Attack Of The Karmic Nazi Cancer Shits

We, all of us, need irresponsible partying, within a bound length of time. We already have this in the form of Christmas. I argue that time is wasted getting people to call it Saturnalia and aping some lame reconstruction of Roman partying.

From Patacelsus

download (2).jpg

(Gods&Radicals is moving! Please click here to read this full article on our new site, and remember to change your bookmarks!)

Wherefore the Despair?

“I offer you a different reason to fight, beyond hope and despair, beyond a hollow victory that only restores Status Q. A reason that can exist regardless of the chances of victory, regardless of the size of that dragon.”

From Patacelsus

pro-church-media-477815-unsplash

It was an ancient mound. The thief was sure that only he knew where it was, and in the dark, it looked even more defenseless than in the light of day. He could hear what sounded like a moan, as he broke through the outer wall. He broke through, and then he saw it all in his torch light. The gold. Wrought into plates, cups, torques, cuffs, rings, coins, so many coins. Gemstones rough and cut, silver pooled in solid lakes lapping shores of those gold coins. A hoard. And it was all his. But he heard it again. Louder, a rasping exhale, from deeper in the mound. The hairs stood on his skin. And for a moment he started. But he laughed at his own cowardice. Ghosts and spooks were for cowards who didn’t have the courage to seize hoards like this. It is just wind, air allowed to flow for who knows how long.

He reached out and took hold of a golden chalice, and the rasping exhale became an angry groan. A sound rolling like thunder from the depth of the barrow, a feint green light coming from the passage leading down. The hairs stood on his skin again, but now could not be banished by false bravado. He ran, the chalice in his hand forgotten but held fast. He ran, heedless of the laws of fate. He ran, a coward and thief whose avarice must now be put right by others.

Cornwolf had been king for many years. He sat and listened. He sat and listened to the descriptions of the dragon. He sat and listened to the stories of its green poisonous fire. He heard the laments of his people. The villagers, of how their homes have burned. The farmers, their crops burned and the land laid waste with poison. All knew that such a beast was the product of the wrath of the ancient ancestors. The thief was unknown, his whereabouts unknown, what he had stolen also unknown. The only option, aside from restoring what was stolen, was to slay the dragon. For any mortal this was certain failure, and certain death. But Cornwolf was no normal king, no normal man. When the fates branded his lot, they decreed him to be a hero. And hero he was, but the fear of his subjects were many. What would they do without him if he dies? What of the dragon? Should he not send his younger warriors in his place? But Cornwolf would not do this, send others to fight for him, like a coward sitting on a mound of gold? No. “Bring me my armor.” Only a hero could slay a dragon. The words having passed his lips, joy returned to his heart, long forgotten. The joy of living the truth of his soul had returned. Whatever the gods pronounce of his doom this day, he goes to meet it in joy. Even though he may fail and die, he rides out, heedless of the danger. For it is right that he should fight, even though it may well be hopeless. Cornwolf refused to live a life yielding to despair, and letting that despair lead him to wrongdoing and cowardice.

He died, killing the dragon. His people were indeed left to fend for themselves, but their worries, had they lived his example, would have been unnecessary. However, Cornwolf’s people were conquered in his absence. Instead of living a truth that he showed them, they mourned the loss of his person.

I often feel it now. I see the world to come, and the despair laps at the edges of my consciousness. The apathy, threatening to sap every activity of vitality and meaning. This is the danger inherent in Capitalist thought, meaning, and ideas. That if it can’t go on perpetually, that it doesn’t mean anything. That it has no purpose. It betrays how deep seated, in me at least, of how far the Capitalist indoctrination goes. Buddhism helps, as long as we’re talking the real deal, and not the “Boomer Buddhism” that Mark Chapman goes on about at length. But the ultimate truths of Sunyata can be difficult to integrate living in this world, in the day to day flow. I find a much more immediate antidote in the inspiration of our ancestors. In the heroes who understood what was required, what was needed of them. Above is a part of the final act of Beowulf. The old wizened king, rides out to slay a dragon. Modern interpreters point to this and say it is a cautionary tale, of a king casting aside his cares for his responsibility to his people, and tries to recapture his youth. Because of course they would; hollow scholars dreaming of recapturing their youth with some adventure, projecting that internal reality onto the material.

So I offer you instead another interpretation. Maybe this too is a projection. I leave it to you to decide if that matters. My interpretation of this portion of the tale is a hero, knowing the truth of his life, stepping up to do what is necessary. He gladly goes to give his life, knowing that for it to be any other way would be a lie, and bring nothing but personal misery, and misery for his people. The world burns, blasted by metaphorical poison fire, our due for the theft of riches from the Earth, from the burial mounds of long dead things, our ancestors. Indeed, our doom is pronounced, why fight it? Our rulers know what is going on. As they pronounce the devastation as a hoax, they build infrastructure to face the world to come. From the sea walls around Trumps golf resorts, to doubling down on coal, to hoarding resources, selling weapons, and building walls to keep refugees out; make no mistake, if that wall happens, it will be to fight off throngs of displaced people, hungry and violent like the ancient sea peoples, themselves displaced by disaster. Why fight climate change, environmental disaster, and the ultimate venusing of our planet? It is a hopeless fight, our doom, as I said, already pronounced.

It is a mystery to anyone who hasn’t touched mystery. It is a puzzle for those who live in a puzzle. Why do the Aesir and Vanir fight at Ragnarok? Why do the einherjar and the Ljosalfar fight? They know they will lose. And yet, when the blessed Queen of the Dead, in her guise as Hel comes to claim her due, they fight all the same. When the lies, broken oaths, and betrayals of Odin can no longer save the gods and delay Ragnarok, why does he still fight? Why do they all fight? The answer is simple for anyone to see, yet so hard to see in our modern times.

The environment can’t fight for itself. It is trying, the hurricanes in the years to come may destroy much carbon generating infrastructure, but this dragon is no mortal thing. It is the karma of Capitalism. The cause of our effect. Is it not heroism to defend the defenseless? Is it not heroism to fight for what is right, despite the outcome being known to end in failure? To use your gifts to help defend those who held you up when you were defenseless, who fed you when you hungered, and watered your thirst, who taught you and loved you. To not defend them is worse than cowardice. It is villainy. Capitalists are the worst sorts of villain. Their community holds them up, only to have them take a big ol’ shit on that community. “Why should I have to pay taxes, I only use the roads, public services, public resources, etc etc.” They paint themselves as heroes, but have nothing to offer that cannot be provided by a thief in a barrow. And you see them now, they don’t even think they need to lie effectively now. Show them real courage and they melt. They are heartless and soulless. They are dead already.

I offer you a different reason to fight, beyond hope and despair, beyond a hollow victory that only restores Status Q. A reason that can exist regardless of the chances of victory, regardless of the size of that dragon. That reason is: because it is the right thing to do. It is the right thing to do even though you will likely, at a 99.9999% chance, fail. It is the right thing to do, even though you might die. You were going to die anyway, the coward gains nothing in his cowardice, but loses his chance to die a hero. I’m not saying you have to run out and die today. I’m not saying you should be reckless, or ready to throw your life away. I’m not saying your life is cheap, to be traded for a small victory. But as things “heat up”, I think you will all find your moments, where you must face death and choose your path. You won’t know your heart until truly until you meet that moment. If you understand your obligations, you who are noble of spirit, then you will know what to do, and why you are doing it. And your courage and strength will not have its foundation in hope or despair. It will have its foundation in the truth of your soul, in doing what is right, of living the life of a hero. Be more like Cornwolf.


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.

Memories of the End of History

“I cringe to hear people talk of 9/11 in tones that suggest it was a simpler, kinder, more peaceful time. It wasn’t really.”

From Patacelsus

If you’ve cared enough to pay attention to details, then you already know that I’m a Discordian. What many don’t know is that many Discordians are former United States Marines.

I served in the marines from June of 1997 to June of 2001. It was a period in which I can honestly say everyone thought that the world had settled out; the Cold War was over, everyone seemed to be falling into line about making money of the poor, everyone was convinced the world was pacified, finally. Which is why in a sense 9/11 was a punch line. Even the people running the military thought this. I used to get briefings which in a sense seemed to have the purpose of informing me, “That the marine corpse definitely still had a reason to exist and that reason is blah blah blah”. Like any of that hokey shit matters now.

These are my memories of that period, a period in which people felt, wrongly, like they were at the end of history. I’ll try to keep this short. But it is an American tradition that you have to listen to a veteran recount his boring stupid tired stories, so now it’s your turn. This is going to be a mix of stories about my interactions with the U.S. government, and also what I saw as I traveled the world pretending to be useful. I have no idea how to do one of these things. Should I tell it linearly or write an alinear history? I’m going to start at the beginning, but don’t be fooled, this is definitely an alinear story. Also, you should know that 60% of all human memories are filler your brain makes up. But believe me when I say that I believe it was real.

I suck at being an infantryman. I knew it from the first week in the School of Infantry. Yeah, that’s literally what they call it. They’re infantryman, not MCU writers. So anyway, yeah, you’d have to figure that most people suck at it when they start. The problem is I didn’t seem to stop sucking. I imagine I’m better at it than some random person rotting in an office somewhere, so I have that going for me. But generally was not good at it. When I went through the School of Infantry, I was experimented on! It was an experimental fast track program, see usually the thing lasts, um, well I don’t know, I didn’t go through how it usually happens. I went through a month long program, complete with starvation training. Ever been so hungry you’d eat food out of a dumpster? Me too! Of course it is possible they lied, and that everyone that goes through the School of Infantry goes through all that.

Like I said, I only went once. It was around September, that this all happened, in California. That last part was the nice part, I had been living in Texas for all of high school. I was just happy to be home. Anyway, I mention the month basically to say that it was fall. This one guy, who will remain a nameless little wishnik troll person, complained that California was so brown, just desert, he thought, and that he missed home in Michigan where it was green forest. A spring later and he was amazed at how green it was. I could only say one thing, “Well, yeah, it’s spring.” So the take away from this part of the story is that I may have been experimentally starved and wishniks from Michigan don’t understand how seasons work.

It was the year 2000, December, when I walked off the plane onto Egyptian soil. I was ushered into a large tent made of carpets to a little bizarre, where I waited with the rest of the idiots to go to the base that had been built by the U.S. for Bright Star, 2000. A joint military training operation for the Mediterranean, hosted on the sands of Egypt’s Western reaches. Right in Libya’s fucking face. That’s how pathetic the U.S. had gotten, we were bullying dictators that we set up. Like paying someone to let you rough them up and take their lunch money. It’s fucking ridiculous! But this is how shit was and is. Anyway, as we rolled through town, I could see the bombed out buildings full of families scraping by. Building, after building, after building, after building, after building. These buildings, or what was left of them, were about four or five stories tall, often did not have a roof or all four sides, sometimes missing both, and had shit tons of people living in them. Fortunately they were reinforced concrete, or at least I hope they were, and so weren’t going to collapse any time soon. So we did a whole bunch of driving around, me being a reconnaissance scout for an armored unit, means I sat around in a hot metal box for hours a day.

So, reconnaissance, lets get some stuff straight. There are guys who are reconnaissance, and that is their special thing, and they are good at what they do. Very good. There are not many who can do this work as well as they. There are a lot of reconnaissance jobs all over the military and also the marine corpse. My job, as a reconnaissance scout in a light armored unit, was quite frankly, a waste of their time and the money spent to train them. So I wound up doing it. It was pretty boring. I played a lot of Pokemon on a Gameboy. Anyway, after the training, which mostly consisted of driving around, so the vehicle crews could practice being vehicle crews, and making hornless unicorns out of C4, because activities enrich your infantryman’s daily life, we had all bitched enough that they let us take a trip to the Pyramids at Giza.

But I’m not going to talk about my experiences inside. Instead, my memories of the palpable disgust on the face of the tour guide/information attendant at the pyramid site. You could see it on her face, if you were perceptive enough. The corners of her mouth, and the corners of her eyes, and the resting placement of her jaw told the story the rest of her face couldn’t. She would rather we not be on the same planet. I couldn’t blame her, I didn’t want to be on the planet either. I mean, why would she be glad to see us. Egypt’s then leader was a guy we were working with. Or maybe it was old fashioned bigotry. I don’t know, I didn’t ask. About halfway through the tear jerking boredom of “training” (to be honest C4 isn’t that great, in my opinion, for sculpting), they asked for volunteers. Now, if you’re smart, you know that this is an excellent chance to gamble. You could be doing something interesting, or tedious; you get a good lunch, or get a shit lunch, or get no lunch. At that point in operation bright stain I was ready to roll those dice. So I spent a week at a tank range radio tower and range control guarding it. Forces, alleged to be Bedouin, had already attacked once, and were repelled.

We were handed live ammo and left with the radio crew. And… nothing happened. Whomever attacked got the message the first time. I spent the week playing poker, reading, running down my batteries for my Gameboy, and doing the occasional react drill for boredom abatement and because practicing increases the chances of not dying. The last week I was there was fairly interesting, a friend of mine who was an Irish guy from West Covina, who could ululate like no one’s business, spent a night spooking our staff sergeant, which was hilarious, because this was a staff sergeant who couldn’t pass a physical fitness test without the entire command staff lying for him, and yet had the gonads to bust down my friend from corporal to lance corporal because he got a second class score on his test. So, we did our best to make an ass of him whenever we could.

The French Foreign legion got attacked the last night I was there. Presumably by the same “Bedouins”. It kind of makes one wonder if the Bedouins are blamed for much lawlessness that they statistically couldn’t possibly be behind. But that’s what they get for living on such lucrative coastal lands. So I guess the takeaway here is that the probability of her look of disgust not coming from a bigoted place is roughly a function of the probability that she was Bedouin. We were tourists after all.

I have the thirst. Not JFK levels of it, my wife keeps me plenty happy. But as a single guy, I had no reason not to indulge myself. Or at least I thought. I think it was my second time in Okinawa that a friend of mine, that I had met elsewhere in the marines, was stationed at the same base as I was. As I was reconnecting with him, shooting the shit with him as it were, it happened to come up that we was getting scuba trained. “Isn’t that expensive as fuck for a lowly serviceman such as yourself?” I asked him. “Yeah, but I got a friend paying for it.” What a lucky asshole, he just has a friend getting him scuba training. “Paying for the gear too?” He nodded his head. Unreal. “Who would do that for you around here?” Thus began his recounting of being a gigolo for old Japanese women. He was the favorite of a particular woman, thus the scuba gear and training. See, what it is, is that serviceman can’t be paid in cash, that’s prostitution. But a woman can give her man nice shit. That’s just being nice.

Now, my predilections being what they are, the mention of sex for pay with mature women did prick my ears up. Unfortunately for story telling purposes, I didn’t start whoring myself out. Not because I didn’t want to, but mostly because the people in my unit are hella chismoso, always sticking their noses in other peoples business. So I thought the better of it, and to this day, don’t know if I made the right decision or not. But I doubt my then current daddy Uncle Sam was looking to share. I mean, Uncle Sam didn’t give me any gold chains, but he did fuck me regular and buy me dinner. I can’t imagine he would have been cool with it. And we were so well kept in those days. So the moral of the story is that servicemen are sometimes exploited for sex. Though if you’ve ever been even at the edge of “Sex exploitation”, re: prostitution, you know the reality is more complex than some limousine liberal’s junior year liberal arts thesis can account for.

My friend didn’t need to learn scuba to live. He wasn’t getting beat down by his john, and there was no pimp. My experience with this is about as lightweight as you can get but the more I hear of the law coming down on sex workers the more it seems like the age old exploitation line that law men and “progressives” use, along with the immorality line the priests use, sounds increasingly like hokey bullshit. Really want to help sex workers? Legalize it and get rid of pimps and other middle men. Middle persons. Whatever, you know what I mean.

Remember the riots in Indonesia? Yeah, that’s ok. Not many people do. I was off the coast for the most of it. Why you might ask? Well, the U.S. Navy patrols the worlds oceans and keeps them clear of pirates and generally tries to make things “safe”. Sometimes they’ll have marines with them. That’s why I was there. I was on a pretty boat called an LSD, which I assume means landing ship deployer or something. I never asked. It had these fancy high powered fan boats that it poops out the back. We load our vehicles on, it deposits us on the beach, and we drive around and be effective as long as we don’t leave the beach and go into the Thai jungle. American supremacy at its finest. So as we sat off the coast of Indonesia, the government of the CIA backed Suharto collapsed. We didn’t lift a finger to help him, or the people rioting overthrow him. It wasn’t until much later that it seemed many of the Indonesian special forces were inciting riots and ethnic violence, particularly rape, against the Mandarin Chinese minority communities.

Why they were fomenting unrest I have no clue. But the result is that a U.S. backed anti-communist dictator’s government collapsed. But you are probably still wondering, amid all of this, why was I even there? Well, you see, Nike and McDonald’s corporations had some executives in the country that could have possibly needed help getting the fuck out. They didn’t, ultimately, because having your own private jets helps one to very effectively get the fuck out. But that was the reason. Then our staff sergeant came through and yelled at us that we were not there because of Nike and McDonald’s like they had just accidentally announced on the ships audio-visual system. I don’t know what is more pathetic, that they let the cat out of the bag like that, or that they then tried to gas light us about it.

Ok, that’s it. You’re off the hook. It’s over. I learned how to do a lot of violence, I saw many different kinds of exploitation, often time so comprehensive it took me two more decades to understand, and put it all together, and generally helped the U.S. government to spread its vision around the world. A vision that shattered on 9/11. I cringe to hear people talk of 9/11 in tones that suggest it was a simpler, kinder, more peaceful time. It wasn’t really. The world was never simple, or kind, or peaceful. These unfortunate people don’t realize that the times weren’t simpler, kinder, and more peaceful, they were.


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.


Can you tell us how we’re doing by filling out this short survey?

We’d really, really appreciate it!

And also we’ll give you a discount at our bookstore for your time.

Guns and Dope: The Anti-Oppressant

“This is the reality of the War on Drugs; it is thinly veiled, and sometimes not, racism.”

From Patacelsus

big_1492041401_image
From Killer Mike’s music video “Reagan”

The Guns and Dope party: like most Discordian ideas and projects, it went nowhere fast. Also like most Discordian ideas and projects, it won’t go away. A good joke wants to be told, even if it can only make you cringe with how cheesy it is. That’s the punchline of the Guns and Dope party. It is a party that seemingly champions the interests of most Americans, and yet few have heard of it, and no one was interested it when it started. Since Wilson came up with the idea and then died (in what I’m sure are a series of acausal events, separated by like, at least a year or two, I’m sure…), new shit has come to light, man. It has no bearing on the Guns and Dope party I’m sure, since the party seems to be disinterested in asking a person to do anything so humiliating and debasing to human dignity as running for office. It might change your mind about the priority and centrality of some issues.

Maybe you’ll say to yourself, “Now who can argue with that? I think we’re all in debt to Patacelsus for stating what needed to be said. I am particularly glad that these lovely children are here today to read this article. Not only was it authentic frontier gibberish, it expressed a courage little seen in this day and age.” But what do I know? You’d think you could share your love of a comedy without everyone you try to share that passion with taking it to a racist place somehow? But oh no. Every time I tell someone I like Blazing Saddles, suddenly I get put on blast with all the racist jokes. Like race was the only punchline to every joke in that movie. Gives me a fucking headache. I mean, I’m not saying that it didn’t have jokes that relied on the crushing racism of both the “Wild West” and 1974 America for its humor, just that it didn’t exclusively do that. Eh, never mind. I can be particular at times. Let’s get to it then; excuse me while I whip this out!

Not too long ago a writer for Gods & Radicals who calls himself Dr. Bones threw in a pretty penny on the matter of gun control, titled: The Liberal Desire for Gun Control is Going to Get Us Killed. I got all reflective-like, as if I’d had a memory in my brain knocked loose. That memory was The Mulford Act of 1967. A full year and some change before the Gun Control Act of 1968, the Mulford act was signed into law by Ronald Reagan (the actor?), who claimed that the Mulford Act “would work no hardship on the honest citizen.” You know, because having the police raid your home and murder you and your family for the crime of being black is naturally no hardship for a true patriot.

Now, most Federal gun laws legislate the manufacturing, transportation, and sales of firearms. This is not out of the ordinary because the power to regulate interstate commerce and all that crap is “constitutional”, if you go in for caring about that kind of thing. The Mulford Act stands out, as you may know if you read Dr. Bones’ articles and the links he attaches, was meant specifically to disarm the Black Panthers. Now, let’s be clear, these are the guys wearing black leather jackets and berets, not the Wakandan King. You can tell they’re serious too, because who else wears a beret with black sunglasses and a rifle but a serious mother fucker. I mean, without the beret, they would have just been weirdos with guns.

Why should one racist California law matter? Could you please stop referencing movies and get to the point? Where are you going with all of this? The answer is nowhere special. Well, the answer is stop and frisk laws; but also the answer is, no, I will not stop with the movie references, I get a big kick out of it and you’re just going to have to put up with it until I get bored and move on to cryptography puzzles.

So the next year after the Mulford Act was passed, the 90th U.S. Congress passed the Gun Control Act of 1968, which was actually a response to the assassination of Kennedy, but it is the U.S. Congress, so a 5 year lag shouldn’t surprise anyone. How the fuck does racism fit into the Federal effort though? I could do the lazy thing and point out a Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership opinion piece that claims the GCA of 1968 is copied wholesale from Nazi laws banning Jews from owning firearms, sans the Jew part and all the provisions for licensing firearms and not outright banning them. But such laziness would be wrong. Instead I’ll just outright say that Politicians were afraid of an armed uprising in 1968 (the year Martin Luther King Jr. got killed, along with Bobby Ken), and that was the real thing that kept that 5 year lag from becoming an infinite lag. I wonder were the Congress got the idea to use gun laws to suppress minorities?

I mean, it was probably a bunch of Republicans in a Republican controlled Congress, right? Baeh! Wrong! In both House and Senate, Democrats had the seats. Not only that, but almost as many Republicans voted yea as Democrats in the House and Senate. Also, fewer Republicans said no than Democrats. Think about that a sec. Confused? Permit me to explain with much abbreviation and little detail. The Dems use to be the party of the Klan, and the Triangle fire flipped the bitch on the U.S. political spectrum. Want more detail? Read a fucking book!

Hey! Check this out!:

“( h ) I t shall be unlawful for any person—

“(1) who is under indictment for, or who has been convicted in
 any court of, a crime punishable by imprisonment for a term
 exceeding one year;

“(2) who is a fugitive from justice;

“(3) who is an unlawful user of or addicted to marihuana or
 any depressant or stimulant drug (as defined in section 201 (v) of
 the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act) or narcotic drug as defined in section 4731 (a) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1954); (sic)

Now, if you didn’t want to read this legalese gibberish, I can tell you that it is the bill that will convert a state hospital for the insane into the William J. Le Petomane memorial gambling casino for the insane. Ha! No, it is a portion of the 1968 GCA. That part in bold seems kinda weird right? Well, to most it wouldn’t, if that most was America in 1968 (haha, like people in America read it, right?). It comes after the provision which states, “it is not the purpose of this title to place any undue or unnecessary Federal restrictions or burdens on law-abiding citizens with respect to the acquisition, possession, or use of firearms appropriate to the purpose of liunting, trapshooting, target shooting, personal protection, or any other lawful activity, and that this title is not intended to discourage or eliminate the private ownership or use of firearms by law-abiding citizens for” blah blah blah, you get the idea. The direct mention of Marihuana(sic) seems fishy to me though. So after looking up “liunting” (the best I could find was ‘linting’, which is ‘to walk around smoking a pipe’), I looked to see if any of the authors of the Mulford act moved up from state assemblyman or senator to U.S. Congressperson. Ha! No such luck. Just a whole bunch of dudes in the U.S. Congress and the California political class who all knew or were in the same circles as Nixon. Nothing to see here, move on.

So, no, I have no grand conspiracy theory for you about how this was all designed from the start. Just a bunch of rich white dudes that thought it best to specifically mention marijuana in a Federal gun control act. To be honest, it doesn’t matter if this was orchestrated conspiracy, the inertia of racist habit, or complete accident. The result is racism; and similar acts, enacted in the same era, were definitely meant to be racist. So it’s time for a hard subject cut; remember when Richard Dix came in here and tried to take over this town?

The Nixon campaign in 1968, and the Nixon White House after that, had two enemies: the antiwar left and black people. That is not a claim I’m making, and it probably isn’t news to anyone reading this. It is a quote from a Harper’s magazine interview of John Ehrlichman from 1994. Ehrlichman was Nixon’s domestic policy chief, so he’d know what he was talking about. Want to know the source of the War on Drugs? Nixon! Yes, all bad things eventually lead back to Nixon; in fact, I bet you could make a pretty good game of a variation of Six Degrees of Bacon, call it Six Degrees of Nixon, and see if you can connect a fucked U.S. law to Nixon in six associations.

Anyway, he goes on to say

“You understand what I’m saying? We knew we couldn’t make it illegal to be either against the war or black, but by getting the public to associate the hippies with marijuana and blacks with heroin. And then criminalizing both heavily, we could disrupt those communities,” Ehrlichman said. “We could arrest their leaders, raid their homes, break up their meetings, and vilify them night after night on the evening news. Did we know we were lying about the drugs? Of course we did.”

Oh wow, the 1968 Nixon campaign ran on a promise of fighting drug fueled mad-men and might have had an influence on an Congressional Act being passed that year, and was signed into law by a Democrat in October? Do tell, I’m so surprised. I’ve never even considered that a Democratic congress might pass a law to counteract the political rhetoric of Richard Dix, I mean Nixon (allegedly…).

This is the reality of the War on Drugs; it is thinly veiled, and sometimes not, racism. As well, it is about quashing political dissent; but mostly it has been about racism. I’ve seen the Left shoot down people that tried to drum up support for drug decriminalization pretty savagely. Because I guess, the “hard core” Left is against the government telling people what to do, except when it is about drugs, then the oppression is less important somehow (hopefully, if you still have some gonads and human blood in you, you’re saying to yourself that you don’t need anyone’s permission to get high, good!). But for many on the “Left”, Uncle Sam swiping your recreation options from you doesn’t count as important. And some of you fuckers probably wonder why the Left have a reputation of being such a joyless and humorous lot too, I’ll bet. Well, if you can’t get off your asses, to tell Uncle Same to fuck off, for the sake of getting high: can you be bothered to give a damn for the civil rights of black people? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

So here we are, Stop and Frisk laws. Terry Laws are actually older than all this crap, by several decades. They have their origin in the efforts of the LAPD in the 1930’s to combat “crime”. Essentially they would flood an area where a crime had occurred and search anyone and everything. Of course this became the norm for black neighborhoods in the 50’s. New York made the words “Stop and Frisk” the unofficial name by passing a law of that name in 1964. Yup, Stop and Frisk, which definitely has targeted minorities in large proportion, was in place before the contraband laws were. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the supposed guardians of law and order have been holding on to Stop and Frisk tightly as they can, and use their tongues prettier than a twenty dollar whore to defend it.
So, not everything is coming up roses in California. We innovate a lot out here.

Unfortunately, that means this state comes up with a lot of grade A racism and the racists to legislate it. From Stop and Frisk, to Ronald Reagan, we have a problem with racism in California that most people pretend isn’t here. Even the Right pretends we’re a centrist liberal fuckhead bastion, all the while their Moses and Jesus, Nixon and Reagan respectively, both hail from California. These are the real problems in California, the ones no one really talks about on the grand public stage of approved public discourse, a.k.a. “news”. But never mind that shit, here comes Mongo!

Or as most know him, Donald Jiggle Jowl Trump. Nah, I’m just kidding, I just wanted to see the words Jiggle Jowl published. Actually, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III, who is so super into coming down on Marijuana (black people) that it gives his little weasel rigor mortis, is who I want to mention. I could say a mouthful about him, I guess, but instead I’ll use this time to say, “Instead of a weasel, why not an Ostrich?”

Yes friends, the Guns and Dope party only nominates the finest Ostriches to Congressional office, specifically because their, “mysterious and awesome dignity will elevate the suidaen barbarity long established there.” Yeah, I’m supposing Rhyd would like me to finish this with some insight on race, or law, or something. So here you go Rhyd, here’s your insight. The attempts to suppress minorities through laws has instead led to the majority of Americans having their lives ruined, lives ended, their property stolen by the government. It has resulted in wasted money, and in inane bullshit being spread far and wide. Everyone has had a shittier life because some rich fucks wanted to oppress a minority their feeble psychology associated with the scary stuff. The oppression of a few only results in the oppression of all. We either take care of everyone, or we can take care of no one. This is not a philosophical proposition being offered you, it is truth based on fact. I doubt this article stated the case for this truth from fact clearly, eloquently, or convincingly. But that’s ok, maybe someone better at this will read this and hopefully do better than me.

Of course, you’ll have the good taste not to mention that I spoke to you.


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.


Support our work here.

New California: Shithole in the Making (but not actually)

“The rule in business is, if it is generating revenue, don’t fuck with it.”

From Patacelsus

“What’s new in California?” you might be asking yourself. I wouldn’t blame you for missing this story, it ranks right up there with hornless unicorns on the “shit no decent or halfway intelligent human should care about” list. Let me explain some.

Did you know that California is “ungovernable”? Did you know that the middle class is leaving the state in record numbers? Did you know that the state is on a road to hell and jail? No wait, that’s me as a teen. Anyway, an individual named Robert Paul Preston (RPP) is looking to separate out the “good” parts of California, from the rest of it, i.e. “the hippy liberal illegal immigrant loving pot smoking parts.” Supposedly, according to RPP’s white paper on the creation of a new state, the largest problems that come from the state “being ungovernable” are:

“a decline in essential basic services such as education, law enforcement, fire protection, transportation, housing, health care, taxation, voter rights, banking, state pension systems, prisons, state parks, water resource management, home ownership, infrastructure and many more.”1

Wow, that all sounds really bad, I had no idea my state was in such bad shape; because it isn’t.

Should I address the half-baked lies or the half baked pastry man telling them first? You know what? This is so awesome, because I don’t actually have to do any work to address the half-baked lies. They are a common collection of the Right’s constant liturgy of disapproval, and therefore, this work has already been done.

Thanks go out to Kevin Drum, writing for Mother Jones, for his article, “California Is Doing Fine, Thank You Very Much.” In the article Kevin Drum addresses a lot of what RPP is claiming in his white paper, so I’m going to steal/cite highlights from his work and then move on to the slightly more interesting train wreck that is RPP, shining example of the Right in California. You might, if you have the time, also read California is Working: The Effects of California’s Public Policy on Jobs and the Economy Since 2011 written by Ian Perry and published by the UC Berkeley Labor Center. (But watch out! He worked on the Affordable Care Act, he might be one of those Nazi Commie Muslims!)

Now before I start going over the all the work someone else did for me, I just really need to point out that the white paper for New California, claims both that there is a general decline in basic services, but also, in the same paragraph, claims that California is #23 in the nation based on an aggregate score measuring economy, infrastructure, education, crime and all that crap. So it is an ungovernable nation, with a troubling decline in basic services (necessitating a completely new state to be made), that is better than more than half of U.S. states in those areas?

Yes, according to RPP, that is indeed the case; this is a level of cognitive dissonance so common for his everyday consciousness that he literally put that on paper unironically. Please keep this in mind as we continue forward.

“There’s a whole cottage industry on the right dedicated to the proposition that California is a hellhole. Why? Because California is the most liberal state in the nation, and the existence of a high-tax, high-service state that nonetheless has a great economy is an affront to their principles.”2

And that’s pretty much it. Kevin Drum’s article, which I implore you to read, Californian or not, is a debunking of the basic myths propagated by the Right. Within that context of propaganda vs. data, both matters of public record, is where RPP comes in.

He’s a talk show host that has a radio show. That show is about the U.N.’s secret agenda, Agenda 23, or something like that, and that the agenda is to destroy Capitalism and redistribute wealth and by the gods, bodhisattvas, and buddhas, why am I writing about this? Because it is literally from his “About” page.

So the U.N. is actually controlled by, …Islamic Communist Nazis? Hey! Pay attention! This is, important news. So the Islamic Nazi Communists are planning, or have been since 1992, to use environmentalism to steal your rights, redistribute wealth, and destroy Capitalism.

And I got to tell you, he fuckin’ nailed us. He’s got us cold. He (like us) understands that Capitalism and the environment can not, and have not, coexisted. The unchecked rapine of Capitalism has despoiled the Earth and is slowly making it a desert. He (unlike us) champions the continued rapine of the environment for the sake of American values. Which I have to assume, because Capitalism is the all important thing here apparently, American values are Capitalism.

He (also like us) is hip to the reality that there is no such thing as American values outside of the values of Capitalism. The two map to each other, one to one. That puts the environmentalist at square odds with the Capitalist. Or it should. I guess. Who knows what “environmentalists” get up to. I assumed doing the same things as people do. I never realized that caring about having clean air and plants and animals and shit like that made you a Nazi, or a Muslim, or a Communist.

All Communist Muslim Nazis aside, this is why I like my state so much. Stuff like this and the nice 80’s retro sunsets make the constant fire and drought worth it.

So anyway the goal is to redistribute wealth to the rest of the world and enslave Americans. So his greatest fear is that he’ll be made to answer for the crimes of his ancestors. I can empathize. When I found out my families DNA definitely filtered through Kentucky, and then later found out from my cousin that apparently all of us are descended from Daniel Boone, I did take pause for thought. But I do not believe in blood debts (yes I know, very brave of the white guy to take a stand on this), and instead call for the immediate dismantling of all remaining remnants of the dirty deed we call making America that continue the legacy of that string of crimes, and instead have a truly egalitarian society.

But this guys greatest fear is the modern day version of Dracula, in that there’s the “fear of reverse colonization.” I mean, yes, I write about corporations being vampires. But my fear is rich people eating the poor. His fear is the poor getting revenge. Totally different.

Also there is the fear of depopulation, to the tune I imagine of the depopulation of the Americas by diseases brought by Europeans. And actually, the humans that were here first were doing plenty with it. It just looked empty because they had suffered a biological apocalypse. And all that before Europeans actually even got started. So the U.N. is also trying to depopulate the Earth. I guess, because that’s easier, to force everyone to be, an, um, …Communist Nazi Muslim. Nailed it. Three by three, the spells complete.

No, for him it’s all about property rights, apparently. He mentions it on his “about” page. The whole thing seems like a diatribe against something personal that happened to him. Like his HOA voted on something they saw in a U.N. info pamphlet and that set him off on his mission to save the nation and the great state of California. “Why?” you might ask. Because he’s one of the idiots that lives in it–that’s why. But seriously I bet it’s property rights. I mean don’t get me wrong, I hate work, and that set me off on the adventure I call life. So I can’t fault him for being passionate. An asshole and an idiot, yes, but never the passion.

So the real story here is that the Right, or as I know them, the open and unashamed Capitalists, has been on a slander and libel campaign against the state for decades. Presumably because its existence proves them wrong. That the world doesn’t make any sense, that we’re all just making this up as we go along, and the best thing we can do for each other is help each other.

They hate it when that happens. They want you to believe that the world makes sense, that no one made anything up, and that the only thing left to do is step on one another. I assume to keep yourself out of the grave one minute longer. That’s how it feels to me, and I’m the same white guy in California that doesn’t believe in blood debts. But the Goddess Eris decreed that order and disorder, creation and destruction, are the watch towers of the universe. To arise in the universe is to be subject to these furies. But not the Erinyes and Demeter, another four furies.

So you die. And mindstate capture and reimbodiment is still only found in my favorite space opera series, so I die too. Everyone dies! So the moral question is, am I going to step on people, or hold them up (sometimes by leaning on them; are you holding me up, or am I holding you up?). Most people, because the trait that led to human ascendancy and the beginning of the Holocene epoch is our pro-social behavior, try to hold each other up.

The Capitalist claims to hold people up by serving them with the highest efficiency. An unsophisticated machine answer from an unsophisticated machine consciousness.

RPP, this is the man spearheading the “movement.” This month, anyway. He isn’t the first to suggest this, or something like this. I’m interested to see how far he gets with this. I guess it all hinges in how many of his listeners think it’s a great idea to form cells, I mean, county committees. It really hinges on whether or not the Archons are just going to be cool with some dude fucking with their cash cow. The rule in business is, if it is generating revenue, don’t fuck with it. That isn’t the official rule, modern businesses stress innovation and LEAN thinking. But it is don’t fuck with it.

If he’s lucky, this will come to nothing. Then Californians can get back to fighting the Nazis here.


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.

 

Global Warming: The Secular Paganism Everyone can “Enjoy”

 “There’s a real dark side of the kind of paganism — the secular elites’ religion now — being evidently global warming.” 

K. H. White, Trump’s nominee for White House Council on Environmental Policy

An essay from Patacelsus

The Invisible Hand smites when unopposed. Patæconomically, this couldn’t be a more true statement. And the Statement made by the current nomination to chair the White House Council on Environmental Quality is also true; to wit: “There’s a real dark side of the kind of paganism — the secular elites’ religion now — being evidently global warming.

K.H. White, you tipped your hand. Had anyone noticed, your masters would have been a little more than annoyed with you.

I’ve outlined a little previously on the religion of the corporate person. But this recent blip on the general psychic scream that is Trump (best advertising gimmick ever, just psi-scream constantly so that no matter what you always have their attention; best corporate mascot ever…) has landed us the opportunity to go in a little deeper into the religion of the corporate person.

In later articles, we will also have to delve deeper into the study of the excreta of the corporate person, and why the Black Sun symbol truly is the most true totem that they could have stolen. Needless to say,  pre-sapient vampire gestalt consciousnesses have very strange dreams, which are also their shits, which are also spirits.

It’s a very strange world in 2017, now more than ever we humans should stick together. This isn’t human chauvinism, just a basic recognition that we are no longer the apex predator of the planet. The corporations have made it clear what their message is, “We’re the top of the fucking food chain!” Of course, we’re going to find servants among us, who serve the corporations but haven’t ceded their mind and spirit, like Trump has, quite yet. Kind of like the human vampire servants in the movie Blade, which I reference for no other reason but that I always really liked that weird movie.

But before we get into that, we should stop and reflect on what we already know. We know that the Invisible Hand is the God of the Free Market. It is worshiped by the corporations who have achieved an primitive type of Gestalt Consciousness. Being very much the creation of and being supported by human beings, and therefore, very much like any animal, it asks itself four basic questions when it encounters you:

  • Can I fuck it?
  • Can it fuck me?
  • Can I eat it?
  • Will it eat me?

You have a serious problem if a gestalt decides it can eat you. We call that the State. You have a different serious problem if it decides it can fuck you. We call that Capitalism. You yourself, reader, ask and answer these questions to yourself every time you meet someone, with emphasis put on the questions most pertinent to your situation. It’s ok! You’re human, it’s ok to be human!

You don’t ask these questions consciously anyway. Moral agency does come in when you decide what to do with the answer, hint hint. The only people who don’t think it is ok to be human are non-human people. And the God of the true Capitalists, the corporations, who is a jealous God, is the Invisible Hand; the ultimate eater/fucker.

The Invisible Hand has been fucking and eating for a long time, make no mistake. It’s big first score was in France, September of 1774. Turgot deregulated the grain market by abolishing police regulations. Yes! Food security was of vital state importance back in the day and age of Kings. If people aren’t getting fed, they start killing the people that failed them, screaming, “Mother fucker are you out of your damn mind?”

War of all against all? Monarchs and States should be so lucky.

The Police were in charge of ensuring purity and price conformity. It was left to the Police to ensure the food supply. For them to suddenly stop doing that was disaster. The Flour War went down in ’75, completely disproving Adam Smith’s theories a year before he published The Wealth of Nations.

The Free Market was loosed upon the world, and there was now no stopping it. The big score was also a birth cry.

Like any spirit human enough to make pacts with, corporations can be restrained by words on paper. The archists call these words “contracts” and “laws”, and in addition to serving loyally the ancient monster that summons them and binds them to these pacts, the archists also believe that being so bound protects them from the bad stuff.

They fail to realize that being a bound servant is the bad stuff.

This is the environment that corporations live in, desperately fighting against human beings and their ancient master, the state, to create the promised land, the free market. A perfect free market in which they can simply own the software/hardware that they exist in. Neo-feudalism is what some are calling it now, and not fondly.

However they are, like the State, just spirits, and spirits can be dealt with. And monarchs are mere mortals, flesh and blood just as we, they too can be dealt with. They all make mistakes like everyone else. K. H. White made a mistake. In 2016 she said out loud on radio that, “There’s a real dark side of the kind of paganism — the secular elites’ religion now — being evidently global warming.”

That’s the quote on the CNN story:

Now you might think that this is amazing peace of performance art/bullshit is paid for and promoted by Christians, like with the evolution in schools deal. It isn’t. K. H. White’s employer is the Texas Public Policy Foundation, a conservative themed paid mouthpiece for business interests. And for professional bullshit artists, they have a pretty solid 7 figure revenue. Some of their biggest donors are oil interests like ExxonMobil and Chevron.

The basic bullshit they seem to be using as a script is “The Moral Case for Fossil Fuels,” written by Alex Epstein, which equates fossil fuels with all the basic advances we equate with the 20th century. The argument seems to be that fossil fuels are the only energy source that can provide the things of the modern world needs to be “modern,” and that it is therefore immoral to “revert” back to anything else; in this case wind and solar being considered a technological step back. Yes, converting the products of a fusion explosion so huge it has its own gravity into usable energy, like the cavemen did. Sorry, cavepersons.

One could be forgiven for making this mistake though, this bullshit’s reasoning is similar to the type of reasoning at the center of the Wedge doctrine, in that the creators of the Wedge doctrine thought that the only two options were evolution or biblical creationism; that once they convinced people that evolution was mistaken, they’d have no choice but to choose creationism, thereby placing Christianity back in the center of life and Jesus back into our schools. Completely ignorant of the fact that there were many theories of how animals got to be the way they are. Meaning even if they could convince everyone evolution is a crock of shit, it does not necessarily follow that everyone will just roll over for Christianity.

In the same vein, Epstein’s argument seems to hinge on the non-Fact that fossil fuels are the only sources of products and energy that human beings need to be basically healthy and happy, and yes, materially wealthy. Because that’s the real worry of these folks, making sure their masters are profitable. But shh shh, don’t say that too loud.

You wouldn’t want the Pagans to hear.

If you listen to the sound cloud file, you don’t ever hear K. H. White or the person she is talking to mention Christ, Christianity, Jah, the Holy Spirit, Saints, or any of that mess. Instead, their praise is reserved for the engineering feats, real and imagined, of the oil industry. It is in this context that she equates global warming and Paganism. Also, she seems to think all pagans all like and get along with each other. Here we are, one big happy fucking family! At the end of the clip, the real Satan comes out for them to flap their hands and ‘fraidy-pee about, Communism!

But of course they disappointingly only mean Marxism, because nuance is a hard thing to express when your being paid to shill bullshit. It’s true: crosses don’t do squat.

White’s true masters are the corporations, which means her true master is the Invisible Hand. She doesn’t seem to be ridden, as is the case with Trump. She truly seems to be a willing collaborator. Selling out her own species. Small wonder Trump brought her in to be the chair of the CEQ. We can’t have these people whose backs we live off of telling us things like, “We need clean air to breath,” or, “we don’t want to die of UV exposure”, or maybe, “Please don’t make the world an unlivable desert.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” think the corporations and their god, evidently. But that isn’t the actual news here, Trump, the ever busy mascot for The Trump Organization that he is, has been plenty busy on the behalf of the fossil fuel clique of vampire spirits. No, the real news is that K. H. White tipped their hand a little bit too much the September before last. But, she got lucky, and nobody was the wiser, or if they did look twice, they just assumed it was another Christian thing.

Except they never mention Christ or Jah.

So to really get at what the fuck they mean by “Paganism”, we have to interrogate the word itself. Or more properly, the word Pagan. Paganus is what the Romans used to call the country rustics. You find country rustics in the ager, outside the Pomerium, which circumscribes what is officially Rome. Of course this isn’t what they mean, but the basic concepts operating here are descended from this ancient meaning.

To be clear, the “free market” is the Pomerium, the promised land, that the vampire lords are building for themselves, based on that first taste they got back in ’74. Everything else is ager. You may often encounter so called “libertarians” complain about the market not being free. There is very little left of any market that is in fact not free. But it is only free for those permitted to the Pomerium.

The market is within the walls, and you aren’t invited, you country hick, good luck in the ager, Pagan!

The secular elites they mention are people like Tom Steyer. I don’t know how secular he is or isn’t, but his wiki page says he was married to his wife by a Presbyterian minister and a rabbi, I must assume a Jewish one, the wiki didn’t go that far into it.

Seems a bit much for someone who is thorough going “secular,” Usually when “secular” gets used, it’s code for godless atheist commie scum, but again, a billionaire hedge fund manager doesn’t seem to quite fit. About the only thing that people like Tom Steyer have in common with the phrase “secular elites” is that they are indeed part of that ruling monetary caste, the rich “elites” of America. But so does K. H. White, and so is Trump, and Elon Musk, and so are all the vampire spirits consuming our time, the corporations. So the phrase “elite” is a bait and switch, the real importance is the equation of global warming and Paganism.

“Secular Paganism.” Unless you are the Invisible Hand, a corporation, or one of the elite monetary class, a.k.a., the rich, a. k. a., the house slaves, you are officially a (Secular) Pagan now, congratulations!

What? You don’t want to be a Pagan, says the inexplicable non-Pagan reading this? Too bad! The hurricanes and famines and pestilences are going to kill you whether you think global warming is real or not. Because we passed the period of being able to do something useful decades ago. So buck up, inexplicable non-Pagan reading this, you’re a Pagan now, but this revelation, at this late hour, hardly matters.

We’re way passed the point of avoiding the worst. You may wake up one day and find yourself extinct. Some motherfuckers are always trying to ice-skate uphill? You know I’ve been doing a Blade reference extravaganza over here this whole time and if you haven’t gotten that by now then I am super annoyed with you; that movie is awesome.

Ok, so you don’t want me to end on a low note, sorry. Fine then, so we caught the Invisible Hand red handed. So what? You want me to tell you what to do about it?

You don’t need me to tell you, you already know what to do. Go do it. You only need to remember one thing, crosses and holy water don’t do dick so forget what you’ve seen in the movies.


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.


Hey! We’ve started our fundraiser for next year. Can you help us pay our writers and hire a new assistant site editor? Here’s the link. Thanks!

Safe Spaces

From Patacelsus

I walk into the freezer, my breath a visible ghost as microscopic moisture droplets freeze and refract light. The Piezo igniter clacks in protest and the flame hisses into life, dulling to a tiny conversational flame, at the ready. The weight of the tank on my back…

Safe Spaces, they come in all different volumes, structures, and purposes. They can exist in the physical and in the mind. They protect women and children from harm. Some, like the Women’s Resource Center to End Domestic Violence in Atlanta, Georgia are a network of safe-houses designed to give women a place to get away from their abusers and start a new life. Some are tents, designated as safe spaces for women, dug into the mud on the Northern border of Greece to provide Syrian women a place where they can be alone with other women in safety. Some, like Safe Space London, are just trying to help women that are most vulnerable not die. These safe spaces are crucial, the only defense for the women and children caught in that dark calculus of Capitalism and the State, the tragedies born of mankind’s self immolation. Safe spaces like these are all around the world, and it still isn’t enough.

Crucial and life saving as they are, these are not the only safe spaces that exist. There are many safe spaces on the internet. There is one big safe space that you probably weren’t aware of, which is fine, the people in it aren’t aware they are in it either. It is so massive that generations have lived in it without even seeing its limit. We’ll get to that.

 

Safe Spaces are coming under propaganda fire from the right. And it is easy for them to do, as many fascists, right wingers, conservatives, etc, love employing complaints about their free speech being impinged when they find themselves faced with a situation in which they must endure consequences for that speech they claim to hold so dear. When meeting that brick wall of consequence is when you hear them rage the loudest. The love of “free” speech is also the first thing dropped when they have power and control over whatever.

Remember this: for them, free speech is a lever, nothing more. It is the places that ideas and their dissemination that have the focus of these jokers, and for good reason, to control what is said is part of controlling the narrative. Control the narrative and you have a lever with which to control a nation. Controlling these safe spaces won’t bring that alone, but it is one more front line that they are on the attack. Those fascists need all the leverage they can get.

They have plenty of ammunition though, because the internet is full of people that, unfortunately, are either so damaged or so plainly stupid that they can’t see they’ve gone off the deep end (I know that’s a lot from someone who is a cis-white male who calls himself a sorcerer, we’ll get to that too, I promise). From would be revolutionaries that can’t form a coherent thought, let alone fight the state, to non-white professors advocating racism as the solution to racism, the internet has it all right along with the safe spaces for it. For every safe space actually helping someone, it seems there are ten that exist as the personal echo chamber of someone that is at best simply not helping.

The safe spaces of the internet are the weakest point and therefore the most attacked by fascist, the Capitalist, and the perpetually bored sadist. The worst of the worst are flouted as the “norm” for “liberal’s” and “radical’s” safe spaces, all the better to deter the ignorant. This attack seems to have two prongs. One prong is the establishment of “conservative” safe spaces for university students, like the one at University of Wisconsin, Madison. What this “conservative” safe space is really for is to push back against what is seen as a source for leftist thought (this isn’t the only one or the first one, they are popping up like maggots!). The other prong is a propaganda push by right wing owned media organizations, Fox news, the personal propaganda engine of the Cock brothers, or however you spell it (I never miss a dick joke, no siree!), and the lesser known Sinclair Broadcasting Group, recently made the hate darling of liberals everywhere by the comedian John Oliver.

Sinclair has been buying up tiny local news organizations and forcing them to insert syndicated conservative commentary. Part of that commentary has been an attack on safe spaces, by simultaneously conflating them all with the most cringe-worthy of internet safe spaces and lambasting them as housing for the “snowflakes”, the reference to Fight Club gone out of control. In fact, it was Oliver’s report that featured a clip that caused me to write this. The clip is of a pasty overweight “commentator” encouraging “snowflakes” to come out of their “safe space”. I found this to be the height of irony.

The reason I found this to be the height of irony is because that man, his owners, in fact, all of the conservative, right wing, fascist lot, have been living in a safe space their whole lives. Their parents lived in that safe space, their grandparents did, down through the generations. I promised and now I deliver: the giant safe space I spoke of is called being white. It stands adjacent to being male safe space and being rich safe space. The three overlap. They fill so much volume on this planet that most don’t even realize they are even inside it.

Every day, these spokesmen for “conservatism” (more like conserve-atavism) go to battle against the safe space, unaware that they would drown in a biblical deluge if the irony were to suddenly transmute to water. In a land where a white policeman can shoot a man in the back, his act of cowardice caught on film, and can still go free, where neighborhoods are pulled out from a population in poverty, their collective geo-psycho-historical space pulled out from under them to serve the gentry, where it is still so common for a man to beat the shit out of his wife that there are rescues for women in every large and several small cities all across the Western world, let alone America, these ridiculous loony tunes mother fuckers think safe spaces are the biggest problem. And in a weird fun-house mirror way, they are right, just not like they think.

It is the three safe spaces of being white, being male, and being rich that are the actual problem. The need being filled by all other safe spaces flows from the existence of these three safe spaces, the inevitable equation balancing that occurs organically in a world where there is still a glimmer of hope. So naturally these pieces of shit want to stomp on it.

As a white male I think I speak with some experience on this. Sorcerer, bah! How much? How much of anything good in my life was there, is there, simply because of a role of genetic dice and the calculus of historical forces? I’ll never know, you can only grok something like that while standing outside of its context. Yes, I have traveled, it doesn’t help to leave the West. It follows you, everywhere. Can I ever truly leave this gilded and personal black iron prison, never knowing what I’ve earned and what’s been handed to me? But enough of my problems, back to the issue at hand.

There are forces that want to see safe spaces go the way of the dodo. For whatever reason, a woman fleeing a man beating the shit out of her is a serious threat to these, I don’t know, can you still call people like that human, let alone men? Yeah, unfortunately, none of this is beyond the possible for the human, let alone male, and it is a threat, to power, their power. The power that comes built into the safe spaces called being white, male, and rich. And these safe spaces are not healthy, for the mind or spirit.

If you don’t believe me, look at what all the armchair fascists write from the safety of the big three safe spaces, located right behind the other side of a computer screen. Garbage. Falsehoods strung together by flawed logic in an attempt to poison the world with trash thinking. It is how you get someone who looks like they rolled snake eyes in that same genetic lottery somehow proclaiming themselves the pinnacle of evolution. It’s how you get lifestyle retailers selling jade pussy eggs for three times what you could find literally anywhere else on the internet with one google search. It is how you get a reality TV show host, swindler, and sexual assaulter as president.

Come out of the fucking safe space they say? I say lead the way out yourself you fucks, I’m right behind you! You precious fucking snowflakes, deeply threatened by the possibility that one day you will be living in a world where cops can’t just murder a black man! A world in which women don’t have to keep living with a man that is a mortal threat to her! A world in which a shitty racist asshole gets ostracized for being a shitty racist asshole! Yes, say what you will, just don’t think anyone will suck your dick afterwards! Oh no! A world in which being born doesn’t condemn you to poverty or randomly reward the lucky few with a lifetime of wealth and ease! Ohhhhhh Noooooo! Its getting pretty hot in here, so flee you fucking snowflakes, the revolution is coming, and we are armed with flamethrowers!

If there is a lesson here, it is that long term exposure to a safe space can fuck your mind up. Most of the people actually in need of a safe space don’t want to stay there. They want to rebuild their lives and get on with the business of living. It is the people that refuse to leave the safe spaces that are the source of the problems and who are a danger to others and themselves. They are the source of the inevitable casualties of the problems caused by the largest of safe spaces, who then become the poster children of the right’s fight against any other safe space that is not the big three safe spaces, which are themselves the foundation stones that Western civilization is built upon. Oh yeah, I forgot the trigger warning, if you are white, male, or rich, this article may trigger you.


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.


Hey! Wanna order our books? We moved them to here.

ART MANIFESTO: Utopian Fevered Dreams

“If you are unwilling or unable to create your own Utopia, you will inevitably live in someone else’s.”

From Patacelsus


I have it on good authority that good art manifestos start with a declaration denouncing all previous art movements and putting them on notice that they have been found out to be hacks concerned only with money. In keeping with that fine tradition that may or may not even exist, I am putting the leaders of all previous human societies on notice, we have found out that you are run by hacks concerned only with money. Most leaders who are dead are safe from the embarrassment of being found out. Those leaders currently alive don’t seem capable of shame, so for now lets just end the ritual formality of denunciation and get into it.

But what is Utopia exactly? It’s heaven, heaven on Earth. A heaven built with one’s own two hands. Everyone is in the Utopia game. Since Ur and Babylon, all of civilization has been an imitatio in divinus. Everyone wants to build “their” Utopia. Guess who’s Utopia we are living in now?

Why Art Manifesto and not An Art Manifesto? Well, to put it quite plainly, I’m not just talking about art, or the arts, I’m also talking about THE ART, the only Art really. All of the rest of it is just practice in technique. Some people are technically amazing, and an even smaller slice of people actually achieve Art without ever intending to. Many who practice The Art have no artistic technique to speak of and yet still make it work. But many, many, many, who aspire to art or The Art, fail, miserably. Because they never even try.

If you are unwilling or unable to create your own Utopia, you will inevitably live in someone else’s. Many create their own Utopias, but have neither the means or the will to build it very far outside of their imagination. This is the consequence of the Capitalist Utopia we all live in. Our Utopias either stay locked in our imagination, never breathing free, or quickly bankrupt us, or sometimes, get us locked away behind bars, either in a jail or a hospital.

Then there are some who have technique, they achieve unto The Art, and spend their lives churning out baleful anti-art, which like the flaming eye of Sauron, seeks out imagination, creativity and freedom, and burns it out of a person, replacing it with product jingles, corporate logos, and asinine TV/video ads. The products of these anti-art da Vinci’s go on to live their own lives in the ether, astral plane, noosphere, collective unconscious, whatever you like to call it.

But imagine having the means and the will, and choosing not to create a Utopia. What does one call that? Imagine not having the imagination to create a Utopia. That is the beginning and end of poverty. The Capitalist Utopia has broken your body, and hence, your mind. Or it has broken your mind, your body is soon to follow. The Capitalist Utopia is a meat grinder, and Mammon turns the crank.

What kind of art can you make these days that some jackass isn’t looking to commodify and sell? Or would it be better to say commode-ify? What kind of art resists best this trend of the endless shit torrent of “content”? What medium aesthetically and physically resists being owned and sold?

While we’re on the topic of demonology, why do Capitalists get all the fun? Belphegor is in Peter Binsfeld’s demonology too. He is the demon of sloth, and teaches mankind ingenious devices. Seeing him inside out, he encourages mankind to cast off drudgery and instructs in tools designed to eliminate work. He was known to the ancient Middle-East as Baal-Peor, his symbol was a phallus and he was associated with orgies. The Kabbalists know him as the disputer, would that more people in a labor dispute had made friends with him. What better demon to evoke for a Utopia? What better demon to preside over the end of someone else’s Utopia?

In Tibet they have a tradition of art called sand mandalas. There was once a team of monks making a sand mandala in a museum, after they had left a small child decided to play in the pretty sand, the mandala was gone in an instant! But I do not suggest you take up making Art in sand. No, instead I suggest you take up Art with chalk. Lasts just long enough, but not too long. A medium burn in a universe on fire! Let your Art adorn every surface! Let every McDonald’s arch face down with the orison of Papa Guedhe! The local block looking drab? Cook up a special haunt and make it interesting again, seal the deal with a Seal of Solomon! Chalk is cheap and so is talk! Get out there and make street Art!

(Chalkable…)

Strikes and slowdown’s were once the tools by which worker’s unions twisted the arm of capital to get what they wanted. But the union slowly became a tool of the establishment. Wages have been stagnant since the 70’s, and yet worker productivity has risen since to over 70%. The eight hour workday is an idea that goes back to 1810. Eighteen hundred and ten! We are living in the world of the future according to those people, now long dead. In the duration since, repeatedly it has been promised, more often than not in the contemporary discourse, that in the world of the future drudgery would be gone, post scarcity would render society radically differet. So what happened?

Why chalk and not spray paint, or something else more permanently defacing? Well, in the case of paint, it no longer permanently defaces like it used to. Society has become accustomed to it, works around it. In other words, paint isn’t permanent as it used to be, and permanence isn’t the point. This universe is a burning house, everything is impermanent. Chalk then is the perfect medium as message, as well as resisting attempts to commode-ify Art. Most taggers tag in paint to see how long a run they have before their tag gets painted over. As well, most tags are just names written in elaborate, barely readable script. A bunch of latter day Andy Warhols, signing their name on civilizations concrete coral reefs. Boring!

Murray Bookchin, in his book “Post-Scarcity Anarchism”, a book written in 1971, seemed to be of the opinion that a post-scarcity that provided a high quality of life, as well as a harmonizing with the environment, was possible. That was in 1971. Some might argue that we weren’t there yet, but are today. Some might argue that we are almost there, but maybe tomorrow. Many anarchists are jaded with the notion entirely, convinced that the long promised technology will never manifest, that it was a fever dream that distracts from the revolution.

The reality is startling and may cause you to shit yourself from seizures; the shock from this revelation will be overwhelming. It was the Capitalists that promised the future of post-scarcity. They lied.

Spray paint has become passé, something to be ignored on the urban landscape, not pretty enough or weird enough to grab attention. Permanent enough that it is an annoyance to the particular “owner” or caretaker of whatever bears the mark, but not impermanent enough that it becomes worth looking at simply because of its short life. “Tagging” artists have also partially pushed into the mainstream, it is no longer the universally hated pastime it was in days gone by. In contrast, chalk is too ephemeral in its duration to be worth hating or accepting. The simple fact that it is still there makes one curious enough to look. Though it is imminently destructible, no one bothers, it’s chalk, let the rain handle it.

Oh, they didn’t lie about the technology, that’s for sure. If we didn’t have it in the 70’s we definitely have it now. No, they lied about using it. They had no intention of ever improving the quality of life with it. No transformation of society was going to happen, regardless of whether or not the tech was real. The point of Capitalism isn’t the greater good, it isn’t the most benefit to the most people. It is about getting that mutha fuckin’ money. Every single other thing that a Capitalist does is auxiliary to that. Give up all that money and power so that people can live in dignity and without fear of having basic needs met? “Fuck that bullshit”, says the Capitalist. The point of a Capitalist society is so that the most sociopathic and ruthless can get more. It’s an asinine way to run a civilization, if you want it to last for more than a few hundred years, and not collapse into ruin.

How complex your works need to be is entirely up to the artist and their skill. You can go for the fully utilitarian mode of sigil work, or create murals that will wash or blow away within the week. What matters is your intent, and how much life you breath into that intent made physical. You might even find that as you make more works, that your technique and your ability to bring these works to life, to Art, grows and takes on a life of itself, that’s real Art.

And if our leaders are asinine, then why work so hard for them? It’s one thing to show up because you need a paycheck, its another to let yourself be goaded into working as hard as you can because you’re afraid one of the salarymen is going to call you lazy! Constantly on the media streams, these assholes get up in front of everyone and the gods to either implicate or out right accuse the citizenry of laziness, despite all research asserting the opposite. You have a 70” LCD TV that you bought on credit, what do you need with all that health care and minimum wage anyway? Right!?!

Not only will your works take on a life of their own, but they are also embedded there in the moments they occupy, there for any being with eyes to see them. The beings we (and I’m just going to assume that since you’re reading this you are one of those types who talks to spirits, gods, demons, etc.) talk to exist on another plane, sure, which is another way to say higher dimension. Just like the floating silvery orbs often seen over populated cities might be aliens, sure, but are more like cross sections of hyper dimensional shapes being rotated on their 3+n D axes, and less like beings from another planet in our “volume sliding along a duration” type of existence. That means that the chalk is actually not just an aesthetic statement about anti-commodification, but also an effective way to conceal your works from the mundane peoples.

Look, in the past it was sabotage, strikes, and slowdown’s that twisted the arm of capital. But punctuated events have become easy for the Capitalist and his Statist cronies to deal with. Instead, why not provide the ultimate slowdown? Belphegor makes sense as an adopted comrade spirit in these times. Corporations are now more than ever trying to foist as much work for as little pay as they can on the worker. If it isn’t overtime due to under-staffing and high volume, then it is pursuing your personal GOALS, which must meet the SMART criteria, and though they are refereed to with various anti-prose euphemisms such as employee enrichment, what they are friends and fiends is extra work. Extra fucking work, as if the shit they have you doing for a whole third of your life wasn’t enough.

I have a confession to make, I don’t think the revolution will happen soon. I do not mean to say that we should not make the attempt, or struggle in other ways. What I mean to say is that until there is a collapse, the kind that normally happens when a society spins off into massive inequality in wealth and environmental degradation, that the inertia of our collective history will deflect naturally such efforts. We should struggle anyway, however, because the attempt itself plants seeds that can be watered later, to grow in the fertile corpse of our current context. I would not deny anyone that demands “revolution now” the opportunity to make it happen. But in the succession of “nows” that pass, why not engage yourself happily? Why not make Art? Why not paint this soon-to-be corpse of a civilization, like a cemetery mortician putting make-up on someone’s gran-gran, in runes of struggle, revolution, liberty and community? If you have better things to do, then feel free, certainly, to get on with it. But if not, why not pick up a stick of chalk, and paint the world mad?

They don’t lift a finger except to count their money, and they vilify us, these scoundrels, for not wanting to drudge in a world where drudgery could be done away with. It keeps us tired, unable to absorb information as fast, and closer to docile than not. It is not a lack of technology that prevents Utopia, it is the fear of the privileged, and indeed today they enjoy such “private law” that has not been seen since the days of aristocracy. The slick haired, over perfumed, chemically tanned aristocracy of money want you working hard so they can continue to enjoy the privilege that comes from their money. Ready to play hookie yet? Ready for an, ahem, “sick day”, full of fun and adventure?

Indeed, if I should be so bold, I might suggest that one’s whole life should be a work of Art. A magical statement to echo down the ages, heard only by ears that can hear such echoes, and yet the waves of which affecting those who can and can’t nonetheless. Like Nietzsche suggests to us, “What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: ‘This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more’ … Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: ‘You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine.’” If indeed your life were to occur repeatedly in such a manner, would you want a third of that time spent drudging for a douche-bag with a watch collection worth more than hundreds of thousands of families incomes? Many think when they die the drudgery is over, and if it isn’t, would this not then be hell?

“What kind of adventures”, you ask? Well, you could do a lot of things, with free time comes choice, a thing most at least dimly remember. I could make a suggestion, why not art? Paint the town red as they say. And why not magical art, or as they used to call it, The Art. An abattoir of Art, the concrete deserts of the worlds cities blooming on a spring, summer, fall, or winter day. Any time of the year is good. Not a bad suggestion if I say so myself. I should write a little primer, a wee little Art Manifesto to rouse my glorious fellow rabble into acts sacred and profound. Why not an Art Manifesto, I don’t have much better to do. I wonder if anyone knows anything about Art Manifestos?

Who wants to live in hell on Earth? Why not then use Art to make a Utopia? Nothing fancy mind you, this present context is two breaths away from being a rotting corpse. Perhaps then we should just plant dreams in the subconscious minds of our fellow humans, and nightmares for Capitalists who hope we all stay sleeping. But whether or not we bother to plan our Utopia or with Jovian profligacy spread our Art like so many weedy species spill seeds into the wind, we should at least have a talk about Utopia. If you could live your life as a work of Art, in a civilization that was a work of Art, that might be Utopia, if you were into that. But definitely, lets talk about Utopia first.

 


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.

The Problem(s) with Science

A lot of “science educators” lately have become worried about people’s lack of trust in the scientific community, citing poor science education and misinformation as the chief causes. Herein, I will not address these concerns though I think they are valid concerns for anyone actually. Instead, I will suggest that there are more central problems with the scientific community and how it goes about the pursuit of science. Problems that inevitably involve Capitalism, and a little bit of philosophy, and are much more responsible for the down tick in trust levels.

So strap the fuck in, we’re going to have a long and boring conversation about people that will likely never find this article; so this technically counts as gossip!

We’re going to start with the philosophy though, because dangling a promise of a conversation about Capitalism in front of you is probably the only way to actually get anyone reading about philosophy. Most people don’t like talking or hearing or reading about philosophy at all, because as bad as science education has gotten, philosophy education has been shit for a very long time in comparison. But before we start hard with the sophy of some philo, we should probably start by rhetorically asking and answering the question, “What exactly is science anyway?”

Most fancy Latin or Greek names usually give away what the thing named is about, but not the proper noun “Science.” Science comes from the Latin Scientia, which means knowledge. This is no way tells any of us a damned thing about what is going on. But we’re in luck, the German word for science, Wissenschaft, tells us the whole story. Wissen means knowledge, no surprises there, and Schaft, can mean so many things (and there’s no need to get your head out of the gutter, it means ‘long pole’ as well), but here it means to create, produce, establish, etc.. Wissenschaft transliterated means “Knowledge Creation,” and therefore should probably be a verb, but in both English and German, it is a noun.

But science is not just any kind of knowledge creation, it is both systematic and communal.

It is important to keep that in mind as we go forward, but for now this releases us to take up the discussion of the philosophy of science: for now that we know what it ideally should be, we can see how it is not living up to that idea. How it is not living up to that idea is found in the interplay of ontology, which I insist on calling metaphysics (all modern attempts at re-branding metaphysics be damned) and epistemology.

Metaphysics, put simply, is about the nature of being; epistemology is the study of how we know what we know, or to put it another way, the study of the difference between knowledge and opinion. But how is the practice of science different from other ways of knowing or creating knowledge? It is in the very fact that science eschews metaphysics as the foundation to build on. In other words, a metaphysics is not assumed when we start asking the questions, and all lines of inquiry are therefore valid, save for the caveat that the possible answer to a question can be proven false.

“The Scientific Method”

Building on this, then, is the scientific method. I have an idea about how something might work (a possible answer to my questions about the world), called a hypothesis. I do activities which test this hypothesis in a systematic way, trying to get information. That information provides a more detailed description of how things work, and we call this a theory. Other people do those same activities, called experiments, and then say, “The same things happened again, there may be something to this”, or, “I got something completely different, I think you made a mistake in your thinking or experiments.” This is the ideal called the scientific method, and it is one of the most sacred myths about how science happens.

It is also not how science happens.

Paul Feyerabend was UC Berkeley Professor of Philosophy and Professor of the Philosophy of Science at the Federal Institute of Technology located in Zurich. His book “Against Method” stands with “The Logic of Scientific Discovery” by Popper and Thomas Kuhn’s “The Structure of Scientific Revolutions” when it comes to books about the philosophy of science. Of his book, Feyerabend had this to say,

“Neither science nor rationality are universal measures of excellence. They are particular traditions, unaware of their historical grounding. […] History is full of ‘accidents and conjunctures and curious juxtapositions of events’ and it demonstrates to us the ‘complexity of human change and the unpredictable character of the ultimate consequences of any given act or decision of men’. Are we really to believe that the naive and simple-minded rules which methodologists take as their guide are capable of accounting for such a ‘maze of interactions’? And is it not clear that successful participation in a process of this kind is possible only for a ruthless opportunist who is not tied to any particular philosophy and who adopts whatever procedure seems to fit the occasion?”

Feyerabend’s essential point is that in the actual pursuit of science, the only method that does not hold back that pursuit is “anything goes.” Also, despite the process described to us as children called “The Scientific Method,” the reality is born out in history that “The Scientific Method” is a myth. Essentially, when the “anything goes” approach is abandoned for myth, when metaphysics sits atop epistemology and directs it and constrains it, you eventually stop getting new information, new ideas, and new theories.

This is where Materialism enters the fray. Materialism is actually an old monism that goes back several millennia. There are passages all through the Buddha’s teachings on the subject, there are ancient Chinese documents discussing the idea, the Romans had a version of it, and it has continued down on through the ages. It was readily taken up in the 19th century by the scientific and intellectual communities of the day, and should have died with the formalization of quantum theory; and yet it didn’t.

Most scientists that are of the loud and proud materialist persuasion would like you to forget that Isaac Newton was an alchemist: he made up a whole color so that the spectrum he saw shining through his prism would match the seven classical metals and planets of alchemy, he also claimed to discover an alloy of metal called hepatizon that hasn’t been made in possibly millennia if not centuries, since he left behind no ingots to prove he had figured the riddle of its manufacture out. Those same scientists would also deny that Rene Descartes had a dream in which a luminous angel told him that, “The conquest of nature is to be achieved by number and measurement.” Nor would they care to admit that he sought out the Rosicrucian Order with the intent to become a brother of that order.

Science is Magic

“What of it?” you might wonder aloud, your eyes ready to roll in the expectation that I will claim that “Science” is another religion, like so many creationists do. In fact, I will claim no such thing, put your eyes to rest. I will also not claim that “Science” is some gorgon like anti-religion. No no no.

What I will say is that scientists are actually like us. They are wizards, sorcerers, miracle workers and healers. In the beginning of the Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis, a single quote illustrates my meaning,

“Magick is the highest most absolute and divinest knowledge of Natural Philosophy advanced in its works and wonderful operations by a right understanding of the inward and occult virtue of things, so that true agents being applied to proper patients, strange and admirable effects will thereby be produced; whence magicians are profound & diligent searchers into Nature; they because of their skill know how to anticipate and effect which to the vulgar shall seem a miracle.”

Or to paraphrase it, “Our technology is so advanced it is indistinguishable from magic.

They are us! But, they are in deep denial of that fact, of their origins, even of the way in which they truly go about creating knowledge. This deep denial manifests as a psychospiritual cyst, filled with a profound disgust, projected at all those who remind them of their origin and their identity. We are the boogeypersons they fear in the night, hiding under the bed, or in the closet.

Ok, maybe not that dramatic, but the disgust is real. It is the reason that Materialism is clung to so steadfastly in a world of macroscopic objects held in quantum states: a world in which the oldest and now only paranormal research lab in America still churns out research needing verification but receiving none; a world in which one of their most popular demagogues can cough up an idea like “meme”, and then rapidly retreats from it once it has taken on a life of its own and is busy reminding us all that ideas are alive and divine, just like people are.

This denial and deeply buried self loathing makes our brothers vulnerable. Vulnerable to the ravages and exploitation of both the Capitalist and the Prince.

Science For Sale

Anyone familiar with academia, especially in the United States, is familiar with the pressure to publish. Published professors, and the prestige that goes with employing such professors, is one of the legs of the business of higher education. Published professors bring in students and their tuition, and more importantly bring in research grants from both the private sector and government programs. In 2016 alone the Department of Defense granted 23 awards totaling 162 million USD.

Make no mistake, universities are big business, and the employees they exploit include our lost brothers.

The pressure to publish or perish has begun the slow process of eating the scientific establishment from the inside out. It has led to the creation of journals that publish trash science, made-up crap that is only created to look good on a curriculum vitae, not the delicious and spirit nurturing “made up crap” that a magician brings back with him after ascending to the heavens with the intent of stealing knowledge. (I include modern scientists in that latter category, both in the knowledge stolen and the image of the magician doing the stealing, sons of Hermes all.)

The true, unacknowledged winners of this game of shame is the publishing industry itself. Like dialysis clinics swarming over a kidney failure patient, trying to suck out as much cash as possible before death, journal publishers pop up and swarm over professors who are forced to publish or go back to join the rest of us clods drudging away in front of a register instead of a university computer. A shit job of drudgery in writing spurred by the threat of even more mind-numbingly shitty drudgery should you decide you don’t want to play along.

Remember when being a scientist sounded like an alright job? I do, but I’m also old. They may not be dying of starvation at age eight somewhere in the Sudan, but my heart goes out to them all the same.

But what about those “lucky” few scientists that get to work directly for the government doing research? Well, what about them? They work either for government programs that are likely to be underfunded soon, or they work for DARPA and its many cousins in the governments of other nations.

If they work for DARPA, then they are truly damned. These are the damned souls who use Art to create weapons, either to suppress the peoples of foreign countries or to suppress the citizens they would call their fellows. “I have become Shiva, destroyer of worlds”, the words spoken by a man truly cognizant of what he had just unleashed with the Art that was supposed to benefit mankind, not turn it to ash and cinder, and who knew in that moment his damnation, not a hell of fire and torture after he dies, but a living hell of guilt and regret.

Denial of the past, denial of the present, denial of the future. Identity crisis, cultural crisis, economic crisis, ethical crisis. The problems that besiege our lost brothers are numerous, in big part because our lost brothers are willfully ignorant of these problems and their origins. They complain of lack of funding, they complain of lack of trust. They complain of lack of “scientific literacy.” And yet they would have none of these problems if they could look in a mirror and speak honestly of what they see.

If they could turn away from the promise of big money grants dangled in front of them like a scratch-ticket bought from a 7-11; if they demanded that their own brothers not turn away from human ethics; if they turned once again to true science, eschewed the concerns of metaphysics, and pursued knowledge without philosophical, economic, or political borders, they too could stand in the light of that sought knowledge, steal if from the gods, and bring it back for that good and sake of mankind! They would once again receive the support that they would then have all the right to ask for.


Patacelsus

mal1A Discordian for 20 years, Patacelsus finally got comfortable when the 21st century “started getting weird.” When not casting sigils, taking part in Tibetan Buddhist rituals, or studying the unfortunate but sometimes amusing stories of the dead, he’s been known to wander the hidden ways of the city, communing with all of the hidden spirits one can find in a city. As Patacelsus sees it, we’re all already free; after completing the arduous task of waking up to that we can then proceed, like a doctor treating a patient, to try to rouse others from the bitter and frightening nightmares of Archism. He laughs at Samsara’s shadow-play in lovely California, in the company of his wife, two cats, and two birds.

 


Like this essay? You’ll love Dr. Bones’ new book, “Curse Your Boss, Hex The State, Take Back The World.” You can get it cheaper by ordering it Pre Sale here!