Random Flatulence from your resident Holy Man™

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Jesus, man, I don't know what to tell ya.  This is the universe's junkyard, you know?  We didn't MEAN for all this shit to wind up all over the place, it just HAPPENED.  5 miles of dead aircraft.  Rotting mines and abandoned factories.  It's the week after the end of the world.

I like it here.  Really, I do.  Not being facetious or anything.  It's big and it's dry and it's empty, and a man can stop for 10 minutes and THINK, without people walking up and honking their butthurt all over you.  Nothing that happens in YOUR world is real here, and vice-versa.  Not because the rules are different (they are), and not because we don't care (we do, really), but because you are SO FAR AWAY that it's like hearing about a disaster in Myanmar.  You feel BAD about it, but there's no real CONNECTION.

And when you've been here long enough, the Big Empty gets inside you, and you get bigger.  Inside, I mean.  You become vast, a self-contained universe.  You have the urge to say "I AM" and then spend 2000 years tormenting the tiny creatures you have created, out of sheer boredom.

Because I think God talks to desert peoples because he lives in a desert himself, and he's bored.  So he is not content to do everything and take that small share of glory that we retain...But he might just dump on us HARD if he's having a slow day.  Not because he's evil, but because he is a desert person and thus by any rational standard, utterly and completely mad.

I am not mad.  I am far too elastic for that, mentally speaking.  Plus I take drugs.  The world would be a better place if God took a little valium or something now and again.  So you can trust me when I bellow my wisdom down off of this barren mountainside. 

And my wisdom is this:  You get precisely one ticket to ride (unless you're Buddhist and, you know, fuck those guys), so you better STAY FUCKING INTERESTED.  You can't be HAPPY the whole time and you can't be LAUGHING the whole time (Unless you are me.  Or LMNO.), but you CAN pay attention.  You have to, because if you don't, you miss half the jokes.

But you won't listen.  Nobody ever does.  There's stuff trending and twittering and just SITTING THERE, all ready to LIKE and so there's no TIME for NOTICING and STUDYING and UNDERSTANDING.  RUN RUN RUN, MONKEYS. 

Actually, that's not at all unreasonable.  You have a lot to run FROM, don't you?  Dachau and Laos and Iraq and Jonestown.  Love Canal.  Bhopal.  Fukishima.  For that matter, Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  Oh, yes, running is perfectly rational.

But when you're running, you can't pay attention, can you?

Conclusion:  Rationalism is not a viable strategy in an insane world.

Consider that for a moment.  If you are the one sane man in a room full of maniacs with chainsaws, you are at a serious disadvantage.  So here you are, being rational in the face of holy rollers and teabaggers and neo-fascists, and you're trying to EXPLAIN shit.  GOOD LUCK WITH THAT.

Suggested alternate strategy:  Show them what crazy IS.  Peel your face off and give them a big GRIN.  Show them what's waiting for them WHEN THEY FUCK WITH US.  Or, shit, even when they DON'T.  This isn't a threat, it's a comedy...AND I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING.

That is my new operating principle:  Inflict upon the nutcases a superior and CLEANSING mutation, and let them know that while they may not bargain with terrorists, WE do not bargain with HUMANS.

CAN I GET AN AMEN?

Or Kill Me.

[LMNO]

AMEN.

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

 Amen?
  /

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Consider that for a moment.  If you are the one sane man in a room full of maniacs with chainsaws, you are at a serious disadvantage.  So here you are, being rational in the face of holy rollers and teabaggers and neo-fascists, and you're trying to EXPLAIN shit.  GOOD LUCK WITH THAT.

Suggested alternate strategy:  Show them what crazy IS.  Peel your face off and give them a big GRIN.  Show them what's waiting for them WHEN THEY FUCK WITH US.  Or, shit, even when they DON'T.  This isn't a threat, it's a comedy...AND I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

 

It's my outlook, as of now, on PD.  If someone is still butthurt with me over the events of last week, they can STAY butthurt for all I care, because I'm fucking done with them.  Life is too Goddamn short to sulk for months over some petty ass shit.  Also, if someone has decided they're done with me more than 3 times in this calendar year, same fucking thing.  I am not here to be some basket case's bop-bag.

I have spent the last 2 years being pleasant (at least by comparison with the 8 years prior), and I don't see that it's been a viable strategy.

And outside of PD, I intend to walk around with my bare face hanging out, because people IRL aren't any more rational than they are here.

See Thompson quote in my sig.  I think that explains things.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Yep. "Don't worry, it's the internet" etc.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Yep. "Don't worry, it's the internet" etc.

HAR!

Well, it's like this.  There's a certain type of person that treats me as some sort of demented pornography.  ANGER PORN.

Charley.  Khara.  More recently Coyote and a few others.  They get MAD AS HELL over what's essentially NOTHING, and the only reason I can come up with is because that's the ONLY WAY THEY CAN FEEL ANYTHING AT ALL ANYMORE.

They got born with a ticket to the freakshow, but instead of enjoying the ride, they've become ennui-ridden outrage junkies.  Not much different than the people posting endless OH GAWD CAN YOU BELIEVE WHAT OBAMA DID NOW shit on Facebook.

So they come here and wait for the chance to get mad at me or Nigel or whomever.  It's OLD and it's MORE THAN A LITTLE CREEPY.  If you get THAT mad over shit that happens HERE on a regular basis, then YOU CAME HERE TO GET MAD. 

AT DISCORDIANS.   

So fuck 'em.  I'm not their porn.  Let them find someone else to spank it to.

DOUR,
Off to take a very, very long shower.  Ick.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Ugh. Take the loofah. *shudders* 

[LMNO]

NOT THE LOOFA!

DO YOU WANT HIM TO GET DREADLOCKS ALL OVER HIS BODY?!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

NOT THE LOOFA!

DO YOU WANT HIM TO GET DREADLOCKS ALL OVER HIS BODY?!

JUST CALL ME BILL O'RIELLY.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

NOT THE LOOFA!

DO YOU WANT HIM TO GET DREADLOCKS ALL OVER HIS BODY?!

JUST CALL ME BILL O'RIELLY.

[Ben Shapiro]

SAVE ME DESERT JESUS!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

SAVE ME DESERT JESUS!

SURE.  RIGHT AFTER MY HANDS HEAL UP.

[LMNO]

SAVE ME DESERT JESUS!

SURE.  RIGHT AFTER MY HANDS HEAL UP.

Bruised knuckles from taint punching, ITT.

[Ben Shapiro]

SAVE ME DESERT JESUS!

SURE.  RIGHT AFTER MY HANDS HEAL UP.

3 fucking nails!????! I was told you could part the sea with your farts! 3 fucking nails?!?!?!?!?!