A really cool piece of art I found on The Brave New Worlder blog. For an explanation of what it means, you’re going to have to follow the link, but I’m just content to look at some very funky artwork.
Cabbages and Greyfaces
One day I was storming down the street howling to the skies and mud about the greyfaces that assaulted me on a daily basis, when I suddenly heard someone nearby howling louder than myself. It wasn’t hard to spot the gnarled old bastard with a face like a chewed caramel zigzagging back and forth across the streets grabbing people by their ears and bellowing “IS ANYONE THERE?” into their faces, then turning to someone else and repeating the same procedure. One after the other after the other . . . I watched, stunned, wondering why the people being screamed at didn’t take offense. If someone grabbed me by the ears and screamed into my face he would be swiftly introduced to my good friend Mr. Steel-Toe Boot, but these people seemed to swoon, and then stare off into space in a daze.
I had to find out what was going on.
Eventually the old coot made his way toward me and grabbed for my ears. Before he could take hold I said, Yes, I am here. What do you want?
The old man didn’t blink an eye but just grabbed me by the shoulder and walked me onto a quieter side street. Thank the goddess, he said, sputtering and breathing hard. I thought I was the only one left, he added.
The only what? I asked. He turned his paper-slit eyes toward me and said: The only person left.
The only person? But what about all the people you were shouting at?? I asked. For a few moments he stared blankly at me, as if he hadn’t heard what I said. Those weren’t people, he said finally, they were Cabbages.
Cabbages? I asked. They looked like people to me. The old man laughed. Of course they looked like people, Cabbages look exactly like people. They walk like people, they talk like people, they eat like people, they sleep like people, they go to work like people, they see movies like people, they watch tv like people, they read books like people . . . they are the best copies of people you’ll ever see. But they are not people, my son, they are most assuredly Cabbages.
What’s the difference? I asked. He leaned toward me, and said: People dream, my boy, people question. People think. People play. People laugh. Look at these poor souls, sleepwalking through life . . . they think they’re people, but they are vegetables. Blind, ridiculous, vegetables.
Ah ha, I said with glee. I know many Cabbages, my life is full of them, and they are the bane of my existence! I know them as Greyfaces!
No! the old man said quickly. Do not mistake the two . . . Greyfaces and Cabbages are not the same, except when they are. Greyfaces are much more dangerous.
Dangerous? I asked. How?
Well, let me ask you this, he said, which would you be most wary of . . . a sleeping dog, or a dog having a nightmare?
I suppose a dog having a nightmare, I said. The old man smiled. Exactly, he said. A Greyface is a Cabbage who is living a nightmare. The Greyface’s nightmare is truly terrifying. He is told that the world will crumble around him if all do not think and act exactly as he does, the only sane person on the face of the planet, and will stop at nothing to ensure that his nightmare doesn’t come true. Greyfaces believe the world is humorless and product-driven. He believes there is a way to draw a perfect circle and you damned well better find out how, or pay the price. Never turn your back on the Greyface, my son.
I pondered this. So, I said after a while, those I referred to as Greyfaces were actually Cabbages?
I don’t know them personally, the old man said, but I would imagine they were. Almost everyone you meet is a Cabbage.
What’s the difference, I asked the old man.
All Greyfaces are Cabbages, he said, but not all Cabbages are Greyfaces. Some Cabbages wake up and become real people, some even become Children of the Goddess if they are very on the ball . . . but Greyfaces rarely become people.
How do I know if I’m a Cabbage? I asked.
He stood up, and patted me on the shoulder. Son, the Cabbages never even ask that.
The old man began to walk away from me, toward an older lady. I could see his fingers twitching with anticipation at the thought of grabbing hold of her ears. WAIT! I called out to him, What is your name?
He turned back to me briefly. Coleslaw, he said. For, I shred the cabbage of people’s minds.
Our Lady of Discord – Under Attack!
GUYS, THE INTERNETS ARE NOT ASSISTING OUR LADY OF DISCORD, HILLARY CLINTON, ACHIEVE MAXIMUM LULZ AS PRESIDENT OF THESE UNITED STATES. She is falling far behind in polls and funds. She is breaking down emotionally almost twice a month. Her mascara is running. She has been making crazy talk about getting a boob job. She has been having sex with Bill again. EVERYTHING IS FALLING APART FOR HER. This election season should be a time for America to HEAL, but nobody will let Nurse Clinton take care of our country.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP HILLARY. Her campaign is accepting DONATIONS OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES at this address:
Hillary Clinton for President
PO Box 1781
Merrifield, VA 22116-9965
She is accepting money, but it may be too late for that. DISCOFLUX.COM ENCOURAGES YOU TO SEND THE FOLLOWING ITEMS INSTEAD:
– Socks
– Canned food
– Kleenex (generic preferred)
– Tiny violins
– Paper airplanes made from Hillary Clinton campaign fliers
– Matchbox cars
– Cleaning supplies
– RAZORBLADES
– Condolence cards
THERE ISN’T MUCH TIME LEFT. ACT NOW, OR THE
ESTABLISHMENT MIGHT LOSE THIS ELECTION.
STATUS QUO GO!
The Legend of Zaurn The Grey
by: Tabula Rasa, KSC
El Kabong Kabal
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.
UK police hate LOLCATS?
One has to wonder. Despite my personal opinion on lolcats being close to that of Encyclopaedia Dramatica, I still have to admit that Tim Ireland of Bloggerheads is a demented genius for using them to battle the tyranny-lite that is UK’s SOCPA Act.
For those of you who want a handy reference guide as to the sort of things you cannot have on your t-shirt, according to the police themselves, I have reproduced the list from Bloggerheads below:
– I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER?
– I MADE YOU A COOKIE… BUT I EATED IT
– DONT CRY PLEEZ GORDON… YOU CAN HAS COOKIE
– HABEUS CORPUS. NOT URS.
– I CAN HAS FREED SPEECH? KTHNXBYE
– FLOOR IS LAVA… SO I’S CLIMBIN UR FURNITUR
– DO NOT WANT!
– ORLY?
– WMD? ORLY?
– IM IN UR DESIGNATED AREA… SUBVERTN UR LAWS
– IM IN UR DESIGNATED AREA… BEIN A LOUD SPKR
– OH, HAI!
– OH, HAI… IM DEMONSTRATIN!
– RANDOM CAT IS NOT AMUSED
– TAXPAYER CAT IS NOT AMUSED
– FEED TEH HUNGREES!
– GRARRGH! SURPRIZE GOATSE!
– A DREEM… I HAS ONE
– IM IN UR BEACHES… FIGHTN UR NAZIS
– I HAS THE TORTUR EVIDENZ… LET ME SHOW YOU DEMZ
– ZOMG!
– ZOMG! TERRIST! OH NOES!
– UR BEIN SILLY… SRSLY
– BUT I WUVS YOU
– KTHNXBYE!
The Parable of the Cat
by Requiem
A cat sat scratching at the door, asking to be let out.
“But it is cold outside” said the human.
To which the cat began to meow loudly.
“But you could get hurt.” Said the human.
To which the cat threatened to hork a fhairball on the human’s shoes.
“Fine” said the human, who opened the door.
To which the cat ignored, and went into the kitchen.
POSTERGASM
Are you excited about the OMGASM yet? It’s changing lives and blowing minds. And it’s spreading like STUPIDFIRE.
Check out the most recent Golden Apple Seed Mission: POSTERGASM
Here’s some of the latest pics from the mission:
IT’S YOUR TURN! GET INVOLVED!
Don’t just use the internet as a form of passive entertainment – get off your ass and DO IT!
- Put up crazy posters
- Take a picture and upload it to flickr
- tag it with “postergasm” – voila!
Colbertgasm
Check out one of OMGASM’s current projects: COLBERTGASM
This is an oldskool Discordian jake which involves sending tons of snail mail.
Mission Statement
During the week of February 17th-23rd, 2008, we will send Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert as much mail as possible. Letters to Colbert will invite him into the Illuminati. Letters to Stewart will invite him into the Discordian Society. In order to gain entry, on March 5th they must explicitly use a Discordian or Illuminati “code word” (of their choosing) on the air.
Buzz week is going on RIGHT NOW, so get on it! Check out the website for mailing addresses and sample letters. We hope everyone will mail at least 20 letters (about eight bucks worth of stamps) – but consider mailing more!
As usual, check out the GASM mission feed under “colbertgasm” to find more links relevant to this project, and more Golden Apple Seed Missions in general.
If you don’t send letters, and they use a codeword on the air on March 5th, you’ll wish you had participated. And if you play along, you’ll be able to fondly reference that time that Discordians pranked the media and you were there at ground zero.
Now get off your ass and DO IT!
The Parable of the Exploding Head
A woman named Carla was visiting her uncle in the City of the Dusky Mountain. Along the way she met a lizard. The lizard asked the woman “Are you sure you want to go to the City of the Dusky Mountain? For the road leading to that place is dangerous and filled with danger!”. But Carla was resolute in her decision, as she had made a promise to her uncle!
And then, her head exploded.
It was an awful mess, and the lizard got hit by a shard of Carla’s skull and was paralyzed in its left foreleg for the rest of its life.
SWEET MERCIFUL FUCK!
PTERODACTYLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!