Archive for the ‘Count YooHoo’ Category

The Real Story Behind The Creationist Museum

April 18, 2007

Lust, Gummo:3, 6006 YD


As instructed, I have managed to obtain a position within the Creationist Museum in Petersburg, Kentucky, and Hoopla, it is almost exactly as you had predicted – how do you do it, you wiley bastard?? You were completely half right. How do you see through these scams? Yes, the Christian Creationist Museum is -indeed- a front for The Discordian Society: The First Church Of The Wholly Chao: and yet it isn’t. The ingeniousness of its creation is remarkable . . . it is a Discordian organization pretending to be Christian, but it is genuinely creationist. There are actually Creationist Discordians, can you believe it?

These Discordians take Eris seriously -quite seriously- and consider her ‘She What Done It All’, in the most literal sense. These bastards are Fundies, you had better believe it. They believe Eris created the world last Thursday, and that all the memories we have as a collective society were implanted by the Goddess to give the illusion of a rich history. For what reason, they don’t say.

When chatting with a security guard one day he pointed out that there were several theories of evolution that go against Darwin . . . I didn’t have much to contribute since I hadn’t done much of anything in a few weeks so I asked him to elaborate. He pointed out that Dr. Rupert Sheldrake proposed a completely different theory of evolution which involved cataclysmic disasters as major factors in our development . . . in addition to Sheldrake there was also Prince Peter Kroptokin, Tielhard de Chardin, Dr. James Lovelock, Lamarck, Dr. Gregory Bateson and Henry Bergson who all proposed theories of evolution different than Darwin’s. After he finished, and there was a lull in the conversation, I asked him what that had to do with whether Tyra Banks was a lesbian or not, (which is what we had been discussing at the time) he answered: “Everything is connected, asshole.” He might be right.

The museum itself is intended as a surreal experiment in cognitive dissonance, by showing things like T-Rex’s and human children playing hopscotch together, but the actual lessons of the First Church Of The Wholly Chao will be implanted in a more subtle manner: pamphlets.

The pamphlets will be handed out by a Discordian agent outside who will be continually ‘asked to leave’ and escorted from the premises, only to sneak back on again. That Discordian agent? Yours truly. A bona fide double agent.

I have a big problem, though, Hoopla . . . these Last Thusradyite people from the First Church Of The Wholly Chao . . . they’re chiseling me out of pay . . . I’ve been here for two months now, moving around styrofoam rocks, polishing stegasaurus statues, handing out pamphlets and whatnot, but have yet to get paid a red cent. Everytime I ask for my paycheck they keep telling me I haven’t put in a full week of work yet. Their reasoning is since Eris only created the world last Thursday that means I haven’t worked a full week yet . . . I’m down to my last pair of clean-ish gitch, Hoopla . . . can you send some? Any kind will do, even Underoos.

Hurry. It’s not pretty.

-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal

Count YooHoo In Point Pleasant

February 23, 2007

Envy, Groucho:21, 6006 YD


Sweet Bela Lugosi’s backhair! It seems like I haven’t spoken to you in yurts and yurts. It took me literally ages to shake those goddam Grapes of Wrath – by the way, I think they MIGHT have actually been associated with that band you mentioned, does the name “Chris ‘Mister’ Hooper” mean anything to you?

I shook the group of mammary-obsessed maniacs in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and took refuge in a homeless shelter, if it was good enough for Coleslaw, it was good enough for me. It did smell vaguely of urine, but to be quite honest, it could have been me: those Grapes of Wraths were savages, man, I tell you: and they made me a savage to boot. It wasn’t pretty.

The word twerp originally meant someone who bit bubbles of flatulence in bathtubs: isn’t that a bizarrely exact description?

Where was I?

Good lord, I haven’t even gotten to the point yet. Verbosity is not an admirable trait, Hoopla, don’t let anyone tell you different. Christ: The point: In the shelter I met a man who I thought at first to be an Al Jolson impersonator, but it turns out there was a much more simple explanation: he was simply covered from head to toe in the ashes of burned corpses.

But, let’s be perfectly honest, my good Baron, who hasn’t that happened to? On occasion?

The man’s name was Brian Jolson (it turns out he was actually Al Jolson’s grandson, but it was just a “coincidence”), he was part of a cult, or sect, or religion called the Aghori, who worship Shiva, and consider everything holy, including eating corpses, copulating with corpses, playing Five Card Stud with corpses, and swimming in shit. I don’t mind the Five Card Stud part, to be perfectly honest.

Brian cruises around looking for women on their – well, their time if you . . . get me . . . he performes tantric yoga with the women, which he describes as a sacred Aghori rite entitled “Surfing The Crimson Wave”. That’s the English phrasing for it anyway, that’s what Brian tells me. He hasn’t had much luck since I’ve been with him. Well, if you consider finding an abandoned 1978 Pinto near some railroad tracks “luck”, then he has some luck . . . but not in the area he would probably prefer.

Anyway, where was I? Right.


I need you to wire me some money, so I can get the Christ away from this freak, he’s eyeing me up rather strangely. I was well fed when with the Grapes of Wrath. Maybe too well fed.

Send money soon.

Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal

A Seinfeldian Moment

October 27, 2006

Gluttony, Harpo:49, 6006 YD

I had a rather Seinfeldian moment yesterday afternoon when I was in the coffee break room of the Head Temple of the Esoteric Order Of Eris with Dharma Jam. I was laughing about the paranoia now running rampant on a certain pagan message board I had been spending time on recently, and telling her how they had deleted an alt I had created (based on the Pumpkinite who attempted to abduct Count YooHoo in the summer) despite the fact that they had no evidence it was actually me.

“Can you image the nerve of banning someone because they thought it was me, but with no evidence?” I laughed.

“But, it IS you.” she stated, as she finished a crossword with one hand. In ink.

“Yes,” I said. “but, they don’t KNOW that. It’s really nervy. I’m going to have Faux Sloatman write a letter of outrage.”

“But,” she said again. “It IS YOU.”

I smiled. “I’m all types of people.”

Count YooHoo Update

October 18, 2006

Lust, Harpo:40, 6006 YD


How long has it been? Time seems to have stood still.

Has it been years? DECADES?

Good god, man, the pain and distress I’ve been put through, you have no idea. Why do you put me through this?

I barely made it away from those Pumpkinite bastards, somehow someone found out that I was a plant, and they went ballistic. I had to hide out in a rain ditch for weeks and weeks, living only off discarded cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Slim Jims which were scattered around the parking lot of a semi-deserted gas station.

Did I mention vibrators were originally considered medicinal?

Where was I? Oh, right, how I survived. I stayed alive on my meager rations, until I was saved by a boy named JoJo who was part of a group called the Grapes Of Wrath, they were almost as nutty as the Pumpkinites . . . They were waiting for the time when they had enough followers and were then going to travel across the country on foot helping people everywhere . . . a little like David Banner in the television show The Incredible Hulk, or like that other television show you are always on about, The Littlest Hobo.

For some reason they had been living in a barn for close to a hundred years, all living off breast milk. They kept the women permanently pregnant so they could always have an uninterrupted supply of ‘ambrosia’ as they referred to it. It was nauseating.

I admit, when I first nursed back to health on the tittie of a nineteen year old woman who looked like she could be on the cover of a magazine my disgust lessened slightly, but when I woke back up the revulsion was reborn anew . . . either the girl I was suckled on didn’t look as I had imagined, or they pulled me off her in my sleep and stuck me onto a woman who resembled one of the trees from the Wizard Of Oz.

I freaked.

I admit now, it was a slight over-reaction – I burned down the barn in my rage. The truly embarrassing part is that I got stuck under a beam which fell from the top of the barn, and the Grapes Of Wrath saved my life AGAIN. It took two more weeks of suckling to bring me back to what I consider life, or at least that’s what they told me.

We are all now traveling together. Do you know of anywhere that about 75 people (40 of them suckling) can stay for a few days? How big is your balcony?

-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal


I just want some clarification, is this the BAND The Grapes Of Wrath? Because, if so, my balcony is very very small indeed. Barely big enough for St. Gulik to do his yoga.


Count YooHoo Amongst The Pumpkinites Pt. II

September 26, 2006

Pride, Harpo:17, 6006 YD


I barely made it out alive.

I am in an internet cafe in Toledo Ohio. Good lord, man, do you realize what I’ve been through? Those people were animals – and I almost became one of them. The thought raises bile in my throat now at the mere thought.

Sadly, their hyperbole and drama bamboozled me in a manner I didn’t think possible . . . as you know, good Baron, my mind is usually of a preternaturally advanced level, but somehow their down-homeness, if that can be said to be a term, their very earthiness appealed to my senses at a very base level. Hoopla, I think they prey on people by stroking the first and second circuits. It’s atrocious.

I am in hiding right now, I slept in a White Castle last night, but saw some of the sect combing the neighborhood later in the morning. Tonight I will look for a Jack In The Box. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow please send someone from the Order to rescue me.

-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal

Count YooHoo Amongst The Pumpkinites

August 22, 2006


Your hunch was correct, I have successfully infiltrated a Pumpkinite sect in Akron, Ohio – prime pumpkin land, and believe me, these Pumpkinites are truly rabid motherfuckers.

I got in with this sect in mid-July, through the female who went by the handle “Faux Sloatman”, and yes, as you suspected, she took her title from Frank Zappa’s wife’s name, although why is still beyond my understanding.

This is all much, much stranger than you or I ever suspected initially, these Pumpkinites do acknowledge Charles Shultz’s version of the Great Pumpkin, but they don’t admit to having derived the concept from him (as I had theorized) they claim Schultz was a high-ranking Pumpkinite who cleverly disguised their teachings into his work – of course, I find this highly suspect, after all, saying that the Great Pumpkin was hidden in Schultz’s work is like claiming that the Kabbalah was hidden on Sesame Street. No dice.

But, I have managed to learn quite a bit in my short time here, like their berserk claim that the Great Pumpkin dates back to ancient Egypt, and was the original Osiris. I came very close to blowing my cover when that admission was leaked to me, thankfully your training in the Deadpan Technique kicked in, and I was able to maintain my composure.

I have to admit, though, that their story almost convinces me in a strange way, think about it Hoopla, Osiris is a vegetation god who dies each year only to be resurrected the following year . . . “Sure, sure” I can almost hear you mocking in that strange nasal voice of yours, but think about this: The winged globe of Hadit, does it not eerily resemble a pumpkin with wings? And, what pumpkin would have wings other than that grandiose god of the gourds? Answer me that Hoopla, answer me that! You can’t! The real question, my dear Baron, is whether this will be the year that the venerated vegetable king will finally, finally make his appearance to his dedicated subjects . . . Too long have the followers of the prophet Linus been disappointed by the long wait on the autumn equinox for that magnificent seventeen foot tall redeemer to show himself, but still, but still Hoopla, consider this: Of all the vegetation gods, who reflects the weakest of the lot? Dionysus? Hardly, each year his followers (and they are legion, you better believe it) pluck his promise from the vines, grape by glorious grape; Demeter? Not even close, year after year worldwide crops of grain are harvested for the benefit of millions; Our Great -nay!- GRAND Pumpkin? Ha! Each year crowds upon crowds line up to take home their individual orange globes in anticipation of carving our leader’s face into the flesh, sitting close to the television to hear the words of the prophet from his own lips . . . no, no, no, the truly disappointing vegetation god is of course Yeshu ben Yosef the Galilee stone mason who now dominates the world under the moniker Jesus the Christ, who never comes back as he promised, and doesn’t even have the compassion to leave a vegetable in his place – but not for long, good Baron, not for long, soon the Great Pumpkin will usurp his place on the throne of the multitudes, and on that wondrous day it will mean Pumpkin Pie for all, my friend, FOR ALL!

The only question worth asking at this point is: QUO MODO LONGE, MAGNA CUCURBITA, QUO MODO LONGE?

-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal

PS: When are you coming to visit?