In this episode of Sacred Tension, I speak with comedian, Satanist, and former senatorial candidate Steve Hill. We discuss police brutality, racism, the prison system, comedy, his journey to Satanism, and much more.
In this episode I’m joined once again by Lucien Greaves, co-founder and spokesperson for The Satanic Temple. We discuss the insurrection at the capitol, the role conspiracy theories play in American politics, the quagmire of tech platforms and free speech, and what he thinks of breakfast foods.
In this episode, Timothy and I discuss the insanity of twitter, the impeachment of Trump, how stoicism is helping me cope with current politics, the awomen “controversy,” and whether neutered cats can ejaculate.
The title of this article is, of course, something of a trick. If you know me or are even remotely familiar with my work, you know that I am robustly of the left. I am somewhere on the Social Democrat to Democratic Socialist spectrum, and I am pro sex work, pro degeneracy, and pro sex positivity. I believe every billionaire is a blight on the human race and a failure of our system. I believe Black Lives Matter, that trans women are women and that trans men are men. I believe we should have a broad social safety net, correct climate change, and empower minorities. If you gave me a list of leftist mantras and talking points, I would affirm most of them.
Instead, this title has to do with where I place my own identity, with how I name myself to myself. When I look at myself in a cognitive mirror, what do I see, first and foremost? What words do I use to filter the unfathomable complexity of self into a single narrative?
In this stripped-down, unedited episode of Sacred Tension, I’m joined by my friend Priest Penemue for a long conversation about leftist politics, how we are practicing self care during the COVID-19 pandemic, and his insider perspective on digital privacy and big data.
Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling sick to my stomach. I instantly knew what it was: I had ingested so much news, so much anxiety about the world, that I was making myself sick.
I felt trapped in my illness: I felt obligated to stay engaged with the news, to stay glued to the screen of my computer, to witness each horrifying executive order, each breakdown of democracy. Yesterday, I realized that I was killing myself, quite literally: my cortisol levels were in overdrive, flooding my blood stream. If I allowed that to continue, it would cripple every system in my body. I was allowing myself to get lost in anxiety, losing the anchor of my soul.
Like many, I watched in horror as America elected a narcissistic bully as our next president. Like many, I was overwhelmed by despair, panic, and grief, and astonished by the intensity of my feelings. A serene voice in my head repeated, over and over, “There, there, things might not be that bad. We don’t know the future. Maybe he won’t be a complete unmitigated monster.” And yet I couldn’t curtail the horror, disgust, and panic that was rising within me. I couldn’t sleep, I drank too much, I was a morose basket case. I couldn’t get out of my head the circus of obscenities that we had all been exposed to: the abuses, the lies, the disregard for the beams of democracy, the Caligula-like grandiosity of Donald Trump. Now we are to live with such disgust – and whatever other follies may come – for the next four years.