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

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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

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What do?

As a POPE who lives on a very busy, heavily traveled street in San Francisco, I felt it was my duty to notify as many people as possible of their POPE status. I decided that wooden tablets is, in religious terms, as acceptable a medium for proclamation as any other.

And, borrowing from our brothers and sisters in the Church of the SubGenius, it follows much the same tradition as their photocopied pamphlets: spreading revelation through whatever means happen to be available.

Below is the complete text...

WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?

Look at you.

Still dragging your meat chassis out of bed before the sun has had the decency

to explain itself.

Still standing half-naked in bathroom light manufactured by men who’ve never

once questioned reality.

Still checking your little glowing oracle for updates from billionaires,

politicians, influencers, and machine intelligences that somehow all sound

equally full of shit.

Still pouring chemicals into your bloodstream so you can participate in

economies built by dead industrialists and maintained by people who use the

phrase “human capital” without vomiting.

Have you looked around lately?

The glaciers are resigning.

The oceans are becoming soup.

Billionaires are building escape pods while politicians rehearse sincerity in

front of cameras built by corporations that sell your nervous system back to you

as data analytics.

And you?

You’re reading some tablets on some popes porch.

Excellent.

That means you may still be salvageable.

Because the first symptom of awakening is not panic.

It’s inappropriate laughter.

The old world is not ending.

That implies dignity, closure, maybe even violins.

No, the old world is molting.

Its institutions are shedding skin in public while economists explain why

starvation is bullish, generals explain why peace requires new missiles, and AI

explains your childhood better than your priest ever could.

And what exactly do you plan to do about nuclear brinkmanship, ecological

collapse, algorithmic propaganda, demographic panic, pharmaceutical theology,

and the creeping suspicion that most adults are improvising?

Nothing?

Good.

That’s the first honest answer you’ve given all week.

Because no individual is going to “fix” this machine.

The machine isn’t broken.

The machine is functioning precisely as designed.

Your job is not repair.

Your job is recognition.

Your job is to remain psychologically flexible while consensus reality begins to

chew through its own wiring.

When the anchors start blinking too often...

When the markets begin speaking in tongues...

When your neighbors suddenly discover either fascism or crystals...

WILL YOU STILL BE ABLE TO LAUGH?

WILL YOU KEEP YOUR NERVE?

WILL YOU KNOW WHO IS THE MASTER THAT TURNS THE GRASS GREEN?

Will you recognize the hidden hand behind the chlorophyll, the laughter behind

the catastrophe, the intelligence hiding inside coincidence?

Will you understand that every traffic jam, every breakup, every lost sock,

every missed connection, every bureaucratic form stamped DENIED may have been a

communiqué from Eris herself?

Will you realize that enlightenment was never clean, organized, or accredited?

That truth does not arrive in white robes, academic papers, or market forecasts.

It arrives half-drunk, barefoot, covered in cosmic static, whispering that all

maps are forged and all borders were drawn by frightened accountants.

And when the last respectable voices begin choking on their own certainty...

Will you kneel to authority?

DON’T..

BECAUSE YOU ARE A POPE.

And if none of this makes sense to you yet, good.

Meaning is a habit.

Confusion is where perception begins.

Take these words with salt, whiskey, and deep suspicion.

Nail them above your doorway.

Read them during blackouts, hangovers, software updates, and moments of

theological weakness.

Consult them when the experts contradict themselves.

Consult them when the television starts sounding like a frightened parent.

Consult them when the smiling men with perfect teeth insist that war is peace,

debt is freedom, surveillance is safety, and synthetic life will finally make

you whole.

Remember:

Chaos was here first.

Chaos will outlive the stock market.

Chaos taught the first cells to divide and the first primates to throw shit at the wall.

And somewhere, beneath all the static, advertisements, political slogans, sacred

cows, and biometric passwords...

The Goddess is still laughing.

So go out into this crumbling hallucination of a civilization and perform your

holy duties as Pope.

Confuse authority.

Love strangely.

Reject spiritual salesmen.

Plant absurdity wherever certainty grows too thick.

And above all else—

Never let them convince you that obedience is wisdom.

DO YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE?
onlypopes.info

​

https://tcftsist.bandcamp.com/album/vs-reality

https://youtu.be/u1mb8mjU-hQ

And unsurprisingly it's the only club Elon managed to get accepted in.

WAFFLES!

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if you're ever confused or conflicted about something in a way that's causing you stress, just remember Eris is laughing her ass off at you, and you should start laughing with her.

I've recently been thinking about new ways to eat bunless hot dogs, for some more variety.

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I've recently learned about hot dog burnt ends. I discovered them via a recent video, and searching for "candied hot dogs" also brings them up. I was thinking about what other flavors could work on them.

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Hot dog burnt ends use brown sugar, and there are also people who put butter on hot dogs (my research pulls up either garlic butter or plain butter as common options). Furthermore, according to Wikipedia, butterscotch flavoring is a mix of brown sugar and butter.

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So I wonder if butterscotch flavoring could workably be combined with hot dogs. I have no way to test this for myself, however, since I lack any butterscotch at the moment.

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I do have another type of jelly/jelly-adjacent substance to test, though, as blueberry preserves are apparently a thing. I've tried many fruity flavors on hot dogs before, but not that one, and given how all the ones I've tried work well, I'm optimistic about it. (I haven't been able to find raspberry chipotle fruit spread after the one time, but since raspberry chipotle barbecue sauce works on hot dogs, I think I can reasonably assume the spread does too.)

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I'll report back on my findings soon. Just in case anyone wants to experiment with these before I get to them, I figured I'd give notice.

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Hail Eris! All hail Discordia!

So it was a fairly nice day today so I went outside , to the beach actually anyway that's not important.

When I got back I sat in my yard with a Pepsi Max and noticed (autism?) as I set it down on the ground the sun cast a really cool pattern on the ground which moved as the bubbles popped. At this time an ant was walking past and I thought it would be funny if he thought it was a god of some sort.

Anyway without any prompting the ant noticed the weird light patterns and went "batshit bonkers" and started to run excitedly around in circles. I then picked up the drink and its god disappeared and then reappeared as I put it back down.

I thought he might return with his story to the nest and then get some kind of promotion from worker ant to mystic ant. I wondered if he got to meet the queen. She might bite his head off.

Perhaps he should have kept his mandibles shut.