Nerding Day: Pendulum Craft (Patreon)

I get it, magick’s more than summoning demons. For example, charts like this:

Behold fate’s anus. Its possibilities are infinite (well, eight (well, four (well, three and a do-over))). The only problem: I don’t have the skills or patience to use it. Even though “rephrase” implies the spirits aren’t too decisive.

Time to adapt. While most publishing-friendly mages can’t or won’t summon demons, everyone claims to see the future. Leaving me a choice: keep swimming upstream, or learn to see how that ends.

My gut says to settle. Let’s try scrying.

Scrying ways to summon demons. Future demons. Doom 2016 demons with diesel blood and chainsaw teeth. Or maybe old demons that went a few rounds with Gabriel. The second-toughest archangel’s still a fine hire.

Failing that, I’ll watch statesmen live forever. Pendulum Craft promises power to anyone with an intact wrist and broken bracelet.

At least, I hope it does. I take a lot of suggestions, and screen none of them. Choosing and understanding pendulums might be as useful as choosing and understanding ape gifs. Fate’s anus is from the last chapter, which makes me even less sure.

How’s Fox pitch stringmancy?

Alright, that’s what this isn’t. What is this? How many times do I have to walk-the-dog to spy on my grandkids? Do I have grandkids? Is there even a planet? Let’s move this along, I want to snipe a good deal on North Ivankan real estate.

Wishy-washy in the extreme. All that’s missing is a fundraising text, or mumbled request for president kidnapping paperwork. Granted, a thousand Bruce Lee clones swear by that line. I assume you read Friday’s articles? Take what works is the first date version of I have nothing.

I’m re-mistified. But Fox saw cynics coming:

Channeling’s how most books on fighting, courtship, statecraft, lifting, divorce assets, and personal memoir are written. Fox just gets to admit it.

Wherever Pendulum Craft goes from here, that’s free game. We can use this. Modern life’s built on channeling. The FDA’s traded mortal studies for steadfast channeling. I was channeling at the altar. Henceforth, making shit up is for the church. We channel bullshit.

I’m de-re-mistified.

A properly channeled nickname. I hope Fox signs future books as “THE WITCH CRUCIFIXVI.” That’s how you thrive in a mad world. Who would you pay for time katas: Fox from HR, or THE WITCH CRUCFIXVI? Fox waits for your answer, while THE WITCH CRUCIFIXVI invoiced you last June.

Disappointing, I’d prefer a nutcase. I’m a deeply irrational person that wants to conquer time. And I’ll bend my views of physics, morals, and the word rational around that goal. Honestly, I’ll never understand clinging to unnamed peer reviews over immortality. But I can respect it.

Unless…is Fox channeling? Right now?

Oh, Fox is channeling like CBS, which now channels like Fox. “Blame my constellation” is the biggest channel without Nvidia or a pope. Granted, buying into pendulums and mocking star signs seems arbitrary. And is. But I’ve also been bitten twice, so pretend it’s that. Your channeling will improve.

Before studying the strange, I’d question an expert that wasn’t. I’d say that I can swing a necklace and daydream by myself, for free. Now, I recognize that cynicism for what it is: sales poison. Backlash to egoist misrule’s up, so humble gurus are in.

Still, Fox hedges a lot. Before our first string they’ve undermined the research they didn’t do into the art they don’t understand which we can take or leave. Not very THE WITCH CRUCFIXVI. I don’t know what unseen prosecutor or insult comic they’re preparing for, because I don’t read my own work. Too wordy for my taste. But this could be my chance to reflect. To get one of those spiritual lives my sister goes on about.

Forging ahead. Jumping a chapter’s basically reading the future.

Hard to say. Some living scientists might have clues. While we’re at it, what would Cleopatra think of headspins? I bet she’d be impressed. She might even leave Marc Anthony on read (in a dungeon) to behold their splendor. Or have me burned, hard to say. All my search tags are fire-related, so I’m good either way. My tangent helps use, choose, and understand pendulums as well as any of Fox’s channeling.

Fascinating. I’ll skip pages until the book starts.

Neat.

Finally, applied string. After all the keepaway, I’m excited like Donnie at Chuck E. Cheese. Okay, that’s gross—Donnie running Miss Teen USA for twenty years. Okay, that’s gross—Donnie on Ivanka’s birthday. Okay, that’s gross—Donnie in a dedicated White House chamber.

While a Bible makes sense, my reputation in heaven is…mixed. I’ll use my holy book.

The Hayabusa spirits are with me. Next, a test question:

Where the demons at?

The demons are at “Yes.” Handy, though one slam-dunk guess doesn’t confirm the powers at work here. Here’s a more robust sample:

Cleidomancy has no limits, because it does fuck-all. The gods turn into yes-men when my hands shake, and it’s ten below me stepping outside. And string forbid I ask a non-yes/no question. I’d have to take answers in morse code.

An amazing visual that, without digging up my trusty shears and sieve, I assume faces the shaking problem. And adds a finger loss problem. Magickal forensics sound rough, though no rougher than eyewitness testimony (a modern form of channeling). In fact, I’d rather face the shears than a US jury.

Still, these are pre-industrial pendulums. Swinging’s evolved, as any cruise regular can tell you. Now that they’ve found their pace, Fox can show us modern, useful techniques.

Or modern, less useful navel-scrying. After all the self-crowned masters of reality, it’s almost refreshing to meet someone dedicated to teaching nothing. Almost.

Note that Fox says this world. You’re free to appropriate in the afterlife, which explains why the megachurch crowd is so eager to die.

Like the strongest mages, Fox sees forbidden knowledge and says “Sorry, sir. Understood, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”

Somewhat nostalgic, with today’s debate around bullets per migrant/sympathizer/bystander. The House leans toward dumping the clip, while senators have tough questions about reloading. But you probably opened the string magick article for a break from the nazi plague. You deserve one.

You can also get fucked, I guess. Fox writes live from a crashing blimp (2025), and focuses as well as any passenger. Familiar, somehow. Perhaps another chance for introspection.

I’ll let a pendulum decide, after Fox trains us.

Bet you skimmed that.

I respect screaming at the whole Wendy’s. In fact, using sorcery to explore mass madness sounds like something a hilarious genius would try. But your crystal-nudging tutorial has to start eventually. Modern attention spans are have you seen No Other Choice? Premium flick. It talks about pinning your madness to external forces.

Not Fox’s fault. Everyone gets a free Kristi Noem voodoo doll, seen by three siblings, two dates, and one landlord. What matters is gracefully channeling your core point. And having a core point.

I don’t know where Fox is pulling us or why.

Their point: hypnotic pendants are fake nonsense for morons, unlike scrying or alchemy. Not very fair to Hypno, who replaced Alakazam for lonely children. Though I just force-fed Charmander TMs until the credits, so ask a Pokemon Master.

Take or leave my brilliant commentary, but put Fox in a museum. They’re a deluxe sample of a shattered generation or three. Fox would’ve thrived if life stopped at pretending old Twitter had value. Instead, they’re stuck grifting a world changing faster than Nintendo can resell the same game.

There’s fun to be had here, if you stop pushing for a nonexistent purpose, and pick at whatever message falls out. Kind of like a Ouija board.

Kind of like a talking board. Quality Wikipedia trivia. You can use a pendulum with a talking board, instead of that block friends enjoy pushing together. Two flavors that blend perfectly, like ghost peppers and oral.

And we’re back! Shame, I wanted to riff on Pokemon Yellow. Game Freak barely recolored that one. Still, six chapters in is a fine time for pendulum lessons to start. We’ll be swinging by Volume Three.

Or Volume Two: since we can’t go wrong, this section’s probably short.

Is ivory wrong? You can just say it. It’s your spellbook. I’ll miss my poaching trips, but they’re a fair trade for Powerball numbers.

Seize the crown, Fox. Focus. The Witch CRUCIFIXVI is inside you.

Got it, avoid animals or be a broke racist. Roger.

Got it, you can use animals, but the spirit world is segregated. Roger. No police dog bones. In fact, I’ll stick to plants.

Got it, avoid plants if they’re standoffish. Ro…ger? I think? Let’s say I can talk to flowers. In most cities, flowers seem moody. Here in MegaCity One, they scream all day. That’s like permission to kill them. Should I ask my string for permission too? It side-eyes me like Mississippi hemp.

Better question: what can I use?

Somehow, Pendulum Craft is our first spellbook to cite fantasy media. I see why: the recursion makes my head hurt. It’s like getting divorced to forget your sports car, or racism fueling your micropenis. Fox is the real deal: they’ve turned reality into a nesting doll.

I have an old metal doodad lying around. But first, let’s check some other options.

Cleidomancy says this isn’t a filler list. I trust it more than my long-term memory.

Mine’s stuck in my ninja bible.

Odd picks after the appropriation chatter, but continuity would add eighty more pages of hand-wringing. Roll with it.

Smartphone addiction works for a solid astral tether, but consider the soup spoon. It’s a quality intimidation move. The spirits will assume you’re insane or hungry, but you’ve probably eaten.

Note for the weak-crotched: Yoni eggs train your fuck-muscles and immune system. Making this the stealthiest way to carry your pendulum. I endorse this option with all my authority as assistant FDA director. Don’t mess with time if you can’t handle a little infection.

Prescription bottle opens a min/maxing wormhole. Does scrying power vary with medication? Dosage? Backing megacorporation? For a science-based caster, Fox misses a perfectly good sponsorship opening. In my hands, this list would be ranked by deposit size. But my channeling’s never been subtle.

Good thing there are no wrong answers. Because I’ve only got this:

A surveillance pendant’s cursed remains. Even with a dead power-washed battery, Satan’s scent lingers. An AI wearable’s a problem for your children’s children. Hopefully that’s enough daemon power for channeling.

Right, the pendant choice didn’t matter. My method doesn’t matter. What I ask doesn’t matter. Just existing, and avoiding colonial adventures. This is The Stranger, retold with terminal anxiety. Whether I learn or not, Fox and I are headed to the same place: the discount bin.

Right, there too. Nonetheless, I read on. You can fall through life, or base jump.

As in talk to it? Done. Friend said more in one day than Fox has in nine chapters. Still, for ritual, I’ll ask the corpse (which I won’t recharge for magick or a joke) some icebreakers.

The answers seem promising:

We’re on the cusp. If Fox gives us just one more crumb of knowledge, we’ll know the time and date of Sam Altman’s seppuku.

Wow, rebranded faith healing! This sounds really, really useful. Worth every neuron. But maybe we could focus on colonizing pillaging running time?

I’m healed now. The power of Christ swings through me. To celebrate, can we spare some time for time?

What? That doesn’t sound like Fox. They’re the picture of a focused book finisher. Which is why they’ll teach us divination, and I won’t cry. Everyone wins!

Yeah, life’s hard. Learning to read the future would save me some tear gas. Want to help, Fox? Want to throw in, Fox? Did you forget your deadline, Fox? My blood pressure’s making me serious, and disconnecting me from patience.

I respect a good preamble. Since we’re in chapter ten of eleven, quick editorial note: how do I see the future with rocks? It’d make a fun book.

Fucking hell. Fox is out to lunch, and I’m forty spellbooks deep. I’m assuming direct control.

First, we’ll need a talking board for clarity. My real friends think this is dumb, so we’ll even keep the pendulum around. Fox has this blank pendulum board template in the back, after a few more chapters about Supernatural. And fate’s anus.

It’ll do. In fact, we only need five slots. Here’s the Official Hotdog Future Sieve:

That looks like bullshit to me, too. But I haven’t channeled yet. Back to our test questions:

What’s hell like?

Did a second person buy you?

Will the bubble pop before spring?

Does Sara like me?

Where the demons at?

Motherfucker! Endless pages of mental diarrhea, and I can’t even get an imp to flip me off in person. This is horseshit. I want a refund from the universe.

What happened to the new year? To new chances? Am I doomed to repeat the dipshit mistakes of the past forever?

Holy balls, divination! My powers grow by the minute.

My powers grow by the decade?

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: John McCammon who has his sigils, and enby pendant. Now cast your spells up at me.

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