By Eian Orange
From daylight-less underground bomb shelter morning parades where civil vigilance complies with paranoid inheritance. Thank the forty-two phonies for freeing the minds of desperate backwoods rednecks with assault rifles everywhere. The country is proud to have you protecting us from the men in green and the little green men, and our arch-enemy f.e.m.a.
And what with all this composted confederate civil war grudge grinding kkk bullshit espoused by ten-gallon cowboy wannabes and makeshift militias culled under the spell of Nazarene tyranny. We believe all their sacred texts are all syllogistic tools for bio-chemical brainwashing. (from mouth to ear as would oral traditions) Using the words in these so-called holy books with their picture perfect anti-heroes to play either maiden, martyr, or murderer. So selfless and giving yet merciless. The grand Master, the apotheosis, yet there's always the darkness present to keep the celestial balance. Real Satanists aren't made, they're born. Real Christians aren't born, they're indoctrinated as such. They're taken and baptized to mark the beginning of their lives. Then communion to mark their adolescence
King Herod sure seemed convinced of trouble from the start.
What do the Ted Kaczinski's of the world think of this consumer nightmare? All these shopping mall gestapo working serial moms? Why didn't those fuckin box cutter-wielding C.I.A. activated assassins crash two planes into Nordstrom's and Fortunoff? Where's the Anthrax in the Christmas swine? Or Semtex candles for Khanukkah? Or Jack o' Lantern pumpkin IEDs on your neighbor's doorstep? Or the good ol' fashioned "cut your own turkey's head off and we'll boil and pluck the fucker for you free of charge!" campaigns for kids.
These post-summer/pre-winter holidays begin with Labor day and the West Indian day parade which both fell on the 5th of September this year. Quickly followed by a new holiday, one that now has, not just national, but global ramifications. One that is built on death, misery, and deceit. September 11th. Not the happiest of holidays, but it has become the international day of togetherness in sorrow, guilt, and a displaced sense of mourning even though the oh so tempting implementation of a lachrymal vessel stationed amongst the layman offerings would be entirely vampiric in nature.
But I say fuck these pinche putos, if one magicker can drain the powers of cattle then fuck it let's drain 'em dry. We will make blood sacrifices in preparation for the placement of the orgone-wrangling vessel.
Not a fuckin thing has happened at ground zero to prove we're a nation that can't be toppled so easily. They should've rebuilt actual office buildings to show those bastards how resilient we are to attacks from state sponsored terrorism, but instead they went the sappy route and built a gay fuckin memorial that took ten years to build and still isn't technically done.
Strength in numbers doesn't always push the odds in our favor. This may be why it is said the will of one has more chance of effectiveness on the material world than would a group will because of the problem of unity of desire between group hive minds. If there are 3 people in the coven two are thinking of sex and the other about money or murder. It's hard to get everyone on the same page. But this is very simple. Have an intention and carry through with whatever cathartic eckstasis/katalepsis method you so choose. De-focus your mind, empty it threadbare if possible, and fire off the unabridged crystallization of your desire(s) into the chasm of a space/time transfixture.
Laugh heartily afterwards even if it's not genuinely funny.
It seems to me that 9/11 has become the new starting point for our ubiquitous holiday wage-slave blank-faced exchange of mediocre gifts neither party can afford in the first place. All in order to exalt and placate their new new God whose always got the benjamins, and several magnanimous fuckin whips, and every drug you can think of, and one car pumpin' mad wattage out the trunk and the rims are a black on black custom version of Giovanni 22s. This is what we've come to. Pure novelty wrapped in reality's tunic.
It's not so uncommon for a series of social rituals to begin earlier and earlier each year. I suppose the anticipation for sensationalized human interest stories is just too overwhelming for the press and there's too much lossless revenue that multi-conglomerates can't help, but stick their tentacles into it. In my lifetime, it used to be thanksgiving when we'd start to see lights for sale and Santa on his sleigh with reindeer that you stick in the ground. And then Halloween became the new starting point for holiday revelry with its free leftover candies from Uncle Tom and Aunt Patsy and cheap overstocked pharmacies and grocery stores who'll do anything to get rid of all the leftover candy. Soon enough August will be the starting point for the hypnotic holiday hoo-haa.
No one's saying pipe bombs are cool. Not out loud anyhow. Either way they're far more reliable than chaobolts.
Any sufficiently advanced military power is indistinguishable from both the 'wrath of god' and the 'fury of nature'. Don't forget to unlock your trigger safety before putting the pistol under your pillow at night. If a fat guy in a red suit comes down your chimney, sneak up behind him with piano around his neck (to stun not to kill) then stuff him in the basement walk-in freezer in his birthday suit with a ball-gag in his mouth. Of course, you then proceed to call all your friends over for the most jolly gang anal-rape since last month's turkey basting.
Defacing churches is bonus points for this season. Robbing liquor stores or better yet breaking into liquor stores and destroying as much alcohol as possible is a slam against the new years Dale Earnhardt school of driving. Alcohol ain't shit but old-school roofies and acts as an abrasive multi purpose cleanser. If those grunts in Europe during the black plague would've been bathing in their mead instead of funneling two barrels at a time they might have survived infection. It doesn't seem like xmas will just go away as much as any of us might want it to.
This four month season of revelry and in-affordability we're about to enter into is time to fuck some shit up, disrupt tradition, pull fire alarms in every store you can run from, make as many prank 911 calls as possible, get the civil servants all fucked up, send shitloads of empty mail with fake addresses, but especially not to 'Santa' it's too easy for the mail rooms to sort the kids mail to the side, make up a new character and mass mail the fucker, start the biggest amount of community/social rumors as you can, point the weapon of your imagination at the corporate and civil complexes, even a menial understanding of the stock exchange can help you to infiltrate 'the system', knowledge of computers also a plus.
This should always, always be a time when magickers should be brewing wealth centered workings as a direct response to consumer inflation. People _will_ buy at this time! And, dare I say, people will buy anything if you package it properly. Kids thrive on pure gimmick (even though they see through the mundane censor of their parental machines). People will always buy more food at this time too. Where's all the culinary chef magick when marketing is at hand?
All this blathering sometimes mistakes itself for net-working. I think I just passed that lane of traffic by driving on the shoulder, though. There's probably a huge ditch up ahead but at least I'm still moving, while so many metal coffins bake and rot at a perfect standstill. I'll navigate a ditch over stasis any chance I get.
Der Mickster gets the most high respect for remaining a vital messenger of synchronicity at the mercy of the powers that ain't even be.
THC = 93 = Theriomorphically Heightened Consciousness [GoN]
And with a small addendum I smoke to the Z in Zed who speaks to all you cats in the lands of THC so let's re-invent the midwinter Tree.
Tetrahydrocannabinol = 61 = Immanentize the Eschaton [GoN]
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