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Fnord Finder (Puzzle)
By Episkopos Phi'phy Pho'psy, K.S.C., L.S.D.
A puzzling part of Operation Mindfuck: besides beginning with the letter A, what do all these words have in common?
• aberrations
• accelerations
• accessories
• acerbities
• adulterations
• adverbials
• adversaries
• adversities
• advertisement
• aerialist
• aeries
• aerobics
• aerodynamics
• aeronautics
• afterbirths
• afterimages
• afterlives
• agglomerations
• allegories
• allergies
• alliterations
• alterations
• altercations
• alternations
• amateurish
• ambergris
• ancestries
• aneurism
• anniversaries
• antibacterials
• antiperspirants
• aperitifs
• apothecaries
• appertains
• aromatherapist
• arteries
• arterioles
• arteriosclerosis
• ascertains
• asperities
• aspersions
• assertions
• assertiveness
• asterisk
• asteroids
• asymmetries
• atmospherics
• austerities
• aversions
Hints:
• beriberis
• bowdlerise
• careerism
• cauterise
• cerise
• characteristic
• cherish
• computerise
• consumerism
• derision
• feverish
• gibberish
• hucksterism
• imperishable
• impoverish
• isomerism
• liverish
• mannerism
• mesmerise
• pauperism
• periscope
• perish
• peristalsis
• peristyle
• pulverise
• spinsterish
• spoonerism
• tenderise
• tigerish
• verisimilitude
• volunteerism
Further Hint: see Fnord Finder (Program)
SpagbardCeline:
Available as word document (Italics intact)
Kallisti: Or How I Found Goddess
By Episkopos Phi'phy Pho'psy, K.S.C., L.S.D.
I
Anna Plurabelle appears, and speaks.
“I feel... funny, like I’m a ghost and don’t even need food,” she says. “I’ve barely been able to get any in my mouth lately – it seems so... alien."
Is she doing anything about it?
“I'm doing nothing,” Anna continues. “Well, I'm adjusting.”
Is it negatively affecting her well-being?
“Not yet,” she says, “but I suspect it soon shall. But I'm not worried. I don't mind at all!”
Maybe there's some spiritual, or psychic, force working on her...
“Yes,” Plurabelle exclaims! “In fact, I think I've contracted some sort of... virus, from reading Principia Discordia. It's left me with a strong, foreboding feeling.”
Constantly? Concurrently?
“Yes,” she responds. “Unknown Horrors await. All your fears impending... in the future.”
II
The sun shines brightly.
(looks at Anna Plurabelle)
Beautiful. And so elegant.
She looks like every woman I've ever loved, and more. She looks like every woman worth loving – no, she proves every woman is worth loving. I can see every color in her hair, and her skin is glowing; radiating light like... like... the moon: Luna.
Is she the moon, Luna? Is she? Yes. Yes, she is.
Am I the sun? Am I? No. No, I am... human?
She is married to Earth: Gaia.
Anna asks, “May I tell you of our union?"
Please.
Plurabelle closes her eyes, depersonalizes and speaks, “There was a time, long ago, before identification of constellations as personifications of celestial relations; before animals ever recognized themselves in reflections; before we identified merda with waste; when our moon, Luna, married our planet, Gaia; the sun, Sol, serving as witness; they began a new life together, and soon adopted twenty-three beautiful children: adorable amino acids orphaned by a dying satellite, from only-God-knows-when and only-God-knows-where, into Gaia’s tides, for her and Luna to nurture and endow with motherly affection – and with the help of Sol, one of their earliest friends, fatherly guidance; for their precious children meant worlds to them, and still do; though some have grown to believe themselves independent and self-reliant, their parents, Gaia and Luna (and Sol, who’s developed a warm spot for them), continue to care for all their children – even those ungrateful for their daily help – because that’s what good parents do, and these two vowed to spend the rest of their lives together; two heavenly bodies, slow-dancing through time and space, against all odds and probabilities.”
She finishes and opens her eyes.
(stunned)
III
Who is this woman? I can see her, but I'm not just looking at her. I'm looking through her. Worse: I can feel her looking through me. And inside me.
(shudders)
Anna Plurabelle smiles.
Did she just wink? What does she know that I don't? And what was she talking about earlier? Ghosts? What did she mean by Impending Horrors? What book did she say she read? Did she start this? Can she stop it?
Can it be stopped at all?
“I suppose that's up for me to decide,” Anna says. “I feel like I'm under a spell – yet, I retain some control. I'm floating in a drunken trolley, which I can exit at certain times."
Where's it going?
“Exactly,” she replies. “I don't know. There’s no engineer; it’s operating itself. I think manual override is in another dimension entirely! So, I’ve been trying to reach my hands into the fabric of spacetime... if the universe is really made of vibrating strings of energy, I'm going to pluck them to make music.” Plurabelle spins in a circle, jokingly strumming an airharp.
That's string theory?
“It’s like I'm caught at the end of some supernatural bow,” she continues, “played by some invisible hand. It's willing me towards whichever notes He – She, or whatever it is – wishes to hear. I feel like I might be able to control it, but I'm choosing not to.” Anna Plurabelle smiles brilliantly. “I wear the shoes of fate; aren't they lovely?” She giggles and twirls in place, playfully kicking her feet in front of her. “May I ask you a somewhat... personal, question?”
Hit me, baby.
Anna asks – grinning – eyes wide shut, “Did you know that God’s name is Eris, and that he’s a girl?”
(laughs)
No, I didn’t. Isn’t Eris the reason Pluto isn’t a planet anymore?
“Well he’s a girl, and his name is Eris,” she proclaims.
Except, I don’t believe in God.
“But you must have faith,” Anna Plurabelle cries! “All is lost without faith! I sure feel sorry for you if you don't have faith.” Her eyes begin to moisten.
I have faith... just not in God.
She warns, “Don’t you know what happens to those who deny Goddess?”
Probably the same thing that happens to those who affirm Goddess!
Anna laughs and smiles.
Her reputation precedes her. Her enemies are many, but her friends are legion. I've heard her called a liar, a prankster and a teacher – by the same person. She's definitely... funny. Didn't she say she feels funny?
“Yes,” she responds, grinning back.
Is she helping me with something?
“Of course I am, you silly fnord,” Plurabelle responds playfully.
But with what? What was she saying about God? That her name is Eris? I don't even believe in God. I'm a biological reductionist. All phenomena – including consciousness – can be explained by neuronal and chemical activity. All mysticism is malarkey. It's the human tendency to impose meaning on symbols, dogmatized. I’d love to explore spiritual realms, and I want to believe in extra-dimensional, transcendental beings... but I take my beliefs too seriously. I act smart but I’m The Fool. What I know won’t matter when I’m dead. But, what I do, might. So what’s the best way to live life? Is there an absolute truth about life after death? Can it even be known? I don't want to fool myself, but I want to believe in something, and I don't want it to be what others have already found. I want Truth to reveal herself to me. Revelation.
IV
(smiles and looks up at Anna Plurabelle)
She couldn’t really have caught a virus by reading a book; or could she? Is it contagious? Was it the story she told me of Gaia and Luna? Or maybe that thing about the Goddess of Discord? I might already have it, whatever it is. Am I part of it now?
How deep does this go? All the way to the top?
How can I help her? Whom should I blame?
“Whomever pleases you most,” she jokes. “God is like... an octopus; and I am one of her many tentacles, in a dark, vast and starry sea.”
Couldn't there be more than one God? With multiple tentacles connecting to one another?
“Well, I suppose there could be,” Anna replies. “But I'm just one tentacle, and I play my role well. I’m actually starting to enjoy it. I figure life's too short – so why worry?”
Future Horrors – that's why. Future Horrors.
Plurabelle’s tentacle might be able to avert them.
Why did she stop smiling?
Anna Plurabelle begins laughing, menacingly. The clouds darken; the voice of God, Thunder, booms overhead. “I suppose if my tentacle has a will, it ought to act on it,” she utters hoarsely. A shadow falls across her face, and then another across her body. Only her mouth remains illuminated.
“And it has,” she says. “That’s why I‘m here. I've chosen you tonight,” she emphasizes ominously. Her voice trails off in an echo.
I'm chosen for what?
(realizes)
Future Horrors: they’re here... am I... some sort of sacrifice? Alas... Nobody lives forever. Might as well get it over with. I knew it would come to this. Resistance is futile.
Oh, what cowardly thoughts I have before death!
... And what is taking her so long?
The clouds part. Anna Plurabelle smiles and turns away, leaving. “I should get going,” she says. “I feel the trolley gaining speed.”
(watches her walk away)
Her hair bounces so gracefully; and her hips, they sway so rhythmically.
I... I think I love her.
She’s walking away.
(cries out: “I love you!”)
“I love you!" The first words I’ve ever spoken to her. What’s there more to say, anyway?
Anna Plurabelle looks back, grinning. “I know,” she replies.
When will I see you again?
Disappearing into the distance, Anna answers, “Whenever you seek the core of argument!”
The core of argument...
(finally realizes)
The Golden Apple of Discord! Kallisti! Paris was wrong (again) – it doesn’t belong to Venus or Aphrodite... Eris is the fairest! The Queen of Strife! The apple was hers to begin with!
V
A force is pulling me backwards.
(panics)
(sees self from above, sleeping in a bed; calms)
(submerges astral body into material body; feels awakened)
(looks at digital clock)
Time scrambles past.
It's malfunctioning.
(notices eleven fingers; flips the light switch)
The room remains dark.
I'm lucid!
I’m dreaming!
(gets out of bed; goes downstairs)
(lets dogs outside; remembers they’ve died)
But they’re alive now!
(goes upstairs; crawls into bed)
(hypnagogically hallucinates; succumbs to dream world)
The sun rises.
(crawls out of bed)
Digital digits still spin on the clock, like reels flipping in a slot machine.
I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot, but I’ll lose this feeling whenever I fall asleep again... whenever I dream again. If I wake in the morning, I will be an entirely new person. And Gods willing, I will dream and wake again. Again and again.
Do you hear me?
Wake up!
Siriusly. Close your eyes, concentrate hard...
And wake up!
Episkopos Phi'phy Pho'psy, Keeper of the Sacred Chao and Lector of Secular Discord, is Lone Priest of Crocodylus Pontifex, the one true cabalistic disorganization of the High Church of Our Lady Eris, Goddess of Discord, the fairest and prettiest of all.
High Priest:
Here are .doc files for the four previous posts (preserved formatting)
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