Our frequent correspondent weighs in on All Hallows Day
THE 5TH ESTATE
By
(Beezel) Bub
10/31/2013
On All Souls Eve, may you
Be transported on ethereal Wings;
Be divider and butcher of people and things;
Be one who twists pain into sheer Pleasure;
Be greedy for Riches beyond all measure;
Be the taster of corporeal Delights;
Be Victor over bishops and knights;
Be supreme over this conquered Orb;
Ah, so many lessons yet to Absorb, as you shall see;
Be powerful, splendid, Shameless and wise;
Be a teller of fiction, nonsense and Lies;
Be Unafraid of archangels heaven holds dear;
 |
Gabriel |
Be skeptic of their claim for Why still am I here?
To pilot the drone, guide the bombardier;
To keep the weak and innocent living in fear;
Be the Eye in the sky, seeing though clouds;
Be up in the air to cover gore with a Shroud;
Be All of the Above
In service to Me\
Till the hour of your demise.
Just call me Bub,
professor of treachery and betrayal to the bubbas of the world, quick
with the tricks and cheap on the treats, theorist of mayhem and
conspirator at large, founder of Zion and other heresy wherever it crops
its ugly head to raise again the immortal undead.
My pagan holiday greetings to a befuddled humankind.
Celtic magic, the most powerful from the reign of the elves. The elven charms and leprechaun spells kept this Old Bub at bay from the Emerald Isles, but the being the clever rascal slipped aboard St. Patrick's ship as stowaway disguised in the robes of a drunken monk on secret assignment on behalf of the Crown and its English bishopric, which can be spelled in Olde Englishe more accurately.
Old Bub is a Middle Easterner, you see, a Donmeh hidden one from the sweltering desert, and therefore could not fly the icy winds over the Irish Sea, which reminded him uncomfortably of that frozen space way back in time where he lost altitude against that untrustworthy and disloyal colleague Michael, an arch lapdog who preferred slavery to goodness rather than power in evil, what a fool to be taunted on All Soul's Eve! On this eve, save your green beer for St. Paddy, and follow my command: Not a root or brance of Vegan, only bloody rare red meat! Cheers and curses to all! And do never forget that bringer of thrills and spills -
me.
With boundless sincerity, I am
Beelzebub, Crown Prince and Lord of the Flies