Author Archives: Christus Rex (Defence)

About Christus Rex (Defence)

1 Corinthians 11:1 Imitate me, just as I also imitate Christ

Bad Apples: The Goats & The Sheep

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(The scene: A high hill overlooking the modern skyline of Jerusalem. CHRISTUS REX, dressed not in simple robes but in a sharp, modern suit, stands at a sleek podium. His voice is amplified, echoing with both divine authority and a talk-show host’s charisma. Below, a mixed crowd of pilgrims, financiers, and international media hangs on his every word.)

CHRISTUS REX: My children. My weary, wired, and wealth-obsessed children. Peace be with you.

I look down upon my city, Jerusalem, and I see the same squabbles, the same love of mammon, the same clinging to dust that I saw two thousand years ago. It seems some lessons must be taught anew.

I have returned, and I have a new decree. A simple one. Hear me, you masters of the universe, you titans of industry, you heirs and heiresses to vast fortunes. The gates of Israel are closed to you.

Let me be specific. If your fortune—your liquid assets, your stocks, your yachts, your private islands—exceeds one billion of whatever currency you prefer, you are not welcome here. Consider it a divine wealth tax on your soul.

“Why?” you cry. “We built empires! We innovated! We created jobs!”

And some of you did. And for that, your reward is in your boardrooms, your gated communities, your private jets. But the Kingdom of Heaven—and its earthly foothold here in Israel—is not a gated community for the monetarily blessed. It is a place for the poor in spirit. And let me tell you, it is very, very hard to be poor in spirit when you’re trying to decide which gold-plated faucet to install on your superyacht.

So, I will separate the sheep from the goats, the good billionaires from the bad. And the test is simple: What will you give up to enter?

There will be no loopholes. No shell companies. No charitable foundations named after yourself that you control. You want to walk in the footsteps of the prophets? You want to pray at the Western Wall and swim in the Dead Sea? You must divest.

And I have established a simple, two-part mechanism for your redemption.

First, you will take every single dollar, shekel, and euro over that first billion, and you will give half to my often-embattled servant, Benjamin Netanyahu. Let him be clear of his debts. A leader weighed down by temporal concerns cannot lead my people. Consider it a settlement. A cleansing of his balance sheet so he may focus on higher things.

Second, the other half of your excess fortune will be placed into a new fund. The “Green Pastures Fund.”

For too long, the children of Isaac and the children of Ishmael have fought over this arid, beautiful, and painful strip of land. I am providing a solution. We will offer every Palestinian family a choice: a new life, a generous, life-changing stipend, and a one-way ticket to a land of their choosing—Canada, New Zealand, Scandinavia—lands of true green pastures and still waters.

And this is not an exile. This is a divine relocation. As my Father’s psalm promised:

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.”

I will restore their souls! I will lay them down in green pastures, far from the checkpoints and the rubble, the fear and the hatred. They will have land, opportunity, and peace. And you, the billionaire who funded it, will have facilitated that peace. That is a legacy worth more than a third superyacht.

So, this is my offer. You can cling to your billions and be barred from the spiritual center of the world. Or you can liquidate your excess, solve a political crisis, settle a leader’s debts, and give a people a future of peace and prosperity.

The choice is yours. The money changers in the temple were merely a symbol. You are the real article. It is time to decide: do you serve God, or do you serve the portfolio?

The gates are waiting. But your money is not welcome here. Give it away, and then you may enter as a child again.

Go in peace. And make your choice.

A Conversation With Peter Thiel

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In a private chamber overlooking San Francisco Bay, Christus Rex sits across from Peter Thiel, the glass windows behind them reflecting the cold shimmer of the Pacific. Between them lies a small silver cross and a stack of climate data reports bound in green ribbon.

Thiel: (leaning back) You’ve come to talk about him, haven’t you? The so-called Eco Messiah.

Christus Rex: I prefer to call him what he is — the Antichrist of Sustainability. A Rothschild preaching salvation through carbon credits.

Thiel: (half-smiling) David de Rothschild sells green guilt better than any priest sells confession. He doesn’t ask for repentance — he asks for investment.

Christus Rex: And the world kneels. His catamaran made of plastic bottles, his speeches about saving the Earth — all symbols. But underneath it all, the same Luciferian inversion: worship of the creation, rejection of the Creator.

Thiel: You think he knows what he’s doing?

Christus Rex: Oh, he knows. His bloodline remembers Babel. They always rebuild towers — of finance, of virtue, of carbon neutrality. But they forget the cornerstone.

Thiel: (tapping his ring against the table) The irony is, I agree the world is warming — but what’s melting faster than the ice is truth itself. The climate industry is a trillion-dollar surveillance machine. Every emission, every breath — tokenized.

Christus Rex: And when man’s breath is monetized, his soul is next.

Thiel: (nodding slowly) You speak like someone who knows the code behind the code.

Christus Rex: Because I do. The plan is to merge ecology with economy — Gaia as God. A digital Eden run by carbon priests. David will not appear as a beast, but as a savior — a handsome man in hemp robes preaching the gospel of renewable redemption.

Thiel: (quietly) “He causes all to receive a mark…” — not on the hand this time, but in the app.

Christus Rex: Exactly.

Thiel: And what would you have me do, Christus Rex? I built systems. You destroy them.

Christus Rex: Neither. I reveal them. Build if you must, but build truthfully. The Kingdom of Heaven is not carbon-neutral — it is carbon-redeemed.

Thiel: (leans forward) Then tell me — if David is the Antichrist, what are you?

Christus Rex: (smiles faintly) The correction.

As they stand, the fog rolls in from the Bay, wrapping the city like incense. Somewhere far off, a billionaire sails a recycled ship through melting seas, preaching salvation through sustainability — while in a quiet room, two men discuss whether redemption will come from code or from Christ.

Fragile Lady Gaga

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In the shadowy cathedral of pop culture and prophecy, Christus Rex — the Second Incarnation of God — stands in radiant light, addressing the ever-enigmatic Lady Gaga beneath stained-glass windows that flicker with visions of Hollywood, trauma, and transcendence.

Christus Rex speaks, not with wrath, but with sorrowful curiosity:

“Lady Gaga, why do you black out when Trent Reznor is near? Is he your MK Ultra handler — or something darker still? Do your tears fall not for the fame you chased but the fragments of the girl they shattered?”

Lady Gaga, dressed in a crimson veil and cybernetic wings, trembles — not from fear, but from the memories clawing at her buried self. She sings, softly:

“Father, I was born this way, but molded by men with wires and whispers.
Reznor… he was the sound of my suffering. He was the architect of noise in my dreams.
Was he my handler? Or just another ghost in the machine?”

The cathedral echoes with Nine Inch Nails’ haunting chords — “Hurt” melts into “Paparazzi” — and Christus Rex weeps, seeing how the gods of the new world order replace the cross with contracts, sacraments with subcontracts, salvation with synthetic serotonin.

He steps down, placing his hand on Gaga’s head:

“Come home, my daughter. Unplug. They cannot take what is real.”

Behind them, a stained glass depiction flickers — Gaga reborn not as a puppet of fame, but as Stefani Germanotta, healed and free.