Hey gang,
In my travels through the PD forums, I've been printing off and corkboarding a lot of the funny/noteworthy/insightful/just-plain-silly things that I've seen, simply so I have something to raise my spirits while at work. However, as a more long-term project, I've been collecting some of the posts and discussions on here in the hopes of one day archiving and binding them in a book so that when I'm old and decrepit, and my eyes have long since become useless, gelatinous orbs that simply serve to shield my brain from direct-air contact, I will not be forced to squint at a computer monitor to read them.
To that end - and with everyone's permission - I would like to post some of the more noteworthy rants, stories and NaNoWriMo projects on here, so that there is one easily accessible place to find them for both myself and anyone else who would like to read them or contribute their own posts. Also, because I am a blatant whore when it comes to my own work, I shall post some of the stuff I have written for the sake of anyone who would like to laugh at my creative faux pas (sp?).
I won't wait for people to chime in, but will simply start posting with the assumption that everything (not otherwise noted) on these forums is kopleft. If anyone says otherwise, I will edit the offending post and remove it.
First entry: a rather weird little short story that I did for a Religious Writing class in college where the prof. asked us to "write a story about a religious mystery in Christianity." I thought at the time that the biggest mystery of all was what God, being immortal, did before the creation of the universe. The resulting story was pretty rough and only got me a B, but I like it.
Afflatus
By
Manta Obscura
On the morning of April 53, -2,000,000,000, a lonely yet amiable young/old God was strolling about . . .
I think I must clarify. When I say He was strolling about, He wasn't literally strolling. There wasn't anywhere to stroll in, really, because of the mere fact that Creation hadn't been created yet. Or perhaps it had been created and just hadn't been given physical form. Or maybe it still has yet to be formed and we are all merely thoughts of Creation in the God's mind. Most likely, though, everything hadn't been created.
All of that aside, the God was strolling about in an as yet undetermined way. He had been strolling/not-really-strolling for what would be, if time had been created at this point, centuries.
It just so happened that He was walking by His favorite part in the multiverse of non-Creation that day. From there He had a rather lovely view of the waves of Nothingness cresting across the Sea of Emptiness, and finally crashing against the shores of Desolation. The God saw all of it (or none of it, for that matter), but by what system of otherworldly sight He saw it amidst the non-black blackness even He wasn't sure. He tried not to muse over it much, though. Even if He did, Nothing usually happened.
He was incredibly bored that day. Not that there was any day to speak of, really. There hadn't ever even been the epiphany of the concept of day. In fact, there hadn't ever even been the epiphany of the concept of epiphany, let alone the epiphany of such an epiphany as a concept like day. But if there had been, the day would have been considered, by and large, boring.
For a bit of fun He turned Himself into what one day might have been called a mongoose. The trudging boredom fled for about three anti-seconds.
If there had been air at this time the God would have sighed. It would have been a big sigh. If stars had been created, it would have had the equivalent effect of one of them going supernova.
Because He didn't have much choice, He did what He always did (or perhaps never did at all): He began to just not stand there for a time that wasn't an eon.
This was, needless to say, quite a dull and pointless preoccupation for a deity of all-powerful proportions. But still, He didn't have many other options, so he continued to not do it anyway.
* * *
It has already been commented that the being in question was a God and was all-powerful. However, these two statements are a bit inaccurate; in fact, they're completely false.
For one thing, a God is a being who loves all of Creation and wields an infinite compassion for what He's created. It has already been pointed out in minor detail that Nothing had been created yet, so one could conclude that the aforementioned deity loved nothing. Actually, he probably didn't even like Nothing, really, because it was a lot like Something that was bad, except sans the something-ness and the bad-ness. In any case, nothing to love = no Godship. QED.
As for the bit about Him being all-powerful, that too is false. He isn't almighty, just massively, enormously powerful, which doesn't really mean anything because there's no scale at this point with which to compare Him. If, hypothetically speaking, Creation existed at this point and if, hypothetically speaking, one would have compared Him to It, the resulting simile is too drastically skewed to imagine. If, perchance, a lesser being had existed such as, let's say, a human, and if this lesser being had attempted to challenge His power and authority, it would be to the same effect as if ants and black holes existed, and if the ant had tried to plug up the black hole with its face. It would be a lot like that only much bigger, more impressive looking, and a lot weirder of a story to tell your grandchildren.
The thing that didn't make Him all-powerful, disregarding the fact that no base of perspective had yet been established with which to measure His power in the first place, was the fact that He a) couldn't really destroy Himself, because there was nothing powerful enough to destroy Himself with, and b) He was unable to be rebellious against anything because of the simple fact that there was no structure greater than Him with which to be rebellious against.
All of this is really niggling and beside the point, though. I just thought you might like to know.
* * *
For countless periods of non-time He continued to not stand there. Even with the massiveness of His form which, of course, would only seem massive when compared to such nonexistent entities like a universe, He still seemed a small thing compared to Nothing.
It was sort of like comparing a toothpick to the cosmos, only entirely different.
Amidst the endless non-blackness He stood there, a single yet unmistakable pinpoint of Creation on the backdrop of backdroplessness.
(Chronicler's note: It should be clarified at this point that when the God in question is referred to as "He" or "Him," there is no actual evidence to say that the God was a male at all. This is largely true because of the fact that the mere concept that there could even be genders hadn't been thought up yet. However, I'm an immoral, sexist pig, so I'll continue to chronicle the God in question as being male.)
Despite the amazing and exhaustive list of possibilities that this Nothingness presented, after a time something, very stubbornly, began to happen. If crap had been created, it would have been scared out of the God at this point, assuming He had all the necessary organs to do so. The reason that this figurative reaction occurred was not because the something that happened was necessarily surprising; it was the fact that something was happening at all.
In all His existence in non-existence, He had never seen anything happen. Ever. There had been nothing there to happen, really. It was a lot like a Nascar race, only a little more exciting. This new experience, however, blew His celestial mind to smithereens with the thought of the possibilities it presented.
In fact, that's just what it was: an epiphany of possible possibilities. Never had the God had an epiphany before; it was never there to have had. So in effect, having this one let Him have the first thing that He had had.
It's not to say that epiphanies are in any way miraculous. Far from it, in fact. Given the statistical probability of finite possibility weighed against infinite eternity, it's inevitable that every possible epiphany must occur at some point or another. No, there was nothing miraculous about it aside from the fact that it was the first anything that the God didn't not experience. Before now, the non-universe just hadn't been the non-universe, and that's the way things weren't.
But this time was different. With the first-ever epiphany of the concept of possible epiphanies, the God was primed for the epiphany of the possible concepts yet to come. Swimming there in His brain, much like porpoises at Sea World, many amazing things overwhelmed Him.
Reflecting back later, the God would recall the memory fondly: "Yeah, it was pretty weird, y'know? I mean, there I am, right, just not minding my own business, when out of nowhere there's a somewhere. That crap will mess with your head."
And so, with a mind full of existence, fit to burst like a frog on a hotplate, the God set out on the first endeavor He'd ever endeavored: He made. Dredging up His first-ever words from the depths of His first-ever body, He uttered the first-ever incantation that created the first-ever makeshift universe.
When He did it, it was done with a firm pronouncement. It was done with a loving, caring tone. It was done with a vague inkling on the God's part that He'd regret it in the morning. With a thunderous roar like the splitting of an atom, the God's voice boomed across the Nothingness. The Nothingness was pissed. As often happens, a whole cosmos sprang from just two words.
He liked them so much, He repeated them again.
"What if?"
* * *
It was said a moment ago that the whole cosmos sprang from two words. The cosmos didn't actually spring, though. It's hard to describe what it did, really. The closest word to describe what it did would be to say that it "qualallumed." This word is an ancient, obsolete verb from the language of the angels that means, roughly translated, "to spring into existence as if from two words from the Divine God." This doesn't come much closer to doing the job.
* * *
Imagine an explosion . . .
No, bigger than that.
Still bigger.
Come on, stretch your brain; I'm talking REALLY big here . . .
Okay, now you've got it. Now imagine that this isn't an explosion of fire, but an explosion of light. Picture, if you will, the sight of endless waves of brightness streaming through the universe to the darkest recesses of the cosmos. Try and envision the sound of Nothingness, vast and bleary, being torn apart by a raging torrent of photogenic chaos. Imagine that, from the tatters of this Nothingness, colossal balls of furiously burning gas are being hurled into the universe, in turn spewing from their titanic depths mighty orbs of gas and rock that tear across the heavens. Imagine the nebulae, the star clusters, the black holes, the novas, the moons and meteors, all of Creation exploding upon the now-black canvas of space as if Pollock himself had splattered them there . . .
This is exactly what the Creation of the universe was not like.
When it happened there was, in fact, no spewing, or hurling, or exploding, or any of that other unnecessary riffraff. What actually happened was beyond words. It was ineffable, indescribable; there is no poetry colorful enough in all the world to illustrate the Divine Artwork that was the beginning of everything.
This is what it looked like:
The black non-blackness that had once been the non-color of Nothingness began to drain away in silent ripples. Where once there had been mere Nothingness there was now a brilliant, somber shade of black. The black was strange, though. Though it was unquestionably, unarguably dark, there was also a quality of light to it. The pitch black radiated a sort of dusky glow that interwove onto and within itself, creating a darkness that was darker than black but infinitely brighter than Nothing at all.
When the ripples of blackness ceased and the dark settled into a comfortable sitting position, there came another change. Rolling over the horizon of Space came, at last, Creation. It was like a wave of dancing color that twirled tidally over the endless firmament, reminiscent in a way of what a kaleidoscope would look like when peered through with the eyes of an acid junkie or Andy Worhol. Where it touched the Space it left vast sprinklings of fuzzy color and glowing light that intermingled with the dark/light of the firmament, and the two miracle glows made awkward love across the vast expanse of Eternity.
Where the wave left splotches of color, there was movement. The tiny speckles of vibrant hues began to slowly spread their way into fuzzy orbs that were not unlike Furbies, only larger and more planet shaped. With unspeakably slow patience the colors wound outward, much like tree roots through soft soil or ink across a clean handkerchief.
When the wave of light and color had spread to an expanse that seemed a little ridiculous even to the God, it stopped. As a final touch to His masterpiece the God breathed, for the first time, on the still-drying canvas of the cosmos. His breath meandered across the expanse of the new light and color, and all that it touched solidified into reality. The once-fuzzy forms of the color planets grew hard lines, and the planets themselves began showing off their new physiques to their lesser moon-friends.
As for the light, well, when the breath touched it the light became, in a sense, more illuminated. This wasn't the old-fashioned light of your grandfather's age. This light was the funky, new, "see everything that I touch" kind of light. It was sassy.
And for days the breath continued its inexorable flow across it all and, to the delight of the God, it really was a period of days this time. He fell in love with watching it bring Creation into reality, flowing like silk on river water. But to Him it seemed to gush and trickle, rolling like the brightest watercolor down the edge of a perfect palette.
* * *
A very talented artist once told a reporter, "Art is life. It is the language of God." Unfortunately, the artist was also reported as having said, "Urk!" when he died from drug overdose. Because of this, no one really seems to have taken his first statement seriously, which is quite a shame.
He was a clever chap, despite his perusal of recreational pharmaceuticals.
A very funny recipe by vexati0n in "How to make what I had for dinner":
Quote from: vexati0n on October 23, 2008, 06:45:56 AM
Ingredients:
1 chicken breast, frozen.
1 handful of spaghetti
1 jar of alfredo pasta sauce
some nearly-expired spinach leaves
some frozen vegetables
First, try to defrost the chicken using your microwave's "Defrost" setting. When that fails, get pissed off and set it to nuke for 2 minutes on 100% power.
Meanwhile, distract yourself with guessing how much spaghetti you need. Do not use a spaghetti serving measurer thing, which would be cheating. Start spaghetti cooking in cold water.
Notice that the chicken has become half-cooked in the microwave, and remove it. Start frying it in a pan for no apparent reason. Some people recommend you chop up the chicken pieces before you start frying it. Those people are wrong. Find something to season it with, it doesn't matter what. I used steak seasoning. Be sure to apply the seasoning after the chicken is at least halfway done, otherwise the flavor might stay in the chicken.
Dump spinach leaves into the pot along with the cooking spaghetti. Take care to use just enough spinach to add color, but not flavor. Add some kind of oil (preferably edible) to pasta water, liberally.
When the spaghetti is done, strain it and put it in some kind of container. Dump the entire jar of alfredo sauce in and mix it up. Allow it to cool while the chicken gets done, which would already be done except you put the heat on too low.
When the chicken is done, toss it into the mix. Taste. Decide it needs something else. Check the cupboards and find nothing. Find frozen vegetables in the freezer. Nuke the holy Jesus out of them for like 10 minutes, then throw them in there too.
Serve.
A quote from Rat's post on "Introductions Everybody . . ." from, um . . .
I think it was today, but I can't remember.
Anywho, Rat quoted this from his LJ, which was posted on March 21, 2008:
Quote
Rant #0011001000110011
1 Little Children of Chaos have you read the Principia Discordia and "Illuminatus!"? Have you read Zen Without Zen Masters, the Apocrypha Discordia, and every other Erisian work you could find?
2 Do you think that makes you Discordian? That you carry a Pope card, maybe a TSAR card, that you Turkey Curse your Boss and you know 230 ways to get to the number 5... do these things makes you Erisian?
3 Open all THREE Eyes and See, Goddessdamnit!
4 A thousand Fnords make not a single Discordian, 23's and 5's are not what turn cabbages into humans.
5 No catechism, no required meme to learn. No "right" of passage into some Initiatory Coven of Chaos.
6 Nay, my fellows, even that Great Goddess, Eris Kallisti Discordia herself, appears unnecessary for a Discordian.
7 I implore you, Seek not only the Chaos of the past, for while there may be LULZ, while there may exist Inspiration, while there may be tools aplenty, it is not there that Discordianism lies.
8 I do not say this to discourage reuse, older memes have deep roots and healthy growth and may be the hook which catches many minds in their initial first steps into the Void. And what is wrong with that if it be the case? Nothing, I think.
9 However, Discordian 'enlightenment' (for what its worth), won't be found in those memes. It won't be found in anything written by Robert Anton Wilson, it won't be found in the Principia Discordia. They don't contain Enlightenment. They contain hints and pointers, they contain tools which can help with the freeing of oneself. But, words cannot free you from the Curse of Greyface.
10 If you wish to be Free, then there is but one thing you can do;
11 DISCORDIAN, ENLIGHTEN THYSELF!
12 Another Discordian's enlightenment cannot bring the light to your eyes, nor will the ideas of another make you free.
13 So you read a rant? Go write a rant! So you found some memes? Go create some memes! Do not rely on the Enlightenment of others for your own damned Enlightenment.
14 In that direction lie all of the greyfaced, hunch-brained ideas of a Dogmatic and Drab Existence.
15 I see no flaw in embracing and enjoying the ideas of others, as long as they do not replace your ideas. There is no sin in delighting in the stories of past Discordians, as long as you have your own stories as well. The only Sin is the sin of stagnation.
16 Even so, if you do naught but parrot the old memes, you are still Discordian in some sense. Though, perhaps not the sense you were hoping for.
17 A Discordian bears no responsibility to accept anyone else, not me, nor you, nor "Bob".
18 They are only responsible to know themselves and accept it or change it as they see fit.
19 And for you, it appears the same, for you have no responsibility to accept anyone else either. Including me, including this rant.
20 Do As Thou Will, but be sure it is Thou who Wills it.
21 In the end, our freedom is a freedom of the mind and only the owner of that mind can free it.
22 We are the Slave and the Master. No one can free the Slave, except for the Master.
The legendary Verthaine's first post on the PD:
Quote from: Verthaine on January 17, 2003, 09:26:23 PM
Let's say we live in a universe filled with trillions and trillions and trillions of cubic parsecs of vacuum, along with dark and illuminated matter. Let's say that we don't quite know yet how that space or matter came into being in our universe,but that clues are scattered all over the place,some of which we can discern now, others we'll be discerning later. Let's say that our consciousnesses came into being after said universe existed for billions and billions of years. Let's say that said consciousness recognized that it owes its existence to inorganic elements and molecules,that somehow those inorganic elements and molecules became animate of their own accord due to the fact that it had billions of years to turn into more diverse and complex forms, after all, our world is completely saturated with several constant energy sources,negating the effects of entropy on our warm and wet planet. Let's say that after, oh, say, 4 or so billion years (who's counting?), that that consciousness was able to look deeply inward as well as far outward,outwardly piercing the veil of space and view it out to, oh, say, 12 or so billion light years in all directions.
The universe is conscious of itself!
It knows it's alive!
Wouldn't that be awesome?
It's capable of reflecting on itself and saying: I have consciousness and I see all around me!
Le's say that man ascended (not descended) from an ape-like creature. That means we managed to progress from using straws to pick up succulent termites, to cooking Cajun Gumbo in, say, 4 million years.
Somehow, Christian theologians says that's a BAD thing.
Why?
Because it implies that we might be better than worms. And then they would be wrong.
I say we've made a really good go of it. Sadly, that's bad according to those self-made worms. They don't realize the awesome contribution to the universe that Man is. The universe is conscious of itself because of us and they don't see the magic in that. Simply said , their lives are devoid of REAL magic,instead, theirs is filled with supernatural battles of good and evil, sinning people, disgraced humans. How sad for them. They even say that we've fallen from some high mystical state where these two people frolicked naked and plucked fruit from trees in a paradisiacal garden,like uncivilized forest dwellers.
Where's the dignity in that?
There is no dignity in that. There's just no dignity in believing we're just "worms", to quote their terminology. Instead, there is dignity in learning that even tho space is as good as infinite, in all that infinite space we're alive anyway. We can yearn to reach beyond our atmosphere,and do it just about monthly now. We send probes into deep space and despite the seeming impossibility of ever being detected by another civilization, we keep doing it anyway . In the meantime, we're learning more and more of our immediate neighborhood. And the more we know, the more we come to appreciate our little chunk of rock called Earth.
But I digress.
My point is that at the most basic level we're all made of carbon, nitrogen, hydrogen and oxygen...the inorganic elements of DNA&,and it's ALIVE! That's very cool. We're made of the stuff of the universe. And what's even more awesone is that the heavier elements in our bodies didn't come into being until lots of stars lived, grew old and then exploded in novas and supernovas to form them. So not only are we made of the stuff of the universe, we're made of stardust! You can't get any more magical than that.
I prefer this kind of magic. This is the true miracle. Mythological beginnings are just that,mythology. They were good enough for beginning civilizations a thousand generations ago, but they don't work in a world where science and knowledge now has reign over superstition and ignorance. Science and knowledge don't make anything any less magic,they bring the magic of life to full view.
At least for me.
And I like it that way.
A rant from Jack of Turnips in the thread titled "All things having been said." I think this is one of the most poetic and insightful rants I've ever read:
Quote from: Jack of Turnips on October 12, 2008, 05:44:29 PM
All things having been said, and repeated, and repeated again until the bile rises in the throat...now the only sensible action is to destroy the government.
The Capitol should be ruins, a grassy rock-scattered place where children go and their parents tell them, "This was where the bigwigs approved torture, this is where the fat men legislated their robberies, this is where they voted for war and left the poor and sick to die. This is where the ones in power proclaimed that all the money will go to the rich and everyone else can eat dirt." That's what the parents, those who knew and who put the dynamite under the foundations, that's what they will say.
And the children will pick dandelions in the ruins of Washington, DC.
Yeah, America's dead. She has been dead for fifty years now. Nationalists still love her, still kiss her dead lips; they are making love to her corpse even as you read this. But she's dead. Get over it.
Your allegiance must be elsewhere. Your allegiance must be to a new life. It is 07:30 and the October sun bursts in a flood of orange light through the window. What the hell are you going to do about it? Get the guitars and the djembes, the harmonicas and the fiddles; get your crazy trousers and your hat with the ribbons; walk on stilts and let the dogs run free. Dance for your life, you bastards. Dance and sing and work and fuck like you mean it. It's all that's left.
For fifty years money has been lavished on corporate barons while legislators deny food and basic medical care to the poor. For fifty years America has used lies to wage wars of aggression. The killings -- Vietnam to Iraq -- number in the hundreds of millions, a holocaust. A murderous American holocaust. For fifty years the US secret police have operated without restraint of law, and they have been set loose to imprison and torture at will. America's Constitution is a joke, ignored in practice and mocked daily by the actions of the government.
Dance like you mean it, brothers. Spit on everyone in power. I heard there was a man who said that no matter whether McCain or Obama gets elected the inauguration should be the same: a hollow-point bullet to the forehead. To be immediately followed by the execution of each and every congressman and senator. I did not say that, I don't know who did. It is illegal to say that, illegal to write it, illegal for an American to think it. (Just as it was illegal for a Soviet in Stalin's day.) I don't know who would say that.
Spit on everyone in power.
We will learn this or die: the only tribe is the human tribe. The streets and parks and fields belong to us. We own the sunlight on the grass, a bottle of warm wine in our hands and a cheap guitar hung 'round our necks. We own life. Late at night, alone: frost forming on the windows, a 40-watt bulb in the bedside lamp -- the one without a lampshade -- and a thin book by Jim:
"The bullet tumbled toward the girl's head at 1250 feet
per second. She wasn't the president, you say,
too young for politics. Despite theological gooseshit
the gods don't keep time in light years. We're slowed
to the brutality of clocks. Listen to the alarm.
Wake up."
That's it, then: wake up. Every one of us will die, but we will continue. We can't go on, but we will go on. The chain of souls sings in our blood, in the only tribe there is, the human tribe. There is a reason the officials are on top: it is because scum floats. And therefore be no respecter of government. Subvert the powerful. Mail your congressman an envelope of spit. Your allegiance is to humankind, not to the corpse of America or the stinking remains of a nationalist fantasy. Grow up. And learn to sing.
Cain's initial post from his thread titled "The Emergent Conspiracy." This is a really thoughtful piece that raises some good points about the emergence of trends and the endurance of movements:
Quote from: Cain on October 28, 2008, 11:13:29 AM
The Emergent Conspiracy
An emergent behaviour or emergent property can appear when a number of simple entities (agents) operate in an environment, forming more complex behaviours as a collective [...] The complex behaviour or properties are not a property of any single such entity, nor can they easily be predicted or deduced from behaviour in the lower-level entities.
- Wikipedia
"Daring ideas are like Chess men moved forward. They may be beaten, but they may start a winning game"
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Its hard to say when the "conspiracy" started. Because, the thing is, its not really a conspiracy. Its easy to trace people and interests, child's play really. But tracing ideas...well, that's another matter entirely. Some say it dates back to the Yellow Turban Rebellion, where Taoists eschewed Wu Wei and took matters into their own hands, collapsing the Han Dynasty. Others suggest the Assassins, the mystic-killers who controlled wide tracts of the Middle East, as more likely culprits. More realistically, the secret authors of the Rosicrucian Manifestos are named, setting into motion a fusion of Hermetic philosophy, Renaissance free thinking and opposition to the Vatican. This filtered into radical Masonic lodges, culminating in the exemplar secret society, that of the Bavarian Illuminati.
Others think that looking at the subject too politically may in fact be the wrong way of going about it. Looking to literature and art, we have Baudelaire and Poe, influencing the Symbolist movement, and working its way, via World War One, into Dadaism. From Dada sprung the Situationists and Discordians, among others. And from there, the ball was really set rolling. Discordianism worked an influence on the Church of the Subgenius, and combining with the Beat philosophy of the West Coast and their anarchic interpretation of Situationism, became the Cacophony Society. Neoism also arose, promoting its mixture of experimental art and pranking, paradoxes and various frauds. The avant-garde, constantly evolving to effect the mainstream and better protest against it.
And whichever story you prefer, including the ones you come up with yourselves, there is no denying that the virus is loose. Its hard to define, but that's why it keeps on living. Chaotic, anarchic, artistic and rebellious, opposing the values of the mainstream and with more than a hint of humour (if of the ironic and satirical kind) it is out there. And it keeps on going.
That's why this conspiracy is emergent. There is no controlling group, no command, no figurehead. Many of the groups within the conspiracy have these, but it does not add up overall. It does not even need to. And even better...with no one grouping, with no figurehead, its very, very hard to undo. Its in the soil, and in the air we breathe. To be sure, its hard to catch, or at least thinly distributed, but it is there, and combines with local and global trends to become something new, to change and adapt and unleash itself yet again against the upright, the "proper", the bourgeois (in the pejorative sense) and in short, living the ideal of Baudelaire, that "the man of letters is the enemy of the world".
Discordianism, for its own sake, its irrelevant. Well, maybe that's too harsh. It is not necessary, though its certainly very agreeable to my personal tastes and has done a lot in spreading the underlying memes that the emergent conspiracy relies on. Instead, if for whatever reason, Discordianism were to fail (the unlikely scenario of Erisian terrorists, for example), there are avenues for escape, to regroup, and continue on as before, with a few adjustments. The conspiracy, by virtue of the fact that it is not a conspiracy in the traditional sense, lives on, and continues to exert its influences.
The conspiracy does not die. It stands against the values of this culture, this society. Its willing to use unusual and exotic techniques to change it. And no-one can stop those of us in on it. Because...the conspiracy does not exist. But that does not mean you cannot join it.
Oh, and once again because I didn't make this super-clear in the initial post for this thread: anyone feel free to post insightful or provocative pieces that they find, if that sort of thing strikes your fancy.
I've been getting really into archiving lately, so I hope you'll forgive my seeming lack of originality in simply dredging up old posts.
Post by Cram in the topic "Compromise/Collaboration," wherein he provides an alternate metaphor of the BIP as a dream within a dream within a dream (et hoc genus omne):
Quote from: Cramulus on March 19, 2007, 04:33:05 PM
Okay here's my Take One.
Within a Dream
We talk to ourselves incessantly about our world. In fact we maintain our world with our internal talk. And whenever we finish talking to ourselves about ourselves and our world, the world is always as it should be. We renew it, we rekindle it with life, we uphold it with our internal talk. Not only that, but we also choose our paths as we talk to ourselves. Thus we repeat the same choices over and over until the day we die, because we keep on repeating the same internal talk over and over until the day we die. A warrior is aware of this and strives to stop his internal talk.
-Carlos Castaneda
It's a Dream Within A Dream
within a dream
within a dream
The difference between a regular dream and a lucid dream is that in the lucid dream you're aware that you're dreaming. These dreams are more memorable. Despite awareness of the illusion, the experience of seems more real. In a lucid dream, you have control over what's going on. When I realize I'm not in the real world but in a dream world, I will myself to escape it, to fly away into a cooler place.
You can teach yourself how to have lucid dreams. To do this, you learn to make constant reality checks. Some people say you should try flipping a light switch on or off (notoriously useless in dreams), or try to read printed text. They provide clues to your mental state and can wake up your forebrain enough to take the reigns of your consciousness
within a dream
within a dream
See in dreams, your forebrain isn't usually working. Inside your brain, there's a lizard, a monkey, and a human all in competition. The human is winning, but only by a little. It's an uneven balance at best. In dreams, it's mostly the monkey and the lizard at the wheel. They hold up these images and symbols and memories and lick them and bang them on rocks and shake them up. Then we wake up and it doesn't make any sense to us because those other two lobes weren't trying to make sense. They're irrational by their very nature. When we dream, they drive.
The waking world is a lot like that too. People only use their human brain for a small portion of the day. The rest of the time the monkey and the lizard are driving. That's why people are territorial, that's why they get defensive, that's why they do the same stupid shit every day and never question why.
Now I'm not saying that the human brain is better or more important than the other two brains you have. That lizard brain keeps you safe. That monkey brain gets you laid. The forebrain - the human brain - is easily confused and conflicted. From an evolutionary standpoint, it's still very new - not fully baked. Millennia from now, maybe humans will have different brains, keener and more efficient. Today, we've got to try to make good use of what we've got.
There are times in my life when I realize that I'm in a terrible rut and it's No Fun. We walk around with monkey and lizard brain on, just doing things repetitively, ritualistically. These are the best times to make reality checks. This is the best time to ask "Am I actually awake?"
That reality check is about evaluating which elements of the rut are necessary and good and which should be stripped out. For me, the escape from the rut usually involves me picking up a new hobby, doing something drastically different, or in some way altering my day-to-day me. It's sort of like waking up from a dream
within a dream
within a dream
But instead of waking up into reality I'm really just waking up into another dream. Because that new hobby will one day get boring, and that new me is in no way the ultimate me.
See, it's not enough to be lucid briefly and say (for example) "hey, I'm miserable because I surround myself with morons", and then get new friends. You've got to keep that spark lit. You've got to shine its light on everything you do and think for yourself all the time. Upon self-examination, I've realized I have hundreds of opinions and attitudes that are borrowed from somewhere else. To some extent, that's the human condition.
People read movie reviews because they want an opinion about the movie before they even see it. People listen to pundits vivisect the body politic because they want to know what supposedly educated, well informed people are thinking. People religiously watch TV shows that they don't actually even fucking enjoy. There's a mass hypnosis going on here. The collective consciousness is standing on higher ground than individual consciousness. We're being blown around like leaves, and the wind is fashion, is politics, is culture itself
within a dream
within a dream
It's not just about escaping the rut. Learn to wake up, in general, and you'll become aware of all the parts of your life that are a dream. Learn to think for yourself and be lucid.
See I believe reality is what you make of it. All the parts of this dream are your creation. Think of something important. Think of something boring. Think of something exciting. The importance, the boredom, the excitement, all these things only exist in your mind. They're things you actually do have control over.
Once you realize you're dreaming, you can change your dream from a nightmare to a wet dream. Once you realize that, say, your morning commute is boring as hell, you can engineer ways to make it less so. You've just got to awaken your forebrain enough.
If you're in a nightmare, realize that it's a nightmare. Realize that it's YOUR nightmare. Realize that YOU are the one who is making it awful, YOU are the one who is dreaming it bad.
So wake up and change it - it's a false awakening, but an awakening none the less.
The point of learning how to wake up is not to find the top-level reality, but to achieve lucidity
within a dream
within a dream...
An amusing story by Iptuous in "WOMP-ertainment":
Quote from: Iptuous on November 11, 2008, 07:57:10 PM
when i was in 7th grade i had this crazy bible thumper friend that went on vacation and entrusted me to take care of his pet hampster, to which i agreed. I was always more of a guinnea pig type kid, but what the hell, how much different could it be? well....that little shit escaped his cage and got lost, and i frantically searched for him for hours. it in fact became so frantic that i was rushing around, and in my haste failed to notice the little bugger dart out from under the couch before i stepped on him. now, i didn't step on him full force, mind you. i was in my socks and i only stepped on him with my big toe. it was strong enough that poop came out both ends of him, however. I didn't tell my friend when he came back.
this picture is now karmic consequence of that ancient transgression....
And the picture in question:
Quote from: Burns on November 11, 2008, 07:43:09 PM
(http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa261/broodwitch/hamster-1.gif)
Last archive post I'll do for today; 10 in one day is enough.
This is another whoring of my own work. It's a poem that I began last year at Christmas, but was unable to think of a good second half. A few days ago I reread what I had and the inspiration struck me:
The Night Before Christmas Munchies
By Manta
'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the shanty,
not a person was stirring,
not uncle or aunty.
But through the thin walls
I heard a great thumping,
a moan and a gasp,
the neighbors were humping.
I tried to ignore them
and lay my head down,
yet even covered in pillows
my ears heard the sound.
So rising from bed
to escape the perversion,
I went to the kitchen
in hopes of diversion.
I opened the fridge
to find me a snack,
yet the food was all moldy,
bitter and black.
Unfilled and disgusted
I went to find cash,
to order a pizza
to come in a flash.
Yet the phone kept on ringing,
no answer in sight,
so I bellowed my lungs out,
cursing with spite.
"The stores are all closed now,"
I said with a sneer,
as wont they're to be
when Christmas is near.
So with no options now left
I went back to bed,
fluffed up my pillow and
layed down my head.
Christmas was waiting
just a dream's width away,
behind night's deep curtain
in the newness of day.
Thus sleep was my savior,
to bring Christmas, so dandy,
alive with bright colors,
and especially candy.
In the morning my munchies
would be gone in a snap,
but as for right now I'd
take a quick nap.
I lied about the last post thing, because I came across this:
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=18143.0 (http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=18143.0)
The whole thread is very powerful. I'm in tears right now.
:mittens: to the thread
From Payne, the initial post in his thread titled "Chain Mail."
Quote from: Payne on April 02, 2007, 08:37:41 AM
Your possessions no longer interest me, neither does your fragile mental state. Your intellect has become stale and useless, wallpaper in the cage you call your life, a mere link in the chains you are to make yourself. Forced to do so by yourself.
Your friends/family/pets/rulers/employers are meaningless constructs until you accept the grim reality of this situation. Perhaps they are meaningless until they accept the reality of their very own imprisionment.
Go on, make a checklist of what you need to survive. Done? Good.
Besides food, warmth, shelter, what, if taken away, would actually kill you?
Discard as appropriate.
Now break down whats left. Do you really need your takeaway pizza every weekend? Would you really be a lesser person if you had a one bedroom housing cube in the shadowy part of the big city?
Discard as appropriate.
Now you have pressed the reset button. Feel free to add to your list again, but this time its not what you need to survive, its what you need to live.
Add your favourite art, scenic views and witticisms. Most of all, I suggest the quiet dignity of a free human. But thats only me, you are now in total editorial control.
Done? Good.
Now look around you. Does anything seem different? Do you really like that McBurgerHut down the road, the one you've been hanging around, inside and out, since you were able enough to say "I want!!" and point? Does the preacherman seem more, or less, creepy? Something never sat quite right with his fantastical tales of eternal paradise, if only you were "good" in this life. A life which, to the best of MY knowledge, is the only one you are guaranteeed to have?
Do you have any questions you have to have the answers to, answers that you know only you can find?
Good. Join the club.
This is a chainmail letter, you must now invent a way to mail it to yourself five years ago...
P.S. Have more fun, I can tell you it wasn't a barrel of laughs the first time around.
Surprisingly, this thread has now taken a turn for the Awesome.
Quote from: Rabbi LMNO on November 13, 2008, 07:13:18 PM
Surprisingly, this thread has now taken a turn for the Awesome.
It took awhile, but its starting to gather steam :)
I still have to do some hardcore research to find all of the best posts. Some of you old fogeys have hundreds or thousands of pages of posts. Cain's post log alone has put me through over 100 pages already. And I still have yet to touch hunter's logbook, but that should be pretty interesting . . .
Speaking of interesting, I was thinking of making a thread to archive some of the all-time biggest Fail posts on here. Would anyone think that's a good idea, or is it just dumb and my brain is making it sound awesome?
No need. When the Old Farts begin to get nostalgic, we tend to bump the worst threads you could ever imagine.
Just look for posts by: Tao Jones, Eris Van Tartus, cat~maxwell, Merlin of Chaos, LMNO, Wolfpoet, Hugh, Rene de Farts, A Klokwerk Kaos, I Am Not A Rhombus....
Quote from: Rabbi LMNO on November 13, 2008, 07:37:52 PM
No need. When the Old Farts begin to get nostalgic, we tend to bump the worst threads you could ever imagine.
Just look for posts by: Tao Jones, Eris Van Tartus, cat~maxwell, Merlin of Chaos, LMNO, Wolfpoet, Hugh, Rene de Farts, A Klokwerk Kaos, I Am Not A Rhombus....
OMGZ I forgot about I Am Not A Rhombus! I think that was the first n00b to push even my buttons....
Ah memories.
I haven't made the cut yet. So now I must cut myself.
...i cry.
Seriously though, its good to see some quality shit back on here.
Quote from: Hoopla on November 13, 2008, 07:50:47 PM
I haven't made the cut yet. So now I must cut myself.
...i cry.
You happy now, Hoopla?
Quote from: Hoopla on May 16, 2005, 07:11:18 PM
At a low period in my life I was seeking enlightenment. Lounging in my empty bathtub, fully clothed, I pondered the state of this sorry world. Wondering why there was so much confusion and strife afflicting so many; wondering if this was this and that was that, and whether tit really did anything for tat. Realizing that I wasn't philosophizing anymore and merely invoking Suess I decided that it was time to move outdoors, for fresh air and sun, to seek my enlightenment in the world.
On the sidewalk I found an Oh Henry bar. Looking around, I saw nobody who seemed ready to lay a claim on it - the bar seemed to be up for grabs. I crouched down and examined it closely, without touching it, of course. I wasn't about to become insnared by some intrepid alien or big game hunter. I didn't detect any strings, and the sidewalk around the candy seemed kosher. The bar was mine. Snatching it up, I moved to a bench to consume it in comfort at my own leisure. It was chocolatey, it was caramely, it was nugety, it was sweet and it was gooey. It did not, however, enlighten me.
Sitting on the bench, I sighed. Where next should I seek my enlightenment? As I mulled this query over I noticed a small book on the bench next to me. Curious, I picked it up, and read the cover; it was the Collected Short Stories of O. Henry.
This was a stunning coincidence. This, undoubtedly, meant something. As I opened the book to peruse the contents I was struck by something that made the book altogether more strange - all the pages were torn out, save those between fifty-five and sixty-nine, a story entitled The Green Door. I felt this story must be of cosmic significance, and so devoured it on the spot. Here would be the answers to the cause of all the strife and confusion in the world. I read the story in a few minutes, and chuckled once or twice, was saddened at least once, and sighed at the end. The story was touching and amusing, but I did not, however, answer my questions.
I felt perplexed. I felt confused. I felt discombobulated. I did
not, however, feel enlightened.
Still searching, I walked.
I walked five blocks, and was then struck down to the pavement with another stunning coincidence. A porno theatre was showing a revival of Behind The Green Door. This was a stunning synchronicity. This, undoubtedly, meant something. I paid my admission, bought another Oh Henry bar at the candy counter, and ventured into the theatre. The movie had already started as I made my way through the sickeningly clammy sound of about fifty people beating their meat in the audience. I shuffled into the back row and tried to find a seat which hadn't been issued upon. As I sat down -just for a laugh- I began to smack the palm of my hand against the back of my neck furiously, and moan overly loud. The monkey spanking subsided for about seventeen seconds. I chuckled to myself, and began to unwrap my candy bar.
As I took the first bite I realized the movie had stopped in place on the screen. Marilyn Chambers' legs were spread-eagled, and all her glory was center stage, so to speak. So many euphemisms which are inappropriate rattled through my brian . . . tacos and beavers should not be compared to the same part of the body described as The Mound Of Venus. As this thought fluttered through my mind I also noticed the silence in the theatre. There were no sounds of auto eroticism whatsoever, in fact my fellow patrons seemed to be petrified in the more literal sense. I became alarmed by this, but was even more alarmed when Marilyn Chambers' bush on-screen burst into flames, and began to speak to me.
BARON VON HOOPLA, a satiny female voice called from the burning bush. YOU MADE LEVITY IN A PLACE OF SOLEMN WORSHIP.
I gulped, since there seemed little else to do under the circumstances.
HOW DO YOU STAND AGAINST THESE CHARGES? the female voice asked. Guilty, I hiccuped. I had mocked the meat-beaters. My candy bar was melting in my hand. I could feel it.
GOOD. said the voice. YOU'RE ONE OF MINE.
Who, who are you? I asked.
I YAM WHO I YAM, came the reply.
Popeye?! I exclaimed. It didn't sound like Popeye.
NAY, I AM CALLED ERIS NANCY DISCORDIA. GODDESS OF CHAOS CONFUSION STRIFE CREATIVITY AND BUREAUCRACY. I AM THE HODGE OF THE RISING PODGE AND THE PODGE OF THE SINKING HODGE - GRAND WAZOO OF ALL THINGS FUNNY.
Why have you chosen me? I asked, not cowering as blatantly as a few minutes prior, but still cowering nonetheless.
FOR YOU ARE A GOOD APPLE. YOU ARE AWAKE ENOUGH TO QUESTION, SKEPTICAL ENOUGH TO QUESTION THE APPARENT ANSWERS, GULLIBLE ENOUGH TO FOLLOW MYSTERY, HUMOROUS ENOUGH TO MOCK THE SERIOUS AND SERIOUS ENOUGH TO AWAKEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. YOU EMBODY THE IDEALS OF THE SACRED CHAO, AND LO, I DEEM YOU A KEEPER OF IT. Onto the ceiling of the theatre, the fire from the burning bush traced out a design. It was a circle bisected by an 'S' shape; on one side was depicted an apple emblazoned with a 'K', on the other a pentagon.
It's some for of Yin Yang? I asked.
THE YIN YANG IS A FORM OF THE SACRED CHAO. IT IS A REPRESENTATION OF THE UNIVERSE. ALL THE ANSWERS YOU SEEK WILL BE FOUND WITHIN THAT CIRCLE, WHICH IS THE SERPENT SWALLOWING ITS OWN TAIL.
That's the answer to why there is so much strife and confusion in the world? I don't understand . . . why an apple and a pentagon?
CHAOS IS THE ENTIRE CIRCLE, ONE HALF IS ORDER, THE OTHER DISORDER. THEY ARE BOTH NATURAL MANIFESTATIONS OF THE UNDERLYING CHAOS. ONCE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT, YOU UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING. FARE THEE WELL-
Wait! One more question! What's the best way to deal with the strife and confusion of the world?
LAUGHTER! came the reply. FARE THEE WELL-
Wait! One last question! Why Nancy??
WHAT?
Why Eris Nancy Discordia? I asked. Why Nancy?
NANCY'S A NICE NAME. FARE THEE WELL KEEPER OF MY SACRED CHAO! SPREAD MY WORD - ALL MEN SHALL BE SAILORS THEN UNTIL THE SEA SHALL FREE THEM!
Wait! I called, You stole that from Leonard Cohen!
NAY - HE STOLE THAT FROM ME.
Thus, I was enlightened.
The bush ceased to burn. The film ran forward. The manhandling kicked back in, but sounded more serene this time, like a gentle rainfall on a tin roof. I stood up and noticed a small book on the seat next to me. I took it out into the light of the lobby and read the title, 'Principia Discordia', I heard a female voice in the center of my head say READ IT: BELIEVE ALL OF IT, BELIEVE NONE OF IT. I walked outside, and promptly slipped on a banana peel, while thinking 'Indeed, do many strange things come to pass.'
O yes.
I was just exercising my usual 'nobody loves me' routine. You'll get used to it.
From Cain's post today in his new "International Relations" forum:
Quote from: Cain on November 14, 2008, 02:35:38 PM
I know you could probably look this up on Wikipedia, but
1) Wikipedia is boring, and
2) Wikipedia does not tell you amusing anecdotes about various theories and theorists.
In short, International Relations is the study of anything that crosses borders. In that sense, it studies (among other things) trade, war, political science, sociology, terrorism, aid organizations, history and ethics. It is like political science, writ large. Also, unlike the traditional understanding of politics (the left-right and authoritarian-libertarian distinction) IR uses its own specialist jargon, some of which is counterintuitive to those unfamiliar with the basics of our understanding of the subject.
The first lesson is the basic approaches to Grand Theory in IR. Grand Theory is essentially the Big Overarching Ideas which the majority of scholars subscribe to, and tend to use in their analysis of world events. It is of course not necessary to subscribe to one yourself (I would suggest you do not), but understanding their strengths and weaknesses, especially without resorting to a pick and mix approach of analysis (which tends to end up in horrible, logic contorting conclusions) is very helpful indeed.
Realism
Realism is pretty much the oldest theory. Some people trace it back to Thucydides and his masterful History of the Peloponnesian War in the west, and to Sun Tzu in the east. Other notable theorists would include Augustine, Machiavelli, Thomas Hobbes, Carl Schmitt, Hans Morgenthau, Henry Kissinger, John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt (the last two being the writers of the recent Israel Lobby book).
If Realism could only be summed up in one word, the word would be "power". For Realists power is of primary importance, especially military and economic clout, which most see as intertwined. As far as Realists are concerned, most politics is about power, and the continual quest to grab, acquire and use power. Realists generally see the international system as anarchical. By that, they mean there is no overarching world authority who can compel states to obey its will. Therefore, states acquire power to protect themselves against the uncertainty of the world. With no-one else who can be relied on in a dangerous situation, states must rely on their own arms and resources for their continued influence in the world.
Also for Realists, the state is the basic unit of analysis. Either because of structural reasons or human psychology, all states are essentially alike in their aims and intentions. Therefore, it does not matter if a state is a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, a theocracy or a monarchy. All, according to Realist thinking, act according to the above factors of power and anarchy, not on their stated ideology.
As one would expect, Realists mostly concern themselves with grand strategy issues. Such things as the Balance of Power, Offense-Defense Blance, Alliance Theory and Deterrence feature highly on a Realist cirriculum.
There are several notable strands of Realism:
Classical Realism - the basic "problem" is human nature. People are untrustworthy and vicious, therefore you must be too, in order to not fall foul of them. Key thinkers: Machiavelli, Thucydides, Hobbes, Augustine.
Neorealism - this reverses the logic of Classical Realism, stating that instead, the basic problem is anarchy. Neorealism tends to be highly abstract, and deals mainly with how the structure of the international system (anarchy) constrains the choices of the actors within. Conflict is still seen as a permament condition. Your main people here are Kenneth Waltz and Stephen Walt.
Offensive Realism - this is a sub-branch of Neorealism, made popular by John Mearsheimer. Here, the basic idea, in addition to the assumptions of Neorealism, is that states will seek to maximize their power by seeking to become hegemons.
Defensive realism - another variant of Neorealism. In this case, the focus is on the security dilemma (how one state building up defences can be seen as threatening by another state) and how security is essentially a zero-sum game. Defensive realism thus often looks to Game Theory for its inspiration. Waltz, Walt and Robert Jervis fall into this school of thought.
Liberal Realism - also known as the English School, the idea here is that despite the anarchical international system, there is still something approaching a society of states, and thus potential conflict can be mitigated, in part, through use of international organizations such as the UN. Liberal Realism combines critiques from Constructivism, Critical Theory/the Frankfurt School and post-structuralism to posit the idea that ideas matter and shape relations as much as material capabilities. Hedley Bull and Martin Wright are part of this school of thought, though as stated, influences derive from many fields and individuals.
Neoclassical Realism - this combines the psychological insights of classical realism along with Neorealist structural concerns to try and determine the foreign policies of individual states, rather than the structure of the International System.
As can be seen, Realism very much derives from realpolitik practices, which the like of Metternicht or Bismarck, as well as various foreign policy hawks/national security specialists and a certain flavour of religious individual (such as Pastor Niebuhr) with their focus on Original Sin, would find attractive. It would not be entirely inaccurate to see links to generally conservative political viewpoints. However, that is not always the case. Hans Morgenthau is widely considered the founder of modern Realist thought, and was a liberal Jew who fled Nazi Germany and protested against the Vietnam War. The amoral nature of Realist analysis means one can agree with the general conclusions, while finding them morally repugnant or acceptable, depending on one's personal viewpoint. Robert Kaplan is another example of the "tragic realist" who values American norms and mores concerning freedom, liberal democracy etc. Yet he advocates methods such as deception, assassination and carefully applied state terror in certain situations, as he feels warrants such a response (naturally, he considers such events to be few, and that they are backed up by the normally exemplary behaviour of liberal democracies towards their citizens). Zbigniew Brzezinski was the foreign policy advisor to President Carter, yet a dyed-in-the-wool Realist, as was Kissinger, Nixon's advisor and alleged war-criminal.
From Verb` in "Knowing we are Free":
Quote from: VERB` on June 28, 2008, 01:51:28 AM
I used to tell people we live in an Anarchist Utopia. It was a kind of IRL troll in the days I used to hang out with activist-types. It was a lot of fun, because it is a very difficult claim difficult to argue against: we are all free to do as we will. You can smoke a joint in front of a police station - you just have to be prepared to deal with the consequences. You can do anything you can get away with.
It is very easy to confuse what we can't do with what we shouldn't do. It is all too easy to forget that we have the choice. The internet pirate, downloading and propogating stolen materials, he has the choice. And stopping at a red light, I had the choice to keep going and risk arrest or injury.
Freedom, in this its most basic sense, seems rather constant in human history across space and time. The only way people have managed to truly limit freedom in this sense is imprisonment of others - and this has always been applied to a small minority, even in extreme cases where entire ethnic groups were rounded up and confined.
So if we sense we are in a state of decreasing freedom, clearly the freedom we are referring to is not this freedom of choice, ever so hard to truly limit. The freedoms now being slowly taken away must be subtler ones - indeed, these freedoms must consist of our choices not being affected unduly by outside considerations. I should be able to write what I want, when I want, where I want, without this choice being affected by fear of retribution. Imposing this fear is a subtle encroachment upon my freedom.
But perhaps the easiest way to limit one's freedom is to make one forget this freedom ever existed in the first place. After all, why put a man behind iron bars when you can just train him to stay indoors? If you can convince The People that they should not do what you do not wish them to do, you save a great deal of energy you would otherwise spend actually stopping them from doing it. If you can convince them that they cannot do this, cannot go there, all the better.
It is good to remember once in a while that we are fundamentally free. We may have fears imposed on us by unjust rulers. We may have to face choices no free person should be forced to face. We may have to take great care to preserve our freedom. But we are free nonetheless, and the choice is ours. Merely knowing we are free is half the battle.
we should throw a lot of this stuff into a PDF
From Rat's thread, "An exercise in Iambic Pentameter." Makes Shakespeare look like a no-talent ass clown:
Quote from: Ratatosk on October 06, 2008, 10:18:42 PM
So in preparation for NaNoWriMo I decided to do some structured exercises. Below is a draft of a poem written in Iambic Pentameter... or at least its intended to be written in iambic pentameter. Feel free to point out errors in the pattern.
The Swallow
In birds have poets often found their muse,
both in their flight and in their feathered hues.
The Raven, dark as blood dried on a knife.
The Songbird, calling spring from death to life.
Thus birds can be beloved or despised
Based on the things they've often symbolized
Yes, symbols might make up the way we see,
the citizens of every bush and tree.
From stately hawk to vultures in the air,
and early birds delight in wormy fare.
(So before you think my words ring hollow,
I present a poem of the Swallow.)
Though might is often tied to creatures size,
That is not where the swallow's power lies,
And while it may catch insects on the wing,
I write about a very different thing.
Perhaps some few shall see through my intent,
And understand just what the Swallow meant.
It may be small but you can be assured
a Swallow on its own has often cured,
An ailment that could bring your spirits low
and limit when you come and where you go.
To save you from some twenty years of work,
Invoke the swallow and banish the stork.
- Ratatosk, Squirrel of Discord
Quote from: Cramulus on November 14, 2008, 04:18:40 PM
we should throw a lot of this stuff into a PDF
I agree. It would be cool if we could get some illustrations to go along with them, too, to make it into a full-scale production. Maybe it could even become a GASM, of sorts.
ArchiveGASM?
or just new Discordian lit.
There's so much said on these boards, and I wish we could share it with outsiders without them having to pour through all the noise
a GASM approach would be to ask people to use del.icio.us to tag posts and art which would work well in a publication. Every few weeks, we'd go through the recent posts in the bin and throw them into a pdf. Sort of like a PD Peedy Periodical.
We could even have themes, like "shrapnel discussions", "vs atheism" and "MS Paint"
Quote from: Ratatosk on November 03, 2008, 04:33:15 PM
What?
Golden Age of Discordianism?
NOW IS THE GOLDEN AGE.
Look around. At the beginning of the 60's there were Discordians, maybe 10, 20, maybe even 50. By the end of the 60's we'd gotten up to maybe a couple hundred people that had read the PD...
The mid-70's brought RAW and a bigger bullhorn to shout bullshit through. So the numbers grew, somewhat. The subgeniuses formed separately and the two converged into a decent rivalry, but overall, the numbers of both groups (as far as we ca tell) were small. According to RAW, in a discussion about Discordianism, even through the 80's mosbunal Discordians tended to be neo-pagans that included Eris as a joke/metaphor/reminder not to be serious... whatever. Only a few crazy ass motherfuckers, like Bob and Omar, actually called themselves Erisian or Discordian, primarily.
Now, look at this board and other Discordian forums... even the pineal ones. This is Discordianism Becoming, be it through new memes or old memes, through creative independent thinking or through laughing at the jokes of other people. Now is The Age of Eris, not then, then was the seed planting, now is the first harvest!
In the mid-80's, even in the early 90's, what religious discussion groups would seriously include Discordianism as a valid system? How many more such groups are in existence today?
In the mid-80's, how many people had heard of Discordianism? How many have today?
We're just getting up a head of steam, going back doesn't get us to a golden age, it gets us to the train station we just left!
I have a greater hope for Discordianism, than some either or dichotomy between those that are "Doing it Right" and those that are "Doing It Wrong". The fact that they are Doing It, however they think best, is as close to right as I think we'll get.
"Like What You Like, Enjoy What You Enjoy and Don't Take Crap From Anyone" - Guns and Dope Party motto
If they like Fnording 23's and OMGZLOLO5's, then so be it. If they like the BiP and all of our philosophical wanking here, then so be it.
The original spirit of Discordianism, in my opinion, has a lot more to do with how you play with your own head... than with how other people play with theirs.
I don't know who I address this to, but I'd like to request that this thread be stickied, if possible.
Quote from: Cramulus on November 14, 2008, 04:40:33 PM
or just new Discordian lit.
There's so much said on these boards, and I wish we could share it with outsiders without them having to pour through all the noise
a GASM approach would be to ask people to use del.icio.us to tag posts and art which would work well in a publication. Every few weeks, we'd go through the recent posts in the bin and throw them into a pdf. Sort of like a PD Peedy Periodical.
We could even have themes, like "shrapnel discussions", "vs atheism" and "MS Paint"
I'm in.
I've never used del.icio.us, but I can probably learn it in the next few days and begin.
Also, good idea for the new Discordian lit. There's a lot of gold on these boards that's just waiting to be put out there.
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 14, 2008, 04:49:10 PM
I've never used del.icio.us, but I can probably learn it in the next few days and begin.
you can learn it in 10 minutes.
It's a basically bookmarking system -
you can add these "post to del.icio.us" buttons to your browser
and then when you see something you want to bookmark, you just click, and add tags / description
The cool thing is that we can search each other's bookmarks. so if you tag it "litgasm, shrapnel", and I search for "litgasm" or "shrapnel", I'll be able to see what you've bookmarked.
QuoteAlso, good idea for the new Discordian lit. There's a lot of gold on these boards that's just waiting to be put out there.
Yeah, it's just a matter of finding a prospector crazy enough to pan for it. :p
Quote from: Cramulus on November 14, 2008, 04:53:48 PM
Yeah, it's just a matter of finding a prospector crazy enough to pan for it. :p
Yep, here I am. :) It will probably take me about 20 years to go through all of the posts on here, but I'm willing to do it.
Strangely enough, one of the best ways to find golden posts is to look on the Board Index and see where the guests are lurking, because they tend to view a lot of the really old threads, and also tend to pick out a lot of good rants.
From Cram and Cainad in the "Who Killed the Lulz?" thread:
Quote from: Cramulus on November 14, 2008, 02:59:01 PM
Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the market-place, and cried incessantly: "I am looking for Lulz! I am looking for Lulz!"
As many of those who did not believe in Lulz were standing together there, he excited considerable laughter. Have you lost him, then? said one. Did he lose his way like a child? said another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? or emigrated? Thus they shouted and laughed. The madman sprang into their midst and pierced them with his glances.
"Where has Lulz gone?" he cried. "I shall tell you. We have killed them - you and I. We are his murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to crap up the whole internet? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire web? What did we do when we unchained the forum from its URL? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all forums? Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is it not more and more night coming on all the time? Must not lanterns be lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying Lulz? Do we not smell anything yet of Lulz's decomposition? Lulzs too decompose. Lulz is dead. Lulz remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves? That which was the holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? With what water could we purify ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we need to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we not ourselves become Lulzs simply to be worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whosoever shall be born after us - for the sake of this deed he shall be part of a higher history than all history hitherto."
Quote from: Cainad on November 14, 2008, 05:07:34 PM
Again I say, I do not know what has become of the lulz, though I think--almost hope--that it is in peaceful oblivion, if there be anywhere so blessed a thing. It is true that I have for five years been its closest friend, and a partial sharer of its terrible jokes about the unknown. I will not deny, though my memory is uncertain and indistinct, that this witness of yours may have seen us together as he says, on the Gainsville pike, walking toward Big Cypress Swamp, at half past 11 on that awful night. That we bore electric lanterns, spades, and a curious coil of wire with attached instruments, I will even affirm; for these things all played a part in the single hideous scene which remains burned into my shaken recollection. But of what followed, and of the reason I was found alone and dazed on the edge of the swamp next morning, I must insist that I know nothing save what I have told you over and over again. You say to me that there is nothing in the swamp or near it which could form the setting of that frightful episode. I reply that I knew nothing beyond what I saw. Vision or nightmare it may have been--vision or nightmare I fervently hope it was--yet it is all that my mind retains of what took place in those shocking hours after we left the sight of men. And why the lulz did not return, it or its shade--or some nameless thing I cannot describe--alone can tell.
LMNO
-feels snubbed.
:emo:
Quote from: Rabbi LMNO on November 14, 2008, 06:24:49 PM
LMNO
-feels snubbed.
:emo:
Don't worry, I just haven't started looking at your posts yet, and I'm waiting until the end of NaNoWriMo before posting anyone's long works.
There is shocking absence of glorious faggotry in these collection.
Quote from: Enrico Ritzibottom SalazarAs Enrico stepped off tuna boat onto fine soil of this country he was immediately molested by a strange man in a rumpled suit with crazed eyes. Normally this would not bother Enrico at all, on the contrary, he advertises for it . . . but this man wasn't interested in Enrico's crotch at all, he was only interested in talking religion and philosophy. He asked Enrico, "Do you believe there is such thing as a true religion?"
Enrico snorted and replied "Isn't pornography the religion in this country?"
He told Enrico that it was not, which saddened Enrico for a few moments, it was after all why Enrico had come to this country in the first place. Immediately his visions of becoming a pope of porn melted away . . . he would have to find other ways to get people to accept his 'host', he relized. He was only sad for a moment, of course, because Enrico rarely has to do much persuading, being the virile testicle squid he is.
The man pulled a medalion from under his shirt and waved it before Enrico's eyes. Enrico, in turn pulled seventeen medalions from under his shirt and waved them around too, thinking 'what strange customs these beautiful faggots have', but was distracted from his inner monologue by the man saying "This is called the Sacred Cow."
"Sacred Cow?" Enrico asked, then added: "In Enrico's homeland that is Beatrice Arthur."
"No no," the man said. "Cow! See Ayche Aye Oh. Cow. It is the singular version of Chaos."
"Chaos." repeated Enrico.
"Yes," the man said. "Chaos is the natural state of the universe. Aspects of chaos are order and disorder. Both are natural, so do not shun the disorder as false, it is true."
"You speak bullshit," Enrico laughed. "Enrico likes that."
"This is not bullshit. This is truth that will set you free."
"No." said Enrico. "Is bullshit. But, bullshit is important."
The man's eyes widened in amazement. "Bullshit? Important? Why?"
Enrico was surprised that the concept of Bull hadn't been taught to this man. What else was going to be different in this country?
"Bullshit is very important." Enrico told the man. "Bullshit should be spread far and wide. Always spread bullshit wherever you go."
"Why?" asked the man.
"Is simple. If you speak to someone and tell them truth you have made them think nothing, is true?"
"No, they think about what you said."
"How many peoples do you know?" Enrico asked. "Most peoples, they are not completely right in the head. Most peoples accept your information like a baby goat accepts your root. If you give them bullshit, though, the person will later find out about it, become angry, but then they will need to go look up the information themselves. They will need to use their own head gravy, instead of relying on other peoples to do their thinking for them . . . in this way bullshit is very very important. So spread bullshit everywhere, my fine friendly faggot."
Enrico was about to leave when the man called out to him "But what if they never find out that the information is bullshit?"
Enrico turned back to the man. He shrugged. "Fuck em. If they are that stupid they deserve to stay that way."
And that is how Enrico taught the silly Discordian about the Sacred Bull.
An incredibly long post by LMNO from the thread titled "Discordia and Christianity." That should stop yer bitchin', Rabbi :wink:
Quote from: Rabbi LMNO on October 08, 2008, 02:21:43 PM
Summary: Part I
I don't know if this has either been asked before or never asked before, but I'll ask anyways.
Although Discordia is a chaos-based religion. It does have a deity that it's followers hail to and other religious practices. Is it possible for a Christian to enjoy being a Discordian, but not hail to Eris(sorry if mispelled) I don't want to start any rants, debates, or arguements over christianity. I know the majority of people here are pretty random and closer-minded to the god of madness on Oblivion, Sheogorath. I am also like this though. I enjoy random chaos, confusing people and causing complete madness. It's fun, at church to make teens stop putting their backpacks in the hallway all over the floor, I fill their bags with leaves and dirt, sometimes tissues or whatever i can think of.
Anyways, back on topic. Is it possible to be dominantly christian, but still take part of Discordia? No goddess worship. If it's possible to place God instead of Eris or something. If anyone on here can help me out, that would be great.
I have asked this before in the past and got nothing useful. I hope someone can shed some light for me.
Consult your pineal gland.
Christ isn't a god as far as I can tell from the year I spent in a Christian fundamentalist cult, so go for it. The Christian bible doesn't deny other gods, it just tells you to forsake them, but Christ kind of absolves you from that anyway.
Did you actually READ the Principia Discordia? The answers are to be found therein.
I'll read it, but I merely wanted to know if I can be a discordian by upholding the ways of causing chaos and other discordian things, but not hail to Eris or have anything to do with eris.
I think there are significant philosophical differences between Christianity and Discordianism. Christianity has a variation on God as the one who creates the world out of the formless chaos and brings order to it. He is the Law-Giver. Sin is defined as what separates one from God - the concept of authority is central to a lot of Christianity. Same for rules. The Rules are good because the infallible Law-Giver made them; you, as a fallible human being shouldn't try to create your own rules because you'll probably screw it up. Some branches leave interpreting what God wants you to do to tradition, to a college of bishops w/ pope, to a community of believers, or to the Bible. If an individual ever has to figure out the right thing, he has to do a lot of praying.
Discordianism has an entirely different stance. Rules and order simply aren't necessary. Discordianism doesn't really admit that there ever has been a Law-Giver, and if there was, then he could either be followed or not. The concept of Authority as something that someone possesses by virtue of being omnipotent or omnibenevolent or creator is foreign; in Discordianism, the only authority that another has over you is the authority you choose to grant him. The only rules that exist are the ones you place on yourself.
We don't worship madness. We don't even generally approve of madness, unless you're especially good at it. What most of us do approve of is a practice known as thinking for yourself. What it means to be a Discordian is fairly mutable, but what we're definitely not is moral relativists or stark raving loonies.
To answer your question, there are NO RULES in Discordianism. Not even the part about it being a religion. Not even the part about it being a Joke. Where there are rules is in Christianity, which affirm that Apostates are totally fucked and can never get into heaven. Enjoy your ban.
"All statements are true in some sense, false in some sense, meaningless in some sense, true and false in some sense, true and meaningless in some sense, false and meaningless in some sense, and true and false and meaningless in some sense." -- Sri Syadasti.
How does that statement apply to itself? How does it apply to the Principia Discordia wherein it is contained? Perhaps if you spend enough time meditating on this you understand Discordianism.
Or not. But you'll spend a shitload of time trying. That's a good thing.
My personal view of Discordia is the useful metaphors in discerning Disorder, Order, Creation, Destruction, reality as a psychological construct, et cetera. The rest is good jokes and bad jokes, to me.
It seems like it resonates with some part of you, which is awesome. I think, personally, that Christ is compatible with Discordianism, but not necessarily that Christianity is.
Discordianism is a lot of things, but mainly, it's one of the few living religions around these days. and i'd like to keep it that way, which is why i can't offer any kind of answer to the "what is discordianism" question.
A joke disguised as a religion / a religion disguised as a joke
Both statements are true, in no particular order. if you don't understand, it's because you think religion is something that tells you about reality. but religion can't tell you about reality, it can only describe reality as somebody else sees it. discordianism, on the other hand, doesn't try to do that. it tries to trick you into seeing reality for yourself.
Chaos, discord, and order are all illusions. discordianism is only a chaos religion in that it has a disregard for what you're "supposed" to recognize as 'chaos' or 'order.' it seems like chaos because when you stop seeing things the way they are presented to you, it becomes pretty apparent that everybody is fucking crazy.
Objectivity, in short. Overlooking subjective and personal interpretation for a nonexistent "true" answer or secret as to what Discordianism "is".
Discordianism is whatever Discordians do.
Please leave your Platonism at the door, at least for now. You may want to go back and grab it later, but right now it is hindering you.
The universe is chaotic and random, and Discordia is my measured, pragmatic response to it.
"discordianism is a lot of things, but mainly, it's one of the few living religions around these days."
This is very good, btw. I had never thought of it that way but it's very true. All of the major religions stop living centuries ago. I think it's because of how they treat holy books and their authors. Discordianism is still living because we don't treat our predecessors like gods. They were just schmucks who happened to have some really good ideas. If we are lucky we can be as good or better than them. You don't get that in other religions due to the high amount of "ancestor worship".
Paiyaku has many things working against him/her/it.
1- The username, to begin with (goddamn, I bet it's a malachite alt! :P).
2- As Cain says, Platonicism is NOT helping.
3- An inability to string together all the helpful and, for a change, coherent advice offered in this thread.
4- An unwillingness to expand on his/her/it's reasons for not wanting to accept Eris as part of the package. I don't either, btw, but I know why I don't. Most people here ignore that aspect too. Are you still too hung up on Christianity to really think for yourself?
5- Paiyaku has not read the BiP.
I'm not really caring about this thread at all, I just wanted to write another list. :D
Ok, Pai. First off, you had mentioned not wanting to "mis-represent" Discordia. Why do you want to "represent" Discordia in the first place? Is there some sort dissertation going on?
Secondly, Discordia can be called a "Chaos Religion," but only if we get to define the terms.*
Term 1: "Chaos" is defined as a combination of Order and Disorder.
Term 2: "Religion" is defined as a subjective belief structure.
So, Discordianism (actually, I usually call myself an Erisian, because it's shorter to type**) can be defined as "a subjective belief structure based around the combination of Order and Disorder."
As to your other question, I think somone above said it best, "Christianity is not Discordian, but Christ probably was."
*Please note this is only my definition. Other Discordians' definitions may vary.
**I'm lying. That's not why.
If you're worried about what "God" will think, you probably have no business here.
Please to note that this is not the same as "if you believe in God, you can't be a discordian".
The trick with Discordianism for an outsider, I feel, is that the harder you think about it, the harder you try to "figure it out" the more likely you are to miss the entire point and not get it.
If you are starting with the Principia, you need to just read the book and kind of just soak in what's going on. It is a tiny book so it may be very tempting to just plow through it and get to "the point". But if you have zero familiarity with Discordianism, you really need to take your time with it. I recommend reading it, setting it down for a couple days, and then return to it and really think about it. And don't discount the marginalia. I find that everything that is in the PD is there for a reason, and is part of the puzzle. That line at the end of the book is key, paraphrasing: "If you think the Principia is just a ha ha, read it again" It is very easy to not take it seriously.
I also think it will be a little difficult to "get it" depending on how you naturally think. I never heard of Discordianism until I borrowed the book from a friend (who happens to be a Christian btw) and this was only a couple of months before I joined this place. But, I think I had a way of thinking that was pretty much in line with the philosophies in the book. I was tickled pink to discovere there was a whole "religious" movement devoted to that kind of thinking. Another key, I think, is being able to step back from your thoughts. To understand what impacts your thoughts and what motivates you to think in certain ways.
Payne had it right, I think you might want to also read the Black Iron Prison: Discordia Revisited. You can download it at www.blackironprison.com We also have some other writings that speak to that idea and metaphor. It might help you further understand where some of us come from with this thing and how we approach it, and moreover to really get a good understanding of the "Think For Yourself, Schmuck" concept.
We live in a pretty fucked up world. There is much that is beyond our control and there is this manmade societal monstrosity that pulls at many strings. Those armed, with themselves, I think, stand the best chance at recognizing the machinery that is in place, in the human world, and have a better chance at negotiating the cogs and gears throughout.
I think you might want to also read the Black Iron Prison: Discordia Revisited. You can download it at www.blackironprison.com We also have some other writings that speak to that idea and metaphor. It might help you further understand where some of us come from with this thing and how we approach it, and moreover to really get a good understanding of the "Think For Yourself, Schmuck" concept.
We live in a pretty fucked up world. There is much that is beyond our control and there is this manmade societal monstrosity that pulls at many strings. Those armed, with themselves, I think, stand the best chance at recognizing the machinery that is in place, in the human world, and have a better chance at negotiating the cogs and gears throughout.
Chaos is the big picture. It holds logic and illogic within its folds.
There is no one way of thinking. And, a lot of people who consider themselves Discordian also do NOT consider it a religion.
Asking individual Discordians their beliefs will be more productive than asking what "Disocordians" as a whole believe. Discordians as a whole don't really believe anything.
Yeah, I don't treat it as a religion. I treat it as more of a philosophy. I don't believe in an actual Goddess Eris, but I believe in the philosophy that she is supposed to embody. Like, I think Christianity would have been much more palatable for me as a kid if it hadn't been for the part where I had to actually worship and prey to some dead hippy and some bearded phantom in the sky. There are some Christian philosophies that make sense. It's the stupid dogma and politics of the dogma that screw the whole thing up.
I can't answer for anything else, but what is more important, following the rules or bucking the system?
I guess for me being discordian is figuring out that it's a wrong-headed question to even ask that type of thing.
Some people seem to be very good at following the rules.
Others seem very good at opposing the rules.
Still others seem to be very good at making up the rules for everyone to follow.
Still others seem to be good at figuring out the rules even though they don't really care.
Still others are totally clueless about rules as a whole.
I'd rather step outside that type of approach. What if one of those is good in one type of situation but not in another? Why can't I just pick which I want depending on the needs of the moment? Why do I need any of them? Be a christian and a discordian if it suits you. Why do you need an official ruling on the subject?
I believe in Eris when its useful to believe in Eris. I don't believe in Eris when its not useful to believe in Eris. Sometimes I treat Discordianism as a philosophy, sometimes as a religion and sometimes as a joke.
To crib Uncle Al:
We place no reliance on Virgin or Titan,
Our Methods are Nonsense, Our Aim to 'enlighten'
That's exactly it for me. Discordianism (for me) is not about deciding pro-rule or anti-rule, its realizing that both can be appropriate in different situations, and realizing which is which.
The people who "stick to their guns" no matter what evidence is thrown at them, to me, are the antithesis of Discordian.
The "beginner mindset" is one of the most useful headspaces. It means you're still trying to figure stuff out, as opposed to people who think they "understand" (and thereby stop learning and testing themselves). Hang on to that.
Lets summarize:
1. ask questions, escpecially this ones which sounds stupid and senseless
2. don't be too sure that your point of view is the true one, you're wrong
3. don't listen too much to people which say you're wrong
4. don't summarize to say what discordian is.
5. discordian is, what you think discordian is. and it isn't.
1) Discordians do NOT put emphasis on disorder. That is the Eristic Delusion.
2) "Random" as a term seems to have a different definition than it used to. I'm not certain which context you are using it in here. Young people of today seem to use it as a synonym for bizarre, which is not what it means. Random means random. To say random things would mean to pop out things like "Toaster. Penguin. Mouse trap. Cry. House." Try posting that sort of stuff here and see how far it gets you. So, which -exactly- are the random things here you have noticed?
Buddy, we're our own worst blasphemers. Fuck Eris, fuck Discordia, and fuck all this Chaos-Order bullshit (<--- See?)
Some of us worship Eris. I've done it once or twice for yuks. There are no real religious rites or practices, and not hailing Eris is as valid a Discordian practice as anything else. You certainly don't need our blessing to be a "Christian Discordian" or what-have-you. There is no Discordian Authority anywhere.
Part two of LMNO's post:
Quote from: Rabbi LMNO on October 08, 2008, 02:21:43 PM
Summary, Part II
In conclusion, no one can tell you what Discordia "is all about." Hell, it's damn near impossible to pin down what the more mainstream religions are all about; people have fought wars over that sort of thing. Is Christianity about doing good works and trying to spread compassion, or is it about believing in the power of God and Jesus to redeem our sins? Ask the Catholics and Protestants and see what kind of answers you get.
However, I will tell you that Discordia's one advantage, in my mind, is that it doesn't demand that you figure out what it's "all about," unlike a lot of religions which seem to place great emphasis on believing exactly the right things. But I could be wrong about that, depending on how you see it.
The imposition of Order comes from many sources, sometimes including Discordians that think there IS A RIGHT WAY.
I suppose in my opinion, every man woman and child is a Discordian, either from the House of the Rising Hodge, or the House of the Rising Podge. Those in the house of the Rising Hodge, may be Discordians, or they may be completely unrelated to Discordianism (the kid that created the FSM, Mark Twain, Camus)... same for the house of the Rising Podge (People like Bush, Cheney, maybe some Discordians that think there is THE RIGHT WAY to be Discordian).
So maybe all people that claim the title are Discordian in some sense... but maybe not the sense they were hoping for.
Causing disorder is causing disorder. Expressing Discordianism is expressing discordianism.
So, now that we have discovered the Illusions of Order and Disorder, we can turn to the next page of the Principia Discordia, 00063, "The Curse of Greyface".
THE CURSE OF GREYFACE AND THE
INTRODUCTION OF NEGATIVISM
To choose order over disorder, or disorder over order, is to accept a trip composed of both the creative and the destructive. But to choose the creative over the destructive is an all-creative trip composed of both order and disorder. To accomplish this, one need only accept creative disorder along with, and equal to, creative order, and also willing to reject destructive order as an undesirable equal to destructive disorder.
The Curse of Greyface included the division of life into order/disorder as the essential positive/negative polarity, instead of building a game foundation with creative/destructive as the essential positive/negative. He has thereby caused man to endure the destructive aspects of order and has prevented man from effectively participating in the creative uses of disorder. Civilization reflects this unfortunate division.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v711/Marburger/OldChart.jpg)
POEE proclaims that the other division is preferable, and we work toward the proposition that creative disorder, like creative order, is possible and desirable; and that destructive order, like destructive disorder, is unnecessary and undesirable.
Seek the Sacred Chao - therein you will find the foolishness of all ORDER/DISORDER. They are the same!
Now, while that is very interesting, several of us were thinking a few things:
1. It reeks of hippiedom.
2. Its still dualistic.
3. Some of us like breaking stuff.
So, we thought about it an made a new chart:
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v711/Marburger/NewChartJpeg.jpg)
So: Possibilities arise fourfold. The original pattern remains, Creative Order/Disorder, and Destructive Order/Disorder. But rather than limiting one's observances to an essentially two dimensional outlook, we may expand upon it.*
Orderly Disorder: The means and methods of predictable chaos, a false front; often used by cabbages to pass themselves off as wise. Rather than let the warm bosom of Eris comfort and inspire them to do great things, they force them selves into carefully planned actions which may look Erisian at first glance, but are almost entirely Aneristic.
Orderly Creation: Architecture, Mathematics, Haiku, Fugues; Creative energies bound by rules, yet yielding great works that bring beauty into the world. In this light, structure and boundaries are not the enemy, they are merely tools with which to create.
Orderly Destruction: The triumph of the Aneristic Illusion. Everything is rules. No freedom exists, for it is bound by carefully crafted commandments. The creative spirit has been vanquished, crushed.
Disorderly Order: The methods used by Ghandi and MLK; Civil Disobedience. Causing Disorder through non-chaotic action. The rock in the stream that causes turbulence and eddies.
Disorderly Creation: Using Eristic means to Create; Cf. Jackson Pollock, John Cage, Free Jazz, etc.
Disorderly Destruction: Most Natural Disasters. Many cabbages consider this the only aspect of Chaos.
Creative Order: The means and methods to which one brings the Aneristic Illusion into greater perception. Gruad's revolution occurred only because Gruad was creative enough to communicate them to his fellow Atlanteans. Also, the PNAC, and most justifications for rescinding personal social freedoms.
Creative Disorder: A process that engenders another process... Much like the intended results of Operation: Mindfuck-- that is, one creates a clever and specific kind of disorder, whose purpose is to turn neophobes into neophiles.
Creative Destruction: The answer to the usual objection to the original Creation/Destruction meme, to wit, "you have to destroy in order to create". In fact, if one moves beyond the merely physical into the conceptual, every major artistic breakthrough has come from breaking/abandoning/destroying the "rules" in a creative way.
Destructive Order: The rules and paradigms that repress and inhibit Freedom and Creation. The tools of the Aneristic Illusion.
Destructive Disorder: Behavior and actions that are harmful; various psychoses and self-destructive habits; temper tantrums. Many Novice Erisians (and many Elder Erisians as well) often mistake Destructive Disorder as a beneficial thing.
Destructive Creation: The process of building things that have no purpose but to destroy. Oppenheimer, creating the Nuclear Bomb; Bioengineering new viruses that can wipe out the planet. In general, these are poorly directed creative energies.
Which leaves us with 4 spaces left: Orderly Order, Disorderly Disorder, Creative Creation, and Destructive Destruction. What do they mean? The fuck if I know. And there lies the first clue. They are also the purest forms of these aspects. That is the second clue. The other three clues are Hidden. Regardless, it soon becomes obvious that if one takes the four purest elements and combines them simultaneously into a fifth, Eris is born. She is all things, all conflicting ideas, all concepts, all aspects. Hence, the 5-fingered hand of Eris occupies those spaces.
It has been noted by Discordian scholars that opening up the Chart in this way give rise to furthur [sic] observations of Destructive Disorderly Order, and Creative Destructive Disorderly Order, and Orderly Creative Destructive Disorderly Order etc. I leave this exercise up to the reader, as it's getting late, and I'm almost out of scotch.
*The wise-assed among us would like to remind the reader that ultimately, every single square in this chart should contain the Hand, as this is merely another exercise in Illusion, and these aspects are merely interpretations of that which is Chaos. Fair enough. Turn the page.
I would say that the most useful aspect of Discordianism for me personally, is self-application. That is, seeing where I impose order on the Universe and learning to make the imposition of order or disorder a choice, rather than an automated response. Sometimes order is useful and necessary, but that never makes it True. Sometimes disorder is useful and fun, but that never makes it True.
to quote "Nonsesnse As Salvation" from the PD:
Quote
If you can master nonsense as well as you have already learned to master sense, then each will expose the other for what it is: absurdity. From that moment of illumination, a man begins to be free regardless of his surroundings. He becomes free to play order games and change them at will. He becomes free to play disorder games just for the hell of it. He becomes free to play neither or both. And as the master of his own games, he plays without fear, and therefore without frustration, and therefore with good will in his soul and love in his being.
There is no "meant to be" in Discordja. We generally leave normative statements to other people or to individual "discordians" instead of saddling our "religion" with them. Causing disorder and strife isn't good in and of itself, but it isn't bad in and of itself either. The general approach of people on this forum seems to be "Think for yourself whether discorder, strife, and confusion would be a Good Idea in this situation, and then go for it. (or not.)" rather than using prejudice or someone else's judgment to determine your course of action.
ETA: Since you aren't perfect, when you say that your understanding is solid, there will necessarily be flaws. By making your understanding solid, those flaws will be written in stone, and saddle you for the rest of your life. Make your understanding fast and loose, adroit and changing as the world changes.
The bit about "causing disorder" is an interesting point, and I think one worth exploring. How you define "disorder" is key... for instance, I think that many of us enjoy creative disorder very much, if it is defined as an act which breaks the monotony of an ordered routine and causes someone to think, or laugh, or both. Is disorder a "lost cat" poster with a picture of a possum? Is it a "contains sausage" sticker on a package of sausage? It might be.
Discordia merely recognizes the value of disorder in balancing the order, and vise-versa. Sometimes on a small scale, and sometimes on a large one.
Consider the largest disorder/order adjustment in our history; WWII. The Third Reich represents Destructive Order, and the Allied Forces represent Destructive Disorder. In that case, we used Destructive Disorder to balance the Destructive Order, and restore balance to the global Chao.
IMO creative disorder is very pleasing. Too much of it, however, results in things like Victorian architecture, which in turn leads to a backlash of Frank Lloyd Wright, so it is important to remember that all things must be in balance.
A Discordian is someone who fills in the blanks with whatever they darn well please. That IS my explanation.
Or did you want an all-encompassing, final definition that Discordians everywhere will recognize? If that was the case, it ain't happening. A lot of time and energy has gone into exploring that question, and everyone always comes away with different ideas.
This forum is home to a particular flavor (or perhaps flavors) of Discordianism, and many of us here take great pride in mocking any Discordian (or anyone, really) who claims to know what it really means to be Discordian. Not all Discordians do that.
Ask ten Discordians what Discordians do, and you will get eleven different answers.
You seem to want Discordja to fit in a neat little box so you can understand it easier. That's a cop out.
Here's an analogy:
A Brit comes over to America. (Let's call him "Bob.") One of "Bob"'s stateside friends takes him to see a basketball game, which "Bob", living in the third-world country of Europe, has never seen before. At first, "Bob" is confused. The game just doesn't make any sense. Eventually, he picks it up. "This is just like our football!" he shouts, "except the players use their hands instead of their feet, the goal is smaller and ten feet in the air, and there is no goalie. I understand it now!" "Bob" watches the rest of the game, and has great fun. He knows what basketball is, right?
Wrong. Basketball is like football. "Bob" may have a great understanding of football, but he doesn't understand basketball. He understands a little game that is superficially similar to basketball, but basketball is much bigger than that. If "Bob" stopped joined a bunch of kids playing pick-up on the street, he'd get his ass handed to him. He doesn't understand the rhythm of a game, the interplay between defense and offense, or any of a thousand other nuances.
You can't perfectly describe Discordja (or pretty much any worldview/belief system I can think of) in one sentence. If you could, people wouldn't go to the trouble of writing books on the subject. If you could perfectly describe it in one book, people wouldn't write multiple books and commentaries on books. We've written books; we have a depository of essays, discussions of essays, arguments in discussions... and we aren't finished yet. We won't ever be.
That varies from person to person to situation to situation. I tend to use Orderly techniques when I want things to work right, and disorderly methods when I want to make jokes or engage in skullduggery. Sometimes, mixing and matching gets best mileage.
It's all about what you're trying to do.
I'm thinking that sometimes also chaos is necessary to prevent chaos.
It seems that too much order results likely in destructive chaos (and I think politics and our social system is going in that direction), so nondestructive chaos brakes maybe order overwhelming a bit. Destructive chaos would speed up it.
So I find currently a good thing to spread some nondestructive chaos to brake the order overwhelming to prevent or delay an outburst of destructive chaos.
I focus less on the order/disorder and more on the creative/destructive. It is obvious that there needs to be some order in society. For example, traffic lights. Music is another example. Music can be an example of creative order, and there is such a reference in the PD about musicians and poets working out orderly, but creative, rhythms.
And yet, music can also be another prime example of creative disorder. My music project, the illegitimate son of convention (which can be found here: www.myspace.com/theillegitimatesonofconvention ;) ) is based on the principle of creative disorder. About taking song-composing convention and flipping it on its ear. There are some really good tunes based on the 12-bar blues. But, I find shirking a convention like that, and diving headfirst into unstructured sounds and "rhythms" to be a particularily cathartic experience. And that is mostly because that particular song will never be recreated. If I were to try to recreate that, it wouldn't happen and it wouldn't have the same visceral feel to me or the listener.
So anyway, when you put too much emphasis on disorder, you aren't being Discordian, you are being, well, a little narrow minded really. The thing of it is, Discordia doesn't provide a template. You have to make your own template and then outfit it with your own conventions.
For general hilarity:
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=14027
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 14, 2008, 09:42:37 PM
For general hilarity:
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=14027
Was that the first use of the word Spag?
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on November 15, 2008, 05:30:58 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 14, 2008, 09:42:37 PM
For general hilarity:
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=14027
Was that the first use of the word Spag?
I'm not sure; I haven't made it through all of the posts yet to see if there were any earlier occurrences, but this was the first time that I heard people talk about "Spag."
Does anyone know the answer to IO's question?
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 16, 2008, 05:45:59 AM
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on November 15, 2008, 05:30:58 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 14, 2008, 09:42:37 PM
For general hilarity:
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=14027
Was that the first use of the word Spag?
I'm not sure; I haven't made it through all of the posts yet to see if there were any earlier occurrences, but this was the first time that I heard people talk about "Spag."
Does anyone know the answer to IO's question?
The actual first use of the word was several days before that thread was made in IRC.
I believe that this thread is the first use of spag in this context (the word has existed for a while, in south park forums and as an insult to Italians, apparently)
Not quite the same, but it amuses me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFxnAPbDaPA (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFxnAPbDaPA)
From The Good Reverand Roger in "A Clarification":
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on February 23, 2007, 06:56:33 AM
Apparently, at least one or two of you have misunderstood everything I've tried
to say for the last few years. You've missed the point, so I guess I'm gonna
have to explain my position in small words. Tell me if I'm typing this too fast
for you.
Look, when I bitched about the republic being dead, and freedom being a dying
art, I wasn't telling you to ACCEPT these hideous truths! I wasn't telling you
to give up, and roll into a fetal ball in the corner! Goddammit, you'd BETTER
holler when the rock hits you, because when you're dead, you'll shut up like
hell!
And when I wrote "or kill me", just what the fuck did you think I was trying to
say? Well, let me tell you one last hideous truth...there IS freedom, but
nobody is going to give it to you. Not your rich parents. Not your
"government" (har har!). Your military isn't fighting for your freedom
(and if you think they are, boy do I have a real estate deal for you!).
No, you'll just have to take it for yourself, just like those asstards back in the 18th century. And if they try to stop you, you have to kick them in the jimmy. And you'll have to kick them until they let you have your freedom, or until they kill you. And until they do, you'd better live a life WORTHY of a free person! Don't just eat that cheeseburger, eat the HELL out of it! Go nuts! Kick shit over, have a blast, and enjoy what little time you get before they bring the hammer down on you!
Shit, do you think they're gonna let me get away with MY shit forever? They've
already tried to lock me up twice, and three times is a charm. No, one day I'll
disappear...I'll just stop showing up, and you'll wonder why for a little while,
and then you'll get back to bickering about music, etc, and I'll fade from your
memory. Just another foul-mouthed thug from the Southwest, who tried to bring
back the Wild West and failed.
Until the day they come for YOU. Oh, and they WILL. Maybe not Bush and his
crew...they're on their last legs. But maybe Hillary and HER crew...you ARE a disruptive bunch, and you'll never make it on Oprah. So maybe you'll be shunted off to a re-education camp in New Hampshire, where you'll be beaten like a rat every day, for your own good.
And on THAT day, friends, you'll wish you'd listened. You'll wish you'd grabbed
that ephemeral thing we call "freedom" by the neck and choked the shit out of
it. You'll wish you realized earlier what you stood to lose. Well, at first.
In a month or so, you'll start responding to the therapy, and you'll wonder what
all the fuss was about. The sun will shine down onto your grey pajamas, and
even the mud of the camp recreation area will look warm and inviting. You'll
realize that They really do love you, even when you're bad. And you love them.
You love Big Brother.
Bang.
Or Kill Me.
I recommend purusing LHX's stuff. Also, some of the older threads in Think For Yourself, Schmuck. Start with the last page and work your way forward, there was tons of good stuff in the infancy of that subforum. That was a very fertile time of ideas. Also, you should go through my Sit-Down Comedy thread or the pun thread. While 95% of the stuff I come up with is pretty awful, every once in awhile I hit on a gem.
From a post by TGRR on September 8, 2008, wherein he explains the importance of media mindfucking:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on September 09, 2008, 12:30:50 AM
It has been said by wiser men than me that evil has its own attraction. Any time there is chaos or economic failure, the idea of strong organization becomes very palatable to domesticated primates...So they turn to things like police forces wearing military-type uniforms, etc. There's a certain magic in fascism, that appeals to people when times are rotten.
A good example is the ICE branch of the US Customs office, which is now part of DHS instead of the Treasury Department. ICE officers do not wear the police-style uniforms worn by other federal policing agencies, but rather the "digital camoflage" uniforms worn by the US Army. There is, of course, no need for this uniform other than to give an intimidating, paramilitary appearance to the officers.
Germany did that, once.
Another thing people tend to do when times get rocky is to view dissenters as treasonous or at least "obstructionist". The press, if not completely on board with the political leadership, is castigated and - if possible - silenced.
An example of this is today's removal of Keith Olbermann from the RNC convention coverage, as he objected to the airing of a 911-themed film shown at the convention. To show part of such a clip is simply reporting...but to show the entire clip is essentially unpaid advertising for the party in question on the part of the network. To show an entire speech is also responsible journalism, but an entire, packaged propaganda piece?
That goes beyond journalism, into "mouthpiece" territory. And a captive and/or sycophantic media is an abomination...Indeed, our "free press" is merely an unofficial branch of the so-called "government".
I don't know about you, but it's time to start fucking with the media.
Or kill me.
Quote from: Rev. What's-His-Name? on November 17, 2008, 04:47:27 PM
I recommend purusing LHX's stuff. Also, some of the older threads in Think For Yourself, Schmuck. Start with the last page and work your way forward, there was tons of good stuff in the infancy of that subforum. That was a very fertile time of ideas. Also, you should go through my Sit-Down Comedy thread or the pun thread. While 95% of the stuff I come up with is pretty awful, every once in awhile I hit on a gem.
Will do, Rev. Also, feel free to submit anything that you find, as well, because these forums are a large terrain for just one man to traverse.
Also, to anyone who posts: To make locating the context of a post easier, please try to list the forum or thread in which an entry was posted. I've forgotten on some of the things that I've posted here but, as a general rule of thumb, it might help out once we start dragging up a lot of really old posts, or posts which are found in the middle of conversations.
From DJRubberducky in the thread "Architecture":
Quote from: DJRubberducky on December 08, 2006, 09:44:41 PM
More than anything, I'm trying to sort out my thoughts on the matter, not really inflict them on anybody. But you're welcome to discuss, as that may help the sorting process.
From what I can tell, the exterior walls of the BIP are put in place by our existence as humans. As has been said before in other treatises, our perceptions are limited by the relatively narrow ranges of our physical senses, and by the fact that our brains can only process so much information at a given time. Even when we try to expand our sensory ranges by building and using mechanical devices, it's very difficult for us to observe both those expanded ranges and our "natural" ranges - we have to focus our attention on what's under the microscope and can't necessarily notice the fire that just caught in the far corner of the laboratory. This is why we can never fully escape the Black Iron Prison - we either don't have the sensory perception, or we don't have the mental processing power, and if we try to expand both at once, we end up frying our brains with data overload. None can look upon the face of God and live.
However, the BIP is chock full of interior walls, and we can smash those to our heart's content because we're the ones who put them there, or who allowed them to be put there (which is almost the same thing). Smashing those walls doesn't change the fact that we're in prison, but it gives us a little more wiggle room.
One of the troubles in wall-smashing, though, is that many of us knock down a wall, then take those bricks and use them to build a new and different wall. I actually had that revelation back in high school, but only in a very specific sense - I was complaining about how so many guitarists wanted to sound like Jimi Hendrix because "he was so innovative". That idea just totally boggled my mind. They admired Hendrix for being innovative, so they were going to very diligently copy everything he had already done, and think they were somehow better for it. Hendrix had smashed a wall, and these kids were very meticulously picking up the bricks and building a new one - but it was okay because this was a Hendrix wall and therefore cooler than the other walls out there!
On the other hand, is it bad to rebuild walls in new and different places? If you knock down too many walls without rebuilding at least one or two somewhere else, do you risk collapsing the ceiling on yourself and going completely mad? (If you want to argue whether or not going mad is a bad thing, let's do that elsewhere.) And is it somehow less offensive to live with walls that you have built, since you chose to have them there and you will probably remain aware of their existence? I tend to think it is - if a girl who grows up reaping all the benefits of gender equality who *chooses* to be a stay-at-home mom when she grows up is IMO better off than a girl who grew up never knowing that she didn't have to do that if she didn't want to.
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 17, 2008, 04:54:07 PM
Also, to anyone who posts: To make locating the context of a post easier, please try to list the forum or thread in which an entry was posted. I've forgotten on some of the things that I've posted here but, as a general rule of thumb, it might help out once we start dragging up a lot of really old posts, or posts which are found in the middle of conversations.
You can click on the link above quotes and it'll take you directly to the relevant thread.
Just sayin'.
Quote from: Payne on November 17, 2008, 04:59:48 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 17, 2008, 04:54:07 PM
Also, to anyone who posts: To make locating the context of a post easier, please try to list the forum or thread in which an entry was posted. I've forgotten on some of the things that I've posted here but, as a general rule of thumb, it might help out once we start dragging up a lot of really old posts, or posts which are found in the middle of conversations.
You can click on the link above quotes and it'll take you directly to the relevant thread.
Just sayin'.
Me = open mouth, insert foot.
Thanks, Payne.
From LHX, in his thread "Making Occult Studies More Accessible":
Quote from: LHX on December 20, 2006, 08:57:26 PM
It seems that one of the biggest stumbling blocks to making progress in occult studies is the tradition of mystery (or dare i say mahdjgickque?).
We have all but dismantled that aspect of the occult here.
What is the key understanding to accomplishing this?
Does it need to be understood that the occult words and symbols came after the things that they are describing? That they are a part of a process rather than the cause of a process?
Does it need to be understood that a card pulled from the tarot sheds insight on a situation rather than [i/predicting a concrete outcome[/i] of a specific situation?
Ive been taking a look at these occult systems lately - and it seems that they all aim in some way to re-create the universe we are living in - they allow you to take a 3rd person perspective on the situation that you are actually participating in
and the resulting insight is the thing that seems magical, but in reality is just a very useful insight
some people genuinely try to make progress in studying the occult, but there arent many resources available that deliver the raw goods (not many that i know of at least)
there are a lot of people making a lot of money by writing books and confusing their readers
excuse me - my venus is ascending retrograde (how embarrassing!)
Another self-whoring. This is something that I wrote a few weeks ago while waiting for my sugar cookies to finish baking. I just managed to get it typed up yesterday:
Cookies, and why they are yummy
by M.O.
From the Book of Saccharus, Ch. 1, v.1-9:
I. "In the beginning, after all the boring parts of Creation had been created, God created cookies. Of many different varieties He created them. And lo, he sorted them according to their kind, and, verily, according to their kind they were sorted. The 7th and 1/2lf day.
II. "After this had come to pass, God looketh down upon His other non-cookie Creations, and saweth that not one cookie was among them, and it was not good. And so God sayeth, 'Let there be cookies,' and it was so. The cookies, once province solely of heaven, sprangeth from humans' ovens according to their different varieties, and lo they became sorted again according to their kind and, verily, according to their kind they were sorted.
III. "And behold, at this time the Evil One walketh the earth. Havoc and misdeed guideth his steps. He saweth the cookies, and saweth that they were good, and spake, 'Verily I say, these cookies are good. I lament.' And he saweth the goodness of the cookies, and he lamented."
IV. "But that Evil One was crafty, and hath soon devised a plan that should bringeth wrath and misfortune upon cookies, and upon all that eateth them. For he hath maketh the enemies of all cookies everywhere, and he saweth the villainy of this deed. Seeing the villainy of this deed, he sayeth, 'Verily, this deed is villanous,' and so it was. For the Evil One hath created 'Diet Programs,' which are to this day plagues upon the house of cookies, and it is the house of cookies which they plagueth."
V. "In triumph the Evil One retreateth, and nay, all seemed lost. But God, as He looketh down upon his pitiful people, who hath now dieted away all cookies, took pity on us, and sayeth, 'Verily, this is not good,' and it was not."
VI. "Thus, God spake, saying, 'Thou shalt not diet excessively,' and lo, it was so."
VII. "And then God spake again, and He sayeth, 'Thou shalt not worry about what others think of thou,' and lo, it was so."
VIII. "At last God spake His final words, and He sayeth, 'Thou shalt enjoyeth to do what thou enjoyeth to do,' and lo, it was so."
IX. And thus, the Evil One thwarted, God retreateth back unto the heavens, leaving His spirit behind in the hearts of men and cookies forever. Amen."
Thus, I whore myself:
Quote from: Drunkard LMNO on June 22, 2006, 05:59:48 PM
THE VISION OF THE HOLY BOILERMAKER.
I saw a sight, O my children.
And in this sight was our Goddess, Eris.
And she was drunk.
Again.
And lo, she opened her left hand; and from this hand fell the Shot Glass of Destruction, and Disorder.
And all the things that Were became the things that Were Not:
The Forest became the Fire.
The House became the Rubble.
The Flesh became Meat.
And lo, did I weep, for the loss of all that Was.
And Eris did open her right hand, and from this hand fell the Pint Glass of Creation, and Order.
And the things that Were Not became the things that Were:
The Seed became the Forest.
The Stone became the House.
The Food became the Flesh.
And lo, did I rejoice, for the gain of all that Was.
And Eris did smack me on the back of the head; and I saw a sight, where the Shot became the Pint, and the Pint became the Shot, and I was confused.
In fright, I cried out: , "O Eris! What is this Terrible Vision, where Creation and Destruction are interchangeable; where Order and Disorder are naught but games!,"
And lo, did Eris smile; and did retrieve the Shot and the Pint; and filled the Shot with Whiskey; and the Pint with Stout; and did drop the Shot in the Pint, and drank them together.
And thus, I was enlightened.
In case you need some marginalia:
Quote from: Rev. What's-His-Name? on July 12, 2007, 07:37:37 PM
Did you hear the one about the deaf Discordian?
Whut?
Quote from: Rev. What's-His-Name? on July 12, 2007, 07:40:58 PM
Yeah, that one was pretty dumb.
Which, of course, goes without saying.
Quote from: Ratatosk on June 07, 2007, 06:53:42 PM
"Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three...
Come with me and you'll be in a world of Pure Imagination.
Take a look and you'll see into your Imagination.
We'll begin with a spin, traveling in the world of my creation.
What we'll see will defy explanation.
If you want to view Paradise, simply look around and view it.
Anything you want to do is, want to change the world, there's nothing to it..."
- Willy Wonka
At some point in the quite distant past of my early childhood, I saw Willy Wonka. I don't remember watching the movie the first time, but I do remember that there was a defining moment in my consciousness that day. It was the scene right before Agustus Gloop fell into the Chocolate River and became a giant chocolaty spit wad. Willy Wonka had opened the door to the Chocolate Room. Everyone walked into a world that couldn't exist. The colors were too vibrant to be simple reflections of light frequencies, everything was edible and the power of a single man's imagination had changed reality. I don't know when it happened, but I will never forget the elation I felt as Gene Wilder sang the above words. Every one of them hit me like an arrow. I wanted to live in a world of Pure Imagination. I didn't want to live in the serious world around me. The world of school and the factory where my dad worked was far too much like Charley's hometown, all the color and cheer had washed away. People were serious and concerned about serious things....
Of course, being whatever age I was, my analytical skills weren't sophisticated enough to appreciate this. All I can remember is wishing that I was in the Chocolate Room. Some number of years passed between that memory and the first time I can recall actually watching "Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory". The feeling I got when I heard the opening bars to "Marriage of Figaro" played on Wonka's locked door was a complete shift into that world of fantasy again.
I think that it was probably the first time I recall touching what Dr. Timothy Leary calls the 5th Circuit of Consciousness. That point where you can simply comprehend more of what is going on... at least maybe more of what you perceive to be going on. Colors do indeed appear brighter and the line between your reality and everyone else's becomes a shade less defined. Wilson and Leary both wrote that this level of consciousness was the 'next' evolution of the human experience. Circuits that are ready to use, just waiting to be plugged in. I'm not sure that they were right, but it makes a useful metaphor if nothing else.
I have only in the past few years been able to identify the place my imagination gets me to with the 5th level of Consciousness. I did this with specific neurotransmitters as well as other ways that have been in use for 4000 years to activate the fifth-brain. The ways that have been developed have been almost exclusively the domain of the shaman, the occultist and the alchemist. I have come to believe that the 'magic' associated with most occult figures may not a supernatural magic, but simply the engaging of higher circuits of consciousness. Perhaps that's all that Willy Wonka was, someone who had figured out how to engage all eight circuits of consciousness permanently. His hallucinations manifested in other people's reality model.
Marijuana has been proven to be a powerful neurotransmitter for the fifth-circuit. So has Tantra Magick, Sensory Deprivation and Free Fall. All of these are known to cause hallucinations on some level as well. Are hallucinations simply the beginning of reality-shaping? Is it simply your imagination beginning to affect the world around you? Wilson and Leary both connected fifth-circuit engagement with the separation of the nervous system from terrestrial ties. Astronauts describe feelings very similar to 'being high' when in the freefall of space (perhaps that is why the earth looks different to an individual experiencing it from space than any picture or virtual display can ever convey... they experience earth on a slightly different level of consciousness.
So maybe that's what Willy Wonka is actually trying to do, evolve consciousness to the next level (metaphorically). Look at the extreme warping he does to the reality of the contestant winners (and their greyfaced hunchbrained parents). Every one of them is placed in a situation that forces them to accept that they know less of reality than they think (or at least they know less of Wonka's reality). The book takes this idea a step further. At the end of the book we learn that all the children made it through their ordeal and were now much better for it. They all had improved in a number of ways. Wonka's mindfucks had proven beneficial for each of them.
Even Grandpa Joe and Charley need to get high (on fizzy lifting drink) before they can go to the next level of consciousness where they get everything they always wanted. Charlie and Grandpa Joe finally become fully aware of consciousness at a Wonka-level in the great glass elevator. Not only flying high (stoned off their sweet-tooth), but in a vehicle that allows them, with the touch of a button to go anywhere and anyway they desire. They simply push a button and wooosh! The GGE appears as the representation of Ultimate Freedom from Rules and Restrictions, to fully explore their Three Dimensional Universe.
They found a reality with no more rules to hold them back.
After all, that's what Wonka promised when he sang, "There is no Life I know to compare to Pure Imagination, living there you'll be free, if you truly wish to be."
I hereby declare Willy Wonka a Non-Prophet of Eris.
Quote from: Ratatosk on June 07, 2007, 09:55:02 PM
Inspired By a Post on "Convert Me"
"I want a religion that likes what I like,
and thinks how I think,
when I pray late at night.
I want a religion that doesn't have rules,
unless it's about those
whom I think are fools."
"I'll put my faith in a Custom Made God,
I'll 'have it my way',
though some think it odd.
I'll find the Truth lit by my own damned light,
I'll believe in a God
who thinks that I'm right!"
And so goes the sound of the monkeys that talk,
'tis barely better than the sheep that all walk,
down pews to the alter to get saved again,
while they "love", curse and damn their poor fellow men.
But it misses the key, it misses the gate,
it misses the thought which all love to hate.
For it's not all that logical,
nor soundeth it wise.
But you are reading this poem
through your God's eyes.
Who created what you see, what you hear, what you smell?
Who created your thoughts or the words that you tell?
Who makes the grass green? Who makes the sky blue?
Who translates the data?
Your God... (which is You).
Ratatosk, Squirrel of Discord
Chatterer of the Words of Eris
Muncher of The ChaoAcorn
POEE of the Great Googlie Mooglie Cabal
Quote from: Ratatosk on June 07, 2007, 09:47:21 PM
I wonder what she'd say,
if she happened by today,
and saw us in our rituals of life?
Would she think we're doing well,
in our own chaotic hell,
or would she decide to add a little strife?
There's Erisians on the net,
who are trying, you can bet,
to spread those words of chaos writ by Mal.
But Discordians, you know,
might aim an extra blow,
at their brothers and their sisters of the Chao.
I have seen the common spat,
regarding this and that,
and who and what and where and why and how.
And in the orgy of the fray,
we oft forget our way,
and might spill our bitter tea upon our towel.
So I wonder what she'd say,
if she happened through this way,
and stopped to see the madness we had wrought.
I think she'd laugh the most,
and head back home to boast,
about the way in which her Children fought.
Ratatosk, Squirrel of Discord
Chatterer of the Words of Eris
Muncher of the ChaoAcorn
POEE of The Great Googlie Mooglie Cabal
And http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=12969.msg410442#msg410442 (http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=12969.msg410442#msg410442)
:lulz:
Oh and:
Quote from: Ratatosk on July 19, 2007, 07:17:01 PM
ROUGH DRAFT 1
The Spirit of She What Done It All filled me and gave unto me the power of seeing that which is, but is not and might be (as it doesn't matter anyway).
I stood upon a dark shore, where no wind blew and no bird called, it was the Place of Waiting. In the sand, for all eternity, were writings;
"Leary Was Here"
"I came, I saw, I got Fucked Up.
Love, Gonzo"
"I didn't expect this. - RAW"
"Man, am I glad that's over - Omar"
and many more. The spirit of Eris moved me so that I understood; This was the Beach of the Dead, the sandy shores of That Which Is To Come After. The writings in the sand were from all those who came home from the very wild circus that is Life. And across the water I saw coming towards me a canoe. As it approached, I saw what appeared to be a tall man paddling.
"Oh Son of the Great Tribes" I hailed, "Are you that which shall carry me to the afterlife?"
And a deep voice came from the man saying "Duuuude, just chill, I'll be there in a flasssh".
So I chilled by the edge of the lapping waves and entertained myself by reading more of the epitaths.
"I never should have listened to Norton. - Samuel Clemens"
"Twain is gonna get the shock of his afterlife. - Emperor Norton I
I was so absorbed in my ghoulish task that I didn't notice the canoe come close to shore and land with a soft bump upon the sand. The man approached me and spoke, and lo' I was startled. "Man, you should hit this." it spoke, handing me a small roach. He didn't really seem to be a man upon closer examination. In fact, he was no man at all... the pointed ears, the dark muzzle... the muscular arms and legs... "Anubis!" I nearly shouted in recognition, "I had no idea that you were the guide for this afterlife."
The Dog twitched slightly and I caught the faint aroma of patchouli. "Whoa dude, don't be throwing around my old slave name... that is sooo not me anymore. Those Egyptians were such a drag man, hell they kept me on even after people stopped showing up. You know what a pain it is to only be called upon to direct the occasional Neo-Pagan to the afterlife? It's so boring. And they never get anything right anyway... One showed up looking for wings and the Elysium fields and me. I mean how confused can one person be?! No man, that was a bum trip."
"So what ..." I began to ask.
"You mean, why here? Well, like, I put my resume out there with a couple hoopy headhunters I knew. They used to be pretty decent suppliers before the job went lame. Anyway, these cats called me up and said that a sweet position was opening up here and I figured, you know, what the hell... might as well apply for the job." He paused and took a hit from, what appeared to be a new joint. "Yep," he continued blowing out a purple haze,"things are much more groovy here. All the cats and kittens which show up are either excited to be here, or at the very least awfully curious about what was going on. At the old job, there were a few customers that weren't too bad, but most of them either thought that they were Gods, or just cried and whined and begged me to take them home. It's a helluva lot better here... and the boss is a lot more lenient." He hit the j again and passed it to me. "Hell, she gave me this before I left to come over here."
"So," I ventured, hoping to get a question in "who do you work for?"
He smiled and showed me his regalia. Instead of the skirt, he wore a colorful dashiki and his ankh had been traded in for a Five Fingered Hand. A short goatee sprouted from the bottom of his muzzle. "Ah," I said in recognition, "I should have guessed. So then what shall I call you now that you're free?"
He smiled, ushered me to his craft and pushed off from shore, "You can call me by my Free Name now that I am a God here in the realms of Chaos." He straightened his posture threw his head back and proclaimed in a deific voice "I am the Discordant of the Dead Chaoates, the Keeper of the Sacred Souls, the Captain of the Canoe of Chaos. I am Ca' Nu' Bis!"
And then I awoke and realized that I still had to finish three reports before I could leave the office.
Quote from: Rev. What's-His-Name? on September 28, 2007, 04:05:46 PM
Finding Freedom While Suffocating
We have to eat, we need a place to sleep, we need to clothe our bodies, and we need to take care of others in our familial units (pets included). It is vital to a certain aspect of our survival.
But then there's the other part of survival. The part that happens in the headspace.
Life happens and we happen with it. Events may dictate that we end up in a job or occupation that wasn't necessarily in our Top 5 when we were in 2nd grade. While this situation may be less than ideal, it doesn't have to be a death, or life in prison sentence.
The key is to attain, retain, and maintain that freedom in the head. This can be difficult though while life is happening around you. You are forced, by your boss, to do certain things to maintain employment, that may work against how you feel and think inside. Maybe you need to start making cold calls, when you hate getting cold calls yourself. Maybe you need to start declining more applicants, while you hate it when it happens to you. But if you don't do these things, life will happen much more harshly when the income dries up.
So, much like many things in this world, it seems like being able to balance is key. If you can walk the tightrope and keep your wits about you, you'll make it to the other end. Your aide will be your balancing beam. Maybe it's writing poetry/prose. Maybe it's creating music. Maybe it's sticking your hands in dirt in your back yard. Maybe it's scaling the nearby rocky cliff. Whatever it is, you need to keep it at hand. To keep that headspace open and free.
Because suffocation is simply where you stopped breathing.
So this has become a 'submissions to crams new Discorian lit magazine' thread?
i should dig through my posts and see if i said anything that doesn't count as a net negative ....
Quote from: Iptuous on November 17, 2008, 06:32:03 PM
So this has become a 'submissions to crams new Discorian lit magazine' thread?
i should dig through my posts and see if i said anything that doesn't count as a net negative ....
No, this is an insightful post thread.
Some of them may be used in a magazine, but it's not
for that.
right. i was just noticing that it seems to have turned into people posting their own things rather than MO (and others) digging through the history and finding things that others have said that gave them insight.
no problems..... I enjoy the self-congratulation of this board in general. :D
Quote from: Payne on November 17, 2008, 06:33:23 PM
Quote from: Iptuous on November 17, 2008, 06:32:03 PM
So this has become a 'submissions to crams new Discorian lit magazine' thread?
i should dig through my posts and see if i said anything that doesn't count as a net negative ....
No, this is an insightful self-congratulatory masturbation post thread.
Some of them may be used in a magazine, but it's not for that.
Fixxxored for self-importance.
Quote from: Drunkard LMNO on November 17, 2008, 06:50:41 PM
Quote from: Payne on November 17, 2008, 06:33:23 PM
Quote from: Iptuous on November 17, 2008, 06:32:03 PM
So this has become a 'submissions to crams new Discorian lit magazine' thread?
i should dig through my posts and see if i said anything that doesn't count as a net negative ....
No, this is an insightful self-congratulatory masturbation post thread.
Some of them may be used in a magazine, but it's not for that.
Fixxxored for self-importance.
I think you're allowed to be self important about it, anyway.
~~~Payne: Finds your posting to be generally insightful.
Quote from: Iptuous on November 17, 2008, 06:36:21 PM
right. i was just noticing that it seems to have turned into people posting their own things rather than MO (and others) digging through the history and finding things that others have said that gave them insight.
no problems..... I enjoy the self-congratulation of this board in general. :D
Whether the posts are for self congratulation or insight doesn't really matter, just as long as the posts that are added are ones which have either been insightful (or inciteful?) to one's self, or posts which one thinks may be insightful to others. The former is what motivated me to search through others' posts, and the latter is what motivated me to add things of my own which have hitherto been unseen on the forums.
For me it isn't self-congratulatory, it's more like,
Oh hey, I used to actually post useful stuff here from time to time.
Okay, I'll join in then :mrgreen:
The origin of an idea:
Quote from: Payne on May 29, 2007, 01:45:12 AM
Sitting here is hell.
The Blank Screen is a mirror to my Blank Mind. No ideas, a creative wasteland.
"The end of the story is the most important part."
It's creation surely, is more important?
Old memes cycle round and round, like a circular saw. building nothing new, just chopping through thought to create recognisable metaphors and concepts.
So we become jaded.
Our questions become meaningless, as the answer is always the same- "bullshit!"
"Another day, another dollar", What does that mean?
Are we really conditioned to like this shit?
Even the artists are become physical labourers, as we cannot respect a person who does not sweat for us. Philosophy is dead.
We turn to new gods.
It is a crime to write on the walls people. They are the forbidden canvas, taboo.
"Only Nixon could go to China" Hypocracy rules!
And opposites attract, leading to grey centrism.
We are that grey centrisms opposite. Are we doomed to fall into it's gravity well? Are we doomed to go to China? Will we draw upon the walls no more?
We all are doomed to greyfacery-ness, at some point. Some of us will build monoliths that put others in shade, when they tumble (as they will) they may take other pillars with them. Some will build little shiny gemstones that we will wear as pretty rings, blinding us to everything else.
Fuck I don't know what to say or do anymore, I just want to scream my hate down upon ye and they. And toast the coming of the social black hole.
EDIT: Weak ending fixx0red
And its refinement:
Quote from: Payne on June 19, 2008, 02:32:09 AM
This is for all of you out there who have shit going on, in your life, and can't deal. Can't vent. Can't defend yourself from.
There are times when you must be seen, heard, felt. And even the most apathetic or the most cynical of us do it. There are times when you must stick your head over the trench wall and see others toiling away, and take comfort from the fact that you are not alone.
So I am here. I am listening.
Some of us take up the pen, the sword, the megaphone, and turn negativity into a positive. Some of us create temporary monuments out of the shrapnel that rains on us.This is why: if we do not shit our hate, we will die.
Your tasks are your own, what you do, you must do alone, but what is done, will be seen.
The best will be remembered and emulated and refined, it is true, but the best will fade as fast as the worst.
There is nothing permanant. In the space of a life time, we build many monuments, and we tear many down.
There is respite, though. There is a moment of hiding in a shell crater as you run across no-mans-land, sharing a knowing glance with another refugee, leaving your mark, before you jump up again, and run to the next bit of scant cover.
There is that assurance that what we do will have meaning, for a fleeting time perhaps, but not an empty gesture.
EDIT: Because the original subject title suxx0red.
From Cram, a sort of meta-post, in which he gives a critique of the BIP*:
Quote from: Cramulus on January 24, 2007, 03:15:14 PM
Preamble: This was a difficult review to write. Warring in my head are three points of view,Äî
- The Discordian who wants to Wake Up and to Wake Up everyone around him
- The random guy on the bus who found the pamphlets I left him
- A devil,Äôs advocate that dissects things on principle. Toro! Toro!
These guys disagree on just about everything, so my opinions may not appear fully consistent. I apologize in advance for the length of this post, but I wanted to be thorough as a service to the project.
My Report on the Black Iron Prison Project
by Cramulus, Professor Emeritus, basically some guy
Abstract:
Overall, the BIP pamphlet carries a strong message, which is extremely useful to those trapped in sleepwalker mode. However, it suffers from poor packaging - its ideas are presented in a way which may repel the casual reader or random pedestrian. Overall, I am hopeful that this, and future incarnations of the project will be effective in shaking the public.
In short:
If people could just realize how stupid they are, they,Äôd stop being so stupid!
Article:
I love the Black Iron Prison pamphlet. With the assistance of the OBNOXIOUS JERK CABAL, I've spent years putting together and passing out subversive / enlightening pamphlets, posters, and public performance. I've handed out my own stuff (total crap), and a great deal of stuff that other people have created. (most of it total crap) The BIP pamphlet succeeds where many other Discordian / Illuminating tracts fail - it felt like a slap in the face, even to someone who thinks he's got a toehold on figuring out this fractillian merry-go-round. And I thought I WAS awake!
But I think the BIP suffers from poor packaging. The format in which these ideas are presented, unfortunately, make them less palatable. I understand that you're trying to be really open and translucent about what the motivation of the pamphlet is. I can smell the lack of manipulation, and it smells good - the intent seems to be to give people the tools and let them figure out reality on their own. That rocks. But the tone is often condescending, intentionally offensive, cynical, and in many places shows contempt for the reader. There are likely people who were digging the pamphlet, or were on the border of getting the "point", until it got really Righteous. At that point, it's easy to classify it as the same sort of propaganda Jehovah,Äôs Witnesses hand out. Citation?
- Page 16-17 sets up the same "us" versus "them" mentality that mainstream religions and cults use to foster an in-group mentality. Midway down page 17, the author refers to "them" as "these beings"... Personally I react very negatively to dehumanizing the opposition. It's very Holier-Than-Thou and it stinks. More Us v Them on page 26. Are "they" the enemy or the people you're trying to "wake up"?
- page 21-22 is a lot of seething contempt for the general public, which presumably includes the reader and friends ("What is it with you people?"). I understand that this particular passage is trying to shake people into making their own decisions about pop culture et al, but if the target audience is people who do like QPCs and American Idol (the sleepers), you,Äôre not going to crack the ice by shouting the word sheep at them over and over again.
- Page 5 suffers from the same problem. It,Äôs like ,ÄúYou people, OR SHALL I SAY SHEEPLE might learn a thing or two if you listen to me. Stop being such comatose slugs!,Äù The implication is that the writers have it all figured out (even if they later say that they don,Äôt). If the reader agrees with the writers and does what they tell him, he,Äôll become a higher class of being too. Evangelical? Perhaps. Does this read like goth poetry? At times.
Certain parts of the pamphlet are pure gold. Among them:
The anecdote on page 3-4 reminds me of (sorry) a Hagbard Celine quote "You're still trapped in thinking of it as left versus right. We're up versus down!" Hell yeah! (Unfortunately this point is almost sacrificed by appealing to liberals against conservatives on p25)
Page 7 is also really well written. It explains WHY you,Äôd want to see the BIP. The 7th-8th paragraphs are the real meat here. ,Äú,Ķthe more people are able to think for themselves, the less willing they become to exhaust themselves at someone else,Äôs command,Ķ,Äù Its either rare or well done, depending on how you like your meat.
Page 9 says ,ÄúThe time has come for you to start thinking for yourself.,Äù That,Äôs kallisti-gold on the page and couldn,Äôt be printed bold enough.
The description of the nature of The Machine,Ñ¢ on page 10 makes me want to stand up and shout HELL YEAH. I showed this to a Discordian friend while stinking drunk, and days later, this is the only paragraph he could remember about it. Particularly the part about focusing on the component parts rather than the whole picture.
Page 12 has a line: ,ÄúThe notion that some nebulous group is out there subverting people with imagery and printed words designed to alter moods and behaviors is simply science fiction of the wildest, most escapist variety.,Äù This is some delicious self-reference.
As I read, I wondered,Ķ If it,Äôs worth it to be self-liberated and self-aware, why do the writers sound so pissed off and frustrated? I mean, you,Äôre trying to sell us freedom, but the tone of the pamphlet sounds like the authors are a bunch of brooding, bitter, cigarette smoking, echoes of Tyler Durden. Is that the reality I want? Well the longer paragraph at the bottom page 15 addresses the question Why Bother. That Why Bother is a big selling point and shouldn,Äôt be ignored.
The way page 16 ends in a couplet (,ÄúWe call it pollution, toxicity. It takes many forms and it,Äôs increasing rapidly,Äù) is really tight. It has a sort of lyrical quality to it which resonates well with me.
Page 19 ends with ,ÄúIf you accept that as truth, I wonder what you will believe when you are eventually convinced that it is a lie.,Äù BaBAM, kickass finishing move. I think p 18-19 is a really great spread.
The Herman Hesse quote on 23 is seriously hot shit. I think it,Äôs the most important part of the whole pamphlet. p23-24 is pure poetry. I especially like the line ,ÄúPissing all over someone else for doing something you don,Äôt personally approve of is MORE pointless than how pointless you think what they,Äôre doing is!,Äù
Page 25-26 is really tight. It,Äôs really nice to see a concrete example to support all the metaphor.
Inconsistent Audience:
I had trouble figuring out who this pamphlet is addressed to. If it,Äôs addressed to random people on the street who pick up the pamphlet, it should omit the stuff aimed specifically at Discordians and SubGs.
The target audience is definitely ,Äúthe public,Äù on page 8.
The target audience is definitely ,ÄúDiscordians,Äù (and their ilk) on page 12.
The target is People on the Web on page 23 (,Äú,Ķhere on this website, talking about this goddess,Ķ,Äù)
Generally the tone flips between adding nuance to already established Discordian issues (like the Machine and the Con), and trying to shake up people who are pinned to their sofas. These are two different audiences, two slightly different messages, and I think they should be approached in separate (but equal) ways. Trying to cover the whole spread in one pamphlet decreases the effectiveness of both. For example: Most Discordians feel (perhaps incorrectly) that they,Äôve left the couch. Maybe you can convince them otherwise. But be clear ,Äì when I first read the pamphlet I (in part) thought ,Äúoh, they,Äôre talking to fingerlicking mouthbreathers, not me. I already hate American Idol.,Äù
Miscellaneous Stuff I Don,Äôt Like
The introduction on page 2,Ķ I don,Äôt like it. I don,Äôt think it does a good job at describing exactly what the prison is. ,ÄúIt,Äôs your life, it,Äôs the cold trap of your existence.,Äù (that line made me hurk a little ,Äì I think it reads like teen goth poetry). So how exactly is that a prison and why should I hate it? Note - I think I understand what you,Äôre talking about, and I,Äôm not asking for an answer ,Äì I,Äôm just pointing out how the guy on the bus may feel about this vitriol. The first page of text is the make-it-or-break-it page of the whole pamphlet, and it,Äôs basically only frustration and metaphor. It needs something concrete to anchor.
It,Äôs possible to explain the two man con on page 4 without making the reader feel stupid for not having read American Gods. Likewise page 26 references Kant, Hume, and Locke, who are probably strangers to those people on the train.
The ,ÄúTUC,Äù mentioned on the bottom of page 5,Ķ what does that stand for? I,Äôd either spell it out or delete it. Same with SSOOKN.
This may be purely a matter of taste,Ķ
Page 14 begins by attempting to describe TEH NATURE OF REALITY. I hurk a little bit every time someone else tries to ,Äúexplain,Äù reality to me. That passage goes on to very effectively argue that we ignore / are unaware of most of reality. But then the consecutive point on p15 is that there might be great fun in exploring the reality that,Äôs currently invisible to us. Though I,Äôm hip to the metaphor that,Äôs been set up, the passage literally suggests that there,Äôs great fun in being aware of my feet inside my shoes, and being aware of the post-it note barely visible in my peripheral vision. It,Äôs plausible that the dude on the bus missed the point with all the metaphor.
We all have a little chunk of brain at the top of the spine called the Reticular Formation which filters out unnecessary information, like the temperature inside my shoes, the sound of the fluorescent lights, the entire world when I,Äôm asleep, etc. I trust its decisions. Yeah, it,Äôs filtering out a LOT of information, but is that information relevant?
That big Why Bother question is answered several times throughout the pamphlet by demeaning the people who don,Äôt ,Äúget it,Äù. Citation: page 4, ,ÄúNot wanting to beat the shit out of very stupid people is hard work.,Äù The authors must be pretty smart to see all this stupidity! In answer to the question ,ÄòWhy bother?,Äô Because I want to be smart like you, can I send you a membership fee and jump behind your smart rebel label? :-P
Page 20 is mostly metaphor. I think the point gets lost without something concrete to anchor it.
Appearance:
There,Äôs a bit that can be done to make this pamphlet easier to read.
Page 6, paragraph 2. Should begin with ,ÄúYou,Äôre,Äù, not ,ÄúYour,Äù. Page 8, paragraph 2, I think it should be ,Äúensure,Äù not ,Äúinsure,Äù. Page 21, the SSOOKN quote should drop the word ,ÄúFor,Äù. I know, I know, that,Äôs really anal. But since its in print it should matter.
Some of the leaves are out of order. Maybe I,Äôm printing it wrong, or doing something dumb, but I tried a zillion different ways, and no matter how I paginate it, p18-19 is followed by p12-13, and p8-9 is followed by p16-17. Luckily, it doesn,Äôt really seem to matter.
I think the large blocks of text (read: the entire pamphlet) need to be broken up with some graphics or quotes or what-have-you. This is your opportunity to punch the reader right in the limbic system. Some lighter images could go a long way to soften the austere bitterness (unless you really like the bitterness ,Äì personally, I think it,Äôs unattractive). I know that this commutiny has no shortage of hysterical graphics.
Conclusion:
I,Äôm equally impressed by the BIP pamphlet as I am with the PD.com community. You guys have shaken off the mummy-wrappings of ancient Discordia and created a new episkipos which is, perhaps, even more radically free than previous incarnations. It was really refreshing to realize that there are people who are putting a new spin on Discordia, even though sometimes some seem to be a bunch of elitist, cantankerous, endearing assholes (you what I mean). Likewise the BIP perfectly reflects the commutiny ,Äì it,Äôll enlighten you ,Ķif you,Äôre tough enough to stomach it.
In My Humble Opinion it can use a bit of levity. What attracted me to Discord when I was something like 17 years old was that it was the first time someone tried to convince me of something important without cramming it down my throat. It tasted good so I swallowed it on my own. The humor and lack of self-importance is what (according to The Prankster and The Conspiracy) Greg and Kerry thought would save Discord from Dogma. And I don,Äôt just mean LAIL dada humor. Maybe absurd silliness doesn,Äôt have a place in this document, but I for one would be able to take it more seriously if it didn,Äôt take itself so seriously.
And on that note I acknowledge that I am also quite full of shit. All of this long wind emanates, perhaps, from a narrow, stubborn mind. I sure couldn,Äôt do any better than you guys have done, but I,Äôm hoping that all this jazz will somehow help. Looking back on this post, I find it pleasantly absurd that my report on the BIP is approaching the length of the pamphlet itself. But whatever.
Um, I shall leave you with a llama,
A llama
*Note: any information/links that anyone has to talks about a 2nd ed. BIP pamphlet would be greatly appreciated. If no such thing exists yet, then it may be worth revisiting the pamphlet for revisions.
And a couple I really enjoyed writing, the second actually affected me fairly deeply after I read it back to myself, cause I just shat it out without much thought and didn't get the impact of it until I read it in a slightly removed way.
Quote from: Payne on June 25, 2008, 01:05:25 PM
"We came here, not only to help John [Sinclair] and to spotlight what's going on, but also to show and to say to all of you that apathy isn't it. We can do something. Okay, so Flower Power didn't work, so what? We start again."
~John Lennon (at a benefit concert for John Sinclair)
There are many Discordians out there who still slavishly follow the original Principia Discordia, a ragged tome written by a couple of stoned hippies, filled with 60's humour but with a serious message running through it like barbed wire hidden in a heap of cotton wool. This humour was already dated by the early 70's, but even today we have aspiring Discordians who will parrot the jokes ad infintum. They don't even believe that there IS barbed wire in there.
Which is fair enough, a person is allowed to believe what they will. They also have to take the consequences when they shread their hands unexpectedly on the "true" message of the PD.
Flower Power did not work. It became less a philosophy and more a fashion statement, less a movement and more a profitable exercise. With this in mind, is the packaging of the original message of PD really appropriate? Can we expect an audience of today to find any truth hidden in hippy rhetoric? While the answer is obviously "yes" (many of us were able to see some form of "The Truth" in it), shouldn't we also consider the number of people who have completely missed it, and set it aside as an interesting yet ultimately dated and dead piece of literature?
I personally think that the meat of the PD is a stark reminder that we are all monkeys, we are all subject to simian behaviour, regardless of our "civilisation", "humanity" and other such concepts. It tells us to 'Think for yourself, Schmuck!', and that we are all susceptible to trying to impose our own ideas of what should be onto situations where no such concept can exist, and then call it "reality"!
This is a timeless idea, as applicable today as it was in the 60's, and probably all over human history.
When we seem dark, stark and bitter, we are only relating what we believe is the true tone of the PD. When we are hateful, impatient and arrogant, we are reacting to the context of the time that the message now finds itself in, stripping the cotton wool of the 60's off of it and clothing it in the flak jacket and utilitarian fatigues of our time.
Nonsense as Salvation, whats more non sensical than taking the scribblings of a couple hippies and turning it into a personalised philosophy where these things can happen, without contradiction?
So spare us the "ZOMG23PINEALFNORD" crap, the hippies are dead. The new age requires new action, the activist today needs a suit and a tie, not a tie-dyed shirt.
Quote from: Payne on September 03, 2008, 10:36:45 PM
Discordia will always be more relevant to me personally than in any kind of "cause" or "movement".
Yes, things in society are fucked up, yes "everyone" thinks that "everyone" else wants things to be this way, and there is nothing that they can do about it as individuals. Yes, they are wrong.
But all of this means nothing to me.
I am not an activist, I don't go out of my way to try and convert people anymore. I used to, but then I thought it was mandatory or at least expected. Since I decided for myself that it wasn't, I don't do it. I don't expect people to wake up unless they want to do it themselves, I certainly don't expect it to ever make sense for them unless they do it in the hardest and unfunniest ways, but that may be my jaded and bitter inner self talking.
Discordia is not a movement, it is not a purpose, it is not a cause. It's a state of mind. A state of mind that connects a diverse group of people who wouldn't give each other the time of day if they met socially in other circumstances and didn't have the call signs Discordia offers, the "fluff" like 23, Eris or Principia Discordia.
I like that. I like talking to people who I normally would never talk to, who would normally never talk to me.
Discordia is at times an excellent way of tying some of us together to work on projects that normally would never be worked on, like Paths and Shrapnel, PosterGASM and some of the weird and wonderful art projects that have grown out of these forums.
I like that. I like working with people on plans and projects that may have some relevance to how I think about my life, or can help decorate it in a way that makes me question what decoration is.
Discordia will always be relevant to me in some way because of this. Its worth far outweighs the effort of getting anything back from it.
I like models, I like art, I like exploring the weirder aspects of our psyches, and the even weirder methods of exploiting what we find.
I like to laugh, hate, cry and love, as we as humans are meant to, not as we have been conditioned to. As I've only learned to do with some intense soul searching and some pain. Discordia has been the chair I've sat down in when I'm weary, the desk I've used to write some of the most personal and important things I've ever written, it has been the mirror in which I've seen what I am, what I was and what I want to be.
And I've learned to not care what others are thinking about it all, except in specialised circumstances, for example: when I feel like it.
I know what I've learned, I've learned to question what I know, and I've learned to learn more, always learn more.
For me, Discordia is a question, an answer and everything else in between, and it is so huge that I could spend a lifetime exploring it.
Is Discordia relevent? Certainly for me, maybe for you.
From LMNO's "Shrapnel" thread. Note that I have removed the initial sentence, which merely references the post and does not contribute to or detract from the overall message of the post:
Quote from: Drunkard LMNO on June 24, 2008, 05:50:16 PM
Shrapnel. Something exploded, and a piece of it embedded in your flesh. Now you have to carry that around with you for the rest of your life.
It affects you. In changes the way that you behave, you take the experience of being hit by that shrapnel with you in every decision that you make. Even if you remove it, the scar remains. Even in its absence, it informs your decisions.
For the most part, the explosions are essentially random, when taken from a subjective view. Someone else planted these things, and you walk right into it. These things may have exploded centuries ago, but the shrapnel is still in the air. Still able to pierce into the heart of you.
Often, they tell you where to go. They push you onto new paths, or keep you going down the one you're on. They can blind you, they can cripple you, they can make you afraid to continue. They can accumulate, like scales, like armor, like a lead weight. Given enough time, they can even render you impervious to other bits of shrapnel. But not forever.
Shrapnel is not subtle. It's just that we don't recognize it for what it is. We get hit full in the face, and we don't even realize what just happened. We know something just went down, but what?
You heard a symphony.
You read a story.
You went to school.
You got a job.
You fell in love.
You got into a fight.
You fell out of a tree.
You were mugged.
You got an erection.
You listened to a preacher.
You took drugs.
You got lost in the woods for 3 days.
You lived your life. And you carry that with you. Each thing that got the limbic system pumping, every "aha!", all the moments of simmering rage, each instant of bliss... They all left their bits of shrapnel in you. They all push and prod you in directions you might not even have intended to go.
But you don't have to be one of the walking wounded. The choice is yours. Self-surgery is messy, but it's possible. Search out the bits that got stuck into you, see if they're worth keeping. Then get a pair of pliers and an exacto knife, and get to it.
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 17, 2008, 07:06:13 PM
*Note: any information/links that anyone has to talks about a 2nd ed. BIP pamphlet would be greatly appreciated. If no such thing exists yet, then it may be worth revisiting the pamphlet for revisions.
actually, my critique was relevant to the first edition BIP pamphlet...
the one you've read is probably the second edition one.
If it had graphics, it's the 2nd edition.
I'm not sure that the first one exists anymore. The link on the wiki goes nowhere as I think it was on a part of POEE that went splodey.
I think I have it as a word document. It's a good start, but a bit meh. I'd check out the Wiki (http://www.blackironprison.com/index.php?title=Main_Page) for further updates.
Quote from: Cramulus on November 17, 2008, 08:14:11 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 17, 2008, 07:06:13 PM
*Note: any information/links that anyone has to talks about a 2nd ed. BIP pamphlet would be greatly appreciated. If no such thing exists yet, then it may be worth revisiting the pamphlet for revisions.
actually, my critique was relevant to the first edition BIP pamphlet...
the one you've read is probably the second edition one.
If it had graphics, it's the 2nd edition.
Ah, I see. Would you like me to remove the post because of lack of relevancy, then, or would you prefer I kept it up for historical significance? My vote is for the latter (it is, after all, still a well-written critique), but I'll go with the herd on this one.
FWIW, I'd like to have the original version back up on the wiki, just for historicaly perspective if for no other reasons. Or am I the only sentimental spag around here? So, LMNO, if you find it send me a PM and I'll give you my e-mail addy.
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 17, 2008, 08:52:13 PM
Quote from: Cramulus on November 17, 2008, 08:14:11 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 17, 2008, 07:06:13 PM
*Note: any information/links that anyone has to talks about a 2nd ed. BIP pamphlet would be greatly appreciated. If no such thing exists yet, then it may be worth revisiting the pamphlet for revisions.
actually, my critique was relevant to the first edition BIP pamphlet...
the one you've read is probably the second edition one.
If it had graphics, it's the 2nd edition.
Ah, I see. Would you like me to remove the post because of lack of relevancy, then, or would you prefer I kept it up for historical significance? My vote is for the latter (it is, after all, still a well-written critique), but I'll go with the herd on this one.
oh it's cool, keep it. I just wanted to clarify - I made a BIP edition that addressed most of the stuff in that post.
Quote from: Rev. What's-His-Name? on November 17, 2008, 08:55:16 PM
FWIW, I'd like to have the original version back up on the wiki, just for historicaly perspective if for no other reasons. Or am I the only sentimental spag around here? So, LMNO, if you find it send me a PM and I'll give you my e-mail addy.
I agree. And also, I liked the cover on the first BIP better.
From Horab's rant entitled "Fuck Robert Anton Wilson." One-sided and brash, but it raises a few good points:
Quote from: Horab Fibslager on November 27, 2003, 07:15:27 PM
fuck da police!
-NWA
"You'd PAY to know what you REALLY think."
-Dobbs 1961
and fuck all those other pseudo bullshit futurist writers who you've read, adored, and now think exactly alike and quote at every waiting turn.
fuck them! they sold you a book and you bought their mind and thought processes and can't seem to get away from it. what have they written that you can't see beyond? what have they pretensed that you cannot out pretence. the only reason, or at least one of the only reasons, they haven't told you to do teh same is simple. they make a living outof telling you how to think, how to arrange your attitudes, how to keep an open mind according to their guidelines, how to be come a medium to the dogstar sirius aliens, how to prepare for timewave zero to collapse in 2012, how to fuck like a weirdo cuz missionary is for norms only.
fuck neil gaiman, terrence mckenna, robert anton wilson, and especially an other fuck who goes around making money off the counterculture. fuck the counterculture. the counterculture became so intolerably saturated by capitalism before i was ever born that i can now invest itn eh upcoming counterculture blockbuster from the safety of my own home.
fuck that shit. if these guys were selling such incredible truths,they wouldn't ask you to buy it, they be throing off their clothes and preachign the word from teh streets, writing their workls on the walls, and beating verses relentlessy into lost lawyers and politicians.
their bullshit has become your truth
don't shy away from admitting it, even the great RAW him self has admitted he is full of shit, and i'm not about to do any different.
if reality is what you can get away with, Robert Anton Wilson and his contemporaries have got yall by the fucking balls, or filopian tubes as the case may be.
and for goddes' sake! stop quoting the monsters! is tehre anything worse than the mental enslavement to a supposedly freethinking writer's quotations?oen ofrm of idiocy replaces another, one becomes ever ignorant ont eh pretence of knowing better, one becomes a slave to the promiser of freedom. quote that motherfuckers!.
so what can you do to free yourself of tis venomus plague? what can you do to regain your own mind and thoughts?
take that futurist collection and BURN IT! save teh cover pages tho, and use them as toilet paper. then send said toilet paper with a hearty fuck you! written on it to the author of the work.
From One-Eyed Thayne Magee:
Quote from: One-Eyed Thayne Magee on October 23, 2005, 09:34:46 PM
if i told you..absolutely they would kill me...and no tin hat would save me - nikola tesla
the other night i was watching the demons crawl out of the woodwork again, which is why caulking is so damned important. if you caulk it hard enough and tight enough the demons can't get out of the fucking walls and suck your one remaining eyeball right out of your head. anyway, one of these demons kind of oozed up to me and said, "thayne, old buddy. you do realize that your very own government killed nikola tesla right? they let him live long enough to drain his brains dry of every idea he ever had, and then they killed him."
"and you're next boy. you're next. only they won't keep you alive long enough for you to spit. because after all, what does the uncle sammy want with heated toilet paper, floating lawn chairs and seeing-eye armadillos? well okay, so they might like the tp idea, but you know damn well they'd keep it for the bigwigs and let the little fellows continue to freeze their nuts off, right? of course right."
and i thought to myself, thayne, i thought, big brother is everywhere. and it's just like the old lady always says "goddammit, leave your glass eye at home next time you go on a bender down at harold's lounge or it's just dejavu like when the cops haul you away and you kick the cop in the knee and they cuff your feet together so even if you kick open the back door of the cop car and try to hop away (again), the truth is the police can run faster than you when you're cuffed at the ankles. and you know they'll throw you back in the drunk tank where they don't care what happened to your glass eye, or maybe they took it and spit on it or are saving it for their hallooween costumes, or for a trophy. yeah, that's it a trophy eye hanging on the wall of the break room down at the jail. even if you get it back you don't know where it's been."
so anyway, back to nikola tesla, the fucking genius who immigrated here from Serbia , and either knew transmigration or teleportation or else had tunnels under his house that led to his secret lab. but then one day he decided to do things much as an ordinary man would and got hit by a car while crossing the road and died in the street like a dog and the fbi came in and took all his papers and his secrets when they raided his place. but he got revenge and the last laugh because the fuckers tried to photograph tesla in his casket and the photo blurred and they were unable to make the camera focus on his face. there's not one death picture of his face which is the way he wanted it. the question that begs here is this: what good is the last laugh if you're dead?
the moral of this rant is listen to your old lady, but not her mother. leave your glass eye at home, never forget your ankles are cuffed and the man can run faster, caulk those cracks in the woodwork, dig your tunnels deep and don't cross the road like everyone else, or the they'll get you next.
your friend,
thayne
From RBG, aka Rabid Badger of God, aka Badge of Honor:
Quote from: BADGE OF HONOR on September 21, 2005, 03:52:33 AM
If you're going to bullshit for bullshit's sake, at least have the decency to make your own. Stop analyzing, quoting, arguing with, and making clever references to any of the so-called "seminal Discordian(tm) texts".
Sure, they're a Real Head Trip, but clever wears itself out real, real fast, and it's getting on 30-40 years since this crap has been floating around. That's longer than you've been alive, I wager. RAW and Mal-2 were stoned when they wrote that shit anyway. I bet they're embarassed by people like you who take them seriously. If you keep this up they'll be the new L. Ron Hubbard, and Discordianism(tm) will be the new Scientology. Do you really want that? Do you? Huh?!
Being a Real Discordian(tm) involves having a finely tuned sense of irony. We've all been through it. Is it a joke? Is a religion? Is it a religion disguised as a joke disguised as a religion disguised as a philosophy disguised as a joke? If it's a joke, am I supposed to laugh? How come nobody else is laughing? Oh god, They're watching me again!
*cough*
Anyway, Discordianism(tm) is kind of like Ramen noodles. There's lots of kinds, but it takes a special sort of appetite for them to be worth eating, especially considering the net negative nutritional gain. Is it worth the effort, or should you just order a college special from Jeebus Pizza? Or maybe just be a regular ol' atheist. I hear they've unionised. Maybe you should try it.
So, you're still here. I never have the patience to read the long posts. Hell, I've never read all of the Principia Discordia(tm). Even if I did, I wouldn't remember it. I can quote, "Munching on the tasty grass, the sacred chao goes 'mu'" but it took a lot of effort and I'm so not into that. But I'm also not into bullshitting for bullshit's sake. I'm just easily amused. That's why I'm here. Sometimes that's why I'm not here.
So shut up, take a look around with your eyes open this time, and "make your own trip" or whatever it is they used to say.
From LMNO's post, "A Problem with the Message." This is a good thought to consider for people who are already used to the BIP stuff:
Quote from: Drunkard LMNO on February 21, 2007, 05:45:44 PM
So, I was at a party the other night. As I am of a certain age, it was a cocktail party, wine, hors de oeuvres, all that stuff. Anyway, I was shooting the shit with some yuppie woman who works with my wife, and the subject of philosophy came up. After a bit of back and forth, I decided to broach the subject of the BIP principles.
,ÄúSo, the first think I think is that people need to think for themselves.,Äù
,ÄúYeah, of course.,Äù
,ÄúWell, the second thing is that because of the way we perceive things, we,Äôre limited in the amount of the Universe we can objectively sense.,Äù
,ÄúMmm-hmm.,Äù
,Äú,ĶAnd, um, so we,Äôre sort of trapped by our own frameworks of the way we see reality.,Äù
,ÄúOkay, sure.,Äù But her eyes were as dead as any corpse.
And that,Äôs when I realized something: A lot of what we,Äôre trying to say here are things that just about everybody will agree with. I mean, who,Äôs going to disagree with a suggestion to think for themselves? The main problem isn,Äôt that people don,Äôt understand the BIP, it,Äôs that they don,Äôt think it applies to them, or that they,Äôve already dealt with the problem. How many American Idol fans think they,Äôre independent thinkers because they voted for one of the losers?
Is this, then, one of the ,Äúreally real,Äù reasons behind O:M? To make people really understand these principles? How can you make a person who,Äôs convinced that they think for themselves and believe that they understand the scarcity of their perceptions actually realize it?
Then another thought struck me: What if the BIP simply doesn,Äôt matter? What if it,Äôs just another artificial construct that we thought up to try to make ourselves seem important and insightful?
At that point, I got drunk and ornery, and my wife drove us home.
Cainad's original post in the Awful Jokes thread. Not so much "insightful as it is "lulz-worthy":
Quote from: Cainad on November 18, 2008, 03:55:20 PM
This thread is for sharing the worst fucking jokes you know. I'll start.
So there's this fish in a stream, right? And he sees this fly hovering above the water, just out of reach, and he thinks, "man, if that fly would drop just a few inches I could get it."
And then there's this bear next to the stream, looking at the fish, but he can't get it from where he is. He thinks, "Man, if that fly would just drop a few inches, the fish would go for it and I could get the fish!"
Now, there's this hunter hiding in the trees on the other side of the river, and he wants to get the bear, but he can't get a good shot on it. He thinks, "Hey, if that fly drops a few inches, that fish will go for it, the bear will go for the fish, and then the bear will be in a perfect spot for me to hit it!"
And there's this mouse hiding behind the hunter, eyeing the sandwich in his pocket. He thinks, "If that fly drops a few inches, the fish will go for the fly, the bear will go grab the fish, the hunter will move to shoot the bear, and then the sandwich will fall out of the hunter's pocket, where I can get it."
But there's this cat with his eye on the mouse, see. He knows the mouse will dart into its hole if he goes for it now, but then he sees what's going on and thinks, "Woah, if that fly drops a few inches, the fish will go for the fly, the bear will go for the fish, the hunter will drop his sandwich as he moves to shoot the bear, the mouse will go grab the sandwich, and then I'll have it cornered!"
Then it happens! The fly drops a few inches, the fish jumps to get the fly, the bear moves to snatch the fish, the hunter shoots the bear and drops his sandwich, the mouse goes to get the sandwich, and the cat springs to get the mouse. But the cat misses and goes tumbling headfirst into the river, getting completely soaked.
The moral of the story?
It takes a little more than a fly dropping four inches to get a pussy wet.
There's this middle-aged guy who's gone impotent. He decides he wants a permanent fix, rather than taking a pill every time he wants to get it on, so he undergoes this really weird experimental surgery that involves grafting the muscles from the trunk of a baby elephant onto his junk.
After healing up from the surgery, he takes his wife out to a romantic dinner at an expensive restaurant. The waiter takes their drink orders and leaves a basket of dinner rolls on the table.
All of a sudden, the guy feels this really strange sensation "down there." Since the place is dark and no one's around but his wife, he unzips his fly and tries to see what the hell is going on. His dick snakes out of his pants, grabs a roll, and pulls it back in to his pants. His wife gives him a sly look and says, "Could you do that again?"
He replies, "Probably, but I really don't want another dinner roll shoved up my ass."
Two muffins are baking in an oven. The first muffin turns to the other and says, "Wow, it sure is hot in here, isn't it?"
The second muffin says, "Holy shit, a talking muffin!"
What's worse than finding a worm in your apple?
Finding half a worm in your apple!
What's worse than finding half a worm in your apple?
The Holocaust.
A wife turns to her husband and asks, "Why don't we fly to Hawaii this summer?"
He replies, "Because you're a cunt."
Q: What do you call an Arab who flies a plane?
A: A pilot, you fucking racist.
Why do elephants paint their balls red?
So they can hide in cherry trees.
What is the loudest noise in the jungle?
A giraffe eating cherries.
A rather toadish businessman has a wife who is frankly far better looking than he deserves, which consumes him with perpetual jealousy. However, he must go on a weeklong trip for work and leave her to her own devices. To test her fidelity, he leaves a jar of cream under the center of their bed. Right above it under the mattress, he suspends a spoon. He figures it will have cream on it if she has too much fun while he's away.
A week later he returns home from his trip. His wife runs up to him in her apron, joyfully embracing and kissing him. Filled with suspicion he scornfully turns her aside.
"I'll see just how faithful you've been, woman," and rushes to their bedroom. He reaches under the bed and pulls out the jar. It's filled with butter.
From Enki in the "Intermittens Staff Signup" thread. It is a compilation of his one-line memebombs, as well as some other writings:
Quote from: Enki-][ on November 18, 2008, 04:38:47 PM
Sure.
http://namcub.accela-labs.com/stories/ebooks/magick/f676fc638.txt <-- this is the big list someone else compiled. It seems to be in alphabetical order.
I stuck a couple of my documents in http://namcub.accela-labs.com/stories/ebooks/MITTENS
A response from Horab to someone's call to meditate for peace. It contains some grammar and spelling mistakes, but otherwise it is quite interesting:
Quote from: Horab Fibslager on September 09, 2004, 11:16:58 AM
being in constant meditation i scoff at the fad/trend driven capitlaist ploy submitted herewith. where are the links to your "meditate for peace!" t-shirts and "buddha is sexy" male thongs? be out with it interloper! in teh name of norton i compel thee!
world peace would eb boring, and probaly conatin no video games with bloody carnage and/or the slaughter of innocent civilians. and as such, i am philosophically, morally and evoluationarily opposed to such a state of existence.
give war a chance. peace is for people who's parents are rich enough to send them jetsetting across teh world adn carry a sign between coffee that was picked by the indentured third world slaves employed by their daddy and offered at a 30% discount.
"wrap yourself in the void continuously and ye may know greatness."
Quote from: Manta Obscura on November 18, 2008, 04:51:32 PM
A response from Horab to someone's call to meditate for peace. It contains some grammar and spelling mistakes
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
From Pent. Can't remember the thread name:
Quote from: P3nT4gR4m on June 11, 2007, 01:46:12 PM
The king is on his throne
lives his life down to the bone
he's so very far from home
break a leg motherfucker
I been living in a dream
the sublime to the obscene
when I wake a want to scream
but it turns into a stutter
cos Ive seen this all before
sick and tired but yell for more
I'm romancing painted whores
who only lust for money
Money talks and money sings
money takes and money brings
all those captivating strings
tie the knot around my freedom
Like a shadow on the corner
underneath the streetlights glow
Where the diamonds on the sidewalk
are a deadly undertow
I will give my love a symbol
then I'll look her in the eye
show the gold behind the window
then I'll lay me down to die
More horn-tooting:
Quote from: BAWHEED on December 06, 2005, 03:02:05 PM
On a day just like today, except that it was a Wednesday, a man named Oxo awoke from a nightmare to realize that the nightmare is never fully awoken from. He rolled onto his side, pulled the rough green blanket over his head, and tried to recall what he had been dreaming about.
He recalled vaguely that in his dream the world was filled to the brim with simpering idiots who held high-paying jobs in delicate positions, he recalled that people nattered endlessly to one another on a small glowing box, although all were nattering and none were listening. He recalled that children were popping out of Coke machines into plastic diapers where they were whisked away by people who plopped them in front of another glowing box. The glowing box showed the kids how to be polite; how to do what they are told; taught that difference was good, despite the fact that they were shown the opposite day in and day out.
Oxo recalled that in the dream he was required to go out into the cold every single day, stick his arm into something like a coffee machine to have his precious bodily fluids extracted, bled into a tube which shot up to feed the spindly-legged tall ones upstairs, who sucked the sweet nectar from long grey straws while adjusting the small black nattering rectangles on their ears.
Oxo recalled that one of the only relief from this terror was a large room where people would group together to watch flickering images of cyborgs imitating their own movements. The cyborgs had been like them at some point, but had been, piece-by-piece, dismantled and replaced with polished rice teeth, shiny orange skin, glazed yellow hair, hollow empty eyes, and even less soul. As they walked out of these gatherings small tabloid pamphlets were thrust into their hands to give them intimate details about what the cyborgs ate, drank, slept with, talked about, thought about . . . all with the constant insinuation that the cyborgs are better than you, why can't you be more like the cyborgs?
Other than the gathering rooms the only relief was a tiny pill which blurred the world and made things seem very far away and dreamy. The pill was very popular with people, and it made people easier to deal with, yet the pill was actually banned. People had to hide in alleys and scratch at doors in the night to gain access to the pill. Oxo knew why, too, he knew that the only way to keep the people pliable was by keeping them afraid, so they kept the pill banned to keep the fear, but also kept the pill easily accessible to keep the people in line.
Oxo let out a long, defeated breath, then pulled himself up to look out the curtains at the world below. The mustard curtains parted revealing the brittle ridiculous world below, and at once Oxo knew; he had not awakened.
And more:
Quote from: BAWHEED on February 07, 2007, 09:33:19 PM
1. When the world was still young and called Pangaea by the gods, a man came from out of the sea clad in robes of black and scarlet, his hair was long and brilliant ivory white; his skin a powdery light grey; his eyes golden. He beheld the inhabitants of Pangaea: little more than Hairless Apes, with no idea of Intelligence; Consciousness; Morality; Illumination; Credit Rating . . . these were little more than common animals. He pulled himself up to his full height, placed his slim smooth hand onto his chest, and said in a strong, beautiful melodious tone: ZAURN. The Hairless Apes looked up at him, scratched their heads, scratched their crotches, sniffed their hands, then looked back up at Zaurn the Wise. Zaurn pointed at one of the Hairless Apes, and said forcefully: MAN. Then, he placed his hand back on his own chest and repeated: ZAURN. One ape scratched his chin, cocked his head to the side and repeated: "Zaurn." Thus was communication known to Humanity.
2. Soon after the Hairless Apes conquered speech Zaurn the Magnificent blew their minds anew. He wrote on a nearby wall his name, which at that time was spelled: IA. He gestured to the name, IA, then told the Hairless Apes that it referred to himself. One ape scratched his balls, approached the writing on the wall, pointed to it, then pointed at Zaurn the Brilliant, saying "Zaurn." Thus was writing and graffito known to Humanity.
3. Zaurn then instructed the Hairless Apes that they really must name everything, for If It Is Not Named: It Does Not Exist. The apes quickly began to name everything around them, with various levels of success: if a good word didn't immediately present itself they would make up a word on the spot, such as "boob" or "diarrhea", thinking a better word would eventually present itself in the future.
4. Zaurn the Verbose was pleased, and his golden eyes twinkled, but mentioned that there was still much more for the Hairless Apes to learn, for he had yet to teach them about the important concepts of RIGHT and WRONG, which were intrinsically intertwined with the heavy concepts of GOOD and EVIL . . . it would take a long time to explain these Objective Truths to the apes, and an even longer time to get into the esoteric concepts of WORK and LAZINESS, not to mention such crucial topics as NORMALCY.
5. Once the apes knew what was RIGHT and what was WRONG, Zaurn the Grey was truly delighted: the Hairless Apes were both Free and Trapped simultaneously, just as EIEIO, the Goddess of All had intended. EIEIO, the Great Kaos, had sent Zaurn the Grey to the Hairless Apes to both free and ensnare their minds: giving them the gifts of speech and communication so that they may be able to form thoughts and thus become more than they are;, while at the same time having these thoughts bind and constrict their ideas, through endless labeling and defining so that it takes true imagination and magick to break beyond.
I really like that third one, Hoopla.
This is a godly post by bones in "Wade":
Quote from: bones on November 20, 2008, 02:22:58 PM
Hey, um.. Wade?
I know we haven't really spoken before, and maybe this will seem unfounded and very sudden, but I can't go on living this lie, admiring you from the shadows where I skulk. In the short time I have been following your posts here I think, well, I think I have fallen madly and deeply in love with you.
I find your little noggin to be just the most adorable thing I've ever seen, and though you seem to not always get along perfectly with the other posters here, I find that throughout all the drama you maintain a charm and dignity that is second to none.
I adore you unashamedly and I want to announce my passion to the whole world. I want to climb a mountain and scream my love for you for all to hear. I want to wrap my gangly arms around your sweet little face and hold you close to me forever. And, just in case you're at all up for it, I'll just let it be known here and now that I wouldn't be totally against the idea of lubing up your head real good and seeing if it would fit through my quivering, puckering sphincter.
I don't know how you will react to this, and I don't really expect or want anything from you, except I strongly hope that you keep up the good work. I'm not even gay, but a chap like you can really turn a guy's head.
I just really thought it was time I let you know.
I'm here for you, and my balls yearn to bounce on your chin
bones,
embracing his real feelings for the first time, and feeling all tingly
From Cainad in "Cainad's Discordia":
Quote from: Cainad on November 19, 2008, 10:10:27 PM
Fucking shitty week.
Nothing worked out. Nothing. Everything went completely fucking WRONG.
Flunked a test. Realized that I'm physically weaker than I was only a few years ago. Missed a meeting for not one, but two clubs that I was really excited to be a part of. Then, while I'm tallying up these failures in my head, I get reminded that I missed an important meeting that night. I laugh it off to the person who said it, then slink back to my room. I sit down and suddenly one more thing pops into my head: I have two assignments due, and I cannot possibly finish both. Holy fucking shit.
You know the kind of week I'm talking about. You've had 'em.
If you're anything like me (you poor soul), it really kills your whole evening. There's no alcohol or tobacco to be had, so you go to bed with a clear head to contemplate how pissed off you are. The darkness and the quiet will give your mind space to think about everything; to absorb and digest every little failure in all its hideous glory. And when you're this full of anger and frustration, bed starts to look pretty good really fast. This shit tires you out. So I think I'll go to bed, let the bile stew, and see how I feel tomorrow. It's worked in the past.
Wait.
No.
If you're like me, it hasn't worked in the past. Not once in the countless number of times that I've been this pissed has "sleeping it off" worked.
If you're like me, you might recognize this as the early stages of depression. Bad depression. The kind where you hate everything but you hate yourself just as much (or more) because you know it's partly, if not mostly, your own damn fault.
My own damn fault.
Okay. I've done this before, I think to myself. A relatively intelligent man once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results. I've been through this before. I remember that mulling over my own frustration and misery until I pass out was what I did last time. I remember the vicious cycle: self-loathing and apathy lead to more self-loathing and apathy.
The cycle.
Repetition. Doing the same thing again, expecting things to turn out better. Or just falling into the same bottomless pit and not giving a shit how far down I go.
I may be a bit screwed up in the head and I may be weird by many people's standards, but I'm not insane. Not by that definition.
So I try something different. I go for a walk, even though it's starting to get chilly outside. I remember that worked once, even though it was a different situation. Walking helps. Once I get outside, I'm not tired anymore. The blood rushes back into my body, presumably away from the part of my brain that focuses on how much I hate everything and myself.
Now comes the painful part. This is where I contemplate how fucking pathetic it is that one shitty week will leave me horribly depressed for a month.
"But at least you know you can survive it, right? It's happened before. The people who love you will shield you from the worst the world has to offer, and once you've spent some time with the shrink and taken your pills you'll be back on your feet and you can start again."
"Yeah, but that plan kinda sucks. I can't ask my parents to keep being my safety net. I mean, shit, I have to grow up pretty damn soon, if not right now. On the other hand, if I try to tough it out, things might just get worse and I don't know if I can handle all that failure."
Hey, what the hell?
That's weird. I never noticed this dialogue before from a third perspective. Looks like the competing parts of my mind are both focusing on failure. Well, shit, no wonder this kind of thing never worked out well in the past!
I think back to the Black Iron Prison. I feel around the bars and notice a few that seem particularly foreboding. Frighteningly strong. These are the bars of my failures. Or rather, they are my preoccupation with failure and inadequacy. These are the bars of my depression. In an effort to prevent more devastating failure and misery, I've hidden behind these bars and let them keep me from venturing out into the world and trying again.
I recognize now that it doesn't work. It never worked. Yet I've done it many times before, and it terrifies me to think of going out into that cruel world that will put me to many tests that I will no doubt fail. I am afraid to change the way my mind works, to let go of my past losses and seek opportunities to make amends. I am torn in an internal struggle.
Strife. Discord. Change.
The Black Iron Bars. They're strong, but... I made them. Now that I can see that, I can tear them out.
Don't think that it was easy, or that it was fun. Sometimes, tearing out those prison bars, forcibly changing the pathways of your mind, hurts. A lot. But I did it anyway. No more focus on failures. I decide not to even think any more about this horrible fucking week. Then, I finally let myself go to bed, my mind suitably blank.
The next day, I don't feel too bad. It's still sort of a crummy day, but still I focus on not focusing on the previous several days. The day after that isn't all that great either, but I keep it up. Sure, the memories intrude, but the important thing is that I don't dwell on them. Let the thoughts come, and let them pass. In other words, I'm okay.
On the third day, something cool happens. I'm lucky enough to get a ride to an event that I thought I was going to have to miss because I was stupid and forgot to arrange transportation. I realize what just happened: I snagged an opportunity that I would not have if I'd let the misery overtake me. Depression would have kept me in my room and I wouldn't have been able to take advantage of that one guy who was going to the same place and was late. One less failure that would have happened if I'd stuck to my old habits.
It worked. I'm okay.
Not many things in this world feel better than feeling "okay," and right now I owe that feeling to Discordianism. My Discordia.
From RWHN in "An Essay on Shrapnel":
Quote from: Rev. What's-His-Name? on November 20, 2008, 03:40:43 PM
...and so that is how you got here.
Did you get all of that? Did you write it all down? Are you feeling a little dizzy? Woozy? Congested?
I know, I know, it is a lot to take in. It is a lot to consider. But the point isn't to consider it all at once. It isn't the point to mull over every little facet of your past during every minute of your future. After all, that isn't exactly living either. But from this point forward, at least, you know better to know better. To know yourself better and how your self is being developed even as you read this sentence. Even now, you are being subjected to the shrapnel of occurrences around you:
BLAAMO!! That chat you had with your mom just an hour ago.
INCOMING!! Your boss telling you there is no money for bonuses OR raises this year.
SHAZAAM!! Your significant other suggesting the two of you should start seeing other people.
THWACK!! That speeding ticket you just got for doing 70 in a 55.
Any one of these bits of life can push you into different paths. Perhaps the speeding ticket convinced you to ease up on the accelerator. Or maybe, it ticked you off and you lay down even harder. Maybe you and your Mom had the tiff of all tiffs and you decided not to go home for the Holidays. Just think of THOSE family politics. Perhaps the lack of a raise this year is the impetus for you to find a job that YOU ACTUALLY MIGHT ENJOY!
And then there are the combos. Maybe it was that the news from the boss was the initiator for your call to your Mom, and it is in that conversation you realize you've been stuck in a rut professionally. And of course as each of these incidents alter your course of action, you will then be set up for more incoming shrapnel. But again, it's not that you need to wear a flak jacket for every step you take. It's just that perhaps with that extra ounce of awareness; you will be able to have more proactive reactions instead of reactive protractions.
From Rat:
Quote from: Ratatosk on June 07, 2007, 05:35:20 PM
The Chaotic Ones Were, The Chaotic Ones Are, The Chaotic Ones Shall Be Again
In the beginning the Chaos was, and the Chaos was with Discordians and the Chaos was Discordians. There appeared great non-prophets and these Children of Eris laid the first foundations for further forays. Here we do not speak of the great Mal-2, nor Omar K Ravenhurst, nor RAW (may they party in Limbo forever), nay for there were many before them that found enlightenment through action and salvation through nonsense. Camus, Jarry, Beckett, Shulz, Kafka, Kierkegaard all came to enlightenment by their own path, their own action, their own experience. Each laid a footpath through the territory of the absurd, each left behind notes and clues about how one could go about creating their own footpath through this little explored territory. Each of them were truly Children of Eris. Yet, this is not to detract from the Great Works of those who came later, Mark Twain, for example, left much for us to consider in his Letters From The Earth, Papers of the Adam Family and other writings, there were those who were inspired to write The Principia Discordia, from which a fountainhead of Chaos ensued. Each of these came about their enlightenment through personal action and their salvation through their own nonsense. They all left behind journals, notes, dissertations, FAQ's, How-To's and DIY infos about their own footpaths created in the unexplored territory. These ancient ones did not become enlightened by reading silly things. They did not find their path by slapping people with the same tired trout. Yet, in this time, we see little in the way of Action and sadly, little in the way of enlightenment. In Action and in Action alone, enlightenment can be found.
A few weeks ago, I determined to see how things were progressing in the Way of Eris since the death of the last PD era Discordian. In some places, Erisians weep for the loss of Bob and I too am sad to see such a silly mind move on... yet, it was not in RAW the man that enlightenment is found. In some places, Erisians seem to have confused freedom with liberalism and they claim Discordian thought, while endorsing one political party or the other, yet it is not in any specific political party that Enlightenment is found. In some places, they study the paths of those who have experienced, thinking that Enlightenment shall fall upon them while in meditation, and they will wait as the young man in Camden Benares Zen Story, for it is not in old houses where enlightenment is found. There is no action and long have I waited for Action. But here, here at PD.com I see something that RAW might have associated with the Cosmic Trigger. Here, there is no acceptance of any previous map as the territory. There appears to be a movement to actually explore the territory while making new maps. In this sacred rite, The Chaotic Ones shall be again, rising to replace those that were and to provide examples for those that are. Those that find the PD as The Answer, or those that believe The Conspiracy, the 23 Enigma, The Law of Fives as real... have missed one of the secret keys of the PD: "This book is a mirror. When a monkey looks in, no Apostle looks out". A mirror can only tell us about ourselves... in and of itself the mirror has no Information, no knowledge, no power, and nothing of Enlightenment. However, a mirror can be useful.
Many here appear to have a grasp on the need for action. They seem to understand that it is not in the relics of past Erisian Delight that Future Discordian Works lie, but in their actions based on current realities. Chaos is active and is based on the actions and reactions around it. The actions and reactions during the 1960's that led to the PD are not the same actions and reactions that exist here, today. In this, I applaud you and find great hope for Discordianism and reason to stick around for a bit... if you don't mind a chaotic rodent chattering on occasion.
Ratatosk, Squirrel of Discord
Muncher of the ChaoAcorn
Chatterer of the Words of Eris
POEE of the Great Googlie Mooglie Cabal
From Gentle Luminescence, in the thread "Be an Enabler." This is probably one of the best single pieces I've read on the PD:
Quote from: Gentle Luminescence on November 23, 2008, 10:55:00 PM
Be an enabler.
Have you heard of the 'fundamental attribution error?'
The fundamental attribution error is the tendency for people to assign the cause of another person's actions to personality traits of that person when the cause actually has more to do with the situation. People act like morons because they are morons, right? Wrong. (Well, a lot of the time.) People act like morons because the situation demands it of them. People act like 'sheep' or 'cabbages' because that is what is expected of them. 70% of people will administer a lethal shock if a man in a white lab coat tells them they have to. 70% of people are not killers at heart. When you see a murder, look for the man in the white lab coat. When you see sheep, look for the shepherd.
Have you heard of the 'Asch Conformity Effect?'
People go with the flow. Reproducibly. Predictably. Sit twenty people in a room. Ask them an easy question. An obvious question. Which is longer, a yardstick or a 12-inch ruler? Display them up front, just in case anybody doesn't know that a yardstick is three times longer than a 12-inch ruler. Pay the first nineteen people to answer, "Duh, the ruler is longer." What does the twentieth say? The ruler. Because he's a sheep? Because the situation demands it. Nineteen people in civilian clothes turned a glorious Homo Sapiens into a spineless thumbless mouth-breathing maggot.
One man in a white head wrap told nineteen men in civilian clothes they had to bring down the Towers.
Nineteen men did, because the situation demanded it.
A man in a black suit told a nation they must fight evil. They must tighten their belts, give up privileges which hitherto had been Rights. They must surrender their sons, their husbands, their daughters, to the endless fields of sand and blood and hate. They must defend themselves until the no one else is left standing. Carthago delenda est.
A nation did, because the situation demanded it.
In a distant corner of the Milky Way, there is a nuclear furnace. Around that furnace is a blue-green-fluffy-white-clouded marble, forever rolling around its track. It cannot move from that track, until one day when it will sink into its furnace and burn and melt.
One that planet is a species of ape, Homo Sapiens, each wearing the skins of a pitiful monkey because that's all they can see. Six billion of them, crawling on all fours because they've never seen anyone walk. They too are on a track. They go around and around in circles. Nineteen monkeys tell a monkey in a white head wrap tell nineteen monkeys tells a monkey in a black suit tells six billion monkeys until they all crash into a nuclear furnace that nineteen monkeys told a monkey in a white lab coat to create. They race along their track, the brake in the reach of every monkey but no monkey is pulling it, because no other monkey is.
Forty thousand feet above the third largest continent in the third rock from a furnace in an otherwise unremarkable galaxy, four monkeys in civilian clothes address thirty seven monkeys in civilian clothes. We have a bomb, they say. We are going back to the airport. They are wrong.
In a bunker in the largest continent, a man sees blinking dots on a computer screen. The situation tells him that nuclear warheads are flying to his pretty little frozen home. The situation is wrong.
No, says the man, removing his monkey suit. I have a throat made for speaking rather than swallowing, and it says No. I do not listen to machines made my monkeys in white lab coats. I do not listen to monkeys waving flags or their books of rules.
Forty thousand feet in the thin blue air, a man is sitting in the back of the plane. He stands up and takes off his monkey suit; he stands on his own two feet, spine erect, facing forward, because he is a human being, a creature of glory. I have two thumbs, he says, and with my thumbs I stand against you.
Nineteen monkeys in military clothes in the bunker look up in shock. But the blinking lights, they say. But the monkeys with flags and regulations they say. Damn the machine says the man. Damn the flag says the man with his voice of glory. I am the greatest creature ever to walk this dirty little rock. I am the Pope, I am the Patriarch, I Am Who Am, and I say: No.
Blinded by the vision of glory, thirty six men in civilian clothes take off their suits, because they are standing on consecrated ground in the presence of the holy. We also have two thumbs, they say. We also stand against you.
Deafened by the voice of glory, nineteen men in military clothes remove their encumbering suits of monkey fur. We also say No. We will not rain apocalypse on our beautiful little rock because of the machines or the flags or the books of rules.
Dressed in the immaculate white lab coat of truth, two men stand across the decades. Rise, they command. Nineteen men in military clothes and thirty six men in civilian rise because the situation demands they they stand on their own two feet. Here, say the two. Here are lab coats; they are yours, they have always been yours, they are your birthright but you have left them in the mud, you have let them become soiled. We have restored them for you; wear them in pride, and never forget that you are wearing the coat. You are the Scientist, the Experimentor, and the situation is yours to control. The independent variable is yours to manipulate, the world yours to command. Monkeys are forever your test subjects, and the scientist who takes orders from his specimens has not ever been born nor will he be. The nineteen men and the thirty six men put on their lab coats now remembered, once forgotten, and they stand up for what they stand for.
The plane crashes in an empty field.
The apocalyptic rain is held in check; the final burning of the world is put off one more day.
There is a very simple explanation to why the world is the way it is: it is run by monkeys. Six billion monkeys, all of them wearing fur suits instead of their white lab coats because six billion monkeys are wearing fur suits and six billion monkeys can't be wrong can they?
There is a very simple solution to the way the world is: wear your white lab coat, your armor of God. One man putting on his lab coat convinces nineteen men to put on theirs. Keep your coat clean; without constant attention it will become soiled and worthless. You cannot ever enlighten someone; underneath that monkey fur suit is already a human being, the greatest organism to trod upon this rock. You can only show him how much better life can be without that stuffy how fur suit on.
Always remember: never administer 300 volts to a man taking a test.
Always remember: the yardstick is longer.
Always remember: two and two make four, not five.
Afterwards, someone asked Stanislaw Petrov how he know the machines had erred, that the apocalypse wasn't en route to his frozen home. I didn't, said the hero.
From Mangrove in "The Evil of Banality":
Quote from: Mangrove on November 25, 2008, 09:47:25 PM
This is not a pre-written or properly formed rant. It's just some ideas that I'm throwing out in the vain hope that I might offer something productive...
Once upon a time, people used to be scared of witches. In fact, depending on where you are in the world, there are still plenty of people who believe in witches and live in fear of their alleged powers. Folklorist & historian, Ronald Hutton (author of 'Triumph Of The Moon') has spent a great amount of time researching the historical records with regards to the European perception of witches. The overwhelming message from both folklore and trial records is that witches were considered to be:
a) Almost exclusively female
b) Evil
c) Solitary
The notions that there were 'good' or 'white' witches is a modern construct. The idea that they worked in 'covens' stemmed from an account by R.Scott's 'The Discoverie Of Witchcraft' in the 17th century. Interestingly enough, the notion of teams of witches working in concert stuck in the public mind and shaped future perceptions in spite of the fact that the overwhelming majority of sources relating to witches demonstrate that most Europeans held witches to be evil, bitter, women working malevolent spells on their own. (Hutton distinguishes witches from 'cunningfolk' and 'charmers'. The former being largely male artisans who worked spells for money to boost their income and the latter, being one trick ponies who generally offered a very specific service for free eg: charm warts, tame horses etc.)
Cut to the present day and we find that a modern 'witch' protested against her neighbour's Halloween decorations, claiming that they were a hate crime and religiously insensitive.
Once upon a time, people believed in Vampires. They feared that the undead could sneak out of graves and walk among the living to feast upon their blood. I bet if you travelled around enough, you could still find some people who maintain that this is still true. In fact, it took until 1824 for the British government to strike out an old law from the statute books concerning the staking of vampires.
I'm fairly sure that if you examine the folklore & history of Vampires, the picture you will receive is going to be pretty dismal. Corpses, charnel houses, curses, soulessness, you get the idea. It's not for nothing that Peter Cushing made a film career that comprised mostly of killing Christopher Lee in a variety of different ways.
Cut to 2008. I find 'stop vampire hate on the net'. Whut!?
Turns out that the witches that you thought were witches are not witches but survivals of neolithic pagan religions that are entirely unsubstantiated. Turns out that Vampires are actually quite romantic. They don't just rip people's throats open anymore, they go to highschool and have awkward moments with the girls they've got the hots for. They're clean, well groomed and don't even smell a teeny bit like decaying meat.
And oddly enough, these revamped (pun!) images are increasingly accepted into popular discourse. It's ok to dress like Vlad the Impaler, just so long as everyone knows that you don't drink blood, only 'psychic energy' and that it's always with consent. Not like those other bad vampires. Not like those other bad witches.
What is the human need to flirt with a neutered form of darkness? Why let the facts get in the way of a good story?
What intrigues me is what new sub-culture will spring up? What new evil will become the object of our affections? Is there a limit or will the felons of history become redeemed with enough attention and weak justifications? It's ok to be a witch. It's even ok to be a vampire. History was wrong! We totally misread them! Is it ok to be a Grand Inquisitor? Is it ok to be in the SS? How about the Knights of the KKK? Child murderers?
In 100 years from now, in whatever store replaces Hot Topic as the wellspring of pre-packaged rebellion, will we see teens sloping around malls dressed as 'Muhajadeen'? 'No! You've got it all wrong! It's not about holy war, it's about buying this green jacket and wearing my scarf in this manner. DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHING!?'
:jihaad:
From Revenant. Not necessarily "insightful," but funny as hell:
Quote from: Revenant on November 29, 2008, 06:00:50 PM
Behold, for I the Wasteland Profit bring you tidings of the Great Rain God!!! He has seen about the world and time gather his to vomit forth upon the masses.
First was in New Amsterdam..er York
(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b325/kinseyfs/Womp/RogProph4.jpg)
Then in Britain I once again found traces of his Benevolent Hate.
(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b325/kinseyfs/Womp/RogProph.jpg)
To the South in Egypt and Rio de Jeneiro
(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b325/kinseyfs/Womp/RogProph6.jpg)
(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b325/kinseyfs/Womp/RogProph3.jpg)
My trip to Lenin's tomb
(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b325/kinseyfs/Womp/RogProph2.jpg)
Japan...
(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b325/kinseyfs/Womp/RogProph5.jpg)
And even in Sweating to the Oldies.
(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b325/kinseyfs/Womp/Rogproph1.jpg)
The day of his coming is Soontm, and you will know his arrival when the fit hits the shan. As it is written, so shall it be.
From B_M_W in "Reverse Brainwashing: A Guide":
Quote from: B_M_W on May 12, 2006, 05:03:00 AM
Introduction
I'm not all that great at this stuff, so I'm not posting a piece for the PD06. Instead, I am going to expand upon what I call reverse brainwashing, and was mentioned earlier in the brainstorming stages. Reverse Brainwashing works in nearly the same manner as the garden variety, except its purpose is to free the individual from their 'Iron Bar Prison', and get them to expand their imagination to think for themselves. To wake them up to reality, essentially. Like the opposite, reverse brainwashing rewrites a persons paradigm, and there are several stages to the process.
1. Hook the Sheep
In this stage we attract those who may be more receptive to waking up at the moment. From earlier discussions, we have found that certain things work well to attract the target population. From polls of other discordians, we have found the target age group, the age group which is most receptive to this process is late teens (16-20). So the modes of attraction are aligned towards these individuals.
Shiny things tend to catch peoples eye, that is, things that are oddly colored when compared to surroundings. The best way to go is LOUD. Clashing colors, bright graphics, complex, interesting looking graphics, these all get peoples attention. One color font is right out. Non standard fonts are better, but make sure they are easily readable. Make each sentence or thought a different color. Use bright colors, or at least those that contrast highly with the background. Make it ATTRACTIVE to teens these days. You know they spend all day in bland 'prisons', so make it look as different from the prison as possible!
Place the propaganda in prominent locations. If you are going to disseminate fliers, dress cleanly and properly (depending on the location, maybe suit, maybe street gear), but don't say anything, just hand them out. At this point we are just trying to get them to notice.
2. Reel them in
So, you've caught their attention. Now, what do you TELL them off the bat? Generally, members agree to leave out as many inside jokes as possible. Leave out 'classic' rich words too, like All Hail Eris, Fn0rd, Greyface, etc. These only get in the way of keeping them interested. In fact, leave out any mention of religion in general. Use newly coined phrases, like ,ÄúThe Discordian Society cordially invites you to join us in a jailbreak...,Äù. Leave out as much classical humor as possible. Use questioning phrases.
Most of all, intrigue them. Give them just a little meat to work with, using new buzzwords like ,ÄúIron Bar Prison,Äù. Make them want to come to you for more. Make the message short, don't draw it out. These kids have short attention spans, its got to be catchy.
Finally, give them somewhere to go. Putting www.principiadiscordia.com at the end of the flier is good, or the address to POEE. This is very important, and it will weed out those who are truly interested; they will take the initiative and come.
3. Operation Mindfuck
In this stage we fuck with the dogma that is stuck in circuit. We weaken the prison with weirdness. This is the realm of the PD06 now in progress, it is the most difficult job of this process, and the most important. It is here that we begin changing the paradigm.
The document itself has little ability for variability in length. On one hand, the potential discordians have short attention spans, so it should be short enough to adjust for this. On the other hand, there is a minimum length for such documents, because of the time needed for the weakening to occur. This is important: if the PD06 is too short, it will accomplish little or nothing in this stage. This is because a sort of minor hypnosis must occur, which allows the mind to be more easily screwed with.
The PD06 must be easily accessible; if possible, it should be the first discordian document the potential has ever come across. The less he/she has heard before this point, the better. Put it next to or, if possible, in place of the original at PD.com.
It should look unassuming. Start out with the same sorts of things from the 'propaganda'. Give a little humor, but make it background. Use lots of buzzphrases. Use repetition. Lull them into an unassuming state, while slowly increasing the weirdness.
When a critical point is reached, completely shatter their world view. Shock them. Warning: this can only work if they are first lulled into that semi-hypnotic state. This is the point of turning, where the dogma that has been ingrained is broken. What they knew can't possibly be true anymore. So give them something else to know.
4. Reversing the cycle
Throughout the PD06, subliminal messages should be placed. These should span around central themes such as freedom, 'jailbreak', thinking for oneself, imagination, waking up, etc. gradually increase the frequency of these and decrease the subliminality, until the critical point is reached. Then, all things should be about these central themes. At this point, we are taking their closed mind and replacing it with an open one. We broke their reality, and now supply a better one. Once you are at this point, you can say nearly anything, and a person will run with it, so be careful! Don't fall in the same traps as the original pd! Yes, some randomness, some humor, but don't make them the most important things. Otherwise you end up with more 'zomg23pinealglandlol' discordians, who are seldom well welcomed in most discordian forums, and their growth as people is also impeded.
5. Welcome the convert
So a person is converted. What next? They most likely go to find more like them. Thus making active discordian web communities of high importance. The convert should be welcomed and guided. They still have lots to learn. Eventually they should be introduced to the full cannon of discordian literature. But for now, teach the basics. As before, keep the religious aspects low key. There is still the possibility to ostracise. Make them feel welcomed, give them praise and constructive criticism. Encourage them in their interests. In other words, be like good foster parents. They're still kids and have a long way to go!
Conclusion
One by one, we break the sheep from their Iron Bar Prisons and expand their imaginations, make them think for themselves. In turn, they break more from their prisons. Eventually, critical mass is reached. Our key word: Resolve. Evangelize with compassion and determination. And realize that there will be few in the beginning. We are hand picking our successors. They are the future of discordianism. Let us guide our future with intelligence.
Yurito Sakari,
The Wannabe Buddhist Monk
From Cain in "No Strings Attached Freedom":
Quote from: Cain on December 04, 2008, 06:11:53 PM
Freedom in politics is a curious thing. When it comes to the topic, I can't help but think of the past 8 years of lunacy, highlighted in particular in the years following 2003. It has become increasingly clear that "freedom" (with the speech marks) is a very odd project, not least because it is diametrically opposed to what most of us understand freedom to be. Indeed, as events in Iraq and subsequent US military statements seem to suggest, one can actually be fighting against one's own freedom without even realizing it, or even while thinking one is doing just that.
Snarky comments about the war aside, it is increasingly clear that not only is the brand of freedom which the US Neoconservatives believe in so fervently something of a chimera, but that all political projects may themselves be dangerous to exercise of liberty. Politics, so long as it is based on any form of ideological idiocy or the naïve multiculturalist relativism that is practiced nowadays is something that cannot be in favour of freedom, that in fact works against it.
This is something I have been grappling with for about the past year or so, to very little avail. My thinking has traversed elements of all sorts of socially liberal thought, trying to pin down the elements or essence that makes them so much more free, the common bond which unites their purpose and rhetoric, even if it fails in the practice. This is why I have been notoriously inconsistent in my political opinions of late, and have flirted between elements of all sorts of political opinions from the socialist end of the spectrum to the laissez-faire end with mutualism. I've been hoping to find a way or method to overcome the inconsistencies, to try and bring together the elements of freedom, untainted by the less attractive elements that came with them.
But the thing is, once you go deep into the ideological structure of all these theories, you see how logically dependent on the basic assumptions of the theory these less attractive elements are. In many ways, trying to purge these elements ends up in nothing more than throwing out the baby with the bathwater. So the question for me became not how do we find a political system which brings about the greatest amount of freedom. That was too limiting, and in some ways impossible to figure out anyway. How do we measure the right to vote against the freedom to own arms? Freedom of speech against the presumption of innocence? And in ranking already existing alternatives, is this not nothing more than settling for, and legitimizing, the current flawed systems, when something better may still be possible.
Instead, I wanted to think about freedom outside of the constrains of politics. And, with some help and a couple of useful guide maps, I found my way to this strange and unusual ground. The problem, you see, is this. Every single political conception of freedom comes with strings attached. These strings may be obvious, in the guise of an all powerful central committee, or super-empowered secret police service. But they may be lesser too. One of the most insidious guises of these strings are those theories which have a certain theory of human nature. While of course humans are animals and thus in some ways have predictable traits, our social and communicative systems have elevated and hastened our social landscape in such a way that practically any human trait can be followed with a "maybe". The problem with this is that it assumes that people will act in certain ways conducive to the theory in question. But when people dissent or act in unexpected or accounted for ways, as they invariably do, then questions of exile, ostracism, "re-education" and witch hunts all come to the fore. When freedom is conceived of as being a functioning part of the current political order, any excesses can be excused in the name of protecting 'freedom', be it the 'freedom' of contemporary neoliberal democracy, or that of the Peoples Revolution. Or the Commune. And so on and so forth.
So long as freedom is framed with certain identities, constrained with certain ideologies, given a grand project, it becomes no longer freedom, but a method of excusing the use of power towards various political ends.
So instead, we must conceive of freedom in a more literal way. Freedom, instead, is the ability to be other than we are. To have choices, and to be able to make them, freely. Despite what you are, what you do or what you believe, freedom means having the potential to do something different in the next moment, if you please.
And when we apprehend freedom in such a personal and obvious manner, it is more liberating than any other feeling. Obviously, it puts one in opposition to all the above theories, insofar as they all try to constrain identities or create projects for the Betterment of Mankind, but as Camus once said "I revolt, therefore we are." In acting against all such narratives, in an act of personalized revolt and transgression of their norms, one can find actual freedom. The only guarantee of freedom is freedom itself. It sounds tautological, but if you accept the premise, then it must be true. Any attempts to safeguard freedom end up constituting it as a privilege, to be bestowed or relinquished as its repository sees fit.
Of course, we must do away with certain myths of the modern era. Freedom does not mean comfort. It will not mean happiness, or fairness, or equality. In fact, freedom, as I describe it here, is nothing but hostile to the existing order (whichever existing order) and thus can never be the foundation of a society. Yet, at the same time, society brings into being, by forcing people into certain roles, through the creation of identities and projects designed to turn free humans into something else. Ironically, freedom and society coexist as antagonistic partners.
But freedom means change. Real change, the possibility of denying yesterday, of denying the power of others, of resistance and of possibility of the pursuit of our chosen dreams and desires. It cannot promise anything, except the promise of having a chance of finding what you want. But that has to be better than what we have now.
Note: I know this does not explain the thinking behind it very well. Hence there will be an exposition, in TFY,S. Also, I am indebted to Sergei Prozorov and Foucault for reorientating my perspective on this somewhat.
Haven't done this in awhile. Here's a great, personal essay from RWHN on Shrapnel:
Quote from: Rev. What's-His-Name? on December 12, 2008, 02:36:58 PM
We all have that person or persons in our lives that had a significant role in how we turned out, or at least, how we are up this point and time. And I'm talking beyond bloodlines and close personal friends. I'm talking about people, who, in the totality of our lives, was but a blip on the timeline. Someone we knew, but for a brief segment of time, and then they vanished into the ether. Or, we got really lazy and stopped sending them letters or phoning them from time to time. These were positive, human pieces of Shrapnel, that embedded our flesh with new ideas, new knowledge, new credos, or maybe, just new vigor.
There are two chaps in my past that stick out for me. One was this guy named Greg. He was the guy who hired me at my first Retail gig when I moved into Portland to start Graduate School. He was something of an odd fellow. He was deep into mythologies, spiritual energies, and other kinda "new age" thinkings. At first, I didn't like him much because my first duty on the job was to go get his coffee. But as the months wore on, we discovered a camaraderie. We would spend our down times discussing politics, music, feng shui, and the fact that Ottmar Liebert is an egotistical prick. He was one of the first people I met who was really "real". He didn't put on pretenses and he didn't put on shows. He was perfectly willing to delve into chaotic and joyful anarchy. Like that one time, when the store was full of customers, he declared a ping-pong gun war. It was a beautiful thing to behold and to be a part of. We hit customers, and aside from a couple of sticks-in-the-mud, nobody cared. I really miss that guy. He moved off to Seattle and vanished. But he had a huge impact on me just by the way he existed. To not give a fuck and just be how you want to be.
There was this other guy named Dave. This was from a little earlier in my life when I was in High School. To make money I worked at the local Pizza Hut. He was the morning guy who did all of the prep work for the day. We called him Dave the Pizza King. (yeah, kinda corny) He was a laugh riot. Again, he was this cat who would just come in and be Dave. He would sing loud, mildly inappropriate songs. He would tell dry, awful jokes. And the dude made everyone laugh. Everybody wanted to work with him and I was given the privilege of working with him many mornings. He was one of the most carefree people I've ever met. He had a very take-it-as-it-comes way about him that was hard not to be inspired by. It was an opportunity for me to learn that the best thing I had to offer this world was me. Not me trying to be what THEY want me to be. But me being what I want me to be. Eventually, he left The Hut, and I never heard from him again. However, his impact has carried through.
I would be quite a different person, I believe, had I these encounters with these two individuals. Together, my experience with them probably at best represents 3 years of my 33 year life. It is a testament of how much this Shrapnel can stick with us. Perhaps we don't recognize it initially, and its only later upon some random reflection that we realize, "Yeah, that person was huge in my life." So how about you? Do you have one, two, or more of these acquaintances that really affected how you've navigated your paths? What was it about them that helped shape who you are today? I know, it is kind of sad that we lose touch with these people. I would shit bricks if Greg or Dave were to knock on my door right now. We still have the memories and the stories. And by sharing those stories with others in our daily lives, we can allow their influence to live on, far beyond the days when we were in their presence.
TGRR, "The Art of the Brag":
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 26, 2003, 09:53:58 PM
"There is no epilogue, unless you make it,
If you want your freedom, go and take it."
--William "Little Billy" Shakespeare
(had things turned out a little differently)
"And I will give him the morning star"
--St. John "Anything For A Laugh" of Patmos
(Revelation 2:28)
"Go, and never darken my towels again!"
--Groucho Marx
(Animal Crackers)
The establishment spends a great deal of it's time making sure we are sheeple. Your egos are bruised everyday; from fitness magazines which make you feel (by comparison) like Don Knotts or Fatty Arbuckle, to action movies which make you realize what an indolent slug you are. You are taught from the cradle that you simply aren't good enough, and you had better be GLAD for the few good things come your way...You obviously don't DESERVE them, so get back in line before somebody notices.
NO MORE! You can't go through life with a shrunken ego...not as a human being, at least...You CAN, if your greatest ambition in life is to be a food-tube.
You need to look in the mirror and not THINK there are no flaws, you need to KNOW there are no flaws. You need to act as if you are THE MAN (or WOMAN)! Act this way, and others will treat you this way (making it easier to ACT this way, etc).
This is NOT arrogance (which would mean you are putting others down to make yourself feel big), but rather SUPREME SELF CONFIDENCE. If ya don't have it, fake it; it will become real on it's own.
A good tool to help in this regard is "The Brag". Spew a boast about your various attributes on this forum. Make shyt up, exaggerate like a Senator...whatever it takes. Post yourself as a sinner or a saint, it doesn't matter; because here in Discordianism, we're up for ANY PROGRAM!
And let no man say that the Good Reverend Roger will send a person where HE will not go...I will go first:
And his brag:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 26, 2003, 09:56:10 PM
THE BRAG OF THE DISCORDIAN SUBGENIUS
Siddown, Billy, and lemme tell you who I am!
I am THE MAN! Where I walk, the grass doesn't grow, OUT OF RESPECT! When I travel, the elderly and the children cheer, while the unrighteous cringe! I view the slurs of @ssholes as a BENEDICTION! Soda machines give free pop when I pass near! The Gawds themselves cross the road when they see me! Anything for a frickin' laugh, and the lesser mortals around me are NO EXCEPTION! Nothing bothers me, I BOTHER IT! I am the Grand Unified Theory, the walking incarnation of Slack, the terror that walks in the night! I am feared in all the wrong circles, and I eat my metaphoric dead! I wipe the establishment off my shoes when I go in the house! Elvis isn't dead, HE SHINES MY SHOES! I age backwards! I spit in the eye of the HSD just for KICKS! I play frisbee with MANHOLE COVERS! I kick habits while the nuns are still in them! I blow my NOSE on the terror of the Gawds! Robert Redford greens with envy when I pass by! I gave the Dalhi Lama "third eye blowout"! I chew barbed wire, and shyt quarters! Gawd himself put off armageddon because I'm so cool he couldn't bear for the universe to end! I am that Seven-headed beastie that St John jabbered about, I ain't the Alpha, but I AM the OMEGA! Get outta my way because
(at this point, the Good Reverend blew an o-ring, and conked out on his keyboard. He will finish his brag at a later time.)
<transmission ends>
A post from Roger:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on December 26, 2008, 04:59:28 PM
Quote from: The Borderline Simpleton on December 26, 2008, 04:53:50 PM
Goddamn you Roger, your logic just pwnt one of the only things I properly enjoy doing.
Is it sad that I enjoy drinking?
Depends on how you look at it, I suppose.
Is it sad to shut your brain off for hours at a time, for the purpose of forgetting that you're surrounded by insane monkeys? Is it sad to use a substance to BE one of those insane monkeys? Is it sad that you're trading Slack™ for a buzz? Is it sad that one day, your Slack™ will be gone, because you left it in the bottom of a long neck, and some fiendish bus-boy has hauled it away?
IS IT SAD TO TRADE IN YOUR STATUS AS A BIPED IN EXCHANGE FOR BEING JUST ANOTHER FOOL ON A STOOL? IS IT FUCKING SAD TO DROWN YOUR INNER-YETI LIKE AN UNWANTED KITTEN?
You tell me.
BUMP
because more people should x-post to this thread
WTF happened to Manta?
should we send out a search party?
:?
Quote from: Cramulus on April 01, 2009, 08:16:55 PM
BUMP
because more people should x-post to this thread
Agreed.
And Ip, I think IRL stuff got to him. A datamining of his last few posts might reveal that...that's what I often do when I see someone like Val who hasn't been here for a while and miss them/wonder why they're not here any more.
I looked at his last post and it said something about him being gone for a while, but didn't indicate that he would continue to be gone.
Hope he comes back....
Because it bears repeating
http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=18624.msg704911#msg704911
Quote"Theory is always for someone and for some purpose."
QuoteNature cannot be seen as it 'really is' or 'really works' except through a value window. Since values enter into every inquiry, the question immediately arises as to what values, and whose values, shall govern. If the findings of studies can vary depending on the values chosen, then the choice of a particular value system tends to empower and enfranchise certain individuals and groups while disempowering and disenfranchising others. Inquiry thereby becomes a political act.
QuoteTheir concern with the phenomenon of 'false consciousness' discloses a belief in the possibility of 'true consciousness', and it is the self-appointed task of critical theorists to reveal the material and social forces that prevent people from achieving their 'real' interests in a world that manipulates their desires and limits their potential. The task of critical inquiry is, by definition, to raise people to a level of 'true' consciousness.
This is fucked
Get a, well, you know.
Seems he has a gripe with our insightful post dump.
what an insightful dump!
One might say, he clenches too much?
No, he just has a wide stance.
Quote from: LMNO on May 18, 2009, 06:49:52 PM
No, he just has a wide stance.
Like most things, it's possible to get too much of a good thing. Here is a cautionary tale for those with wide stances.
QuoteA young woman had been taking golf lessons all week long. She'd just begun her first game of golf when she suffered a bee sting. Her pain was so intense, she couldn't continue her game. She decided to go back to the clubhouse and get some medical attention.
Her golf Pro saw her enter the clubhouse and asked, "Why are you back so soon?" What's wrong?"
"I was stung by a bee," she answered.
"Where?," he asked.
"Between the first and second holes," she replied.
He nodded his head knowingly and said, "Then your stance is too wide."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larry_Craig
Some very very good stuff here.
I'll be on the lookout for more stuff to add.
not from PD, but belongs in a publication:
Effective Micropamphleting
The Theory Behind Micropamphlets
http://singlenesia.com/agitprop/upamph/upamph_dir
I love that website Cram! It'll be a great resource for any projects I partake in. /bookmark'd
Quote from: Kai on November 17, 2009, 08:51:13 PM
Fuck.
Theres this thing I do. When I get up in the morning, get ready to go in to the university, I'm all set with my computer bag and I step outside of my apartment for a few moments. Maybe its dark still, and the stars are shining brightly, or maybe its pouring down rain, or a glorious orange sunrise. Whatever the sky looks like, I just stand there for a few moments to take it in.
This is a reminder. Yes, fuck you, fuck you loser humans who can't see it, you can all go live in your little cubicles with the wires straight to your brain. This is a reminder to me that I am HUGE, I am MASSIVE, and you can not fucking keep me down. The energy in my body is over 13 billion years old, the molecules in my body at least 5 billion years old, the lineage I head stretching back more than 3.5 billion years. You can't take that shit away from me, I'm just too big for you, too big for your comprehension. I'm just too big and old and SMART. I'm GINORMOUS. Okay? And the morning sky is just a reminder of that. Because when you puny apes look up, you feel so small and weak, but I am huge. And I get IT. And I take IT with me where ever I go. And I sit and identify caddisflies all day long for the sheer pleasure of being able to see those connections and know that 700 million years ago they and I were just little bilateral worms in the ocean. And so were you.
This is a reminder that today is awesome, that right now, is fucking AWESOME. Again, fuck you losers who can't see it, who would wish for tomorrow, the people who barely notice they are alive, who are barely breathing and thinking, who forget they are eating lunch, replaying dreams they had about American Idol over and over in their heads. Consciousness is wasted on humans.
Quote from: Chief Uwachiquen on December 22, 2009, 07:48:44 AM
But you've got to be careful there, man. Rebellion is a tricky subject. After all, isn't it just another tool of The Machine™? Rebellion these days is carefully controlled and contained. I think Rebellion is a lot like Passion, in that regard. There's Passion, and then there's Passion™. Sure Rock at one point was Pure, Raw, Powerful, it was fucking beautiful. But all of that is being swept aside by the Radio, fucking MTV, here's what you should listen to. Here's what you should buy. Buy. Buy. Buy. Listen to this, wear this band's shit. Like every other tool of Rebellion, The Machine™ figures out how to turn it against us. Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking "Hey, Chief, what about X band's message or their Ideology. They're still rocking it!" And that may be true. But for every one of them, one of us that gets it? There's thousands--millions, who don't fucking get it. They bob their heads because they're programmed to. That's Rebellion™ for you.
That's what makes The Machine so fucking horrible. It can turn one free thinker's ideas and thoughts and scramble it over the airwaves to their drones. They can take something so beautiful, and market it, spin it, overplay it, until the message is lost among all the noise.
Quote from: LMNO on April 16, 2010, 03:10:49 PM
The revolution will probably be televised.
The revolution will be born in some stoner,Äôs basement. The revolution will be an ongoing prank in History class. The revolution will not be defined. The revolution will be acknowledged with a quiet nod. The revolution will gain momentum.
The revolution will be identified by recent college grads with Graphic Design and Marketing degrees burning holes in their pockets. The revolution will be pitched to CEOs of multinational corporations. The revolution will be analyzed, autopsied, sliced, diced, and stuck to corkboards with pushpins. The revolution will be cleaned up, polished, waxed, packaged, and tied in a nice bow.
The revolution will be leaked to the media. The revolution will show up on the catwalks of Paris, Italy, and Japan. The revolution will have its own burger. The revolution will have its theme song in heavy rotation on MTV. The revolution will be on Leno, Letterman, Conan, and The Daily Show. The revolution will turn down an appearance on Carson Daly.
The revolution will be sold at Hot Topic.
The revolution will be identified as a ,Äútrend,Äù by CNN. The revolution will be reported on by self-proclaimed Experts In The Field. The revolution will be blamed for teen pregnancy. The revolution will be synonymous with the ,ÄúTwinkie defense,Äù in courts of law.
The revolution will host a concert series to help the homeless. The revolution will be managed by financial advisors, lawyers, ad agencies, and media planners. The revolution will be publicly traded in the stock market. The revolution will be remixed by P. Diddy and released exclusively on iTunes.
The revolution will have sub-genres. The revolution will suffer an anti-revolution backlash. The revolution will appear on an episode of Walker, Texas Ranger. The revolution will generate buzzwords that will be used by your parents trying to sound hip. The revolution will be in a Cadillac commercial. The revolution will be adopted by pre-pubescent girls trying to act ,Äúgrown up,Äù.
The revolution will be derided by Bill Mahr, Rush Limbaugh, & Al Franken. The revolution will be mocked by Jon Stewart, Steve Colbert, and Tina Fey. The revolution will appear on Best Week Ever. The revolution will become an automatic punchline. The revolution will be relegated to a question in the next edition of Trivial Pursuit.
The revolution will be televised. After all, there's market share to consider.
You can carbon date how old that is from the fucked-up Unicode.
and the reference to Conan's TV Show
(though in a couple years that'll be true again)
putting this here:
Safeway Chick: http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=26826
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST
Quote from: Manta Obscura on March 31, 2014, 12:53:04 AM
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
Iptuous hasn't been around in a while. Not sure why.
I think he was eaten by his own moustache.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on March 31, 2014, 02:16:32 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on March 31, 2014, 12:53:04 AM
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
Iptuous hasn't been around in a while. Not sure why.
Oh, that's a shame. I suspect LMNO is right; his moustache was glorious, and 'twould be a fitting end.
How you hanging in there, Roger?
Quote from: Manta Obscura on April 01, 2014, 01:14:08 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on March 31, 2014, 02:16:32 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on March 31, 2014, 12:53:04 AM
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
Iptuous hasn't been around in a while. Not sure why.
Oh, that's a shame. I suspect LMNO is right; his moustache was glorious, and 'twould be a fitting end.
How you hanging in there, Roger?
Oh, tolerable. I have advanced the science of DUMBASS by leaps and bounds in your absence.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on April 01, 2014, 01:19:32 AM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on April 01, 2014, 01:14:08 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on March 31, 2014, 02:16:32 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on March 31, 2014, 12:53:04 AM
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
Iptuous hasn't been around in a while. Not sure why.
Oh, that's a shame. I suspect LMNO is right; his moustache was glorious, and 'twould be a fitting end.
How you hanging in there, Roger?
Oh, tolerable. I have advanced the science of DUMBASS by leaps and bounds in your absence.
I expected nothing less. Any day now I hope to hear your announced discovery of the DUMBASS equivalent of the Higgs Boson.
Quote from: Manta Obscura on April 01, 2014, 01:39:04 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on April 01, 2014, 01:19:32 AM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on April 01, 2014, 01:14:08 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on March 31, 2014, 02:16:32 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on March 31, 2014, 12:53:04 AM
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
Iptuous hasn't been around in a while. Not sure why.
Oh, that's a shame. I suspect LMNO is right; his moustache was glorious, and 'twould be a fitting end.
How you hanging in there, Roger?
Oh, tolerable. I have advanced the science of DUMBASS by leaps and bounds in your absence.
I expected nothing less. Any day now I hope to hear your announced discovery of the DUMBASS equivalent of the Higgs Boson.
I am hot on the trail. Given my history, I believe that it may be in my pants.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on March 31, 2014, 02:16:32 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on March 31, 2014, 12:53:04 AM
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
Iptuous hasn't been around in a while. Not sure why.
Oddly, I got the impression that he may have been offended by my being skeeved out by swingers.
Quote from: Nigel on April 01, 2014, 04:33:49 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on March 31, 2014, 02:16:32 PM
Quote from: Manta Obscura on March 31, 2014, 12:53:04 AM
Quote from: Elder Iptuous on October 08, 2010, 08:21:41 PM
Did Manta say whether he was ever coming back?
He didn't. He's sort of an enigmatic asshole like that, sometimes, which is a quality his confessor constantly berates him for.
Sinning aside, how are you doing, Iptuous?
Iptuous hasn't been around in a while. Not sure why.
Oddly, I got the impression that he may have been offended by my being skeeved out by swingers.
That may have been part of it. :lol:
This post holds no insight today but another day, someone will see it and it will be insightful, this post therefore will be insightful at that particular time.
ah, yes, the shitpost archive
beautiful