The whole idea of mutual admiration societies and inner circles within the established cults in the context of Satanism makes me raise my eyebrows. I can understand one can set up a cool kids’ club or join one to peddle one’s agenda but more often than not it’s just an excuse for seeking validation, often at the cost of one’s own interests. How the hell (pun intended) can one claim to embody the archetype of Satan and, at the same time, seek peer approval? Or try hard to please people in order to join their clique? How the hell can one claim to be sinister and, at the same time, follow the Master and Mistress and take what they say at face value? How the hell can one claim to express the genuine essence of Satanism while jumping on the hate bandwagon?
Milton’s Satan was kicked out of the most prestigious and elitist club, called Heaven. In spite of that, he remained proud and arrogant, and defiant. Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. So how can you act against your own interests or betray your own Self just to win someone’s approval, especially if that someone behaves in a rather tasteless manner? People can’t even lie properly. They will bad-mouth you and, if that doesn’t work, they will shower you with insincere praises and dishonest compliments. I like you but, please, talk shit about person X or person Y. You have to be totally deluded to accept unfounded praise, to fancy yourself a special snowflake, even more special than other special snowflakes. All people are the same in their belief they are unique and better than others.
How full of shit one must be to judge another person after one meeting or, worse, on the basis of their writings? And those delusional people claim to have the skill of “esoteric empathy”, whatever the fuck that means for them. You’re not full of wisdom, you’re full of shit, trying to figure out the nature of the person by the way they write. It’s easy to categorize people, make assumptions and cast unfounded judgements left and right. Who the fuck cares about the personality of the writer? Maybe he’s a total asshole, maybe she’s a stupid bitch. Who knows? And who cares? If you write well, then you write well. If your writings are lame, then they are lame. Your life is your business. If your judgement of other people is questionable, then you’re fooling no one that you know what empathy is.
If I appreciate someone’s writings or artwork, I have no problem with admitting it. I don’t think my crown will fall because of that even if someone writes better than me. The character of the writer/artist is irrelevant just like whether I personally like him/her or not, whether we are buddies or not. Who cares about your drama, about your personal bullshit, your jealousy and your inner “esoteric order”? It’s as exciting as the shit in a plastic bag, a herd of sheep patting each other on the back, a prime example of mindless conformity.