Dawn of The Dragons



The Snowman



This is a 1970 American documentary film about Anton Szandor LaVey and The Church of Satan. Ray Laurent directed, produced and released on June 17, 2003. The film was shot in San Francisco, California. It is a compilation of ritual footage and interviews with some of LaVey’s family, his neighbors, and a handful of church members. A priest gives his two rusty cents and a couple of Mormons, who looked like they stepped out of a 1950’s family film, babble about their wacky ways. Fun for the entire family.

There Is No God



I believe that there is no God. I’m beyond atheism. Atheism is not believing in God. Not believing in God is easy— you can’t prove a negative, so there’s no work to do. You can’t prove that there isn’t an elephant inside the trunk of my car. You sure? How about now? Maybe he was just hiding before. Check again. Did I mention that my personal heartfelt definition of the word “elephant” includes mystery, order, goodness, love, and a spare tire?

So, anyone with a love for truth outside of herself has to start with no belief in God and then look for evidence of God. She needs to search for some objective evidence of a supernatural power. All the people I write e-mails to often are still stuck at this searching stage. The atheism part is easy.

But, this “This I Believe” thing seems to demand something more personal, some leap of faith that helps one see life’s big picture, some rules to live by. So, I’m saying, “This I believe: I believe there is no God.”

Having taken that step, it informs every moment of my life. I’m not greedy. I have love, blue skies, rainbows, and Hallmark cards, and that has to be enough. It has to be enough,but it’s everything in the world, and everything in the world is plenty for me. It seems just rude to beg the invisible for more. Just the love of my family that raised me and the family I’m raising now is enough that I don’t need heaven. I won the huge genetic lottery and I get joy every day.

Believing there’s no God means I can’t really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That’s good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around.

Believing there’s no God stops me from being solipsistic. I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I’m wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don’t travel in circles where people say, “I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith.” That’s just a long-winded religious way to say, “shut up,” or another two words that the FCC likes less. But all obscenity is less insulting than, “How I was brought up and my imaginary friend means more to me than anything you can ever say or do.” So, believing there is no God lets me be proven wrong and that’s always fun. It means I’m learning something.

Believing there is no God means the suffering I’ve seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn’t caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn’t bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future.

Believing there is no God gives me more room for belief in family, people, love, truth, beauty, sex, Jell-O, and all the other things I can prove and that make this life the best

What Gentleman Prefer


“Are you aware that “Blondes have more fun,” was the phrase concocted by the cunts at Clairol? Little did the hair-dying sages at the celestial strand headquarters know, that prostitutes in Rome were obligated by law to dye their locks blonde to separate themselves from honorable Roman brunettes with a blonde wig. It was common knowledge that blonde was the hair color of Barbarians to the North and slaves of that race of people often came to an end in whorehouses.”

“Do I know you?”

“No, but you might wish you never had in a minute or two.”

“Oh, yea,” she said with a smile and then took a small sip of her drink in the back of a urine-stenched bar. “Tell me more, big shot.”

“Well, historians of moralistic disposition have had the pleasure of painting wealthy Roman women of the period as emulating the whores by dying their hair to match the golden mane of money-seeking maenads.”

“This is the part where I should slap you, don’t you think?”

“No woman with any real dignity comes to a dive like this, dear. Let us not feign class tonight.”

“Okay, asshole. I’m in. What else?”

“Circa 45 A.D., Messalina, the wife of Claudius the Emperor, was implicated of tip-toeing out of the palace’s walls to hustle without bustle at an unseemly bordello. She was believed to have been hiding her dark hair under a blonde wig to enter a house of ill repute muggy and filthy from old and crusty bedspreads.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Is it? Do we not, all of us, do disgusting things from time to time?”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”


“No? Just the blonde ones?”

“Maybe just the interesting ones.”

“Why, thank you.”

“For what?”

“Don’t you think I’m interesting?” she said glaring at him with her blue eyes and biting the cheap, red lipstick from her lower lip.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Does this shit work on women? Be honest with me.”


“Jesus. I don’t see how.”

“Neither do I.”

“You’re a real gentleman, you know that? Well, now I want to hear the rest.”

“Are you sure, Goldilocks?”

“Sure I’m sure. When in Rome, right?”

“I suppose. The early Christian Farcers were vehement at the vanity and implied iniquity in blonde hair. The tosser Tertullian wrote, “I see broads dye their damn hair blonde by using saffron. They are ashamed of their country, sorry that they were not born in Germany or Gaul!”

“What?! Is that true?”

“He said the same of wigs: “Be ashamed of yak yak yak putting on your holy and Christian head the cast-off hair of some stranger who was perhaps unclean, perhaps guilty and destined to hell.”

“Ha, ha, ha. You are too much! That’s it, you’re getting laid.”


“Wait, you’re gonna have to buy me another drink first.”

“A drink?”

“Maybe two.”

“I’ll be hungry by the time we get out of here.”

“Then dinner also.”

La Divina


             I don’t need the money, dear.    

                          I work for art.

                                                                  — Maria Callas


Fawning famed soprano Maria Callas passed at the age of fifty-five in the year of my birth, 1977. She was the center of attention, like she loved to be, when she metamorphosed from a fleshy-figured woman into a sultry sylph demanding the title of Divina at the crest of her career. Her countless critics blamed the loss of her weight as a means of explaining the siren’s loss of vocal virtuosity. The muse was suddenly the diabolical dame chasing a good time and a powerful man. The cheap tabloids rejoiced in that while still married, she was seen with Aristotle Onassis; they basked in her heartache when he conclusively favored Jacqueline Kennedy over her. Despite rumors claiming that Callas kept the weight off by consuming tapeworm larva, she asserted it was due to a prudent diet. In the gloaming of her last days, she became a recluse in Paris, melancholy in the search for true love, and perhaps potently addicted to Quaaludes. “Undisclosed causes” was how officially the French authorities deemed her death. Some claimed her sizable estate drew the duplicitous greed goblins from out the shadows. Near her lifeless body was found a note written by Callas which read: “In these proud moments.” This is a line borrowed from the suicide scene in the opera La Gioconda.

Though gone now for some time, I can still hear the voice of the goddess come through in waves, lancing in past duller days, resurrecting the corpse I become in my delving ways, and smile, for I know she will live forever in the sinews of the aesthetically lofty and echo past the prime of petty pop music.

Grazie, Mi Divina.

Ti adoro.

Because of you, life is bearable.

“Don’t talk to me about rules, dear. Wherever I stay I         make the goddam rules.”


Hail Callas!

All Must Follow


She lived under vows of obedience, poverty, and chastity. Somewhere in her past she decided to dedicate herself to an ascetic existence, choosing to leave the talons of a tempestuous life of sin for the solace of the convent. Contemplation and the cloistered conduct of meditation and prayer for the salvation of others had become her sole purpose. The needy, the poor, the uneducated, and the ill lay heavy upon her heart. Nights of coiled dissonance plagued her pillow, sweat and panting, feral and furious lack of sleep fueled her fire to right the many world’s wrongs. Her knees callous from so much appeal.

“Sister Levia, will you run into the city this afternoon to gather some books from the library, please?”

“Are you sure it is a good idea, Sister Underwood?”

“Sister Agatha is sick, you know that. God help her. Poor thing–she hasn’t touched a crumb in three days. I am sure you can do this for her while she rests up.”

“It’s just that I haven’t left these gates in so long. I fear…that…well…”

“Fear not, for He who is greater is in you, than him who is in the world, Levia! I mean, honestly, everybody thinks you’re just the silliest thing not leaving this place from time to time like some rat in a cage. For the Lord’s sake, we have Sisters here who are dying to leave, if for a moment, at the drop of a bible. Besides, you can  wear a pair of shoes from the hundreds you have hidden away.”

“You’re right, Sister Underwood. Forgive my hesitance. It…it’s just been so long, that’s all. I believe I have lost all sense of direction. It’s silly, I know. I’m sure it will all come back to me. And I was told to throw them away, but I can’t. You won’t tell, will you?”

“Like riding a bike, Sister. Believe me, like riding a bike. And of course I won’t tell. Here is the list of the books we need. Make sure you get all of them.”

“Yes, Sister.”

“And Levia…”

“Yes, Sister?”

“Be vigilant–”

“–For the enemy, the Devil, roams around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.”

“Correct. I am sending you to a place of great temptation, but I believe you are strong enough after all these years. Now, hurry along, Sister. The bus will take you straight there. Just tell the driver where you are headed and I’m sure he will assist you to the best of his abilities.”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Hello, I am Sister Levia and I am looking for the books on this list. Do you think you can help me?”

“Do you not know how to…Okay, lets see. Mhmm, Mhmm, okay. Follow me, Sister I will show you how this works. The library is a big place, so stay close. If you think you have the hang of it, then you can give it a try yourself. Sound like a deal?”

“Yes, that sounds great. You are too kind. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Levia.”

“How did you know my name?”

“You said it when you first came in.”

“Oh, silly me. I am sorry. I am just so nervous. I haven’t been into the city in quite some time.”

“How long has it been?”

“Oh, gee…let me think…years…,” she said softly gazing at the patterned floor as she firmly rubbed her rosary.”

“You have such a pretty face, Levia. You remind me of an aunt I had.”

“Oh, thank you. ‘Had’?”

“She passed away a few years back.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“It was some time ago. But thank you. She was so sweet. Huge heart. Truly a wonderful woman.”

“I am sorry for your loss. Tell me about her.”

“You really want to know about her?”

“Of course.”

“Well, she took me in when I was a kid. Took me off the streets. My parents were young. Who knows what they were getting into.”

“You poor thing.”

“Yeah. She was good that way. At times she was a bit challenging, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“She had her ways.”

“You can trust in me. Oh, just listen to me, I don’t even know your name.”


“What a lovely name.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Sorry, go on.”

“She worked hard. Always cleaning and cooking. She did it all in heels and red lipstick. And she was up before the sun every morning, it seemed.”

“She didn’t seem so bad.”

“Well…” he said as he ceased walking.

“Trust me, Thomas. I am here for you,” she said as she reached for his hand in the middle of a million books. “You can tell me anything you want. I will never repeat it.”

“I don’t know if it is appropriate, Sister,” he said staring into her eyes warmly on the verge of tears.

“The Lord knows who we are and what we’ve done. There is not a single thing on earth he has not seen nor will make him blush. He has seen it all, young man.”

“You remind me so much of her.”

“What about me reminds you of her? Here lets sit in that corner table at the end over there and talk all about it.”

The isles were empty and quiet. The books stared apathetically as they hovered slowly by. Her garb caressed the floor behind her as he followed every step.

She turned and smiled at him reaching for his hand and sat slowly waiting him to do likewise.

“Now, Thomas, take your time and tell me what’s troubling you about your aunt.”

“Are you sure it is okay?”


“This is a little hard for me.”

“Take your time, son.”

“We would have dinner like most families– together. And she would stare at me.”

“With compassion.”

“No. With hate.”

“I am sure you were mistaken.”

“No, just listen to the rest, please.”

“I’m sorry, go on.”

“She would stare with venom in here eyes. I think she resented me for having the responsibility of caring for me. I would catch her all the time as she blew on her hot soup staring at me from across the table.”

“You poor thing.”

“That’s how it started.”

“I’m listening.”

“I was eleven when I first moved in. What I am about to tell you took place when I was sixteen.”

“Please, proceed.”

“She asked me about my dirty problem.”

“What problem?”

“I would have these sex dreams all night. I couldn’t help it. But every morning I would wake up with a cold wet mess in my underpants.”

“You poor thing.”

“She asked me what I was doing to soil my underwear. I would simply lower my head in shame and wouldn’t say a word.”

“Of course.”

“But then I noticed something. She had begun to stand outside my bedroom door in the middle of the night. To listen.”


“Yeah. I imagine it was to see if I was sneaking in a girl or something.”

“Oh, right.”

“Well, it got weird after a while.”

“How’s so?”

“After a few nights of that she started breathing heavily outside my bedroom. I could see her shadow from under the door.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw movement. Slow and fast then slow again.”

“Yes…go on.”

“I got excited from it. I am sorry, but it’s true. The idea of her right outside my door would make me start sweating. I felt my heart wanting to explode. My toes would tingle.”

“What you are describing is more common than you think, dear.”

“No. That’s not all.”

“There’s more?”


“Well, let’s hear the rest of it. Take your time.”

“One night I gently got off the bed and walked towards the door. I even held my breath. I could hear her out there. Breathing heavy. Slippery sounds.”

“What did you do?”

“I opened the door. I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, Lord, what did you see?!”

“I saw…”


“I saw a six-foot centipede standing outside my door. It’s legs waving back and forth. It’s body moved like a wave up and down. It was hissing my name over and over again.”

“You what?!”

“I swear, Sister. It’s all true. They sent me away, you know. To some asylum or help center or something.”

“Oh, you poor child. What you saw was Our Lady of Scutigera Coleoptrata.”

“No, the doctors told me I had suffered some kind of episode or delusion. They gave me some medication and said it would take the hallucinations away.”

“No medicine can take it away, Thomas. Science cannot see what you have been chosen to see.”

“I don’t know what to believe. I don’t trust my eyes. And never have since.”

“Allow me,” she said as she lifted her dress and spread her legs apart. A long, black and red centipede was wrapped around her leg starting from her ankle and halfway disappearing into her vagina. “You see?”

“Yes, I see. I see and I want to follow.”

“All must follow. Come, I will show you the way.”

From De Rerum Natura


Book 1


Now, for the rest, lend ears unstopped, and the intellect’s keen edge; Severed from cares, attend to a true philosophical system; Lest it should hap that my gifts which I zealously set forth before you, Scorned, you abandon untouched before they can be comprehended. For ’tis high lore of heaven and of gods that I shall endeavour Clearly to speak as I tell of the primary atoms of matter Out of which Nature forms things: ’tis “things” she increases and fosters; Then back to atoms again she resolves them and makes them to vanish. “Things,” for argument’s sake, my wont is to speak of as “matter”; Also the “seeds” of those things to name the small parts which beget them: Further, those infinitesimal parts, (an alternative figure) Primary “atoms” to call, whereof matter was all first created.


When in full view on the earth man’s life lay rotting and loathsome, Crushed ’neath the ponderous load of Religion’s cruel burdensome shackles, Who out of heaven displayed her forehead of withering aspect, Lowering over the heads of mortals with hideous menace, Upraising mortal eyes ’twas a Greek who first, daring, defied her; ’Gainst man’s relentless foe ’twas Man first framed to do battle. Him could nor tales of the gods nor heaven’s fierce thunderbolts’ crashes Curb; nay rather they inflamed his spirit’s keen courage to covet. His it should first be to shiver the close-bolted portals of Nature. Therefore his soul’s live energy triumphed, and far and wide compassedWorld’s walls’ blazing lights, and the boundless Universe traversed Thought-winged; from realms of space he comes back victorious and tells us What we may, what we must not perceive; what law universal Limits the ken of each, what deep-set boundary landmark: Then how in turn underfoot Religion is hurled down and trampled, Then how that victory lifts mankind to high level of heaven.


One apprehension assails me here, that haply you reckon Godless the pathway you tread which leads to the Science of Nature As to the highroad of sin. But rather how much more often Has that same vaunted Religion brought forth deeds sinful and godless. Thus the chosen Greek chiefs, the first of their heroes, at Aulis, Trivia’s altar befouled with the blood of Iphianassa. For when the equal-trimmed ribbons, her virgin tresses encircling, Unfurled from each fair cheek so bravely, so gallantly fluttered; Soon as she saw her sorrowing sire in front of the altar Standing, with serving-men near, their gleaming knives vainly concealing, And, at the sight of her plight, her countrymen bitter tears shedding; Dumb with fear, her knees giving way, to earth she fell sinking. Nor in her woe could it be of avail to the hapless maiden That it was she first gave to the king the title of father. For, by men’s hands upborne, she was, quivering, led to the altar; Not, forsooth, to the end that, sacred rites duly completed, With ringing clarion song of marriage she might be escorted; But, pure maid foully slain in wedlock’s appropriate season, That she a victim might fall ’neath the slaughter stroke of her father, So that a happy and lucky dispatch to the fleet might be granted!Such are the darksome deeds brought to pass by Religion’s fell promptings!


Now this terror and darkness of mind must surely be scattered, Not by rays of the sun, nor by gleaming arrows of daylight, But by the outward display and unseen workings of Nature. And her first rule for us from this premiss shall take its beginning; “Never did will of gods bring anything forth out of nothing.” For, in good sooth, it is thus that fear restraineth all mortals, Since both in earth and sky they see that many things happen Whereof they cannot by any known law determine the causes; So their occurrence they ascribe to supernatural power. Therefore when we have seen that naught can be made out of nothing, Afterwards we shall more rightly discern the thing which we search for:— Both out of what it is that everything can be created, And in what way all came, without help of gods, into being.


If out of nothing things sprang into life, then every species From all alike could be born, and none would need any seed-germ. First, mature men might rise from the sea, and scale-bearing fishes Out of the earth; or again, fledged birds burst full-grown from heaven. Cattle and other beasts, and the whole tribe of wild herds, ungoverned By any fixed law of birth, would of desert and tilth take possession. Nor would each fruit be wont to remain to its own tree peculiar, But all would change about, so that all could bear all kinds of produce. How, if for each distinct kind there were no producing corpuscles,Could any matrix for matter exist that is fixed and unchanging? But, as it is, since all from definite seeds are created, Therefore each is born and comes into regions of daylight From out the place where dwells its substance, the primary atoms. Thus each cannot spring from all in promiscuous fashion, Since a peculiar power indwells each fixed kind of matter. Secondly, why do we see spring flowers, see golden grain waving Ripe in the sun, see grape clusters swell at the urge of the autumn, If not because when, in their own time, the fixed seeds of matter Have coalesced, then each creation comes forth into full view When the recurrent seasons for each are propitious, and safely Quickening Earth brings forth to the light her delicate offspring? But if from nothing they came, then each would spring up unexpected At undetermined times and in unfavouring seasons, Seeing that there would then not be any primary atoms Which from untimely creative conjunction could be kept asunder. Nor, again, thirdly, would time be needed for growing of matter When the seeds unite, if things can grow out of nothing; For in a trice little children would reach the fulness of manhood: Trees, again, would spring up by surprise, from earth sheer outleaping. But ’tis apparent that none of this happens, since all things grow slowly, As is but normal when each from a fixed seed in a fixed season Grows, and growing, preserves its kind: thus telling us clearly That from appropriate atoms each creature grows great and is nourished.

From Book II


But do not think that the gods condescend to consider such matters, Or that they mark the careers of individual atoms So as to study the laws of Nature whereunto they conform. Nevertheless there are some, unaware of the fixed laws of matter, Who think that Nature cannot, without supernatural power, Thus nicely fit to manners of men the sequence of seasons, Bringing forth corn, yea, all earth’s fruits, which heavenly Pleasure, Pilot of life, prompts men to approach, herself them escorting, As by Venus’ wiles she beguiles them their race to continue So that humanity may not fail. When therefore they settle That for the sake of man the gods designed all things, most widely In all respects do they seem to have strayed from the path of true reason. For even if I knew nothing concerning the nature of atoms, Yet from heaven’s very lore and legend’s diversified story I would make bold to aver and maintain that the order of Nature Never by will of the gods for us mortals was ever created . . .

From Book III


Now then, in order that you may learn that the minds of live creatures And their imponderable souls are to birth and death alike subject, I will proceed to compose such verse as shall earn your attention, By long study amassed, and devised by delightful endeavour. Please comprise these natures twain ’neath one appellation: When I pass on, for example, to speak of the soul, how ’tis mortal, Know that I speak of the mind as well, inasmuch as together Both one single entity form, one composite substance. Firstly, then, since I have shewn that ’tis rare, and composed of small bodies; Shaped from much smaller atoms than fashion a liquid like water, Atoms far smaller than those which constitute mizzling and smoke-clouds— For it is nimbler by far, and a far feebler blow sets it moving, Stirred as it is by the films which mist and smoke shed around them, As for example when steeped in sleep we seem to see altars Breathing forth flames of fire, and exalting their smoke to the heavens; Doubtless from objects like these such films as I speak of are gendered. Since too, when vessels are shattered, you see how in every direction Gushes the liquid flood, and the contents utterly vanish; Since once again the mists and the smoke are dispersed by the breezes; Know that the soul, too, is scattered abroad, and dies much more quickly, And is the sooner resolved back into its primary atoms, Once it has quitted the limbs of a man and abandoned his body. For when the body, which forms its receptacle, cannot contain it, Being from any cause crushed, or by issue of life-blood enfeebled, How can you think that the soul can by fluid air be encompassed? How can the air, than our body more rare, be able to hold it?


From Book V


Next, having gotten them huts and skins and fire; and when woman Mated with man shared a man’s abode; and when family duties Therein were learnt; and as soon as they saw their own offspring arising; Then ’twas that mankind first began to lose power of endurance. Fire made their gelid frames less able to bear the cold weather Out ’neath the open sky; their virility Venus exhausted: Childrens’ caresses too easily sapped the proud spirit of parents. Neighbours in those days, too, began to form friendly agreements Neither to inflict nor receive any hurt, and asked for indulgence Towards their women and bairns, as with cries and gesticulations And in their stammering speech they tried to explain to each other That it is meet and right that all should pity the helpless. And although harmony could not be won in every instance, Yet did the greater part observe the conventions uprightly; Else long since would the human race have been wholly abolished, Nor could their seed till this present day have continued the species.