Upsetting Day: Satanic Ritual Abuse – A Therapist’s Handbook 🌭

We explore a lot of esoteric things here on 1-900-🌭, but today I’m going to talk about a book everyone can relate to– a guidebook specifically for therapists treating patients with multiple personalities who were hypnotized into murdering their siblings by feces-eating Satanic cults.

In 1994, Dee Brown published the definitive guide to identifying and curing childhood blood orgy trauma with Satanic Ritual Abuse – A Therapist’s Handbook. I want you to take a moment to picture how crazy this book is going to be before reading the most predictable sentence I’ve ever typed. I’m your real father and this book is so much fucking crazier than you could ever imagine.

As a therapist, Dee started specializing in satanic ritual abuse survivors after one of her patients didn’t reveal to her how she was abused by a sex cult. Dee sensed some satanic ritual abuse stories coming, but chickened out before hearing them. She felt like a coward! A fool! She vowed never to do it again, and it’s very possible she overcompensated by diagnosing all future problems with “satanic ritual abuse.”

But before she teaches us, her fellow non-insane therapists, how to diagnose devil cult mind control, Dee explains exactly what we’re dealing with with Satan worshippers.

It’s all pretty standard stuff. Teen girls are used as breeding stock for the dark lord after a childhood of stabbing babies to death and eating their genitals while getting their own genitals burned and shocked after being “cut severely with knives, particularly in the genital area.” It’s almost impossible for Dee Brown to have so little knowledge about so many things she couldn’t spot the holes in a story about hundreds of murderers getting together to operate a baby blood factory.

What’s it like being a pediatrician in this town? Calling one of your 50 pregnant teenage patients about her checkup and hearing, “Hello? Oh, hi, doctor. Yeah, I had the baby a few days ago, but I… misplaced it? Yeah, it sucks. No, don’t worry about it. Thanks for checking in. What? Genital-eating ritual? No, this is just a normal missing baby. Ha ha, you’re right! It does seem to happen a lot to the girls of Quiet Town of Forbidden Secrets High!”

I’m only kidding. Dee obviously addresses how there’s no proof of any of this except the testimony of actual crazy people as told to the world’s most gullible therapist.

You might say a lack of proof is only more proof of Satan’s power. Or at least proof this goes all the way to the top. All it takes is a few cops and a mayor with a taste for baby genitals and you can cover up a couple hundred murders and several thousand missing children in the same town no problem. And hold up, you sure are acting lackadaisical for someone against eating babies. Do you want them to get away with it? Why are you so eager for us to think this obviously dumb thing is stupid?

Let Dee explain how all this works:

See, the way these sex murderers get away with it is they don’t sex murder all the time. A dentist might put his penis away and wash off the drifter blood before he cleans your teeth. This makes it difficult, maybe even unlikely, to catch them in the act. “I believe all of this, breathlessly, and in fact I’m going to put it in my book,” said Dee Brown to her patient. “Oh? That reminds you of the time your grade school principal had sex with you for an entire school day? And then a skeletal boatman took you to a toddler juicing with the local minister and Vice President Dan Quayle? Why, yes, I of course still believe every word you’re saying. Who would make this up? A lonely, disturbed person being rewarded for it? Outrageous.”

Another trait of Dee’s is she never seems to focus on the important details. As you saw above, she’ll make a paragraph-long list of possible careers Satan worshippers can pursue and then devote maybe half a sentence to the sexual assault of a 7-year-old in broad daylight. It seems like someone believing that story could look up the victim’s grade school. I mean, that’s a solid lead, right? The name and exact location of a man responsible for untold numbers of sex crimes and homicides? These people are so loose with it, it honestly seems like you could walk up to him and say, “I’m from the cult two towns over. I heard you’re the guy to talk to about feasting on the flesh of the innocent?” Or you could follow him and make a careful note of which buildings he comes out of covered in blood.

I worry Dee Brown spends so much time listening to the gruesome stories of her patients’ multiple personalities that she has lost perspective on what’s actually strange. Like here how she talks about a cult family getting together for some killing and raping at a potluck. Wait, potluck? Fucking POTLUCK!? Did that murderer cook a goddamn casserole!? You’re telling me the man who, I don’t know, forced his child to carve the penis off a newborn or whatever brought a covered dish to a party!? No. No, this is nuts. This is so fucked.

I’m going to share one more long quote from the book because it’s important to me you understand how often Dee repeats these same details. She spends sixty pages rewording the same description of the least imaginative person’s Pictionary drawing of “satan ritual.” Every word she writes is both pointless and made up– little flourishes that only illustrate how she can’t detect a lie. She’s so stupid she thinks she’s arming you with knowledge by telling you cultists chant in a circle wearing “robes that are black, white, brown, or red.” So feel free to let your guard down if you see a goat getting fucked to death by hooded figures in blue or animal print.

Maybe by this point you’re saying, “Okay, she’s dumb as shit, but what’s the harm in believing huge parts of society are run by secret rape cults?” And maybe I agree. She seems to have only good intentions, and she’s only diagnosing vulnerable people with a controversial disorder brought on by completely fabricated trauma. It’s not like she’s denying the Holocaust.

Oh. Oh no.

I think we should move on to ways you, yourself can diagnose your patients with the common medical condition of “forgot I’ve been in a murder cult my entire life.” One easy way to tell is if your patient has an eating disorder. Do they eat too much? Not enough? Probably satanic abuse.

Is their life kind of indescribably a mess? Because that’s one of the symptoms of getting satanically abused.

Do they sometimes feel down around the holidays? Some experts call these “seasonal mood fluctuations,” which is a cowardly way of saying “you ate baby genitals for Christmas your entire childhood.”

If your patient says they are sometimes sad but it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Christmas, that’s worse. It means they have seasonal affective disorder, only for satanic seasons. Let me pull up Appendix B like Dee suggests so we can see some major devil holidays.

So if you’re sad around the 1st, 7th, 17th, or 29th of January, it’s probably because those are the days your body misses sex orgies and human sacrifices. Most of April is taken up with sex orgies as well, but the only thing on the Satanic Calendar for May is “Easter,” a satanic parody of Easter. Again, this book is for highly skilled therapists only, but next time you’re depressed in May ask yourself, “Am I sad? Or do I just miss the comical sendup of Jesus’ resurrection performed by goat-masked men who made me drink piss and stab eleven of my infant siblings?”

Dee Brown seems completely blind to how deranged and imaginary all of this is, while at the same time writing the literal book on how to defeat it. It’s so strange I’m not sure there’s an analogy to explain it. There is a basketball player who shares a name with her, but he’s most famous for winning a dunk contest with an eyes-closed slam. Is there maybe a sports metaphor hiding there? I feel like there’s got to be some kind of, I don’t know, parallel between Dee Brown blindly dunking on nobody and Dee Brown blindly dunking on nobody. I’ve got it! Both Dee Browns are pretty sure hall-of-famer Kevin McHale drinks human blood! It’s why he gets sad near Easter!

By far the best thing about Dee Brown, the therapist, not the 1991 NBA dunk champion, is how she does art therapy. She lets grown adults with no artistic training express themselves with murder cartoons, and she included the best ones in her book. As proof? For fun? I don’t know, but when the child inside your patient draws a naked man chopping a sex doll in half, you’re going to put it in the book.

I know what NBA dunk champion would say about this drawing. He’d say, “Wow, you know less about axes than you do about penises. You draw like your art teacher tasers genitals at blood orgies. That’s right, I can dunk off the court too, bi– oh, your art teacher did taser your genitals at blood orgies? I’m sorry, ma’a– hey, look. I said I was sorry; how could I know? Your story’s ridiculous.”

When I see this I think, “What kind of monster asked a four-year-old to draw a picture of a jack o’lantern fucking an ice cream cake?” When Dee sees it she notes the dick, gasp, sort of looks like a, second gasp, goat’s head. This thing’s hands look like cats trying to intimidate themselves in mirrors. And he’s screaming, “I WILL CONTROL YOU! TOTALLY I CAN! YES! I CAN!” If you’re going to spell the art out this plainly, why are you drawing at all? Save yourself the embarrassment and use your words to say, “My hypnotist’s penis had the head of a goat and I’m the little boy in his tummy with one weird foot. It’s probably why I’m sad near Easter.”

Dee’s patients draw with a dreamlike logic, partly because baby impaling isn’t an exact science and partly because there’s an idiot in the room who seems fascinated by every nonsense detail they make up. So blood chalices can float and candelabras can have arms and no one will stop them to say, “What the shit is this? How would any of this work? You know you can talk. Or draw torsos. You’re a grown woman, not a feral child Jodie Foster found in a psychological thriller. There is no need to deliver any of this information through dream cartoon.”

So Dee, you’re saying if a non-coward, such as yourself,was to believe this patient, and you do, they would want to be on the lookout for an awkwardly-shaped man with an eight person wingspan. Looks like NBA hall-of-famer Kevin McHale just went from being unlikely reference to lead suspect. You know, this also makes sense out of why he famously chanted, “Power! Kill torture Burn Burn The Knife Knife!” before every free throw.

This one looks like something went wrong with the sacrifice ropes and two bumbling cultists are trying to catch all the baby blood. And all the other attendees, from stick figure to chimpanzee, are embarrassed to be there. Is it, like, a comedy skit? Oh shit, is this the Easter parody they were talking about? Ha ha this fucking sucks, Satan.

I guess when Lucy Bloodscream-Beast goes to work on Monday her co-workers will say, “I wasn’t expecting you to see you so soon! I heard your baby was made into a milkshake for The Devil. Oh, don’t worry about it. Most everyone here is cool. Plus, we’re all going to completely forget it happened unless we find a really, just, amazing therapist decades from now. Let us know if you need anything. My last four pregnancies were all milkshaked. By choice! With the yard and the timeshare, Tom and I simply don’t have time to torture and blood-fuck a bunch of rugrats.”

Okay, so now you know how to identify satanic ritual abuse and how to appreciate satanic ritual abuse art, so it’s time to start fixing it. Let’s look at Chapter 5: The Work Begins, which opens in a way more incredible than anything else in the entire book.

So if you’re treating someone who has “multiple personalities” from “a lifetime of ritualistic torture” by a “worldwide cabal of blood sorcerers,” the first thing you want to do –the first thing– is to make sure you’re not “too perfect” a therapist. Fuck up your office a little to let them know you aren’t an undercover cultist. There will never be anything as perfectly funny as the author of this book, this credulous retelling of conspiracy theories from the literal insane, thinking her main flaw and the very first one her readers expect her to address is how she’s too good at her job. The second thing to do? I guess it’s probably remembering all the names of your clients’ multiple personalities.

“Okay, Red, I get you’re mad. But I need to talk to Cece for a minute. No, I can’t tell you why. Yes, I know she’s the personality in charge of tolerating being buried underground. Yes, I can see how that might be suspicious. But you can trust me. Would someone working in an office this strangely -almost deliberately- cluttered bury you alive to see if it therapeutically cures devil magic? Look. I’m a ‘doctor’ and you’re a pissed off fifth grader living inside an alcoholic divorcee. Get in the coffin and call Cece, Red.”

Something to watch out for when you’re treating cult survivors is how cults have an entire portion of their membership whose job is keeping tabs on escaped members. Luckily, the stakes are lower than you think. These are people who have murdered several times a week for decades, but they would never kill to protect a secret. Not even a secret that could get them crudely drawn in a therapy book.

So instead of killing former members, they perform subtle hypnotic gestures like tapping on a phone receiver or mailing them a clown doll. It can be anything, which makes your job as a therapist that much harder. Is that a new UPS man? Your client’s former cult could easily have a level 4 blood wizard in UPS middle management. Should you train a rifle on your client’s front door in case local kidnappers want to force them to attend a barn murder? Wait, did your husband seem a bit distant around May of last year? How deep does this go!? 

In conclusion, check with your therapist to make sure they’re not completely and irresponsibly apefuck crazy.

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This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme, Timmy Leahy: Who has never once eaten the feces of Satan. Not once. Not even ONE time, just to see what it was like. NEVER.