BACK TO SAN ANTONIO
“According to an ancient Maya legend, the first armadillos were created to teach a lesson in humility to a couple of minor gods. The legend states that the Maya Sun God, Hachakyum, sat the two unruly deities down on a bench before all the other gods. The log stool was suddenly transformed into a pair of armadillos, which immediately jumped up into the air – tumbling the two disobedient gods onto their backsides in disgrace.”
We’re still getting lots of messages from Tool enthusiasts who are concerned about the rescheduled tour dates. Many are wondering if the “10,000 Days” tour might in fact be cursed, especially those fans living in San Antonio who are writing to me about what they actually refer to as “the San Antonio curse.” Knowing that the postponement of not one, but two shows must be as frustrating to these Texans as a cat that won’t flush, at first I tried to be sympathetic. But the letters kept coming, packsaddles full of them. You’d think that “Whataburger” replaced Dr. Pepper with Mr. Pibb, such is the panicky nature of some of these messages, and knowing now the full circumstances surrounding the curse (yes, I believe it truly exists), I understand their apprehension. In the spirit of W.W. “Foots” Clements that “no one of us is as smart as all of us”, it was after carefully reading all of these e-mails, and not lifting a red pencil, that the pieces of the puzzle finally came together.
And what exactly are these people inquiring about? Well, some are asking about the possible significance of the creature with the blood-red eyes that I encountered on a lonely stretch of highway in Texas as described in the November (San Antonio) newsletter. Others want to know what the connection is between the five armadillos on the “Texas Tea” slot machine in a recent ‘Vegas’ news post, and the strange Masonic symbol (pentalpha) that they’ve noticed in the same photograph. There are even those who are seeking answers about the cemetery in Aurora, Texas – the place where an alien being was allegedly buried after its spacecraft crashed into a windlass on April 17th, 1897 (I wonder if this was its first rodeo?) Why did I mention placing bluebells on the Martian tombstone at the end of the newsletter, some want to know? But mostly, people just want to make sure that the tour is still a go, and that their old tickets will be honored. Of course, these same e-mailers are ‘curious’ as to how good their pre-sale tickets will be. In fact, there are so many people in San Antonio who are still asking me about the location of their seats, that their concerns have finally enabled me to see how the legend recounted above about the Mayan origin of the armadillo and the two unruly deities holds the key to undoing what is surely “the San Antonio curse” – that which, in my honest opinion, still threatens the entire Spring/Summer tour and possibly much more…
Before continuing with the malediction in question, and the possible means of rendering it harmless, let me first attempt to clear up a few things. As for the pentagonal “Masonic” ornament that those of you have noticed in the photo of the “Texas Tea” machine, if you look closer you’ll see that it is actually just a “Lone Star Beer” bottle cap that I placed there as a lucky talisman of sorts, with hopes of striking it rich when drilling with my oil derricks. I kept the bottle cap after buying a “Lone Star” at Goode’s “Armadillo Palace” in Houston, and thought it might be somewhat influential when it came to that particular slot. I’d like to tell you that having placed it there I hit the five ‘dillas’ seen in the photo for winnings that amounted to $500.00.
But that’s not what happened. The five armadillos lined up the ONE time that I DIDN’T play at least three lines and so I MISSED the big payout. You can see this for yourself in the photo (posted on March 14), which also shows my reflection on the “Texas Tea” machine’s shiny surface. Actually, I only posted the photo as a somewhat generic illustration to the news update about the rescheduled Las Vegas shows. However, in reading some of your questions and comments about a possible connection between the armadillos on the infernal gambling machine and the critter with eyes that glowed like the tail lights of a 57 Ford Thunderbird that appeared on the road somewhere between Bastrop and Austin, although I didn’t think anything at first – at least nothing that clinged like a bur, this was latter to be highly significant with regards to the whole “ San Antonio curse” business.
Conversely, although no one made the correlation, my mentioning of the Aurora spaceman and the placing of flowers on the gravesite did have a Masonic connection. It was a nudge of sorts for those who knock strangely on the doors of the Temple. After all, was I the only one to consider that the fantastic story of a crashed airship and the burial of its unearthly occupant might have been an effective smokescreen for certain rather bizarre going-ons in a Masonic cemetery (see Finis Dudly Beauchamp of the Aurora Lodge No. 479 A.E. & A.M.). With the flowers I was “scattering the petals of the rose” as that phrase is associated with the revelation of mysteries. In this case, it involved a hidden degree of the ‘Antient and Primitive Rite of Memphis and Mizraim.’ But once again, heeding the advice of the former President and Chairman of the Board of the Dr. Pepper Company, with regards to the mystery of the Martian pilot and exhumed bodies from unmarked graves, I was latter able to see an altogether different correlation than my original veiled intimation about speculative Egyptian Masonry – that which offered a hint, or perhaps the answer itself to the famous epitaph of little Nellie Burris: “As I was done so soon, I don’t know why I was begun.” Rather than being about certain aspects of esoteric cannibalism not to be spoken of in the novitiate of a convivial society even with the most terrible denomination, this involved things extratemporal and the mind-boggling concept of reversing time. But more about this in a minute.
And finally, my idea of projecting lasers onto the mirror-faceted surface of the colossal silver armadillo (made of concrete and mortar and stainless steel) that was to be suspended directly above the San Antonio crowd was just a good-natured jab at all those pestering fans with their bitching and moaning about their precious floor seats (something this ink-slinger interface has absolutely no control over). In jest it might have been, but the implanted vision of the behemoth Panzerschwein (armored pig) was to take on a different meaning, especially the word “azotochtli” that flashed in my head on several occasions. As Roy Neary said in Close Encounters: “this is important… this means something.” Indeed it did, and this had to do, I soon realized, with the gathering clouds of the “10,000 Days” tour.
The San Antonio curse began on November 12, 2002 at Freeman Coliseum when a faulty drape fell off the wall in the band’s dressing room and caught on fire from some candles burning there. Noticing this, Maynard nonchalantly uttered “fire… fire… FIRE to anyone who would listen as he calmly walked down a hallway back stage. As an interesting side note, since, as I alluded to earlier, the potential solution to removing the curse involves aspects of time travel, I’m pretty sure that the date that Marty McFly returned to in the film “Back to the Future” and its sequel was November 12 (1955).
The flames were quickly extinguished with the only inconvenience being that a certain band member was deprived of a particular piece of fruit. However, the venue officials required the band to pay several thousand dollars in damage. This was the moment that the curse actually began! Those of you who have read my newsletter about the Coachella debacle – that involving a magically ‘unlawful’ pantacle (not pentacle) placed in the back of Danny’s beater pickup truck might find the following to be quite telling: According to the general manager of the Freeman Coliseum, the fire in the band’s dressing room caused only minor damage, “less than the amount of a used Chevy truck.” With his choice of words, there can be no question that this is evidence of a supernatural presence at work – a strange manifestation that exists outside of time, or is able to manipulate time in ways that modern science doesn’t understand. This presence that foresaw and/or was involved with the future imprecation placed on the truck with its K.C. plates is most certainly demonic in nature, and probably of the “Xaphan” pedigree. It would also appear that the swarming flies of misfortune have followed the band ever since that event of November 12th.
With that said, let me know get back to explaining how I finally began to put certain pieces of the puzzle together. I was watching the movie Communion when I received the word about Danny tearing his right bicep and the possible postponement of the tour. Taking the phone call, I paused the DVD, only noticing when I returned to it that I had froze on a scene that showed a taxidermy (or model) armadillo.
Although the cabin of author and ‘alien’ experiencer Whitley Strieber is located in upstate New York (the actual cabin where the encounters with something unusual occurred was used in the film production), being a native of San Antonio (the place where many of his bizarre experiences began), it wasn’t really odd to see Roadkillibus texanis there, but it was rather coincidental with everything else going on that I paused on it at the time of the unfortunate news concerning Danny and the band. Even so, I didn’t think much of it at the time.
It wasn’t until I went to Las Vegas for St. Paddy’s Day that the ole blind sow found an acorn. Like many of you, I, too, had hotel reservations for the original shows at “The Pearl” and decided to make the trip even though the shows had been postponed. While driving to a used bookstore on Charleston, my girlfriend wanted to stop at the Stratosphere Hotel Tower. I wasn’t too excited about this, but agreed to accommodate the little daredevil. While inside, after checking out the view, we found ourselves standing in front of a flair bar called “The Crazy Armadillo” that served 44-once margaritas in souvenir glasses for $18.00. Well, shit fire and save the matches! At the time that sounded better than a tortilla stuffed with jewels. The only problem was that the place was closed. According to the sign its hours were 5:00 PM – 5:00 AM, and even though it was now a quarter after six, the cantina was completely dark. What is more, there wasn’t a soul stirring inside; not so much as a bar-back slicing limes!
Evidently the hours hadn’t changed because we asked some employees of the casino and they assured us that the place with all its rowdy cantina ambiance would be opening shortly. Another 30 minutes went by without any sign of life. So much for tequila shooter waitresses, darlin’. But as I stared at the neon sign with its crazy armadillo, it was if it suddenly began talking in my head. A squeaky little voice said to me that this is what will happen to the tour if the San Antonio curse isn’t lifted. Instead of a lit stage with four musicians, there would only be empty darkness, just like the cantina that was supposed to be open but wasn’t. How many times had I seen that icon of Texas in the past few months? We’d nearly squashed one on the highway near Bastrop, laughed at its comical antics on the “Texas Tea” slot-machine, paused on a stuffed one in the Strieber film, and was now looking to have one painted on my 44-once souvenir margarita glass. It was everywhere, but I didn’t make the psychic connection. In short: We’ve howdied, but we ain’t shook yet. The armadillo was my animal spirit guide. Azotochtli, who teaches protection and ways to move effortlessly between dimensions. The little digger… of the space-time continuum. It was leading me right to those ancient galactic sojourners, the Maya - those who were no strangers to navigating the rivers of time. And if someone was to undo the curse, they would have to go back to November 12, 2002 (10 MULUC), and then return to the future (2IX). If the AHAU KINES with their hyper-circuitry could do it, then so could others.
And then I realized that’s exactly what happened to the Aurora spaceman. After crashing its aerial locomotive into the windmill, an advanced technology was utilized to reverse time so that it wouldn’t happen. It only existed in the conscious memories of those witnesses who saw the original crash, but they’d never be able to locate the strange debris or the Martian’s dead body, because it didn’t happen. It was just a mental event.
But how to do the seemingly impossible? A freakin’ Delorean wouldn’t cut it, not even a 24-karat gold plated one in Texas that has been modified. As far as I could tell, in order to remove the San Antonio curse, someone would need to travel to the jungles of the Yucatan in order to find the proper mechanism to facilitate this time reversal. The instructions involving fractual calendrics… that is, the specific harmonic that enables movement through time, I was to learn, was encoded by the Tollanauts in glyphs on sculpted stone on the sacbes (white road) and at the great pyramid in Coba: Nohoch Mul. They could also be found in Atlantean and Zothyrian magick that was taught by the H’menes (sorcerers) of Chichen Itza before they ‘departed’ in A.D. 999. This bio-technology in tune with the solar mediator was recorded in mysterious words in the language of the Zuvuya…
Readers will probably think that I’m crazy for suggesting that one or two or maybe all four band members become what Dr. Stephen Hawking called “time tourists.” But that is what I’m suggesting. Does anyone have a better idea? I don’t see any Tool enthusiasts on skateboards in all their “Hot Topic” finery heading down Zarzamora Street on midnight forays to the “Dome of Light” in Olmos Basin (what is it, a golf course, now?) or to a certain “baobab” tree to get answers from the bulbous-eyed “Sisters of Mercy.” I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want to see any more shows postponed. Especially not SAN AnTonio. Not with all that e-mail and telegrams and posses in a state that even has the death penalty for statues.
Therefore, I’m going to propose the idea to the band members and their management. Let’s just hope that there isn’t a glitch in the Pacal Votan module (or they hit the wrong channel in the harmonic matrix) and they all end up back in the days of glyptodons and the panocthus. Now that would suck.