An Open Letter To The “Christian Witch”

Hello dear reader(s)!

Dear Christian Witches,

Are you Christian?  Are you also a witch?

No, you’re not!  There is no such thing as a Christian witch!

“But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.” – Revelation 21:8, King James Version of the bible.  

If you practice witchcraft, you are what was a sorcerer in that translation.  You would be considered to be an idolater.  Your ass would be hanged, burned, or otherwise tortured to death and you would be labeled a heretic, before being condemned to “second death” in a fucking lake of fire.  Revelation is a New Testament book too, so I will accept no lame-ass excuses about the old rules no longer applying because of Jesus.  The Old Testament is even worse on the subject.

While many witches and pagans go our of their way to twist and turn the history of one of the world’s most oppressive religions into something they have an easier time “coexisting” with, I sit back and shake my head.  Especially as I encounter more and more “Christian witches” in my witch circles.  As we attempt to be less exclusionary than the Abrahamic religions, we often end up making excuses for people and things that need not be excused.  In order to be more “tolerant”, we attempt to coexist with people and a system that has no interest in coexisting with anyone else.

Tolerance is a two-way street.  Just as the Jewish prisoners of the Warsaw Ghetto had no obligation to tolerate the Nazi authorities, we as witches have no obligation to tolerate the Christians who regularly demonstrate their outright disdain for anyone who doesn’t believe in their version of a differently translated deity in an often contradictory set of books cobbled together to resemble a story with more plot holes than a combining of all the Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies.

History shows it is unwise to attempt to tolerate those who would not tolerate you, and yet, we all do it out of some misguided belief that people are not capable of being as fucked-up as some are.  If you don’t want to go all the way back to the attempts made to appease Hitler, you can simply look at the time the Democrats last had the majority, wanted to pass significant legislation, the “nuclear option” (changing Senate procedure thus preventing Filibusters when your party only has a simple majority) was brought up, the Democrats balked, lost the majority, the Republicans decided to block their Supreme Court nominee, and then used that very same “nuclear option” to steal the seat.  The Republicans had decided to stop at nothing to destroy the Democrats, the Democrats knew it, had the tools at their disposal to stop the Republican machine in its tracks, and decided it was better that they look like the bigger people.  Actually, that’s quite common with the Democrats, but I digress.

I am sorry you can’t let go of your brainwashing.  I get it, your parents put you in a brainwashing program called Sunday School, continued that in church, probably made you watch Veggie Tales or The Chronicles of Narnia, and society reinforces it on your money, your sports, plaques at schools and courthouses, all over media, and every viable political leader in this nation.  Fine.  I do not think that makes you a terrible person.  In fact, I do not even think that believing that only those who think, believe, and live like you will have this wonderfully boring afterlife makes you a terrible person.  Don’t legislate against me, respect my decision to disagree with you, and sure, we can coexist.

But first of all, that’s not what happens, is it?  You might not attempt to legislate or convert me directly, but the Christian churches you go to, tithe to, and support, all almost universally – do.  You may not be against marriage equality, but chances are your church actively lobbied against it, or to codify their right to discriminate against others under the guise of “religious freedom”.  This isn’t new, it is ingrained in your religion’s history because of the central tenant that your God and only your God is to be believed.

Second, and more importantly, my rituals, my witchy web pages, my circles, my traditions, and my gatherings all attempts to recover and reconnect with belief systems that were stolen and re-branded by your fucking religion, while wiping out those who would not follow.  That’s like dancing on a grave.

If you want to learn more about what I believe, by all means, let’s talk.  But you can’t walk on more than one path, especially when they lead in completely opposite directions.

Remember, it isn’t me being exclusionary here.  That is what you believe.  It says so, right in that book you claim is the word of your infallible God.  So for everyone’s sake, stop calling yourself a witch, and stay away from my path.

…Unless of course, you don’t believe?

 

 

 

 

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The Southeast Asia Presentation

“I just can’t help but feel like everyone has it wrong,” he told her, as he looked up into her loving eyes.  “It’s like everyone out there is doing everything they can to be UNhappy.”

“No argument from me on that,” she replied.  Her brow furrowed in the way that told him she was deep in thought before she asked, “What makes us so different?”

“Other than the earth-shattering orgasms?” he asked with a sly smile.

“Well, that might be a big part of it, huh?” she laughed.

He got out of bed, showered, and got dressed for work.  He was a little nervous about his presentation before the board, but felt prepared.  He grabbed his best suit, and saw that she had it pressed for him the day before.  She was always doing things like that for him.  He buttoned up the suit jacket and got ready to leave.  He grabbed a scone she had made, and his coffee in his commuter mug, and gave her a passionate kiss before asking, “What is on your agenda today?”

“I need to handle this dispute with the city over the easement area.  If they fuck up my garden with their stupid fucking trucks, I am suing.  They need to stick to the access road and they know it!” she finished, trying not to get aggravated.

“Grrrrrr!  Fuck yeah!  Go get ’em!  Damn you’re hot when you’re about to get shit done!  I can’t wait to get home to you later this evening and we can get something else done, if ya know what I’m sayin’,” he winked.

“You have no game!’ she laughed, “Get to work and go get us that money.  There are some new toys for our collection that I have my eye on.”

“Mmmmm!” he smiled, as he smacked her ass on his way out of the door.

“Drive safe!” she called out to him.  “I owe you a smack on the ass!”

“Can’t wait!” he called back from the car, beaming from ear to ear.

She walked back into the house as he backed out of the driveway.  She felt peaceful in her shower, ready for a great day.  She even sang along with her favorite “bad bitch” songs to gear up for her sparring match with the city.  She was dancing around to the music, when she slipped on a piece of soap and fell to the bottom of the tub with a hard thud.

Meanwhile, he was pulling into the parking garage of the office building that housed his company’s headquarters.  An Executive Vice President in charge of Logistics, he was due to give a presentation to the Board of Directors about the potential benefits of expanding into the difficult Southeast Asian market.  He believed that while risky, economic factors were perfectly set-up for a consumer boom not seen since the US after World War II.  If he could get the board to invest, and it paid off the way he knew it would, he was certain that he would be the top candidate for CEO when Stevenson took his golden parachute at the end of the next fiscal year.

The first thing she felt was her head pounding.  She opened her eyes, but could not see anything.  Her mind began to race.  She wondered if she had knocked herself blind.  She felt something over her eyes, and realized that she was not blind, but blindfolded.  Then the panic really set in.  She tried to get up to run, but realized she was tied down.  She was no longer in a tub, she was tied to a bed!

The presentation was a slam-dunk.  The President of the Board had been interested in pushing into Southeast Asia for some time, but lacked the data and solid research to convince everyone else to go along.  His work was exactly what they needed to forge ahead.

“Don’t be afraid,” the voice told her.  “I don’t want to hurt you very much,” he added.

She felt the light touch of fingertips on her thigh and tried to thrash around.  It was of no use with the ties holding her down.  The touch was familiar, and although unwelcome, it caused her skin to tingle and she felt a slight shiver.

He noticed.

“Good girl,” he told her, “I happen to know he won’t mind.”

“What?!?” she exclaimed.

“You have a good security system, you lock doors.  Do you think I am here by accident?”

“What are you saying?” she asked the unknown man.

“Your husband wants this for you.  He says you deserve it.  How is your head?  That fall you took wasn’t part of the plan.  I will admit it was nice that you couldn’t fight back, however,” he said an instant before he put his hand over her heart.

“My head is fine, but do you really think this will work?  Won’t they realize?” she asked her husband.

“If they realize, then our clone-bots don’t deserve a place in the Southeast Asian robotics markets.  Besides, it took you a bit, didn’t it?  Now, wanna keep playing, or does your head hurt too bad?”

 

 

I Like Cannabis

Hello dear reader(s)!

Jeffy doesn’t like cannabis.  Jeffy is a racist piece of shit who lies under oath, but Donny decided to make Jeffy the Attorney General.

Unlike Jeffy, I do like cannabis.  I like cannabis quite a bit.

Why do I like cannabis?

Well, the use of cannabis oil during my cancer fight was an integral part of my survival, for one thing.  It allowed to me eat when I had no appetite, and prevented a lot of nausea when I needed to gain weight.  I had been prescribed every other anti-nausea medication but nothing worked until cannabis.

Then there is the way I used cannabis to be able to get off all of my other more harmful prescription drugs.  During and just after my cancer treatment, I was on so much more narcotics than they would give anyone they actually expected to live.  The transition to cannabis from those pills has been an immensely positive boost to my overall health.  I also replaced the benzos with cannabis and now take a medicine that has no risk of physical withdrawal.

I like cannabis because my insurance denied my request for a safe medication to assist with the pain from the chemotherapy-induced neuropathy in favor of a less expensive medication designed to do the same thing that would have been more harmful to someone with the damage I have.  That left me with no other option to treat that pain.  The cannabis is more effective at controlling the pain of neuropathy according to many sufferers anyway, and does not have the risks of the pharmaceuticals.

I like cannabis because it prevents some of the recurring nightmares and memories of the horrors of my life.  I like cannabis because it can stop me from obsessing over a thought or memory until the point I become disconnected from the moment I am in.  I like cannabis because it allows me a chance to reset me mood when I find it heading in a downward direction.

Those are just some of the medical reasons I like cannabis.

But do you know what?  Those aren’t the only reason I like cannabis.

It also feels good to get high sometimes.

So?

Your chocolate, your coffee, your cigarettes, your alcohol, your prescriptions… all alter your mental state.  The altered mental state that comes as a pleasant side-effect of my medicine helps me to be happy.  It feels good.  It does not hurt me or anyone else, and it does not make me want to hurt anyone or do anything more than smile, laugh, eat, and have sexy times with my lovely fiance.  It is not only no worse for my health than most other substances, but there are numerous health benefits backed by real science the government chooses to ignore or even outright lie about.

When I lived in a state without legal cannabis, I considered attempting to obtain it outside the law.  I decided against it, because I was the one who chose to move to an area where it was prohibited.  There were many days I wanted it, but never did I feel like I would literally die if I didn’t have it.  The benzos and opioids don’t work that way.  While I lived there, I was in the ER more often than other places I had lived, and ended up having to take medication for headaches that was not as effective and had unbearable side effects.  After moving back to a state with state-level recreational cannabis, I no longer have to tax the healthcare system with visits so often.

I like cannabis.  I don’t like Jeff Sessions.  I don’t like anyone who has a problem with me doing something that helps me with living happier and more comfortably in this world with all the issues it has given me.

You don’t have to like cannabis.  I do.  I think it is good for many people, and being able to use it makes me happy.

Don’t we have the right to pursue our happiness when it doesn’t hurt anyone else?

The genie can’t be put back in the bottle on this one.  The people know the truth.  We are tired of being lied to and denied that which can help us to lead more happy lives.  We are tired of being steered toward ineffective and dangerous pills that end up creating more conditions requiring more pills.  (Linzess, anyone?)  We are tired of our government covering up the dangerous known properties of some substances that provide profit for those in power while hiding the benefits of others.

I like cannabis.  The FDA and DEA don’t.

The FDA says cannabis has no medicinal value, in direct contradiction of the vast majority of scientific evidence.  The FDA says that cannabis is dangerous.  Despite extensive research in other countries (Israel has extensive studies of cannabis, and use good science we should recognize), and even some evidence in the extremely limited and biased US studies, the FDA continues think cannabis is more dangerous than substances other people can profit off of.

But as we have seen from all of the food recalls, the FDA, as anything other than a political arm of the industries they are tasked with regulating, has no real value or credibility.  The Food and Drug Administration, can’t even protect our food supply.  They rely on voluntary industry practices, don’t have nearly enough inspectors to know what is going on, and ignore science when the findings might hurt the deep-pocketed companies they are supposed to regulate.  That is just the food portion.  In the drug portion, they are far worse, and their lack of oversight and political motivation directly contributed to the opioid epidemic we see today.  They allow biased industry studies to determine drug approval and as we have all seen, often allow unsafe drugs to be sold that they must later add a black box to or recall altogether.  (After the unnecessary deaths, of course.)  In short, the FDA is a fucking joke.  The DEA, says they have to enforce the law, and pass the buck back to the FDA.  The DEA are probably right about that, but who can even say anymore because they have so shot any credibility they could have had by brutally prosecuting a failed war on drugs that has done nothing but destroy lives?

I like cannabis.  I do not intend to stop using my medicine.  I also would like to pledge to vote for acquittal should I ever be placed on a jury for a cannabis charge.  I would like if you would consider joining me in that pledge.

Featured imnage By Cannabis Training University (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Delaying Posts

Hello dear reader(s)!

If you were looking for instructions on scheduling a post, I think you have come to the wrong place.  Either that or when you hit that “Publish” button and it asks if you want to publish it immediately or publish it later, you click the drop-down, choose a date and then enter the time you would like to publish it.

However, that is neither here nor there.  You see, this post isn’t about the delaying of publishing posts, it is about the delaying of writing said posts because the topic(s) are just too depressing to want to delve into and you would rather focus on the happiness in your personal life than attempt to solve the world’s problems by delving into the source of a large portion of those problems.  It is a particularly perplexing problem I posses, one I am positive I must presently purge.

In other words, don’t expect anything too heavy from me for a while.  I am aware shit is going on, and people must speak about said shit, but I’m fucking tired, man, and need a break.  Life in my tiny bubble is currently good, and I need to focus on that right now in order to keep what little sanity I still think would be good to have.

The most amazing woman is dozing on the couch right next to me at this moment.  I had a delicious dinner.  My fingers and toes hurt, but not so bad that I can’t deal with it.  It’s cold and dry here, but in this room, I am cozy.  Yes, I have been feeling a little sick off and on today.  Yes, I have many things I need to do tomorrow.  Yes, I had to go get a phlebotomy today.  Yes, I am tired from sleeping poorly last night.  Yes, there are a lot of things happening that will negatively affect me or already are.  But all the things that really matter to me are currently okay, and that’s more than I’ve been able to say for longer than I care to admit.

So I am delaying the heavy posts for a bit.  I’m going to be writing things that I like, not things I don’t.  Things like posts about the full moon ritual I performed last night that felt so magical and led to an instant epiphany. Or I could write about the benefits of cannabis to enhance the craft.  I could write more about sex!  I could write about food.  I could write about the people I see doing stuff I like, or that I think helps others or makes the world a tiny bit better, rather than my standard negative rants.

I’m done being negative.  Maybe this world is going to hell in a hand basket and we are all doomed for homelessness or nuclear annihilation, but I intend to go out hooping and hollering when that mushroom cloud goes up because I’m in my deluxe refrigerator box making love to my fiance should that scenario occur.

The world is pain.  So fuck the world, and do what you want.

I am going to write about shit I like now.  I hope that doesn’t bother anyone here.  If it does, you can kindly fuck right the fuck off because I like saying the word “fuck” a lot and I said that would be writing about shit I like now, fucking fuckers.

I set out to write this little post letting you know that I just wasn’t currently in the mood to write about heavy stuff, but honestly, I am not sure I will be in that mood again.

A while ago I would probably kick my own ass for saying this kind of thing, but I really don’t think my two cents on a lot of the heavier topics is needed or wanted anyway.  Sure, I may have helped some people see things in a different light or learn something from a post I compiled using other sources, but I really don’t think much would be missing without my voice.  Most of the heavy stuff is already being talked about, by people who are in a much better position to influence people.

Maybe my contribution to changing what I don’t like, is to simply amplify the alternatives that I do like.  Or maybe just to remind people that life doesn’t always suck, or certainly doesn’t have to suck as hard as we sometimes make it.

So when I say I am delaying those heavy posts, I should add the word “indefinitely” to the end.  I am not sure when or if I will ever think that something  heavy absolutely needs to have my voice added to the debate.  In the meantime, I am going to keep things positive.

So here is some good right now from this last week.

Never mind, it’s too dirty for this blog-type-thing.

Anyway, so there shall be some fictional stories, some reviews of stuff I like, some thoughts on good people and why they are good, and other stuff that may remind people there is more to life than all the shit we make it into.  Rather than focus on how bad and wrong things are, maybe I can find and share some examples or ideas on how to do it right.

That is my New Year’s gift to you!

Now what did you get me?  Was it cash?

Blah g Type Thing

‘Ello dear reader(s)!

Hi.  I am posting to keep posting, but today has gone by much faster than I had originally planned.  This day got away from me like Frank Lee Morris got away from Alcatraz.  It got away from me like the ball that was hit as Jhonny Peralta’s inside-the-park home run got away from Ryan Rayburn in a July, 2010 Tigers-Indians game.  It got away from me like the concept of a government of the people, by the people, and for the people got away from the American public.

So anyway, I was going to write a well-thought-out piece about how nobody knows what to believe anymore, why, and how that fact is destroying civilization, but instead, I am sitting here getting ready to go take some medicine for the fact that the colder night air is setting off my neuropathy before commencing with the evening family fun that does not involve sitting in front of a computer.

I intend to write my post tomorrow, however, I intend to do a lot of things that never get done.  I intended to be a multimillionaire by age 21.  I intended to win the Nobel Peace Prize.  I intended to solve all of the world’s problems.

So Imma gonna spenda little time a-readin’ some of y’all’s posts before I go have fun.  I wish you all a peaceful and happy whatever day it is when and where you read this.  May the force be with you, and also with you.  3580220.

Satan’s Chicken

Hello dear reader(s)!

I had just written my 990th word on a post about big changes coming for the next year, when I realized I don’t want to telegraph my intentions yet.  So I scrapped it, and now you get to read this fascinating post with a title that is not at all pertinent to any topic discussed for nearly the entire remainder of this post, its subsidiaries, and all affiliates.  Void where prohibited.

My post was well-written, and I was quite proud of it, but I feel as though it would ruin the fun for which I have in store only display model, regular price $99.99.

So now you are reading a post called Satan’s Chicken that doesn’t even really talk about Satan, nor his delicious chicken recipe of 666 herbs and spices.

So, what shall we talk about?

Let’s go over my favorite things to talk about, shall we?

Ready?

Okay!

How funky is your chicken, how loose is your goose?  How loose is your goose?  So come on all you followers and shake your caboose.  Shake your caboose.

Here are a few of my favorite topics, in no particular order.

  1. Sex  I’ve kinda beaten that one to death unless I get all explicit or confessional up on your asses, and no, those were not purposeful euphemisms.
  2. Cannabis  AKA Weed, AKA medicine, AKA, should be fucking legal already and is the only thing that even comes near touching my neuropathy.  Maybe another day.  I have made my opinions clear on that topic and feel no need to beat that one to death either.  Except right now I am strongly against laws that limit delivery to patients with a medical card which I could obtain if I felt like waiting forever for the medical card, and paying the fee up front, instead of in the form of higher taxes each time I buy recreationally for my medical condition.  Still, with the lower per-transaction prices and the higher limits, it might be something that I should look into – although my desire to leave within the next year makes me think it might not be worth it.  One bad thing about my medicine, is that even though I have replaced numerous prescriptions for this one, insurance doesn’t cover it so it can be a bit pricey.
  3. Politics  What politics?  There are no politics.  Only a sale of what we all have built to the world’s most powerful horders of wealth and resources.
  4. Music  Heard any good music lately?  I haven’t.   Nothing to talk about there either.
  5. Love  I’m in it.  Y’all knew that already.
  6. Blogging  I intend to more often because I need to get back into it.

Well, I am at a loss.  Another one of those moments where I have a ton to say, but think I might want to keep that quiet for just now.

So thank you for reading this post that is only really here to keep me posting.  I love you all.  Send love to pop-pop and his concubine.  Tell Timmy that Lassie just went to a nice farm where she can run and play all day long.  May your chicken be delicious, with the glory of our dark lord Satan in every bite.

*I don’t believe in Satan, which is why I have no problem eating his/her/its delicious chicken.  

 

2017

Hello dear reader(s)!

Well, what the fuck can I say?  This has been a year.

I have no idea what kind of year, other than a really fucking eventful one that somewhat resembles a rapid cycling bipolar demon on meth.

Anyway, I am having trouble deciding how I will remember this year.  On the one hand, I met my love, who I am certain I was literally destined to be with, and on the other…. our country fell to fascism.

My health has both improved and regressed.

I have become both more generous and selfish with who I am generous to.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.  It’s like we are all getting roughly fucked by this year to the point where at times, it hurts too much to enjoy it.

2017 has been about rediscovering me, what matters to me, and being me without apology.  In that rediscovery, I feel I have grown.

My lovely fiance, has been the driving force behind much of that growth.  She saw me, and loves me, and so she is helping me be much more me.  With her, I feel better about myself (with the exception of my health), than I ever have.  Her love of those aspects of me I was always a little ashamed of or feared judgment about have greatly improved my self-opinion.  I hope I have helped her grow as well, as I see and love all sides of her, hidden or not, light or dark.

The biggest thing that I have learned this year, is that I just don’t belong.  I belong with my fiance.  I belong with some family.   I belong with a chosen small group of friends.  I belong with the few like-minded people who have no taste for the fucked-up way our society works.  Trump’s election, while a catastrophe, did serve to cause me to stop trying to fit in with so many people in this goddamn backwards country and only bother trying to hold or maintain relationships with those who I consider my tribe.  Us weirdos, who are only weird because we don’t choose to so willingly conform to the expectations of a failing society.

I am getting better at brushing off the negativity of those who still believe that misogyny and racism make a geographic region great.   I am getting better at ignoring the notion that people are successful if they drive a certain car or make a certain figure at the job they work in order to support the family that they lose connection to while working too much to provide for that family.  I am getting better at rejecting the advice of people who never really seemed as happy as I have been, or who have no idea what I have been through, or have been actively responsible for the terrible life choices I have been presented with.

In 2017 I realize that anyone who has an issue with me, has never walked in my shoes.  And when I think of how fucked up they are, despite their advantages, their lack of catastrophic illness, and not having to face even one-tenth of what I have faced but still feeling like maybe I have my shit better together than they do in what actually matters to me, well, 2017 is the year that says I am glad they have issues with me, because I have issues anyone who thinks they have some clue how I should behave.

It occurs to me, that I never wanted the life that was taken from me anyway.  I never wanted that 40 hour a week office job that created nothing but profits for a behemoth conglomerate exploiting my labor so that I can stress myself to a heart attack while missing out on life.  I never wanted that plan that was predetermined for me.  Maybe I knew somehow, that it wouldn’t be possible anyway.  But more likely, I knew I was never cut out for a life resembling most people, because from an early age I knew most people were fucking miserable.

My biggest regret is ever being swayed away from myself in the first place.  I only ever wanted a creative life since I was young.  But my generation was pushed so damn hard into academic, paper-pushing jobs that were all downsized while we were in school anyway.  Now that I am disabled, somehow getting lucky from selling some creative work is the only chance I have to really generate any wealth that is available to me.  And given that people who work for other people haven’t really been able to generate their own wealth in decades without property gambling… it seems as though more creativity is  also the only chance for many others who aren’t physically unable to hold a “normal” job.  The problem is, if I had been able to devote more time and effort to creative pursuits than to the useless paper chase that was school, that long-shot chance of getting lucky selling something creative would be much less long.  I must admit, I am still deeply resentful that I was purposefully steered toward a life that could only bring mediocrity in the best of circumstances.

I shouldn’t have listened.  I never should have conformed to what others wanted from me.  I wish it didn’t take me so long to realize that.  2017 is not the year that I should have figured out that I can’t stand the thought of being anyone but me.  Oh well, better late than never.

I am excited for 2018.  I am ready to live next year with both middle fingers extended to those who try to tell me how to live it.

Featured Image by By Dan Bennett from Seattle, USA (DSC_2046 Uploaded by X-Weinzar) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons