Keep Your Labubu to Yourself: Saturn Still Feeds, Don’t Feed My Kids

Humans have always worshiped. Long before temples and holy books, our ancestors looked to the sky, the stars, the seasons — and they bowed. Why? Because worship was survival. To the ancient mind, rain meant crops, the sun meant life, and Saturn — the slow, dim, devouring planet — meant death and time. Across civilizations, we see the same pattern: the human need to explain forces bigger than ourselves became devotion, ritual, and eventually control. Worship soothed fear, but it also opened the door for manipulation.

Saturn Across Civilizations

Everywhere the pattern repeats: child sacrifice, ritual inversion, black cube symbols, and the worship of time as deity. Humans worship to make sense of forces larger than themselves, but those forces have been consistently framed in Saturnian terms.Babylon & Sumeria: Saturn appeared as Ninurta, deity of harvest and war. His weapon was the sickle — a tool that fed but also killed. Agriculture and death, fertility and destruction, bound together in one archetype.

Phoenicia & Canaan: Here we find Moloch and Baal — gods demanding child sacrifice. Archaeological digs at Carthage reveal tophets, ritual burial grounds filled with the remains of infants and animals, burned as offerings. Saturn devours the future.

Greece: Kronos, father of Zeus, devours his children to hold power. The myth encodes Saturn as time itself (Chronos) — inevitable, relentless, consuming all.

Rome: Saturn was central to Roman religion. The festival of Saturnalia inverted social order — masters served slaves, chaos was sanctified. Inversion ritualized as holiday.

Egypt: Osiris often merged with Saturn archetypes. He ruled over death and rebirth, with black stone obelisks and temples anchoring his worship.

India: Shani, the planetary deity of Saturn in Vedic tradition, embodies punishment, karma, and suffering. Devotees wear black, offer black sesame, and pray to ward off his wrath.

Judaism: “El,” one of the oldest names for God, shares traits with a Canaanite father deity associated with Saturn. The ritual of tefillin — black cubes strapped to forehead and arm — repeats Saturnian geometry.

Islam: The Kaaba, a massive black cube in Mecca, was sacred to pre-Islamic tribes before Muhammad. Pilgrims still circle it today.

Mesoamerica: The Mayans associated Saturn with “the star of death.” Ceremonies tied Saturn to destruction, famine, and sacrifice.

Celtic & Norse Traditions: Saturn archetypes emerge through Cronn and later Loki — inversion, chaos, destruction disguised as play. Sacred stone circles often align with Saturn’s movements.

China: Ancient astronomers called Saturn the “Earth Star,” linking it to fate, hardship, and limitation. Rituals emphasized endurance.

The Saturnian Blueprint in Modern Religion

Fast forward to today, and the same rituals remain — only rebranded: The cross — a torture device turned into jewelry and salvation. Clerical robes — black garments echoing Saturn’s color of authority. The Sabbath — Saturday, Saturn’s day, made holy. Sacrifice as virtue — fasting, tithing, silent endurance reframed as holiness. Most practitioners do not realize they are participating in Saturnian liturgy. That is the genius of inversion: to mask slavery as devotion.

Cognitive Dissonance as Doctrine

Religious texts enshrine contradictions because contradictions confuse, and confusion breeds dependency. One line speaks of love, another of annihilation. You are told you are made in God’s image, yet unworthy without repentance. This is not sloppy theology — it is programming. And the same mechanism has simply been updated for the modern world. Where once you entered temples, today you log in. The daily feed functions as a new liturgy: you scroll to see what’s trending, what to fear, what to desire, and what to repeat. The algorithm is the new priesthood, pushing out commandments in the form of headlines, hashtags, and viral rituals. It is the same Saturnian march — only dressed in pixels instead of parchment. Yesterday’s contradictions were “love thy neighbor” vs. “destroy the unbeliever.” Today’s are “be authentic” vs. “follow the script,” “think for yourself” vs. “trust the experts.” The dissonance is constant because the dissonance keeps you pliable. The rituals haven’t disappeared; they’ve been rebranded. Instead of kneeling at an altar, you refresh your notifications. Instead of fasting, you cancel, boycott, or binge according to the sermon of the day. Discipline is outsourced to a feed, obedience gamified by likes, devotion optimized for clicks. Saturn doesn’t need stone temples anymore. He marches on through screens, through rituals updated hourly, through the constant hum of cognitive dissonance disguised as connection.

The Victimhood Loop

The believer is told: you are broken yet chosen, sinful yet saved, oppressed yet victorious. This paradox is not liberation — it is programming. When you are both captive and conqueror, you defend the very chains you wear. And in the digital age, the loop has simply been upgraded. Now you log in to rehearse the same paradox in secular form. You are told: be free, but follow the script; be authentic, but conform to the trend; you are empowered, but you must remain outraged. The algorithm feeds you alternating identities — victim and victor — so you never stand still long enough to recognize the cage. The feed becomes the pulpit, contradiction the sermon. One post tells you to love yourself, the next sells you a cure for your flaws. One headline declares your freedom, the next demands obedience. You oscillate between empowerment and despair, never resolving either, always in motion but never in control. This is the digital Saturnalia: inversion ritualized at scale, chaos sanctified as culture, contradiction normalized as lifestyle. The loop keeps spinning because the loop is the product. Saturn doesn’t need priests to tell you you’re both damned and saved. The feed does it for him. And the more you scroll, the deeper you participate in a ritual you don’t even realize you’re performing.

A Call to Parents: Don’t Let the Algorithm Catechize Your Children

Parents, understand this: the contradictions are no longer just in scripture, they are built into the feed. The doctrine of cognitive dissonance has been digitized. Every scroll tells your child what to fear, what to follow, what to cancel, and what to consume. Every notification is a tiny sermon. Every algorithm is a pulpit. And the victimhood loop has gone viral. Your children are being trained to see themselves as both powerless and “empowered” at once — outraged but entertained, free but enslaved to the trend cycle. This is Saturn in real time, marching forward through pixels, teaching them to defend the very cage they are in. Do not hand your kids to the machine. Do not let their first catechism be the algorithm. You have an opportunity your ancestors did not: to break the cycle.

• Teach them that freedom is not chaos, it is conscious discipline.
• Teach them that truth does not arrive in headlines, it emerges from lived experience.
• Teach them that community is not followers and likes, but eye contact, trust, and shared meals.
• Teach them that wonder is not fed by fear, but by curiosity unchained.

The system will catechize them if you don’t. The rituals have been updated, the contradictions refreshed daily, but the logic is the same: bind them in fear, keep them confused, and they will bow. Parents: you can end it here. Refuse to pass on the old cage. Refuse to outsource your child’s imagination to the algorithm. Raise them in sovereignty, not submission. In curiosity, not fear. In truth, not in dissonance. The oldest spell humanity ever knew is still being cast — but you hold the power to break it by refusing to let your children be programmed by either priest or feed.