give up all hope and abandon science and their civilisation withered and died. However, the actions of that rogue scientist in sparing that one gay boy have forever corrupted mankind. somehow this ass birth procreated and mixed his genetic codes into the fine native population Ireland - which was then exported to America during the potato famine and before long, Homosexuality and ass pleasure was all over the world.

People, even the great Mtsar lives with this anal birth legacy in my blood, we all do. There are times I cannot help but be attracted to the posterior of a fine young man walking down the Bay Area in tight Jeans. I have developed a meditation series on a 5 part audio tape that can be ordered from Taroscopes to help overcome these urges. it has saved me from crimes against the anus. For the remainder of April this series is discounted for all members. I also will throw in a free bottle of Rapture Lubricant: 'For when things get nasty' . Get yours now.

It truly is a revelation of fictional scholarship that through its genius, we can truly trace the origins of this most filthy and depraved of all human conditions.

'Lemurian Idol', 'ass-birth', 'Ireland', 'potato', are copyright Mtsar.
'homosexuality' is copyright Professor Ghey, Lemurian Research Institute.
Children, this has been sent to me by Alex Jones, my truthseeking comrade. Get over to now and buy your tshirts and put two fingers up to shiva.

Dear God, buy these tshirts and wear them and spread the truth to the sheeple. Its time to WAKE UP PEOPLE!! they're putting CANCER VIRUSES IN THE VACCINES. ... the children.... oh my dear catholic God THE CHILDREN WaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH Sniff Sniff Sob.

These are all made in america by mexicans.

Image Image
Image Image

Exclusive Extract!

This is an extract from my upcoming 'The Mtsar Origins of Conspiratainment' my new 100 page biography with 400 pages of appendices.

Many people have asked me, being an insider and half-brown gippo, for inside stories on the personal tug of wars that happen behind the conspiracy scenes. One such prime topic is the often discussed feud between Maxwell and Icke. Well, I was there during the famous fall out. It all happened very suddenly - I was making tea and doing general jobs for the big conspiracy stars at a mid 90's UFOcon in the Bay Area, as my fictional scholarship was not yet recognized for its inherent genius and my main business selling cadavers was a declining source of income as Indian restaurants began to use dog meat. Jordan 'Jive' Maxwell, as we were instructed to call him then by his handlers, was hosting the event, and introducing all the key-note speakers.

David Icke was one such speaker, and After being introduced by Jordan, went on to give a show stopping description of a man being patched by a tetley teabag and reptilian condoms being available in wallmart. I was so transfixed on this presentation, and on Icke's manflesh - which to a man of the night like me can keep me fed for some 2 or 3 weeks with sufficient refrigeration that I hadn't noticed Jordan crying and shivering outside the rear fire escape. He was a truly broken man.

I asked him what had happened, and he told me that as he introduced Icke, and they had passed each other as he had left the stage and Icke had moved towards it, that Icke had touched Jordan firmly on the posterior, what we in East Belfast call 'yer arse'. indeed, this was not just a friendly grope, but he had slid 2 swollen fingers right inside Jordan's cheeks. Jordan has never been the same since, and his minders instantly were instructed to drop the 'Jive' from his name in case he was sued by Trading Standards for false advertising.

Over the years I have managed to find out that in the time before this event, when Icke and Jordan shared an office that similar events happened,but that somehow Jordan had mistaken Icke's moves for a peculiar form of Anglican friendship - of course, being a son of a minister in the church, Jordan was used to such 'friendly' moves by friends of his fathers. One such prior incident involved a hazy afternoon when Jordan can only seem to recall himself and David alone on a hot afternoon, in the office, monatomic gold suppositories and a trip together to the launderette to get Ickes underwear cleaned - as he travels light and his raincoats, plastic bags full of documentation and cardigans take up most of his suitcase space.

So there, you have another freely available and non copyright piece of scholarship, from me, to you. All I ask is that you visit taroscopes and give me some money in return.
A summer without Air con will not be good for the man, I may have to move back to my Grandmothers gippo caravan in East Belfast if the revenue stream doesn't pick up pace.

'yer arse' is copyright Mtsar.

The Mtsar April Newsletter

Well, its not often I get out in the daylight hours, but just yesterday I managed to venture out in the deep sun of the Bay area, looking handsome and deadly in black and stop by my local electrical megastore.I managed to brave the symbolism on the billboards and make my way to the gaming section.

When there I noticed this fucking Wii device. You wave around a stick and it reacts onscreen - i tried to attach it to my length and act like the butch man that I am and bowl in the brilliant storelight, but the staff ejected me. These idiots have no idea who the man is. The manager suggested that I not swing my sword on the premises as it may inflict injury. I told him I was a broadsword master and had slain many villians and midget employees with striking accuracy. He was certainly not convinced by that point so I invited him to step outside, take my knife, stick it up his arse, twist it and then howl to shiva that he has gotten off lightly.

More still, uncle Jordan's nephew, john Paul III made me aware that on this Wii system you can create your own characters, and with about 30 minutes of customization you can re-create my bodily and facial image, right down to the stubble and the jippo trinkets , which is all copyright Mtsar. I contacted Nintendo Inc. about this, informing them of the reputation I have as a serious fictional scholar, and am still awaiting reply. I requested six o clock shadows, balding manes, full length leather and right ear trinkets be removed from the customizable character creation menu - is that too much to ask? Is is people? I think not.

I also hear that the David Icke webmaster is now a pre-op transexual going by the name of 'Daisy' and is getting a hard time for it. Well listen my fine maiden wannabe, Mtsar doesnt discriminate. Ill take you on my knee and give you the beating of your life. Don't let these vagabond human trainwrecks derail your desires, Stop by my squat anytime.

The Mtsar newsletter is now provided free of charge because since my rapture and Pluto predictions were wrong and nothing happened I really just want the attention now. Taroscopes revenue has also dwindled away since a fine poster on my forum pointed out to me that sending my clientele to Shiva in the bloody moonlight is not the best business sense. My new 2 volume master piece of made up scholarship and appendixes has sold next to nothing...even Jeff Rense's banner ads are too expensive for me now. Your money means little to me, all it brings me is trouble. In these dark times crime is the way forward, I will stop playing the game and start taking what I need from the rich non midget population of the lower Bay Area. Lock up your daughters and fine maidens. Mtsar is back in black people and i'm ready to fuck and rob my way to the top. I'm unsheathed and loose.

copyright has been removed from this newsletter. all other copyright and removal of copyright notices are copyright Mtsar incorporated. Mtsar incorporated is copyright the Rose Croix 2008.