The Greyfaced cabbage compilation thread.

[LMNO]

Ok, this is part of the multi-pamphlet/lollercaust project.

basically, post your parables, stories, jokes, and assorted bits about cabbages and Greface here.  When we reach critical mass, someone will messily compile them into a word document, which will then be highly criticized until someone else makes a slightly better PDF file out of it.


Go!

[hooplala]

CABBAGES AND GREYFACES

by Hoopla

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.

[hooplala]

HOW TO IDENTIFY A GREYFACE

by Hoopla

I awoke in the hospital following a severe beating. Evangelism and Discordianism do not mix well, a fact I had not yet discovered in those early days of my Lessons in Baloney, as a result I had taken to the streets to spread the word of the Sacred Chao only to be met with fists in response. These are violent times. All times are violent times. I tried to take heart in the fact that 'Eris' literally translated to 'strife', which I was becoming intimately acquainted with, so in some sense the beatings must have a positive effect. My cheeks and jaw, however, did not agree. Also,I knew that my reason for being in the hospital was to learn about the dreaded Greyfaces, so I was somewhat optimistic.

It was after one of these instances that I woke up in the hospital next to a broken egg which spoke. "Howdy-do" it said, raising a thin weak arm in salute.

"Great Googly Moogly" I said.

"Nope." the egg said. "Great Humpty Dumpty."

"Jeez, you don't look good." I said, which was perhaps rude, but also true. He was in several pieces; in fact one eye peered at me from a fragment, and the other eye on a completely different piece seemed to pay close attention to a nearby nurse's hind quarters.

"I feel even better," he said with glee.

"Why are you in here?" I asked.

"Ha!" the egg cried. "What a ridiculously easy riddle, you must be some sort of maroon. I am in here because this is where I am, of course. How stupid."

"I meant to say, what caused you to be broken into pieces?"

"If that's what you meant to say, then why didn't you say it?"

"I thought I had." I replied.

"You remembered yourself saying what you thought you said? or you had intended to say what you thought you said but something else completely different came out? or you think someone deliberately changed your words mid-sentence to convey a completely different idea? or you're just a maroon?"

I considered for a few moments.

"Well?" he asked. "Which is it?"

"I thought that what I asked implied the question I meant to ask."

"Ohhhh," the egg laughed. "Implication. Verbal molestation."

This seemed to end the conversation, and the egg simply lay on the stretcher, one eye following the nurse, and the other blinking now and then. I waited for a few minutes to see whether he was lost in thought and was planning to answer, or whether the conversation was indeed over.

It seemed the conversation was over, but I still wanted to know how he had been broken. I had ideas, but I wanted the story from him.

"Well?" I asked finally.

The eye looked back at me. "That's not much of a riddle." he said. "nice sporting chance you gave me."

"But, I -"

"Wait wait, let me think for a moment." he said. "All right, bananas."

" What about bananas?"

"That's my answer."

"You're answer to WHAT?"

"To your terrible riddle. Really, you didn't give me much to go on. I think my answer was rather clever, though, didn't you? Nobody would guess bananas just from a single word - well, would they? Gosh I'm good. Was it correct? Was bananas the answer?"

"No bananas wasn't the fucking answer! I hadn't even asked you a question yet you silly little shit."

"Of course you had. You really are stupid. You asked "Well?" which by all accounts is the worst riddle I've ever heard in my entire life but still I was respectful enough to venture an answer based on the meagre information given. And as I said, I think my answer was rather clever. Bananas. Imagine. Nobody would guess that. Fantastic."

"Listen." I said. "All I wanted to know is what caused you to be broken into so many pieces. It is not such a difficult question."

"No, it isn't." he said. "It's not overly interesting either, when you think about it. After all, I already know the answer."

"Well, what IS it?"

"Bananas!" the egg blurted. "What about that time? Was that the right answer? Oh I am so good at these."

"Forget it." I said, turning away from him. "I already know how you broke anyway, everyone knows that."

"Yet, you still asked. You silly silly man."

"Look," I said. "The whole point of this story was to teach me about the Greyfaces. Weren't you paying attention in the opening paragraph?"

"I rarely read exposition." he yawned. "I mostly scan the text looking for my name."

"Well, that is what this story was supposed to be about, greyfaces, and instead you have nattered on about riddles and bananas and whatever else meaningless bullshit you've been blabbering uselessly about. This has been a complete and utter waste of time so far, thank you very much."

"You are most welcome." Humpty said with a wink. At least I think it was a wink, the piece with the other eye had shifted away from my view. "This lesson about Greyfaces has been most enlightening."

"No it has not. Nobody has learned anything about Greyfaces thanks to you. This has been a huge waste of time."

"But we got to meet such a wonderful example of Greyfacedness, and all have a good chuckle at how dull and tedious he is, oh I disagree I think this has been loads of fun, and so educational. Except for that riddle of yours, that was dreadful."

I got up on one elbow and looked over at the mass of pieces on the other stretcher. "What Greyface have we met?" I asked.

"Why you, you silly silly man." he laughed. "You have been nothing but serious, clinical and humourless since I met you. I've never seen such a wonderful example of a Greyface. I couldn't have done better myself. And I'm rather good. Bravo."

"Me?!" I rolled onto my back again. Was it possible I could be a greyface? Was I so serious? Was I clinical? Was I humourless? Had I learned nothing? Staring up at the ceiling I began to think about the aspects of greyfaces and how -at the very leat- I could watch for these tendencies in myself more easily now that I could identify them, and just as I was wondering whether my clinical thinking about identifying and eradicating these elements in myself was rather greyfaced in its own way the ceiling above me crashed open and a charred person fell to the ground between Humpty and myself.

"Great Googly Moogly!" I screamed.

"Nope." the egg said. "Great Humpty Dumpty."

The charred person stood up and looked at me. "Great Googly Moogly!" he shouted.

"Nope." the egg said. "Great Humpty Dumpty."

"You're ME!" the charred person exclaimed, and I finally noticed that the voice sounded familiar. "I already went through all this!" he, or I, shouted, looking around at Humpty and the hospital. "but, you were me then!" he added.

"I'm just me." I said.

"I am me and me and me and me and me and me." Humpty giggled.

Just as I was about to ask the other me why I was so charred and burnt a man in a grey suit and sunglasses came marching down the hall toward the three of us. As he approached us he flashed a shiny gold badge. "Officer Serious, Continuity Officer. You are in direct violation of standard fiction laws."

"What?" I asked, although I'm not certain which one of me asked to be perfectly honest.

"Two Baron von Hooplas is in direct violation of code 2323 in the fiction law books, go look it up if you don't believe me." as he spoke he grabbed hold of the gurney I was on, and began to push it.

"But wait, why is this-" I started to ask.

"If the two Baron von Hooplas both had some reason for being present, such as a clone being made, or a reflection stepping from a mirror it would get through on a technicality, but this is in direct violation. I'm sorry, one of you must go." he said, and began to wheel me down the hall away from me and Humpty Dumpty.

"Toodles!" Humpty called, waving a thin arm.

"But wait!" I called out to Mr. Serious. "I was the original Baron von Hoopla in the story!"

As he tapped a wall and a panel slid aside opening into a dimly lit lounge, he muttered: "That's what they all say, bub."

He pushed me inside and I saw four people already sitting around in the gloom. "Let me introduce you to your new friends. Might as well get acquainted, you're going to be here for a while . . . this is Ambrose Bierce, Lord Bathurst, Amelia Earheart, and the grown Lindburgh Baby. Get cozy. So long, suckers."

Mr. Serious walked out, shutting the panel behind him. I looked around at the others in the room. Ambrose smiled, and said "Do you play Go Fish?"

[hooplala]

THE LEGEND OF ZAURN THE GREY

by Hoopla (as told by Tabula Rasa)

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.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I particularly like the Humpty-Dumpty story.

[Cramulus]

When we reach critical mass, someone will messily compile them into a word document, which will then be highly criticized until someone else makes a slightly better PDF file out of it.

[LMNO]

I calls 'em like I sees 'em.

[hooplala]

SOMEone else must have a greyface/cabbage story . . . ?

[LMNO]

I'm working on it.

[hooplala]

Good stuff.

Besides, doesn't Graud's stuff count?

[LMNO]

I suppose, but I'm not too happy with the essays he wrote.  They seem too forced.

I'm working on communiques between Graud and his supporters.  It's just depressing to get into that mindset.

[hooplala]

Ooh, I look forward to reading that.

[Mangrove]

Can't we just make a transcript of any threads featuring AKK?

[AFK]

Ooh, actually I think that's a great idea. 

[TheLastLump]

I thought up a story about the creation of the world the other day. Where would I put that?