An Apple Of A Different Color...

OK, yesterday (Sunday) I was confronted with a DIRE TEMPTATION.  This is something you don't have to be a Discordian to understand.  I was sitting here at my desk at work, doing nothing of any importance, and a co-worker rushed up to me and said she'd found a problem and could I please report it IMMEDIATELY?  She showed me to the restroom, and demonstrated how when you turn on the left-hand sink, the water pours not through the sink trap and down the drain, but directly onto your shoes.

This brought a smile to my face.  In this same restroom, when we first moved into the building, they couldn't get the lights to work for nearly a year.  It transpired that nobody had ever screwed light bulbs into the fixtures!  I had to laugh when the building's major domo informed me of this splendid fact.  "And nobody noticed in all that time!?" I asked, and she answered me, "Sure somebody noticed.  I noticed it after the first week."  "Well, where are the light bulbs?" I asked.  "I'll put them in right now."  "You can't!" she said.  "Only a licensed contractor is allowed to make repairs!  It's policy!"

That incident made my whole week, let me tell you.  I kept detouring specially into that room to wash my hands in the dark until the problem was finally corrected.  It was another two months before they had lighting over the sinks in there.

And here we were again, under those selfsame light bulbs, watching water sluice across the floor...AWAY from the floor drain, mind you, making visions dance in my head of how deep the water would get before it finally found its way out.

Did I report the problem to the major domo?  Hell, no, I did not. 

But after I got home, this thought struck me.  Wouldn't it be far, far more entertaining if I went back in there and left that faucet dripping?   Or gushing?

So here I am, back at my desk on Memorial Day, feeling as Eve must have felt when confronted with a talking snake and a certain famous apple.  The thing is, I have no business being here today -- nor did I yesterday -- and if someone walked into the ladies' room Tuesday and her feet shot out from underneath her because the floor was covered with water...Well, they' might think to check whose badge was used to enter the building over the weekend.  And If they don't think of that, I have an eyewitness:  the co-worker.

That apple looks so good...

 

Here's a question for you.  Who ever said that the fruit on the Tree of Wisdom was red, huh?

Anyone Need Another Thought On Why Chaos Is A Vitamin?

"Our core is madness. The prime directive is murder. What Darwin was too polite to say, my friends, is that we came to rule the earth not because we were the smartest, or even the meanest, but because we have always been the craziest, most murderous motherfuckers in the jungle."

 

(Stephen King, in Cell)

And that's one of the effects of Chaos in all our lives, my friends.  If a golden apple symbolizes the illusion that everything is in disorder, then taking a bite of that apple feeds us the illusion that we're running the show...

Taking Whose Name In Vain?

I just wanted to point out that while there are still people who practically swoon in horror if you use the name of one of the Christian deities in a casual and offhand manner, there's nobody ANYWHERE who gets offended if you use the word "chaotic" as a pejorative.  For some really orderly, linear types, they see it as the ugliest word in their language.  A therapist once described my family of origin as "chaotic" in a tone of voice suggesting that it was a worst-case scenario of some sort, and even if it wasn't quite as bad as being close to the blast at the bombing of Nagasaki, well --  she implied strongly that it was TOO MUCH TO ASK and NOT TO BE ALLOWED.

 

I wish I could convey the tone of voice she used.  The tone of voice so many people use when they describe something or someone as -- gasp -- CHAOTIC.

 

And they often seem a bit puzzled if I don't recoil when they use that dirty, scary word.  In fact, I tend to beam when I hear it.

 

Can I just point out, at the risk of being redundant, that the symbol of Chaos is a golden apple?  And that when Eris rolled that apple into the middle of the wedding party, all the goddesses dove for it and proceeded to fight over it?  Does that sound like an unattractive item to you?  Look how pretty:

Does this seriously look like the worst thing that could happen to you?  Me, I want to take a bite and see how it tastes.  Remember when King Midas touched an apple and turned it to gold?  He discovered he COULDN'T taste it and got all upset.  In fact, he STARVED without that tasty orb of Chaos.  Poor guy!

 

See, being WITHOUT it is the worst thing that can happen to you.  Right?  Right. 

It Does My Heart Good...

 

...When I go to someplace with a waiting room and listen with satisfaction to people RANTING at each other about their dippy religious beliefs.  There's a lot of that going around the country at the moment, and more than average where I live.  A couple of hours ago I listened as a friend of mine, someone I've known for years, OUTED herself as being TOTALLY INSANE, talking about how the Book of Revelations explains clearly that at some point, everyone who identifies as Christian will be BEHEADED, and she's going to be ready for it by doing this and this and this.  Wow, you think you know someone.  I should have seen this coming, I guess.  A couple of conversations ago she talked about her expectation that we're going to have a civil war here soon.  Over what!?  She didn't say.

The guy she was talking to today -- a stranger to me -- said affably that he was tired of hearing people "weeping and praying," saying "I'd rather just kill 'em" (meaning the enemies of Christianity?  Or maybe the prayerful weepers?).  Anyway, there's someone he's looking forward to killing.  Because he's a Christian.

A second friend of mine dipped her beak in the conversation a couple of times, saying that this or that book in the Bible was an especially good one in her eyes, but carefully stayed in the shallows, not diving too deeply into the crazy pool.

Me?  I just sat back and basked in the paranoia. 

Could John Kasich Become Donald Trump's Running Mate?

Someone asked Trump about this almost the instant Kasich discontinued his attempt to be the Republican nominee for president.  Trump said he was open to the idea because, alone among all the members of the Insane Clown Posse Republican presidential candidates, Kasich is the only one who never attacked him.

Kasich would be a good choice because he seems like a decent guy, you can see that his heart's in the right place no matter what you think of his policy ideas, and unlike Trump, he's definitely a Republican, who's always stood for pretty much Republican values.

DRAWBACKS?  Well, yeah. 

Remember when Dennis Miller described Dan Quayle as a "living, breathing bulletproof vest" for President George H.W. Bush?  The worst idea anyone could come up with during the first Bush regime was Dan Quayle becoming President.  In my opinion, having John Kasich as Vice-President would be the same as Trump going into his wife's makeup and using her brightest-red lipstick to draw a big BULLSEYE on his own forehead. 

Why?  Because Johan Kasich is a decent guy with his heart in the right place, who stands for Republican values. 

Today's Godzilla Haiku

Restoring Order...I Hope

I just want to draw your attention to the disgrace of Denny Hastert for a moment.  The longest-ever Speaker of the House turns out to be what guys in the Michigan prison system call a "cho-mo."  Right now he's begging the authorities not to send him to prison because he's, you know, not well and an old man and SOOOO important that he shouldn't be treated like every other "cho-mo" in history.  Doesn't he kind of sound like this crying, puking, self-pitying murderer?

One of Hastert's accusers said he kept the worst secret of his life for over 40 years.  I wonder what it was like to watch the guy who raped him get to be third in line for the Oval Office?  I'm not sure what finally made these guys come forward, but I do want to point out that when they did, they were stepping onto a wide, well-plowed road paved over many decades with the blood, sweat and tears of female victims who had NOWHERE TO TURN until finally one guy with some clout -- Sigmund Freud -- started taking their stories of sexual violence seriously.  Amazingly, when they were taken seriously, these women started getting over all kinds of problems, from social anxiety to hysterical paraplegia.  GO FIGURE!  

Male victims are about where the gals were 50 or so years ago -- just stepping out of the shadows in significant numbers for the first time.  If this keeps up we can finally maybe get a decent nose count and see who really needs to be behind bars. 

Let me direct your attention to the upper left block in this graph:

Telling the truth about a long-held secret RESTORES ORDER, if only the Order of your insides.  It's worth it.  Try and you'll see.