aim
01-20-2010, 01:39 PM
How I originally began down this path of madness, I cannot truly
remember. I think it occurred to me as a lark one day, as I stood outside,
in a misty rain, protesting NAFTA in Seattle. As a journalist I had
interviewed everyone of consequence, at least in my mind and in the
minds of my readers. Utne Reader had even considered the Mumia Abu-
Jamal interview for publication. Being considered by Utne is tantamount
to the big time in my world. You see, I don't do it for the money. At
least, I didn't back then. Things have changed since then, but I am
getting ahead of myself.
Standing in the rain, watching the pretty little earth-muffins
overturning cars and breahng windows, I suddenly had a thought. I cannot say where it came from. It seemed to have come out of thin air as thoughts sometimes do, without a logic sequence of thinking or events leading up to it. Why not seek out and interview the leader of the first recorded organized labor movement? None other than Lucifer himself, the fallen one. But how?
After the rally, I went back to the train station, retrieved my backpack
from the day locker, boarded my southbound train and made a written to-
do list of things I would need to research and retrieve.
After I arrived home, I quickly logged my laptop into my wireless DSL
connection, looked up some books and then ordered them overnight on
amazon.com. Two days later I had found what I needed. On pages 244
through 248 of The Book of Black Magic and Pacts by Arthur Edward
Waite are detailed instructions for conjuring "Emperor Lucifer, conjuring
Lucifer, Master and Prince of Rebellious Spirits." For obvious reasons it
will not be quoted here. I acquired the needed materials and spent two
days preparing the space and myself for the deed at hand. Just as I was
weighing the silver ingot, having everything else at the ready, I heard a
knock at my door. I impatiently strode to the door, irritated by the
interruption of my painstaking preparations. I flung the door open,
wafting a plume of incense smoke in the process. When the smoke
cleared I found a dapper gentleman, tastefully dressed, fit and tan,
standing at the door. He held a cane in the crook of his elbow that had a
silver star atop the handle.
"Can I help you?" I said exasperated.
"You requested an interview with me?" said the man in a pleasant voice.
"Excuse me?" I said, not catching on right away.
"No, excuse me for not introducing myself, I am Lucifer," he said,
producing a simple black text on white background business card that
read:
LUCIFER - NOT SATAN
[email protected]
"Uh. Oh. Um.. ." I was flustered.
"Aren't you going to ask me in?" he asked.
"Um, certainly, yes." I stammered.
"Thank you," he said, moving into my apartment smoothly. He removed
his fedora and gave my ritual accoutrements a cursory glance.
"A bit outdated," he said. "One need only send me an email these days. I
rarely get asked for an interview anymore, so my schedule is usually
clear."
By now I had begun to regain my composure so I set my mind to the task
of controlling this interview. This was it, my big break, and I could not
blow this.
"So, no one conjures you the old fashioned way anymore?" I asked. "Oh sure they do," he said, seating himself at my dining room table.
I was kicking myself for missing the opportunity to offer him the seat,
therefore asserting my control of the situation. I had to grab the reins
here !
'Want a drink?" I asked, moving towards my makeshift bar.
"No, thank you," he said.
"What kind of people generally try to conjure you up the old fashioned
way?' I asked, continuing the previous thought-thread.
"Did you ever see the movie Spawn?" he asked. "There's this scene
where Clowny, a demonic played by John Leguizamo, takes Spawn to a
cemetery to dig up his own body, to prove to him that he's really dead. In
the background, some heavy metal types are trying to summon me, using
some butchered hokum, probably from that carny LeVay's books. Don't
get me wrong. I love Anton's schtick, but not for the reasons that you
might imagine that I would." He paused for a moment and then
continued, "Anyway, back to the Clowny story: When the Metal Heads
see Clowny and Spawn creating some otherworldly pyrotechnics, they
rush over and ask, 'Did the great Dark Lord send you?' and Clowny
looks over his shoulder and then asks no one in particular, 'Why does
God get all the smart ones and we get all the retards?"' he then fell silent,
grinning.
remember. I think it occurred to me as a lark one day, as I stood outside,
in a misty rain, protesting NAFTA in Seattle. As a journalist I had
interviewed everyone of consequence, at least in my mind and in the
minds of my readers. Utne Reader had even considered the Mumia Abu-
Jamal interview for publication. Being considered by Utne is tantamount
to the big time in my world. You see, I don't do it for the money. At
least, I didn't back then. Things have changed since then, but I am
getting ahead of myself.
Standing in the rain, watching the pretty little earth-muffins
overturning cars and breahng windows, I suddenly had a thought. I cannot say where it came from. It seemed to have come out of thin air as thoughts sometimes do, without a logic sequence of thinking or events leading up to it. Why not seek out and interview the leader of the first recorded organized labor movement? None other than Lucifer himself, the fallen one. But how?
After the rally, I went back to the train station, retrieved my backpack
from the day locker, boarded my southbound train and made a written to-
do list of things I would need to research and retrieve.
After I arrived home, I quickly logged my laptop into my wireless DSL
connection, looked up some books and then ordered them overnight on
amazon.com. Two days later I had found what I needed. On pages 244
through 248 of The Book of Black Magic and Pacts by Arthur Edward
Waite are detailed instructions for conjuring "Emperor Lucifer, conjuring
Lucifer, Master and Prince of Rebellious Spirits." For obvious reasons it
will not be quoted here. I acquired the needed materials and spent two
days preparing the space and myself for the deed at hand. Just as I was
weighing the silver ingot, having everything else at the ready, I heard a
knock at my door. I impatiently strode to the door, irritated by the
interruption of my painstaking preparations. I flung the door open,
wafting a plume of incense smoke in the process. When the smoke
cleared I found a dapper gentleman, tastefully dressed, fit and tan,
standing at the door. He held a cane in the crook of his elbow that had a
silver star atop the handle.
"Can I help you?" I said exasperated.
"You requested an interview with me?" said the man in a pleasant voice.
"Excuse me?" I said, not catching on right away.
"No, excuse me for not introducing myself, I am Lucifer," he said,
producing a simple black text on white background business card that
read:
LUCIFER - NOT SATAN
[email protected]
"Uh. Oh. Um.. ." I was flustered.
"Aren't you going to ask me in?" he asked.
"Um, certainly, yes." I stammered.
"Thank you," he said, moving into my apartment smoothly. He removed
his fedora and gave my ritual accoutrements a cursory glance.
"A bit outdated," he said. "One need only send me an email these days. I
rarely get asked for an interview anymore, so my schedule is usually
clear."
By now I had begun to regain my composure so I set my mind to the task
of controlling this interview. This was it, my big break, and I could not
blow this.
"So, no one conjures you the old fashioned way anymore?" I asked. "Oh sure they do," he said, seating himself at my dining room table.
I was kicking myself for missing the opportunity to offer him the seat,
therefore asserting my control of the situation. I had to grab the reins
here !
'Want a drink?" I asked, moving towards my makeshift bar.
"No, thank you," he said.
"What kind of people generally try to conjure you up the old fashioned
way?' I asked, continuing the previous thought-thread.
"Did you ever see the movie Spawn?" he asked. "There's this scene
where Clowny, a demonic played by John Leguizamo, takes Spawn to a
cemetery to dig up his own body, to prove to him that he's really dead. In
the background, some heavy metal types are trying to summon me, using
some butchered hokum, probably from that carny LeVay's books. Don't
get me wrong. I love Anton's schtick, but not for the reasons that you
might imagine that I would." He paused for a moment and then
continued, "Anyway, back to the Clowny story: When the Metal Heads
see Clowny and Spawn creating some otherworldly pyrotechnics, they
rush over and ask, 'Did the great Dark Lord send you?' and Clowny
looks over his shoulder and then asks no one in particular, 'Why does
God get all the smart ones and we get all the retards?"' he then fell silent,
grinning.