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Occult Philosophy

Occult Philosophy


I’m gonna be real with you – I titled this post as I did just because I know people will be looking into occult philosophy, and although neither of these two terms – “Occult” or “Philosophy” – will be competing in the Google SEO realm quite like… say… “Jennifer Lopez Ass Implant (I think it’s real, J-Lo. Call a brother sometime.), I do know that many people find the philosophy of the Hermetics interesting.

My name is Devin. I write comics. I make clothes. I blog, apparently, although this is just as much news to you as it is to me. I sell occult influenced apparel and if we have an issue, I suggest you get back to searching for J-Lo’s missing lovechild on Google. If you’re into that freaky demonology type shit, http://www.beetlemilk.com is the address.

As a writer, I believe that it’s important to establish very early in the story what exactly you are trying to say. A statement of intent. That first paragraph? That was my statement of intent. I shouldn’t be writing this out, should trust you to draw your own inferences, but fuck it. In that paragraph I showed at least a passing knowledge of occult philosophy (Not complete though, I’m about halfway through The Kybalian), as well as Google SEO best practices. I go on to establish that I’m a writer/entrepreneur and frame my credentials as a storytelling tactic.

This blog is not about me, Devin, who wears so many hats and looks AMAZING in them. This blog is about the journey of learning how to kick ass and take names as an artist (writing is an art, shut up) and CEO. From Demonology to Facebook ads, I’ll cover it all – because I want to.

So, where to start?

I guess I should say something about where I’ve come from, where I’m going, and I’d like to thank god and the Academy, or something…


Y’all will figure it out over time.

No, I want to talk about dreams. Not like literal dreams about J-Lo (Hi, Kanye). I want to talk about the type of dreams that you won’t allow yourself to dream. Maybe it’s because you’re scared. Maybe it’s because your mama doesn’t like you. Don’t feel bad, I feel you. Maybe it’s because our socio-economic structure is focused around keeping the wealthy where they are and repressing the rights of the downtrodden in a commercialistic version of communism where the upper class counts as the government due the proliferation of lobbyists in the highest halls of our great nation? Fucking fuck, don’t get me started.

It was nice not being on the FBI watchlist. Orwell, meet Devin.

Seriously though, Think this through. You are an artist of some type. Painting, blogging… law. I mean, the gates to becoming an artist aren’t that high. Rick Rubin is arguably the world’s most famous producer and he just sat on the couch eating Cheetos out of his beard when Slipknot were recording Volume 3. It really isn’t all that complicated. He probably caused System of a Down to break up, whatever. Normal day to day shit.

So, you are an artist of some type (If you aren’t good at anything, get off this blog and pick up a book. I don’t know if your parents told you, but the world only pays talented and/ or sexy people. Everyone else gets to languish in the lower or middle classes – IF THEY ARE LUCKY.), and if you think for some reason that you can’t be like the Army in the 90’s, All You Can Be (Iraq veteran here, you’re welcome)…

Well, you’re wrong.

And I have proof.

Paris Hilton (Low hanging fruit, I know.)

The Kardashians (Lower.)

Every Instagram influencer in the History of History (Except Gary Vee… does he count?)

Every one of them have no talents that any of us can locate besides being hot to a good portion of society. Oh, and they somehow figured out how to turn themselves into multimillion dollar brands and will never work another day in their life. Unless, you know, they want to. That might not apply to the influencers, but they make more money than me. Which is cool, go get yours, booboo.

So if talentless sex objects can become market forces, what stops you? I’m assuming you have at least a little talent. Or maybe you’re sexy (Before you ask, I’m flattered but I’m happily married, kthxbai). I don’t know you. I’d like to, though. Drop a comment. Say what’s up.

All you need are the tools.

And before you ask, yes, I have a few of them. BeetleMilk has sold hundreds of comics, done several interviews, does thousands in revenue at conventions and online, and has an active campaign on petition.org to shut down our business because we sell Satanic imagery to kids.

Ok, I lied about that last one. I WISH that was true. Corpus Christi, I’d love the press. Somebody start one and send me a wink emoji so I know it was you.

The best part about this blog, though, besides my near-Deadpool levels of wit, is that I’m learning too! So you get to hang out while I make the mistakes for you. Yes, that’s the biggest part of this. Making mistakes. Like dropping four new designs on the same day with at least ten variants each, leading to massive chaos with your T-Shirt supplier. That was last month. I’m a genius.

Ok, so cool.

I’ve established my alibis.

Back next week.


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