Tag: the occult

Part III: – Enochian Curious

There’s nothing like a cold, hard night on the streets of England to restore your ghetto. And if we are talking ghetto, perhaps no one knows that better than Rob Rider Hill.

“We gotta go to the Duke’s Head tonight.” Ben said as he prepared our stash. “Rob, is expecting us.”

“That’s fine.” I said. “But every time we meet up with another male Snowfrican, you guys tend to gang up against me. You also become an unbearable, condescending, patronizing asshole. Ever more so than usual.”

“I’m sorry it seems that way to you,” he said as he wrapped Rob’s souvenir. A statue of a Japanese demon.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about…” I said. But Ben had already done the thing and moved on to a different topic.

“We have to go to the British Library today. We should be able to get our hands on some book’s by John Dee. Oh yeah. John Dee!” Ben’s voice cackled with excitement.

“Yeah! Let’s get our Enochian on!” I said.

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave me the side eye. As usual, he was all in.

“Jose, I’m a bastion of good, informed decisions. I don’t fuck with Enochian.” Ben said. “And neither should you. We are going to use the knowledge in Dee’s work in our quest to stop the apocalypse.”

“Fine. Whatever. You got the joints?” I said

Ben, laid out seven joints on the table. Each packed with enough green to tranquilize an elephant. Then he hid them away in the inside breast pocket of his winter jacket.

“Let’s go.” Ben said.

After a brief stop at a Turkish restaurant where Ben ate half my falafel without my consent (the Italian dish he ordered, surprisingly, didn’t turn out well) we headed to the British Library. To our delight, the exhibition “Harry Potter, A history of Magick.” Was there waiting for us. And if you knew me and Ben, you know we are all about some Harry Potter.

“God, I hate Harry Potter,” I said. “I don’t care how nice J.K Rowling is.”

“Stop projecting your professional jealousy and let’s go inside.” Ben said.

Once inside the library, you could feel years and years of knowledge come down on you like an invisible hand. Just a couple of more steps, and we would have been bathing in the sweet aura of occult information that we’ve traveled through the frozen tundra of Snowfrica for. This moment, promised to be the accumulated effort of what was a years worth of blood, sweat, and marijuana. Then something happened.

“Holy shit.” Ben said. “They’re patting people down at security.”

“So what?” I said.

“I have seven joints in my jacket.” Ben said. We turned and left out the same we came. The security guards. Two brothers that had already made eye contact with me, also exchanged the patented upward nods that brown people exchange with each other. And so ended our quest to get into the British library. Sure, we could have easily come back on another day without so much weed, but if you knew us, you knew that wasn’t going to happen. We would move on to easier targets.

“Let’s go find Rob,” Ben said.

The Duke’s Head was a bar that lived up to its name. It had a unique charm about it. With its light green walls, wooden stools and tables, pretty candles, strategically placed crotch level fire extinguisher, and less than reasonable prices, it looked like a traditional British Pub, shit out another less traditional British Pub, which shit out a third, even less traditional British Pub.

“Which pile is Duke’s Head?” I heard a voice say from behind us. This was Rob Rider Hill. I didn’t expect him to be psychic, I also didn’t expect him to be this skinny in person.

If you haven’t seen Rob Rider Hill, he’s a strikingly handsome fellow who could probably dive through the center of a honey nut cheerio without breaking it. He’s also intense as fuck.

“Well, you gonna answer my question or not?” Rob said. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

“The third pile,” I said.

“Yeah.” Rob said. “That’s what we were going for.”

“Rob!” Ben said. “So nice to meet you!” To say Ben was enthusiastic about meeting Rob doesn’t exactly tell the entire story. Seeing Ben and Rob together was like seeing two long lost twin brothers finding each other after several years of separation. Did I feel like a 3rd wheel? Dude, for this bromance, I wasn’t even in the same vehicle. These two Snowfricans were made for each other.

It took all of three minutes for them to start talking about the occult. We already had a table full of drinks. Another thing about Rob is that he is pretty much good at everything. Cooking, music, tarot, rolling joints, esoteric shit, but his most endearing quality is the one thing I respect above all other qualities, telling the truth.

“You know Jose, you’re short, bald, and kind of funny looking, but you’ve got a lot of confidence.” Rob said.

“Enough about him,” Ben said. “I got you a little something.”

Ben handed Rob the demon. After a couple of more drinks we stepped outside for our hourly joint which had suddenly become our European tradition. In this state, we could start talking about some real shit.

“You boys ready for the show tomorrow?” Rob said.

“Hell yeah we are.” I said. Ben was not so sure.

“Well, you better be. The venue will be accessible around 7pm. So don’t be late.” Rob said. “We got magicians coming in from everywhere including Lori and Jo Sims. If I were you two, I’d start rehearsing now.”

“Rehearsal?” Ben said as we both looked at each other. “Yeah. We’d better get on that.”

Just one more day to the show, and we weren’t even close to the illuminati…. yet.

Next: the 33rd Parallel live show: Io Pan!

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Journey To West Snowfrica AKA England

After the debacle in Russia, we were relieved to be in England. Words I never thought I’d say before.

We went to England for two reasons, the 1st was to complete the first leg of our European tour. We had people in England and we did not want to disappoint, although that was inevitable, but doing a show, in front of people who actually understood what you were saying, was always a dream of Ben’s. But me? I could seriously take it or leave it.

The 2nd reason we had ventured into Western Snowfrica, the actual real reason, was to do something that we had our eyes on since we started 33rd parallel, to join the illuminati.

The plan was simple, we would go to the Bank of England, located in the city of London, but actually located in its own territory like the Vatican. (That’s right, the actual Bank of England is literally like its own fucking city) and we would apply for jobs.

We were willing to start at the bottom. The mailroom was fine, but if we had to take jobs as janitors, so be it. Once we were gainfully employed, We would use our charm and wit to climb the corporate ladder until we found a place at the table with Lord Rothschild.

Ben was all in.

“This is a terrible plan,” Ben said as he rolled another joint. “Jose, I don’t think you realize what a stupid plan this is.”

“Ben, we have to try something.” I said. “What’s the worst that could happen? They hire us and we stay?”

“That’s the worst that could happen?” Ben said. “It’s private property.”

“I think it’s brilliant.” Tuan said. Tuan had agreed to give us safe haven for the first couple of days on his couch. He also supplied quite a bit of the sacred herb that would prove to be both our savior and undoing, “That shit sounds funny.”

“Thank you, Tuan,” I said. “I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to film it. You know, chronicle our journey into prominence.”

Tuan, is a director with a great eye. I trust him because he’s smart, talented, and practical. And like anyone who embodies these qualities, he looked me in the eye and gave me an immediate response.

“Do you happen to have a camera that can film from long distances? Like let’s say, from 3-4 kilometers away?”

“I was actually hoping we coul…” Before I could even finish my sentence, Tuan waved his finger with all the authority of a director.

“Do you have the fucking camera or not.” He said. Reiterating his position.

“Then no fucking way,” Tuan said. “I like watching people do stupid shit, but I haven’t survived all these years by participating in insane acts. Besides, why are you so dead set on joining the illuminati anyway?”

A moment of silence passed over the room, as if an angel passed. Ben, who was always ready to talk 80% of the time, answered the question that we had never really asked ourselves. Clearly joining the illuminati wasn’t about money? Anyone who knows us knows that Ben and I clearly hate money (Ben especially) which is why we tend to be in the financial positions we normally find ourselves in. But now, confronted with this moment of truth, we had no choice but to say out loud what had been boiling beneath the surface.

Ben smiled, but his eyes were intense as he looked Tuan in the face and gave him the answer that no one in that room wanted to hear or was prepared for.

“We are here to stop the apocalypse.” The words filled the room. They seemed to be crisp and clean, but at the same time venerated with a low vibration. As if they had their own consciousness.

Tuan’s face changed from serious, to an expression of extreme befuddlement, then he did what any other sane, rational human being would do after hearing such a thing, from such people.

He asked again.

“Excuse me?” Tuan said. “I think you didn’t hear my question so I’m going to ask again. Why is it you’re so intent on joining the illuminati?”

Ben nodded and repeated his answer with the same irrational confidence that he says everything.

“We want to stop the apocalypse.” Ben said.

Tuan’s look of sheer befuddlement morphed into something unexpected, anger.

“Get out of my house,” Tuan said. “Get out of here right now.”

“What the hell?” Why do you want to throw us out?” I said. Ben, had already began to put on his jacket.

“You two bumbling idiots are going to stop the apocalypse? How are you going to do that? With your dedicated work ethic? What are you doing to do? Smoke the illuminati into submission?” He said. He began to giggle as he could barely finish his sentences. “Get out of my house! And how dare you? I mean, how fucking dare you? I want you and this fucking Snowfrican out of my house. I don’t want to look at you.”

Ben had already begun to walk out of the house.

“Are you still coming to the show?” I said.

“Do I have to film anything? Tuan said.

“No,” I said shaking my head.

“Then I’ll see you there.” He said.

I grabbed my shit and put on my scarf. As I walked out the door I stoped for a moment and looked back at Tuan.

“Can I take some weed?” I said.

“Sure,” Tuan said.

I met Ben outside. He already had a joint in his mouth. And it was fucking cold.

“What do we do now?” I said.

“The only thing we can do,” Ben said as he lit the joint. “We summon a magician for help.”

“Who?” I said.

Ben began to chant as the smoke from his joint began to swirl until it became a shape. The shape suddenly began to take form of a face. I could tell by his slim face and symmetric eyes that this was quite a pretty Snowfrican.

“Jose, I would like to introduce you to Rob Rider Hill. Our savior.” Ben said.

I looked up at the image of the pretty, yet clearly, malnourished Snowfrican.

“Oh shit,” I said out loud. “Wtf have I gotten myself into?”

Next. Part three, continuation of the England chronicles and the introduction of Rob Rider Hill.

If you want to listen to what happened on this day, you can check us out on iTunes

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Are Corporations Demonic Egregores?

angler-fish

Like other living organisms, corporations strive to survive. They require energy in the form of money, labor, and other resources in order to sustain themselves. Unless they receive a fresh and constant flow of energy they tend to stagnate, diminish and die off. Of course, they have no material bodies of their own and must still rely on humans to maintain them, to feed them, to be their physical circulatory system and to host them within their minds.

So how does a disincarnate entity like a corporation get humans to feed it with their energy?

Similar to the way an angler fish has evolved a dangling light to attract prey, the corporation has evolved branding to capture the attention and activate the imagination of you, the consumer.

Corporations hack into the human psyche via the basic human operating system: symbols, in the form of brand names, logos, image, and story.

It runs deeper than simple hunting and consuming. A successful corporation is one that can maintain and milk its target. They have evolved a variety of strategies for doing this. By being the only provider filling a “need” (real or manufactured)  when they can, providing the illusion of choice when they can’t, becoming associated with the premium version of a thing, or the affordable alternative to the premium version, and so on.

Modern humans have evolved an unconscious symbiotic relationship with the brands that populate our mental lives, in which they provide for our needs, and we use our life energy to gather and provide them with the resources they need to survive in our meme pool.

So are corporations demonic egregores? They certainly have a unique place in modern human culture.

We’re curious to learn your thoughts.

Stay tuned for the 33rd Parallel podcast All About the Demons, where we figure out once and for all what exactly demons are.

Chaos Magick

Here’s what I’m starting to think some of it might be…” -Jose.

Chaos Magick is a catch-all phrase for modern eclectic occult practice. It is like the punk rock of the occult, in that it is a reaction to the calcified, rigid, rule-based occult systems of the past.

Building on the work of Aleister “The Beast” Crowley, who published previously secret occult teachings, Austin Osman Spare and early NLP , among other influences, it came into prominence in the 1980’s with the work of Philip Hine and Peter Carroll.

The basic tenets of Chaos Magick are:

  1. “Magick is the art and science of creating change in conformity with will.” -Crowley
  2. What you believe is real, is real.
  3. By altering your beliefs, you also alter (your?) reality.

Chaos magickal practice has evolved to center around a few core magickal concepts and practices. These include:

  1. Sigil Craft: Creating and charging a symbol of intent.
  2. Gnosis: An intense altered state of consciousness.
  3. Servitors: An independent entity which is designed by the magician to do their will.
  4. Egregores: An entity existing in the collective mind of a group of people.

Theoretically, Chaos Magick offers a few models of how magick might work.

They include (as of this writing):

  1. The Spirit Model: Magick works because spirits.
  2. The Psychological Model: It’s all in your head.
  3.  The Information Model: The universe is made of information. Magickal practices can alter the structure and flow of the information.
  4.  The Energy Model: Magick moves some kind of energy around, and that makes stuff happen.
  5. The Simulation Model: Similar to the Information Model, it claims that this is a simulation and the magician can tweak the matrix.
  6. The Meta Model: Straight NLP. Whatever works, man.

We make no claims as to the truth of any of this, but offer it as a starting point. We welcome any kind of feedback and are happy to answer whatever questions come up to the best of our ability.

You can hear an audio sigil on our podcast here: