I want something to go viral. My toes are adorned with a mysterious scaly pox that I really ought see a doctor about, but I’m pretty sure that’s fungal. I think we can all agree that I’m inherently entitled to the perpetual worship of a million frothing fans. Fans who’ll live for my debonair wit and heartbreaking pathos before I recruit them to fight in my zeitgeist-shifting green anarcho-socialist non-violent love revolution. I’m not necessarily saying that I’m more gifted or inspiring than the average schmo, only that I’m more gifted and inspiring than a lot of people who do possess the adoring legion that I need to achieve my megalomaniacal ends. For instance, why aren’t Sinead O’Connor and Amanda Palmer having lengthy open-letter debates about me, and whether the “Lil Elvis n The Truckstoppers” reference in my last blog was too obscure or yet another previously-unscaled height of my genius?
The problem, as far as I can tell, is that I’m just too sophisticated for the internet. It’s my fault really – in my generous urgency to share my assets I forget that some people don’t have the cognitive faculties to appreciate lengthy masterpieces. To be humble for a moment, bigger isn’t necessarily better, and there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing. Here I am giving you Ulysses every couple of weeks when all you want is snapchat. (Have you read Ulysses? I have.) That’s the only feasible explanation I can think of for why my blog doesn’t have more hits – it’s too Gutenberg and not enough Zuckerberg. People just don’t want to read thousand-word slabs of text any more, they want bite-sized chunks of vaguely amusing trivia that have already been chewed for them. What they want is listicles.
First there was Cracked, and it was good, for it taught us “Why all Pixar Movies Are Secretly About the Apocalypse” and “4 Ways Giant Piles of Poop Are Terrorizing People”. Then there was Buzzfeed, and it was also good for it taught us that major geopolitical crises can be perfectly explained with a series of cheekily captioned gifs. It also democratised the age-old art of storytelling by letting the reader decide, with the click of a button, whether the groundbreaking investigative piece in question was LOL, WIN, OMG, CUTE, TRASHY, FAIL, or simply WTF. As “22 Extremely Disappointing Moments In The History Of Parking” and “Ronald Reagan’s 31 Most Yolo Moments” spread all over Facebook like the leprous rash that seems to be crawling further up my foot, Buzzfeed continues to prove that it can be both fun and interesting, like getting waterboarded by a clown.
Both of these websites have literally billions of hits, and that’s because the listy article, or “listicle”, is the culmination of all human achievement, finally uniting the long estranged magisteria of reading and counting. Though I may not have Buzzfeed’s “hottest, most social content on the web” (WTF) or Cracked’s supply of incongruous stock photos and penis jokes, I do possess excessive 90s pop-culture references and a deranged conspiratorial streak, listicle staples in their own right. So sit back, teeming millions, and witness my glorious crowning as I am born into internet celebrity.
7 REASONS WHY THE CHILDREN’S PROGRAM “MADELINE” IS SECRETLY ABOUT THE HIDDEN BLOODLINE OF CHRIST
1. HER NAME
What does the name “Madeline” mean? It’s derived from Mary Magdalene, biblical ho-turned-saint and Jesus’ closest (and hottest!) female disciple. But according to the Gnostics and a number apocryphal gospels, Mary M wasn’t in the Messianic friendzone. Instead, she was the boo of Christ and the bearer of his various demigod offspring. Jesus jr and co also had their own descendents, like a certain plucky French orphan, who was named after her great (x93) grandmother.
2. HER ORPHAN-NESS
In the show, we never hear anything about Madeline’s parents – that’s because the fact that God had grandkids had to be kept under wraps. Historian Dan Brown writes that the holy bloodline, or “sangrael” was hidden throughout the centuries to protect it from the jealous recriminations of the Church hierarchy. Madeline is the last scion of this sacred line a symbolic personification of the divine lineage as a whole.
Mary Magdelene’s hair was historically depicted as red. Madeline’s hair is also red. Coincidence? Or genetics?
After the crucifixion, Mary Magdelene fled Jerusalem with her children. You won’t believe where they went – France! Through the ensuing centuries, the bloodline was protected by a secret order European elites. The Illuminati was founded in 1776 in Bavaria, a nation-state adjacent to the Austria-Hungarian Empire – the birthplace of Madeline author Ludwig Bemelmans. Bemelens was friends with Greek shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis, who married the widowed Jackie Kennedy. Belemans’ illustrator, Ervine Metzl, died on exactly the same day that JFK died. Some would say it would be drawing a long bow to suggest that the writer of “Madeline” shot John Kennedy, but do we have any have any evidence that he didn’t?
5. “In an old house in Paris all covered in vines…”
This one is obvious. The house is the House of David, which has been preserved through the Merovingian dynasty. The vines refer to the Jesus’ ability to transubstantiatate wine and the fact that the winding tendrils of bloodline survive today. The opening line of each episode is also a veiled nod to a passage from Psalms that prophesies the coming of the scion: “Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house” (Psalm 128:3, KJV).
6. “…Live twelve little girls in two straight lines.”
Does the image of twelve friends who love breaking bread together ring any bells? The other orphans each correspond to one of the faithful apostles. For instance, Danielle clearly represents Simon the Zealot because they both have curly brown hair. Miss Clavel is Judas, because she often betrays Madeline’s hijinks to Lord Cuckooface (Pontius Pilate) and hangs herself in a field in the final episode.
7 . EVERY OTHER CHARACTER
Other elements of the Madeline mythos are rich with allusions to this ancient secret. The dog Genevieve is named after St Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris who protected the holy legacy and whose shrine was of crucial importance to the French Revolution. Pepito, the “son of the Spanish ambassador”, is an obvious cipher for the Beast of Revelation, born of the Spanish Inquistion and the false pope Petrus Romanus and clad in a bad hat – the tenfold crown of the Great Dragon.
So that’s that. Tune in next week for 9 Sesame Street Characters Inspired By Goetic Demons and The 49 Cutest Kittens Dressed Like Henry Kissinger.