The First Trip, Or Kether
It was the year when they finally immanentized the Eschaton. Wow, good thing I know what "eschaton" means, eh? And it doesn't really have anything to do with "tons". Why, it sounds like it could be a ton of, say, wheat, but actually it's the end of the world. Immanentizing wheat would be kinda pointless. Well, no. Would cooking bread be immanentizing wheat? I think that it would be. And bread is never
Welcome to the Illuminatus!!
liveblog! I've been told that wherein this book you can learn all kinds of crazy shit, like how the west was won and how to misuse the word "wherein"! I'm looking forward to it. Looking really
forward to it. Like I'm practically falling flat on my face. This book is dangerous
, folks. Face injuries every five seconds or so.
After that first sentence, the narrator relates that on April 1st the Doomsday Clock hit 11:59 and a bit, all because of some island tastefully named Fernando Poo. They're struggling to tell us why
, however - seems that they're so high they don't even remember who they are. I've been like that. Once I thought that I was a triangle who thought that he was a pomegranate who thought that he was named Godzilla. So I can sympathize.
Also: Jramin (this is its name, I've decided) tells us about a squirrel. It's in Central Park. This has nothing to do with the aforementioned island or war, or it does, but Lramin doesn't know how. Needs moar schizophrenia. Clearly the squirrel leaping between trees is a signal to the agents of the Hashashin. They follow the subtle signs of nature, you see, and Mother Nature wants everybody to die. She's kind of a bitch.
"intellectual rapists": Best phrase, or bestest phrase? Anyway, Hramin thinks that not only is the world a stage in which we are merely players
, but most of us weren't really coached, haven't rehearsed, and are probably really shitty actors. Clearly this narrator has an appreciation for the improvisations of jazz music. Except on stage, you know. So metaphorical jazz. Not as many plungers being shoved up trombones.
That was one paragraph. I don't know if I'm doing this right. Nevertheless, I will plunge
forward into the toilet of liveblogging success! And none of you socialist motherfuckers can stop me! Bwahahahahahahahaha!