Columbus Day 2017. Death to all Indigenous Peoples!


I won’t mince words. I’ve had it with the god damned savages attacking my holiday so this year I’m really going to let them have it. It’s not nice to attack the ancestors of Uncle Chuckie. Uncle Chuckie gets mad and when he gets mad he goes to war.

This is only the beginning.

The project is simple. It requires as follows:

One radionic box.

One satellite photo of a reservation.

One sigil of Glasyalabolas, who incites to bloodshed and murder.

One photo of a bottle of whiskey.

Take the sigil of Glasyalabolas and the photo of the bottle of whiskey and place them on the transmittal plate of the instrument.

Set the rate.

Place the photo of the reservation on the receiving plate.

Hit the amplifier and let it run.

Let the fun begin and this time let us finish the job.

More to come.


Destroyer Day


invisible destroyer

Today we celebrate cool helmets, energy vampirism and the sheer joy that can only come from wrecking things.

Oh, and there are the catabolic forces in nature but no one cares about that.

I’ve been thinking


I know, that is not a good idea.  It causes headaches, usually for other people. Ok, so maybe it is a good idea.

Have you ever noticed that no group has ever said anything like, “We condemn, in the strongest possible way, the teachings and work of Charles Cosimano?”  I sort of feel neglected.  After all, I have a number of people who strongly disapprove of me.  I rather like that.  It means I have accomplished something.  But they never express it!

Come on.  Show some guts.  I know, you would all be dead in 48 hours but hey, who wants to live forever? Ok, maybe not 48 hours.  Maybe something lingering an painful so I can send the energy of your dying to a village in Africa and watch the inhabitants there die of something lingering, painful and entertaining.

Hey!  I’m the bad guy!  Remember?

Ok, I’m having fun.  Seriously though, it seems that except for me, because no one wants to die of some rare cancer, every other day some group of self-appointed idiots is condemning someone for something.  The latest nonsense is out of Nashville, from whence come all things imbecilitic, where a group of Evangelical clergy have sort of declared war on gays.  Ok, that could be fun, Evangelicals and gays shooting each other.  We could watch from the sidelines and make bets on who wins.  After all, Matthew Sheppard was just a low grade drug dealer who got what was coming to him.

Martyrs do not impress me.  I like making them in large numbers.  That is what psionics can do.

Of course that is not going to happen.  What is happening a lot of verbal sniping from both sides over something that does not matter because no one, no one, no one cares what a group of clergymen say about anything

Back to condemnation.

Remember that phrase.  No one cares because that is the key to what I’m going explain.

Ok, let’s go back the beginning.  The Cosimanian Orthodox method is the best, well not THE best, that comes a bit later, but a really good method.  You just kill them all.  A good slaughter and everyone learns the virtue of silence.  But let’s be honest, except for the worthless towelheads, groups and people on the receiving end of such things don’t usually respond that way.

What they do do, and this is the absolute worst response, is to either deny that what they are being damned for is true or combine the denial with a bunch of eye-roller responses about all the good they actually do.  That persuades no one and just makes them boring and a bunch of pussies which is what they are.  (You gave money to a school in Africa?  Bah!  I sent ebola to that school and killed half its students.)

The best response is no response.  You simply ignore them.  You do not respond directly and if someone brings it up to you, you just laugh it off and say, “They’re idiots.”  You just keep doing what you are doing and leave them to stamp their little feetsies in impotent frustration.  You show that you do not care and that there is no reason why you would care.

“Mr. Cosimano, what do you have to say in response to your critics?”



“Nothing.  I don’t really care what they say.”

Once they know they are going to get nowhere, people will not bother you.

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.





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.


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.

lightning hits vatican

We strike with a thunderbolt!




The Gates of Hell prevail they will really prevail.

Which of the Blessings of Uncle Chuckie would you deny?