I had big plans for today’s article. I was going to pull up everything I had from a previous research project and preach Wicca’s funeral. I was going to throw in everything but the kitchen sink. I was going to present a confession of the sins of historical, modern, and postmodern Wicca that was going to make Gerald Gardner spin in his grave and Silver Ravenwolf’s eyes bleed, and I was going to footnote all of it.
Sod it. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wicca . Have at it. It might not be everything, mind you, but it’s enough. It’s people who can’t even be arsed to run it through Wiki that are wrecking us, anyway. Stop by http://www.controverscial.com/Doreen%20Valiente.htm while you’re at it. Hell, http://www.controverscial.com/Gerald%20Brosseau%20Gardner.htm if you’re up to it. The clip-art, I mean, the writing’s ace.
Don’t breathe a sigh of relief or disappointment yet, though. Wicca still gets it trip to the woodshed. This time the gloves are off. I’m making it personal.
I hate Wicca. And most Wiccans. I’m learning to hate British Tradition Witchcraft, as well. I no longer feel any remorse for the acidic Red Gnosis that pools in my stomach, chewing its way through the mucosal membrane and into my soul, whenever I am forced to listen to the repugnant backwash that passes for discourse in the wankfests that have come to be considered online communities of pagans.
I am so sick of the “debate” over who is a Wiccan and who is not. After careful, rational thought, I have come to the conclusion that anyone who wants the word might as well have it. Of course, I’ve also come to the conclusion that the word reaches its apotheosis of semantic value as a synonym for “Moron.”
“Traditional Wicca” is a farce, an amalgam of Victorian Ceremonial and pseudo-folk practices started at a nudist colony, allegedly practiced on a prostitute, and suffering from more than a little incest with the OTO. Drugs, drinking, nudity, pseudo-S&M, and mandatory sex rituals were hearth-and-soul to it from the start. To put it bluntly, the Gerald Gardner from which Gardnerian Witchcraft gets its name was by all modern standards a plagiarist and a sexual predator. Cecil Williamson, founder of the Witchcraft Research Center and the man who had introduced him to Crowley, once described him as a “Vain, self-centered man, tight with his money, and more interested in outlets for his nudist and voyeuristic activities, than in learning anything about authentic witchcraft.” (Courtesy http://www.controverscial.com/Gerald%20Brosseau%20Gardner.htm)
With this in mind, I view the “If it’s not Gardnerian, it’s shite” crowd with a much deserved hatred. The idea that you inherited some mystical power or access to hidden secrets of any worth just because you got a naked-and-bound spanking from someone who can trace their line of naked-and-bound spankings to someone who got a naked-and-bound spanking from the man himself strikes me as both the pinnacle of hubris and stupidity.
Not that it in any way, mind you, protects the people who still describe themselves as “traditional” but leave out the squishy bits. You all turn my stomach, as well. Have the guts to break away and admit the experiments a failure, the lifestyle’s too extreme.*
Not that that’s anything new. Uncle Bucky, Aunt Doreen, and Scott Cunningham all three “put enough of it out there” to show what they thought the whole “if you didn’t get spanked by us, you’re a poser” thing was worth. If I had any ties to Wicca other than “Vitriolic critic,” I’d be thankful every day for what they started, bunnies and all.
While I’m at it, I hate fluff bunnies, too. How any of these morons can summon the ignorance to call what they do “Wicca” by ignoring the “foundations” of the “movement,” really, really ticks me off.
But all this is just foreplay. Behold, I reveal the truth of my rage, the center of my contention. Why I hate them so much.
Because at heart of this, at the black center of the filth that masquerades as the most solid of pagan traditions, is the idea of “I’ve got a secret, so you shut up.”
Who under the sound of my voice (shut up, it’s just an expression) has not watched one of these palm-licking sycophants hide behind their “vows” of “silence?” Who has not suffered the indignity of stooping to sweep away the detritus of “what can you know of us, thou non-Initiate” or “how do you they weren’t making that up, you aren’t one of them?” before continuing what had been a good discussion? At what point did we decide it was okay to reduce our community discourse to repeatedly trying to define the *same word?*
Brethren, come with me into the light! Have the courage to throw away the chains of rancid histories, turn the tables on those who would reduce birthright to commodity. Embrace the change that the right and privilege of magical work and thought is no longer, and never was, in the hands of any group that has the right to demand anything from you but your activity, much less your sexuality or spirituality.
Say it with me, loud and often: “Vow of silence? Then shut up.” Say it with me, loud and often: “And I didn’t even have to get spanked for it.” Say it with me, loud and often: “Get your laws off my soul.”
Say it with me, loud and often: “PROVE IT.”
Read my scripture: “I WILL NEVER ABANDON THE COMMUNITY THAT I LOVE.”**
Come with me. Please. Join the post-Wiccan environment, the post-Guru environment, the post-Initiator environment. Don’t buy what you’ve been sold. Join the community of those who have tasted for themselves. I love it there.
*Rocky Horror Picture Show
**Paraphrased from Transmetropolitan