Nobody Had A Cow: Breaking Social Norms



Before I got dressed, I put on a record by The Cowsills. I felt like I was preparing for some odd magical ceremony. Already laughing out loud to myself, I stepped in to the cotton concoction of black and white and pink and rubber. My cow costume. I've had it for about ten years now. Wore it for Halloween a few times. It's always a big hit. Women compliment me on my "tits." But mostly it just hangs in my closet. This is what I eventually decided on to break a social norm. I would wear my cow costume out to different establishments and note how people react. I was excited and really looking forward to the experience, rather than feeling frightened of embarrassment, as I don't often go out and so now had an excuse. I spend most of my time at home reading, watching movies, going online, studying and doing homework. I went through the bar scene years ago, got drunk every night, and I'm through with that, but just mooved (sorry) to Olympia last August, so I guess I should get out and meet some people.



First I decided to visit an adult video establishment. I walked from my apartment on Plum and 4th to Desire Video. That's quite a walk. It was around 7 pm. The first couple people I encountered were walking their dogs. They must've thought of me as some big dog walking on it's hind legs because they would try to come towards me. The first person, a young woman, pulled the leash and laughed to her pet, "No, it's a guy dressed in a cow suit." Then a man and his dog approached. He had some difficulty controlling his canine. I was starting to think maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Young man in cow suit found thrashed to pieces by rottweiler. As I walked up a steep hill, I decided to take it one step further and reached down in to my neck hole to pull out my pentagram necklace. I wear it all the time, but usually under a shirt. Not that I am hiding it for any reason. I just don't see the need to announce: look at me, I'm a Pagan! Which I'm not. But I felt inclined one day to have a symbol that supposedly wards of evil spirits and thought that might come in handy if I happen to switch my reality tunnel to one that believes in evil spirits, which I was befinning to do by reading too many books about shamanism, magick, mysticism, etc. And, ofcourse, I don't care to deal with and welcome fear and anger from the unenlightened who would see such a symbol and automatically think: Satan worshipper. Not that I have anything against Satan worshippers. Some of them are lovely people, some are assholes.....just as diverse as any other group of humans with "beliefs." (I may as well let you know now, Professor, that this a problem I tend to have when writing papers for school.....or writing anything in general.....er, my tendency to go off on tangents. Please let me know if this is unacceptable and I will do my best to stay on topic). Where was I? Oh, yes: a Satan worshipping cow. With "Got Milk?" written on the chest. I find that kind of lame now. Wrote it on there a few years ago when I wore it to work for Halloween and walked around with a bottle of vodka with milk inside. I don't drink milk, by the way. I think I'm lactose intolerant. I'm mostly a vegetarian, as well, but I still enjoy chicken and the occasional cheeseburger. This is relevant somehow, I swear. I had no problem with eating meat when I bought the suit that's for sure. Maybe they would think I'm on my way to some bizarre Satanic ritualistic slaughter. Plus, with this big, bushy beard, it's creepier than a clean shaven cow. Girls liked the young cow with a smooth face. I wasn't so sure what to expect with the beard, but I promised myself I wouldn't shave until a new president was elected (a promise I made before the last election). I'll get rid of my bush when America gets rid of it's Bush. Though I have trimmed it a couple times.



People drove by and honked. There were quite a few yelps of "Woohoo!" from girls. The men were very eloquent in their rhapsodization of my bovine burnoose with such quips as "Moo" and "Heyyy...Cow." I had never visited this "peddler of perversion" sandwiched between the rather more obscene trailer dealership and freeway overpass, and am not exactly a regular visitor to any such establishments, so it would be a new experience even without the outlandish dress. What would they think? The workers, the customers--when they look up to see a cow walk in. What is my fetish? They must've been scratching their heads the rest of the night trying to figure out what my trip is. As soon as I walked in, a man I immediately understood to be the owner or manager walked directly in front of me. His facial expression did not change one iota. He looked serious and a little annoyed. The blonde behind the counter, who looked like she should be working in a coffee shop and certainly did not fit the expected look of a person who would enjoy working around porn the least bit, smiled and said hi. I smiled and said hi back and browsed. There were a few other customers, all men, scattered throughout the bright, clean interior. Very sterile and organized. I listened to one man checking out a video. It was quite amusing. His overpoliteness with the girl and nervous lilt of his voice, from which I could decipher what he was really saying: "Hurry please. I'm eager to get home and masturbate. Don't make me talk to a real woman. Why are you asking me about my credit card????? Oh, God, I'm so lonely!" Then one guy was asking about special ordering an item. He's standing in a building filled with wall to wall pornography and still can't find anything to get him off? He was looking for some magazine. A couple walked in and immediate started laughing. I don't know if it was at me, though. They went to look at "toys." Nobody asked me why I was dressed as a cow. I exchanged brief pleasantries with the blonde girl at the counter and headed back home.



More people honking and laughing, and girls wooing. I wonder how I'd go over in India? Where the cow is sacred because of the flesh of the gods mushroom that sprouts form it's magical dung. Generally, I would ignore the people driving by, though a few waved, but if someone passed by on foot or bike I made eye contact with them. Usually no reaction. This town is so jaded, Man. Or so weird and quirky that seeing a man in a cowsuit really isn't that big of a deal. Whereas if I was in Nebraska or some other conservative locale... I was eager to get home and eat, and was getting rather warm in the suit. Three guys and a girl walked by. The girl was laughing, but again, I do not know if it was at me or if they were laughing about something they were discussing. A twenty-something female stopped me to ask something like: am I on a special mission or cause or am I just doing my own thing. I explained that it was a sociology experiment. She had been lying on a cot on the porch of a house I had recently seen for rent and I asked if she just moved in there. She said she's a bum and was just sleeping there. The home belongs to a charity organization called "Egyup." She said it was a cute idea: dressing as a cow. I told her I had to get going and that I'd put her in my paper. She said, "Tell them I'm cute." I laughed and said okay. She was cute, actually.



Waiting for the light to cross Plum, a muscular gentleman approached and stood next to me. I looked to the right. "I have that suit," he said.

"Oh, yeah?"

Silence.

I was seventeen feet from my front steps and was not interested in starting a conversation. The light changed and I went home. I stripped, put on my Navy sweatpants, and a t-shirt that says "FUCK BUSH" (which I never wear out in public, because I'm fragile and intelligent) and started making burritos. There was a ring at my door. It was my friend, Chloe, downstairs. She hasn't visited me in a few weeks and I was delighted to see her, as she's really my only close friend in Olympia. She was there to collect money for a bed I bought from her friend, Carmen. She also invited me to go with them to The Voyeur for Trivia Night. I had been planning on heading down there this weekend and to other bars in my cow suit, also wishing I had somebody to go with, so Chloe's timing was impeccable. I had never been to Trivia Night. My feet were sore, I was tired, and had to get up for school the next day, but I agreed to meet them there after I ate. I hugged her goodbye and then remembered--OFCOURSE!--How perfect!--"I'll wear my cow suit!" I told her.

"Yeah, Do it!"



I scarfed down some food and drank a beer. This time, I put on a record called "Cash Cows." It's a compilation with XTC, The Human League, Captain Beefheart, PIL and other bands on Virgin Records. I listened to a song by The Professionals as I suited back up for some more adventures in sociology. Homework has never been so fun. I had to go to an ATM first and get some cash. I was walking behind two slower moving guys who turned around and let me walk by as they stared. I was smiling and one guy said to his friend, "Dude, were being followed by some...cow...Dude, it's a sign!" I found that funny and interesting, because I often perceive "signs" in my daily observances, experience a large occurrence of synchronicities, and find meaning in life where others might remain unaware. So...if I saw a man dressed as a cow, I, too, would probably think it was some "sign" and project meaning on to it or connect it with some other piece of information in my storage bank to make it relevant. Most likely it would happen on a day that I decide to indulge and eat meat. I'd be walking out of a Jack-In-The-Box and see the cow strolling by. I'd laugh and say, "Ofcourse," because that's pretty much how my life operates. The Buddhists say that means you are on the right path: when there is a high level of synchronicity. But to quote Bjork: I'm no fucking Buddhists! Not that there's anything wrong with Buddhists.



I proceeded on to The Voyeur. As soon as I walk in, people immediate begin mooing. One lady informs me that "You're a month early, Buddy." I search for Chloe and Carmen. I need a girl to show these people that I'm not a freak or lunatic. No sign of 'em. I order a Guinness (my second and last beer for the night) and sit down to wait for the next round of Trivia to begin. I didn't know how things went, what the rules were or anything. The host turned out to be a casual acquaintance of mine named John. He got me involved and on a team that was addressed as "Amber Gold" throughout the night, but the team name is actually "Indigo"--not sure what that's about. It's definitely meaningful to me as the only woman I've ever had an intimate relationship with is named Amber. A lovely Jewish girl. I ended up on that team due to a loud drunk forty-something lady who insisted "I want the cow!" Sort of known as the rebellious, obnoxious, but funloving group, I quickly deduced. John suggested I consider joining a different group. I stayed with the ones who wanted me. Two nice, soft-spoken gentleman and the vulgar, over-friendly woman. The man on my right said people used to call him "lunar cow" (like "moon cow"? he tried to explain). So there is another person who found meaning in coming across a cow that night. I was instantly accepted among everyone and enjoying myself. I started thinking: maybe I should wear a cow costume out more often. We lost the game, but I knew most of the answers. I just wasn't fast enough or would second guess myself and not want to risk looking dumb. Yes, I was sitting there in a cow suit, perfectly fine with that aspect, yet was afraid of getting a question wrong. Hmmm. Finally, Chloe showed up. She's the only person who commented on the pentagram. She thought it was great and that it complimented the costume perfectly. I said goodbye to her and gave Carmen some money and went home to sleep. I had a headache in the morning. Hungover from two beers? I guess I should stick to grass.



I like breaking social norms. I often feel like I exemplify broken social norms. Just by having this long beard, I often get stared at and treated differently. Moreso where I just moved from: Fillmore, CA. A conservative town with friendly hispanic people and a church on every corner. So many churches for such a small town, and one tiny library. With Olympia, it seems there's an overabundance of dental offices. I was frightened by the plethora of churches. I don't know what to think about a town saturated with dentists. While living in an apartment in Fillmore above an antique store, a couple years ago, I went out in my cow costume and fed some stray cats that lived across the street from me. That was fun. A cow feeding cats. Can't remember now why I did that.
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movie review:

"Junebug"

I knew that was Will Oldham. I have six of his albums, all amazing! And Yo La Tengo are one of my favorite bands. I had just been thinking about how in 1997 my two favorite cds were Radiohead "OK Computer" and Yo La Tengo's "I Can Hear The Heart Beat As One." I'd stumble home drunk from downtown Oak Harbor on Whidbey Island where I was stationed in the navy and put in one of these two discs to go to sleep to. What sad, pathetic days. For a while I tried to decide which one, if I had to choose, would I put in the number one slot for my favorite album of that momentous year (I served four years and received my honorable discharge on November 8, 1997, moved back to California, now back in Washington, being repeatedly drawn
north. There's a Ken magnet up here somewhere). Oh the privilege of having the leisure time to ponder such inconsequentialities. I figure it's obvious now, considering I sold "OK Computer" before I moved to Olympia and "I Can Hear..." is sitting in a cupboard in my kitchen. So, the movie already had me with the credits and first five minutes.

My favorite character was Ashley, played by Amy Adams. Ther southern belle with nine month belly, all smiles and cheerful excitement. "God loves you just the way you are, but he loves you too much to let you stay that way." Wow. What a quote. Amazingly, I wasn't disgusted by all the Jesus talk. Not that I have anything against Jesus. I just don't like dogmatic religions. Christian or Islam. If Jesus returned, so called "Christian Fundamentalists" would be the first to arrest him and put him in prison. They might not execute him (should I be using a capital H?), because they learned their lesson about making martyrs, but he certainly wouldn't get far attempting to preach peace and love in America. The priest in Junebug bothered me with his plastered-on smile. I was waiting for the main female character from a much more liberally enlightened environment to begin showing confusion and disgust (I could read a little bit of judgement in her face, but that may have been me projecting), but she smiled as her husband sang a hymn. I didn't like him, because he was too quiet and reminded me of myself, except handsomer. He seemed creepy, and I don't use that word lightly, because people have called me creepy and weird and it starts to hurt after a while, but I understand...now...thanks to psychology why they felt that way. I understand why his brother, Johnny, hit him in the face with a wrench for grinning when he returned from the hospital. I have a nervous smile/laugh sometimes that infuriates people.

I thought it was interesting how the art gallery woman wasn't offended (or, at least, didn't show it) when the artist she was trying to manage would speak in such racist terms. Very interesting how he couldn't paint black faces and so all the black bodies had white heads. General Custers cannon cock. Another George with a hard-on for war. Today in class, I was just thinking about guns as extensions of the penis. So sad. What accessory would a woman wear as an overcompensation for a less than perfect vagina? A really nice purse? Hold your tongue when you say that. I think I should hold mine. Everybody in that movie was crazy except for the dad. Still, altogether a rather healthy family compared to my own. Anyway, I enjoyed the film. I prefer it when I'm not previously acquainted with the actors. Makes it more believable.
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lecture review:

"Women In Islam"

A man named Don Johnson introduced the speaker. I share a birthday with the Miami Vicer, and recently saw a movie called Broken Flowers where Bill Murray's character was named Don Johnston and people continually misheard him when he would introduce himself and say, "Really? Like the actor?" I enjoyed this lecture. I don't recall the speaker's name but she was an Evergreen graduate and stressed that the alumni of Evergreen are rather informal and asked audience members to move closer to the stage. She stated that she grew up surrounded by different cultures/stereotypes, but that the women she mostly looked up to were mostly immediate relatives/acquaintances, ie. white. She has traveled to the middle east and seems to be
genuinely concerned with the plight of Muslim and Arab women. She is a feminist, but not to an extreme (Feminazi) degree. I don't know how I feel about feminism. I think it's time we move beyond gender descriptions and focus more on humanism. Do most feminist simply want to be treated equal, or do they want to become superior or perhaps just a little revenge? I grew up not trusting men and clinging to women due to my father abandoning my mother and I and my mother constantly bashing his name. Then the intevitable step-father arrived and I readily
developed my Oedipus complex and really began hating men. Not realizing some day I'd be one. One thing is for certain: the media's portrayal of feminism as justification for war and Laura Bush's agenda of convincing us they know what's best for Arab families is disgusting.

The speaker stressed the link that the media attempts to make between terrorism and oppressed Muslim women. While conditions steadily get worse for Arab women due to...um...dropping bombs and firing missles and arresting their husbands and sons and locking them up for the tiniest suspicions. Is the government just using Afghanistan and Iraq to practice before they begin (ha! it's already begun you fools) implementing such tactics in America? Once they completely rip up The Constituion and rape The Bill Of Rights. Amazing how they proudly wave the flag whilst wiping their asses with the texts our country was founded on. The repetition of racism and oppression during wartime witnessed in the way they are treating Muslims in our own country is abhorrent. I see things becoming worse and worse in the near future. Iran is next.
Then, in 2012, becoming much much better. It's a waiting game and I simply plan on trying to stay alive and out of prison until then. Midnight on December 21, 2012 to be precise. Why did I attend this lecture? I can't stand this crap. Politics, war, violence, oppression. So depressing. So boring. I'm a mystic attempting to open communication with my higher self and continually evolve and seek enlightenment. This world is encroaching on my mental and physical health. Destroy all weapons. Leave each other alone. Stop worrying about what goes on in each other's
bedrooms or what/how/why you worship whatever deity or choose not to worship any deity or what chemical a person wants to put in his/her body to stimulate his/her mind. No laws! The only rule to obey is the golden rule.

What a joke that white men are saving brown women from brown men. A point brought up in the lecture. More like white men killing brown women and men and children. I watched a documentary recently by an Arab man. Different Iraquis were interviewed about Saddam, America, and the war. It seems about half oppose American occupation and want us out of there, and half are very grateful and glad we got rid of Saddam and whole-heartily assimilate our
customs. Just like half of North America would be happy to have another country come in and get rid of Bush and "liberate" us. Unless they have to kill several thousand of us in the process. I, like many, believed that women were, indeed, treated terribly by men in the middle east due to the way they were portrayed by our media, but today I learned that many of them voluntarily wear veils and are proud of the way they dress. They don't need us to free them. How should they dress? Like Britney Spears? I liked the point that was made about make-up on American women
being a veil as well. Overt sexuality as veil. Are American women being oppressed by having the stigma of what's considered attractive forced on them? Some Muslim women see this as supporting patriarchy. I thought we live under an oligarchy, but I see what they mean. Where's
Wilhelm Reich when you need him? Oh yeah, his ideas actually worked, so we burned his books and threw him in jail to rot and die. Where's Giordano Bruno? Oh yeah, in the 16th century he wrote about multiple infinite universes (later "proven" by quantum physics), which ofcourse goes against monotheism and the Catholic church, so he was burned at the stake. I don't dare speak out and try to help people. I see how my heroes have ended up. They never learned to be "in" the world without being "of" the world. Even Timothy Leary, who knew what happened to
toublemakers like Socrates, couldn't keep his mouth shut. I hope I can do something about mine before I end up a brilliant, imprisoned or dead, philospher.

Women in Iraq have increased freedom of expression since the fall of Saddam, but thousands of them are dying from airstrikes. Sure, we're liberating them. We're liberating their souls from their bodies. Many women in Iraq reject both American influence and Saddam Hussein. I'm right there with you, Sistahs!

The 2005 Olympia Film Festival

"Fishermen's Terminal"

There isn't much that I'm afraid of nowadays. I've experienced "death," ie. complete ego-loss, and have had some pretty intense experiences with various psychotropic substances (often labeled "mystical" experiences). Those drug ceremonies of death (of the child?) /rebirth (of the man? spirit?) are not simply symbolical. Getting blasted out of your body and "feeling yourself disintegrate" (which happens to be the title of my favorite Flaming Lips song and I've requested to have it play at my funeral) kinda changes your outlook on life. So I could walk down the street without worrying about getting murdered. Although, I certainly am not in any hurry to die. So keep yer infectious flu germs away from me! I'm also not afraid of losing my apartment and possessions, because I've learned what's important and to not become attached to material items. But I still enjoy my apartment, bed, books, record player, cd stereo, tv, dvd, vcr...while they're there, so keep your filthy repossessing flu germ infected grimy hands away from my stuff! And I'm not afraid of being alone, because I am used to that. As long as there's a good book to read, some records to listen to, and drugs available, I'm good.


So, then...what am I afraid of? People, generally. Though I do like sex, so I have to put up with at least half of the species, some of the time. And since I love reading books, there need to be other people to write the books, record the music, and produce the drugs. Hell is other people, Sartre? Hell is compromise. Don't misunderstand. I don't hate and fear everyone. Mostly the men and women in this film with their suits and ties and make-up and jewelry who smugly sit through meetings and hearings, listening to real people pore out their hearts. Ofcourse, they aren't truly listening, thinking, and considering. They have an agenda, which they've been told to bring to fruition and they are doing their job. That's the worst excuse ever: "I'm just doing my job." That's an admittance of guilt of being a corporate robot slave. They are just as much slaves as people in a factory. Neither have any say, or sway, to the people above them. Orders and information gets passed one way: from the top down. They're beautiful structures of enormous engineering skill in Egypt, but they don't work well as an economic or political system. Pyramids were once tombs. Now they are prisons. Run by the Illuminati (loudly advertised on the reverse of the almighty Dollar Bill). Ha Ha Ha Ha. Ha!

I liked the audience for this film. Seemed like very nice, informed non-robotic people. Look at that. I'm falling in to the same trap as a racist or sexist. Dehumanizing the object, so that attack becomes less of a burden on my conscience. But...but...but they make it so easy! And it isn't forced. I simply feel better, more comfortable physically in such a crowd, then, say, at a dinner at The White House. The rich and powerful provide a way to an ethical yardstick. If you are welcomed in to their clique, you probably doing something wrong. I would never allow myself to own a yacht, an expensive car, or a mansion. I wouldn't mind having an income of millions or billions of dollars, as long as it was being continually funneled back out to the poor, and as long as the money was earned honestly (or dishonestly from other rich people a la a modern day Robin Hood).

Maybe we just shouldn't eat fish? I'm a little paranoid sometimes and I think that there's a possiblilty that nature is selecting for vegetarians. All of the carnivores are going to be killed off from diseases caused by bacteria from tainted chickens, cows, pigs, deer, whatever. Bovine spongiform encephalopathy. Once that becomes a part of your vocabulary, you start thinking twice about that hamburger. But "it's okay to eat fish, 'cause they don't have any feelings"--Kurt Cobain, I guess. What am I talking about? That killer bird flu can get around through flea/lmosquito bites, and perhaps by other methods I'm not aware of. Can you get it just from some one sneezing on you? Well, then go ahead and eat all the damn fish you want. Anyway, I am definitely on the side of the fisherman (or whatever side happens to be against greedy corporations buying up and "privatizing" all they can). I have a lot of respect for the fisherman and the film-maker for standing up to The Man. One might even say they have a

"Punk Attitude"

Always room for Jello. I wish I was in touch with this girl I used to work with who loved Biafra and introduced me to a couple of his spoken word cds and The Dead Kennedys. She would have been thrilled to have been there and would definitely be at the Melvins show that's going on now while I write this. I enjoyed Punk Attitude. I love any movie about punk no matter what the slant is, simply because it's a chance to see footage and hear music from all of those great bands. How else am I going to see my favorite band: The Velvet Underground? Oddly enough, my second favorite band is The Beach Boys. Quite schizo record collection. I'm not ashamed of any of it. The Raincoats! The Buzzcocks (my favorite punk band)! I used to be obsessed with music and musicians like Brian Wilson and Syd Barrett. I went through a two and a half year period of constantly writing and recording songs. I am a horrible musician, but that was no barrier. I wrote great lyrics, actually, and had good ideas for the music and pounded out everything on cheap guitars, thrift store keyboards, plastic harmonica, kazoo, vacuum cleaner, pots 'n' pans, samples from self-help tapes, in to a 4-track I received for Christmas. I just couldn't stop writing songs. Averaged 10-15/month. Recorded 250 songs. A sad recluse getting stoned and making music for his own enjoyment. I never expected to make a career out of it (if I did I'd have probably ended up like Larry "Wild Man" Fischer in another film I saw: "Derailroaded," but that piece wasn't assigned for extra credit, so I won't write about it). I was working full-time doing a shitty data-entry job for corporate whores JD Power & Associates, but actually hired through a temp agency, so that they don't have to provide benefits. A slave. Though I did like my co-workers. Eventually I got fired. I never was told why. My supervisor, Lori, was very upset, she had no idea what was going on. All the people I'd become close with were shocked. One woman cried. She had began working there on the same day. She's still there. I was a little upset, but I figured I had certainly done something to get fired and that I did it because I wanted to leave that job and was too afraid to make a change. Too bad I wasn't acquainted with the I Ching back then, I could have consulted it and escaped earlier. I feel now that I am the lucky one. I went back to school and got paid to do it. I never stopped learning throughout the years that I wasn't in school. I read voraciously and am interested in sociology, biology, quantum physics, Buddhism, shamanism, religion, psychology, astronomy, astrology, magick, psychedelics, history, chemistry, anthropology, linguistics, english, literature, poetry, art, music and I enjoy observing and studying other people's methods of trying to figure out just what the heck is going on and communicate what they feel and think. Where else am I gonna see X-Ray Specs? I love that "Oh Bondage" song. Who cares where and when punk started? We need to stop measuring time and destroy all watches and calendars. Do away with time, erase it, forget about it, and you will escape the illusion of time and become immortal, good for you. I was trying to think of what music to listen to at home after the film (on VINYL, I needed to listen to VINYL) and decided on the greatest punk band from the '80's: Public Enemy. Yes, you heard me right. They're totally punk! It's proven in fact. It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back. Don't Believe The Hype. The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. It will be downloaded!


But aside from the pretty pictures and music? Yes, I also enjoyed the interviews. All very charismatic and funny. I would rather to have not been subjected to Limp Bizkit, but other than that I enjoyed every minute. The Stooges, The Clash, Television, Talking Heads, The Ramones, Richard Hell. I love all of these bands and more. I feel spoiled to have existed at such a time in history, and to be in a position to have access to the records, cds, and live music of amazing bands. These bands save lives. Music in general is an essential ingredient to a sane, free, loving, creative world. I also saw "Rebel Without A Cause" earlier. How funny that there's a song on the PE album called "Rebel Without A Pause." They fed the soundtrack to my youthful rebellion against the white establishment. An anger that slowly simmered down once I found white men to admire (James Joyce, Jack Kerouac, Aldous Huxley, etc) at the library. But that fire can easily be stoked back alive by such films as

"The Untold Story Of Emmett Till"

The worst scene was the footage of the moments after the two "suspected" kidnappers/murderers were acquitted, and one of them was making out with the lady who was responsible for the whole mess. Must I write two pages about this. It is so ridiculous and disgusting. So sad. Such ignorance. Kill whitey! Just kidding. Every one is colored. If they weren't you wouldn't be able to see them. They'd be invisible. Then we'd really have a reason to fear. A "race" of invisible people. Most likely they are the ones controlling the world. What a perfect, undeniable conspiracy theory. How can you ever prove it? How can you gather evidence? They're freakin' invisible! A paranoiac's wet dream. We live in an Invisiblarchal society. You heard it here first, remember, if this theory happens to catch on and gain steam. I'm surprised we didn't try building a

"Wall"

in this country to keep people separated, they way they are doing with the Israelis and Palestinians. Instead of spending millions of dollars on a wall (which anyone could get through any time they want, anyway), maybe that money could have gone to...um...food or something else more useful. I have a question: Why do so many people hate the French? Even in my Biology textbook, I detected an awkward, very un-PC, analogy. They compared a lichen to French movies, because they are "long and slow." Was that really necessary? I want to write a letter to the author. Incidentally, "Blood Of A Poet" is one of my favorite films. It's by Jean Cocteau, a brilliant writer/poet/painter/director/actor, and it is neither SLOW, nor LONG. Oh, I know why we don't need a wall in North America. They've already established millions of barriers inside people's minds with media and religion. ...and now I will fall back on an all too obvious joke by stating that, while a decent movie, I prefer the Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd.

In the movie "Mysterious Skin," there is a shot of a calendar with an "X" through each day up to the 22nd, which means it was probably supposed to be the 23rd in that scene (see my brilliant paper, Fnord, for the significance of this, thank you). I enjoyed this film very much. Not what I expected. Alien abduction, child molestation, and male prostitution. Interesting. But that's another one we weren't assigned. By the way, their mysterious skin was white. Which reminds me of a white person I just learned about last night, whom I actually like. Let me now shovel myself deeper in to the fantastic mound of movies from the festival and plant some enrichening seeds of dissent to sprout up through

"The Real Dirt of Farmer John"

which is a whole lot cleaner than most farms. Free from cancerous pesticides and genetic modification. My question is what DO they use for pest control? Watching this film made me want to go help out on the farm. He seemed like a very nice man. He didn't deserve to be accused of worshipping Satan and carrying out animal sacrifices. How ridiculous. The sheriff of the town was a hilarious idiot. I'd have been furious if I wasn't so busy laughing. He received the biggest reactions from the audience with his deadpan remarks of concern for the cows on surrounding farms. "When the cattle get excited, I get excited," he tried to explain. The mother was quite a character, too. It was very sad to see her waste away from cancer, but encouraging to see such optimism and strength when dealing with such a disease, and just plain growing old. She managed to enjoy her life more under those circumstances than some perfectly healthy, young people enjoy theirs. It was a happy ending, though, because he got to keep his farm and bought a neighbors farm, and it's all organic and he's fighting the agriculture corporation monopoly behemoth world trade monsters of doom and destruction. I wouldn't mind living on a farm. Working on a farm is a different story. But I wouldn't get bored of going for rolls in the hay, reading books, smoking weed, and growing a beard. Taking care of my crop of hemp: the next major fossil fuel. In the next film I saw,

"Uber Goober"

(sorry I couldn't think of a better segway) a group of people are, like Farmer John, ostracized. Accusations are flung due to ignorance and fear of the unknown. They are not hurting any one, so leave them alone. Let them play with their fake magic and live in whatever reality they wish. I'm glad they are there to distract attention away from those that are serious about magick. Or Magick. Pagans, wiccans, Satan worshippers. There are people out there attempting to perform black magic and do harm to others. So, it's pretty funny that these geeks and a farmer are targeted for evil. At least their wars are fake and nobody gets physically hurt. I would date a roleplayer/gamer. I'm not interested in playing myself, but I'm not going to avoid or look down on a person for having such a hobby. I still respect them. Even the ones who seem to never stop playing and the lines between fantasy/reality blur. They've learned to rearrange their reality tunnel in a way their most comfortable with. I totally respect that. That's the first step toward enlightenment. After that, the goal is to rid yourself of a tunnel (or "bias") completely. Watching some of these documentaries makes me want to make one about Discordianism. I feel I could make a better film than some of what I've been seeing at this festival. Check out "Maybe Logic"--great doc about Robert Anton Wilson and his philosophy. I have the dvd. Some of the girls in Uber Goober were quite attractive. That was good to see, rather than a bunch of lonely males. I have a friend who either plays or used to play those games. She is very intelligent and very pretty. I wish all stereotypes would disappear. There are anomalies in every group. Every collection or grouping of people has it's own geniuses, idiots, psychotics, beautiful and ugly and common and rare. I'm sometimes jealous of nerds. At least they have each other. I wasn't a nerd or a jock or anything in school. I was a skater for a few years with a small group of friends, but otherwise completely invisible (uh-oh, maybe I'M part of the Invisiblarchy). Outside looking in. Admirable from a Buddhist's perspective, perhaps, but often quite lonely and sad. Eventually ending up suicidal. Good thing I never lived near San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge like those poor people in "Joy of Life." I'm happy now, with my life, and looking forward to

"The Gits"

film tonight. I don't have any of their music, but I've been aware of the tragic story and been interested in the band since '94 or so. ...okay, saw it. Not impressed with the music. You were wrong about Mia forming Home Alive or any other group BEFORE her death, as I'm sure I've informed you of in class by now. The producer and director gave a Q&A after the movie. The director repeatedly called the accused rapist/murderer a "piece of shit." I don't think it's fair when people direct such hostility at murderers, madmen, rapists, criminals, etc. Any one is capable of extreme atrocity. With the right combination of genetics and environment, you or I could easily learn such behaviour and/or possess and unnatural balance of certain chemicals in our brains to combine and result in such violent acts. How often must it be stressed that these people need help, love, patience, and understanding? We are all responsible for building the society that shapes us and determines our destinies. That one man didn't take Mia's life--we all did. We are all to be blamed for war, starvation, the homeless, and crime. Until every single one of us has changed what's inside, what's outside will reflect our fears and insecurities. Too few are willing to direct attention toward themselves, and too willing to blame others or the government, media, and superficial differences among cultures. Is there a reason for such tragedy? Are Mia and Emmett Till heroes who's fate was to become a victim as catalyst for social reform? Or is it a
completely random event when a person is taken so young and so violently. Perhaps people should wake up a little earlier and predict such outcomes to change the conditions of society and prevent such acts. Perhaps perhaps perhaps... Maybe maybe maybe. We learn from our mistakes. Eventually the mistake will be so big, there will be no one left to learn from it. [Insert picture of giant mushroom cloud here]. In a Hermann Hesse short-story I just read, a holy man living as a hermit in the forest, attempts to explain how men who commit murder and other atrocities are like innocent children who know no better. They act on pure animal instinct. I'm sure that's true for some, but I'm not sure about actions that are obviously pre-meditated. He then continues to explain that himself and the man he is speaking to are the real sinners, because they have eaten of the tree of knowledge, which results in their ability to judge and condemn others they then deem ignorant. I feel that the biggest problem with societies throughout the world, throughout history, is that we've allowed ourselves to be led by those still acting with primate mentalities. Bush, as just one example (pick a Bush, any Bush, any Bush'll do) was "chosen" as a leader due to his strength and decisiveness. His determination to stick to his goals. His eagerness to go to war and defend his tribe. But he's gone too far. He's slipped in to stubborness and refuses to admit he's made mistakes. Tons of very big mistakes. If not mistakes, then they were purposely perpetrated and that simply makes him one of the most evil bastards ever. I'd rather believe him to be ignorant, than believe that he intentionally led this country towards a brink of collapse. Easier to sleep that way. Though then you have to deal with the consideration of who may be behind him. That he may be just a puppet. And certainly the puppetmasters are not bumbling, illiterate yahoos. So, there is reason for true paranoia. But when hasn't there been? We need women leaders. Women free, intelligent, alive, and honest like

"The Writer of O"

who, ofcourse, wrote The Story of O, which I have not read, but will. I enjoyed this film mostly because the woman, Anne Desclos (born September 23,1907-April 30,1998), who also wrote under the name of Dominique Aury (the name used in the film), was so in love with literature. I share a passion for books that borders on obsession and has kept me from making many friends, as I spend most of my time, alone, reading. It would be nice to meet a girl with equal interest, but she's probably in her home, alone, reading. Dominique seemed, to me, to be a very attractive, intelligent, interesting, creative person. Even in the interview segments taken at a ripe age of 90, she seemed radiant and happy to be alive. She was modest and denied her physical beauty, but I thought it was obvious in the old pictures that she was quite lovely. She's most famous for this one scandalous novel, but she was a major figure in French literature, a translator, editor and judge of literary prizes. She wrote the book at 47, but kept her authorship private until eleven years ago, figuring there would less sensationalism in the revealing now that she was an old lady. Because of her hidden identity, she was able to hear the true opinions of those around her about the book. She had the opportunity to be a fly on the wall. Her father loved it, her mother hated it. She wrote it for her lover, Jean Paulhan, he loved it, and his opinion was what mattered most. After his death, she sunk in to a depression and stopped writing.

I find it despicable that her book was labeled obscene and attempted to be banned, while male French writers were allowed to express whatever they desired. God forbid a woman revel in sexuality. Many at the time refused to believe that a woman was capable of writing such a book. I admit it does seem like it's from a male point of view, but several male writers have written books from female points of view. It's called imagination--she should have been praised for her ability to leap the abyss between male and female thought processing.

Interesting that it was published by "Olympia Press" and that "The Evergreen Review" was mentioned in the film. Having nothing to do with the local namesakes we are familiar with. After this film, I watched Going Through Splat: The Life & Work of Stewart Stern, which was enlightening and entertaining. I respect this writer for being very honest and revealing. Admirable philosophy--something rather lacking in Hollywood. Later, I attended

"All Freakin' Night"

which more people showed up for than any other event. Wow. Even with a full pass, I had to stand in a line that stretched around the corner of the block. Not too long a wait, though. The people were very loud. I enjoyed the different sarcastic comments being hurled at the screen, as I am a big fan of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. The Capitol Theatre was recommended to me the first day I arrived in Olympia by a friend who said it was good to see movies there because people yell at the screen and really get involved. I was a bit disappointed by the quiet, subdued crowd when I finally started attending. Everyone was very polite at the various screenings...until Saturday night when all Hell broke loose. It was the first time I witnessed a packed theatre. It was the first time I've seen a movie in 3-D, too, though the glasses didn't seem to work too well. I have a hard time with 3-D anyway, as I have difficulty looking out of both eyes at once with my bad left eye, but I also heard a lot of others complaining. I couldn't make it the whole night and left after "Lady Terminator," which I enjoyed immensely. One person almost got kicked out for his excessive shouting. People kept telling him to shut up, but that just encouraged him to yell more. Some assholes in the balcony threw down cans and cups still half full of soda. Candy was distributed. All in all a fun time. I'm not a huge horror buff, but do enjoy 'em ever so often.

So, in conclusion, what I've learned is that the seating arrangement at The Capitol Theatre is too cramped.

Fnord

By Kenneth Fairfield, Jr

Praise Eris!

All Hail Discordia!

This is the standard greeting of two Discordians. Or at least in chatrooms online it is, but I've yet to personally hear a member vocalize such. A play on Aleister Crowley's Thelemic...

Do What Thou Wilt Shall Be The Whole Of The Law

Love Is The Law, Love Under Will...?

Perhaps. Eris was the Goddess of Chaos in Greek Mythology. Discordians insists that chaos and disharmony are equally valid aspects of "reality," and that, like Buddhism teaches: "reality" may be very different than what our brains are programmed to observe. Discordians are often
anarchists, liberal, and extremely anti-capitalist, anti-government, and anti-order. Eris was uninvited to a party once (known as "The Great Snub," because every time she showed up, the evening would end in chaos and everything would be ruined. The gods wanted to enjoy a nice, quiet, civilized gathering for a change. Supposedly, she was also not the most attractive lady. To get revenge for being ostracized, she created a golden apple, inscribed it with the Greek word "Kallisti," which means "For the prettiest one" and went to the party where she tossed the apple in to a large room where Aphrodite and the other beautiful, young Goddesses were gathered. They all saw the apple and fought over who deserved it. Governments, religions, corporations and other systems of oppression act to keep control of and exploit the masses. The Discordians are doing their best to lob golden apples at the powers that be.

The most visible symbol of Discordia is the Sacred Chao: yin-yang-like, with an apple on one side (Hodge) and a pentagon on the opposite side (Podge). A pentagon (represented most recognizably by The Pentagon in Washington D.C.) is, ofcourse, five-sided, which leads us to the fascinating obsession with numerology that excites the average Discordian mind. They claim that events do not occur in 3's, as some believe, but in 5's. The Law of Fives includes the sacred number 23. This number is ingrained deep in to the psyche of every Discordian. It is especially sacred because two plus three equals five. The mystery of this number, from what I gather, was first noted by William S. Burroughs. A ferry captain bragged of having sailed the same route without incident for 23 years and that same day, the ferry sank. Later that day, Burroughs heard of a plane crash. It was Flight 23. Both the last name of the captain and the pilot was Clark.
Burroughs began keeping a scrapbook of 23 phenomena and included the number in his writings. Robert Anton Wilson's writings are saturated with 23's. The link to disasters also corresponds with hexagram 23 of the I Ching: "P'o," translated as "Splitting Apart." The hexagram pictures a
time in which inferior people overthrow the superior. An entire paper can be written about 23. What's most important is that after being introduced to the phenomena, usually through the medium of a book like The Illuminatus Trilogy by Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea, individuals began to observe, with increasing frequency, 23's in their own life. This and other occurrences of synchronicity ("coincidences" with such deep meaning, they can not be easily explained away) often lead one to Discordianism. Upon the completion of viewing this very
document, I have no doubt the reader will began to find his/her own 23's. Is it because the individual sub-consciously seeks 23's? Or does it somehow exist outside, alone, propagating itself, reproducing as a thought "meme" through the mind aether? I have yet to find a concrete explanation. A critic would claim apophenia. Apophenia is the experience of seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. The term was coined in 1958 by Klaus Conrad, who defined it as the "unmotivated seeing of connections" accompanied by a "specific experience of an abnormal meaningfulness." Conrad originally described this phenomenon in relation to the distortion of reality present in psychosis, but it has become more widely used to describe this tendency in healthy individuals without necessarily implying the presence of neurological or mental illness. In statistics, apophenia would be classed as a Type I error (False Alarm). Apophenia is often used as an explanation of paranormal and religious claims. It has been suggested that apophenia is a link between psychosis and creativity. One way of looking at the 23 enigma is as a symbol for the observation of reality changing that which is being observed in the observer's mind. When one looks for 23's in reality, one finds them. One will also find conspiracies, ways to determine when the apocalypse will come, and so on and so forth when one decides to look for them. This is contradictory to the experience I find myself having with 23's of late, as they mostly appear when I am not looking for them, and when I do purposely seek them, they stop appearing. I know of no secret handshake, but supposedly the founders of Discordia are responsible for the resurrection of the act of holding two fingers up, originally a sign of "V" for Victory, as a sign of peace readily imitated by hordes of hippies in the '60's. Two fingers up, three down = 23. But this is a fairly ambiguous gesture, used by Catholic priests and
Satanists, as well.

17 is also important to Discordians, which, I must admit, has also made it's way in to my personal life. I live in apartment 17, my receipt for textbooks bought online was 1017, my appointment to talk to an advisor at school was to be in office 117 (but changed at the last
minute), the room of the class that I am writing this paper for is 217, and the psychology class I am taking next quarter is in the same room. So, if you're keeping track, the three magic numbers are: 5, 17, and 23.

The most general group, presumably including all Discordians, is The Discordian Society, whose definition is "The Discordian Society has no definition" (Principia Discordia, page 00032). Kerry Thornley (aka Omar Khayyam Ravenhurst) and Greg Hill (Malaclypse The Younger) wrote The Principia Discordia in a limited edition of five copies 1965. Some think that the actual writer is Robert Anton Wilson, who is proud Discordian, and can be held
responsible for drawing millions in to the religion. The full title of the fourth edition is PRINCIPIA DISCORDIA or How I Found Goddess And What I Did To Her When I Found Her: The Magnum Opiate Of Malaclypse The Younger, Wherein is Explained Absolutely Everything Worth Knowing About Absolutely Anything.

"The real reality is there, but everything you KNOW about 'it' is in your mind and yours to do with as you like. Conceptualization is art, and YOU ARE THE ARTIST." (PD 00054)

I think that sums their philosophy nicely.

Those interested in membership are told on page 00032,

"If you want in on the Discordian Society

then declare yourself what you wish

do what you like

and tell us about it

or

if you prefer

don't.

There are no rules anywhere.

The Goddess Prevails."


This paper is due in my Sociology class on the twenty-second of November. The instructor, at first, mistakenly said the 23rd. I immediately thought: Ha! Ofcourse it's due on the 23rd, until a second later he was corrected. But that validated the phenomenon even more. He
had no reason to slip a 23 in there, but the universe (me?) created a mistake to introduce it. 23 must be a repeating pattern I've locked on to and am focused on in my program. Just as there are repeating patterns in DNA sequences. Seemingly serving no purpose. One Discordian informs me that so-called "Junk DNA" deserves a much more flattering designation. He proposes that we won't know what it does 'til it starts doing it. That we'll suddenly start making new kinds of proteins and other chemicals we haven't discovered yet, and that they are programmed to unlock certain doors that allow access to long dormant parts of our brain and bring about changes, very rapidly, in the cells in our body. A huge leap in evolution through mutation as time speeds up towards the new age of enlightenment that begins at midnight on December 21, 2012. We will be completely unrecognizable compared to the entities we are today. Those of us not dead from bird flu, mad cow, or war that is. For some, this will be a hellish, nightmare inducing experience. For others, bliss. Heaven and Hell simply depend on whether or not the individual is ready for change. Well...certainly no way to test that theory. Guess we'll just have to wait and see...

I conducted a survey through the online community known as Myspace.com. There are thousands of groups on Myspace, varying from politics, religion, science, entertainment, etc.; one of which is the group Discordians, which currently consists of 670 members. Respondents included white, Hispanic, Native American, Jewish, "Scotch-Choctaw," and "not Greyface" (According to the Principia, Greyface was a man who lived in the year 1166 BC and taught that life is serious and play is sin. The curse is a psychological and spiritual imbalance that results from these beliefs.). Respondents were mostly male, aged 18-44, located throughout North America (especially California), two from the UK, and one from Fife, Scotland. Professions included "jack of all trades/social terrorist," "Ontological Esoterrorist," student/line cook, sales associate, IT manager, musician, caregiver, "Corporate Whore (office worker, insurance),"
baker, "amateur expert," advertising, and unemployed. All were highschool graduates and most were either in college or had attained an AA or BA. One person listed "23 tabs of orange sunshine" as part of his education...which makes perfect sense to me. In answer to which, if any, political party they belonged to, answers were: Green, Libertarian, Independent with Green and Libertarian leanings, Left-leaning indie, Capitalist Anarchist, Guns and Dope Party, Gonzo Stockton Thompson cabal [obviously a Hunter S. Thompson fan], "I don't believe in political parties," "Political parties are retarded," and "Politics? That's for the Subgenii." They discovered Discordianism mostly through recommendations by friends, books by Robert Anton Wilson, and the internet/other groups on Myspace. The internet has played a huge part in increasing the membership of Discordians. I am using the internet for the majority of my information. I just went to check my email. I have 23 emails in my Bulk mail.

Top 10 reasons the respondents became Discordians:

1. "I agree with its philosophy. No sense makes sense. Everything is chaos."

2. "Because life is absurd."

3. "It fits in perfectley [sic] with own personal belief that everything is absurd and chaos is the only way to explain the way of things......"

4. "It just affirmed everything I already believed. I'd been searching and patching together ideals and bits and pieces of religions for years, until I found this."

5. "Something new, and something I've found I'd always agreed with, even before I knew it existed."

6. "Eris came to me, kicked me in the nuts, and told me to roll some dice. From that day I converted."

7. "Because I love the Goddess, I've been looking for a lady like her all my life."

8. "Other religions are equally strange, but Discordian at least makes funnies with the strangeness. I have to say that, honestly, Chaos is the closest modern [man] can come to knowing a "higher power". It is randomness and interaction between order/disorder that spring forth the world, which makes me feel that Chaos is as viable a higher power as any solitary god or multiple gods."

9. "The sense it brought to what i saw around me."

10. "I'd been practicing Chaos Magick and was interested in learning more of Eris, and of gaining her favor."

A little more than half of the respondents actively attempt to introduce Discordianism to others. However, the zeal with which this is done is considerably less than religions such as Christianity. It is doubtful that you will find a Discordian who feels that part of his/her duty is conversion. It is not dogmatic or propogandistic in any way. Either you "get it" or you don't. To each his own. To force your beliefs on another would be antithetical to Discordianism.

There are few Discordian rituals and most ignore even these. One is to abstain from hotdog buns. Another is too mark "FNORD" over the pryamid on the back of dollar bills (a way of foiling The Illuminati and their capitalist control over the masses via sympathetic magic). So what does "Fnord" mean? One website claims that "FNORD stands for Freedom Now Over Renegade Dictators!" and that writing "FNORD" on money shows you support the president, the war, and the troops. This seems like a misappropriation of the use to me, as it's generally understood that Discordians are anti-war and, most definitely, anti-Bush (the true "Renegade Dictator"?). The word originally appeared in The Principia..., but was popularized by The Illuminatus Trilogy, in which it is claimed that the word possesses hypnotic power over readers. A conspiracy of The Illuminati that conditions readers to be unable to consciously see the word. Instead, every appearance of the word will unconsciously generate feeling of uneasiness and confusion. But "Fnord" is only a substitute for the actual word used, so no one really knows what the actual word is, but most likely there is no "actual" word. Basically, "a fnord is disinformation or irrelevant information intending to misdirect, with the implication of a conspiracy"--as defined on Wikipedia.org. Discordian merchandise is available on the web. While walking with a friend in downtown Portland, she noticed a man wearing a t-shirt that said "Fnord."

In answer to the question of just exactly what Discordianism is, I included the choices of:

a) A religion?

b) A religion disguised as a joke?

c) A joke disguised as a religion?

d) A subculture?

e) Counter-culture?

f) Other________

The respondents of my survey concluded that it is a religion, both a religion disguised as a joke and a joke disguised as a religion, counter-culture, "a stupid waste of time," "a way of life," "the most complex, direly serious, and cosmically hilarious spiritual joke ever concocted. I take humor very seriously," and "A philosophy of life...learning how to please yourself and letting
others do the same." It appears this question may never be answered. One respondent, a 23 year old male who calls himself "Fractal Unfolding," answered that Discordianism is: f) Fnord.

The most important thing I've learned about Discordians is that I trust them. They seem to generally be intelligent, kind, conscientious, non-judgemental and honest folks. If an individual appeared at my door one day, informed me that they were a Discordian and that they
needed a place to stay for the night, I would immediately welcome them in to my home. Praise Eris!



Works Cited

1. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Discordianism.> 06 Nov. 2005

2. Wilson, Robert Anton. Cosmic Trigger (Volume I) Final Secret Of The Illuminati. Tempe: New Falcon, 1977. 64-65.

3. Discordian Survey. www.mysapce.com. October 30, 2005-November 2, 2005.

4. <http:www.principiadiscordia.com/book.> 2004.

5. <http://jubal.westnet.com/hyperdiscordia.>

6.<http://www.23ae.com/files/fnordyourones.pdf#search='FNORD%20dollar%20bills'>

7.<http://www.levity.com/eschaton/finalillusion.html