History rewritten - Malvern Zodiac

Straight to the point, I'm not here to rock the boat - but take a look around, it's a rotten boat, it's leaking, it's sinking, it's been going round and round in circles for 5000 years with those overweight, holier-than-thou, cross-dressing, finger-wagging thought-marshalls sitting around the captain's table and gorging themselves on the hard labours of the less fortunate.
Let me lay my cards on the table - I'm not unreligious, I sincerely believe that this is just a physical training ground, a level of existence that we all have to go through to achieve a higher state. Life after death? Yep, I'm pretty certain that it exists, personal experience has shown me that those who have passed on can reach back to touch, guide, protect and encourage you in the right direction - it happened a long time ago, but that's almost irrelevant to this piece of work.
I'm a patient man, I believe that you get what you deserve (eventually) - but to have 20 years of research dismissed by the words "I've got a doctorate, so you're wrong" used as a weapon of reasoning made me want to spit!
What use is a doctorate when the information that earned this bright shiny "club card" is built upon lies and subterfuge? Please Yahoo, give me a "Punch the idiot" button - if that's not technically possible how about a "Slap this emailer" code.
If you've seen the profile you'll know where my interest lies - it's history - not the stuff you find in books, the real old stuff, the difficult unanswered questions that get conveniently boxed and placed out of the way by those eager to gain acceptance and climb the academic ladder leading to the chandeliered top deck.
There's been 5000 years of symbolic narrative used to control the thoughts and actions of the great unwashed, the hungry, the illiterate, the hard-working community builders, the soldiers, the misled masses that hold the ship's timbers together so that some of those with a theology doctorate can stuff their faces with blood-stained sandwiches.
A symbolic narrative that started so very innocently - a tribal storyteller's tale, an easy method of recalling the ancestry, cosmology and geography of distant homelands - how could this poor soul have known what was to become of his carefully-worded repetitive chants that informed, amused and entertained those sitting around the camp fire? Surely, if he had been aware of the future mis-use and purposeful misinterpretation to falsely justify the sea of bloody millennia that followed, he would have cut his own tongue out.
The Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh, the first authored literature in the world - a symbolic narrative, a graphic allegory, a moralistic tale formed around the ancient constellations found in the Malvern Zodiac. A tale from the imagination of a storyteller's finger wandering around the disc of an ancient astrolabe, a navigational tool, following the path of the sun - the one true giver of life.
That's where it all started - damn to hell the greedy opportunists who grabbed the astrolabe ball and ran with it. They made up new stories, they changed the names, they changed the locations, they raised its profile, they used it to justify mass control and mass murder, it was a need-to-know system - and then, after all the damage had been done and the money was rolling in, they went and hid it to cover their tracks. My question is: When the hell is it going to end?
In my head it's akin to the uncomfortable situation of explaining to a young child that Santa doesn't really exist - but let's calm the infant by telling the truth. Santa is a software plug-in - designed to make your life better in the darkest, coldest part of the year. It's a great time for a warm fire, a feast, a celebration of family union, of safely reaching the winter solstice without anything untoward happening - a time to look forward to the longer days of glorious summer sunshine. Who needs Santa?
No matter how deep the truth has been hidden, it will always come out. Who could have known that the design on the prehistoric astrolabe had also been carved into the green fields of England? There have been hints and suggestions over the years of something "not quite right" with the layout of the land in this country - strange ley lines, weird shapes that look like dogs, long-distance measurements that are too accurate to be purely coincidental and then there's Glastonbury - what's that all about?
If you want to know about Glastonbury go to my pictures, the "Malvern Zodiac" album and check out "The Secret of Glastonbury" - it will put you on the right track.
If I had a doctorate would it make me more believable? Is it too uncomfortable to hear that the "Wondrous star in the east" is Vega? - and that Mary placing the infant into the manger is really the inverted image of the Watermaiden and Dogs?
Will I be pilloried for bringing to people's notice that the Three Wise Men (in Phrygian caps) is actually the tails of three bulls? What about St. John the Baptist - covered in hair, standing in water, in subservient pose waiting for his master to arrive? Three thousand years earlier in Sumeria his name was Enkidu.
How about walking on water? What about the donkey ride and the palm leaves, the scourging, stumbling and being helped to his feet on the trip to the green hill outside the city walls? What about the thieves on either side at the crucifixion? What about the cock crowing? What about the sign over JC's head pinned to the cross? What about the gash to the torso or the crying out as death arrived? What about the storm clouds that followed?
Ancient symbolic narrative - do I really need to spell it out?
But hang on a second - I haven't got a doctorate - so what do I know.