My advice would be to read this quickly, because I’m not sure how long it will be here. But then again, if the November 09 newsletter were to suddenly disappear, or if certain of its contents were to be tampered with by an unknown hand, not only might it confirm my worst suspicions, it could be perceived as a dead giveaway. Therefore, on second thought, you can probably take your time and read it CAREFULLY, even though I’m becoming fairly convinced that what I’m going to divulge (or suggest) might explain a lot about what’s been going on with this site over the years. In fact, it was while looking into some recent – shall we say - mischief on the ToolArmy site that I uncovered something rather interesting, and if these things were to be verified by others (difficult as that might be), then, as an unwitting participant in the subterfuge, certainly my days here are numbered. Though for years I’ve jested about decoy tour buses and band member doubles, never before had it occurred to me that there might actually be decoy websites, with a secret TOOL site known only to a select few containing…”the really good stuff.” And yet, that’s exactly what appears to be the case. Although I’ve not yet been able to penetrate this ‘closed community’, not being privy to the URL nor any passwords by which to access what I believe to be a private site containing a false front page/ login screen* (similar to some of the more elitist BitTorrent websites out there), I will offer my best evidence for its existence…

* I even wondered if it were possible that the site in question contained something that was the OPPOSITE of digital “invisible ink” (i.e. repeated words written in the same color as the page’s background) in order to confound search engines.

However, before continuing, let me first say how thankful I am now that November 12th has passed without the swarming flies of misfortune. (Note: You’ll pardon this slight digression, but it was while discussing the relation of this date in a popular doomsday scenario that I initially received information [albeit inadvertently] from someone who may have an insiders knowledge of a covert Tool website.) Now that my sharpening stones and fishhooks have been put back into the earth change shelter, it seems somewhat incredible (what with the law of averages) that nothing exceptional seems to have occurred on what “intuitive” Sean David Morton (I believe it was Sean) predicted to be another incredible and fantastic date leading up to what the Mayans have called the End of Time. Isn’t that what I read in a program for a recent UFO expo? And here I thought Sean and the “Delphi Associates would at least be as accurate with their predictions as the long slurring scratches of a vertical pencil held by certain discarnate intelligences of years past. Seems the odds are better of getting your order right at a Jack-In-The-Box drive thru. Damn, I even purchased some of Dr. Miller’s “Holy Tea” from the Delphi site before it went under construction (choosing “Miracle” over “Regular” for whatever reason). Was it the discovery of more water on the moon, as was posted in an AP story dated November 13, that was so significant?

Or maybe something about the parents* pleading guilty in the case of the boy in the ‘Jiffy-Pop’ balloon/saucer – this being a preview of things to come, when, as each shining hour passes, those cosmic bits of God will, not only exploit, but actually kill their children to spare them the horrors of the 2012 axis-shift? Possibly, but in my humble opinion, neither of these made November 12 (2009) “incredible and fantastic.”

* It’s almost a shame that this guy didn’t try to hitch a ride on the Hale-Bopp comet with the members of “Heaven’s Gate”, although he probably would have just fucked things up for them.

Anyway, it was while talking about 2012 galactic alignment survival supplies (the usual crank radio, temporary traumatic wounds treatment, potassium iodide, etc) with a frequent patron of the “Baked Potato” jazz club – the handicapable Mike - that I may have said something which led him to believe that I was ‘in the know’ about the private Tool website. When I mentioned “preparedness seeds”, Mike at first gave me a strange look that was followed by what may have been a sign of recognition, as if these words constituted a password of sorts. After a brief pause, he then mumbled something about how he had thought that I was “blacklisted from the place.” Casting a furtive glance, he asked me if I had “taken the high-tech space van to my destination.” At the time, thinking he was just tripping on nugs of purple wheelchair (prescribed, of course), I asked him what the hell he was talking about? Perhaps noting my confused expression, he quickly changed the subject, joking about some new crank ham radio in which the casing really is a preserved ham that the doomsday survivalist could consume while listening to “No Coast to No Coast AM” up in the Drakensburg Mountains.

And that was it. At the time I really didn’t think anything about it. It wasn’t until a few months later, when checking out Mike’s website (, that I saw the mentioning again of this “high-tech space van.” Still, this didn’t seem to suggest anything out of the ordinary. And the site itself seemed pretty straightforward. There was certainly no evidence in the hierarchy of pages that covertly running behind its home page (videos, blogs, etc) was a clandestine site for an innermost circle of Tool enthusiasts.

However, it wouldn’t be long before I saw these curious phrases again, and this time on a message board on the ToolArmy website. In the text of the rather bizarre message were references to “preparedness seeds” and a “high-tech space van.” There was also something about “golden protective light” and “a special wrath for those in the higher dimensions.” Strangest of all, though, was a repeated set of numbers: 614223114422. Shortly after this message appeared, the ToolArmy site was temporarily shut down, ostensibly for maintenance issues. But when the site was finally back on-line, the TA message boards remained inoperative. Whether or not something in the particular message had anything to do with the supposed issues on the site I don’t know, but I dare say, the timing of the two seemed a little too coincidental…

Now, as one who uses off-white magick to conjure up an empty parking space, I’m not averse to using any means necessary to unravel a mystery. And that includes the assistance of enlightened beings – those who sing to their gardens and burn their own bread. Call them what you want – guides, walk-ins, kindred souls – I’ve used them all, ever since I encountered one in the starry Nevada desert who explained to me that there was enough energy in a single grain of sand to power all the lights in Las Vegas. He then told me that the surrounding mountains were all hand-painted (I’m still trying to figure out what he meant by that). Beings with tranquil blue eyes and a quiet radiance from the otherwhere. Even without being under the influence of laughing gas, I’ve often borne witness to this glorious transformation: Caterpillar to butterfly. Blossoms to fruit. Campfire girl to crack whore. Indeed, sometimes it seems like we’re all Atlantean walk-ins in the Whole Foods, and no Mid-western transplants. But I digress…

With this said, it was while attempting to contact the spirit of Ruth Montgomery (you know, the lady depicted on the one dollar bill) about this whole axis-shift/world-encompassing destruction business (and NOT about undisclosed Tool URLs) that more of the pieces of the puzzle finally came together. Using my vintage Parker Brothers deluxe edition Ouija Board (with faux bird’s-eye maple and a wooden planchette, but you already know that), I asked to speak directly to Ruth. At first, the reply I got was not from Mrs. Montgomery, but from Tuesday Lobsang Rampa (Tricksters, what are you gonna do!) Upon repeated requests to speak with Ruth, the Tibetan ‘lama’ Rampa kept interfering until, frankly, I was getting rather annoyed. “We’re hosing off mutual sidewalks here, Rampa!” (Muttering under my breath something about someone shoving hot toothpicks under his fingernails). “I’m on golden minutes here, Rampa… Put on Ruth (empowering the curse)… I’m looking for an electrifying message here… Ruth Montgomery, are you there?..

Eventually the spirit of Mrs. Montgomery made her presence known (with the help from George Noory?), although I must admit to being a tad disheartened when she started off by revealing to the mystical oracle that World War III would be set off around 1986 by Ethiopia. “Is this Sean David Morton PhD?” (Perhaps I shouldn’t be too hard on the intuitive. Hell, even Doctor Phil was once a flawless spark of God.) “Sean, what’s the password to the private Tool website… the one that’s forbidden to disclose?” Is Quetzalcoatl there? The Feathered Serpent, Quetzalcoatl?.. I was about to give up when another message appeared; this one not from Rampa, nor Ruth, but from none other than… direct from his penthouse apartment, that brainiac beagle, Mr. Peabody! (and his pet-boy, Sherman). IS THIS FOR REAL!.. Sean David Morton has a PhD?

While the entire message is too long for the average attention span, not wasting any time at all, Mr. Peabody wisely suggested that we use the WABAC (Way-Back Machine) to visit a jungle city of the ancient Maya. So, that’s what we did… but not before receiving more twaddle from Ruth Montgomery (again, with some help by George Noory?) “Greetings, this is Ruth, and I’m soooo in the flow. Remember that even stupid earth squirrels that drive taxis might be Walk-Ins…”

Before predicting Obama to be the next Anti-Christ, she pulled the curtain on me, speaking now in hieroglyphics about outwitting tomorrow. Which was just fine, because with the WABAC fueled and ready to go, I was shown a vision in the black chaosphere of Mr. Peabody’s Improbable History:

As copal incense wafted from the noisy tropical foliage, a scribe employed by the Mayan city of Coba had just completed marking the 13th B’ak’tun on a vertical slab of stone (stele) with a stone chisel driven by a wooden mallet. As it was still early, he was about to continue with some further time-markers (the next long count or 14th B’ak’tun, I’m guessing) when Peabody’s pet-boy, Sherman, stole the scribe’s crude tools (in order to CORRECT history, I suppose). Thus unable to continue with his task, the scribe headed off to the ball court to try and score some tickets for the night’s Pok-A-Tok game, pausing briefly along the way to watch some priests toss a young maiden into the sacrificial well (to appease the angry gods), and some more priests tear the still beating heart out of the chest of a captive warrior youth in order to feed the blood to the sun, when, suddenly, he was ‘accidentally’ scrooched by Cloyd. Cloyd! Besides being experts in epigraphy, what on earth were moon-men Gidney and Cloyd doing in the ancient jungle city of the Maya? When I asked, I was told that they had just stopped by in their “high-tech space van” on the way to their favorite restaurant on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. (Note: After doing some checking, it seems that both Gidney and Cloyd own substantial amounts of undeveloped real estate on earth’s satellite (which has plenty of water, by the way), and by ‘accidentally’ freezing in time the Mayan scribe (with their scrooch gun), as sure as Alexander Graham Bell didn’t invent the graham cracker, the date of the December 21, 2012 doomsday event was thus preserved. “And that, Sherman”, uttered Mr, Peabody, “is why today the upright slab of stone is called a stele.” (Puns were never one of Mr. Peabody’s strong points.)

After clapping my hands as part of the chaosphere banishing, it suddenly hit me. The moon-men had mentioned a “high-tech space van.” This was undoubtedly a message within a message. And it just so happened, my business associates and I occasionally frequented a restaurant on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills that’s called… “A COW JUMPED OVER THE MOON.” Now who’s wearing the Kirward Derby!!! (Note: With a name like that, I had long suspected that the restaurant was one of the favorites of those born under a strange shadow - various aliens for which the earth was a station-stop planet, including Okmnec Onec, Val Thor, Xretsim, and shape-shifting reptoids like those Salahi things - and not just because of the brie honey apple pizza.)

Thinking that I was on the verge of a major breakthrough, I drove to the place and took a seat at the comfortable bar. While sipping a glass of Chimay, whom should I see but Mike of I wondered if I should ask him about any false front pages, select torrents, and hidden links to a closed community of Tool enthusiasts? The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Mike was one of the highly-trusted members of just such a conviviality. Despite certain limitations (Mike has MD), he had an uncanny ability to get great seats to Tool concerts… and without pre-sales! He also always seemed to know what was going on with the members of the band, and he never bitched and moaned about seemingly off-topic subjects posted on their official website. Quite a puzzler indeed!

He was handicapable, alright… and patient. Perhaps too patient. Although I hadn’t been able to penetrate the veil, I was sure there was a message waiting to be discovered on his site. When I got up to confront him about any strange ‘netiquette’ and the meaning of a repeated set of numbers that I had seen on the ToolArmy site, I noticed that he was no longer there. How’d he get past me? I was about to chase after him, when the bartender calmly poured me another glass of Chimay, and told me “he was probably long gone in his high-tech space van.”

Although I came up empty on that occasion, I will continue to attempt to seek out any possible secret Tool websites. And, Mike, if you’re reading this buddy, there’s a few things that I’d like to know: First off, what’s the “big thing?” (Certainly it wasn’t the bonus summer tour). Secondly, if they haven’t already begun, when are the guys really going to start working on a new album? And finally, when are they going to release a live DVD? I mean, c’mon, according to the Mayan long-count calendar, there’s only 1109 days, 7 hours, 28 minutes, and 18 seconds (and counting) until the end…



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