Monday, October 30, 2006

It begins. Again.

I'll be out of the blogosphere for the next 30 days, as I delve back into the self-fulfilling psychological warfare that is National Novel Writing Month. Last year, I wrote a little over 13,000 words before bellowing a hearty "Screw this" and turning on the television. This year, any prayers, candles or sacrificing of many goats towards me hitting the goal of 50,000 words would be greatly appreciated.

See you in December! Probably!

Sunday, October 22, 2006

The Anti-Bartlett's

My three favorite quotations from Pagans and occultists of note:

"The student who sets out to be an eclectic before he has made himself an expert will never be anything more than a dabbler." -Dion Fortune

"All ancient mysteries were selective in their admission of new members. This must be so to preserve the power, the integrity, the purpose of the cult. Thinning the blood makes it weaker; spreading the secret truths too far afield lessens their impacts where they are most needed." -Hans Holzer

"I feel friendly to you, whoever you are." -Olivia Robertson

Honorable mention:

"I'm a Witch, for Christ's sake, not a goddamned saint." -Yvonne Rathbone

Friday, October 20, 2006

An open memo to my brain

Attn: Evn's Brain

Re: 11:11

Dear Brain,

Enough already. The occasional 11:11 sighting, just as a gentle reminder that there are whackjobs out there who take these things seriously... sure, that's fine.

But three to four sightings a day for a week? Unacceptable. If angels, or aliens, or spokesdemons from the Collective Unconscious need to get a message to me that badly, they can post comments on my blog like normal people.

So knock it off, please. Proceed with rejoining us in reality, or I'll get ahold of a prescription for Ritalin faster than you can spell ADHD.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Knowing Is Half the Bottle

I was shopping for wholesome, salty snacks at the convenience store across the street from my apartment, when I noticed they carried Irish-themed malt liquor. I know from Irish beer, but Irish malt liquor? WTF?

I was dismayed by the agressively stereotypical brand name and logo, but at the same time strangely intrigued. Would it taste like real beer? Was the brewery Irish owned and operated? Was malt liquor even produced in breweries? Also I was kind of thirsty.

So I bought some Irish malt liquor, and then I drank it.

And now I'm hungover. The end.

Monday, October 16, 2006

You have the right to remain dreamy, Corey

The Gods of Camp Classics must have been smiling favorably upon me this weekend, because I picked up a veritable motherload of cheesy occult-themed horror movies. Here are a few of my finds:

Voodoo - Corey Feldman joins a college fraternity, unaware that it's really a murderous cult. In one significant scene, we learn that zombies are ace tattoo artists.

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Ritual - A headstrong doctor (played by a painfully noseless Jennifer Grey) accepts a hospice care position in Jamaica, only to find herself battling crazed Obeah practitioners and feline leukemia. Co-starring Tim Curry as the lecherous veterinarian.

Brotherhood of Satan - There are these people, see, and they worship Satan. I haven't watched this one yet.

Hell's Gate - A fresh, evil take on my least favorite New Age fad. Instead of 11:11 showing up on clocks and representing digital hugs from guardian angels, the mysterious numbers are found at crime scenes, carved into dead bodies. I only caught a few minutes of this flick before realizing it was way past my bedtime, but what little I saw included lots of screaming, so I'm sure it'll be worth the five bucks I paid for it.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Sit-Com Life, Part the Second

Jack's brother and I went to lunch at one of those chain restaurants with junk store merchandise tacked to the walls, and spent the rest of the afternoon clutching our stomachs, gurgling "Urk, be right back," and fleeing to our respective restrooms. We were discussing the possible causes of our gastrointestinal distress when he remarked, "Oh hey, that reminds me! You've been naked sleepwalking again."

My subconscious is going to receive a Mommy Dearest-level ass-whipping, just as soon as I can handle solid food again. In the meantime, I've started going to bed in casual activewear.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Organizing Strife for Maximum Digestability

Blogger is quickly becoming my bitch, resulting in nifty new categories for archived posts. Here's a rundown:

Assorted Occultism - Experiences that can't be adequately explained by coincidence or intoxication.

Crooked Paths - General misadventures in religion and spirituality.

Cube Farm Antics - There's very little I won't put up with to keep my health insurance.

Metablogginess - Blogging about blogging.

Production Notes - A catalogue of my various artistic endeavors.

The Junk Drawer - A catchall, just like the one in your kitchen; oddments, rubber bands, and random thoughts that don't make no nevermind, as my grandmother would say (if she talked like that).

The Scoop - Headline news, with colorful commentary provided by moi at no additional cost.

Witch Trials - Wiccan/NeoPagan rants and tribulations.

Your Gay Neighbor - Man on man action, but mainly just tales of Jack and me doing domesticated couple stuff.

Enjoy! Run around double-clicking until you fall down and your fingers bleed.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

We know what they're thinking

Deborah Lipp offers a brilliant and chillingly accurate take on the Mark Foley sex scandal.

Please commit this to memory, and recall it every time a Republican starts shrieking about how civil rights need to be suppressed in the name of Family Values.

Just in case ol' what's-her-name has a lawyer...

This blog is for entertainment purposes only. There is no evidence to support allegations that Laura Mallory is a bear, a turkey vulture or a soccer mom. Any private Bible-fondling on the part of Mrs. Mallory is strictly her own business, as long as it occurs between consenting adults over the age of 16.

That said, I firmly believe she felched a demon. A little white owl told me.

Testify, Laura. Testify.

More fun quotes from sexually-repressed pleasure chest Laura Mallory, as to why she never got around to reading the books she so heartily condemns:

"They’re really very long and I have four kids.”

'Nuff said. But so as not to be misconstrued, the demon-felching housewife offered this clarification:

"I think it would be hypocritical for me to read all the books, honestly. I don’t agree with what’s in them."

Well, at least she has a sound, ethical reason for preaching hate and illiteracy, which is kind of a relief: for a second there, I thought she was insane.

Turns out she's just mean and stupid.

That I can handle.

Fair and Balanced

In an almost earnest attempt to show both sides of the Harry Potter controversy brought about by sawdust-loined momma bear Laura Mallory, one plucky news outlet decided to hear what a real, live... um, Wiccanist had to say.

Yeah, B- for effort. While they did take the time to show an opposing viewpoint, the cheeky tone of the article is cause for concern. Like so many "unbiased" reports popping up around this issue, the overall theme is "We can't believe she actually takes Wicca seriously."

At some point in time, it would be lovely to read an article about the modern Pagan resurgence without feeling like the writer is choking back giggles.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Online Omniscience

The Notorious RD just sent me an article about fundamentalist turkey vulture Laura Mallory, not realizing that I'd already cut n' pasted her onto my "I Hate You" list. I explained that I get Wicca-related news stories sent to my e-mail via Google Alerts, which prompted the following response:

---

Google Alert! Dear Mr. EVN WHITAKER,

You may be outraged and amused by the following news story:

Harry Potter Wants to Turn Kids into Wiccans.

Would you like to view this spectacle of ignorance? YES NO

---

My friends are cool.

Children who can read are pawns of Satan!

Laura Mallory of Loganville, GA, wants Harry Potter books pulled from the shelves of local school libraries, because the books encourage Witchcraft and other demonic tomfooleries. Oh yes, and literacy.

Quoth the Bible-fondling soccer mom, "Witchcraft is being mainstreamed to our kids today, but people are not aware of it. They think these books are fantasies, but Wicca is a real recognized religion." She goes on to say that she does not want her children "indoctrinated into a religion whose practices are evil."

But wait, it gets even better. The lovable harridan claims that she's so disturbed by the Harry Potter series, she's never actually finished reading any of the books.

To sum up, she has no clue what she's talking about, but Wicca is evil.

You know what would be great? If she won her battle against the dark arts of J.K. Rowling, and then her four kids grew up and married outside their race.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Have attitude problem, will travel

I was walking up to my office yesterday, along with a group of people from our commissioned sales department, none of whom I really know. One of them, a squatty little man who might possibly be attractive if he was taller and didn't have a beer belly, gestured to my messenger bag and smirked, "Nice murse."

"Murse?" I asked, confused. "What's a murse?"

"Man purse," he replied, still smirking.

"Oh. Okay, um, thanks." Normally I'm a little quicker on the uptake, but I was kind of flustered. First of all, regardless of gender, purses are generally used to carry personal, not professional items: wallets and chewing gum and tissue and such. Since my bag is normally full of papers and office supplies and books, it really falls more into the briefcase category. That aside, why was this random goblin riding me about it? Granted, Napoleon complexes are tough to shake, but why take it out on me?

I decided to just ignore him, since "interacting with dickheads" isn't included in my job description, but he wouldn't let it drop.

"It's very European." He sneered. "Going to Europe?"

"Yes." I said.

"You are?" he asked, suddenly surprised.

"Yes, I'm going to Europe." I have no idea where this came from, since I am not going to Europe anytime in the foreseeable future. In terms of acerbic one-liners, it was pretty pathetic. I didn't even say it convincingly.

"Oh hey, that's cool! Have fun in Europe!" he said cheerily as I got off the elevator. At this point, I wasn't sure which bugged me more: that I seem to have lost my power to craft split-second snappy comebacks, or that a moron with playground issues may make more money than I do.

Perhaps I need a vacation.