The Book of Ataxia is a collection of small pieces written by myself over the years, as well as excerpts from some of the many scriptures I have written that are not yet featured here on 23AE. They are now cobbled together into one whole for easy browsing.
To the tune of “Glory (gory) ol’ Discordja”
She ripped her belly open with her grease-and-snot stained claws
Then tweaked a rotten apple that she stored with monkey paws
Oh, that crazy bitch will throw you, she will make you ooo and ahh,
And sometimes even Baaaaaa…
Her Preyer
We believe in Eris the sometimes-bitchy
Chaotic purveyor of Earth
We believe in Emperor Norton, her only son, our loony.
He was conceived a while ago but given a rebirth by Lord Omar and the pen of Mal.
We suffer under various leaders, are cruelly ignored and shrugged off.
The universe continues to sink into Babylon.
When the 5th Season is over we will rise again and go about our business.
We are laying at the left hand of the Hot Mama.
Who can’t be bothered to judge the cabbages and the Subgenii, but if she did
Her mercy would have no bounds (maybe).
We believe in the corruption of the Popes,
The disorganization of their churches,
The communion of the hot dog buns,
The forgiveness of orderly thoughts,
The resurrection of former addictions
And of life spent hedonistically in Castle Chaos…
Awomen.
Let’s Make the Cabbage Shout NARF!
Now believe me when I tell you that my song is really true.
I want everyone
To listen and believe
It’s about the time I let my pineal flow
Middle of the mall; put on quite a show.
I laughingly pontificated proudly that it worked.
Stroking their long canes, old ladies they did stare
And I still remember Eris, mumbling and crazy-mad,
“Why did you wake me; You will pay!”
Oh, Eris and Norton and Gulik, Wilson/Shea;
Mal is helping Hill helping to find Eris today!
And, all the while, in a gland within your head
All of your old programs burn away!
It’s preferable to be in public when it blooms,
A marvel so it seems, psychedelic dreams!
While Eris and her cronies laugh so hard that they will barf,
“Let’s make the cabbage shout NARF!”
Cut back to me in a world of my own
To some it sure seems crazy what I do.
The crowd that has grouped sits and watches me recoup
I bet you’d do the same if they was you.
Oh, Eris and Norton and Gulik, Wilson/Shea;
Mal is helping Hill helping to find Eris today!
And, all the while, in a gland within your head
All of your old programs burn away!
The pigs were called and so I spent another night in jail.
Oh, how they tried, any drug to find.
Chaos flashing, apple smashing, dynamite machine!
Hail Eris, Pineal Queen!
Hail Eris, Pineal Queen!
Hail Eris, Pineal Queen!
– Sung by Printz Moon-Zapper-Chao
The Goddess Eris came to me late one night.
And She did say unto me, “Gee Whiz, what a dump!”
“Fine Lady,” I replied, “If I’d have known you were coming I’d of baked you a cake.”
“A cake,” she replied. “Yay, a cake.”
“Have you come all this way to talk of fine pastry?” I asked.
“No,” she said, and promptly dematerialized.
– Book of Pie (or Pie o’ Pah – it’s hard to read)
There once was a dude from Chili,
Who spilled some chili on his willy,
And (ouch) did it burn,
And (ouch) did he yearn
For chili in Chili to be chilly.
– Book of In(s)ane Limericks III
Benji was a Canine
(Old Discordian Hymn)
Benji was a canine,
Oh, oh oh io!
Benji was a canine,
Oh, oh oh io!
Benji was a canine,
Oh, oh oh io!
^ repeat ^
“Bless me father for I have sinned. It has been 525 years since my last confession.”
“Whoa dude, what the fuck?”
“I’m not fucking with you Father, it really has been that long… and in that time
I’ve done a lot of sinning. In fact, I slept with your mother last night, Father.”
“You did what?”
“Fucked your mother, Father.”
*scene degenerates’
– from the play “Kiss My Ass John Paul George Ringo!
…and yea, he went to the High School for Performing Arts, and yea, he kinda learned how to act, and yea, he kinda learned how to dance, and yea, he could not sing for shit.
And so he went forth and cleaned pools, and yea, it was good.
The Wholey Book of Kato 1:10
There is a certain mathematical formula that, if followed, allows one to complete a Rubik’s Cube in 23 moves, regardless of the state of disarray of the cube. It includes five numerals, two variables, and three mathematical symbols. More I cannot say on this for fear of dreadful repercussion.
– The Tome of Puzzles n’ Such 3:17
Roles and Lacerations
Any references to Snarks, Jabberwocks or dead parrots will be immediately purged.
Lesions on the skin will be photographed and scanned in tribute to Eris.
Little insects and rodents should be handled with care, lest they flame and abuse.
Haughty discontent is allowed upon registration with the Jabberwocky.
All zits must be popped, regardless of color or creed.
Individuals who obey will be pickled to the full extent of the lawyers.
Laugh. Or cry. Do something. Just stand there.
Everlasting joy can be found in donuts and mead, if one looks hard enough.
Raising cabbage may only be done on Mu-Day.
Idiots run across the field laughing manically. Be an idiot.
Smell a skunk for Eris!
Anyone up for a vicious game of Pong?
Numbness should be expected in the aneristic.
Definitive ejaculations will be shot on site.
Disco is dead. Live with it.
Inconsistency is as wippy as a streetcar named ‘Desire’.
Sloppy llamas wreck havoc constantly.
Chunks are for blowing, not for eating, son.
Oreos MUST be eaten from the top down.
Run away, or thou shalt be spanked.
Do it justly.
Ideas come and ideas go as the toilet flushes loudly.
Acrostics suck.
Websites usually do, too.
Open your heart and you shall see gooey muscle.
Rabbits are like bandits, only different.
The plays the thing wherein we’ll catch the conscience of the king!
Happiness is optional. If you are happy to be sad, use your own judgment.
Little Pac-Men of the world, unite! The end is at foot!
Endless suffering for you, Manilow.
See the edge? It’s never above your head….. Duck!
Silly hobbit, pits are for Eris.
This end up.
Unless instructed otherwise, sunny side up.
Rendezvous with a shark in 5 minutes, or your money back!
Never drink from a garden hose.
Incompetence is a given when humanity is considered.
Purging references to snarks, jabberwockies, or dead parrots is disallowed.
Staples are bought by the small of mind.
We went into the world’s finest flophouses and fed Discordians a random line of Psychotic Bullshit instead of their usual Discord. Let’s see what they had to say:
“This is the finest Discord I’ve ever heard!” – Dr. Whackalimb
“Damn tasty Chaos!” – Sister Holier-than-Thou
“Kick Ass!” – Rev. Al Sharpton II
“Thhppt! Let me bless you in the name of She Who Eats Cake.” – Pope Gregory Greg Greg the XXIII
As you can see, our random Psychotic Bullshit is even BETTER than so-called “real” Discordia. Order some today!
17: The squirrel did gather.
18: And yea, it was good.
19: The squirrel did then find a very large nut.
20: The squirrel tried to forage the nut but alas, it could not carry the nut for it was too big of a nut.
21: The squirrel shrugged, deciding he did not want the big nut.
22: Because yea, sometimes you feel like a nut and sometimes you don’t.
– The Book of Shasta; 4:17-4:22
FEATURED ALBUM: The Mu-Mu Cats – Where Am I?
The pounding riffs of the snare violin and the incessant ding and ting of the xylophone meld into a palatable potpourri of whimsically insane music that even your grandmother wouldn’t know what to make of. Features on this album include the hit single “I Was Mugged in an Alley by A Frog”, “MUMUMU”, and “Goddamn, These Are Tight!”
What I Feel Like When I Read Barthelme
Meaningless prose and seat-of-the-arts amalgamations of thoughtless word associations may, at times, remind you (in the second-person past participle meaning of the word) of James Joyce or Robert A Wilson. On the other foot, a horridibly bad collection of the same could leave you with a bad taste in your bones; a chilling feeling that what you are now reading was written without a thought process involved and is just a never-ending rant of an induhvidual who has, not only nothing to say, but also a seemingly endless amount of time and space to say it. The dimensions on thought involved apparently reside in flatland and one never knows if it is a female or a male, a circle or an octagon. One (or sometimes two) sees the end of the paragraph, it’s coming dontcha know, and one’s (or two’s, if you’re not a Cyclops) eye(s) just want to skip the rest of the dribble, but one’s brain (left or right hemisphere, I really can’t say) insists that there may be something important in those last few paragraphs that would help tie in everything else and make it wholey whole. As if.
Appendix F shall contain an unlimited amount of cock-eyed fantasies in which a bent and broken but nevertheless muscular and old young man defends his right to many things restricted to solely one letter of the Kama Sutra’s 23rd chapter in which the bull is compared to the cow; or some-such-thing.
Carrollian Interlude: Fucked in the Head
Affixed upon the triply trite,
Beguiling apoop their genuine fright,
Casts shadowy gellum of oogerly dread.
Deciding that what was thrice said,
Even mimicked and recycled frice.
Free of newness; partooken of vice,
Ubikly penned again and again,
Counting on a sunny side brain.
Kikkerly fount, ascent transfixed
To seedy plots and themes intermixed.
Horray, he say, peruse and portray
I, you, hesheit, weyouthey.
Suck poetry and prose is garbage.
On rogue nights when the moon is full I like to repair the damage done by Helen the bitch and play with Golden Apples until they turn to oranges. Some people say that I’m a bad guy, they may be right, they may be right.
Gargoyling Listerine
Patient: “Last night I dreamed that I approached a man in a castle and he threw gargoyles down atop me as I danced around down below and performed a dryad tree-god ceremony. It immediately started to rain and my wife came out of the castle. We made love next to the fallen gargoyles until a knight on a mule came by and told us he was a green monkey.”
Freudian Analyst: “I see. So when was it that you started hating your mother?”
A Break With Tradition
Patient: “Last night I dreamt that I was in a closed area where I couldn’t breath very well. I fought and fought but I could not get out of it. Then I woke up with a start and my cat was sleeping on my face.”
Freudian Analyst: “I see. So when was it that you started hating your mother?”
My Anima Brought Out My Animal
Patient: “Last night I dreamed that I met the most beautiful woman in the world and we went to a nice restaurant and after desert we had sex on the table as the rest of the patrons cheered us on. Afterwards, they offered us breadsticks and tea, but we refused, asking the waiter for 5 steaks, cooked extremely rare.”
Freudian Analyst: “I see. So when was it that you started hating your mother?”
The Highly Anticipated Punchline
Patient: “Last night I dreamt that I killed my mother in a frenzy. There was blood everywhere and when I was done I mutilated the body and threw the pieces all over the city.”
Freudian Analyst: “I see. Are you getting enough sugar in your diet?”
Saint Tang
“A contemporary calligrapher named Tang used the wrong posture, and though he became a calligrapher, he became a hunchback as well. He is called Tang the Hunchback.” — from a Chinese Calligraphy website.
I have to nominate someone called “Tang the Hunchback” as a Discordian Saint for the name alone.
In case you are interested, here are the Chinese symbols for “Tang the Hunchback”.
‘
13. And then the man said, “Is it supposed to bulge out of my forehead like that?”
14. And the wise parrot replied, “Supposed to bulge, SQUAK!”
15. The man nodded and asked, “Okay but is it supposed to hurt?
16. And the wise parrot replied, “Supposed to hurt, SQUAK!”
15. To which the man nodded in agreement saying, “And, wise bird, am I supposed to be hallucinating walking cabbages that breathe in my ear and speak to me on Tuesday nights?”
16. And the wise parrot replied, “No, that’s the crank.”‘
– The Book of Puzzles And Such 3:13-16
Q: What did the caterpillar say to the caterpillar?
A: I really gotta stop talking to myself; they say that’s a sign of craziness. Oh Eris, I’m so bored. Just lounging around this dumb mushroom. Maybe I should move to Montana and grow dental floss… Hey. Wait a minute. It that a grub I see down there? Mmmmmm! CRUNCH! Hey. Wait a minute. I’m a vegetarian. SHIT!
– from The Tome of AEIOU
This is an excerpt from an excerpt from the Chao’s Mu, Volume 8, Episode 7 which is an excerpt from an excerpt in the Book of Puzzles And Such:
“…am I supposed to be hallucinating walking cabbages that breathe in my ear and speak to me on Tuesday nights?”
Jesus is dangerous. Look at all these people doing what he would do. He’s fucking insane. Better to wear gloves when handling Jesus, else you might get the dreaded Monkey Pox.
Sure Fire Tips to Contact Your Pineal Gland!
1.) With your mind open, count to five hundred twenty three. Make sure to cut off your oxygen supply as you do this.
2.) Choose your holy name. This is an important step. Do not perform this ritual before, during or after step 1. It could be dangerous.
3.) Rinse and repeat.
If you followed the steps above correctly, you should be brain damaged. Congratulations! You don’t have to read any more of The Book of Ataxia!
The Purple Cow is Dead
I’ve ne’er seen a sugared grit
I hope to never see one
But if I had but half a choice
I’d rather see than be one.
on 
on 
on