An Anatomy of the Age of Delusion

Having spent my formative years travelling and exploring the liminal, I was a stranger to religion. My parents, like most WW2 survivors, were pretty messed up. Although it's clear that they were each raised in their own strict environment of ethics, any values it might have had were clearly damaged by the horrors they experienced. Just the same, my aspirations didn't have a hope in hell for all the contention and criticism. In fact, it seems most of my generation in Europe, had much the same opposition to deal with. It's like the war never ended, but simply took on ever more subliminal forms of persecution, expecting us to conform to an industrial complex that caused the whole problem in the first place. “You have no idea what it's like” was the usual diminutive, denying any pending problems that did not fit their war-addled definitions of a worst case scenario. Some called it the “Generation Gap”, but the fact is they were just too demoralized to ever get over it. PTSD was unheard of in those days. No surprise that we took the only course of action under such miserable circumstances, namely revolt. Hence the so-called 60s “counter-culture” brought on by the Beatles and other young artists.

However, I was not so much a Beatles fan, rather, living so close to Holland at the time, I had the underground music scene completely at my disposal. Whatever was too unorthodox for the popular media was more my element- but it was not as if I was looking for role models, rather, exploring the great experiment called life. All that mind numbing double-morality being preached at us by our peers, simply lost all meaning in the face of mutually assured destruction...and despite all delineations between that perpetual us and them, the enemy of our enemy was not necessarily our friend. Unfortunately, my family's stateless legacy had me stuck in the cold war grey zone. Hence, my spiritual journey was not in quest of nirvana, rather, the long hard road to civil liberty without someone breathing down my neck. In that regard I was never a believer in divine intervention. Yet the more I tried to distance myself, the more I became a person of interest, especially for my ability to read between the lies. Of course I didn't buy into all that new age jive, albeit the paranormal, esoteric or ancient aliens for that matter. It only creeped me out to see how many fell folly to that euphoria of mystique. A new secret weapon of mass mind control by the wanton puppet masters of the no-zone. They wanted in so badly they virtually landed into their own foul trap and it was without fear or remorse I gleefully burned all those bridges behind me. What were they expecting from a hedonistic infidel like me anyway?  

Spider Cat

(best sung to the tune of "Spiderman")

Our flat overlooks a large courtyard where the connecting building houses a repair shop for the local transport to Barcelona. Our neighbour there is a wonderful man, very skilled at his trade and always helpful. Next to him, on the other side, is a Chiropractor and his psychologist wife who like to spend weekends at seminars in Switzerland. They have their house decked out with the odd herbal pots, Tibetan prayer flags and a greenpeace banner. I could go on about all the rest of my colourful neighbourhood in this quiet little corner of the village, but that is not the point of this story.

My brother has this cat he rescued as a kitten, abandoned in a tree in the local wildlife reserve. This cat is a total headcase with the daring of a barnstormer. He has a notoriety for opening doors, even so much as turning keys to unlock them. Failing this, he clings onto the handle while using his hind legs to brute force the damn thing open. The bugger is not only cunning but strong as a human as well.

A big canvassed lorry sat parked about a meter alongside our balcony, when this blighter decided to use it as a trampoline to get to the lot below. I was heading out to do my usual chores, when I spot this critter rolling around in the grass, chortling. Of course I end up having to crawl under the wheel frame of a container flatbed to grab him, and after some struggle managed to get him back into the flat.

Realizing how the bugger must have pulled off this stunt, Susan closed the balcony door, also fearing our other three cats might get encouraged by his antics. Later that afternoon, we decided to let them out on the balcony under supervision. Susan was slow getting there before I had to run to the bathroom and of course when nobody was looking he did it again. Again I had to chase the bugger across the lot. Our mechanic neighbour came out, curious about the mayhem. He looked at me rather stunned when I explained just what this cat is capable of. That proved itself later when the bugger escaped again, this time forcing the roof window of my study that I hadn't properly shut. The man rang our doorbell to announce that the bugger was now in his workshop having a right good time playing high speed dodgem in every impossible place to reach. I was dead asleep at the time so Susan had the arduous task of counter-intercepting at the other end of the building. After two failed attempts, the cat ended the chase by letting himself back into the stairwell to our flat. This confounded our neighbour so much, that he saw good reason to move the lorry to the back of the garage, well out of sight of this maniacle feline.

So you wanna be my friend?

 

There are just some folk who think friendship gives them special rights to your every intimate being, as if they should be the centre of your universe. Just another number or convenience to meet their popularity quota, as if you should share their inane need to amass some immaculate following of sheeple. They feed you this claptrap about being like-minded as if you're supposed to identify with whatever their cause, and failing this, no address or account is safe from them trying to get in your face at every turn. A clear case of telling, not asking where you're really coming from or what you really think. Theirs is a world of “you're either for us or against us”, no “none of the above”. Oh how conveniently they call it “close-minded” and “negativity” as if healthy skepticism should be a crime. Yeah, just keep coming onto me with all this sock puppetry, telling me how much I have been their guiding light. Really? I don't think so, not if they're a bunch of new age metal heads who think foreign religion or occult is going to cure their obvious Christian persecution complex. I'm an upstanding member of the Church of Euthanasia, so if you really wanna save the planet, sharpen up that old Katana and remove that rather large wart from between your ears. No, you're not getting any money from me for it. This is my opinion and I'm sticking to it. Too bad so sad.

Dropping the Gauntlet

I address this to two individuals and their following who have obviously been trying their damnedest to get in my face. I will not give any names but I am sure you know who you are. First of all, don't try to imply you know me when we don't even speak the same language. Thus trying to appeal to my ego will get you nowhere. Any admiration I do earn is through creative ability, meticulous work and above all, accountability and it's not like those of us who've been around in the world can't tell the difference. Aside from that, I have enough of my own pride and self-respect that I don't need a great hoard of sheeple to prove what to who, so go find yourself another sucker to flog your identity crisis on.

Secondly, it should be clear by now that I do not identify with your attention-seeking want to dictate your trend. Emotional blackmail through false flattery and politics of exclusion while trying to shame the objectors behind their backs (to what you mistaken for their peers) has only succeeded in proving what complete sheeple seeking narcissistic morons you really are. Here in continental Europe, we have quite different distinctions between public and private so save your breath. We are not afraid to be critical of things, because it is our democratic right to differ. So bugger off with your brain-washed god-fearing patronizing positivity NLP, “Global Village” and all the rest of that polemic. No, yours is not the way of the world. Nobody's is, so get over it.

Pseudomasonic Playganisms

Oh do tell me what it is, that compels this occult charade by existentialist wankers looking for a sacrificial cash cow? That old mystical allure of secret signs and sigils, on an inane quest for the holy grail of cocaine addled mysogyny. Just sit there and wile behind your shallow artisan guile, with all the rhetorical trappings of xenophobia behind a facade of theosophical gibberish. Waiting for us so-called philistines to buy into your cyber-schisms of plastic temple craft, à la all gods are one...about as enlightening as watching paint blister on a barn door.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen

A Dubious Story of Ethnic Racial Identity

Okay British Isles or whatever you aspire to call yourselves, wtf is going on? While I can understand cultural identity, things have sure been bordering on racism with too many of you, say nothing of the UKIP. Call it patriotism, national pride, but when it starts propagandizing terms like “Lebensraum” and “Urheimat” it's not like I can't hear the goose-stepping. Frankly, you should have known better to define religious tolerance properly, no matter how much your feudal church and state feels itself the historical exception to all the rest of the EU. Allowing Sharija, or any other form of religious fundamentalism the diplomatic immunity to harass and subjugate your citizens, can only seem criminal negligence, if not the intent to victimize any real individual freedom of choice...and failing this, the politics of exclusion by majority rule. Indeed I've seen this kind of isolationism played out on too many social networks not to notice. As for the question of racial identity, I see Anglo-Saxon reconstructionists and Odinists trying to preach some aryan genealogy to tell me the Celts are just a myth, while their Celtic opponents insist on some elite lineage going back to the Solutrean/Cro-Magnons, excluding anyone who doesn't speak some Brythonic or Goidelic language. My ancestors have many proud and colourful backgrounds, but it's not so much where they came from, as what they did to overcome such stubborn obstacles of religion and politics. So might I warn you, you're not doing yourselves any favours by preaching such nonsense at me, just to make your genetic bottleneck someone else's problem. Maybe you should worry more about the rising sea levels or is that why you are behaving like rats on a sinking ship? Think about it.

Fashion Statements

Why are so many wiccans hell bent on shoving their fashion statements down everyone's throat? Did they wear out their "Charmed" and "Harry Potter" DVDs to so blatantly assume that clichés like their rede, esbats and sabbats serve anything tangible outside of Christian myth, and its belief that the Kaballah has anything to do with black magic? Wicca is not an ancient pagan tradition, but a Rosicrucian muse contrived by Gerald Gardner back in 1949. Needless to say, marauding around in hooded robes like a bunch of 12th century monastic throwbacks is exactly where all that necromantic nonsense is really coming from, namely the erotic grimoires of Medieval Christian celebates; save all the rest of that pedantic Babylonian hocum, allegedly the spark of all human enlightenment. It would be nice if these people would actually read some proper anthropology, instead of emulating the pulp fiction of wannabe new age gurus.