Discordian Research Technology

Mr. Alexander asks that no commercial use be made of his music without his permission. He’s got pages and pages of it and it’s all good — a fine, generous collection and he’s made it available to the public. It includes the Little Bighorn Rag, with tuba! The tuba, as you may know, is the sacred instrument of the Ooompahpah Discordians.

You may have one in your neighborhood. There may be one writing a column in your local paper. You might see one talking to people while he waits on line at the grocery store. They are everywhere and at any given time, you may not be aware that you are in the presence of a Baffled Duffer. Their cunning runs deep. Brothers and sisters, without any hyperbole I tell you that the Baffled Duffer is the most evil creature in the universe!

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Happy Mojoday, everyone!

Once you’ve performed the Turkey Curse enough that people have begun to avoid you, what is your next step in celebrating our esteemed apostle, Dr. Van Van Mojo? Here’s a few ideas that will amp your mojo up to potentially dangerous levels.

Firstly, T.H.E.M. failed to suppress The Prinicipia Discordia, even after taking such extreme meaasures as forcing Loompanics to go out of business. Our friends at the POEE | UK Resource Center have issued a lovely hardcover version of it, including material not in the Loompanics (or any other) edition. The Barry Bittwister Cabal has obtained a copy of this edition and their resident reviewer, Rev. Fenderson, says “It’s delicious with a bit of carrot and pepper. Buy it. Eat it. Be it.” I cannot think of better advice.

If that’s not enough, our friends at 23 Apples of Eris have fired up a new Discordian Games Server. If you can’t find flesh-and-blood people to play any of these with, then go there and check out what the 23aers have going. Much more is coming down the pipe, there — some of it noncombustible, so check back often.

The old standards are still available, too. Have fun coloring, billstamping, leafleting, cooking, or even the more arcane methods of celebration. With so much to do there’s no excuse for boredom and lethargy. Discordian, confuse thyself.

After a bout with a terrible caffeine overdose last Saturday, I slowly regained consciousness and looked cautiously around. People surrounded me, sitting at tables and sipping beer. They had that distinctive subdued excitement that only intellectual suburban college freaks riding on a slow stream of microbrews, pot, and a light sprinkling of psilocybin can emit.

Clippergirl nudged me to stand. “It’s time, let’s go.” We followed the growing tide of flesh into an adjoining chamber where we were processed and, ominously, issued brightly colored blindfolds. Shuffling past the processing station, I found myself in yet a third chamber, larger and darker than all the rest. A murmur greeted as I realized just where I was: deep in the Green Zone in Baghdad. What manner of horrors awaited me?

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Lush or potted? You’ll have to ask the green man.

Cthulhu is tasty.

In the surveillance state, celebrity sets the pace for the risk averse and fills the role of the lightning rod. If the famous or relatively more prominent can get away with saying or doing something, then an epigone stands a good chance of getting away with it too. The Discordians are unique in having created trojan celebrity, imposter celebrity and non-existent celebrity, which they claim to be imitating. These apocrypha are ephemeral, disposable and recyclable. Having no existence of their own, outside a consensus that is itself a trickery, they are a perfect adaptation to the panopticon, which itself is a sham, though brutal and real enough when its masters need to make an example.