May Address

Hello!

I recently went on an expedition to obtain a certain occult knowledge that only seems to be associated with Blackpool.

While I was there I chanced upon engravings on an outside wall of the town hall, which inspire for the most part. One might witness a striking tusked demon with his elfish horn ears, tangential to a pair of Lancashire roses – symbols abound!

He shares so much in common with the Green Man. He is not, however, one of his kindred. His seaweed facial hair and his cockleshell frontal lobe are reminiscent of Aquarius. His shell-like beard is, again, another reminder of the deep. This, my friends, is Poseidon, the Great God of Oceans Deep.

Blackpool has an ancient occult connection with Poseidon. It was knowledge of this union that I sought on my visit there. I encountered the correct merchant of the Temple. He bestowed the rites to convene with the Aqueous One. I employed the Pictish scroll, as the ancient ones did, and harnessed forces to use for the benefit of fellow Hexers. I have stored sufficient magical essence for seven of the most potent spells. Please place your curse now for consideration. My preference would be to curse someone or determine whether I was cursed myself.

Until later,

Theo

» All news and archives might be found here

March Address

Hello there,

We are able to make merry with prayers for Janus. Men unleashed the New Year once again. She would torture a glance. It is easy for the hell-hound to vanquish and cure the storms ahead.

Laughter is the great inspiration behind Imbolc. Seen rising among woodlands, she was looking for the beautiful invocation known as a scene reminiscent of oracles.

Let Bride come to launch your hex. Allow the flow of regeneration from February.

Until next time,

Theo

» All news and archives might be found here

December 2008 Address

Happy Hex-Mass O Cursers and master craftsman!

We love to gnaw the Birthday of the old world. And this season, we place Hate with lost spirits. None should be merry, we speak? No mistakes; I was named Master Hexer. All lips murmuring with hushed awakenings at the Lamb. While chickens cluck when Yule is in the hour of Solomon, however deep and far away. His knife glinted blind satiety! Icy stars, blue the wind, and blue ice the lands.

So He left his enemies dead, a growing legion of folly. Vengeance blooms in Time, filling the realms and silent courtyards. It is a dizzying blend, selling their blood after long ungoverned anger. No matter your difficulties, we commander a gentle breeze, whispering against ancient foes: a vast tsunami.

With our hard work you will be merrier.

Until next time,

Theo

November 2008 Address

The internet is thirsty for Ichor’s insolent school teachers and maidens. Vengeance, always November grey she wore, always at her lips were cold mantle of bitter memory. She always adorned the traditional religions, well matched to her grave.

The Jesus Sermon of the Darkness engulfs me and embraces you.

The Priesthood, wondrous new world of our age, is eager to encourage dread for their hollow cells. Ruin one’s personal foes. Embrace the spiritual plane. November is eager to spin your deepest rages; allow them to creep forth.

The whole notion of course, I know far!

The old religions fail to deliver what the mountain for supremacy new religion delivers. Be among the first snow, when we represent a winter's dawn; with everyone else to be named November grey.

Always November old! Let your webs of workplace bullying suspend.

Today, dread and destined only to damage, Abigail Brown and social classes jostle over ancient supremacy.

In this battle, faith no longer exists.

Theo

October Address 2008

The thing we have to remember about so many people who once crossed us is that they are now typically Has-beens, Nobodies and Never-Weres. If they were lucky, that is: most of the rabbit-brained scum who tangle with us on the road of life don’t even get that far. I am continually struck by how many people are prime losers in this life – and how few of them actually know it. Stripped bare before Eternity, what are most people, anyway? A soggy bag of self-entitled and self-proclaimed pus, leaking inane opinions culled from the gutter over everyone they meet. The great problem with the modern world is this: it is founded on a concept of mass democracy that is, in essence, nonsense. It is nonsensical because people are not equal in any respect: intellectually, socially, politically or economically. And yet – every single day of the worthless lives from earliest childhood – the most idiotic, repulsive poltroons are bombarded with media messages telling them they are entitled to vast wealth, yachts in the Caribbean and celebrity lifestyles. This creates a tension between their real selves and their expectations. One major result of this internal conflict is a core of black rage and disappointment that is continually directed at other, worthier people as cruel insults and other abusive behaviours. These poisoned maggots loathe the decent, the hardworking and well-adjusted. It becomes their life’s work to ruin the lives of their betters.

Ultimately, however, these snarling, gap-toothed baboons find their natural station in life – as Has-Beens, Nobodies and Never-Weres. Just check the trash on Facebook and MySpace out: 45 year old DJs and Rock Stars just waiting to be ‘Saved’ by their next demo-tape, their next never-to-be-heard ‘album’; divorced fellows, paying for kids they never see, slumped in cheap apartments with a 6-pack of Colt 45 (or some other crappy beer); big, fat women with low IQs flipping burgers in McDonald’s. This is where these filth usually end up – in Loserdom. Those are the Nobodies and never-Weres. In some cases, a very, very small number I hasten to add – they may actually achieve something in their miserable lives. Unfortunately for them, their intrinsic worthlessness means that all these glittering prizes will be taken from them in due course. There is one fellow who epitomizes this: once, he owned a mansion on a hill; once, he oozed charisma; once, he was mighty. He trod the heartlands of the western world, a playboy with guitar in hand, from Virginia to Alaska. Consider him now: his mansion is gone; he sells his body to withered females for a paltry sum; his tunes are ignored, unloved, even derided. The future holds nothing for him; aye, nothing and less than nothing. The years will turn: his eyes will dim as his flesh withers and his mind fades. He will perish, the glories of his vanished youth lost forever; aye, even now his glory days are recalled by few.

Although these vile creatures are often brought low by Mistress Fortuna, Hex-me.co.uk is here to put the icing on the cake of their discomfiture. We finish the job, as it were: we drag these Has-Beens, Nobodies and Never-Weres into the darkest depths of despair with our timely curses, our magnificent Hexes. No one is safe from us: no one can escape our dark justice.

This month, our Hexers are Kelly Rivers, Puspa Kshatriya and Angelo Alvarez. The team are electric, desperate to make the most of the mystic Summer Solstice in their spells and workings! Expect some awesome Hexes, my friends!

When one Moon has passed, we will speak again...

May 2008 Address

May the First is the first day of Summer, ravishing season of nature’s rosy bounty. Ah, Summer!

What few people in the Anglo-American world seem to know is that Hallowe’en is not the major Western occult festival of the year. No – that honour goes to Walpurgisnacht, the night of 30th April – 1st May. Of old, this is the eve when the ancient powers of Old Night rove the world, to celebrate with their chosen few. Some call these forces demonic, or even Satanic: on this Hexing forum, we prefer not to even define these forces. Why? Because these powers elude paltry human names and methods of description: art, literature, poetry – all fall short of their dark, ineffable majesty. In other ages and cultures, they went by different names: Texcatlipoca; Mulciber; Dagon; the Black Captain – but all are different names for the same, eternal phenomena: dark forces that were old when this world was young.

Weep not for the Darkness, my children: it will remain when the ruins of our cities affright the lonely moon.

In this spirit, we offer our finest Hexing services for your delectation during this sacred month. Baron Rene Chevalier has dusted off his strangest, most esoteric tomes; meanwhile, Angelo Alvarez has been sharpening his knife and preparing himself for some sacrificial blood-letting. These two Hexing superstars are at your disposal this month. I wanted to include Albert Little in this Hexing Smorgasbord, but received the following ‘po’m’ from him:

Bide ye in the dusky wood,
All through the dancing day;
The hazel’s furry catkins sport
To Faery minstrelsy;

But I shall not consult the elves,
Nor kiss the well-bred foal, –
Until we see fair Hy-Bresail
And I collect my Dole.

Whatever it means, he knows how to say it! Happy Hexing, my Children of Shadows!

April 2008 Address

April is the month of Easter, the main Christian festival of the year. Christianity is a failure of the most absurd kind. In fact, all the Abrahamic religions make this signal error, in writing evil and vengeance out of their theological world-view. This is a cardinal error of the mainstream religions, this lax tendency to endless forgiveness. This explains why Christianity is the sole preserve of weak-minded losers. Real experience does not match the teachings of Jesus at all: ‘turn the other cheek’; do not resist evil’; all are the ramblings of an idiot. Why is this? Easy: because evil, worthless individuals are unpleasantly common. We meet them, we see them every day: evil, squint-eyed teenagers, scurvy beggars, recreants that go by land, air and sea. These vicious lice have no decency or humanity: their sole pleasure is the pain of others. Turning the other cheek to such as these could only lead one way: to personal destruction. Evening accounts is the only way to deal with them – as painfully as possible.

And this is why Hex-me is much more than a mere site for placing and removing hexes: it is a whole climate of theological opinion. Yet, we are not Satanists or Devil-worshippers: we are not mere atheists who worship our appetites, nor do we believe in a metaphysical Lord of Evil in the Universe (that is the true distinction between Satanism and Devil Worship, by the way).

What, then, is the Hex-Me spiritual ethos? For us, Evil is an integral part of human existence, just as Good is an integral part: both are necessary aspects of the same whole. There are ghosts of fire and ghosts of light, sweet fruit trees and terrible earthquakes: all are one.

This month, we have noticed a general astrological tendency for arrogant males to toy with the heartstrings of our lovelorn ladies, for mere joy in wickedness! This is why we are bringing Kelly Rivers, Abigail Brown and Albert Little to the hexing table this month. You may rest assured that only the finest Hexes will be delivered by these masters of the art.

It is good to see from our servers that the Hexes are flowing again. But that is the enchanted wonder of our online Hexing community!

Many magics – until we speak again…

March 2008 Address

Hello again, my Hexers loyal and true. Last month we unleashed the Suicide Hex on your unsuspecting foes: aye, indeed, we did.

The response was awesome: three Hexers have already given their lives, firing their hate through the occult ether to bring Calamity down on their opponents! But with what results! From the Astral I observed a car crash, an accidental beheading and a – wait for it – fatal cycling accident! All the offending miscreants were dead within the day. What further proof is needed to show the might of the Suicide Curse? Albert Little wandered the Faerie-haunted Isle of Man, conjuring “Faerie Wee-Twinkle Lore” to help these Hexes on their way. Meanwhile, Abigail Brown has been hot in her hut, invoking the dread demons of Santeria to drive these ebon death-curses to their hapless targets!

All in all, an awesome display of advanced Hexing, if I may make so bold. Stick with the very best – stick with Hex-me.com! In seven moons, my magnificent Hexers – and other students of arcane, eldritch, lore – we shall speak again.

February 2008 Address

Greetings, my loyal Hexers! After Seven Moons, I greet thee here again. I promised last month we would be discussing the fabled Suicide Hex in this Address – and I was not jesting!

Consider the unbreakable Will of the Kamikaze pilots as they swooped like eagles onto the hapless American carriers in the blue Pacific; consider the force of unbreakable Will that focused their attentions on the task at hand – the Will to Suicide! And what force of Will could possibly be greater, than that required to choose Death over Life? With this in mind, we offer a new service to our illustrious roster of services – the Suicide Hex! This ‘Special’ is for the Hexer without hope – the terminally ill or afflicted, the ruined or the destitute. The Suicide Hex is the greatest occult innovation since Eliphas Levi walked the Earth!

Think of it this way: the Hexer fires his or her Hate into the Ether (with our skilled help, of course!); and releases maximum energy by committing suicide at the instant of cursing! Aye, as the Hexer cuts their wrists, or swallows that fatal overdose, or jumps from that bridge, or swings from that tree, they fire their curse with supreme psychic focus into the Quintessence! Augmented by our renowned practitioners, this is a curse guaranteed to work!!! Calamity will be rehearsed upon your foes; even though ye be dead, their lives are ruined.

Albert Little and Abigail Brown have been given the task of shooting these potent Hexes into the occult ether – they alone have the primal skills of supernatural manipulation necessary to guide the Suicide Hex to its target – the miscreants who have ruined your life!

Happy Hexing: in Seven Moons, my mystic children, we shall converse again.

January 2008 Address

Casting about, are not the lines of Western decay already well formed in our own day? Think about it: the West is already too feminine to compete with the masculine Orient. From a biological perspective, the surplus of males in China and India must lead to highly competitive and innovative cultures: men in male-heavy societies must triumph in order to reproduce. And as we know, men can move mountains given the motivation.

By contrast, the West in general (and our Anglo-American world in particular) is hobbled by feminine values that devalue male dynamism and originality - just look at the education system, degraded into spoon-feeding the masses politically-correct drivel. This also explains why the West is increasingly 'porous' - why, for example, indigestible Jihadists enter Europe, refuse to assimilate, exploit the Welfare state and finally respond with terrorism. It is hard to picture any of that happening with a more 'masculine' socio-political ethos ruling the West: after all, the primary male instinct is to maintain a territory. For example, Victorian England accepted mass immigration without any cultural concessions to the incomers - none whatsoever. The same was true of the United States until relatively recently.

We are entering 'interesting times'; with environmental degradation soon to destabilize large parts of the globe, unsettle populations and shred the global techno-industrial infra-structure, it will strain the West's hegemony to the absolute limit. Given the West’s gynocracratic values, its ability to 'ride' these catastrophes and emerge with any degree of cultural coherence will be massively ameliorated. The porousness, lack of vitality and reliance on sentiment that now characterizes the West is the worst prevailing philosophy if we are to survive the storms ahead.

With these weighty metaphysical and Traditional facts in mind, we offer our users the Suicide Hex – the ultimate force in the Hexing firmament. More on this dynamic service next month, my Hexers loyal and true!

December 2007 Address

Let us reason together, my dear friends; let us walk together through perfectly manicured parks, replete with fountains trembling with light; with gentle breezes whispering against our skins like playful lovers; through airy esplanades and silent courtyards, discoursing the while. For I have much to speak of, my dear friends. Why are men and women in perpetual tension, eternal conflict and general travail? Many of our curses are intended to punish malicious or undesired behavior by lovers or spouses. Of these, a substantial number are curses placed by angry, lovelorn and abused ladies against errant males. How deep and dark is their well-spring of hatred; how dread and fabled the bitterness of their eternal enmity! I am continually reminded of the peerless Song of Solomon, ageless expression of the feminine Soul; at once yearning and cruel, cloying and severe. Like the Temple of Solomon itself, indeed – replete with the pillars of Severity and Indulgence, express handiwork of Hiram Abiff, master craftsman of fabled Phoenicia.

But this is the essence of our work: to curse and hex, fired and inspired by the anger and emotion of our clients. Yet nowhere is the anger more intense than when the female soul is scarred by masculine calumny. My thought is that the female is the deeper, not weaker vessel: and that this primordial depth explains the withering, all-pervasive passion of Woman for Love or Hate. As Nietzsche opined, the same emotions in men and women are, however, different in tempo – and so it is that men and women never fail to misunderstand one another. But there is more to it than mere tempo – there is a gulf in sheer scale between the emotions of the sexes. What are trickling rivulets in men are vast Amazonian tides in women; a gentle wave in a man is a vast tsunami in a woman; a brief shower in man is a torrential deluge in Woman.

So we have reasoned, together, my friends. Happy Hexing!

November 2007 Address

Hex Me is simply put, a worldwide phenomenon. We deliver what the traditional religions fail to deliver: vengeance, black and dripping; vengeance, dread and joyous; vengeance, sweeter than the blood of a fallen angel. Hexing, cursing and maligning others on the spiritual plane adorn the Twenty-first Century perfectly. The old religions were well matched to the days when we ‘were all in this together’; when everyone was someone else’s buddy and we were all playing happy families in 1958. However, those days are gone: the new world society that is emerging is entirely different, entirely distinct from those assumptions. The whole notion of universal brotherhood or sisterhood as promulgated by Christianity belongs to an era that no longer exists. Nowadays, the world is wolf eat wolf – different races, subcultures and social classes jostle for supremacy among the ruins of our civilization. Belief in universal brotherhood is a one-way ticket to penury - or worse. Today, there is no faith in ‘humanity’ or ‘progress’ – we walk in nihilism, all of us, whether we know it or not. Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount sounds utterly ridiculous in this world of widening economic, social and racial divides, of ruthless imperialism, environmental degradation, of workplace bullying, of terrorist attacks and the merciless barbarism of an increasingly savage and alienated youth.

And this is where Hex Me steps in: we represent a new religion for this harsh and wondrous new age. The curse or Hex delivered by seasoned occult professionals to damage, wreck and ruin one’s personal foes embodies the spirit of these times as nothing else. And of course, the online nature of our activities matches perfectly the mass social alienation of our age: most people know far more about people on the far side of the world via the Internet, than they do about their next-door neighbors. Aye – Hex Me is a world-wide phenomenon indeed – and destined only to grow greater.

October 2007 Address

Halloween is upon us again. Worzel Gummidge is standing in the fields, affrighting the crows. Strangely, though, no crow community has ever been made extinct by human activity. Indeed, ornithologists claim that crows are as superior to other birds in terms of intellect as humans are to other primates. Now, I believe that users of hex-me.com are as superior to normal people as humans are to other primates. Hippies are scum; recently, some long-haired jackanapes called across the road to me, “Spare a dime, fellow human being… spare a dime, fellow child of light.”

Now, what made this hirsute scoundrel believe I was a fellow-traveler of his? What made him think that an insolent, idle, moronic Prole could in any sense compare with the master of hex-me.com? One of the greatest errors of modern Western thought is in assuming the psychic equality of mankind. All people are not equal at all: only a small minority is self-aware, creative, sensitive and intelligent: the broad masses are scum.

Aye, shadows are whispering, mists gather, and midnights stay. This is Halloween: the mystic time of year when the fabric between the worlds stretches thin, that we might see beyond.

Only at the weekend I met up with Damien Crowley (on a flying visit to the States), Angelo Alvarez and Kelly Rivers. It was a difficult, but brilliant meeting. I had to keep everything (and everyone) together - difficult indeed. Nonetheless, despite the language barriers, we agreed a working concordance for Halloween hexing. Kelly will take matters of love (and hate): Angelo issues of work and friendship; me, all other issues. And so, at this all important hour, all bases will be covered.

Happy hexing!

Pater Theodorus

September 2007 Address

September comes again, sweet of joy and gilt of leaf! It is more than month; it is the start of a season; the end of the active year; a fashion; a lifestyle; the beginning of ‘weather’, at least in northern climes.

Before I joined the Priesthood, I was a country boy (as many have rightly guessed!). My rustic rhapsodies fool no one, I am sure. Yes, the stars, the sun, the moon, the season’s turning wheel, the rich loam, the eternal hills, the racing clouds, the whispering trees, the falling leaves, the welcoming greensward and the sparkling snows – these were my hornbooks and constant companions from early boyhood.

From them I learnt the Great Truth of Magic: that a ground of self-awareness pervades all living things; indeed, reality itself. Only certain classes of humans dwell outside this primal unity – the vicious, the criminal and the depraved. These are the poltroons whom art, love or nature cannot lift to heights of primal ecstasy. These are the savages our Hexes are intended to ruin: the piggy-eyed scum with no scrap of decency or self-awareness; dull-eyed, doltish bastards! Kill them all with Hex, curse and spell! Wipe them out, every last one of them, O my brothers and sisters.

Let gurus Ziel and Spackatoni - the two lights of this age - guide your curses this month.

In seven moons, O Hex-hunters, we shall speak again…

August 2007 Address

Greetings, O spawn of Shadows!

Let us speak of Ziel. He is a prophet of Albion, the true heir to William Blake and Aleister Crowley. Readers will know I thirst always for new spiritual experiences; new planes of thought; new visions of truth. I spoke with Ziel last week to gain the measure of this prophet’s spiritual mettle.

Ziel is surprisingly short. His head is shaven. A straggly goatee flecked with grey provides the sole ‘prophetic’ touch to his appearance. His opening gambit throws me completely: “I was going to tell you something – but I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”

Ziel is renowned for his long absences from his followers. For weeks he vanishes, retreating to secret places of meditation and self-denial. The immaculate remains of Hadrian’s Wall have often served this purpose, it is said. Ziel’s words are variously recorded. His people obscure his message, add their own interpretations – invent things, even. He is all things to all men.

I asked him how he came by his visionary prowess and spiritual insight. He answered, like the rolling of the sea:

“My gifts came after I was bitten by a spider. I was hungry and stuffed it in my mouth, legs and all. But the biter was bitten. Since then, my tongue has uttered only golden words.”

“What then do you teach?” I asked. “How best shall a man live?”

A light came into Ziel’s eyes:

“Science teaches that evolution happens between generations. But I tell you, true evolution is evolution of the soul. We are like plants growing in darkness that turn to face the light. Yes, we are, all of us.”

Ziel pointed skyward.

“Out there, someone is watching. You can become a new order of life if you desire it. Every seven years your body replaces all its cells. You are forged anew, like reconstituted iron. And as a knife can become a spoon, a spoon a girder – so men can remake yourselves: cast all your sins aside and live again.”

And there we have it, folks – pure gold. But suppose a person sought only self-evolution in Evil: what then? What then indeed – that person would find Hex-Me.com, and grow rich in darkness. Vengeance and Hate would smile upon them, enriching their lives with cosmic shadows.

Until the Harvest Moon, farewell!

Pater Theodorus

July 2007 Address

Glurge is a term used to describe online stories without any basis in fact or history. Such tales rapidly evolve from primitive beginnings, acquiring detailed chronologies, evening out inconsistencies and crystallising into full-blown narratives. This process is mysterious: we have no examples of such tales in mid-development – only the finished article (or articles). Aye, urban myths reach our attention only in their polished and final form.

With this in mind, Damien Crowley has been quarrying the cliff face of oral tradition for his new book. It is no easy task: for his desire is not merely to present the finished stories, but all stages of their growth and development. Mostly, the referents or Ur-statements that birthed the tales hide at the end of a trail long grown cold. Indeed, referents in time or place may well not (or no longer) exist. Picnic at Hanging Rock and the legend of Sawney Bean are good examples. Many return from Hanging Rock with tales of alien abduction and trans-dimensional experience. In fact, the enigmatic movie was based on a work of fiction: Hanging Rock has no primal episode. Sawney Bean, despite the splendid savagery of his supposed deeds, never existed: he, too, is a literary creation. But that is the kind of challenge a man like Damien Crowley sets himself.

But his quest serves to remind us myth and enchantment are not dead things – magic is active around us at all times, everywhere. By complex processes of social alchemy, new myths and legends are birthed in their hundreds, daily. The Internet is instrumental in this – the world’s ‘alchemical ocean’, if you will.

‘Glurge’ can be sown by anyone: in hours, days or years it magically springs to life as a coherent narrative – a new myth. Urban legends, Gospels and Ghosts – all are cut from this cloth. Try this one: in all Police Stations dwells a supernatural beast called a ‘Chumpaloo’; it often hides in the cells, feeding off the prisoners’ courage and resolve. It is fat, brown, hairy and short. The Chumpaloo is Glurge – but also true.

Go to the web and cast your Glurge on the waters. Fashion your seeds – then sow them in the fertile loam of Blogs, sites and discussion fora. We may even add a Glurge section to the site – to showcase the very best.

Happy sowing!

Pater Theodorus

June 2007 Address

Greetings, O Hexers loyals and true! The time is come for this month’s address to the hexing multitudes. Well, we have journeyed a long way together – clients, Hexers and my humble self. Only a year ago this site was only a chimera - a vision in my mind. Today it is a hugely popular online resource, with thousands of acolytes and cultic devotees all over the world.

Of course, this was inevitable given the sheer quality of our work and the many excellent resources available on the site – ring tones, testimonies, tarots readings – and of course, my peerless addresses!

The only fly in the ointment have been the online publications – these have not been satisfactory in terms of price, style or content. To this end we are developing a whole series of occult source materials giving insights into the deep viscera of hex-me magic. In fact, the whole store is going to be extensively remodelled with a nether eye to this conclusion. As a preamble to this, we will soon present Dr Kshatriya’s peerless masterpiece, ‘Catallaxical Astrology’ for your delectation. This profound work blends NLP and the new science of emergent order to explain meaningful coincidence as a means of advancing oneself. Profound stuff!

Only last night I visited England and the peerless Damien Crowley. He brought with him two stooges from his bare knuckle days. These two poltroons almost ruined an excellent restaurant meal with whining talk about ‘Wicca’ (wicker baskets, I should say!) and fawning demand for bibulous quaffs of our $30 bottle of wine. Damien clearly felt shame at these tag-a-longs clinging to his illustrious coat tails. However, he held us spellbound with talk about his new book – which should indeed become a treasured occult classic.

Until seven moons are passed – farewell!

May Address 2007

Sorry to be late with this month’s address! I have been busy: for May is a special month in the Hexing calendar! Also, I have several announcements to make.

Although a few curses have been undertaken from the sweetness of felicity, it has to be remembered that all work is chargeable and undertaken as a serious activity to rectify or impose negative spiritual influence. To show true commitment, from now on if the inquirer sends us a picture of their naked body with ‘Hex-Me’ written across it in lipstick, their hex will be given maximum priority.

Now, why was I late? A certain date: the night of 29 April/1 May – also known as Walpurgisnacht.

Walpurgisnacht! Oh night of mysterious presences, when dark forces abroad to celebrate with their chosen few! While Hallowe’en appeals to the ignorant and profane, Walpurgisnacht is the eve when the occult cognoscenti emerge to curse, cast and celebrate untroubled by the rabble.

On this night of nights I decided to visit the celebrated Ms Rivers in NY. Walpurgisnacht represents an awesome opportunity for Hexing and spell-craft: lost spirits roam abroad; time is disrupted; the past and the future caress the present; and primal energies seep from the very earth itself. Yes, Walpurgisnacht does it for me: and for Kelly too, as I was about to discover.

It must be said that Ms Rivers is an ardent feminist: and, like most feminists, she broadly detests men. In her spacious apartment are all the accoutrements of advanced curse-casting. Her speciality is hexing errant males; but love, that eternal and arcane mystery is her true passion – witness the many potent spells of attraction she has cast for Hex-Me’s female users.

I lay on her divan and watched in rapture this driven sorceress at work. Charcoal smouldered; the blood of (male) furry animals flowed; Kelly’s erudite lips babbled miraculous spells; until, at last, she was done, closing her circle with an obscure banishing ritual old when this world was young. We fell to idle chit-chat and I learned that Kelly is working on a book.

“A no nonsense guide to spells and curses, is all, Mister Man,” was her scathing rebuttal of my interested questions. I also know Dr Ksahtriya, Rene Chevalier and the peerless Romany Marvel himself are working on books right now.

Kelly did not see me to the airport; in fact, she did not see me to the door! I even had to ring a cab with my mobile, as her phone is ‘for women only’.

Nevertheless, what an interesting evening: such brusque treatment was repaid in spiritual coin a thousand-fold.

Farewell! In seven Summer Moons, we shall speak again.

April Address 2007

Just last weekend I decided to fly over to Europe. A figure we encounter rather less than most - namely Baron Chevalier - had invited me to a symposium on High magic. The meeting was the ultimate in Gallic occult Romanticism – a dingy room above a café in Montmartre, thick with the smoke of galoises. The fare was simple but sustaining -fresh white bread warm from the oven; a range of pungent cheeses; grilled mushrooms with a savoury dip; and rich red wine, aglow with Provencal summers. There were nine of us, with Monsieur Baron Chevalier presiding. Belgium, Germany, Italy, Spain and Russia all had representatives there.

When hunger was sated, the combustibles were ignited – pipes and cigars as well as cigarettes. I will offer an oath I saw demonic faces forming in the thick grey smoke, leering down on our conclave.

As well they might: for much was discussed that day. Incubi and Succubi made the early running: and all agreed on a certain binding spell for using these troubled spirits in Hexes. We then - at the insistence of our profound Russian friends - discussed the fabled Chupacabra of Puerto Rico. This odd apparition is known to suck the blood of cattle and other domestic animals. We concluded it was not extra-terrestrial at all, merely a succubus.

This led to further speculation on the true nature of extra-terrestrial beings. In pre-scientific times, there were always ‘spiritual’ or mystical variants of these beings: fairies or elves resembled little green men, just like aliens; sojourns in fairyland resembled alien abductions or time-slips; and toadstools obviously reflected an antique view of spacecraft. The answer is that different epochs interpret the same phenomena differently. And why should ‘modern’ interpretations have any monopoly on truth? Why should the traditional, magical interpretations not be valid?

“Let us return the goblin to the heath and the magic to the rainbow,” concluded Monsieur Chevalier forcefully. There was no doubt about his position! Yes, the magical beings that make hexing possible are everywhere around us. Today, they go by other names – but their true nature is not in doubt. For the remainder of the evening we worked eclectic magic, invoking ‘Mothmen’ and ‘aliens’. How the UFO brigade would have blanched!

At last, sated with magic, cigars and wine, we went our separate ways. Before I returned Stateside, I took time to consider Monsieur Chevalier’s extensive library. Extensive? It was prolific! Lost tomes from Alexandria jostled the latest Hex-Me pamphlets on the shelves. No magical path is too obscure for the good Baron: believe me, Hexers, your occult affairs are in good hands!

Farewell! Until the Chupacabra drinks again…

March Address 2007

March is a troubling month, from a spiritual perspective. According to Chinese medicine, the rising winds represent metaphysical energies in
violent transition. These potent forces can leave individuals vulnerable to attack on the spiritual plane – which makes March an ideal month for Hexing activity! The Chi energies that normally maintain and guard the body are put under terrific stress by the titanic energies unleashed in March, making people vulnerable to infiltration by controlled spiritual energies.

Indeed, the winds themselves are mere outward semblances of unseen, self-aware beings – yes, the winds are alive! The great breezes that buffet ships - tossing them high on briny waves - are great sorcerous powers of living consciousness! The small, scurrying dust devils that play merrily about our feet are young entities: who will, centuries hence, blast Cornwall, Tierra del Fuego, the Celebes…

And we can summon these ancient spirits to do our bidding. Frater Alvarez has a Dungeon of Winds in his mountain retreat, yearning for escape and vengeance. Frater Crowley keeps an army of winds in the bathroom of his trailer, so legend tells. I myself command certain West winds along with a phalanx of stripy dust-devils.

With energies confused and in transit, we can strike anyone anywhere with these invisible, immortal armies. At the least, they can weaken a victim’s defensive vitality enough for a well-placed Hex to ‘stick’.

I know my monthly addresses are hugely popular in the occult community. But what is popularity? Is it appealing to the broad masses of cowardly poltroons? Or is it mere hollow approbation? No: for me, only one kind of popularity matters – the breathless ecstasy of bringing something new unbidden to the world.

Adieu! When the rains come, we shall speak again.

February Address 2007

Late greetings, my Hexers loyal and true… After a cycle of moons, I greet you here again. February, that sweet season of rising sap is upon us, quickening our blood with the lengthening days. Testosterone and oestrogen sleet through our loins, thickening our passions to fever. Shadows cast their velvet dance across our gleaming skins; nature stirs with lust; the crouching leaves unfurl after their winter slumbers; avian troubadours trill from every tree; the mad hares chase the playful zephyrs; night hides diminished under the brazen eye of heaven.

Why am I so late with this month’s address? Firstly, I was involved in a car crash. Fortunately, the magical wards with which I daily shield myself saved me from serious harm. What further proof is needed to demonstrate the all-weather efficacy off Hex-Me magic? In truth, these wards make me virtually bullet-proof: I live in a zone of occult invulnerability. Sigils of such power deflect all Karmic trials.

Secondly, I have been working love hexes with the peerless Abigail Brown - a rich experience for any man! Sorer Abigail’s hospitality is second to none: from the instant I crossed the threshold of her swamp shack I was plied with the choicest roast Cajun chicken and cool, voluptuous slices of ripe red watermelon… All washed down with sparkling tankards of Abigail’s intoxicating home-brewed ‘Melon Abicade’ – incredible!

I helped with the Hexing requirements of some of her local clients: lovelorn ladies afire for burning kisses, mostly. To watch Abigail at work on a hex is a joy and a privilege. Her intimacy with the Orishas of Santeria is simply awesome: one moment the grinning Baron Samedi himself owns her; the next, Yemaya the Fair has
possessed her cheerful features.

All the while Abigail placates the gods with cakes rich in urine and menses. These are made to her own special recipe, unique objects of occult wisdom. Some she burns as gifts on her small altar, others she greedily crams into her mumbling maw.

I was looking forward to working some profound sex magic with Abigail. This was intended to unify the tradition of Tantrik Sex Magic (represented by myself)and Abigail’s heady brand of home-grown Voodoo. Unfortunately, I found it difficult to truly communicate with Miss Brown: her vocabulary only contains 200 words, and these are all Santeria-related. So, sadly, a glorious opportunity went begging.

However, seeing the great woman in action was a thrill and privilege. Her skills will be available over the March period for all her many fans.

When the Shadows dance, we will speak again.

January Address 2007

Why have I been late with January’s address? Too much of Christmas wine, women and song! Also, I have been pushing the repertoire of hex-me.com’s vaunted services to the absolute limit. That takes time and enormous effort, as I’m sure you can appreciate.

This month we are going to unleash the legendary Beast of the Gevaudan on your foes! The Beast – or La Bete as she is still known to the French – is one of the world’s great occult mysteries. From 1764-1767 this rapacious hell-hound ruthlessly devoured over 80 people in the Gevaudan region of Southern France.

The Beast was described as being as big as a cow with a long, sinuous tail; her head was wolfish with small, pointed ears and large, protruding fangs. The creature had red fur, though a peculiar white stripe ran down her chest and belly. Hardcore: she may even have been able to leap up to thirty feet, according to analysis of her tracks.

La Bete perfectly meets the description of a long extinct creature called a Mesonychid. These were an ancient order of hoofed predators related to modern whales: they had big, triangular teeth, resembled huge dogs and had enormous bite strength (over 2000 pounds per square inch, far stronger than a modern hyaena).

And she was cunning! Often she would torture a lamb until the piteous cries of distress lured the poor creature’s young owner from cover, to be slain and devoured. This is most unusual, implying the beast could infer the consciousness of others. Skilled, well-armed hunters could not bring her to bay for three years. And she was strange: she always ate humans, never the sheep or cattle they guarded.

One day, by chance, a hunter shot her: it took four brawny men to carry the body. The chroniclers tell that our Beast’s eyes glowed with an eldritch, crimson fire. And her tail twitched like a snake.

Who but I, the Master of Sex Magic, could solve such a mystery?

I ascended to the Keep of the Four Worlds in Astral, and unravelled this ancient riddle at a glance. A French high magician now lost to history named Guillaume de Cavallet conjured the spirit from the prehistoric past to wreak havoc on the French peasantry, whose women had ever spurned his advances. The reason the Beast eluded so many hunters was her spectral ability to vanish at will.

I bound her with a spell, and gave her spirit to Angelo Alvarez. Ah, that worthy man! The Beast howls now in his mountain stronghold, thirsting to be unleashed again. Two centuries have passed: and she is hungry!

We offer this hell-hound for your delectation, O Hexers loyal and true: at our command she will spring on your foes, exacting dread vengeance for your bitter pain. Only two requests can be sanctioned this month, so book now – don’t delay.

In February, we shall speak again.

December 2006 Address

And so, at last, Yule is upon us! Bitter chill the marvellous nights, blue ice the days. We love these times, this month, this season, for it stands outside life. The salmon-crowded seas of spring, summer and autumn are past. Now there is only deathly silence: no birds sing; no rainbow-winged ephemerons dance gaily in the wind. Death holds us close in season; life is remote and far away.

And this is the occult spirit: standing apart from life, looking on, as it were, from a vast, immutable peak of cool disinterest, a mocking smile on our lips at the petty concerns of lesser men. For Hexers like us are higher, nobler: a superior breed. We care not for the rabble and their ways. We hate, we despise and loathe, yet remain unsullied. Only weaklings feel guilt.

Excuse my lateness with this month’s missive: I was getting my Yule presents. But not the mundane, dreary gifts from Sears-Roebuck or Argos: Oh no! These were Hex-Me presents from the deepest, furthest reaches of vengeance and hate.

Angelo Alvarez was in town. He took a red-eye flight from Lima to the States, and I provided full board and lodging for a fortnight. To see the man in the flesh is an awesome experience. His dark skin is knotted with scars acquired in the hardy days of his youth. His strong hands are sensitive, compelling. His laughter is continual, goatish and obstinate. Strange dark eyes that burn like naphtha illuminate everything they touch. Frauds and dilettantes like Aleister Crowley and Anton Szandor LaVey would wilt in that terrible gaze: Mr Alvarez is the real deal!

Rumour has it that he has personally killed over ten human beings in pursuit of the perfect hex. This might sound a trifle immoral, but consider it well: his victims were merely children of the poor, destined to a life of grinding misery. Frater Alvarez has dignified their lives by including them in a wondrous experiment. As his familiar spirits, they have boundless mastery of the elements – of mountain, storm or flood. No more selling their bodies on the streets for a paltry fee; no more sniffing glue to escape the pangs of hunger; just immortality in Angelo’s growing legion of spirits. What a happy end!

I hired a local call-girl for the pleasure of Frater Alvarez. It was my thought that an hour of dalliance would soothe his soul. Nothing of it! I heard a scream and burst into Angelo’s room, where his knife glinted mere millimetres above the breast of his erstwhile concubine! He considered this succulent morsel a mere hexing-lamb, not some pleasure of the bedchamber. Unfortunately, my largesse hardly extends to such gifts…

I comforted the poor girl with several hours of Tantrik sex magic, emptying her mind of that eldritch brush with Frater Alvarez and his sparkling knife! She went home in a glow of love, at peace with the universe.

For the rest of his stay, we talked and worked magic. Hexes dark and malevolent were placed against any number of enemies. These were my Yule presents: invocations of hate and destruction. When I dropped Angelo off at the airport for his return journey, over a hundred unfortunates had been death-cursed. Within a week, three of them were dead. The new spells we forged combine Sex with Sacrificial Magic in a unique and dizzying blend: Never have I witnessed anything more powerful.

The power of the Hex is an invisible arm that strikes our foes from afar, lays their lives waste, but leaves us in the afterglow of joy and ecstasy. But no chains for us; no bars of legal retribution; we dance on our opponents’ graves, their marrow sucked and their blood drank, untouched by god or man.

This is the month of gift-giving and merriment. Give gifts and be merry, O Hexers! None should be merrier: for you have that gift of gifts, the Curse – instant solution to all problems. Thrust thy muzzles in the mulled wine of chilly Yule, probe soft lips with a savage tongue and curse your foes to blind satiety!

Our cursing day this month is – when else - the Birthday of Mithras, December the 25th. All our Hexing team will be on hand to strike down the insolent, the worthless and the inhuman. Place your requests now – book, early!

Until 2007, I bid thee brief farewell! Happy Hexing!

November 2006 Address

Let me embrace you, O Hexers, in the cold mantle of November grey.

After I renounced the priesthood and its unmanly ways of folly, the first woman I knew was named November Gray. Her eyes were gray as mountain mist; her lips were cold as a winter's dawn; her skin was pale as the first snows; her features gracile as sparkling frost. And her hair was dark as November midnight. I remember, I remember.

And grey she wore, always November grey, showing neither passion nor joy. Making love to her was like riding swiift sunsets, icy stars and brief but beautiful days. She died young, alas! I grieve always at her grave each Novemer, lost in cold and sorrow.

In this mood, O brethren, I salute you. For November is the cruel month of bitter memory. We count our losses and our wounds: I know I do. Hence November is the month of the bitter, long standing hex. It is time to spin your webs of hatred and vengeance against ancient foes: old lovers, insolent school teachers and teenaged enemies. Time to curse them, Hex them rightly, punish them with unexpected pain beyond measure.

Let your deepest rages creep forth from their hollow cells, thirsty for blood after long imprisonment. Thirsty for ichor, eager to suck eyes like eggs, yearning to gnaw the marrow of revenge!

Let Guy Fawkes be our inspiration, that martyred villein burnt in effigy across the lands. How near he came to vengeance, yet so far! Unlike poor quartered Guy, make no mistakes: let Hex-Me even accounts with your ancient adverseries.

The 21st of November is our Hexing day. Damien Crowley, Abigail Brown and Dr Kshatriya are straining at the leash like blooded mastiffs! Grimoires emerge from ancient chests, chickens cluck with terror of the knife...

Ah! This maiden is so fair that the darkness engulfs me. Remember my words:

"It is better to die than be vanquished and live."

At Yule I shall return.

October 2006 Address

So in a shower of sere and silver leaves October is upon us again, filling the soul of man with awe. And with October comes Halloween, that liminal night when lost spirits walk abroad and the realms of the living and the dead are never closer.

It is a beautiful time; a time of remembrance and recollection, a veritable epoch of fireside reverie. We recall the summer that has gone, with all its wonders; sweet, soft lips murmuring hushed awakenings at swallow-thronged dawn; young maidens writhing, moaning in ebon delight; horsemen resting at evensong after hard riding in the Rockies.

But there are other memories too, altogether less glorious: a passing she-sloat’s thick-lipped sneer; the plodding commentary of some dull-witted liberal; the chance encounter with the slobbering inferior unaware of his place. For the sunlight calls forth the rabble like insects. And contact with them fills us with loathing, with crimson nightmares of retribution.

It pries wide my mouth with fast music to think of them dead, their bodies pierced by the stakes of lances, their heads and limbs hacked by sturdy sword-strokes; to think of all our enemies dead or dying, their voices shrieking “Help! Help, Oh help me!” as iron-shod hooves shatter their spines and skulls. Oh Hexers, mortgage your houses, let your children go barefoot, but never relinquish hatred or vengeance.

Obviously, Halloween will be used for hexing, so mark the 31st in your Shadow Diaries. The Hexers involved will be Abigail Brown, Dr Kshatriya and Kelly Rivers herself. So, ladies, start counting those errant males right now! We have also been able to contact Angelo Alvarez, who will undertake specialist Halloween hexing work for selected clients. The alpacas are bleating: his knife sparkles in the sun… Book now, don’t delay!

We have also chosen the 15th of the month for Hexing activity. The Hexers involved will be Damien Crowley, Albert Little and myself.

So, until November, I bid thee farewell. May anger and beauty crown thee with bitter joy and sweeter sorrow. The swallows are departed and soon, we too will depart: but let it be said we left our enemies with blood in their mouths, their bodies hacked in ditches, victims of psychic vengeance most foul.

Happy Hexing!

Pater Theodorus

September 2006 Address

Greetings O Cursers and Accursed!

This News page is where I, Pater Theodorus, keep the Faithful abreast of the latest developments on Hex-Me.com.

Henceforth, on the 7th day of each month, I shall take time to communicate with thee.

And, forsooth, of what shall we speak?

Why, of pains, travails and torments; of insults remembered; of savoured pain … of Love twisted by Hate; of Vengeance blooming in the dark fields of spiritual combat.

Many of you will know I was once a Christian priest. I despise the Word today. For the Lion will never lie down with the Lamb – no, nor the Wolf with Men: they are enemies to the end. Christianity has failed utterly to build a collectivist Kingdom of Love. And it has failed because Hatred, Anger and Vengeance rule men’s hearts, not Love. A cursory glance at the World shows this.

For now, Hex-me is cruising along well. Requests to lift or place hexes swamp us on a daily basis. Testimonials proclaiming the power of our Magic flood our Servers.

Important plans are afoot to expand the site and its functions in various ways, however. The skills and expertise of my online hexing team are second to no one in spiritual matters and, in Time, I will make these skills tell.

Look out for a sister site exploring the darker aspects of astrology, hosted by Dr Puspa. Also, perhaps, a site dedicated to the delights of pure rage and ungoverned anger. Hard work and days will surely bring these monstrous births to the world’s light.

In one cycle of the Moon we shall speak again.

My Spirit Ascends,

Pater Theodorus

August 2006 Address

Hex-Me Dot Com was originally named Damn-Them Dot Com. We were a pair of flourishing online hexers whose work both placing and undoing hexes was attracting a high level of interest and success, not merely from Albion's illustrious shores but across the globe.

However, we began to grasp the limitations implicit in using the well-tried Wiccan and Magical Western traditions, especially when dealing with curses cast in Amerindian, oriental and African cultures.

To overcome this, we placed adverts in the international occult press calling for the services of hexers and occultists from a wide range of traditions. We were swiftly inundated by mail from the most talented cursers from around the world, each offering their unique talents to our enterprise.

We winnowed these down to the eight finest ocuult practitioners imaginable (See Who Is Whom): Pater Theodorus (Greece), Angelo Alvarez (Peru), Abigail Brown (USA South), Baron Chevalier (France), Damien Crowley (England), Albert Little (Ireland), Kelly Rivers (USA North) and Doctor Puspa Kshatriya (Nepal). Armed with their supreme expertise, we now present this new and revamped hexing site for you pleasure, purpose and profit.

No matter what difficulties you face from the unseen world, rest assured we will provide the answers.