Sociable Satanist: Occult investigator “Dr. Daniel Rumanos” doesn’t need a day job
By Van Smith (Baltimore City Paper, 8/8/2012)
Meeting “Dr. Daniel Rumanos” face-to-face can be somewhat of a letdown. He is, after all, someone who once claimed to cast Satanist spells so that 12-year-old girls would have sex with him and who, when setting up a meeting with a reporter, says, “I will be the one who resembles Rasputin.”
While Rumanos’ appearance may call to mind Grigori “Mad Monk” Rasputin, the oversized, hard-to-kill Russian Orthodox mystic who finally gave up the ghost in 1916, it’s due only to Rumanos’ wispy, graying beard and black clothes. As for the pedophilia claim, which he made on a Christian radio show in the mid-1990s, it was only “performance art,” Rumanos explains. Turns out, Rumanos isn’t really a Satanist but simply a gentle, thoughtful, open-minded deist.
Rumanos, who says he grew up in Baltimore Greektown neighborhood, hands over a business card for his “occult investigations” practice, which lists “demonology, exorcism, psychic research, UFOs, ghosts and hauntings, [and] spellcasting” as his areas of expertise.
Continue reading “Sociable Satanist” at Baltimore City Paper.
Bob Larson interviews the “Don Juan of Satanism.”
Rumanos parodies the Essex Day Festival (which BML’s Huffines has no part of…)
“DANIEL AND KAT: THE NEW ADVENTURES OF DAEMON-STAR”
“You… you can’t do this, Mr. Huffines,” stammered the Reverend Edgar Walls, Pastor of Central Bible Church, whilst fidgeting with fright in his dark-blue, tailored suit. “It’s blasphemous! Positively blasphemous!”
“I can and will do it, Pastor,” replied Mr. Bruce Huffines with a strange grin. “Your church grounds adjoin the Essex Heritage Museum, of which I am Director, and we shall be using your property for our upcoming festival.”
“But that thing you want to celebrate here,” returned Rev. Walls with a decided shudder. “There is just something ungodly about it, something downright… demonic!”
Even though this meeting was being held in the comfort of the Pastor’s own office, Rev. Edgar Walls felt increasingly uncomfortable. Perhaps the presence of Huffines’s bodyguard, an huge redneck-type individual known as Bubba Johnson, with his heavy arms folded across his sleeveless shirt whilst he stood behind the seated Mr. Huffines on the other side of Walls’s desk, had something to do with that. Nevertheless, there was more, far more, that troubled the harried Reverend. He just sensed something supernaturally wicked about Huffines, and even more so about this object that the latter wished to exhibit upon church property.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Pastor Walls,” Huffines went on. “It is a meteorite, and this festival marks the one-hundredth anniversary of its arrival in our little town of Essex, Maryland.”