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erdelac_feed) wrote2025-06-07 05:25 amThe Chili Bean Joss
Coinciding with the celebration of the Dragon Boat Festival, this June 10th sees the release of my seventeenth novel, The Chili Bean Joss, a weird wuxia western set in 1870’s Arizona Territory in and around the town of (you guessed it, loyal readers) Delirium Tremens.
A put upon orphaned ranch cook, Xue Wan Shu, happens upon a 3,000 year old sentient gin seng plant named Sang hiding out in back of the local Chinese apothecary. Sang pleads with Wan Shu to protect him from a sorcerous tong boss out to cultivate and consume his children for immortality. Wan Shu reluctantly agrees, and finds himself dodging hatchetmen, vengeful gunfighters, Apache warriors, and oodles of Chinese sorcery, all while trying to keep his cowboy employers oblivious.
If you dig old school wuxia action comedies like Heroes of The East, Legendary Weapons of China, and Mr. Vampire, and the culture clash of Big Trouble In Little China, you’ll probably find something to like here.
Here’s the opening chapter – – – – – –
It was a near perfect evening for tea in the garden behind Cho’s Trivialities off Celestial Street in the Chinese quarter of Delirium Tremens. The stone lanterns gave off a comforting, soft glow.
Few even knew of this strange oasis of water, rock, and green. The dirty Drucker and Dobbs Company miners that trudged at dawn and dusk between the saloons and subterra certainly could not have imagined it, and most of the Chinese patrons who came to Cho’s for traditional medicines or nostalgic oddments imported from their homeland were unaware of the back garden tucked away behind the shop.
The high clapboard fence hid it entirely from the depressing surroundings of offal-strewn alleyways and ramshackle company cabins.
Its owner called it The Dune Garden of Eccentric Taste. It was in no way a traditional Chinese garden. The great landscaper Ji Cheng might have scoffed at its prickly desert plants, its yucca and diminutive pinyon pines. Perhaps the famously tacky King Zhou of Wine Pool and Meat Tree fame would have praised its audacity, but it did not impose itself on the dry Arizona landscape in which it was situated, and indeed, reflected, for good or ill, the tastes of its singular custodian, old Daifu Fan Shung Song, the inheritor and proprietor of Cho’s Trivialities.
“I think this is a surpassingly ugly garden,” said Sang, the short, stocky guest who sat with his feet dangling from the chair, sharing tea with Daifu Fan on this particularly clear, breezy midnight hour. “The raised cabbage beds and the bok choy border on offensive.”
“I had to work within the confines of the space,” said Daifu Fan.
“I must admit,” Sang went on, “the pink bayberries are pleasing to the eye. A pity their only use is to induce vomiting.”
“If they are pleasing to your eye,” said Daifu Fan, pouring tea into his cup, “then being a purgative is not their only use.”
“How do you keep them alive in this detestable dryness?”
“The mulched needles of the pinyon pines encourage them to thrive,” said Daifu Fan. “It is a thing I have learned through years of trial and error.”
“Commendable, I suppose, but it seems like years of trial have only resulted in error in the end. I wonder why you bother with aesthetics and do not simply keep to your herbs. There is no hope of magnolia blossoms. Fish would boil in your pond under the accursed sun. And it is so tiny!”
“I have done my utmost to make it a pleasant home for you,” Daifu Fan said.
“Oh, I mean no offense,” said Sang, waving the old man off. “I am grateful, of course. But it takes so much work and skill for so little yield. Do you think that mutton head Wan Shu will be able to tend it alone? I think it will all wither under his clumsy care. The boy has a black thumb.”
Daifu Fan knew of course that it was simply his old friend’s surly nature. He was used to it, but he was troubled tonight. The hexagrams of the I-Ching had produced a remarkably unfavorable reading, and his mind was preoccupied. Sang’s talk of succession seemed a further ill portent.
“If he chooses to keep it, it will thrive, I’m sure,” said Daifu Fan, sipping and watching the moonlight on the small crescent pond which emulated in miniature the oasis of Yueya Lake, nestled amid the Singing Mountain Dunes of faraway Nanjing. “And if it does not, I will be beyond caring.”
There was no room for a full sized pavilion, but Daifu Fan had modeled a dainty tower near the banks of the lake, as the real two story structure stood at the actual oasis. In the center of the lake there was a ten pound boulder of Mexican Crazy Lace, a uniquely formed polished agate stone of scintillating colors, representing to him, the magical peak of Mount Penglai, the legendary home of the eight immortals.
“I think that boy is good for nothing,” Sang continued. “He should remain a cook, and you should find a worthier apprentice. Maybe that launderer’s son. The chemist. What is his name? Guangdi. Wan Shu has no fire in him. He is struck dumb by the mere sight of that big footed girl whom he pines for. Bah!”
“You worry needlessly and prematurely,” said Daifu Fan with a sigh. “I have not even broached the subject of apprenticeship with him.”
“And you should not!” said Sang, rapping his little hand on the table. “Mind you, it all comes from him honoring his mother but not his father. Impious! Shameful!”
“Be patient with him,” said Daifu Fan. “I trust he will come around.”
Sang grunted.
“And meanwhile, his father languishes needlessly in hell.”
“No father worth his office would not do the same for his son,” said Daifu Fan. “And the universe tends to correct disorder in due time.”
“Hah!” Sang scoffed. “We have differing views of the universe.”
There was a creak and the banging of a door from the front of the shop.
Sang and Daifu Fan exchanged sharp looks.
“Excuse me,” Daifu Fan said, rising. “I must have left the door unlocked.”
“You never leave the door unlocked,” Sang whispered warily, jumping down from his chair. “And it is past midnight.”
“It’s probably Old Man Yong come calling with some nighttime ailment. Stay out of sight,” Daifu Fan whispered. He went inside, through his modest bedroom and storage, to the curtain that led to the shop proper, and drew it aside.
It was not the launderer, Old Man Yong.
Two strangers perused the wares on the shelves.
They were Chinese, but they were neither miners, nor any members of the Golden Trowel Tong who loitered about the Tong Shan Eatery that he’d ever seen about.
They were traditionally dressed in old-style shenyi robes, strange to see in this part of America, where drunken Anglos cut the queues from men’s heads with oversized knives, and some were made to hop in place before the smoking barrel of a Colt revolver as entertainment.
One was unshaven, his long black hair unbound. He wore a striking red surcoat covered with trigrams. A black silk satchel hung from his neck, in which his hand continually rested. There was a large burlap sack on his shoulder. A wood handled snakeskin whip hung coiled at his side. Talismans to Gui-Li-Da-Wang, the Ghost King, marked him as a member of the Yin Shan priesthood.
The other man had a head of long, shock white hair. He was surpassingly tall, in a blue robe and a black and silver braided hair vest, the latter somewhat disquieting, as Daifu Fan could swear the braids resembled shorn queues.
Daifu Fan could not see this one’s face, as it was turned towards the inspection of a carved wooden dragon set with jade eyes in the shop window. The man carried a three foot garden hoe with a polished steel head more like a staff of office than a working tool.
“Forgive me,” Daifu Fan said. “I was taking tea and moonlight in the back.”
“It is no trouble,” said the white haired man, without turning around.
“Actually, the shop is closed,” said Daifu Fan, resting his palms on the counter. “I seem to have carelessly forgotten to lock the door. And…turn out the lamp,” he added, though he knew for certain he had not.
The man in the red surcoat eyed him quietly.
“Of course, if your need is urgent,” said Daifu Fan, “I will oblige. However, if it is not, I humbly ask that you please return tomorrow during business hours.”
“There may be no tomorrow,” said the white haired man, moving his hand idly along the shelves, as though making a show of looking for something he knew he would not find there. “Our need is very urgent indeed, you see. And we have traveled very far. I count my blessings that we happened upon you out here in this wasteland.”
“How can I help?” Daifu Fan said warily, slipping his hand under the counter and producing a folding fan, with which he began to rapidly stir a breeze across his face. It was stuffy in the close confines of the cluttered shop. The heat of the Arizona day lingered still.
“Gin seng,” said the man, turning now to face him. He had a long wispy mustache and the skin of his face was surpassingly red, as though he were intoxicated.
Was it him?
It had been so many years ago. Daifu Fan had been a young man, and had only glimpsed Liang Ziweng then, as he fled with Sang.
Daifu Fan tensed internally, eyes flitting to the staring man in the surcoat and back to the man with the white hair.
Outwardly pleasant and bright, he said;
“Yes of course. I have numerous excellent examples.”
“These are puny,” said the man with the white hair, not even sparing the stock a glance. “Not what I’m looking for at all. The one I’m looking for is quite exceptional.”
“Exceptional specimens are difficult to obtain,” said Daifu Fan. “Gin seng does not thrive in this climate.”
The man with the white hair gestured to his subordinate.
The man in the red surcoat took the burlap sack off his shoulder and uncovered a large jade pot. He set it down heavily on the counter. It was covered with binding seals.
Daifu Fan swallowed.
It was him.
“It has been many years, Fan Shung Song,” said the man with the white hair.
The man in the red surcoat drew a handful of yellow papers from his bag then. With a flick of his wrist, there was a flash of fire and smoke, and a blazing yellow and orange phoenix burst to life and flew, talons bared at Daifu Fan.
But Daifu Fan was ready. He spread wide his fan with its counteractive calligraphy, and reflected the phoenix screaming back at the man in the red surcoat. The Yin Shan sorcerer barely threw up his hands in a warding gesture. The phoenix burst apart in a brilliant blaze of scintillating fire and the man in the red surcoat was blown back into a shelf of herbs which smashed and fell over on him.
The man with the white hair shook his head.
“My apprentice, Red Sheng. He still has much to learn. You have come a long way from a thieving clerk in Cho Kyung-soo’s store, Fan Shung Song.”
“So I have, and yet you are still the same greedy old demon, Liang Ziweng,” said Daifu Fan.
“Where is Sang?” Liang Ziweng demanded, his face reddening further.
Daifu Fan said nothing, but readied himself, fan quivering defensively.
Liang Ziweng leapt atop the counter and swept his garden hoe down.
Daifu Fan bent backwards, narrowly avoiding the weapon. It cleared a shelf of jars, raining down glass and preserves.
Daifu Fan gripped the hoe as it completed its destructive pass and used it to pull himself up onto the counter with Liang Ziweng. He was determined not to take the fight out into the garden. He had to give Sang time to run.
“You have no hope in defeating me,” Liang Ziweng chuckled. “Look at you! You’re an old man now.”
“How long before your age catches up with you, Liang Ziweng?” said Daifu Fan, sneering. “I can smell your rot, and something else; the devils at your back.”
“Bastard!” Liang Ziweng muttered.
He broke Daifu Fan’s grip on his weapon and lashed out. The old man was still surprisingly strong, and checked several blows with his fan before Liang Ziweng swept at his legs, forcing him to cartwheel down.
Red Sheng was just rising from beneath the fallen shelf when Daifu Fan came down hard atop him, flattening him again in the broken wreckage.
Daifu Fan whirled and flipped open his fan as Liang Ziweng thrust out his hands in a sorcerous gesture. Daifu Fan readied his talismanic fan again, but instead of some crackling black blast of yin energy, a number of white slivers sprang from Liang Ziweng’s sleeve.
These tore through the fan like buckshot. The old man blinked down at the shredded paper, then saw the spots of blood spreading across his shirt. Eight, all told.
“Penetrating Meridian Bone Needles,” Liang Ziweng announced with a smug smile.
Daifu Fan fell face first to the floor, stiff as a broomstick, unable to move.
Liang Ziweng hopped off the counter and came to stand over the old man. He flipped him on his back with the end of his hoe.
“You’ll be dead soon,” said Liang Ziweng. “Where is Sang?”
Daifu Fan’s eyes flitted around in a panic, but then focused stoically ahead, unyielding.
Liang Ziweng frowned as Red Sheng picked himself from the remains of the shelf.
“Imbecile,” Liang Ziweng chided. “Leave nothing unturned!”
He and Liang Ziweng tore through the shop, clearing every shelf, pulling out every drawer. Like a ransacking whirlwind they passed into the storeroom, bringing chaos, finding nothing, leaving behind disorder, until they were outside in the little back garden.
Liang Ziweng kicked over a row of raised beds, spilling germinating plants and medicinal herbs in frustration.
There was a clatter then. Something smashed, not by their hand.
Liang Ziweng stood stricken for a moment, seeing the remains of a teapot in fragments on the ground. Then he spied the small shadow clambering up the back fence.
“There!”
Red Sheng rushed forward, eager to redeem himself. He drew out his whip and lashed. The end snaked out with a crack that split the night air and caught the diminutive fugitive by his ankle, dragging him down into the crescent pond with a splash.
In another instant Red Sheng was upon him, fitting his struggling captive with a wrought iron chain interlaced with links of green jade.
Liang Ziweng came over, his eyes alight, esurient in the moonlight.
“I’ve found you at last, my old friend.”
“Oh Heavens,” said Sang, tiredly. “Please. Not again….”
Preorders for the Kindle edition are live. Print drops on release day.
colavito_feed) wrote2025-06-07 02:26 amWall Street Journal Reveals Pentagon Faked UFO Evidence, Misled Top Officers
By the way, full disclosure: I spoke with Joel Schectmen, one of the authors of the article, a few months ago when he was working on this story and provided some background information into the UFO cabal orbiting the Pentagon.
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solarbird) wrote2025-06-06 05:18 pmHalifax Mayor Fillmore hates bike infrastructure
HEY! Any Nova Soctia bike or bike-supportive people – particularly in or near Halifax – here? Time to show up!
“Mayor Fillmore has called for a halt to all new cycling infrastructure, using “rationale” very similar to what Premier Doug Ford has used in Ontario to attack Toronto. There will be a vote on Tuesday.”
Deets saying what to do are on Mastodon. You don’t need an account to read it. Let him know what you think.
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solarbird) wrote2025-06-05 10:32 pmNOT-ON-MY-BINGO-CARD TEST RELEASE: Coexistence Alpha 0.85 for Dreamwidth
ooooooookay so
loooooong time ago I did a lot of work on a CSS overlay for Dreamwidth’s Neutral Good/Evil styles to make them work properly on mobile devices as well as Desktop. If you apply the CSS as Custom CSS to your journal, it keeps working on desktop and starts working right on mobile. All the nightmare noise from Dreamwidth’s old mobile-ish style went away, it got way more information dense, and most of all
no
goddamn
horizontal
scrolling
ever.
Not even with the navbar turned on. It’s stupidly tall, but it no longer scrolls.
(That was some work.)
I handed off that code to Dreamwidth ages ago, but they’ve got a tiny staff and I don’t know how important it ever was to them or even how much made it into the codebase.
Turns out tho’… seems people are still using mine? And I just got an issue report. And I have an edit that fixes it on my machine. And I fixed a subject line issue while I was at it.
sooooo uhhhhhhhh
I guess I’m dropping a new release!
Anybody want to test Version 0.85 before I make it official?
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colavito_feed) wrote2025-06-04 04:33 pmAnother New Documentary Claims to Reveal the True Location of Atlantis ... Again
If that sounds familiar, it should. Richard Freund, a professor of Jewish Studies, made the same claim in 2011, when he identified the same location as both Atlantis and the Biblical Tarshish, spawning an infamous National Geographic documentary. It is also the same area where in 1973 Maxine Asher sparked an international incident when she claimed to have found Atlantis during an unauthorized expedition.
In 2023, Merlin Burrows claimed to have produced scans of the site that showed concentric rings and buildings similar to those of Plato’s description.
The ruins underwater off Cadiz are known to archaeology and are believed to be Greco-Roman, and the area served as the site for a succession of cultures going back thousands of years. (Researchers from the University of Seville said in 2022 that the massive lost temple of Hercules Gaditanus, originally a Phoenician site, was recently found underwater there, though other researchers disagree.) Ruins on land and in the water are known to date back into the first millennium BCE. The filmmakers claim that they are not from the first millennium BCE and instead Ice Age structures made from a “previously unknown” form of concrete and are covered in the remains of metals. “The results of the tests prove the age of the finds are older than Roman or Greek, and that they were more advanced,” the filmmakers told The Daily Mail back in 2018.
At the time, the filmmakers said that they had found 100 miles of ruins (!) and that they assumed they dated back to the Ice Age. They claim that each building and structure precisely matches Plato’s dimensions, “with no deviation.”
Naturally, they have published no evidence in support of their claims. Two named archaeologists are associated with the film. The first is Mercedes de Caso Bernal. According to her University de Cadiz profile, she has only one publication, and it is not related to Atlantis. The other is the film’s producer, Michael Donnellan, who owns the company producing and distributing the film. He describes the documentary as “life-changing” but also declined to publish any scientific findings before monetizing his work. He likes to post photos of himself on Instagram as Poseidon or as an Atlantis-hunter action figure.
None of the evidence that Donnellan provided in 2018 or 2023 was enough to convince other archaeologists that he had discovered Atlantis. Indeed, in 2018, Donnellan had to concede that his critics were correct and round features he initially identified as the bases of Ice Age Atlantean towers were in fact experimental irrigation structures modern researchers had built in 2004 and 2005. This does not fill me with great confidence about his judgment.
As Carl Feagans noted back in 2019, the research efforts by Merlin Burrows seem particularly slipshod, and dollars to doughnuts, they have unknowingly conflated a bunch of real things from different historical periods to create the illusion of “Atlantis.”
Fortunately, one of the divers said we don’t have to focus on whether it really is Atlantis because the documentary is, ultimately, “a story of friendship.” Or, more accurately, a record of a shared delusion.
colavito_feed) wrote2025-06-03 11:54 pmRoss Coulthart Predicts the Apocalypse, and the BAASS 10-Month Report Leaks
BAASS naively thought that the best way to change hearts and minds would be to put a bunch of old white guys “in wing-backed chairs with a living room atmosphere on a raised stage in a university auditorium” to debate the importance of accepting the catechism of ET imminence. I would be remiss, however, if I failed to point out that this is pretty much the format of Ancient Aliens Live, but that stage show’s audience tends to be self-selecting.
BAASS laid out how they would use a network of like-minded believers in the media to push their narrative, particularly by paying (!) journalists to put out pro-UFO stories:
In order to sustain multiple forums with audiences of five hundred to a thousand people, BAASS will launch an aggressive multi-media promotion. The program will stand or fall on the ability of BAASS to orchestrate an aggressive promotional campaign and the ability to acquire noteworthy panel participants and to maintain audience interest.
• Internet promotion: Several well known UAP Internet journalists and bloggers will be approached and hired. BAASS can rapidly contact up to six individuals who collectively are responsible for millions of Internet blog postings.
• Radio promotion: BAASS has access to several well known UAP-friendly radio journalists, a couple of whom are celebrities in their own right. Newsprint promotion: The "UAP friendly" news media will be approached and utilized in order to promote the BAASS agenda through newspaper and online articles. Again BAASS can contact over half a dozen well known UAP journalists.
• Television promotion: BAASS has discussed this with one well known TV journalist who is also a celebrity is willing to commit to such a project. Other TV journalists are in line for BAASS contacts.
• Celebrities: BAASS senior analyst John Schuessler put together a list of celebrities with a professed interest in the UAP topic. This list comprises over twenty individuals that may be receptive to engagement.
Anyhow, if BAASS’s claims are true, it somewhat gives the lie to the idea of UFO “journalists” are anything more than willing propagandists and collaborators. It remains to be seen if the groups that followed in BAASS’s wake followed through with plans to pay UFO “journalists” to carry water for them.
solarbird) wrote2025-06-02 09:14 am- art,
- bikemap,
- biketooter,
- biking,
- maps
Maps Release: Greater Northshore Bike Connector, MEGAMAP 1.7.1
Greater Northshore Bike Connector Map 1.7.1 – 1 June 2025 – is now available on github, as is MEGAMAP 1.7.1.
Additions and changes since 1.7:
- Extension of bike lanes in Kenmore on 80th Ave NE up to NE 185th/186th street – this is new paint, done because they could; they also made their own city bike map;
- Refinement of intersections with streets on Interurban Trail North in Snohomish County;
- Small additions (short bike lane, shorter trails) around Totem Lake;
- Small addition (short mixed-use trail, pedestrian first but bikes permitted) in northern Woodinville at 130th/132nd;
- Addition of north bike exit from Shoreline North 1 Line station – possibly part of the Trail Under the Rail system? It’s not signed as such but it’s in the right place for it;
- Text cleanup in Redmond, replacing/moving certain street name text which gets cut off on the Greater Northshore map so that it is no longer cut off.
All permalinks continue to work.
If you enjoy these maps and feel like throwing some change at the tip jar, here’s my patreon. Patreon supports get things like pre-sliced printables of the Greater Northshore, and also the completely-uncompressed MEGAMAP, not that the .jpg has much compression in it because it doesn’t.
Thank you! ^_^
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solarbird) wrote2025-06-01 10:12 amDon’t fall for Musk’s press campaign
Here’s a good short piece on Elon Musk’s propaganda campaign to recover/rebuild his image.
Morons, fools, and co-conspirators – by which I mean the bulk of the so-called political press in the United States – will almost uniformly fall for it. They’ll in fact do their very best to fall for it, because it’s a nice story and because it means they can take what they’re being spoon-fed and not have to think about it too hard as they type – much less think about their enabling role in this whole nightmare.
Musk got most of what he wanted. Not all of it, but a lot – particularly in fucking up the government in general, ending all those pesky investigations into all his illegal activities, and in loading himself up with nice fat corrupt government contracts. Cutting medicaid and medicare and throwing women and non-whites out of government were bonus points.
Now he’s partially – I stress partially – stepping away, to a degree because he’s sick of all those people who are equally sick of him, but more I think to try to staunch the bleeding damage he’s caused to his own businesses. Particularly Tesla, where $TSLA share price is so key to all his other leveraged wealth.
(Oh, Elon, so you know, I’ll be at the Tesla Takedown on Tuesday. But if you lock yourself into one of your own burning “cybertrucks” before then, then I’ll be glad to stay home.)
Regardless – the press will absolutely let him off the hook. So will all the people who don’t want to think about anything, and the people who want to assuage their feelings of guilt about being on X or buying one of his shitmobiles.
So I’m asking – can we not all fall for the same stupid fake reputational redemption arc for once? Please? The press will, but… please don’t join them this time, okay?
And don’t let others join them either. That’ll be the harder part.
Most of you reading me, you’re probably less likely to fall in.
But ask yourself: will your friends fall for it? Particularly the techier ones, easily distracted by shiny rockets and who still pretend that wasn’t a Hitler salute at the inauguration, the one that matches frame-for-frame to actual Hitler throwing the actual salute?
I think we all know that answer. Try to keep them from buying in.
And if you can’t… don’t go along.
Do that much, if nothing else.
Don’t. Go. Along.
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colavito_feed) wrote2025-05-31 04:59 pm"Jurassic World" Director to Helm Area 51-Themed George Knapp Biopic
solarbird) wrote2025-05-31 10:38 amthis will keep going until it can’t
A preview linking to this article in The Advocate. Here’s some quotes:
“I looked into all options and a private fund is the most efficient, streamlined way for me to do this,” she said. “Lots of people are offering to contribute, which I truly appreciate, but there are many other women’s rights orgs that could do with the money, so donate away, just not to me!”
It is not the first time Rowling has used her over $1 billion net worth to influence legal cases involving so-called women’s sex-based rights — a dog whistle used by herself and other anti-trans activists to exclude trans people from public spaces and reduce women to their genitals.
Note the “workplace” and “public life.” Note how it – as always – gets expanded. Note that it means everywhere outside your goddamn house.
For now.
Don’t worry, they’ll get there.
And the thing is…
The thing is…
The more she does this, and the more that people keep giving her money by supporting her work despite that, the more that other people of similar mindsets see that it’s safe to follow her example.
It shows her, it shows them, it shows everyone that they will not be punished for trying to persecute and terrorise trans people entirely out of existence. Eradication of trans people is polite politics. It’s respectable. It’s fine.
So if you – in the sense of an arbitrary person – support her work, you are not only confirming her thesis, you are encouraging others to join her and do the same.
This cycle will continue until it can’t because people finally stop handing these fascists their fucking money, which they absolutely will not fucking do.
But if and when that should finally happen, this will finally stop.
And not one minute before.
So the ball’s in your court, Potter fans. Frankly, after decades of watching straights throwing their money at anti-queer eradication activists my entire goddamn life, no matter how explicit and forthright they are about their genocidal aims, you know what? I’m not holding my breath.
But prove me wrong.
Please. Seriously. I’m actually begging you.
Prove me wrong.
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colavito_feed) wrote2025-05-28 11:22 pmJoe Rogan Rants About "Arrogant" Archaeologists While Interviewing Luke Caverns
When you start looking at the history of the human race and you start looking at the history of civilizations, everyone gets fascinated because we kind of like woke up in this life. You know, we didn’t choose to be born during this timeline. We woke up in this timeline and we’re like, uh, how did collectively we get here? And then you have this narrative of how collectively got we got here. But then you see there's holes in this narrative and it's real weird. And then you find out about asteroid impacts and super volcanoes and then there's people like Zahi Hawass who are in charge of telling you what they know and this is the only answer and you're like, well, that guy's not right. And then you start like looking at guys like Graham Hancock—like why is everybody calling him a Nazi? Like what the …? And then you start getting deep into the weeds in this stuff and you're like, “Wow, there’s a lot of resentment from the gatekeepers. There’s a lot of people that have been, um, they’ve been teaching a narrative and teaching it in school and they don't want anyone else teaching this stuff. They want to be the only people that can tell people what the history of the human race is.” And unfortunately for them, there’s too much other evidence. It’s too weird. The whole picture is not settled. It’s too strange. And they keep finding new things all the time that throw a monkey wrench into the gears of the timeline of civilization.
You know, like I remember there was an old documentary that was narrated by Charlton H. He was the host of it. I don't know if you ever saw it. The Mysteries of the Sphinx. [...] And um one of the things in that was they were trying to talk about Robert Shoch’s work with the water erosion around the temple, the Sphinx. And there was this very arrogant archaeologist. I don't remember his name, but I remember he had a smackable face. He was just so arrogant. He’s like, “Where is the evidence of this civilization that existed 10,000 years ago?” Well, now we have evidence. So, like, Göbekli Tepe threw a giant monkey wrench into the gears of this narrative and now they’re forced to reckon with this.
Rogan and Caverns also discussed Zahi Hawass’s recent appearance, expressing bafflement that Hawass was unfamiliar with the “Turin King List” and its “pre-dynastic like semi-mythological kings going back you know tens of thousands of years.” Of course, that doesn’t actually appear in the surviving fragments of the Royal Canon of Turin; it’s actually from the Old Egyptian Chronicle, a Christian forgery of Manetho (who, also, listed mythological kings, though their reigns survive only in altered and significantly reduced Christian summaries). Rogan doesn’t actually know the material he thinks he knows, but he is confident about what he thinks he saw on TV or in a YouTube video. (At one point, he even claims wealthy Europeans threw parties where they ate mummies, confidently conflating early modern use of powdered mummy as medicine with Victorian-era mummy unwrapping parties.)
Frankly, the interview was a strange one, with Rogan and Caverns spending a great deal of time discussing Graham Hancock since Caverns has very little of his own to talk about. They both praise Hancock and claim YouTube gadfly Jimmy Corsetti does the job of archaeologists better than real archaeologists because he produces YouTube videos that they claim are filled with “evidence.” (Whether he understands his evidence is another question.)
Caverns makes a few howlers, notably his assertion that one of the Olmec stone heads depicts an African man—a claim belied by the actual indigenous people of Oaxaca who still look like their Olmec ancestors. (He and Rogan try to argue for non-Native Olmec by deducing the DNA of various living and ancient Mexicans from their facial features, claiming Black people have big lips and thick brows and descending into an uncomfortably close approximation of Victorian “racial science.”) Caverns also claims other carvings depict Caucasians, a claim taken directly from Fingerprints of the Gods, where Hancock borrowed it from earlier fringe writers. He also goes off on a weird tangent about swastikas as global evidence of a lost civilization (he suggests it represents an Ice Age view of a spiral galaxy), though basic geometric shapes are so simple to draw that they emerge spontaneously in many times and places.
Caverns complains that everything “interesting” is labeled “pseudoarchaeology” and says that only “boring” things pass muster with mainstream archaeologists and their fans.
But most of the interview, about two hours out of the three, saw the two men bringing up the greatest hits of (mostly Graham Hancock’s) fringe archaeology, from large stones to giants to Ice Age astronomy to psychedelics, and descending into claims that archaeologists have unpleasant and arrogant attitudes because Rogan and Caverns can’t understand how the ancients moved big rocks, so therefore it cannot be that large groups of people dragged and lifted them.
A recurring theme is disappointment that some vaguely defined set of elites is preventing ordinary people from connecting to ancient history, deep time, and the spiritual realm accessible through indigenous rituals and hallucinogenic drugs. Borrowing heavily from Graham Hancock’s drug writings, Rogan and Caverns basically agree that secular modernity disappoints them and they want some mystical, spiritual, wondrous experience that workaday capitalism forbids. That’s all well and good, but we don’t need to fantasize about antediluvian giants lifting heavy stones or hero-worship a hot-tempered stoned author to have a spiritual experience.
