Property of mission control 6

[froclown]

Property of Mission Control
Many years had past since the fnords had witnessed such an exquisite turnip
harvest. The ripe tubers appeared as the pinnacle of turniposity, as their beams of pure
radiance illuminated the industrial bingo tournament 5 miles down the road. The pleasant
smell of unwashed hamburgers would have reassured the citizens of Linoleum town, that
such a harvest would provide clown shoes for everyone's lawn mowers, had turnips been
legal to harvest. Instead the odor reminded everyone that they were forbidden to fill their
hats with mustard. This made many towns folk so depressed, that they climbed trees with
pockets full of sawdust, in order to reroute the national spelling bee. Had it not been for
the invention of self-orbiting dog food, the whole town would have been met there ends
up in a tree, with itchy pants. This new dog food was amazing, as words can not describe
the amusement people felt from watching dogs that had consumed it. These animals
would be spinning, if you could call it that, and gyrating in ways that defied space and
time. Soon every dog in town was whirling around itself in such a peculiar way, that
many people became hypnotized. It wasn't long before some one tried the food. He began
to gyrate and whizz about himself, at the speed of light, while also standing in one place,
watching himself in orbit. This made him highly confused, as he was seeing the world
from to perspectives at once, one was spinning and one stationary, both getting quite dizzy.
Panic and hysteria soon set in, he ran in what should have been a straight shot, but found
that space warped around him, so that determining direction was impossible. He ran
through trees and into objects, which weren't actually there. The ground opened and he
fell through. The spinning suddenly stopped. He found himself at a desk, on which some
bingo cards were scattered about. This strange lady asks him to select a card, so he
chooses the 5 one and goes to sit at a table. The card said "Go and harvest that which is
most valuable." Immediately, he ran from the bingo parlor and began to pick turnips.
After 10 hours the field was cleared, and the bingo lady appeared to him saying" If you
like them veggies so much, why not kill you Aunt Ruth?" Upon hearing this he did just
that, and is now a slave to his Uncle Triluge.

The Dogmatic Mission Control
"Once he had destroyed the brass plated tea set, no one could stop him." This was
the most common excuse given at the office of Gopher Intelligence, when everyone's
toilet paper dispensers contained copies of "Property of Mission Control", the number
one selling book in all of Earth Colony Seven. E.C.S. was once one of the poorest living
quadrants in the known universe, despite the fact that they produced the purest and most
viscose weasel wax in existence. When E.C.S. first stared up they the prospered at an
astoundingly high rate, for about 6 months. It was at this time that the Scientific
community of the Institute of Arboreal Mammals published an article in every major
news medium showing in precise detail why it was not at all necessary to wax weasels. It
was about a week after this publication that E.C.S. went bankrupt. The only ones who
seemed to prosper were the businessmen, though no one was sure what it was they did.
They would go into work, at huge office building, and run around talking about charts
and figures depicting the actions of something or another. They also spent a lot of time
telling their secretaries to type various letters, and hanging out at the water cooler. Some
of them had spent many years learning precisely how to make twisting movements with
their hands, while emitting a grunting noise in the proper way, or some such thing. At
this business school, everyone was expected to memorize the text of "Property of Mission
Control." Every word of the insane bantering was taking to heart as most sacred Dogmas,
the based their whole existence on how they interpreted these miscellaneous texts. The
Title, became a new slogan, and catch phrase, it could be seen as graffiti, in magazines,
and billboards. It became so prevalent, that even hermits living in the caves, could see it
bursting out across the sky written in volcano smoke.
     Buildings were named after it and sciences created to study it. The main religion became The
First Church of Mission Control. The Scientist believed based on proofs, which were
based on premises abstracted from the book. The religious just flat out believed without
any proof, referring to the text for every decision. The few who still followed old
religions did everything they could to discredit the book, but failed miserably at every
attempt. The majority of the population, were members of the Church of MC, who called
them selves "Controlled." Soon a traveling maniac of some sort brought a new religion
to the people, actually b\t this time it was very old, but it was new to E.C.S. He was a
Discordian, and upon finding the place such a mess, he decided to create a cabal against
mission control, he called it the Reformed Church of Mission Uncontrolled. The main
tenant of this cabal was not to believe what is written, ever. A small band of Discordians
was created, they all disagreed on what was true and false, and they all changed their
minds as much as humanly possible. Nearly every member had their own Cabal, each
with its own rules for interpreting "Property of Mission Control." They did all of this in
secret, of course, until they could rise to positions of power, and rework the
understanding of the book. Soon their were thousands of groups, who could not agree on
what Froclown and Weasel, actually meant, yet each group believed they knew
absolutely for certain. Wars were waged between rival groups and new weapons were
needed. The Discordians got together and thought whom better to supply these weapons
than us? So it came to be that the Discordian class, who instigated this whole mess, came
to riches and power, from selling weapons to the poor class, who used them on each
other, thus keeping themselves poor.
         One of the new weapons of choice was a brass plated tea set, with fire bombing
capabilities. Soon the committee board brought one before the President of Fish Fries
inc. for his approval. He thought a moment about the wars, and about PMC and about
how silly the whole thing was. Then he began to laugh and shouted out "I Do Not
Approve! With that remark he grabbed a large wrench and smashed the tea set to pieces.
Later he proclaimed "There's going to be a lot of changes around here, concerning that
abominable book." The next day he replaced the toilet paper.

The World May Never Know

According to one theory, the Church of Mission Control began in the year 3766
when a journalist for Skunk Husker Magazine, discovered a memo describing a discarded
box, labeled "Pizza World" from the year 3165, which was inscribed with the words
"Property of Mission Control." Seeing as Skunk Husker was the only media publication,
soon everyone knew about the discovery. No one could understand what it had meant, but they
were sure that what ever this mission control was, it must have been really powerful.
They came to this conclusion, based on the fact, that it appeared to own, and possible
have created an entire world. The one thing that no one could agree on was the meaning
of that elusive adjective "pizza." Some scientist believed it was a word meaning
artificial, others thought pizza must mean collapsible, or portable. Many philosophers
argued pointlessly over topics such as "weather or not pizza referred to something
material or spiritual" and "if a world that was owned by mission control could have free
will." A very select few philosophers believed that rather than Mission Control being
really powerful. Pizza World was actually so weak or peaceful, that it was easily
controlled. Their only proof of this, however, was that the box was quite small. They
were generally discredited as being somewhat eccentric. The Discordians had by this
time become well known for their incoherent notions, based on irrational anything goes
approach to everything, especially philosophy. Their general consensus on the Pizza
issue was that this Pizza World was created entirely to amuse the creator, a few even
thought that it may have contained some kind of food substance. No one believed them,
and only a few pretended to believe it, just to have an in joke. This was no surprise,
hardly anyone ever took the Discordians' ideas seriously and the Discordians would be
the last to take themselves seriously.
The Discordian society, had by this time gotten tired of no one listening to their
insane ideas, so they decided to form a branch religion, as a kind of recruiting center for
more Discordians. They began coming up with all kinds of crazy rants and parables, as
well as a few short stories and essays. These they collected and stored in a filing system
made up of replicas of the Pizza World box. These boxes were labeled with strange
words, that had such a complex relation the their contents, that it took the latest is super-
intelligent computers to decipher the code. One group labeled Aardvark, contained a
biography of Fructose man, six poems written of napkins, about poems written on
napkins, a bottle of Catsup with a note inside on which was written "where is the tennis
court" and a fifty dollar bill with the words endoplasmic nostalgia inscribed in blood.
One day while sorting out where to place a statue a pie getting lynched by Bill Gates and
a mod of crustaceans, Zippo Newblatz, tripped over a discarded can of pants. This caused
him to drop the box containing all known information about Mission Control, and some
simple diagrams of how to start fires and make wheels, into the temporal warp
manipulator, used to freeze time, thus keeping perishables fresh. This would not have
been a problem, except at that moment, a power surge caused by a misplaced mango,
long story, made the T-Warp to malfunction. Thus the entire contents were transported
back to the dawn of time, where it was found by a cave man named Grunk Oughtugha.
He brought it back to his tribe, where the two travelers left behind from the Great
Temporal War, took away everything except the diagrams. These two travelers, who
were still not on good terms, because of a cabbage price billions of years in the future,
decided to split up the contents of the box. Potomac Hogwasher took his half and moved
far to the west. Frestwiley Weasel took his half to the East. The two passed the
information on to the elders of the tribes that they each lived with, and it was passed
down through the elders' family lines. Even unto that day, new years, 3165, when Pope
Froclown Von Hogwasher, did in his boredom did take hold of a box of pizza, and did
inscribe there on PoMC. Where did this Mission Control begin? Where did it end? Was
it the result of a plan, conceived in the mind of God/Fate/Karma, or was it just random
coincidence of chance? Perhaps random chance was the plan. Hail Eris!

[Messier Undertree]

  Hey froclown, do you know what happed? Oh, by the way, this is nothing to do with
  this thread. I went to Yoshinoya the other day. YOSHINOYA! And there were
  so crowded and I couldn’t even find a place to sit. Then, I found the
  advertising saying “150 yen off!.” My goodness! How come you are all coming,
  and sitting at Yoshinoya for just “150 yen off?” I saw a familie, like four
  of them with their kids. This guy’s saying “All right, your dad is ordering
  an extra large bowl.” What a pathetic! Hey you bastards. I can give my 150
  yen. So, just give me a break alright? Yoshinoya should be a place where
  people are fighting, like two jerks facing on each other against “U shaped
  table,” then one of them can be stubbed to death by any chance. This is how
  Yoshinoya’s suppose to. This ain’t a place for no woman and no kid. Alright,
  I finally found a place to sit. Then, the jerk next to me was ordering a
  large size with putting extra juice on it. That pissed me off once again.
  Hey jerk, we ain’t order “putting extra juice on a bowl” no more today!
  What a stupid you looked: ordering extra juice with his goofy face! Do you
  really want to eat a beef bawl with extra juice on it? I really want to ask
  you, interrogating you for an hour. Don’t you just want to say “an extra
  juice!?” As a professional Yoshinoya customer, I would rather order “extra
  scallions.” This is the coolest way. You get more scallions, and less beefs.
  This is it! It can be the best, if you put a raw egg on it. No one can beat
  this. But you have to be careful because if you order this way, the Yoshinoya
  employees gonna put you on their black lists. This can be so dangerous,
  like a risk of fighting with a double edged blade. So, I don’t recommend
  the beginners to do this... froclown, you’d rather ordering some ordinary set menu
  instead.

[LMNO]

In The Beginning, when Pope Weasel and myself first formulated the idea of
collaborating on a project, we knew it would be very difficult to integrate our results.
Instead of trying to do a descent job of integration, I suggested that we just write a bunch
of random chapters, having little to do with each other, so that the whole book would be a
jumble of nonsense.