Eyes of Dunwich, Owner & Editor Hampshire Whateley | Reprinted with permission

Ain’t no better time to summon the sleeping god than now. Ya look around and see the black helicopters and blue helmets all serving the damn illuminati who’s doing their worst running things. And the teevee is showing nothing but tits and garbage. And you’re wondering why nothing makes sense to you and yours?

Its cause civilization ain’t natural. We ain’t meant to pretend we’re higher than we are. We’re meant to serve Them.

In time lost and forgotten, They came here from between the stars. Hungry and free, they bored through to our primal globe. They created slaves to build great tomb machines to preserve Themselves. In time They disappeared into their new lairs – always waiting, always watching.

Our Masters gone, we set out to become as them.

We conquered. We enslaved. We experimented. We built our own tombs and monuments glorifying ourselves. We spawned and filled the planet.

Yet in each of our minds is embedded the dread of the return of our Masters. We pretend we are safe. We made new gods, soft and dumb to console us. We took the old tales and made Disney heresies of them. We wrapped ourselves in beeping doodads to keep us distracted and happy.

But the Ones of Old are still with us, unseen and unheard to our civilized blindness. Some few continued to honor Them and were rewarded. You’d recognize the family names. They’re spoken of openly with reverence, but dark whispers of their successes always follow.

Those families have grown content to possess ever more of the world, knowing the Old Secrets of mastery and control. And they see fit to abandon Those who gave them Power. No longer are the rites performed on, or under, their pretty estates. They forgot the Gods that made them.

This is the truth of the world today; a history told only in books forbidden by the very same who benefit from them. The very same who cobbled this sitcom of an election of Pied Piper Trump and Mafiosa Hillary.

The realities made for us by the woman on teevee making millions reciting words controlled by an even richer man in the penthouse suite have become stale. As a species, we’re not cut out to do a god’s work. The secret is we live in a dream state. We have forgotten what reality is.

But the Gods of reality have not forgotten us.

Why Cthulhu? Why now? There are plenty of “serious” reasons but I’ll tell ya the most important.

Death.

How ya die is important. Like I’m not willing to be irradiated because some woman wants to turn a dollar building a pipeline for Saudi Arabia. Nor am I willing to see bombers fly overhead because France told the president he was loopy.

When you die is important, too. Our weak mortal bodies make us afraid every damn day is our last.

With Cthulhu awakened, we know our death will have meaning. We will know our time on earth will be very short.

That’s why Cthulhu is the only option.

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