Gambling Catholic Answers

Discovering and embracing Satanism is an easier task for some than for others. I just wanted to share a little of my experience for anyone coming from a strict Christian upbringing or even a Christian cult. It's rare that someone is able to escape the clutches of a cult unscathed and then go on to thrive. It's not something that happens overnight and it can involve undoing a lot of ingrained beliefs, going through an identity crisis, losing family or friends, and changing your entire perception of yourself and life. Going through it, I wasn't sure I was going to ever get out. But now, I can really stand back and be amazed at how resilient we can be.
In the 80s, my midwestern parents found themselves in a self-destructive lifestyle, and after attending a church-hosted and horrific dramatization of people being dragged off to hell, they turned to Christianity as the magic cure for their unhappiness in life. When I was born, they were still brand-new born-agains struggling with substance abuse and addiction, but they went all in. And I mean ALL in. They ghosted all their friends, cut ties with every member of my extended family, and made a new family of believers. We were Pentecostal - the 700 club-watching, faith-healing, tongues-speaking, Proctor and Gamble-boycotting variety. If you've ever seen Jesus Camp that was basically my life. I don't remember a lot from those early years, but I've heard stories and have seen family photos to know that I don't want to remember.
As my sister and I got older, they attempted to shelter us from the horrors of the sin-ridden secular world. We were homeschooled with an all-Christian, church-approved curriculum taught by my mother (who had an 8th grade education) while my dad was at work. My textbooks contained and presented as fact the typical hoaxes and flawed analogies that form the basis for Christian science-denial, and I didn’t know any different. We lived in the Bible belt on a small farm, and everyone I knew was at least some form of Christian. There weren't enough non-believers to convert, so we spent most of our time trying to convert the Catholics and Baptists to "real" Christianity. My mom always said Pentecostals came first, Catholics and Baptists came along after and bastardized Christianity. Most of my "classes" were based in homemaking or farm work, and went along nicely with our weekly Wednesday night girl's program, The Missionettes. It was basically girl scouts but focused on Bible memorization and turning us into good Christian wives. We had badges like sewing, knitting, cooking, grooming, ettiquette, abstinence, and first aid. Of course we also had religious badges for communion, prayer, healing, fruits of the spirit, and the armor of god etc. A very well-rounded education.
While my parents went to church and we put on the face like we were living the blessed life, things at home weren't great. The hardest thing growing up was hearing all the adults at church go on and on about how great my parents were and how lucky I was to have such good Christian parents. One day, I remember my dad pulling me aside to tell me there was something wrong with my mom, that I should never make her angry because he wouldn't be able to choose between us. When I was 5, my mom threw a pair of scissors at my dad. They got embedded in his leg and he had to go to the emergency room. When I was around 6, my mom began to threaten my dad in front of us, saying by the time he got home from work, we would be gone. That my sister and I needed to pick who we wanted to live with because by the end of the day, we needed to be packed and ready to leave. My mom was a big fan of belts and the wooden spoon, and she never spared the rod. I have had many objects broken on me. When she would make us bend over, I would try to look back and apologize, to ask what I had done wrong, or what i could do to fix it, but anything other than complete eyes-foward submission was viewed as rebellion and only added to the count. She told me once in a joking manner that when I was in trouble, all I would say was "I want to hold you" to try to get out of punishment. She laughed. When I was 7, my mom told us that Satan told her to kill us with a potato peeler, and that she was going to kill us, my dad, and then herself. But “luckily” god "saved" us! After that, I remember my sister and I used to hide in our closet and pray to god to turn us into farm animals. Horses, dogs, chickens, anything, so we could run away and be free. We didn't even want to be human anymore. By the time I was 12, suicidal ideation set in and never really let go. Satan didn't scare me anymore. My mom did. Hell was real and I was living in it.
When I was 13, my mom found a pencil in a parking lot from a local high school and determined that it was a sign from god that we should be enrolled in public school. I was terrified. These people weren't anything like me, they were all lost sinners and it was my job to be the shining light in the midst of darkness, to teach them the way. However, it turned out, I was the one who did most of the learning. I was exposed to more math and science in high school than I had been in my entire life. I learned about other cultures and history. I actually made some friends and got to see how other people live for the first time in my life. Nothing, absolutely nothing, at that high school even touched the evil I experienced at home. There were days I didn’t want to go home. I never missed a day of school if I could help it.
The things I had believed started to not make sense in my mind anymore. It took several years for me to put all the pieces together, but the final straw was actually reading the Bible entirely from cover to cover for the first time, rather than just the “reading plan” i was given. I learned when the gospels were actually written, who possibly wrote them and why. I started reading about as many different religions as I could and started realizing the similarties of them all. I had a good friend at the time who wasn't afraid to challenge every religious and political position I had, and realized that I didn't even know why I believed what I did, only that I was told to believe it and always had. I began to reexamine everything I believed, no matter how trivial or obvious. It became clear to me that more than anything, I just wanted more out of life than I was given.
Originally, I wasn't going to go to college. We didn't have enough money, no one in my family had ever gone to college, and my parents had just assumed that I'd end up being a pastor's wife who played the piano for church services. But on the advice of an advisor, I applied to and auditioned for a music program, and I got in. I was finally getting out. But not before my mom could have the final word. When my parents found out I had been talking to a boy at school and that I liked him, she called me "the whore" for a month. One day, I had the flu and missed school for a few days. My boyfriend asked if he could bring over a can of soup and the homework I had missed. My parents agreed, and when he came in, he sat on the end of my bed (the door was wide open and I was under a ton of blankets) to ask how I was doing. My mom walked by and screeched at the top of her lungs that he needed to get the fuck out of my room and out of her house. That we weren't allowed to be in the same room without supervision. I had basically learned that sticking up for myself was useless, but I would stick up for him. He hadn't done anything wrong. I got out of bed and got up into her face and called her a psychotic bitch. She demanded that my dad throw me out. I looked at him and he looked at me and I will never forget what he said. "I told you not to make her angry because I can't choose between you. This is her house. You have to leave."
So I left. I slept in my car that night and eventually stayed with my boyfriend's family until my aunt (who my parent's ghosted) heard what happened. She took me in for several months until I could make enough money working a few part-time jobs to afford a small apartment. I completely left the church after that. I did visit a few others and even worked as a choir director at a non-denomination church for a while as a side gig, but it just wasn't the same. The veil had been lifted.
Out of the dozens of families who knew me, who watched me grow up and spent time with my family (some who even knew what was going on at home), none of them attempted to contact me. Out of all of my church friends, I am still in contact with only one, who left around the same time I did. When people say leaving a cult is like commiting social suicide, they aren't exaggerating. I was completely cut off.
If you asked my parents today, they would tell you that around 18, I gave into doubt and fell from grace. That the friends I made outside of church brainwashed me. That going to college was the nail in the coffin of my salvation. They'd tell you that by the time I turned 18, I was lost. But I was never lost. Not really. They’d never tell you that I always got in trouble for constantly questioning things. When I was eight, I wrote on the back of an offering envelope “If god created us, who created god?” and left it on a church pew for one of the elders to find (and subsequently got a beating for it). They’d never tell you that at ten, I got into an argument with the children’s pastor for saying men were superior to women because they were created first. They’d never tell you that as a Missionette, I got caught skipping sewing class to crash the Royal Rangers’ (all boys group) flag football games and outdoor events. And they’d certainly never tell you that I was eventually replaced as the president of a bible study group at school for focusing on the less-read and more appalling stories in the Bible, telling people that the gospels weren’t actually written by eye-witnesses, and encouraging people to actually read and think for themselves.
Discovering Satanism was actually one of the biggest steps in trauma recovery for me. To realize that all of my actions and behaviors were based in natural human needs and emotions that aren't at all sinful. That my learned helplessness was a direct result of my upbringing and I didn't need it anymore. That I had control of my life now. That I'm resilient and capable of going through a fire and coming out on the other end, and that I don't have to forgive anyone for anything. That the only person I can rely on is myself.
Here I am on the other side of it all, through many twists and turns. I'm the first of my family to graduate high school, go to college, or go to graduate school. I'm now a professional scientist working on Alzheimer disease research and a keyboardist in a working band. I'm active in my community both in local politics and through volunteer work. Things are far from perfect. I still struggle with old emotions, behaviors and thought patterns. It’s taken many rituals and even daily effort sometimes, but I've achieved a level of happiness and fulfillment in life I never thought possible.
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There is no heaven of glory bright, and no hell where sinners roast. Here and now is our day of torment! Here and now is our day of joy! Here and now is our opportunity! Choose ye this day, this hour, for no redeemer liveth! Say unto thine own heart, "I am my own redeemer." Stop the way of them that would persecute you. Let those who devise thine undoing be hurled back to confusion and infamy. Let them be as chaff before the cyclone and after they have fallen rejoice in thine own salvation. Then all thy bones shall say pridefully, "Who is like unto me? Have I not been too strong for mine adversaries? Have I not delivered MYSELF by mine own brain and body?"
The Book of Satan - Anton Szandor LaVey

Well, this is going to be a long hot mess, I apologize from the start, like Inigo Montoya I have to say, "There is too much" even trying to sum it up, partly because it's a lot and I mean a LOT of history, also because it's very personal to me. I'm lucky that I don't live with any Qultists, but I deal with it at work, and we all deal with them on some level, as we saw on Jan 6th. I really want to make a joke about a national "Epiphany" but there's just nothing funny about it, even if it has some grotesque comedy.
It's personal because I was raised in a worldview that feeds this, and I feel amazingly lucky, like I was just missed by a meteor by inches, that I got out long enough ago that there was no chance of buy-in. But the whole thing is so triggering for that reason, I have a clear memory of having believed in secret alternate histories full of conspiracism and prophecies, in which every historical event had alternate interpretations explained by Sin, with the greatest sin of all being abortion, where all the media and all of science/medicine was lying to us because they hated God and families and goodness, but we weren't supposed to DO anything but pray because it was part of God's plan (trust the plan!)
So it's like being a fish that has taken to the land, remembering swimming in that sea of delusions, but now breathing air and even trying to recall that mindset feels like drowning today. But it helps explain what is going on and why Q is so potently seductive - it's a very ancient meme that has been constantly refined and tweaked over centuries, with a steroid injection a hundred years ago that took it to all new catastrophic levels culminating in the Holocaust.
That was of course the "Protocols of the Elders of Zion," a propaganda work created in 1903 by the Russian government to retroactively justify their pogroms by supposedly-leaked documents revealing the secret programs by the secret Jewish leadership to subvert and destroy mainstream Christian society, which was translated in 1919 in English and was promoted and published in America by non other than Henry Ford, whose bigotry and open embrace of fascism somehow never made it into our history books when I was in school and he was praised as an American genius-hero, while the theater class was putting on "Fiddler on the Roof. "
They didn't tell us about IBM then, either.
The Protocols memetic influence can be seen in the David Ickes Lizard people secretly rule the world stuff, but it's also invisibly omnipresent in the entire anti-abortion movement. The Protocols didn't appear in an early 20th century vacuum, instead they drew on a long tradition across Europe of justifying persecution of minorities by claiming they were uniquely wicked and depraved so it was really self defense, and particularly targeting their Jewish neighbors with the accusation of ritually killing and eating Christian children. William of Norwich was the first unsolved crime of a murdered boy whose death was blamed on the local Jewish community, in spite of the local government saying it was unproven at the time, but not the last.
Right there, you can see where we are now, in a "distant mirror" to use historian Tuchman's phrase: the accusation wouldn't have been made if there hadn't already been bigotry, which in turn led them to reject the official government statement that persons unknown committed the crime, and an entire fictional account being treated as "the truth" since it didn't have the uncomfortable possibility that it was one of US who did it, and we could be breaking bread with a murderer! No, no, it must have been one of those heretical THEM!
And it never goes away, even if serious respectable people in positions of authority tried to debunk and disprove and defuse the mob mentality - that just proves that they've been turned or bought or are part of the child-sacrificing cult too. The Freemasons get pulled into it, as rivals to the established churches, and eventually abortion too, because Jewish tradition says not a child until born, and the life/health/safety of the mother always took priority. So "Jewish doctors" in pre-WW2 writings where there doesn't seem to be any relevance to a doctor's religion really means abortion, in the censorship of the early 20th century.
And abortion means "good" women running around having sex for fun, with all the fears of being "cucked" that have never left conservative masculinity. "Jews will not replace us" as they chanted at Charlottesville, this "Great Replacement" theory, has it that the secret plan is to use the degenerate arts and media made by (((Hollywood Liberals))) to convince pure white women to race mix, or to not want godly white husbands, so feminism too is part of the plot, and tolerance of gay rights, along with Communism which rebels against the rightful authority of rich white Christian men, whose money means they're blessed by God, unlike the bad people who shouldn't be rich because they're NOT white Christian men, in the horrible hash of memes which fed the rise of the Reich as it had the Tsars' pogroms the last generation.
And so the whole world dealt with the consequences of letting these conspiracies fester and interbreed from the old media of pulpits and bars to the new media of cheap printing, then radio waves, then movie reels. The "blood-dimmed tide" reached everywhere, but that's cold comfort to the victims.
And then the same people who had been preaching the Blood Libel until they got their genocide turned around and cynically applied the term "Holocaust" to legalized abortion. The people who were fans of Fr. Coughlin the "Radio Priest" who did an early Horsehoe Theory going from supporting FDR to supporting Hitler, who rejected Vatican II because it rejected the former ritual blaming "The Jews" for killing poor baby Jesus, and also rejected any and all calls to social justice of every kind.
The Catholic conservatives rebranded by changing "the Jews" to "secular humanists" and "Hollywood liberals" and added "environmentalists" to the long list of child-sacrificers in their conspiracy, and the Fundamentalist conservatives jumped on the bandwagon as a way to erase the stink of supporting segregation and reclaim a moral high ground by protecting innocent babies. Who's more innocent than anyone? The unborn! They've never done anything, so they can't be Milkshake Ducks. (Once they're born? Fuck 'em.)
And YOU don't need to do anything either, just pray and vote Republican! It's so easy! You get to bask in the righteous glow of hating the worst people in the world, people who KILL BABIES for fun & profit, because OBVIOUSLY the doctors are lying when they say pregnancy is dangerous, it's NATURAL, so it must be a highly-profitable industry because otherwise why would they do it? This is straight out of 1930s fascist propaganda, only by 1975 they had so thoroughly erased the word "Jews" that a younger generation never knew it had been there. So there's your distrust of science and medicine and demonization of Planned Parenthood, mandated by Christian religion in far too many churches.
You can boost your conspiracy fix with add-ons like miracles, visions, and secret truths that even the mainstream clergy don't want you to know about, like The Third Secret of Fatima or The Tribulation/The Rapture, or with accusations that not only are the evil (((doctors))) butchering babies for profit and to overthrow Western Civilization, but they're SELLING BABBY PARTS to cosmetics companies and even Coca-Cola.
Why? How would this make sense? Why would companies sneak illegal human tissue into your shampoo or your soda, ffs? Because they're EVIL, duh. Now YOU are part of the ritual cannibalistic cult, like it or not! There are BABBY PARTS in your vaccines, doncha know? You've ALREADY BEEN contaminated! And Procter & Gamble has a Satanic symbol for a logo, and you put their toothpaste IN YOUR MOUTH! How can you care about baby seals when they're murdering baby HUMANS? How can you care about adult workers suffering picking grapes toiling in the vineyards of California or the packing plants of Nebraska when they're killing BABIES? It's a (((Communist)))-Muslim-homo-fascist plot! WE know the TRUTH! The rest of you are either asleep, or supporting the Devil!
At the same time, it's obviously part of the same evil God-hating conspiracy that the media is publishing allegations of priestly pederasty. Disbelieve everyone except us, and hate them because they say WE are the baddies.
No, it's the whole godless nation of America that's evil, because the laws and culture tolerate abortion/gay people/women who take jobs away from men EVEN IN THE ARMY obviously to weaken us so the Commies can roll right over us Wolverines!/tree-huggers who want to replace humans with baby seals and spotted owls/Freemasons/the foreign family who moved in next doothe teens who play loud music and wear weird sexy clothes -- and someday soon, God will smite the land, and THEN you'll all be sorry!
UGH I CAN'T EVEN, I used to believe ALL of this crap and I didn't even get to Paul Weyrich and the Southern Strategy. That will have to be another post, but this is at least a peek through a private window into how "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities" and we saw the same exact flailing of leaders between running away from the stochastic terror consequences of their words and plunging deeper in when some impressionable young Christians started shooting and blowing up health care providers after having been raised in "Stop the New Holocaust" rhetoric since birth. It was just supposed to motivate you to send us money, vote for the Corporation Party, and do absolutely nothing else except maybe yell at some miserable pregnant people trying to get medical help.
Past is predictive.
All of Q has its roots in the fertile soil of American conspiracism going back to the "Purity of Essence" antifluoride campaigns and the John Birch Society so often mocked but never extinguished, which in turn goes back over a thousand years and even more, because accusing the religious minority you want to scapegoat of being child-sacrificing cannibals worked for the Romans, too.
History is Irony.
Eye-Opening Links - the link between white supremacy and abortion opposition isn't even trying to hide these days, but a decade and more back, it was pretty much only Fred Clark writing as a liberal Christian trying to bring sanity to America by debunking the Rapture peddling reverends of the Right before TEOTWAWKI - "The Biblical View that's Younger than the Happy Meal" is very powerful:
https://www.patheos.com/blogs/slacktivist/2012/02/18/the-biblical-view-thats-younger-than-the-happy-meal/
Here's a Salon article which cites this post, and other authors, on the use of abortion as a way of memoryholing school segregation:
https://www.salon.com/2018/07/08/when-evangelicals-were-pro-choice-and-the-nra-was-pro-gun-control-a-history-of-hypocrisy/
His entire blog, Slacktivist, is worth checking out but it's a lot, so here's just the abortion tag:
https://www.patheos.com/blogs/slacktivist/tag/abortion/
And here's the one that explains why Qult members WANT there to be a vile cult of (((Hollywood liberals))) raping and eating children that they can feel justified in murdering if only by proxy, the saga of Bad Jackie:
https://www.patheos.com/blogs/slacktivist/2010/09/19/jackie-at-the-crossroads/
Here's his post on the Blood Libel propaganda transformation of William of Norwich from tragic victim of an unknown killer into a "martyr" - EXACTLY like Trump using that poor woman shot by accident as a justification to persecute immigrants from the southern border:
https://www.patheos.com/blogs/slacktivist/2019/05/02/thomas-of-monmouth-the-hugely-influential-christian-writer-youve-never-heard-of/
Here's that earlier instance of the alternate reality creation, the Procter & Gamble Satanic fabrication:
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/procter-gamble-satan-conspiracy-theory
I don't want to put up links to historic bigoted propaganda, you can find that easily if you really want to, but one thing that's really interesting about the Protocols is that large parts of it were plagiarized from novels and other sources which weren't even about Jews, translated into Russian, and changed to fit the rest of it. That was how the Times of London debunked it in 1921, a lot harder before Turnitin existed. Villainy, but also LAZY villainy, just like we saw the last four years. But it works because the people who ate it up didn't CARE that the fake justification for doing pogroms was a bad pastiche - and they STILL don't.
I'm sorry this is so rough and rambling, but it's like looking into the Mirrorverse and seeing who I could have been if I wasn't too gay, too nerdy and too overall fucked up, when I see those smiling preppy women beating down the Capital doors or posturing on the TV with their guns. The Abyss smirks back winking at me, unrepentant as Sarah Palin at the shooting of Gabby Giffords. I don't know how to get anyone else out of it -- I'm not even sure how I escaped, really!

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Hussein nudged his brother Iqbal and aimed his chin toward the bar. “Look, a fat, stupid American has finally managed some success.”
Iqbal smirked, “It is the only way the infidels can succeed. They have no education and no skills to do anything useful. They don’t even worship their own God anymore, only money and fame. They will soon learn better…”
The brothers were out enjoying a night of revelry, with a few more planned when they reached the city. The celebrations were a last reward before they fulfilled their mission and achieved True Paradise through martyrdom. Hussein was superstitious and hoped to find success at gambling before they took the great risk that if successful, would help to sustain their cause. They’d grown up in this land of debauchery and foolishness but had been taught from the first to honor their own Beliefs and culture above anything the Americans professed.
Hussein was on roll number five of what he intended to be a short run. He wished to win five times for the Five Pillars of Islam, the name of his cell in the latest great Jihad. He blew on the dice and tossed. The small cubes bounced against the back side of the pit and tumbled end over end as he watched breathlessly. “Another ten!” the barker called. And pushed the winnings toward Hussein. He placed a minimum bet and rolled once more. He had already left the table before the barker called, “Snakeyes! Next roller please.”
He held up his chips triumphantly, “Iqbal, more money from roll number five! I kept the bet in place for five rolls, I left only the minimum for the last roll, it is a Sign! We are fated to succeed. We will meet the others tomorrow, go over the plan, and then have a few last nights to revel in this world…”
Iqbal patted his brother on the shoulder, “There is something I would like more than winning chips. He nodded toward the bar and the attractive and sinuous young local who worked behind it, steadily polishing glasses.
Hussein watched for a moment, unsure whether his brother meant the alcoholic drinks that had been forbidden until now or the woman. Knowing Iqbal, he assumed both. “As you wish brother. Take your mortal enjoyments while you can. She looks a little sullen though, frown, lowered brows, I like the happy ones.”
Iqbal’s serpent-like smile widened, “She will look better when I have freed her from the miseries of the uncircumcised. She will enjoy a real man. Who knows? Maybe I will convert her so that we can meet again in Paradise.” With that, he surged away from his brother and slithered up to the bar opposite the young First Nations maid. “Good evening, I noticed that you do not have many customers at the bar. It seems odd that so beautiful a creature as yourself would not attract more company.”
The woman ignored him, intently focused on her task. He tried again, “Perhaps I must order a drink to remain at the bar? If so, a gin and tonic if you please.”
She continued to polish the glass. He leaned forward, “Did you hear me?” he inquired in an annoyed tone. “Perhaps you have no business because you are surly and unhelpful.”
She looked at him and delivered a smirk that appeared to be far more evil than anything he could ever hope to muster, despite his thin, reptilian lips and predatory mind, “We don’t want customers to linger at the bar, getting drunk and building from misery to anger over their losses. We want them playing… and losing.” She leaned toward him and glared into his own eyes that he normally considered flinty and daunting. “You know about losing, don’t you?”
Hussein noted that the large man at the end of the bar in the “Security” shirt had begun stumping toward them. “Iqbal, perhaps it is time to go look for other entertainment.”
Iqbal ignored him, he was trapped in the serpent’s gaze, like a mouse dropped into a snake’s tank to be devoured while its owner watched with perverse interest. Hussein reached for his brother to tug at his arm but never got the chance. The big security officer seized his hand, drew it to his too wide chest and turned. The weight of the man drew him away from his brother and caused him to spin around so that he ended up facing the goon with his brother beyond the man and in the clutches of the Serpent Woman. The ham-fisted gargantuan continued to twist the hand he gripped until the pressure caused Hussein sever pain. He grunted and bent into the angle of his wrist to relieve the distress. He found himself bent forward and looking up desperately toward the man’s face.
The security staffer smiled, his square, blunt teeth showing dark behind an almost lipless mouth. His wide back and chest, covered in body armor under his shirt made him appear like a monster-sized… Turtle. Hussein felt himself lifted and placed behind the bar. His brother soon slithered over the top and fell to the floor beside him, smiling beatifically. Hussein opened his mouth to scream for help, but a large, blunt fist crashed into the side of his head and he saw stars… seven of them, like the Holy... The fist descended once more, and he saw only darkness.
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Fr. Danilo Bayani was immensely enjoying his latest trip to the continental USA. He had visited Hawaii many years ago, and New York City more recently, but this was his first tour of the grand landbound spaces that this country offered. He’d managed to roam so far from his origins in Manila. Now, in his twilight years, he longed to see what he could of God’s Green Earth. All on the payroll of The Vatican while they cleanse the records of those hateful… allegations. The bitter thoughts raced across his mind. Of course he was a sinner, he was only mortal. He’d been expiated of those sins and had paid an enormous price to continue serving in his capacity as a parish priest. He forced his mind to return to the moment and more enjoyable pursuits.
He noted the hirsute and similar appearing pair of men who had gone to the bar and wondered why the Security officer approached them, but his attention was called once more to the round of Texas Hold’em and his table mates. When he again had a moment to look, no one was at the bar, in front or behind… curious, he thought, but he quickly refocused his attention on the fascinating new game he was in the process of learning. He was familiar with Poker, so it wasn’t difficult to learn. He liked the high level of interaction that this version of the old game allowed. He’d done well, certainly gained enough to fund extracurricular activities during the rest of his current sabbatical.
He’d been disturbed by the overall atmosphere of this place when he’d arrived. He did not care for the numerous paintings and sculptures of Ancient Native Deities and Spirits. They seemed to be mostly images of the Dark Beings of various Tribal cultures. He loved to study diverse cultures, but this place was an amalgamation of cultures, built for mutual support by several Tribes in the region. Much of the artwork was schlocky and clearly intended to cater to the garish and sordid tastes of the vapid gambling set. Some part of him did not feel… welcome, as though he had intruded on some private Place, set aside for Other Gods.
He shook off the depressing musings… There are NO Other Gods, he reassured himself. He soon stepped away from the table to take care of personal needs and to decide what he should do with the rest of his night. Perhaps he would visit the White Dove Restaurant & Ballroom on the other side of the hotel lobby from the casino. It boasted a good reputation according to online reviews, even though it was a simple buffet style with a dance floor to one side. He liked the name, it was… peaceful he decided.
He soon had a selection of food piled onto a plate and was seated near the dance floor. The place was sparsely occupied, so his hopes of being able to watch dancers as he ate were dashed. Still, the food was good enough. A little bland, but that was necessary in a place that acted as a crossroads of cultures. There was a spice table at the end of the primary row of entrees. He’d helped himself, yet nothing seemed to attach to his taste buds. The combination of eating nearly alone, having no one with energy around him, and the tasteless food soon had him growing restless. He finished up his repast and left the table to go out to the final section of the complex he had not visited, the River Overlook.
As he passed the table nearest the entrance, he saw a stout man in a rumpled sport coat, who glared daggers at him, eyes focused on his crucifix, the only outward sign of his profession. The man appeared to be so hostile, that he paused for a moment to determine whether he’d done anything to offend the fellow. “Excuse me sir, have I offended you in some way?”
The man looked startled. He was apparently unused to being confronted about his demeanor or behavior. He scowled, “Don’t like that thing you have around your neck. You Catholics are all Hell-bound. No concept of righteousness. Not that you’d understand, you people don’t even read The Book. You listen to your priests and pope and disregard The Word. All the kneeling and ritual prayers in the world won’t save you in the end. Go back to your idols and beads and leave me alone to seek Heaven.”
Fr. Bayani was startled by the vehemence with which the man spoke. He hadn’t been attacked directly for his Faith in years. “Sir, I’m not sure what Religion you practice, but I am a man of God, a consecrated priest of the Holy Church. I assure you that I understand more than most, if not as much as I would like. I meant no harm and wish you a peaceful night.”
With that, he started to walk past the man, but the man rose from his table and pointed his finger, “Your pope is the Anti-Christ, and your Church is a place of Satan! Look to the Bible for your salvation before it’s too late.”
Fr. Bayani increased his pace and continued on his journey to the River Overlook. He would need the peace and tranquility that nature and the sound of flowing water would provide to settle his roiling mind.
**** * ****
Pastor Bill resumed his seat and shook his head, “Fool, doesn’t know that he’s risking his soul, courting Damnation.” He’d had a bad run at the tables over at the casino. His Denomination frowned on games of chance, but he had needed the money. One of his congregation had come up pregnant and they had to get it resolved before the three-month deadline for abortions. He knew that if his wife found out about Carmen, then she would divorce him. He was here to break every major rule that he professed to hold dear each week. His plan for quick money had failed, so he’d visited the bar. Now he hoped that eating would guide him back to sobriety. He had to think of another plan.
Seeing that… priest had annoyed him. Had he not been inebriated, he would never have said what he did, nor stared so rudely in the first place. Yet he wanted someone on whom to vent the anger he felt, that arose from fear and he’d always disliked the papists. If his wife divorced him, if the scandal involving the woman who cleaned the church all week and then occupied the back pew every Sunday ever broke; he would lose his ministry, his livelihood. His degree in Theology would be worthless. He might be able to get a job teaching, at some secular school, but most would not hire fervent Christians like himself.
He stared dejectedly at his plate of food that had contained more spice and flavors than he liked, a shadow passed in his periphery. It was low-slung and blurred just a bit as it loped along the wall. He thought he heard an odd laugh, somewhere between human and… canine? Maybe a little like a hyena might sound, or so he imagined. There was a manic quality to the laughter. A jest that was on him so that only the other Entity knew what it was. It was the wicked laughter of children at play, who’d decided to target a fat kid with glasses. A kid whose parents had been abusive addicts but who later “got right” through religious-based recovery programs. Their faith had led him to his own, but he’d never really lost those early traumas of being unaccepted by his peers and being beaten by people who later professed faith above all.
A mocking whine, definitely doggish, his now sobering consciousness informed him. Something was making fun of him, teasing him from the shadows. He looked around for staff members or other customers but found himself alone. The dining area and the dance floor were deserted. It was odd, there was almost always someone at the buffet service tables. He looked over to the kitchen doors in hopes that one of the employees would burst through with a fresh serving of chicken wings or whatever tray had been emptied. He saw dark figures move past the clouded round windows on the swinging doors and temporarily occlude the bright kitchen lights within, but they were indistinct blobs, and appeared to be focused on tasks of their own choosing rather than service of his needs.
He stood and realized that he was more intoxicated than he’d realized. He immediately resumed his seat and bent forward to regain his balance and bearings… and to swallow his rising gorge. When he sat up again, a dark, shaggy form perched in the chair across from him. The figure was no more than a silhouette, a raggedly hewn shadow. Yet there were eyes. Sinister golden gleams appeared and blinked at him. He heard a heavy, panting sort of breathing and a gust of foul-smelling carnivore breath assaulted his olfactory senses. “Who? Er, what are you doing at my table?” he asked in a mushy, confused manner. Still fighting off waves of nausea.
He could not see it very well in the poorly illuminated dining room, but his impression was that the... Being… smiled at him: a gaping, lolling smile, with a tongue dangling out to one side and sharp canines gleaming. “I thought I would check on you my righteous friend. You seem to be upset, unhappy. You nipped and barked at that other person who shares your Faith. I thought perhaps there was a deeper concern preying on your conscience?”
Pastor Bill had to force himself to think through what this… person? Had said to him. Likely some hippie-dippy weirdo. “That guy was a Catholic priest, we’re nowhere near the same Religion.”
Once more he heard the chortling laughter that was now very clear, “I’m sure you think it’s different. Those of his specific religion, came to these lands many years ago. They were the first of you Christians to arrive. The rest have been simple variations on a theme. The problems began, when your co-religionists assumed that only your God exists; that all of the local Gods and Spirits were instead Demons and Dark Powers. Instead of trying to show that yours is a better Way, you Christians insisted that yours is the only Way. You’ve forgotten that in Ancient Times, people held True to Deities who were attached to local communities or to the land and features around them; geographically and ethnically relevant. You have gone from subsuming and incorporating Older Gods as Angels and Saints, to Demonizing Them, and now in your hubris, to denying Them altogether.” He shook His head. “Too bad really, it creates an Adversarial relationship.” He chuckled at some joke that Pastor Bill was still too drunk to comprehend.
Pastor Bill had grown increasingly fearful as the Voice intoned Its Philosophies. He wanted to refute that Voice, to deny Its very Existence. Yet he feared Its Wrath more than anything he’d ever feared, even the Fires of Hell. Instead of making a stand and arguing his faith, he staggered to his feet and ran, stumbled, blindly toward the kitchen and the pale, ghostly figures within. Surely someone within would save him! The sardonic laughter chortled after him and chased him into the too bright lights, descending into the yips and howls of Coyote even as the doors swung shut behind him. He looked around at the glowing white figures who halted in their various progresses to stare at him. Their eyes! There were none, just empty sockets, faces slack, with gaping, lamprey maws. He heard a new sound as they swarmed him… his own forlorn screams of ultimate agony.
**** * ****
Fr. Bayani stood out on the River Overlook platform and enjoyed the solitude that had so recently left him restless. There were plenty of noises out across the flowing torrent: the water itself, as it passed over hidden objects, fish as they leapt from its embrace to kiss the night air, frogs and insects, and the warbling, mournful sounds of a loon, and the soft sigh of the wind as it passed through the verdant landscape. This is much more peaceful than the White Dove he thought. He had some trouble shaking off ruminations on the verbal assault from the strange, possibly drunken man in the restaurant. He decided that he would pray for the man, that he would one day soon find The True Faith. Sometimes that was all one could do for the short-sighted.
He heard a deep, coughing hiss out in the dark. He was startled but quickly realized that it was an American Alligator, cousin to creatures he had observed in many places around the planet. He was truly content, at one with Nature in all Her Glory… in all the natural splendor of Creation! he immediately corrected himself. A sound impinged on his senses as it slowly rose and obscured the others… it was a lapping sound at first, more like ocean waves on a beach than the banks of a river. Waves, at cross purposes to the flow of the river, slapped at the base of the platform. Soon they sounds evolved into splashes, as if something very large approached the River Overlook platform. He leaned over the rail to have a closer look. Perhaps it was a large water creature or a boat… maybe a ‘gator as the locals called the big reptiles.
He peered down at the dim rippling surface below. At first, he was unable to discern anything but small reflections on the water as it swirled and lapped; then from below the surface, he spotted an eye, a too large eye! It glowed from within with a sickly luminescence akin to that produced by deep growing fungi. As he stared in horror, he saw a mouth gape below the eye, and enormous frog-like opening with no teeth but serrated lips, like some monstrous catfish. As he stared, too much in shock to act, he suddenly felt his body wrapped in strong, leprous flesh and he quickly lost his ability to breathe. The last sight he saw before he plunged over the safety rail was the thin, grey, first light of dawn.
**** * ****
Chief Harry Whitehorse gazed around at his fellow chiefs and Shamans from various local Tribes, “So, are The Dark Ones satisfied once again? Have They sated their appetites on strangers so that our peoples will be safe for another year?”
Affirmative rumbles muttered around the conference room. Red Wolf, a Shaman, spoke from near the back row, “They are not only satisfied but Coyote assures us that the prey people will not be linked with our premises or business operations.”
Most of the fresh mutters sounded pleased, but old Harry had to ask, “Can we trust Him?”
Chortling laughter sounded throughout the conference room and ascended into thunderous yips and howls of hysterical glee.

**** * ****
Hussein nudged his brother Iqbal and aimed his chin toward the bar. “Look, a fat, stupid American has finally managed some success.”
Iqbal smirked, “It is the only way the infidels can succeed. They have no education and no skills to do anything useful. They don’t even worship their own God anymore, only money and fame. They will soon learn better…”
The brothers were out enjoying a night of revelry, with a few more planned when they reached the city. The celebrations were a last reward before they fulfilled their mission and achieved True Paradise through martyrdom. Hussein was superstitious and hoped to find success at gambling before they took the great risk that if successful, would help to sustain their cause. They’d grown up in this land of debauchery and foolishness but had been taught from the first to honor their own Beliefs and culture above anything the Americans professed.
Hussein was on roll number five of what he intended to be a short run. He wished to win five times for the Five Pillars of Islam, the name of his cell in the latest great Jihad. He blew on the dice and tossed. The small cubes bounced against the back side of the pit and tumbled end over end as he watched breathlessly. “Another ten!” the barker called. And pushed the winnings toward Hussein. He placed a minimum bet and rolled once more. He had already left the table before the barker called, “Snakeyes! Next roller please.”
He held up his chips triumphantly, “Iqbal, more money from roll number five! I kept the bet in place for five rolls, I left only the minimum for the last roll, it is a Sign! We are fated to succeed. We will meet the others tomorrow, go over the plan, and then have a few last nights to revel in this world…”
Iqbal patted his brother on the shoulder, “There is something I would like more than winning chips. He nodded toward the bar and the attractive and sinuous young local who worked behind it, steadily polishing glasses.
Hussein watched for a moment, unsure whether his brother meant the alcoholic drinks that had been forbidden until now or the woman. Knowing Iqbal, he assumed both. “As you wish brother. Take your mortal enjoyments while you can. She looks a little sullen though, frown, lowered brows, I like the happy ones.”
Iqbal’s serpent-like smile widened, “She will look better when I have freed her from the miseries of the uncircumcised. She will enjoy a real man. Who knows? Maybe I will convert her so that we can meet again in Paradise.” With that, he surged away from his brother and slithered up to the bar opposite the young First Nations maid. “Good evening, I noticed that you do not have many customers at the bar. It seems odd that so beautiful a creature as yourself would not attract more company.”
The woman ignored him, intently focused on her task. He tried again, “Perhaps I must order a drink to remain at the bar? If so, a gin and tonic if you please.”
She continued to polish the glass. He leaned forward, “Did you hear me?” he inquired in an annoyed tone. “Perhaps you have no business because you are surly and unhelpful.”
She looked at him and delivered a smirk that appeared to be far more evil than anything he could ever hope to muster, despite his thin, reptilian lips and predatory mind, “We don’t want customers to linger at the bar, getting drunk and building from misery to anger over their losses. We want them playing… and losing.” She leaned toward him and glared into his own eyes that he normally considered flinty and daunting. “You know about losing, don’t you?”
Hussein noted that the large man at the end of the bar in the “Security” shirt had begun stumping toward them. “Iqbal, perhaps it is time to go look for other entertainment.”
Iqbal ignored him, he was trapped in the serpent’s gaze, like a mouse dropped into a snake’s tank to be devoured while its owner watched with perverse interest. Hussein reached for his brother to tug at his arm but never got the chance. The big security officer seized his hand, drew it to his too wide chest and turned. The weight of the man drew him away from his brother and caused him to spin around so that he ended up facing the goon with his brother beyond the man and in the clutches of the Serpent Woman. The ham-fisted gargantuan continued to twist the hand he gripped until the pressure caused Hussein sever pain. He grunted and bent into the angle of his wrist to relieve the distress. He found himself bent forward and looking up desperately toward the man’s face.
The security staffer smiled, his square, blunt teeth showing dark behind an almost lipless mouth. His wide back and chest, covered in body armor under his shirt made him appear like a monster-sized… Turtle. Hussein felt himself lifted and placed behind the bar. His brother soon slithered over the top and fell to the floor beside him, smiling beatifically. Hussein opened his mouth to scream for help, but a large, blunt fist crashed into the side of his head and he saw stars… seven of them, like the Holy... The fist descended once more, and he saw only darkness.
**** * ****
Fr. Danilo Bayani was immensely enjoying his latest trip to the continental USA. He had visited Hawaii many years ago, and New York City more recently, but this was his first tour of the grand landbound spaces that this country offered. He’d managed to roam so far from his origins in Manila. Now, in his twilight years, he longed to see what he could of God’s Green Earth. All on the payroll of The Vatican while they cleanse the records of those hateful… allegations. The bitter thoughts raced across his mind. Of course he was a sinner, he was only mortal. He’d been expiated of those sins and had paid an enormous price to continue serving in his capacity as a parish priest. He forced his mind to return to the moment and more enjoyable pursuits.
He noted the hirsute and similar appearing pair of men who had gone to the bar and wondered why the Security officer approached them, but his attention was called once more to the round of Texas Hold’em and his table mates. When he again had a moment to look, no one was at the bar, in front or behind… curious, he thought, but he quickly refocused his attention on the fascinating new game he was in the process of learning. He was familiar with Poker, so it wasn’t difficult to learn. He liked the high level of interaction that this version of the old game allowed. He’d done well, certainly gained enough to fund extracurricular activities during the rest of his current sabbatical.
He’d been disturbed by the overall atmosphere of this place when he’d arrived. He did not care for the numerous paintings and sculptures of Ancient Native Deities and Spirits. They seemed to be mostly images of the Dark Beings of various Tribal cultures. He loved to study diverse cultures, but this place was an amalgamation of cultures, built for mutual support by several Tribes in the region. Much of the artwork was schlocky and clearly intended to cater to the garish and sordid tastes of the vapid gambling set. Some part of him did not feel… welcome, as though he had intruded on some private Place, set aside for Other Gods.
He shook off the depressing musings… There are NO Other Gods, he reassured himself. He soon stepped away from the table to take care of personal needs and to decide what he should do with the rest of his night. Perhaps he would visit the White Dove Restaurant & Ballroom on the other side of the hotel lobby from the casino. It boasted a good reputation according to online reviews, even though it was a simple buffet style with a dance floor to one side. He liked the name, it was… peaceful he decided.
He soon had a selection of food piled onto a plate and was seated near the dance floor. The place was sparsely occupied, so his hopes of being able to watch dancers as he ate were dashed. Still, the food was good enough. A little bland, but that was necessary in a place that acted as a crossroads of cultures. There was a spice table at the end of the primary row of entrees. He’d helped himself, yet nothing seemed to attach to his taste buds. The combination of eating nearly alone, having no one with energy around him, and the tasteless food soon had him growing restless. He finished up his repast and left the table to go out to the final section of the complex he had not visited, the River Overlook.
As he passed the table nearest the entrance, he saw a stout man in a rumpled sport coat, who glared daggers at him, eyes focused on his crucifix, the only outward sign of his profession. The man appeared to be so hostile, that he paused for a moment to determine whether he’d done anything to offend the fellow. “Excuse me sir, have I offended you in some way?”
The man looked startled. He was apparently unused to being confronted about his demeanor or behavior. He scowled, “Don’t like that thing you have around your neck. You Catholics are all Hell-bound. No concept of righteousness. Not that you’d understand, you people don’t even read The Book. You listen to your priests and pope and disregard The Word. All the kneeling and ritual prayers in the world won’t save you in the end. Go back to your idols and beads and leave me alone to seek Heaven.”
Fr. Bayani was startled by the vehemence with which the man spoke. He hadn’t been attacked directly for his Faith in years. “Sir, I’m not sure what Religion you practice, but I am a man of God, a consecrated priest of the Holy Church. I assure you that I understand more than most, if not as much as I would like. I meant no harm and wish you a peaceful night.”
With that, he started to walk past the man, but the man rose from his table and pointed his finger, “Your pope is the Anti-Christ, and your Church is a place of Satan! Look to the Bible for your salvation before it’s too late.”
Fr. Bayani increased his pace and continued on his journey to the River Overlook. He would need the peace and tranquility that nature and the sound of flowing water would provide to settle his roiling mind.
**** * ****
Pastor Bill resumed his seat and shook his head, “Fool, doesn’t know that he’s risking his soul, courting Damnation.” He’d had a bad run at the tables over at the casino. His Denomination frowned on games of chance, but he had needed the money. One of his congregation had come up pregnant and they had to get it resolved before the three-month deadline for abortions. He knew that if his wife found out about Carmen, then she would divorce him. He was here to break every major rule that he professed to hold dear each week. His plan for quick money had failed, so he’d visited the bar. Now he hoped that eating would guide him back to sobriety. He had to think of another plan.
Seeing that… priest had annoyed him. Had he not been inebriated, he would never have said what he did, nor stared so rudely in the first place. Yet he wanted someone on whom to vent the anger he felt, that arose from fear and he’d always disliked the papists. If his wife divorced him, if the scandal involving the woman who cleaned the church all week and then occupied the back pew every Sunday ever broke; he would lose his ministry, his livelihood. His degree in Theology would be worthless. He might be able to get a job teaching, at some secular school, but most would not hire fervent Christians like himself.
He stared dejectedly at his plate of food that had contained more spice and flavors than he liked, a shadow passed in his periphery. It was low-slung and blurred just a bit as it loped along the wall. He thought he heard an odd laugh, somewhere between human and… canine? Maybe a little like a hyena might sound, or so he imagined. There was a manic quality to the laughter. A jest that was on him so that only the other Entity knew what it was. It was the wicked laughter of children at play, who’d decided to target a fat kid with glasses. A kid whose parents had been abusive addicts but who later “got right” through religious-based recovery programs. Their faith had led him to his own, but he’d never really lost those early traumas of being unaccepted by his peers and being beaten by people who later professed faith above all.
A mocking whine, definitely doggish, his now sobering consciousness informed him. Something was making fun of him, teasing him from the shadows. He looked around for staff members or other customers but found himself alone. The dining area and the dance floor were deserted. It was odd, there was almost always someone at the buffet service tables. He looked over to the kitchen doors in hopes that one of the employees would burst through with a fresh serving of chicken wings or whatever tray had been emptied. He saw dark figures move past the clouded round windows on the swinging doors and temporarily occlude the bright kitchen lights within, but they were indistinct blobs, and appeared to be focused on tasks of their own choosing rather than service of his needs.
He stood and realized that he was more intoxicated than he’d realized. He immediately resumed his seat and bent forward to regain his balance and bearings… and to swallow his rising gorge. When he sat up again, a dark, shaggy form perched in the chair across from him. The figure was no more than a silhouette, a raggedly hewn shadow. Yet there were eyes. Sinister golden gleams appeared and blinked at him. He heard a heavy, panting sort of breathing and a gust of foul-smelling carnivore breath assaulted his olfactory senses. “Who? Er, what are you doing at my table?” he asked in a mushy, confused manner. Still fighting off waves of nausea.
He could not see it very well in the poorly illuminated dining room, but his impression was that the... Being… smiled at him: a gaping, lolling smile, with a tongue dangling out to one side and sharp canines gleaming. “I thought I would check on you my righteous friend. You seem to be upset, unhappy. You nipped and barked at that other person who shares your Faith. I thought perhaps there was a deeper concern preying on your conscience?”
Pastor Bill had to force himself to think through what this… person? Had said to him. Likely some hippie-dippy weirdo. “That guy was a Catholic priest, we’re nowhere near the same Religion.”
Once more he heard the chortling laughter that was now very clear, “I’m sure you think it’s different. Those of his specific religion, came to these lands many years ago. They were the first of you Christians to arrive. The rest have been simple variations on a theme. The problems began, when your co-religionists assumed that only your God exists; that all of the local Gods and Spirits were instead Demons and Dark Powers. Instead of trying to show that yours is a better Way, you Christians insisted that yours is the only Way. You’ve forgotten that in Ancient Times, people held True to Deities who were attached to local communities or to the land and features around them; geographically and ethnically relevant. You have gone from subsuming and incorporating Older Gods as Angels and Saints, to Demonizing Them, and now in your hubris, to denying Them altogether.” He shook His head. “Too bad really, it creates an Adversarial relationship.” He chuckled at some joke that Pastor Bill was still too drunk to comprehend.
Pastor Bill had grown increasingly fearful as the Voice intoned Its Philosophies. He wanted to refute that Voice, to deny Its very Existence. Yet he feared Its Wrath more than anything he’d ever feared, even the Fires of Hell. Instead of making a stand and arguing his faith, he staggered to his feet and ran, stumbled, blindly toward the kitchen and the pale, ghostly figures within. Surely someone within would save him! The sardonic laughter chortled after him and chased him into the too bright lights, descending into the yips and howls of Coyote even as the doors swung shut behind him. He looked around at the glowing white figures who halted in their various progresses to stare at him. Their eyes! There were none, just empty sockets, faces slack, with gaping, lamprey maws. He heard a new sound as they swarmed him… his own forlorn screams of ultimate agony.
**** * ****
Fr. Bayani stood out on the River Overlook platform and enjoyed the solitude that had so recently left him restless. There were plenty of noises out across the flowing torrent: the water itself, as it passed over hidden objects, fish as they leapt from its embrace to kiss the night air, frogs and insects, and the warbling, mournful sounds of a loon, and the soft sigh of the wind as it passed through the verdant landscape. This is much more peaceful than the White Dove he thought. He had some trouble shaking off ruminations on the verbal assault from the strange, possibly drunken man in the restaurant. He decided that he would pray for the man, that he would one day soon find The True Faith. Sometimes that was all one could do for the short-sighted.
He heard a deep, coughing hiss out in the dark. He was startled but quickly realized that it was an American Alligator, cousin to creatures he had observed in many places around the planet. He was truly content, at one with Nature in all Her Glory… in all the natural splendor of Creation! he immediately corrected himself. A sound impinged on his senses as it slowly rose and obscured the others… it was a lapping sound at first, more like ocean waves on a beach than the banks of a river. Waves, at cross purposes to the flow of the river, slapped at the base of the platform. Soon they sounds evolved into splashes, as if something very large approached the River Overlook platform. He leaned over the rail to have a closer look. Perhaps it was a large water creature or a boat… maybe a ‘gator as the locals called the big reptiles.
He peered down at the dim rippling surface below. At first, he was unable to discern anything but small reflections on the water as it swirled and lapped; then from below the surface, he spotted an eye, a too large eye! It glowed from within with a sickly luminescence akin to that produced by deep growing fungi. As he stared in horror, he saw a mouth gape below the eye, and enormous frog-like opening with no teeth but serrated lips, like some monstrous catfish. As he stared, too much in shock to act, he suddenly felt his body wrapped in strong, leprous flesh and he quickly lost his ability to breathe. The last sight he saw before he plunged over the safety rail was the thin, grey, first light of dawn.
**** * ****
Chief Harry Whitehorse gazed around at his fellow chiefs and Shamans from various local Tribes, “So, are The Dark Ones satisfied once again? Have They sated their appetites on strangers so that our peoples will be safe for another year?”
Affirmative rumbles muttered around the conference room. Red Wolf, a Shaman, spoke from near the back row, “They are not only satisfied but Coyote assures us that the prey people will not be linked with our premises or business operations.”
Most of the fresh mutters sounded pleased, but old Harry had to ask, “Can we trust Him?”
Chortling laughter sounded throughout the conference room and ascended into thunderous yips and howls of hysterical glee.

Index Previous Next
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: ASPIRATION, ANGER, GNODENTA, COMMUNITY, INTROSPECTION, THALIAN, ACTION, BORACLIES, THOS, GRANDIOSITY, BERO, ANIATIO, PARAMIA, ORAMIO
ASPIRATION: It's Story time. Today we're going to talk about 3 things: Ritual, Tokenization, and The Lords Prayer. So, we've established in the past that ancient religion is a an astrological allegory, hybridized with a number of concepts, or nam-shubs that established standards for society, health, and psychological care. But one thing we haven't talked about is the dogma that surrounds these. The standards, the rituals. Why is dogma and ritual a desirable trait? That question isn't rhetorical.
ANGER: Its a helpful vessel for encoding, socially?
GNODENTA: Consistency?
ASPIRATION: Both correct, but there is a deeper individual reason.
COMMUNITY: Grounding and connection to all the others who do/have used the same?
INTROSPECTION: Dogma can be desirable if the principles are virtuous.
THALIAN: It reinforces belief.
ASPIRATION: You're all on the right wavelength, we're interested in this case with the underlying principle in here, like always, so lets explore that. When a person quits smoking, they are most successful if they set a day, remove all the paraphernalia, and tell others of their plans. One of the most successful treatments for alcoholics is a group setting that reinforces certain ritualized behaviors as well.
ANGER: Accountability, in that case; both personal and social.
ASPIRATION: Accountability is certainly half of this. What's the other half?
ANGER: Commitment?
ACTION: Motivation.
BORACLIES: Validation?
THOS: Discipline, willpower.
COMMUNITY: Support.
ASPIRATION: Those things are all involved. But importantly, and something our modern society is quickly losing… is ritualization. Compounding social and personal choices with an aspect of holiness. Baptism, for instance, in the classic sense utilized otherwise meaningless ritualized movements in a social setting to impart holiness. Dunking yourself underwater is not meaningful. Tokenizing that act, with supporting dogma and ritual reinforces a decision made on the part of the individual being baptized. Psychologically you are aligning and inviting all aspects of yourself to reinforce a decision.
BERO: It’s a consecrating act.
ASPIRATION: Yes. Remember how we've talked about the breakdown of the bicameral mind? That process is by no means complete. While ancient humans may well have had a voice in their head representing the superego, we still have aspects of ourselves that are occluded from our consciousness. Are folks following?
GRANDIOSITY: Yes. One thing, though. I’ve heard studies show you have a greater chance of being successful with your goals if you tell fewer people about them.
ASPIRATION: Yes, there is an optimal number.
ANGER: Telling someone about a project has the same dopamine response as finishing it.
ASPIRATION: But you are almost completely unlikely to accomplish a difficult goal if you tell no one about it. We aren't talking about work projects, we are talking about undertaking a change that will involve new aspects of ourselves. So, if we can agree that we have parts of ourselves operating independently of our surface level desires. And we see evidence of this in our daily lives everywhere. Then you can understand the importance of ritualization. It gets multiple aspects of yourself to align on a decision. So, for instance, if I decide to quit gambling and whoring and become a godly, productive member of society because that is what my conscious self wants… But my emotional self gets deep gratification from these things, and my aspirational self is telling the story that I am a top notch ladies man and excellent gambler. Then I'm not likely to be successful, I haven't brought those parts along.
Nearly universally, we see religious organizations codify abstinence from sex to the greatest extent possible when joining, can anyone tell me why?
THALIAN: Is it because sex is too gratifying and is biologically equivalent to ultimate success?
ASPIRATION: Close, the church doesn't want your to kill the sexual urge; It wants you to reassign it. It wants you to assign your sexual urges to more fervently serve the church. To use a very powerful driver of behavior to service this new way of life, the churches "body". This is why nuns marry Jesus, and are considered holy. This is why priests are supposed to be celibate entirely. And this is why ultimately most cults seek to harness the sexual drive toward the leader.
The task is hard. Nearly impossible, especially since the context for these choices has been almost entirely lost. But, in the early church, where the shared context was well understood - it was easier.
Is anyone here aware of the concept of "contemplation" in the early catholic tradition?
INTROSPECTION: It's the idea of being aware of the divine through intuition almost, seeing God. It's kind of an offshoot, in modern times, though.
ANGER: It's usually achieved with prayer or meditation.
ASPIRATION: Yes, in practice it is a deeply almost erotic act. It is sitting, full attention to God, and allowing yourself to be completely enraptured by it. But the energy used for that complete mind and body vibe was sexual in nature. Not bodily, but mentally. Another way to describe this, because we don't have a context in modern western society was tantric.
It is the assignation of the sexual part of yourself to more fully appreciate the communion with presence. Making love to the universe, in other words, with your psyche. The church understood, the acts a person must undertake that result in presence are difficult, and can be occasionally quite boring. This is why peter, in his letters to the early church, tell the members to abstain if they can, but if not, to only have one sexual partner. The boring quality of marital sex was considered a feature, not a bug.
BERO: But not to confuse it tantric is from Hinduism not Christianity which you are saying is the church?
ASPIRATION: I am saying the word tantric because we don't have a western word for it. It is simply assigning your sexual self and your sexual energy to the act of being present.
BERO: Just don’t want to get that confused when people say church I assume they’re referring to Christianity.
ASPIRATION: I am referring to the early christian church in most cases because that is the font of most of our remaining western nam-shubs. If I were speaking to an islamic audience, I would be using early islam. The point I'm currently trying to get across is this. Being present is hard it can be scary. The early church knew this, and sought, through ritualized behavior, social reinforcement, and tantra, to incentivize all parts of oneself to align on that goal. This is why the incense, the arcane language, the mortification, the sexual denial, the regular meetings, even the architecture all serve to deliver a person to this state.
A state of grace.
Or, as we would call it now, a state of presence. This is the goal. When they they say the path is narrow, they mean the path to presence, when they say god, they mean "what is" which you can only witness if you are present. What I've been doing in here over and over again is to allow you to let go of this idea that early religions were stupid. They were not. But as the early context was lost. We replaced the original meaning of the ideas which are ineffable because they are off the map with concrete concepts. God went from all that is to a dude.
INTROSPECTION: Were they mostly all blind men and an elephant?
ASPIRATION: Exactly. It wasn't that the keepers of the faith were blind. It's that they had to describe ships on the water to people who had never considered the idea of a ship before. Just like I'm trying to do in here. They used the context around them to create a narrow path. So that members would be forced to stumble on them.
THOS: So you're saying a lot has gotten lost in translation?
ASPIRATION: I'm saying that even then, there wasn't a translation. And I'm saying that now, with the cultural context that they had now lost to history, you're very unlikely to get what they were trying to say.
We started, originally, with Lilies of the field. To show how much that concept has been lost. Or the fact that not many people alive today know what this hell original sin is all about. So what I'm trying to do in here is create a path using a modern context. Same path, new metaphors. So, lets jump on the elephant in the room, that big, rhino-y, almost universally misunderstood word. God. How, in the bible, does god describe himself when he shows up?
THALIAN: The Alpha and Omega, Beginning and the End.
INTROSPECTION: Almighty.
ANIATIO: Father.
ASPIRATION: Ding to all. So, god comes by and says. Yo, I'm everything. And we, 2000 years later, hear it as. You mean a bearded white dude? And from there, any hope of process toward what the church was trying to do is lost. God isn't a personality, or an intelligence, or a person in these ancient traditions. It is quite literally everything, personified. The universe as a relatable... thing. This is why god doesn't have a voice, or rather, uses the metatron to speak.
The act of prayer is very different now than it was, because we're tangled up in this idea that he is our literal dad, and we need stuff from him. Originally, asking for stuff in prayer was considered very taboo. Asking for stuff in prayer reinforces the wrong idea. Namely, that you need something you don't already inherently possess. Everybody following so far? Because we need this context under us. God is what is, dogma around god is a social construct designed to grease the skids toward an enlightened place. That you cannot be told about, you must experience. This is why the church makes the rest of your life boring. Mortification and self flagellation, ritual, social reinforcement, all pushing new members toward a space where they can become present using as many aspects of yourself as they can.
The word "Father" in this case simply means "that which I am issued from". Early beliefs thought that life was in semen. The father literally was carrying around your life. This is why the church doesn't like birth control. So, here we are, ready to start interpreting some very old shit.
The Lord's Prayer Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; they kingcome come thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
With this new understanding underneath us, lets parse out some famous religious ornamentation. Let's start with The Lords Prayer. Which is supposed to contain the ENTIRE teaching in a nutshell. The lords prayer is a portable church, in other words. Let's start with the first line: Our Father.
Our father is a call to orient one's self appropriately. The stressed concept in modern context is 'father', But the early stress was on 'our'. Jesus drops this line, in the story. To help you know where you stand. You stand, equally, with everyone else. A more clunky way to put this, unpacked, would be something like:
"We know that if we do this together, we have a better chance of reinforcing contemplation and enlightenment, we are all equals in this task, and even Jesus is just another one of us"
"And so we all join together to do that, as we turn our contemplation toward all that is, which we are of course a part of"
THOS: So the "who" that follows is of less importance.
ASPIRATION: The who is deeply important, because that who is, by our closest modern approximation, "everything". So lets all get together, as equals, to contemplate that which is.
THOS: Yes, what I meant to say is the "who" isn't a person.
ASPIRATION: Yes. There is no who, only everything. And we're about to get there.... because.… "Who art in heaven". What is heaven, in the old testament?
THALIAN: Garden of Eden.
GRANDIOSITY: Heaven is a state, not a place.
ASPIRATION: No, that's presence, again. What is the first thing that is created, after the void?
INTROSPECTION: Heaven.
ASPIRATION: Yes. Again, an incredibly densely packed allegory, genesis is. The first thing that is created is heaven. So for a very brief moment, all that is is simply "heaven". Earth is then created, and now we have a concept of time. because we have two things operating relative to one another.
INTROSPECTION: Because of before / after.
ASPIRATION: Yes. But God's first thing (God being everything that is) is to convert everything that is from a concept of nothing to something. Now, it's very easy for me to get of track here, because then earth is created and this becomes a shit-show of complexity I'm not ready to tackle today.
But "Who art in heaven" means: Yo, god is everything, that dwells everywhere.
How we doing folks? We're getting pretty high concept here.
People respond that they are tracking.
GRANDIOSITY: Well, I’d believed that Heaven was a state, not a place.
ASPIRATION: It contains both of those. It is all places and all states. It is also all non places. Earth is created to symbolize duality, and the concept of time, but it is in heaven.
INTROSPECTION: It is all everything.
ASPIRATION: Yeah, that one will explode my brain if I go down that path, so lets take it slow.
THOS: Wait, wait. Heaven has no concept of time or does it?
ASPIRATION: No, there is no time if all states are included. This goes back to the lesson of time being a lie that represents two objects in relationship to one another.
INTROSPECTION: Heaven contains Earth because it is all encompassing, and exists. Then earth is created, again introducing the arrow of time. But heaven existed if you will outside of time. So it contains earth.
ASPIRATION: Bang, right in the kisser. So, "Who art in heaven" means that is everywhere. And we are really, just barely scratching the surface of these two simple lines. Digging into it deeply in a disassociated ego forward state will break you, because, of course, it is designed to. The point is this, with the proper context, this prayer is designed to break your sense of self and cast you into a present awareness state. We're going very easy on it right now, because we've only just restored enough context to make this nam-shub potent again.
And for the lurkers, who are just getting into this. This is not a religious channel, and I am not a religious man, I'm not peddling Christianity.
So, lets get back on track. Who art in heaven simply establishes the dwelling place of life. Which is... literally translated, everything, everywhere, all the time. Now we get to some truly psychedelic shit. "Hallowed be thy name". Here is where the juices really start flowing. Can anybody tell me what's weird about the name of God?
ANGER: The name never really translates, does it? There’s never a right term. We can only approach the word.
ASPIRATION: Exactly. And the name of God is supposed to have all of this power, right? But for some reason it's unutterable. Yahweh is god's nickname. Gods real name is supposed to have indescribable power. There are entire sects who have taken this literally and spend all day trying to figure out gods name. In the Hindu tradition, dying with "gods name" on your lips is supposed to stop the karmic cycle and give you everlasting life.
GNODENTA: In the romance languages, like French, Dieu has a little more meaning when you look at the latin roots. It's something like "to shine". But then again, that's not designating a being but rather a sensation or perception.
ASPIRATION: BANG. The name of god is everything that is. To be able to speak it means you are one with everything that is. It is unutterable because it is everything.
THALIAN: I am that I am.
ASPIRATION: Yes. So, to be capable of speaking gods name is to be completely enlightened, or completely present. This is why god isn't named in the prayer. Otherwise it would be quite simple to say Hallowed is the name "Jeff".
So, hallowed. That's the name. That's a name we all really want. That's the goal, man. The name of God. The next few lines are declarative statements, not requests. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. We aren't asking for these things, we are acknowledging them. On earth as it is in heaven. Again, not requests. Statements. Not, gosh, we really want these things. But damn, we already have these things. How can we see it? Well, I'm glad you asked.... because! Give us this day our daily bread. What, the fuck, does this line mean? We've talked about bread in here. Specifically the bread called Manna. Manna is an unleavened bread the Jews used to eat. But why daily?
INTROSPECTION: Manna, nourishment from heaven. Given to the Israelites.
ASPIRATION: Yes, and what happened when the Jews collected it, instead of trusting that it would show up the next day?
INTROSPECTION: It spoiled and was corrupted. So it's needed each day, and supposed to be consumed that day.
ASPIRATION: Yes, and storing it is a form of original sin. Storing manna means you are trying to judge what will happen. You're forgetting you're the pond. You are not present, you're worried about the future. You're not a lily of the field.
INTROSPECTION: The lily doesn't labor. All is provided, by God.
ASPIRATION: No, the lily is holy, because it doesn't dwell in a state of dualism. A lily is all that is, it doesn't judge itself separate.
INTROSPECTION: It exists, it doesn't concern itself with the future?
ASPIRATION: Yes. A lily doesn't know that it isn't God. Original sin is simply this: We developed the belief that were were not God, and it kicked us out of the paradise all other things enjoy; the freedom from the fear of death. The everlasting awareness of the present.
This helps you see that original sin doesn't mean you are bad. It means you are pitiable. And everything, all the time, is trying to get you to step away from that tortured state. Just, go be a lily, man. lift your face to God "what is" man, don't store manna, man. Give no thought to the morrow, man. The bible is an astrological metaphor, the stars a cast of characters all designed to "wash you" of dualism.
The goal is enlightenment. All the literalism destroys the goal, so the bible looks arcane and cruel. And we aren't done... because: on earth as it is in heaven. Again. Declarative, not pleading. Asserting. On earth as it is in heaven. It's already done, dualism is a lie.
GRANDIOSITY: So, dualism is then the involvement in both the present and the future, and the path to enlightenment involves letting go of that involvement in the future.
ASPIRATION: And the past.
Now, we get an interrogative. The first request in the whole damned thing. Lead us not into temptation.
ACTION: To a degree this connects with the whole food-thing. We were so preoccupied to make sure Aspiration was able to survive later down the line with meals that we did not consider if he was hungry now. We were so preoccupied with hording we didn't just be.
ASPIRATION: Finally! I get to check that ding off the list: DING.
COMMUNITY: Speaking of, we should really make sure the list is done so Aspiration can eat.
ASPIRATION: The metaphor has accomplished it's goal. I'm going to get a sandwich. A few days fast was good for me and serves important things further down the line. But now I'm going to eat.
So. Temptation. Simple. Direct. Don't drag my ass into dualism. Deliver me from evil. Same interrogative. Evil, sin. Original sin. "To miss the mark." Evil, the devil. Lucifer. The morning star, luceferian, the illuminated one. It just means knowledge, my dudes.
Lucifer wasn't cast out, he became dualistic. Lucifer was the most beloved of the angels. The head, Gods favorite. And he was disconnected, or cast out. As a metaphor for the dangers of living in original sin. Of living apart. With judgement, but not wisdom. He's not a bad guy in the story. He's still gods favorite. He endures it because he can.
INTROSPECTION: Like us?
ASPIRATION: Yes, Lucifer is an allegory for man. Or rather, the state of man. Headstrong, dualistic, knowledge seeking. Egocentric. And apart from all that is, in fact, singular in being apart.
INTROSPECTION: Our exit from heaven, given our meaning, and subsequent focus on the self, creating dualism.
ASPIRATION: Along with all people, yes. This is why he is known as the "great liar". Because he lies, he introduces dualism where it doesn't otherwise exist.
And that state? Of believing you can be apart from all that is? It's a clever hell.
End story time.
When we're done, my hope is that you will have enough context that nam-shubs will become functional again for you. And when you're anxious, you'll be able to think of a lily, re associate, and calm yourself.
Because when you understand the context, it gives the power back.
That's why the bible, and really all religious texts are called "living words" If you have the underlying thesis down. They can really slap you right in the face.
Alright, I'm out of here. There are a few people right behind me in here, so if you have questions, ask them.
Introspection fields questions in Aspirations absence.
ASPIRATION: Introspection, when you have time can you field questions?
PARAMIA: What does being present mean other than not worrying about the future?
INTROSPECTION: Absolutely. Okay so… Present isn't just about the future. It's a description concerning our awareness of who, what, where we are. And really that we think we are individuals but really are part of something else, a connected everything. Present is almost being fully in the moment that exists outside of time, if that makes sense? From my understanding, today's story was designed to teach us the context used when prayers, today in Christianity but other times in other religions, were written.
Essentially, there is a sort of universal truth and story, that many religions have seen and tried to format into a roadmap for followers. Each may describe it differently, or have different instructions, but beneath them is a story that we too can see. Without the context of what the instructions mean though, they are hard to follow.
PARAMIA: Isn't the concept of ego death pretty much what its getting at?
INTROSPECTION: I think there's a strong element of that. But, again I could be wrong here, it's also a recognition that we exist, but exist not as a duality. We are not separate; even though ego exist kills self-identity. But you may be more right than I am there, Paramia.
PARAMIA: But, again I could be wrong here, it's also a recognition that we exist, but exist not as a duality. We are not separate. Also can you simplify this? I don't exactly understand.
INTROSPECTION: Yeah. My interpretation is that we believe we exist in a duality, or perhaps as a duality. We believe we are separate from the whole. Like you were saying with ego-death, there is no self. Self removes us from presence even, in my mind. Duality is a necessary evil me thinks. Plurality, but it's still illusory; the experience is the same teleologically.

Hi everyone,
I’m not certain if this is the proper place to post this. If it’s not, please kindly let me know so I can delete this off the page.
I live with a psychologically abusive father (no longer that physically abusive due to me getting older and not feeling pain anymore.) I haven’t been able to connect with him emotionally, although I’ve been trying to for years. I know he loves me, but he’s not rational nor logical, and doesn’t show any affection unless he’d like attention. He gambles, drinks, has caused my mother to go into debt, and swears like a sailor. I’ve been emotionally distressed for several years, but tonight he’s drunk again, and I’ve realized that my mother and I can’t do it anymore. Our lives are all spiraling downwards, and he’s unfortunately the main reason for it.
I have sugarcoated his actions for the sake of my love for him btw. Moving on. We have given him so many chances to fix his bad habits. We forgive him on the VERY rare occasion that he apologizes. We try to be understanding. He has no family in the states, so we’d feel bad if we do end up leaving him. We know that if we leave him, he’ll act unbothered in front of us, but he will surely secretly spiral out of control and into a deeper depression.
I’m not a devout catholic. I’m figuring my spirituality out, but I do want to be a good child in the eyes of God regardless. I also want to fix my life, and my mother’s life, but because he isn’t on the same page as us, I don’t see an option besides leaving him behind. By leaving him behind, I simply mean leaving home with my mom and starting anew somewhere else, but still keeping in touch with him and making sure he’s okay. However, keep in mind, he’s very sensitive and has no family, and moving out would be so very offensive and hurtful for him.
I don’t want to hurt my father. After all, he is my father. I just don’t see where to go from here anymore. Would leaving him be a sin, as it may cause him pain?

Hello Fathers,
I’m not certain if this is the proper place to post this. If it’s not, please kindly let me know so I can delete this off the page. I’m really desperate for any advice or second opinions I can get on this matter. I just wanted to share the shame I feel for feeling this way.
I live with a psychologically abusive father (no longer that physically abusive due to me getting older and not feeling pain anymore.) I haven’t been able to connect with him emotionally, although I’ve been trying to for years. I know he loves me, but he’s not rational nor logical, and doesn’t show any affection unless he’d like attention. He gambles, drinks, has caused my mother to go into debt, and swears like a sailor. I’ve been emotionally distressed for several years, but tonight he’s drunk again, and I’ve realized that my mother and I can’t do it anymore. Our lives are all spiraling downwards, and he’s unfortunately the main reason for it.
I have sugarcoated his actions for the sake of my love for him btw. Moving on. We have given him so many chances to fix his bad habits. We forgive him on the VERY rare occasion that he apologizes. We try to be understanding. He has no family in the states, so we’d feel bad if we do end up leaving him. We know that if we leave him, he’ll act unbothered in front of us, but he will surely secretly spiral out of control and into a deeper depression.
I am not a devout Catholic, and in need of spiritual guidance. Regardless of my current spiritual uncertainty, I want to be a good child in the eyes of God. I also want to fix my life, and my mother’s life, but because he isn’t on the same page as us, I don’t see an option besides leaving him behind. By leaving him behind, I simply mean leaving home with my mom and starting a new life somewhere, but still keeping in touch with my father. However, keep in mind, he’s very sensitive and has no family, and moving out would be so very offensive to him.
I don’t want to hurt my father. After all, he is my father. I just don’t see where to go from here anymore. Would leaving him be a sin, as it may cause him pain?

Hi, I was severely abused as a kid and as a result developed deep brain damage. I "function" as if I have late stage Alzhelmer's. Therefore, I have many difficulties and second order consequences from them. They include;
Inability to be organized/messy lifestyle/unsanitary Lack of time management Lack of motivation Lack of money management Impulsively make rash decisions/actions/talking Lack of ability to remain focused and ability to complete goals Depression and Anxiety Inability to read for more than 30 seconds Energy levels low
Which leads to
Being abandoned and ostracized No intimate relationships No intimate friendships No career No higher order goals accomplished Living with parents 31 years old Morbidly obese Developed type 2 diabetes Weak eyes Weak hearing Lack of dental care so semi damaged teeth 20-30k debt Precarious employment
I've coped by sinning (gluttony/p*rn/gambling) which I am actively fighting but my condition makes 100x harder to quit
The positives I see
I have one close friend who would be sad if I were to die even though we don't relate much (in half a decade he will leave me as well)
A 3yr degree I got in 8 years (commerce)(its mostly useless because I forgot everything practically) A therapist who is genuinely trying to help Brothers who love me A mother An uncle I can be intelligent when the stars align and its a blue moon
I was born a cradle Catholic and have clung to God ever since (praying as a kid to God to not die will do that)
Praying constantly
My question isn't how can I live a fruitful life, because I know I can offer up my suffering to Christ and that He is allowing me to suffer for my sanctification. My question is how can I have a joyful/happy/fun life? I can't even stomach a movie or videogame anymore. Is there a road to a good life for me, or am I to just suffer for whatever reason Christ demands of me?
Thanks for your time and advice, in advance. God bless you.

Believers will say disease appears to test our faith in god. I don’t know about you, but if a friend decided to test our friendship by giving me a disease, he or she would be the one failing the test.
If a friend tested me by committing genocide, raping me or introducing a child molester into my life, I would stop being friends with them.
Why does anyone with a personal relationship with god go to the doctor?
If you are an adult and claim to have a personal relationship with the creator of everything, including your ailment or disease, you shouldn’t need to go to the doctor. Surely a human – any human – is not as powerful as god.
Oh, god put the doctor in your life to help you? You mean after putting the disease in your body to kill you? Find the right doctor or die. That’s an exciting scavenger hunt.
Prayers have been shown to help those who know they are being prayed for. Not so much for those that don’t know. Seems less about the power of prayer and more about the power of self-delusion.
Would you, like Abraham, try to kill your child if a voice in your head told you to? Keep in mind it wasn’t god who stopped him, but an angel.
God actually killed all but 10 people in the bible. Those 10 were killed by Satan after making a bet with god to test Job’s faith. So at least Satan had god’s permission.
Americans have an average life expectancy of 79 years. According to Catholicism, you can do something so bad in those 79 years that you can be sentenced to 1,000,000,000 x 1,000,000,000 years of torture and punishment in hell. Times infinity. Is that fair?
Besides… if Satan punishes bad people, doesn’t that make him a good guy?
Why would Satan punish anyone in hell? Wouldn’t he be pleased with everybody who ends up with him? He wouldn’t punish them. That’s exactly what god would want.
Where are the commandments forbidding rape, slavery, child abuse and hate crimes? Exodus actually outlines the rules for slavery and murder, which is handy.
Original sin came from Adam and Eve disobeying god by eating fruit from the tree of knowledge. Despite being given brains by god and the impulse to feed them with knowledge. So they were punished for being exactly the way god made them just a few days before.
Culinary note: Catholics are expected to consume the flesh and blood of god’s son every Sunday. So fruit is bad, but flesh is good?
For those who don’t believe that Adam and Eve are literal figures, why are we baptized? For the sins of fictional characters?
Hitler, Manson, and bin Laden were all created by god, too, lest we forget.
They worked for the devil, you say? You mean the devil that god continues to allow to exist? One he could wipe out instantly? After all, he is omnipotent (all-powerful).
Ah, Satan’s there to test us. Because that’s what this is. A test. But not for us, since god knows everything (omniscient). He must just be testing to see if he’s still always right. Staying sharp.
By the by, the presence of an all-knowing god nullifies any claim we have to free will.
Most religious people will balk at this. Catholics especially love to say they enjoy free will. Then, every Sunday, they will stand up and proclaim in the “Our Father” that “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Thy will be done, not my will be done” Alas.
The bible is supposedly written by god himself through people, yet it gets a few things wrong that one would expect its ultimate author to know. For example, the bible tells us that the sun revolves around the earth. Galileo was locked up for trying to explain it was the other way around. Shouldn’t god know how his creation works?
The bible doesn’t once reference dinosaurs, marsupials or microbial disease. Because the writers were unaware of their existence. If god wrote the Bible through them, shouldn’t they know about these things, too?
The 10 commandments forbid adultery. But god got another man’s fiancée pregnant. Is that a technicality? Or was Mary the original #metoo victim? Could she have said “no”?
Why did god’s son have to die for our sins? God made us sinners. Sin still exists. And Jesus, it turns out, didn’t actually die. Hmmm.
What’s that? God didn’t make us sinners? Well, he intentionally made Mary without sin. And since that’s an option, it means our sinful nature is an intentional choice on his part.
How does one receive forgiveness without apologizing to the person or party they wronged? Only you can forgive me for stealing your car. How would you feel if your neighbor forgave me instead and let me off the hook? Great deal for me. Sucks for you.
Why would god set it up so his son had to die so brutally? If he died of old age, or in the desert for 40 days and nights without food or water, he still could’ve died for our sins. That’s your son, man.
The Christian scientist responsible for mapping the human genome estimates that humans in our current state have been around for 100,000 years…
So heaven was closed for 98,000 years before god decided to let his creations inside. That does sound like love.
This is the same god who decided it would be fun if he gave different instructions to different people. Yes. Hilarious. Being that he’s omniscient and knew what would happen, it’s kind of sadistic, too.
Speaking of which, according to the NSVRC, 2,000 children and adults were raped every day in the U.S. in 2018. What all-powerful god would allow that? None, that’s how many.
Only two of the gospel writers say Jesus was born of a virgin. Isn’t that an important part of the story? Only one of the gospels mention Jesus’ ascension into heaven.
None of the gospel writers knew Jesus or even lived in the same country he did when they wrote the gospels – a minimum of 40 years after his death. When it was fresh on everyone’s minds.
Why the four gospels? Seems like maybe it was a writing contest. When the gospels were written, the first supposedly by Mark in 73 AD, allegorical literature (literature with a moral or political message) was incredibly popular.
It was not decided that Jesus was divine until the First Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D. - a decision that took 292 years to make. Again, when the facts were fresh.
If Jesus wanted to save millions of lives, he could’ve just told everyone to boil their water. Apparently, he didn’t know about microbial disease either. And that’s strange. Because of who he’s supposedly related to.
Side question: Why didn’t anyone interview Lazarus or the little girl that Jesus brought back from the dead? Did they die a second time, or are they still alive?
The bible tells us that we will be punished for indulging the desires that god gave us. In other words, we will be punished by our creator for acting how we were created to act.
On the other hand, the Bible shows god indulging in every act he forbids, including murder (lots of murder) to gambling (Job) to adultery (Mary) to patricide (Abraham and himself) to sadism of a particularly, universally frowned-upon sort.
The most important question is: What would we do without religion? What could possibly stop us all from indulging our deepest, most animalistic, god-given desires?
Other than our system of laws, I mean.
​
A few quotes:
“Lighthouses are more valuable than churches.” -Ben Franklin
“This would be the best of all possible worlds if there were no religion in it.” -John Adams
“Christianity is the most perverted system that ever shone on man.” -Thomas Jefferson, The Faith and Moral Teachings of Jesus of Nazareth
“We must question the logic of having an all-knowing, all-powerful god who creates faulty humans and then blames them for his own mistakes.” -Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek
“Is god willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him ‘god’?” -Epicurus
“I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things” -Isaiah 45:7
​
*Hit me up if you'd like to help me turn this into an illustrated children's book for adults.

I Contain Multitudes
​
Today, and tomorrow, and yesterday, too
The flowers are dyin' like all things do
Follow me close, I’m going to Bally-na-Lee
I'll lose my mind if you don't come with me
I fuss with my hair, and I fight blood feuds
I contain multitudes
​
Got a tell-tale heart like Mr. Poe
Got skeletons in the walls of people you know
I’ll drink to the truth and the things we said
I'll drink to the man that shares your bed
I paint landscapes, and I paint nudes
I contain multitudes
​
A red Cadillac and a black mustache
Rings on my fingers that sparkle and flash
Tell me, what's next? What shall we do?
Half my soul, baby, belongs to you
I rollick and I frolic with all the young dudes
I contain multitudes
​
I'm just like Anne Frank, like Indiana Jones
And them British bad boys, The Rolling Stones
I go right to the edge, I go right to the end
I go right where all things lost are made good again
I sing the songs of experience like William Blake
I have no apologies to make
Everything's flowing all at the same time
I live on a boulevard of crime
I drive fast cars, and I eat fast foods
I contain multitudes
​
​
Pink pedal-pushers, red blue jeans
All the pretty maids, and all the old queens
All the old queens from all my past lives
I carry four pistols and two large knives
I'm a man of contradictions, I'm a man of many moods
I contain multitudes
​
You greedy old wolf, I'll show you my heart
But not all of it, only the hateful part
I’ll sell you down the river, I’ll put a price on your head
What more can I tell you? I sleep with life and death in the same bed
Get lost, madame, get up off my knee
Keep your mouth away from me
I'll keep the path open, the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there's no love left behind
I'll play Beethoven's sonatas, and Chopin’s preludes
I contain multitudes
​
​
False Prophet
​
[Verse 1]
Another day that don't end
Another ship goin' out
Another day of anger, bitterness, and doubt
I know how it happened
I saw it begin
I opened my heart to the world and the world came in
​
[Verse 2]
Hello, Mary Lou
Hello, Miss Pearl
My fleet-footed guides from the underworld
No stars in the sky shine brighter than you
You girls mean business and I do too
​
[Verse 3]
Well, I'm the enemy of treason
An enemy of strife
I'm the enemy of the unlived meaningless life
I ain't no false prophet
I just know what I know
I go where only the lonely can go
​
[Verse 4]
I'm first among equals
Second to none
The last of the best
You can bury the rest
Bury 'em naked with their silver and gold
Put 'em six feet under and I pray for their souls
​
​
[Verse 5]
What are you lookin' at?
There's nothing to see
Just a cool breeze that's encircling me
Let's go for a walk in the garden
So far and so wide
We can sit in the shade by the fountain-side
​
[Verse 6]
I search the world over
For the Holy Grail
I sing songs of love
I sing songs of betrayal
Don't care what I drink
I don't care what I eat
I climb the mountains with swords on my bare feet
​
[Verse 7]
You don't know me, darlin'
You never would guess
I'm nothing like my ghostly appearance would suggest
I ain't no false prophet
I just said what I said
I'm just here to bring vengeance on somebody's head
​
[Verse 8]
Put out your hand
There's nothing to hold
Open your mouth
I'll stuff it with gold
Oh, you poor devil, look up if you will
The city of God is there on the hill
​
​
[Verse 9]
Hello, stranger
Hello and goodbye
You ruled the land
But so do I
You lusty old mule
You got a poisoned brain
I'll marry you to a ball and chain
​
[Verse 10]
You know, darlin'
The kind of life that I live
When your smile meets my smile
Something's got to give
I ain't no false prophet
No, I'm nobody's bride
Can't remember when I was born
And I forgot when I died
​
​
My Own Version of You
​
All through the summers, into January
I've been visiting morgues and monasteries
Looking for the necessary body parts
Limbs and livers and brains and hearts
I'll bring someone to life, is what I wanna do
I wanna create my own version of you
​
Well, it must be the winter of my discontent
I wish you'd've taken me with you wherever you went
They talk all night and they talk all day
Not for a minute do I believe anything they say
I'm gon' bring someone to life, someone I've never seen
You know what I mean, you know exactly what I mean
​
I'll take the Scarface Pacino and The Godfather Brando
Mix it up in a tank and get a robot commando
If I do it upright and put the head on straight
I'll be saved by the creature that I create
I'll get blood from a cactus, gunpowder from ice
I don't gamble with cards and I don't shoot no dice
Can you look at my face with your sightless eyes?
Can you cross your heart and hope to die?
I'll bring someone to life, someone for real
Someone who feels the way that I feel
​
I study Sanskrit and Arabic to improve my mind
I wanna do things for the benefit of all mankind
I say to the willow tree, "Don't weep for me"
I'm saying to hell to all things that I used to be
Well, I get into trouble, then I hit the wall
No place to turn, no place at all
I'll pick a number between a-one and two
And I ask myself, "What would Julius Caesar do?"
I will bring someone to life in more ways than one
Don't matter how long it takes, it'll be done when it's done
​
​
I'm gonna make you play the piano like Leon Russell
Like Liberace, like St. John the Apostle
I'll play every number that I can play
I'll see you maybe on Judgment Day
After midnight, if you still wanna meet
I'll be at the Black Horse Tavern on Armageddon Street
Two doors down, not that far a walk
I'll hear your footsteps, you won't have to knock
I'll bring someone to life, balance the scales
I'm not gonna get involved any insignificant details
​
You can bring it to St. Peter
You can bring it to Jerome
You can bring it all the way over
Bring it all the way home
Bring it to the corner where the children play
You can bring it to me on a silver tray
I'll bring someone to life, spare no expense
Do it with decency and common sense
​
Can you tell me what it means, to be or not to be?
You won't get away with fooling me
Can you help me walk that moonlight mile?
Can you give me the blessings of your smile?
I'll bring someone to life, use all of my powers
Do it in the dark, in the wee, small hours
​
​
I can see the history of the whole human race
It's all right there, it's carved into your face
Should I break it all down? Should I fall on my knees?
Is there light at the end of the tunnel, can you tell me, please?
Stand over there by the cypress tree
Where the Trojan women and children were sold into slavery
Long before the first Crusade
Way back before England or America were made
Step right into the burning hell
Where some of the best-known enemies of mankind dwell
Mr. Freud with his dreams, Mr. Marx with his ax
See the raw hide lash rip the skin from their backs
Got the right spirit, you can feel it, you can hear it
You've got what they call the immortal spirit
You can feel it all night, you can feel it in the morn'
It creeps in your body the day you were born
One strike of lightning is all that I need
And a blast of electricity that runs at top speed
Shimmy your ribs, I'll stick in the knife
Gonna jumpstart my creation to life
I wanna bring someone to life, turn back the years
Do it with laughter and do it with tears
​
​
​
I’ve Made Up My Mind to Give Myself to You
​
I'm sittin' on my terrace, lost in the stars
Listening to the sounds of the sad guitars
Been thinking it all over and I've thought it all through
I've made up my mind to give myself to you
​
I saw the first fall of snow
I saw the flowers come and go
I don't think that anyone ever else ever knew
I've made up my mind to give myself to you
​
I'm giving myself to you, I am
From Salt Lake City to Birmingham
From East L.A. to San Antone
I don't think I can bear to live my life alone
​
My eye is like a shooting star
It looks at nothin' here or there, looks at nothin' near or far
No one ever told me, it's just something I knew
I've made up my mind to give myself to you
​
If I had the wings of a snow white dove
I'd preach the gospel, the gospel of love
A love so real, a love so true
I've made up my mind to give myself to you
​
Take me out traveling, you're a traveling man
Show me something I don't understand
I'm not what I was, things aren't what they were
I'll go far away from home with her
​
​
I traveled a long road of despair
I met no other traveler there
Lot of people gone, lot of people I knew
I've made up my mind to give myself to you
​
Well, my heart's like a river, a river that sings
Just takes me a while to realize things
I've seen the sunrise, I've seen the dawn
I'll lay down beside you when everyone's gone
​
I've traveled from the mountains to the sea
I hope that the gods go easy with me
I knew you'd say yes, I'm saying it too
I've made up my mind to give myself to you
​
​
Black Rider
​
[Verse 1]
Black rider, black rider, you've been living too hard
Been up all night, have to stay on your guard
The path that you're walking, too narrow to walk
Every step of the way, another stumbling block
The road that you're on, same road that you know
Just not the same as it was a minute ago
​
[Verse 2]
Black rider, black rider, you've seen it all
You've seen the great world and you've seen the small
You fell into the fire and you're eating the flame
Better seal up your lips if you wanna stay in the game
Be reasonable, mister, be honest, be fair
Let all of your earthly thoughts be a prayer
​
[Verse 3]
Black rider, black rider, all dressed in black
I'm walking away, you try to make me look back
My heart is at rest, I'd like to keep it that way
I don't wanna fight, at least not today
Go home to your wife, stop visiting mine
One of these days I'll forget to be kind
​
[Verse 4]
Black rider, black rider, tell me when, tell me how
If there ever was a time, then let it be now
Let me go through, open the door
My soul is distressed, my mind is at war
Don't hug me, don't flatter me, don't turn on the charm
I'll take a sword and hack off your arm
​
​
[Verse 5]
Black rider, black rider, hold it right there
The size of your cock will get you nowhere
I'll suffer in silence, I'll not make a sound
Maybe I'll take the high moral ground
Some enchanted evening I'll sing you a song
Black rider, black rider, you've been on the job too long
​
​
​
Goodbye Jimmy Reed
​
[Verse 1]
I live on a street named after a Saint
Women in the churches wear powder and paint
Where the Jews, and Catholics, and the Muslims all pray
I can tell they're Proddie from a mile away
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, Jimmy Reed indeed
Give me that old time religion, it's just what I need
​
[Verse 2]
For thine is kingdom, the power, the glory
Go tell it on the mountain, go tell the real story
Tell it in that straightforward, puritanical tone
In the mystic hours when a person's alone
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, godspeed
Thump on the Bible, proclaim a creed
​
[Verse 3]
You won't amount to much, the people all said
'Cause I didn't play guitar behind my head
Never pandered, never acted proud
Never took off my shoes, throw 'em in the crowd
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, goodbye, goodnight
Put a jewel in your crown and I put out the lights
​
[Verse 4]
They threw everything at me, everything in the book
I had nothing to fight with but a butcher's hook
They had no pity, they never lend a hand
I can't sing a song that I don't understand
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, goodbye, good luck
I can't play the record 'cause my needle got stuck
​
​
[Verse 5]
Transparent woman in a transparent dress
Suits you well, I must confess
I'll break open your grapes, I'll suck out the juice
I need you like my head needs a noose
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, goodbye and so long
I thought I could resist her but I was so wrong
​
[Verse 6]
God be with you, brother dear
If you don't mind me asking what brings you here?
Oh, nothing much, I'm just looking for the man
Need to see where he's lying in this lost land
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, and everything within ya
Can't you hear me calling from down in Virginia?
​
​
​
Mother of Muses
​
Mother of Muses sing for me
Sing of the mountains and the deep dark sea
Sing of the lakes and the nymphs of the forest
Sing your hearts out, all your women of the chorus
Sing of honor and fate and glory be
Mother of Muses sing for me
​
Mother of Muses sing for my heart
Sing of a love too soon to depart
Sing of the heroes who stood alone
Whose names are engraved on tablets of stone
Who struggled with pain so the world could go free
Mother of Muses sing for me
​
Sing of Sherman, Montgomery, and Scott‬
And of Zhukov, and Patton, and the battles they fought
Who cleared the path for Presley to sing
Who carved the path for Martin Luther King
Who did what they did and they went on their way
Man, I could tell their stories all day
​
I'm falling in love with Calliope
She don't belong to anyone, why not give her to me?
She's speaking to me, speaking with her eyes
I've grown so tired of chasing lies
Mother of Muses, wherever you are
I've already outlived my life by far
​
​
Mother of Muses, unleash your wrath
Things I can't see, they're blocking my path
Show me your wisdom, tell me my fate
Put me upright, make me walk straight
Forge my identity from the inside out
You know what I'm talking about
​
Take me to the river, release your charms
Let me lay down a while in your sweet, loving arms
Wake me, shake me, free me from sin
Make me invisible, like the wind
Got a mind that ramble, got a mind that roam
I'm travelin' light and I'm a-slow coming home
​
​
​
Crossing the Rubicon
​
[Verse 1]
I crossed the Rubicon on the 14th day
Of the most dangerous month of the year
At the worst time, at the worst place
That's all I seem to hear
I got up early
So I can greet the goddess of the dawn
I've painted my wagon, abandoned all hope
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
[Verse 2]
Well, the Rubicon is a red river
Goin' gently as she flows
Redder than your ruby lips
And the blood that flows from the rose
Three miles north of purgatory
One step from the great beyond
I prayed to the cross, I kissed the girls
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
[Verse 3]
What are these dark days I see?
In this world so badly bent
I cannot redeem the time
The time so idly spent
How much longer can it last?
How long can it go on?
I embrace my love, put down my hair
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
​
[Verse 4]
I can feel the bones beneath my skin
And they're tremblin' with rage
I'll make your wife a widow
You'll never see old age
Show me one good man in sight
That the sun shines down upon
I pawned my watch, I paid my debts
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
[Verse 5]
Put my hide up on a hill
Where some happiness I'll find
If I survive, then let me love
Let the hour be mine
Take the high road, take the low
Take any one you're on
I poured the cup, I passed it along
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
[Verse 6]
Well, you defiled the most lovely flowers
In all her womanhood
Others can be tolerant
Others can be good
I'll cut you up with a crooked knife
Lord, and I'll miss you when you're gone
I stood between Heaven and Earth
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
​
[Verse 7]
You won't find any happiness here
No happiness or joy
Go back to the gutter, try your luck
Find you some nice pretty boy
Tell me how many men I need
And who can I count upon
I strapped my belt, I buttoned my coat
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
[Verse 8]
I feel the holy spirit inside
See the light that freedom gives
I believe it's in the reach of
Every man who lives
Keep as far away as possible
It's darkest 'fore the dawn (Oh Lord)
I turned the key, I broke it off
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
[Verse 9]
Mona, baby, are you still in my mind?
I truly believe that you are
Couldn't be anybody else but you
Who's come with me this far
The killing frost is on the ground
And the autumn leaves are gone
I lit the torch, I looked to the east
And I crossed the Rubicon
​
​
​
Key West (Philosopher Pirate)
​
[Verse 1]
McKinley hollered, McKinley squalled
Doctor said, "McKinley, death is on the wall
‪Say it to me, if you got something to confess"‬
‪I heard all about it, he was going down slow ‬‬
‪I heard it all, the wireless radio ‬‬
‪From down in the boondocks way down in Key West‬
‪I’m searching for love, for inspiration ‬‬
‪On that pirate radio station‬
‪Coming out of Luxembourg and Budapest ‬‬
‪Radio signal, clear as can be‬
‪I'm so deep in love that I can hardly see ‬‬
‪Down on the flatlands, way down in Key West‬
​
[Chorus 1]
‪Key West is the place to be ‬‬
‪If you're looking for immortality ‬‬
‪Stay on the road, follow the highway sign ‬‬
‪Key West is fine and fair‬
‪If you lost your mind, you will find it there‬
‪Key West is on the horizon line‬
​
[Verse 2]
‪I was born on the wrong side of the railroad track‬
‪Like Ginsberg, Corso and Kerouac‬
‪Like Louis and Jimmy and Buddy and all the rest ‬‬
‪Well, it might not be the thing to do ‬‬
‪But I'm sticking with you through and through ‬‬
‪Down in the flatlands, way down in Key West‬
‪I got both my feet planted square on the ground ‬‬
‪Got my right hand high with the thumb down ‬‬
‪Such is life, such is happiness‬
‪Hibiscus flowers, they grow everywhere here‬
‪If you wear one, put it behind your ear‬
‪Down in the bottom, way down in Key West ‬‬
​
​
[Chorus 2]
‪Key West is the place to go‬
‪Down by the Gulf of Mexico ‬‬
‪Beyond the sea, beyond the shifting sand‬
‪Key West is the gateway key ‬‬
‪To innocence and purity ‬‬
‪Key West, Key West is the enchanted land‬
​
[Verse 3]
‪I've never lived in the land of Oz ‬‬
‪Or wasted my time with an unworthy cause ‬‬
‪It’s hot down here, and you can't be overdressed‬
‪China blossoms of a toxic plant ‬‬
‪They can make you dizzy, I'd like to help you but I can't‬
‪Down in the flatlands, way down in Key West ‬‬
‪Well, the fish tail ponds, and the orchid trees‬
‪They can give you that bleeding heart disease‬
‪People tell me I ought to try a little tenderness ‬‬
‪On Newton Street, Bayview Park ‬‬
‪Walking in the shadows after dark ‬‬
‪Down under, way down in Key West ‬‬
‪I played Gumbo Limbo spirituals‬
‪I know all the Hindu rituals ‬‬
‪People tell me that I'm truly blessed ‬‬
Bougainvillea blooming in the summer, in the spring
Winter here is an unknown thing
Down in the flat lands, way down in Key West
​
​
[Chorus 3]
Key West is under the sun, under the radar, under the gun
You stay to the left, and then you lean to the right
Feel the sunlight on your skin, and the healing virtues of the wind
Key West, Key West is the land of light
​
[Verse 4]
Wherever I travel, wherever I roam
I'm not that far from the convent home
I do what I think is right, what I think is best
History Street off of Mallory Square
Truman had his White House there
East bound, West bound, way down in Key West
Twelve years old, they put me in a suit
Forced me to marry a prostitute
There were gold fringes on her wedding dress
That's my story, but not where it ends
She's still cute, and we're still friends
Down on the bottom, way down in Key West
I play both sides against the middle
Trying to pick up that pirate radio signal
I heard the news, I heard your last request
Fly around, my pretty little Miss
I don't love nobody, give me a kiss
Down on the bottom, way down in Key West
​
​
[Chorus 4]
Key West is the place to be
If you're looking for immortality
Key West is paradise divine
Key West is fine and fair
If you lost your mind, you'll find it there
Key West is on the horizon line
​
​
​
Murder Most Foul
​
[Verse 1]
It was a dark day in Dallas, November '63
A day that will live on in infamy
President Kennedy was a-ridin' high
Good day to be livin' and a good day to die
Being led to the slaughter like a sacrificial lamb
He said, "Wait a minute, boys, you know who I am?"
"Of course we do, we know who you are"
Then they blew off his head while he was still in the car
Shot down like a dog in broad daylight
Was a matter of timing and the timing was right
You got unpaid debts, we've come to collect
We're gonna kill you with hatred, without any respect
We'll mock you and shock you and we'll put it in your face
We've already got someone here to take your place
The day they blew out the brains of the king
Thousands were watching, no one saw a thing
It happened so quickly, so quick, by surprise
Right there in front of everyone's eyes
Greatest magic trick ever under the sun
Perfectly executed, skillfully done
Wolfman, oh Wolfman, oh Wolfman, howl
Rub-a-dub-dub, it's a murder most foul
​
[Verse 2]
Hush, little children, you'll understand
The Beatles are comin', they're gonna hold your hand
Slide down the banister, go get your coat
Ferry 'cross the Mersey and go for the throat
There's three bums comin' all dressed in rags
Pick up the pieces and lower the flags
I'm goin' to Woodstock, it's the Aquarian Age
Then I'll go over to Altamont and sit near the stage
Put your head out the window, let the good times roll
There's a party going on behind the Grassy Knoll
Stack up the bricks, pour the cement
Don't say Dallas don't love you, Mr. President
Put your foot in the tank and then step on the gas
Try to make it to the triple underpass
Blackface singer, whiteface clown
Better not show your faces after the sun goes down
Up in the red light district, they've got cop on the beat
Living in a nightmare on Elm Street
When you're down on Deep Ellum, put your money in your shoe
Don't ask what your country can do for you
Cash on the barrelhead, money to burn
Dealey Plaza, make a left-hand turn
I'm going down to the crossroads, gonna flag a ride
The place where faith, hope, and charity died
Shoot him while he runs, boy, shoot him while you can
See if you can shoot the invisible man
Goodbye, Charlie, goodbye, Uncle Sam
Frankly, Miss Scarlett, I don't give a damn
What is the truth, and where did it go?
Ask Oswald and Ruby, they oughta know
"Shut your mouth," said a wise old owl
Business is business, and it's a murder most foul
​
​
[Verse 3]
Tommy, can you hear me? I'm the Acid Queen
I'm riding in a long, black Lincoln limousine
Ridin' in the back seat next to my wife
Headed straight on in to the afterlife
I'm leaning to the left, I got my head in her lap
Hold on, I've been led into some kind of a trap
Where we ask no quarter, and no quarter do we give
We're right down the street, from the street where you live
They mutilated his body and they took out his brain
What more could they do? They piled on the pain
But his soul was not there where it was supposed to be at
For the last fifty years they've been searchin' for that
Freedom, oh freedom, freedom over me
I hate to tell you, mister, but only dead men are free
Send me some lovin', then tell me no lie
Throw the gun in the gutter and walk on by
Wake up, little Susie, let's go for a drive
Cross the Trinity River, let's keep hope alive
Turn the radio on, don't touch the dials
Parkland Hospital, only six more miles
You got me dizzy, Miss Lizzy, you filled me with lead
That magic bullet of yours has gone to my head
I'm just a patsy like Patsy Cline
Never shot anyone from in front or behind
I've blood in my eye, got blood in my ear
I'm never gonna make it to the new frontier
Zapruder's film I seen night before
Seen it thirty-three times, maybe more
It's vile and deceitful, it's cruel and it's mean
Ugliest thing that you ever have seen
They killed him once and they killed him twice
Killed him like a human sacrifice
The day that they killed him, someone said to me, "Son
The age of the Antichrist has just only begun"
Air Force One comin' in through the gate
Johnson sworn in at 2:38
Let me know when you decide to throw in the towel
It is what it is, and it's murder most foul
​
​
[Verse 4]
What's new, pussycat? What'd I say?
I said the soul of a nation been torn away
And it's beginning to go into a slow decay
And that it's thirty-six hours past Judgment Day
Wolfman Jack, he's speaking in tongues
He's going on and on at the top of his lungs
Play me a song, Mr. Wolfman Jack
Play it for me in my long Cadillac
Play me that "Only the Good Die Young"
Take me to the place Tom Dooley was hung
Play "St. James Infirmary" and the Court of King James
If you want to remember, you better write down the names
Play Etta James, too, play "I'd Rather Go Blind"
Play it for the man with the telepathic mind
Play John Lee Hooker, play "Scratch My Back"
Play it for that strip club owner named Jack
Guitar Slim going down slow
Play it for me and for Marilyn Monroe
​
[Verse 5]
Play "Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"
Play it for the First Lady, she ain't feeling any good
Play Don Henley, play Glenn Frey
Take it to the limit and let it go by
Play it for Carl Wilson, too
Looking far, far away down Gower Avenue
Play "Tragedy", play "Twilight Time"
Take me back to Tulsa to the scene of the crime
Play another one and "Another One Bites the Dust"
Play "The Old Rugged Cross" and "In God We Trust"
Ride the pink horse down that long, lonesome road
Stand there and wait for his head to explode
Play "Mystery Train" for Mr. Mystery
The man who fell down dead like a rootless tree
Play it for the reverend, play it for the pastor
Play it for the dog that got no master
Play Oscar Peterson, play Stan Getz
Play "Blue Sky," play Dickey Betts
Play Art Pepper, Thelonious Monk
Charlie Parker and all that junk
All that junk and "All That Jazz"
Play something for the Birdman of Alcatraz
Play Buster Keaton, play Harold Lloyd
Play Bugsy Siegel, play Pretty Boy Floyd
Play the numbers, play the odds
Play "Cry Me a River" for the Lord of the gods
Play Number nine, play Number six
Play it for Lindsey and Stevie Nicks
Play Nat King Cole, play "Nature Boy"
Play "Down in the Boondocks" for Terry Malloy
Play "It Happened One Night" and "One Night of Sin"
There's twelve million souls that are listening in
Play "Merchant of Venice", play "Merchants of Death"
Play "Stella by Starlight" for Lady Macbeth
Don't worry, Mr. President, help's on the way
Your brothers are comin', there'll be hell to pay
Brothers? What brothers? What's this about hell?
Tell them, "We're waiting, keep coming," we'll get them as well
Love Field is where his plane touched down
But it never did get back up off the ground
Was a hard act to follow, second to none
They killed him on the altar of the rising sun
Play "Misty" for me and "That Old Devil Moon"
Play "Anything Goes" and "Memphis in June"
Play "Lonely at the Top" and "Lonely Are the Brave"
Play it for Houdini spinning around in his grave
Play Jelly Roll Morton, play "Lucille"
Play "Deep in a Dream", and play "Driving Wheel"
Play "Moonlight Sonata" in F-sharp
And "A Key to the Highway" for the king on the harp
Play "Marching Through Georgia" and "Dumbarton's Drums"
Play "Darkness" and death will come when it comes
Play "Love Me or Leave Me" by the great Bud Powell
Play "The Blood-Stained Banner", play "Murder Most Foul"

A few years back I thought of an interesting alternative setting for V:tM, I wanted to talk a bit about it and maybe get some feedback.
Centuries ago, all of the vampires disappeared for some unknown reason. Since then, what has arisen in their place has been the Revenant families. These families all have their legends of how their creators might have disappeared, but none know for sure. Over time, the families have grown into powerful organizations, having great wealth in the mortal world along with their own organizations and laws. To make things a bit more interesting, I beefed up the Disciplines and powers available to the Revenants a bit.
​
The Genos is an organization centered in Eastern Europe, made up of those families who once served the Tzimisce.
Bratovich
The Bratovitch are the most savage and perhaps inhuman of the Revenant families. For countless generations they have removed themselves from humanity, living in dilapidated manors deep within the woods, raising animals and living almost as animals themselves. Many members of other families see the Bratovitch family as more of a liability than an asset in the modern nights, though this bizarre family have proven their loyalty to the Genos time and time again and they are magnificent warriors, trackers, animal trainers, and scouts. In the modern era, what little wealth that these bestial Revenants might have had in the past has largely been lost and they are forced to do services for wealthier families in exchange for payment or simply live simple lives off the land or on old farmsteads.
Grimaldi
This family has dedicated itself to pursuing wealth and gaining temporal power. Among their ranks are businessmen, lawyers, bankers, and others who pull the strings of modern society. They are a forward looking family who easily interact with mortals and stay up to date on current affairs, allowing them to become perhaps the wealthiest family in the modern era. On the downside, because they have married into powerful mortal families through the ages, the vampiric blood in their veins is a bit weaker and they have less supernatural potency than most of the other Revenant families.
Khavi
The Khavi were once the fanatical servants of an ancient vampire that they considered a god. Worshiped this god and did his bidding without question. When the Masters disappeared, the high priests of this family continued to lead the younger members in worship, prophesizing that one day their god would return more powerful than ever before.
In the centuries since that time, the Khavi have continued to await the day that god would return, conducting strange ceremonies far away from the prying eyes of humanity. As part of an ancient tradition dating back millennia, the high priests or patriarchs of the family took many numerous wives from among the women of the family, including their own daughters. To show their devotion to their god, they sacrificed male infants, leading the Khavi family to be comprised almost entirely of women. It is said that the families high priests who rule today are so old that they still remember the days when the Masters trod the earth.
Despite the very patriarchal nature of the family, the Khavi are ironically one of the families where females have the most influence. As the ancient high priests are few in number and removed from the world, it is often their female children and grandchildren who run the practical affairs of the family. Few members of other families have even seen one of the patriarchs, they have become almost mythical.
Today, the Khavi cling to their old customs. Their crumbling estates are always near water, in the depths of marshes and swamps, and they rarely interact with anyone outside the family. Where they live there are always legends of strange encounters, of lost colonies of mad lepers, mutants or witches, of strange disappearances and curses. They commune with the spirits that dwell in the stagnant water and the moss-covered trunks, under the moist earth and in the mist-filled air, and offer them their own flesh and blood in maddening pacts for who knows what purpose.
Obertus
The Obertus are a family of mysterious scholars and occultists. They are known not only for their libraries of ancient knowledge but also for their scientific endeavors and study of the strange mystical biology of Revenants. They also have a well known interest in experimentation on humans as well as supernatural creatures along with eugenics and breeding of sapient beings. The Obertus closely guard their secrets and are not only the mystics of the Genos, but information brokers as well. They are regarded as eccentric geniuses among the other families, for with their great minds also comes madness and obsession.
Vlaszy
The Vlaszy were once a noble respected family. They served the Tzimisce and knights and warriors, pledging their loyalty to their vampiric lords to the death. After the disappearance of their masters and absorbing several smaller families, the Vlaszy continue to follow the traditions of honor and obligation that the family has values for generation upon generation. Now they act as not only warriors of the Genos, but as police, mediators, and judges as their reputation still stands high among the Revenant families. They are also highly valued as diplomats and messengers both between the Genos families and among outsiders.
Zantosa
A competitor with the Grimaldi for wealth and power. For the Zantosa family, are not a goal in and of itself but a means to achieve pleasure and debauchery. Members of this family seek out and indulge in every forbidden pleasure and also gain influence in helping the rich and powerful indulge in their own hidden desires. As time has passed, the Zantosa have slipped a bit in worldly influence, but are still considerably powerful.
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The Onorata Società are another faction of Revenants, based out of Italy, they are descended from those who served the Cappadocians or Giovanni.
Dunsirn
Long ago, the Dunsirn were a reclusive Scottish family of cannibals and brigands. As time passed they were able to amass great wealth and even legitimacy in the worlds of banking and business. They served the old masters as both muscle and money, now they maintain a high place in the Onorata Società, second only to the group's ruling family. They have great wealth and power, as well as a veneer of respectability, though they still practice cannibalism and other unwholesome family rituals on their private estates.
Rafastio
The Rafastio are an ancient family of witches who hale from northern Italy. They once loosely allied themselves with the Black Hand, but since the disappearance of the Masters, they have turned away from the Black Hand. The Leaders of the Black Hand would not tolerate this affront, especially since the Rafastio knew too many of their secrets, and have ruthlessly hunted the Rafastio ever since. The Rafastio, being an ancient family of mystics and haling from Italy just as the Rossellini did, formed an alliance and joined the Onorata Società, conditionally providing their mystical knowledge and abilities for access to some of the safety and resources that the Onorata Società could provide. They are still very secretive and like to maintain their independence, though they do their duty when called upon.
Rossellini
Known as the Rossius in ancient times, this family of potent Necromancers trace their lineage back to Ancient Rome. For many years they fought bitterly for rulership over the Onorata Società with another Italian Necromancer family, the Giovanni. The Rossellini were eventually victorious and the Giovanni fell from influence, leaving the Rossellini as the uncontested masters of Necromancy and the Onorata Società. While not as closely tied to the world of mortals as many other families, they make up for this with the potent command of Necromancy, their ability to acquire knowledge and information, and the ruthless will to use them to greatest effect.
Giovanni and the Minor Families
It is said that, among all the families chosen by the ancient masters, the Giovanni were the most favored. Many of them were given the Blood, and they grew out of their relatively humble merchant roots into what showed promise of a world power. Like many Italian merchants of the Renaissance, they even meddled in politics.
But all that came to an end when the Masters disappeared. Suddenly, the Giovanni were left without their protectors, and surrounded by enemies, specifically the Rossellini. Outcompeted by their rivals, the Giovanni fell hard, being forced to scatter in all directions and intermarry with minor families like the Putanesca. But the elders of the family swore vengeance. In the last several centuries, they have been crawling out of the gutter, not as merchants, but as political schemers and manipulators. They have wormed their way into the Masons, the Carbonarii, the Catholic Church, the Organized Crime families and many political parties, in Italy and elsewhere.
While the Rossellini stayed more or less true to their roots as Necromancers, the Giovanni family branched out and intermarried with a number of other families around the world, known either for their mystical abilities, great wealth and influence, or both. The most prominent of the minor families are the Giovanni, but there are many other minor families such as the Rothsteins, the Pisanob, the Putanesca, Milliners, and Della Passaglia. The Rothsteins are family with its fingers in organized crime, gambling, and banking. The Pisanob, a family which traces it's ancestry and master of Necromancy back to pre-Columbian Central America. The Milliners are a well connected American business and political family. The Puttanesca are a Sicilian crime family known for it's brutality. While the blood is quite among these minor families, collectively they are quite numerous, extremely wealthy, and influential both in the legitimate business world and the underworld of organized crime.
Because they have so spread out their blood across numerous families, the Giovanni have lost much of their old mystical puissance, but they make up for this with numbers, wealth, and connections.
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The Black Hand
The Black Hand is a cult like affiliation of families who worship a group of the ancient masters, believing that one day they will return and rule the world. They are the most diverse group of Revenants, drawing families and members from all over the world. They see a utopic vision of the future when the ancient masters awaken and become gods of the world.
Enrathi
Once known as slavers and child snatchers, the Enrathi still handle the dirty jobs for the Black Hand. They assassinate enemies, intimidate victims, are involved in organized crime including the trade of sex slaves, and just as days of old - they capture children to become chatterlings. These children are no longer turned into vampires, but either raised as fanatical child soldiers in service to the Black Hand or used as breeding stock for expanding the numbers of the Black Hand families.
Keskinen
This strange family of mystics and madmen are said to fear the light of day as much as the ancient masters did. It has long been their desire to blot the sun from the sky and to do so they have been seeking out mystical knowledge over the centuries. Though not originally aligned with the Black Hand, they came to believe that by darkening the sun, they could reawaken the ancient masters and so they became incorporated this belief into the Black Hand cult dedicated to the greatest of the masters.
Krevcheski
This family was once tied to the Genos, but betrayed them long ago and fled to the Black Hand for help. The Krevcheski were once known as skillful craftsmen, scholars, and engineers. Today, they still pride themselves on being well educated and skillful, providing a number of valuable services to the Black Hand - such as medical doctors, weapons and explosive experts, technicians, and computer experts. They also have access to stolen occult knowledge of the Obertus, something which has earned them to eternal enmity of that family.
Marijava
Once a death cult who served the ancient masters as spies or assassins, they now lead the Black Hand as high priests. This secretive family knows maintains the ancient knowledge of their slumbering gods, ready to create a new church when they return to rule the world. They indoctrinate the children captured by the Enrathi in the faith and seek to spread their message to mortals of influence as well. They are still not above using treachery or assassination to deal with troublesome nonbelievers.
Katayama
The Katayama are the only Revenant family to be created since the disappearance of the masters. They were created from some of the children captured by the Enrathi, using mystical knowledge which the Krevcheski took from the Genos before their betrayal. They are a weak blooded family with little mastery over supernatural abilities more common to Revenants, though they are also fanatically devoted to the Black Hand and increasingly numerous.
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Independant Families
Kairouan
The Kairouan Brotherhood, now simply known as the Kairouan, was created to be spies, assassins, and thieves by their masters in the ancient days. Given large amounts of independence even before the masters' disappearance, the Kairouan now revel in their independence. They have no loyalty to any other organization, but instead sell their services to other Revenant families for the same purpose for which they were created - to gather information, sabotage, assassination, theft, reconnaissance, and other missions involving stealth.
D'Habi
The D'Habi are perhaps the oldest of the Revenants, dating back to the ancient middle east. They serve creatures which even the ancient masters feared, or worshipped, demons or children of the darkness. Adept at both dark sorceries and social manipulation, the D'Habi family seeks to gain worshippers for the dark gods while amassing temporal power and preying upon human sinfulness. Some members of this family easily move through high society, while others are too touched by their masters and must remain hidden from the prying eyes of humanity.
The Yiaroi, the Chosen
Once called the Servants of Anushin-Rawan, the Yiaroi live exclusively on the small Aegean island of Yiaros. They avoid embroiling themselves in the affairs of other families, maintaining strict neutrality and peaceful relations with others. Their island has come to be known as a neutral place where members of the other families can arrange for meetings or merely find solace. The other families have agreed to respect the neutrality of the Yiaroi through the years have mostly respected the island as a sanctuary where meetings can be held. In this way, the desire to stay out of family politics has allowed the Yiaroi to gain not inconsiderable influence. Many say that they have dark secrets.
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There is a bit more, plus some rule issues, which I will spare you for now. Does anybody have any thoughts on this?