The Isle of the Disgruntled

Clowns alone on an island.

The Isle of the Disgruntled

by Magus Peter H. Gilmore

Over the course of the history of this organization, there have always been people who decide that the administrators of the Church of Satan haven’t given them everything they want, despite what may have been years of support for their varied endeavors which now, via our newsfeeds, reach hundreds of thousands of interested individuals. They’ve essentially placed us in the “parental” role and when they think they should be receiving more from us than we are willing to give, it is tantrum time. False accusations are made to justify what is essentially spoiled-brat narcissism. Some might have joined with less than a clear grasp of the philosophy, and when they can’t twist it to their own ends, they get huffy and claim they “know LaVey’s true intentions.” Then they might even found their own “Church of LaVeyan Misinterpretation,” and they claim that Doktor LaVey’s published works and interviews mean something entirely other than what is clearly contained in them.

Anton LaVey had his share of such bellyachers—and he offered them neither sympathy nor forgiveness. It is now part of what we must endure as the administrators responsible for heading this vital organization, since we give everyone a chance to live up to the claims they make when joining. We can’t read minds and must take people at their word, until their subsequent words and actions prove incongruent. Over the course of their journey with us, we do not coerce or strong-arm them. We do coach and advise—when we are asked to do so. They are given ample time and attention to audition for a “chair” in our “orchestra of virtuosos” employing Satanism to enhance their lives. But, for some, they’ll always remain tone-deaf to the wonderful symphony that our founder composed and which I now conduct—the rest of us can’t help but notice how off-key and dissonant are the notes they produce. They seem to not hear the beauty of the symphonic architecture of Satanism, the nuances in this diabolical composition and how logically they are developed from the fundamental, seemingly disparate themes woven together so brilliantly by Doktor Anton Szandor LaVey.

We are delighted when they depart—they are welcomed to find others who share their points of view. As always, we who participate in our productive cabal are off doing our best, cultivating our creative efforts and enjoying our lives to the fullest. Let these ex-members gather on what I see as the “Isle of the Disgruntled”—it is a rather silly place, to quote Monty Python. We’ve heard rumors that it is in the Adriatic Sea, rather near to Dubrovnik. Its terrain supposedly functions as a form of echo-chamber, wherein these new immigrants can spout their lies and vitriol to the like-minded trolls who are already its native populace. It is clear that the denizens of this isolated place quickly forget or deny all of the support they received during their time as members of the Church of Satan. They must now cast us as being utter villains, though they were happy enough to offer us accolades when we touted their doings.

From that remote locale, they can now struggle to prove that they are greater experts regarding the philosophy crafted by Doktor LaVey than those of us who knew him personally and served at his behest as representatives of his works. They had always been jealous of our expert representatives who’ve honed their skills, via hours of interviews and crafting deft essays, films or podcasts which offer coherent exposition of our philosophy. Some ignorant folks who share their bigotry and socio-political agendas might be fooled by their posturing, or may just want to share the sour grapes which grow there aplenty. Others, hearing the cry of “Help, help—I’m being repressed!” rush in to defend these grifters out of sympathy, not realizing that a scam is in process. These days, study and analysis of the canonical texts seems far too much to ask from many folks, who’d rather read or listen to slanted summaries wrought by those who never understood the basics. They suffer from the lack of first-hand knowledge. Ultimately, if no efforts are made to smarten up, they all deserve one another.

May those who buy into such fables be able to afford the tickets to take the journey to that barren island, where they can embrace in their mutual hatred of all of you who find meaning and pleasure in your affiliation with the only authentic Church of Satan. You’ll be too busy enjoying your participation in our Infernal Philharmonic, as the melodies you’re playing of triumphant satisfaction drown out the faint murmurs of these distant malcontents.



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