Wednesday, 10 July 2013

Dolly sneaks into a terrifying pagan ritual!

All you Wiccans, Satanists, Hindus, we have our eyes on you!

Recently some American Christians have been shoved out of their safety bubbles, and into close proximity with the practices of other faiths, and they were horrified by the whole experience. Schools bowing to pressure to teach Christian practices and then being forced to teach kids about Muslims too, kneeling to Mecca five times a day. Native Americans suing for the right to wear feathers to their graduations. Wiccans doing god-knows-what in the woods at midnight. Just last week, pro-abortion activists, possibly affiliated with the New York-based Church of Satan, hollered “Hail Satan!” at the Texas legislators who are trying to restrict abortion rights. Just yesterday, Fox News was ejaculating alarums about “creeping paganism”. Oh my God, one court just demanded that our kids be exposed to….yoga! Oh my God, Hinduism, that’s even further east than the Mooslims!

And I am here to tell you, that the worst fears of the most timorous Christian fundamentalists….are true.

Recently, right in my home town, I found the site where one of these awful cults does its dirty work. And I managed to sneak into one of their terrifying rituals, with a cult member. I’m still shaking!

We walk into a building where the magical rituals take place. The first thing we see is a basin filled with magical water. We look up and we see a magic altar, and hanging over it is the magical effigy of a naked man, quite bloody, who has been nailed to a piece of wood to die. Other practitioners of this faith, already in the seats, wear tiny little copies of this nailed man around their necks.

Along the aisles we see pictures of some of the hundreds of pagan figures we can offer magical incantations to. One pagan figure can help us with illness, another can help us with lost causes. Magical incantations for travelers, incantations for fisherman, incantations for criminals. Some cult members wear pictures of these people around our necks too, or keep idols in their bedrooms, or even on the dashboards of their cars. For magical protection.

We sit. Magical candles burn everywhere. Soon we see a procession of people wearing magical robes and carrying magic candles, ringing magic bells, burning magic incense, carrying magic wine. An old man in a dress, followed by some little boys also in dresses. The boys look frightened of the old man – I wonder why?

The chief cultist reads magical incantations from a book which was at first written in three ancient languages and then translated into Latin. Originally we were forbidden to hear the words in English until the chief of the magical priests relented years ago. In parts of the ritual, we ask for magical super-beings, one of them a ghost, to do magical things on our behalf; in other parts we sing magical incantations.

The highlight of our visit is when we eat the flesh of the magical man nailed to the piece of wood, and drink his blood. The flesh and blood have been magically transformed. I’m still shivering! Although the “blood” tastes a lot like a five-dollar Merlot.

Soon we will return so that a newborn infant can have magical water sprinkled on him while magical incantations are spoken over him. In winter cult members can do their own ritual at home, with four candles, one for each week in December. Next spring we will return to the magical place so that magical ashes can be smeared on our foreheads.

Unless they catch me and eat me, or something.

And the freaky boss of this cult isn’t even American! He lives in some secluded castle in Italy, and even the Italians have no legal power over him. And he has never had sex, nor have any of his key lieutenants. When he dies, they will announce a replacement via a secret meeting and then a dramatic ceremony involving a smoke signal rising into the sky.  

Here in town, the elders of the cult also indulge in an intense, bizarre ritual every Wednesday night, which involves calling out numerical incantations, and then marking pieces of paper with colored ink. All night the faithful wail out the horrible curse, over and over. “BINGO….BINGO….BINGO!”

This terrifying cult of cannibals is known as….Saint John’s Catholic Church.

Oh, the humanity. Hide your children!...They have a proclivity for child rape, by the way.

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