Archive for the ‘St.Ray’ Category

Interview With The "Happy Apple"

February 8, 2007

Envy, Groucho:7, 6006 YD

Yesterday, while in the midst of deep meditation, Dharma Jam and I were abruptly roused from concentration by what seemed to be a voice babbling away to itself. Strangely, while meditating, I had heard a voice whisper “yapple dapple”, but ignored it, thinking it was most likely my tremendous ego, angered again at being ignored.

We followed the sound of the voice, which eventually lead us to -incredibly, I admit- a Fisher-Price “Happy Apple” toy from the 70’s which St.Ray had given to me, and was now used as a mascot for the E.’.E.’.

For reasons unknown to Dharma or myself the Happy Apple has begun to converse, in a sense. At the very least it will answer when asked a question, whether or not the answer is appropriate.

The following is a transcript of an interview I held with the apple:

Q: Do you prefer showers or baths?

A: i like to go swimming with bare naked women

Q: What is your favourite film?

A: yes

Q: What is your hobby?

A: cannibalism

Q: What is your opinion of the opera?

A: is there free booze?

Q: What do you think of the Food Nutrition Guide?

A: fuck it

Q: Are you a Republican or a Democrat?

A: the all night party

Q: What is your stance on Gay Marriage?

A: any hole will do

Q: Do you prefer Blondes, Brunettes, or Redheads?

A: no

Q: What is your favourite drink?

A: a glass of j.d. and a thimble of pabst blue ribbon

Q: Any advice for the kiddies?

A: if you’re going to do something, do it well; then do something
witchy

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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.

St. Ray’s Day 6006

May 14, 2006

Once again we take the space of the Hoopla! blog to pay respects to St. Ray, the patron saint of Hoopla Inc!

On this day, in 1939, St. Ray was born blue, and was warmed on the open door of a country oven.

HUZZAH!

The Book Of Generations

July 12, 2005


The book of the generations of the unfortunately named Baron Verulam von Hoopla the Fowler; Episkopos of the Kaufman Cabal; Grand Wazoo of the Esoteric Order Of Eris; Ruler of the Toads of the Short Forest; King of the Booze, and still cooler than a polar bear’s toenails; the son of St.Ray, the son of Camel Toe.

Camel Toe begat Slappy; and Slappy begat Little Ron-Ron; and Little Ron-Ron begat Big Horse; Big Horse begat Ozias; Ozias begat One-Eye and his brethren;

And One-Eye begat Ostrich Boy; and Ostrich Boy begat Susan; and Susan begat Wiley Willie; and Wiley Willie begat the Hamhock; and the Hamhock begat Little Zeke of her that had been the wife of Uranass;

And Little Zeke begat Roboham; and Roboham begat Jo-Jo the Sinning Sinner; Jo-Jo the Sinning Sinner begat Jim-Jim the Singing Singer; and Jim-Jim the Singing Singer begat Captain Rubik; Captain Rubik begat Tic Toc and his brethren;

And Tic Toc begat Stubby; and Stubby begat Fucked Boy; and Fucked Boy begat Fudgee-O; and Fudgee-O begat St. Ray the husband of St.Babs of whom was born Von Hoopla, who is called Verluam.

So all generations from Camel Toe to One-Eye are five generations; and from One-Eye until Little Zeke are five generations; and from Little Zeke until Tic Toc are five generations; and from Tic Toc unto Von Hoopla are five generations.

Verily, I say this unto you, the bullshit doesn’t fall very far from the horse’s ass. Fnord.

Hail Eris.

Sacred Bull

June 2, 2005

St. Ray always lived by the three B’s, which are: Bullshit Baffles Brains. Which naturally brings us to the old adage, “If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.” Which, also, naturally brings us to the Discordian saying, “Bullshit makes the flowers grow, and that’s beautiful.”

Last night while discussing Discordianism with Dharma Jam I realized that the obvious companion to the Sacred Chao would be the Sacred Bull.

A primary aspect of Discordianism is the refusal to believe what one reads, and for this reason I think Sacred Bull is important. It is the most subtle form of “Think for yourself, schmuck!” that exists. Promoting bullshit forces people to think for themselves, or sink in the sludge that is life on Spaceship Earth.

So, with that in mind, I urge you to promote some Sacred Bull today.

Hail Eris. All Hail Discordia.

*****EDIT: This concept was later rewritten, while channeling Salazorian Dictator, Enrico Ritzibottom Salazar, while he was channeling in a Beirut Brothel, as The Parable Of The Sacred Bull

St. Ray Day

May 14, 2005

In my opinion, the best saints are those who teach you how to act. They give you a model to live your life by – which is why Emperor Norton is so revered by Discordians . . . the man actually bent the reality around himself to fit his idea of the world. This seems, to me, to be the meaning behind Crowley’s “Do What Thou Wilt Shall Be The Whole Of The Law”.

Because today is May 14th I have decided to talk about the Discordian saint which has guided how I live my life, his name is St.Ray, today is his birthday; I hereby name May 14th as St. Ray Day.

He is a fun loving, musical wild man, born in the mountains and never broken by modern civilization. Convention means nothing to him – if an idea pops into his head, no matter how nutty, he goes with it. To illustrate this, let me relate a story from his childhood in the mountains of Piccadilly . . . many children in the past have considered the roofs of buildings to be the ultimate tobogganing hills, if only they could get away with it. St. Ray asks nobody. As a child, he decided that the snow-covered roof of the family’s barn would be perfect for skiing down, he would just need to find some suitable substitution for skis. Some nearby planks of wood seemed about the right proportions, and some discarded twine would work for securing the planks to his boots. He climbed up onto the roof, tied on the makeshift skis, and plummeted down the side of the barn. Stories at this point differ on the results, some claim this is due to different fictions being interwoven into the narrative; I, however, prefer to refer to this as the Schrödinger syndrome. Some say he hit the gutter with the end of the planks and was catapulted airborne, some say he fell on his ass and rolled off the roof, some say he successfully cleared the roof and dropped into a pile of snow. I say he caught an upwind and flew all the way to Peggy’s Cove, where he made his living tap-dancing for quarters near the lighthouse. What really happened is beside the point, the point is he wanted to ski off the roof, and did.

St. Ray loves to laugh. When I was growing up, and we would drive by a group of girls, he would slow, roll down the window, and call out to the girls “HI BOYS!” – this invariably, no matter the age of the girls, elicited a strong reaction, ranging from the usual (we’re girls!) to the extreme (fuck off!), but the result was always raucous laughter from St. Ray. This may not be everyone’s cup of tea in the humour department, but I believe it’s the small points of life that bring the most joy.

I will close with the Horse Story, because it is the best example of living life for fun, no matter what the seemingly serious consequences are . . . sometime in the 1970s St.Ray’s wife and son were out of town and he was left in the apartment alone. One night when he and a friend were sitting around, drinking beer, they decided it would be a good idea to take a walk across the street to what was then a farm, and visit with the animals . . . another good idea would be to bring a single horse back across the street, to the apartment building. Yet another good idea would be to bring the horse upstairs in the elevator, and set it free in the halls, a floor above our apartment. And, the final good idea would be to then call up the much loathed superintendent and kindly let him know that someone was ‘horsing around on the fifth floor’. When his wife returned with the son St. Ray informed her that the building was a hole, and suggested they move. Right away.

It wasn’t until twenty years later that he admitted to his wife that they got booted out of the building over the horse incident.

St. Ray lives in the moment, and lives for fun. I try to live like him every single day of my life, and will continue to do so until I crumble to dust.

I am choosing to close with some lines from a Leonard Cohen poem/song which I think expresses how my father lives, and how I choose to live, as well:

like a bird on a wire / like a drunk in a midnight choir
i have tried / in my way / to be free

Hail St. Ray, and Hail Eris!