"The_Principia_Discordia" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson Robert Anton)

Fenderson Discordian Graham Trievel explains that "a Fenderson is a member of a family you can join by saying you are one. Yes, anybody who wants to be a Fenderson can be a Fenderson. Just say these three words, 'I'm a Fenderson.' It's as simple as that."

Genealogy buffs will be interested to know, "Our Fenderson forefather can be reached at : S.J. Glew, 5611 Lehman Road, DeWitt, MI 48820 ..... Blame him."

All Fendersons add Fenderson to their existing name or they use the last name of Fenderson with entirely new first and/or middle names. "For example, you can call me Graham Fenderson Trievel, Fenderson Graham Trievel, or Graham Trievel Fenderson." (And you can call me Saint Ignatius Fenderson.)

But you must at all times keep in touch with other Fendersons. "This," says Fenderson, "is easy to accomplish as you can make anybody you want a Fenderson, even if they don't want to be one."

Write Graham Fenderson Trievel about how to get a 1989 Fenderson family reunion baseball cap at Rt. 113, Box 481, Lionville, PA 19353. But he warns, "I'll be collecting names and addresses of Fendersons for possible future publication."

If you become a Discordian and also want salvation in the Industrial Church of the SubGenius (Box 140306, Dallas TX 75214) you are free to mantain a duel membership. Or if you live outside of Texas (in some state where dueling is illegal), you can be an honorary SubGenius and a dishonorary Discordian both at once.

You might even say SubGeniusism is our sister faith or brother religion - or at least our Marine-Corps buddy theology, because J.R. "Bob" Dobbs was my Marine Corps buddy in Atsugi, Japan (where he distinguished himself by shooting his own toe while on guard duty - although he was only aiming for a fly on the tip of his boot). Dobbs want on to become a supersalesman and trance medium who until his untimely assassination channeled Prescriptures that occasionally mentioned Eris Discordia, if not always as kindly as prudence would dictate.

Out of these Prescriptures came the SubGenius Church - so named because you only qualify to join if you IQ is below genius.

A pipe in his mouth and a maniacal gleam in his eyes were trademarks of "Bob" and so his fanatical cult sues for copyright violation anyone whose eyes gleam in a similar fashion. Other exciting features of the SubGenii include their spirited quest for Slack, their brave determination to be Overmen, their understandable disgust with Technoboredom, their unblushing Crass Commercialism and their keen pride in their Northern Tibetan abominable snowman ancestry.

You can find out more by sending them your bank account.

If, on the other hand, you would rather join the Bavarian Illuminati, you have to bury your bank account in a cigar box in your yard. One of their underground agents will find it and contact you.

Our religion is so completely infiltrated with agents of the Ancient Illuminate Seers of Bavaria that if, for instance, you pass out Fair-Play-For-Switzerland flyers for us you are assured of rapid advancement to more important work for the Illuminati.

Both the Illuminatus! trilogy by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson and the Illuminati Board Game by Steve Jackson mention the Discordian Society almost as often as they speak of the nefarious Bavarian Conspirators themselves. Prestige of intimate association with the Illuminati is enormous because they have absolutely ruled the whole world for the past five thousand years.

Unlike the Illuminati, who are everywhere, the Right Reverand Jesse Sumps's First Evangelical and Unrepentant Church of No Faith is an exclusive Discordian franchise. Upon receiving a precious Mao button that said, "We must have faith in the Pary and we must have faith in the masses," Sump exclaimed: "No faith! No faith in the Party, no faith in the masses, no faith in God and no faith in the ruling class!" and thus the First Evangelical and Unrepentant Church of No Faith began. Jesse Sump has faith in Eris Discordia, though, "because everybody has just got to believe in something."

Perhaps the chief difference between the Discordian Society and Sump's outfit is one of style. We got it. They don't.

But if you like working yourself into a frenzy at camp meetings in order to foam at the mouth, speak in tongues, handle snakes, run moonshine and experience phantasmagoria, the No Faith Church will make you happy as a pig in mud.

Of couse, all the high-church glitter of the Paratheoianametamystichood of Eris Esoteric is not just yours for the asking. We solicit no donations, demand no tithes, charge no admission, levy no poll tax and run only a few nifty religious novelty stores on the side. But certain obligations adhere to the more hallowed manifestations of Discordianship.

Eating hot dog buns is prohibited, except on Friday - when it is cumpulsory. Stepped on cockroaches will earn you no points with our Blessed Saint Gulik. You must discipline yourself under a certified Slackmaster until you are capable of drinking beer and watching television with total concentration. All bowling alleys are sacred to Discordians and, if necessary, you must give your life to protect them from desecration - if anyone ever decides to desecrate bowling alleys. Finally, you must not rest until all the sheep are brought into the fold. (And when we convert all the sheep we are going to the dogs next, then wolves, goats and, at the annoited hour, human beings.)

Goddess also expects you to work on yourself. You must devote your full attention to every task you perform so you will realise - in a flash of sudden enlightenment - how confusing it is. You must master one Little Moron riddle after another until, with years of study, there is no longer any separation in your perception between subject and object, between you and the Little Moron.

Then there are bigots, who will persecute you because they hate Eris Discordia, and have no better sense than to judge an entire religion by the behavior of a single deity.

But before I was a Discordian, when I entered my room only to be reminded by its disarry that it was a mess, I felt a sense of defeat. These days when that happens I just say, "Hail Eris!" - our customary salute to any embodiment of chaos - and then I cheerfully carry on, secure in the knowledge that the constellations look no better.

Before I was a Discordian, I wasted a lot of time arguing with evangelists about God and Jesus. Now they waste a lot of time arguing about Eris Discordia with me.

Before I was a Discordian, I took life much too seriously. When you take life too seriously you start to wonder what the point of it all is. When you wonder what the point is in life, you fall into a trap of thinking there is one. When you think there is a point, you finally realise there is no point. And what point is there in living like that? Nowadays I skip the search for a point and find, instead, the punch lines.

Before I was a Discordian, I was distressed by the inefficiency and inhumanity of organizations. Now I am vindicated by their inefficiency and inhumanity.

Before I was a Discordian, I used to be afraid of my own shadow. Ah, but now my shadow is afraid of me!