Sermon from My Mouth
[This sermon was transcribed by Nosmo King, at the Eris Esoterica Revival Tent
and Miracle Medicine Show, Skokie, Indiana, 1972, only hours before his
mysterious disappearance in a Skokie Howard Johnsons. The tape recorder was
found in a ladies' room stall, where King was last seen. I have endeavored to
preserve the atmosphere of the sermon by joining the assembled throng in their
fervent responses. -- Ed.]
Brothers and sisters...
Brothers and sisters, it is a cold world we live in -- cold-ah! Where
brother turns against brother! Sister against sister! Parent against child!
Neighbor hates neighbor! Nations against nation! Man bites dog! And-ah,
brothers and sisters-ah, I know why! I know why this happens! There is a
rea-son-ah! A REAson-ah. Y'all listen close now, brothers, sisters and
children of Our Lady!
The reason is that people are sure-ah! They are firm in their beliefs!
Their beliefs-ah! Their BELIEFS-ah! For out there, in the Land of
Thud, every man is an island of surety! [``No!'' -- Ed.] Security!
[``No!'' -- Ed.] Sobriety! [``NOOOO!'' -- Ed.]
Every man is sure of up and down! [``No!'' -- Ed.] Right and
left-ah! [``No!'' -- Ed.] Right and wrong-ah!
[``No!'' -- Ed.] And I can hear you out there-ah,
sayin'-ah ``Say it ain't so, Reverend! Say it ain't so, Brother Alleluja! SAY
IT AIN'T SO-ah!''
But it is, my children. So it is.
And you say-ah, so you say-ah, ``Reverend! What can we do-ah? What can we
do-ah?'' You say, ``We are helpless, Reverend, against the Big World-ah
and its jails-ah and its Bibles-ah and its policemen-ah and its firemen-ah, its
doctors-ah, nurses-ah, Indian chiefs-ah, people in uniform-ah! People
in authority-ah! The cold truth-ah! The ugly fact-ah! The
harsh REALITY-ah...
Reverend, there are LAWYERS out there-ah!''
Lawyers out there-ah!
Lawyers out there-ah!
Now I know your fear, brothers and sisters. I have felt your fear-ah. I know
your pain. But you are not alone-ah! You are not helpless-ah! You are not
alone because our Lady is with you-ah! Gimme a Hail Eris [``Hail Eris!''
-- Ed.] Gimme a HO-sanna! [``Hosanna!'' -- Ed.]
Let me hear the word on the apple-ah! [``KALLISTI!'' -- Ed.]
Now y'all listen to me, brothers and sisters! I have it from on high-ah! I
have the word from on HIGH-ah! I would tell you that I have it on good
authority -- but there is no such thing as good authority-ah -- I have
it from on high-ah that there is something you can do about it! Tell me what
the word is-ah! [``KALLISTI!'' -- Ed.]
[At this point, the Right Irreverent Reverend Allelujah Terata began to shake,
shudder and drool. In his spastic thrashings he upset the podium and water
pitcher, and it became apparent to all concerned that, from the way he was
banging his head against the altar service and foaming at the mouth, he was
either channeling for his 5,000 year old Abyssynian spirit guide, Godspo
Hasken, or he was very tired and cranky and should be tucked immediately into
bed. He then stopped, stood up, and addressed the congregation in a voice
which was almost but not entirely just like a voice which sounded remarkably
like his own, if he were trying to sound like someone else. Godspo had
arrived. -- Ed.]
All right children, listen up. It's not enough to say you are a worshipper of
Our Lady. It is not enough to simply claim; you must act!
Without plan, for orderly planning reeks of the Stinky Finger of Thud, while
spontaneity is the sparkling flatulence of Our Lady of Little Surprises. It is
your responsibility...no, your duty...no, that's not right either...It's lots of fun to upset the equilibrium of the placid, plodding,
sure-footed Thuddites with a bit of mystery -- and irritating mystery at
that!
What Brother Allelujah
was trying to get around to in his long-winded way was this: people who are
sure they're right are trouble, and are the typhoid carriers of the
Curse of Greyface. Therefore, they are responsible for all the troubles of the world. So, the
only way to combat them is to attempt to make them unsure of everything. The
most commonplace things. Everything. Paper clips. You can make them
unsure of their paper clips. The best Discordian tactic is called
Guerrilla Surrealism. Trust me; I'm a 5,000 year old Abyssynian -- I know what
I'm talking about. Listen to ol' Godspo here.
Guerrilla Surrealism
-- the
primary weapon of the Holy
Avatar
Calvin, Hagbard Celine, Caligostro the Great, Henry Kissinger, Puck, the
Knights Templar and other great Warriors of Discord. A blameless, guiltless and
subtle method of gracefully driving people out of their minds. Infinitely
variable, incredibly adaptable, endlessly versatile and really cheap.
Do you know how many gross of washers or wingnuts you can get wholesale, real
cheap? Especially if you go in with a few friends?
I'll explain. No, there is too much. I'll sum up.
Example I of Guerrilla Surrealism: The Wingnut Trick (heh heh heh).
Pick your Thuddite carefully. The most pompous, plodding Thud you can find who
is accessible to you. Bosses are ideal. Professors too.
Quietly, no more than once per day, maybe twice (patience, patience), slip a
wing nut or washer into a jacket pocket, a desk drawer, a briefcase, a lunch
box, a shoe, on the carpet -- whatever. Do this slowly and subtly, with
accomplices if at all possible. Say nothing. Do not get caught.
In a month, your victim will be a gibbering wreck, being dragged off to the
booby hatch screaming ``WING NUTS! WING NUTS! AIEEEEEE!!'' -- a
much more entertaining person.
Another variant, usable only on people
with ceiling fans, is to drop oily screws and metal bits underneath the fan,
once every day or so. People become very worried, especially if they sit or
sleep beneath the fan. People suffering from sleep deprivation are also much
more entertaining than usual.
Streaking was once a form, but is now too commonplace. Staging bizarre events
(like dressing up as elves and running screaming down the ginza) is a beautiful
thing. Bizarre graffitti is a time-honored pastime (see Markoff Chaney of
Illuminatus! by Shea and Wilson), but getting caught and defacing
property are equally bad. Lawbreaking creates the need for police, thus
encouraging a police state, which is bad, children. The best definition
of Guerrilla Surrealism is ``an action so bizarre, it is not classified under
the law.''
Strive for perfection. It is a form of prayer. Strive for epiphany. If that
doesn't work, do something funny and run like Hell.
WHEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeee...
[At this point, Reverend Terata collapsed and was carried off by his staff of
nurses while screaming and babbling about lawn gnomes. -- Ed.]
For a truly inspired example, please refer to
Pope Icky Fudament's
first
Case Study
of Guerrilla Surrealism.
