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Jeb Bush, Alleged Prince of Jerusalem, Thought He Had Presidential Nomination in the Bag

Jeb Bush, Alleged Prince of Jerusalem, Thought He Had Presidential Nomination in the Bag
February 23
14:12 2016

ADAM MICHAEL LUEBKE
typng w/ one njured fnger

If every president but two in the history of the United States has been a Freemason, then it had dawned early on the young and geeky Jeb Bush to get in thick with the local lodge and become a natural candidate for president. This happened behind the scenes, long ago, and is not as public as you’d think.

Also, he’ll deny it if you confront him about it. Don’t let him.

Jeb_Bush_GOP

credit: Michael Vadon

If you don’t believe that part about the Freemasons and the presidency, don’t expect it to pop up on the first Google entry unless you hit the search terms just right. There’s very little chance you’ll stumble onto news of Jeb Bush hitting the 16th degree in his lodge and being named the Prince of Jerusalem.

Some will instead say Jeb Bush was christened Knight of Malta many years ago. But I don’t see it. You can’t mumble and stutter like he does and be at that level.

That’s like trying to pass off Bill Clinton as a Knight of the Brazen Serpent. Or is it Slippery? Who knows anymore? The masonry channels are all mixed up and haven’t been quite healthy since the French Revolution. It’s best to stay away from unnecessary speculation unless you have a real license to practice journalism.

Unless you have sources like I do. They gather records and quotes until they get enough good stuff to dump on me. For it I pay a small price. So take the information at Dear Dirty America with a grain of salt, kind of like how you should take the New York Times and the Washington Post. They’ve got the same sources.

I’m told Bush went through the gentlemanly ritual—nothing special, just an episode here and there where his pants deliberately fell to his ankles and the blindfold was too tight around his skull—until he’d nailed the ceremony and felt he was ready to be a natural candidate for presidency.

The ritual is nothing to scoff at. Nobody wants to hear more jokes about bahhing sheep just outside the door. It’s a spiritual journey undertaken in a systematic way in a small room with the other members of that level and higher, sitting honorably in high-backed chairs placed tidily along the walls.

My friend, the exiled cultural philosopher Hubert Humdinger, reached the highest levels in his lodge only to realize, “It’s a bunch of Satan worship. Beautifying the beast like planting flowers in a corpse.” Whenever he is challenged on that view by other Freemasons, who tell him they’ve never heard such preposterous slander, and they are masons, Humdinger hollers them down by saying,

“Of course you’ve never heard of such a thing, you louse turd. They don’t reveal the whole program to meat heads at the bottom of the totem pole. Do they bring in the university linguistics professor to the Kindergarten class when they try to teach the kids the alphabet?”

It’s not surprising Humdinger complains about not having a close-knit group of friends to kick back with.

Either way, for Bush and his completion of the Prince of Jerusalem, he thought that meant, according to my sources, all the stops would be pulled by the men in the lodge and the men they influenced in rather prominent places in society. Editors. Journalists. Marketers. Investment bankers. Celebrities. Famous chefs. Musicians. Cartoonists. It would be a Jeb Bush push from all the most powerful sources on the planet.

But the push never came. Jeb is still reeling, as you can see with any one of his interviews or debate performances. The man is simply befuddled. The primary votes are tallied. The biscuit is dry and crumbled. The campaign is over.

He thought it would be a replay of 2000. Sit back, laugh, make a few quips, and get Florida dropped into his lap and inherit a cranky old mastermind as vice president with a CV dense enough to feed the Hellfire in the next life for a dozen years.

It never happened. It was never planned. One fellow member of Bush’s lodge wanted to explain, but without his name being published.

Fair enough, we told him. We’ll just print that you have a shock-white handle bar mustache because readers like a little context. So spill your guts.

So he cut them loose. “We never promised our connections or help for Jeb to get the nomination. That was never in the bag. Besides, being the Prince of Jerusalem isn’t all that high up. But for some reason he can’t drop the idea that he was a shoo-in for 2016.”

The old Freemason coughed and rattled his pipes. “It isn’t his place. Maybe if he were Grand Master, or if he’d been courted by one of the splinter groups that pull talent from our pool, he’d have a shot, but nobody saw much potential in him for leadership. Hell, the Council on Foreign Relations won’t even pay for his hotel room when he visits.”

After we finished talking to the old mason, we understood that maybe he wasn’t who he said he was. But how can you tell? They don’t speak or write like Albert Pike anymore. It’s a grungier language they are using these days. And there’s no time to vet sources, anyway. Besides, it’s not what the readers want. They want an accurate feeling, a familiar atmosphere, not a bloody flank of factual grist.

The saddest part about it is that Jeb was ready to swiftly take orders like any other good commander-in-chief. But sometimes service with a smile isn’t enough to get you in the door.

[Jeb Bush header photo credit: Michael Vadon]

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