The proof we’ve been waiting for that THE CONSPIRACY is REAL! Using the evil Masons’ own writings, Epperson proves beyond any possible doubt that when President Clinton, speaking at a memorial service after the Oklahoma City bombing, said, “I say one thing we those who have sacrificed have the duty to purge ourselves of the DARK FORCES which gave rise to this evil,” what he really meant was: “the duty to purge ourselves of CHRISTIANITY.” He’s just using a secret Masonic coded language! See? No? Well, you’ll just have to read the book to find out why, even though, as Epperson himself admits, “there is no direct evidence, as of yet, that Bill Clinton is a member of the Masons,” nor that he ever “joined Masonry, nor that he was made aware of their coded language.” “However,” Epperson shrewdly points out, “that does not mean that he has not joined the Lodge.” It’s almost worth reading just to see this guy do to logic what M.C. Escher did to architecture. DB

Publisher: Publius
Paperback: 40 pages

Next time you’re having a chuckle over the sub-soap opera antics of the various Greek gods, take a second to consider the behavior of the major players in the Judeo-Christian pantheon. For an omnipotent being that created the entire universe and his former second-in-command, who still holds some rather impressive titles (like “Prince of this World,” for instance), the maturity level is way below that of most suburban junior high school student mortals. With as long as God and Satan have had to work out their relationship (a few thousand years, even by the creationists’ count), one might assume that if they haven’t figured out how to get along, then they could at least keep their petty bickering and ridiculous power games between themselves instead of using a bunch of poor, dumb humans to fight their silly battles with. All this demonic possession/exorcism nonsense—it’s like a couple going through a divorce who, instead of talking things over and eventually coming to some kind of civilized understanding, just get their pet chihuahuas all riled up and toss ‘em in a pit to bark at each other until one passes out or drops dead. And these aren’t some rinky-dink, Third World, B-list deities either—these guys represent both ends of what for some reason is considered one of the “world’s great religions.” Pathetic!
And nowadays if the demon doesn’t cause enough grief for the poor chump caught in the middle of these megalomaniacs’ ludicrous tug o’ war over—of all the things neither of these jokers needs—his soul, the exorcists might stomp him to death to save him! Still, I’ve got to admit a certain guilty pleasure in reading the sometimes vulgar, often nonsensical, but almost always witty and incisive repartee—mainly a bunch of vicious barbs and insults, occasionally mixed with a Pythonesque absurdity—that seems to be the main form of social interaction for the current, better-educated generation of parasitic imps. What demons really are is a matter that’s open for speculation: whether they are actual malefic minions of Satan or merely a manifestation of some wholly banal electrochemical brain anomaly, there is definitely something going on here, and it is undeniably real.
Unfortunately, except for some kooky names like Uncle Ponto, Girl-Fixer and “The Tortoise,” the demons in this book are not quite as fond of free association as many I’ve read about. (Some of the best demon/exorcist banter is found in the book The Demonologist by Ed and Lorraine Warren.) These guys pretty much stick to the standard “your mother sucks cocks in Hell” motif, but there’s still some great high-yield nuclear insults, delivered with an attitude from… well, you know. Try this caustic quip from “Smiler,” a demon possessing a lapsed Roman Catholic girl, next time somebody is in need of a little reality check: “You ugly sod! You smelly little animal! You helpless, yelping, puking, licking, slavering, sweating, excreting little cur. You constipated shit canister. You excuse for a being. You lump of urine and excrement and snot and mud born in a bed on bloody sheets, sticking your head out between a woman’s smelly legs and bawling them when they slapped your arse and laughed at your little red balls—you… creature!” Owee! It’s lines like this that forced the Holy See to add the phrase “I know you are but what am I?” to the Holy rite of exorcism in the Ordinatio Sacerdotalis proclamation of 1994. DB

Publisher: HarperCollins
Paperback: 477 pages

A “cult hero” of sorts himself, Larson is probably best known currently for his internationally broadcast radio show Talk Back, a forum for his unique blend of bleeding-heart liberalism and conservative Christian morality. Larson has developed an entertaining love-hate relationship with the ever-Satanic Boyd Rice, inviting Rice over for dinner in between their legendary on-air battles.
A rock musician back in the mid-’60s (check out his band the Dirty Shames’ track “I Don’t Care” on the Pebbles CD, Volume 8), by the decade’s end he became known as one of rock’s most vociferous opponents, even going so far as to punctuate his high school assembly anti-rock rants with some righteous solo guitar jams, with a tone grungy enough to wake Kurt Cobain, accompanied only by his blow-dried Bobby Sherman comb-over and enormous sideburns. Now that Satan’s involvement with rock music has become old hat since you can’t play CDs backwards, Larson has transferred his alarmist mania to an even easier target—the wacky world of cults. His new Book of Cults contains everything a “Bible-believing” Christian needs to know about over 100 different cults, from Mormonism to Manson, with each deviation from his own fundamentalist beliefs meticulously itemized.
There’s a whole section devoted to “common cult teachings,” explaining such un-Christian concepts as enlightenment, meditation and reincarnation; a chapter on “cultic origins” of Christianity’s major competitors in the world dogma market; and an “encyclopedia of cults,” including such obscurities as the Foundation Faith of the Millennium (the religion formerly known as the Process Church of the Final Judgment), the Asatru Free Assembly, the Holy Order of MANS, Silva Mind Control, the Findhorn Foundation (allegedly a bunch of New Age elf worshipers), the “Love Family” a.k.a. the Church of Armageddon, and Swedenborgianism. Also catalogued are the bulk of the cult-leader A list like Tony Alamo, Da Free John, Rev. Ike, Sai Baba and Elizabeth Clare Prophet; old favorites like the Children of God, the Aetherius Society, Crowelyianity, the Snake Handlers, est, Freemasonry and the “New Age Cults” (all in one handy entry), and some groups that aren’t exactly cults but what the heck, like UFOs, martial arts, astrology, trance channeling and, of course the Ku Klux Klan. There are a few glaring omissions, like Satanism, for instance, and more understandably, Heaven’s Gate (HIM). Still, if you can ignore some of the more offensive bits of Jay-sus propaganda (like his convoluted explanation of why enlightenment is bad), the new Book of Cults is an entertaining read, and thanks to Larson’s latent Luciferian tendencies, it contains a lot more well-researched, factual information than your average Christian “reference” work. DB

Publisher: Tyndale
Paperback: 499 pages

Cold fusion, holistic medicine, non-HIV AIDS research, psychokinesis, telepathy, Bioenergy—these fields of research have one thing in common: They’re all big no-no’s according to today’s western “scientific fundamentalism.” Anyone who dares attempt serious research in any of these areas is liable to lose funding, respect and even his or her job as an increasingly intolerant scientific community goes to greater and greater lengths to quash all “heretical” inquiry, even in the face of often staggering empirical evidence. As British Fortean philosopher John Michell says on the back cover, “There is a tyranny of science devouring our lives, minds and cultures, and Richard Milton has exposed it.” Unfortunately, despite its great intentions, the book tends to bog down in its own whining, preachiness, redundancy, and ye olde English dull-dull-dullness, leaving it even more boring than your average garden-variety “non-alternative” science text. DB

Publisher: Park Street
Paperback: 272 pages

Lots of neat pictures and descriptions of Tesla's various patented inventions including his “amazing death ray” and other “unusual inventions”; the Supreme Court documents on the dismantling of Wardenclyffe Tower; a complete bibliography; and the never-before-told story of how he and Guglielmo Marconi faked their deaths, moved to a secret compound deep in the Amazon jungle, built a fleet of anti-gravity-powered flying saucers and flew them to Mars in the late '40s, where they may or may not have built a few pyramids and the famous “face.” DB

Publisher: Adventures Unlimited
Paperback: 340 pages
Illustrated

An overview of the life of Nikola Tesla, one of the most unusual thinkers of our millennium, originally published in 1944 by a guy that Tesla himself said understood him “better than anyone else in the world.” The best thing about this book is a little surprise regarding “the love story of Tesla's life,” early on promising the skinny on “a romance the like of which is not recorded in the annals of human history,” and he's not kidding. Sure, the stories of his 1897 invention of our modern polyphase alternating-current electrical distribution system, his unsung creation of what later became broadcast radio, and his experiments with the wireless transmission of power through the air and even the Earth itself are all pretty interesting, but you'll forget all about that trivia when you get to the part where he explains his tendency to obsessively feed pigeons. “There was one pigeon,” Tesla reveals, “a beautiful bird, pure white with light gray tips on its wings; that one was different. It was a female… I loved that pigeon. Yes,” he replies to an unasked question, “yes, I loved that pigeon, I loved her as a man loves a woman, and she loved me.” Oh, the humanity! DB

Publisher: Brotherhood of Life
Paperback: 329 pages

Tuella, a mousy little woman as unassuming as Ruth Norman was extravagant (and who probably bakes a mean Christmas cookie assortment), channels space beings so cute and cuddly and nice they make E.T. look like “Alien” in comparison. Commander Ashtar is either an “Archangel” or “Space Commander” (nobody knows for sure) “directly under the sponsorship of Lord Michael and the Great Central Sun Government of this galaxy, and is second only to the Beloved Commander Jesus-Sananda in responsibility for the airborne division of the Brotherhood of Light.” “Widely known in UFO channeling circles for three decades,” Ashtar’s message is often obscure but generally characterized by a standard soft ‘n’ fuzzy call for an end to all naughty bad things like the H-Bomb, and the subsequent ushering in of a “Golden New Age of Enlightenment” or something equally boring sounding. DB

Publisher: Inner Light
Paperback: 160 pages
Illustrated

Everybody’s favorite Space Brother is back, with more zany, cosmic insights to help ease the transition from the icky world of evil to a New Age of good, wholesome, vitamin-fortified niceness, for those who can grok his, like, totally spiritual vibrations. But wait; there’s more! If you act now, you’ll also get a glamorous assortment of wonderfully tepid pabulum from some of Ashtar’s wackiest Space Siblings, like “Monka,” “Aura Raines,” “The Etherian,” “Solar Star”—the whole gang! Now, how much would you pray? Important information on such topics as “The TOP-SECRET mission of the Space Brothers”; “the selection of the “Chosen Ones” to be removed from the planet in the event of a global disaster; the inside of our planet is really inhabited; educational craft are orbiting Earth; negative beings have infiltrated the military and Government (now there’s a surprise); the “serpent race” and, of course, the “True meaning of ‘the beast’ whose number is ‘666’—the Antichrist.” There are also some amazing portraits of Ashtar and all his little friends. It has been said that “this may be the most important book you have ever read”—well, that’s what it says on the back cover. DB

Publisher: Inner Light
Paperback: 160 pages
Illustrated

If you ever saw Raiders of the Lost Ark, read any of Brad Steiger’s other “absolutely true” UFO books, or remember the classic Jay Ward cartoon character Commander McBragg (note for the animationally challenged: it was featured in between episodes of “Fractured Fairy Tales” and “Peabody and Sherman” on The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show), you’ve already got an idea of what this book is about. In fact, imagine what it would be like as performed by McBragg himself and his rapt but gullible victim/friend at their genteel English country club: “There I was, already surrounded by hulking, heavily armed neo-Nazi assassins, when suddenly, from the corner of the burial chamber, a group of gigantic insectivoid monstrosities from Zeta Reticuli rushed toward me, brandishing deadly disintegrator guns, all demanding that I surrender my Atlantean Space Talisman.” “Good heavens Commander, what did you do?” “Well, sir, first I channeled all of my grooviest vibrations into the Talisman; a green ray shot out of it and zapped the Lugers right out of the hands of those Nazi goons. Then, by an amazing coincidence, my Pleiadian mistress, visible only to myself, you know, used her mystical powers to blast the beastly Zeta Reticulan lizard-things right out of our dimension.” “My word, Commander, that was a close one!” “Hmmm,” he would reply, filling his pipe. “Quite.”
During the course of this 172 page-boast, the reader learns many things about the incredible Fred Bell; but take away the highly improbable (and that’s being generous) “true” story alluded to above, and the remaining “information” can be distilled down to a few sentences: “I am a genius. I built a jet engine in shop class, put it in a car I designed, and, with a little extraterrestrial help, set a land speed record with it. I later joined the Air Force, where I had a cushy job as an officer, but quit in a huff due to righteous indignation regarding their UFO cover-up policies. Then, while working for NASA, I personally warned Dr. Werner von Braun of the problems that led to the Apollo 1 disaster. Due to my unimpeachable morals, and the fact that I am a genius, I alone among Earthmen am in communication with higher beings from the Pleiades. One in particular, a beautiful humanoid space woman, is, like, totally in love with me. And yes… I scored. Oh, did I mention that I am a genius? Yeah, I knew that—just checking to see if you’re paying attention.” DB

Publisher: Inner Light
Paperback: 172 pages
Illustrated

Stan Deyo has all the answers. Just ask him. And he’s modest, this self-proclaimed “Noah of this Age”—after all, he could have said “Jesus” or “G*D”, or “Captain Beefheart” of this age, couldn’t he? Just his explanation of the wacky pseudo-mystical Judeo-Christian paranoiac UFO fantasy cover painting would have been enough to give the reader a clear and concise understanding of just what can happen to a nice, albeit megalomaniacal, Jewish boy from Perth with a bit too much free time on his hands. But, of course, it doesn’t end there. Not by a long shot. Weird biblical mumbo-jumbo is examined in the light of Atlantean speculations. Deyo has pinpointed not only the location of famed Atlantis but also the Garden of Eden, the land of Nod, Kush, Dilmun, the city of Enoch built by Cain, the land of Chavilah, the “Pillars of Heracles” and the real “land of the giants” whence came this Heracles fellow, Kabbalistic numerology, gravitic, electric and magnetic phenomena, and, of course, the many types of UFOs and various aliens, dragons and demons. The whole thing culminates in a warning for all Jews to get out of America before our naughtiness is dealt with by a really pissed off G*D and, finally, the actual naming of the Antichrist (an extremely nerdy-looking mid-level Israeli politico named Nimrod Novik). DB

Publisher: Veritas
Paperback: 254 pages
Illustrated