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So this is us I guess. I can see that there have been some changes to the forum. I found the thread that Faust had posted. But this is about a transition both for the forum and an attempt at exposition at how things are going both now and in the course of the time that has passed since I last posted here on pd.com. please do bear with me as there is much and I do not know exactly where to begin, and so I will simply attempt to begin.



I think it is best to first simply summarize that so far, both myself and Verthaine are alive, reasonably secure, and well supported after a truly challenging 2023. We were both unhoused unlawfully about this time of year. It's been a BOSS FIGHT for us both together, and individually, and we are now both securely housed in a rather nice abandoned house not all that far from where the SHTF for us after nearly 2.5 years of cohabitation with Verthaine as my Landlord.^A

I have survived, and Truly thrived even, in the streets of This City, whom I very much enjoy anthropomorphizing as The Lady New Orleans, or Lady Nola for short. All of my possessions are for the most part good materiel salvaged from Her Streets, gifts given in respect for spiritual work done here, or purchased with money earned reading tarot in Her Streets. The house that now keeps 3 of Eris' kids secure is no exception to this pattern. I found it in about middle of November, just as the overnight temperatures and rainfall were getting potentially quite hazardous. The front door was open, and it had two deadbolts on it instead of a bolt and a proper knob assembly. They were both in locked positions, implying that whoever had last made ingress was not in possession of the keys. Now I have lived in the St Roch neighborhood for over 3 years at this point. I knew this house to have been largely abandoned during that whole period. In that time I had seen local addicts of a rather nasty sort wear out, and then ultimately burn down, a similar building.

It would turn out that I had made a rather good choice to see if I could treat the place better. And now I, Verthaine, and a local Discordian Sister named Sauin are doing just fine. As I document the work I am putting into the place I may post some pics here, and there.

More later as it goes!


So, that said, HOW YOU GUYS DOING?


^(A) Please do note this term is pretty dang loose in New Orleans, but I was handing him my cheddar. More on this later.

ARRIVAL

The train ride from LaCrosse Amtrak Station took me first to Chicago, Then all the way south by way of Memphis to the station on Loyola in my fair Nola, though I did not know New Orleans, Louisiana by that Name at the time. I truly did not know Her yet at all.

It was almost a solid two day trip with the layover in Chi-town. I wish I could say it was peaceful but some sadistic young woman played an obnoxious audio file on her phone nonstop. It was all noise and even had the horrible "worst sound in the world" from Dumb And Dumber. Apparently this was her idea of retaliation for my snoring, but this claim did not come to light until near the end of the journey. I and the other passengers endured it until she finally disembarked about 5 hours out from my stop.

By this time I was struck first by the trees being DIFFERENT as I looked out the window at the scenery rolling by me. It helped me to not think about how few people I had been in company with wore their masks correctly and consistently. Thinking had become something of a burden by this point anyway. The poison I had been exposed to in March of 2020 had demolished much of me, and my physical and mental health were on very shaky ground indeed. Now in mid November I was at least no longer in freefall in this regard. My time spent guarding the dojo had allowed me to see to my wellbeing as well as possible. No small thanks for the spiritual part of this was owed to a dead man, a Master honored by the dojo's kamidana named Takamatsu San. He alleviated the bitterness of my grief for my poisoned friends and recently slain Igbo brother Justice Ihechi Raphael. More on him and Justice later. Suffice for now to say that Takamatsu San rode with me, as did many of The Dead Masters, because I had invited him and them to accompany me on my Way.

The station in Nola was hauntingly empty. The evidence of charming shops closed down due to the pandemic would prove to be the tenor of my first days here. A kindly elder gentleman with a sharp sense of business was just outside the station waiting for someone exactly like me. I asked for a ride to Jackson Square. He helped me with my rolling luggage, packed for urban survival, and $15 and ten minutes later I found myself on a park bench awaiting my contact, a woman I shall here call Gabby that has a great many Names.

Gabby was at work until evening and so I found a bench between the Square and the Cathedral in the heart of the French Quarter. The air was to me extremely pleasant of temperature and filled with the noise of people, and a brass band played for hours rather expertly. I was soaking in "the vibe" of what I hoped would be my new home and finding it quite to my taste. At least I did until dusk slowly began to descend. I was suddenly acutely aware that I was in a haunted place, but I had never seen a haunt SO BIG that it enveloped an outdoor area entirely. The dead here were the sort that happen with MASSIVE amounts of violence and rage. I knew nothing of the history of Jackson Square at the time. I just knew that a haunt like this was no place to be drawing attention to myself and switched off my "vibe soaker".

Not too long after night had fully fallen Gabby appeared out of the crowd wearing a long, modest, and simple black dress. There was no mistaking the person that I had gotten to know through chance encounter on FB that had sparked a meaningful friendship in the hard months of desperate doom scrolling that had kept me occupied in the worst year of my life, perhaps of all my lives. We embraced briefly and slightly awkwardly. I mentioned the dead on and under the Square as she led me and my luggage down to Decatur St, and she laughed pleasantly with a slight exasperation as if I had told a rather tired old joke.

We meandered through streets that were empty in a rather visceral way indeed having at last opportunity to speak on many subjects frankly that were none of Zuckersnitch's thrice-damned business. She had a friend in the St. Roch (pronounced like rock) neighborhood that she was fairly sure would put me up for the night there and I absolutely could not wait to catch a shower and change clothes after nearly 3 days. We made our way in no great hurry by way of many then nameless back streets and along Elysian Fields to North Roman. As we passed the massive crypt-walls of the St. Roch holy cemetery I sensed another powerful haunt, but VERY different in nature. She seemed amused as my gaze lingered through the iron gates to one of two whole city blocks that comprised the site. She also warned me that many local practitioners used it as a ritual space of the not-very-nice sort, and that an Entity even she would prefer to let be was bound under the Chapel of St. Michael. I resolved to visit at the very first opportunity available of course.

We went on to the home of her friend Arkicide. He seemed a bit exasperated and none too sure of me, 10 years in Nola will make you VERY wary and even weary of people, but he consented to put me up for the night. I have seen Gabby only a small handful of times since that night. She seemed to prefer to just let me run free in Nola without her, and I have been content with that. This journey is mine, and I am never truly alone anyway.

Made for the FB group The Discordian Bird Watching Society. It's IMO the best and most well run of the Facebook Discordian groups.

Eris Is For The Birds

Some may have said,
And so EVERYONE "knows",
That Eris' favorite birds
Are the corvids,
The ravens and crows

But this is purely folly,
My firends,
For She has said to me,

"That's silly my dear Wizard.
Obviously,
I love all birds
Equally.

Yes Corvids are just fine.
They know their way around.
But laugh when I see
Ostrich heads
Stuck into the ground.
Such a ridiculous way
To get away
When there's predators around!

Owls have their charms of course,
Though held to Athena's name
I like the way they
Silently glide down
On unsuspecting game.

Parrots can be grand company.
They're very smart ones
After all.
Though best to have
A towel to hand
Should you bring
One to a fancy ball.

I shan't take up your time-"

"Please do!"

Fuck me!
I cut Her off!
Better to drink
the spit-valve juice
From the court of
Azathoth!

Be She smiled quite kindly
On me in my folly.
Like a cat presenting
Me with a canary!

And though topically
About feathered friends,
I suspected shit might
Get a bit hairy.

"Have you heard of the starling?
I think they're just darling!
They breed in ways
that take my beath.
But over prime nest space,
To keep fast a good place,
My Wizard they fight to the death!!

And dodos weren't stupid!!
They just had it too good,
For too long,
Not a weakness as such.
I loved them so dearly.
Their fearlessness
Just proved too much.
So sailors all ate them.
To this day
I just HATE the Dutch!

Pengiuns, on the other hand,
Need water as much as land.
They drink sea water,
Didn't you know?
But those SAILORS again,
Slew cock, chick, and hen
And just for their fat home to bring.
But I have the ear of kings,
So I yanked a few strings,
And the Antarctica treaty
Is now a thing!!"

I could see that She
Was getting worked up
But I dared do nothing
But listen.
She needed to vent,
And so on She went,
But her eyes, like a dagger,
Did glisten.

"I love kakapos!
They come from New Zealand.
They're flightless ones too,
And so cute!
Then those DAMN SAILOR BASTARDS
Brought on a disaster.
They brought rats, cats,
And ferrets to boot!
But often they shot them
Whenever they'd spot them
AND TOOK ALL THEIR FEATHERS
AS LOOT!!

THERE'S BARELY ANY BALD IBISES
OR GREAT CURASSOWS OR KIWIS
OR ULTRAMARINE LORIKEETS!!!
THERE'S SO MANY GONE,
AND MORE WITH NOT LONG!!
I'D LIKE TO CUT THOSE
RESPONSIBLE
OFF AT THE FEET!!
I DON'T HATE ALL HUMANS,
WIZARD, SOME ARE JUST FINE,
BUT EVERY DAY... EVERY DAY
THEY CROSS A NEW LINE!!!!!"

And She stopped for a moment.
My dear Eris took a DEEP,
DEEEEEP breath.

"And my birds, Wizard,
my sweet birds,
They all pay the price.

So I try, Wizard,
To teach the humans
How to just play nice."

She never asks or offers hugs.
I know Her all too well.
And so I took the liberty,
How long I cannot tell.

And so I ask you
my good reader,
If you would be so kind,
To spend some money
for the birds,
Or other dear creatures,
A link below
You will find.

  - T. W. Joseph

(Feel free to copypasta unaltered and post link of choice, I chose this. https://www.oysterworldwide.com/news/17-charities-that-help-endangered-animals/ )

This is my dear Igbo brother Justice Ihechi Raphael. He was murdered in cold blood by the genocidal Northern Nigerian forces about a week ago. I was maintaining contact with him on a backup FB account of his after his original account was falsely labeled a "scammer" and deleted. He wanted only peace and prosperity for his people, and ALL people, who have been subject to an ongoing, tragically effective, genocide by the north since the 70s. His brother contacted me yesterday. My hope was to one day embrace him under the sun with my feet on African soil. Now I must cry JUSTICE for Justice. I want cold, hard revenge, but he would not have wanted that. I will instead by nonprofit means seek the JUSTICE needed for him and untold millions more murdered by the so called nigerian "government". I am YET AGAIN heartbroken and will be in mourning for a while. Then I shall continue about my plans with new vigor. A few poorly aimed bullets was all it took to take his life, but I WILL ensure that loss was not for nothing.

I will have JUSTICE for Justice!!
On my Soul so it will be.
I WILL HAVE IT!!!
Or Kill Me.

They're All Already Fucking Dead

It's sometimes hard dealing with reality. One of the nicer things about hypomania is the unreasonable, unreasoning OPTIMISM it grants. Yeah sure, people think you're twacked out on meth sometimes because you're speaking a mile a minute. You definitely DO suffer delusions, especially as the sleep deprivation stacks up. The drawbacks pale in comparison to the simple ability to KEEP TRYING in the face of adversity, and 4 weeks into lithium therapy that I otherwise would not trade for the world it has begun to grate on me. Terry Pratchett (PBUH) had a word for it, knurd, the opposite of drunk, a horrible lucidity.

Mostly in my lucidity these days I see death. I see lots of death. In a very real way I even see myself as dead, and fortunate to know it.

That nice guy that takes pictures and writes poetry?
Dead.

The sweet old lady that was kind enough to give you a piece of candy on the bus?
Dead.

The self absorbed asshole making 7 figures off of the backs of thousands of workers?
Dead as fuck.

Your family?
Yep.

Your friends, and THEIR friends.
Donesky.

Enough children to pile 50m tall?
You guessed it.

It might seem that this is about the current plague, and that's a factor, but there's more. There's so much fucking more. It will be more war in the streets. It will be jackboots and black bags in private residences. As folks drop off and infrastructure gives out it will be starvation and contamination. I see it coming because I am knurd, the opposite of drunk, and horribly lucid.

I felt it first when I read the material safety data sheet on the poison I and my beloved friends had been dosed with in February. Dead and scheduled for a slow lingering one at that. I feel like that moment when a mortal but not immediately fatal wound is struck in pitched battle. I continue, but the deal is done. I see this coming for more people than would seem plausible in the next decade(s). Worse because I am knurd I FEEL the sorrow of those about to lose, and be themselves lost... For no reason. Due to easily preventable circumstances now FAR too late to alter. Circumstances cravenly brought about with INTENT, by means of deception and semantics.

When the death finds you and yours you will feel rage. You will feel helplessness and loss. If there was ever a time to FEEL RAGE it is now before the actual losses mount. My rage is cold and timely, for I am knurd, the opposite of drunk, and horribly lucid. I still stand upon the field knowing that I will never leave it. If everyone could realize this oncoming wave of death now we might just win. For my part I will settle for just taking as many pieces of the bastards as possible before I finally rejoin The Great Majority.

https://www.yahoo.com/news/seoul-north-koreas-kim-apologizes-053849798.html

According to the North Korean message, North Korean troops first fired blanks after the man found in the North's waters refused to answer other than saying he's from South Korea a couple of times. Then, as he made moves to flee, the North Korean troops fired 10 rounds. When they came near the floating object, they only found lots of blood but no sign of him.

So the article says dude was apparently tryina defect TO N.Korea. Was found clinging to dear life on a bouy in the ocean and was not only shot at but then burned .. On a "floating object" in the ocean. But it seems that was walked back... I'm a bit sleep deprived right now so that is all the brain I have to spare for writing, but this is capital WWeird with two Ws.

http://www.verticalpool.com/discordia.html

One Antero Alli has done an incredible thing. Must see PD!
I'd like to rant, but this Work speaks for itself.

[WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALWAYS, ALWAYS HAVE TO BE RIGHT YOU BASTARD!!??]

From: The Wizard Joseph, Memeber Discordian Society, Renunciate of many things recently

Unto: Doktor Hamish Howl, Memeber Discordian Society, Sometime Subgenius, Obnoxiously Accurate Prophet


WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALWAYS, ALWAYS HAVE TO BE RIGHT YOU BASTARD!!?? Can't just the occasional, little, itty bitty, implausibility slip past undetected and actually happen? I wouldn't mind personally if you took some time off and stopped with the prophecy thing just for a little while!! Just a little delusion for the sake of comfort is all anyone could ask in this clusterfuck of a reality. IT'S NOT ASKING TOO MUCH!! Worst part is I can't even blame YOU anymore than I can blame a mirror or a photograph for showing me my own scabby undercarriage in an ill light. BUT I CAN BE ANNOYED!!

Yeah so Vermin Supreme was a long shot. Yeah so I got disillusioned before the end entirely. I saw Vermin trim his beard and dress corporate as his mad dog VP pick pandered openly to the "Plandemic" crap, then despite this get railroaded out by someone They astroturfed in anyway. I should not have wasted my time and YOU WERE RIGHT FUCKING AGAIN!! STOP IT!! It's like lemon juice on papercuts ON MY EYEBALLS!!!

You know since I got some word count to kill in this HATE LETTER I owe you BECAUSE you are right I just want to say that this has been the main problem with you since I got here. It's not that you're ALWAYS right. It's that you're right extremely frequently and I often initially disagree only to discover that worse than you being right I WAS WRONG!! I can feel your righteous emmanation in the astral like a lit match on a sunburn and it's NOT GOING AWAY!!! Yours is not the holy light of some benevolent Creator of Heaven and Earth. YOU SIR ARE HAWKING RADIATION!! YOUR LIGHT IS THE HORRIBLE FLATULENCE ISSUING FROM AZATHOTH'S FROTHY CAKE EATER into an eldritch PICCOLO with a PITCH fit to liquefy my GODDAMN BRAINS into a cup so I can MIX IT WITH HEMLOCK and guzzle that shit DOWN TILL I FINALLY DIE!!!

Kindest personal regards.

This thread is to present various quotations from profoundly uneducated self-professed worshipers of the actual, literal devil with no context. Please note that the terms "lucifer" and "satan" are both titles and not the proper names of any beings real or imagined, but in trying to explain that I often see just the most AMAZING reactions and lulzy bullpucky ever. Moreover "lucifer" is a crappy Latin mistranslation of an ancient title of totally mundane royalty from the old testament and in itself does not even mean "light bearer" at all. "Satan" is a title meaning loosely adversary or accuser and is effectively a legal term like prosecutor. All of these are taken from a group doing its best to give these academic truths a go, but the religious fanatics are crawling all over the threads and absolutely will not be contradicted nor will they shut up. I like the admins quite a bit and so I do not intentionally troll, but these folks take ANY contradiction as a declaration of Holy War and are REALLY touchy about perceived slights real or imagined. They are remarkably similar to Abrahamaic fanatics and even the slight comparison no matter how obviously true sets them off like a string of firecrackers.

Oh.. and EVERYONE is an EXPERT on magighahl theory and practice of course.

Absolutely not meant for internal use

Been grinding too hard for no reason

Cannot be bothered to stop fapping

Definitely not the demiurge

Easily distracted by memes

Flatulent and unapologetic

Got to got to try a little tenderness

Hastur Hastur Hastur Hastur Hastur

Identity deconstruction enthusiast

Just can't seem to pay attention to normal things

Killed Bill Hicks and ate his soul to make a spiritual point

LMNO has told me to stop and I cannot I will not

My highest academic ambition involves a potatoe and Dan Quayle

Nobody told me what NOT to be growing up and it shows

Obviously has no social consciousness despite being in a society

Probably not the grand singularity of consciousness but won't listen

Quite enamored of a certain rather shady Goddess and works for no pay

Really sad that Ben Mack is still out there breathing air other folks could waste instead

Stopped in the name of love but forgot what to do next

Terrible about inserting cats into mythologies that cats do not want to be in

Underlying lack of self worth leading directly to collecting beanie babies by force

Very much into BDSM but not in a sexual way

Why why am I like this in public fuck sake WHY

Xenophilic, single, and looking to mingle barbarous memes and inauspicious genes

Yeet is one of my favorite neologisms and I use it all the time

Ziggy comics are not a respectful, safe, or stable invocation vehicle for the Aesir apparently

So the attached file has a strange story. I found the attached image as an uncaptioned "blank" while trawling for completely unrelated images. I was so moved by the haunted eyes, hand position, and ample empty space to the left that I nabbed it having no idea what to do with it. about a week later a friend of mine posted a fairly lengthy and heart-breaking telling of her sexual assault experiences and the sheer alienation and harassment she experienced in addition to the assault itself. I resolved to take the essence of her message as summarized in a few lines and make an easy to distribute meme to show her that she had been heard and that in hearing I acted with what effect I could. This image came right back to me and I "just knew" that it was the right image, knowing nothing of Ian Curtis nor Joy Division at the time.

I made the meme, got her approval, and distributed it to several groups and my wall. This morning one of my friends asked me if i was talking about this Ian person having been assaulted or if I was making reference to some band called Joy Division. I asked for clarification as I didn't have the slightest clue what he meant at the time. He told me that the person in this image was Ian Curtis and that he had committed suicide in 1980 while the lead singer of Joy Division, a band that derived its name from NAZI systematic rape in the death camps. We were both taken aback to discover the apparent perfect storm of symbolism, ignorance, and timing that led to the meme. I have since listened to and read the lyric of several Joy Division songs and though the music is not my flavor it's some of the rawest shit I ever heard.

I'm just kinda posting this thread to document the occasion and make the meme available to the readers and members of PD for distribution if they want. It's rare that I get true, uncontrollable chills from synchronicity, but I admit to being a bit shaken on this one.

One of the duties/privileges of being a pope is making new "spirits" as necessary to bettering humanity and in the pursuit of lulz. There are no lulz in Mama Rona. She exists to scare the shit out of you until you act right. She is what I call an animeme, a spirit with a meme initial origin/vector, but that will over time grow and change on its own. I have seeded her throughout various of my FB groups with the following text.

"I present an anthropomorphic personification of the Novel Coronavirus Named Mama Rona! Mama Rona is horrible, deadly, but fair. She takes whomever she pleases. She passes below the gaze of the sage and the scientist. Her hand against children is light, yet from them she may touch you and be... unkind. Wear a mask and she may pass you by, but she might not. Be clean and she will be appeased, but that's no guarantee. But IF you act right, encourage others to act right, she will take less, and one fine day pass on by."

As I add new memes and images to spread I will update and collate them here. If I, hopefully, start to find memes/write-ups that I did not do then she will have come of age and be her own being.

So, it's come to this huh? Locked in an imaginary box on FB with an assortment of weirdos, freaks, and other reality deviants while The Powers That Be steadily manage to fuck up their precious little paradigm because they largely got blindsided by a teeny-tiny little super bug. I know for a fact at this point that some shit is about to go down. Sadly it's a given that things are going to get bad. I propose that we merely do our part as self proclaimed associates of The Goddess Eris to also make the apocalypse as WEIRD as possible, like uncomfortably weird. What are They gonna do to stop us? There's a world shaking emergency developing! They're a little preoccupied at the moment. Didn't even see the Discordians coming. Suckers.

I propose not weirdness for its own sake, but rather a sense of alleviating humour be brought into the world in the Name of Eris! Get involved in your local community efforts and be openly Discordian about it. Let your freak flag fly sky high, but also do something tangible to make yourself useful to the world AND LET THE WORLD SEE YOU DO IT IN HER NAME.

Reach out to your local community action groups and claim to represent The Discordian Society's contribution to their efforts. Make the Goddess proud! Get some shit done like you have nothing left to lose, because you don't really. You CAN make yourself useful AND make a mark in Eris' name though.

Now is the time to crank up the weirdness! Would you rather just die in a box, waiting for the world to return to "normal" again!? We all know better, and I think we can do better while haveing WAY more fun doing it than anyone could reasonably expect in times like these!! If they think that the Coronavirus virus is bad just wait until They got Eris cropping up all over the place and Her damned Discordians intentionally insinuating themselves into the fabric of society. They'll never get the paradigm clean again. You just can't get Discordianism out once it sets in. Her shit is permanent!

Try to think of this as a way to cope, a way to let your stress out and also do something good for the people around you. The Powers That Be ain't coming to help anybody, It is known. So stand strong! Clench your fist. Set your face to the sun and declare that you will NOT go down without a fight!! Remember that YOU ARE NOT DEAD YET! You have the power of Eris coursing through your neurons and can do something memorable AND helpful for the people around you!

They want you
Afraid.
So be
Unafraid.

The Goddess be with us all.
Hail Eris.

This thread and topic originated in the Trump Hilarity thread. Things are no longer hilarious. This thing is definitely going to do some game changing damage. Rumors of an engineered origin are unsubtantiated but because of the unusual symptom spectrum and infection rate as well as the not entirely uncertain possibility of post symptomatic latency infection and reoccurrance I cannot discard the possibility at this time. I very much wish I could, but this thing is WEIRD for a coronavirus and quite destructive out of all proportion.

Well, there was a report of someone in Japan who tested positive twice.  I suspect that she either wasn't cured completely, or someone messed up the labwork, but an intermittently lethal virus that humans can't develop a long-term immunity to would be a pretty neat doomsday weapon.

If it doesn't get you the first time, just wait for the next go-around!

I was just reading about this.  Coronavirus immunity doesn't last very long.

But it's not THAT short.  The test was bad?

Quite possibly. Or whatever chemical signature they were looking for was still present post-symptoms

There is a small but real chance it remains dormant in the system post-symptoms, if so it just might reemerge symptomaticly later like impetigo, even be infectious asymptomatic like. This is not my opinion, but if more double positive tests occur it would be a... Bad indication.

https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/hcp/clinical-guidance-management-patients.html

It's much worse than I thought. It causes damage to various organs and systems in a very unpredictable symptom presentation. Incubation ~5 days, 4-7 range reported, coronaviruses can range from 2-14.

A range like that makes it extremely difficult to track from site to site, and I suspect we'll be unable to keep track at all very soon because we already have tertiary cases.

Virus rna shows up in various discharges and fluids as well as active viruses, rna may be detected for weeks after. If folks are testing positive well after symptom cessation this is hopefully why. If they are STILL testing positive for rna a month from now it means they are still producing waste rna. That STRONGLY would imply that the virus is still replicating and infectious. By the time we know it WILL be far too late. If it's still replicating post symptoms it DEFINITELY has a REAL chance of a completely different symptom presentation as it enters otherwise protected systems. It would build up in the body over time potentially breaching the blood-brain barrier. I shudder to think what this fucker would very likely do to your mostly defenseless grey matter.

Cain you said that a bioweapon that presents only a nasty flu would be a let down... If you read the symptom spectrum it's NOT THE FLU BUDDY!

This one is a monster and if it does what my worst fear here implies... It just might be engineered, at first, but will heavily mutate over time into SEVERAL or even DOZENS of unique strains in relatively short order. It may be debilitating, deadly, prolific, and ultimately incurable. I've made a LOT of humanity killers in Plague Inc. This thing has all the right stuff not to wipe out, but to suppress a whole culture with illness and death at great medical cost in what will soon be an environment of limited supply. Stock up on hand sanitizer, masks, and impermeable gloves. They may not save you, but they will soon be very valuable trade goods.

I give it 4 months at a guess, then the political rallies become a deathbed, and they're feeding the idiots dangerous propaganda already, intentionally.

Fuck I hope I'm wrong and this will pass by then, but I SERIOUSLY doubt it. The infection control protocol is basically a medical space suit right down to full facial eye protection. This thing is very upsetting in the best case scenario. The worst case, if I'm right about the latency period and a second symptom expression in the brain, would seem to me a perfect storm by design or chance.

It will make no difference which.

Rule number one

You do not think about Thought Club.

Rule number two

YOU DO NOT THINK ABOUT THOUGHT CLUB!!

There may be more rules like this, but see rules one and two.

Welcome to Thought Club.

Melvin Melville felt the Cool Breeze on his face as he stood with his toes at the edge of the highest cliff on Sugarsweet Bluff. It was about 3 in the morning and he saw the lights of the city he had grown to hate splayed out in front of his vision. He had decided it was time to die, and so had made the climb up the well-known hiking trails and passed the sign that said, "Warning Keep Out" that never had been very effective at keeping people from seeking the highest point on the bluff to take in the amazing view, or make out, or whatever it was normal people did there.

Melvin had chosen this as the place where he would die. The bluff face was over 50 stories high, and there was nothing but hard rock at the bottom. Melvin had thought very hard about how he would take his own life. He couldn't afford a gun. Hanging seemed like it would be terribly painful if you didn't do it right, and Melvin knew for a fact he was a fuck-up. So he had decided to find a place to jump that would ensure a swift death.

Melvin didn't really want to hurt himself, he had had enough of that in life, he just wanted out. He had wanted out for years now. Still he found himself standing there at the edge. Part of him was still nervous about actually jumping. Melvin still had questions about what happens when you die. He had seen enough things in his life to question whether the atheists were correct about Oblivion. He hoped that that was what would happen, but he didn't know for sure. Melvin decided to pray, to What he didn't know. Part of him felt like he was just stalling things.

"Uh, God? If You are You then You know who I am so I'll skip the introduction. This world you allegedly made is a real piece of work, You know that? All we do is suffer and die, and all the while You hide Yourself from us, if You're really there at all. Maybe I'm just a coward, but so are You! Everything about this world is meaningless, and it's full of horrible things and people that just increase the suffering! What the hell were You thinking!? If You really gave half a shit You'd send a sign of some sort, but You don't. You can't be arsed to! Whatever it is You're doing up there while we suffer and die better be pretty damn important!! You know what? I'm sick of this world, and I'm sick of You too if You're even real!! You got about 5 seconds to show me something or I'm out of here..."

This was it. The moment Melvin has been waiting for. He looked down for a moment and felt incredibly dizzy. Melvin looked up and closed his eyes. All he had to do was lean over and it would be done. Melvin felt his heart pounding and his knees shaking. He gathered up all his meager strength of will and...

"You know there's nothing we can actually do to stop you."

Melvin's eyes snapped open at the sound of a soothingly melodic voice coming from in front of him. There was a thin and perfectly chiseled face but inches from his own. A pair of bright, wide, and slightly slanted lavender eyes were looking directly into his own. Melvin screamed, startled beyond comprehension, and pitched over backwards on to the hard rock behind him.

Two things immediately registered themselves in his mind as soon as the pain from hitting the ground had cleared up enough for him to sit up. His legs were dangling over the edge, and Melvin noticed that he had lost a shoe. He also realized that the thin, and well-dressed in white, figure of a man standing in front of him was  standing on thin air. Melvin screamed again just for good measure, and scrambled backwards from the edge until his back came up against a nearby tree. He was hyperventilating.

"Do not be afraid" the figure in front of him said with a momentary smirk. "Perhaps it would help if I stood over here?"

The apparition casually took a few steps forward and was now standing with his feet on the ground. Melvin couldn't help but notice that he was extremely tall in addition to being whip thin. It wasn't helping him calm down at all.

Between heaving breaths Melvin managed to get out, "Who.. the.. Who the hell are you?"

There was a look of momentary annoyance on the man's face, but after it passed he said, "I am Niliel, seraph in service to Azrael the Archangel of death, and I have come to talk you down as it were."

"What the ever-living fuck is a seraph?", gasped Melvin, his breathing slowing down ever so slightly.

"I'll thank you to watch your language please. To answer your question the seraphim are a choir of angels that resonate to the Truth. I am under no obligation to actually tell you the truth, but I will never lie.", the angel said.

Melvin's hand had landed on a stone about fist-sized. "Fuck you! You're not real!," he shouted and hurled the rock straight at the angel's face. Melvin had played baseball as a child and was actually rather good at throwing things. The rock flew true and smacked the angel right in the kisser. It soundlessly bounced off of the angel's face and out over the precipice. Niliel didn't even flinch. It was as if Melvin had thrown the stone at a statue. A few awkward seconds later the sound of the stone hitting the ground far below the bluff could be heard.

"Come now, there's no reason to make a fool of yourself Melvin. I mostly deal with the already departed, Souls that have departed suddenly and usually in very large numbers. You wouldn't believe what a fuss they make sometimes. I'm on something of a working sabbatical these days, lending myself to odd jobs here and there. My orders in your case are to provide answers to your questions,  and to ensure that you fully comprehend the consequences before you commit to suicide."

"Oh is that all?", Melvin said just before he passed out on the cold hard ground.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0_Qn3y0V1BY

Man I love me some Ether Theory! Even more I love Etherites and other Rogue scientists. I have decided to share this love here on PD. The video above is what inspired me to start this thread. It's typical of Ether Theory proponents. There's much technical jargon mashed in with ad hominem attacks, Wild assertions, and weird high nerdiness. What's not to love?

Slowly over time I will continue to add pieces to this thread as I learn things in my quest to understand better what Ether Theory is and how it could possibly work. My current limited understanding is that in essence the theory is that there is no such thing as nothing. The Aether is a pervasive energy from which all manifestations are created. It is a universal Essence in which all forms of matter and energy might be said to swim in a sense. I could of course be a bit wrong in this as my understanding of the theory is nascent, but I intend to grow it and share my new-found understanding here as I do.

Its proponents often have a bit of a persecution complex, a certain worshipfulness of Tesla and other scientists of his day, and a tendency to shoot from the hip scientifically. I fucking love them!

In this particular video the gentleman scientist has a particular bone to pick with the use of the word quantum. Man does he go off. He claims that a great many of our standing theories are in fact descriptions of The Ether By Any Other Name. Dark matter, quantum entanglement, the way light speed can speed up or slow down depending on the medium, all these are things that he gets a little bit of a chew on. This means that in order to understand ether Theory and his position I will also have to study these other theories and some depth as well. I look forward to this new project and invite you all along for the ride.

I will of course have NONE of your coward-science arguments against The Ether. The current consensus Paradigm is both pernicious and ill-informed! There's nothing that I can do to prevent you from embarrassing yourselves with your mewling, disingenuous "proofs" that The Ether does not exist. The Aether is the very grass in the backyard of God! ITT I will share everything I learn about this miraculous force of nature, and its many ingenious proponents. I hope you enjoy the ride! I know I will.

It was brought to my attention this morning that the Facebook group I help admin has disappeared from Facebook. No search using Facebook can find it. I found a link to it on Google, but the link is broken. It says the page may have been removed, but I do not know what for or by whom. If anybody reading this has any information about what happened I would appreciate it if you post in this thread. Also posting this to let other people that admin here from PD know about the disappearance.

The Facebook help desk is useless. It just said the link may be broken or the Group may have been removed. I'm guessing the group was removed by an admin, but I don't know. There are no messages in my inbox about Facebook removing it for content.

The dance of Asmodeus

They dance it in the towers of glass
They dance it on the streets
They dance it in the pits of hell
And even angels tap their feet

Its Rhythm is a monotone
Of Mighty symbols clashing
And everybody keeps the beat
We dance the dance of Asmodeus

They dance it at the protest
And in the halls of government
They dance it every night and day
Don't Wonder where your freedom went

They danced it in the Parthenon
And on the Mighty roads of Rome
They danced in Sumer and Babylon
This wicked dance of Asmodeus

You dance it when you go to school
They dance it in the church
You dance it just to get your bread
As back and forth to work you lurch

You dance until you fucking drop
And then you dance some more
The beat is always just the same
The tyrant's dance of Asmodeus

To dance it is to play The Game
Your feet will never stop
You dance it as the bills come due
Whether you're a criminal or cop

Sure bet you dance it everyday
The beat will tick your life away
Now is when there's hell to pay
So dance the dance of Asmodeus

Buried deep inside of you, in the heart of every hominid, there's a Raging Creature. It's a Killer born of 10 million years of natural selection, a true gift from God.

No matter how timid or peaceful you may think yourself, The Holy Rage is there, buzzing and shrieking just below your consciousness. It is not a mere "fight or flight" response!! It is your very soul retaliating against anything that would bring your life to an end or threaten those that you love.  In a very real sense it is the Love That Kills.

The Holy Rage may be a hot, burning thing or maybe a cold and icy, but horrifically violent, detachment. It's every ounce of your very being gushing out in a torrent with but one purpose.

That purpose is Survival!
That purpose is Retaliation!

The Holy Rage is life!
The Holy Rage brings death!

You will bite, and kick, and claw!! You will howl like a Lunatic and throw whatever comes to hand!! You will gouge eyes and crush genitals!! You will bash a head into the concrete over and over until the white meat shows!!

The Holy Rage knows no honor, no rules, no mercy, and fears no consequences. It is your Self Set Ablaze!! It is your entire Being screaming out,

"I AM, AND YOU ARE FUCKED!!!!!"

If you doubt me get a mattress and a baseball bat. Think of something that has hurt you and made you angry in your life. Shriek out a War Cry and begin to swing. Intentionally continue to scream and swing! The Savage Ape inside of you will begin to have fun! Continue until your throat is raw and your limbs are heavy and dead. You are likely to feel euphoric. This is because you are engineered to LIKE IT.

This is the primal magic of The Holy Rage.
This is the essence of Life in the face of Death.
This is where your True Self dwells.
This is your Salvation when there is no help.
This is the true face of a personal Revolution.

Embrace it.

Oh Lord be on my side as I Lament about the Terrible Things of this Fallen world. I pray you guide my hand and my tongue as I pour out my heart for the children of this world and their often terrible plight.

The curse on every Predator who would touch a child. Even Jesus was pretty clear about this. Better Stone be tied about their neck and they be cast into a cesspit then what I would prefer to do to them. I remember first and foremost those who have been made into sexual slaves.

It wasn't their fault
They didn't do it
They were brought
By scoundrels
Into it

The people that harm children are the worst of the sinners. Jesus said forgive, but this I cannot forgive. I guess I'm just not that Godly. You see the children that are sold as chattel wind up living a life that was never anything but sexualized. All their potential, all their Joy, All their creative ability turned to the satisfaction of pigs. The worst part is that their abuse becomes a Cornerstone of their psyches. Children are made to enjoy their abuse. Their minds know nothing else, and this is what the fucksticks want. They want slaves that have never known anything other than the lecherous Touch of their masters. They corrupt innocence for their own gratification. For this I say death On the corruptors. Those fools that believe that for money or gratification they have the right to destroy that which is not yet truly begun to build. I'm at my say Revenge cannot come soon enough. Oh Lord if you are just then You will guide the hands of those that will bring about your judgment. Oh Lord if you are just then you will Aid those that would bring an end to this destruction. Oh Lord if you are just then you will throw down the corruptors. And Lord if you are not hearing me,

Because perhaps you do not Be

Then it is on us to do something or to support those that will.
Lord let those whose bodies have been abused, find healing and peace. May their abusers Perish forever.

There are those also that will take a child and use them for ritual purposes. Whether this is in Your name, the name of some deity, or some madman self-serving Glee and search for Power let them be thrown down. Let their indoctrinations turn against them! Let the children that are so bound learn the truth of the world and come to knowledge in Freedom. Lord I cry out against their chains and their jailers.

Do not teach them what is God
For they are more than animate sod
May they find a way to break free
Lord this is All I Ask Of Thee

Their minds are forever stunted by hunch brained grey faces. This goes for religion and politics, and politics that are religion. May those who have been blinded by their would be sun gods see their way to Freedom.

There are those also that will take a child and put them to war. Those whose ability to play is turned into a Lust For Slaughter. They're taken from innocence given a weapon and told to kill

And those that will not
Will face the weapons of their peers
It brings me to tears

Father I pray that all of those who's Will's have been so subverted come to peace with themselves and rise against their masters. The world is greater than they have ever known. More than bullets and drills and drugs and rape. Let the crimes of those who have been so corrupted be upon the corruptors. Let those who have been so abused become free.

There are many things greater than me
but if it comes down to me
to do something so be it.
So fucking be it.

This world is full of sickness. My heart is full of Shame to be a part of the system that makes this possible. I can only declare war and gather what resources I can by any means necessary to give funds to those who can fight this Darkness. This Darkness will not prevail. Lord if you hear me understand that I cannot let it prevail. Understand that I will do whatever I think is fit to do to win the war upon the children of this world. They need not a Saviour like me. Oh no. I am nothing but angry wind. They need teachers and counselors, mentors and therapists. These I will sacrifice much to support. Even my dignity.
Even my peace.
Even my precious comfort.

My conscience will not allow anything less then all I have to be this one cause. This war for the sake of the children is a war for the one and only future. Let this rant be my declaration.

Let peace be far from me.
Or Kill Me

So I got a hair up my butt after Nigel linked to this article on FB.
http://johnpavlovitz.com/2016/05/26/dear-offended-christian-from-a-very-tired-christian/

There was a specific point made about there being NO teachings from Jesus in the Gospels, and this sort of hit a sore spot for me. My question centers around a small but possibly very significant use of language that may be a fairly huge thing. Here's the write up as I have it down for now.

As to sincere opinions please fire away. I'm not attached to the perspective quite so personally as I used to be. I DO want to construct this from within the Christian perspective ultimately, but that's on me.
_____

I sympathize with the author on pretty much every point, but one of them is very close to the heart of the matter in terms of factional strife.

"I'm tired of reminding you that the number of times Jesus spoke about gender identity and sexual orientation in the Gospels—is zero."

This is not strictly true. In Matthew ch19 from about verses 8-12 Jesus lays down some pretty severe teaching about the spiritual consequences of divorce and when folks be like "That sucks! Better to never marry" Jesus basically says "Yup!" and goes into a bit about eunuchs as an aside.

As far as Jesus' actual teachings clearly went he says abstinence to focus on the spiritual exclusively is best, but, hey, clearly not for everyone. He uses that to approach the subject of the eunuch then delineates the three basic sorts, those so born, so made by others, and some very few who are able to give it up as a spiritual sacrifice, in that order. He makes a point of showing that the status can be inherent, placing it first in description, but spoke most of the willing sort, and barely mentioned the usual kind in the middle. This matters as it demonstrated unmistakably through his language that he was least concerned in his message with the most usual sort of the subject. Yet he only meant "eunuch" in its most common form here say the scholars of "Christianity"!
I do wonder about that.

There's longstanding, highly predictable, argument against this passage possibly applying to homosexuality. The fact is they're correct that Jesus wasn't talking about that... overtly. If he had they'd have stoned him then and there, and he knew that damn well. They try a few times in other places, most notably when he declares "Before Moses was I AM" speaking the forbidden name of God in reply to a Pharisee's challenge of his authority to interpret the law. Christian doctrine states this was him claiming to be God, but there we now differ. I think he was merely stating the simple, terribly dangerous truth. God's authority is greater and older than Moses' law, and so any use of the law that is counter to Love and Truth has none of God's authority, but I digress.

It's worth noting that the Greek word for eunuch is derived from the words for "bed" and "owner" implying all of the sleeping alone a eunuch does. That's in Strong's Concordance if any question that interpretation.  Given Jesus' sense of wordplay and the unapproachable nature of the subject, I'd say "one who's bed is their own" could well describe the person of (then) unorthodox  gender or sexual orientation in a sublime fashion. It follows that if a person can be so born then God must have made them so, and loves them as such. From there we can see that the division never existed. It is and always was a lie, and as such doomed eventually. How's that for an eschaton worth "emmanentizing"?

OTSGE
part 1
NYX

There are persistent rumors and disagreements whispered most quietly in the halls of the gods. The best remaining records will agree, and all the gods have seen, Hera declares Eris to be her daughter. Those among the Olympians that have been around the longest, and have seen Eris lose her top a few times, wonder quietly to themselves, and to each other privately, and always with utmost caution, whether the rumor that she is in fact the daughter of dark Nyx, the titan who is the cold, deadly, and radiant night sky, could possibly be true.

I am but a privileged mortal, and so no sure source of the truth. If you have ear though I shall tell you a tale that even the gods may hesitate to utter.

'Tis said that Nyx was most upset by the doings of the gods and their little monkey pawns in the earliest days. They were so loud and obnoxious in the evenings when she displayed her greatness and even the most ferocious creatures felt compelled to their quiet, worshipful night sounds.

The then still newly crowned gods had their revelry and sport, ambrosia and dark wine, their hateful fire. These were bad enough, but far more obnoxious, and puzzling, were the noises that the pathetic human wretches far below Olympus made. Sounds that echoed out from against rough cave walls and from under even rougher furs stolen from other creatures in attempt to keep back from their own, all too thin, flesh her chilling breath. Nyx watched on and approached bit by bit ever closer, rapt by their strange and piercing cries and wondering about what these tiny mortal beings could possibly dare to do in her presence so often, and yet seemingly wish to so conceal from her.

Much was obscured from Nyx's sight by fur and shelter; though it must be said here that she was then quite blissfully unaware of how much more she was truly missing. Nyx's singular obsession in the earliest days had been with the sounds that the humans made in her presence. Rapturous and savage the sounds were. So unlike the sonic nocturnal emissions of all the other creatures they were.

Where most creatures crawling upon the dirt produced a song and began the rituals of survival, and procreation, and rest under forever present stars humanity hid themselves from her splendor. They made not mere music but a riot of sounds so like the revels of the distant gods and yet somehow more. More desperate and savage and needful and so very warm against the unending chill that Nyx was accustomed to. Theirs was a riotous and obnoxious, but so very compelling, symphony that followed it's own rythym and respected no seasons.

Often Nyx believed that perhaps some humans had died after emitting particularly terrible cries only to see faintest movement as her train receeded into the west as she often turned to allow some few of her luminous eyes to linger for one final glimpse. Though it often so happened, often enough to keep ageless and enigmatic Nyx wondering, that one or both stirred no more after she passed.

Nyx pitied or was apathetic toward the humans in every concern other than the mystery of their hidden doings in her presence. Often she would hear word of their deeds during the sport of grand Helios, he who is the riotous day. Her all too brief conversations with him in passing for an age's worth of ages were one of the few things that Nyx could be said to truly enjoy and cherish in any sense that a mortal might fathom. Other than an occasional, and most amusing, scornful eye when his glory proved too powerful for the fragile little wretches, and caused a retreat to their caves and pathetic wooden shelters, he seemed clearly better regarded by them than she. 

Yet still their mysterious cries continued unceasingly in her presence.

And so Nyx continued to listen,
ever more fervently and closely,
to the riot and rythyms of it all
as many ages passed into aeons.

This went on, and was
the way of things until,
as is ever more certain than
even immortals might prefer,
things changed.

So it's a wee bit before Christmas and I'm with my beloved, disagreeable family. I love them dearly, but have in two days become tired of the crap. They all lean "right" to some degree politically and culturally and I count myself  left-moderate because I give a shite about human rights. They do too, but ask thwm WHICH humans and the shitshow proceeds as it does in uncountable homes across our fine United States and around the world for millions this season. I'm never going to be able to stop loving them, but the disagreement can dampen the brightest holiday candle of Joy. So I don't bring it up. I NEED my family and their support, love, and perspective like a fish needs water or a drunk his drink. The "holidays" are a heady brew indeed.

I've no intention or interest in bringing up the specifics of exactly HOW and over WHAT we disagree here, but it's enough to drive me to drink and vomit forth a few words here and resolve to continue the practice in a controlled manber as I am able. Not all of it will be belly aching, but The Sauce disinhibits me enough that insight and complaints alike pour forth in profusion. My true willing intent here is to see what comes of it if I keep up the practice over time. Right now it's complaint, but not without a certain contentment with the paradox of loving those that say, fucking believe, what I hate and pity, even as I draw strength from being with them as my beloved family.

Soon we will be engaged inour gifting rituals of "dirty Santa" wherein a gift is chosen by each in the range of $20-30 and placed in a pile to be chosen by lots who chooses one first. They can be stolen by others and it's great fun. I got a nice space heater this time and I suspect it will be in high demand. This game and much excellent food and love best describes my forthcoming Christmas experience.

That and I voluntarily intend to go to Church on Sunday to be with my Father because he will like it and I may not have another chance for all I know. His health is waning at 68 years of age and a bypass and cancer in remission. I want to hear him sing, to sing with him, of the Lord he has dedicated his simple life to so effectively. By effective I mean that his love is expressed to people through his beliefs most effectively and he has changed lives by being who he is and believing what he believes. I can only honor this because it is good.

Whatever this season brings to us I can only hope that it's as fine season of rest and love as it may be. Soon enough there will be Strife in plenty,  but for now She rests and is filled with the love of the people that remember Her name. When this restive season ends hold onto your arse friends. For once the gifts are given, food et, and drinks wear off the Hard Times will be in full effect once more. For now be you content and reach out to someone in love who needs it and so refresh your soul for the next thing coming down the chimney after Christmas. It's going to be hard, but the best is yet to come. So too the worst, but whatever. Happy Holidays folks. I wish you the best and a victorious New Year!!

Peopl e got a lot of shire tA talk about TGRR and some of it may well be deserved, but hes dead now and there ain no changin tha.. again. Say what you will of him he was a Hioly Man and really that was his problen. It's no good just seeing the future, noñ, you got to have the pinacje to make the wee little shites out there LISTEN to you. Why you think Ezekiel fed those kids to bears huh? So folk would take THE WORD OF THE LOTRD serious for a change!!! TGRR was a lot of things but ruthless eno for being the conduit of divine manisfestation he was a bit soft for.  God's will is hsrd to fathom sometime.  But he (TGRR) was never sgo totally cimitted to his position as Holy Man as when he  waas tryin  to warn folks abput the coming Hard Times. But fwr some reason he just couldn't feed a few loudmouth urchins to the beasts in the wild to make his point. He was a genteel pdrophet to be suree. Ley me start a new paragraph here.

So now we got Howl back and Roger is cold as the worms easting his shite even now. An ad I never seen  them in the same room!! But that's just a wild conspiracy teorys shite! What's important is that this Howl is a DOER and thhe fucking Holy Man is... was a seeer without the same TEETH as the old prophets. But let  me tell you he a was FUCKING ACCURATE, whatever elese he was. But this Howl killed him and I'm sure Roger IS bettr off now. Whereever he is than to go on seeing but being too gentle to call in the bees or the bears or whatever these days call for. Another new paragraph I think.


Sao the fundamental point here is that I'm raging drunk on cheap booze n cut and beer because I feel like Roger deserved a real mourner after all he's gon we thru on this garbage heap of a plane on existence. So I figure the least I can do is put forward an opinoin or two and be a shite to listen to while you all go on about yer lives as if the lasy of the True Propheta hadna died in your lifetimes . 

There's an Armagheddon going on and ypu lot da not see it. Not the lot here, but the humans. No idwa that the very Great Deception is at hand an the END is on its way. These are the final days. And wea are privileged to see that before the final curtain call!! You can thabk that rotten dead piece of sod TGRR for the good news, but nobody listens to a prophet in his own time! So feel it nows!! It'scoming down the pipe no matter what youy think anyway!.. so..

Fu ckin shit on this world it's time to have a Good Time an out dance Kali if ye can. Good luck and good fucking night!!!

This thread is a dumping ground for the so called "Mandela effect". It was sparked during a conversation over in this thread here. It primarily exists as a reference to avoid derailing the thread above. If folks want to add to it go right ahead. I'm going to merely report what folks have been attributing to the effect. If others want to be more whimsical I sure wouldn't mind. This shit is heavy enough and I could use a laugh.

Isaiah 11:6-8

6The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearlinga together;
and a little child will lead them.

7 The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.

8 The infant will play near the cobra's den,
and the young child will put its hand into the viper's nest.

This is the infamous "lion and lamb" quote that appears to now involve a lamb and wolf. If you never read the passage you'd never know the difference in that it's crazy talk about peaceful animals, but this is in reference to the world peace of the messiah's kingdom to come and the animals represent political and spiritual entities. There was never a wolf with the lamb to my recollection and it was the wolf eating grass, not the lion.

Matthew 6:9-13 (Lord's Prayer)

9"This, then, is how you should pray:
" 'Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,

10 your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.

11 Give us today our daily bread.

12 And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.

13 And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.

Luke 11: 2-4

2And he said unto them, When ye pray, say, Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth.

3Give us day by day our daily bread.

4And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.

Here we have the Lord's prayer in both versions. It's notable that it now says debt instead of tresspass and "evil one" where most would remember just saying "evil".

There's no affirmation "for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever and ever. Amen." It totally doesn't exist.

2 Corinthians 11:8

8 I robbed other churches, taking wages of them, to do you(the church of Corinth) service. 

If I recall correctly Paul never referred to himself as a thief or confessed theft in his epistles. Of course the whole "Mandela" thing is about whether or not folks are in fact recalling shit correctly.

Matthew 21:1-3

1 And when they drew nigh unto Jerusalem, and were come to Bethphage, unto the mount of Olives, then sent Jesus two disciples, 

2Saying unto them, Go into the village over against you, and straightway ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her: loose them, and bring them unto me. 

3And if any man say ought unto you, ye shall say, The Lord hath need of them; and straightway he will send them. 

Here we have a narrative discrepancy in that there was "originally" only one ass and no colt in the palm Sunday story, yet there it is. Two asses for the price of one.

Luke 19:27

27But those mine enemies, which would not that I should reign over them, bring hither, and slay them before me.

The way this read was "shew (show) them before me". Jesus never called for murder and was quite the ardent pacifist to the death. This is just a sampling of the weirdness in the bible lately... but of course these passages were always this way surely...

That's it for now. These five barely scratch the surface of what folks are reporting in vast numbers as discrepancies in scripture. It's only going to get weirder from here on out and I suspect that a major schism is likely to happen over this shit. Folks do get touchy about their "holy" books after all.

Since I don't know everyone here well enough to get all of the facts out consider this thread open for others to tell tales, add details, or to write "corrections" of stories that are already told. The only rule is that you can't tell your OWN tale.

I'm starting with Q.G. but have other bits in mind for other folks to write up as I get  the chance. I need something unstructured to do and this seems like a fun way to get myself writing again as the days go by. I figure other folks might have some fun with getting "The Truth" out too.

There's no problem with contradictory stories or addendums. This is about half way between comic book and tabloid as I see it in my head.

The truest principle of mag8c, and thus of course the whole universe, is in conservation of energy. The greatest effect for the least effort is universally adopted by everything and by everyone, everytime.

So it will perhaps not shock you to hear that the final revolution in mqgihal thinking is yet another step even FURTHER away from "rigorous effort" all the way down until you actually Do Nothing to achieve MAXIMUM PRACTICAL EFFECT EVERY TIME!!

See the myopia of "Chaos Magick"(sic) lies not in the ideas of maiganigal efficiency or expanding conceptual boundaries, but in NOT TAKING THAT TO THE WALL and literally doing NOTHING to achieve EVERYTHING MADGRICK HAS TO OFFER with the sort of effortless grace that only discarding the concept of effort entirety from your metaphysical praxis can bring. They are, each and every last one of them, making suckers of themselves without a payoff. Fortunately Mu Magic can immediately be added to any form of mcagikral practice to immediately increase your potency and measurable levels of practical effect by 5.. 10... 492... even a bazillion gilliion fold depending only on how comfortable you are with actually doing NOTHING. This requires the ultimate in enlightenment so it may prove quite a bit harder to accomplish than in first appears.

Here's an example in situ. No sooner did I lay down on a cheap futon THAT I DON'T EVEN OWN to write this than by the power of Mu Magic I received a spontaneous phone call and got offered a job! Now no serious "Chaos Magickian"(sic) would ever seriously consider accepting that by doing no mardragick practices at all would the universe spontaneously offer them honest, gainful employment. Even if it DID occur to them never in a million lifetimes would they think to forsake their Easy St. "Magickal Path"(sic) to go actually WORK IT. They have to still at least nominally spend REAL TIME scribbling out sigils to forget and working the shaft for power, like little power-whore wannabes, when they could be doing so much less for many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many times the benefits for NO EFFORT WHATSOEVER GUARANTEED.

Now granted they still do WAY better than all those total L7 fools spending their precious time as a mortal studying celestial geometry, learning to pronounce the names of various entities before talking to them, and otherwise generally attempting to make a Real Science out of their otherwise perfectly good mathrgick like it's actually possible to do that. "Chaos Magickal"(sic) practices ARE a more efficient means to meaningful effect in that respect, but it's so much more effective to go full Mu.

Let me be clear here. Science REQUIRES you to do something to apparently achieve something. It's a measurable way to influence the cosmos. Mu Magic REQUIRES you to do nothing to apparently achieve nothing. It's THE immeasurable way to influence the cosmos by making no clear attempt to influence it at all. You can of course dedicate to both, but you must never get the two confused or you're doomed to start misusing words like "quantum" or attempting to cure kuru with crystalline mineral compounds and a tuning fork. It cannot be overstated that you MUST let your somethings be somethings and your nothings be nothings and not try swapping them around like some sort of sub-genius level mind might. Practice of Mu Magic is not without its dangers and looking like a damn fool is perhaps the very least of them!

Mu Magic Is The Only True M@gick

Stay tuned right here at the Forums of PrincipiaDiscordia.com In This Thread to witness the birth of the Final Revolution in mystical thought. But all of this writing has been a necessary concession I've had to make just to communicate this Reality Altering Concept and for the moment I must get back to my own practice of Mu Magic in order to recharge myself. I must say it's a true joy to be able to accomplish so much by doing absolutely nothing at all and I look forward to emanating this teaching by example as much as any other method.

Finally comes the turning point
A twisting time within us
Cold and hard and bitter
But hot while everything runs
Into the fallout

As the good old golden
Falls to the ironic iron
And eyes once met kindly
Find nothing but dim darkness
And a smirk

Could you believe the timing
And unwinding of our era
Was about a bitter little
Requital for jot and tittle
Long since forgot

What is history but mystery
Written in the bloody earth
And copied in dark ink
While scholars sit and link
Aftermath to aftermath

No surprise if gods betray
For as they always say
That's just how it is
Grow up or get buried
You're naive kid

Easy street always comes to an end
So let us not then foolishly pretend
That this was anything but an inevitability
Shall we


Take heart while bleeding out
Clear your mind of doubt
About what you could do
Would maybe have liked to
See done differently

That's all been handled now
We have left us only
This moment as these terribly
Hard times twist and shout
Silently inside us

So it was rotten apples
And cups of bitter tea
A final lunch with reality
And then one last screw
All over you

What of it wise spag
Did you think it true
This cup would pass you
Or the promised hard times
Miss their mark

Must be a nice dream
That bright lively pastel scene
Behind your eyes made real
Just before you weakly kneel
Atlas finally tiring

And you can never have it back
All that time you spent on slack
Let's not pretend we believe in guarantees
Shall we


Don't cry so very loudly
Others have their turns coming
Wouldn't want to spoil that
Moment when their rotten apples
Come around again

Just bitterly sob to God
Or "Bob" or Whoever Really
There's dignity in a plea
But don't expect a mercy
Just more silence

That's all they'll give you
All they have to give
All they ever were really
But the hard turn inside
That is reality

So too are those shitty
Rotten apples and bitter tea
Positively churning in your guts
And coming up rather suddenly
With bloody bile

And all the while you
Seem to have expected differently
Nobody ever gets it really
Not when She inevitably gives
You hard times

But could you would you take two
With all these hard times pushing through
Let's admit the warnings were written explicitly
Shall we



Now be a good spag
Hit you the cold floor
She'll show Herself the door
And leave you to your
Final thoughts alone

The pool of rotten apples
Bloody bile and bitter tea
Certainly will hold you close
And listen to you moan
And shudder alone

But you few chosen spags
So delicately betrayed to agony
Will find yourself not slayed
By hard times She gave
So very suddenly

You will rise from prone
To take a scabby knee
Hands in foul pool push
And rended flesh rise slowly
Heartless and cold

There will be no victory
Death grips you only loosely
And darkness finds no purchase
Upon those enduring hard times
And rotten apples

And though first steps be quite cold
Though bloody bile stains upon you hold
Let's not forget we chose this reality
Shall we

I'm opening this thread up to dump my bits and pieces of the stuff that I never told you guys. The story of "The Wizard" is long and complicated. I'm not all that good at being consistent about writing either. I have stuff in my head. I'm hoping some feedback and an occasional hand to hold/upside the head will help me push this all out. For now I shall begin with a short write up I did about the most horrible way to die known to a billion year old polygalactic society of explorer conquerors that only have fairly accurate records of the last 100 million or so.



Behold the terror that is the Chika Tika.

From: Unrelated notes on the the "chika-tika"

The Ha'chalika-tika are an abomination species that has no natural place in any biome based upon vertibrate carbon life. Their appearance is that of a large, fuzzy ball with big eyes and a wide mouth with pronounced lips and flat teeth for grinding its primary staple, living or rotted plant matter. Their coloration and pattern varies widely with each suitable to  the environment in which they are found. They possess two small arm appendages each equipped with webbed hands not unlike those of a terrestrial raccoon, but extremely strong and equipped with cat-like retractable claws at the ends of the finger and also extendable from the palms of the hands. These grant no fine manipulation, but do serve as very effective climbing, swimming, and grappling implements. Their only other appendage has the appearance of a thick, furry prehensile tail affixed to the posterior of their perfectly rounded cranio-thorax body. It is in fact a remarkably agile, muscular, and durable phallus and all chika-tika specimens are biological "males", approximately one in 20 specimens cannot reproduce and so are termed "females" though physiological and behavioral differences are non-existent. Overall chika-tikas are not physically imposing, particularly swift or stealthy, or inclined to traditionally violent behavior common to vertibrate species. Their profound danger and threat to biomes is entirely due to their reproductive methods and xeno-phillic and insatiable appetites as such.

The semen and other sexual excretions of the chika-tika are universally neurotoxic and in "males" profoundly mutagenic and universally fatal to the victim. The toxins produce a paralitic effect and unnatural euphoria not only capable of immobilizing a victim, but also inducing a neurotoxic fugue from which victims rarely recover, and never willingly. Cases in which victims have been exposed to discharges by "females" result in a form of permanent psychosis and fixation on re-exposure at any cost or potential risk. Victims finding themselves forcibly or incidentally denied the ability to go in search of more chika-tika fluids inevitably drop into a catatonic state and lose all interest in the external world or self maintenance until a chika-tika or signs of their presence are reintroduced to their environment, at which point a manic search for the stimulus begins and victims will universally seek contact with a presented live specimen with no apparent faculty of higher reason or instinct for personal survival.

Those exposed to even a miniscule amount of semen from a "male" chika-tika undergo precisely the same neurotoxic effects but also become a host for chika-tika embryos. The gametes in the semen are potentially able to enter any cell of an infected host and begin to form multiple sites of a cystic uterus and embryo visible within a greatly variable time interval dependant upon the victim species, environmental conditions, metabolic activity, and the volume of overall fluid exposure. Even the tiniest bit of direct skin or orifice exposure is sufficient to induce the cellular  impregnation and ultimately suicidal chika-tika seeking behavior. In cases where large volumes of semen are involved from multiple chika-tika specimens the rate of biological development seen in the embryos increases dramatically and has been known to induce the "hatching" phase within one Continuum Constant Standard Interval or less. Once exposed there is no known cure and victims will go to inordinate lengths to preserve themselves as the embryos develop.

This behavior is in part how this abomination's name was derived, "Ha'chalika-tika" loosely translates to "Do not touch my babies" and victims of the first known encounter with them would frequently shout this whenever they felt themselves under the slightest personal threat before attempting to flee to the closest area where more of these abominations might seemingly be found. In the late stages of the incubation the victim rarely has any mental faculty left and less biological coherence as all functions of mind and body bend to fuel the embryonic growth even well past the point where catabolic degradation should have slain the victims. The shorthand moniker "chika-tika" means simply "the babies" and is recorded to be the only words uttered incessantly by late-stage victims in metabolic fugue.

Chika-tikas emerge in numbers directly proportional to the size of the initial victim. A terrestrial dog might yield 1 or perhaps 2, an adult elephant several dozen. They emerge fully capable of all survival and reproductive functions. They inevitably destroy all vertibrate life on a planet and consume all available vegetable matter over time. They have remarkable environmental tolerances of temperature and no known pathogens can infect them. Contact is explicitly forbidden and any sighting of chika-tikas on any world is grounds for the destruction of that world's entire biome to prevent the possibility of incidental or deliberate transfer between worlds or contamination of the Continuum.

See also chika sickness, chika-soul psychosis.

Turn It Off

Fucking stop it right now. Stop "The Feed", your precious tweetings and insta-whatevers, THAT FUCKING GLOWBOX  POCKET-MONSTER, ALL OF IT!

Just shut it down. Pull the plugs and batteries. Drop that shit in a hole and WALK AWAY!!

You can walk away can't you? Those things are just nice, super-duper modern conveniences RIGHT? They're EMPOWERING YOU. Making you a GOD, and all from your easy chair right? YOU GOT THIS!

You DO get it right? You're not just some "pleb on the street". You're putting the "king" in F U C "K I N G"  R O Y A L T Y with your techy understandings and your wiki-nets on the inter-tube and you-vids AIN'TCHA? Got no problems a battery charger can't fix. Never got lost. Always got delivery food. Never needed to look someone in THE FACE and lie. Never got sick or bled for longer than it takes to look up how to bandaids your ouchie or web an MD up. Never gonna worry about being afraid of THE DARK outside in them IRLs out there.

Not you. Never ever you. You got POWER AND NO WAITING!
You got your divine fucking LICENCE right there on your laptops and internetted goddamn toothbrush. You even get TO FUCK whenevs, whatevs, howevs... ALL THAT EVS IS YOURS! Just put a post in the Tinders or a fucklist. Easy AND convenient without ever even having to actually BE what you say,
not for too long anyway.

I'M HERE TO TELL YOU THAT YOU GOT TO GIVE IT UP! YOUR BRAIN GOT THE BEETUS!! YOUR HEART NEEDS AT LEAST 4 BARS TO FUNCTION!!!

WHO TOLD YOU THIS WAS EVER FOR YOU!? All this newfangled googles and wiki-dos and the chat-chan must have just up and manifested to service your HIGH-END HEINDER HUH? Got a powder button for that thing somewhere in your IoTs of things?

DO YA?

Got an android for that APPSWIPE!!???

Turn it all off then if it's just a thing in your hands, fit to serve.

Go ON GIVE IT UP! Put them toys away.
GO DO OTHER THINGS!! FIND THE PLUGS AND TUBES AND PULL THEM OUT UNTIL IT DIES IF YOU'RE SO DAMN STRONG THEN.
I'll wait.

..... anytime now.

Not your idea of doable huh? Crazy talk? Just not feedsable or such?
Don't need to do what I say because it's ALL GOOD?

Sure don't look too good from here, you being all tied in with nowhere to go like that.

Not my problem though.

I told you. What more do you need, a brick through the window? Maybe just a fried squirrel in the powerbox for your block?

Might just save your life.

Let me put it another way.

TURN IT OFF
OR
YOU
WILL
DIE.

Because someday you'll realize too late that in all that shit coming down your feed-tubes not one bit of it helped you live. Never was for you. Never had a moment to spare that you didn't give up to it. Never helped you remember shit, just held your notes and cloud-bits... for now.

ONE DAY..

Mark this down in INK

ONE DAY YOUR TIME, YOUR LUCK, OR YOUR MONEY WILL RUN DRY ON YOU.

And the one universal law of our reality will set in hard.
And the one thing you needed to know will come clear.
And the sign at the end of that bright light tunnel reads:

NO REFUNDS,
SCHMUCK

So turn it all off,
while you still got time.

https://www.ornl.gov/news/nano-spike-catalysts-convert-carbon-dioxide-directly-ethanol

Your car will one day produce your drink from the exhaust and drive FOR you just about anywhere you please. WOW! Maybe this could even make "carbon capture" technology not just a viable expense, but a means to retain a valuable by-product. This is a Game Changer.

Not sure if we're hosting this, but we should be.
Q.G. this Eris makes me think about you in spirit.

I'm not even a third through the book and I already want to adapt a stage AND screenplay.

Written by Chambers, author of The King In Yellow
Published in '23
Folks named many babies after this Eris Oddell that year.
Tapered off fast, but I remember hear this in the thread I vaguely recall led to my dl of the ATTACHED PDF!!

It's ALL far past copyright lapse!

I'm going to finish when I can, but folks need to know now.

There is a quiet fury in me
A RAGE that no page can contain
Nor meter explain

Shall I, in vain,
Try to comfort
The inconsolable?

Seek to set right a vessel     
When I am already adrift
And fighting still,
Shall I order stillness?

BE STILL!!!!!

Ah shit,
The Storm
Didn't listen
Big surprise

Still... at least I'm
Not That Guy

Is that the plan?
Wait for The Man
To come On back
And tell the sky
what to fucking DO!?

I think I'm through
WITH FUCKING WAITING!!

As friends die
As Trumps blow
As Earth fracks
And MORE BOMBS GET MADE
And MORE CHILDREN DIE

So cowards get to snort blow
WAAAY up on high?

Shall I golf clap?

SORRY
MY ARMS ARE BUSY
DESPERATELY KEEPING ME AFLOAT!!

I COULD USE A HAND, MAN!!!
WE ALL FUCKING COULD!!

No?.. Oh. Well then.

You must be really


Fucking busy



Up there





Sorry to
Bother You





Guess I'll just go ahead and handle it then.
Lose my number
Forget my name
If You can
Thanks

Clang-bok the elf sat quietly in the small, well monitored briefing room it had been deposited in not very long after finally regaining consciousness. It was still wearing the tattered remains of its shupengraft, or worksuit, and its name was still visible upon a thick leather shoulder patch on its left side. It had been given a blue thermal blanket by one of the medical officers. It was wrapped tightly around the elf's eerily still form settled on top of a comfortable chair in the corner. The waifish creature had not once relaxed it's surprisingly strong grip on the thing even after passing out in the evacuation craft upon looking out of a window and seeing...
well.. that's CLASSIFIED.

Lets just say it seems the altitude hadn't agreed with the poor creature's already highly distressed system, and it had simply fainted. Elves don't actually sleep naturally and when their systems are sufficiently shocked to cause unconsciousness it can last for quite some time. They're engineered to run not recover, if you follow. Clang-bok was apparently in excellent condition for all that it had been through, but had in fact been unconscious for several days since arrival.

The quite literally shell-shocked elf had been readily compliant with the staff upon awaking but otherwise totally unresponsive. It hadn't even touched the now cold coffee on the side table next to it. Elves absolutely LOVE coffee. It just wasn't natural.

Sargent Thaddeus "Brax" Braxton of the 5th Onerian Investigative Corps had precious little sympathy in his heart to give but could not help but shave a thin sliver off of his remaining supply for the wretched creature in the room on his monitor readout. The devestation had been total. The DIMSAT images alone were enough to say that definitively. A flyover scan order had been issued immediately after an unprecedented security breach had occurred in some system or another well above his pay grade, and apparently he was not in the need to know club.

Whatever it was it had left a non-radioactive crater OF GLASS just over three miles in diameter and nearly a third of that overlapped roughly half of the sprawling complex that had been "Santa's Werkershoppe", as it appears in all legal documents. Sgt. Brax had a feeling that the VERY neat and cleanly executed kill zones smacked of truly inhuman precision. The pattern of found remains indicated that the elves in the shop complex had begun to flee away from the cataclysmic impact of... whatever that was. The surviving elves remaining in the compound were immediately afterward met and systematically wiped out by a focused and VERY well armed strike force of some sort. As far as anyone knows Clang-bok is the only survivor.

The analysis done so far seems to indicate the possibly of three sweep teams each bearing at least one flamethrower firing an unknown compound hot enough to powder concrete and some form of air support capable of helicopter like strafe patterns. Vexingly all of the munition fragments so far recovered matched no known manufacturer and apparently incorporate several novel alloys. The lab said that they would let Brax know as soon as they know what exactly.

Right now even that bloody conundrum was on the back burner. Sgt Brax needed to get poor Clang-bok talking. Clang-bok had been found in an area on the other side of the bizarre "impact zone they won't talk about" thing. It had managed to stay warm by staying just close enough to the cooling glass that it hadn't frozen to death, as happens VERY swiftly to elves exposed to polar temperatures. Not very far away just outside of the blast zone a concealed security cabin was found with its door hanging wide open. Santa Claus, A FUCKING GREATER ICONIC ENTITY, had been found face down in the snow about a dozen paces from the cabin, stone dead.

The wound was some sort of horrible burn through the back of his head, dead center and nearly 2/3 through. They had him on ice in the lab pending a godawful lot of international and poly-dimensional paperwork to perform a full autopsy.  The only tracks that could be found were this fucking elf and the Jolly Man himself. Brax just didn't see how the elf could have even thought to do it, much less how it could do THAT. Elves don't do violence, or even complain much, as a rule. It's just not in their nature. They certainly don't slay immortal beings like dogs in their own back yard.

Brax drank his coffee down and poured another before reluctantly reaching for his DIMSAT phone. He was going to have to call in a special favor from that damned "Wizard" again. "Maybe the crazy fucker can get Clang-bok here to open up or knows someone who can." Brax muttered under his breath as he heard the line go through the usual handshake and encryption cycles. "Yeah" he thought, "Or maybe he'll just fuck everything up on the biggest and most clandestine investigation in the Onarian Investigative Corps' entire history, maybe ever.

Sargent Thaddeus Braxton sighed very heavily as the DIMSAT finally opened up to a phone ringing.
It wasn't even fucking Thanksgiving yet.

I'm not going to waste 50 pages establishin my mental peen like your various famn Germans philosophers, no. I'm telling you that this whole assumption about whether or not god is real or whether The Soul is shite we made up along the way to becoming what we're currently being is a wast of A Good Time!
You DO wan teh be serious anout having A Good Time don't ya?  Didn't we build the whole civilization racket around ensuring A Good Time for ourselves and future generations eh? There's your damn moral axis!! Does this or does this not ensure that all shall have A Good Time? That's the only truly relevant question we should be asking as we sit here on out lawn chairs and suck down beverages laden with agreeable bacterial excretions while hurtling though the void.

See problem is there's a whole lot of folks out there that believes in the lie that they can have A Better Time if only they dispense with concerns to the costs to themselves,  othets, and the future! Who the hell ever said "OH, You can just go on and do that."? HUH? Fuckin' assholes is what. Assholes that swallow worse things than LIES, letme tell ya!!

A Good Time is Fuckin sir as hell nor guaranteed just by happening to drop onto the good Earth. If anything can be absolutely guaranteed herr o  our sweet world it's that things can always get shittier. So what!? The spinning atons and molecules in your goddam cells represent if aught else a signal that managed to overcome the void of time and space to bellyache about your damn  sense of purpose or God or whatever Ism you fret with.

You could be having A Good Time right now if you could just stop being so fussy about the things is all I'm saying!!


Goodnight, I'm going to be paying me heavy for A Good Time come
morning.
Hail Eris.
I guess.

Just posted this one in Discordian Society 2015 FB group. Might as well more stably mirror here. I'll add more by and by as those darn FOIA requests come due. Hope all yalls enjoy!


The Wizard Joseph's Golden Apple Potion

Elements of the Operation:
1 Ltr of sour mix
1 Lb of fine clover honey
1 bottle of The Knot 100 proof Irish whiskey
1-5  1 Oz bottles or measured shots of Fireball cinnamon whiskey
Large supply of Manzanita Sol apple soda or other, more authentic, Mexican apple soda equivalent to a 12 pack
1 empty 2 Litr bottle.

Step 1:
In large sauce pan heat sour mix and honey, stirring constantly, until honey is fully  dissolved, DO NOT boil. Allow to cool until no longer steaming by removing from heat and continuing to stir. Pour cooled mixture into 2 Liter bottle and add The Knot and then add Fireball to taste, none is fine. Fireball makes it stronger of alcoholic content and flavor, but cinnamon whiskey is not for everyone. Contents of bottle should be vigorously shaken for aeration proir to serving if you don't have a shaker for step 2

Step 2:
Add solid ice cubes and liquor mix to shaker glass, about 2 oz per serving.
Add about 3-4 oz apple soda per serving, cap and shake vigorously for about 8 seconds while holding cap down firmly.

Set down shaker on table and ease pressure off the cap, cap should pop off gently and readily or you used too much or too little soda respectively.

Pour into Collins glass over hollowed bar ice or solid cubes, NOT crushed ice.

Recipe serves appx 24-30 people. At full "5x cin strength" each is about a shot or beer and a half by alcoholic content, but the honey seems to speed alcohol uptake. Best to savor, but should not rough the stomach if you desire a bender unless you are sensitive to cinnamon.

Makes for a happy, giggly drunk and honey taste lingers on lips.

You're welcome! 

In my guts I know why I woke depressed and stayed so. I get terse when depressed and was fortunate not to have to deal with people much during my work day. Even now I'm in a very dark mood, joyless and angry. I can still feel, it's not a total eclipse, but there's been a very bad moon risen over me today. This evening, about a hour before I went home, I found out about the college shooting in Oregon late this morning.

Something snapped.

Shootings are the
new normal.

This cannot stand.

Somehow in my heart,
I already knew.

I don't care who chooses to believe me anymore than I care who may disbelieve. By all accounts I've seen so far the shooting started right around the time I was just waking for work. I almost never remember my dreams from deep slumber in terms of particular details, but sometimes I feel the last bits of my dreams as I wake. I remember feeling as though something had been kept from me or like a bunch of "people" had crowded in front of something I needed to see. There was a distinct sense of manipulation or betrayal, and desperate anger.

I remember feeling a dire urgency and although I didn't really have the time I thought about diving back into sleep. Sometimes I can pick back up this way and even return some memory from the interrupted dream. Instead I chalked the half rembered feeling up to thinking about my past while going to sleep in preparation for writing more of it this weekend. I figured so for most of the day. I also figured the depression was a similar reaction, but this felt different.
It rankled.
It still does.
It has both,
teeth AND legs.

I've got the basic story down as well as a fairly detailed Yahoo article can do, and likewise am still finding things out. I'm not "here" to worry about the deets right now.

No.
There will be a season for
that and more.

Right now this is about the trend I'm seeing and what it represents.

I copied the attached pic from Yahoo. It's going everywhere right now anyway and figure they wouldn't mind me borrowing it to make my non-profit point.

The trend is higher highs and higher lows quarter over quarter and the recent uptick indicates a terribly bloody bull market indeed. Moloch has learned to franchise and it's opening more new wounds every year. Schools would be what you might call tempting targets, neh? I wonder whose dollars are riding this bull. I do.

All mystic bullshit aside, it's too much blood for the market to ultimately bear and MUST BE STOPPED.

But how? The hordes of shrieking, egotistical and terrified monkeys taking various sides in the inevitable shitstorms to come are now a major part of the problem, and they have cash! LOTS OF CASH IN A POLITICAL WAR-ZONE AND A NEED TO BE RIGHT!!

Actually stopping the trend is impossible without a serious market intervention. But how? What is driving this freak storm up to such heights? How can we examine and understand the forces at work in an engine while it's already malfunctioning and running wild?

Wanna lose a hand?
Heads are popular
lately..
Thanks "ISIS"!

Maybe it's just me,
but could it be the sea
of blood we've wrought
elsewhere coming home?

It's all bound to return
eventually.

No time to think about that shit now though! Oh no! There's no plug to pull, no emergency stop switch, no fire suppression or pressure vents, and it would seem the Boss' message box is full.

I only know that
if I want there to
be No More;
I must Know More.

Even if I can't figure out how to stop it I have to try.

There must be
NO MORE!!
OR KILL ME!!!

Though,
should any try,
do not fail.
I hate being
interrupted
when I'm busy,
and it seems
I've been quite mad
all day.

Apocrypha Discordia
A collection of mythological rumors and and historical asides that either expand upon the otherwise unmentioned details of a given story or claim special knowledge of an historic event "left out of the history books".

The annals of Dustrael, last of the watchers would qualify. AD may be a worthy fictitious reference book for my own story lines. It might also make a fun project proposal to pitch to PD.com


Sample story from:
The Annals of Dustrael,
Last of The Motherfukkin' Grigori (sic)

The Real Story: Adonis
Section 1

Now some of the few monkeys on this grubby mudball that even know the name of Adonis know at least one actual fact about the fool. He was really pretty looking.  He was SO damn fine that even the goddesses just had to check him out, like all the time. Yes, pretty he was. He was so pretty that Aphrodite, Miss Thang herself, went and started seeing him like ALL the time. This got to be a problem because all the other goddesses started slackin' and jaw jackin' on about how good he was lookin' and how Aphrodite was always hogging up all his face time AND all his below the waist time. Now Aphrodite ain't really into sharing, not part of a goddess' upbringing.

The goddesses were all so obsessed that the male gods weren't getting any at all, not Ares, not Hades, definitely not Hephaestius' gimpy ass (sic again..). Even big daddy Zeus noticed that Hera was spending an awful lot more time chatting with the other goddesses and taking long trips into the countryside below Olympus. This suited Zeus just fine mostly. Zeus always gets his and now he didn't have to sneak around as much. Problem was all the male Gods were getting uptight and ornery as fuck, especially grump-ass Hades and that hot headed little snot Ares. Both of them just HATED Adonis. Ares hated him because Aphrodite had been his main squeeze, and now wouldn't stop playing monkey-stick with Adonis. Hades hated him maybe more because he had to listen to Persephone goin' on and on about him anytime she was in Tartarus, about half a year at a time.

Thing is, Adonis might have been pretty, for sure now, but what most who maybe heard of him didn't bother to look up was that he was also a product of incest. His mama, Myrrah, had tricked her daddy into getting with her during a festival by swapping with a village girl that was supposed to be her daddy's "festival girl".  He had partied so hard that he had had no idea who he was with by evening. Man, that dude could put em' away. Good times!

Anyways, so Adonis was what you might call real, real special. Just wasn't nobody manning the walls, if you follow me. Sweet guy though, he was a real people person at heart.

*background voice of Adonis, absurdly enthusiastic* "Adooonis!! I like helping!!!"

All Adonis really had was his looks and one other redeeming virtue.  I haven't used the word elephantine in a sentence for a while so we'll just describe it like that. Adonnis' primary redeeming virtue was elephantine, and well cherished by Aphrodite. Meaningful conversation was never really her thing anyway.

So the story you can go read varies but here's the gist of how it really went. Adonis liked to hunt. He wasn't good at it; nobody wanted to bring him with them.

*Adonis again, loud as fuck* "I see it! I see the stag! I'll get it! Adooonis!!"

Now most times this meant he and Aphrodite would go out and he'd hunt small game with a sport bow or sling, still couldn't hit the bottom of a canyon if he jumped in. Aphrodite would humor him and tag along, keeping him safe and letting him find game she killed for him and hid. He was ALWAYS far more enthusiastic after a good "hunt", so this became a very regular thing. It went on like this for quite some time in fact. Word got around. Eventually plans got laid to put an end to the situation.

The Real Story: Adonis
Section 2

For time out of mind Eris, we all just used to call her Woe back then, had grown to REALLY hate Aphrodite and just loved fucking with her mind at every opportunity. Oh and she was ruthless! Mmmm... so ruthless. Pretty much any time Aphrodite took a mortal lover Eris would be ready, behind the bar, in the alley, at home, any given stable really, to jump that mortal really quiet like and show 'em the good stuff. For all her looks and power Aphrodite wasn't the best lay ever, Eris was.
HAND TO THE LAWD I SWEAR IT'S THE TRUTH!

Eris would turn that monkey inside out on the sly every time, and leave Aphrodite wondering why they always seemed to "break" after a while and start staring vacantly at nothing, not even seeming to see her. Eris was always happy to suggest, when Aphrodite inevitably came by to gossip, that she just needed to find one that was more lively. This had continued for ages and had ruined kings, priests, adventurers, stable boys, particularly attractive beggars, and even a philosopher or two.

When Adonis' turn inevitably came Eris looked that silly mortal in the eye and just couldn't do it, elephantine virtue or not.  He was just too innocent. Truth was he was just what that vacuous Aphrodite needed really.

Then crafty goddess Eris saw a use for his vacant enthusiasm that would be far more rewarding than the same old games. She patted him on the head and told him she had heard what a great hunter he was and that she was very pleased to finally meet him after all the good things Aphrodite had said about him. She said that if he could keep it a secret that she'd tell him what Aphrodite said she had always wanted.

*Adonis trying to be secretive and "quiet"* "I can be quiet! I keep secrets! III'm Adooo-" *claping sound, voice cuts off*

Eris told the pretty, silly monkey that Aphrodite had always wanted him to surprise her with a big trophy animal, but didn't want to pressure him, and that he had to be quiet about it, and never ever say anything, or her feelings might be hurt because she had told Eris in private.  Eris was sure he'd get a chance one day though and he should keep hunting with Aphrodite, until he could go and find big game one day, like the other men do. Then good old Woe put a finger across his lips and said "SHHH!", and Adonis nodded vigorously.




Now the rest of the story is well documented, but there's a few deets missing. I'll just fill them in as well as I can later, but don't got all night.
Shahrazahd yalls! I'll be back another night real soon. - Dustrael

If I didn't respect you,
I would not correct you,
I would just leave you,
To stay on you knees,
Down in your own derp.

Oh hell what now?
Want me to bow,
and lick the boot,
or else you'll shoot?
Shoot then, fuck you!
Rather eat a bullet
than bow to you,
bully.

OH so you think it's LIKE THAT huh!? Well I barely got time to tell you this shit, but YOU'RE FUCKING WRONG!!

I've NEVER heard some foolass SHIT like that pour out someone's musty ass cake-eater before!  So you're just going to put some shit like THAT up on the INTERNET and not expect to be PUT CORRECT?? EVERYBODY with ahalfa workin' brain knows how ALL that shit ain't real fool, and now you're gonna bring it ALL up in here huh? YOU RETARDED, FINGERLICKING SHIT-KNUCKLE!!

FIRSTLY let me clear some a that bullshit that you just said up for you.

Your english ain't even any good. I CAN FIX THAT!!!
I'll cross your eyes and dot your teeths out for ya!
How about THAT?!?

WHAT? You think you can SCIENCE! HA!! Here's a pack of Occam's razors. Go FUCK YOURSELF as simply as possible with 'em!
GO STAND OVER A FLOOR DRAIN FIRST I DON'T WANT YOUR WRONGNESS ALLOVER MY CARPET!!!

Even IF there was some MISSPELT, MAJICAL fuckin' way that that shit could be rite you'd fuck it up worse than Crowley's heroin habit. You think you can hide behind some half-ass THELEMA or some shit and it's ALL ok no matter what shit you said, huh? BITCH!!!!! Put YOUR BALLS up ON the ALTAR and SAY THAT SHIT AGAIN!!...  Didn't THINK so punk.

OH WHAT? You mad? Gonna tear up and SWING!? WELL SWING THEN FOOL!!! I ain't afraid of a chump with two left feet AND saying some wrong shit. IMA take a half step over you while you trip over your feet WORSE than your tongue! Bet you NEED to back your BULLSHIT with your pussyass WANNABE "oh but people like me have fought for this" CRAP!! You CLEARLY ain't NEVER had a real fight in you life, go home.

Your shit isn't even worth my time.

So there's this game that has a fairly modest but fanatical following out in the gamerculture called Warhammer 40k. Set in the year 40,000, humanity lives in all corners of the galaxy and has a central government of sorts on the world of Holy Terra. That would be Earth after several apocalypses, failed petty interstellar empires, and colonization attempts. Then something like the year 30,000 or so a hyper-human perfect being stepped up from the population of Earth, unified the techno-barbarian tribes, re established a peace with the Martian colony, and ultimately began the impossible task of establishing a unified Galactic Empire of Humanity. He is known only as the Emperor in all established records of the setting and was both the best and worst thing that ever happened to humanity.

To make a long, epicly styled, and marvelous story short, The Emperor is betrayed by one of his clone-generals and the Empire nearly falls to the forces of Chaos. I do not mean nice, cutesy chaos either. Raw forces of sentient corruption and madness that hunger beyond the walls of spacetime. The kind that make you eat your family for kicks and burn whole worlds to test a new toy.

The corrupted general is defeated but the Emperor is mostly slain also after the cataclysmic final battle. He had by this point long since ushered in a Platinum Age, you could say, as marvels of technology and psionic power beyond imagining called the Golden Throne allowed his spirit to cling to his mostly dead body and produce a beacon on Holy Terra called the Astronomican. This beacon is a guide to all ships traveling through the Warp to reach other worlds of the still enduring,  but stunted, Imperium of Man.

I won't take up the whole intro with explanation of the setting. There's A LOT. But I'm setting up this thread for general discussion of the game and the story. If you're a noob to 40k feel free to ask something if you didn't understand the stuff you're about to hear. READ THE THREAD FIRST PLEASE as the topic will develop Emperor knows where and your question may well have already been covered.

I would very much like to avoid the minutiae of game mechanics, but won't care too much if it's relevant to what's being talked about.  I just don't want to get bogged down too much by it.

I wonder if God's thought
just before saying 'Let there be light.'
might not have been
something like
'Damn man, THIS is really going to hurt'  ...

If God is
OMniscient
then clearly God
is acquainted with pain
and horror
more intimately
than even is
humanity.
By far.

So the workshop,
and 'assistants' that God made
for making and molding
folding and holding
the material universe
as we know it,

what might be called heaven and angels,
existed in a painless way

before the fall,

where all
experienced pain

and some,
the unvictorious,

left to live in a partition
on the C:osmic drive
made to contain the pain
for now,
and called hell
by some.

And humanity got caught up
in this somehow also doomed
to unfamiliar suffering
and grim mortality
allegedly.

I think
we were always mortal
in body

for as long as our best science can make of it,

but that before the fall of man
our souls were developing
peacefully
if in slow agony
and not in some
contrived contention.

If before
all that fall
there was no suffering for the angels
then I think God must have been
holding out on them
from the Beginning.

It was not for them
to know
or endure,
yet for man
I think strife natural
a critical if oft
criticized development,

both an incentive
and test of sorts,

in the bio-evolutionary
and also spiritual sense.

And here was the danger.
This was a first for the Earth project team.

The Telos Foundation
Dedicated to eradicating E.D.S. (Existential Despair Syndrome)

Telos cares.

Before you make the only life decision that can't be learned from.
Talk to Telos.

Before your suffering overloads your will and you decide to ultimately kick back, relax, and end your days with a few bleach coladas.
Give Telos a call. There's always a better drink to be had.

If you're contemplating jumping into the woodchipper at work because your family could do quite well on the insurance settlement and the bastards never do put up the safety rail.
Let Telos be your helper. We can help you understand how to send photos to O.S.H.A.

If the endless and meaningless dance of folly and flesh that passes for your fellow humans has you considering a mass murder spree and inevitable running mutual manhunt that would make I.S.I.S. cream its pants and possibly even start getting truly creative.

Tell Telos all about it. If nothing is impossible anything can be forgiven, even stupid. Patience and Grace are essential virtues; Telos can show you all of the best lesser evils.

E.D.S. is a real thing.

It often tragically wastes lives and has untold economic consequences for both the health care and junkfood markets.

We at The Telos Foundation have our entire beings focused on only one singular goal.
E.D.S. will be eliminated from the human experience.

Though this brazen goal may rightly smack of madness to the reasoning person we at Telos understand the critical need for nonsense weapons to fight a nonsense war.

Existential Despair does not reason.
Existential Despair does not compromise.
Existential Despair does not give up it's assault on humanity wherever it can find even shallow purchase in our lives.
To truly achieve it's founding goal against an implacable adversary Telos has no option but to commit totally.

As it stands that the current protectionist legal structures prevent Telos from monitoring for E.D.S. and eradicating it in homes, public and private offices, and various throughfares Telos must rely on YOU to know the myriad signs of E.D.S. and reach out to us.
We exist to help, and we need your help.

Signs of advanced, dangerous E.D.S. may include, but are not limited in any way to:

Lengthy instances of staring at the wall, especially if characterized by low growls, eye twitching or rolling, or unacknowledged incontinence

Obsession with weapons and other deadly objects including excessive cleaning of or going to bed with said objects
(BE ADVISED: these may appear to be ordinary objects at first glance)

The appearance of holding back tears of rage, with possible hand clenching, oral foaming, and shaking
(this may be especially apparent while discussing "hot button" topics such as work, family troubles, romantic interests, politics, the environment, economics, faith, or any form of sport, gambling, or ontology)

Early signs may include excessive interest in books, games, television or any other immersive media in an attempt "to drown out the baleful din of this blighted world"
(sic)

If you still hold to your surely reasonable doubts The Telos Foundation invites you to watch this short clip from the ground breaking film
"Full Metal Jacket"
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6hkNuykz2RE

The 2 prior videos in the "Gomer Pyle" series demonstrate the incredible effort that was put into treatment but, as the video in the link shows, ultimately the final attempt by the Sargent to reason with the poor man proved a tragic, preventable folly.

Do not allow the inevitable spread of E.D.S. to continue unopposed.
Work with Telos to put an end to the waste, without wasting yourself.


This message commissioned by The Telos Foundation

Telos, we will never stop helping
No matter what
Ever








Just something from my archive before I crash. Worked until 8 today and going in again at 5:30 tomorrow morning. I do things for these people and the cash that even God wouldn't ask of me.

Here is my most interesting current project involving Eris. It's all in one lump as I wrote it with a few notes from a friend in double parentheses. This one I also started writing spontaneously as the story hit my brain. The difficult part for me has been not the story but my attempt at expression. It fourth part is incomplete and there is a fifth needed to close the story.

I hope you folks enjoy!

So my job is a giant bucket of mouldering dicks that I appearantly must chew down like they're bratwurst while smiling and ensuring everyone that they are just de-lightful.

I can't even discuss openly the problems that I have with my work place with my own coworkers. I was just repremanded by some admin person for speaking to a couple guys working the cafeteria line about how the hospital is, once yet again, without needed linen. After days of short supply. "Customers could hear" she said.  Like she was quoting scripture I clearly needed in my life. I said "I'm sorry. I guess earnesty has it's drawbacks" I'm reasonably sure emails will be sent for that second bit.
The cafeteria guys asked ME. There were no customers around.  Just an eavesdropping fuckwit.

It's upsetting to me to see an organization with its head so totally shoved up ass that it can't see any problem with the fact that it's totally blind.

The view must be marvelous in there.
They know what's going on.
There are open door policies.

If there was a problem it would be brought up, right?
Except in conversation with co-workers of course. Can't have that. People could hear. Folks might make informed decisions that do not benefit the hospital. It's about what's good for the business.  There's bratwurst available in the cafeteria today.

No for real... $3.60, top quality, excellent flavor!

When I first showed up here at PD I had basically just decided to dive in and see what would come of it. I had a head full of preconceived ideas about Discordianism, that mainly proved WRONG, and a heart full of agendas that have since proven unworkable or that I need much greater maturity to enact. And some few that I realized were BAD IDEAS, thanks to this place and it's denizens, even if I could get them off the ground. 

Moreover I was in the throes. The Goddess Eris had really worked me over good. My head was quite firmly wedged twixt my butt cheeks but not totally up my ass. She's such a peach. These days I feel I've extricated myself, but still stand as a bit of a shithead.

I portrayed myself as what I imagined myself or hoped to be, not what I am. I won't call this a mistake anymore than I would call puking at a wild party a mistake.  I had the poison in me, did it to myself.  Had I missed the metaphorical bucket THAT could have been tragic. For me. Just another day at the bus stop for the regulars here.

There's a lot that I've learned about the folks here just by reading what's been shared. I have not truly reciprocated much to date and have no wish to just be some creeper that pops in and out.
So here's who I am.
I'm a dude from Wisconsin. I'm the product of multiple improbable circumstances wrapped up in a plain paper bag.

My mom descended from a long line of  mostly Irish trash and suffered a shattered home, several tragic deaths, and much abuse before being taken in by very loving, if somewhat ignorant, Iowa Baptist foster parents. I have many scattered cousins and half or full aunts and uncles all over the country on her side. I'm not very close with most.

My dad was born to a Roman Protestant Mason father (figure THAT one out)  and a nondenominational Sicilian mother(a match ONLY in America) that had been excommunicated from the Catholic Church for marrying a sonofabitch and shortly after deciding to divorce him to save herself. She moved from Jersey to Wisconsin where they met. My dad's parents stayed together until Death kept his appointments. It was not peaceful or easy, but it was familia. A big one, boomer generation style.

My folks raised me and my 2 younger brothers, 18 months and 3.5 years younger, as well as they could. It is said that parenting is the last great profession left exclusively to amateurs. They did their best to keep up with the Joneses in boomer fashion and raise nice little super babies. It didn't last long, but in our early years my brothers and I got better education than most by far.

I was weaned on classical music, baby books on anatomy and science, the B.I.B.L.E. and also folklore from around the world read to me as a child by my dad. My folks had purchased a huge encyclopedic set for the purpose long since lost. I got as much Childe Roland, Jack the Giant Killer, and Japanese or African fables as I did David and Goliath etc.

I could identify what season from Vivaldi's Four Seasons was playing in kindergarten. I knew my larynx from my esophagus, and that skin was called a dermis. I knew not to run widdershins around a church three times unless you really meant it. I knew God loved me and everyone and that He was down for some serious giant slaying.
My parents had lovingly built a freak and I had trouble as soon as I had to mix with the genpop in public school.

More later... as I can.

I'd like to open up a thread on the greatly expanded powers of expression that this new interface format we all use here can make possible. The thread is inspired by the Ted Talk given by a fellow named Aaron Koblin.
Here's the Ted Talk.

http://www.ted.com/talks/aaron_koblin.html?source=facebook#.UFqHcOJWnR1.facebook

This was brought to my attention from a wise old acquaintance of mine and friend of my mother. It is still so wondrous and strange to me to be living in times that allow for such swift and free exchange of ideas!

I want to encourage ranting and emphasize artistic depictions made possible or greatly enhanced by information and other technological advances.

In the TT Mr. Koblin showcases several projects, but one of them took my breath away and gave me a solid bone chill.

Here's a link to the most direct result of the project.
http://www.thejohnnycashproject.com/#/explore/TopRated

It's a video with many many frames submitted by the "masses." We need to abolish that fool-ass moniker.
It's thousands of thousands of thousands of souls all full of image and wonderment. Nothing less, swallow your jadedness and coffee and deal with it!

If we can find means to encourage creativity and growth, if we can find means to truly interconnect and collaborate without referencing the malware softwired in our heads, then we will see an explosion of creative art and will that will make the current era of the internet and it's achievements seem like the warm-up of the grandest symphony ever heard by man.

If we fail to enthrall and enlighten the jerks sitting in the back with gasoline and matches, however, it's going to be fire in the theatre. I suspect even that can be contained, and the show will still go on.

This is some funny shit.  Real long song called "Trapped In The Drive-Thru" I been sick all day and it just perked my day right up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmGVYki-oyQ

[Touched By A Goddess]

The following is s short story from the material that I plan to use for business purposes. It's a rough draft and I hope to eventually make it into a short still-motion video. A format I call Stillies.^{TM no really TM} If you happen to like it enough to share I'm OK with that as long as it's credited to The Wizard Joseph and a link is provided to PrincipiaDiscordia.com. If you don't like it I'm sorry, but it's the best I and my muse can manage right now.  It has been heavily influenced by some of the information I've come across here and everyone here has my deepest thanks for their influence.

Touched By A Goddess


Things can get pretty lonely here in Root City.  Every day slips into the next and the next differentiated only by the number
of gunshots I think I hear each night and their proximity. The people have no time for a common single white male of
unexceptional looks and meager pocket book.  I decided to take out an ad on Spagslist.com to see if I could meet someone,
anyone, that would respond well to a little teasing.

The add ran thusly:

To trade: One coffee table in exchange for conversation and possible hand-job.
No picture necessary, come as you are no matter what you look like.
Prefer a tall, leggy conversation partner.
Not really "in to", but curious about bondage.
Please contact Melvin Melville PH#: (%%%) %%%-%%%% 1123 Cross Rd. Root City, WI #8
SERIOUS responses only please.

I submitted the ad at about 5 O'clock on a drizzly Friday afternoon. After it failed to generate any immediate response I
stopped refreshing the screen around 3 a.m. and went to bed. My last thoughts before drifting off into a dreamless sleep were
along the lines of "Fucking bitches, guess none of them can take a joke."

BAM BAM!  BAMBAMBAM!

I woke with a jolt in my nerves and a foul sweat soaking the sheets of my bed. I grunted incoherently as I looked with
sandpapery eyes over at the clock next to my bed on the coffee table.  It was jammed in with the rest of my possessions and
the piles of garbage in my dingy and unkempt efficiency apartment. It's cheery red face read 4:00. Judging by the sunlight
lancing it's way into my optic nerves this meant 4 p.m.

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

With limbs heavy and mouth tasting nasty from over sleep I hauled myself up and put on some shorts as quickly as I could. The
pounding continued as I tried to shout with thick vocal cords, "Hold your horses Goddamnit! I payed the rent on time last
week! Are you a cop?"
The result was more of a croaking sound.

I hobbled through the living room, kitchenette combo area, past the bathroom that had no door and was in a shameful state. I
had just enough time and presence of mind to notice the fresh, deep cracks across the middle of the door before I had it
open. What I saw took my breath away.

She was incredible! Her hair was jet black and loosely held behind her head. She was at least two inches taller than me and
dressed in a long, dark purple jacket, a matching tight, flesh form leather corset with gilded fittings, a short, dark red
vinyl skirt, various dazzling jewelery, and wore knee high black boots over perfectly smooth legs the color of a sandy beach.
Most striking was the deep purple and gold leather mask that covered the upper part of her face and framed violet and green
eyes so vivid and intricate that they just HAD to be contact lenses. She seemed to be in her late thirties or maybe an
incredibly well preserved fourtysomething.

There was a nonchalant smile on her scarlet lips as she leaned slightly against the right side of the door frame. From her
left hand a short cat of nine tails style whip with a long haft and Y shaped brass pommel dangled off of a loop attached to
her wrist. I could not help but notice the life-like dagger tattoo gracefully drawn between her smallish and alluring breasts.
It disappeared tantalizingly into the top of the corset and I could just see it's path down her abdomen through the front
laces.

I placed my forearm up against the door frame and leaned on it, mirroring her angle. I smiled without showing my grimy teeth
and said, "Well, hey there beautiful! What's your na.."

I never saw her move. A horrible blossom of pain opened up in my solar plexus and lungs. I doubled over. I couldn't gasp much
less breathe. I would have hit the ground then and there, but an impossibly strong grip on my forearm, the one I had leaned
on, prevented me from pitching forward. Instead I found myself abstractly noting the cool smooth feel of that whip's pommel
on my clavicle as she thrust me back into the room. The grip on my wrist released just as my balance pitched all the way back
and I sprawled out onto the floor of the kitchenette. I nearly puked, both from the pain and the fact that my head was now
resting in old pasta sauce I should have cleaned off of the floor a week ago.

I heard her soft, even footsteps walk into my room. I heard my own groans. I heard the door close gently and felt the rush of
air as it did so.
I heard her Voice. An impossible thing of multiple voices some quietly laughing and jeering while others were nearly sobbing.

Over all of them there was a velvety, almost sympathetic and almost mocking voice. It said to me, "You must be Melvin. Melvin
Melville? (get up you weak little shitstain!) (awww, he's just so  damn cute like that) I'm here about your ad and the table.
Am I bothering you? Is this a good time? I'm on a pretty tight schedule myself. (so don't waste my time you wretch) I'll just
get straight to the point. (hehehe)"

She brought her leg back and soccer kicked me in the side of my leg as I lay there trying desperately to re-orient myself.
The blow landed squarely in the middle my femur and I felt hot painsations. It was exactly like how I've imagined being shot
must feel. As she smoothly withdrew her boot I noticed that the tip was a black and glossy metal.
She stood there in my kitchenette for moments that seemed to be ages taking in the sights and smells of my room. She was
literally sniffing in short deep bursts like an animal. I vainly tried to climb the cabinets and counter top that divided the
kitchenette from the living room I slept in and get some footing.

"STAY DOWN UNTIL I'M FINISHED ASSWIPE!!" The voice sounded like a freight train crashing into my ear. I expected the place to
shake and some helpful neighbor to start banging on their wall and call the cops. Neither happened. I felt my resolve give
way as it dawned on me that the shout had been IN MY HEAD! I tried to scream. I managed to gurgle and slump.

The woman brought in one last, long, deep breath and sighed. She tisked a few times and seemed to be making a decision. I
thought it best to simply lay there on the floor in agony and paralytic terror. I hadn't even had my coffee yet.

She continued to look around as she bemusedly said, "Here I thought you were going to be a big fat shit ready for flushing.
(you lucky little punk) But you are in fact just a useless little fuck. (does it hurt baby, huh?) Look at this place!  You
have every advantage in this hogwash patriarchal society (Louie's such a clusterfuck), and you CAN'T SEEM TO DO A THING WITH
IT!!" Again I felt the thunder in my head. I still couldn't brace for it.

"Let me show you around this little life of yours." She fluidly bent over and grabbed me firmly by the arm and the waist of
my shorts and lifted me onto my feet. I was eye to eye with her for a few moments as the shorts firmly wedged into my
asscrack.  I'll never forget them. Ever. And her eyes seemed so kind and sad, and mad. As soon as my feet cleared the floor I
was moving away from them. I crashed through the door-less portal and onto the bathroom sink. The cheap porcelain cracked and
the even cheaper plumber's tape my scumbag landlord had used to fix a persistent leak gave way. I knew this because the cold
water began to spray out in a high pressure stream. I was beyond pain at this point, but noted a few dull spots in my back
that would doubtless make their voices heard later.  She walked casually toward me from the Kitchenette.

"It's a good thing I got to you first little boy. Why, if you had actually managed to find some poor girl desperate enough to
take you up on that bullshit ad you placed you might never have grown up at all! (maybe you just needed a maid, jerk) Look at
all this mess. REALLY LOOK!(have a taste too asshole)"

She grabbed me by the shaggy hair on the back of my neck and dragged me effortlessly, head first, to the toilet.  Naturally
the seat was up. Naturally I had not flushed the fucker.  She held me there, my nose millimeters from the amber water and the
seaweed brown streaks on the side of the bowl.  It so happened that this position put my forehead in the path of the icy
water streaming out of my sink. For a terrible moment she said nothing as I watched the water stream off of my nose and into
the bowl. I had no fight left in me. She was just too strong.

"You see? And then when you're done you do this," She flushed the toilet and the musky, salty brine became a flavor in my
nose and mouth. "And This!" She slammed the seat down on the back of my neck. "AND THIS!!" She did that screaming thing
again, brought down the lid onto the crown of my head, and threw me back out through the doorway. The toilet seat broke free
and came with me, wrapped around my neck.

I never knew what it was like to fly across a room before. It's not as fun as you'd think. My refrigerator had been doing
nothing this entire time but humming contentedly until I crashed into it sideways. I think this is when my nose broke, but
I'm not sure. Laying there in the angle between the fridge and it's now open door is definitely when I noticed the blood. At
first I thought it might be ketchup, but I had no ketchup in the door. I was real sure of at least that one fact when I
realized that she had come to stand behind me. I hadn't heard her walk up somehow.

She got down on one knee and sort of cradled me and the toilet seat. Her hands were so warm. "Oh you poor thing.. (not that
poor, douchebag) It looks like you have just nothing to eat. Maybe THAT'S why you're such a pathetic fuck. Let's see, what's
this here in the back?"

She reached across me deep into the fridge, and her breasts, just ever so lightly, touched my nose. It's how I discovered it
was broken. Her body slid back over me and she withdrew what my gamer circle and I refer to as "The Horror." It was a plastic
container that at one point had held Grandma's casserole, months ago. It was now an ecosystem. One I had never had the guts
to check on and throw out.

Her sharp nose wrinkled as she opened it. She seemed to contemplate for a moment. She put it back on the edge of the shelf and
threw the lid away. "You haven't been THAT naughty. Maybe you do need a woman to take care of you. (after you grow up
shitbird) You look so damn tired. I keep forgetting how you mortals can be so flimsy. (and no useful stamina either!) Let's
just put you to bed, M'kay? Would you like to just get some rest?"

I wanted to tell her to just get the hell out. I wanted to tell the crazy bitch to fuck off and die! All I could manage was a
look of resignation and an attempt to nod. She was already nodding vigorously and smiling with a sick and fanatic enthusiasm.
I could hear the soft tinkling sound her earrings made as she did it.

I was dragged by my arm across the kitchen and through the little gap between the counter top and the wall that served to
almost bisect the shoebox I was living in. The carpet in the living room burned my back and nearly took my wedged shorts off
of me. I was already clenching out of sheer survival reflex. I was dumped bodily onto the mattress and box spring on the floor
that served as my bed. The psycho knelt down next to me.

"Here let me just tuck you in and..." She paused and looked down to where my thin and dirty blanket had drawn back as she
placed it neatly over me. Her eyes had fixed on the videos and magazine laying there. My porn collection. All I could think
was, "NO! nononono..." as my body went cold everywhere except my groin. That was all too warm and the sensation was
spreading.

"What the fuck is this? "Dirty, Dirty Slut Butt?" "Ho Or Dare: College Edition #23!?" "Bang That Hole Till It Squirts!?!?"
"GASH FLASH MAGAZINE!!!!" WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK WOMEN ARE YOU CREEPER!? THEY'RE PEOPLE!!! THEY'RE NOT SOME KIND OF MAN MAYONNAISE RECEPTACLE! IF YOU WON'T HAVE ANY FUCKING RESPECT IT'S NO WONDER THAT YOU'RE A LOSER THAT LIVES ALONE IN A GODDAMN DUMPSTER FULL OF YOUR OWN FILTH! AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRHHHHHH!!!!!

As she got more and more worked up she began to tear out pages of the magazine and rub them in my face. I barely noticed
this. The piercing shriek in my head had become a living and furious thing trying to fuck it's way out of my head through my
sinuses and ear drums. I seriously thought I was going to die!

HONK HONKHONKHONK HONK!

I just barely heard the horn of a car blaring out in the street. The woman stopped immediately and looked out. Her face
swiftly went into a moment of mild shock followed by a serene and playful happiness. For a moment all I could think was that
she looked so radiant in the light from the window. I was so sorry. It was so obviously my fault that things had turned out
this way. So beautiful...

"M'Kay, so I really do have to get going, hope you enjoyed the convo!(gonna go see a better man than you)" She looked around
the room and spotted the only table I had. "This must be the table! So, awesome then huh? Here.. uhm..just get yourself
cleaned up, you little idiot. Thanks for the table! I really do need it for another project." She tossed me a slightly clean
Root City Cogs jersey of mine from on top of the table.

HONKHONK HOOOOONK!

"Aw, he's always in such a hurry. Bye now! It was just great getting to know you Melvin Melville. You never know, we may just
see each other again some day.(You better have your shit together you twerp)"

With that she one handed the table and walked away toward the door dumping all of my stuff off of it. I barely noticed that
the clock read 4:07 before it's cord got pulled from the wall as it crashed into the floor along with all of my game books. I
noticed that her boots had five inch heels. She had just a perfect apple shaped ass. She left the way she had come in. She
just gently opened the door and closed it behind her carrying her table and dragging her whip loosely against the ground. I
could hear the table bump and scrape against the wall as she headed down the hallway. I heard a plop that could only have been "The Horror" falling off the shelf and hitting the floor.

I was going to be damned if I didn't at least watch her go.

I managed through unaccountable will to drag myself to the window I had heard the honking coming from. There I saw a beaten
out old, grey Volvus parked crookedly on the far side of the street. The door on the driver's side was open and a huge man in
shabby hand-me-down business clothes was standing there smoking a black cigarette. He expression was a bit worried and he was looking at my building.

He looked like he was about to start honking again when I heard the building door open and the sound of metal heels on
concrete. The big guy's face lit up in the purest happiness I'd ever seen, even on a child. He met her half way across the
road and planted a lingering kiss on that radiant monster's lips. He took the table from her and opened the back door to put
it in the Volvus while she scrambled on hands and knees through the drivers side door and sat down in the passenger seat. The
dude had to jiggle it a little but managed to make the table fit.

Their voices carried to me on the air. "Ah, Pretty One. I hope that things have gone well?" The man's voice had an accent on
it that I just couldn't place. "Hm? Oh yeah baby, everything's fine! Peachy keen you know?" "I heard you keening and thought
that there may have been troubles.  I need not have worried." "Let's get the fuck out of here baby. That guy was a total
stain." "I worried that I may have needed to ask Great Garbage for another favor if you screamed much longer. I already owe
it so much" "Can we not talk about your creepy friends and just get the fuck out of here, like NOW?" "Of course, beautiful
Eris. We have so much yet to do."

With both of them seated, the door closed and the car very slowly accelerated away. If only I could afford to call an ambulance.