With Crowleymas past, and Halloween approaching, I thought this would be as good a time as any to post the following link, brought to my attention by the ever-vigilant Tracy Brewer:

Boo! I'm John the Baptist and these are my many exploits...

And check out that link to the left about how Game Theory can be applied to Christian apologetics. Aleister is everywhere this time of year! Excellent!

Those of you who are cool know that Sunday, October 12 was Crowleymas. James and the gang celebrated Crowleymas in Salt Lake City this year. Erin and I weren't able to join them, but we celebrated in spirit. My favorite part of Crowleymas is the reading of essays. Each year, every Crowleymas reveler must write a short essay on the topic "What Aliester Crowley Means to Me." Here's my essay from this year: Les Truffes d'Aliester
Quel Aliester Crowley signifieà moi. Crowleymas, 2003.
    Bonjour, mon cher, je suis Pierre Fiôn.  I am the hunter of truffles from Bâti Ventoux sur le Rhône. You have asked me to tell you my secret recipé for porc Aliester, and I am going to tell you.  Of course you know that this cuisine is only served at the four finest restaurants in France, and the least among the dishes is served at a cost of more than 300 Francs.  This has made a very comfortable living for me.  So why should I tell my secret to such entrepreneurs as yourselves?  Because you are two beautiful young Italian restauranteurs who have agree to have sex with me.  Please do not forget this.     This is the story of porc Aliester.  All my life, I have hunted truffles in the hills of  Bâti Ventoux, my boyhood home.  Many truffle hunters today use dogs, but my family has always preferred pigs, and I too will use only pigs to hunt them.  In my life, I have spent so much time among pigs that I feel I can talk to them, almost as though I am one of them.     Only female pigs will do.  The males cannot help.  Do you know why this is so?  It is because in each truffle there is a magic that only the lady pig can truly understand.  This magic is called 5-alpha-androstenol, which is identical to the pheromones produced by the male pig.  When the sow detects the scent of a ripe truffle, she is overwhelmed by sexual desires.     Did you know that truffles are also an aphrodisiac for la femelle humaine?  It is true.  The same chemical that enflames the sexual appetite of the pig can also light fires in the pants of a woman.  This sexual chemical, 5-alpha-androstenol, it also is found in the sweat of a man, did you know?  And, Ah hohoho! it is in the urine of the woman as well.  But we can explore these things later.  Back to the pigs.     So you see, because of the sexual influence of the truffle, it is best to use a very horny sow when hunting.  Not every sow is horny enough to be a good hunter.  A few years ago I discovered a farm in Bavaria called Orgonne,which has found a way to breed the world's horniest sows.  Four years ago I bought my first pig from them, a sow named Aliester Crowley.     Aliester was one of the finest truffle hunters I have ever seen.  By day we would collect so many truffles. But by night, Aliester would go crazy. You see, the day's catch was always stored in a special room, packed in rice, and controlled at 37° F.  But Aliester had such a nose, she could somehow smell them, and it drove the poor girl wild!  I would sometimes find her squealing and kicking at the door to the truffle room in a mad panic.     One night I awoke and was startled to find Aliester standing on top of me.  "Mon Dieu!  Aliester!  What do you want?" I yelled.     "Grüss Gott, Herr Fiôn," she replied.  "I want to know where are the males?  Every day we go hunting in mountains and I smell them.  I smell that they are ready for mating, but they are buried somewhere in the dirt.  I dig and dig but every day and night I never find them.  Maybe you hide them in that room at night.  Sie müssen sie für mich freigeben!  I want sex!"     I was shocked, to say the least.  "Dans l'intéret du Christ, Aliester!" I said, "You should not surprise me like this!"     "Meine Entschüldigungen, Herr Fiôn.  But you see I am very desperate.  I must have some sex or meine Rückseite will explode."     "Well, Aliester, I am afraid there are no males here.  I have only sows on this farm.  I don't know what you are smelling in the truffle room, but it isn't male pigs."     "Then what can I do," she asked, "can you have sex with me?"     "No, Aliester, hommes do not ordinarily have rapports sexuels with pigs."     "But mein circumstance is extraordinary."     "No, it isn't.  I think you'll find that all the sows on this farm are trèsfrustré, just as you are."  Then I had an idea.  "Aliester, have you considered -- eh -- swinging the other way?"     "Was bedeuten Sie?"     "I mean, you and the other sows are all equally starved of sex, so, peut-être,  you could... assist each other..?"     "Wie?"  Aliester clearly wasn't getting le conseil.     "Well, you know, you just see if you can convince one of the other sows to... eh... eat from your trough.  And then you eat from hers...  until you are both satisfait."     Aliester's face suddenly showed understanding.  "Achtung!  Die ist eine wundervolle Idee!  Dankeschön, Herr Fiôn.  Schlafbrünnen."  And with that she trotted off and let me be.      The following morning I went out to feed the pigs, and I overheard Aliester say to one of the other sows, " Sie stoppen zu essen!  I have some different Frühstück for you."  I knew that she would be fine.      And Aliester was as contenu as a pig can be, for many months.  I began to hear nightly squealing coming from the pigs' barn, so I began using prises d'oreille, so that I would not hear them when I slept.  This was perhaps my greatest mistake, or perhaps my most  fortuit accident.     One morning I awoke to find the barn doors completely torn apart.  I feared something terrible had befallen my pigs, or my truffles, so I took up my rifle.  I ran to the truffle room to find its doors had been forced open.  I ran inside and saw many shelves overturned, rice everywhere, truffles piétiné sur la terre, my entire stock ruiné.      I walked with tearful eyes through the room, where to my horreur I saw Aliester laying on her back in a pile of beurre de truffe.  "Aliester!  Wake up vous porc stupide!  What have you done!?"     "Ah, Hallo, guten Morgen Herr Fiôn.  I thank you, for you have told me about oral pleasure.  But you never told me that you hid the greatest oral pleasure right here in diesem Raum.  And you never told me that diese Trüffeln were so much greater than any sex.  I feel so fantastisch, that even if I were to die I would be happy, for there could never be a better moment than this in mein Schweinleben."     "Fine," I said through my tears, and shot her directement in her head.       The next morning, I had ham for breakfast.  It was heavenly.  It was the single greatest breakfast of my life.  It seemed that Aliester's great orgasme de truffe had permeated her entire body, and made it absolument délicieux!
     This was how I discovered porc Aliester, and this is how I have prepared every pig in all the years since.

The ever-sane Pat Robertson, who recently referred to Colin Powell as a "career liberal", has now suggested that someone should sneak a nuclear device into the State Department and blow it up. Way to be a beacon of Christian love, Pat!

Yahoo! News - US State Department protests televangelist's nuclear threat: The US State Department has lodged a vehement complaint with prominent conservative televangelist Pat Robertson for comments suggesting that its Foggy Bottom headquarters should be destroyed with nuclear weapons, officials said. ... Robertson, who has been a frequent critic of the State Department, made the offending comments during an interview with a like-minded critic of US diplomacy, columnist Joel Mowbray, who has written a book entitled "Dangerous Diplomacy: How the State Department Threatens American Security." "I read your book," Robertson said, according to a transcript of the interview posted on his Christian Broadcasting Network's website (www.cbn.com). "When you get through, you say, 'If I could just get a nuclear device inside Foggy Bottom, I think that's the answer'," he said. "I mean, you get through this, and you say, 'We've got to blow that thing up.' I mean, is it as bad as you say?" Robertson asked. Mowbray responded: "It is."

Hmmmm....