The Needle Injected into the heart of Dublin city must go - Return Anna Livia to her rightful place

Dublin's Spire aka The Needle with its double helix DNA print represents the globalists' gene editing injections and lack of creative flair. Restore Anna Livia to her throne on O'Connell Street...

Let’s explore the possibility that removing the city’s beloved Anna Livia from Dublin’s O’Connell Street in February 2001 to make way for the The Needle symbolised a satanic shift in consciousness in Ireland. From real art to fake art. From beauty to ugly. From deep spiritual connection to our sacred land and rivers to a meaningless void, a race to the bottomless pit of globalism/consumerism/satanism.

For those not familiar with Anna Livia, better known as the Floozie in the Jacuzzi, here she is in all her elongated glory on O’Connell Street (formerly Sackville Street) in Dublin, a boulevard once prized for its elegance before being utterly neglected under Irish rule, for reasons yet unclear. Anna Livia’s arrival helped restore a sense of the street’s former glory and provided a convivial focal point for natives and tourists alike, on the site where the IRA had blown up Nelson’s Pillar in 1966 leaving a gaping hole for something new, reflective of Ireland’s emerging modern identity, unbridled from British colonial rule. Of course where there are fountains, 40 mini ones in total, there are students with washing up liquid. So Floozie was often seen soaking in a sudsy bath which seemed to add to the sense of luxury and fun she brought to the place.

On the June 17, 1988, Dubliners got their first glimpse of Anna Livia, a £250,000 birthday present from businessman Michael Smurfitt to mark the city’s 1000th year. Created by city engineer Seán Mulcahy and sculptor Éamonn O’Doherty, the bronze art work was named after a character in James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake, Anna Livia Plurabelle, the human embodiment of the River Liffey. With her seaweed-like hair falling over those long, long limbs, she reclined in her bathtub imperiously taking in the comings and goings on a street never short of action.

Anna Livia is a spirit, a goddess of rebirth and renewal, her long flowing hair is the river as it tumbles down from the heathery boglands of the Wicklow Hills, gathers life through the plainlands of Kildare and flows with serene maturity through Chapelizod before entering the sea at Dublin.

BridgesofDublin.ie

Where did all the photos go?

Strangely enough, Google Images doesn’t provide too many photos of Anna Livia even though she was one of the most photographed sculptures on O’Connell Street for those few short years in which she dominated the city art scene in Dublin. Here’s sculptor Eamonn O’Doherty talking to RTÉ reporter Charlie Bird about the arrival of his work to Dublin city centre, giving us a proper sense of the scale of the monument, something missing in many of the photos available to modern day viewers. Click HERE to watch.

Too racist

How things have changed since those millennial celebrations in June 1988. These photos from the launch would be considered racist by today’s woke diversity and inclusiveness diktats. Too white. Too Irish. And yet they record us as we were before the globalists captured our imaginations and our institutions with their social credit score pseudo-reality to entice and entrap.

Eileen Moroney from Kilbarrack paddles in the Anna Livia Statue, June 17, 1988

We’d only see a sculpture like this commissioned today if he/she/they had breasts AND an appendage in line with the Luciferian agenda at play, the merging of male and female. It’s art, don’t ya know? This one in Aarhus, Denmark was erected (pun intended) in 2022 outside a former Women's Museum, since renamed the Gender Museum unsurprisingly. It’s a further attempt to scrub women out of the picture by the Globalist/Luciferian agenda and to undermine the power of the Divine Feminine. Men can’t breastfeed. It’s just a biological fact. Those who want to invert the sacred would have you believe otherwise, if you let them.

AGAPE sculpture by Aske Jonatan Kreilgaard outside KØN – Gender Museum Denmark

Look where they put her!

Back to Dublin and as if to rub salt in our aesthetic wounds, look at where they plonked poor ole Anna Livia 10 years after her removal from the city centre, finally releasing her from storage in February 2011. Her trip down the Liffey is nowhere to be found on the Internet. Somebody must have recorded the journey. Surely there’s footage of the crane installing her in her new home in Croppies Memorial Park by Heuston Station. Or did the media ignore the occasion on purpose? Knowing the Irish public would be too sad to see their long lost daughter being treated so poorly. Dethroned and perched awkwardly with nothing to prop her up, her magnificent encasement dismantled and discarded, the fountains all gone - she waits for Ireland to remember her as if suspended in time. Anna Livia holds out for her return to O’Connell Street where she rightfully belongs. The embodiment of the Liffey levitates over dark waters until the Spire is removed and the satanic spell cast over the Irish is finally broken. That’s what it feels like anyway.

Now let’s review the Spire that replaced Anna Livia. It comes by many names: The Monument of Light, The Stiletto in the Ghetto, The Spire in the Mire, The Uninspiring Spire, The Nail in the Pale, the Stiffy by the Liffey or more appropriately The Syringe in the Dinge.

Or simply The Needle.

DNA Print

At 120 metres high, this Needle can be seen from far and wide but if you look closely at the base, you’ll see an overlay pattern of double helix DNA, as confirmed by London-based Ian Richie Architects, the British creators of the controversial structure who also worked on the glass pyramids of the Louvre in Paris. It’s nearly like the structure is summoning the era of gene editing injections. The Age of the Automaton.

Another bad omen, apart from Ann Livia being cast aside to make room for the Spike that nobody likes: The felling of mature trees planted around 1916, the year of the Rising. Again the media played down the story. It’s hard to find images of the trees on the Internet, lest we remember. The Proclamation of the Republic was read by Patrick Pearse in front of the General Post Office on Easter Monday, April 24, 1916, just a stone’s throw from where they inserted the Spire, like sticking a pin in the bubble of Irish nationalism. Cultural commentator Desmond Fennell said the Spire symbolised Ireland's diminishing sense of nationhood. He was right.

The Spire eventually went up in 2003 at a cost of €4.6 million delayed by a High Court case over planning permission, as the Celtic Tiger injected spending power into the capital’s main arteries. Buried beneath the structure, a time capsule to remain locked away for at least 200 years. What incredible things did the creatives choose to connect with future Dubliners and show them what life was like in year 2003? Hold your hat:

Menus from a pizza company and one of Dublin's most expensive restaurants, till receipts from supermarkets and bars, a packet of 20 cigarettes, newspaper cuttings, an RTÉ Guide and an Argos catalogue.

Is that really the best we could muster? A time capsule devoid of any hint of spirituality or beauty or heritage. Clearly a sign that our collective creativity had seized up in the face of rampant consumerism. No doubt anyone still around to crack open the time capsule in two centuries will be just as disappointed as those who opened the one found under the ruins of Nelson’s Pillar in 2001 and discovered a big fat nothing inside. Nearly better than a bunch of receipts, a TV guide and a packet of fags.

With the Spire and the GPO as the backdrop, the latest street art installation to cause a stir in the Irish capital is the Portal connecting Dublin to New York, Lublin in Poland and Vilnius in Lithuania.

“Portals aim to be a bridge to a united planet. I am grateful to the cities of Dublin and New York for pioneering innovation and welcoming their Portal sculptures, which is a significant milestone after years of work,” Lithuanian artist Benediktas Gylys told The Journal on May 7, 2024.

No longer is it Irish artists for Irish public works, not diverse or inclusive enough. We’re one big global technocratic family now and our street art reflects the designs of the New World Order which has been in the planning for decades.

On this busy thoroughfare with statues dedicated to esteemed political figures including Big Jim Larkin, Charles Stewart Parnell and Daniel O’Connell there stands The Spire. What does it symbolise? Gene therapy injections. Globalism. Unimaginative street art.

One reddit commentator put it:

“It appears substantial but is innately hollow within. It represents nothing and commemorates nothing but itself.”

How much longer before the symbols of Irish patriotism have to go (too Far Right) to be replaced by something more inclusive and diverse? Like a bust of Panti Bliss to commemorate the introduction of hormone blockers for Irish children or Ryan Tubridy holding a Pfizer syringe to celebrate the incredible work of Big Pharma during the Great Pandemic of 2020 to 2022 (where people only started dying in excess numbers after the injections but that’s just a small detail).

We’re dangerously close to these scenarios as crazy as it sounds. We’ve drifted very far from the Truth.

Bring back Ann Livia to O’Connell Street, if only in our imaginations and restore her to her throne. The Monument of Light has performed its task but its power is waning. Lucifer’s lightsaber is running out of battery. The potency of the black magic spell is diminishing. We’re beginning to remember what we’ve lost, what’s been taken from us under false pretences. Romantic Ireland might not yet be dead and gone.

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