My journey towards bowing to the feet of the Lord of Darkness has been a long one. I can’t be sure exactly where it began, if it was when I started using coconut flour to cut gluten out of my family’s diet, or if the seeds of demon worship were planted in me when I was forcing my kids to drink chlorella-and-milk-thistle smoothies to detox their livers. But I am pretty sure that by the time I threw out all our pediatric Tylenol and replaced it with colloidal silver, my love of Ammit, the eater of souls, was already being well established.
The fish oil to Mammon pipeline is surprisingly short. One minute you’re fermenting your own cider, and next thing you know, you’re pledging the souls of your offspring to Gruumsh, he who never ceases in human destruction. I admit that it must have been part of my online algorithm, because it was within weeks of buying that anti-fluoride chelating solution that I started getting targeted ads promising me a seat at the right hand of the Fallen One.
