One of the most central concepts in mathematics is the number called “Pi”. It is the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter; and it occurs in matters so diverse it is not exaggeration to say all of mathematics is founded on pi.

Yet what is pi? It is but , the Greek letter so called. And why that letter? Some mathematicians, if pressed, unconvincingly argue this most central object of their study and worship is named after the first letter of the Greek word *periphereia*, meaning “periphery”; such an explanation is much too ridiculous to be believed. Most mathematicians profess or pretend ignorance if asked about this most central concept of theirs; and this too is much too ridiculous to be believed.

What mathematicians will never admit to outsiders is the letter also began another word — a name. And that name is Pythagoras.

Mathematicians are wise to not mention that name, for Pythagoras was one of the greatest devils of the Classical World; and much more a devil for being not one of Hell, but one of Earth. He was a patricide, a megalomaniacal cult leader not inferior to a Jim Jones or a Charles Manson, a hedonist, a sadist, a sodomite, and a bloody tyrant. In Diogenes Laertius one can read how, after coming up with a mathematical trifle that particularly pleased his twisted fancy, he offered a hecatomb to his gods.

And what is a hecatomb? Why, a burnt sacrifice of living beings, one of each kind or as much in number as makes no difference. In a typically wicked Grecian way men were counted among those kinds as well, and so two besotted virgin youths, captured by Pythagoras’ promises of knowledge, were offered to the flames. That was a mathematical celebration, the first but not the last of its kind.

And what was the result that pleased the tyrant so? It was something whose celebration did not cease with the hecatomb of that year, or any pagan or Christian year since — for it was that what mathematicians call the Pythagorean theorem! A trifle, they say, but one which plays a frighteningly central place in the droning rituals that mathematicians impress on young children; but that, if you were to ask a mathematician, is merely happenstance: a coincidence, nothing more, that such a blood-stained result should be the focus of the work of innocent young virgin celebrants down the count of ages, that they should unknowingly praise gods they do not know, instead of the One that deserves their worship. Happenstance, nothing more.

Happenstance, too, that though there are two editions of the book mathematicians tout as the sweetest flower and most supreme achievement of all Greek thought — all human thought, even — no student ever lays his eyes on any except the “common edition”. That book is the infernal Elements, or *Elementa*, of Euclid, whose self-given name translates as “the best and the most glorious”. That would be hubris; but for mathematicians stealing the attributes of God is nothing new. An admission which often slips from them is the old blasphemy of Bertrand Russell and his atheist kin: “to study mathematics is to become God”. Careless impiety, one would suppose, if there were no reasons to suspect something more sinister.

Pythagoras worshipped numbers, and calling himself a master of numbers elevated himself above them to supreme godhood, while descending in acts to the most depraved devilishness of murder and blasphemy; and likewise Euclid was a cult leader the Greeks feared more than their netherworld gods, or their dim idea of damnation. The first edition of the Elements — the one that schoolchildren have studied for centuries, their young minds altered by the necessity of recasting their thoughts to the model of that depraved old Greek’s obscure and torturous ramblings — that edition is the smaller one, the Open Book of Euclid. It contains mathematics divorced from life; mathematics with seemingly no purpose; pain, for no apparent purpose.

The Open Book’s twin, its “teacher’s companion”, is the Closed Book of Euclid, which few have seen, and which is the most diabolical and abominable text known to man. It “illuminates” the text of the Open Book. It derives from each result a lesson for licentious life; from each theorem a law for tyranny and torture; and in place of each of the Open Book’s axioms it sets a blood-drenched pagan god straight out of Hell. No wonder that when after the lull of the Middle Ages the study of mathematics became something pressed on children, much against the protests of the Holy Mother Church, all manner of monstrosities and deviations seldom or never before seen sprang up: sodomy, cannibalism, liberalism, suffragettism, licentiousness, genocide, Communism, Nazism, Socialism, even division in the Holy Mother Church herself, and warfare of one Christian nation against another! No wonder, if the brains of children are twisted by such veiled obscenities. No wonder that no matter how much you ask, a mathematician will never dare to admit the Closed Book exists — or that he has read it. To admit that would be to admit one’s inclusion among the most devilish caste of hellish cold villains and demons of the corruption of the young that have ever lived!

My brothers, my sisters, this is the reason for my call: Do not let your children be taught mathematics. Much better would be to let them become thieves or prostitutes than to let their minds become slaves to Pythagoras’ diabolical sin. That was why the Holy Father Augustine said,

Quapropter bono christiano, sive mathematici, sive quilibet impie divinantium, maxime dicentes vera, cavendi sunt, ne consortio daemoniorum animam deceptam, pacto quodam societatis irretiant.[The good Christian should beware the mathematician and all those who make empty prophecies. The danger already exists that the mathematicians have made a covenant with the devil to darken the spirit and to confine man in the bonds of hell.]

If his authority is not enough to convince us of this mortal danger in our midst, to make us act to crush this viper at our breast, then we all are lost.

* * *

Conspiracies? We got ’em up the wazoo!

I can’t even tell how much pleasure I get from spinning something which ends with the Augustine quote sounding fit and meet. No need to interpret *mathematici* as soothsayers or astrologers; it fits as it is.

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