Newsgroups: alt.discordia
Path: vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uunet!gail.ripco.com!loopi
From: loopi@ripco.com (James R. Groves)
Subject: Lieutenant Wilkes? I fucked him...
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Date: Wed, 16 Nov 1994 09:03:54 GMT
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'They' didn't want it to happen. It was obvious from the get-go that the "Powers that be" were going to do everything in their power to stop the meeting from taking place, including putting two-thirds of all automobiles between here and Midway Airport (we're talking ALL the automobiles, universally even). When we arrived at Midway <NOT O'hare, which Wilkes can now see but has no idea about since it didn't exist for his entire stay> we alerted the entire airport to the arrival of Wilkes by screaming "WILKES! YOU FREAK! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU! WE WANT OUR MONEY AND OUR BOMBS!" and other such things <we only mentioned the word BOMBS once before realizing this is a verboten word in the airport language, as men with huge black sticks advanced menacingly and looked as if we had instantly become a food-product with the mention of the forbidden word>. By the time we got to the gates we knew we were close because universe was doing this strange heaving 'bellydance' and small wormholes were opening to keep us from actually coming together for the massive and world bending GRALT. But I had known this was happening and brought Alpha-Omega <world without end> who kept closing the wormholes using 'psychic-free the green stuff-energy' and calming universe with arcane and unfathomably complex gestures. As we came upon the gate <gate ***5***> we knew we were going to make it. I screamed "WILKES!!!!!!!!!!" and he turned and before I knew it, he removed his hat, which he wasn't wearing anyway, and threw it at the Dopploopi that had come to stop us, the magic hat of Wilkes destroyed the Dopploopi and took off the top of some guys head as well, but the guy didn't seem to mind and absently replaced it with a happy "Dogs fucked the Pope..." to his seated neighbor. And thusly, I broke the rules by starting a sentence with 'And', and we were OFF! Now we climbed into the portable gas-chamber Royster calls a car and after almost crashing, causing a race-riot, being asphyxiated, and me digressing over 700 times in the '1-hour that felt like 6 years' drive, we arrived at WindyCon.

Now, some of you who religiously read his posts might wonder what Wilkes is like. From the time I wrote that sentence it has been an hour. THAT is how hard Wilkes is to describe, and it isn't just the shape-shifting, or the weird-fields that surround him. It isn't the fact that he has as many Alter-egos as I have personalities. It is more the way Wilkes interfaces with reality. In such a way that, all that other stuff aside, you realize he has lived for hundreds of years, and in all that time he hasn't had the fun bred out of him, and in fact, has exponentially built on it. Suffice to say, since I am not only clinically insane, as well as 'just plain odd', we got along well from moment one. His bodily flexability made Van-Damme look like a brittle years old dogwood stick. Oh, and by the way, once we opened the wormhole <folded space> and allowed the WilkesBrain to come to the Meeting of the Discordian Superpowders, I realized that Wilkes and his brain don't get along well together, and there was a violent and cataclysmic battle which both the brain, and the body called "Getting back together in perfect harmony". I will say this, we unleashed powers that have changed Chicago <an Indian word> forever.

I will leave the description of WindyCon to Wilkes and the others who enter and leave this tale at odd intervals, but will say, they throw a sci-fi con and over 2000 non-strange-wannabe-weirds, Glorps, weirdlings, Semi-odds, Asylum-bound-hardcases, morphoditic hydro-encephalitic large-brains, stoners and burn-outs, taped-glasses-pocket-protector geeks, vampires, evil women from dimension PMS, filkers, whaleboys, SDAs <Sexual Deviants with Attitude>, etc. all show up in one place to 'commune'. It is a uncomfortably comfortable hive-mind that suffers micturations at its own non-compatibility. And this is all overseen by two layers of 'security'. Layer one is the most anal of the freaks at the Con itself who are known as Con Security. These guys morph too much and leave bits around to annoy others, once they start with the alcohol. They also were in on the conspiricy to keep Wilkes from dancing. The second layer is Hotel Security. Now it would seem that these would be far worse, but it just isn't so. The Hotel Security are all fed Quaaludes and Thorazine for the duration of the Con itself, so everything is actually fairly mellow with them other than having to watch where one walks to avoid the spastic-depressant-effect drool they leave around. So all we had to worry about was the almost ceaseless harrassment and attacking of the Con Security, who were alerted by their alien puppet-masters that Wilkes and I were about to alter the GRALT, and so were forever vigilant in a slothful, sleepy, sporadic, inattentive sort of way <except where the dance was concerned> to the comings and goings of our little 'power-group'. Anyway, that is all that needs to be said about the Con itself, the PEOPLE will get a more complete examination as the tale unfolds.

We knew we were in for some high-weirdness when we arrived and our 'bell-boy' had a spiffo uniform and the slicked back greased hair of a man who knows just how to slam a brewsky. As I left the Asphyxo-Car he walked up and whispered something that sounded like "Watch out for the talented nuns, they're neat!" but turned out to be "Watch out for the taloned ones <con security>, they'll bleed." Neither were very helpful, but the young man had thrown caution to the wind and was never heard from again. We arrived in the room and gathered ourselves, as our walk through the hotel had shown us that we would need our best spasming capabilities to survive this adventure, and that Universe had put together some beasts that should not BE let alone be given all the alcohol they can drink, and it was obvious that our little 'groupmind' was attracting attention in circles that Cthulu wouldn't even hang out in. The hotel had thoughtfully provided us with a cot to protect The Vampire Wilkes from the powers of the harsh Chicago <an Indian Word> sun, and a well considered architectural drawing of The Arch of Something or Other <its REAL name> which was packed with masonic symbols to ward off the Glocka beasts, which were busy elsewhere anyway. So Wilkes and I sat down and communed in a way far more intimate than sex can ever be, without our physical bodies ever touching <since that would have ended the universe at that point> and hatched a bizarre plan with such complexity and insane detail that we decided it would never be able to be pulled off with all the powers that were focused on the Gathering of the Pride of Alt.Discordia, so we scrapped it in favor of just BEING. It was quick approaching the moment when we would leave the room and everything would change. Several needed and ultimately important pieces of our 'group-mind' puzzle had not yet arrived, and one of the most important was about to be pulled out of reality by yours truly and change the course of the weekend so drastically that she gets her own post.....

Loopi, the 'To Be Continued' Guy.....

Newsgroups: alt.discordia
Path: vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uunet!gail.ripco.com!loopi
From: loopi@ripco.com (James R. Groves)
Subject: Wednesday? Yep, fucked her too!
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Date: Wed, 16 Nov 1994 09:11:48 GMT
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Ok, so we had charged ourselves in the room for a bit and all was as well as could be expected for those awaiting the arrival of missing parts. Merry <the light of my life> was first to arrive and had re-formed into her Calliope Heartless personality blanket, and this was good as we would need the buffer it presented. Louis the Gangster was present and the time to enter the insanity and begin the alteration of the GRALT had come. But it was obvious that with the entire force of all that is *NOT*, assembled and ready for us that Wilkes and myself as spearhead-type spiritual non-navigators would be somewhat unequal to the task. By the time we hit the fifth <5> floor elevator vortex/lobby we were being buffeted by pleas from the lost souls and other assembled minions of the societal beast, pretending in many forms to be weird whilst feeling their normality like a mountain of dirty slush on their backs. I knew it was time. I knew something had to be done before Wilkes and I were borne away on a tide of cultural need and the repressed sexuality of women who smelled the power that Wilkesman and I exuded from our pineal valves. I turned to Wilkes and said "Although she isn't going to be here <this a lie to keep the vultures at bay> we need Wednesday about now..." which was greeted by a hearty nod. I closed my eyes and psychicly screamed unto the ethers to pull her forth, while at the same time sacrificing push-up bras to the goddess of Cleavage and when I opened my eyes, a magical portal had been placed in front of me and when it opened SHE WAS THERE! WEDNESDAY HAD ARRIVED!!! I pointed out Wilkesman <who she would have instantly been aware of had she not been moments before on her way to a strange intra-ultra-deflocking-and-devouring-ceremony before being plucked away to join the mind-meld> and she and Wilkes circled each other at centimeters distance stalking like big cats and meshing auras. It was a dance so langorously sensual in its function as to leave me breathless <and with a pretty good woody as well>. Then all at once we joined and began to alter our surroundings to fit our needs and the GRALT felt its first attack. Royster joined in, then Louis, and soon reality was reeling and we had become the center of attention, so we immediately switched tactics and Wednesday <in a clear beautiful voice> began singing "It's a Small World" whilst Wilkes and I played badly wired audio-animatronics. We began to march through the floor 5 halls and begin a real attack when suddenly the forces of the Spam-Gods transferred Wilkes to the Empty Catacombs and he wandered there for 3 years before he finally found his way back to us. Spam and the Societal forces of the GRALT had been successful in stopping the full force of our onslaught, but we had weakened the GRALT considerably and showed the forces of the Glorps that we wouldn't lie face down in pools of vomit like some others at Cons past had done! We had tipped our hand at great cost, but I felt we had come out with more than we had lost.

It must be said here that Wednesday was not only instrumental in this victory, but was our guiding beacon. The wonderfully torturous Addams girl I had met at coffee a few nights previous had been just the non-battle version of an Erisian hellcat of unmanageable proportions. We had met as our alter-egos, the 'everyday' Loopi and Wednesday, and here, having only put out a small portion of our power, we had gained a new respect for each other, and I implore you all to salute this fine woman as a protectorate of the Erisian non-dream....

Now on the other front we had Wilkes. You must understand that phonebooth changes are not Wilkesman's style. Since Lieutenant is a super-power already the transformation to Wilkesman is an ongoing process which can be compared to actually trying to watch a flower grow. When you forget to watch and time passes, it has grown, but moment to moment it seems virtually the same. It was obvious that Wilkesman was going to be Chaosizing this Con and reshaping the GRALT in a BIG way, but so far he was just toying with it, LETTING it take him to the Spam Catacombs for three years. It was obviously going to be quite a weekend and all of it was going to be SERIOUSLY playful in the most un-structured and insanity filled way.

Royster...what else can be said....He filled every moment with trancendant battles which the eye could not even begin to follow, and little did we know as we watched his battles that he was non-fighting his way toward us from the OTHER side of the Pudding!

Louis had chosen the Role of Body-guard and quickly was elected to guard our mental backs as well. A well placed glance after we had weirded by was worth ten-thousand words as the Gralt would flinch and twitch and slowly be altered to fit our needs.

There will be more of this, interspersed with other views of the War of The GRALT, but they will be episodic and scenelike...

But this post, this post is dedicated to Wednesday. Without her Wilkes and I would just be crispy cinders on the Boot of the shit monster. With her our battle was long and hard but we sustained.

Thanks Wednesday!

Loopi the 'Yes, there's STILL more' guy...

Newsgroups: alt.discordia
Path: vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uunet!gail.ripco.com!loopi
From: loopi@ripco.com (James R. Groves)
Subject: Message from the Wilkes/Loopi/Wednesday mindmeld!
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Date: Fri, 18 Nov 1994 06:19:28 GMT
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### S'me Loopi, and I found this on my computer and thought you might all like to see it. This was written when the mind-meld was at PEAK operating performance and JUST as Wednesday joined the mind-meld. This message has all three of us/them combined and it might be fun to figure out who was in control at what point, but for some of it, it WAS just a singular mind ###

Well, this is it. You are reading a post in which the Loopi/Wilkes mindmeld is in PROCESS, this post is NOT by Loopi, and it is not Wilkes, it is BOTH, and we are ONE BEING for another day. So this is the combined wisdom of a super-being called CarnivorousManeatingNonconfrontation-alSuperGrover the Amplitude Modulation and Formica Guy. To exploit further the ramifications <SOMEBODIES gettin Rammified!> of this Gralt, you have to realize that we have been to Nipple-fests and Mega-malls of the soul which sold us and traded the separate parts which made up a device in which we stuck our collective head in order to meld them into the being which knows JUST how much more it knows than either Wilkes or Loopi. This whole process was slightly complicated by having to build the device which warps the fairly large area of space in which the Wilkes brain <not to mention (I will anyway) the non-area of non-space in which the Wilkes MIND> exists, to the small but lordly almost-space in which the respective BODIES exist. Now that that has been somewhat accomplished we/it/us can explain that we want you ALL to know that (OH! we/it/us almost forgot GLORP! <in effect making up a we/it/us/glorp>) from here on out... {BTW, please notice the sudden transposition of the "()" and the "<>" [this little note, in turn, has been closed by "{}"]} OK! THAT'S ENOUGH OF THAT! We're [I'm {collectively}] getting too much interference with these different bracketing <parenthesizing! {DORK!}> procedural things that Wilkes and Loopi use. I (we) [YOU'RE _DOING_ IT AGAIN!] think that this "integration of the two minds project" <now you're using quotes! [those don't count]> has gotten off to a bit of a bad start so I [WE, GODDAMMIT!!! {Don't be so anal! <C00L D00D!!!11!!! A FIT3!!1!! (What the heck is _he_ doing here?)>}] think that the "mind integration" device should temporarily shut down until we figure this logistical problem out...

***** Emergency override from Lt. Wilkes' sub(and super)conscious ***** ***** Begin subliminal section ***** THAT'S IT! I'm in control here. To make things a little more efficient, this I/we/us/glorp type of entity, or whatever the hell it's called, will make use of Lt. Wilkes' bracketing procedures. ***** End of subliminal section *****

***** Counter-emergency overrice from Loopi's coffee maker ***** ***** Begin subliminal section ***** To make things just a little more confusing, I've just wiped out the new programming from Wilkes' sub(and super)conscious. I will also be adding my own comments from here on out in the form of "::". ***** End of subliminal section *****

...would like to point out that WE really like all of you alot ::except of course me, but they don't even know I'm in here with them:: and want to extend our heartiest hi-ho's and hoonalala's [they ARE apostrophes of possession!] <Hey Wilkes, I understand now why the brain/mind/body dichotomy...I can see clearly now the Rain has gone{um, can I say something? ([<::NO!::>]) Ok, fine then, I'll just brood here in the pleasure centers for a bit...}> to everyone who made this possible, for witout them, we would have been alot like BrindleFly. Firstly I wanna thank Wednsday's cleavage, I mean, the whole world would not be so bright and wonderful a place without it. Secondly, well I guess in the scheme of things everything is literally eclipsed by the WONDER of Wednesday's Cleavage<c>. Anyway, to get down to it <to what? [It, you know the mindmelded wisdom we came up with] (which we? I missed something...::*I* fed them all this 'wisdom'::>[THE Wisdom, ya know the stuff about the semantic disturbance in the relation-ship of man/woman to the GRALT] <Oh yah, that> (Didn't we decide against telling that?) [{<NO!>}] <oh, ok...>> THIS IS THAT MESSAGE: ---THAT MESSAGE---

We've found a truth...not THE Truth, but a truth. It has very little to do with EVERYTHING although it does and can and sometimes even might explain everything in a peripheral sort of way. By the way that was the part of the message that wasn't very funny and it is now continuously transforming to the point where you will have to judge that it has become funny again, and that only if you thought any of it was funny in the first place. (Loop, yer digressing again...<sorry..>)The truth of the matter is that there isn't exactly a point to this. I mean, honestly, like oh my god fer sure totally like and stuff and things and you KNOW??????? OKAAAAAY?!

#-#-#-#ALERT!!! ALERT!!! WEDNESDAY HAS ENTERED THE MINDMELD!!!!!#-#-#-#

<hmmm...that feels good...let her stay...>*GASP* *GASP**GASP* *moooooan!* -<lt wilkes; i fucked him.>- Okaaaay, so coffee and donuts ate each other one day, and I have no idea wat that means, so don't fuckin' ask man. You know? I'm surprised. I mean, really, I am supposed to be ranting here. I want a piece of chocolate. Food. Drink. Velveeta is neither, and cheese has disowned it. And powdered it. What ispowdered mozerella? What IS it???? WON'T YOU TELL ME? YOU HATE ME! YOU'RE ALL OUT TO GET ME!!!! IT'S AN FMS CONSIPRACY!!!!!!!!! AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! dammit. i hate it when that happens. it's a hysterical thing rife with typos. Fnord. Kiwi. How did Kristin get here? She must be astral projecting. That's it. We are channeling Kristin Buxton. But we're not fucking her. Are we? <no, of course not> Louis, we need a condom.

But isn't what we said just all meaningless anyways? <Oh fuck! Here it comes ::Hee hee hee::> Even though a half (or is it a third?) of me doesn't even drink the stuf it makes, I think that coffeemakers overshadow all of that. I mean, come on, isn't obvious? Do you really think that you could gett through the day without your periodic charge of stimulant from our little percolating friends? ::snicker snicker, I'M TAKING OVER!!! HA! HA! HA!:: I personally think we should all bow down to the nearest Mr. Coffee and offer a sacrifice of... _bir-DUH_

*sudden interruption due to a cat, VERY much in heat, rubbing up against the electrical outlet used by the coffee maker*

:: I'M DYYYYYYYYYiiiiiinnnng *blip*

...Hey! What the fuck am I say about this this mother-fuck piece of SHIT party-vibe assHOLE coffee makers ruling the FUCKING WORLD!!! Think for yourselves SHMUCKS!!!

I mean, THAT is the point here. <is it? {sure thing pokey[I'm not sure, but if it makes this message GO somewhere, then I'll ride with it]}> If we take over, then we are just more punks (albeit weirder ones<Well, yah, there is THAT>), ahem, still punks who will be pretty sure we have some answer that can soothe the masses, when in actual fact, the only thing that can soothe the masses is to have all the responsibility which has been taken away dropped back in their laps. So, if we took over we would just have to instantly quit again with a hearty "Think for Yourselves SHMUCKS!"...<We'd get to keep all the cool perks though right?[Sure, the perks are ours]> <Hey Wilkes? {Which one?} The body...(Yah?) Time to go get on yer plane man! (Ok, well say goodbye and sign this thing then) Ok..>

Anyway, we gotta cut a chogie here and get Wilkes back on his Airplane, so for now we break the mindmeld ({<[::DO WE GOTTA?!?!::]>}) and reposition Wilkes back where he belongs. So, Later!

Sincerely,
CarnivorousManeatingNonconfrontation-alSuperGrover the Amplitude
Modulation and Formica Guy, who likes everyone just a bit TOO much.