How many times do I have to say this?

Consent is for sissies!

Use mind control and they won’t know the difference.

Gather ye witches

It’s time for a good bonfire.  Ok, this isn’t about that.  It’s about something else.

Salem is weird and not just because I root for Cotton Mather.  I think it is time for a fun little thought experiment.

We have always thought that the folks who were hanged at Salem were innocent.  Yes, hanged.  They should have been burned but the folks in Salem were cheap and did not want to waste good firewood on witches.

Ok, let’s grant that the folks who were hanged were not witches, just really annoying people whom everyone thought were witches because they were just really annoying people.  Can you say, “No great loss?”  But let’s have some fun with this.

I have always thought that witches were all either innocent or gutless weaklings.  I mean we know the modern ones are gutless weaklings.  Why else would they care about the feelings of their precious trannies?  I mean think about it.  If us psionic folks had been around then the witch judges would have all died of spontaneous human combustion.  We’d have killed them!  Knowing that, it is impossible to think that the witches of the burning times, which obviously did not burn enough of them because some escaped, had any power and were thus sitting ducks.  After all, what do we burn besides witches?

More witches!

And then I got to thinking, specifically about Salem but maybe even earlier.  Suppose there really were witches in Salem but they were really smart.  They managed to fool the townspeople into going berserk and thinking that a bunch of really annoying people were witches, thus achieving two good ends, or rather three if you consider getting rid of the really annoying people as well.  First, they manage to direct attention away from themselves.  Everyone hates and kills the annoying people and leaves the real witches alone.  Second, when the folks of Salem recover their senses and realize how badly they have behaved, they resolve to never believe in witches again so as not to make fools of themselves.

Once that was accomplished, the real witches could peep and mutter to their hearts’ content, knowing that they never would be bothered.  The witches greatest trick was to persuade people that they did not exist.

“All very nice,” you say.  “But what about now?  There are people running around calling themselves witches all over the place.”

True, but does anyone take them seriously beside themselves and Christian whackdoodles?  It is a masterpiece of misdirection.  Get a bunch of idiots, dress them up in Ren faire costumes, make them give themselves silly names and you have the perfect cover.  Everyone is so busy laughing at that them that they don’t even look for you, because as everyone knows, you do not exist.

 

Can

Someone set of a nuclear explosion with their mind alone?

We don’t know.

IF it can’t be done, then no one has anything to worry about.  If it can be done then there is nothing anyone can do to stop it.

Bad Guys Do Have More Fun

It is not just because we have pizza.

I find as I get older that I have always taken a sadistic pleasure in destroying the lives of people I do not like.  Back in 1988 when wrote The Testament of Dr. Mirabilis I was not really joking.  Fire (on the other side of the world), flood, famine, the occasional mass shooting of useless people that I do not know and am rather glad I do not know, such are causes of continuous enjoyment to the studious artisan.

The joy of psionics is that one can indulge such pleasures without putting your own self at risk.  Because we can work through unsuspecting surrogates without any danger of detection, there is nothing that is not available to us.  Having done his job, the fellow in the orange jumpsuit is now expendable, a disposable tool that is no longer needed and can be discarded. It is by such means that we take our pleasure, having our cake and eating it too.

The only rule is that there are no rules and Psionic Psupervillain is still my favorite work.

A Small Clarification

My responsibilities in life are:

To aid and protect my loved ones.

To aid and protect my friends.

To aid and protect my Country.

And

To aid and protect my President.

Attack any of these and you go up against me.  And you really do not want to do that because I don’t play by any rules except my own.  There is no magick that is a match for psionics and I am still the best psionic operator out there.

Of course there will always be those impetuous fools out there who think otherwise and they are more than welcome to try to prove it.  I can use the exercise and free energy.

Cosimanian Orthodox

Do not turn the other cheek, nor do we run away.

We strike with a thunderbolt!

When

The Gates of Hell prevail they will really prevail.

Which of the Blessings of Uncle Chuckie would you deny?

One of the benefits of climate change

Bangladesh drowns in its own shit.

Mind Control

 

With psionics I can make everyone in the country instinctively react this way every time they see a woman dressed like a Muslim.  It is really very simple.

First I put a satellite pic of the US on the witness plate.  Then I take a rate.

Then I put that picture on the output plate and a pic of myself on the input.

All I have to do after that is look at the picture I have here.  The image will be blasted into the subconscious of everyone in the country and with enough treatments people will react with instant, uncontrollable hostility every time they see a woman in a headscarf.

And no amount of stupid vigils, or subway advertisements can stop it.

A night at the dungeon

I don’t talk about BDSM stuff here very often, maybe not even at all because it isn’t really the focus (do I have a focus) of this blog.  There is, however, one of my favorite episodes that illustrates the crossover between BDSM and Cosimanian Orthodoxy and here it is.

One night, years ago when we could make it up the stairs, we were at our favorite playspace and I was doing psionic play with our victim du joir.  She was restrained on the other side of the room and I was sitting in a chair just using my finger and the energy coming off of it on her.  The technique, incidentally, is not original with me.  Doc Abrams, peace be upon him, experimented with the basic principals back in 1916 though not in the same way.  The result was rather dramatic and every watching was doing the usual oohing, aahing and “What the hell is Dagger doing?”  (For those who don’t know, my scene name is Daggerdom.) Anyway, after we were done we went back to sit in the lounge and the conversation found its way to the usual paranoid, psuedo-legal garbage that BDSM folk tend to get worried about for no good reason.  (Is there a reason doms tend to be chicken-shits?)

Well I was poo pooing the whole thing as being utterly silly and paranoid and the person who was leading the paranoia chorus turned and asked me what is probably one of the stupidest questions that I have ever heard.  “What will you say when you stand before a judge?”

Now remember, this moron was asking Uncle Chuckie this.

I looked at him, sneered a great sneer, chuckled and said, “Nothing.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing?'”

“Just what I said.  Nothing.”

Well as the poor moron sat there I continued.  “You saw what I was doing in the other room.”

“Yes.  What has that got to do with anything.”

“Imagine that being aimed at the prosecutor’s heart.”

A stunned, cliched silence fell over the room.  It is rare in my life that I have seen such a look of sudden, complete terror as he realized that I was deadly serious.  Hey dumb dumb.  You just looked into the Eye of Sauron.  Like what you see? You just saw a lethal weapon that is undetectable. We are not afraid for a reason.

The coward cringes in the mere presence of the fearless.