There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there has always been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.' Isaac Asimov

Inimicus Dei Constituitur

Magical Diary

I walk the Left Hand Path

Adoration of Thoth, Son of Ra, Moon,
Of beautiful rising, Lord of appearings, Light of the Gods,
By the Prince, Count, Fan-bearer on the King's right,
Great Troop-commander, Royal Scribe, Horemheb, whose word is right and true,
he says:
Hail to You, Moon, Thoth,
Bull in Hermopolis, dweller in Hesret,
Who makes way for the Gods!
Who knows the secrets,
Who records their expression,
Who distinguishes one speech from another,
Who is judge of everyone.
Keen-faced in the Ship-of-millions,
Courier of mankind,
Who knows a man by his utterance,
Who makes the deed rise against the doer.
Who contents Ra,
Advises the Sole Lord,
Lets Him know whatever happens;
At dawn He summons in Heaven,
And forgets not yesterday's report.

Who makes safe the night-bark,
Makes tranquil the day-bark,
With arms outstretched in the bow of the ship.
Pure-faced when He takes the stern-rope,
As the day-bark rejoices in the night-bark's joy,
At the feast of crossing the sky.
Who fells the fiend,
Sunders western lightland.
The Ennead in the night-bark worships Thoth,
They say to Him:
"Hail, Son of Ra,
Praised of Ra, Whom the Gods applaud!"
They repeat what Your ka(the life-force) wishes,
As You make way for the place of the bark,
As You act against that fiend:
You cut off his head, You break his ba(the soul),
You cast his corpse in the fire,
You are the God Who slaughters him,
Nothing is done without Your knowing,
Great one, son of a Great One, Who came from Her limbs,
Champion of Horakhty,

Wise friend in Heliopolis,
Who makes the place of the Gods,
Who knows the mysteries,
Expounds their words.

Let us give praise to Thoth,
Straight plummet in the scales,
Who repulses unrighteousness,
Who accepts him who leans not on crime.
The Tjati(the Prime Minister or Vizier) Who settles cases,
Who changes turmoil to peace;
The scribe of the mat Who keeps the book,
Who punishes crime,
Who accepts the submissive!
Who is sound of arm,
Wise among the Ennead,
Who relates what was forgotten.
Counselor to him who errs,
Who remembers the fleeting moment,
Who reports the hour of night,
Whose words endure forever,
Who enters the Dwat(the Netherworld),
knows Those in it,
And records them in the list

Kindle a flame
on this longest night
not to hold back
the dark and the cold
but to rejoice
in the rebirth
of the infant sun.
Today the King is born, again.
Long live the King.
Sol Invictus

Descend Summer King, Lord of Day
Midsummer is past
And the veil beckons.
Ascend Winter King, Lord of Night
Midwinter draws nigh
Take up thy spear.