by
Jaye B.
(editor’s note: a friend mentioned Jack Parsons yesterday causing me to remember the review below that I wrote back in ‘05 for Feral House publishing. We were talking about scapegoats, so no surprise, seeing Jack was one of them.)
Jack Parsons, the California based rocket scientist/visionary functioned as a kind of sacrificial poster boy, an ersatz Ahriman for not only the Military-Industrial but also the Occult complexes looming at large. His short, yet brilliant life as a promoter of explosives ended in an ironically mysterious conflagration perhaps born of his own making, the kind of termination amounting to nothing more than foreshadowing apostrophe. Parsons possessed the kind of naivete needed to pull off such a stunt, a perverted innocence detrimental to his prospective future as a technical oracle. The forces at large working against him, mostly in the form of the vampiric thugs, namely Aleister Crowley and L. Ron Hubbard, took full advantage of Parson's inherent vulnerability. Fortunately, these sleazy con-archetypes and the tragedies they have promoted in the form of the Golden Dawn/OTO and Scientology are adequately exposed, in compelling fashion, in Sex and Rockets: The Occult Life of Jack Parsons (wisely written under the pseudonym of John Carter) published by Feral House. The book functions, in a balanced way, as both warning as well as entertainment.
The author's ability to resist sensationalizing the subject matter allows us to appreciate Jack Parson's own personal charisma and the susceptibility that lead to his demise. Whether or not Parsons was himself a sacrificial victim of the occult forces he attempted to entertain matters little in light of the glaring fact that black magic and rocket fuel should never be mixed. Obviously our anti-hero could not withstand the Gung Ho obliviousness of his peers at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California where he worked nor the cryptic repercussions of the Baby-Lon magick workings of Aleister Cowardly and L. Ron Hubbard, the dubious promoters of a kind of lower astral plane egotism so popular with most occult aficionados. Perhaps the many bastard Moon Children currently at large, spawned from such horrid rituals adequately described in Sex and Rockets have the needed insights to Parson's death and purpose in life hidden in their very genetic makeup. It shouldn't be too hard for us to find such orphans of sorcery. Many of these hatchlings are working for Microsoft now, much too comfortable with their ample stock options and pension plans to care about how indistinguishable the occult and technology have become. It is these heirs to the legacy of the founding Fathers and Mothers of Black Magick, American style, that our current missles should be aimed at. Perhaps that is what Jack was hinting at all along, between the lines of his pitiful self indictment, using his murder/accident/suicide as the fuel for his parabolic mission. Maybe a smidgen of conscience overtook Parsons in his final hour and he himself ignited his own witches brew that lead to his demise in a kind of combustible albeit altruistic Hari Kari that someday Hollywood will pay adequate homage to. If indeed he was murdered or even accidented into the afterlife, the irony of his incarnation will still pervade for years to come, thanks to the efforts and responsibility of the author of Sex and Rockets., whoever he or she may be.
©2005-Jaye B.
Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App , Ko-Fi or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
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Jaye B. is a writer, musician and artist. His art criticism has appeared in Art Paper, New North Artscape, Art Muscle, Northfield Magazine and elsewhere. His articles have also appeared in City Pages, Twin Cities Reader, Mysteries Magazine, Fahrenheit San Diego, High Plains Reader, New Dawn and Rain Taxi. He has appeared on BBC Radio, WGN Chicago, WLW Cincinnati and elsewhere in the mediasphere to discuss his work. Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App , Ko-fi or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
I wouldn’t cut any of them any slack, they all knew what they were getting into.