"'Que Barbara Streisand music 'Memories'."

While reading Magus Gilmore's book 'The Satanic Scriptures' I sat there for awhile on My couch and pondered 'High School'.

A veritable Hell it was.

He made mention of how the Christers can 'sniff out' those who are different. Isn't that the truth?

I only spent one year of High School in the Public School systems, so as you can imagine, being taught in 'Private Schools' there were a lot of sniffers indeed.

I had a lot of different ideas, opposing ideas, and I enjoyed computers and Chemistry. I didn't view Myself as a 'nerd' but looking back on it now, I suppose that I was.

I wasn't raised with money. I was raised by a single father doing his best to keep Us educated, fed and clothed. Sometimes, We shopped at Goodwill.

I remember the cracks about My dads rusty Ford Grand Torino, I remember being called many a name. I will be honest to say that yes, yes it did hurt, but that I was still smiling inside.

I knew that these nobodies would end up in jail or on drugs in the distant future.

I found out later in life however, that the reason many boys didn't converse with Me was indeed because I frightened them. Not in a bad way either. Oh well. I was probably better off. I was however aware of the fact that people could not stand the fact that I seemed to have a good time no matter what I was doing.

I once printed out My entire English homework on a roll of toilet paper. My teacher was NOT amused, but hey, whatever gets you by for the day.

I didn't play sports (never any good at it and I saw it pointless which made Me even less popular). I did however in Public School play Ice Hockey which I excelled at.

Still, even on the team I was not popular, not even in the Public School System. Public School was actually the worst. You could pick on others a bit more than you could in Private School.

I bathed daily and was sure it wasn't My odor that kept people away from Me. My only guess is that they were afraid of Me.

I was elevated to a 'gifted class' where nerds abounded. The different, ones like Me! I was not the greatest at every subject mind you, but enough to be elevated among the rest of the herd.

I recall this one guy named "Bill" and Bill was unique in his own right. He didn't speak. He was always formulating something....always had a pencil or pen in hand and kept his head down. Bill was BIG, BILL could kick some ass if he wanted to, but Bill mastered the art of Might Is Right. Bill never talked back or down to anyone but I have no doubts that he got even when he needed to.

I finally cracked that nut. I talked to him constantly every day, driving him crazy I'm sure. He never answered Me back. Just looked at Me.

One day, I made him laugh. Silence went through the room......you could hear a pin drop. We became buddies. I always felt Bill was a Satanist at heart. Perhaps he is and I don't even know it. We have lost touch after all these years but I do know this:

Bill is now a successful business man. He made lots of money in the Video Gaming Industry. Who's laughing now? The bullies or him? \:\)

I was rereading 'The Good Ol' Days' from Dr. LaVeys book 'Satan Speaks'. I remember when I first read that book years ago. I thought yeah, were they really good old days? Depends on who you are talking to or what they went through.

I can tell you one thing that he said that rang very true for Me was this line:

"A kid could get beaten up for reading Plato or carrying a violin case (unless there was a machine gun inside). How true that was for Me.

I have played the violin for years. Not a very popular instrument in school. Hell, the triangle was more their speed.

I was however funny. I never let those who tormented Me see that it bothered Me in the slightest. I was voted class clown......but also voted most likely to be a Mercenary.

So after this long diatribe, I ask you gentle reader/Satanist, what were your High School years like?

Any interesting stories?

Satan LIVES!
If you could....would YOU?

"Our religion does not require martyrs."
Magistra Nadramia.

YOU can be a voice for the voiceless.