Good afternoon ladies, gentlemen, and those of you who know better! I am the enchanting Artemis, and this is the laughing craft! I mentioned in my first post that I practiced Chaos Magick. It is a practice that is loosely defined by an experimental attitude, iconoclastic urges, and the notion that you define your own magick. It has strong roots in early british punk rock and is the cause for all the young “baby witches” (witches who are beginning their craft) to feel they are justified in worshipping pop culture icons. Like cartoons. There’s no theological reason, according to Chaos Magick, why you can’t revere Bugs goddamn Bunny as a trickster deity. Or the She-Ra reboot as the incarnation of Astarte, phoenician goddess of war and beauty. I will nip this in the bud now. You can, but you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t because suddenly the animators aren’t making silly faces in mirrors to get the expression right, they’re high priests invoking terrible powers. The high priests say what the cartoon gods want, and you can’t argue with them. If you do, you’ll find your faith pulled out from under you. You are the only spiritual authority in your own life, just as I am the only one in mine. Everyone else just has suggestions that may or may not work.
This is not to say you shouldn’t pull inspiration whenever and wherever you find it. I have a funerary pipe, a small green sherlock glass pipe. I’ve named it “Bloomington” after McLean Stevenson’s character’s hometown in the show M*A*S*H*. Stevenson’s character says “That’s a greenie” when smelling something bad, and gee whiz wouldn’t you say resin smells bad? Stevenson’s character is a surgeon with a penchant for drinking off hours, and holy Toledo is this pipe resilient enough to resist breaking when I drop it and is small enough to playfully twirl it between my knuckles like a dexterity exercise for surgeons. Stevenson’s character got shot down over the Sea of Japan when he was headed home. The pipe is too small for regular use, so I smoke out of it to honor those spirits that are lost looking for home. It hit hard in the comedy, and the universe does have a strange sense of humor. If they could do it with a televised comedy, why can’t I do it with a pipe and a prayer? This is what I like to call “The Wonkavision Principle”.
In 1989 Gene Wilder starred in “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”, a movie based off of Roald Dahl’s book “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. Willy Wonka (Gene Wilder) held a contest for a lifetime supply of chocolate, and Mike Teevee (Paris Themmen) was one of five winners. Willy Wonka was unveiling his experimental “Wonkavision” chocolate advertising scheme, where he would just zap a candy bar to his audience with television technology. He says after demonstrating it “If they can do it with a picture, why can’t I do it with a bar of chocolate?” I have watched that movie since I was a wee lass of two, I have done information-based magick with it. Life is weird, remember?
To bring back the information model, which is the one I make use of, you just need a vector, a transmission, a receiver, and the content of your desire. A way to arrange the quality to emerge into the world, the means of defining the quality and implant it into the world so you get what you want. If you want to avoid the gaze of an overly punitive manager, then construct a means of invisibility. Dub a hat your helm of darkness, as Perseus had his to sneak up to the gorgon Medusa. Whisper the name of St. Aidan, that you may miraculously flee the sight of your manager. Get a nifty ring and call it your Precious, no one will see you if you do. That might not be a good thing, but if you ask a buddhist where suffering comes from they will tell you it comes from a streetcar, named Desire. These things brought invisibility before, why can’t you get in on that action?
Once upon a time Laufey and Farbauti were introducing their creation to the gods, their firstborn. They say to the gods “This is our son, Loki” but because he’s Loki, he hears “arson”. This is why he’s a fire god.