Chaplin IM False
I requested of the Goode Chaplynne that she send me something resembling an
autobiography (I told her that it should be about her life, but that it need
not be entirely accurate. Okay, I asked her to lie, if you must know).
She was only too happy to comply.
I was born in a small log cabin in Illinois. No, wait, that's our 16th Prez,
Mr. Lincoln. Actually, I was the 3rd miscarriage and sole surviving humanoid
type child of the pairing of the two people I like to call by parents. After
they abandoned me in a nearby dumpster, I crawled out and found them, to their
utmost dismay. Since the authorities had been notified that they were my
parents they were now forced to feed, house and such me for the next 17 years.
As a small child, it was noted that I had a certain flair for questioning and
confusing anything that happened into my path. This annoyed most people, but
by this point my parents had given up and had decided to just leave me alone
since it caused them less distress. Thus, I was on the less traveled path of
Discordianism. Many times during my childhood my parents tried to move away
and leave me behind, but I always managed to find them due to the radio
transmitters I had installed in their inner ears. We traveled from
Massachusetts, my birthplace, to New York. From there, to Tierra Del Fuego.
From there, Nome, Alaska. This pattern followed through Paris, France, Zurich,
Switzerland, Johannesburg, South Africa, Kona, Hawaii, Denver, Colorado and
finally St. Louis, Missouri.
Because of this constant movement, I became aware of the ins and outs of
dealing with authorities (passport peoples, customs peoples, etc.). I learned
to question everything, since eventually they will stop hearing you in
self-defense, and you can get away with just about anything.
Other than that, I have been a ``workin' class hero'' and have been in a variety
of positions (watch your dirty mind!). I have been a table busser, frame
maker, batikist, nanny, chauffeur, food finder, gallery co-director, operating
room technician, counter person, xerox machine key operator, printer,
lithographer/press operator, and general pain in the ass. KooKooKaChoo.
[About two weeks later, she wrote me again to clarify some points that she left
For lack of a nail, the shoe was lost; for lack of a shoe, the horse was lost.
For lack of a horse, there were no Westerns to watch and my parents out of
boredom had sex. Hereafter, a child was born, and lo and behold it was I.
There was no room at the Inn. I was born in a hospital because I wanted to be
close to my mother. My family lived in ``projects'' the first few years of my
life, since my father was newly discharged from the Coast Guard, and the price
of a six pack of beer was quite costly. After collecting 23,232,235 bottle
caps, the price of a down payment on a house was saved. This was quickly
squandered and our small family moved into a shoe box on my father's father's
back porch. Things were good. My father found a job working at a small city
newspaper as a Linotype operator. My mother tried to hide from my grandfather
when he was in port. Grandpa was the captain of a fishing boat and was out on
the Atlantic hunting for mackerels and such most of the time. When he was in
port, at the close of a fishing trip, after visiting the local bars, he would
crawl home and demand fishcakes. Mom hated making fishcakes, thus she hid when
Grandpa was in port.
I spent my formative years sitting under the old chestnut tree in the back
yard. Learned about gravity after being struck on the head numerous times by
falling chestnuts. The also explains my AbNormal way of looking at and dealing
with the world in later life. To this day, I avoid walking under chestnut
At the age of 6, the authorities insisted that I come out from under the
chestnut tree and attend ``school.'' They felt that it was necessary to instill
in me the qualities that define a good citizen, namely to blindly obey any
edict espoused by them with power. Fortunately, for me at least, all those
chestnuts hitting me in the head caused their conditioning procedures to
backfire and I grew up to question every edict espoused by
This, in turn,
to my utmost chagrin, annoyed THEM to no end. I had learned a cheap,
entertaining method of passing the time while waiting for the next chestnut to
fall. Questioning everything. Quite happy, embraced by the arms of
Keep your eye to the 8-ball, your nose to the wheel and your ear to the ground
and eventually you will have the skills needed to become a contortionist.