ZACARIAH SITCHIN IMPLIED: A GOD WHO CONSUMES ANOTHER GOD EVENTUALLY DIES IN PAIN : Anunnaki, Cannibalism and the Epstein + His Associates Rumoured Cannibalism

There are taboos… and then there are cosmic taboos.

Among the oldest stories ever recorded, long before modern politics, long before conspiracy culture, long before scandals filled headlines, there were myths about what happens when rulers cross a line so deep that even gods recoil.

One such story — not in mainstream scholarship, but in the controversial reinterpretations of Zecharia Sitchin — tells of a duel in the heavens between two Anunnaki rulers: Alalu [ Architect, dreamer of towns, Alala - Ilu ] and Anu [The Merciful One or Mercy ].

And in Sitchin’s version, it becomes something far darker than myth.

The Duel in the Heavens (According to Sitchin)

In the traditional Hurro-Hittite myth cycle (often called the Kumarbi Cycle), Alalu is overthrown. The story is symbolic, poetic, ritualistic.

But Sitchin reimagines it as literal.

In his Earth Chronicles, he frames Alalu and Anu not as abstract deities but as flesh-and-blood rulers of a wandering planet called Nibiru. Their conflict is not metaphorical succession — it is a physical confrontation.

A challenge.

A fight for kingship.

In this retelling, Alalu attacks Anu in combat and commits an act so transgressive it echoes like a biological curse: he bites off and swallows part of Anu’s body.

In ancient myth, when Kumarbi bites Anu, the act results in divine pregnancy — creation through violence.

In Sitchin’s reinterpretation, the act carries another implication: contamination.

The idea emerges that gods cannot consume gods. To ingest divine essence unlawfully is to poison oneself.

And here the story takes its most dramatic turn.

The Banishment

In Sitchin-inspired narratives circulating online, Alalu is not merely dethroned — he is exiled.

Some versions place him on Mars.
Others claim he was escorted to the Moon.
Certain retellings suggest he was accompanied or guarded by a loyal subordinate from his own faction.

The reasoning in these speculative accounts is stark:

He had violated a cosmic boundary.

He had consumed what should never be consumed.

And the punishment was not execution — but isolation.

Exile to die slowly.

The imagery is brutal: swelling abdomen, internal deterioration, a body collapsing under the weight of what it was never meant to ingest.

Whether literal or symbolic, the moral is unmistakable.

Cannibalism — especially among equals — is self-destruction.

Allegory and the Lowest Energy

Now step away from extraterrestrial kings and ask a simpler question:

Why has cannibalism been one of humanity’s most universal taboos?

Across cultures, across continents, across religions — it is treated as degeneration. A collapse of order. A descent beneath even animal instinct.

In mythic language, it is the ultimate fall from divine heights to the abyss.

This is where modern speculation enters the picture.

In the wake of Jeffrey Epstein’s crimes — which are documented in court records and widely reported — the internet produced darker rumors. Among them were unverified allegations of ritual abuse and even cannibalism.

There is no credible evidence supporting those specific claims.

But culturally, the symbolism stuck.

Why?

Because when power abuses the vulnerable, people instinctively reach for the strongest metaphor available.

Consumption.

Predation.

Devouring one’s own.

Gods Do Not Eat Gods

If one follows Sitchin’s dramatic framework — purely as allegory — a pattern appears:

• Rulers who consume their own kind collapse.

• Power that turns inward becomes poison.

• Violation of sacred boundaries leads to exile.

The myth does not need to be factual to be instructive.

Whether Alalu died on Mars, the Moon, or nowhere at all is secondary.

The moral architecture is what matters:

A being that consumes its own kind forfeits legitimacy.

In that sense, cannibalism — literal or symbolic — represents the lowest possible frequency of power. It is power turned parasitic. It is hierarchy turned predation.

And history shows us repeatedly:

When elites feed on those beneath them — financially, morally, physically — exile follows.

Sometimes legal.

Sometimes social.

Sometimes reputational.

Sometimes eternal.

The Real Takeaway

Strip away the extraterrestrials.
Strip away the conspiracies.
Strip away the tabloid speculation.

You are left with something very old and very human:

Societies survive on boundaries.

One of the deepest is this:

We do not consume each other.

The Anunnaki myth, Sitchin’s embellishments, and modern scandal culture all orbit the same core anxiety — what happens when the powerful believe they are above biological and moral law?

The answer, in mythic terms, is simple:

They fall.

From divine heights.

To the abyss.