Trapezoidal Thoughts on Fascist Fuckery

Reclaiming Set’s good name from “secret societies” that like to play “Raiders of the Ark” (but as Nazi characters!), and which have contributed to the normalization of fascism today.


Anton LaVey once codified a concept called “the Law of the Trapezoid.” This refers to the magical power of shapes and spaces that trigger strong reactions of primordial fear, from phobias and apotropaic religious images to German expressionist paintings and gothic horror movie sets. Whatever it is, something is “wrong” about it—it has too many (or not enough) legs or eyes; it reminds us uncomfortably of sex, death, and/or spiritual evil; or something is just “off” about that crooked, pointy hallway in the scary movie you’re watching. Such images provoke fear in most people, but fear is not always a bad thing; it can be a great motivator for self-preservation and change. And some people are even energized by such imagery, finding it beautiful in its own eldritch way. LaVey named this principle after the trapezoid because it is the simplest of all “disturbing” geometric shapes (it does look rather odd, like a decapitated triangle), and he applied it to many of his ceremonies in the Church of Satan. Imagine a religious service where you are scared or shocked right into “enlightenment” in a Halloween spookhouse, and you’ll have a ballpark idea of how this theory was supposed to work in practice.

LaVey was so driven by these observations that he even named the inner circle of his church “the Order of the Trapezoid,” a title Michael Aquino later gave to a particular school within the Temple of Set. The Setian Order of the Trapezoid developed LaVey’s theories on weird geometrical spaces even further, conceptualizing themselves as “knights” on an esoteric “Grail Quest” (where the Grail is equated with a postmortem state of existence comparable to that of the Akhu). The literature that’s been made available to the public touches on everything from H.P. Lovecraft to left-hand path interpretations of Scandinavian mythology, and it’s all tied together with kind of an Indiana Jones vibe. The Order’s take on the Aesir and the Vanir is probably not agreeable to most devotional polytheists who are drawn to said divinities; but that has never been the point for these particular Setians. Their point is to kheper by applying the Law of the Trapezoid to a wide mishmash of things that engage them, but which are mostly related to Germanic and/or Lovecraftian influences.

I will say that the Order of the Trapezoid’s obsession with Nazi occultism is alarming, though perhaps in a more complex way than might be expected. I do not believe Order of the Trapezoid members are actually totalitarian white supremacists; but they have deliberately modeled themselves after Heinrich Himmler’s Ahnenerbe (the Nazi occult think tank that inspired movies like 1981’s Raiders of the Lost Ark), claiming to extrapolate the “positive” aspects of that secret society while discarding its “negative” aspects. This has understandably led outsiders to assume that Order of the Trapezoid members are Nazis, despite their claims of including both Jewish and black people among their membership. But whether members of the Order actually agree with National Socialism or not is almost immaterial; they promote its ethos simply by spotlighting their highly questionable sources so much.

Any Heathen can point you to a wealth of resources on Scandinavian polytheism that are far more advanced and reputable than anything Heinrich Himmler might have been reading back in the 1930s or 1940s. So why bend over backwards so much to “find positive things” about the Ahnenerbe when there are much more excellent resources available? The answer, of course, is that this isn’t really about reclaiming Scandinavian lore from the Nazis at all. It is really just about having an excuse to enjoy Nazi symbolism and memorabilia without considering how such imagery can still harm other people, even when it is completely devoid of any real political content. Even if Order of the Trapezoid members are not Nazis themselves, their activities and publications have certainly encouraged OTHER left-hand path occultists who ARE Nazis to come out of the woodwork. For it wasn’t until the Order of the Trapezoid started scaring people like Isaac Bonewits during the 1980s that other, more extremist cults like the Joy of Satan and the Order of the Nine Angles came into play.

Setians are free to explore whatever spiritualities they like; but I must admit, it gets my back hairs up to think there’s a group of people out there who have taken Set’s name as a part of themselves, yet who also idolize the Ahnenerbe so much. I can definitely agree with the idea that Set and Odin might be “drinking buddies,” so to speak; there are many people who are drawn to Egyptian and Norse gods at the same time, so the idea of combining Kemeticism with Heathenry is nothing new. But I don’t see Set’s mighty red fingerprints on ANYTHING Heinrich Himmler was ever involved in (and frankly, I see nothing of the real Odin in any of that bullshit either). There is simply no good reason to incorporate such drivel into either Setianism or Heathenry. If you really want to walk with Set or Odin, ditch all that volkisch right-wing propaganda and read you some proper university-published archaeology textbooks instead.

Again, just to be clear, I am not accusing Order of the Trapezoid members of actually being Nazis themselves. I have read more than enough of Michael Aquino’s work to know that he never actually praised Hitler, denied the Holocaust, and or called for the extermination of Israel or anything like that. But I AM saying there is most definitely an antisemitic undercurrent to all of this stuff. This is captured in almost every critique Aquino ever wrote about Judaism, which he frequently conflates with Christianity and Islam. Whenever you see someone refer to Judaism as a “Judeo-Christian” religion; or if you see them confuse Judaism with the ancient Hebrew religion; or if they seem to hold Jews responsible for every horrible thing Christians ever did to polytheists throughout history; well then you can reasonably guess that person has probably never tried to understand Judaism on its own terms before. (The baseless claim that “Satan” is a “Hebrew corruption” of “Set-Hen,” a name for Set that Aquino appears to have invented, is also indicative of this bias.) You don’t have to buy into National Socialism to promote antisemitic views like these, and thanks to Aquino, many LHP occultists continue to promote such fallacies at every turn.

Of course, it will be argued by LHP readers that my visceral reaction to their use of National Socialist imagery is proof itself of LaVey’s Law of the Trapezoid at work. Theoretically, they take this disturbing imagery that scares other people away and find ways to benefit from it magically without directly harming anyone. (The argument would likely be that since I find their activities distasteful, I am somehow “lacking” as a Setian.) The trouble is that even without directly harming anyone, such imagery can still harm people indirectly—and for generations to come! By flirting with fascist symbolism so much in the 1980s and 1990s, people like Anton LaVey, Michael Aquino, and Zeena Schreck effectively normalized this ethos among their respective LHP communities. And whenever such hateful imagery is normalized, it becomes much easier for others to take it too seriously and actually become real life monsters. (It doesn’t help that leaders like LaVey, Aquino, and Schreck were all white, with no people of color [publically] joining in on their fascist aesthetic.)

The Order of the Trapezoid prides itself on supposedly presenting its information in such a way as to “protect” the outside world from any negative consequences their controversial magical projects might have. My argument is that if they really cared about keeping anyone “safe” from such fallout, they would never have published any material about this shit in the first place. They would have kept their esoteric tradition completely oral and never allowed any information about their practices to reach the public. If you feel like you gain some kind of spiritual benefit from dressing up like Colonel Klink in your private rituals (even though you really find Nazism deplorable), that is no skin off anyone else’s back. But if you FLAUNT that you are doing this, you really can’t bitch about it when people give you grief, or when OTHER people become RADICALIZED by the signals you are sending them. If my reactions to Nazi imagery exemplify the Law of the Trapezoid, it is only because the misapplication of this “Law” (by those who claim to understand it, no less) has been incredibly destructive to society. We probably wouldn’t have quite so many Proud Boys crawling out of the gutters today if people like LaVey, Aquino, and Schreck hadn’t helped to normalize some of this shit in the first place.

I have already discussed my views on Lovecraftian occultism at greater length in Episode #13 of this series, but here is a brief review. First, Anton LaVey and Michael Aquino both owe a debt to Kenneth Grant, who was really the first occultist to adapt H.P. Lovecraft’s lurid science fiction tales for ritual work. Second, I can see why Lovecraftian figures (Cthulhu, Yog-Sothoth, etc.) would prove useful to occultists who are interested in applying the Law of the Trapezoid to their work. And third, I think such figures are prime “real estate” for qliphothic entities that want to skull-fuck people six ways from Sunday. I think it is best not to play with that sort of thing unless you do it in a controlled environment, with proper banishings and protective circles and stuff.

Matter of fact, the only way I’d allow any Cthulhu caca at one of MY rituals is if we were invoking Apep into something Lovecraftian so we can smash it to bits and pieces, as an execration spell. Such would demonstrate Set’s power to stomp the shit out of ANYTHING, including motherfuckin’ Cthulhu. But I just can’t get behind the idea of actually venerating any Lovecraftian space monsters. Besides, the association of Set with such lore is really a byproduct of the same white Orientalism that has bred things like Robert E. Howard’s “evil snake god Set and evil Snake People tropes. If a time traveling Setian from ancient Egypt were to witness all these white people in Nazi regalia, invoking Set as “Nyarlathotep” so they can somehow “escape” the natural universe, I am pretty sure they would NOT approve.

Furthermore, Setians don’t need to bastardize Heathenry to practice our faith. Everything we need to theoretically become powerful multidimensional beings after death is already included in Kemetic lore. We should not be equating Set with any Norse deities, for there is just never going to be a perfect match in that respect. (I personally link Him more closely to Thor and Loki than to Odin; but again, Set is identical to none.) We do not need to make up things about Valhalla to describe the afterlife scenarios we hope to enjoy, as these are more than adequately captured in Egyptian references to the Imperishable Ones. And we certainly have no good reason to promote any “legitimized” versions of early 20th century white supremacist propaganda, given that everything about our religion comes down to us from a highly advanced North African people of color.

We also don’t really need the Lovecraft stuff either (except as entertainment, of course). Kemetic lore is already full of alternate universes, qliphothic monsters, and sacred geometry. In fact, Khepesh (the Big Dipper, sacred to Set) might even be called “trapezoidal” insofar as it is a strange angular shape that represents something scary (Set’s raging deicidal power) being put to a positive use (warding off Apep, which tries to sneak into the material world through the northern sky). Then there’s the fact that the chisels for Opening the Mouths of the dead were modeled after this same “trapezoidal” symbol, which brings us back to the idea of becoming Imperishable Ones and gettin’ rowdy with Sutekh up there in His Desert. See how I just did all that without including any Norse gods, Nazis, or Cthulhian beasties? I rest my fuckin’ case.

I am sure some readers will no doubt find my stance on these topics to be incredibly close-minded. After all, Set loves autonomy and diversity right? So I should even accept things I personally find unacceptable, or so the logic seems to go. The answer to that is a hard NO. I know good and well I won’t change any minds that don’t want to be changed; but I can’t claim to respect Ma’at if I don’t denounce isfet whenever I see it. And there is an AWFUL lot of isfet to be seen in LHP romanticizations of Nazism (political, magical, and artistic). This sort of thing should NEVER be romanticized, for it has NOTHING to do with Set, and it has EVERYTHING to do with His eternal enemy, that rancid fucker Apep.


Thoughts On Kemetic Soul Anatomy

One Setian’s take on ancient Egyptian concepts of the self—including our bodies, souls, spirits, hearts, shadows, names, and the hope for unification of these features into a multidimensional whole after death. 


The way I read the Heliopolitan cosmogony at least, human beings are not creations or playthings of the Netjeru (gods); we are their younger and less powerful relatives, a race of living demigods. As discussed in Episode #19, every sentient being can be considered an avatar or incarnation of Atum-Ra, the Creator. This is evident from the fact that people can use heka (magic or spirituality) to work Ma’at (truth, balance, order, and interconnectedness) against isfet (falsehood, toxicity, injustice, and disintegration), just as the gods do. But while the gods work Ma’at together up at their higher, more cosmic levels of existence, it is our responsibility to work Ma’at here on earth as their mortal counterparts. In this way, the war between the Netjeru and Apep or other powers of isfet is reflected in even the most mundane human struggles against evil, no matter how small or mundane they might seem.

Given this, it is important to understand what it actually means to be the Great He-She incarnate. It is not a license to just do whatever we want; for even the gods aren’t perfect, and any mistakes they make could have cataclysmic consequences for everyone (including themselves). The same is equally true of people, who run around wasting natural resources, splitting atoms, and unleashing terrible pollution and plagues upon this world. We have such remarkable power and potential, but we have so little patience for delay of gratification that we have fucked up the planet and each other well beyond measure. If we do not want our world to fall apart, we must each take responsibility like the gods do by upholding Ma’at and abjuring isfet. This is not just a call to behave ethically, but a real spiritual battle, a lifelong magical quest. Both here and in Duat  (the Spirit World), the best way to help ourselves is by helping others, and the best way to destroy ourselves is by destroying others.

The ancient Egyptians believed the human self consists of several multidimensional components. The following is neither an exhaustive list nor a definitive explanation of what these components actually are; it is simply how I conceptualize them personally, at least at present. While I like to think I know my stuff when it comes to Set, I really can’t claim to be an “expert” on Kemetic Soul Anatomy. I therefore reserve the right to adjust my opinions on these topics as I acquire more knowledge over time.

I should also clarify that I am not a Kemetic reconstructionist exactly. My walk with Set is definitely influenced by Kemetic sources, but I have also been deeply influenced by Western occultism, which has been known to take some mighty big liberties with Egyptian thought. (Just look at Thelema.) LV-426 Setians like me are probably every bit as eclectic in our approach to the Other Side as most Western occultists are; but we also pride ourselves on being crystal clear about what is actually “Kemetic” and what is not. That being said, I am not prepared to claim that what I have written about the Egyptian concept of the self below is 100% authentically Kemetic; these are just my own thoughts on the matter (such as they may be), so take from them what you will.

The most obvious component of the self is the physical body, which the Egyptians called the khat. Images are magical windows to alternate universes, and there is no greater image for the self than one’s very own material form. In the West we tend to dissociate ourselves from our bodies all the time, but this ontological dualism does not exist so much in Kemetic belief. To me at least, it is more a matter of the body being a “seed” in which our incorporeal aspects are fundamentally rooted. We aren’t souls born into bodies; we are bodies from whence souls sprout! So essential is the khat to the self’s existence that its preservation was deemed absolutely critical to having a pleasant afterlife; hence the tradition of mummification. For those whose corpses are lost or destroyed, new images can be created to serve as magical surrogates (statues, drawings, etc.).

I think even the Netjeru have khatu or physical bodies; it’s just that their blood and bones are in plants, animals, the elements, and other natural phenomena. When we see their actual flesh, we think we are just observing weather patterns, seasonal changes, or astronomical events; but our ecosystem is just as alive with soul and spirit as we are. It is when we grasp this principle that we can actually peek beyond the Veil and into Duat. There are also tales of the Netjeru having lived right here on earth with literal bodies as we understand them (and with flesh made of gold and bones made of silver, to boot). There is a point in Egyptian mythology where the history of the world transitions from being linear to becoming cyclical. When the gods still walked this earth, time was linear, with events unfolding between the Netjeru from beginning to middle to end; but when the gods ascended to the heavens, nature switched to following cyclical time. What were once linear events for the gods are now cyclical events that we experience here on earth over and over again as the seasons, the human reproductive cycle, etc.

A person’s ba or soul hovering above their corpse.

In our Western vernacular, little distinction is ever made between the concepts of “soul” and “spirit.” These terms are used interchangeably in any number of different contexts, but I prefer to differentiate between the two as carefully as I can. The Egyptians distinguished between the ba and the ka, which I use as my benchmarks on this matter. The ba, represented as a human-headed bird, was conceived as the innermost personality of a sentient being, which is how I tend to conceptualize “the soul.” The ka, represented as a doppelganger that follows a person throughout their entire life, is more like a secondary, invisible body that individual can use to interact with things in Duat. This is more or less what I mean when I refer to “the spirit.” So your soul is like the part of you that consistently stays the same, no matter how much you might kheper or transform over time. Your spirit is more like the part of you that can touch or be touched by gods and other spirits (living or discarnate).

The god Khnum fashioning a person’s body and their ka or spirit on a potter’s wheel.

There is also a story about the god Khnum sculpting the bodies and spirits of unborn children on his potter’s wheel, then placing them within the wombs of expectant mothers. This is such a powerful image; it evokes how the ka is like a twin version of yourself that occupies the exact same points in time and space that you do, but in a slightly different dimension you might say. Heka or magic is the art of learning to use your ka or spirit to create change, as opposed to implementing more conventional physical methods. For example, the logic behind a healing spell (as I see it at least) is that you are basically sending regenerative vibes to the recipient’s spirit from your own, which will hopefully heighten the recipient’s chances for a speedy recovery. Even a thoughtful “Get Well” card can be an incredibly magical act in this regard, for it is literally a matter of trying to “lift” the other person’s spirit.

This applies to when we have spiritual experiences with gods or ancestors, too. Whenever I have a vision of Set, for example, I think of it as a matter of Set’s spirit interacting with mine, not of me actually seeing a literal Sha-headed man with my physical eyes. We physically observe Set with the eyes of our khatu all the time whenever we observe thunderstorms, donkeys, the Big Dipper, or even people with red hair. But when we bear witness to Set in ways that most people would call “supernatural,” we are actually seeing one or more of the kau or spiritual bodies of the god—and we are seeing these kau with the eyes of our own kau as well.

Each of the holy Netjeru has multiple bau or souls as well. The way I read it, this speaks to how there are really multiple universes, infinite timelines brought forth from the Big Bang, that moment when the First Netjer awakened and determined themself. In some realities, that Netjer determined themself as Atum-Ra; in others, they determined themself as Ptah, Amun, Neith, etc. (There might even be a universe where Set is the Creator!)  There is probably some other dimension where I’m gay and married to one of my best male friends. Or maybe I’m a woman who lives alone in the woods somewhere with a passel of cats. Maybe I’m a hip crime fighter in one world, and a devious supervillain in another. Whomever and whatever I might be in whichever reality we care to consider, I think of these alternate personalities as my various bau or souls; they may be different versions of me, but they are all still me. (Just like Doctor Who is still the Doctor, whether they are being played by Jon Pertwee or Jodie Whittaker.)

An Egyptian heart amulet.

Another core component of the self in Kemetic thought is the ib or “heart,” by which the Egyptians meant the literal bodily organ (as opposed to a purely figurative concept of “heart,” like in Captain Planet or something). Advanced as they were, the ancient Egyptians didn’t realize the brain is the body part that enables us to think; they identified the heart as serving this function instead. It was considered to be the seat of a person’s consciousness, as well as the part of their body where their khat and their ka are connected.

The Weighing of the Heart (i.e., the person’s heart is circled).

When a person’s ib or heart stopped, the khat, ba, and ka were all separated. The spirit would remain with the corpse while the soul was guided by Anubis or another psychopomp to the Hall of Judgment in Duat. There the soul underwent the Weighing of the Heart, which meant the person was judged for all of their deeds and misdeeds in life—a thing for which only sentient beings with hearts (or in our culture, brains) can be held responsible for. If the person’s heart was too heavy with isfet, they were deemed unfit for the afterlife and fed to the daemon Ammut or cast into a lake of fire. Back on earth, the spirit withered away and died; or it could become restless and terrorize the living as an evil ghost. But if a person’s heart was more or less in good standing with Ma’at, their ba and their ka were reunited by the gods, transforming the deceased into an Akh or Imperishable One.

A person (left), their ba or soul (middle), and their shut or shadow (right).

An Akh is also united with what the Egyptians called the shut or khaibit (the “shadow”). The “shadow” in this context is literal, referring to those black shapes our bodies cast on walls or the ground whenever we stand in the light. Our shadows are not just apparitions, but living parts of ourselves; we create them without even thinking about it, and a part of us exists in them and is reflected in them. In the exact same way, a person can exist in other things they intentionally create as well, like songs, paintings, photographs, works of literature, etc. This is exactly why the Egyptians built so many monuments and wrote down so much of their knowledge and history. To preserve their culture in so meticulous a manner has not only been a benefit for modern archaeologists in piecing together the Kemetic worldview; it has also helped the ancient Egyptians live on and continue influencing people today. This applies to when we look at photos or read letters from our departed loved ones, as well; art and literature do in fact help us live on after death, and I think it is our shutu or shadows that probably benefit from such creative work specifically.

Names, or renu in ancient Egyptian, are also significant dimensions of the self. This includes not only our birth names, but any titles, nicknames, and other names we might be given or choose for ourselves as well. Each of the gods has various names by which they are known, and the same is true of us. Names are living extensions of ourselves that carry a real, lasting power of their own; for though they are long dead, we still speak the names of  Hatshepsut, Joan of Arc, Princess Diana, and other blessed ancestors in regular conversation today. Doing so helps to keep this aspect of the self alive after death. There is also a story in which the goddess Isis tricks Atum-Ra into giving her their true secret name, which only Ra had known up to that point. By learning the true unknown name of Ra, Isis becomes the most powerful goddess, magician, and woman of all time.

An artefact bearing the ren or name of Pharaoh Seti I (within the cartouche).

Conversely, the Egyptians defaced or erased the names of people and things they wanted to write out of history and existence. This is what happened to the Heretic King, Akhenaten (born Amenhotep IV), who prioritized the new religion of Atenism over his duty to be a good and responsible leader. His name was removed from various monuments after his death in an attempt to forget that this particular ruler even existed. This is also why modern Kemetics generally write the name of Apep in strikeout text. Simply writing the name is not good enough, because it can actually attract the monster’s attention to ourselves. Writing its name in strikeout text serves as a way for us to communicate about the rotten bastard without actually evoking it into our lives.

It is not exactly clear what happens when a deceased person passes the Weighing of the Heart and is transformed into an Akh. But I imagine that person would be united with themself across both this world (as a corpse and a spirit) and the Other Side (as a soul), as well as with their various names and any objects in which their shadows might reside (photos, diaries, etc.). I also imagine they would be united with all the possible variations of their soul that might exist across the vast multiplicity of universes. Akhu are said to reside with the Netjeru in Duat, but there are actually many different heavens included there. I think Akhu are free to visit either of these various realms, but they are also free to visit the living and travel to alternate realities as well. This mobility of the Akhu between universes is remarkable when compared to other religious teachings about the soul after death. I can’t even begin to grasp what such an existence might be like; but I think it probably isn’t that far removed from how the people of the “Q Continuum” exist in Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987–1994).

My mother-in-law, Pamela, present via her shadow (in the photograph) and some of her remains (in the urn).

The Egyptians also referred to additional facets of the self, but our knowledge of what these things actually are is unclear. There is something called sekhem, which translates to mean “power” or “form.” This could be referring to the latent magical power that exists within each of us as unique incarnations of Ra; but I am really just guessing. It is tempting to compare sekhem with what Chinese folk medicine calls qi or “chi”: a vital life force or energy flow that can be used to guide exercises and reinforce medical treatments. It might also be similar to Japanese Reiki, a form of alternative medicine that involves energy healing.

There is also something called a sahu, which seems to be an additional spiritual body that is generated for the deceased during their funerary rites. It is not evident how this feature should be distinguished from the ka or spirit exactly, except perhaps that the ka exists from birth while the sahu doesn’t. I have heard it said that the state of sahu is probably closest to how the Netjeru experience their own existence; but the concept remains unclassifiable nevertheless. Rather than try to pontificate on things for which there is so little available evidence at present, I simply accept that there are no clear answers to this particular question at present.

For now at least, it is enough for me to know I am a body with a soul, a spirit, a heart, a shadow, and a name. There are many different versions of me that exist in all kinds of different universes, too. When I die, I hope to be found worthy of the afterlife during the Weighing of my Heart. I hope for all the pieces of my self to be re-united so I can become an Akh and get up to some shenanigans with other Akhu out in Set’s Desert, beyond the Great Bear. And I hope that when I get there, I’ll meet Ronnie James Dio and we can go smite some monsters of isfet together!



The Amityville Error

Discussing the Amityville Horror, the greatest American paranormal hoax of the 1970s, and its influence on the Satanic Panic of the 1980s. 


The Amityville Horror began as a hoax concocted by the late George Lutz, which he based on the real life case of Ronald DeFeo. DeFeo murdered his family one night at 112 Ocean Avenue in Amityville, Long Island back in 1973, and the Lutz family were the first to move into that address afterwards. They only stayed there for one month, during which they claimed to be harassed by demonic voices, phantom pigs, invisible marching bands, and a mysterious black ooze dripping out of the walls. Neither of these stories has ever been substantiated, but Lutz landed a book deal with author Jay Anson, who novelized the story as The Amityville Horror (Prentice Hall, 1977). This was later adapted into a 1979 film starring James Brolin and Margot Kidder. For whatever reason, it became one of the most financially successful films of the 1970s, despite the fact that it was produced by American International Pictures (known best for their cheap drive-in schlock from the 1950s and 1960s), and the fact that it’s boring as shit.

Amityville was so successful, in fact, that it quickly spawned a prequel: Amityville II: The Possession (1982). This second film is ostensibly about the DeFeo family, but it takes so many sickening liberties with their lives that I can’t really endorse watching it. It takes its inspiration from Ronald DeFeo’s murder defense, wherein his lawyer, William Weber, seriously tried to push the claim of “demonic possession” in court. This seems especially tasteless considering that George Lutz and William Weber turned out to be in cahoots with each other at the time. (Not for long, though; Lutz soon tried to sue Weber, as well as several other people, for saying things about him he didn’t like. This guy seems to have spent more time suing people than he ever did working an honest job.) Yet Amityville II was also successful at the box office, which meant another film would soon be following in its wake. So in 1983, Orion Pictures gave us Amityville 3D, which is commonly thought to be even worse than the original Amityville.

The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson

The thing is, I actually enjoy Amityville 3D quite a bit; in fact, I think it’s the best Amityville film ever made. (Don’t get overly excited now—that isn’t really saying much!) One thing I like about this one is the fact that it isn’t “based on a true story”; it’s completely fictional, and it never claims to be otherwise. Sure, the story is abysmally stupid, and the characters are more two-dimensional than you can possibly imagine. I can’t even remember any of their names; I just remember Tony Roberts plays an asshole skeptic who moves into 112 Ocean Avenue and stubbornly refuses to believe it’s haunted. Never mind the fact that it kills his best friend (Candy Clark) and his daughter (Lori Loughlin). Then he and his ex-wife Tess Harper get help from Dr. Robert Joy to free their daughter’s soul from the house. There’s also a slimy Bug-Eyed Monster living in the basement, and it seems to be responsible for all the weird shit that happens in the house. That’s pretty much the entire plot right there; there’s nothing about the DeFeos or the Lutzes, and nobody connected with the Amityville Horror hoax appears to have collected any royalties from this entry (which automatically makes it better than either of its predecessors, as far as I’m concerned).

Mind you, Amityville 3D is not what I would call a “good” movie by any means. It’s just that it chooses to exploit a silly movie theater gimmick (3D camera photography) instead of a real-life murder case, which I find much more forgivable. Yet there are some things about this film that I truly enjoy. For one thing, it scared me pretty badly when I first saw it as a kid. In a sequence that shamelessly rips off The Omen (1976), Candy Clark’s character discovers a demonic face in the photos she has taken of the 112 Ocean Avenue property. She freaks out and goes to warn Tony Roberts, but then gets harassed by a demon fly while she’s driving in her car. She crashes her vehicle and is then set on fire, and as she dies, she screams one of the most convincing screams of pain I’ve ever heard in any horror flick. Now up until this point in the film, Clark is built up as being the main female lead, so it was really unexpected (not to mention upsetting) to see her get bumped off like that. It’s not an easy scene for me to watch even as an adult, so I have to give the creative team behind Amityville 3D a great deal of credit for scaring me pretty good.

The Amityville House in 1973

The infamous Amityville house (112 Ocean Avenue) in 1973.

Robert Joy’s character is a parapsychologist who works at some nameless university or institute somewhere, and who is both a “believer” and a “skeptic” at once. He clearly believes in the paranormal, but he’s slow to accept any particular claims about it without sufficient evidence. He was likely only written into the film to make it feel more like 1982’s Poltergeist (which features a number of similar characters), but I enjoy his presence all the same. The other characters are either too quick to believe whatever wild-eyed crap they hear (like Candy Clark and Tess Harper), too quick to dismiss it (like Tony Roberts), or too quick to fuck around with it (like Lori Loughlin and her teenage friends). Of course, the believers turn out to be right about everything in the end; but Robert Joy seems to be the only person in Amityville with a good head between his shoulders, and he’s charming and likable to boot.

It’s too easy to pick this film apart for everything it does wrong; my only serious complaint against it is that there just isn’t enough of the gooey booger monster that shows up at the end. It would have been much more impressive if the writers had decided to unleash this beastie at the beginning of the final act, so he can raise some serious hell for the last 20 minutes or so. As it is, we only see the damn thing for a few seconds before it scorches off Robert Joy’s face and drags his ass down to hell. Then we get some telekinetic-fu as Tony Roberts, Tess Harper, and the rest of Robert Joy’s investigative team get thrown around by invisible forces throughout the house. This part is actually pretty entertaining (especially the shot where the basement door explodes and crashes into one of the scientists, resembling a live-action Looney Tunes segment); but I really wanted to see some monster-fu instead. Oh well, at least the house blows up; if I can’t have my fill of slimy glopola goodness, I’ll settle for a nice random explosion!

Just what in tarnation IS that thing, anyway?

In the earlier movies, the evil of the house is “confronted” by the Roman Catholic Church. The first movie features Rod Steiger as a priest who tries to help the Lutzes from afar, but who really doesn’t accomplish anything useful in the end; he just sort of loses his marbles, and then the movie forgets about him. The second film features a priest who tries to perform an exorcism on the Ronald DeFeo character, but he only succeeds in getting himself possessed instead. In Amityville 3D, Robert Joy’s character is a little more successful in dealing with the evil. (I mean, he does piss it off enough to make it blow its own home to smithereens; that’s got to count for something, right?) This transition from relying on organized religion to relying on quacky pseudoscience for answers was characteristic of the early 1980s. This was the era when the New Age movement really let fly and when “ancient astronauts” were all the rage. Not that I’m criticizing anyone for believing in that stuff if that is what they wish to believe; I just think it’s fascinating that the Amityville filmmakers would choose to take this course. The entire point of 1979’s The Amityville Horror was to cash in on earlier films like The Exorcist (1973), which is practically a late night infomercial for the Catholic Church. Amityville 3D is more like the bastard stepchild of Nigel Kneale’s The Stone Tape (1972), which uses scientific speculation to explain its supernatural events.

If it seems I am being too hard on the Lutzes and their fellow conspirators, it’s because their little hoax was just one of several that fed into the Satanic Panic of the 1980s. Of all the paranormal investigators who ever looked into their story, Ed and Lorraine Warren are perhaps the most famous and well-known. You might remember their names from all those Conjuring and Annabelle movies that have been produced over the past decade. Ed and Lorraine were a self-styled demonologist and clairvoyant, respectively, who claimed to have investigated over 10,000 hauntings together between 1952 and 2006. And during the late 1970s and 1980s, they were featured on damn near every TV special about the paranormal you might care to mention. My first exposure to them was in Scream Greats Volume 2: Satanism and Witchcraft, a direct-to-video “documentary” from 1986, wherein the Warrens insisted that organized “satanic ritual abuse” (SRA) is absolutely real. These hucksters made their fortunes by hoodwinking people into thinking that minority faiths like mine want to abuse and butcher your children, and the Amityville hoax is what facilitated their rise to fame. Granted, the Warrens weren’t the only SRA-peddlers in business at the time, and they certainly weren’t the worst. But whenever I see a trailer for yet another “Conjuring Universe” movie that probably cost about $140 million to produce, it just makes me feel a little queasy, you know?

There are several other Amityville films that came out after Amityville 3D, but only one of them—the 2005 remake starring Ryan Reynolds—was ever released theatrically. The rest are all direct-to-video or made-for-TV cheapies. The ones that were produced by Steve White—Amityville: The Evil Escapes (1989), Amityville: It’s About Time (1992), Amityville: A New Generation (1993), and Amityville: Dollhouse (1996)—are actually pretty enjoyable in my opinion; but they have almost nothing to do with Amityville or the house at 112 Ocean Avenue at all, so their titles are misleading at best.


The Stuff Nightmares Are Afraid Of

Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) is a terrific allegory for the eternal conflict between Set and the Chaos Serpent. With instructions for a spell for protection during sleep.


In Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), some teenagers start having nightmares in which they’re menaced by this disfigured creep who has knives for fingers. Whenever this asshat kills someone in their dreams, they die in real life at the same time. One of the teenagers, Nancy Thompson (played by Heather Langenkamp), discovers that when they were little children, their community was terrorized by a serial killer who preyed on little kids. The man was arrested and put on trial, but he got off on a technicality and was released. Then, fearing for their children’s safety, the parents of the community took the law into their own hands and burned the killer alive. But this has only made things worse, for it is the killer’s ghost who now haunts the kids in their dreams, seeking revenge against the parents by finishing what he started. Now it’s up to Nancy to find a way of execrating this evil spirit.

On the one hand, A Nightmare on Elm Street has more than its fair share of devoted fans; on the other, it receives far more derision from mainstream critics and the general public than it really deserves. I blame this on most of the sequels, which became increasingly goofy with each new installment. By the end of the 1980s, Freddy Krueger was practically a live action cartoon character, and this is the version of him that most people remember today. Sequels like The Dream Warriors (1987) and The Dream Child (1988) are more like self-parodies than straight horror films; they don’t even bother to take themselves that seriously. But if you watch the original Nightmare from 1984, I promise you: even if it doesn’t scare you, it will make you quite uncomfortable at the very least. There’s absolutely nothing “funny” about this film at all, and the Freddy Krueger character is really just the tip of the iceberg.

When the film begins, the daylight reality in which Nancy and her friends all live seems safe enough; but as Freddy Krueger becomes more prominent in their dreams, the ugly truth about their everyday world begins to unfold. These things are never stated to the audience outright, but viewers will notice that Nancy’s parents are divorced (and that the proceedings of this arrangement were anything but amicable). Nancy’s mother is an alcoholic, and her father—the town sheriff—only shows up whenever there’s a tragedy. At the same time, Tina’s mother also seems to be divorced and would much rather spend time with her boyfriend in Las Vegas than stay with her daughter (even when she knows the poor kid has been having terrible nightmares). Rod’s parents seem to be completely absent from his life, leading him to take on a life of petty crime. And then there’s Glenn (played by a baby-faced Johnny Depp), whose parents demonize Nancy for no good reason aside from the fact that two of her friends are dead.

It’s ironic that these parents once resorted to mob justice to protect their community, for they don’t seem to care very much about their community now. None of them are involved in their children’s lives anymore, and none of them seem to care that much when each other’s kids die. When Tina gets butchered, Rod is immediately accused of the crime, and none of the adults ever question this. We never see Tina’s mother afterwards, so we’re left to wonder if she even grieves for her daughter at all. When Rod gets strangled by Freddy in his jail cell, it’s clear to all the adults that it was suicide and no one shows any kind of sympathy for him. Clearly, Tina and Rod’s deaths mean nothing to Glenn’s parents, who seem to think they can avoid having anything like that happen to Glenn by keeping him away from Nancy. Meanwhile, Nancy knows exactly what’s happening, but no one will believe or even listen to her, even when the evidence is staring them in the face. For Duat’s sake, she can’t even get any help from her father, the sheriff!

It is this complete absence of parental support that makes the film truly terrifying, in my opinion. Never mind the idea that Nancy and her friends are being targeted by a supernatural force; Freddy Krueger is simply the 1980s American version of an ancient Akkadian Alû demon (i.e., a spirit that terrifies people while they sleep), and the ancient Akkadians knew well enough how to deal with such things. If an Akkadian child reported having certain experiences while he or she was asleep, his or her parents didn’t take any chances; they simply execrated the Alû with their magic and the problem usually went away. So the idea of Freddy Krueger in and of himself is not that impressive; entities like him are just little things in this world, and it doesn’t take that much to get rid of them. It would help if the Elm Street families were willing to entertain the possibility of such events in the first place; but even more importantly, the fact that the children can neither trust nor depend on their parents is a serious problem. That is what enables demonic forces like Freddy to perpetuate themselves in the first place, and that is what disturbs me most in this film.

Mind you, I’m not claiming that every childhood boogeyman is actually real; nor do I contend that magical thinking is always the best answer to one’s problems. But if I had a kid and she told me that some freak was coming after her in her dreams, I wouldn’t laugh at her or treat her like she’s crazy. I’d say, “Well, it could be one of two things going on here, hon. It could be that there really is some freak coming after you in your dreams; or, it could be that it’s just a dream and nothing more. Either way…I say we whack the fucker, just in case.” And then I’d have her draw a picture of the creep that’s scaring her, and we’d hurl all kinds of abusive language at him in Set’s good name. We’d stick pins in his ass and chop him up into little pieces; then we’d throw him in the fireplace and watch the little bastard burn. Call me superstitious if you like, but like the Akkadians, I don’t believe in taking any chances with this kind of stuff. No kid should ever have to face a monster alone like Nancy does in Nightmare on Elm Street.

(If it seems crazy that I’m talking about the things that happen in Nightmare like they’re real, I’d like to point out that the film is partially inspired by true events. During the 1970s, director Wes Craven read an article in the L.A. Times about a group of Khmer refugees who were living in the United States, and whose children were having nightmares that disturbed them so badly, they refused to sleep. Some of them later died in their sleep, and it was as if they had known they would die if they didn’t stay awake. This story disturbed Craven to his core, and it later became his main inspiration for writing Nightmare. Craven has also said that he took inspiration for the film from certain Buddhist and Taoist ideas, and anyone who’s ever listened to the man talk will know that he actually believed in some kind of spirit world.)

The Nancy Thompson character is easily the best thing about this film; in fact, she’s the very best “Final Girl” since Laurie Strode in Halloween and Ellen Ripley in Alien (1979). Unlike Laurie, she becomes aware of her nemesis early in the film and she actively hunts him down; and unlike Ripley, she has no weapons aside from her own determination and resourcefulness. Nancy eventually discovers that if she holds on to something in her dreams while she’s waking up, she can bring it over to the real world. She decides to conduct this extremely dangerous experiment with Krueger, and when it proves successful, the tables are immediately turned. Freddy finds himself at Nancy’s mercy, suffering every form of abuse the teenager can throw at him; he even becomes afraid of her at one point. And considering just how slimy a character Freddy really is, it feels really good to see him get his comeuppance this way.

This humiliation of the antagonist is a recurring theme in many of Wes Craven’s films (including 1972’s The Last House on the Left, 1977’s The Hills Have Eyes, 1988’s The Serpent and the Rainbow, 1991’s The People Under the Stairs, and 1996’s Scream). There’s almost always a transition point in these movies where the surviving victims gain some kind of advantage over the villains, and the villains become blubbering, pathetic fools. I believe Craven’s intention here was to demonstrate that while evil may often seem very powerful and formidable, it only has as much power as we allow it to have. When we take that power back, evil is revealed for the frail and empty little thing that it really is. And in the original script for Nightmare on Elm Street, that is exactly what happens; Nancy defeats Freddy Krueger by taking back all the energy she’s put into him with her fear, and his spirit is dissolved back into the Void forever.

My only criticism of A Nightmare on Elm Street is the fact that its ending was sloppily changed at the last minute, and for purely commercial reasons. Nancy defeats Krueger, and all seems well; but then she realizes she’s actually having another nightmare, and the rotten bastard gets her after all. This ending always leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. They go through the entire movie developing this really likable character who’s noble and strong and who succeeds in defeating (and even humiliating) the villain; then they pull the rug out from under her at the last minute just to give the audience one last jump scare. Granted, it scared the hell out of me when I first saw this film as a kid; but as an adult who’s digested the rest of Wes Craven’s work, I can see just how “un-Cravenian” that ending really is. As it turns out, Craven had a major dispute with Nightmare’s producer, Robert Shaye, who wanted a scary ending to set the stage for a sequel. Craven eventually gave in to Shaye’s demands just so they could finish making the film. I think this was an unfortunate choice on Craven’s part, as it prevents Nightmare from being a truly perfect film; but the rest of the film holds up remarkably well, even after 30 years, so at least there’s that.

When you stop to think about it, sleep really is kind of a scary thing. If we hold to the Cartesian definition of existence (i.e., “I think, therefore I am”), we technically cease to “exist” for a while when we aren’t awake. Sure, our bodies are still there and our brains continue to function; but we don’t really “think” in the normal sense of the term, since we aren’t conscious. So in a way, we all become like Schrödinger’s Cat when we’re asleep; we’re neither alive nor dead, and we only collapse back into a solid state of reality when we regain our capacity for conscious self-reflection. We’re extremely vulnerable while we’re in this state (both physically and otherwise), and this is partly what the Egyptians were getting at with their tales about Ra being menaced by Apep in the Underworld each night. By attacking Ra, Apep isn’t just posing a cosmic threat against the Creator; it’s also posing a personal threat against all creatures that sleep and dream.

Nancy Thompson’s struggle with Freddy Krueger is a perfect representation of this principle, especially since it’s built upon fears that many cultures traditionally associate with sleep. Apep and Krueger are both astral monsters that try to kill living things while they regenerate (whether this means a sleeping Creator or a sleeping human). Both attempt to kill the future (whether by preventing the dawn or by murdering kids). Both thrive when the good do nothing (whether this is due to a paralyzing gaze or a conspiracy of silence). And both are easily overpowered once you learn how to see through their tricks (whether this is achieved by a badass Thunder God or a plucky suburban teenager). In this way, I consider the character of Nancy Thompson to be a true daughter and warrior of Set.

Set & Nancy Thompson vs. the Serpent & Freddy Krueger

Incidentally, here is a procedure you can use to help you feel a little more like Nancy Thompson when you need it most. If you ever get scared when you’re in bed at night, give this procedure a shot. No Freddy Kruegers can hold a candle to the awesome power of He Before Whom the Sky Shakes.

Get a blank sheet of paper and some red paint. (If you don’t have any red paint, you can use a pen with red ink.) Draw a donkey that’s facing left, and write the word “EOEOE” in the shape of triangle on its neck. Then write “LERTHEMINO” on its back, and write “SABAOTH” on its breast. Finally, write the name “ABRASAX” directly beneath the donkey’s hooves, so that it looks as if the donkey is “walking” on the word. You don’t have to be a great artist; even the simplest and most child-like scribbling will do. (In fact, the simpler and more child-like you can manage, the better.) Just make absolutely sure that you draw the donkey facing to the left and that you write the voces magicae (“words of power”) exactly as I’ve said. When you’re finished, your painting or drawing should look like this:

Typhonian Spell for Protection During Sleep

Next, place this painting or drawing in a folder or something else in which it can stay unfolded and flat. (Under no circumstances should you fold it or crumple it.) You must never let any sunlight touch this image you’ve created; it must always be kept in darkness. Once you’ve placed it inside a folder, place it under the mattress of your bed. Preferably, it should be sandwiched between your mattress and your springboard. If the negative energy in your home seems to be centered on someone else in the house (e.g., a child), place the folder under his or her mattress instead. You can make one of these donkey images for each person who lives and sleeps in your home, if you like. Just follow the exact same procedure for each one. Make sure you place the images in areas where they can’t be seen, where no sunlight can touch them, and where they’re close to you and your loved ones while you sleep. Keep them there for at least seven days and nights; you can feel free to remove them after that amount of time has passed.


An LV-426 Perspective on the Qliphoth

Why I refer to evil spirits as qliphoth rather than “demons,” and why I don’t recommend messing with them.


The word qliphoth comes from the Hebrew kellipot (“shells”). In Kabbalah (a tradition of Jewish mysticism), the kellipot aren’t necessarily “evil,” but can be good or bad depending on the context. But in Hermetic Qabalah (the European version of Kabbalah), they are considered to be the astral “shells” of beings that used to exist, but which have long since been destroyed. Soulless and bodiless, these vampiric entities do whatever they can to intrude upon our reality and feed on the psychological traumas of the living. Many of them are completely evil by any definition of the term, and should be avoided at all cost. The singular form of qliphoth is qlipha, and it is more or less equivalent to the term “demon” in our modern vernacular. In a Hermetic context at least, qliphoth are malevolent ghosts that are dangerous for the living to engage with, and which must be execrated whenever they are encountered.

I refer to evil spirits as qliphoth because I feel the word demon has become too culturally loaded. In the original Greek, a daimon is virtually any spirit that exists somewhere between gods and human beings. This is a very wide spectrum that includes everything from ghosts and angels to nymphs and satyrs. Therefore, daimon (or daemon, the Latin equivalent) is a morally neutral term that has nothing to do with whether a paranormal entity is “good” or “evil.” In fact, the Greeks distinguished between “good demons” (agathodaimones) and “bad demons” (kakodaimones) until Christians came along and appropriated the label for their own use. The only reason demon came to mean “evil spirit” is because Christians applied it to spirits that didn’t submit to Yahweh’s authority—including not only the fallen angels of Christian myth, but all “Gentile” (i.e., Pagan) divinities as well. Hence why so many medieval grimoires refer to such “demons” as Ammon (a corruption of the Egyptian god Amun), Astaroth (a corruption of the Akkadian Ishtar/Astarte), and Bael (a corruption of the Phoenician Ba’al Hadad).


A Pompeian fresco from the Casa dei Vetti (“House of the Vetti”), featuring
an agathodaimon represented as a snake (circa 63–79 CE).

So when we discuss demonology, what are we actually discussing? Are we really talking about evil spirits, or are we just talking about someone else’s gods? There are still Hellenic Pagans who invoke and make offerings to certain daimones today, and there is also a religion called Demonolatry, in which people worship Pagan gods who were demonized in the Bible. The important thing to understand about both of these groups is that when they discuss “worshiping demons,” they are not claiming to revere evil spirits. They are simply using the word demon in a Pagan context, rather than a Christian one.

Even spirits that do hurt people aren’t necessarily “evil” through and through. Some are provoked into hurting people; consider Goetia, in which the magician evokes the spirits and binds them to his or her will. This involves hurling abusive insults at the spirits and bossing them around while standing within a protective circle. The idea is that the spirits might tear the magician apart if she is foolish enough to step outside the circle; but given how they are treated in such procedures, can anyone really blame them? It’s an entirely different matter when a spirit harms people simply because it can. We can debate all day as to why it does what it does, but for all practical intents and purposes, it’s just evil. The only appropriate way to interact with such an entity is to avoid and/or execrate it accordingly.

I reserve the term qliphoth for spirits that are specifically characterized as evil in their own lore, and that have always been considered evil for as long as we’ve known about them. For example, figures like Astaroth and Bael don’t count, for they are simply Pagan gods who’ve been demonized. But beings like AnzuLamia, and Zahhak were considered evil even by Pagans in pre-biblical times. This is an indicator that such entities are extremely dangerous and should never be invoked or worshiped by anyone.

Where do the qliphoth come from? You might recall that in Egyptian ontology, there is a difference between the ba or soul and the ka or spirit. Let’s say there’s this guy named Freddy who really enjoys hurting people as much as he can. Then Freddy dies, and Anubis comes and takes his soul to the Otherworld for the Weighing of the Heart, while Freddy’s spirit remains here on Earth as a ghost. Once in Duat, Freddy’s heart is weighed and is found completely unworthy of the afterlife; so Anubis feeds it to Ammut, the Devourer of Hearts, and Freddy ceases to exist. Yet his ghost is still lingering down here on Earth, and since no one likes him enough to remember him or visit his grave, the ghost is in danger of fading away forever. Perhaps it might learn to perpetuate itself by tormenting the living and feeding on the bioelectrical energy they release when they are terrified. Perhaps it will realize children are its most suitable victims, since they are more vulnerable to astral attack than most adults. If and when this happens, Freddy’s ghost becomes a qlipha and will continue tormenting the living until someone forces it to stop.

Wes Craven's Freddy Krueger

Screw you, Krueger!

Qliphoth don’t always understand what they are doing; as Stephen King once wrote in his 1996 novel, Desperation: “Evil is both fragile and stupid, dying soon after the ecosystem it’s poisoned.” Whether they are fully cognizant or not, all qliphoth serve the Serpent and do its bidding. The Serpent’s ultimate goal is to un-create everything the gods have made (including the gods themselves); but it will also settle for un-creating little things whenever it can, such as an individual soul. This is precisely what happens when a human being is reduced to an astral fragment of him or herself after death. The more people dehumanize each other, the more likely it is they will lose their souls; the more souls that are lost, the more likely it is that we will become qliphoth when we die; and the more qliphoth that come into existence, the more minions the Serpent has to help it ruin more souls (and create more qliphoth).

There are some traditions in which people “work with” the qliphoth, or even worship them outright. Kenneth Grant developed a system of ceremonial magic based on this premise, and the SimonNecronomicon is loaded with qliphothic “traps” that can backfire on unwary dabblers. (Check out David Harms’ and John Wisdom Gonce III’s The Necronomicon Files for some more background on this particular tangent.) Grant knew how dangerous his work with the qliphoth was, so he took steps to limit who could access it. (You’d have to be a goddamn Wall Street tycoon to even buy one of Grant’s books, which are all out of print and exceedingly overpriced.) The Necronomicon guys, on the other hand, made their material available to everyone, and for less than $10 to boot. Thanks to them, we now live in an age when any asscracker can go around opening qliphothic wormholes, letting Set knows what slither into our world. I’m not in the business of telling others what to do with their souls, but I would strongly recommend against playing around with this stuff (unless you actually want to drive yourself crazy and become possessed).1

The Simon Necronomicon

The Simon Necronomicon (Avon Books, 1977).

One thing Kenneth Grant and “Simon” had in common was their shared belief that H.P. Lovecraft was actually a “sleeping prophet.” They thought the monsters in Lovecraft’s fiction are very real entities that exist in some other dimension, which Lovecraft supposedly visited through his dreams. I’m willing to concede that some Lovecraftian occultists, at least, are really contacting spiritual beings of some kind. I don’t believe for one second that fictional characters like Cthulhu or Nyarlathotep are real; but I do believe that if you invoke “Cthulhu” in a ritual, someone or something might choose to answer you by that name. If you’re lucky, it will be a god or a benevolent daemon of some sort; if you’re unlucky, it will be a qlipha that wants to skull-fuck you six ways from Sunday. We can be fairly confident that when you invoke a god like Set, whose name has been used for centuries, you will get the real Set and not an imposter. But a name like Cthulhu is still too new and fresh for it to consistently “belong” to any particular spiritual entity, so there’s just no telling what might answer you if you use it. You could be blessed by some Mesopotamian goddess, or you could end up tormented by an aqrabuamelu scorpion-man for the rest of your life.

This tendency to create religions around fictional characters is not always so disturbing. It might seem a little weird if someone chooses to worship Batman or Wonder Woman, but at least these are good role models for people to emulate, if that is what they wish to do. But I have never understood why anyone would want to worship something like Cthulhu or the Slender Man. These are monsters no one in their right mind would ever want to meet in real life, so honoring them just makes no sense. And as I explained above, invoking such figures can open your soul to forces you shouldn’t be trifling with. In the LV-426 Tradition, we refer to this phenomenon as “the Sutter Cane Effect” (in reference to the main antagonist in John Carpenter’s 1994 film, In the Mouth of Madness). Unlike the Buddhist concept of tulpas (in which people create paranormal beings with their own psychic energy), the Cane Effect is what happens when qliphoth impersonate fictional characters, making them seem to become “real.” I don’t think this is really an issue with characters like Batman or Wonder Woman, who are too strongly identified with things like justice and mercy to become qliphothic avatars. It seems to me that qliphoth more readily attach themselves to characters that reflect their true dispositions, like Yog-Sothoth or Hedorah the Smog Monster.

The Qabalic Tree of Death

The “Tree of Death” in Hermetic Qabalah.

Some occultists believe it is necessary to work with the qliphoth in order to develop a full understanding of the spirit world; they argue that by avoiding these entities, one is “ignoring one side of a two-sided coin.” I applaud anyone who, like Kenneth Grant, can do this while keeping all that qliphothic energy they are drawing to themselves under control. But with all due respect to Grant, most people are incapable of doing this and would only succeed in getting themselves possessed or killed if they tried. There are other ways to liberate and enlighten your soul than by trying to corral a bunch of invisible, rabid-ass baboons. In LV-426, we reject this notion of engaging with any Lovecraftian monsters at all, unless it is to execrate them and send them screaming back to the void. We take Set’s role as the Champion of Ra very seriously, and we are each committed to resisting the Serpent and its agents in as many ways as we can.

H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu

A sketch H.P. Lovecraft drew of his monster, Cthulhu, in 1934.

1 The Simon Necronomicon instructs its readers to attempt astral travel without taking any of the normal precautions (e.g., banishings). It also requires you to invoke an entity called “the Watcher,” which is supposed to “protect” your body while you go off exploring other worlds in spirit form. This Watcher has a carnivorous appetite and will supposedly kill you if you don’t keep it well-fed with all the proper sacrifices. To make things even worse, the book also implores practitioners to recite Sumerian “incantations” that actually translate into execrations of the gods. So in effect, Necronomicon enthusiasts are putting themselves under the protection of evil spirits while also telling the good spirits to fuck off. This is rather like asking a serial killer to watch over you while you sleep, then smashing your phone so you can’t dial 911.