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TESTEMONAIL:  Right and Discordianism allows room for personal interpretation. You have your theories and I have mine. Unlike Christianity, Discordia allows room for ideas and opinions, and mine is well-informed and based on ancient philosophy and theology, so, my neo-Discordian friends, open your minds to my interpretation and I will open my mind to yours. That's fair enough, right? Just claiming to be discordian should mean that your mind is open and willing to learn and share ideas. You guys are fucking bashing me and your laughing at my theologies and my friends know what's up and are laughing at you and honestly this is my last shot at putting a label on my belief structure and your making me lose all hope of ever finding a ideological group I can relate to because you don't even know what the fuck I'm talking about and everything I have said is based on the founding principals of real Discordianism. Expand your mind.

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Strange as Fiction (part 2)

Started by The Wizard, March 23, 2011, 12:59:35 AM

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The Wizard

While every person who frequents Connery's is a character in their own right, with their own tales of daring do and surreal danger, there are still those who stand out from the rest. Among the most interesting regulars is Lady Madeline DeWinter, who in her hey day was one of the world's greatest assassin's, a femme fatale to put all others to shame. There was not a single international man of mystery who had not known her kiss, nor one who could say they had bested her. Able to kill with a look, or when push came to shove, a stiletto, she had been lusted after and feared in equal measure.
   
Sadly, her dark, intoxicating beauty eventually softened and lost its edge, though the same couldn't be said for the Madame DeWinter herself.
Rather than cling to her youth, like so many of her peers, she has taken advantage of her age. She's  perfected the demeanor of a sweet grandmotherly old woman, tying her silky hair into a bun and hiding her curvaceous and willowy form underneath thick sweaters and conservative skirts. She still works as a killer for Her Majesty's government, using maternal charm to get close to targets, rather than sex appeal. And while she enjoys the work, especially the jealousy it engenders in her fellows, it lacks the savor, the excitement, of the old days.

In the old days, the targets were mad scientists and sorcerer dictators. She'd cut her teeth cutting the Mad Doktor Bat's throat while he slept beside her, the night before he was going to unleash his. She'd shot at motorcades from grassy knolls, slipped undetectable poisons into the champagne of international criminals, and on another notable occasion, stalked, seduced, and assassinated every single member of a rogue group of power hungry geneticists. But in these modern times, the targets are reporters, Control's political rivals, and similarly boring marks. It's no longer a heart pounding game of cat and mouse, but rather a game of Bengal tiger and squeaky toy. Cloak and dagger intrigue has become boring, bureaucratic, and...mundane.
Insanity we trust.