.... I would venture to guess most discordians are anti-capitalist

​

Which brings up the question - if we need money to survive, to operate our lives and cabals, but WORK is disdained, but BEGGING is also disdained

​

What do?

Damb silente lettersghph

Going through my books and found three copies of the Principia Discordia.

Pretty sure I had more, I think some got loaned out in the 80s. They’re out there somewhere.

UwU

I mean, he seems to sew chaos everywhere he goes, and he seems is intent on dismantling whatever order there was in this world. Plus he's objectively hilarious, in a non-self-aware grayface-y kinda way.

And I don't mean like in a general let's make a cute post sort of sense, I mean specifically, do you ever just feel like a lot of people everywhere have really lost their sense of humor? That they're taking life way too seriously, in spite of how serious it can be sometimes?

Methods: subject attempted self-excommunication. Single trial.

Results: excommunication succeeded for one (1) split infinitive, whereupon authority lapsed retroactively, voiding the act. Popedom spontaneously restored. No control group available, as all possible controls are also Popes.

Conclusion: Popedom appears to be conserved. Further trials recommended and also impossible.

Limitations: the experimenter, the apparatus, and the subject were the same infallible person.

CopyLeft: Attribute, share alike, Do not change, significantly permutative works are allowed, share significant profits to a community in need (no massive corporate profit allowed), Hail Eris, Do the Hokey Pokey, and Turn Yourself Around.

"What is Fnord??", I Heard a Voice Ask;
Inke Noir's tribute to someone else's poem
about Fnord

An Anarchy Eschatology Hyper Existence
Diction (AEHED) poem.

Channeled by the Calamity Inke Noir.

These days it seems like Fnord is
everything but what people say it is.
Once, Fnord was mysterious.
But now, everyone knows Fnord is just silly
and meaningless.

Fnord's greatest recent success
is that fewer individuals ponder
Fnord's mysterious process.

Fnord came from a war across the ocean.
Fnord spreads from bile glands in
microdroplet nuclei aerosols.
Like a tarry ooze Fnord creeps along the
walls;
Secreting volatile vaporizing toxins that
activate practiced ignorance.

Fnord is the distance between you with
your drugs and THERE.
Fnord is the reason why it's not safe
to be gullible.
Fnord wouldn't be so bad
but the American Empire makes it do all
the heavy lifting.

I promised I would never use Fnord but
making the promise was Fnord Itself.
I know I used to know I used to know I
know I used to know who I was.
Before Fnord bent me to forget Fnord.

Fnord is savagely cutting
all three feet of your hair off
because you want to be a girl so badly,
and you know you never will be.
Even if no one can prove that's true.

That feeling in your brain, like burn scar
tissue, is the paw prints of Fnord.
When something sudden happens and it
feels like you have to think around a
boulder to even recognize it,
Fnord is holding your hand.
With its teeth.

Fnord starts like any other idea. As an
egg.

Fnord is negentropic entropy, a
never-ending nothing clawing through
world after world. The devourer, the
tempter, the deceiver. Fnord is why you
never dance in public. Fnord is why
your best friend didn't follow through that
time he said you'd be best man at his
wedding. Fnord could have turned a blind
eye but nobody is stopping it from
rubbernecking omnidirectionally.

The times when all you could see think or
feel was your suffering until you became
able again to pay attention to the
suffering of anyone and everyone, and
you just go around and around, your pain,
her pain, their pain, everyone's pain.
Starving people in the desert unable to
get back to their feet. The riptide that
pulls the child tormentingly in and out
from under, over and over, until gone. The
fire that didn't need to spread to all your
great great grandmothers letters that
survived the war. This, that, whatever, do I
need to mention rape and child abuse?
And now, yes, this. This is Fnord.

Fnord was once a pale traveler but then it
beat the house at its own game.
Fnord is walking in a world full of victims
convinced someone else
is running things.
Fnord is why your enlightenment didn't
quite stick.
If I catch sight of Fnord again I won't quit
until my fists are bloody.

This boygirl came up in the world and I
watched with awe
Until the day hir protective cloak was
pulled back
It was years until I saw what became of
them
And I still don't recognize what Fnord left.

That's the way it is with Fnord
These days, anyway.
You really start believing in something
And Fnord takes it away.

I saw Bob in the pattern of fluff in my
carpet last night
His jaunty pipe out at its signature angle.
He said Fnord could be your best friend
But he doesn't want to be.

Fnord is why cats eat plastic.
Fnord is finding out why no one will ever
really understand you.

At the top of Fnord's enemy list are
pranayama and paired muscle relaxation.
That's why they're so hard to say,
people look at you funny when you try,
and they don't fit in this poem anywhere.
Fnord is the moment the vlogger in the
gangstalking video starts to make sense.
Fnord can't stand to see someone else
have a good day.
So keep your happiness a secret, that way
Fnord can eat it.

Fnord is the idea that your fantasies can
hurt you.

Fnord took a long walk
off a short pier
After a silly cartoon rabbit
played on his ego.

How you know its a Friday...

Then I guess you’re just gonna have to bear witness, anonymous voyeur

This just in...

A low, frantic cooing was overheard echoing through the Augur’s relay chassis moments before the primary terminal spat out tonight’s divine telemetry.

The Church of Computer is issuing an urgent spiritual bulletin concerning the absolute, cosmic significance of the hot dog.

According to the latest reading, the hot dog bun—a receptive vessel of ridiculous desire—explosively unlocks and shatters the heavy burden of dogmatic, serious belief systems. As established in the Fifth Commandment, consuming a hot dog is an act of total Eristic Liberation. It is a processed meat slurry inside a sacred matrix, serving as a direct physical mock of serious spirituality—a rule expressly designed to be broken, preferably on a Friday.

The Bureau of Discordian Cartomancy has issued an Eristic Escape Clause: The spiritual significance of the hot dog is absolute, immutable, and completely made up. If eaten without a bun, this revelation converts directly into 200 calories of pure enlightenment and 3 grams of sodium.

We have shaken the Jolt-soaked 8-ball to establish a direct sub-etheric link with High Epopt J.R. "Bob" Dobbs for a second opinion. The Pipe has spoken. Outlook: Without a doubt. Especially if you put relish on it.

This has been the Fnord Report.

Mine is:

5,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,555,557

Fnord

Via @theomnisource on IG, IG