Discordian Society Manifesto #00003

the third such Discordian Manifesto
this week

We don’t endorse, believe in, or even remotely agree with the insipid resolutions of any government, government branch, organization, or secret society that imposes their aneristic illusions upon the rest of civilization. We will not stand by and allow Oreos to be eaten whole. We will not stand on our heads and allow these jackals to repeatedly apply their warped sense of logic and righteousness to the rest of society. And we will not create useless Manifestos without the powerful ontological might to back them up. We will use the considerable psychological talents in our employ to destroy, assimilate, or otherwise dissemble or disable the aneristic leaders and their lemming-like followers, just as soon as tea time is done and the check is in the mail. Our psychological and ontological talents and methods far-surpass anything our aforementioned enemy has in their arse anal.

Our methods and tools include but are not limited to Abnormail (and Jake Day), Operation: Mindfuck, Nortonian Emulata, the Pineal Gland, Frank Zappa, and five others that general readers of this manifesto are probably not cleared to hear about. To illustrate the fact that we fear not the Greyface Aneristics that we demonstrate, remonstrate, and castrate against, we will describe each of the less classified methods mentioned above. You may consider them threats, if you like, or Pez, if that’s more your flavor.

Abnormail is the unofficial communiqué between Cabals that Discordians employ. Through it, ideas, ideals, schemes, schemas, fnords, fnordites, designs, developments, mindfucks, meanderings, dirty jokes, magistrates, root beer, cannabis tips, chain letters, homicide evidence, frumps, forms, documents, busyness cards, and other DisOrganizational MemOreos are disseminated, reseminated and inseminated into and throughout the Discordian Mindfield. With the advent and increased popularity of the Internet, the once non-existent eAbnormal has reinserted a never-before seen dimension into Discordian communiqué. With absurd ease, any half-rate goon who calls herhimitself a Discordian can go online and espouse herhisits views and claim to be “a Discordian”, or, for that matter, a “Discordien”. This can only further our cause.

Abnormail (and, by natural progression and selection, eAbnormail) has plenty of uses besides sharing information, though. One of these is “Jake Day”. One (or five, for that matter) declares a Jake Day upon any induhvidual who decides, in their infinite wisdumb, to say or do something that any Discordian Pope decides he doesn’t like (if a Discordian Mome decides She hears something She doesn’t like, well, Eris help you). At this point, the Pope will contact all the other Popes Who Know They’re Popes and Probably All the Momes Who Know They’re Momes, Too, and they (or most of they) will proceed to Jake the Fuck out of the poor induhvidual who said or did the Jakeable Offense.

A Jake is performed as follows: Once all the Popes, Momes, Non-Prophets, Freaks, Drug Fiends, and Reverends who are in on the Jake agree on a day, they bombard the Jake-ee with multitudes of flyers, pamphlets, letters, stickers or some creative thingies that I can’t think of right now. All these must (or should or don’t have to) in some or any way chastise, approve of in an over-the-top way, or go off on some tangent about Leprechauns or some such thing. Above all, Leprechauns or Knot, each Jake must or should or doesn’t have to have some enlightening effect on the induhvidual being Jaked.

To date, we have held 23 and one-half DisOrganization Almost-But-Not-Quite-Wide Jakes, and only three of the victims took their own lives (this is 6 better than our closest alternate reality where -3 people took their lives). Five others became recluses, one went on a killing spree, and the remaining induhviduals were recruited as Liddell Deluded Dupes into the Randy Caboose Cabal of Minnesota and Massachusetts Proper.

Operation: Mindfuck is another of our methods to attempt to enlighten the general public hairs into the knowledge, benefits, and obsessions associated with prolonged and aggravated Pineal Gland Whoreship and the General All-Around Glory of Basking in Eris’ Glow. Several examples of mindfucks follow:

The 23 Apples of Eris mailed out handfuls of those beepy things that prevent rightful theft from stores. We found a whole box full of them near a Dumpster behind Best Buy, and we mailed them to just about every shop in the mall. Ensued two entire days of mind-blowing chaos. You’d figure after the first few went off, they’d hold the mail UP OVER the beepy thing controller. That’s what we’d do, isn’t that what you’d do? They didn’t. Our favorite part was sitting in the mall yelling “MAIL CALL!” whenever a buzzer went off. We had a Grand Ol’ Time with our Slushies and actually danced a maddening jig in front of Spencers.

One Easter, the Sacred Chao Ranch Cabal hid plastic Easter eggs all over the mall, supermarkets, museums, churches, etc. that had enlightening fortunes trapped inside. The fortunes were along the lines of “This is an unfertilized egg”, “The PA lottery number for 5-23-97 will be 17-32-5”, “You picked the 10 of Clubs”, “25 cents off of LUCKY CHARMS”, and “You are pregnant (replace egg if you are a man)”.

The 23rd Street Cabal created an official-looking Ticket to the End of the World that proclaimed that the “Date and Time will not be announced” and that there were to be “No Refunds”, then proceeded to insert them into every Reader’s Digest and TV Guide they could find. Hopefully it was a nice wholesome supplement to that hilarious “Humor in Uniform”.

Hyperdiscordia chronicles their efforts at fnording (writing the word “Fnord” inside) the pyramid on the backs of all the one dollar bills that pass through their hands and encourage other Discordians to do the same. I’m not quite sure who could be enlightened by this, but it sure is both weird and fun, and thus Discordian. Max Flax also mailed 203 numbered sheep erasers to an induhvidual in de-incremental order, one a day. If that doesn’t invite enlightenment, you are dealing with a cabbage and stop wasting your time and your stamps.

Of course, R.A. Wilson is full of old Mindfucks such as disseminating POPE cards (THE BEARER OF THIS CARD IS A GENUINE AND AUTHORIZED P O P E So Please Treat Him Right GOOD FOREVER), bumper stickers (Smash The Government Postal Monopoly), and letters to congressmen from the Citizens Against Drug Abuse encouraging them to outlaw the dangerous drug “catnip”.

As you can see, Operation: Mindfuck takes on many randomly delirious forms and we encourage all those friendly to the cause to create their own Mindfucks and pass them on to brethren. Just remember that the only strategy that an opponent cannot predict is a random strategy, so do not rinse and repeat with the same group of induhviduals. If the meme did not take the first time, it won’t take the second time, either, and you must try a different method, or a different meme. You know you are an Aneristic if you find this idea appalling, and we want you to know that you will be one of the first against the wall when the revolution comes.

Nortonian Emulata is another tool we will use to increase our numbers and confound the helpless Aneristics. Nortonian Emulata is the emulation of Emperor Norton I of San Francisco. One should seek information on this great man for further information, sublimation, and enlightenment.

The Pineal Gland is a private hotline to Eris. Just as the Catholic Pope has his private hotline to YHWH, so does each Discordian Pope to Eris. It is through this pipeline that Eris funnels enlightened bits of data and encourages us to share it with others in the vain-glorious hope that one of the many will become enlightened thereof.

As you have probably figured out, some people have cleaner, less clogged pipelines than others do. These are the missionaries (and that’s what we are, let’s face it) who put out the necessary data for enlightenment, straight from the Pineal to the Brain Stem to the Hands. So if you ever hear one Mome say to another, “Mine’s bigger than yours,” don’t automatically assume she is a transvestite (though, don’t rule out that possibility either. Discordianism attracts a wide variety of interesting and sweet people, and I’ve known plenty of interesting, sweet transvestites), she could just be egging the other Mome on with some high-grade Discordian-Brand Draino(TM) and trying to coerce the poor infertile to blossom into a proper channel for the Goddess.

Speaking of pipeline, that’s where the Bobbies lost track. Former Discordians, the Bobbies are now part of an organization known as The Church of the SubGenius. They Whoreship a pipe smoking Father Figure known only as “Bob”. They’re more irritating than we are, and not even in a good way. Anyway, during the last big UnMeeting they heard “pipe”, but not “line”. Now they smoke Discordian-Brand Draino(TM) instead of using it to clean their clogs, and therefore are filled with a mindless, robotic lethargy known as “SLACK”. Some “get it”, I must admit, but users of even the strongest religious Chrystal-MethOdist, Lutheran.Sufi.Druidism. or Pentacostal.Catholic.Protestant. should beware the SubGenii. In a phrase, they’re fucking nuts.

Frank Zappa is anything but self-explanatory, so we don’t need to waste any precious space on that subject.

So you can well see that we DO have the arms, legs, and tails to battle Aneristics. Everyone knows that guerrilla-style fighting has been successfully used in many past wars by the smaller, weaker opponents of large armies. Our ontology is guerrilla ontology. Our beans are not your buns. Our methods are ruthlessly beneficial to Yeti, Spotted Owls, and Fruitbats. Our carrots help your vision and Eris-Damn any Aneristic Greyface who says differently!

We screw with your mind until you come to your senses! As our friends at Chaos Faction Fnu say, we confuse you, and confusing you forces you to THINK, and there just isn’t enough thinking being done. So we FORCE you to think.

We’re the ones who put a Cap Gun to your head and recite Beowulf while looking at you quizzically, waiting for you to respond. You don’t know what to do. Best case scenario, your Robot short-circuits because it was not programmed to deal with this sort of Situation. And so your Robot gives up – it FAILS YOU! You! You who dedicated your life to it; let it have everything. It just gives up. And all of the sudden, you’re robotless in a robot world, and you become an outsider looking in. An enlightened individual. A suprahumyn among humans. One of Us. One of WE.

And who are “we”? When we say “we”, do we mean “whee!” we? Do we mean, “wee-wee”? No. When we say “we”, we mean we as in Prince Mu-Chao. When we say “we”, we mean the 23 Apples of Eris. When we say “we”, we mean the Randy Caboose Cabal. When we say “we” we mean the Discordian Society. When we say “we” we mean that distinct association of Eris Freaks aneristics fear deeply. When we say “we”, we mean every POPE on the planet.

That means when we say “we”, we mean you, too, whether you’re a Discordian or not. Even as you walk through the eggs, you are us and we are you and Sonny is Cher and Burt is Ernie and PENN IS TELLER! Except Penn talks, of course, whereas Teller does not, but aside from that, PENN IS TELLER!

We’ll explain that egg thing later on in our manifesto, but for now let’s pause for a quick word from Garry’s Used Transmissions in Gleyland, IN, USA: 400-03283A xmission, good shape, TFORD150, $425. Will take best offer.

Now that that’s over with, we want to talk a Liddell bit about cabbages. These aren’t ordinary, everyday cabbages you see in stew pots all across the Boston area and it’s suburbs, no, these are much more insidious beings because they mask their identity. Actually, THEY don’t mask their identity, some aneristic organization that shall remain nameless (The Bavarian Illuminati) is dressing them up in clothes and trying to pass them off as human. This isn’t a joke, stop laughing. Look around you sometime. Use your third eye, if you must, but you should be able to recognize them without it. Cabaret Discordia goes into it further on their webpage, but you have to find it. Consult your pineal gland.

It is for this very reason that in the initiation rites to become a Discordian, we ask the initiate point blank, with our bare faces hanging out, “ARE YOU A HUMAN BEING AND NOT A CABBAGE OR SOMETHING?” They usually answer “No,” in confusion, then “Yes,” once they realize what they said. Or sometimes they say “YES,” right off and scare us a Liddell with their wit and vigor. Other times they say maybe and temporarily temporally confound us. The key to rooting out cabbages is in here somewhere, in case you’re interested.

As if battling natural human stupidity wasn’t enough, we also have to contend with the Bavarian Illuminati in all their guises, and replacing humans with cabbages disguised as humans is just one of their many missions to piss us off. You can find out more about the Bavarian Illuminati by infiltrating your local PTA or by getting a job with the insidious Snapple Corporation.

The next, last, final, end-all-be-all, defining question in your pea-sized Liddell brain is obvious to enlightened people such as us: “Why?”

We’ll tell you why, and tell you why in spades (as opposed to diamonds, which are almost as valuable as flax, and therefore are not freely given away to anybody, let alone to you).

The reason we go through all this trouble is because some Greyface, years and years ago, decided that order was good and that chaos was bad. This resulted in a tipping of the Hodge into the Podge, the breaking of their respective eggs, and an all-around yolky mess. We told you we’d come back to the egg thing. We bet you forgot, didn’t you? Its not like we’re writing a five hundred page book here, pal, at least you could PAY ATTENTION and TRY TO LEARN SOMETHING instead of diddling yourself and SKIMMING THROUGH our all-encompassing Manifesto. Or, at least, the third version of our all-encompassing manifestoes.

Anyway, you’d think, with a mess like that on the floor (we’re back to the eggs again, now PAY ATTENTION), someone would come by and pick it up. No. Instead, for a long time (a Liddell more than 5 years and a Liddell less than 5 million) everyone just walked right on through it, tracking it all over the house, getting it on the rug, the end table… even the beds. Especially the beds. The beds are a fucking mess.

I’m sure you can see where we’re going with this. We are the janitors. We clean up the egg after all of you people. If it wasn’t for us, your carma would have run over dogma and GodMa would have waxedma sorely pissedma! And you don’t want Her to do that let ME tell YOU!

Anyway, we clean up after you, century after century, hoping against hope you’ll look down, blush, and say “Oopsie”. Every once in a while one of you does just that and we celebrate with orangutan yogurt and gingersnaps, but most of the time you just walk right through it with your glazed eyes staring at whatever fantasy you’ve constructed around yourself. (In case you’re thinking us bad people at this point, let me ‘splain that orangutan yogurt is not made OF orangutan but by orangutan. We’d never eat orangutan. Most of the orangutans we know are smarter, friendlier, and better looking than you are. DEATH TO THE FOOTNOTE!)

These fantasies are not even unique to each individual. These are fantasies you have inherited, our friend, inherited from other Liddell Deluded Dupes you listen to on the radio or on television. These are not yours, these are the novelist’s, these are the journalist’s, these are the minister’s!

You won’t let them go, though, will you? No, you’ll find this manifesto taped to a ticking package in your mailbox and what will you do? Well, you sure as hell won’t read it like you should. You won’t even get this far. You’ll immediately panic after reading the first few paragraphs as the ticking escalates and call the government to come and protect you from us. As if they could even protect themselves!

And that’s your fatal flaw. You may have left your parent’s home, but you always have a foster parent to look after you. If it’s not your parents, it’s your god or your government or your drill sergeant or your spouse. You have absolutely no control over your life because you intentionally GAVE IT UP and you will not, under your present state of unbeing, even want to think about taking it back unless we give you a bit of a nudge and whisper, “Hey, partner, you’re a FUCKING LEMMING, WAKE UP!”

But we got threatened with jail by your foster parent for going up to people and doing that. Especially when we did it to the pig. So we have to be more subtle. We have to be more suave and under-the-table about this whole mess, or we share a cell with outcasts that were even rejected by YOUR society (which, come to think of it, probably make them pretty good people).

No, a ticking package in your mailbox isn’t what we want to send you. We know how that turns out. Instead, this manifesto IS the ticking package and if you’ve made it this far, we’ve already deposited it in you for GOOD. You’re going to think back to this document after a few days. You won’t be able to get it out of your mind. It’ll scratch at your skull like an Oh Mickey Your So ERIS-DAMNED 80’s song!

We know you. You’ll be saying, “Not me. They weren’t talking to me. I’m not like that. I’m not a robot, and no one is my foster parent. I’m my own person,” is what you’ll say to yourself over and over and you’ll work yourself into a frenzy over it and do you want to know why? Hmm? Do you really want to know why? BECAUSE IT’S TRUE, IDIOT! You ARE deluding yourself and you know it, you just won’t admit it, not even to yourself, let alone anybody else.

You certainly won’t admit it to us. Not your accusers! Not the people that handed you enlightenment on a silver platter and wiped the foamy drool off your lip with a fucking WET NAP! Do you remember what happened to that guy in the Bible with the Puerto Rican name? He was passing off enlightenment too, Bubba. That’s what happens to people like us when we try to help people like you. And yet we still do it. Ayn Rand sure would hate us.

It’s for these reasons that we haven’t yet restored the Hodge Podge of the Yin Yang; it’s for these reasons that we call you Liddell Deluded Dupes; it’s for these reasons that we haven’t seen Under Siege 5 yet; it’s for these reasons that we have gone on and on in this manifesto, always typing but never actually saying anything; and it’s for these very reasons that Jeremiah was a bullfrog.

Do you believe that?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *