Discordians Anonymous

[Reginald Ret]

Hello everyone, my name is Ratssinis.

I think I first realized I was a discordian was when I started making stencils of ridiculous things and planning to use them to deface public property. Up until that point I'd considered myself a Armchair Anarchist and a bit of a spiritual wanderer. Never having the nerve to do anything, and never finding a home that fit my outlook on the unknowable. I'd sunk to the deep end of the Web, I trolled pedophiles during the day and mspainted penises onto celebrity pictures at night. It was a nerve racking cycle and I knew it had to end.

So to take my mind off of it I decided I'd try trolling Wikipedia.... Needless to say I one day came to a page that I couldn't explain, it was as if a thousand minds cried out in a pain then got back to whatever they were doing before that. I followed the links and found many amusing stories and jokes, and asked myself "What is this? Is it really a religion built on the bases that everything is chaos?" No one replied because I was talking to myself and since I'm not schizophrenic or something there was no other voices in my head. So I delved further into this and found five things, a spiritual home (more like a tee-pee), a slightly used toaster oven, and several self illuminating lessons about myself and the state of humanity.

Thank you PD! For curing my chronic fetal-cannibalism!



Edit: This was not edited I don't know what your talking about.

write something to replace this and it'll be great.

[Ratssinis]

Im so creative.

[Cainad (dec.)]

 

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

That turned out better than I was expecting.

[Triple Zero]

Welcome to the boards, Ratssinis.

[minuspace]

Has anyone seen my jeans?

[Rev. Dr. Narot]

Here's the thing, though: pretending to be a Discordian and actually being a Discordian are not all that different. Some would probably tell you that there's no difference there at all. That's how it draws you in, see. First you think that you're just part of a ridiculous joke, and then you get so into the joke it seems real, but then it's a joke again, and then Reality is the joke and you forget where the hell you were going with this nonsense in the first place.

This part is my favorite, especially the bolded line.

Seconded. I've a poor ability for expressing my thoughts, but this portion really nails down how I feel day-to-day on the subject.

[Gray Jester]

Hi, I'm Gray Jester.

I first realized I was a Discordian when I drank mouthwash because I couldn't afford alcohol, and fucked my dog.

[Salty]

AWESOME.
Your next step is to make 46 more posts as quickly as possible.
Then you'll be Official.

[BadBeast]

AWESOME.
Your next step is to make 46 more posts as quickly as possible.
Then you'll be Official.

Are n00bs not doing a Nigelquest anymore then?

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Are n00bs not doing a Nigelquest anymore then?

Honestly, there are too many noobs, and most of them are Poptart. I don't have time for this shit.

[BadBeast]

My name is BadBeast, and I'm a Discordian.
 I get pissed off when people say "Discordianism is a choice"  that we somehow make, just to be morally repugnant to
those who choose to be ruled by their fear.
Just because we don't fit some mythical 'norm' that they think is the rock of all things, some bit of moral flotsam they all cling to, in their valiant fight against having some kind of original thought.
Anyway,  I was always a Discordian. Born a Discordian. I know this now. I can see that many of the adults to whom my care was entrusted, when I was a child could sense this 'otherness' too.  Only back then, no-one had even heard the term 'Discordian'.
So I was diagnosed at school, first as a  'Troublemaker' then as a 'Clown', and by
the time my formal education was drawing to a close, a 'Infuriating little fuck'.

Of course,  I was into rebelling against stuff, but all the usual things kids rebelled against, parental sanction, punitive schoolwork, were beneath my consideration.
Oh, It was expedient to pay some kind of lip sevice to the rules, so this I did, without any trace of resentment. Then totally dismissed them.
By the time I was 12, I knew I was more intelligent than most of my Teachers. If this sounds like arrogance, then it probably is.  But at 12, you are constantly being told that you are wrong, and that adults were always right. So for a while, I entertained the thought that there was something wrong with my cognitive process. I really did.
Almost had me believing it too. If it wasn't for their desperate need to be right,
without putting forward any kind of supporting argument, I might have gone on beleiving. (But probably not) 
 
By the time I was 14, some of the brighter Teachers also began to suspect that I was more intelligent than them. Rather than encourage my often tangental derailing of their boring lessons, this realisation made them hostile, frustrated, and resentful,
as if I was doing it, just to undermine their illusion of control. (Which, by that time, I probably was)
I would watch them interact with each other. Most Teachers are hopeless at  any kind of Adult relationships. They treat everyone as if they were children.  Which generally leaves them a very small demographic from which to attempt to coax any kind of social life. Basically, other Teachers. Who were generally equally as hopeless at peer group dynamics as they were.  And for some reason, Policemen. (Another socially retarded and repressed subset)
 
 I began to start bullying people at school. Not other kids though. Well, not very often. I bullied Teachers. More specifically, I bullied bad Teachers. The ones who delighted in creating an atmosphere of terror in their 11 year old classes as a tactic to squash any hope of rebellion for the next 5 years.
They didn't like me much. I was disruptive in class. Disagreeing with their
curriculum. Pretending not to grasp some of the easier concepts they were trying to teach. Like simple tropisms in plants and insects. Or deliberately getting Photosynthesis back to front. Every time.

Letting them almost get through an entire experiment demonstrating simple polymer chains, and molecular bonding, before 'accidently' setting fire to a pile of textbooks, with a carelessly close Bunsen burner,
or (with one particularly anally retentive Technical Drawing Teacher) burgling his classroom at lunchtime, and ensuring that there were no 4H Pencils for the lesson,
only 2B's, that had all had some 'percussive adjustment' in order to break the leads,
thus ensuring maximum disruption during his lesson. I would also knock dents in the straight edges of all the T Squares, to deliberately minimise the chances of anyone actually producing a straight line for the whole term of twice weekly double lessons.

He was obsessive / compulsive on tidyness, straightness, and dirt. The first year Pupils were all made to go through some kind of military inspection, for tied shoelaces, and clean hands before he would let them in the classroom, that's how much of a martinet he was. So I liked to make sure there were only soft leaded, smudgy, 2B Pencils in his cupboards. I'd also Blunt all the compasses tips, so they skidded across pristine white sheets of crisp, A4 125gsm wove cartridge paper.
   
Once, I locked him in his supply cupboard at the end of a Lesson. For three hours.
He thought the wind had blown the door shut.
He was eventually asked to take early retirement, after his habit of nipping off to the Rabbits shed for a nip of Bells Whisky, every 20 minutes was discovered.  By 2.30pm each day, he become a  'Drunken old Perv'.  Which led to him getting a serious grope habit going with the fourth year girls who took care of the Rabbits. Dirty old fucker.
He may well have flown a Hurricane in WWII, but he was still a gropy, sadistic old bastard, so I took delight in fucking with him.

I could spend the whole of any lesson time, deliberately and systematically
raeping their composure, their discipline, and their ability to look at a sea of childrens faces every morning, without feeling like a Stag, brought to bay by a pack of  rabid, monstrous goblins. I really felt sorry for some of them, all I was doing, really, was seeing how good they were at their jobs, then concentrating on their weak points, Like how to keep any semblance of control over 30 bored kids, when there's an unmedicated Discordian, covertly in control of their lessons.
Especially as I would turn in exemplary homework (if I could be bothered at all)  and Ace any tests or exams.

My report from my Art Teacher.

"BadBeast wastes time and materials, and has failed to put any effort or care into his work. Has no concentration, of aptitude in this subject Very poor show"

The Bitch!
I thought I was really trying hard in Art, but the Teacher was such a smoking hot foxy peach of a thing, all jiggly tits, low cut tops, and legs that went on for miles, that it was all any boy could do to take his eyes off her slinky, slutty, flesh for even a moment. She was burned into the back of my retinas like a stroboscopic fap mag,
what's more, she knew exactly what effect she was having on the boys, and lapped up every minute of it. Then had the brass neck to say I wasn't putting in the effort.  Fucking Troll!

Anyway, by the end, I think I'd been instrumental in at least three Teachers having to take time off for nervous exhaustion. I was trying to help them become better Teachers, I can see that now, maybe I unconsciously set the bar too high for them.
I look back and sometimes feel that I failed them in some way!  Maybe I could have
eased up on the pressure a little, but hey, I was only a kid, Goddamnit!    
I didn't realise the importance of what I was supposed to be doing, and must have accidently, at least half of my Teachers without even trying!
The pressure of trying to educate these fools, was such a stress on me, that I spent most  of my last Summer skiving off with the cool Punk Girls, sniffing glue, drinking scrumpy, and shagging around like a dog with two dicks.  Quite an education in itself, that was.
But all in all, I thoroughly enjoyed School.   

More later if anyone gives  a rats arse, on "How I learned to ride roughshod over the forces of Law 'n' Order,  subsume bucketfuls of LSD and eventually learned to love Lady Eris, and embrace her lulzy Discord"
   

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

You know, for what it's worth, I have a couple of friends, same age, who are high-school teachers. They both teach pretty fun electives in semi-rural schools within an hour of Portland, with very similar demographics. They are the most sublime examples of how much what happens in a classroom depends on your attitude toward the students.

The first teacher has a lot of trouble. She doesn't seem to really like her students, and is constantly complaining about them and their attitudes and their inability to follow direction, their stubbornness, their unwillingness to do projects, their cell phones and slacking off and chip bags and etc. I never hear about any of them as individuals, and I don't think they know much about her.

The second teacher is always talking about how much she adores her students and all the wonderful things they do and how sweet they are, how hard they try, and how they bake her cakes and make her cards and make her cry with how delightful they are. She makes up games and brings them treats, knows all of their family problems, and talks to them. They know she loves shoes, bacon, and making cookies. She loves them, and in return, they love her, and even the most difficult of them will do everything within their power to do well in her class.

Too bad more teachers aren't like her.

[BadBeast]

Absolutely. Sometimes all it takes is one good Teacher to take a little effort,  to totally turn some poor kids whole process around.

[Captain Utopia]

More later if anyone gives  a rats arse, on "How I learned to ride roughshod over the forces of Law 'n' Order,  subsume bucketfuls of LSD and eventually learned to love Lady Eris, and embrace her lulzy Discord"

  

Did you ever write that followup?  I recall trolling my teachers, before I knew that it had a name, but I didn't take it to the heights of awesome that you did.