pagan types :)
Norse Code:
Heroic and vikingly, these pagans often get into trouble with festival organizers and park rangers due to their fondness for running around with a huge battle-ax in one hand and a full mead horn in the other. They throw the best parties, but if you're a wimp, you're expressly not invited.
Distinguishing Signs:
Look for the large, foreboding, biker-like persons wearing runes, with many pounds of amber dangling from their necks.
Monster Truck Pagan:
Can grow their own food, build their own house, sew their own clothes, home school their children and brew their own mead. Are looking forward to the bleak, post-apocalyptic world postulated by the environmentalists as they can't wait to run amok through the country, worshipping ancient gods, blowing up strip malls and rutting on the divider line of every interstate.
Distinguishing Signs:
Resourceful, clever and very well versed in the U. S. Constitution. Eats meat with visible twitches of pleasure. is aware that primitive religions have nothing to do with crystals, Atlantis or unicorns. Can assume a properly smiley work persona at the drop of a hat. Constantly glances around the room anxiously looking for co-workers and their spies. Non-distinctive hair, no conspicuous tattoos.
... You may be a monster-truck pagan if your anointing oil is 30 weight.
... You may be a monster truck pagan if cakes & wine means tailgate party.
... You may be a monster truck pagan if Autumn is the Burning Time.
I Am Not Spock (at the moment):
Knows at least three filks about Cthulhu and at least forty Star Trek jokes. Has found a clever way to create simple furniture from stacks of science fiction paperbacks. Can name ninety different kinds of space ship.
Distinguishing Signs:
Two fisted drinking style. Probably still lives with parents. Many cryptic buttons, badges, patches and other insignia. Too smart for their own good.
Crowley-In-A-Past-Life:
Every magical gathering has at least one of these, along with several variants along the lines of Gerald Gardner, Tituba, Morgan LeFey, or somebody who was Atlantean royalty. Many of them were abducted by aliens recently, and have disturbing dreams rich with arcane symbolism that they will tell you all about, in great detail.
Distinguishing Signs:
Look for the intense gleam in the eyes, the backpack rattling with various psychiatric medications, and the garments that were clearly designed and tailored on another planet.
Ravin' Pagan:
Young and psychedelic. Can dance non-stop all night. Refuses to do boring Eurocentric rituals and prefers deities from sunny climes with lots of interesting local plants. Can say "Ayahuasca" ten times real fast and deliver long quotes from Terrence McKenna.
Distinguishing Signs:
Dresses in color combinations that hurt the eyes unless you've taken ecstasy. Bloodshot eyes, blissful smile, never goes anywhere without ritual drum.
Childe Ov Kaos:
Can name seventeen industrial goth bands without pausing to think. Knows what a Prince Albert is. Personally feels that if no panicky headlines appear the day after you do a ritual, you screwed up. Painted on their jacket, engraved in their flesh and/or boldly displayed as jewelry is an emblem which resembles a combination of corporate logo and arcane symbol. If you don't know what it means, they'll think you're a dweeb.
Distinguishing Signs:
Easy to picture as an alternative musician or bike messenger, difficult to visualize as a school teacher or research assistant, impossible to imagine as a TV news anchor or bank officer. Always wears black leather, even when sleeping.
Womyncentric Gynocrat
A man's shadow crossed her altar once and she spent three weeks purifying it. She'll have no wands in her chalice, thank you. No boys allowed in her full-moon club. Can hold forth for hours on the magical properties of menstrual blood.
Distinguishing Signs:
Tiny axes or curved knives, just right for amputating a penis, are a favored symbol and often hang conveniently from her body parts. When a man approaches she rolls her eyes and stops talking.
Bright-Eyed Novice:
You just read this cool book about a religion where there's a Goddess and a God, and they meet outside in nature, instead of some scary old building. They think sex is GOOD not evil, and you want to know where to sign up.
Distinguishing Signs:
Mispronounces god/dess names, has to think a moment about which is deosil and which is widdershins. Has a shiny new athame (rhymes with "A-frame".)
Heroic and vikingly, these pagans often get into trouble with festival organizers and park rangers due to their fondness for running around with a huge battle-ax in one hand and a full mead horn in the other. They throw the best parties, but if you're a wimp, you're expressly not invited.
Distinguishing Signs:
Look for the large, foreboding, biker-like persons wearing runes, with many pounds of amber dangling from their necks.
Monster Truck Pagan:
Can grow their own food, build their own house, sew their own clothes, home school their children and brew their own mead. Are looking forward to the bleak, post-apocalyptic world postulated by the environmentalists as they can't wait to run amok through the country, worshipping ancient gods, blowing up strip malls and rutting on the divider line of every interstate.
Distinguishing Signs:
Resourceful, clever and very well versed in the U. S. Constitution. Eats meat with visible twitches of pleasure. is aware that primitive religions have nothing to do with crystals, Atlantis or unicorns. Can assume a properly smiley work persona at the drop of a hat. Constantly glances around the room anxiously looking for co-workers and their spies. Non-distinctive hair, no conspicuous tattoos.
... You may be a monster-truck pagan if your anointing oil is 30 weight.
... You may be a monster truck pagan if cakes & wine means tailgate party.
... You may be a monster truck pagan if Autumn is the Burning Time.
I Am Not Spock (at the moment):
Knows at least three filks about Cthulhu and at least forty Star Trek jokes. Has found a clever way to create simple furniture from stacks of science fiction paperbacks. Can name ninety different kinds of space ship.
Distinguishing Signs:
Two fisted drinking style. Probably still lives with parents. Many cryptic buttons, badges, patches and other insignia. Too smart for their own good.
Crowley-In-A-Past-Life:
Every magical gathering has at least one of these, along with several variants along the lines of Gerald Gardner, Tituba, Morgan LeFey, or somebody who was Atlantean royalty. Many of them were abducted by aliens recently, and have disturbing dreams rich with arcane symbolism that they will tell you all about, in great detail.
Distinguishing Signs:
Look for the intense gleam in the eyes, the backpack rattling with various psychiatric medications, and the garments that were clearly designed and tailored on another planet.
Ravin' Pagan:
Young and psychedelic. Can dance non-stop all night. Refuses to do boring Eurocentric rituals and prefers deities from sunny climes with lots of interesting local plants. Can say "Ayahuasca" ten times real fast and deliver long quotes from Terrence McKenna.
Distinguishing Signs:
Dresses in color combinations that hurt the eyes unless you've taken ecstasy. Bloodshot eyes, blissful smile, never goes anywhere without ritual drum.
Childe Ov Kaos:
Can name seventeen industrial goth bands without pausing to think. Knows what a Prince Albert is. Personally feels that if no panicky headlines appear the day after you do a ritual, you screwed up. Painted on their jacket, engraved in their flesh and/or boldly displayed as jewelry is an emblem which resembles a combination of corporate logo and arcane symbol. If you don't know what it means, they'll think you're a dweeb.
Distinguishing Signs:
Easy to picture as an alternative musician or bike messenger, difficult to visualize as a school teacher or research assistant, impossible to imagine as a TV news anchor or bank officer. Always wears black leather, even when sleeping.
Womyncentric Gynocrat
A man's shadow crossed her altar once and she spent three weeks purifying it. She'll have no wands in her chalice, thank you. No boys allowed in her full-moon club. Can hold forth for hours on the magical properties of menstrual blood.
Distinguishing Signs:
Tiny axes or curved knives, just right for amputating a penis, are a favored symbol and often hang conveniently from her body parts. When a man approaches she rolls her eyes and stops talking.
Bright-Eyed Novice:
You just read this cool book about a religion where there's a Goddess and a God, and they meet outside in nature, instead of some scary old building. They think sex is GOOD not evil, and you want to know where to sign up.
Distinguishing Signs:
Mispronounces god/dess names, has to think a moment about which is deosil and which is widdershins. Has a shiny new athame (rhymes with "A-frame".)