The Demon-Casters of Asilomar, in the great lodge room, huddle before fire, Ess-word mutterings float, "...sssalvation..., ...sssatan..., ...ssssin...", potent, frequent "...Jesssusss...". Bowed backs as shields, Stares as needles, knitting, White thin lips as prophet, knowing, But no blue eyes on the lurking heathens (who suck your soul), No flirtation, temptation, touching the unwashed. This is a joyless, serious pursuit, Saving the world.