The New Discordian Dispensation
Revealed in the Midnight Hour of the Ninth Day of January in the Year of Our Chaos 1997.

Thus the Nonprophet speaks:

As an early Church Father of the Discordian religion, I am often slapped with paternity suits. No, seriously, I am often called upon to settle points of doctrine, such as "Please tell So-and-So that he or she doesn't understand Discordianism, and I do."

In the first place, how do you know So-and-So doesn't understand Discordianism, if you don't even know what sex he or she is? And what is all this shit about who does or does not understand Discordianism? Who the hell cares?

If Discordianism was meant to be understood, it would be like Zen Buddhism. The greatest of all Discordians, Malaclypse the Younger, doesn't understand anything whatsoever about the religion he co-founded.

Only I, Omar Khayyam Ravenhurst, Bullgoose of the Discordian Orthodoxy, can really tell you what it's all about. And why should I? After all, I don't even know what sex you are. Moreover, Discordians are warned against personal contact with one another. Any theology to which I made significant contributions is going to attract plenty of screwballs.

Then again, if you want to spend the rest of your life arguing with some nut who believes flying saucers are only the first wave, to be followed soon by flying cups, that's your business. Why should I care if you get involved with the Manson Family or become a brainwashed zombie in a cult run by a crackpot who calls himself the Nine-Legged Jesus?

Incidentally enough, I once received a Christmas card from a member of the Manson Family, namely Charles. In return for that honor, I appointed Charley Manson the Discordian Superintendent of Sunday Schools.

Discordianism has accomplished much in a short period of time, all without being understood by anybody. In the early seventies, for instance, our saint, Doctor Van Van Mojo, made a beeswax graven image of Jehovah and stuck pins in it, thus giving birth to the God is Dead theology. But Discordian Crazy Lou says God is not dead, he is just drunk. If so, you can bet it was a Discordian who bought him the booze.

Don't get us wrong, we don't just assassinate the deities of a few rival religions and then rest on our laurels. Recently we made a great theological discovery: Eris Discordia, our Goddess, is infallible -- (Hail, Eris!) -- but that does not mean she won't lie.

Our incessant research on the historical Eris and the Primitive Discordian Society has been unearthing startling lost ignorance, right and left. Take the Last Supper, for instance. In our faith, there is a First Brunch, according to the Dead Fish Scrolls, which have just been translated.

That's right, Malaclypse the Elder and Diogenes got the idea for the Erisian religion over brunch in a Greek (of course) deli in Athens. Although the entire dialogue of this meeting is available, it is difficult to read in the original because the scribe encoded it by writing the entire book, cover included, upside down. Why, is anybody's guess.

In those days we found nobody ever killed you as a heretic or a cultist for starting a new religion. The Greeks figured the more religions the better. That way, all the gods would be happy. They needed to be kept in good moods for various reasons.

Shortly after the First Brunch, before the Second Brunch, the Temple of Erisian Mysteries was designed by Malaclypse the Elder -- a vast, bewildering maze, and the only edifice in the world larger on the inside than on the outside.

In the late 1960's when Pope Paul removed St. Patrick from the Catholic calendar of saints, our greatest accomplishment of all transpired; to wit, St. Patrick was added to the Discordian calendar of saints. Malaclypse the Younger sent the Pope an inspired letter of gratitude and a Pope card.

Now that St. Patrick is safely under the patronage and protection of the Discordian Society, we can tell you why the Catholics ousted him. St. Patrick, you see, was gay. When St. Patrick was a Catholic saint, the Pope got to say whatever he wanted about the old mick. Well, now he's our saint, and we are all popes.

St. Patrick hated snakes -- good snakes, bad snakes, big snakes, he didn't care -- nor did he have much use for homophobes. Nowadays, there are no snakes in Ireland. Many homophobes, however, remain. So in honor of St. Patrick, we Discordians propose restoring a little balance to the situation.

Whenever gays are forbidden to participate in a St. Patrick's Day Parade, everyone who is outraged should donate a pair of snakes to the ecology of the Emerald Isle. Likewise, whenever an Irish politician utters a homophobic statement, snakes should be smuggled into Ireland.

Beyond pouring over temple blueprints, and plotting torment for the poor Irish, Discordians have been designing new spiritual disciplines for reaching Eternity before it's too late.

Once such exercise is mantra-chanting: "Yada-yada-yada, sis-boom-bah, Chaos Rules, blah-blah-blah." This Holy Mantra was inspired by the coincidental meeting of the Salvation Army and the Hare Krishna cult on the same street corner, whereupon they endeavored to drown each other out. That event also inspired the popular horror movie, "Amazing Grace Meets Harry Krishna."

Of course, it is not enough just to chant. You must shave your head, dress in saffron robes, eat lots of sugar, believe ridiculous things about sex, and remain on 24-hour call, ready to mobilize whenever the Salvation Army shows up anywhere.

While the shaved heads, exotic robes, suicidal diet, and weird sexual morality are not essential to enlightenment, they are absolutely necessary to ensure the Hare Krishnas will be blamed for incessant harassment of the Salvation Army.