Envy, Gummo:4, 6006 YD (later)
“Baron von Hoopla”
Oil on canvas, 2007
by: Pauline Hare
Envy, Gummo:4, 6006 YD (later)
“Baron von Hoopla”
Oil on canvas, 2007
by: Pauline Hare
Gluttony, Groucho:50, 6006 YD (later)
As I stumbled out of the Head Temple of the Esoteric Order Of Eris last night, hiccuping to myself, and cursing the rather cheap ale which had been pushed upon me, a figure lurched from the shadows and asked if I was one Baron Verulam von Hoopla. Pulling my coat closed tighter around my throat, to close out the chill in the air, I looked around before answering: “Who would like to know?”
The man stepped into the light of the streetlamp and took his hat off. “My name, sir, be Seamus O’Riordan, and I come from the Committee For Surrealist Investigation Of Claims Of The Normal. Are you the Baron von Hoopla who penned the weblog concerning Psuedo-Skepticism?”
“Well,” I stuttered. “I really mostly cribbed it from other sources. I mean, it was Marcello Truzzi’s list after all.”
“Aye,” said Seamus. “We know all about Truzzi. But we’re talking about Hoopla. Are you he?”
“Gulp.” I gulped. “Yes.” I said. “I’m Hoopla.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Hoopla.” Seamus said, extending his hand.
I extended mine back, saying: “Baron.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry.” Seamus coughed. “A pleasure . . . Baron.”
“So, what can I do for you -hic- Mr. O’Riordan?”
“Dr. O’Riordan.” he corrected.
“The Committee For Surrealist Investigation Of Claims Of The Normal has been watching you for some time, Mis- ah, Baron von Hoopla, and we’ve been pleased with your sense of agnostic zeal when dealing with patapstchology. A sense lacking in all too many these sad days. We are in the process of branching out to other countries and need people who will work for us in certain regards, or act on our behalf . . . we were hoping you might be able to be the person who would act on our behalf here in the area of land which is commonly referred to as ‘Canada’.”
“I see,” I said. “Does the position pay?”
“Ah, no.” said Dr. O’Riordan.
“I see,” I said. “Alright, I’ll take it. So, what do I have to do?”
O’Riordan had already turned away. He moves fast. But, he turned back. “Eh, nothing much, really. You wait until someone tries to proves something is perfectly normal, then you investigate. It doesn’t come up much, and it’s usually fairly obviously NOT normal, so . . . uh, you let them know how it isn’t normal, and, eh . . . so on. See you.” and he walked away into the chilly night air. I decided to celebrate by having another drink.
So, yeah, I’m the Canadian Director of CSICON.
Envy, Chico:31, 6006 YD
It’s around this time of the year that people around the world really begin to pay attention to my subjects: the many liquors, beers, and wines of the world. I see people raising the wrist all over town, and hear people hiccup to one another “T’is the Season!” – which warms both the cockles of my heart, and the heart of my cockles. It pleases me to know that I can in some way bring joy to people at the time of their year when they celebrate the birth of a 40th century jewish stone mason.
However, a certain story in the news which came to my attention recently has brought me some dismay – I don’t like to see my subjects besmirched in the media, after all. The story is -of course- the recent ‘scandal’ surrounding Miss USA, Tara Conner. Miss Conner has been stomped from all sides by the media in the last week or so for doing no more than ‘drinking under age’ . . . something any well-rounded individual has done in their own past (easily forgotten when on the witch-hunt bandwagon). How under age was she exactly? About a week; Tara turned 21 (the abominably high legal age in most US states) this past MONDAY. She almost got dumped as Miss USA for drinking a week before her birthday.
I feel at this point it would be prudent to remind my readers that Eris is also the goddess of Bureaucracy.
My point, though, is not about her drinking under age. My point, rather, is directed at the last sentence in the most recent article I read about the incident: “Miss Conner will be entering rehab.” She will be WHAT? Entering REHAB? For drinking a WEEK before her LEGAL BIRTHDAY? What in the goddess’ name could be the point of this? Are there not hundreds, nay, THOUSANDS of people more legitimately needing rehab counseling than this poor woman? She should be drinking for krist’s sake! SHE’S 21! I don’t even remember the age of twenty-one.
This obsession with rehab has grown to monumental proportions. There are two things the people of North America love: someone entering rehab, and someone forced to apologize.
I need a drink.
Wrath, Harpo:1, 6006 YD
1. Now the birth of Hoopla was on this jive: When as his mother St.Babs was asposta marry St.Ray, before they came to be husband and wife, she was found with child.
2. Then St.Ray her husband, being a just man, got rip-roaringly hammered, and passed out in the part of the basement deemed ‘the rec room’, and behold a messenger of the Goddess appeared from betwixt the faux-wood panelling, saying: “St.Ray, thou son of Hamhock, fear not to take unto thee St.Babs thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of She What Started It All.
3. “And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call him PANDEMONAEON for no good reason”. Now all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Goddess by the prophet Coleslaw, saying,
4. Behold! Some chick shall be all knocked up and shall bring forth a son and they shall call him ERISTOTLE, which can be interpreted as ‘Eris is the shizzle’.
5. Then St.Ray, being raised from his drunken stupor, did as the Messenger Of The Goddess suggested and took unto him St.Babs as his wife. And St.Ray said unto her, over Sloppy Joes and Dr. Pepper: ‘Some crazy mofo said to name the kid PANDEMONAEON or ERISTOTLE’. St.Babs said unto St.Ray: ‘Well? Which is it?” and St.Ray replied: “Fuck it, let’s go with HOOPLA; it’s shorter.” And so it was. Fnord.
It is with some sadness that I announce the demise of the Justified
Agents Of Mummu forum. Known as the “Funny Farm” to friends, and
“DoucheBag Central” to it’s enemies the Justified Agents Of Mummu
Forum curled up and died earlier this week.
For some time friends had noticed the forum becoming listless, and
depressed . . . sometimes not a single user would post for days, or
even weeks at a time. Sometimes the forum would post to itself,
something it had learned to do in its early days when it was young
and lonely. The creation of fake users was a cry out for help and
attention, but was ignored by almost all, including your faithful
Baron, who should have seen the warning signs for what they were:
The last time your faithful Baron logged onto the forum there had
been one new user added to the membership list, which cheered him
somewhat until he saw the forum chatting with the user and then
chatting back AS the user . . . he knew then that it was only a
matter of time.
I would like to take this opportunity to read the Forum’s favourite
poem from the television series “The Simpsons”:
“Don’t cry for me –
– I’m already dead.”
It certainly brings a tear to a glass eye, don’t it folks?
The Forum was just over a year old.
Anyone who would like to share a story about the Forum may do so in
the Comments section below.
This afternoon, while walking down the street, a dragonfly nearly
scared the wits out of me.
And, I like dragon flies.
I still have a lot to work on.
The Hoopla Tarot deck is now officially under construction . . .
Two down, seventy-six more to go . . .
It has come to my attention that the Bilderberg Group met earlier this month, and AGAIN my invitation must have been lost in the mail. To add insult to injury the conference was held in Ottawa Ontario, at the Brookstreet Hotel
Loyal readers know that the Baron is not one to spread malicious gossip, but he has it on good authority that residents of the hotel were paid off to leave around 5:30 in the morning the day of the conference, which leads one to believe that the conference was either hastily assembled in said location, or the actual employees of the hotel themselves are unaware one of these meetings is going to take place until the actual day of. Of the two possibilities I find the second more likely.
It’s a shame, really, that they again chose not to include me in their meetings about running the world, squashing the poor and promoting the career of the Simpson sisters, I had so many plans ready to contribute; Over population? There’s thousands of miles of open land inside the hollow earth just waiting to be ripped apart, paved and turned into multilevel parking lots . . . feed the poor? no problem, strip the west coast forests, hunt down the sasquatches and make “bilderburger helper”. In regards to the space race, we should be hunting down the people of Mu (or Lemuria, if you prefer) since they are obviously more advanced in space travel than we are, having been in contact with the Dog People of Sirius for thousands of years . . . I could go on and on . . . those chumps are missing out
For more information on the Bilderberg Group, click here.
Before I sat down to write this I had so many things I wanted to say, but now they have all slipped away, and I am left with the single fact that one year ago today I began writing this blog.
A year ago I was in the trap many people fall into when first encountering something new – I became a zealot. But, it was misguided; I would end each blog with “Hail Eris” whether I thought it was appropriate or not, I was bound to Fives and Twenty-threes without knowing why each was important, I parroted phrases from others thinking they were my own. It took time to get over this, but it was necessary. A Discordian who does only what others do is not a Discordian at all. Now, I feel the freedom to end with “Hail Eris” when I want, or when I think it is appropriate, but I am not chained to it . . . I use Fives and Twenty-threes, but when I want to, and knowing why each is important. These small differences are enormous.
So many things have changed in the last year, and yet in a strange way, very little has changed at all. My life today is much the same as it was a year ago, but my state of mind is miles away. In this year I have studied not only Discordianism, but general philosophy, general semantics, Crowlian magick, Taoism, Buddhism, Shamanism and the Church of the Subgenius. All of this wonderful bullshit has warped my mind to the point where the only place to go is UP.
So, my plan for the next year:
Today I am beginning the experiments of Crowley in mind-change, meta-programming and illumination; this blog will be used as a diary of the progress I make, in addition to the usual content of looniness and Discordianism. With a little luck my head will explode!