"O Eris kai theoi!"
-common expletive heard around old Limboo Peak
"Is the sun still sliding across the sky claiming your mornings and turning them into evenings all too soon? Are you left standing all too often in the rain of someone else's spent passion? Is the rush-hour traffic of someone else's insanity cracking apart the concrete tower in which you have hidden yourself away from the noises that try to get inside your head?"
-from PMM statement #3
You have come to this point in life because Eris, yourself, some combination of the two or something else entirely (whether or not these things can be said to be different categories) has lead you here. We members of the Discordian Society are here to help you overcome the difficulties inherent in living in a world in which idiocy has been inculcated in you since the day you were old enough to understand the incessant babble of religions, philosophies, ideologies, and advertising. All of that dead psychological tissue that interferes with your optimal brain function. We are here to help you blow all of that away, whether via the slow suction of our persuasion or via the quick and total destruction that may occur after you become the victim of Operations Mindfuck.
You can shrug this off as merely another crackpot message that is simply too long for you to read as you go through your rushing moments of getting from here to there in your never ending sponsor-bought life. That's okay, we have bumperstockers and short slogans all over the place, just like your favorite political or ecological campaigns, you know, those causes you feel you are contributing to by buying their t-shirts and buttons. You can try to ignore us, but ask yourself if you really would want to do that. You see, we thrive within the cracks of your ignorance and like weeds pushing apart at the pavement, it's only a matter of time before we break apart those things you think of as solid foundations. In this play, the sucker is you. Hell, the sucker may also be us, but at least we take that into account and can laugh at our foibles. Whereas you take you foibles pretty seriously, as if they are the definining linchpins holding the whole edifice of YOU up.
You can forget about these words but you, or people like you, won't be forgotten or left alone in our grand mission against stupidity. We call it "helping you out" of the gray pit in which you and those around you have stuff yourself into. But really, some us just do it for the amusement. You can say that this is not really a trustworthy cause, being amused. But what do we care for what you think? You are one of the idiots running around destroying the planet for some few comforts you can gain on your ladder to success before the inevitable slap of reality comes closing in and you must be returned to whence you came. You and people like you are crushing the life from all cultures and individuals in your quest for a perfect global market empire. You follow lock stock and barrel all the lies about time being money and about how laughter and happiness can only be achieved once you or your masters have complete control over everything from DNA codes to snowflakes. We are here to tell you that we WILL stop your attempts at stripping away those amazing things, such as the sparkle of the moonlight over waves or the thrill of the first winter flakes pirouetting across the city streets, that make life full with native wonder. We will stop you from trying to lock away these native sources of joy and market them on your exchanges. You can stomach the idea of happiness that is uncontrolled. Happiness that cares nothing for what you have achieved or who you are. If you had your way, only the rich would be able to afford the light of the sun on their faces. (And you have tried many times to enslave people in places where they either couldn't feel the sun, or where they were dead to the sun.)
We are here to tell you, that the target is you. The game is ours. And your choices whether to engage us or not in this new stage of your life (starting right about the moment you finish this message) will show us how sensitive you have managed to remain in spite of all the soul sucking you contribute to. YOU. We are here to tell you that we will no longer tolerate your soul sucking. Heads up. This is your warning notice. And you are so lucky that it is us giving you the message, as opposed to Eris, whose messages are certainly less kind to those of your ilk.
We are here to blow away the dead tissue from your pineal gland. We will scrape away the calcium deposits and leave you there exploding, in the world you have denied from the moment you could think that you actually thought for yourself. Instead of neat new shiny and fashionable life-style choices, we will leave with the sudden dawn of laughter. Yes, the universe does laugh and She is laughing at you. (She laughs at us to, but we are well aware of this. Unlike you, who actually has the temerity to believe yourself uniquely immune to this laughter.) It's only a matter of time. And since we know longer play that game, only you stand to worry about matters of time. Nothing you can do will stop our poking at your walls. Nothing you can do will stop our celebration. Nothing you can do will stop our opposition. Nothing you can do will ultimately hide chaos. And all of our silly projects and words and games that drive you hopping mad or conversely jumping around in silly ecstasy (usually after you crack apart)...all of these will not stop. Not even after you wise up.
You can keep you pineal gland locked up and unexercised. We of the Discordian Society are here to help you remember exactly what you have done to yourself that makes you a slave to another's coercion or will. Your pineal gland infection is growing. This disgusts us. We can smell the foul stench of your necrotized pineal tissue all over the globe. We are sick of it all. It is time for some cleaning. We do not want your submission. In fact, we want you to stop submitting. For once, can you stand up and stop submitting yourself? We will see after we have done our part of debriding your pineal gland. We will see. Indeed.
Now...start dancing. And get ready for our attempt to reach out and shake you from your advertising-induced torpor. If we don't, Eris will.
-Irreverend Hugh, KSC
PMM Co-Episkopos, Pan-Goddess Diddling Witch of the Coven of Macha, Arch-Deacon and Rabbi of the International Great Discordian Jihad, spokesperson of slack, and covert cohort of the Church of Eris. (And a whole lot of other amusing titles and credentials which may or may not have any relevance, depending on who you are and what you want.)
December 8th, 2005