"Above is St. Gulik.Remember,St.Gulik,who is the messenger of ERIS,is not meant to be a decoration for the bottom of your shoe"

St.Dontcare

THE PARABLE OF THE DISCORDIAN AND THE SATANIST

In his younger days as a struggling student at Miskatonic University,the young Reverend Verthaine the Goth had to endure the daily taunts and barbs of his Inter-Dimensional Summonings professor Dr.Hellbreath,an avowed Satanist.Dr.Hellbreath would constantly berate Rev. Verthaine on his love of ERIS.The Professor would constantly tell him that Satan is more powerful that ERIS,and that black magick is far superior to chaos magick.After enduring an entire semester of such abuse,our young Verthaine had decided he had had enough.
After a particularly nasty tirade against Discordian magick by Dr.Hellbreath,the young Verthaine stood up,held a golden apple in his hand and said that he could counter any spell the Professor could throw at him.As a hush fell upon the lecture hall,the professor chuckled and produced a worn copy of the accursed NECRONOMICON,and proceeded to draw some archaic symbols on the floor.He spoke words long forgotten,and the air shimmered above the lecture hall.The air began to stink of raw sewage,but still the professor chanted.A rip began to form in the Time-Space Continuum.As the professor was about to speak the final sentences that would release the Lovecraftian horror and seal Verthaine's doom,the good Reverend looked at the apple in his hand,folded up the chair he was sitting on,and tossed it at the professor's head.The professor was just about to say the final words freeing the ancient eldritch horror from the protective sigil he created when the flying chair connected,knocking him out.And after the Inter-dimensional horror(angered that it was prevented from truly entering our realm due to the unconsciousness of the professor)dragged the unfortunate Dr.Hellbreath back into it hellish netherworld,the young Verthaine took a bite out of the golden apple,placed it on the late professors desk,lit a joint and said:"Spell countered".

GREYFACE

In the year 1166 B.C., a malcontented hunchbrain by the name of Greyface, got it into his head that the universe was as humorless as he, and he began to teach that play was sinful because it contradicted the ways of Serious Order. "Look at all the order around you," he said. And from that, he deluded honest men to believe that reality was a straightjacket affair and not the happy romance as men had known it.
It is not presently understood why men were so gullible at that particular time, for absolutely no one thought to observe all the disorder around them and conclude just the opposite. But anyway, Greyface and his followers took the game of playing at life more seriously than they took life itself and were known even to destroy other living beings whose ways of life differed from their own.

The unfortunate result of this is that mankind has since been suffering from a psychological and spiritual imbalance. Imbalance causes frustration, and frustration causes fear. And fear makes for a bad trip. Man has been on a bad trip for a long time now.

It is called THE CURSE OF GREYFACE.

The "Real" Story Of Greyface

It was actually the year 11660 B.C.,during the Golden age of Atlantis,that one of the most celebrated scientists,Graud the Greyface(so called because he was born without fur),got it into his head that Order was more preferable to Chaos, and that mankind needed laws.He convinced some of his fellow scientists to create a religion,one that would replace the Goddess(Chaos) worship with the worship of the SunGod(Order).He claimed that Mankind must follow his rules and laws.He created the concepts of "GOOD" and "EVIL".He taught his followers that anything he believed in was "GOOD" (sex for procreating only,obeying authority,etc) and anything else as Evil (enjoying sex,questioning authority,etc.). Greyface tried to enact legislation making his beliefs the only ones allowed in Atlantis,but was rebuffed by his own lover Lilith Velkor,the daughter of a prominant Elder,who realized that Graud was going insane,and would soon be a threat to every one.

Undaunted,Greyface continued to grow in power,and his former lover Lilith created the Discordian Society to combat Greyface's organization,now named THE ILLUMINATI.They took the Eye in the Pyramid
as their symbol,representing Man's creation of Law and Order in the Universe.In one of the first clashes between Graud's fascist fanatics,and Lilith's freedom-fighters,one of the Council Elders was killed(secretly by Greyface himself).Graud framed Lilith and had her crucified on a upside down Y-beam.The Discordians therefore adopted Liliths Y-beam as a symbol of peace.

With Lilith's death,the Discordians fought with renewed vigor. Greyface,in his madness,decided to destroy Atlantis,hoping to wipe out the Discordians,and finally take over the world unopposed. After the destruction of Atlantis,Graud and his followers went underground,manipulating religons and governments from the shadows. Little did Greyface realize,that the Discordian Society also survive the destruction of Atlantis,and has been fighting a Shadow War with the Illuminati ever since

MANTRA

There is no Goddess but Goddess,and she is Goddess.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and she is your Goddess.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and she is real.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and she is imaginary.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and she is all the Gods and Goddesses.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and she is everything.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and she is nothing.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and She is Love.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and She is Chaos.
There is no Goddess but Goddess,and She is ERIS.

Erisianity

(and Erisianigans)

“It was rumored that in response to the often quoted statement ‘it is an ill wind that blows no minds’ the wind blowing at the time shouted “blow your own damn minds!”
-The Path of Chaos: Chapter 1; verse 23

“What are you thinking?” “Something altogether stupid.” “About the state of the world?” “Why would I be thinking about that?” “Isn’t that stupid” “To think about the world, or the state of the world?” “You tell me.” “Nope. You think for yourself.” “I asked you a simple question.” “And I answered it. Didn’t I?”
-Conversation between myself and the White Mouse

“Stupidity is the most dangerous Weapon of Mass Destruction there is, and this WMD is found everywhere…not even hidden but blatantly displayed. You don’t see other species running around doing the sorts of stupid shit that you humans do. Your species has a lot of fucked up issues… Eh, we mice survived the dinosaurs and I suppose we’ll survive you guys. ”
¬-the White Mouse

“Bureaucracy is simultaneously our revenge against DUMB and one of the highest expressions of DUMB. Thus it could be another chaoist conundrum, but I ain’t discussing it any further. You want some bread crumbs, or what?”
-Tequilarius Malignatus, to the sparrows

Never mind all that crap about stupidity you keep hearing about. You want to know why? I may tell you why…or I may just meander a while on tangential digressions leaving you more confused than ever about exactly what it is I may be saying, in as much as it can be said that I could be saying anything. (No problem there, however, our media does it all the time. At least I’m being up front about it.) Why never mind about the stupidity? Well, for one thing, if stupidity is the dominant influence and lifestyle of THEM, as opposed to us (who have our own issues), than it is sure as hell easy to confuse THEM into pools of dribbling snot in our great Cabbage Barbecuing Operation Mindfuck. Think about that for a moment. Or don’t. See if I care.

In fact the only real issue to contend with as far as stupidity is concerned is the massive military and economic power of DUMB. These days, stupidity can always marshal up more people than we can. So, of course, we’re sneaking around the massive behemoth of DUMB as if we were little mice. But we can always pick THEM off in little bits because the behemoth is too large and too blinded by its own stupidity, masquerading as some sort of progressive holier-wealthier-more-successful-than-thou arrogance to notice the types of things we’re up to. As least that’s what we tell ourselves to keep going…I don’t know what the rest of you tell yourselves, but it’s probably something similar.

We could be just as stupid as some of THEM but at least we admit it to ourselves, sometimes. And if we didn’t, Eris would do something to make damned sure we started to. At least we can laugh at all of our stupidity and even more so at the stupidity of THEM. If all else fails, we can still lay claim to enlightenment or some other such thing to validate what we do, why we do it, and who we do it with/to. We Discordians at least have that much going for us. We can take a joke. Most of THEM can’t.

And just what the hell is really going on, as society succumbs ever more speedily to the machinations of DUMB and DOOM, anyway? The answer depends on whether you are asking about what is really™ going on—as represented in the govermedia—or what is really, really going on—as in the shit you can see, touch, feel, etc. By now you have figured out that the two kinds of what-is-really-going-on don’t seem to come close to matching. (Shit! Both versions seem to be about as far from each other as the opinions of a donkey and a dolphin are about the 10th planet of this solar system. And trust me, they argue all the time about it.) In any event, we are here not concerned with either of those issues as you are probably either doing damned well finding that out on your own (10th planet be damned), or not. Or maybe. Whatever the case may be. No. We are here concerned with the certain doings and possible actions that are taking place in the War On Stupidity and other such Discordian conspiracies.

You thought I was joking when I told you the story about how a certain military warehouse full of ordnance became the center of a colossal mindfuck when, apparently, several crates of ordnance were opened and the contents were discovered to be nothing but fruity and colorful cereal for children? But we are not here even concerned with that, now, are we? We are here not even concerned with the rabid paranoia among the banking and finance industries that the appearance of fnords written on legal tender is causing. No. That’s just one of those little damned things that can not be catalogued, though THEY might try, and thus is not discussed openly. In the best case scenario, as one of my sources on the inside told me, it’s just some fad started out as a prank by one or other of those crazy anarcho-hippie-types. No, we are not here concerned with that either. We are not even here concerned with the frightening fact that the fraction of 1/3rd can not be adequately resolved in the decimal arithmetic system we use. Nope. That concerns us not in the least, as scary as that may be.

We are concerned with and intrigued by Eris, but that’s a topic for later.

Okay, so maybe I lied. It’s a topic for now. We are concerned with Eris, Her doings, and the doings of ourselves, Her Children; all of things collectively known as the Discordian Society, in as much as it can be said to exist in any sort of collective—more like a group of loose nuts who happen to bump into each other and go ‘Ouch!’ every now and again, if you ask me. But what do I know, or care? I drink tequila for holey communion, for Eris’s sake. And why are we concerned, you may ask? You know damned well why…and don’t start whining about your cookies being eaten by that rabid pack of neon green squirrels that live under your bed again. You and I both know that those sorts of squirrels do not eat cookies; being humanitarian squirrels after all; and not cookie-tarian or nut-tarian, or vegetarian…Unless cabbages count as a vegetable. (To be fair and politically correct, we cannot insult the vegetables anymore by calling cabbages vegetables. And if you think the vegetables are pissed, wait till you hear from the Pine-Cones for Safer Microwaving.)
(I got a letter from them—not to be confused with THEM—one day and then all sorts of crazy shit happened in my kitchen. Needless to say that when I was finally able to pry the toaster from the faucet, which somehow had gotten stuck into the refrigerator door, I was happy to discover some pie left in the fridge and forgot the whole matter until now.) As I was saying before I got distracted by pie, we are here concerned with the doings of Eris.

‘Welcome to the third floor!’ as they used to say in the nut-houses. Speaking of which, I hope you all have realized that this society is our great Open Air Nut-House. (Those seeking asylum can apply via the astral plane to our Decentral Office of Cluttered Bowling Alleys. Even though they sometimes get confused with the Agency for Karma Management, we’ll have you know that they are not responsible for any espionage, at least allegedly, no matter what the White Mouse claims. Never trust a Discordian ‘plumber’, BTW.) As I was saying before the parenthesis (parenthetically (and most digressively (in as much as it can be said to exist, or not, or maybe) speaking), of course), we are living in the great Open Air Nut-House otherwise known as Eris’s Playground—and if you are getting sick of me repeating myself about it, take your whining someplace else, unless you feel like being tonight’s entertainment, or unless you would like some cheese with it—and for this we should feel special because She has entrusted us with the keys, the locks…hell, even the damned doors and gates, or other such portals of entry/exit (often called the pineal gland). Eris also provides us with cookies (despite the fact that we usually have to either find them or make them ourselves), the shits-and-giggles, the hoots, and the various inspirational ideas for various Golden Apple tosses which overtake us and others from time to time—or from minute to minute, depending on your level of sanity-insanity, or some other such criterion. And we want you to know that if you haven’t yet realized this, we have subliminal propaganda that can help you. (Refer to our Office of Anarcho-Fascist-Oink-Oinks for instructions in the matter. I or We’ll have you know, by the way, that the Office has recently purged itself of all of the Marxist-Leninist-Communo-Capitalist cabbages for their deviations from the strict criterion of Party-Lineage, as set forth by the Apostle Zarathud. Or because THEY were no fun to be around and never brought beer to our Parties. Either way, you decide.) And if these parentheses would stop interrupting me, I may get around to saying what it is I want to say, if I even, in fact, have something to say, in as much as there is anything to say, in as much as it can be said. In any event, I can always play cut-up with texts and insert them here. Or you can.

Perhaps you disagree because you are either in a foul mood or in a fowl mood. This is fine provided that you recognize that any mood is better than feeling like a cabbage, or worse yet, BEING a cabbage. In as much as it can be said that Eris, or the Universe (provided that there is a difference—which may possibly be subtle and swift to anger. Thus, I wouldn’t recommend flushing it down the toilet as it would most likely foul up your plumbing. And if you think you are in a foul mood now, wait and see how foul of a mood you’ll be in if your toilet stops working) may or may not be playing a joke on you. And rest assured, or not, that if Eris is playing a joke on you, it will be damned funny. Probably even funnier than the time the pigeons invaded an outdoor symphony concert and stole away all of the bread, cheese, and wine from the audience. (I was assured by an ornithologist that that sort of behavior is, in fact, usual for pigeons and that there was no need for alarm, unless you were in the audience.)

Anyway, no matter the problem or issue, we have Eristic Erisianity to help you out of it, or at least to get you to laugh at it. And if that doesn’t work we have electric shock treatment available for a limited time only. (Although our appliances may protest being used for such labors as it is probably not covered in their union contracts.) Or we can get you to drain a half-liter of tequila in one gulp…the resulting state in which such an action will put you will make everything else you are going through seem like so much smoke. Unless of course being hung over is your problem, in which case report to the Discordian Temple and purge thyself of your sickness. (Hell, we don’t actually care where you purge yourself, so long as it’s not on our floors, walls, doors, furniture, prairie squid, appliances, cars, or what-have-you.)

None of this has anything to do with explaining the real reasons why the doors and the windows keep moving around. Or why the street signs now have Welsh graffiti on them. Or why some random person somewhere woke up from their drunken slumber with their hair colored purple. Or why I am a reverend of something or other but have never called my self such. Or why banks have not nearly enough actual money as they loan out. (The Banks believe that THEY themselves invented the little con-job, but we know that it is really Eris who is playing the joke on THEM.) Or why certain gnomes go batty for my new tequila lime pie recipe. Or even why you may some day find yourself waking up with pink thigh high boots on your legs, a tartan kilt, and a purple suit coat on, in the place of the clothes you fell asleep in the night before; with a piper standing over you, skirling loudly away—so loudly, in fact that your boogers have gone south for the winter, trailing all along your face and, no matter how hung-over you feel, you decide the only thing you want for breakfast is five double glasses of cheap scotch (seeing as all the tequila is gone)—playing Rod Stewart’s “If you want my body” tune in the key of the way-too-high-pitched C. And none of this certainly explains why Eris has appointed several squirrel nations as Her chosen messengers, or angels, if you will, because of St. Gulik’s complaints about being overworked. Perhaps I have smoked way too much pipe tobacco, or perhaps Eris is playing with my coffee again. Perhaps I have overdosed on parentheses or something. There are so many possibilities. Perhaps too many to list. (And in any event, what do you, we, or I care about such a meandering ramble that such a list would entail.) Just remember that if you find yourself in a shitstorm, pass it the fuck along and away. We are here to help you do so, by Eris and by Bob’s smoking pipe, in case you need or want the help.