Demonology for Atheists

Most of us are familiar at this point with the concept of a Collective Unconscious, with which many who identify as Atheist or Agnostic will often associate any inexplicable phenomena they encounter in their conscious experience.

It’s ‘The Universe’, or the Agnostic God, the thing that explains Synchronicity, as Jung put forth. And I’m only so initiated into Jung’s thinking—I don’t believe I’ve read anything of his in its entirety, anyway—so it might be I missed a nuance of it, but it’s occurred to me lately that there’s an aspect of this model I’ve been overlooking, as I’ve applied it to my life. So, perhaps, have we all.

The Unconscious human mind is full of impulses, both noble and vile. Within Human Nature, we have both the impulse to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of others, and also the impulse to sacrifice others for our own sakes. That is why we call the act ‘Forsaking’.

So, if we talk about a ‘Collective Unconscious’ as being God, would it not be logical to deduce that there was a dualistic nature to this quasi-deity? There would be both an unconscious force of loving devotion, and also one of resentful aggression—and they would break down into micromoments among humans, and these refracted expressions of the Hostile or the Generous Act would also find expression in the many gestures of Macroviolence that are often the products of organized Human Will in this brutalistic global society.

What is the essence of Evil? I have heard it described as Selfishness but it occurs to me that it is entirely natural, to the pinpoint locus of a Human Consciousness, to perceive itself as the center of the Universe, at least on a base level—I don’t think that is evidence of Ill will, in and of itself.

I think the essence of Evil is when one’s self-indulgence guides them to seek profit at the expense of the Other. And by this I don’t mean ANOTHER, I mean THE OTHER—the one we tell ourselves doesn’t matter as much as our own people do.

This is the essential dynamic of Cannibalism, incidentally—Just to use an extremely sensationalized comparison. And I don’t think the evidence is universal that a Human Being will always forsake its fellow, just because the Other offers a path to oneself’s own salvation. In Nathaniel Philibrick’s Historical recounting, In the Heart of the Sea, I was stricken by the story of one Owen Coffin, nephew of the Captain George Pollard Jr., on the legendary Nantucket whaleship, the Essex.

This is not to be confused with the horribly misguided Ron Howard film adaptation of the same name from within the last decade—that was a travesty of compromising and hyperbolic fictionalization (WTF, Opie!), of a story that is already nearly perfect in the cautionary narrative it evokes for our Species.

You might not be aware that the story of the whaleship Essex was Herman Melville’s true-life inspiration for the plot of Moby Dick. He himself was a mariner for much of his life, and the tale was better than well-known in his day—indeed, it was one of the early Gospels of modern seafaring Culture. Essentially, the story comes to a climax when—apparently ignoring all sorts of ill omens—Pollard insists on sailing the Nantucket-based vessel deep into the Pacific, toward the Galapagos. Some men had even abandoned ship, at a port in South America, so sure were they of an imminent doom on the horizon. It’s all documented in the book In the Heart of the Sea, in breathtaking detail (really, read this book some day).

The ship comes upon a massive quarry at one point—a supernaturally immense White Whale, which becomes angry and pursues them. Eventually it rams and it thrashes the mighty vessel into splinters, as the surviving crew make off in their handful of 20-foot-long forward harpoon boats (rowboats, essentially).

They drift for weeks; find an island with a sea turtle population, where they take a rest and feed. Then they pack the boats with turtle meat and head off again. After they run out of turtle, still adrift on the Pacific (in 1820), they begin to draw straws to see who will be made into a meal for the collective.

It’s a grim account, at points hard to read. But one moment really hit me like a sack of bricks (to the extent I wrote and recorded a song about it). Owen Coffin, the teenaged nephew of Captain George Pollard, Jr., draws a short straw—meaning he takes a bullet in the head and gets sawed into cutlets. Captain George offers to take the straw from him, and Owen refuses, saying (paraphrased) “All things being the same, I like this lot as well as any other,” and his friend—who’d drawn the straw to do the deed—despatched him.

Apparently, when the men were finally found by another seafaring vessel, they were sucking on the bones of their dead shipmates; reluctant to part with them. That’s the fate Owen Coffin avoided, by grace of his submission to his own.

And this illustrates a handy thing about Evil: it often feels justified to the perpetrator. I’m not trying to shame people who survive extraordinary odds by cannibalism, necessarily. But how many mass murderers, who survive their apprehension into custody, don’t express some sort of deep-seated resentment of society when interviewed about their reasons for doing it? Something in their past collaborated in setting the stage, for their Divergence.

As Americans, we are taking part daily, hourly—every living moment, really—in a great deal of extreme Evil being perpetrated around the world, in the name of our own Global Economic Hegemony; which is to say, the ensuring of our maximum profit at the expense of the rest of the world’s people. We forsake, as a collective, real living human beings. So that we can be assured of our enduring Upper Hand.

Our wars, definitely since 9-11, have been unilateral forward actions of Imperial barbarity, all of which have evolved out of well-documented gestures of Official deception—although if you read about Nayirah Al-Sabah, the lead-up to the first Gulf War begins to feel familiarly laced with fabrications and deceptions against the American people, as well.

This is a long, oil-slick chain of brutal Evil, what we’ve all been endorsing with our votes and our taxes. And what’s worse, we keep insisting on propping Servants of the same forces of greed and exploitation into the positions of power in our country. They feel familiar to us, like a brand we can trust. Like Coke, or Pepsi. In all truth, it’s often a real challenge, to tell the difference between the two.

And the effect it’s having, of this deepening placement of trust in this intensifyingly evil mechanism, is the hyper-reactive hostility that’s become the norm between citizens; and in the perversity of our Police Officers’ behavior towards unarmed American citizens. Or in the recent trend lethal clashes between citizens, at protests. That is Hell, coming unloosed.

I know it’s extremely unsexy to even think about Morality, in this culture, but we need to really examine what we’re taking part in, here. This is Evil, there’s just no two ways about it. And in our support and endorsement of that Evil, we are worshipping a secret cult of Demon Princes.

Okay, for those of you who are still reading, allow me to restate:

We are worshipping a secret cult of Demon Princes.

This cult is so secret, I’m almost certain they don’t even know they’re a part of it. They don’t realize what they have become—or, what has become of their forsakened humanity. And that’s what we do, when we forsake a fellow human being. We forsake ourselves, just as Voldemort did in his creation of Horcruxes in the Harry Potter books. He fashioned his own Human essence into something Vile.

Evil is not supernatural, and likewise Demons do not wear hides—that is, until you raise them into yourself through your acts.

Demons are things that live in us and justify the manners in which we forsake one another. “What am I talking about?”, you might ask—well, I’m talking about Family, actually. It’s disgusting, but that’s what I’m talking about.

I think it’s pretty fair to say that every family is, to some extent, dysfunctional. Okay? We still on the same path?

Okay, so in my experience—in my family—there have been certain themes of abuse which have descended through the generations. Each generation does what it can to dismantle the abusive behavior—at least those who don’t become deeply initiated into its indulgence, themselves—but the layers just keep showing up underneath, you know? It’s insidious.

I think this is what a demon is.

It’s that spirit of abuse that haunts a family, over generations—that gargantuan blind eye of truly Narcissistic self-indulgence. Each family has its own flavor, right? And some flavors are more compatible with some people, than others.

It’s like, if you aren’t seeking out the people you find in life based on the spirit of Love you’ve fostered then you’re finding people who connect via the other thing.

You know as well as I do, when it comes down to it, America as a collective body does not show a lot of love for its neighbors—and that’s also reflected inwardly, in the ways Americans treat each other. The behavior we witness and endorse externally becomes reflected internally, as well. It becomes a sickness of the Soul.

It is a Horcrux.

The fact that it takes an Atheist to point this shit out is perhaps the most maddening aspect, too, because all the Christians in this country who supported either Biden or Trump in this last election are doubling down on these truly Satanic Principles of Profit, and forsaking their fellow human beings. Bernie Sanders preached a gospel of abundance and communal fortitude, and most of y’all just shouted from the back of the room that he should “Sit down and shut up.”

Do you think for one moment that going and sitting in a pew for a few hours once a week is going to Save your Soul, after being willing party to Fratricide? Do you not feel the Martyr weep over your grave, as you put that agent of Evil into power?

You have a voice, and if you use it to promote evil you are a mouthpiece of Satan. And let me clarify that—as an atheist—I do not see a lot of value in the employment of that term, save for the potential effect it may have of shaming people who mistakenly identify themselves as Followers of Christ, into thinking about maybe actually living by his principles as a means of securing that identity.

The forces of Good and Evil in our collective Human Nature are the only ones that exist. A Demon is an idea, a thoughtform for which you make a home in your mind; it’s what gives you warrant to take your power at the expense of another. We’ve been doing this on a massive scale, in this pre-func to Global Resource War that has been the last thirty years of American Foreign Military Policy. We even had prophets, warning us along the way, but the gates are wide open now. Ever since Ministry released Psalm 69, really.

I remember when I first heard their song N.W.O.— I thought it sounded cool, but it sort of seemed to sensationalize things, to me (I was, like, 16). I remember my introduction to Rage Against the Machine, too, I was at Lollapalooza ‘93 at the Gorge, and it looked like a riot out of a dystopian science fiction film. It sort of terrified 16 year-old me, actually, and it was alienating to observe the detached glee with which everybody was enjoying these songs, which felt like they were calling us to rise up and eviscerate our oppressors—I honestly couldn’t have told you who was oppressing me, back then, other than my Parents. And the fact is, by the time I was watching Tool give their sermon on the second stage that day—they were moved up to the first stage halfway through the tour; this was their moment of arrival—I was so firmly ensconced the Dystopian Mindset it began to feel like paradise.

And I would come to realize that these bands were only a decade or so older than me, maybe, and had only a slightly larger scope to their perspective than I at that point. And they were the next escalation required by an ignorant society—for whom Sonic Youth’s Teenage Riot was too optimistic, and Cobain’s pristine howl was sicky-sweet.

But the cynicism that Cobain called out to, in his more inward-oriented examinations of the culture, it already existed in us—it lived in our hearts, the natural product of Emotional abuse that was so informative of the Boomer-led household, themselves the first generation to have been publicly shamed for the practice of physical abuse in parenting, which they told us all was much worse than what we’d ended up suffering in its stead.

It made psychic hounddogs of us, as we began to sort out the cognitive dissonance of applied ill will, without having had the benefit of bruises by which to make sense of it all.

It’s not hard to draw connections between our personal senses of cynicism regarding humanity, and the greater American Hypocrisy—the conglomerate lies of military dominance, economic dominance, class dominance, social dominance, interpersonal dominance (anybody else feel like there’s a theme in play, here?).

But the Boomers lamented the misguided transgressions of their kids, crying “Why, God?” into the night as the youth of my generation stayed out late and got hooked on drugs. But they’d inevitably fall asleep under their goose-down comforters, reassured at least by the knowledge that their fortune was secure, thanks to the Nuclear Homicidal Robot that is American Exceptionalism.

The reason young people get into drugs is because of the ways their parents and society abuse them. That is the only reason to prefer chemical alteration to sobriety. That’s why I’m so fond of LSD—it obliterates everything. Only with acid, you get rebuild it all in the image you choose! As long as you don’t get your mind lost, along the way. I like Marijuana because it drowns out the influence of others on my thinking—like my father’s berating and my mother’s badgering, which I sought to evade throughout my childhood.

I hear their voices in the people I meet in the world, when the deny or harrass me.

These demons, which were bequeathed to me by the very people who brought me here, they find purchase in likely individuals I encounter in the world—those vulnerable by the fact of their own familial culture of Demon Worship—and perpetuate those gestures against me, that my parents began.

At least, when I feel beset upon by the world, that is how it feels.

Based upon his own family’s culture of Demon Worship, the personality of the Fiend Donald Trump presents a uniquely emblematic transformation in our culture’s collective sense of Self—he is unashamed of his own Personal Evil. He is aware of it, and makes profound gestures to his audience that indicate his utter lack of inner conflict regarding it.

This is the signal that informed the White Power crowd in America that they should divest themselves of their shame, as well. And, as we all discovered, there was a potent force of commonplace evil simmering in a massive share of our population, waiting for him to exploit it.

Trump wasn’t the first to lack shame, by any means. He’s just the first in whom we’ve seen no attempt to cover up the fact with Spin, or Gaslight. This is a significant turning point, which we ought all mark in our hearts when we consider our relationship to the United States of America, as it presently functions.

Evil is each of our choice, in every moment.

Ever been at a party, where people have brought dogs? And did you ever notice what happens with a guy with massive BDE walks into the room? I’ve seen it happen before—sorry to brag, but when I walk into the room, I tend to part the waters with my energy. And I’ve observed moments where the dogs began snarling at each other for no reason other than the shifted energy of a new human presence—and I’m fairly certain they were responding to the change in their owners’ energy, more than they were to the Alpha entering the room.

That moment—where the issue of dominant authority (that is what we mean, when we speak of an Alpha Male) becomes a question—that opens up a chasm of discord, as the hierarchal order upon which the group’s cohesion relies falls into a writhing mass of individual wills, striving against one another for what they feel is their rightful place of dominance.

But that is only because of Fear of being Dominated.

We fear to think of ourselves as alone, in the world. We have lived in the shadow of that fear, since our earliest biological beginnings. It informs the logic under which we submit to the hierarchy of a group, as individuals. It provides security—from physical harm, sure, but also the hierarchal group secures our access to resources such as shelter, food, and sexual partnership.

That is, if the group is functioning in a healthy and productive way.

Consider a tribal village, in which the chief pays off the strongest members of the tribe to secure his wealth, and then he pays the smartest members of the tribe to devise ways of securing more and more wealth from the labors of his tribespeople—what happens, among the lesser men and women of this tribe under such conditions?

Unless they can convince the strongest and the most intelligent among them to forsake the fortunes they’ve secured for themselves—and work together against the power that oppresses them all—they feed upon one another.

Any of this sounding familiar, yet?

I really like to look at artwork of people with horns. It’s become a popular trope in fantasy and science fiction, lately. Of course, we all know the place from where that visual originates in our collective Cultural Memory. It’s the Devil. He has horns growing out of his Cranium. Like, from the brain itself.

As if its mind had crafted, through some miraculous organic process, these weapons it could use in the world...

But don’t get all freaked out, because the whole mythology regarding the Devil is a bunch of bullshit, the result of which is to actually preserve the legacy of Evil in humankind to a greater degree.

Lucifer was the Angel who was cast out from Heaven by God, and became the ruler of Hell. He was cast down for his audacity—in attempting to Emulate God’s Glory.

This is to say, he sought to be like Christ.

What a weird message to present to the followers of Christ, don’t you think? Almost as if one were attempting to lead them away, from his example?

The Horns of the Devil symbolize the Intellect of Humankind—our central empowerment, in nature.

Like any sharp object, the devices and systems we create with our minds only take on a Moral quality in the world of matter according to those ends to which we apply them. As examined in the climactic Holy Moment of John Steinbeck’s touching epic, East of Eden, one word is the key, and our personal interpretation of it is everything: The Hebrew word, ‘Tim’shel’.

The supporting character Samuel Hamilton (who I love more than almost any other being I’ve encountered, in life or in fiction) discusses the matter of Cain’s fate with Lee, the butler (I guess?) of the Trask family, as they attempt to process the nearly Biblical scale of personal tragedies that had spun into being, in that family’s home. I’m providing the text here because it truly is a fascinating thing to ponder, and the concept is presented in a way which does not ask faith of the audience. It reduces the entire problem of Human Morality to a very fixed and definite scope—the Will of one human being. And it must be decided anew, in every moment of one’s life.

So here is that passage from East of Eden (if you've read it already, you may want to skip down to the end of the sizeable excerpt that follows to finish the rest of my essay—and I hope you’ll read the whole book some day, if you haven’t):

“Do you remember when you read us the sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis and we argued about them?”

“I do indeed. And that’s a long time ago.”

“Ten years nearly,” said Lee. “Well, the story bit deeply into me and I went into it word for word. The more I thought about the story, the more profound it became to me. Then I compared the translations we have—and they were fairly close. There was only one place that bothered me. The King James version says this—it is when Jehovah has asked Cain why he is angry. Jehovah says, ‘If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him.’ It was the ‘thou shalt’ that struck me, because it was a promise that Cain would conquer sin.”

Samuel nodded. “And his children didn’t do it entirely,” he said.

Lee sipped his coffee. “Then I got a copy of the American Standard Bible. It was very new then. And it was different in this passage. It says, ‘Do thou rule over him.’ Now this is very different. This is not a promise, it is an order. And I began to stew about it. I wondered what the original word of the original writer had been that these very different translations could be made.”

Samuel put his palms down on the table and leaned forward and the old young light came into his eyes. “Lee,” he said, “don’t tell me you studied Hebrew!”

Lee said, “I’m going to tell you. And it’s a fairly long story. Will you have a touch of ng-ka-py?”

“You mean the drink that tastes of good rotten apples?”

“Yes. I can talk better with it.”

“Maybe I can listen better,” said Samuel.

While Lee went to the kitchen Samuel asked, “Adam, did you know about this?”

“No,” said Adam. “He didn’t tell me. Maybe I wasn’t listening.”

Lee came back with his stone bottle and three little porcelain cups so thin and delicate that the light shone through them. “Dlinkee Chinee fashion,” he said and poured the almost black liquor. “There’s a lot of wormwood in this. It’s quite a drink,” he said. “Has about the same effect as absinthe if you drink enough of it.”

Samuel sipped the drink. “I want to know why you were so interested,” he said.

“Well, it seemed to me that the man who could conceive this great story would know exactly what he wanted to say and there would be no confusion in his statement.”

“You say ‘the man.’ Do you then not think this is a divine book written by the inky finger of God?”

“I think the mind that could think this story was a curiously divine mind. We have had a few such minds in China too.”

“I just wanted to know,” said Samuel. “You’re not a Presbyterian after all.”

“I told you I was getting more Chinese. Well, to go on, I went to San Francisco to the headquarters of our family association. Do you know about them? Our great families have centers where any member can get help or give it. The Lee family is very large. It takes care of its own.”

“I have heard of them,” said Samuel.

“You mean Chinee hatchet man fightee Tong war over slave girl?”

“I guess so.”

“It’s a little different from that, really,” said Lee. “I went there because in our family there are a number of ancient reverend gentlemen who are great scholars. They are thinkers in exactness. A man may spend many years pondering a sentence of the scholar you call Confucius. I thought there might be experts in meaning who could advise me.

“They are fine old men. They smoke their two pipes of opium in the afternoon and it rests and sharpens them, and they sit through the night and their minds are wonderful. I guess no other people have been able to use opium well.”

Lee dampened his tongue in the black brew. “I respectfully submitted my problem to one of these sages, read him the story, and told him what I understood from it. The next night four of them met and called me in. We discussed the story all night long.”

Lee laughed. “I guess it’s funny,” he said. “I know I wouldn’t dare tell it to many people. Can you imagine four old gentlemen, the youngest is over ninety now, taking on the study of Hebrew? They engaged a learned rabbi. They took to the study as though they were children. Exercise books, grammar, vocabulary, simple sentences. You should see Hebrew written in Chinese ink with a brush! The right to left didn’t bother them as much as it would you, since we write up to down. Oh, they were perfectionists! They went to the root of the matter.”

“And you?” said Samuel.

“I went along with them, marveling at the beauty of their proud clean brains. I began to love my race, and for the first time I wanted to be Chinese. Every two weeks I went to a meeting with them, and in my room here I covered pages with writing. I bought every known Hebrew dictionary. But the old gentlemen were always ahead of me. It wasn’t long before they were ahead of our rabbi; he brought a colleague in. Mr. Hamilton, you should have sat through some of those nights of argument and discussion. The questions, the inspection, oh, the lovely thinking—the beautiful thinking.

“After two years we felt that we could approach your sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis. My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too—‘Thou shalt’ and ‘Do thou.’ And this was the gold from our mining: ‘Thou mayest.’ ‘Thou mayest rule over sin.’ The old gentlemen smiled and nodded and felt the years were well spent. It brought them out of their Chinese shells too, and right now they are studying Greek.”

Samuel said, “It’s a fantastic story. And I’ve tried to follow and maybe I’ve missed somewhere. Why is this word so important?”

Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?”

“Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?”

“Ah!” said Lee. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But ‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.” Lee’s voice was a chant of triumph.

Adam said, “Do you believe that, Lee?”

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There’s no godliness there. And do you know, those old gentlemen who were sliding gently down to death are too interested to die now?”

Adam said, “Do you mean these Chinese men believe the Old Testament?”

Lee said, “These old men believe a true story, and they know a true story when they hear it. They are critics of truth. They know that these sixteen verses are a history of humankind in any age or culture or race. They do not believe a man writes fifteen and three-quarter verses of truth and tells a lie with one verb. Confucius tells men how they should live to have good and successful lives. But this—this is a ladder to climb to the stars.” Lee’s eyes shone. “You can never lose that. It cuts the feet from under weakness and cowardliness and laziness.”

Adam said, “I don’t see how you could cook and raise the boys and take care of me and still do all this.”

“Neither do I,” said Lee. “But I take my two pipes in the afternoon, no more and no less, like the elders. And I feel that I am a man. And I feel that a man is a very important thing—maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed— because ‘Thou mayest.’”

This speaks to both the force of Good in the world and also the force of Evil. Evil is not an external force. It only exists in the heart and the will of a single Human Being. It only exists when we decide to consciously forsake our fellow human beings. That is what evil is, and God and the Devil ain’t got shit to do with it.

When we do it again and again, these little evils start holding hands across time, and pretty soon there’s this invisible chorus—an eternal rite of sublimation—to Evil, resounding all around us. Everywhere we go, in the world.

Likewise it is only upon us, AS INDIVIDUALS, to change the balance of Good and Evil in the world we share. It is only by changing the Microeconomies of Morality in each of our lives, that we can reach the center of this Cancerous Growth—and, at least in the USA, that center is in the halls of Legislation. That is where the most crucially decisive gestures of Domination, Larceny and Fratricide occur in this country, by which the entire span of smaller evils is legitimized.

Every President who brings onto his cabinet representatives of these forces who are trying to siphon the vitality from the people of the world—NOT just our country, the WORLD—is serving a great Evil. On a GARGANTUAN scale. You guys, do the fucking math—it’s grotesque. It’s worse than ANY horror film.

Cthulu is REAL. It’s this giant shit we’ve been taking on each other, and accumulating into a mass. And it’s been growing around us—inside us—for Centuries, Millenia. And its reached a point of Critical Mass, and Terminal Velocity, and the number of people having to crowd and compete for scraps from the Oligarchs’ tables is increasing exponentially.

Whatever we do as individuals, as groups of Human Beings we are in the steadfast habit of turning away from the harvesting of one another’s Creative potential; instead, we work to Sow and Reap the will of Cain, in our brother.

We are living in Hell on Earth, right now. It’s what we’ve made, of Nature. We need to stop blaming the Babadook, and take a look in the mirror. I’m not perfect, and neither are you. Becoming better takes real work.

That’s why Christ said, “Judge Not, lest Ye Be Judged Yourself,” because he saw that everybody was passing around this Judgment, this vengeful commerce of the Victim—everybody feeding on one another, under the Yoke of Rome, and the Jerusalemites who played along.

Sucking marrow from the bones of their shipmates.

That’s why Moses delivered the Ten Commandments. Because he realized that people were lifting up principles of Narcissism and Misanthropy, and creating a culture of Evil as a result.

You don’t have to identify as a Christian, or go to church, or even use the word God, in order to come to terms with this concept. For the last time, I am not talking about something Supernatural. This is the real world. This is what’s creating all the mass shooters, the Incels, the Suicides (and suicides, and suicides).

This is, in essence, the only true Economy that exists in our world—for money is a representation of the justice we deliver unto one another, as we make recompense for the gifts of produce and service we find, when we trade with other human beings.

If you don’t appreciate your Plumber, fuck you. And if you think any President of the United States who’s presided over this evolution of Brutality in our culture—throughout my entire lifetime, at least—if you think they’re some kind of heroes? FUCK YOU, even more.

These are the Gatekeepers of Hell on Earth. They follow the Wills of a secret cult of Demon Princes—who have forsaken their humanity, over a lifetime spent forsaking their fellow man. They do not follow the Wills of the good people of this country; not Red or Blue, Black or Brown or White.

They are the ones doing this. Right before our eyes.

Please WAKE THE FUCK UP, America, and smell the Brimstone...