From a story told to me by my beloved friend, Frater Zentra El.
So I was in the UK visiting some people from the IOT. They invited me to a picnic at a park somewhere north of London. It was a good time, sort of a family event. I saw this old guy walk past me with a piece of cake on a plate that he was shoveling into his mouth. Cake crumbs were all over his shirt. Someone leaned over to me and said, “that’s Peter J. Carroll.”
“The guy with the cake on his shirt?” I asked.
I kind of lost all respect for him that day.
Okay, I’m the first to admit that this is totally petty. I mean, maybe he’s just a Buddha and doesn’t give a shit if he has cake on his shirt? Then I look back at my time hanging out on Arcanorium and all the bullshit racist shit he said about Muslims, and how he wanted to use the Knights of Chaos to fight against Islam. Cake or no cake, like many thinkers and folks who made significant discoveries, he’s a twat. So he’ll always be that “cake-eating twat” to me.