Language as a Tool: The Blank Key Alphabet Explained

I can’t help but point out one thing I think everyone up until me got wrong.

Yeah, I know, but suspend disbelief for a minute ok?

The original prophecies that delineate the Messianic persons quite clearly differentiate between a Mashiach ben Yosef, and a Mashiach ben David. Christianity has run with the idea that our Savior, Jesus Christ, stands as fulfillment of both roles. Judaism has by and large insisted He fulfilled neither role.

Hate to be the Goldilocks in a room full of bears, but I don’t see an alternative.

Ben Yosef’s role is to come, suffer for His people, and die tragically. Ben David’s is to negotiate consensus, achieve peace among all the children of Abraham (one way or another), and finally reiterate Ben Yosef in the flesh. Ben David is often viewed as a triumphant and conquering King, but… that’s not the role. He’s a General who takes on the Regent role out of love, duty, and obligation to ben Yosef, then hands ben Yosef back the reins. Ben David amounts to a Cincinnatus iteration.

So we’re not looking directly for the return of Christ, as so many of us appear to interpret. We’re looking for someone who can act as the vestibule to the Third Coming. Who does the Bible describe as that agent? Who comes on the scene and catalyzes the return of Christ?

The AntiChrist, that’s who. Which means the AntiChrist is the ben David iteration of the Mashiach duality. The other bookend, if you will.

Shooting from the hip, I would suggest the Mahdi is also an opinion/possibility about that same figure. Haven’t cracked page one of a Quran, though. Judaism and Islam take the position that this figure will be their exclusive ally, while common Christian belief

is that this figure is as much evil as our Savior is good.

This is the area where we need to step up and offer a mea culpa, because we got it “most wrong”.

Unless your God would damn a yet-unborn human to Hell and lock that human’s free will behind the devil’s machinations, of course. Mine would not.

For confirmation of my suspicions, examine the Book of Matthew. Note the repeated allegation “Son of David”. Note Jesus’ reactions, in sequence.

Do you notice increasing vexation?

Besides that though… one comes before two. Ben Yosef comes and dies, then ben David comes and sets the stage for ben Yosef’s return. It’s as simple as Alpha and Beta.

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I wrote two books in 2024. The first consolidates Einstein’s theory of spacetime with Darwin’s essential theory of evolution, arriving at a conclusion about the purpose of Life (writ large) in the Universe. A single purpose all forms of life share. The title is Universal Purpose, and it is available on Amazon.

The second, titled The Singular You, explores how a person can retain identity and individuality in the face of the rapidly approaching technological Singularity, elucidating a corporate structure that empowers owners (Lifestreamers) to own and monetize every aspect of their personal data from cradle to grave, creating a consolidated lab quality data source whose value grows with continued participation. It is also available on Amazon.

My third book I had hoped to get the approval of the Seventy before releasing but, as Orson Scott Card put it, “this one’s hot and there’s no time”. I’ve started putting it together and will go straight to publishing when it’s done. It exposes a linguistic project of Holy Rome that has lasted at least half a millennium, perhaps over twice that. My own conjecture is that this project was the bone of contention that divided the Church and the Knights Templar.

I present a draft of the Introduction now.

Introduction – The Creation of the Blank Key Alphabet

Language, in its earliest forms, was born from necessity. The first written systems were pictographs, symbols that represented tangible objects or concepts—primitive, but vital tools for communication. However, these early languages carried intrinsic cultural assumptions, tying symbols directly to particular religious, social, or historical contexts. A sword, for example, might be represented by a sharp, angular icon, but the meaning of that symbol would be bound not just to the object but to the society that used it, its ritual significance, and the deities it invoked. Such systems, while functional within their own cultures, left little room for broader interpretation or evolution.

As human societies grew and became more interconnected, the limitations of these early systems became apparent. The need for a universal language, one that could transcend the confines of any particular culture, was undeniable. The evolution of written language would have to move beyond the concrete and the context-bound to something more abstract and adaptable—a system that could evolve with the changing needs of humanity, allowing for not just the representation of objects but also the expression of abstract ideas, relationships, and truths.

This is where the concept of the blank key—the core idea behind what we now recognize as the Key of English—begins to take shape. Unlike previous systems, which were steeped in symbolic representation, the blank key was designed to be empty of specific cultural meanings, free from the assumptions that had limited earlier alphabets. It was an alphabet built not to symbolize but to form—to allow the user to create meaning through a framework of letters that could interact in various ways, building words and concepts that were not confined by their origins.

This blank key was not merely a practical innovation; it was a philosophical shift. Its creation marked a turning point where language became a tool of abstraction, enabling universal communication not just for specific peoples but for all of humanity. This was a new kind of language—one that could contain infinite meaning and was capable of growing with the evolving consciousness of humankind. And yet, its simplicity was its strength—designed to be flexible, adaptable, and, above all, open-ended.

The history of the blank key is a story of evolution and innovation, one that spans centuries and cultures, culminating in the creation of a system that could hold the potential for true universal understanding. This system—carved from the void, yet capable of creating vast worlds of meaning—became the foundation for much of the written communication in Europe and beyond. Its beauty lies in its simplicity: an alphabet that could be used to encode everything—the divine and the mundane, the specific and the general, the spiritual and the material—without imposing any preconceived notions about what the world should look like.

As the evolution of written language moved from pictographs to more sophisticated systems, two prominent cultures—the Greeks and the Romans—each shaped the path forward, leaving a lasting imprint on the development of Western writing systems.

The Greek alphabet, born of the Phoenician system, represented a leap toward phonetic representation. Greek’s system was gregarious, direct, and sequential—an expression of clarity and openness. The Greeks saw language as a tool for discovery, philosophical reasoning, and public discourse. It was linear and numeric in nature, each letter contributing to a clear, progressive sequence of meaning. Every word could be broken down into its component sounds, and the process of reasoning through language was laid bare, offering little in the way of ambiguity.

In contrast, the Latin alphabet—which the Romans inherited from the Greeks—began to introduce a shift toward obscurity and indirection. While Latin still operated on a phonetic basis, its structure was coded: a series of layered meanings embedded within each word, often dependent on context, tone, and cultural understanding. The Roman alphabet, though still based on sounds, began to show signs of complexity—an early form of coded cant that would become a tool for subterfuge and discretion. Rather than speaking directly, Latin would encode meaning in such a way that only those who were versed in its deeper layers could access its full intent.

This shift from Greek’s directness to Latin’s code was not merely linguistic but deeply philosophical. It reflected a world moving from open expression to one where meaning could be hidden, layered, or manipulated. This linguistic evolution laid the groundwork for the blank key alphabet, which would emerge later as a tool that transcended the limitations of both Greek and Latin, offering a system of communication that was empty of preordained meaning, capable of evolving alongside the collective human experience.

This blank key would ultimately become the foundation of a universal language—a system not bound by the constraints of culture or religion, but one that could be adapted and reshaped by those who wielded it.

While the Greek alphabet represented a system of direct, sequential communication, the Latin alphabet introduced a more coded approach—one that wasn’t concerned solely with straightforward expression but with the power of concealment and multiplicity of meaning. This shift in thought marked a critical stage in the development of Western written systems.

The Romans, with their emphasis on control, structure, and political maneuvering, recognized the potential of language to serve as more than a tool for communication—it could also be a tool of manipulation. Latin became a layered, encoded system, one where meanings were often veiled beneath surface-level understanding. It wasn’t just a writing system—it was an attempt to encode ideas in a way that could be interpreted differently depending on the audience.

This complexity allowed the Romans to create systems—both legal and administrative—that were efficient but not easily accessible to the masses. Law, governance, and ritual could be concealed in ways that demanded specialized knowledge, making the alphabet itself something of an elite tool, designed to uphold social hierarchies.

However, while Latin created depth, it still relied on a form of assumed meaning. The structure itself wasn’t open-ended but instead confined to specific uses within established systems of power. This limitation would eventually give rise to a need for something more universal, neutral, and flexible—something capable of transcending the rigid confines of the Roman approach and accommodating a broader vision of human expression.

The blank key would not be a system of concealment but rather one of liberation—a tool capable of reflecting reality as it truly was, free from the assumptions that had plagued its predecessors. In this way, the blank key could be seen as the next logical evolution in the quest for universal understanding through language—a language that was open to all, without the constraints of cultural bias or political manipulation.

This evolution would give rise to a new form of language, one that held within it not only the potential for clearer communication but also the seeds for the development of a more universal understanding of the human experience.

In this unfolding journey, the Davidic Legend, or the Key of English, plays a pivotal role. It is not merely a historical tale, but a living key to unlocking the deeper layers of language itself. Within this legend lies a hidden code—a structure that, when properly understood, reveals the interconnectedness of the sacred, the linguistic, and the philosophical. At its core, the Davidic Legend is more than a myth; it is a map, an archetype that reflects the profound transformation of humanity’s consciousness through the evolution of language.

The English language, as it stands today, is a complex amalgamation of various linguistic traditions and influences. It is an evolving tapestry, woven from the threads of ancient tongues, yet it carries with it a unique potential. The “Key of English” suggests that within the very structure of the language itself, there are ancient codes—echoes of the divine, reflections of an unseen order—that can guide humanity toward greater understanding, wisdom, and unity.

To grasp the significance of this key, we must first explore the deeper roots of language, tracing its origins back to the earliest forms of communication. We must see beyond the superficiality of words and phrases, diving into the symbolism that lies at the heart of every sentence, every word we utter. It is within this symbolism that we begin to glimpse the divine influence on human language and, by extension, on human evolution itself.

The Davidic Legend invites us to engage with language not just as a tool for practical communication, but as a sacred medium—one that carries within it the potential to bridge the temporal and the eternal, the material and the spiritual. Through this lens, we begin to understand that the evolution of language is not just about the mechanics of grammar and syntax, but about the evolution of human consciousness itself. And as we delve deeper into the mysteries of the Key of English, we uncover not just the story of a language, but the unfolding story of humanity’s spiritual and intellectual awakening.

This is the journey we embark upon within these pages—a journey that will reveal the hidden dimensions of language and its power to shape the very future of humanity.

Thanks for reading. Have a great day, and a fantastic new year.

(Left; the original basis of written Hebrew. Right; the emerging basis of modern English.)