stupidity

Loki and two sugars please

There is a very fine line between some occult practices used in magical warfare and sabotage methodologies used by intelligence agencies, so I’m going to open this article by quoting King Leonidas of Sparta.

They are close to us, then we are also close to them.

Closeness, that sense an invisible presence lurking in the shadows, breathing down your neck. Many Alexandrian witches find the experience rather unsettling and that’s because of a number of supertitions at the core of their beliefs and their fierce attachment to power and control over external circumstances. When Sharon Day breached into Loki’s Gazette and posted the article I have since re-edited and re-posted she must have thought that her violation of privacy would have acted as a future deterrent to write and speak our  mind. We are seeing a concurrent precedent in the case of Sarah Anne Lawless. Since speaking out against merchants of fakelore, charlatans and abusers on her blog, she has been subjected to all sort of retaliation that have affected her livelihood. If there wasn’t any truth in the facts she exposed then why would anyone feel so threatened to take such trouble to silence her? Clearly, facts not words define a truth. Uncomfortable facts are uncomfortable truths some would rather they would not become public knowledge. Those affected by it, have their mask of insincerity to protect and it is to be expected they will take any measure to prevent it from dropping. Fakelore, be it pagandom, witchcraft or occult related is at the core of the religious industry that has replaced mainstream religion as a political tool. It goes hand in hand with our times, where it is corporations and businesses in charge of government and ‘democracy’. It is naive to think of those making a living out of new alternative religions as to be spiritually motivated and their mission, so to speak, evangelical, in the sense they put their knowledge out there to attract kindred spirits to their message. Spiritual people are historically independent, ‘off the grid’ and very often persecuted for not conforming to the rest of society because they represent a fire that if catches, threatens its very existence.

Given the effort and money it cost Sharon Day to breach into a blog that failed to yield any of the information she sought, I must admit I was sorely disappointed to see such a golden opportunity to prove herself a worthy enemy go to waste. I was expecting Xerses’ army to show up but instead, during the period we were shut out of our own blog, I ended up making some interesting connections with off the grid people and practices which are, in the words of who I spoke with, emphatically nothing to do with ‘new age’. I had the time to corroborate these claims and judge for myself, which put a blanket of calm serenity over this period of siege. More wondruous events and gifts exuded out this chaotic moment, all of which I had been racking my brains to how I was going to go about to obtain. Well I shouldn’t have worried. They literally came out of the blue, at the right moment and in the form of gifts from people and the land. This is how you know your contact is your ally and working with you and for you. Especially in the past year, this has been a set pattern. I/we don’t ask for things or help but we do have a solid companionship going with the contacts. It is based on a genuine mutual appreciation and exchange without request and it’s ongoing communication. The greatest benefit is the removal of all anxiety and drama when shit happens because of external interference, enabling one to remove it like you would with a bag of rubbish. Drop it in the bin, done and dusted, life goes on as before. I guess this is what has always lacked in magical traditions like Alexandrian witchcraft. Their relationship with their contacts is based on want camouflaged by ‘will’, e.g: “I will for so and so to go forth and do this and that for me and I will give this and that in return”. Under the outer layer of want of the will is the layer of desire. Under the layer of desire is greed and below that hunger and below hunger survival and below survival is fear. (Stupid Sorita voice piping up) “Oh, but I don’t see anything wrong or immoral in wanting. What’s the point in doing magic then? ” (Normal voice) “Of course, there’s nothing wrong or immoral in wanting, when you earn it through your own efforts. However, when you have to beg and bribe entities to fetch it on your behalf, it shows that as a sentient being you amount to nothing more than a little whatsit.”  So, especially when you want to cross into dark and outer realms or get cosy to beings with key roles in mythology and no sign of worship or temples because you think it’s cool and you don’t want to look like you’re lesser than someone you’re in rivalry with and is giving you a disinterested the middle finger, just remember…

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Another luminous idea frequently rolling out Maxinarians: (read with stupid voice on) “Magic comes at a price; you got to give your life force to a god/dess”… who’s got countless times the life force you’ve got because, take heed, if you don’t, they ain’t even going to take a second look at you, you’re that insignificant to them. There are three types of sacrifice and I’m only going to mention the one relevant here (you can read about the others on my personal, fully functioning live website…middle finger to you Sharon) which is what the weak do in order to obtain partial favour from a deity. Do they work? You tell me. I could come along and make a deity an even bigger and better bid than yours, and then how far are you going to go? What are you willing to lose? When magic comes at a price, it can easily turn into an auction won by the highest bidder, not to mention some deities are known to screw their most faithful. If your contacts are into trading, terms and conditions then you will always end up getting the short end of the stick, and that’s because, like loan sharks, they know you will always go back for more, as you don’t have the means to stand on your own two feet but still like to pretend you’re some big flashy queen of the pond. As for deities who screw over other deities because of their hand in fate…well, put it this way, even Baldr got a better deal in spite of appearances.

For some magic is need, for some it’s want and then for some is a whole massive load of fun…like an extreme sport…so you become some stuck up pompous arse or you gravitate towards fun deities, kindred spirits. Spirits that should you die and merge with them, you wouldn’t mind but in a sort of way you even look forward to it. It’s no different from finding your twin-soul. Perhaps it was a ‘mare’ coincidence that during one of my strolls with my friend from beyond, he picked something I needed and had been looking for quite some time. The timely closeness with the early February liminality and to what actually unfolded gives me the goosebumps. Meanderings into the dark valleys and misty plains (of death) with the mother of miracles and many shapes, give dreamwork an altogether different flavour from the insipid Alexandrian broth. These house patrols seem to always lead to cunicles bearing the imprint of the amateurish fool of the day who first butchered the fabric then didn’t possess the artistry to mend its frays. Perhaps under the guiding hand of an even bigger fool demanding recompense for her services; bringing us closer, putting the lanscape and figures on it, in sharper focus for all to see (it will become clearer as you read). It’s what King Leonidas talked about: the open door carelessly left behind by the viscous enemy intent on closing in.

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Here is one of my favourite Alexandrian cliches, “We have to celebrate the eight sabbaths because it’s what witches do.” Oh no, you fucking don’t. For the most part, they’re new age/hippie inventions borrowed from someone else’s pre-Christian history and in many cases, an excuse to engage in a little self-flagellation to offer deem sacrifice to the goddess, who turns out to be some astral parasite (well, we are at that time of the year, aren’t we?) Unless your forefathers lived in Imperial Rome, festivities based on their calendars and ritual flagellation would have been unheard of by local tribes (Candlemas/Lupercalia of all festivals are not remotely British), so they’ve nothing to do with British Traditional Anything, until Britain became assimilated as a Roman province. Even then, it’s probably more dignified to say sabbaths are traditional to a modern hippie sub-culture rather than make out that’s what witches of old did. But ok, these days it’s trendy and desirable to be a subjugated victim, so I’m sure whether it is Rome or the EU it wouldn’t make a jot of difference to those who take pleasure in bending over with a rope running from their neck to their hands tied behind their back for a clergy(wo)man with a scourge in their hand. Bleargh! No self-respect. As for honouring our ancestors….

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Seems like the only thing running in the blood is desperation to fuck 10 to 15 years old…some reason to be proud to be Alexandrian.

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Anyway, now we have a little further insight in Sharon Day’s intentions to (mis)appropriate herself of Loki’s Gazette. As it stand, I wipe my arse with her Privacy Shield Framework. She’s welcome to keep the crumbs she managed to scavenge from our thrashed material. We don’t stop anyone from cutting and pasting and sharing what we publish, so unless she was thinking of buying lokisgazette.com and upload of all files passing them as hers, it would make no sense to import them using a software programme. Loki has many names, Sharon might not be aware of…and I don’t just mean Loptr.  Yep, so Sharon Day was going through Loki’s Gazette bins. Good, good, very good. Next time, we’ll put the cat litter out so she can take a look in that too. Meanwhile, here’s a prophecy for her (we looked at the stars for the purpose):

 

I apologise if this prophecy makes us sound a bit like Christian Day in one of his moments. I just couldn’t help relating it to something Sharon Day posted before she introduced him to Alexandrian witchcraft. That was one giant leap for Alexandrian craft…

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…and straight into the ditch of chaos. And for those in the know…

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We couldn’t have done it without your insanity Micki Reagan!

A big fuss was made about initiating the mentally ill, and even bigger fuss about non-socialising rules outside the coven. I guess witches cannot be trusted to be of sound judgement. Some people ought to be kept as far away as possible, not because they are bad or to discriminate, but because from a magical perspective, they are unlocking devices. So in that respect, Maxine should have enforced that non-socialising rule (she should have locked her in a cupboard and thrown away the key, if you ask me) on her newbie, who hasn’t grown much since, I see, before expecting people she never met to follow that stupid, flakely applied rule. Not that the rule is stupid per se. It’s the reasons given and the way it’s presented and enforced that show she really understands fuck all of what she claims to have co-founded and be the queen of.

Oh dear Sharon!

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By now, Sharon should be, at the very least, aware that while Loki perfectly understands how the mind of ordinary folk like her ticks, he’s a being who inhabits many worlds at once. Not your usual trickster. Not your usual demon either. Possibly older than Ginnungagap itself. He seems to tag along wherever fate deploys him. Loki understands better than any other deity, the need of experiencing victory by those whose hubris moves them to usurp positions way above their station. Sometimes he even helps them to fulfill their ambitions but that comes at a price only fate decides. Yes Sharon, you may, like the fictional Viserys Targaryan, have all the credentials and pedigree lineage in the world but there comes the time one is confronted by powers beyond one’s limitations. Like Viserys, Sharon wandered helplessly using wealthy middle class status to buy favours that would promise her the crown she believed to deserve. Powers she thinks her lineage will bestow her with the means to tame them in her service. Powers she thinks she can bargain, strike deals with and have dominion over and powers whose language she does not speak and whose nature she does not grasp.

Now we’ve seen what happens when picking battles with the wrong sort of power, let’s take a walk down memory lane to see how Sharon Day got to where she is now. Facebook ‘Truths aside, here is a carousel of Loki’s most memorable mindfucks…it is illustrative of when it is the deity who ends up writing in their magical diary about the time when it was they who evoked a disingenious human and through their hubris bridged ruin and destruction (there are other anecdotes: King Midas is one and Pentheus another, but there are many more).

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One of the weaknesses in Alexandrian magical training is its obsession with hierarchy, cult of personality and conquest of power within a fairly homogenous set of poorly understood practices. Deep down, Sharon Day believes that being Maxine’s poodle endows her with power of authority. In turn, the inability of Alexandrians to tell her to fuck off and go back to sipping prosecco at the country club, reinforces this belief of hers with the expectation the rest of the world (external reality) will follow suit. It then comes as a shocking surprise when a young pedicurist, a shop assistant in an exclusive French boutique and even a volunteer at Kingston’s furniture for the homeless don’t see such nobility in the flat arsed hunchback and do not treat her with the deference she demands. Like Viserys Targaryen, Sharon Day misunderstood Loki’s sentiment behind his agreement to fulfill her crowning of glory.

Mischief, mischief, on whose foot is the mischief?…There’s more than one way to skin a cat (Maxine, you should reeeeeeally take heed)…and back to ‘a price’ for the magic, it’s been truly enlightening to see what are women’s perceptions of Loki, particularly witches’, and the power of ‘new’ sci-fi mythologies to shape and influence these perceptions.

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So much that, to begin with….

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La-di-fucking-da…She should have taken that as a warning if she had any sense…especially after the Meg Tanaka/pedicurist episode

Five days later, a thought came just like that out of the blue: go log in Loki’s Gazette. I couldn’t be arsed but I did it because when thoughts pop up like that there’s always a reason. First time since October, I think.  Oh wow, it ended with more than just a bent journal for Sharon…

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…and I let you imagine as a result what low opinion we have of you.

…and it was all her own doing. Yeah, so what’s this story about the Calypso Software? Well, as it goes, once I got back in Loki’s Gazette, I did what anyone else would have done and reconfigure the whole thing and investigate what went on, to find out who was behind it. Turns out it was Sharon Day. I found date, time, her name and her credit card she used to purchase the software, the transaction and invoice number with date, time and location in Nashville, Tennesee, the software activation time, location and port(s) with other several email from technical support attached, the IPad, two IPhones and consequently her Apple ID (traced and confirmed) the programme was also enabled for, with which she illegally trespassed and stole data and files, and her conversations with WordPress support in an attempt to obtain administrator rights, so no point in Sharon donating her brain to science, I guess.

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We were both logged in at the same time and I could see her smug satisfaction dissolving in desperate panic. The interface was going mad and I could see she was importing files, which helped getting a better picture of her exact location, whilst stirring a proper pandemonium in her precious software. She tried breaching back in several times after that over the next few weeks, and yep, I’ve saved them all up.

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Just think of all the ammo you’re giving me.

Fucking moron. If I were her I would stop obsessing over Loki’s Gazette for real and not just pretend to people she does. She has already removed all doubt of her stupidity, from here on she can only make it worse for herself. What I’ve done with the fruits of her stupidity is for me to know, but at this rate, the rage she felt at the airport will be nothing in comparison to the tears of bile she will weep if she carries on.

“Real rage permeating the air”….see this shit? gratitude

It validates Sharon Day can’t do neither rage nor compassion. It’s all fake as plastic. She’s in Nashville, supposedly ‘looking after’ her hospitalised daughter. Why isn’t she focusing her gratitude and compassion entirely where she should instead? Meditation, yeah? Clearly, she can’t be doing it right. Why not just sticking to sipping prosecco at the country club and scrap-booking instead of trying teaching others a craft you have neither the flair, or the power or the expertise for?

Breaking news: last minute report in mid-edit. Another fucking drama as we write.

(Now please don’t let me post the entire thing) You wonder why shit happens more than once. Number one, you repeat the same mistakes over and over again. Never learning from them and bang on about this fucking kindness as an excuse, only to get all sullen and passive aggressive, scratch sand over it to cover the smell of your mess. Number two, you ask money for services your heart is not in it. You huff and puff. Ask for more money and when you don’t get them, you get pissed off and rant about it on social media, just like this.

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Go re-read what I wrote earlier about mental illness…

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If she really was that bad, what the fuck was she doing in your entourage in the first place? So, let me get this right. First you let the nutters in and then you insist on boundaries? Forgive me, I thought it worked the other way round. This is why, I can’t stand Alexandrians. They are fickle, emotionally retarded and constantly steeped into unnecessary drama. You are a bloody embarassment. No common sense at all. It’s just about parading the curious as if they were committed worshippers of the queen while doing a bit of proselytising, the soiree, the whole fucking claptrap about expensive wine and Strega – 3 euros a bottle in an Italian supermarket and one of the shittiest cheapshit liqueurs you’ll ever find on the planet but it’s all about the name, isn’t it? Hello? It’s only expensive because it’s London and there are finer drinks out there. And then, why even bargain and make concessions for this person to get in for free. There is your chance to get rid of the nutter, matter of fact, without really telling her the real reason! Problem solved. Noooo…first the concession, then you feel ashamed for her, next the character assassination in a closed group. That’s easy, isn’t it. Will these people get to hear her side of the story?

I don’t believe it!!!! How many years have you been in the craft Maxine? Probably better you don’t say.

You know Maxine, there are only two people who are anal-retentive in selecting who gets initiated: one is writing to you right here, right now and then there is someone else. We started at the same time. She with her project and I with mine. Different selection methods, same rigueur. We go parallel to one other and diverge at some point but I respect that magician like no other, on the grounds that she never minces her words and takes no shit. In magic, especially if you lead my dear there’s a very, very thin margin of error. Magic doesn’t do sorry and neither do the beings that come with it. No maybes, no buts, no ifs, not even the chance to take a breath between words before they’re gone. You put a foot wrong and you’re out. You put your foot wrong many years ago and it’s gone all shit for you ever since, so now all you get is parasites who will eat you alive.

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Did I understand right? Two years????????????????????????????????????????????????????

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I can’t get my head round it. I think none of us here can.

Wait, I need a strong cup of tea now for the next load of tosh. It carries on…

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Bloody hell!!! Maxine, you’ve been saying the same fucking shit for nearly half a century but you’ve fucking waited two years to come up with whinge even though you ‘can tell who doesn’t smell right‘. Can you really? Maxine, the only thing you have nose for is cash. You can smell the cash cows. You can smell them good.

(Sigh!) Let’s make light of it while I put the kettle on a second time for another cuppa.

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Exactly, as it has just been demonstrated with Sharon Day.

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The Black Hand FB mafia

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Admit it. You needed a good bitch. Don’t we all sometimes? But will you just stop acting like you’re the victim. It’s tiresome to having to listen to same old broken record. True potential magicians don’t gravitate towards victims, don’t you fucking get it? This is my second edit to this article and I’ve just inserted these bits right in the middle of it when your post is barely 7 hours old. Could it be, perhaps, Loki is not the only one who has it in with you lot (two)? Even I don’t have the fucking answer at this point!!! Could it be…he’s up to something even I don’t know? Things are getting rather peculiar and you said it yourself, this ain’t Disney world, and at this point I’m starting to think you’ve really pissed off something greater than just people. I’m going to put on the table some disinterested advice for you before closing this parenthesis (it’s up to you, take it or leave it): learn from ‘the attacks’ coming to you. Listen to what they are trying to tell you. Take them standing. Stop making excuses for yourself. If you forgive, you must know how to forget because the first cannot happen without the latter. So, stop lying to yourself, it can hardly be called a strength. Choose magicians (then you have to change attitude and treat them as such) over cash cows and brown-nosers. It’s your Achille’s heel and it won’t take a rocket scientist to tell you how it’s going to be your undoing.                                  Was that kind enough?

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Back to the edit and it already feels like we had this conversation before

Sparking originality was never Sharon’s forte and three pedigree initations into witchcraft have made not a jot of difference to her non-existent magical powers. At the end of the day, she still needs to employ ordinary services for ordinary people and cross her fingers for a placebo effect. This, among many other aspects point rather conclusively witchcraft does not run in her blood but it doesn’t mean she is not tied through bonds and oaths to practices that enable spirits and skin-walkers to enter her mind. I go into more depth about the technical applications and mythological examples of this practice on another blog, but one key connotation is that in ‘witches’ not of the blood, intiation rites bring up to the surface areas of arrested development the conscious personality had suppressed in the subconscious whilst growing up. Very often, people on the outside, family and friends, will notice a dramatic regression, no dissimilar to a midlife crisis where a 50+ suddenly begins to imitate their juniors, and in some cases to behave like teenagers. They also become rather susceptible to the effects of glamour, as we have seen. Unfortunately, they often forget that time (not magic) does not lie and cannot be cheated. The painful realisation dawns with unexpected encounters with sassy and spirited pedicurists in the spring of their youth, bursting with energy, no longer prepared to take any shit from anyone, no matter how rich or witchy. A well groomed shop assistant in an exclusive French boutique may not suffer gladly the delusions of a frumpy woman, no matter the size of her wallet would match with her actual tent dress size. And why should she? Some sizes, like witchblood, are just not available to everyone. To thine self be true. No need to get angry. No need to jump on the defensive. Take the shop assistant’s blessing and move along, chop, chop!

 

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Hear, hear the mouth of wisdom!

It’s not that Sharon Day is fat; she’s just misshapen, has saggy skin hanging off her stomach, no waist, a flat arse, no neck, no muscle tone and needs to airbrush her portraits to fish some compliments. I don’t need to describe her to those who know her. It’s called ageing, my dear. By the way, serious congratulations to the photographer for a masterpieces because your portraits looks nothing like any of you in real life…

…and whilst on the topic of ‘truth’ and ‘be true to thine own self’….

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“When it’s rejected, Initiation into the priesthood or Alexandrian craft is neither available, nor suffered by us. We do bless them on their way. ” Ok, so that explains why the nominated heir to the King of the Witches became a heroine addict, suffered a stroke in his early 30s and is now a vegetable who can’t speak and needs 24 hrs care. Some blessing on your own son, Maxine, but…..

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It looks like Maxine could learn one thing or two from Tywin Lannister about power, witchblood and being true to thine self. Let’s get the point across in pictures.

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“I am the king!” – protests the insufferable, vicious, little brat.

How familiar….

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And how the protests fall on Alexandrian ears…

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“Please shut the fuck up!”

Now, if I were you Maxine, I’d get Sharon Day to take note of Tyrion’s wise words and display them in bold neon characters somewhere you can see them most of the time.

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“Any man who must say I am the king is no true king.”

Get it? Any wo/man who must say, I am the king, I am the queen, I am co-founder, I am a true initiate, I am a High Priest/ess, I’m an Enchantress, is none of these things. Power does not come from telling people that you have it but comes from showing them. Usually it reaches your ears, when you least expect it, in whispers. Your son, seem to be hanging by a thread of life on purpose, as if not to release you from responsibility, to never let you forget and as an indictment upon yourself of your own judgemental pronouncements on others. In your blind hypocrisy, you condemn your own son along with those you resent and feel enviously powerless against. Yes Maxine, powerless. And whenever you feel powerless, we can all take a big breath, plug our ears because you will start crying out bullying and have a temper tantrum like that other toddler, Sorita; then as soon as something lifts your spirits (usually some misfortune happening on another) you’re back to your cocky self, until someone does or says something to dent your ego and the cycle starts all over again. Lo, and fucking behold the earlier interjection!

Right, I’m cutting off the rest because it needs a separate article and I might take it elsewhere, to a worthier audience 😉 . I’m leaving you with a song to make you forget all the eye candy and your woes…but not the dinosaurs!

Keep smiling.

Sleep well.

No wet dreams guys ‘n girls.

 

Maxine Sanders: the septagenarian child and her legacy of ingratitude (Loki’s edit)

 

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Ask yourself this question before you put your head under Loki’s boot, YOU, miserable Alexandrian.

Improving on the lamentations of a distraught Alexandrian

Neglecting to say “Fuck you” can infuriate the best of men but it exalts the darkest side of Loki. Did the Worldbreaker deny such infamy to Shakespeare? If so, he let his poncy characters do the talking. Violeta whines in Twelfth Night ,

“I hate ingratitude more in a man / Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, / Or any taint of vie whose strong corruption / Inhabits our frail blood.”

Shakespeare wasn’t finished. His King Lear thundered,

“Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend, / More hideous when thy show’st thee in a child / Than the sea-monster.”

Not all of us, fortunately, are so painfully stung by ingratitude. Benjamin Franklin apparently took it more in stride, observing that,

“Most people return small favors, acknowledge medium ones and repay greater ones—with ingratitude.”


Yes, most of YOU Alexandrians have felt some sting from the ingratitude of Maxine Sanders and even held an olive branch for her after she and Mrs. Day-Howard first arranged said sycophant’s boyfriend to beat her to a pulp and then helping him get scot free so he could go and breed with his new squeeze abroad.

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Temple of the Stag King Laura (Loveheart) Anstey and Mark Llewellyn demonstrating proper personhood as it befits Alexandrian priesthood.  Reporting it is not a crime but lying to the police because he’s your ‘brother in the craft and your shitty cult must be protected at all costs is (even if, she, was always plain stupid to begin with ). This could have been Nigel Bourne and Seldiy Bates years ago on the day he kicked her out of their house to movie in Julie the slapper, but yeah, she just had to take the humiliation and shut the fuck up for the sake of craft.

That’s typical Alexandrian, isn’t? It’s how shit has turned round and round in your fucking ‘community’ since day one. On the other hand only I took her for what she was worth (basically less than NOTHING) and wiped my arse with the hem of her skirt and your entire fucking pseudo-religion.

“Often the hurt is remembered and experienced anew many years after the offence”YOU say and then ask: “For the sake of our equanimity and peace of mind, what ought we to understand about ingratitude?” 

Oh, dear writer, I strongly advise you to speak for yourself and yours. It is YOU who don’t understand your state of subjugation, your weakness. It is your wretched self-esteem that suffers and craves for what your unoriginal mind cannot create for itself and so you think you can pollute with your nailed-to-the-cross-Christo-moral-goody-two-shoes-all-concerned-crap. You don’t how to deal with it. You’re a slave crucified by your own substandard mentality and emotional impulses. Your fake altruism nails you to the cross your carry on you back. You need someone to impress, someone to ally yourself with. Stand on your own and you are nothing. I understand, not everyone is born with witchblood but hasn’t anyone told you? Witches are born, not made. It’s not your fault if without your Alexandrian crutches you have no god to turn to but let me tell you something, I’m not doing all this for weaklings like you. What you did here was not smart.

And let me put it to you nicely: you do not belong with this company, so scuttle back to your Hidden Children to lick your wounds because mewling quims won’t be needed here.

But let’s go on reading and rectifying this bullshit

“King Lear’s “hideous” disgust for a child’s ingratitude is misplaced” – that’s what you might have read on some regressive liberal website you visit.

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“Young children quite naturally have little sense of gratitude. They tend to take for granted the benefits of food, clothes, toys, and loving kindness. Seeing this ingratitude, parents sometimes wonder if they’re spoiling their children. Children are often prodded: “Say thank you now!” They say the words but don’t necessarily register the feelings. Their inability to feel gratitude is based in the nature of childhood consciousness. Young children take for granted the ‘good’ that they receive because, in their acute self-centeredness, they tend to believe the benefits are self-bestowed. The benefits are also experienced as an entitlement or even a right. At the same time, young children are quick to feel that any refusals from others, or experiences of deprivation, are offences against them and even acts of malice. In the still undeveloped mind of a child, everything that’s good is self-bestowed, while everything bad comes from the outside.”

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Clearly, you’ve had your brain thoroughly shampooed and conditioned by internet articles on modern parenting you found on the Internet and that’s where it shows you’re not even past the bottom rung of magical understanding. Childhood consciousness is hardly symonymous with acute self-centredness, you ignorant Christo-pagan.

Adults who, like Maxine Sanders, are chronically ungrateful are still operating, at least in part, through this childish irrational point of view. Going by her own accounts in her auto-biography ‘Firechild’, neurosis developed as she emerged out of childhood still largely under the influence of irrational, negative perceptions and emotional associations experienced through her violent father and unbalanced mother. 

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Geraldine Oxenham on Maxine Sanders

Do you know why Maxine and no Alexandrian ever took those liberties with me? I never followed anyone else’s orders. Everyone always knew I fundamentally didn’t give a fuck about your hierachies. The first thing I did was to break the non-socialising rule and every single fucking rule after that. Oh, they did try to fuck with me because of that, and look what happened: from one day to the next someone found himself sitting alone on heap of rubble where his temple used to be. I took everything they threw at me and I turned it to my benefit, re-writing the whole fucking Gospel. That’s called alchemy, stupid amateur. YOU, on the other hand do as you’re told. When you’re told to jump, you reply: “How high?” I would probably do the same as Maxine, if you weren’t such a parasited lot.  Suffice to say, I don’t condemn her for living up to true nature of your goddess and making you squirm, which by the way has nothing to do with her upbringing. She simply sees right through your desperation and cosplayer attire and plays you all, Mrs. Howard-Day included, to her own gratification and convenience.

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Your average wiccan ‘witch’

In varying degrees, neurosis is widespread through the adult population, and it accounts for much of the dysfunction, malice, and stupidity—along with extremist beliefs and self-defeating behaviours that burden life.”

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PMSL! That’s rich, coming from you lot!

“Within a context of magical initiation, neurosis is overcome through a process of acquiring self-knowledge and thereby seeing ourselves more objectively.”

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Alexandrians SJWs

What the fuck do you even know of initiation? Do you think that taking a NLP course is going to make you sound like one?

 

“This did not happen with Maxine Sanders who remains, to this day, stuck in self-defeating patterns from the past, such as ingratitude towards those who loyally supported her when her life hit rock bottom.”

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“You mention that some of the initiates’ training is “lacking.” We are wondering how exactly do you access this information?”

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Bloody hell, it ain’t that difficult. Just look at the stupid (illegal) stunts you pull and the crap you write. Just what the fuck were you hoping to find here? My fucking confessions?

“Seriously. FB is bad for my intelligence sometimes.”

Sorita D’Este

Indeed. Sorita is one hell of a turnip even off Facebook. It’s just more noticeable when she’s online.

“Proud of myself. Managed 15 mins on the phone with a “Windows Scammer” who was trying to show me my “viruses”. 15 mins they were not spending on someone more gullible, and strangely entertaining while I was having my porridge and coffee  ”

Sorita D’Este

Shit does tend to attract flies, Sorita.

Now, listen to this….

Preparing books to be shipped for Avalonia (avaloniabooks.co.uk) this morning – and although it is gorgeous outside the office window today (sunshine!) I am tempted to hand-deliver some of the orders, especially those going to Hawaii; Bolivia; Brazil; Ecuador; Peru; Australia; Jamaica; and other wondrous sounding HOT places!

Maybe I should do crowdfunding to do exactly that one of these days, it would be so much fun to deliver books in person and meet all the people who actually read the books I write or publish! 

Sorita D’Este

Sponging a free holiday off people so she can have so much fun in hot place at your expense? Surely there can’t be so many stupid people who would put themselves out of pocket so she can go on holiday and have fun at their expense and on top of that make a nice little earning on the back of authors she doesn’t even pay. Maybe Emily Carding’s sugar daddy might write her a check if she’s extra ‘nice’ to him/them. The beauty of this is that Sorita and her wanky friends come on my platform to claim the moral high ground on Maxine Sanders calling her “neurotic adult dependent (sic.)”. What does that make Sorita? – aside a low end of the market ponce. Oh, yes, I nearly forgot about this. Intelligent choice for Sorita. I’m sure he can’t wait to kiss her precious arse in the way she expects it. Well, it’s either that or she’ll have to come off a peg or two and swallow all that vanity reflux.

Surely, she could roll her sleeves up and earn the money herself but I suspect it’s her way of proving to Maxine she is better at manipulating and scrounging from her worshipper without hearing a single complaint. But that’s nice to know, isn’t it? While her fans think the sun shines out of her arse, all she sees in them is a cash machine that will enable her to get a free holiday. That’s wicca for you. They’ve never seen a penny from me and never will. But yeah, I agree with your self-assessment Sorita, you’re not very intelligence.

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Something didn’t quite work out at the Tor, innit, Sorita?

But that’s because the poor old septegenarian mite is consumed alive by a parasite thrice the size of one of the dinosaurs Mrs. Howard-Day sees in her flights of fancy. Courtesy of that nonce of her ex-husband you all still drool about and would gladly part the cheeks of your arse wide open for. That’s right, Maxine is fucked her about really, a sacrificial token in this life and let me tell you, in her shoes I’d strip you to the bone too. She knows it, lives with it and makes the best of what’s been and her captivity in a gilded cage, unlike you entitled vermin, who will be left forever in chains, wondering who wishes you an interesting life.

“When people paused, she supplied her own questions with a gentle mocking smile. British Wiccans were among the most prudish, judgemental hypocritical people, she said… she wondered if any looking at their FB friends list realised how many of their Wiccan priestly chums were rapists? At least half, she assured the shocked room…‘Have you ever seen images of the horned god?’ She asked me.

‘Yes, many,’ I supplied.

‘Then you have your answer.’

An answer indeed! It was perfect for setting right in my mind the images of the Wiccan deities; the God is a goatish creature of lust, the Goddess a paragon of youth and perfection. The parallel between the above idea and the story of the older, pleasant but distinctly plain Alex Sanders and the 15 year old beautiful girl he met and made his high priestess and wife is very clear.”

An Evening with Maxine Sanders 

“Ingratitude can be seen in Maxine Sanders’ inability or unwillingness to be generous with words and feelings. There are many ways she shows to be ungrateful, and often they’re unconscious. For example, Maxine feels she can’t be happy unless she gets more benefits or money. She never feels she has enough.”

But, hey, she dedicated a whole article about music in the Craft, so join me in singing her a song from her former days of glory…Ahhh these darn Skandies and their heathen gods!

 

Maxine Sanders belongs to one particular class of ingrates—neurotic adult dependents”—who, like Sorita D’Este, live parasitically on the back of others (in this case the Alexandrian community of initiates and seekers) in the expectation of being taken care of and having the shit wiped off her arse. These insignificant leeches, “rather than being grateful to their providers, frequently experience bitter disappointment and complain incessantly for what they see as the lack of generosity and support bestowed upon them” by fools too stupid to realise they’re being taken for a ride.

Not only do they return all the arse-kissing the receive with passive ingratitude, they return it with accusatory discontent. In their view, the world owes them a living. They can be quick to spread the agony of their neurosis around to any weakling of spirit within their range. In that respect, they are no different from Maxine Sanders. Before Loki’s Gazette opened the can of worms (and the gates of initiatory wicca for many other barbaric witchcraft practitioners to plunder and conquer) these same arseholes were doing exactly what they accuse Maxine of doing to them to seekers and lower rank initiates. Now you get a taste of your own medicine.

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Wild witches’s response to Alexandrian elitism

“Adult dependents, or “dependees,” can’t accept or appreciate kindness because, unconsciously, they’re determined to continue to live through the feeling of not being adequately taken care of. In childhood, Maxine Sanders often felt abused, neglected and unappreciated. In Firechild, she writes of wishing her father dead in spite of (going by her account) being the one who handed her over to a mystrious group of people who put her through a magical initiation at the tender age or 15.

Victim shaming. Yep, that would be something Geraldine Oxenham would say.

Consciously, she lived in painful disappointment (as you are right now as matter of fact), while unconsciously she clinged stubbornly to the old hurt of feeling refused and neglected by choosing to become. This inner conflict created an acute form of self-sabotage which characterised the rest of her life: she was determined, unconsciously, to display to others and to the world just how badly, in her subjective assessment, the world had treated her whilst at the same time project a sense of magical ordeal over certain events.”

Everybody knows her initiation at 15 was as fictitious as Alex’s grandmother story. I bet your mothers and fathers gave you all a fabulous upbringing, judging by the people you’ve pledged your oaths to. Now, you sling mud and yet continue to call yourselves Alexandrians. To state the obvious, she didn’t have a choice to the parents she got but YOU chose of your own volition to be blindly loyal to someone, deep down, you do not respect. She’s not holding you ransom. Nobody is stopping you from walking out. You can put down your shitty titles and badges and forge your own way, but you don’t, therefore that makes you either hopelessly stupid or dependent on someone to scapegoat for your iniquities. Probably both.

“Through her self-centeredness or egotism, someone like Maxine Sanders can feel reduced in stature at the idea of being dependent on the goodness and protection of others. She resists feeling gratitude because feeling it acknowledges her dependence on a circle of life beyond her self-centeredness. Maxine Sanders often clings to an illusion of self-sufficiency. To acknowledge the other and to express gratitude can feel to her like a further weakening of her fragile sense of self. She could never allow herself to feel obligated or beholding to the benefactor. It can feel as if the benefactor now has the upper hand and is taking satisfaction in feeling superior. Ingratitude becomes a passive-aggressive withholding, a kind of retaliation, and a way of saying, “I am self-sufficient! I don’t need you!”

The goodness and protection of others? LOL. You read too many fantasy novels (like Dunes… Moronic escapists. You even think yourself intelligent.)

Boo-hoo. You’re not indispensable little blossom. If you’ve been there long enough to be an authority on Maxine’s childhood, it can be reasonably presumed you’ve seen many others come and go and be dispatched to the summerlands. What made you think your turn would never come? And to put it concisely ….

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“Ingrates can simply refuse to acknowledge a benefactor because the benefactor, in being kind and good, is perceived by the neurotic person as somehow being weak. Neurotics are frequently submissive toward someone who is perceived to be stronger, while aggressive toward someone seen as weak. So the benefactor is treated with aggression—or passive-aggressive coldness—rather than gratitude.

You seem to take (her) lack of gratitude like a personal affront. Since you make out yourself to be the stronger person, what the fuck is wrong with your self-esteem?a479fc154571e2c15db0dea63bba61bb

People can often feel gratitude in a religious way as they “commune” with a higher power, while at the same time they’re unwilling to feel or express gratitude to another human being. They’re using religion to justify if not exalt themselves (“the higher power recognizes and loves me”), but they can’t bear through their egotism to “lower themselves” to acknowledge their fundamental, terrestrial dependence on the goodwill of everyday people.”

I think that what you really do not understand are the ways of the world. You gave without Maxine asking anything of you. She simply behaved as if you owed her and YOU, being the stupid morons that you’ve just proved yourselves to be, bled yourself dry thinking you were smarter than so called ‘muggles’. Your idea of gratefulness translates to indebted and that’s where you fall flat on your face because where there is no explicit request for what you hand out, there is no debt. So, do yourself a favour and get up from the floor. Your temper tantrum is taking you nowhere. Truth be told, I never heard Maxine coming out with: (“the higher power recognizes and loves me”). Now, that would be what you find on Sorita D’Este’s Facebook wall when she’s not attention-whoring about being cyber-bullied.  Let me break this down to you with a better quote than poxy B. Franklin…

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“Many religions consider ingratitude to be sinful.” – you say?

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Oh, just fuck off!

It’s perceived this way because, in part, the unconscious willingness of many people to identify with the alleged lack of value in others and in life itself produces inner guilt (the impression that one is doing a bad thing and deserves to be punished). Rather than see ingratitude as a sin, it’s more helpful to see it as a blind spot in self-awareness or as a “sin” against oneself. Ingratitude is a measure of how little we feel the wonder of our own existence.

Finally, let’s look at how, like King Lear or Viola, we (which is actually YOU) can manage to get triggered so much by the ingratitude of others. There’s no need, of course, to get triggered by the behavior of ingrates, because, as we’ve seen above, their behaviors have nothing to do with us personally. (Wrong. It is often because of you PERSONALLY. Your pedantic evangelical interference makes you insufferable garbage.)When we do get triggered, it’s because it feels to us that they aren’t recognizing our value or appreciating us. The sense is that what we have given to them or what we might mean to them is not valued, and we take that personally. Our painful reaction means that we ourselves are resonating with the feeling of lacking in value. 

Your painful reaction is a symptoms something is off with your motives. Good deeds with strings attached are like pants with skidmarks.

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We’re (YOU ARE) making an unconscious choice to go there and feel that negative impression, even though it’s not true that we (YOU) are, in any intrinsic way, lacking in value.

If we (YOU) wish to overcome this emotional weakness, and thereby refrain from needless suffering, we (YOU)only need to recognize and work out (Y)our emotional attachment to feelings of unworthiness. Common the world over, it’s an old impression that lingers from childhood, and (Y)our consciousness can dispel it put it into perspective.

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Of fuck, I thought this fucking Welsh shippie was done with this shit….but no, here comes the best bit…

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“Gratitude is felt, in its most sincere rendition, when we connect with our goodness and sense of intrinsic value. We’re grateful for the pleasure of this consciousness, and we’re grateful to anyone or anything that has helped us to enhance it. Gratitude becomes, instead of an obligation to others or an effort that seems to detract from one’s self, an integral part of our pleasure in life.”

Now I’m left wondering…..

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Non compos mentis sophisticated tripe

That cringing moment in the occult community, when a self-absorbed media wiccan fears her center-stage is being compromised but thinks she’s come up with a really smart retort to elicit ‘likes’,

“I am not interested in the ongoing dramas of small-minded nincompoops who want to be famous because they had an initiation somewhere from someone. “Initiation” simply implies a new start – and if you want it to be magical and spiritual, your work will speak for itself.

Unless you do something with it, Initiation is not special – and you remain in the first stage, katharsis – with no hope of ever reaching telete – let alone epopteia…. (go and google that 😉 ) ” – Sorita D’Este

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The average new age poodle won’t have the faintest of what she’s on about and will be frantically googling in search of definition. But Sorita thrives on impressing her fans with flamboyant displays of word porn.

“Oh my goddess, you are so intelligent Sorita!” – they squeal while drooling and masturbating over her latest Facebook status.

Will the tripe they are about to write match up to Sorita’s and get her ‘like’? Maybe if they impress her enough with depth of spiritual understanding  as well as unconditional devotion they might stand a chance of getting invited to stay at her house and babysit for free her autistic son while she tends her poisonous herbs garden. Ah, what a privilege that would be!

“That’s not fair they are going to think that is all Greek – actually it is all Greek!But katharsis has come to mean so much more than it originally did in its mother tongue – epopteia might be the first but telete is just down right sneaky as you know it can mean 3 things only one of which is slightly about initiations (the other 2 are spirit and orgies) – – tricky tricky tricky…

To initiate something means to begin -so they are only just beginners – so just ask them to show what they can do or have done – not to tell you about it – Pythagorean initiates were not permitted to speak for a year – we should really make this a requirement more often.”  – @ Shambhallah Awareness Centre

…but no, they’re being ignored. No likes for you this time. You’re not Shamballah enough for this precious high priestess of the greek chtnonic mysteries with the direct phone line to the great Hekate.

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Try again next time. The babysitting vacancy is currently filled by a man-hating feminist at the service of population control (which can’t be a bad thing).  Maybe if only your name was JSK and you were worth rubbing shoulders with because your books make you look like a novice…or maybe threaten suicide or something.  Sorita is the great expert and connossieur of what constitutes legitimate new age bullshit, just as Justin Bieber is to music. She’s a qualified quack  herbalist. She will heal you the way real professionals can’t, go up to Devon for one of her mighty conjurations and think of you as she paddles in the sea. Then striking her signature pose arms spread out to her side and flashing smile for her Facebook fans, she will release a paper boat on the water and hand over your troubles to the bitter sea.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to run to the bathroom and vomit.