Tag Archives: demons

LIVE ON NO EVIL is out NOW!!!!!!

live on no evil cover

Do you believe in God? Do you believe in the devil? Demons? Aliens? Anything? Well, guess what: none of that fucking matters.

March once said, “I don’t believe in belief,” and I couldn’t agree with that alcoholic asshole more.

No one fucking cares what you believe. Everything is false and anything is true. Give up on the morally fucked bullshit that the churches of the world want to feed you. Make up your own gods because the ones that religion wants you so badly to believe in are all fucked.

Be decent to people, be decent to animals, be decent to the earth and for Christ sake be decent to yourself.

Ok, I guess I do believe in belief, actually, and this is it:

SEE ALL, HEAR ALL, SPEAK ALL EVIL

Fuck those monkeys that told us to cover our eyes, ears and mouths. They’re cowards. Take it all in because that’s the only way you’re going to be able to defend against it.

That’s what Live On No Evil is all about.

If you want to learn more while reading what might just be the most fucked up book you’ve ever read, check out Live On No Evil.

BUY IT HERE and the next time someone tries to feed you bullshit about something so unverifiable and subjective that they have to use faith to rationalize their belief in it (or a book whose historicity doesn’t mean shit), tell them you’ll be praying to the gods you made up to make them realize how deeply up their own ass they are.

Sin Seriously,

Jeremiah Israel

Spectrum City is Haunted part 2

MASKpurp

 

“I remember now,” said Mark. “I’m ready to give my testimony.”

Detective Roe sat across the table from the man he’d already spent hours interrogating over a year ago. The case was closed and he didn’t have any interest in anything Mark Chambers had to say. The twenty year old was his number one suspect back then. When the jury made their verdict and he was assigned to the next missing person case, he put The One True Church conspiracy out of his head and got back to finding bodies. Missing persons cases were only ever about finding dead bodies. Live people were easy to find. The dead ones weren’t so generous.

“Are you going to record this?” asked Mark.

Detective Roe pointed to the ceiling without looking up from his notes. “Everything’s recorded.”

Mark let out a deep exhale. “Okay, so John Forrester, the one that took the blame for all the kids, he was guilty but he wasn’t the only one. There were a lot of us and we’re all still doing it too. Below the basement there is another basement. That’s where it all happens.”

“You’re admitting to abusing those kids with John Forrester?”

“Yeah,” said Mark. “But it’s not just abuse. There’s a lot more to it than that.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a whole thing,” said Mark. “Pastor does the readings and we get the blood and there are prayers and everything. Then the uh…the abuse happens then. It’s like, when you go to church and they have the whole thing, worship, message, all that and then once it’s done they have that last song. That’s what we do. The kids are the last song.”

Roe’s stomach turned and he pushed his notes to the side. “And how is it that you now remember this?” asked Roe.

“There was a girl,” said Mark. “She touched me.” He pointed to the middle of his forehead. “Made me remember.”

Roe sighed. The case made him sick and he never could shake the feeling that John Forrester was only the tip of something far more sinister. “Go ahead then. You said Pastor. You mean Klay?”

Mark nodded. “He’s the one that leads everything. Saturday early morning usually. The reason the kids don’t say anything is because they don’t remember.”

“And this has been going on for how long?”

“Years,” said Mark. “Over a decade.”

Roe sighed. This was not how he wanted this day to be going. He was exhausted from the weekend with his kids and hoped he could slide by, maybe even skip out early and get some extra sleep. Down a bottle of wine, a few more Xanax thanks to Serenity, and watch as much of something horror until the world faded and he could close his eyes to the sounds of screaming. Fictional horror made the real life horrors more manageable. He didn’t do shrinks or counseling unless he was ordered to for his job. Sometimes they made him and he was a pro at getting through and out with the minimal level of involvement. Follow the steps, tell people what they need to hear, get on with life and keep the simulated gore sessions rolling on his television.

“I can make you a list of everyone involved,” said Mark. “It’s a lot.”

“Why don’t you start with yourself,” said Roe. “Everything you did.”

Mark looked down and rubbed his temples with the thumb and middle finger on his left hand. Roe noticed then that the man’s ring finger was gone, stumped off below the second knuckle. “I was born into it; it’s like a family thing. My father and mother were all in on it. My brother and sisters. Our life was normal except for those early Saturdays or holidays. They would bring us down into the basement and we would have to make offerings.”

“To?”

“The devil,” said Mark. “We worshipped the devil and we were good if we didn’t cry even though it hurt. The cutting and the…well, sex.”

“And you were how old?” asked Roe. Mark definitely had his attention now.

“As early as I remember,” said Mark, “but most of it I don’t remember, or I mean didn’t remember until today.”

“Because a girl touched your forehead?”

“Yes.”

Detective Roe waited for Mark to continue but he didn’t. He decided to focus on the crimes instead of the girl. “Continue.”

“So the older we got, the more we were expected to participate. I’ve sacrificed eighteen children, two babies and three fetuses.”

“Pregnant women?”

“No, the women weren’t the sacrifice. The abortions were.”

Roe swallowed his saliva. Abortion was unfortunate and necessary sometimes, but pregnancy for the sake of abortion as a means to human sacrifice was a whole other thing. His stomach turned and he nodded for Mark to go on.

“We would have our ceremonies and every week there would be bloodletting, for us to drink, and then the orgies where we’d put on masks until we could feel the demons in our faces and we could take them off. No one looks the same. I saw myself in the mirror once. It wasn’t me. I could feel it inside me. I’d be taken over and I’d watch myself do the things they use to do to me. All around, I couldn’t recognize anyone but the children. My friends and family, everyone in the church participating, their faces were different, like something from inside had molded them into different people.”

“Were their drugs involved?” asked Roe.

“No,” said Mark. “These aren’t hallucinations. We were nomed. That’s what Pastor Klay called it and it was the ones who became nomed that were advanced higher into church hierarchy.”

Roe sighed and did everything to keep his face calm. If you wanted to get the most out of worthless pieces of shit you had to be their friend. Everyone wants to confess to someone that will listen, as long as that person doesn’t let on to judgment. “Nomed?”

“It’s what the demons do when they’re inside,” said Mark flatly. “It’s what happens to people. The demon takes over and they make you changed. Nomed.”

“I see,” said Detective Roe. He stood up from his seat. “Mark, if you don’t mind I’d like to bring in someone else to hear your story as well. Another detective that worked the Forrester case. Nice guy. He actually still keeps up with Forrester. Helped the guy dodge the death penalty. How does that sound?”

Mark nodded his head. “I’ll talk to anyone.”

And that was what scared him. The man’s voice wasn’t calculated. It wasn’t planned or rehearsed. Roe knew enough to tell that this was nothing more than a confession. The man wanted a priest and wrongly, but luckily, figured that a detective would achieve the same purpose. He sounded like someone just out of rehab: reformed, absolute and ready to tell anyone anything about him no matter how horrible. “Can I get you a coffee? Are you hungry?”

“Coffee is fine,” said Mark. “Black.”

“Sure,” said Detective Roe leaving the interrogation room. The whole department was going to want to see this. The viewing room behind the two way mirror was going to be full of curious listeners, everyone interested in hearing the fucked up unbelievable shit this supposedly devout religious man had to say.

Maybe they’ll get someone else to take over, thought Roe. Maybe I can go home early after all.

The Booty Conspiracy

Booty Teeth

That’s right. All of this twerking bullshit is not as innocent as Miley Cyrus and pop music would have you believe. Our psyches are being subjected to a controlled invasion that aims to normalize the practice of Satanic Sex Magick in popular culture. Don’t believe me? That’s fine. I have trouble believing myself.

This is what I’m talking about: BOOTY

Did you click the BOOTY? Well you shouldn’t because that video wants you to unwittingly practice Satanic worship. And that’s just one of many. The Booty Conspiracy is only gaining momentum.

Booty has been a staple of pop music since as long as I can remember. Sir Mixalot’s “I Like Big Butts” introduced me to the concept of the ass mountain at the impressionable age of six. I remember being so confused, wondering why a guy would like butts so much. For the next twenty some years, the fixation of pop music with booty was consistent enough to become commonplace. Little did we know, there was a time bomb ticking and it was all thanks to this ASSHOLE.

That’s right. If you didn’t click the ASSHOLE I’m proud of you. It would have only added one more view to an abomination that fuels this conspiracy.

Billy Ray Cyrus has one song that an awful lot of people like for a while but then soon wise up and realize it makes them want to commit murder. On themselves. And so he has kids and uses his connections to inject them into the evil mind control machine better known as Disney.

Back to Miley Cyrus. What better way to introduce children to the TWERK than to have their Disney Channel role model smear it in their faces?

So Miley flaunts her new found adulthood while Robin Thicke is fucked up on VICODIN, singing a song about his DICK that Pharrell wrote for him. If you didn’t know, D stands for dick.

There are two things they want you to know: Miley Cyrus shakes her ass and Robin Thicke is a dickhead. That’s when we have the 2013 VMA performance where they simulate the obvious conclusion to those two concepts while awkwardly mismatched on stage.

Their VMA performance is the Satanic mega ritual that imprinted a dormant curse on the collective consciousness of American culture. With their simulation of sex, Miley Cyrus and Robin Thicke became the torchbearers of the conspiracy that is right now attempting to turn you into a vehicle for Satan’s master plan.

So there’s THIS GUY and you could listen to him talk but it gets weird. His video entitled “Satan Loves Anal Sex” basically says that anal sex creates a gateway for demons to enter and possess human beings. This is a practice used by Aleister Crowley, the renowned Satanist that came up with the “Do what thou wilt” philosophy that Jay Z wears on his hoody. He was known in the press at his time as the “Wickedest Man In History”. He saw himself as the “Great Beast 666”.

Obvious, right? So the religion of Satanism is practiced by creating a gateway for demons to enter people via sodomy.

So it would only make sense then to have the cast of Glee twerking. This is now so normal we have videos like Nicki Minaj’s “Anaconda” and Jennifer Lopez’s “Booty”. Even the seemingly innocent Taylor Swift crawls under the legs of ass shaking dancers in her video for “Shake It Off”. That goddamn “All About the Bass” song is even more guilty of consort with this conspiracy when Meghan Trainor says, “But I can shake it, shake it, like I’m supposed to do.”

This SHIT is now supposed to empower women with low self esteem. All this song does is reinforce the fucked up concept that women need to be sexually deviant in order to do what they are “supposed to do.”

The message is clear: Use your booty because you’re supposed to.

In conclusion, Satan wants you to practice sodomy so he can make a demon gateway into your body to take your soul. The real purpose behind these pop songs is to lube you up for demonic soul rape.

Beware!

You are being conditioned and programmed into undergoing an induction into Satan’s alliance of asshole demon portals. Blind and deafen your children. It’s the only way to keep them safe from the evils of The Booty Conspiracy.

Sin-seriously,

Jeremiah

… …

But then again, maybe it’s not a conspiracy. Maybe this is all just a coincidence. Maybe THIS SHIT is actually good advice to be giving teen’s about ways to avoid getting pregnant. I don’t know. Actually, I don’t even really care. People are gonna do what they want and THIS SHIT  has nothing to do with me anyway.

March The Damned

FlyingZombies_Wrap_FINAL

 

March The Damned: The Flying Zombies Trilogy Book One is now available in ebook and paperback here —> http://amzn.to/1pTch2u

Here is the description:

Movie director, alcoholic and all around asshole Dennis March’s plans for his next blockbuster are put on hold when Southern California is invaded by flying parasitic aliens that use people as hosts before discarding them as zombies. After local newscaster Kelly Stelly and crew save him from attack, he discovers that he has become partially infected with the alien DNA which changes his mind and body into something more alien than human. March quickly takes control of the group, renaming everyone and casting them as actors in the film that will save their lives and salvage his career.

Meanwhile, Military officer Shane Mitchell is anxious to get a piece of the action, but his superiors won’t lift the stand down order. After Professor Perry Prost makes a fool of him for disrupting his informative class on the aliens and zombies, Shane takes his action hungry Win Squad to take on the flying alien parasites and their hosts head on at the happiest place on earth: Disneyland.

March’s crew teams up with Little Boy Blam, a ten year old gangster from Compton, and uses his weapon and drug packed safe house to outfit his cast. No one knows the true secret to March’s new found power, or the conspiracy behind the alien attack, until they meet another of the partially infected. By refusing to join the alien collective in their evil conspiracy to consume the souls of all mankind, he instigates a losing battle against the most powerful controlling force in existence.

Flying Zombies deftly blends action, horror and satire into a ruthlessly humorous caricature of American pop culture and infectious paranoia. Its outrageous conclusion will either leave you laughing or deeply disturbed, but probably both.

The Beetle 001

The Beetle

The following is an excerpt from Book 2 of LIVEONNOEVIL entitled FURNITURE:

In time all your questions will be answered, Blue assured him from beneath his hat. Backpack could feel the beetle’s feelers against his scalp. They emitted slight waves of response that tickled his brain sending images and words in electric flashes.

Faster, Blue urged him. Do not think of your body. The pain is outside you. You exist only in your mind.

Backpack pushed through the discomfort. The pain in his side was sharp and didn’t fade until he ran up the stairs to his bedroom. With all his might he pushed his dresser in front of his door and then removed his hat and carefully picked the beetle from his scalp, placing him softly onto his bedding.

“Okay,” said Backpack. “I’m ready.” He focused on his breathing and willed his heart to slow.

You have many questions, but you must learn to accept them unanswered until you are truly ready.

The beetle vibrated as Blue spoke and currents of blue energy sparkled over its shell.

“I will,” said Backpack.

And that is why I have chosen you. Because you are willing.

Backpack nodded solemnly.

In order to understand what you are about to see you must give me your faith, solely and completely. Do you agree?

“Yes,” said Backpack.

You will experience terrible pain, but you must trust in me. There is no pain I haven’t experienced and I only ask what I know you capable of bearing.

“I trust you.”

Then take off your backpack and lay flat to the bed.

He did and the beetle rose above him with a vibrant electric fluttering of his wings.

Now clear your mind and open your mouth. Submit to me as I possess your earthly body. Be prepared, for what you see will change the course of events to come.

Backpack gulped. He closed his eyes and felt the tickle of the beetle’s feelers as he parted his lips. It stepped onto his tongue and the taste, distinctly metallic yet sour, faded as the beetle crawled further. It squeezed passed his uvula and he couldn’t help gagging. It pulled itself deeper, the intrusion was thoroughly invasive and he went stiff, thinking of himself like stone. Strong and unaffected.

The pincers were needle stabs inside him and it pushed its way passed his larynx and down his esophagus until it disappeared into his stomach. Relief lasted only a moment before he could feel his insides swimming in a whirlpool. He gasped in agony as it accelerated and then it wasn’t just his stomach, but his entire body. He clenched his eyes and squeezed his teeth, the spinning so fast he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Ringing in his ears rose until he was deaf. His mind pleaded to Blue, but then it was over and he was standing on his feet.

“Open your eyes,” his ears heard. He did and nearly burst into tears as he saw Blue, himself, just as he remembered him, standing before him.

He lunged forward and hugged him tight, feeling relief and security in the silence. “I’ve missed you,” said Backpack. He let go of the embrace reluctantly and Blue bent down to stare at him on eye level.

“I’ve brought you here to show you something very important about this world, but first you must understand, where we are is very dangerous.”

“Where?”

“I will answer only this question and once I do you must not ask anymore until we return. So little as a whisper could alter as much as a mountain.”

Backpack nodded, ashamed of his eager tongue and afraid to even swallow.

“We are in the past.”

Blue stood up and turned his body from him and for the first time Backpack noticed they were surrounded in nothingness. All he could see was himself and Blue. There was no dark, there was no light. Only them within an anti-mass of an empty eternity. The void.

“For example,” said Blue as he reached into empty space and grabbed it like a curtain, peeling it back. Blue held it open to the side and waved his hand to beckon him in.

Backpack walked right up to see between and recognized it immediately. It was him, asleep in his bed.

“And no, this isn’t a dream,” said Blue and disappeared behind the curtain as Backpack stepped into his own bedroom.