"A Sermon On Ethics And Love"

My favorite bit from the Principia Discordia is A Sermon on Ethics and Love. Here, reprinted entirely without permission, is said sermon:

One day Mal-2 asked the messenger spirit Saint Gulik to approach the Goddess and request Her presence for some desperate advice. Shortly afterwards the radio came on by itself, and an ethereal female Voice said YES?

"O! Eris! Blessed Mother of Man! Queen of Chaos! Daughter of Discord! Concubine of Confusion! O! Exquisite Lady, I beseech You to lift a heavy burden from my heart!"

WHAT BOTHERS YOU, MAL? YOU DON'T SOUND WELL.

"I am filled with fear and tormented with terrible visions of pain. Everywhere people are hurting one another, the planet is rampant with injustices, whole societies plunder groups of their own people, mothers imprison sons, children perish while brothers war. O, woe."

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH THAT, IF IT IS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO?

"But nobody wants it! Everybody hates it."

OH. WELL, THEN STOP.

At which moment She turned herself into an aspirin commercial and left The Polyfather stranded alone with his species.

Fnord!

And Yet, I Just Can't Seem To Care....

So, I'm finding it more and more difficult to give a shit about anything. What's especially worrying is I'm finding it more and more difficult to care about things that used to mean a great deal to me. For example, I'm completely unmotivated to engage with feminism like I used to. I'm the TA for an Intro to Women's Studies class and I've been grading a bunch of journal entries lately. A few years ago, if I'd read the things in these journals ("I think, deep down, women really like being treated as sex objects" "It's okay to treat men better than women because God made us different") I would have been apoplectic. Now, I was irritated, sure, but not like I would have been. And I couldn't keep up that irritation for more than a few hours at a time.

I don't want to read about feminism anymore.
I don't want to talk about feminism anymore.
I don't want to go tree-sit anymore.
I don't want to march on Washington anymore.
I don't want to write letters to the editor anymore.
I don't want to debate with anybody anymore about anything.
I don't want to hear other people's opinions anymore.
I don't even want to hear my own opinions anymore.

I. Just. Don't. Care.


Filthy Dream Update:
Last night featured John Constantine (well, Keanu Constantine, anyway). He has more tattoos than the ones you saw in the film.

I Hear West Virginia Is Nice This Time Of Year....

...or "Adventures With Alzheimers 2: Electric Boogaloo."

Yes, it's that time again kids! You get a peek into the wacky hijinx that fill your life when someone you love has Alzheimers!

On Monday my mom called. I noticed that she had a southern accent. Now, my mom lived in West Virginia until she was 13, so when her southern accent comes out, she's nearly incomprehensible. However, it only comes out when someone around her has a southern accent. So, naturally, I asked why she was southern. Apparently, my grandmother thinks she still lives in West Virginia (and so her accent came out). She thinks she's on vacation. Then someone knocked on the door, so my mom let me talk to my grandmother while she took care of it. My grandmother forgot who I was and why she was talking to me repeatedly. She also recommended that I visit West Virginia some time. It's very nice this time of year, according to her (I don't know what time of year she thinks it is, though). I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that the people at "this resort" are very nice and helpful. So, if you're ever in Idaho, go stay at Chez Raksha's Mom. My grandmother gives it a 4 star review.

Our house also doubles for a lot of other places too. Sometimes it's a nursing home, "which really needs to hire more nurses because just these three aren't enough." Once it was a hospital after the car my grandmother was in blew up. She had to be brought in on a stretcher and she demanded to see her charts. Another time, our house even managed to bi-locate and become my aunt's house in Ohio. Sometimes, we also have two second floors. Other times, one second floor moves downstairs and becomes a second basement. It only does that when you're trying to get at construction materials or wrapping paper you've stored away, though. It's very annoying.

I never knew one little cape cod could be so versatile!

Manos:

The Hands of Fate!

I Want Some Of Whatever He Was On.

So, you've all seen Leonard Nemoy's "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins", right? I think this may just be my favorite music video of all time.

Just Don't Let The Power Go To Your Head.

Do you ever get the need to force everyone around you to bow to your will? I know I do. Unfortunately, that's often illegal and some would argue unethical, so thankfully, there is the Subservient Chicken!

Let's Hope They Learned From The Original And Skip The Two Suck-tastic Sequels.

Since we're on the subject of vegetarianism, take the red pill.

Exposing My Emotional Scars For Your Amusement

My mom sent me some pictures in the mail the other day. A lot of them are really old and among them are two photos of the reasons I am a vegetarian. So, let us cast our minds back to late 1998 when I was 17 and the world was consumed by Y2K paranoia....


Moo1
Originally uploaded by Raksha38.

This is Moo.

He got his name because of apples. We had an apple tree right at the corner of our backyard and the fence around the pasture where the cows lived. We would go out during the afternoons and throw apples from the ground on the backyard side of the fence across to the cows or the horses, whoever happened to be around. Moo would get so excited by the prospect of apples that he would start mooing loudly and pacing back and forth by the fence. He would lick your hand whenever he could. He was also pretty shy. He would come up to us, because he knew us, but he would run from strangers.


Cow2
Originally uploaded by Raksha38.

This is Cow.

He got his name because it went well with "Moo." He was more outgoing than Moo. If you called his name, he would come running. He liked to play with the barn cats and he loved to have his ears and forehead rubbed.

When our landlord first brought them to us to take care of, I knew there was no way I could keep from getting attached. However, I figured they'd take them a half a mile down the highway to McGee's (a small-scale slaughter and taxidermy business) and I'd be sad, but I would be okay. At this time, I was working at Burger King (aka the 7th Circle of Hell). One day, I was getting ready to leave for work when I heard "MOOO! MOOOO!" and then a loud bang. Our landlord had decided to put an end to the cows in our own backyard. I freaked out. I ran for my car, but as I was backing up, I had to look back to make sure I didn't run into this tree in our driveway, and I looked back right when they shot the other one. The image of Moo on the ground and Cow being shot in the head is forever burned into my mind.

I cried all the way to work. I cried at work as I served Moo and Cow's relatives to annoying people in the form of Whoppers. All of the walls in my mind between my food and my animal friends had crumbled into dust. I haven't touched meat since that day.

This Was Posted on Feb. 1. Really. No, Really!

Happy Charming of the Plow all! Now, go. Charm some plows!