Wednesday, August 27, 2014

A Conversation* with Carman's "A Witches Invitation"

Carman was a thing that made me what I am. No regrets, but holy shit, guys.
This is nuts. 
"A Witches Invitation" by Carman was and is an evangelical music mainstay for its depiction of... 
ugh. Just read it.  
The standard is the song lyric, the bold is me . Never forget at any point that this is a song on a tape that KIDS listened to over and over and over again like it was fucking Raffi or some shit. This is a SONG!!! MUSIC SONG!

 One peaceful afternoon I picked up from my mailbox the strangest looking letter I'd ever seen,

  That’s called foreshadowing. 

a chilling little envelope bordered with flying bats, and serpents whose eyes were tinted green.

  Cool! Carman got invited to a Halloween party! Fun! 

The letter was addressed to me so as I opened it I froze. What I read turned my complexion three shades of blue.

  And Carman is pretty fuckin Italian, you know what I;m sayin. So turnin him blue, you know…

It said, "My name is Isaac Horowitz.

  Jew. Of course. Of course the witch is a jew. That’s why witches have that nose. Seriously. 

I'm a male witch, a warlock and I feel I need to spend some time with you."

  So far, Carman has been invited to a gay jew haloween party. Will he accept?

Now as a Christian from a little church with God's call on my life, a man of faith and power with a challenge to grow I did what any saint would do in my situation. I tore it up said, "Lord, no way I'm gonna go."


Then gently and methodically the Holy Spirit spoke and reminded me we're God's voice to our nation. It's the church's responsibility to witness, so reluctantly I accepted this witch's invitation.

  I have a suspicion that, if this is true, the Holy Spirit is Carman’s very curious labedo. “Gently and methodically?” Gross. 

He had the house you'd expect,

  What is the house you expect? I expect like a ranch style 3 bedroom with a garage in some shitty undriveable suburb where angry gangs of skateboarders with inner ear problems stalk the cul-de-sacs in ever tightening turns. I expect it is painted taupe.

the old English cottage,


a "Nightmare on Elm Street" special right to the core, the overgrown ivy, the gate that creaked when opened, somehow you'd expect Freddy to answer this door.

  If I had Freddy claws, I would have a hard time with doorknobs. At least at first. I’d Probably get used to it. 

The doorbell rang, a hollow gong, the knob twisted then opened, and Isaac stood before me with a grin. His jet black hair and well trimmed beard flowed with his black silk clothes. My skin crawled as he said, "Please come on in."

  Jew jew jew jew jew. Polite, but, jew. Ew.

His house was filled with every occultic

  Not actually a word, occultic. 

symbol you could fathom; Hanging pentagrams and horoscope signs, a Ouija board and dungeons and dragons game set on the table, a crystal ball with an incandescent shine.

  Did you play D & D as a kid? I didn’t. I burned a lot of manuals, though. Thanks, Carman, for helping me to be a fucking Nazi.

Then he led me to a high backed chair as he meticulously began to unfold his scenario with evil patience. I was given a giant leather bound book jammed with newspaper clipping,

  To recap: gay, jew, Halloween party, and with a scrapbooking theme. 

thus the reason for this witch's invitation. With eagerness he pointed to each article with pride. He said, "I healed this woman through a Babylonian chant; See this man, I cured him while performing druid worship; I was paid to curse this man with AIDS by his aunt."

  All joking aside. What kind of aunt wishes aids on her nephew? What the fuck happened there? I want to know THAT story, Carman! 

On and on, page after page, delightfully he flaunted each incident for an hour without a breath. He said, "Do you realize through my understanding of the dark regions that I can make you rich or even curse someone to death?" I sat literally intimidated by the immensity in demon power while his face shone with a satanic arrogant bliss. Then placing his hands on the arms of my chair and leaning into my face he said, "What can your God do to compete with this?"

  Considering the state of the middle east and peace on earth in general, I think this is a fair question to ask at this point. But Carman wants us to see this as an attack. Christians need to be the victims. But fuckin Issac, here, he is the only Satanist in town! He doesn’t have a church. He has a fucking craigs list ad. His house is full of candles and nine inch nails posters and it smells like ferret shit. He is the minority. He is powerless. He is silly and gross. Why do you have to pretend to be scared by this shit, you fucking greaseball? 

I knew then how Moses felt, how when his rod turned to a serpent and the three Egyptian magicians did the same. It's as if you're sitting there in that stunned moment while your faith get violated and all you feel is weak, powerless and lame.

  Somebody doesn’t enjoy the bottom experience. I hear a lot of regret and disappointment here.

I desperately and deeply prayed saying, "Jesus give me wisdom - I don't want to put you through some foolish test. Then a shaft of light shot through my soul lighting my eyes with fire.


God stood me up and I threw the book back in his chest.

  Oh. Is that all?

I said "Isaac, I'll not compare God's miracles versus Satan's - the issue's not God's kingdom and Satan's lair. The real comparison is the condition of your soul and the condition of mine, and you puppet of the devil, that I will compare. My friend, one day they're coming for you - the soft associates in your incantations - the friendly demons you think you now control. The time will come when you'll be lying in bed wheezing like a dying animal and those spirits lay claim to the rights they own to your soul." "Then the room will grow dark, and the most hideous evil faces will come flaming out of the floor with a yell! The vile informants that promised reincarnation will claw your spirit and victoriously drag your soul to hell!"

  Thiiiiis is a kiiiiiiiiids song. La alalalalalallalalallallallalaaallalla! 

Then I grabbed the book and said, "In that moment which mantra, which incantation you gonna chant to tell them to leave you alone? My friend, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt what I would say...'I'm bought with the blood of Jesus! Let me go!' "

  I don’t think he ever touched you, dude. You are gross. Go wipe your face. 

Then Isaac jumped up from his chair and screamed, "You must leave now!" I said, "I will, but one last obligation –

  Nope. Using a word wrong to set up a stupid rhyme with this stupid song’s stupid title. Nope. 

Next time think twice before you rumble with a man of God!!!

  Good Grief.

And by the way thanks for your.. uhh... witch's invitation.

  Go fuck yourself Carman. 

* Apologies and thanks to Fire Joe Morgan and Gin and Tacos

No comments:

Post a Comment