by Maxine West
This is Part 7 of my 8 part series on locations that are known hotbeds of satanic activity. By the end, you will be adept at spotting such signs in your own life and in your own neighborhood, to better protect yourself against the Enemy.
Up till now, our series has focused on the usual suspects when it comes to geographic sources of satanic, pagan, and other occultic power: the un-sacred geometry of Washington D.C (the new Babylon), the anti-human architecture of Manhattan, the charnel houses of Chicago, the blinding neon of Las Vegas (also the new Babylon), but I have saved one place for (second to) last, one place that tends to fly under the radar of many paranormalists, yet whose output of dark energies can match the worst offenders on the list: the area known as Capitol Hill in the city of Seattle.
I know that unacquainted readers might be confused and think that “Capitol Hill” refers to the capital of the state of Washington, but alas that is not the case. It refers to a “diverse” and “trendy” (read: “perverted” and “degenerate”) neighborhood east of I-5, uphill from the glass towers of downtown Seattle. It is the home of Seattle’s LGBTQWERTY2S+ as well as its hub for nightlife, so fans of sodomy and fentanyl overdose will feel right at home. On the surface, it appears like any other of the so called “quirky” districts that have started to grow like cancer in the once-great cities of the United States of America, replete with rainbow crosswalks and bestial furry grafiti. You might be asking what sets this den of sinners apart from other “gayborhoods” in the US? To do so, we must look at the topography of this desecrated ground.
The first thing one notices on approach is the “Hill” factor in “Capitol Hill”. The neighborhood is placed on top of one of the seven hills that make up Seattle (and what other city is made up of “seven hills”? Rome of course!). Topping out at 444 feet tall, it towers over the rest of the city, allowing its residents to peer down over the normal Americans who live in Ballard and Bellevue. I-5 bisects downtown, and one might foolishly think that this hostile piece of architecture serves to block off the gays from the wealthy business districts of Seattle, but don’t be fooled, the Enemy lays his plans for the long term: the highway instead was created to keep normal people out of the Hill, and allow the denizens to work their dark arts in secret. Trained numerologists may have noticed the height of the Hill, 444, an “angel” number, perhaps in this case a devil number, which represents “clarity and decisiveness”, REVELATION if you will.
Named “Capitol Hill” by real estate developer James A. Moore, who hoped that the government would develop the State Capitol on the land, this cursed hill lost the bid to Olympia. Instead, he had to settle for his speculative holdings to serve as a capital of moral corruption on the West Coast. Initially, the place was filled with Roman Catholic immigrants, but the demographics started to shift toward the LGBT after the police chased them out of Pioneer Square (notice how where papists go, the queers soon follow…).
Capitol Hill is built along a number of powerful ley lines that lead into the center of the neighborhood, represented in the urban fabric as three busy streets. Broadway, which runs north to south and connects the tonier North Capitol Hill, which contains what was once known as Seattle’s “Millionaire Row”, Pine street which leads across I-5 to Seattle’s proper downtown, and Madison street which runs diagonally North East into the sleepier segments of Lake Washington’s western banks. Converging on all these lines is the Pike-Pine corridor, a triangle taking up about 10 square city blocks which is known for its sodomite gathering spaces and degenerate watering holes. Just north of this section is Cal Anderson Park, named after Washington’s first openly gay state senator, an olmstedian bit of landscaping which serves as another collection point for Seattle’s queers. Cal Anderson feels unusually small for a city park, taking up only three blocks, and it feels particularly choked in by the surrounding cityscape, which looms over the park’s greenery, a constant reminder of the Enemy’s desire for dominion over, inversion, and eventual destruction of the natural order.
While the denizens of Capitol Hill tend to fit the mold of an American “gayborhood”, the malevolent energies of Capitol Hill have given rise to a new creature that the mainstream is just now starting to catch up on: the transsexual. A transsexual is a creature of ultimate subversion of all that is natural; by imbibing cocktails of synthetic hormones they fundamentally alter their birth sex, spitting in the face of God Almighty with a brutal new sort of techno-alchemy. While the “transgender tipping point” has brought a lot more scrutiny on to this spreading virus that has now begun to creep into every corner of the American Heartland, the epicenter of this infection may very well be this unassuming neighborhood in eastern Seattle. Transsexuals can be found on every street corner of Capitol Hill, working in its chic coffee shops, lounging in Cal Anderson on a sunny day, dancing the night away in moody clubs. If one follows the mainstream cuckservative media outlets in their coverage of this phenomenon, you may have been lulled into a false sense of security by their dismissive attitude to this new population of non-humans.Trans women “aren’t real women”, they are simply delusional men living out a lie, mentally ill sado-masochists scarring their bodies in a desperate attempt to alter the unchangeable. While comforting, the Tucker Carlson’s of the world are simply doing their master’s bidding and trying to divert your attention away from the true threat these transsexuals pose to western civilization. While you might assume from an outsider’s perspective that these monstrosities are in a perpetual state of misery, I have spent some time amongst them, in the aforementioned urban space, watching them, observing them. And I can tell you, that at least in the heart of their home turf, their faces hold only smiles, the air is filled with their croaking laughter, and they dance in eternal revelry of the Archfiend. After all, through their pact to the big pharma globohomo capital-machine, he has given them the thing they most desire: the ability to change their sex, and all it cost them was their soul.
Yes, you heard that right: the transsexuals have succeeded in becoming their “true selves”, despite the protestations of Faux news and their lackeys. The controlled oppo screams and wails about the “delusion” of transgenderism because they refuse to admit that their failure to stamp this new army of the antichrist out before it became too late has possibly doomed us to fall to the Enemy. Even now these muntant neta-humans sit atop their hill and prepare for his coming, celebrating in their newfound bodies, their siphoned feminine energy and new found testosterone grown muscles. They lead a life of bliss, rejoicing in the company of their fellow fallen angels, drunk on the promise of the coming dusk of humanity and the rise of the satanic machine.
Don’t believe me? Go to Capitol Hill and see it for yourself. I’ll even give you a few pointers on how to single out these demons-in-human-skins yourself. The ones who have inverted themselves into females often stand taller than average, with the clearest skin you’ve ever seen, far too smooth and soft to have been acquired from nature alone. Their strong features and soft delicacy gives them the appearance of models, and their tender voices reassure you. For the males, they have a certain swagger which, along with their boyish charm and tousled locks, can make them irresistible to the average heterosexual christian woman. For either of the synthetic sex, they are also marked by their eccentric fashion, and above all, at least within the bounds of Capitol Hill, their smiles. Always the damn smiles.
If you wish to see them for yourself in their natural habitat, you can try going to Capitol Hill, especially in the Pike-Pine corridor proper, as their concentration tends to thin out the farther you get away from the neighborhood’s ley line convergence. You can start by prowling along the bars of the center triangle. If you find a particularly good subject of study you can follow them at a distance for a while. At night, the shade of Cal Anderson park may allow you to get closer observations, however you should be careful as once discovered a normal person may find themselves quickly mobbed by others of their ilk. Most of all, you must never get TOO close to these creatures, as you may fall under the sway of their glamours. You might see in their eyes the potential for a better life for yourself, in their smiles the hope for a better life, but always remember that any appearance of humanity is a lie, a mirror for the original sin that dwells within yourself. If you find yourself under their sway, clawing your way back to the godly light becomes exponentially more impossible with each passing second, so do anything necessary to get out from under the spell, lest you end up standing beside them on the Day of Judgement.
For your own safety, there is one iron rule should you ever find yourself face-to-face with one of these imps: NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES strike up a conversation with one of them, or speak to them in any shape or form. Just hearing the dulcet tone of their voices, like the smoky voice of a reassuring aunt or the sultry sweet nothings of your high school sweetheart who you thought you would build a family with, can be enough for one of these sirens to lull you into a false sense of security and safety. Once you’ve been put into a trance, the real power of the transsexual is revealed: their mastery over human speech. The alchemical process through which a transsexual is crafted also grants them an insight past the symbolic order, to the place beyond order itself, the realm of chaos, the cosmic background from which we are birthed and that God in his infinite wisdom saw fit to obscure from us with language. This gives them the ability to transmute the meaning of words at will, which they use to drive you to a state of confusion. A christian may be tempted to wield words as weapon against them, to ask them the sort of questions they see on gotcha street interviews broadcast on the likes of Faux news, things like “how many genders are there” or “what is a woman”, but once you’ve deployed these conservative bromides, the friendly grin of the transsexual shifts into a toothy grin, because they know that they’ve already got you dead to rights.
They start throwing out nonsense questions, asking you to define what a chair or a tree or some other inanimate object. So you give them a reasonable, sensible answer like a chair is a thing with four legs that you can sit on. Then they hammer you with further questions about it, is a stool a chair? Is a horse a chair? And the questions start to daze you and you start to feel like you’re losing a sense of reality and you want to sit down and you look for a chair but your head starts to spin because you don’t even know what a chair is anymore. Then the cackles come. Here’s the thing: by taking the bait the transsexual can pull you into their world of confusion. As you swim around in the primordial chaos that makes up the transsexual aether, you try to reach stable ground and ask them how they can live like this, not having a rigid definition of what a man or a woman or a chair, not knowing anything for sure, they’ll just shrug and laugh and tell you it’s not that serious. That all these things are just made up, that you can do whatever you want, that you can have freedom, that you don’t have to live your life according to the rules that others have set out for you. Then they’ll leave you in the lurch, as you come to the shocking realization that they actually like living like this.
Dear reader, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that this state of unreality isn’t how I want to live my life. I know what a woman is, and I have the greatest source ever cited: the Holy Scripture. All this considered, I would advise the average reader of this blog to steer clear of Capitol Hill, Seattle, as it may be too easy for all but the most will-powered warriors for Christ to resist the temptations present. You might be lured in by the false promise of freedom, but by trading in your sacred covenant with the Almighty all that awaits you in return is a life filled with electronic music and designer drugs and leather sex, and beyond that the fires of Hell.
That wraps up our description of the unholy breeding grounds of Capitol Hill, Seattle. In next week’s post, we will cover a truly terrifying neighborhood whose mere mention is not for the faint of heart: the New Babylon, Bushwick, in Brooklyn, New York.
This is Part 7 of my 8 part series on locations that are known hotbeds of satanic activity. By the end, you will be adept at spotting such signs in your own life and in your own neighborhood, to better protect yourself against the Enemy.
Sincerely,
Ronda Dreher
Maxine West is a some-of-the-time writer of fiction, a most-of-the-time computer scientist at the University of Washington, and all-of-the-time transsexual in Seattle. You can cyber-stalk her on twitter at @xyzappyxy.