Lilipucik – An Antinomian Bedtime Story


Today, my auntie told me a diabolical story she read in some shitty tabloid newspaper. It’s a true story, she said, and of course, I believe her. I don’t remember the title but the story illustrates in the best way the sinister spirit. So here it is:

There was once a man, called Johnny, who spent many years in prison for killing his wife. Not that he didn’t love her. In fact, he loved her so much that he got terribly jealous. One day, thinking she betrayed him with another man, in the surge of emotions, he smashed her head with a hammer. When he realized the horror of his deed, he wept and moaned but it was to late. His wife was dead and he found himself behind the bars. In prison he was so kind and humble that he was released earlier for good behavior.

When he came back home, he became a nature lover. He fed hungry birds in winter and started keeping hens. He also cared for stray dogs. But he had one favorite pet he loved fiercely; a little, nearly miniature cock, he called “Lilipucik”, which is a Polish diminutive name for a midget.

One winter morning, on his way to work, he met a homeless man. He was so hungry and looked so miserable that Johnny took pity on him and decided to take him to his home. The homeless man was really grateful and did all the work around the house. Every day, Johnny came back home, there was a hot meal waiting for him.

You know what I long for? – Johnny said to the homeless man – a good hot chicken soup. Kill one hen and cook the soup for me.

So the homeless man got up in the early morning, took an axe and started wondering which hen is most suitable for his benefactor’s dinner. Suddenly, he noticed a tiny thin cock staggering in the yard. Meh – he said to himself – this cock will be dead in no time. Why waste its meat?

And he chopped off Lilipucik’s head.

Johnny came back home and at the doorstep he felt the delicious smell of a soup. Oh how horrified he was when he saw his beloved little cock boiling in the pot! He didn’t listen to the homeless man’s feeble explanations, he wept and shouted at him. “What did you do?! How could you kill my Lilipucik?!” He threw his things out of the house and told him to go away.

The homeless guy shrugged his shoulders, thought the man was crazy, and went his way. Meanwhile, Johnny stopped weeping, looked again at the pot and felt his own head getting hot with surging fury. He took the axe, still stained with Lilipucik’s blood, got on his bike and followed the homeless guy. Finally, he reached him.

You know what it is? – he said showing him the axe – It’s the same axe you killed my little cock with. My dear Lilipucik, whom I loved so much. Now this very axe will chop off your head.

And he smashed the homeless man in the head.

A few months later, Johnny stands before the court.

It’s your second crime, your second murder – the judge says – you deserve the life sentence. Do you have anything to say in your defense?

It was love, Your Honor. – Johnny says – I did it all for love. I loved my wife so much that I killed her. And I loved my cock so much that I killed the motherfucker who dared to take his life. Without my little cock, life is worthless to me.

Bye my Lilipucik. Bye.

And little Johnny, totally devastated, rots in his hell cell.


Guilt and Honor


The Mind, that broods o’er guilty woes,
Is like the Scorpion girt by fire;
In circle narrowing as it glows,
The flames around their captive close,
Till inly search’d by thousand throes,
And maddening in her ire,
One sad and sole relief she knows,
The sting she nourish’d for her foes,
Whose venom never yet was vain,
Gives but one pang and cures all pain,
And darts into her desperate brain:
So do the dark in soul expire,
Or live like Scorpion girt by fire;
So writhes the mind Remorse hath riven,
Unfit for earth, undoom’d for heaven,
Darkness above, despair beneath,
Around it flame, within it death!
Honor, according to and as defined by the sinister-numen, is a specific code of personal behavior and conduct, and the practical means whereby we can live in an evolved way, consistent with the sinister perspective, and aims, of our Sinister Way. Thus, personal honor is how we can change, and control, ourselves
This blog is a response to a friend who asked what the hell (pun intended) the very notion of personal or kindred honor has to do with the Devil. If one’s aim is to break the taboos imposed by the society, then shouldn’t one break one’s own rules? Go against one’s principles? Behind it there is a flawed belief that those who call themselves Satanists or Niners are somehow different from other people, that their minds work differently.
What Lord Byron describes in “Giaur” is nothing else than Hell in its purest form; the state of the mind tormented by perpetual guilt, the fires of remorse that can never be quenched. Is there the torment more painful than guilt? You can get over it but what if you cannot? It’s the matter of integrity. It’s not only having strong moral principles but also your self-image being whole, integrated, undivided. It’s easier to go against the morals imposed by the society, which you don’t agree with, because they don’t hurt your self-image. Going against your own principles, on the other hand, disintegrates your self-image, leading to the feelings of guilt and shame. It’s all relative and depends on how important your own principles are to you. Does it make sense to go against the self just to see how it feels? What if you can’t put together the broken mirror?
Now, moving on to this cloak-and-dagger troll club called the ONA, let’s pretend for a moment and for the sake of this blog that it is all for real, that there are some sinister tribes out there culling people and what not. The code of honor is something that binds people together. How can you have a well-functioning tribe if its members don’t share the same set of core values? How can you trust someone if they are not loyal to you? The focus is on self-control, putting the Tradition before giving vent to your compulsions. This is where guilt and shame kick in. If you act dishonorably, you can either be shamed by others or flog yourself for your own failure. Obeying the ethics is a way to avoid the pain of guilt.
The reason for the ethics behind “culling” is basically the same. Without the ethics, it would be plain murder. It’s easier to kill someone if they are first dehumanized and shown as worthless scum. If you are led to believe that you help the evolution of mankind by removing the undesirable elements, it’s even more comforting. The aim is to combat guilt that can prove to be destructive. It’s hard to be defiant if you are devoured by remorse.
That doesn’t sound very *Satanic*, I know. Anyway, the dirty work is not for Adepts, but it’s something reserved for the pawns. Is it really all about defiance and crossing one’s limits? Or is it rather about understanding how we are all emotionally wired, behind all the lies we tell ourselves? Empathy in its darkest sense is nothing else than understanding the human nature, manipulating and exploiting it to your own advantage. If the Devil is the accuser, then his job will be trying to awaken in you the creepy feelings of guilt and self-contempt. What’s the better way of paralyzing one’s enemy if not by the poisonous sting of remorse?