Archive for the ‘St.Gulik’ Category

Count YooHoo Update

October 18, 2006

Lust, Harpo:40, 6006 YD

Hoopla:

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

YooHoo:

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.

-BVH

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The Naming Of Hoopla

September 9, 2006

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.

A Message from Our Sponsor

July 11, 2006

Hi, it’s me . . . Eris. I’ve never been big on self-promotion, I admit it . . . even back in the heydays of Achaea my P.R. was a tad on the warped side . . . but I’ve been thinking about my “comeback” recently, and musing on why it hasn’t blown up like Buddhism, Islam, or Christianity . . . I mean, I come back after galavanting around the Pan-Galaxies for aeons to finally give the people of the mudball Earth some hope and a little bit of insight on their own divine natures, and where does it leave me? With a bunch of skinny, pimply wanna-be anarchists sporting red pubic hair and the faint odour of Cheesies listening to what I had to say – Dynamite . . .

The point is – and always was- you are all as free as you choose to be, and yet you choose not to be, for some sad and strange reason . . . you would rather remain within the inertia of your crumbling society, rather than attempt to change it for the better because it would be “difficult”, or even just “different” . . . What do I need to do to drive this point home? Get my own reality TV show? Run for office? Fly a few planes into some really tall buildings?

Forgive me if I am coming across as bitter, it’s not my intention . . . I just get harassed by a lot of people while wandering up and down the Tree Of Life asking me why I didn’t just buck up and make my message more obvious, more plain . . . as if I my intention was to purposely trick people . . . well, of course it was, but they wouldn’t understand that any better than if I had made it perfectly obvious, perfectly plain. Humans are lazy, lazy beings, which is fine . . . it is the way of the Multiverse after all, otherwise we would have bubbles shaped like cubes and pyramids as I have been requesting for millennia . . . but my point is nobody appreciates anything handed to them on a plate. To hide behind metaphor and allusion is to force people to use their own grey matter, think for themselves. Enrico’s Sacred Bull. This was ultimately a large part of my point, and if it was missed, well . . . don’t come whining to me while I am in the middle of tanning in Tiphareth.

Gulik told me it was a bad idea to appear to two pothead borderline fascists in a bowling alley . . . I guess I owe him a Coke.

-ERIS NANCY DISCORDIA

Gulik On Reincarnation

September 13, 2005


There was a point in my life when I was pondering many issues of human nature, and wondering if what we did now effected what might happen to us after we died . . . I was laying face down on the linoleum tiled floor, which is one of the six places I happen to ponder those types of issues best. The other five were too far away. The closest place is almost always the best place, for me.

While I mused abstractly I entertained myself by blowing a single piece of cereal across the tile floor, trying to outdo myself with each puff. As the cereal rolled across the floor it bumped into what appeared to be a large shard of deeply varnished wood. I was, in fact, under the impression it was wood until it skittered toward me.

I was deeply concerned to witness a rather large cockroach sprinting toward my face, but was even more concerned when it raised it’s antennae and addressed me. -BARON VON HOOPLA! it called in a deep basso profundo.

-Gah? I choked in answer. I stand by it as a valid response, under the circumstances.

-CALL ME GULIK. I AM A MESSENGER. I COME HITHER AND DITHER TO TEACH YOU ABOUT REINCARNATION.

-Zah! I gagged, being still an ignorant fool, and lacking full enlightenment.

The roach tittered over to the cupboard near my head and opened it, revealing hundreds of cockroaches crawling through my garbage. I don’t know what stopped vomit from spewing out of every pour in my body, but I’m thankful it didn’t. I hacked again as Gulik said, -THESE ARE THE CHOSEN OF ERIS. THEIR ENLIGHTENMENT WILL ALLOW THEM TO MOVE UP THE LADDER AFTER THIS LIFE TO KOALA IN THE NEXT LIFE.

-Koala? I asked. -That’s the next step up from cockroach?

-OF COURSE. DESPITE WHAT YOU MAY BELIEVE COCKROACHES LIVE A RATHER IDEAL LIFE FOR THE MOST PART. MOST LIVE IN, OR VERY NEAR, GARBAGE . . . THE CENTRAL DIET OF OUR KIND. AND, I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE NOTICED YET OR NOT, BUT THE WORLD IS FULL OF GARBAGE, GROWING STEADILY BY THE HOUR. THERE WILL NEVER BE STARVATION FOR COCKROACHES.

-But, why are Koalas the next step up the ladder? I asked.

-FOR ALMOST THE SAME REASON. KOALAS LIVE IN EUCALYPTUS TREES, WHICH IS THE SOURCE OF THEIR MAIN FOOD: EUCALYPTUS LEAVES. BUT, THERE ARE FIVE ADDITIONS TO THE KOALA WHICH PLACE IT A NOTCH ABOVE US:

1) THEY ARE ACCEPTED THROUGHOUT THE WORLD BY ALL SPECIES OF MAN BEAST AND INSECT (EXCEPT FOR COCKROACHES) AS THE CUTEST ANIMAL IN EXISTENCE.

2) THEIR CENTRAL DIET, EUCALYPTUS LEAVES, ARE PSYCHEDELIC, SO ALL KOALAS ARE ETERNALLY STONED.

3) THE EUCALYPTUS LEAVES CAUSE THE KOALA’S URINE TO SMELL FANTASTIC, WHICH IS UNIQUE IN THE WORLD.

4) KOALAS ARE PSYCHIC, SO THEY CAN-

-Holy shit! I exclaimed. -For real??

-YES.

-Prove it.

-FUCK YOU, WHAT DO I CARE IF YOU BELIEVE ME?

-Sorry.

-WHERE WAS I?

-The fifth reason.

-RIGHT. THERE IS NO FIFTH REASON.

-So, I asked. -What is above Koalas?

-SRIZZLEFISH.

-What the holy Hades are Srizzlefish?

-THERE ARE ONLY EVER FIVE SRIZZLEFISH ALIVE AT ANY GIVEN TIME. SO THERE IS A LONG WAITING LIST. THEY LIVE ANYWHERE FROM TWO HUNDRED TO FIVE HUNDRED YEARS. THEY JUST FLOAT AROUND ON THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN, COMPLETELY ENLIGHTENED. THEY REQUIRE NO SUSTENANCE, THEY SIMPLY . . . ARE.

-Great Googly Moogly. What’s above Srizzlefish?

-NOTHING.

-Nothing? How can there be nothing above Srizzlefish? Something must be.

-NO. THERE ISN’T. THAT’S IT. THE END. KAPUT.

-So, if there’s nothing above Srizzlefish, when do you become human?

-PFFFH! Gulik laughed. -WHAT’RE YOU, KIDDING ME? AND TAKE A HUGE STEP BACK DOWN THE LADDER? YOU’RE ON GOOFBALLS.

Thus, I was enlightened.

Prepare!

June 10, 2005

Prepare!

Tomorrow, a new gospel. Taught by St. Gulik about Nature, and Reincarnation . . . but no hints about content other than that.

If it isn’t enlightening (which it probably is NOT), at the very least it should be entertaining.

And that’s what counts.

Isn’t it?

Until tomorrow . . . (I’ll just keep movin’ on, until tomorrow the whole world is my home . . . GREAT, now I have the Littlest Hobo theme song in my head, and this early in the morning!)

Hail Eris! Hail St. Gulik!

All Hail Discordia!

*****EDIT: This post didn’t come any time soon after, in fact, it took MONTHS. But, it did eventually come. If you are interested in reading it, you can find it here.

All Work And No Play . . .

May 30, 2005

Over the weekend I had been worrying about the campaigns for promoting wonder, humour and wackiness in Hogtown . . . it was frustrating me that it had been put off, but it was also frustrating me that I didn’t feel I was planning enough . . . people’s ‘roles’ seemed vague for the most part, there seemed to still be confusion as to what order everything was going to happen, or whether a run-through was going to be possible . . . I was beginning to wonder if it would happen at all, and if it did, whether it would be a disaster.

As I lounged pondering these thoughts, a large shiny cockroach tittered (is tittered a word?) tittered across the top of the table toward me, and stopped. It’s antennae swayed in the nonexistent breeze as it studied me, and I, in return, studied it.

A resonating basso profundo voice was suddenly filling the space between my ears. I AM GULIK the voice said . . . I COME TO YOU WITH A MESSAGE FROM THE GODDESS.

“Oh?” I asked, sitting up a little straighter, which is difficult, when lounging in a beanbag chair. “And, what, pray, is the message?” I asked.

The roach tittered (I’m going with it, so there) closer to me, and cocked its head as pretty much only cockroaches in the insect world can do, and said, “STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING GREYFACE!” and then scampered off the same way it had come.

I considered finding a shoe to stomp it with before it ran into a crack in the wall, out of run-of-the-mill human irritation, but realized that the insect was, in fact, correct – I was being a greyface. I had got so caught up in the planning of the campaign for wonder and fun that I had forgotten that it was intended to inspire wonder and fun for us, too. Why force something like this into work? Isn’t there enough work in the world already? Couldn’t there be more play?

In that mindset I have decided not to worry about it anymore. We are Discordians, after all, not activists.

Some words from the poet Lu Yu:

the clouds above us join and separate,
the breeze in the courtyard leaves and returns.
life is like that, so why not relax?
who can stop us from celebrating?

Hail Eris!