VVITCHCRAFT !

I Know It When I See It, and Sunday I Saw It

The Car From Hell? You’d think the devil would drive better than a beat-up old Honda. Like maybe a Tesla?

“Those fingers in my hair / That sly come-hither stare / That strips my conscience bare / It's witchcraft…” — Carolyn Leigh (but made famous by Frank Sinatra)

“When you see a fork in the road, take it.” — Yogi Berra

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Though I fall 100% in the Jesus Christ camp, I also know who “the God of this world” is.

So when the devil gives you a warning — as I’ve long heard his infernal majesty is required to do, at least for those with eyes to see — it’s smart to listen. Unless you’re suicidal or have a death wish. I don’t and I don’t.

My favorite PRO TIP is to keep telling you that Spiritual Warfare is a thing, and one of the reasons the good guys might be losing is because the enemy knows this fact far more than too many of us. Spiritual warfare is real, it never ends, the battle inside your soul between the metaphorical angel on one shoulder and the demon on the other is a microcosm of the larger universal conflict. Like I’ve said before (and before and before), it’s at the root of the Information War that is the Culture War that’s Civil War II that’s actually WW3 but above all else a Spiritual War.

Either you see it or you don’t. Fortunately, though it’s tough to tell with all the bots, shills, liars & frauds on social media and the TeeVee, as things get crazier and crazier and darker and darker, it does seem like we’re seeing more and more people ascending from the second camp to the first.

For a myriad of reasons — from my unexpected Theology scholarship to later Parisian occult research to an innate instinct about incongruities and oddities to what so far’s been a Simon Templar-like luckiness for being in the right place at the right time — over the years I’ve grown pretty good about seeing when a ritual’s being stitched or a spell’s being cast. It’s a childhood prayer come true, but since I’m not a kid anymore I’ve grown to realize it’s as much curse as blessing. “With every wish, there comes a curse,” as the New Jersey bard once penned before I realized he’s a fraud, like nearly everybody else on the public stage and most certainly anybody who gets their mug plastered on TIME and Newsweek.

Part of the blessing is that it means I learned along the way that exposing a spell can halt it in its tracks, like we’re hopefully seeing happen in Hawaii right now, where haole Bad-For-The-Jews Governor Josh Green’s stonewalling about silent sirens and shut-off water and hundreds of dead children and billionaire land grabs and collectivist cover-ups doesn’t seem to be going exactly according to plan (but who knows? Who’s going to stop them? Maybe the blatant sacrifice by Molochian pyre is part of their “you are helpless!” psyop). 

Either way, that’s a story for another day: “LIHOP In Lahaina!” Coming soon to a Substack near you! Maybe.

Instead, today’s story is about the mysterious car parked in front of my house for a few hours Sunday. I discovered it positioned directly behind my own, nudging the bumper, as I left the house for church.

I was in a rush, so I didn’t notice too much immediately, other than the car, a knocked-about and battered old Honda Civic, was parked illegally, on the other side of the “No Parking” sign that I always try to park just inside. There were legal parking spots up and down our street, but for some reason the Honda driver felt the need to park directly behind me, illegally and barely touching my bumper. 

But whatever. I left for church, didn’t give it another thought until I got home a couple hours later and noticed the car was still there, as well as its Texas license plate, which included a trio of perhaps meaningful letters I’ll keep to myself for now and the number 3060. 

That rang the bell. Because, as I’ve mentioned before, Satan’s minions often use a combo of three and six as a sly calling card, a “Kilroy Was Here” kind of signifier for those with eyes to see. Like how the L.A. ambulance that hauled away poor Anne Heche as she was struggling to get out of her strapped down gurney was number 63, or, potentially, six three times, should you choose to see it that way. You don’t have to, but trust me when I tell you there are people (and entities?) who do, and have, and yet will. 

Rule of Three?

So I had a potential sly 666 car in front of my house, parked illegally. Curious, I got out of my very generic near-vintage Toyota and took a closer look. Here’s what I found:

> Expired Texas registration on the windshield, three years past.

> Three pieces (Rule of Three?) of creepy artwork, plainly visible on the dashboard, all done in charcoal, black & white: 

• A pretty but miserable girl, either crying or mutilated

• An alien-type humanoid, seemingly blowing his brains out

• A four-fingered Grinch-like hand plucking a limp corpse

> Center of the dashboard had a small Hawaiian hula girl, which probably shimmies when the car is moving. It looked like part of her plastic might be burned or melted, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

> Near the center of the back window was a decoratively folded piece of paper, kinda like the origami at the end of Blade Runner only not nearly so well done, with red paint or something splattered on it.

I got out my phone and started taking pictures. 

As I’ve said before, quoting Ian Fleming’s Auric Goldfinger, “Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.” Whether there was something fucked up or not going on here, I wasn’t going to ignore the threefold weirdness (parked illegally and illogically up against my bumper; a trio of unnerving drawings; 3060 = 666?).

So I went in and called the Austin cops, non-emergency number. Told them there was a vehicle parked illegally in front of my house with expired registration and three disquieting drawings on the dashboard suggesting violence or suicide or a violent suicide. I was told someone would get back to me.

I was inside for maybe five minutes. When I went back outside to take a few more pictures, the Honda was gone. 

What does it all meeeeeeean? Maybe nothing. But I have held back one crucial piece of information. I did leave out one blatantly displayed message on the car, stuck in the back passenger window, facing my property: NO SMOKING. 

That struck me, hard and unsettlingly. I know how these occultists roll, or at least I think I do: In their own way, they play fair. They give warnings. They leave intentional clues. They provide predictive programming in media to give you a heads up about their tragic orchestrated Mediagasms, then dare you to stop their schemes. It’s all a game, in a way, to them. A stage. A show. A contest. Entertainment. Survival of the fittest as theatrical production, and many are called but few are chosen. 

The “NO SMOKING” thing struck home because I’ve been veering dangerously close to smoking waaaaay too much weed (again). My personal history has seen a couple ill-advised trips through mind-fuck minefields of one vice leading into another, always rooted in the first step of marijuana consumption before cascading into a self-destructive, self-hating spiral.

So I’m taking the car as a vvitchcraft warning before it becomes a sinister spell, with the underlying threat that if I don’t heed the hint I could end up getting recast from wannabe Hero (not martyr!) to sucker, fool and/or patsy. A dead one. And while I’m guessing whoever or whatever put the car there would rather I assume the latter position, like I said, my general experience with these types is they’ve got to give you a signal, a sign, a signifier. Keeps their karma clean, or at least so they think.

In other words: Time to cold turkey my way back to squeaky-clean sobriety. Even if the whole weird thing with the Honda was nothing more than coincidence — hella coincidence though, wouldn’t you say? — cleaning up as the country gets ever more down, ever more dirtier, ever more dangerous, is probably a savvy self-preservation move. Survival of the fittest and all that Darwin stuff. It’s the philosophy found at the very heart of Satanism, by the way. God of this world. Best to listen unless you feel like it’s time to move on. I’m not there yet.

Magic? Synchronicity? Coincidence? I’m not taking any chances.