Numerrillogical Musings
Token Chaos

For those of you who aren't from New York (or are but care not to admit it), we have one Hell in a subway system (reread that last bit if you didn't notice anything odd about it). For the privilege of riding this system, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority has decreed that it will cost an additional 25 cents, bringing the total up to a reasonably whopping buck fifty. This, not surprisingly, is making the folks who ride said subway system rather cranky. It has also been quite significant for those who have the eyes to see the signs.

So here we have cryptic references which seem to partially refer to a couple-a something-or-others and a whole lotta confusion getting ready to hit New York like a Hammer of Bonking. If that ain't the Hand of Goddess, I'll eat my straight-jacket.
      So, thoroughly convinced that there was Something Afoot, I decided to see if the present Discordian Year (3161) had anything special about it, to be causing such an uproar and leaving such Signs and Portents laying about where someone might step in them.
      What I discovered was, to put it mildly, completely wonko.

Numerrillogical Exposition
Louis Farrakhan, Eat Your Heart Out

That's what the numbers say, anyway, and therein one finds yet another mystery -- the numerrillogical investigation itself takes on the Cosmological form (well, one interpretation of it, at least [Lord Omar would almost certainly wish to have words with me concerning my interpretation, in fact]), beginning with sheer silliness in Primal Chaos, moving by turns through Confusion and Discord, and thence into the stagnating Beauracracy and finally into the doldrums (yea, e'en the ``humdrums'') of the Aftermath, which then ushers forth a New Chaos, made stronger by its labors in the Underworld.
      So what's going on? Well, when you start putting pentagons (in the tokens) together with apples (as in ``The Big'') during the season of the Aftermath in a numerrillogically significant year, you're gonna set off some rather confusing resonances, and you have to expect that Goddess is going to have a wee bit of fun at your expense. But that's just the explanation of the signs that have cropped up, whose real function is to point out that this is one heck of a significant year -- a year which might have gone by unremarked if not for the blaring trumps that Our Lady scattered about in our little city, hoping that someone would notice.
      That's what 3161 is, folks. A reminder, a bit of hope, a twinge of nostalgia, a promise of the return of Chaos and, lest we forget, 25 fucking cents more to ride the choo-choo.
      And, as always, Goddess prevails. Hail Eris.