Thursday, October 8, 2015

Not almost a year of GD peace

In Golden Dawn news today, David Griffin “defended” Nick Farrell from an evil Llewellyn author. Now, to put this in context for those people who don’t keep up with crap, last week (or was it two weeks) ago, Nick wrote a blog post declaring that public occultism is dead. What caused Nick to explode was that no one in the last couple of years has made it past the first three lessons of his magical Order’s correspondence course. Exactly what is in the first three lessons is beyond me; but I am willing to make a bet that it includes mediating for fifteen minutes a day—you know “really basic stuff.” And Nick’s post set off the fire alarms in the Golden Dawn community, particularly among the bloggers and Facebook commenters.

In other words, it was a slow news week.

How slow was it? Well, even I outlined a couple of responses; but then, I got bored and went back to working on my NaNoWriMo outline.

There was nothing new in anything that Nick had said; serious occult teachers have been disgusted by the quality of students for some time now. And we all know that Facebook and Twitter has not helped any at all, except to make students believe even more that they are somehow entitled to training and group memberships without all that nasty homework. There was nothing new in the responses to Nick’s rant (which is partly why I never got past the outline stage—though me trying to figure out how to get Harmic Barrows involved with the Corbin family also played a role). And the only reason that Griffin cared about the one response was that it was a slow news week and someone called him a fraud.

So now you are up to speed. And have probably slipped into a coma.

But I do want to mention something that Griffin said—he said that we had almost a year of peace in the Golden Dawn community.

Let that sink in for a minute or two. Almost a year of peace.

I am guessing that his part of the country does not observe daylight saving time because his calendar is a little fast. The GD Peace Initiative, which Griffin gives credit to Nick for causing to happen, started on February 6, 2015. I know this because I lost a bet on how long it would last; yes, I figured by now it would be a smoking crater. And we all know who I was betting would launch the nukes first. Just goes to show that even I can be surprised on occasion.

For those of you who somehow missed the online landmines of the last twenty years of Golden Dawn internet groups, the occult community was treated to a daily show of GD leaders slagging one another for twenty years. Though to be fair, it was two people and their meat minions, who basically used to call everyone else goat shaggers; and then claim that they were the ones being attacked when other people denied having sexual relations with tin can eaters. Those who were really important and vocal in their displeasure would be threatened by lawyers launched from catapults. It was a glorious time when GD leaders were real men, and lawyers flew through the air with the greatest of ease. Hell, there were some occult authors with one wall papered by rejection letters, and another plastered with cease and desist notices. Yes, it was a glorious time that we will never see again…unless of course, someone finds another free lawyer, and then all bets will be off.

But I digress, the important part is that in February 2015, peace was declared in the Golden Dawn community. And by this, I mean that once no one was being accused of having sex with goats and threaten with petty lawsuits, most of us just could not be bothered to talk about the “most important person in Golden Dawn, the famous GD Imperator” who really only talks for his Order and no one else’s. But the impeding rise of silence had to be heralded in by a savior because no one would notice if peace just happened.

It was a cold day in February (actually I have no idea what the weather was like that day, but I am telling this story dammit), and a lone horseman rode in. His name was Sheriff Andrew Martini, and he was packing heat. Actually, he wasn’t alone, but for the life of me; I can’t remember the name of the young lady who screamed “Why can’t we all get along?!” Anyways, Andrew stepped forward and said that he would oversee the peace.

In hindsight, I do find it ironic that someone who wanted to see Griffin doused in petrol and set on fire more than I ever did turned out to be a peace keeper. My definition of peace has been to write bad blog posts and not publish them, storing them as drafts, or as I like to call them, “my stockpile of nukes.” Actually the posts are fairly mostly completely boring, hence why I have never bothered to publish them. After all, once the Imperial Dalek quit threatening to blow the rest of us up, he became a boring monster in a rubber suit.

Now Nick Farrell got all the credit for the peace. And as far as I could tell, all he did was tell me not to advertise any more jokes about Griffin. Poor Andrew got no credit. And to add insult to injury (a stubbed toe), Griffin tossed Andrew out of his Facebook group in August (six months into the peace) after discovering that Andrew’s videos were venom filled rants about how unimportant the most important person in Golden Dawn really was. Today, Andrew is referred to as “anonymous” and even less likely to get a shout out from Griffin than I am.

So do you know what time it is boys and girls?

Yes, that is right; it is magical math time.

So counting on my fingers, I come to the whooping sum of eight months of peace. The peace started on February 6th, and today is October 8th. Eight months…which is not “almost a year.” It is two thirds of a year. Unless you live on Mercury, then it is like a century. It has taken me longer to write this post, and for you to come out of the coma after reading it, than the peace has lasted. Besides I have doubled down on my bet, and I am still waiting for the inevitable meltdown that a lack of attention will cause the most important person in Golden Dawn. I am quite sure that the owls are talking to him by now; after all, there is nothing like being important person in the world and having no one talk about you. 

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Trump will fire you (Yes, I said that)

Yes, I posted this status:

For those who support Trump: Yes, I understand that he sees solutions to problems that concern you, and that he is willing to do whatever it takes to fix the problems, including ignoring what the Constitution currently says. So what happens when he decides that you are part of the problem? Because sooner or later, Trump is going to decide that you are part of the problem. It is not a matter of if he decides that you are part of the problem; it is a matter of when. Are you willing to be taken to the border, fired, and tossed on the other side of the wall because you are not a productive enough member of society to remain an American? Personally, I do not want to be on his latest reality show: You are fired, America!

Friday, October 2, 2015

No homework for occult leaders

One of the hazards of becoming an occult student is the non-zero chance that you might join a bad occult group and/or end up following a bad occult teacher. Newer students of the occult traditions are often less cautious than they should be. They tend to only notice the flash and the bang without seeing the gutters and the harsh realities of the esoteric world. Part of the flash and bang that they gravitate to are occult teachers claiming large amounts of occult mastery. Often the only proof of the teacher’s mastery will be their claim of [such] a grade and degree from famous [Named] group, a proof that a gullible student will bite hook, line, and sinker on.

The logic goes as follows: The [Named] Order says that undergoing [such] initiation ritual after doing [such and such] work makes one [such] Grade and degree; the leader of [Named] Order claims to be [such] Grade and degree—therefore, the leader must have done [such and such] work and undergone [such] initiation ritual. 

The logic would be sound if all esoteric leaders actually had to be certified by something like a national certification board or by people who were advanced experts in the occult traditions. Unfortunately, many occult teachers are not certified; no, all they have to do is to claim such certification and have enough flash and bang, and they can attract enough attention and gullible students to make it worthwhile for them to continue the scam (whether the teacher is after ego stroking, money, sex, or simply control over other people).

The poor student of the esoteric traditions has to contend with teachers who have slept their way into Grades, teachers who have bullied their way into higher Grades, teachers who have provided a “valuable service” and was promoted without doing any actual Grade work, those who have summoned demons and then declared themselves Adepts, those who have crowbarred degrees from other groups into the Grades of other system (for instance, people claiming that the Master Mason degree from Freemasonry equals the Adept Minor Grade of Golden Dawn), those who claim that they made contact with Secret Chiefs and patron spirits, and those who are simply liars. At best, there are those occult teachers who know their stuff despite their slimy way of attaining their high degree and grade. At worst, the student is following someone who has not done any of the prerequisite work and has never undergone a single initiation ritual.

How does such a teacher run an occult group? Sometimes, all they need to do is keep up the act, and polish up some bullshit that they issue as lessons; this works just fine for those students who are merely searching for some comfort and confirmation. Other leaders, ones stuck with more serious students, put their most advanced students into positions of low authority to act as proctors and tutors to the lesser advanced students. In fact, this is the ideal for both the bad teacher and the less advanced students; the only ones that suffer in such a case are the more advanced students who find themselves in an awkward position---often the more advanced student will feel an obligations towards the lesser students, causing them to stuck around while having less time and energy for their own work; both of which helps make it less likely that the more advanced students will splinter off and create their own esoteric groups. 

My insensitive bad luck

So yesterday was a typical day for me.

I got up at noon. This is after staying up until five in the morning researching something stupid and/or boring. In other words, I went to bed at my normal time, and got up at my normal time. A few years ago, I used work the four pm to midnight shift, and I think that it permanently messed up my body clock.  

I went on the internet long enough to make the latest move in a game I was playing. It used to be Cafeworld; now it is Vikings Gone Wild. I looked at a few items in the newsfeed; one needs to check every few hours to see if there anything spectacularly stupid going on when you are an angry blogger like myself.

Now, every day around two, I have to make a decision. Do I try to be productive? Or do I remain on the internet reading Facebook all day? Lately, I have been being good and getting off of Facebook and being productive; or at least, I have been off of Facebook for most of the day.

Yesterday, I looked at my notes, and decided that I was going to write my little spree about guns and politics. After all, one of my goals for my little write-cation is to piss everyone off at least once this month---remember, this write-cation motto is “Morgan hates all of you!”

I did go with my wife to the library when she got home. But afterwards, I did go out in the studio, petted the outside monster, and got to writing. I cranked out eight hundred plus words. Some of the words are actually good in my less than humble opinion. After I was finished with the piece, which I had typed into my Neo, I sat out in the studio, keeping my wife company as she glazed a few jewelry pieces. Then I went into the house, ignored the internet, and transferred the piece I wrote into a Word document before editing, correcting some spelling, and copying and pasting the words into a blog post.

Now at this point, I could have been sensitive and checked to see if any mass shooting had happened during the day. But I didn’t. And instead of scheduling the blog post for midnight, I decided to hit publish instead. After all, what harm could it do?

It is only after hitting publish that I opened up the browser I use for keeping track of the news. And yes, my timing once again sucked.

Now for some reason, my luck seems to be insensitive to the feelings of other people. For instance, when I was doing the page view sites, I once wrote an article on the Tower card, posted it, and then turned on the news just in time to learn that an airplane crashed at the local airport. Another time, I accepted a new friend request on Facebook, and then promptly shared a meme of some dumbass dying from shooting off fireworks off his head, only to learn that my new Facebook friend actually knew the parents of the fore-mentioned dumbass.

I always feel guilt when these coincidences happen. I know that I am not in any way responsible for other people dying and getting seriously injured. I am guilty of reporting or sharing the news, but that is a bad professional decision on my part---not actual inherent evil on my part.

Unfortunately, yesterday’s post had every potential of being published on the wrong day. Why? Because at the moment, in this country known as the gun capital of the West, there is a mass shooting every day. Ok, maybe not every day, but damn close.

So far this year, we had only eight consecutive days without a mass shooting. In the space of the 274 days so far this year, we had only 294 mass shootings—a mass shooting being defined as an incident where four or more people are shot in the same incident. Ok, at this point, the FBI and NRA would like to point out that the official USA definition of a mass shooting is when three or more people are killed in the same gun incident; therefore I am using the wrong number because it is not gun violence if you survive the attack. The NRA would also like you to know that it does not matter that in a mass shooting that a person dies every fifteen seconds on average. It also does not matter that we have had fifteen mass shootings that the President of the United States has addressed during his tenure in office. And the NRA also says that the 380 deaths in "not-really" mass shootings this year so far, and the 10,000 people killed and 20,000 people injured in the 40,000 gun violence incidents so far this year do not matter.

The only thing that matters is that the members of the NRA are constitutionally allowed to have all the guns and ammunition that they can load in their SUVs---none of the violence matters---only your right to have a gun matters.

Oh, and the fact that assholes like me are insensitive to the NRA’s feelings when people like me point out exactly how much gun violence there actually is. For that crime, the NRA would like to take me outside and shoot me in the head---unfortunately, the Constitution does not promise them that right. But don’t worry the politicians who accept the NRA’s political donations will make it happen in the next decade. And then none of us will have to worry that I might accidentally post something insensitive about gun control on the same day as a mass shooting.  

Mass shootings so far this year.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Battle flag wrapped guns

One of the beautiful things about Facebook is that it collects all the stupid in one place. This, in itself, is a good reason for the government to monitor Facebook. And yes, I do believe that governmental agencies are monitoring Facebook and social media; the difference between me and your average wingnut is that I frankly don’t give a damn.

Or to put it another way, “What is the worst thing that the government could learn about me?” That I have too many cats? Or that I am worried about paying off my student loans? Or that the only thing that I did with my university degree is dissect science fiction shows? Or that I belong to a so-called secret society? As long as I don’t cook meth in my kitchen while buggering a close relative, the government will think that I am too boring to bother with.

The wingnuts on the other hand worry about the government so much that they have to be doing something dubious in their kitchens. Just the other day, one of the Presidential candidates stated that the American people could get conned and elect the next Adolf Hitler to the office of President. This is the same candidate who believes that if a Muslim is ever elected to the office of President, they will place Islamic religious law above the Constitution. Unfortunately, I look at Ben Carson and the fourteen remaining Republican Presidential candidates (oh god, we still have a year more of this circus), and I see people who are telling voters that they will honor their Christian religious beliefs—even if the Constitution says otherwise.

The worry that the wrong type of person will get elected is a constant fear. More voters believe that President Obama is a Muslim, who is coming to take their guns, than voters who believe that he is a citizen of this country and a student of Constitutional law.

One of the rallying points of the wingnuts, many draping themselves with the Confederate battle flag, is that nothing must be done to constrain their ability to buy military grade weapons and enough ammunition to wipe out the Ivy League colleges. And if they had their way, all colleges and universities would disappear—after all, intellectuals don’t know a damn thing about anything. In fact, some of us college educated people think that reducing the number of guns will lead to a decrease of gun related violence. 

One thing that the wingnuts point out is that taking away guns will not decrease the number of overall violent incidents. Once no one has guns, we will all just buy hammers, swords, and poison, and continue to gleefully eliminate those people we feel are too stupid to live. And they are right, violence won’t disappear, we will just have to go back to bashing people’s heads in with rocks.
Because of us non-gun owners being so violent, gun owners have to keep their guns. They are not actually concerned about other gun owners because they all think that they are the quickest most accurate shooter this side of Mars. No, it is only those of us who will sneak up behind a rock that you have to worry about because no one has ever outlawed rocks in human history.

Besides us violent pacifists and intellectuals, the gun owners know that they have to arm themselves against the government. If they give up their guns, the military and police will swoop in and end their way of life of meth cooking and cousin buggering. And the government will violate the Constitution the very instant there are no more guns—it is a historical fact foretold in the Bible. In fact, it is about time that Republican Jesus comes back and leads the sensible people in breaking away from the corrupt government of the United States.

There is only one problem that I see with this battle flag wrapped philosophy---the secessionists have already lost a war with the federal government and its military. A century and a half ago, a large section of the Republic split off for the noble cause of preserving their way of life (also known as the one percent having all the wealth while other people, including the whites living in trailer parks, slave away to increase the worth of the one percent).

And yes, I believe that a modern armed secession would fail miserably. The prideful secessionists should not be worried about the military taking away their constitutional guaranteed guns; they should be worried that it is not constitutional for them to buy and own rocket launchers and nuclear weapons. I don’t care if you have three dozen guns per militant and enough ammo to go back in time and hunt the dinosaurs into extinction; one badly aimed nuclear weapon will turn your secession movement into a radioactive pit. Heck, if both sides gave up their guns, a nuke would still tip the balance towards the ever loving corrupt government who insist that it is wrong to cook meth in your kitchen while buggering your cousin. Or they could use a really big rock. 

Food equals love

My wife proved that she loved me the other day. She brought me a bag of wasabi flavored almonds. By itself, it doesn't not sound like proof of her undying love for me, but it is.

She will not eat these almonds. To me, this is a sign of love. Then again, I do have food issues.

The blame for all of my food issues can be placed firmly on my childhood. I am the oldest of eight kids. You know what you call a group of eight kids? Locust. We were like a Biblical plague if you were crazy enough to let us loose in a room with an unlocked fridge and well-stocked cupboards. The problem was that we were always straving.

Don't get me wrong---my parents did their best to keep us clothed and fed. My father often worked too jobs while Mom stayed home to watch us. Well, my father worked while my mom made me stay home and watch my siblings. Except when my dad would drag me off to work to learn a trade.

The happiest trade that he dragged me off to learn was how to sell and deliver produce. I was rail thin from the lack of food. At home, sneaking a banana was a capital crime. At the produce warehouse, it was spoilage. Plus every cook and chef along the delivery route would feed me. To this day, I willing eat any food offered to me by the staff of a kitchen. My decision to be a journalist and novelist merely re-enforced my tendency to gravitate towards unguarded food. If I am ever assassinated, it will be with a plate of Swedish Meatballs.

It was on the produce route that I learned an important lesson---if you want to survive, be willing to eat stuff that other people will not touch. At home, I was expected to be polite, and allow my siblings to eat. Nearly always I would be forced to have a smaller portion than I would like. It wasn't that my mom was a wonderful cook---an one armed monkey without taste buds can whip up a better dish than my mom--it was simply that there was never enough food.

Occasionally, some politician will state that the government should quit funding reduced and free school lunch and breakfast programs. Or they will insist that only drug abusers are on welfare and government aid programs. I imagine that they also believe that I should not be stuffing their poppets with stale peanuts and throwing them out to the squirrels. It is seriously doubtful that we will ever see eye to eye on those important issues, but I won't vote for them as long as they don't vote for me either.

It is not just politicians that I hate. My oldest sister knows that I don't like her. Not one damn bit. Her proof of this is that I like licorice. At a certain point, I realized that when given a chance to pick the candy, none of my siblings would eat licorice. Initially, I thought it tasted nasty, but I got all of it. It is amazing how bad food is so much better than no food at all. Today, I actually like licorice---it is an acquired taste, just like eating strange animals.

There are times that I wonder if my working in restaurants for twenty years was related to the lack of food I experienced as a kid. Or the fact that I was willing to take over all the cooking a couple of years ago. After all, such decisions are never affected by the lack of a high school diploma, or the fact that you can taste how much my wife likes to cook. If you want to make sure you get enough to eat, control the food that comes out of the kitchen.

My wife also has food issues. Colorful food, fresh food, food with flavor---she will not touch any of them. She will eat canned green beans, but not fresh ones. Beets, squash, salad---all off the list. To top off the list of things she will not touch, add an item that she can't touch--wheat. After several years, I am still trying to figure out how to cook gluten free.

One of the signs that I love her is that I actually try to cook around her dietary needs. And that I am willing to let her have seconds, or the leftovers if she needs them for lunch. My childhood programming says that she is more important than I am, therefore she gets first dubs on the food.

So her buying me a bag of food that she will not touch, that is all mine, that is pure love.

Why Facebook was down so long

A couple of days ago, Facebook went down for an eternity hour. And what did all most some people do? Oh yeah, jump on other social media sites, such as Twitter, to panic gripe about Facebook being down.

Now some two people did something useful. One spent some time with her mother. And another found a virgin to sacrifice. I presume that one of these people is lying. I mean who actually spends time with their mother?

I, myself, stepped away from the computer to do some dishes and laundry. And by that I mean that I kept coming back to the computer every half hour ten minutes to see if Facebook was back online. No, I do not think that I have a Facebook addiction. If I had an Facebook addiction, I would have remained sitting at the computer, refreshing the browser every thirty seconds.

Facebook's explanation was that there was a problem with Mercury retrograde configuration issue. I am quite sure that this means that someone tripped over a cord. Isn't that the only possible explanation? After all, not only does Facebook have brilliant slightly above average moronic computer programmers, they also have the stellar lackluster programmers from the NSA, CIA, FBI, DEA, and several so-secret you have never heard of them alphabetic agencies, such as the [redacted], to help them.

Think about it. We all know that Facebook is giving the United States New World Order government copies of everything that you post. Those pictures of your tramp stamp--the NSA has them. Those pictures of your dog drinking out of the toliet---that is a Homeland Security issue. That complaint about the lousy service you got at McDonalds---that is now the property of Burger King.

Of course, you don't have to put up with the government getting their nose up in your business. After all, it only takes an one-time status update saying that the government does not have permission to read your statuses, and you are good to go. Those bank robbers the other day made only one mistake; they forgot to post that status before posing with those bags emblazoned with giant dollar signs. If they would have thought ahead, the robbers would not have been caught.

And the fact that not everyone has done this simple method just shows you that some people should not be allowed to see the wisdom of Facebook. There are powerful spells being exchanged on Facebook. Are your breasts too small? Smudge them with sage. Butt too big? Smudge that too. Broken arm? Sage will fix that right on up. Facebook knows that everything can be fixed with sage. It is probably why Facebook was down for so long; intern Jimmy had to go to the local pot shop occult store to get some more smoke---because some sweet smoke fixes everything, including Facebook being down.