It’s around this time of the year that people around the world really begin to pay attention to my subjects: the many liquors, beers, and wines of the world. I see people raising the wrist all over town, and hear people hiccup to one another “T’is the Season!” – which warms both the cockles of my heart, and the heart of my cockles. It pleases me to know that I can in some way bring joy to people at the time of their year when they celebrate the birth of a 40th century jewish stone mason.
However, a certain story in the news which came to my attention recently has brought me some dismay – I don’t like to see my subjects besmirched in the media, after all. The story is -of course- the recent ’scandal’ surrounding Miss USA, Tara Conner. Miss Conner has been stomped from all sides by the media in the last week or so for doing no more than ‘drinking under age’ . . . something any well-rounded individual has done in their own past (easily forgotten when on the witch-hunt bandwagon). How under age was she exactly? About a week; Tara turned 21 (the abominably high legal age in most US states) this past MONDAY. She almost got dumped as Miss USA for drinking a week before her birthday.
I feel at this point it would be prudent to remind my readers that Eris is also the goddess of Bureaucracy.
My point, though, is not about her drinking under age. My point, rather, is directed at the last sentence in the most recent article I read about the incident: “Miss Conner will be entering rehab.” She will be WHAT? Entering REHAB? For drinking a WEEK before her LEGAL BIRTHDAY? What in the goddess’ name could be the point of this? Are there not hundreds, nay, THOUSANDS of people more legitimately needing rehab counseling than this poor woman? She should be drinking for krist’s sake! SHE’S 21! I don’t even remember the age of twenty-one.
This obsession with rehab has grown to monumental proportions. There are two things the people of North America love: someone entering rehab, and someone forced to apologize.
I need a drink.
Anonymous Hermit Day
Today is the day when all intelligent aspiring hermits remember the life of Paul of Latrus, and vow never to repeat his mistakes. Paul had always wanted to be a hermit, ever since he was knee-high to a pariah, and had been hording hermitty things in preparation for years: lanterns, furs, nuts and berries, pornographic etchings for those long winter solstice nights . . . not to mention dreaming up strange and glorious manifestations of his chosen deity’s awesome powers; truly an important part of a hermit’s repertoire.
He was more than ready for life in solitude when he finally waved goodbye to his family and friends and trudged up the mountain to the cave which would be his home, sanctuary, and bathroom for the rest of his life; but he hadn’t anticipated the biggest problem that every prospective hermit faces: fame.
Paul found it very difficult to rinse his socks out in the nearby River Hotsauce without hordes of curious onlookers watching his every move; he was unable to meditate while standing on his head -as was his wont- without fans asking “does it make your face hot?” or “can you hear China now?”; he wasn’t able to chant through the Trumps of the Tarot without people shouting out cards which didn’t exist (like ‘Halitosis’ and ‘Stubbed-Toe’) in a deluded attempt to help him out. In short, his new career as a hermit was already the pits.
Paul had an idea. He decided the best way to get rid of the crowd of gawkers was to frighten them away with his awesome connection to the Higher Beings, and promptly began to start vomiting blood everywhere and anywhere he went. True, he was dizzy, but he felt that he would finally have the solitude he had constantly craved.
Did it work for Paul of Latrus, I can almost hear you ask . . . of course it didn’t, did you read the opening sentence? His stardom, of course, rose to heights he had never dreamed of, and he was a constant attraction in his part of the land for the rest of his life, with an entire industry built up around him: selling candy apples, pony rides, face-painting, etc.
So, let this 30th of Chico be a lesson to all prospective hermits: if you are planning to walk off into the woods to become holy, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF, dammit!
He was more than ready for life in solitude when he finally waved goodbye to his family and friends and trudged up the mountain to the cave which would be his home, sanctuary, and bathroom for the rest of his life; but he hadn’t anticipated the biggest problem that every prospective hermit faces: fame.
Paul found it very difficult to rinse his socks out in the nearby River Hotsauce without hordes of curious onlookers watching his every move; he was unable to meditate while standing on his head -as was his wont- without fans asking “does it make your face hot?” or “can you hear China now?”; he wasn’t able to chant through the Trumps of the Tarot without people shouting out cards which didn’t exist (like ‘Halitosis’ and ‘Stubbed-Toe’) in a deluded attempt to help him out. In short, his new career as a hermit was already the pits.
Paul had an idea. He decided the best way to get rid of the crowd of gawkers was to frighten them away with his awesome connection to the Higher Beings, and promptly began to start vomiting blood everywhere and anywhere he went. True, he was dizzy, but he felt that he would finally have the solitude he had constantly craved.
Did it work for Paul of Latrus, I can almost hear you ask . . . of course it didn’t, did you read the opening sentence? His stardom, of course, rose to heights he had never dreamed of, and he was a constant attraction in his part of the land for the rest of his life, with an entire industry built up around him: selling candy apples, pony rides, face-painting, etc.
So, let this 30th of Chico be a lesson to all prospective hermits: if you are planning to walk off into the woods to become holy, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF, dammit!
The Eris Society
I stumbled across this group about a year ago, meant to look into them more, then completely forgot about it, as is my unfortunate wont. For some reason I stumbled across them again last week and decided to test the waters with them . . . they didn’t seem like the kind of group open to just anyone but I was interested to see. I suspected they couldn’t be as insufferable as the GD, but who knows?
I filled out the online application form, and was quite pleased that I was able to list “The creation of the Nation of Quebec” as one, feeling certain this would gain me access to the group. Just to be safe, I made sure to include my desire to give a speech outlining the esoteric aspects of the Carry On film series – knowing that it would cinch the deal . . .
Well, it’s been over a week and I still haven’t heard back from the Eris Society . . . I guess my initial reaction must be right, I guess they are just fat, spoiled, middle-aged hippies who feel guilty that they sold out so early and are now desperately attempting to cling to the last faded vestiges of their youthful anarchism.
I hope they read up on Eris thoroughly, though, before they decided to take her as their namesake – she has a way of dealing with people who pay only lip service.
I filled out the online application form, and was quite pleased that I was able to list “The creation of the Nation of Quebec” as one, feeling certain this would gain me access to the group. Just to be safe, I made sure to include my desire to give a speech outlining the esoteric aspects of the Carry On film series – knowing that it would cinch the deal . . .
Well, it’s been over a week and I still haven’t heard back from the Eris Society . . . I guess my initial reaction must be right, I guess they are just fat, spoiled, middle-aged hippies who feel guilty that they sold out so early and are now desperately attempting to cling to the last faded vestiges of their youthful anarchism.
I hope they read up on Eris thoroughly, though, before they decided to take her as their namesake – she has a way of dealing with people who pay only lip service.
A PSA from Wilhelm Reich:
Listen, Little Man: Your heritage is a burning diamond in your hand.
See yourself as you really are. Listen to what none of your leaders and representatives dares tell you: You are a “little, common man.” Understand the double meaning of these words: “little” and “common.”
You are afflicted with the emotional plague. You are sick, very sick, Little Man. It is not your fault. But it is your responsibility to rid yourself of this sickness.
You confuse the right to free speech and to criticism with irresponsible talk and poor jokes. He who has to protect the living against the emotional plague has to learn to use the right to free speech as we enjoy it in America at least as well for the good as the emotional plague misuses it for the bad. Granted equal right in the expression of opinion, the rational finally must win out.
What is important is not individual treatment but the prevention of mental disorders. You have locked up the crazy people, and the normal people manage this world. Who, then, is to blame for all the misery?
You have begun to play a governing role on this earth. It is on your thinking and your actions that the future of humanity depends. You give impotent people with evil intentions the power to represent you. Only too late do you realize that again and again you are being defrauded. You must come to realize that you make your little men your own oppressors, and that you made martyrs out of your truly great men.
You are different from the really great man in only one thing: The great man knows when and in what he is a little man. The little man does not know that he is little, and he is afraid of knowing it.
For you are afraid of life, Little Man, deadly afraid. You will murder it in the belief of doing it for the sake of “socialism,” or “the state,” or “national honor,” or “the glory of God.”
I recognized the deadly fear of the living in you, a fear which always makes you set out correctly and end wrongly. You had the happiness of humanity in your hands, and you have gambled it away. You had the world in your hands, and at the end you dropped your atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Through the centuries, you will shed blood where life should be protected, and will believe that you achieve freedom with the help of the hangman; thus you will find yourself again and again in the same morass.
I found what makes you a slave: YOU ARE YOUR OWN SLAVE-DRIVER. I have ceased to be willing to die for your freedom to be anybody’s slave. I tell you: Only you yourself can be your liberator!
You yourself create all your misery, hour after hour, day after day. You think the goal justifies the means. You are wrong: The goal is in the path on which you arrive at it. Every step of today is your life of tomorrow. You stand on your head and you believe yourself dancing into the realm of freedom.
You could have long since become the master of your existence, if only your thinking were in the direction of truth. You are cowardly in your thinking, Little Man, because real thinking is accompanied by bodily feelings, and you are afraid of your body. Many great men have told you: Go back to your origin – listen to your inner voice – follow your true feelings – cherish love.
The kindly individual believes that all people are kindly and act accordingly. The plague individual believes that all people lie, swindle, steal and crave power. Clearly, then, the living is at a disadvantage and in danger.
There is only one antidote to the germs of the emotional plague in the mass individual: his own feeling of living life. The living does not ask for power but for its proper role in human life. It is based on the three pillars of love, work and knowledge.
You beg for happiness in life, but security is more important to you, even if it costs you your spine or your life. Your life will be good and secure when aliveness will mean more to you than security; love more than money; your freedom more than party line or public opinion; when your thinking will be in harmony with your feelings; when the teachers of your children will be better paid than the politicians; when you will have more respect for the love between man and woman than for a marriage license.
You will no longer believe that you “don’t count.” You will know and advocate your knowledge that you are the bearer of human society. Don’t run away. Don’t be afraid. It is not so terrible to be the responsible bearer of human society. Inflated leaders would have no soldiers and no arms if you clearly knew, and stood up for your knowledge, that a field has to yield wheat and a factory furniture or shoes, and not arms. All you have to do is to continue what you have always done and always want to do: to do your work, to let your children grow up happily, to love your mate.
You are GREAT, Little Man, when you are not small and petty. You are great when you carry on your trade lovingly, when you enjoy carving and building and painting and decorating and sowing, when you enjoy the blue sky and the deer and the dew and music and dancing, your growing children and the beautiful body of your woman or your man, when you learn to understand and think about life. You are great when you hold your grandchildren on your knees and tell them about times long past, when you look into an uncertain future with their trusting childlike curiosity, when you lull your newborn to sleep, when you sing the good old folk songs.
Follow the voice of your heart, even if it leads you off the path of timid souls. Do not become hard and embittered, even if life tortures you at times. There is only one thing that counts:
to live one’s life well and happily.
excerpt from “Listen, Little Man” by Wilhelm Reich, 5948 YD
See yourself as you really are. Listen to what none of your leaders and representatives dares tell you: You are a “little, common man.” Understand the double meaning of these words: “little” and “common.”
You are afflicted with the emotional plague. You are sick, very sick, Little Man. It is not your fault. But it is your responsibility to rid yourself of this sickness.
You confuse the right to free speech and to criticism with irresponsible talk and poor jokes. He who has to protect the living against the emotional plague has to learn to use the right to free speech as we enjoy it in America at least as well for the good as the emotional plague misuses it for the bad. Granted equal right in the expression of opinion, the rational finally must win out.
What is important is not individual treatment but the prevention of mental disorders. You have locked up the crazy people, and the normal people manage this world. Who, then, is to blame for all the misery?
You have begun to play a governing role on this earth. It is on your thinking and your actions that the future of humanity depends. You give impotent people with evil intentions the power to represent you. Only too late do you realize that again and again you are being defrauded. You must come to realize that you make your little men your own oppressors, and that you made martyrs out of your truly great men.
You are different from the really great man in only one thing: The great man knows when and in what he is a little man. The little man does not know that he is little, and he is afraid of knowing it.
For you are afraid of life, Little Man, deadly afraid. You will murder it in the belief of doing it for the sake of “socialism,” or “the state,” or “national honor,” or “the glory of God.”
I recognized the deadly fear of the living in you, a fear which always makes you set out correctly and end wrongly. You had the happiness of humanity in your hands, and you have gambled it away. You had the world in your hands, and at the end you dropped your atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Through the centuries, you will shed blood where life should be protected, and will believe that you achieve freedom with the help of the hangman; thus you will find yourself again and again in the same morass.
I found what makes you a slave: YOU ARE YOUR OWN SLAVE-DRIVER. I have ceased to be willing to die for your freedom to be anybody’s slave. I tell you: Only you yourself can be your liberator!
You yourself create all your misery, hour after hour, day after day. You think the goal justifies the means. You are wrong: The goal is in the path on which you arrive at it. Every step of today is your life of tomorrow. You stand on your head and you believe yourself dancing into the realm of freedom.
You could have long since become the master of your existence, if only your thinking were in the direction of truth. You are cowardly in your thinking, Little Man, because real thinking is accompanied by bodily feelings, and you are afraid of your body. Many great men have told you: Go back to your origin – listen to your inner voice – follow your true feelings – cherish love.
The kindly individual believes that all people are kindly and act accordingly. The plague individual believes that all people lie, swindle, steal and crave power. Clearly, then, the living is at a disadvantage and in danger.
There is only one antidote to the germs of the emotional plague in the mass individual: his own feeling of living life. The living does not ask for power but for its proper role in human life. It is based on the three pillars of love, work and knowledge.
You beg for happiness in life, but security is more important to you, even if it costs you your spine or your life. Your life will be good and secure when aliveness will mean more to you than security; love more than money; your freedom more than party line or public opinion; when your thinking will be in harmony with your feelings; when the teachers of your children will be better paid than the politicians; when you will have more respect for the love between man and woman than for a marriage license.
You will no longer believe that you “don’t count.” You will know and advocate your knowledge that you are the bearer of human society. Don’t run away. Don’t be afraid. It is not so terrible to be the responsible bearer of human society. Inflated leaders would have no soldiers and no arms if you clearly knew, and stood up for your knowledge, that a field has to yield wheat and a factory furniture or shoes, and not arms. All you have to do is to continue what you have always done and always want to do: to do your work, to let your children grow up happily, to love your mate.
You are GREAT, Little Man, when you are not small and petty. You are great when you carry on your trade lovingly, when you enjoy carving and building and painting and decorating and sowing, when you enjoy the blue sky and the deer and the dew and music and dancing, your growing children and the beautiful body of your woman or your man, when you learn to understand and think about life. You are great when you hold your grandchildren on your knees and tell them about times long past, when you look into an uncertain future with their trusting childlike curiosity, when you lull your newborn to sleep, when you sing the good old folk songs.
Follow the voice of your heart, even if it leads you off the path of timid souls. Do not become hard and embittered, even if life tortures you at times. There is only one thing that counts:
to live one’s life well and happily.
excerpt from “Listen, Little Man” by Wilhelm Reich, 5948 YD
Dissecting Movie Quotes
It has been said by many so-called ‘adepts’ that big-T Truth can be found anywhere, if you know where to look for it. With that in mind, I decided to contemplate my favourite movie quote of all time, as seemingly inane as it is, which is from ‘The Shining’(1980), and is: “Pink and Gold are my favorite colors.”
The quotation wouldn’t be inappropriate as a code used to express interest in matters of alchemical knowledge, as the sentence expresses just such an interest in a somewhat vague, but still rather direct manner:
The sentence is a formula for the alchemical method of enlightenment. The colours are obviously the central point of the quote, which is apt as colour was so important to ancient alchemists since before the advent of modern chemistry the changing of colour often provided the only proof of transformation in an experiment.
While pink is often associated with strictly feminine principles it actually represents, in alchemy, the union of opposites: red, the kingly colour, is associated with sulphur and the sun; while white is the feminine, the queen of the opus, associated with mercury and the moon. Together, joined in union, they are pink – this is literally the motto ‘Solve et Coagula’ at work.
Gold is more obviously linked to alchemy for the average cabbage on the street, being the known goal of transmutationists throughout history, but Carl Jung, in “Psychology and Alchemy”, launched a bold attack on the notion of alchemy as a quest for physical gold; he claimed the alchemists were perpetually using code and riddle to disguise the true goal: philosophical gold (lapis aethereus).
So, ‘gold’ is essentially the desired end product of the alchemical quest, and ‘pink’ is the method to obtain the ‘gold’. The formula is complete.
The quotation wouldn’t be inappropriate as a code used to express interest in matters of alchemical knowledge, as the sentence expresses just such an interest in a somewhat vague, but still rather direct manner:
The sentence is a formula for the alchemical method of enlightenment. The colours are obviously the central point of the quote, which is apt as colour was so important to ancient alchemists since before the advent of modern chemistry the changing of colour often provided the only proof of transformation in an experiment.
While pink is often associated with strictly feminine principles it actually represents, in alchemy, the union of opposites: red, the kingly colour, is associated with sulphur and the sun; while white is the feminine, the queen of the opus, associated with mercury and the moon. Together, joined in union, they are pink – this is literally the motto ‘Solve et Coagula’ at work.
Gold is more obviously linked to alchemy for the average cabbage on the street, being the known goal of transmutationists throughout history, but Carl Jung, in “Psychology and Alchemy”, launched a bold attack on the notion of alchemy as a quest for physical gold; he claimed the alchemists were perpetually using code and riddle to disguise the true goal: philosophical gold (lapis aethereus).
So, ‘gold’ is essentially the desired end product of the alchemical quest, and ‘pink’ is the method to obtain the ‘gold’. The formula is complete.
Grab Your Pens and Paper: "The Definition"
“When someone says “I identify as Discordian,” or whatnot, that is a short, buzz-wordy way of saying, “if you want to know who I am and what I am about, you’re gonna have to ask me directly. I am not a definition in a book, I am not a collective, I am not a broad brushstroke of society. I will not be sorted, filed, stamped, briefed, de-briefed, or numbered.”
-LMNO
-LMNO
The Esoteric Significance Of "Inky Pinky Ponky"
by: LMNO
Inky Pinky Ponky
Daddy bought a donkey.
Donkey died, Daddy cried.
Inky Pinky Ponky
There are a plethora of Twos rampant in this Epic Chant: The lead line (three words) is repeated (twice), and the words “Donkey” and “Daddy” are also repeated.
Please notice, five words, twice repeated. So much for the Law of Fives.
So, Two on the Tree of life is Chockma, Wisdom. The magical image is the Bearded Patriarch– this is obviously the “Daddy” of the Screed.
What did Wisdom do? It bought a Donkey. The donkey, of course is the talking donkey of Balaam in the Book of Numbers. This donkey quailed before YHWH, and was beaten by Balaam, for he did not see. In this, we can easily see that Wisdom is blind to the Lord, and only the stubborn nature can push through the suffering of life to achieve enlightenment.
The death of the Donkey then, is the death of the spirit in the face of the material world. Surely, wisdom must weep when it is overcome by the mundane.
Inky Pinky Ponky
Daddy bought a donkey.
Donkey died, Daddy cried.
Inky Pinky Ponky
There are a plethora of Twos rampant in this Epic Chant: The lead line (three words) is repeated (twice), and the words “Donkey” and “Daddy” are also repeated.
Please notice, five words, twice repeated. So much for the Law of Fives.
So, Two on the Tree of life is Chockma, Wisdom. The magical image is the Bearded Patriarch– this is obviously the “Daddy” of the Screed.
What did Wisdom do? It bought a Donkey. The donkey, of course is the talking donkey of Balaam in the Book of Numbers. This donkey quailed before YHWH, and was beaten by Balaam, for he did not see. In this, we can easily see that Wisdom is blind to the Lord, and only the stubborn nature can push through the suffering of life to achieve enlightenment.
The death of the Donkey then, is the death of the spirit in the face of the material world. Surely, wisdom must weep when it is overcome by the mundane.
America’s Next Top Discordian
Score another one for individuality! The BRAVO! Channel has just announced its next entry into the increasingly saturated reality-tv contest market with it’s newest mid-season replacement: America’s Next Top Discordian, starting January 5, 2007.
Contestants have not been announced at this date, and it is unclear where try-outs were held at this point, but the decidedly unconventional judges panel announced is already raising eyebrows in the Discordian/Erisian/Mummuian/SubGenii community: The three (as yet unconfirmed) judges of the “do-your-own-thing-boldly-loudly-and-hopefully-annoyingly” program are a wheelchair-bound Robert Anton Wilson, drag queen superstar RuPaul Charles, and hopefully taking the Simon Cowell ‘crusty judge’ place in the panel is the founder of the Church Of The SubGenius, Rev. Ivan Stang.
No word at this point about what the winner of the contest would claim as a prize, but reliable rumor is naming the country of Chad as a top contender.
America’s Next Top Discordian will run at Mondays at 9pm EST, and Sunday afternoons at 2pm EST.
Contestants have not been announced at this date, and it is unclear where try-outs were held at this point, but the decidedly unconventional judges panel announced is already raising eyebrows in the Discordian/Erisian/Mummuian/SubGenii community: The three (as yet unconfirmed) judges of the “do-your-own-thing-boldly-loudly-and-hopefully-annoyingly” program are a wheelchair-bound Robert Anton Wilson, drag queen superstar RuPaul Charles, and hopefully taking the Simon Cowell ‘crusty judge’ place in the panel is the founder of the Church Of The SubGenius, Rev. Ivan Stang.
No word at this point about what the winner of the contest would claim as a prize, but reliable rumor is naming the country of Chad as a top contender.
America’s Next Top Discordian will run at Mondays at 9pm EST, and Sunday afternoons at 2pm EST.
Official Illuminati Correspondence?
To Hoopla:
THIS CORRESPONDENCE IS NOT INTENDED TO BE POSTED ON YOUR WEB LOG.
We have been monitoring your weblog for a long period of time, and feel it necessary to let you know that whomever is conversing with you under the moniker of the Illuminati is lying to you. There is only one Illuminati. There is nobody in our ranks with the name Ramses Colossus. So, unless you are writing the letters yourself you are being lied to.
The New World Order is a reality. It is being implemented slowly as I type this.
9/11 was just the first obvious step, there were several trials in the past which were successful.
Humanity has become much more ‘cabbagized’ than any of you ‘discordians’ even realize. Television was introduced to the public when it was realized how easily it induced a trance-state. The population of the world is being beamed the plans for our future one-world government at all times, in all programs.
Flying saucers are just the beginning.
Look to the stars.
Look to the rising sun.
We are everywhere.
Pay no attention to correspondences from others claiming to be the Illuminated Seers.
Pay very close attention to everything.
KING FELIX
ILLUMINATI
THIS CORRESPONDENCE IS NOT INTENDED TO BE POSTED ON YOUR WEB LOG.
We have been monitoring your weblog for a long period of time, and feel it necessary to let you know that whomever is conversing with you under the moniker of the Illuminati is lying to you. There is only one Illuminati. There is nobody in our ranks with the name Ramses Colossus. So, unless you are writing the letters yourself you are being lied to.
The New World Order is a reality. It is being implemented slowly as I type this.
9/11 was just the first obvious step, there were several trials in the past which were successful.
Humanity has become much more ‘cabbagized’ than any of you ‘discordians’ even realize. Television was introduced to the public when it was realized how easily it induced a trance-state. The population of the world is being beamed the plans for our future one-world government at all times, in all programs.
Flying saucers are just the beginning.
Look to the stars.
Look to the rising sun.
We are everywhere.
Pay no attention to correspondences from others claiming to be the Illuminated Seers.
Pay very close attention to everything.
KING FELIX
ILLUMINATI
A Seinfeldian Moment
I had a rather Seinfeldian moment yesterday afternoon when I was in the coffee break room of the Head Temple of the Esoteric Order Of Eris with Dharma Jam. I was laughing about the paranoia now running rampant on a certain pagan message board I had been spending time on recently, and telling her how they had deleted an alt I had created (based on the Pumpkinite who attempted to abduct Count YooHoo in the summer) despite the fact that they had no evidence it was actually me.
“Can you image the nerve of banning someone because they thought it was me, but with no evidence?” I laughed.
“But, it IS you.” she stated, as she finished a crossword with one hand. In ink.
“Yes,” I said. “but, they don’t KNOW that. It’s really nervy. I’m going to have Faux Sloatman write a letter of outrage.”
“But,” she said again. “It IS YOU.”
I smiled. “I’m all types of people.”
“Can you image the nerve of banning someone because they thought it was me, but with no evidence?” I laughed.
“But, it IS you.” she stated, as she finished a crossword with one hand. In ink.
“Yes,” I said. “but, they don’t KNOW that. It’s really nervy. I’m going to have Faux Sloatman write a letter of outrage.”
“But,” she said again. “It IS YOU.”
I smiled. “I’m all types of people.”
For Those OF You Just Tuning In...
There is only one goddess, she is your goddess. Her name is Eris, and she’s crazy.
Aren’t we all?
She brings you a message:
You are free. Verily, you are as free as you choose to be. The rules of your society were created by you, not by the Multiverse. Follow them, or follow them not; but never forget they are your own creations, or surely they will crush you. Think for yourself. Wear a hat. Carry a big stick, just in case. I just flew in on the Noon Balloon from Banana City, thank you and good night.
May You Have Bats In Your Belfry Forevermore!
Aren’t we all?
She brings you a message:
You are free. Verily, you are as free as you choose to be. The rules of your society were created by you, not by the Multiverse. Follow them, or follow them not; but never forget they are your own creations, or surely they will crush you. Think for yourself. Wear a hat. Carry a big stick, just in case. I just flew in on the Noon Balloon from Banana City, thank you and good night.
May You Have Bats In Your Belfry Forevermore!
On The Subject Of: Existence
“The more unintelligent a man in, the less mysterious existence seems to him.”
-Arthur Schopenhauer
-Arthur Schopenhauer
Count YooHoo Update
Hoopla:
How long has it been? Time seems to have stood still.
Has it been years? DECADES?
Good god, man, the pain and distress I’ve been put through, you have no idea. Why do you put me through this?
I barely made it away from those Pumpkinite bastards, somehow someone found out that I was a plant, and they went ballistic. I had to hide out in a rain ditch for weeks and weeks, living only off discarded cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Slim Jims which were scattered around the parking lot of a semi-deserted gas station.
Did I mention vibrators were originally considered medicinal?
Where was I? Oh, right, how I survived. I stayed alive on my meager rations, until I was saved by a boy named JoJo who was part of a group called the Grapes Of Wrath, they were almost as nutty as the Pumpkinites . . . They were waiting for the time when they had enough followers and were then going to travel across the country on foot helping people everywhere . . . a little like David Banner in the television show The Incredible Hulk, or like that other television show you are always on about, The Littlest Hobo.
For some reason they had been living in a barn for close to a hundred years, all living off breast milk. They kept the women permanently pregnant so they could always have an uninterrupted supply of ‘ambrosia’ as they referred to it. It was nauseating.
I admit, when I first nursed back to health on the tittie of a nineteen year old woman who looked like she could be on the cover of a magazine my disgust lessened slightly, but when I woke back up the revulsion was reborn anew . . . either the girl I was suckled on didn’t look as I had imagined, or they pulled me off her in my sleep and stuck me onto a woman who resembled one of the trees from the Wizard Of Oz.
I freaked.
I admit now, it was a slight over-reaction – I burned down the barn in my rage. The truly embarrassing part is that I got stuck under a beam which fell from the top of the barn, and the Grapes Of Wrath saved my life AGAIN. It took two more weeks of suckling to bring me back to what I consider life, or at least that’s what they told me.
We are all now traveling together. Do you know of anywhere that about 75 people (40 of them suckling) can stay for a few days? How big is your balcony?
-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal
YooHoo:
I just want some clarification, is this the BAND The Grapes Of Wrath? Because, if so, my balcony is very very small indeed. Barely big enough for St. Gulik to do his yoga.
-BVH
How long has it been? Time seems to have stood still.
Has it been years? DECADES?
Good god, man, the pain and distress I’ve been put through, you have no idea. Why do you put me through this?
I barely made it away from those Pumpkinite bastards, somehow someone found out that I was a plant, and they went ballistic. I had to hide out in a rain ditch for weeks and weeks, living only off discarded cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Slim Jims which were scattered around the parking lot of a semi-deserted gas station.
Did I mention vibrators were originally considered medicinal?
Where was I? Oh, right, how I survived. I stayed alive on my meager rations, until I was saved by a boy named JoJo who was part of a group called the Grapes Of Wrath, they were almost as nutty as the Pumpkinites . . . They were waiting for the time when they had enough followers and were then going to travel across the country on foot helping people everywhere . . . a little like David Banner in the television show The Incredible Hulk, or like that other television show you are always on about, The Littlest Hobo.
For some reason they had been living in a barn for close to a hundred years, all living off breast milk. They kept the women permanently pregnant so they could always have an uninterrupted supply of ‘ambrosia’ as they referred to it. It was nauseating.
I admit, when I first nursed back to health on the tittie of a nineteen year old woman who looked like she could be on the cover of a magazine my disgust lessened slightly, but when I woke back up the revulsion was reborn anew . . . either the girl I was suckled on didn’t look as I had imagined, or they pulled me off her in my sleep and stuck me onto a woman who resembled one of the trees from the Wizard Of Oz.
I freaked.
I admit now, it was a slight over-reaction – I burned down the barn in my rage. The truly embarrassing part is that I got stuck under a beam which fell from the top of the barn, and the Grapes Of Wrath saved my life AGAIN. It took two more weeks of suckling to bring me back to what I consider life, or at least that’s what they told me.
We are all now traveling together. Do you know of anywhere that about 75 people (40 of them suckling) can stay for a few days? How big is your balcony?
-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal
YooHoo:
I just want some clarification, is this the BAND The Grapes Of Wrath? Because, if so, my balcony is very very small indeed. Barely big enough for St. Gulik to do his yoga.
-BVH
On The Subject Of: Questioning
With the unknown, one is confronted with danger, discomfort and worry; the first instinct is to abolish these painful sensations. First principle: any explanation is better than none . . .
The search for causes is thus conditioned by and excited by the feeling of fear. The question “Why?” is not pursued for its own sake but to find a certain kind of answer – an answer that is pacifying, tranquilizing and soothing.
-Nietzsche, Twilight of the Gods
The search for causes is thus conditioned by and excited by the feeling of fear. The question “Why?” is not pursued for its own sake but to find a certain kind of answer – an answer that is pacifying, tranquilizing and soothing.
-Nietzsche, Twilight of the Gods
Count YooHoo Amongst The Pumpkinites Pt. II
Hoopla:
I barely made it out alive.
I am in an internet cafe in Toledo Ohio. Good lord, man, do you realize what I’ve been through? Those people were animals – and I almost became one of them. The thought raises bile in my throat now at the mere thought.
Sadly, their hyperbole and drama bamboozled me in a manner I didn’t think possible . . . as you know, good Baron, my mind is usually of a preternaturally advanced level, but somehow their down-homeness, if that can be said to be a term, their very earthiness appealed to my senses at a very base level. Hoopla, I think they prey on people by stroking the first and second circuits. It’s atrocious.
I am in hiding right now, I slept in a White Castle last night, but saw some of the sect combing the neighborhood later in the morning. Tonight I will look for a Jack In The Box. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow please send someone from the Order to rescue me.
-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal
I barely made it out alive.
I am in an internet cafe in Toledo Ohio. Good lord, man, do you realize what I’ve been through? Those people were animals – and I almost became one of them. The thought raises bile in my throat now at the mere thought.
Sadly, their hyperbole and drama bamboozled me in a manner I didn’t think possible . . . as you know, good Baron, my mind is usually of a preternaturally advanced level, but somehow their down-homeness, if that can be said to be a term, their very earthiness appealed to my senses at a very base level. Hoopla, I think they prey on people by stroking the first and second circuits. It’s atrocious.
I am in hiding right now, I slept in a White Castle last night, but saw some of the sect combing the neighborhood later in the morning. Tonight I will look for a Jack In The Box. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow please send someone from the Order to rescue me.
-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal
Nice Name For A Planet
LOS ANGELES — A distant, icy rock whose discovery shook up the solar system and led to Pluto’s planetary demise has been given a name: Eris.
The christening of Eris, named after the Greek goddess of chaos and strife, was announced by the International Astronomical Union on Wednesday. Weeks earlier, the professional astronomers’ group stripped Pluto of its planethood under new controversial guidelines.
Since its discovery last year, Eris ignited a debate about what constitutes a planet.
Astronomers were split over how to classify the object because there was no universal definition. Some argued it should be welcomed as the 10th planet since it was larger than Pluto, but others felt Pluto was not a full-fledged planet.
After much bickering, astronomers last month voted to shrink the solar system to eight planets, downgrading Pluto to a “dwarf planet,” a category that also includes Eris and the asteroid Ceres.
Eris’ discoverer, Michael Brown of the California Institute of Technology, said the name was an obvious choice, calling it “too perfect to resist.”
In mythology, Eris caused a quarrel among goddesses that sparked the Trojan War. In real life, Eris forced scientists to define a planet that eventually led to Pluto getting the boot. Soon after Pluto’s dismissal from the planet club, hundreds of scientists circulated a petition protesting the decision.
Eris’ moon also received a formal name: Dysnomia, the daughter of Eris known as the spirit of lawlessness.
Eris, which measures about 70 miles wider than Pluto, is the farthest known object in the solar system at 9 billion miles away from sun. It is also the third brightest object located in the Kuiper belt, a disc of icy debris beyond the orbit of Neptune.
The christening of Eris, named after the Greek goddess of chaos and strife, was announced by the International Astronomical Union on Wednesday. Weeks earlier, the professional astronomers’ group stripped Pluto of its planethood under new controversial guidelines.
Since its discovery last year, Eris ignited a debate about what constitutes a planet.
Astronomers were split over how to classify the object because there was no universal definition. Some argued it should be welcomed as the 10th planet since it was larger than Pluto, but others felt Pluto was not a full-fledged planet.
After much bickering, astronomers last month voted to shrink the solar system to eight planets, downgrading Pluto to a “dwarf planet,” a category that also includes Eris and the asteroid Ceres.
Eris’ discoverer, Michael Brown of the California Institute of Technology, said the name was an obvious choice, calling it “too perfect to resist.”
In mythology, Eris caused a quarrel among goddesses that sparked the Trojan War. In real life, Eris forced scientists to define a planet that eventually led to Pluto getting the boot. Soon after Pluto’s dismissal from the planet club, hundreds of scientists circulated a petition protesting the decision.
Eris’ moon also received a formal name: Dysnomia, the daughter of Eris known as the spirit of lawlessness.
Eris, which measures about 70 miles wider than Pluto, is the farthest known object in the solar system at 9 billion miles away from sun. It is also the third brightest object located in the Kuiper belt, a disc of icy debris beyond the orbit of Neptune.
Count YooHoo Amongst The Pumpkinites Pt. II
Hoopla:
Your hunch was correct, I have successfully infiltrated a Pumpkinite sect in Akron, Ohio – prime pumpkin land, and believe me, these Pumpkinites are truly rabid motherfuckers.
I got in with this sect in mid-July, through the female who went by the handle “Faux Sloatman”, and yes, as you suspected, she took her title from Frank Zappa’s wife’s name, although why is still beyond my understanding.
This is all much, much stranger than you or I ever suspected initially, these Pumpkinites do acknowledge Charles Shultz’s version of the Great Pumpkin, but they don’t admit to having derived the concept from him (as I had theorized) they claim Schultz was a high-ranking Pumpkinite who cleverly disguised their teachings into his work – of course, I find this highly suspect, after all, saying that the Great Pumpkin was hidden in Schultz’s work is like claiming that the Kabbalah was hidden on Sesame Street. No dice.
But, I have managed to learn quite a bit in my short time here, like their berserk claim that the Great Pumpkin dates back to ancient Egypt, and was the original Osiris. I came very close to blowing my cover when that admission was leaked to me, thankfully your training in the Deadpan Technique kicked in, and I was able to maintain my composure.
I have to admit, though, that their story almost convinces me in a strange way, think about it Hoopla, Osiris is a vegetation god who dies each year only to be resurrected the following year . . . “Sure, sure” I can almost hear you mocking in that strange nasal voice of yours, but think about this: The winged globe of Hadit, does it not eerily resemble a pumpkin with wings? And, what pumpkin would have wings other than that grandiose god of the gourds? Answer me that Hoopla, answer me that! You can’t! The real question, my dear Baron, is whether this will be the year that the venerated vegetable king will finally, finally make his appearance to his dedicated subjects . . . Too long have the followers of the prophet Linus been disappointed by the long wait on the autumn equinox for that magnificent seventeen foot tall redeemer to show himself, but still, but still Hoopla, consider this: Of all the vegetation gods, who reflects the weakest of the lot? Dionysus? Hardly, each year his followers (and they are legion, you better believe it) pluck his promise from the vines, grape by glorious grape; Demeter? Not even close, year after year worldwide crops of grain are harvested for the benefit of millions; Our Great -nay!- GRAND Pumpkin? Ha! Each year crowds upon crowds line up to take home their individual orange globes in anticipation of carving our leader’s face into the flesh, sitting close to the television to hear the words of the prophet from his own lips . . . no, no, no, the truly disappointing vegetation god is of course Yeshu ben Yosef the Galilee stone mason who now dominates the world under the moniker Jesus the Christ, who never comes back as he promised, and doesn’t even have the compassion to leave a vegetable in his place – but not for long, good Baron, not for long, soon the Great Pumpkin will usurp his place on the throne of the multitudes, and on that wondrous day it will mean Pumpkin Pie for all, my friend, FOR ALL!
The only question worth asking at this point is: QUO MODO LONGE, MAGNA CUCURBITA, QUO MODO LONGE?
-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal
PS: When are you coming to visit?
Your hunch was correct, I have successfully infiltrated a Pumpkinite sect in Akron, Ohio – prime pumpkin land, and believe me, these Pumpkinites are truly rabid motherfuckers.
I got in with this sect in mid-July, through the female who went by the handle “Faux Sloatman”, and yes, as you suspected, she took her title from Frank Zappa’s wife’s name, although why is still beyond my understanding.
This is all much, much stranger than you or I ever suspected initially, these Pumpkinites do acknowledge Charles Shultz’s version of the Great Pumpkin, but they don’t admit to having derived the concept from him (as I had theorized) they claim Schultz was a high-ranking Pumpkinite who cleverly disguised their teachings into his work – of course, I find this highly suspect, after all, saying that the Great Pumpkin was hidden in Schultz’s work is like claiming that the Kabbalah was hidden on Sesame Street. No dice.
But, I have managed to learn quite a bit in my short time here, like their berserk claim that the Great Pumpkin dates back to ancient Egypt, and was the original Osiris. I came very close to blowing my cover when that admission was leaked to me, thankfully your training in the Deadpan Technique kicked in, and I was able to maintain my composure.
I have to admit, though, that their story almost convinces me in a strange way, think about it Hoopla, Osiris is a vegetation god who dies each year only to be resurrected the following year . . . “Sure, sure” I can almost hear you mocking in that strange nasal voice of yours, but think about this: The winged globe of Hadit, does it not eerily resemble a pumpkin with wings? And, what pumpkin would have wings other than that grandiose god of the gourds? Answer me that Hoopla, answer me that! You can’t! The real question, my dear Baron, is whether this will be the year that the venerated vegetable king will finally, finally make his appearance to his dedicated subjects . . . Too long have the followers of the prophet Linus been disappointed by the long wait on the autumn equinox for that magnificent seventeen foot tall redeemer to show himself, but still, but still Hoopla, consider this: Of all the vegetation gods, who reflects the weakest of the lot? Dionysus? Hardly, each year his followers (and they are legion, you better believe it) pluck his promise from the vines, grape by glorious grape; Demeter? Not even close, year after year worldwide crops of grain are harvested for the benefit of millions; Our Great -nay!- GRAND Pumpkin? Ha! Each year crowds upon crowds line up to take home their individual orange globes in anticipation of carving our leader’s face into the flesh, sitting close to the television to hear the words of the prophet from his own lips . . . no, no, no, the truly disappointing vegetation god is of course Yeshu ben Yosef the Galilee stone mason who now dominates the world under the moniker Jesus the Christ, who never comes back as he promised, and doesn’t even have the compassion to leave a vegetable in his place – but not for long, good Baron, not for long, soon the Great Pumpkin will usurp his place on the throne of the multitudes, and on that wondrous day it will mean Pumpkin Pie for all, my friend, FOR ALL!
The only question worth asking at this point is: QUO MODO LONGE, MAGNA CUCURBITA, QUO MODO LONGE?
-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal
PS: When are you coming to visit?
ODB Gave Me My New Name
Old Dirty Bastard came to me in dream last night and gave me my new name. I was tip-toeing through a Cabbage Patch, trying not to disturb the slumber of the vegetables when a golden glow from above caught my attention. It was ODB, hanging in the air, dazzling and resplendent. You could barely see the thin wires he dangled from, which rose off into infinity. As he smiled down, the glare from his gold grill almost blinded me . . . spelled out across each golden tooth was K-A-L-L-I-S-T-I.
To recount here our conversation would be impolite, but suffice to say that my new name is now Big Baby Buddha.
Hail Eris.
To recount here our conversation would be impolite, but suffice to say that my new name is now Big Baby Buddha.
Hail Eris.
The Internet and Consensus Reality
“The rise of the Net and the Web represents a victory for the counterculture and the subculture. The next generation, raised on the Net as their primary medium, won’t even know what consensus reality is.”
-R. U. Sirius
-R. U. Sirius
Illuminati End Of The World Projects
FROM: Ramses Colossus,
Quinti-Primi Illuminati, Hermes Trismegistus Cabal
TO: Baron von Hoopla, KSC
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Kaufman Kabal
Hoopla:
As we discussed at the zoo the other day, our plans for bringing about the End Of The World have been in motion for many years now. As I'm sure you are aware there are two lessons to any story, the obvious exoteric lesson, and the less obvious esoteric lesson. In regards to the End Of The World idea, consider the esoteric idea underneath the obvious, and it will become more clear. I'm talking about Revolution Of The Mind, Hoops. Of course, nothing of the sort has happened yet, but we're making progress.
You will -of course- remember in an earlier memo when I mentioned that we had been printing books blank, well that was simply the whipped cream on the pumpkin pie that mama made which nobody wants to eat because its so perfect it looks like it should be in magazine ad . . . in other words, nothing.
Here's some of what we've been working on:
-In 1963 we completely altered all sex education courses in North America, deleting any references to how noses and eyebrows also grow at puberty. This small change has resulted in more anti-social behavior than violent TV, video games or hip hop music combined. So far nobody has put it together.
-Bendy Straws. Not a single one has worked since 1982. This of course renders the straw completely useless. This one is subtle, but has profound effects. Have you noticed the rising state of anger in children during the last decade or so? Blame the straws. Of course, this is currently nothing. There's always a second act - wait until 2010 when ONLY bendy straws will be manufactured.
-We introduced Family Fued in late 1976 in an attempt to push the idea of herd mentality over the cliff, but even we were surprised by the zeal the public showed in attempting to be just like everyone else. In retrospect, this could be because we went with our softer title, which encouraged competition, instead of our original choice which we eventually deemed too obvious: "Be Like Me". Live and learn.
-Since the invention of the bikini bathing suit in 1946 we have been changing the way doctors are taught to cut umbilical cords, thereby subtly deforming the appearance of the average belly button over time in North America. Grotesque bellybuttons undermine a society's sense of self worth, but of course only if they are always visible, so once belly button esthetics reached an all-time low we introduced the fad of the bellytop. Self esteem and IQ levels plummeted across the continent - but wait until 2009, when the male bellytop fad is introduced. PANDEMONIUM!
There's more of course, but I'm pressed for time, being a very busy man. I can't say much about the project I am currently working on, but I can say that it involves the S Club 7 and Outer Space. Chew on that!
TTFN,
Ramses
Quinti-Primi Illuminati, Hermes Trismegistus Cabal
TO: Baron von Hoopla, KSC
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Kaufman Kabal
Hoopla:
As we discussed at the zoo the other day, our plans for bringing about the End Of The World have been in motion for many years now. As I'm sure you are aware there are two lessons to any story, the obvious exoteric lesson, and the less obvious esoteric lesson. In regards to the End Of The World idea, consider the esoteric idea underneath the obvious, and it will become more clear. I'm talking about Revolution Of The Mind, Hoops. Of course, nothing of the sort has happened yet, but we're making progress.
You will -of course- remember in an earlier memo when I mentioned that we had been printing books blank, well that was simply the whipped cream on the pumpkin pie that mama made which nobody wants to eat because its so perfect it looks like it should be in magazine ad . . . in other words, nothing.
Here's some of what we've been working on:
-In 1963 we completely altered all sex education courses in North America, deleting any references to how noses and eyebrows also grow at puberty. This small change has resulted in more anti-social behavior than violent TV, video games or hip hop music combined. So far nobody has put it together.
-Bendy Straws. Not a single one has worked since 1982. This of course renders the straw completely useless. This one is subtle, but has profound effects. Have you noticed the rising state of anger in children during the last decade or so? Blame the straws. Of course, this is currently nothing. There's always a second act - wait until 2010 when ONLY bendy straws will be manufactured.
-We introduced Family Fued in late 1976 in an attempt to push the idea of herd mentality over the cliff, but even we were surprised by the zeal the public showed in attempting to be just like everyone else. In retrospect, this could be because we went with our softer title, which encouraged competition, instead of our original choice which we eventually deemed too obvious: "Be Like Me". Live and learn.
-Since the invention of the bikini bathing suit in 1946 we have been changing the way doctors are taught to cut umbilical cords, thereby subtly deforming the appearance of the average belly button over time in North America. Grotesque bellybuttons undermine a society's sense of self worth, but of course only if they are always visible, so once belly button esthetics reached an all-time low we introduced the fad of the bellytop. Self esteem and IQ levels plummeted across the continent - but wait until 2009, when the male bellytop fad is introduced. PANDEMONIUM!
There's more of course, but I'm pressed for time, being a very busy man. I can't say much about the project I am currently working on, but I can say that it involves the S Club 7 and Outer Space. Chew on that!
TTFN,
Ramses
Invocation To Eris
Homage to thee, O Eris, at thy beautiful kaos. Thou twirlest like a dervish, thou twirlest like a top, thou twirlest like a Ferris Wheel which never will stop. O thou Only One, O thou Petty One, O thou who art Bitter, yet also Sweet. Of all that is Sweet, of all that is Bitter, thou hast domination over all. Hail Eris! All hail Discordia! Hail Kaos! Hail Babalon! Hail the Great Mother who birthed us all! Hail the Great Whore who barfed us all! O divine madness, self-created, self-anointed, self-serve, thou art Goddess of Heaven, Earth, and New Jersey, thou did create beings celestial and terrestrial. Live thou in me, and I in thee, O thou Golden Apple of the Sun!
Concerning Britney's Chihuahua
FROM: Ramses Colossus,
Quinti-Primi Illuminati, Hermes Trismegistus Cabal
TO: Baron von Hoopla, KSC
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Kaufman Kabal
Dearest Hoopla,
Thank you for your query concerning Britney Spears’ chihuahua “Bubba”, it’s funny you should mention that . . . it’s only with the addition of Baby Cheeto that we in the Illuminati were able to wrestle our agent back, you see “Bubba” was part of our K-9 division who had infiltrated the Spears Cabal under the hopes that we could gain entry to the Pop Division of the Kaballah Center – all of our earlier attempts were thwarted, despite their seemingly flawless execution . . . our agent “Eliphas Levi-Strauss” (known to the masses as Justin Timberlake) got nowhere in his pursuits of Britney’s esoteric logic; our agent “Parsifal Redux” (known to the masses as Fred Durst) found even less, and then proceeded to blab many secrets of the Order on the Howard Stern program, he has since been excommunicated, but has started his own order, known as the L.’. B.’. (we are not worried).
Jiminy Cricket, where was I? Oh yes, “Bubba”, our K-9 agent . . .
He was given to Britney as a means of infiltrating the Kaballah Center’s inner circle, but sadly worked too well . . . Spears was so enraptured by the tiny pup-like thing that it was impossible to retrieve him for analysis. It was at that point I had to step in, take matters into my own hands, to get the program back on track, and it was some beautiful work if I do say so myself . . . you see, K-Fed has been so maligned by the fans and the press about how lazy and untalented he is that people almost never stop to wonder who he is or where he came from . . . he is, of course, one of our agents. Nobody is that gloriously lazy and stupid naturally, it takes years and years of practice . . . look at “W”, he has it down to a fine art.
So, my point is, do not fret over “Bubba” Hoopla, he is fine, he is well, he is enjoying Taco Bell. And, we are slowly gaining access to Madonna’s knowledge . . . “Mwa” and “ha” and “ha” . . .
Toodles,
-Ramses
PS: Those bags of tea you sent me never arrived.
PPS: Tahuti Fruti should taste like reeds – it will sell squillions of scoops!
PPPS: Don’t you just hate PS’s?
Quinti-Primi Illuminati, Hermes Trismegistus Cabal
TO: Baron von Hoopla, KSC
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Kaufman Kabal
Dearest Hoopla,
Thank you for your query concerning Britney Spears’ chihuahua “Bubba”, it’s funny you should mention that . . . it’s only with the addition of Baby Cheeto that we in the Illuminati were able to wrestle our agent back, you see “Bubba” was part of our K-9 division who had infiltrated the Spears Cabal under the hopes that we could gain entry to the Pop Division of the Kaballah Center – all of our earlier attempts were thwarted, despite their seemingly flawless execution . . . our agent “Eliphas Levi-Strauss” (known to the masses as Justin Timberlake) got nowhere in his pursuits of Britney’s esoteric logic; our agent “Parsifal Redux” (known to the masses as Fred Durst) found even less, and then proceeded to blab many secrets of the Order on the Howard Stern program, he has since been excommunicated, but has started his own order, known as the L.’. B.’. (we are not worried).
Jiminy Cricket, where was I? Oh yes, “Bubba”, our K-9 agent . . .
He was given to Britney as a means of infiltrating the Kaballah Center’s inner circle, but sadly worked too well . . . Spears was so enraptured by the tiny pup-like thing that it was impossible to retrieve him for analysis. It was at that point I had to step in, take matters into my own hands, to get the program back on track, and it was some beautiful work if I do say so myself . . . you see, K-Fed has been so maligned by the fans and the press about how lazy and untalented he is that people almost never stop to wonder who he is or where he came from . . . he is, of course, one of our agents. Nobody is that gloriously lazy and stupid naturally, it takes years and years of practice . . . look at “W”, he has it down to a fine art.
So, my point is, do not fret over “Bubba” Hoopla, he is fine, he is well, he is enjoying Taco Bell. And, we are slowly gaining access to Madonna’s knowledge . . . “Mwa” and “ha” and “ha” . . .
Toodles,
-Ramses
PS: Those bags of tea you sent me never arrived.
PPS: Tahuti Fruti should taste like reeds – it will sell squillions of scoops!
PPPS: Don’t you just hate PS’s?
Justified Agents Of Mummu Forum 2005-2006
It is with some sadness that I announce the demise of the Justified
Agents Of Mummu forum. Known as the “Funny Farm” to friends, and
“DoucheBag Central” to it’s enemies the Justified Agents Of Mummu
Forum curled up and died earlier this week.
For some time friends had noticed the forum becoming listless, and
depressed . . . sometimes not a single user would post for days, or
even weeks at a time. Sometimes the forum would post to itself,
something it had learned to do in its early days when it was young
and lonely. The creation of fake users was a cry out for help and
attention, but was ignored by almost all, including your faithful
Baron, who should have seen the warning signs for what they were:
warning signs.
The last time your faithful Baron logged onto the forum there had
been one new user added to the membership list, which cheered him
somewhat until he saw the forum chatting with the user and then
chatting back AS the user . . . he knew then that it was only a
matter of time.
I would like to take this opportunity to read the Forum’s favourite
poem from the television series “The Simpsons”:
“Don’t cry for me -
- I’m already dead.”
It certainly brings a tear to a glass eye, don’t it folks?
The Forum was just over a year old.
Anyone who would like to share a story about the Forum may do so in
the Comments section below.
Hail Eris.
Agents Of Mummu forum. Known as the “Funny Farm” to friends, and
“DoucheBag Central” to it’s enemies the Justified Agents Of Mummu
Forum curled up and died earlier this week.
For some time friends had noticed the forum becoming listless, and
depressed . . . sometimes not a single user would post for days, or
even weeks at a time. Sometimes the forum would post to itself,
something it had learned to do in its early days when it was young
and lonely. The creation of fake users was a cry out for help and
attention, but was ignored by almost all, including your faithful
Baron, who should have seen the warning signs for what they were:
warning signs.
The last time your faithful Baron logged onto the forum there had
been one new user added to the membership list, which cheered him
somewhat until he saw the forum chatting with the user and then
chatting back AS the user . . . he knew then that it was only a
matter of time.
I would like to take this opportunity to read the Forum’s favourite
poem from the television series “The Simpsons”:
“Don’t cry for me -
- I’m already dead.”
It certainly brings a tear to a glass eye, don’t it folks?
The Forum was just over a year old.
Anyone who would like to share a story about the Forum may do so in
the Comments section below.
Hail Eris.
Weekend Lecture On Kabbalah
Ramses Colossus, of the Hermes Trismegistus Cabal of the Illuminati, invited me over the weekend to a seminar for the Kabbalah Center, the group Madonna has famously championed up until fairly recently. I don’t have much to report, really . . . the temperature in the building was probably three degrees below five hundred, which I found odd; the exorbitant fees the group demands seems to indicate that their pockets are deep enough for central air, or at the very very least, a cheap window air-conditioner . . . a few minutes into the speeches I was finding it difficult to remain stationary, as there was a inch-thick slick of sweat between the fold-up chair and my ass cheeks.
When a gentleman to my right asked the speaker whether it was preferable to remain ‘chaste’ throughout life (which he helpfully explained to the crowd meant ‘to remain a virgin’) Ramses decided it was time that we retire to the back of the building to enlighten ourselves. It was, of course, twenty-three degrees cooler outside than it was inside, but then again outside I wasn’t pressed between fat smelly plants pretending to be curious potential customers. Ramses’ enlightenment recipe? One part ‘13′, one part crysophrasya, one part embalming fluid: do NOT attempt to work heavy machinery, or compose heavy poetry under any circumstances!
While we were outside enlightening, and giggling about the virgin (wondering if he was a plant too, or just an poor unfortunate bastard who had little to no concept of group social interactions) we were interupted by a homeless person, or what appeared to be a homeless person, enquiring into what form of illumination was being practiced inside the building . . . I responded: “Dianetics”, while Ramses (always on his toes) answered “Tea-Leaf Reading, from the Modern Male Witch Phallic Perspective”. The possibly homeless person nodded sagely, then asked if the type of illumination we were receiving was on the agenda, Ramses answered “No,” and included him in the circle. I chatted with him briefly about the Sacred Chao, and explained the Pental and the Pomal therein, which he compared with his own concepts of the “tonal” and the “nagual”, concepts not unfamiliar to the Baron. As the “maybe yes / maybe no” homeless person separated from the two of us to make his way into the oven known as the Kaballah Center, Ramses asked if I knew who that was. I admitted that I did not.
“Well, I may be right or I may be wrong, but someone can sacrifice my left nut to Chorozon if that wasn’t Mr. Carlos Castaneda.” he laughed.
“I thought he was dead . . .” I responded.
“So did he,” Ramses answered cryptically.
A shiver ran down my spine, maybe from the strangeness of the incident, or possibly from the combination of the crysophrasya and the embalming fluid – who can say?
Carlos -if you are out there- did it turn out in the lecture that it WAS preferable to remain ‘chaste’? I’m dying to know.
When a gentleman to my right asked the speaker whether it was preferable to remain ‘chaste’ throughout life (which he helpfully explained to the crowd meant ‘to remain a virgin’) Ramses decided it was time that we retire to the back of the building to enlighten ourselves. It was, of course, twenty-three degrees cooler outside than it was inside, but then again outside I wasn’t pressed between fat smelly plants pretending to be curious potential customers. Ramses’ enlightenment recipe? One part ‘13′, one part crysophrasya, one part embalming fluid: do NOT attempt to work heavy machinery, or compose heavy poetry under any circumstances!
While we were outside enlightening, and giggling about the virgin (wondering if he was a plant too, or just an poor unfortunate bastard who had little to no concept of group social interactions) we were interupted by a homeless person, or what appeared to be a homeless person, enquiring into what form of illumination was being practiced inside the building . . . I responded: “Dianetics”, while Ramses (always on his toes) answered “Tea-Leaf Reading, from the Modern Male Witch Phallic Perspective”. The possibly homeless person nodded sagely, then asked if the type of illumination we were receiving was on the agenda, Ramses answered “No,” and included him in the circle. I chatted with him briefly about the Sacred Chao, and explained the Pental and the Pomal therein, which he compared with his own concepts of the “tonal” and the “nagual”, concepts not unfamiliar to the Baron. As the “maybe yes / maybe no” homeless person separated from the two of us to make his way into the oven known as the Kaballah Center, Ramses asked if I knew who that was. I admitted that I did not.
“Well, I may be right or I may be wrong, but someone can sacrifice my left nut to Chorozon if that wasn’t Mr. Carlos Castaneda.” he laughed.
“I thought he was dead . . .” I responded.
“So did he,” Ramses answered cryptically.
A shiver ran down my spine, maybe from the strangeness of the incident, or possibly from the combination of the crysophrasya and the embalming fluid – who can say?
Carlos -if you are out there- did it turn out in the lecture that it WAS preferable to remain ‘chaste’? I’m dying to know.
Official Illuminati Correspondence
FROM: Ramses Colossus,
Quinti-Primi Illuminati, Hermes Trismegistus Cabal
TO: Baron von Hoopla, KSC
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Kaufman Kabal
Dear BVH,
In response to your querie, may I just say that you grant us altogether too much credit. We haven’t had a single thing to do with the direction of world affairs since before WWI . . . Surely you realize who now runs North America, I’ve guessed as much from reading your log: Oprah Winfrey. She has been running everything since she took over from Phil Donahue when he achieved transendental illumination and became the Alchemical Hermaphrodite, his vocation was perfect for the invocation . . . Hermes the messenger, mixed with Aphrodite the goddess of femininity.
And, regarding Oprah’s qualifications for leadership, need I say more than:
O=800 P=80 R=100 A=1 H=5 =986 9+8+6=23 = 5
Spooky, no?
Anyhoo, World politics have become so tedious after time; we now prefer to amuse ourselves in smaller, more humorous ways, such as:
-We have coded the 64 aspects of the human psyche into the Mr. Men children’s books series. As children read through the series they will intuitively learn to realize that the human psyche is not a continuous stream of consciousness, but instead vastly different facets of a wider hallway of reality. These 64 aspects coincide, of course, with the more broad and esoteric aspects of Leary’s 8-Circuit model, the 64 hexagrams of the I-Ching, and naturally the 64 squares of the chess board.
-Hiding the 5 Elements of Nature in the television series the Facts of Life: Fire being represented by fiery Joe Polniaczek,the creative and wiley leader; Water represented by Blair Warner, the opposite of Joe, the Venus love goddess type; Air being represented by loudmouth Tootie Ramsey, the gossip; Earth being represented, naturally by Natalie Green, the pragmatic, down to earth smartass. The Fifth Quint-Essence is represented by Mrs. Edna Garrett who brings all the 4 qualities of the girls into logical union. She is the final outcome.
-Another project -which has been transpiring over the past three decades- has been the publishing of books completely blank. It began slowly at first, with blank books on accounting and quilting, but in the last two decades we have moved on to works of literature; James Joyce’s Ulysses has been printed blank since 1995, and Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow has been printed blank since 1982 – nobody has noticed yet. We had several plans set up for when books were returned angrily by the public demanding explanation, but up until the present time has never become an issue. Other blank books are The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood; Beautiful Losers, by Leonard Cohen; The Golden Bough, by Sir James George Frazer and Star: A Novel, by Pamela Anderson.
Another minor ongoing project (strictly my own) has been the development of the Simpson sisters, Jessica and Ashlee. It’s been an amusing ride, since in the beginning Jessica was intended as a straight-out clone of the formerly wildly popular Britney Spears, but has since eclipsed Brit, and is now a fully functional Illuminati puppet. That’s not the interesting part, though, since most celebrities are Illuminati puppets . . . the truly fantastic part is that in the last few months I have been slowly turning the two sisters into one person. If they seem confused by the questions about their plastic surgery in the media recently, there is a perfectly good explanation: THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT IT! Stay tuned, it’s only going to get better . . . wait until they release the same single on the same day!
Anyway, I’ve blabbed on to you enough . . . tell me, do you still have that wonderful Mayor Mel you set up as leader in Hogtown? I can’t believe people actually bought him as a serious candidate, let alone actual winner – that almost beats old “W” down here . . . Keep Laughing!
-Ramses
Quinti-Primi Illuminati, Hermes Trismegistus Cabal
TO: Baron von Hoopla, KSC
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Kaufman Kabal
Dear BVH,
In response to your querie, may I just say that you grant us altogether too much credit. We haven’t had a single thing to do with the direction of world affairs since before WWI . . . Surely you realize who now runs North America, I’ve guessed as much from reading your log: Oprah Winfrey. She has been running everything since she took over from Phil Donahue when he achieved transendental illumination and became the Alchemical Hermaphrodite, his vocation was perfect for the invocation . . . Hermes the messenger, mixed with Aphrodite the goddess of femininity.
And, regarding Oprah’s qualifications for leadership, need I say more than:
O=800 P=80 R=100 A=1 H=5 =986 9+8+6=23 = 5
Spooky, no?
Anyhoo, World politics have become so tedious after time; we now prefer to amuse ourselves in smaller, more humorous ways, such as:
-We have coded the 64 aspects of the human psyche into the Mr. Men children’s books series. As children read through the series they will intuitively learn to realize that the human psyche is not a continuous stream of consciousness, but instead vastly different facets of a wider hallway of reality. These 64 aspects coincide, of course, with the more broad and esoteric aspects of Leary’s 8-Circuit model, the 64 hexagrams of the I-Ching, and naturally the 64 squares of the chess board.
-Hiding the 5 Elements of Nature in the television series the Facts of Life: Fire being represented by fiery Joe Polniaczek,the creative and wiley leader; Water represented by Blair Warner, the opposite of Joe, the Venus love goddess type; Air being represented by loudmouth Tootie Ramsey, the gossip; Earth being represented, naturally by Natalie Green, the pragmatic, down to earth smartass. The Fifth Quint-Essence is represented by Mrs. Edna Garrett who brings all the 4 qualities of the girls into logical union. She is the final outcome.
-Another project -which has been transpiring over the past three decades- has been the publishing of books completely blank. It began slowly at first, with blank books on accounting and quilting, but in the last two decades we have moved on to works of literature; James Joyce’s Ulysses has been printed blank since 1995, and Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow has been printed blank since 1982 – nobody has noticed yet. We had several plans set up for when books were returned angrily by the public demanding explanation, but up until the present time has never become an issue. Other blank books are The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood; Beautiful Losers, by Leonard Cohen; The Golden Bough, by Sir James George Frazer and Star: A Novel, by Pamela Anderson.
Another minor ongoing project (strictly my own) has been the development of the Simpson sisters, Jessica and Ashlee. It’s been an amusing ride, since in the beginning Jessica was intended as a straight-out clone of the formerly wildly popular Britney Spears, but has since eclipsed Brit, and is now a fully functional Illuminati puppet. That’s not the interesting part, though, since most celebrities are Illuminati puppets . . . the truly fantastic part is that in the last few months I have been slowly turning the two sisters into one person. If they seem confused by the questions about their plastic surgery in the media recently, there is a perfectly good explanation: THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT IT! Stay tuned, it’s only going to get better . . . wait until they release the same single on the same day!
Anyway, I’ve blabbed on to you enough . . . tell me, do you still have that wonderful Mayor Mel you set up as leader in Hogtown? I can’t believe people actually bought him as a serious candidate, let alone actual winner – that almost beats old “W” down here . . . Keep Laughing!
-Ramses
It Took This Long?
Man Sues Employer For Hours Worked Sleeping
(Toronto Moon)
Updated: 2006-04-12 09:36
In a case being called the first of it’s kind by legal experts, a design firm employee, has sued his employer for time spent dreaming about work. Ruben Valletta, 33, who works as a graphic designer has sued Toronto-based Raw Silk Design, for the hours he has worked in his dreams—a case of work-life balance gone awry, he claims.
Filing a suit with the Ontario Court of Justice, Valletta and his representation are asking to be awarded the same hourly wage he receives in his actual job.
“I work all day for these people, then come home and dream about the job all night, why shouldn’t I be paid for those (hours) too?” Valletta told the Toronto Moon.
Attorney Apollo Devinia claims the suit has no grounds: “Mr. Valletta will first of all need to prove he dreams about his work, and if that could be proven he would need a record of exactly how many hours he works every night. It is my understanding that dreams are usually quite short in duration.”
This is the first time an employee has attempted to receive compensation for time spent working in a dream state
Raw Silk Design declined to comment on the suit.
The Mountain
I now understand the parable told in the Far East which states: first the mountain is a mountain, then the mountain is not a mountain, then it is again.
The parable had always confused me; I could understand the mountain not being a mountain anymore, but why would it then become a mountain again?
There is no sense in explaining how or why I now understand this, except to say that I believe I do.
I realize now that this parable has to be understood on your own and cannot be explained for you, so I can’t help anyone else much, except to state it in a different way which might add a clue:
first the mountain is a mountain, then the mountain is not a mountain, then it is a mountain again, then the mountain is not a mountain again, then it is, then it isn’t once again, but soon is a mountain again, et cetera and et cetera and et cetera . . .
What E Didn’t Understand About "V"
Roger Ebert’s review for “V for Vendetta” was a mostly glowing one (much better than the pan he gave Batman in 1989, which I still haven’t fully forgiven him for) and while he didn’t make the standard mistake most reviewers have been making regarding Evey’s “education”, in the last line of his review he does miss one large point of V’s message.
Close to the end of his review, Ebert states: “The movie ends with a violent act that left me, as a lover of London, intensely unhappy; surely V’s enemy is human, not architectural.”
Let us put aside for a moment that V is simply following through with what Guy Fawkes originally attempted in 1605, that is part of the answer, but the less important part.
Ebert is correct, of course, V’s enemy ARE human, but humans who use symbolism as a means of controlling the population. His genius is to use these same symbols in reverse.
The government buildings hold a form of magic in them because people believe they do, the same way our money holds magic because we believe it does. The government buildings are treated differently than other buildings because, apparently, ‘important’ matters are dealt with there. The government buildings are also symbolic of government itself.
The government buildings of London were attacked for much the same reason the Pentagon was attacked on 9/11, namely that they both represent the government as a whole. To destroy the government buildings is to allow the people to believe that the government is not magical, is not lead by the hand of God, is not impenetrable. Poke holes in someone’s symbols and you poke holes in their magic.
The No-Prize
Anyone who read Marvel comics in the 1970s and 1980s is familiar with the concept of the No-Prize. In a nutshell the No-Prize was a fictitious award handed out to fans who noticed mistakes in the stories, but instead of admitting them as mistakes created clever reason why it wasn’t really a mistake at all.
An example might be Wolverine in an X-Men comic being drawn in the middle of a fight pounding someone without his claws, when in the panels before and after his claws had been extended. A suitable answer worthy of the No-Prize would have been that Wolverine’s claws periodically become dulled and need to be retracted and popped out again to regain sharpness.
Intelligent? No. Possible? Perhaps.
All around us these days you will find people answering No-Prizes without even getting an empty envelope in the mail for their troubles.
—–Fundie X-tians are foiled by dinosaur bones when believing the world to be only 6000 years old? No problem! Jews buried the bones in the 1920s!
—–Government documents about Roswell show that it was indeed bits and pieces of a top secret weather balloon aren’t as fun as believing in crashed UFO’s? No problem! The government forged the documents!
—–Someone crashed a couple planes into some big buildings, but we don’t know who? Forget it! It was Saddam, and he has WOMD!
I propose that Discordians revive the tradition of the No-Prize and send them out to all the people who use specious reasoning to satiate themselves.
Today’s Lesson
LESSON #1
A handgun is a reality.
A blue uniform is a reality.
A “Police Officer” is a social fiction.
LESSON #2
Paper is a reality.
Printing presses are a reality.
“Money” is a social fiction.
LESSON #3
Land is a reality.
Population is a reality.
“Prime Minister” is a social fiction.
Oprah, Surely You Jest
The entire brou-ha-ha over the so-called fictions in James Frey’s “A Million Little Pieces” is bringing me dangerously close to a nonstop tidal-wave of barf. Are these people kidding, or do people just like drama and love to jump on a bandwagon of hate? Probably both, let’s be honest we are a lynching people. Sources disagree to exactly how many witches were actually killed in the infamous witch trials, but let’s be honest: they were killing witches because they liked it, not because they really felt threatened by them. Ditto for the Spanish Inquisition. People love to see someone hounded and caught, whether they want to admit it or not, even to themselves. James Frey is just the most recent, and one of the more juicy, victims.
On her show yesterday Oprah Winfrey berated author James Frey for “betraying millions of readers.” I would love to ask her majesty if she truly believes, in her heart of hearts, whether every other memoir and autobiography she has ever read was 100% true. If she does believe that she is, in my opinion, at best extremely naive and at worst a deluded fool. Memories are by definition subjective, there is no getting around that. We do not have access to other’s memories, or some preternatural objective memory computer, so the best we can do is retell things as we believed they happened. This makes every single memoir and autobiography ever printed fiction, whether you would like to believe it or not.
I don’t know whether James Frey intentionally altered what he believed to be the truth in his memoir, nor do I care. I choose to think for myself, and not have others tell me how things are or are not. When I heard about the hole in the cheek and the dentist visit minus Novocain I immediately and instinctively felt that these stories were false. Did I know for certain? No, but if one is even slightly savvy they would ask themselves a multitude of questions concerning these two incidents, most of which would lead to the conclusion of fiction entering the narrative. Do I care? No, I do not.
Q: Why do we read?
A: We read to be entertained.
Were you entertained by the book? If so, great; if not, fantastic too, but can you really say you were more entertained when you thought it was true? If so, why?
This entire debacle reminds me of the people who took their Milli Vanilli records back to the store when it turned out the singers of the songs were not who the listeners thought they were – I remember thinking at the time: “But isn’t it the MUSIC these people enjoyed? The music remains the same.”
And so, people, I tell you: the words remain the same.
5 Things I Am Sick Of Hearing
1) You can see the Great Wall Of China from space
2) You have to be cruel to be kind
3) But, with the windchill factor it’s actually X
4) Joyce’s Ulysses is about the styles and satires
5) “ASAP” as if it’s a word
One Less "Canadian"
I’ve never really considered myself belonging to any “nation” – the idea of some person arbitrarily drawing imaginary lines around areas of land and then telling people “you live in country A, and the person over there lives in country B.” has always seemed ridiculous to me.
But, despite that, today I have decided to renounce whatever nationality I did possess: I am no longer Canadian.
I may live within the borders of what is considered Canada, but I am not a member.
I will not call Stephen ‘anything for a chuckle’ Harper my Prime Minister. I refuse. He may be your Prime Minister, but he is certainly not mine.
When I can afford it I will be moving to Chad.
So long, suckers.
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