The Alan Parsons Project and Earth, Wind, And Fire are demons. Didn't you know?

Did you know that the bands you hear on the radio station at the DMV are actually occult emissaries? It's true, they're exactly like Pokémon!


According to this old-school TV host — who I'm unfortunately not familiar with — the music your uncle blasts when he burns incense in the garage is basically a tin-can-and-string leading straight into the bowels of Hell. Or, as Earth, Wind, And Fire call it, the "Boogie Wonderland." I never knew my mom's cell phone ringtone was an occult mantra.

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Y'know, old school televangelists used to be a lot more fun and unhinged (funhinged?) than they are today. The mainstreaming of rock music, "occult" imagery, drug culture, R-rated movies with nudity and foul language in the '70s and '80s (to say nothing of gay rights, feminism, and the civil rights movement) must have seemed like the end of the world to a bunch of uneducated religious white guys whose worldview was shaped by '40s and '50s rural America. That long-haired kid in the Led Zeppelin T-shirt? Not just a harmless stoner, but an agent of Lucifer in our very midst.

I grew up in North Texas, during these guys' early-to-mid '80s heyday, and while I was never religious or culturally conservative, I could understand their appeal. Suddenly R.E.O. Speedwagon and Styx aren't just mediocre FM rock bands, but Satanic conspirators whose songs are filled with diabolical meanings. Dungeons & Dragons isn't just a game, but a means of indoctrinating teenagers into devil worship. Proctor & Gamble is a front for the Antichrist. Video games promote atheism. Cagney & Lacey is a lesbian conspiracy. And so on. Seriously, someone should write a horror novel/urban fantasy set in a parallel 1982 where all that shit was real.

Nowadays these guys, if they're still around, can barely get worked up over people eating macaroni at Thanksgiving, or getting people to buy protein shakes to ensure longevity (but doesn't that mean you're just putting off arriving in Heaven?). Don't get me wrong; I won't miss these guys, and the friendly, all-inclusive mega-church personalities are no great improvement; in many ways, their supposed ecumenism masks a much more sinister agenda. But the '80s, big hair, gun-totin', rock-despising, all modern culture is a conspiracy televangelist was, in its own way, a unique form of outsider American folk art. You can see why Reagan era performance artists imitated those guys.