Of Frogs, Dogs and Mice

If you throw a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will hop right out. But if you put that frog in a pot of tepid water and slowly warm it, the frog doesn’t figure out what going on until it’s too late. Boiled frog. It’s just a metter of working by slow degrees.

There would really be no point in logging into the Satanic forums if it wasn’t for free comedy. So recently the woman, the high priestess of Truth4Satan ministry came into SIN and posted this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Radn6iMvVSQ

This, in turn, was inspired by this:

https://truth4satan.com/T4SForum/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=37

For those who have no time to listen to nearly an hour long trololol – inspired obviously obvious bullshit this picture will sum it up perfectly, I guess.

I won’t even be wasting time debating it because that would be akin to coloring inside the lines of a coloring book for preschool kids. It’s only ironic how often you can hear the word “truth” in that video. But even a totally silly nonsense can spark off an interesting discussion or serve as a starting point for pondering over some real, more important and more complicated issues than the ones presented initially.

So what’s that REAL issue? Well… the real issue is some over-sensitive and self-righteous bitches demanding the government to protect them and the whole society from imaginary boogeymen. And what such “protection” can lead to can be seen today. It’s a totally psychotic quasi-totalitarian worldwide regime of the government authorities destroying private businesses and institutions of culture, of fear mongering press and medical celebrities and scared people locked up at homes or walking around with muzzles on their mouths like dogs. Fuck, if you obeyed orders and stayed at home, and only learned about the world from the TV news, you might think you would have a hard time meandering to the nearest walmart due to the piles of corpses all along the way. And the insanity is in the name of what? In the name of protecting you from the super deadly virus with as much as 2% mortality rate. At least, this is the official narrative. Because the real aim is not only to deprive you of basic freedom but also isolate you from family, friends and other people according to the divide and conquer principle.

Another boogeyman are the “hate speech” and “hate groups.” That concerns everything and everyone the leftist journalists, activists or feminists don’t like or disagree with. We read or watch some stuff that bothers us so let’s petition the mommy government to ban it. People call us on our bullshit so let’s organize a conference in the UN where we will demand “a safe space on the internet for women and girls” so that all those nasty guys won’t stalk and harass us. A similar cry for social justice preceded the internet censorship in Turkey. To give the government a reason to censor the internet, every day the Turkish media showed the arrests of pedophiles, real or supposed ones, who were said to be inspired by child porn online. At that time, pedophiles were springing up like mushrooms after the rain. Their arrests and trials were public spectacles. Coincidence or a deliberate action? The government had to have some reason to justify the crawling censorship. It’s all for your good and the good of your children. And indeed, it started with kiddy porn, then everything deemed “indecent” got banned. And now, it’s everything Mr Erdogan cannot stomach.

Because the authorities don’t take away your freedom all at once as they could face a rebellion. They take it away, gradually, piece by piece, until you get accustomed to the regime and you will treat it as something normal or… new normal. I really like this phrase “new normal.” I mean what the fuck does it even mean? Either something is normal or it is not. The only thing that comes to my head is a bunch of loonies taking over the psychiatric ward and dressing up for doctors and nurses after they locked up the actual staff in a basement or worse, murdered them and dumped their bodies in the backyard.

But now let’s come back to our video and imagine the priest high or black mamba or whatever in court where he stands accused of slashing roosters’ throats and throwing the cats into the washing machine.

But Your Honor – says our priest – I didn’t do it. I respect and love animals! I’m a law abiding citizen.

But you’re a Satanist – says the judge.

But we are decent Satanists – says our priest – We find torturing animals absolutely disgusting. It’s all stated on our websites and in our videos.

Well – says the judge – I have no time to read your websites or watch your videos. I’m not interested in what you’ve got to say. The local newspaper wrote you committed those crimes and I have no reason not to believe it.

But where is the evidence Your Honor – asks the priest.

I don’t need the evidence – answers the judge – this article is enough. Besides all the trolls on the internet have already confirmed you’re animals hating wretch. I therefore sentence you to …….

Insert here the proper sentence, reader. I don’t know what punishment you get for torturing and killing animals in the US but by God, it should be a death sentence.

As absurd as the above situation looks like, this is how those who want to outlaw the wicked Nazi Satanists imagine a trial and you good Satanists abhorring evil (I can’t even say it with a straight face) you could be the next, just like Christians or gays or feminists or any other group of people. In times when breathing freely and hugging a friend are already crimes, you don’t have to overwork yourselves to be considered criminals. And not much is needed to commit a thought crime. It’s enough to write “Satan is good.” This is a blasphemy. We all know that only Jesus is good. Remember the Inquisition and witch trials?

Till Death Do Not Us Part.

My name is Emily Grierson. I’m the heroine from Faulkner’s love story.

I live in the world of shadows and dust. I cannot let go of the past. Boldly and stubbornly I refuse to let it go. The town I live in is moving ahead but me, I stand still, in perpetual defiance of movement, stuck in darkness, forever locked at home, and I don’t believe in burnt bridges.

No mortal being, no power in this world will pull me away from the embrace of my beloved. Please, don’t call him a corpse. My love, my passion, still vibrant and burning, is too furious to die.

Too proud to live, too proud to die. People are talking about me, call me insane, call me perverse. They send letters, they send roses but I belong to their world no more.

He’s here, he’s my love, my world, my life and my death. My everything. The world behind my windows doesn’t exist. It’s an illusion. By drawing the curtains close, I’ve made it vanish. It is here no more. Gone for ever.

So… don’t feel sorry for me.

Feel sorry for yourselves.

* the end *

Love is the Law

​

* A response to two now deleted articles written by a certain neurotic and obsessed internet user who goes by the nym Kerri Scott and who regularly posts on Wyrd Sisters WordPress blog.

Oh my God, I’ve just realized Christmas is coming. And what is the better time for showing your love not only to your loved ones but also enemies? Now, there are some people here who I kept quarrelling with, on the forums and on WordPress, and who apparently keep reading every fucking post I make not only on my blog but also in the comment sections of other people’s blogs. Recently, it was Darryl’s blog.

I’m really flattered by some claims that my posts or the discussions with me helped to move the O9A from one phase to another and helped Papa Myatt and his buddies to recruit at least a few new members. I don’t know what Darryl’s opinion re all of his debates is but I’m personally honored. In the not so distant past I was quite a dedicated member of Satannet forum and I never heard from Magistra Nadramia, who was its admin, a compliment that I helped her Church of Satan flourish or that she attracted new candidates thanks to my rants on her forum.

Now, all comedy aside, and in all seriousness, I don’t even have a glimmer of hope that this time I will manage to get my point across to the brick wall since I couldn’t do that for more than three years. Some people will not understand you because they do not want to understand you. And no persuasions or explanations will help. But I know that some readers stumble upon this blog, accidentally or  not, especially on those O9A related posts, so here are a few words of explanation.

All of my posts here and in the forums present my personal opinions and my view on various topics. I have never claimed otherwise. Others can agree or disagree with my pespective or ignore it altogether or laugh it off or whatever.

Contrary to what some maniacal people have been saying for years, I have never claimed being an expert on the O9A. In fact, I’m not an expert on anything. However, I believe that if one has doubts about the claims of others, one can or even should question them, no matter the credentials the people making claims present. That concerns discussions in general. Confrontation is the way to unmask the bullshit, not necessarily to  feel like a winner but also to learn by interaction and by questioning things. Some people are liars, some are trolls, and even seemingly or actually intelligent people can talk out of their asses on several occassions. Moreover, there is not even one human being who didn’t talk out of his or her ass more than once. So take everything you hear or read with a pinch of salt.

I aint proud. I freely express my views because this is what we have forums and blogs for. But I consider myself an ordinary user of those venues and nothing more. I have the same attitude to other users. I admire nobody. I can consider someone smart but that doesn’t mean I regard them as free of bullshit. Nobody is free of bullshit. If you’re convinced by your opponents’ arguments in a discussion and you admit you were wrong, kudos to you. If you simply break under the emotional pressure, consider yourself spineless. You’re probably one of those people who are afraid to ask the employer for a day off, not to mention a pay-rise. The society will appreciate your humble attitude. Just avoid Russians. They will kill you. And don’t go on a trip to North Korea because you won’t be coming back.

That’s all for today. And Merry XMas everybody.

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?

On Being Eco-Sinister

My buddy, Darryl, has recently shared The Temple of the Earth’s blog post, “David Myatt on Animal Cruelty”, thinking that it somehow proves his hypothesis that the ONA betrayed David Myatt’s heritage. Browsing this nexion of vegan nature lovers’ WordPress, the reader might get an impression that the ONA internet subculture, influenced by Myatt’s latest hippie writings, has turned into tree-hugging Wicca, having the sugar-coated vision of nature as something harmonious unless disturbed by humans. Turning its back on Satanism, the ONA virtual society has largely forsaken the more complex and realistic vision of nature, as depicted in the icon of Baphomet, the image of the nurturing and, at the same time, destructive Mother. But for now on, let’s focus on this particular blog, which mainly is a quotation from Myatt’s essay, “Honour, Empathy and the Question of Suffering.”

Myatt writes:

We should treat animals as we ourselves, as individual beings, would like to be treated. Would we wish to be subject to pain? To suffer? Would we wish to be captured, and held in captivity, and experimented on, and breed for food and for slaughter? No, of course not.

Now, who wasn’t moved, at least once, by all those tear-some Yahoo stories about faithful dogs and fluffy kittens abandoned and tortured, and murdered by all those cruel and heartless humans? Who didn’t shed a tear at the sight of Facebook campaigns to raise money to rescue a poor sick dog or adopt a lonely cat? Perhaps, we aren’t that bad since we feel for the poor suffering animals?

Now, what about bedbugs and cockroaches? Can we empathize with them? It’s not bedbugs’ fault that they bite our asses at night. Why are cockroaches to blame that they look so disgusting to our eyes? Why do we mercilessly fight with them? Why do we swap mosquitoes and flies? So what is the thing with our human empathy?

The nature lovers love the animals, sure, but only those which are… cute. Like the ones you see on Facebook photos. When it comes to the rest, which is less visually pleasant or is in some way bothersome, it’s the dog eat dog world.

Then Myatt goes on:

Thus, we need to feel and know – to accept – how we are but one small manifestation of Life, connected to all life in the Cosmos. What we do, or do not do, has consequences for ourselves and for other Life. To have empathy – to be empathic – is to be an evolved and evolving human being: it is to be and behave as an adult, a rational human being rather than as the children we have been for so many thousands of years with our tantrums, our squabbles, our pride, our need to fulfil our own desires regardless of the suffering we might or do cause to others, to animals, to Life.

Does anyone remember Michael Jackson’s famous “Earth Song”?

Did you ever stop to notice
All the blood we’ve shed before
Did you ever stop to notice
This crying Earth, these weeping shores

.

Aah, ooh

.

What have we done to the world
Look what we’ve done
What about all the peace
That you pledge your only son

 .

What about flowering fields..

.

All right. I’d better stop at this lest I get sick. But seriously, what about all those animals killing their young or mates? What about predators and parasites? What about the merciless nature regularly waging the war with humans through natural disasters? The eco-sinister nature-lovers would surely repeat after the Green Religion gurus that the animals don’t have reason like humans and that floods and tornadoes are the result of the global warming. That we should invest more money in solar or wind energy, become vegans or, like Darryl writes, close down the zoos. It doesn’t matter that an animal has a higher chance of survival in captivity than in the wild and that the veterinary care and captive breeding helped to save many animals and occasionally entire species forsaken by oh so cute Mommy Nature. But hey, there is not such a thing as natural selection, let’s sweep that dirt under the rug.

Fuck A Pony

I follow the Satanic Views WordPress for shits and giggles. Sometimes, you can count on a good comedy and this article made my day. The blogger writes how some ponies were attacked in the Preston area in the UK and slashed with a knife. One pony died from injuries. You would think it’s nothing special since there are plenty of cuckoos roaming the Earth but don’t be fooled. The Satanic Views blogger has connected the dots and has come to some fascinating conclusions:

A pattern: targets of horses or ponies; nine victims; and the event of the solar eclipse; suggests the attack was motivated by religion.

So the event of the solar eclipse, according to the author, suggests the ritual sacrifice and since the number of the attacked horses is nine, it’s only logical to conclude that the perpetrator was someone associated with the Order of Nine Angles.

Just imagine what these fuckers occupy themselves with when they are not on WordPress, talking shit. They murder innocent animals. What would Anton LaVey say?

Anyway, the Satanic Views author goes on to write:

Unfortunately, it would seem an individual or individuals gain religious release from the injuring, murder and rape of horses or ponies; this latest incident being one of a series of incidents of attacks on equine targets by such people in the last ten years around the UK.

So it turns out that the poor ponies were not only wounded with a knife but, oh horror, they could have been raped. Whether the foul Niners buggered them or only sucked them off is yet to be determined by the police investigators. The ONA Satanism is all about taboo breaking and what is a bigger taboo than screwing a horse?

The author’s final thoughts are quite pessimistic:

Putting aside moral and emotional outrage over the unnecessary harm to innocent animals, one has to accept such delusional and twisted predators exist in UK society…

Yeah, the British are fucked up. Let’s hope the internet pornography ban will put a stop to the all-round perversity.

The Sinister War of the Sexes

I find most of the blogs and articles about “sinister feminine” pretty nauseating. Wouldn’t it be better to admit that one sucks at writing stories and creating complex characters? If some alien who knew nothing about the Earth laid his hands on some piece of sinister fiction, he would think we have matriarchy here and all the males are forsaken by nature and evolution troglodytes born only to serve some clique of female chauvinists.

When one reads Deofel Quartet or other ONA tales, one can see that nearly all the male characters are pretty shallow and one-dimensional, incredibly stupid and naive, devoid of free will, thinking with their dicks, not heads, which inevitably leads them to being abused by their female superiors. An example of such a male troglodyte can be Thorold, ensnared and manipulated by Lianna, who plays the role of the Black Widow, seeking the male to impregnate her and then (when his task is complete) probably sacrifice him to ensure that her crops will grow. That would certainly improve her finances. Business is business. But I’m not really interested in victims. The depiction of a sinister initiate is what I find intriguing.

No Room 101 or Falcifer Unproven

To those not well-versed in modern British literature, let me explain that in Orwell’s “1984”, the room 101 was Winston’s final stage on his way to self-degradation or self-liberation if one prefers the interpretation of the scene by Dr Mikey Aquino. Therein Winston faces his greatest fear – the fear of rats – and under its pressure he breaks his most important principle, his biggest life taboo; he betrays Julia. Only in this way can he be reborn with a new identity, that of the loyal servant of his tormentors. He can either choose this or die eaten up by rats – his greatest nightmare. In either case he loses. It seems Orwell doesn’t free his protagonists from facing the most crucial choices… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

So let’s come back to our “hero”, Falcifer. Much like the main character of “Gruyllan’s Tale”, who is ready to have half of London blown up in order to get laid (talk about desperation), Conrad is largely bewitched by a hot-burning pussy. As an archetypal Anti-Christ, he’s a rather disappointing and dull figure. Throughout the tale, he’s constantly led by the hand, as he realizes himself, the events happen through him rather than by him. That means he’s less doing the magic himself than the magic is done through him, with Aris, the Master, being the agent, the Magician, and Conrad being merely his magic wand. His passive role of a vessel for the forces of chaos is even visible in a way he does sex. He doesn’t fuck, he is fucked. Note the passive.

Susan kissed him as they lay on the ground and Tanith kneeled beside them to caress Conrad’s buttocks and back. In the excitement of the ritual and Tanith’s touch, Conrad’s task was soon over, and he slumped over Susan, temporarily exhausted from his ecstasy. He did not resist when Tanith rolled him over, and watched, as the dancers danced around them still chanting and the light pulsed with the beat of the drum, while Tanith buried her head between Susan’s thighs. Then she was kissing him with her wet mouth before she stood to kiss each member of the congregation in salutation.

So why there is no room 101 in “Falcifer”?

Because Denise escapes.

The whole story should get a prize for its wasted potential. If Denise hadn’t managed to flee, Conrad would have faced his most arduous ordeal. He would have had to decide whether to commit real evil and kill an innocent woman who saved him (which is much different than harming the villains who well deserve it) or ruin his wedding ceremony, disappoint his mentors, possibly waste his promised destiny and be forced to leave the group he so desired to be part of. To his credit, he refuses to rape her but never makes an effort to free her. How would he behave if ordered to sacrifice her during his marriage ceremony? In which case would he get a cookie from the Devil? Should an Anti-Christ set some limits to the Evil or not?

That would complicate the whole story, right? So I started with sex and finished on conformity and the nature of good old evil. After all, they are connected.

Anatomy of V.K. Jehannum

Here, put some bread crumbs for the birdies, please 😉

Since V.K. Jehannum dedicated some blogs to me, I would be an ungrateful bitch if I didn’t even mention him. I observe with interest, and even participate, in his ongoing polemics with those diabolical Wyrd Sisters, whoever the hell they are. The guy has a sense of humor, for sure, so I quite enjoy his blogs and videos, though that kind of debating style is not really my cup of tea. I’ve just noticed his latest videos (you can watch them here if you’re interested) which are the response to one of the WyrdSister’s propaganda essays. One thing that caught my attention was the funny way he’s reading the article. I remember that one day I was talking to my buddy, who goes by the nym of antikarmatomic, and I showed him an article written about me. He said: “Come on dude, it’s written in a full retard mode. Just try reading it aloud and see if you can resist the chortle.” Then he suggested some funny way of reading it, which unfortunately I don’t remember, but when I saw V.K. reading it aloud, I thought: “Yeah, this is it.”

One thing that I pity the guy for… (Or wait, I don’t actually pity him because I’m doing exactly the same thing. Only I enjoy endless debates while he says he doesn’t) is that he’s talking to the fucking wall. Or better, he’s talking to some wound up artificial bird, which persistently chirps the same song. It kinda reminds me of the almost surreal conversation I once had with the lady suffering from Alzheimer’s in the nursing home I work in. The poor thing didn’t know where she was and what was happening to her, although she’d  been there for more than three months. When I answered her questions, she asked me the same questions over and over again, saying that I didn’t want to answer her questions and that I had some secrets I didn’t want to reveal. Everything I said was lost on her. She behaved as if I didn’t say anything to her or said something else that existed only in her imagination.

Another thing that caught my attention in one of his videos was him saying that he didn’t believe Kerri Scott aka WyrdSister could be that stupid and that she was simply disingenuous. Then one of my acquaintances, Beldam, commented that she only wanted everyone to talk about the ONA. The more, the merrier. Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong. On a more serious note, I’m rather tired with random people claiming to be on the inside of some vague joke. Unless you are sitting in someone’s head and reading their thoughts, you’re basically in the dark like everyone else. It’s as if I said “My former friend hates me and is mean to me because she’s jealous.” She might be jealous but this is what you assume, not what you know.

But hey, let’s go down the rabbit hole and let’s try to figure out what Kerri Scott’s agenda might be because I don’t believe she’s merely hypocritical or asshurt. What if this is a test? A kind of social experiment? Remember MKULTRA? I will don now my tinfoil hat. Kerri Scott might be a Magian government agent in disguise examining the effects of bullshit propaganda on the guinea pigs who yearn to be sinister. Imagine that some mad scientist locks you up in a room where you have to debate an automaton which repeats the same nonsense over and over again no matter what you say. How much time would pass till you went crazy? Or she tries to convince you that you are an initiate of some ancient esoteric tradition, the bits and pieces of which she got from various sources she read, only to see how easy it is to create a loyal adherent of a new religion? Or she invites you to a super secret barbecue party, only the chosen ones can attend, to see how deep you shoved that stick up your ass? Or she talks shit about one of your friends and associates only to prove that you are spineless and easily giving in to the stick and carrot treatment?

That’s all for today and if I have ever hurt anyone with my posts, I’m really fucking sorry. I didn’t want to. It’s because I sometimes forget to take my meds. I’m not going to pretend I’m not a liar. Everyone is and the only thing I can do about it is to compete with other liars so that I don’t occupy the last place in the liars’ pecking order. One thing is sure, I will never outsmart Ms SIN Jones.

P.S. This blog was inspired by V.K. Jehannum’s article, “Anatomy of a Czereda” and one by Chloe 352, “Psychic Card Readings.”

A White Bunny in the ONA Hole

The poem below is dedicated to my dearest friend, Darryl Hutchins, who is on his noble way to fight the Old Geezers and Magian pseudo-initiates, defend the truth, enlighten the ONA kids and reform the grand sinister cyber kollective.

Don’t be put off by the silly wording of the poem as the wisdom lies therein. The message is a secret key to the ONA sinisterly-numinous mysteries. Sort it out and don’t lose your heart.

Jabberwocky

.

By Lewis Carroll

.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe.

.

 “Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

 .

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

      Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

      And stood awhile in thought.

.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

      And burbled as it came!

 .

One, two! One, two! And through and through

      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

      He went galumphing back.

 .

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

      He chortled in his joy.

 .

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe.