1st Phase Satanism: Just Say No!

Anyone that has followed my radio show, as well as my writings, knows that a common theme in a lot of what I comment on is something that has commonly been referred to as "1st Phase Satanism." For those that are unfamiliar with this term, let me provide a definition.

Many Satanists, particularly young ones, when they first discover that they have been living a Satanic life and have finally come to know themselves as Satanists, want to shout their new found discovery from the rooftops. All they want to do is talk Satanism, debate Satanism with Christians, Wiccans, Muslims, and anyone who will hear them sing the praises of their lifestyle, now that they have a name for it. They will argue Satanism until they are blue in the face, and no one can tell them that they're wrong. This activity, for the most part, is completely counter-productive, and is as useless as trying to convince me that Al Sharpton serves some useful purpose in society. Christians, Muslims, Jews, Wiccans, et al, do not care about the fact that you're a Satanist anymore than you care about their religion, and your efforts to "convert" them to our way of life are not only futile, they are completely against the bedrock of Satanic philosophy. We do not proselytize. The literature is out there for anyone to read. People find the Church of Satan on their own, and those that do tend to be people of a much higher quality than those who might be converted by your debate skills. Quality over quantity has always been something that the Church of Satan has subscribed to.

Part of the reason that I speak out so vehemently against this behavior is because I used to engage in this behavior when I first discovered that I was a Satanist. Yes, it's true... My name is David, and I am a recovering 1st-phase Satanist. If I remember correctly, I first discovered The Satanic Bible when I was 20, and joined the Church of Satan when I was 21 or 22. And as a young Satanist, full of piss and vinegar, I would debate the fundamentals of Satanism and the inhumanities of Christianity with anyone who even looked at me cross-eyed. And I soon realized that I was accomplishing absolutely nothing in the process, except fulfilling my own selfish need to argue about something (which is one of the many things that led me into talk radio.) After many months of spinning my wheels and failing to get anywhere with my debates, I came to the realization that my time would be better served by living Satanism, instead of talking about it. So, when I attack people for engaging in this kind of behavior, it's only because I know that those people are wasting their time, and although I'm no altruist, if I can prevent someone from wasting their time debating Satanism with a retard, then I feel as though I might have helped that person just a little bit.

Even now, as the sun sets on my 20s, I, like any recovering addict, still get a twinge every now and again to go after an easy target with a little Satanic debate. In fact, it was just such an incident that sparked this writing. My wife and I recently attended a local street fair in one of the many quaint villages that you find around Long Island. As we enjoyed the crappy carnival food, the bad cover band, and the vendors shilling out awful merchandise, we were approached by a dough-eyed young lad, who was probably around 18 years old or so. He wore a white-collared button down shirt with a black tie, and black slacks. He was gaunt-thin, and with the addition of a black sports coat, black fedora, and sunglasses, would have been the spitting image of Dan Ackroyd as Elwood Blues from The Blues Brothers. Most annoying of all, however, was his smile. Even now, as I write this, I can still see that smile in my mind's eye. It was that smile of youthful exuberance. And when I looked down at the pamphlet that the boy was trying to hand me, I knew why he was smiling.

"God's last name is not 'Dammit'!" read the pamphlet's header.

I knew at that moment that the boy's smile meant that he was one of the recently converted, and with his new-found faith, he and the good lord were going to take on the world. And he wore that smarmy grin with such pride. And all anyone who saw this boy (not just me, as I saw the effect that his "glee" had on the other passers-by) wanted to do was smash this boy in his stupid face with the sledgehammer of reality.

Then, he spoke to me.

"Do you have a few minutes to take a survey?" he asked.

It was like asking a reformed cocaine addict if he felt comfortable doing a line after being sober for a decade. Every muscle in my body tensed up as I recalled the overwhelming joy I used to feel arguing with Christians over their philosophy, and how it has forced man to deny his nature for over 2000 years. I remembered the horrified looks upon their faces when they realized that for the first time, they were actually encountering a real-life Satanist, who not only knew Satanic philosophy, but who knew their bible better than they did. I recalled one instance in college when I debated the head of the student Christian organization live on the air on my college radio station... and she left the studio crying when I mocked her brother after she admitted that he had found God while on LSD. I remembered it all... and it all felt so good.

Then, I looked up at my wife, who was patiently waiting for me. And I remembered why I was there in the first place... to have a good time. And, I also remembered something else. Here these "good Christian soldiers" stood, at the gateway to a small recreation of Babylon, complete with alcoholic spirits, charlatans, and sin. they stood in the doorway, trying to provide salvation to anyone that tried to pass. And I knew that in the back of their minds, anyone that they didn't get to talk to was lost, and that hurt them... badly. That was a soul that they were unable to save. That was a part of their mission that they failed at.

So, I looked the boy in the eye; his face still grinning that awful grin.

"No, thanks." I replied to him, and walked into Babylon smiling, happily condemning myself in his eyes. And without even looking, I knew that I had wiped that stupid smile off of his face.

So, the next time that you encounter someone that wants to debate philosophy with you, for no other reason than to do it, remember the words of Nancy Reagan... "Just Say No!"