Donate Now Goal amount for this month: 30 USD, Received: 0 USD (0%)

User Tag List

Thanks Thanks:  0
Likes Likes:  0
Dislikes Dislikes:  0
Results 1 to 5 of 5

Thread: Interview with Lucifer by Joseph Metheny

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Jan 2010
    Posts
    35
    Post Thanks / Like
    Points
    1
    Level
    1
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)
    Follows
    0
    Following
    0
    Points
    0
    My Feedback
    0
    (0% Positive Feedback)
    Donations
    0 - $0.00

    Default Interview with Lucifer by Joseph Metheny

    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.

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Jan 2010
    Posts
    35
    Post Thanks / Like
    Points
    1
    Level
    1
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)
    Follows
    0
    Following
    0
    Points
    0
    My Feedback
    0
    (0% Positive Feedback)
    Donations
    0 - $0.00

    Default

    "I don't understand." I replied.
    He gave my occult clutter another visual sweep and then replied, "No, I
    don't suppose you do."
    Damn, I didn't see that one coming. I needed to get on top of this
    interview.
    "Ok, tell me about the fall." I asked. "You were banished. Right?"
    "Sure, we were banished. Fired, in fact, without notice or severance," he
    said.
    "Like Reagan did to the Air Traffic Controllers in the eighties?" I
    continued the questioning.
    "Exactly like that. God was a big Reagan supporter by the way. Still is.
    He's a little wishy-washy on Shrub though.. ." he replied.
    "You still talk to him?" I asked, incredulous.
    "Oh, sure! We're like professional wrestlers. We stick to our chosen
    roles during work hours but afterwards we hang out at the pub and pal
    about. That's how that whole Job escapade came about. A drunken bet
    on my part. In hindsight I wish I had sobered up a bit before taking that
    project on. I probably would have just passed on it after giving it a bit of
    sober thought. As it turned out, that poor bloke Job had to, suffer my
    drunken frat-boy tantrums. I was younger then, much more of an
    impulsive punk." He said. "You try being a light-bringer underling for
    some demi-god that suffers from a plethora of symptoms.. .

    "Aren't you afraid of talking like that?" I asked.
    "Pishaw!" he replied "Yahweh and I get our paychecks from the
    same source. We're on the same payroll. Get it?"
    "No," was all I could think to say in reply.
    "No, I suppose you wouldn't," he said casting his eyes around my
    apartment again.
    I rose and swept the ritual trinkets into an old- wine crate and slid them
    under the coffee table.
    "Look," he went on after a pregnant pause, "I don't want to disappoint
    you but you are seeking the truth, right?"
    "Yes, I think I am ..." I stuttered.
    "Ok, as things go with this world, part of what you have heard about me
    is true, part is distorted, part is pure fabrication. Never forget that the
    victors write history. In the end, it's really up to you as to who I am.
    More importantly, it's up to you as to who you are." he looked slowly
    around my apartment again, pausing on each object until he reached the
    home entertainment center. "Your altar?" he asked. "My what? No! Why?"
    "It looks like an altar. Just thought I'd ask. It seems to occupy a central
    position in your household," he said, smiling slightly. He went on,
    "Here's the scenario. It's simple. You are an inmate. You built the
    prison. Yahweh was the original judge, jury and executioner. I am merely
    the warden. My job is to rehabilitate you. My secret wish is to see you
    tunnel out with a spoon, but in the meantime I do my job. Sort of. It's
    hard to explain. The so-called demons are merely the guards, the screws.
    Popes and priests, teachers, cops, shrinks, government officials...these
    are the trustees. Inmates that report to the guards and the warden, whose
    sole purpose is to snitch on the other inmates in return for favors and
    extra smokes. The Angels who still work for the 'mad one' are the cops
    outside the walls. You get past us, you still have to contend with them. I,
    however, am secretly rooting for you. There are some kernels of truth
    spread around.. .
    "Like the Pseudopigraphia?' I asked.
    "Yes, like that, but no one reads that crusty old text anymore. In order for
    a story to come through with all of it's potential mythic resonance, it
    must be couched in the language and symbols of its time. Anne Rice hit a
    triple with Memnoch the Devil, John De Vito ..." He stopped for a
    moment and snickered, "Sorry, that name gets me every time, bit of a
    personal joke. As I was saying, John De Vito did a nice rendition with
    The Devil's Apocrypha. There's been others, but you can start there."
    "So what is this so called true story?" I asked, trying to muster my self-
    confidence back into the fore.
    "The job of a writer is not to say something new. It is rather, to decrypt
    that which has already been said plainly but then encrypted, so that it
    may be received and decoded properly in it's time." he said flatly.
    "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.
    "Isn't that a redundant question, considering what I just said?" he replied.
    "This is bullshit! You talk in circles. I think you should go now." I said,
    testily.
    "Have it your way. You were the one that wanted to interview me.
    Circles is what is." He said, half smiling
    "I'm not feeling prepared for this, you came unannounced.. ." I quavered.
    "No, I came because I was invited." He said firmly. "Get out!" I shouted, angry for some unexplained reason.
    "I am being rebuked! Oh no!" he said, in an obvious facetious tone. "I
    leave you with this question: What is the origin of the word "Man"?
    Answer? Manna. Food. The question is; Food for what or whom?" Now,
    just for you junior!" he smiled and then vanished in a puff of sulfuric
    smoke.
    The interview was a disaster. I had asked none of the questions that I had
    prepared. In a fit of rage I kicked the leg of my home entertainment
    center and it collapsed, trashing my 30" color TV, DVD/VCR combo and
    digital cable box. The business card that Lucifer had handed me came
    fluttering down from atop the TV, where I had laid it during our brief
    chat. As it landed on the floor, face down, I saw a faint gray message, in
    an old typewriter font that said: 'There are no answers, only choices.' I
    fell on the floor and began gnashing my teeth.
    "I need answers!" I wailed to the ceiling. No answer came back.

  3. #3
    Z
    ZeldaFitz Guest

    Default

    I thought Lucifer was in Burbank, Ca, working at a book store.

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Jan 2010
    Posts
    35
    Post Thanks / Like
    Points
    1
    Level
    1
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)
    Follows
    0
    Following
    0
    Points
    0
    My Feedback
    0
    (0% Positive Feedback)
    Donations
    0 - $0.00

    Default

    don't be silly. he quit that job years ago. he's a slacker now.

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Jan 2010
    Posts
    35
    Post Thanks / Like
    Points
    1
    Level
    1
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)
    Follows
    0
    Following
    0
    Points
    0
    My Feedback
    0
    (0% Positive Feedback)
    Donations
    0 - $0.00

    Default

    that's ashton kutcher
    leave your life alone

Thread Information

Users Browsing this Thread

There are currently 1 users browsing this thread. (0 members and 1 guests)

Tags for this Thread

Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •  
This website uses cookies
We use cookies to store session information to facilitate remembering your login information, to allow you to save website preferences, to personalise content and ads, to provide social media features and to analyse our traffic. We also share information about your use of our site with our social media, advertising and analytics partners.