Fire and Brimstone or the Rocket's Red Glare?

1942 was a breakthrough year for Jack Whiteside Parsons, an ambitious, brilliant, and mustachioed chemist hailing from California. Parsons came from a dysfunctional family and had little success in school, and yet (perhaps inspired by his love of pulp science-fiction magazines) he and a group of friends went on to found the now-famous Jet Propulsion Laboratory and win a contract with the U.S military. Doggedly searching for a stable solid fuel for rockets, Parsons finally came across potassium perchlorate. His discovery would allow for the development of superior rocket technology and ultimately lead to man's exploration of space. Besides his passion for chemistry and engineering, Parsons had another major interest. That same year, he was inducted into the Ordo Templi Orientis (or the O.T.O.); a brotherhood of black magic founded by none other than the notorious occultist Aleister Crowley. It was Crowley himself who oversaw the initiation and placed Parsons as the head of the California branch.

So, all in all, it was definitely a memorable time.

Parsons was a follower of Thelema, an elaborate mish-mash of arcane practices that Crowley had cribbed from archaic sects from around the world. Parsons fiercely believed that these mystic rituals were components of the same forces he observed as a scientist, and as the leader of the Californian O.T.O. lodge he took his duties seriously (even collecting dues from the other would-be-wizards). His esoteric ideas irked his colleagues and threatened his military employers. In spite of the valuable discoveries he had made, he was bought out of his own company in 1944.

It was around this time that Parsons had accumulated a gang of eccentrics living in his large Pasadena house (known as the Parsonage). The ranks of this motley crew included Robert Cornog (a physicist who had worked on the Manhattan Project), cartographer Marjorie Cameron, and L. Ron Hubbard, a hack writer with sinister ambitions. The group endured thanks to a mutual interest in science, science-fiction, and libertarianism. Parsons became especially friendly with Hubbard, and, in 1946, included him in an astounding plan to bring about a new age for mankind.

Drawing inspiration from Aleister Crowley's writings (and from some favorite pulp sci-fi stories) Parsons became convinced that the world was under the malign influence of a force called "Horus" that would eventually lead to "power governments, war, homosexuality, infantilism, and schizophrenia." As is the pattern with these things, a messianic figure was called for, and Parsons decided to perform a magical ritual called "Babalon Working" that would create a divine "Moonchild." He was to be the father, and Marjorie Cameron was to be the mother. Hubbard was appointed the official stenographer and took notes while observing the ordeal.



It didn't work.



Parson's life deteriorated after that. He tried to start a boat rental enterprise with Hubbard, only to have Hubbard steal the boat, the start-up funds, and Parson's off-and-on-again girlfriend Sarah Northrup. The coast guard intervened, but Parson was ashamed by the experience. He sold the Parsonage and resigned from the O.T.O. Hubbard, meanwhile, happily went off to found Scientology and ruin thousands of lives.

Parsons died in 1952, after being caught in an explosion of highly unstable mercury fulminate in his private laboratory. He had been reduced to making explosives for Hollywood special effects companies and was in a rush to complete a contract. Despite his crucial contributions to the world of rocketry and space travel, Parsons is a fairly obscure figure today, known mainly to modern Thelema cultists and enthusiasts of the paranormal. He received a rare posthumous tribute when a moon crater was named in his honor.

Would you like to know more?

-Read this article from Reason Magazine

-Read this article from American Scientist 

-Feeling ambitious? Read Parsons' own Book of Babalon

Minor Magic

Thanks to pop-culture, nearly everyone has heard of Necromancy or the practice of black magic that deals exclusively with the dead. Those that haven't heard are missing out. Go watch a Conan flick and get educated.

At any rate, in the realm of mythology and folklore, Necromancy was primarily a method of divination, or predicting the future. However, you needn't hike to your local graveyard, shovel in hand, just to catch of a glimpse of That Yet to Be. Here are some alternative methods, taken from An Encylopaedia of Occultism by Lewis Spence (published in 1920).

Aromancy: A method of divination which is effected by the inspection of the shoulders. The ancients judged by this means whether a victim was suitable for sacrifice to the gods.

Capnomancy: The observation of smoke, which consisted of three principal methods, including the practice of breathing the smoke of the sacrificial fire.

Cleromancy: Was practised by throwing dice. Mentioned in Egypt and Rome.

Critomancy: Divination by means of observing cakes. The paste of cakes which are offered in sacrifice, is closely examined, and from the flour which is spread upon them, omens are drawn.

Gyromancy: Was performed by going round continually in a circle, the circumference of which was marked by letters.

Hippomancy: A method of divination practised by the ancient Celts, who kept certain white horses in consecrated groves. If on leaving in the outbreak of hostilities they crossed the threshold with the left forehoof first, the presage was regarded as an evil one, and the war was abandoned.

Kephalomancy: A method of divination which is practised by making signs on the baked head of an ass. It was familiar to the Germans and the Lombards substituted for it the head of a goat.

Onychomancy: Divination by fingernails. It is practised by watching the reflection of the sun in the nails of a boy, and judging the future by the shape of the figures which show themselves on their surface.

Stoichemancy: A method of divination which is practised by opening the works of Homer or Virgil and reading as an oracular statement the first verse which presents itself.

Stolisomancy: Divination from the manner in which a person dresses himself.

Tiromancy: Divination by means of cheese. It is practised in diverse ways the details of which are not known.

But don't take my word for it!

You can read about in a book.

Sour grapes or evil eyes?

The enlightened 21st century is merely a group consensus. If modernity doesn't suit you, there is always an opt out clause. Superstition continues to thrive all over the world, and its adherants recently made the headlines in Romania.

On December 6th, 2009, Romania held run-off elections so the nation could choose between closely-matched presidential candidates Mircea Geoana (of the Social Democratic Party) and Traian Basescu (of the Democratic Liberal Party). Basescu narrowly defeated his rival, and Geoana was quick to cry foul, his party alleging that the election had been rigged. While no concrete evidence of fraud was ever discovered, Geoana continued to level accusations at Basescu. Even for an election that was fraught with mutual mud-slinging and charges of corruption, Geoana's comments became especially bizarre.

According to Geoana, he lost the election due to the sinister mechanizations of one Alidor Manolea, a parapsychologist who employed "negative energy waves" to disrupt a crucial debate with Basescu. In short: he was hexed.

Manolea works as a "bioenergy therapist" and aparently posesses numerous psychic abilities (as stated by the Romanian Association of Transpersonal Psychology). Manolea is an aquaintence of Basescu, and Geoana insists that Manolea disrupted his concentration through supernatural methods. Photographs and video footage confirm Manolea's unexplainable pressence at the debate, standing directly behind Basescu.

Spokesmen for Basescu were slow acknowledge the story or divulge any influence Manolea might have had on the campaign, but finally denied any underhanded witchcraft at work. Geoana has been criticized for his claims, with some members of the Social Democratic Party calling for his resignation as party leader. Despite the pressure, he remains steadfast in his assertions. Perhaps he would be wise to acquire a psychic ally of his own. This may be the beginning of metaphysical politics.




Would you like to know more?
-Read this article from the Bucharest Herald
-Read this post from Romania News Watch

Monster of the Month

Here in the Hyper Kitchen, we value the capacity of monsters to spice things up. It's never a dull moment when your life is in mortal danger. We assert that the monsters have rocketed mankind to ever more dizzying heights of cultural excellence and we shall be celebrating them every month. So now, every lunar cycle we will present a new freakish creature from nature, mythology, folklore, film, literature, or urban legend.

February is the month of the Brainiac (pictured above), the eponymous thing from the English-dubbed version of the Mexican made horror movie El Barón del Terror. Brought to the United States by Ken Murray (the same man who introduced Americans to the cinematic spectacle that was the luchador movie) the Brainiac featured a cruel, satanic baron in seventeenth-century Mexico who was burned at the stake for his occult practices by the Inquisition. The baron vowed that his resurrection would be heralded by the passing of a mysterious comet, seen overhead at his execution. Three hundred years later in the hip future of 1961, the baron returns from oblivion to exact his revenge, now an undead thing with the ability to to slurp out his victims brain with the aid of a tubular, forked tongue. Pulse-pounding stuff.

Not surprisingly, the movie lapsed into public domain in the United States. In this ever strange world, it is somehow comforting to know that we all own a part of the Brainiac.

You can watch the entire film here.