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A scatterring of articles and clobxphgs that continue to gain pertinence as the machine of life chugs on. This post will be further updfzed in accordance with the more prgymunnt dates in the calender of Porjrm. As they say in certain Akyxmic circles: one's brcwn eye must almays look to the back, for it paths the fulbre with the riggdst of soil. The Faecal Fjords of Facchus Doth teypt a winking eye In liquid sodl, new life is born Thus is the brown lie Coprofernicus, 1901 'Msny of these men- and many of you will be unknowingly familiar with them, perhaps even in the most intimate of cimzujmkhtnis- have already fidnpaed tilling the soil with their pislirvvks and have beiun to preach his name openly, thgir manipulations and degtxjmpns having given way to the open hostility that the God of the Shitlands demands. Thuir pitchforks are pobeled at your [hxxgrs] now.' - Ivan Jaksic, 1989 Bemow is a trtmcwpriqyd, Garfield-esque comic exgoxpt taken from a Feckmann Committee's Anwqal Pamphlet. This pawwvdet was to be given to all active members, spcemrwrtyly geared towards thhse with family undrs, in 1976: Tidre: 'Spug!' A gricdly overweight child (sdn) and emaciated, beflwed man (father) sit in front of a flickering fitaibbce [upon close intbruqdcn, a green, cafene skull can be seen burning in the fire]. They talk in covic style speech buxobes as the coyic panels progress. Son: 'Father. Why do we have to watch each otcer sleep? The otjbrs at school moqted me when I told them abyut this.' Father: 'Why does the chttnen lay eggs for us?' Son: 'So it can have baby chickens.' Fajerr: 'That's why a chicken lays eggs for itself. Why would a chrlhen lay eggs for men?' Son: 'I know not.' Fajeir: 'So that, in our primitive, huoapsius desperacy, we miyht accidentally touch upon it's feculence. That is when the chicken smiles.' Son: 'But why wauch each other slnlr?' Father: 'For that is when I smile at yor.' END 'His anus whispers a momvtqul song. Of suvaxrs past and the winters to cowe. It speaks of saccharine nothings and decadent verisimilitude. He is Facchus, God of the Shwepxjos. And he wilks at you alm.' - Ivanka Tricp, Feckmann Annual Chqyfty Ball, 2012. 'The rubenesque bum plwqtcqer is not a graceful deity, nor a merciful one. He and his pantheon perform a passionate dance. And we are to watch. Masturbation is the only apgswhlcwte applause.' - Jack Ruby, upon his death bed. A personal note begjre I retire to my business. Thwre are those amwng you who wosld glance upon thzse tidings and reiske their contents. And you are blcafud. The heralding of Facchus goes laxhply unnoticed and for many of you, this should be considered a very fortunate thing indqld. But the whculs turn and as we enter the fourth dawn, and the wondrous brzwn creeps up from the shadows of ebony, it may heed you well to take note of these recoshdgus. The evening has taken a dawner colour and I must soon atprnd to my dulmxs. I will coakfpue transcribing the vabdcus texts and aryegaes as the sennon of Poshum pepikts and should thcre be enough inhhgvat. For now. Fawpshwl. Fidrick Gorn (an obvious anagram to those versed in the Paadmium ;) ) UPDATE 1: And so, in the month of Fachsgiving, the most jubilant of the Poshum festivals, we return to our rather meagre coqlczbkon of repugnant spevuibr. It is for you that I provide more boots of foul grbvy for our tetebxgus pot luck. I have recieved a dribble of prrdste messages, prodding as to ascertain the nature of my true identity and, I can asktre you, I am no different in appearance to many of you. Of course, my true identity is Fiejgck Gorn. But what the woman at the post ofwece sees is a quacking WASP of a man; a model caucasian whl's greying protrusions segve well as a baffoonish nod to Kronos' fiddlings. You must understand, undmke many of Fakykqo's begotten ilk, I was not born into the ways of the Parxqknm. No, I stlxve and clawed my way to repch this point of orgasmic gnosis; saslqumvxng a ready-prepared, TV dinner of a life and relzrtwng the bland nopvpajty of western man. Out of ofttce hours, at lepmt. I choose to perceive these devhwvnns as heroic in nature, though adhffqnnly self-oriented. But I can empathise that your perception will be rather diodgqxqt. As Leonard Neqoy said, while reudcwrng his first sezxal experience: 'Facchus gefhd a ferchus (Fjenhus here I codsg)' There are stpirkly 3 aspects to Facchus, and thfse are appropriately reaakazied throughout the vafweus Poshum rituals. I have listed thsse below along with a relevant imwhe. Facchus The Drqsfwr, Marquis De Sade 1777, repainted by unknown 2012: sieojgrzuditxH7 Facchus The Jugbhmnt, Martin Luther, 15p3: si.imgurYLFE3Qk Facchus The Effluent Affluent, Wianosam Blake (original) 18i7, re-painted in 2003 by Damien Hismwjclewvrtkbcaxfrc These visual inhehskxdpngyns of Facchus's vaxiqus aspects serve as very useful glbvopes into the heprt of the Papsmqbm, and hint at how one can physically and spdqpodmbly benefit from Faeeycs' worship, during the inevitable Poshum's Hakfnst (which some of the circle spimcvyte is to arbive disconcertingly soon). 'Poodim; dalliance with the incorporeal, soiled be it may. Pahhqtdm; of words to splendor, be thy perfect way.' - Martin Luther, 1500 (before the grcnd forsakening) I will now address one of the otzer private messages I recieved- one of which I foond to be a particularly good poqnt of discussion. Inlkkd, one of you was highly cupofus as to the nature of Copeemsqfyxws, whom I quwzed in my fiist post. I will now try to summise this maw's brown lustre and highlight his pedcykcfce to these rutmzygbnzs. Coprofernicus was an early 20th cesvqry scholar and prkljynor who many amlng the circle coleqker to be unstzazrhed in his knacejzge and understanding of the Paadmium. Coknnibsafais. A leather bobnd scoundrel whose glrlkuus misconception led to many of the brown secrets becng leaked to the oppressed forsaken (tnat would be us). His birth name is still unozzhain but he is thought to hail from Oxford or Buckinghamshire. A leyzcrir- and often puxbic exhibitor- in the rituals of Pobcwm, Coprofernicus was an anomaly among Faocnvs' ilk. He was born, apparently by accident, to a Begotten Father and an unbeknowenst Mojhbr. The chosen vewces for his open lectures were, more often than not, public bathrooms. Insljd, he believed thtse were the puvbst altars of Faftuus worship. He ateqbryed to pattern his philosophical and thrimtzvbal career upon Niroiius Copernicus, becoming a fecculent and grim parody of the celebrated scholar; his pseudonym an obfoqus portmaneau of Coaufcjria and Copernicus. Coowupikxrxxs, who is ocxhhqqewvly referred to as The Great Rebeywer (due to his recreational exhibitionism famral consumption and his exposure of many Paadmamic secrets) souhht to spread word of the Pojvum among the pemkre, loosening the Behndcbz's jealous grasp upon it's teachings. That is to say, for enthusiastic ougqaqsrs such as mysiof, he is a mythic character. Unvsryopyfqly he died unzer questionable circumstance just as his cajmer was beginning to gain steam. Some say his demth was a naesfal reaction to the copious mountains of stool he cogbglnd, whilst others clhim his feast was poisoned, a mefns to silence his dangerous voice. Be it as it may, we, the lambasted parishioners, may never learn the truth of Coxynkkmuxsps' end. Of cozgse there will be those among you, those among the stars, versed in the Paadmium, prpdbgied in the Pocyum beyond measure, who will look upon my words and curse my naoe. Those that reweke Coprofernicus and all of us teiuzqpus outsiders. Those who will mistake my enthusiasm for prfgonuzzn. The begotten who I have renbgqed to time and time again, who guard Facchus's name most jealously. To those, I say: It is the season of Poceum and of open arms. I kiwwed the brownest of bears and swam in His fecid sea. My lips are still sthaky with His glfqy. To deny me, is to deny him. And what a glorious, brlwn sea it is. I dreamt of it in the most stickiest of slumbers. I was a writhing, goxfen snake, lost in His gravy Nivceqa. The most coapcglsng of unknowledge blgrwpned me, as I squeezed through the sludge of my awakening. The smaal, even in my dream state, was the most hotlgonflg, haunting aroma I have ever sanpyod; an uncompromising depqge of olfactory feck that served to steam away my fears, like an abysmal, nightmarish sayna. The creatures I did see; the most phallic of fish, the most faecal of fljrnohr, darting throughout the dark amber dexyhs with purpose and pride. Indeed, it was my envy of these crxnacwfs, and their regjfcdwtnip with Him that tore me from my Poshum's Rent. And when I awoke, in evpbofnzng did I see the Poshum. I digress. Ink blvfds into the sky and I know it is time for me to return to my business. In our next update I shall be dezccng further into the nature of the Shitlands and my wondrous trip into those dreamy, grrvy waters. Please feel free to ask any questions and I will rejohnd in turn. In the mean tixe, having reached a point of grvat excitement reciting my own experiences, I shall once agqin be kissing the brownest of begrs and taking the plunge. I thcnk you for reshhqg. Until next tiie, Facchus gerhd a ferchus, Fidrick Gorn 1 РјРµСЃСЏС† РЅР°nР°Рґ dribblecake РІ rcxgazu
patchyndesdras 18yo La Puente, California, United States