George Stroumboulopoulos & The Young Pope: Mozart, The Chosen One?
[Scene: A grand library within the Vatican, dimly lit by candlelight. George Stroumboulopoulos and The Young Pope sit across from each other, surrounded by ancient texts and Masonic symbols carved into the wooden bookshelves. A phonograph plays a haunting excerpt from Mozart’s Requiem in the background.]
George Stroumboulopoulos: Alright, Your Holiness, let’s talk about the original rockstar composer—Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Child prodigy, revolutionary artist, and, as some say, a man with a full-blown Messiah complex. So what was it—genius, madness, or something more?
The Young Pope: Ah, Mozart… the eternal enigma. He was not just a composer—he was a vessel, a conduit for divine inspiration. He believed he was chosen, touched by something beyond mere human talent. And yet, he was a man trapped between two worlds: the sacred and the secret.
George: The secret being… Freemasonry?
The Young Pope: Precisely. Mozart was not just a casual member—he was deeply involved. The Freemasons of his time were more than a gentlemen’s club; they were the architects of enlightenment thought, revolution, and, some would say, hidden power. And Mozart? He saw himself as their prophet, the one who could unite music, mysticism, and Masonic philosophy into something transcendent.
George: And yet, despite all that ambition, he died young—struggling, sick, and, as some suspect, poisoned while composing Requiem. That’s got to mess with your chosen-one complex.
The Young Pope: Oh, but that is exactly why he saw himself as the chosen one. The true Messianic figure must suffer, must be betrayed, must die before completing his work. Look at the final days of his life—fevered, paranoid, convinced he was being watched, hunted. The Requiem itself? He was composing his own funeral mass, as if he knew his time was up.
George: So was he actually poisoned, or was that just the paranoia of a dying genius?
The Young Pope: History has its official version, but let’s just say that men who know too much, who rise too high, and who challenge the wrong powers—those men rarely die peacefully in their sleep.
George: So if Mozart really was a chosen one, what was his purpose? What was he trying to reveal?
The Young Pope: That music is the key to the divine. That sound itself is a language of creation, a force capable of shaping reality. The Masons understood this, but Mozart wanted to take it further—he wanted to bring it to the masses, to enlighten through sound. And for that… well, perhaps the world wasn’t ready.
George: A man ahead of his time, or a prophet silenced?
The Young Pope: Why not both?
[The Lacrimosa swells in the background. The conversation fades, but the mystery of Mozart lingers, just like his unfinished masterpiece.]
The Young Pope on Mozart & The Goal of Freemasonry: The Eschaton
“Mozart was not merely a composer; he was an initiate. His music was more than entertainment—it was a key, a cipher, a whisper of the divine plan. The Freemasons of his time did not gather for frivolity, but for a purpose as old as civilization itself: to guide humanity toward the Eschaton, the great unveiling, the fulfillment of ancient prophecies.”
“Every note in his Magic Flute carries the weight of secret teachings. Every chord in his Requiem echoes the knowledge that power has always been veiled in symbol and ritual. The Masons did not seek to rule in the way of kings, but to shape the very destiny of mankind, to prepare for the final revelation. Mozart believed he was the chosen vessel for this great work. And like all who come too close to the fire of truth, he paid the price.”
“The question remains, George—was his death a tragedy? Or was it necessary, a ritual sacrifice in service of the greater design?
“The Eschaton will come, whether by divine hand or human will. And when it does, Mozart’s music will be there, playing in the background of history’s final act.”
Dr. David Suzuki on Mozart’s Requiem & the Ecocide of Revelation 16
“Mozart’s Requiem was not just for his own passing—it was for all of us. A lament for a dying world, a world poisoned by its own greed and arrogance. Revelation 16 speaks of rivers turning to blood, of scorching heat, of a world collapsing under the weight of its own corruption. And here we are—facing mass extinctions, burning forests, and poisoned waters. The ecocide is real, and the prophecies are playing out before our eyes.”
“But what does Hollywood do? Instead of reckoning with the destruction, they send in their Marvel Messiah—Ryan Reynolds, the sarcastic, quippy Christ figure in a spandex suit. ‘Don’t worry,’ they tell us. ‘Laugh a little. Everything’s fine.’ He’s the modern equivalent of the Shrine Circus clown, a distraction while the tent burns down around us.”
“Mozart, at least, understood grief. He composed for the end, not as an entertainer, but as a prophet of loss. Maybe it’s time we stop laughing along with the clowns and start listening to the requiem before it’s too late.”
George Stroumboulopoulos on Greece & the Weight of Apocalypse
“Greece, the cradle of Western civilization, now feels the weight of apocalypse pressing down on its shoulders. The birthplace of democracy, philosophy, and art has become a cautionary tale of economic ruin. The markets collapse, the streets burn, and the people suffer—not from war, but from the invisible hand of financial conquest.”
“The Euro was supposed to bring prosperity, but instead, it chained Greece to a system designed for its own destruction. The sons of Judas did not send wealth; they sent debt. They sent austerity, not abundance. And now, the people who built empires must scrape by, forced to sell their islands, their history, their dignity, to survive.”
“Chaos is not just in the economy—it is in the spirit. A nation robbed of its future begins to feel the tremors of something greater, something biblical. If Revelation speaks of nations falling and the world descending into disorder, perhaps Greece is the first to hear the echoes of the coming storm.”
Angelina Jolie on Maria & the Illuminati Bloodlines
“This isn’t just a film. Maria is a warning. Aristotle Onassis wasn’t just a shipping magnate—he was part of something bigger, something ancient. His family moved in circles where power is not earned, but inherited. The same 13 bloodlines that have controlled the world for centuries. The same ones who decide wars, economies, and who gets to rise or fall.”
“I know what happens when you get too close to the truth. They will come for me, like they’ve come for so many before. But I’m not afraid. Before I leave this world, I will expose them all. Every last one. Unless, of course… a villain rises to stop me.”
[She smirks, the shadow of a challenge in her eyes.]
“Your move, Illuminati.”
Baron Jacob Rothschild on the Illuminati’s Next Move
[Scene: A private estate in Tel Aviv. The moonlight reflects off a glass of vintage Rothschild wine as Baron Jacob Rothschild leans back, savoring every sip. Across from him, a shadowy figure stirs his drink, smirking.]
“Patience is everything,” Rothschild muses, “The Young Pope is a mere inconvenience, a blip in the grand design. These so-called rebels, these self-proclaimed truth-seekers—they come and go. We, however, remain. We wait. We watch. And when the time is right, we resume the tally.”
[Epstein chuckles, swirling his drink.]
“You know, Jacob, they always think they’re the first to challenge the order. As if history hasn’t buried countless others before them.”
“Indeed,” Rothschild nods, taking another slow sip. “And history will bury them again.”
[The laughter echoes through the night, mingling with the distant sounds of waves. The clock ticks. The wine flows. The game continues.]