http://www.acidinvader.com/about-my-other-wiener daily 0.75 2016-06-06 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1427142562697-2L3HJWX0EX5R37L7PDJ4/daftconnie1.jpg About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426970353254-4Q267PE8PCIGME55EYI5/INVERT.jpg About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426971189416-6V118LGAA9M3Z5ZRB5R5/ZACH_me.jpg About My Other Wiener A failed bromance.   https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1427926497973-OWPV4ADOC7I1VG4X2537/image-asset.png About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1427926353496-3YMR390Y1HFJ764A6ALE/image-asset.png About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426972689435-L3N179JI2T1S6HAKGBUX/daftconnie1.jpg About My Other Wiener DJ Daft Connie: business woman by day, trance DJ by night. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426971939258-Y6UK2D55022M3IT89ZIE/image-asset.jpeg About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426970353254-4Q267PE8PCIGME55EYI5/INVERT.jpg About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426971189416-6V118LGAA9M3Z5ZRB5R5/ZACH_me.jpg About My Other Wiener A failed bromance.   https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1427926497973-OWPV4ADOC7I1VG4X2537/image-asset.png About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1427926353496-3YMR390Y1HFJ764A6ALE/image-asset.png About My Other Wiener https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426972689435-L3N179JI2T1S6HAKGBUX/daftconnie1.jpg About My Other Wiener DJ Daft Connie: business woman by day, trance DJ by night. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1426971939258-Y6UK2D55022M3IT89ZIE/image-asset.jpeg About My Other Wiener http://www.acidinvader.com/contact daily 0.75 2021-06-14 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563984714043-NDRYYZ5UON2EBHXKE28H/DOX_081915_small.jpg Contact - Contact Us Scrawl, scribble, or scratch your questions, comments, and requests in the form below. 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Thank you. http://www.acidinvader.com/uma-landsleds-the-honey-horn-1 daily 0.75 2023-02-07 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1675796941602-09MNAQX5I1TQIA96HJPQ/UMA_honeyhorn_ad_02.jpg UMA Landsleds: The Honey Horn (Copy) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/a6fae41d-b4c4-471e-88e6-6f515d00dbb3/UMA_honeyhorn_ad.jpg UMA Landsleds: The Honey Horn (Copy) - Make it stand out The Honey Horn Collection featured four collages with accompanying stories for four UMA Landsleds pro models. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/c6702b40-1688-4265-899d-4957c5744309/DOX_queenteddybear_01-IG.jpg UMA Landsleds: The Honey Horn (Copy) - The Teddy Bear Queen (Maité Steenhoudt) The Teddy Bear Queen is a quintessential queen as far as queens are queencerned. She seemingly never does wrong and never upsets anyone, but that’s only because she, like most of the Teddy Bears in her sleuth, doesn’t do much of anything and thus there is little potential for right or wrong. She enjoys a simple life of eating and farting and sleeping and pooping and eating. At the heart of this seemingly simple agenda, though, a problem has arisen: no more Space Honey! The Teddy Bears have lost communication with their Space Bear ancestors who happen to be their suppliers of artisanal Space Honey, but the Space Bears live on a planet orbiting the star, Dubhe (pronounced, DUB-bē, “dubby”), that resides in the Ursa Major constellation at the tip of the Big Dipper 122 light years away. This is a big, big, big problem because Teddy Bears need Space Honey to survive. Teddy Bears can’t live without Space Honey. And so the Queen of the Teddy Bears made the long journey to the nearest Oracle outpost to seek help and advice. The sacred temple the Oracle’s Listening Post occupies is high atop a volcano on Thrig Island in the middle of the Ocean. Unfortunately the Teddy Bear Queen was running late for her Oracle appointment (classic Teddy Bear behavior—they are never on time for anything), and tried to apply her makeup while en route up the steep slopes of the Thrig Volcano. As anyone knows, though, Sheep Sherpas do not provide the smoothest of rides and the Queen’s retinue stumbled repeatedly on the side of the mountain’s sheer path—pretty much every time the Queen raised her lipstick to her mouth. Despite her unbecoming appearance, the Teddy Bear Queen was granted an audience with the Oracle who furnished the Queen with a remedy for her sleuth’s dearth of Space Honey—a remedy that would not come easy… https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/60045024-a9a7-4c13-a2aa-ed9563ddeb1d/DOX_cowsealtongue_01-2ig.jpg UMA Landsleds: The Honey Horn (Copy) - Cow Seal Tongue (Roman Pabich) There have been rumors that Grand Leader Cow was a mythical shape-shifting seal, aka a Selkie. The creature that founded the Magnificently Glorious Republic in human form would, whenever the opportunity arose, sneak away to his country’s coastline, turn itself inside out at the shore, and slink back into the sea as its original seal self. As a seal, Cow had a much more friendly personality than he did as the ruthless and austere Grand Leader of the Magnificently Glorious Republic. In the sea, Cow was a child at heart and he loved to horse around and get up to all kinds of mischief—in fact, tales of his legendary pranks are so pervasive in seal folklore that Cow is credited with being the inspiration for the antics performed in contemporary seal shows around the world. Cow’s most popular trick was balancing a tower of chairs on the tip of his nose. He could stack them higher and higher until they reached the clouds. It didn’t matter if they were armchairs, rocking chairs, wheelchairs, lounge chairs, beach chairs, desk chairs, high chairs, chaise lounges, recliners, ribbon backs, Bergères, Fauteuils, Curules, Klismoi, Morrises, Savonarolas, Shakers, Windsors, Wingbacks, or even his favorite: THRONES. He could balance them all on the tip of his nose. Grand Leader Cow was of great interest to the Teddy Bear Queen and her sleuth because The Oracle had provided them with blueprints for an instrument so powerful it could be heard in the furthest reaches of the cosmos and even in other dimensions. “The Honey Horn,” as it is called, is the most complicated instrument ever conceived. The blueprints for it call for of all kinds of ridiculous, hard-to-find components that would take multiple lifetimes to collect, but there is one component in particular that The Oracle promised would be more difficult to acquire than all the others combined: the Cow Seal Tongue. Much like the sheep intestines that make violin strings, the Cow Seal Tongue’s muscle fibers can be stretched, dried, and wound into a magical string that allows the Honey Horn to play the most sublime music the world has ever heard or will ever hear. The instrument requires only the tiniest sample from the tongue, no matter how small, in order to sing, but Selkies are extremely dangerous and no mortal has ever seen one and lived to tell about it—let alone acquired a tissue sample from one’s tongue. The Oracle, however, revealed to the Teddy Bear Queen that there is a single instant during the Selkie’s metamorphosis when the creature is completely vulnerable and one might be able to obtain a sample from the beast’s tongue: when the Selkie’s human and seal selves are both inside out and connected only by their shared tongue, it is at that moment and that moment only that the shape shifter is as helpless as a newborn butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/c73c4b73-45f4-4dc4-825d-b7e1a73645b1/DOX_theinstrument_01-IG.jpg UMA Landsleds: The Honey Horn (Copy) - The Instrument (Evan Smith) The Teddy Bear Queen and her sleuth of bears scoured the earth and somehow managed to acquire all of the components for the Honey Horn and assembled it. They even got some Cow Seal Tongue. Don’t ask how. We have no idea. Also, how did they assemble the instrument’s intricate parts with their teddy bear paws? They don’t have fingers. Anyway, those darn teddy bears collected every last item on the Oracle’s nearly infinite list of parts, which included, among other things… The elevator buttons from Sid and Nancy’s floor at the Chelsea Hotel, NYC. An antique radio containing uranium fuel rods from the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. A hair from the tail of Don Quixote’s horse Rocinante. The engine from the Northwest Orient Airlines Boeing 727 that was hijacked by DB Cooper. The first chemical element on the Periodic Table to begin with the letter J (extant, yet unknown). Edith Pilaf’s lungs marinated in cigarettes and soy sauce. A backflow valve from the fourth dimension. The first flower ever touched by King Midas. Pope Urban VIII’s Uncle’s unclean underwear. Cleopatra’s ancient Egyptian distillery. Siegfried and Roy’s unstable cat, Mantacore, and his favorite circus ball. A jar of cocaine from Nikolaus Johann Van Beethoven’s pharmacy in Linz, Austria. A trompe de la chasse that Oscar Wilde filched from an English hunting lodge. A frog with a chilidog from a synagogue in Prague. And on and on and on… As the Oracle had promised, the Honey Horn could produce every sound that ever was, and every sound that will ever be, from a raindrop on a windowpane, to the eruption of a volcano, and everything in between: it can play the songs of Charlemagne accompanied by an inbred on a banjo, and John Coltrane snorting cocaine amid a herd of buffalo. Every sound, every instance when quiet is quelled, from the cries of a riotous crowd, to the crash of every tree that was ever felled, the sound of every smell—because let’s face it, manure stinks outloud—the Horn plays it all, every dog’s bark, every cow’s meow, every sound from history’s start til now. The Horn blares the frustration of labor strikes, and all the music you like and dislike. It recreates the splash of a wave crashing on a beach, to James screaming atop his giant peach. It can play anything from a butterfly flapping its wings, to all of the gusts and gales it brings, to a lion’s roar, a cricket’s chirp, the carnage of war, plus every fart and every burp, from the fwip-fwap clap of a laundry snap, to a white rhino taking a gigantic crap, the Honey Horn makes every sound, all of the sound, it’s inside and it’s outside and it’s all around. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/ec61c92a-be5c-4e55-a12d-daa8fba9fe89/DOX_insects_01-1.jpg UMA Landsleds: The Honey Horn (Copy) - Triangle (Cody Chapman) Triangle was an experimental band from Germany in the early 70s. Triangle enjoyed success almost immediately upon their debut, but almost as soon as they appeared, they were gone. Despite the existence of a recording, purportedly made by Triangle, most scholars agree that they were never a real band and that they’re nothing more than an urban myth or, at best, an elaborate hoax. There is, however, a growing number of musicologists who insist that not only did Triangle exist, but that they still exist and are an active band to this day. “Triangle was dedicated to art, not artifice, and they found the music industry, fans, and the obligations of fame obstacles to their music so they ‘broke up,’” wrote German music critic, Ernst Schmütz, in his book Krautrock: German Music In The 70s (Schmaltzdachel GmbH, 1981), “but there is much evidence to suggest they faked their own death.” Real or fake, the fantastical stories surrounding the band continue to fascinate, not the least of which is the band’s founding principle: utter and complete devotion to Triangles and the number Three: Triangle has three members. They play songs with only three notes. All notes are triads. Their lyrics are written with trigonometry in iambic trimeter using only three syllable words and every line rhymes with the number 3 (not the word, the number). Their favorite note/key is A because it’s shaped like a triangle. Songs contain three movements. Albums are divided into three acts. The music should be listened to while sitting in the center of three speakers. Their vinyl records are shaped like a nonagon made up of nine triangles (like a pizza). Every album is triple-sided. Etc.. Pertaining to our research, however, is Triangle’s experiments with tryptamines and sonic frequencies—what they called “alchemy music.” The frequencies they created while under the influence of tryptamines are, apparently, capable of affecting (at a quantum level) the resonance of the electrons in the human body and can cause them to buzz/hum in a manner that creates a euphoric, interdimensional experience for the listener. Under the proper conditions one can apparently “see” the music and even “ride” it into other dimensions. And Triangle may have acquired The Honey Horn from the Teddy Bears to further their research in this area. A woman named, Isis Osceles, who was a groupie and sometime member of the band, claims to have attended a live performance that lasted a month and featured a wide variety of guest performers including Screaming Lord Cheeto, The Screaming Cheetah (it’s a cheetah that just sits there and screams). The performance culminated with what people assumed was a nuclear submarine launching a nuclear warhead (classic Triangle), but Isis says, no, that was a blast on the Honey Horn. Indeed, the Nuclear Detonation Detection System’s (NDDS) sensors around the world did in fact record seismic and hydroacoustic data on the day in question that is consistent with nuclear weapon detonation. So we know something went off at this concert. But was it a nuke, or was it the cry of the Honey Horn? https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/b61a8e42-f039-4309-8e18-92d809e090a9/DOX_maosealtongue_before_01.jpg UMA Landsleds: The Honey Horn (Copy) - Interesting International Incident: Mao vs. Cow The “Cow Seal Tongue” image almost created an international incident (not really, but it’s fun to say). The original collage I submitted was titled “Mao Seal Tongue” and featured the founder of the People’s Republic of China, Mao Tse Tung (left), playing the role of a mythical shape-shifting seal, aka a Selkie. Clever wordplay, no? NO! Not in China anyway. UMA, like many companies, has their boards printed in China and their Chinese printer refused to touch the Mao Seal Tongue graphic for fear of retribution. They sent an email: “For the [Mao Seal Tongue board], we could understand it's your artist's design style, but our HT supplier refuse to produce any graphics which shows no respect and illegal for Country's leader. Please revise or change another graphic for these two items [sic].” As Americans who have enjoyed democracy our entire lives, this was an unusual situation for me and Andy Jenkins (UMA’s Art Director). Change it? How is suggesting that Mao Tse Tung was a mythical shape-shifting Selkie showing no respect? I thought it made him look kinda cool. UMA said I either change it or they’re dropping it because they weren’t going to ruin a relationship with a printer over a single graphic. Okay. Fine. I eventually found a head that could stunt-double for Mao. No, it is not Queen Elizabeth, as one person asked, it is a portrait of a German woman named, Maria Eisenstecken Oberrauch (above). I hope the descendants of Frau Oberrauch don’t see this graphic, or, in the unlikely event they do, they aren’t offended that their ancestor is being mouth raped by a sea lion. Interestingly, Maria Eisenstecken Oberrauch’s initials are MEO—one letter off from MAO. Mao Seal Tongue could simply be changed to Meo Seal Tongue. UMA, however, pointed out that if there’s one thing they’ve learned about China it’s that those kinds of subtleties are lost in translation and Meo would likely be considered too close to Mao and still “shows no respect and illegal for Country’s leader.” Okay. Fine. Cow Seal Tongue, then? I found the experience amusing, but also frightening. Imagine living in a country run by a single party that burns books, outlaws media, and won’t stand for anything which shows no respect and is illegal for country’s leader—it seems dangerously close to happening here at times. http://www.acidinvader.com/home02 daily 1.0 2026-10-13 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/5ae4a2f2-e445-469a-a9e1-444423fd48ac/DOX_garbagefairy_01-1small.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1f7fa93e-25b4-4f6e-a3be-affa11d129d3/DOX_oracle_01-2.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/8cd78e0d-29e7-4bf7-87ba-f88b12824b60/DOX_oracle_wasp_01.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/45ca23bc-f6b6-428e-bbb8-f8bfd3df28f6/DOX_oracleraven_03small.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/ddb604b7-4634-4f3f-a26a-5d96cead6385/DOX_oraclefrog_01-2small.jpg 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https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563487256245-TKMNSPIZ3BHCBHQEORHV/MOZ_bottom2.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/fef61bc7-90ac-4d33-8769-d3c6e8edb126/M_MINUTWARfinal-12.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/4ec5121c-3087-4fd0-a1ba-55486405ad7f/M_CHICKENS-3.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1506099874762-G4MRVCVSG0PKM66NZTXT/M_CHRISJOHANSON-13.jpg http://www.acidinvader.com/oracles daily 0.75 2026-10-13 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1f7fa93e-25b4-4f6e-a3be-affa11d129d3/DOX_oracle_01-2.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/e79c6e6a-df0c-4d9f-ac4e-865feb7cdcdc/DOX_oracleraven_03small.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/08af3d5a-1c87-4202-9aa9-4b90edf2f6f1/DOX_oracleginger_01-2sm.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/ddb604b7-4634-4f3f-a26a-5d96cead6385/DOX_oraclefrog_01-2small.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/8cd78e0d-29e7-4bf7-87ba-f88b12824b60/DOX_oracle_wasp_01.jpg http://www.acidinvader.com/antihero-fourpillars daily 0.75 2026-10-13 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1675796941602-09MNAQX5I1TQIA96HJPQ/UMA_honeyhorn_ad_02.jpg Antihero: The Four Pillars Collection https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563409428161-QSKFNDC6GWEJ5V5TR7FM/AH4P_antihero_website_promo.jpg Antihero: The Four Pillars Collection - Make it stand out Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563410164335-4CQU56IWQHYDSO5NQPTZ/AH4P_product_02.jpg Antihero: The Four Pillars Collection - The Four Pillars Of Obedience. Foreword: The documents now collectively referred to as “The 4 Pillars Of Obedience” have been a curiosity to scholars since they were first discovered nearly three decades ago among the detritus of a cargo ship that wrecked off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard in the early 20th century. The pages, torn from what appears a ship’s log, were preserved in an empty rum bottle. Much of the text has been ravaged by time and conditions, but many of the pages are remarkably well preserved. Particularly those containing the list known as “The 4 Pillars,” which has been receiving a lot of attention lately due to its use of language that eerily foreshadows subjects and events today—information and technology that the anonymous author could not have known about nearly 100 years ago when it was written. The author sometimes refers to himself as the Captain of the cargo ship, and at other times a prisoner who has been exiled to a life at sea due to madness, or crime, or both. The author endearingly calls his ship/prison “my little Narrenschif” (German for “Ship Of Fools”). We know very little about the cargo ship other than that the author says it was in the business of trafficking a wild parade of inhabitants, all exhibiting various states of mental illness, up and down the New England coastline. It’s unclear whether his use of the term “fools” for his shipmates was meant pejoratively or complimentary as he alternates in this opinion throughout his writings. Most of the text is on the subject of a bizarre “authoritarian utopia” where everyone blissfully does as they’re told and welcomes their oppression. “The 4 Pillars” list seems to function as an organizing principle for this “imaginary” society. The four pillars (School, Church, Work, and Law) are like masts borne by four different boats, each with its own set of commandments, laws, and edicts. Some have argued that they are meant to be taken literally as a code of conduct onboard the “little Narrenschif,” which itself may have had multiple personalities and functioned in some capacity as all four water vessels listed: a rowboat, an ark, a tugboat, and a battleship. The list may have been a set of rules—a very colorful set of rules—designed to appeal to the cacophonic language of the insane crew that was housed on this floating asylum. The majority of scholars, however, tend to agree that the author meant for the list to be a sarcastic condemnation directed at New England high society, specifically his persecutors (whether real or imagined) who sentenced him to “life as castaway.” “Those who have dropped anchor ‘pon the Lande,” the author writes in one fragment, “they are the Mad.” He continues, in his rambling style, to belittle those who lash themselves to the mast of Reality (“Patriots,” as he calls them), who go to work, who worship “GOTT,” who obey the law, and do as they’re told, they are the ones that are truly insane. The author, on the other hand, along with his maniacal cast that disappoints him more often than not, is a little ship of fools, adrift at sea, rolling endlessly upon the waves, they are the ones that are free and who have not betrayed their Divine origin. Before we proceed with further commentary on the scant fragments of remaining text, let us first turn our attention to the best preserved pages that contain the very peculiar list known as, “The 4 Pillars Of Obedience”: https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/3a72529a-1acf-4847-99a5-eca4934824bf/AH4P_school_01_small.jpg Antihero: The Four Pillars Collection - The First Pillar: School 1:1 The Commands of The First Pillar, School, will be delivered from The White Rowboat, the glorious symbol of Innocence. The Pillar Of School will inoculate all Young Patriots with the tools needed for Success and Freedom in The Most Greatest Nation. 1:2 The Pillar Of School will teach Young Patriots the history of The Most Greatest Nation. They will learn that the Land that they stand on is theirs and that it was prepared for them by GOTT™ [1] and it is not to be shared with anyone. The Greatest Nation was discovered by The Most Honorable Hero, and built by The Fabulous Forefathers with their bare hands. Thus spake The Holy Book Of TROOF® [2]. 1:3 Young Patriots will sit quietly, behave, and do everything The Pillar Of School instructs them to do by order of The Chief Superior Officer, our Supreme Leader. Young Patriots will grow strong of mind and spirit so that they can serve The Most Greatest Nation and bring to fruition The Magnificent Plan. 1:4 Those Young Patriots unable to learn, or who display unacceptable Beehivior, will be administered Performance Enhancing Zupplements (PEZ©). PEZ© makes Young Patriots healthy and strong. Clinical studies have proven that Young Patriots who are administered PEZ© are more likely to be assimilated into a Premier Group such as The Class Of Best People. 1:5 The Pillar Of School will protect Young Patriots’ minds from the Corruption Of Knowledge. The Pillar Of School’s superior educational curriculum, KOOK (Knowledge Only One Knows), will focus the minds of Young Patriots on subjects that will aid them in implementing The Chief Superior Officer’s Magnificent Plan. The Pillar Of School will not allow Young Patriot minds to be corrupted by false scientific information or empirical facts. KOOK will provide the TROOF®. 1:6 The Pillar Of School will navigate Young Patriots through the treacherous waters of The Passions. Female Young Patriots are especially prone to vapors that excite the Passions and they will be tamed for The Good of The Most Greatest Nation. These vapors that permeate the female nerves will be extricated and/or eclipsed by the Holy Science of Malleus Maleficarum. The Male Passions will be suppressed—but not destroyed—and then reassigned to Corporate Orientation Programs and Fatherland Protection Training. 1:7 Electronic Tracking Devices, or Like Screens©, will be distributed to all Young Patriots for Social Obfuscation Inculcation and Passion Degeneration. Young Patriots’ personalized Like Screens© will accompany them throughout their Educational Career and will become their mentors, their pets, and their most trusted companions. Like Screens© will deliver important messages from The Chief Superior Officer, and information about The Magnificent Plan as well as access to KOOK-approved TROOF® sources. 1:8 The Pillar Of School will work for you only if you work for it. 1. GOTT™: God #1, The True. 2. TROOF®: Twist Reality, Obdurate, Objectify Fictions. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/a7f4e218-4ac5-425e-af22-c9df025a826f/AH4P_church_insta.jpg Antihero: The Four Pillars Collection - The Second Pillar: Church 2:1 The Commands of The Second Pillar, Church, will be delivered from The Golden Ark, the glorious symbol of the cradle that created Life on Earth, thus spake The Holy Book Of TROOF®. The Church will demand unwavering belief in the almighty GOTT™, The Maker Of All Things, and eradicate Evil amongst His Children in The Most Greatest Nation. All who dare oppose His rule will be subject to Conclusion Procedures. 2:2 The Word Of GOTT™ will be delivered through His Son, The Santa Bunny. The Santa Bunny is your Savior and you owe him a big Thank You. The Holy Book Of TROOF®, along with your personal Android Surveillance Monitor, will help you discover the many ways you can show your appreciation to The Santa Bunny. Remember: Santa Bunny Saves. 2:3 All Children Of GOTT™ will adhere to a strict diet high in fatty meats and rich in Opioids. Opioids, particularly those found naturally in the Sacred Poppy Plant, help to dislodge toxins and purge Evil from the body. Most importantly, a steady diet of Religious Opiates will empty the Mind of Reason thus allowing the Soul to better assimilate The TROOF®. (Opiates are not for recreational use. Side effects of Religious Opiate use may include: ignorance, intolerance, ineptitude, inanity, and moderate to severe diarrhea.) 2:4 The Word Of GOTT™ teaches us that everyone must Beehive themselves. As a coming-of-age ritual, every Child of GOTT™ at the age of eleven will wear a Holy Beehive on his/her head and suffer the stings of an entire colony of extremely angry African Killer Bees for one month. If the child survives, he/she will graduate to Life Phase II. 2:5 [This section is crossed out with the words “I forget what 2:5 is” below it.] 2:6 All disciples of GOTT™ must enroll in the Church’s Proselytization Adventure Mission to spread the Gospel of GOTT™ in order to save the poor Souls of those who worship false idols along the shores of the Nile, or those who covet monstrous deities in the slums of India, or those who dance around stone monoliths on islands far at sea. No matter where these Evil Heathens are to be found in the World, they require The Word: GOTT™ is God #1. All others must die. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/51764136-3b23-44f7-8be9-86e13515256a/AH4P_work_insta_01.jpg Antihero: The Four Pillars Collection - The Third Pillar: Work 3:1 The Commands of The Third Pillar, Work, will be delivered from the deck of The Lil Red Tugboat, the glorious symbol of selfless and tireless Labor. May GOTT™[1] bless The Lil Red Tugboat. 3:2 Idleness is the mother of all evils. What is the remedy? Work. Hard work. All Patriots will need to work very hard for The Most Greatest Nation in order to earn enough tickets to obtain the Performance Enhancing Zupplements (PEZ©) that every Patriot will ingest to gain the stamina needed to work even harder, so as to earn more tickets, to purchase more PEZ©, to be able to work even harder, to earn more tickets, to buy more PEZ©, to work as hard as the hardest working Patriot ever. Lifelong, soul-crushing careers await hard-working Patriots today! 3:3 With hard work and good Beehivior marks on the annual Android Surveillance Scorecard (ASS), Patriots can achieve Success and realize The Nation’s Great Fantasy. The hardest working Patriots that eat and sleep the least will climb the Corporate Ladders and be initiated into The Class Of Best People. 3:4 Every Patriot worker will be obligated to make a lifelong commitment to the Bank of his choice. Choose from as many as two different state-financed, privately controlled Banks to manage your finance tickets and control all of your family’s most important life decisions. Let The Bank do the thinking for you. You can trust The Bank because The Bank rules. 3:5 A government-sponsored private alcohol corporation will provide Patriot workers, who have earned the required ASS scores, the necessary daily quantity of cool, refreshing alcohol at an affordable ticket price. Enjoy alcohol while watching your favorite Sportsball© team play Sportsball© on your Like Screen alone and by yourself. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/cfc8b135-a1dd-4e04-8778-082f9488234e/AH4P_law_insta_01.jpg Antihero: The Four Pillars Collection - The Fourth Pillar: Law 4:1 The Commands of The Fourth Pillar, Law, will be delivered from the deck of The Big Battleship, the glorious symbol of The Greatest Nation’s Military Power. 4:2 The Greatest Nation is at War with Everyone and Everything for All Eternity. All Patriots must be on HIGH ALERT 24 hours a day and ready to deploy for battle AT ANY TIME. 4:3 All Patriots will do as they are told. Beehive yourself. The Law depends on all Patriots to report any Suspicious Beehivior. Not reporting Suspicious Beehivior to The Law is punishable by The Law. Any and all Suspicious Beehivior is subject to Conclusion Procedures. 4:4 All Patriots and their families are under constant surveillance as decreed by the Super Security Safety Statute (SSSS) enacted by The Chief Superior Officer who has the power to do anything he wants, especially if it’s for Fatherland Protection. Protecting Patriots from the hordes of Marauding Invaders that threaten The Most Greatest Nation’s borders is The Law’s number one priority, but The Law cannot protect unmonitored Patriots. All unmonitored Patriots will be subject to Conclusion Procedures. 4:5 The Law has developed extensive geo-targeted Disinformation Programs that are designed to create fear, anxiety, and terror in The Most Greatest Nation’s Enemies. Some Enemies will poop their pants due to Disinformation overload. These Disinformation Programs are only used on The Nation’s Enemies and are not used on Patriots of The Most Greatest Nation—REPEAT: only used on Enemies, totally not on Patriots. 4:6 Every Young Patriot in The Most Greatest Nation will be issued a uniform and a gun at birth. Throughout childhood Young Patriots will be taught The Good Way Of The Gun. Remember: the only thing that stops a Bad Guy with a gun, is a Good Guy with a gun. The Most Greatest Nation is a registered and certified Good Guy With A Gun Nation, indivisible under GOTT™, and does not support Bad Guy Behavior. 4:7 All Enemies of The Greatest Nation will face Conclusion Procedures. Conclusion Procedures begin with an injection of pentobarbital, followed by a gentle jab of pancuronium bromide, and it ends with a big prick of potassium chloride. 4:8 The Law depends on you to be Good. So be Good. It’s for your own Good. http://www.acidinvader.com/photography-minutwar1 daily 0.75 2026-10-14 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1506099874762-G4MRVCVSG0PKM66NZTXT/M_CHRISJOHANSON-13.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/fef61bc7-90ac-4d33-8769-d3c6e8edb126/M_MINUTWARfinal-12.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1506101290327-LCEVMW36KHBOYHBOTYG3/TRISTANISUELT-2.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1506101260193-UQDALOE4PADHCMZL5OPO/LAWNBOWLER-4.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/4ec5121c-3087-4fd0-a1ba-55486405ad7f/M_CHICKENS-3.jpg http://www.acidinvader.com/gallery-01 daily 0.75 2026-10-14 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/581c6658-e954-4867-a514-613bbb8a8c66/DOX_chairfox_01-1ig.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/f95e8544-d122-4ba1-b327-395f8d10c110/DOX_centaurwitch2_03s.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/705994be-b762-4d71-9502-4a07beb76d9f/DOX_dosislas_01-1.jpg https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/96e757b9-3d4f-46dc-b43a-51bfe9e917cd/DOX_redbear_02small.jpg http://www.acidinvader.com/sl-morrissey daily 0.75 2026-10-15 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1675796941602-09MNAQX5I1TQIA96HJPQ/UMA_honeyhorn_ad_02.jpg Strangelove: Morrissey https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563487319721-AM7IPCCNHO1ZO7SHZ7YJ/MOZ_paisley_01_small.jpg Strangelove: Morrissey - Big Mouth Strikes Again Morrissey board graphic for StrangeLove Skateboards’ "The Flower Wimps" Collection. The two other boards in the series were created by Sean Cliver ("Vicar In A Tutu") and Todd Bratrud ("You're The One For Me, Fatty"). The story below is from the zine, Morrissey's Toilet, that accompanied each board. "Sweetness I Was Only Joking": A Collagification Part of the attraction of collage is the unexpected juxtaposition of disparate subject matter. It’s interesting to “let go,” let the pieces fall where they may, and see what comes together. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. For this Morrissey collage, however, Chance played a lesser role than it usually does. Mostly because the subject of the collage (Morrissey), and the format (a skateboard), were predetermined, so there was more curating of the imagery involved. And while there was a general idea conceived at the beginning, and the final image came out more or less as planned (that doesn’t happen very often), I’m still trying to figure out exactly what is going on in this graphic. Here is the concept as it was conceived at the outset: 1. The graphic will mostly relate to the“The Queen Is Dead.” 2. Morrissey is the Queen. 3. Oscar Wilde (top, as the peculiar octopus/owl skull thing) and Joan Of Arc (middle, from the Hermann Stilke’s painting, “Joan Of Arc’s Death At The Stake”), together with Morrissey (bottom), form a blasphemous Holy Trinity. The first two should be self-explanatory: 1. There are visuals related to Smiths lyrics throughout (“and her Walkman started to melt”) and, 2. Morrissey, though not dead, is indeed a queen in real life. The third item, The Holy Trinity concept, is, however, where we run into trouble. The general idea of a “Morrissey Holy Trinity” came from a literary theory proposed by Stephen Dedalus in James Joyce’s Ulysses. “It’s quite simple,” Stephen’s friend Buck Mulligan explains in the book. “[Stephen] proves by algebra that Hamlet’s grandson is Shakespeare’s grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father.” While Buck is mocking Stephen, his summary isn’t much stranger than Stephen’s actual theory, which, in short, goes something like this: Shakespeare’s real-life son, Hamnet, died in 1596 when he was 11 and Stephen argues, as many other scholars have, that Shakespeare’s character Hamlet is a tribute to his dead son, Hamnet. Next, Shakespeare’s own real life father, John Shakespeare, died five years after Hamnet in 1601. Thus casting Shakespeare himself into the role of the grieving son (Hamlet). Lastly, there is evidence that Shakespeare played the role of the ghost of Hamlet’s father in the early performances of the play at the Globe Theater. Stephen’s theory of Hamlet, then, attempts to show that Shakespeare is, all at once, Father (of Hamnet/Hamlet), Son (of his recently deceased father, John, and so also Hamlet), and Ghost (Hamlet’s father on stage). Thus, Shakespeare engages in a transmutation of identities similar to that of the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. I found it amusing to create a similarly surreal backstory for this collage in which Morrissey is the daughter of Oscar Wilde and Joan Of Arc, but also the Mother of both. Or the murderer of both. Or all three are one and the same. I’m not really sure. All I know is my scenario never quite lines up as neatly as Stephen’s. In part, I suppose, because everyone in my triumvirate happens to be gay. But then that just adds to the absurdity of this whole exercise, doesn’t it? Anyway, the cast: Joan Of Arc: Morrissey’s father and husband to Oscar Wilde. Oscar Wilde: Morrissey’s mother and wife to Joan Of Arc. Morrissey: daughter to Joan and Oscar, but then grows up to become a blasphemous Queen who sentences her own parents to death. Yes, Joan and Oscar begat Morrissey, who becomes Queen, then kills his parents. I arrived at this conclusion mostly through “Big Mouth Strikes Again.” What else is he talking about when he’s verbally threatening “Sweetness?” I think that “Sweetness” is alternately Joan Of Arc and Oscar Wilde. Joan is, of course, disguised as “Sweetness” in the first line—“Sweetness I was only joking when I said I'd like to smash every tooth in your head”—an obvious reference to the ancient custom of smashing the teeth out of the heads of those who have fallen in battle, a practice that Joan Of Arc would not have been unfamiliar with in the early 15th century. (In fact, in the 1999 film, The Messenger, Joan Of Arc even tries to stop a soldier from performing this gruesome act.) Meanwhile Oscar is “Sweetness” in the next line—“Sweetness I was only joking when I said by rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed”—a conspicuous reference to Wilde’s own death in which he was bludgeoned by the wallpaper in his very own bed as he read. But that’s okay. Because the conclusion I arrive at, and I think any rational human would agree—even though I don’t give a Tinker’s fart if anyone agrees with me or not because it’s my collage and I can make up whatever nonsense about it that I please—is that Morrissey is singing about murdering his mother and father in “Big Mouth Strikes Again.” The collage is an illustration of this patricide. Look at the smirk on his face. And the horns. He seems to be enjoying the idea of Joan Of Arc going up in flames and Oscar Wilde being reduced to a hideous monster with Walkman diarrhea. Yet I also see Morrissey extinguishing his “parents” as part of an infinite cycle of regeneration. If you listen closely to his lyrics, you’ll hear numerous references to his affinity for the pair, most notably, “Keats and Yeats are on your side, while Wilde is on mine,” and, “Now I know how Joan Of Arc felt.” At one point he even seems to imply that he actually is Joan Of Arc being burned at the stake with the rather explicit reference to a hearing aid melting in the flames, a device that Morrissey wore on occasion. It’s easy, then, to imagine the three of them being manifestations of a single entity that he refers to as “Big Mouth,” an allusion to their combined inability to keep their traps shut. The transposable trio go round and round and round in an interchangeable cycle of reincarnation. First, at least in our historical record, is Joan Of Arc who blathers on about her visions and is burned at the stake for her efforts, but she is then reincarnated later as Oscar Wilde; Oscar Wilde, poet to the heavens, also gets himself into hot water for his indiscretions, dies, and then comes back as Morrissey; Morrissey, the salty queen, will die someday, too, and presumably be reincarnated as a future Joan Of Arc, who will be burned at a future stake, then resurrected as a future Oscar Wilde, and the cycle continues through the ages ad infinitum. Joan, Oscar, Moz, Joan, Oscar, Moz, Joan… That’s the general gist of it anyway. As I said at the beginning, I’m not really sure what the backstory to this image is, but I thought it was worth sharing my jumble of thoughts because maybe someone reading this has a better idea of exactly what is going on here. Or not. Maybe we should just enjoy the image silently, without words, and heed this little piece of wisdom I once heard: “Never miss a chance to keep your mouth shut.” It’s a lesson our three subjects might have benefited from? Then again we wouldn’t have had the privilege of receiving their gifts had they never opened their big mouths. http://www.acidinvader.com/new-products daily 0.75 2016-04-19 http://www.acidinvader.com/new-products/p/boob-by-dave-carnie monthly 0.5 2026-08-25 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1424296078692-CPRSLFH89VXE2I71BJ7X/boob.jpg New Products - Boob, By Dave Carnie http://www.acidinvader.com/ridachulous daily 0.75 2026-10-15 http://www.acidinvader.com/ridachulous/ridachulous-015-pymjy monthly 0.5 2025-09-05 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916388912-2ODCC6MRM5887PBRUQEI/DOX_052715_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - The Sphinxeañera The Sphinxeañera was an ancient Egyptian ceremony celebrating the Sphinx’s 15th birthday, marking her passing from childhood to womanhood. Remnants of the ceremony survive today in the Latin American Quinceañera celebration. All information we have about The Sphinxeañera ritual comes from an ancient papyrus invitation that reads, “You and one guest are cordially invited to attend the Sphinx’s Sphinxeañera on May 27. Below, please find the program for the day’s events.” Much of the contents of the program are damaged, but archaeologists have managed to piece together a possible translation: 1. ENTRANCE PARADE AND RIDDLE CEREMONY. The Sphinx will arrive in the Royal Gardens at noon in a giant dress shaped like a cloud accompanied by 14 Rainbow Girls, a pair for each color of the rainbow, and she will ask her guests a riddle: what creature walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening? Please have an answer prepared before departure. 2. COCKTAILS WITH IRON MAIDEN. Each guest will slam four shots of Sarcophagus Jäger, chased by two kegs of mead, followed by three barrels of wine while Iron Maiden plays an extended dance remix of “Powerslave.” A toast will be made by the Sphinx’s Mummy and the eyes of the Nile will open, you’ll see. 3. DINNER. Guests are offered a choice between the Sphinx’s Childhood Dolls braised in cat urine, or the Sphinx’s Baby Shoes, bronzed, and cooked sous vide style, all prepared by the Dark Hand of Set. 4. FIRST DANCE. The young Sphinx dances with her father Osiris’s Wiener, Oedipus Dox. 5. DESSERT. Guests will be served a cake made from the Sphinx’s baby crib, pyramid blocks, catacomb syrup, and covered with candles stolen from tombs. 6. MORE COCKTAILS, NILE TAKES THE STAGE. The river Nile will flood the Royal Grounds while Nile the band will play a collection of blasphemous songs written to offend the Sphinx’s “stupid brother,” Horus. 7. RIDDLE SOLUTION AND CLOSING CEREMONY. Anyone unable to answer the Sphinx’s Riddle upon departure will be torn limb from limb and devoured on the spot. All hail the Sphinx. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916263545-N4TUH04HJ3CX9J2058RW/DOX_032415_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - Citizen Jane From Canada They say she was formerly a he, and an admiral in the Royal Reichsflotte no less, but now she goes by the name of Citizen Jane From Canada. Citizen Jane From Canada now sits in her room smoking cigarettes, grooming her pussy, and writing erotic poetry, only coming out at night to go shopping for hats with her Sugar Daddy who made his fortune in gumdrops and lollies. He’s the one bankrolling her upcoming collection of poetry, her first since the war, which is tentatively titled, Who’s Afraid Of Anaïs Nincompoop? But Citizen Jane From Canada is worried the title might be mistakenly received as pejorative, and so she is also considering: I Heart Long Wieners Sex Dox Sedachtion Of The Minotaur Hymn To Him, and Deep Penetraschund The book is due out later this year. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916316687-XE5XE3II8E4Z5TURCEDZ/DOX_040615_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - Wieners Vs. Pussy Witch Worms Once upon a time there were two old Wieners who lived in a shoe. Their home was besieged by Pussy Witches and they didn’t know what to do. The Pussy Witches buzzed their rooftop and left fart trails in the sky. The unholy clouds contained their evil minions: tiny Toxoplasma Gondii Worms that would parachute onto the Shoe House roof where they would party all night and drive the Wieners insane. “We’ll make them a special soup filled with poisonous poops,” the Wieners sang. “Two can play at this game.” When night fell they lit the cauldron on their roof, filled it with scale of dragon and tooth of wolf. They added fillet of a fenny snake in the cauldron to boil and bake. Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing, for a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble. The Worms had their party, and enjoyed the soup, the broth was delicious and so was the poop. But when dawn arrived, to cat butts they returned; and the contagious Worms made the Pussy Witches crash and burn. The End. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916456271-6EZO2RQBNM7S5DJ8M3P8/DOX_111415_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - LOST: Lobster While I certainly applaud those who have rescued their pet from an imminent shelter execution, I often get the feeling that “rescue” is a little too strong and too proud of a word to describe a situation that essentially amounts to an “adoption.” Unlike most rescues, our brontosaurus really was a rescue. Our friend Stacy found him in an alleyway in Compton—a tributary of the La Brea Tar Pits, I imagine? He was covered in tar, his eyes weren’t yet open, and he was barely alive. More importantly, he was blocking traffic. Stacy scooped him up and took him to the vet. When Stacy was filling out the paperwork she wrote “Lobster” in the space for “pet’s name.” Stacy loves Red Lobster, and she has since admitted that she was “probably hungry at the time.” When the vet came into the reception area and called for the patient, “Lobster?” everyone chuckled, and that sealed the deal: the dinosaur’s name is Lobster—“Lobster,” what a stupid name for a brontosaurus from Compton. Stacy has a small apartment and too many cats as it is, so we were nominated to become Lobster’s new parents. As expected, our dachshund didn’t much care for his new roommate and has asked several times a day since, “When’s his mom gonna come pick him up?” And that’s why we suspect the dachshund had something to do with Lobster’s disappearance. In fact we think the dachshund put the dinosaur in his time machine. We have steadfastly refused to believe that the contraption the dachshund is always tinkering with is a working time machine, but we’re having a hard time maintaining this opinion in the face of recent facts. Last week, for instance, Lobster was gone for a couple days and when he finally returned he looked pretty frazzled and he was wearing a tattered Civil War uniform. Which side was the grey team? The Confederates? Oh, so he’s a racist dinosaur? (Redundant?) Anyway, we put up signs around the neighborhood, which, to be honest, we had a little chuckle while making: “LOST: BRONTOSAURUS.” I was going to write “LOST: THUNDER LIZARD,” which is what brontosaurus means, but I thought the neighbors might not get it, or think it’s a prank, or something. They’ll probably think it’s a prank anyway because how do you lose one of the largest animals to have ever walked the Earth? That’s why we have to consider the time machine a real possibility: Lobster could be anywhen. He was last seen around November 14 in a daily dachshund calendar, but he could be on any day in any calendar from any year. If you see him in your past, present, or future, please call us in the now. Danke. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916531031-QMVGH5VC7G4E0J6223RY/DOX_081315_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - Princess Poobah’s Plight One day while Faunus was chugging a jug of fig wine with the Lady Isis Thea high in the branches of their Sacred Grove, there was a brilliant flash. Before them stood their Son (they didn’t know they had one) swathed in an aura of gold. His name was Heliodox, also known as “The Millennium Falchund.” Heliodox laid Seven Golden Eggs in the center of Faunus’s Sacred Grove Of Trees and when they hatched they became the Sunshine Sprites, a race of Golden Pixies that tend to the Earth’s Sunshine and manage the Rhinebeau River, the source of all Rainbows. Faunus and Lady Isis were overjoyed with their new family of gold babies. Heliodox gave them a magical Fairy Flag that they could use as a blanket for the Sunshine Sprites when they lay down to sleep after putting the Sun to bed every Night. But Heliodox warned them that the Sunshine Sprites are a mischievous little horde of Faeries and should they ever harm a human child, the Fairy Flag and the Sacred Grove will disappear. As a precaution, Faunus and Lady Isis hired a Gold Nanny Droid (who came with excellent recommendations) to watch over the Sunshine Sprites and make sure they stayed out of trouble. One day, as the Sprites were building Rainbows in the Rhinebeau, they came upon a young girl bathing in their waters. It was the Princess Poobah and she didn’t know that entering their River was strictly forbidden. The Sunshine Sprites decided to teach the Princess a lesson. One of them splashed the Nanny Droid with water while the others used their Faerie Magic to turn the Princess’s bar of lilac soap into a dead, slimy, rotten chicken. When the Princess Poobah realized she was washing with raw poultry and maggots, she screamed and ran home to her castle. The Princess Poobah soon became very ill. It was determined by her Royal doctors that she had come down with Furry Parrot Disease due to the exposure to slimy poultry. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916570295-2UH9Y6N5YIMI50ML0PKO/DOX_081515_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - Princess Poobah’s Plight, Part 2 The Grand Poobah’s daughter, the Princess Poobah, was sick in bed suffering from Furry Parrot Disease. The Grand Poobah offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to anyone who could cure her. Beckett, a lowly wiener in the village, knew that if he could steal the Fairy Flag from Faunus, The Old Man Of The Wood, it would cure the Princess. But even before he could approach Faunus’s terrifying grove of trees, Beckett had to travel many miles and cross the Fairy Bridge at the Rhinebeau River, which is guarded by the Sunshine Sprites: if you can’t answer their riddle, they eat you. After an arduous journey, Beckett arrived at the Fairy Bridge and was stopped by a Sunshine Sprite. The Sprite demanded an answer to his riddle before Beckett could enter the Wood: “How many beans are too many beans in a bean burrito?” For an answer, Beckett lifted his leg and whizzed in the Rhinebeau River. The waters of the Rhinebeau are sacred to the Sprites and the invasion of Beckett’s urine was the equivalent of an Exxon Valdez disaster. While the Sprite was distracted cleaning up the yellow spill, Beckett crept into the Wood and entered Faunus’ grove. “What brings you to Faunus’s Wood, oh Little One?” Faunus asked. In reply, Beckett did a little dance on his little legs that made Faunus laugh so hard he nearly fell out of his tree. “Oh ho ho! You are Nature’s Little Clown! Dance for Faunus, Little One, dance.” While Beckett continued his jig, Faunus opened a jug of fig wine to enjoy while he watched the show. Beckett danced and danced while Faunus drank and drank, and soon the Old Man Of The Wood came down with a bad case of the hiccups. As Faunus tried scaring himself by drinking wine while standing on his head and breathing his own farts, Beckett used the opportunity to reach into the closet in Faunus’ tree and nab the Fairy Flag. He ran all the way back to his village, unfurled the flag, cured the Princess of her Furry Parrot Disease, and they all lived happily ever after. [Answer to the riddle: 240 beans because 240 is too farty.] https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916605727-WM0QSLIL6ZB6YZ1J8HZ6/DOX_101015_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - The Queen Of The Spider Beans When the Dachess Of Dork was very young, her parents died and she was forced to live with her aunt who made her do all of the chores. One day she told the Dachess to visit her nearest neighbor, The Loch Ness Monster, and retrieve the Rainbow she had lent her. It was late and the Dachess worried that she wouldn’t make it back before sunset to milk the Lady Bugs—unless she took a shortcut through the Spinnewald, a dark and evil forest patrolled by venomous Devil Spiders who created a labyrinth of cobwebs in the ominous woods. It was said that even the slightest touch of a Spinnewald web would ensnare you for eternity. As she pondered her predicament, a strange Little Green Man with gold teeth appeared and handed her a can of Electric Mayhem Beans. He told her to eat the beans, spin around three times, then enter the Spinnewald backwards and a path will appear. The Dachess figured life couldn’t get any worse, so she did as he said. But as soon as she entered the dark forest, she became very scared. The old dead trees blotted out the sun, the cobwebs began closing in, and she could hear the Devil Spiders chittering in the darkness. Suddenly, her tummy rumbled and before she had time to control her bowels, a deafening fart exploded out of her butt and roared through the forest. After the Dachess excused herself and recovered from her embarrassment, she noticed that her sonic boom-boom had blasted a path right through all the cobwebs. As she took a few steps further into the spiders’ lair, it happened again, and she produced another massive explosion that blew away all of the cobwebs behind her. The Electric Mayhem Beans had turned her keister into an Ultrasonic Fart Cannon! In this way the Dachess marched straight through the forest, fanny first, clearing a path through the webs with her new sonic weapon. She retrieved the Rainbow from Nessie and made it home in time to milk the Lady Bugs. She has been known ever since as The Queen Of The Spider Beans. To this day, people in the region always scoop up a spider and/or some cobwebs from behind the toilet and place it in the bottom of a pot of bean soup in her honor. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916643772-HTWK04LTGPDNYESJQIQZ/DOX_101415_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - The Great J.S. Dach, With Primitive Blacksmith Derek The great J.S. Dach’s performance at our tiny village’s Dachtoberfest this year was an experience we will not soon forget. The maestro’s soulful howling was accompanied, of course, by Captain “Borg Face” Picard (tenor) and the Marquis De Sade on lead guitar (his Sado-Masolicks are to die for!), as well as their backing orchestra, The Little Horde—which, I was surprised to learn, really is a little horde of orphan scamps who play weird instruments. There’s a young girl, for instance, who just pours blue paint on a snare drum while a pack of hounds chase a Jazz Rabbit around in 5/3 time. There’s another rabble of rapscallions who do nothing but slap a giraffe’s tits back and forth for the duration of the show. It was one of the most amazing performances our tiny stage has ever hosted. The surprising star of the night, however, was J.S. Dach’s opening act: Primitive Blacksmith Derek. Now, I’ve never been to Vegas, but those that have said that PBD was way better than the Blue Man Group—you know, those guys that paint themselves up all blue and bang on stuff? It’s difficult to describe Derek’s music except that it’s very percussive, and almost sounds electronic at times, but it’s all made with primitive analog instruments—primarily a forge, fire, anvil, and hammer. I understand it’s an entirely new genre of music being dubbed Ludtron (short for Luddite Electronica). During the show, actors and other musicians acted out scenes from Derek’s life while he bangs out a real hammer, then a sword, on the anvil in his forge. Despite the tragedies that unfold around him, he perseveres and uses his hammer to build a magnificent bridge across the stage. Then he leaves his forge, strides across the bridge, and, once he reaches the other side, he jams the hot sword he just smithed up his butt and dies. It sounds terrible, I know, but it was quite beautiful. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916682898-83E25LH06603WRYXMQFL/image-asset.jpeg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - WienerschnitzHELL In an upcoming film about dach metal giants, WienerschnitzHELL, behind-the-scenes footage and interviews reveal a band that was in complete chaos while they were in the studio writing and recording their magnum opus of radish patch techno, “The Flight Of The Turnip Princess.” Metatron’s Cube, who writes all the lyrics and is known as the band’s Voice Of Nothing And The Sound Of Silence, was frequently absent from the recording sessions because she became deeply involved in Sacred Geometry and was too busy with real estate speculation in another dimension. The lead guitar player, Wolfgang Pugilisky, was practically useless because he was injecting a potent concoction of navy bean soup laced with spider webs he farmed behind his toilet. As a result, he was convinced that he was an ancient bronze statue of a Greek God that had been reincarnated in a Native American child who rode a motorcycle around a graveyard in the desert. Vicious Sintaur, usually the band’s most colorful musician, was constantly drunk on a strange brew made from floor stew and fermented earwax. That wasn’t a problem in itself (he was almost always drunk), the problem was that he had seen a Cirque De Soleil show in Las Vegas and insisted, often violently, that the band should incorporate more circus tricks and acrobatics into their onstage performances. Saint Pinocchio and his girlfriend Sweetums had devised a way of untangling the red lines from candy canes which they then crushed into a powder and smoked in a mistletoe cigarette—they said it allowed them to communicate with bees on the moon. Even J.S. Dach, usually the voice of reason in the group, became addicted to a strange mixture of old Halloween candy and his own farts. It’s a miracle they were able to complete “The Flight Of The Turnip Princess,” an album that changed the face of music. “Concerto In Fart #: The WienerschnitzHELL Dachumentary” airs next month on PBS. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916726871-DXF2JPAAMQBR3VQJFW64/DOX_111715_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - Lil Weenies You may have one of these floating around inside of you right now. They’re known as Lil Weenies: biochemical computers that operate on a subatomic level. And someone, or something, has been implanting them in newborn babies across the world since at least 1969. Scientists say the Lil Weenies began as a DNA molecule harvested from a subtraction sign in a third grade-level math problem which was then combined with proteins from a crack in a stump that was used as a milking stool in a dairy barn at an agricultural university. Once the synthesis between the minus sign and the crack occurred, it quickly evolved into a subatomic microorganism with a chemical profile that is distinctly long, yet very short—much like a dachshund, hence the nickname, Lil Weenies. How they got into our systems, and what they’re doing, nobody knows, but they exist in a surprisingly large portion of the population. While their ultimate purpose is yet unknown, Lil Weenies have been observed drawing on the internal walls of veins and arteries with their lipstick rockets. It’s been likened to “quantum graffiti,” but some of the observed “tagging” appears to be a form of poetry about sublime pastoral landscapes. There is also evidence to suggest that the Lil Weenie’s biochemical processing system is emitting gases composed of proteins from Wood, Wieners, and Whipstick (WWW)—the basic building blocks of the internet. There is a radical theory that not only did Lil Weenie gases create the internet, but that their emissions are the internet itself. Lil Weenies have so far proven indestructible, although they have exhibited a susceptibility to severe cases of nuclear subatomic worms. As if having a tiny Lil Weenie cruising around in your veins wasn’t disturbing news enough, there are nuclear subatomic worms cruising around in its veins—and, presumably, being excreted into our veins. So, yeah, you probably have worms. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563916771372-VMHK65NEJUIQRC2CZDO8/DOX_112615_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 015 - When Sirens Sleep The mesmerizing song of the Siren, Lorelei, has lured sailors to their deaths on the Rhine River for centuries so that she may feed on them under the waves [1]. Interestingly, she eats every part of the sailors except their Wieners, which she stores in pickle jars arranged on glass shelves in a mirrored hutch. Every other part of the dead sailor is ground up and shaped into patties that become her “world famous” (self-proclaimed) Sailor Burgers [2]. Many years ago, Lorelei invited her neighbors, the Dwarves who lived in the mine next door, over for a BBQ. Even though she said she was serving her “world famous Sailor Burgers,” they didn’t learn ‘til much later that the burgers they had eaten were actually comprised of ground up sailors. The Dwarves are responsible for wide array of disgusting habits of their own, but eating human sailors was not on their list. The Dwarves avoided Lorelei after that and politely declined any further BBQ invitations. Time passed, Lorelei eventually took the hint, and they all quietly coexisted in silence beneath the Rhine. If only the Wieners were lucky enough to have been ground up into Sailor Burgers, for the existence they suffered in Lorelei’s hutch was a fate far worse than death: each of the specimens in her trophy case was possessed by the conscious spirit of its former owner, yet because of a Siren Spell they were rendered limp and inert, unable to move or cry for help. Each of them was nothing more than an inanimate, yet conscious, wiener in a jar. Then one day the Dwarves heard a cacophony of deafening noises coming from Lorelei’s underwater grotto and, despite their fear of the crazy Siren lady, the Dwarves went to investigate what was causing the tumult. When they arrived they found the place in total disarray and a swarm of Wieners were running around barking, and dancing, and peeing on everything, just going crazy and completely trashing the place. In the middle of the room lay the great Siren, naked and snoring deeply in her bed. “What in the world is going on?” the Dwarves wondered aghast. Apparently the Siren’s Spell is only active when she is awake. And while it’s generally believed that Sirens never sleep, the truth is they do tend to doze off for a couple of days once every 100 years or so. This was one of those rare moments of rest in Lorelei’s life and it allowed the captive Wieners the opportunity to bust out of their pickle jars. The Dwarves went and got their instruments and they all had a great big party celebrating the Wieners’ freedom. If a ship happened to pass, they would bark at the sailors and tell them to “Git! Go on! Git!” So now, once every century, for two days around the end of November, there are no shipwrecks on the Rhine. And so it is said, when Sirens sleep, their Wieners will sing. 1. Sirens have been suspected of cannibalism ever since Circe, in Homer’s Odyssey, warned Odysseus about them: “You will come first to the Sirens, who are enchanters of all mankind and whoever comes their way; … They sit in their meadow, but the beach before it is piled with bone heaps of men now rotted away, and the skins shrivel upon them.” 2. The burger recipe appears in Gourmet Lorelei, along with many others, for cuts of sailor meat: buttock soup, kneecaps on the half shell, foot sandwiches with eyebrow aioli, toe jam chowder, scrotum dumplings with hemorrhoid filling, etc.. http://www.acidinvader.com/ridachulous/ridachulous-016-swsja monthly 0.5 2025-09-05 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561087307-7LC1HP3HQIJGXEJEYL7A/DOX_060816_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - Portrait Of Titania While Lord Dacchus was touring the Underworld he sent a telegram to his wife the Queen requesting a list of supplies. An attendant read the items aloud to Her Majesty Titania. Wait, Titania said. What was that last one again? The portrait of my wife that hangs in the hallway, the attendant replied. Rounded, rotund Titania reclined upon a pile of watercress pillows beside a forest pool and wiped the crumbs of cinnamon from the summit of her pregnant belly and took another lusty bite of her sticky bun. What’s he want that for? she asked. Says here, sentimental reasons, m’lady. Titania snorted. Can’t someone just take a picture of it and send it t’m? Why does he need the actual painting? He’s just going to mess it all up down there. Titania was very fond of her portrait. It was painted when she was only a few thousand years old, shortly after the first Miracle, and it was the only object that survived the Temple fire. As a child Titania was virtuous and chaste, yet her father always accused her of pooping behind the couch. In a bid to assure him her innocence, Titania assented to an Ordeal By Fire. Barefoot and wearing a gown covered in wax, the flames refused to embrace her. Titania emerged from the trial unscathed and innocent, yet her abusive father continued to imagine that it was she who had been poopin’ behind the couch. Disheartened by her father’s paucity, Titania left home and wandered into the forest. She soon came to a clearing where a mother bear was grieving over her dead cub. An Angel appeared, bowed, and said that Titania was the Faerie Queen. The Angel placed the lifeless cub in Titania’s arms and it returned to life. From then on the mother and her cub were devoted to Her Majesty Titania and they built a temple to her on the spot. The painting Dacchus requested was painted by the baby bear and once hung over the altar in that Temple. Titania opened her Grizzly scrimshaw locket, breathed on the mirror, then shut the clasp tight, fixing her smile upon it forever. Go get some poop from behind the couch, she said to her attendant. Frame it and send him that instead. And here, Titania said handing the attendant the locket. Put this in there. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561133810-I17ODSIMT9ZASD4XADWG/DOX_073016_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - Portrait Of Dacchus As the path narrowed and the dense forest grew denser to the point where it was virtually impenetrable, Dacchus paused to untangle his dress from a thorny branch. Argh! Grandma’s underpants! he cursed. Worried someone might have heard him, he added under his breath, Pardon my French. Then he wondered if he was wearing a pair of grandma’s underpants? It was very possible. Janice had disguised Dacchus as an old, dead lady. Specifically as a member of notorious Maidens Of Moth, a coven of hillbilly wiener witches that look deader than Death itself. She really decked him out and gussied him up in the finest old lady apparel assuring him, despite his protests, that this is how witchy women dress, like a cat in the dark, like a woman taken by the wind: flowing funeral skirts, ghoulish gowns, mourning dresses, black lace shawls, thunder stockings, amethyst elbow gloves, fishnet pantyhose (made from authentic mermaid nets with ensnared sailor parts), cobra wigs, mom jeans, embalming sweaters, Apache tear stains, raven veils, lil exorcist capes, suicide vests, locust wings, dark crystals, vampire bikinis, coffin nail earrings, moonstone necklaces, werewolf beards, platinum catheters, tomb sandals, born again cardigans, poltergeist panties, forbidden hats (affixed with lightning rods), age-inappropriate lingerie (but no bras), electric boots, and a mohair suit. Very impressive, Dacchus said when Janice showed him a mirror. But do I look dead? Oh yes, very dead, Janice said. Janice had helped him swap the head for the tail, as she described it, so that he was technically dead and thus on the path to the entrance to the Underworld which was somewhere between his own buttocks. He wasn’t sure how he got there, but there he was in the crack of his own ass having a fine time struggling with a seemingly impenetrable forest looking for the Tunnel Of Love, the entrance to the Underworld. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561498642-0PKN8Y4UL0B4BRT2MQ97/DOX_041316_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - Milk Blood Of Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters If you stand in the same spot on earth at midnight on April 13 every year and diagram the path of Alnilam, the center star in Orion’s belt, you will see that it will, over the course of centuries, transcribe the path of a 7-circuit labyrinth. A sacred breed of Moths, known as the Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters, are believed to have been born within that distant star in the Orion constellation because they also trace the pattern of a 7-circuit labyrinth in their flight path around a flame, but the labyrinth that each Moth draws in the sky is as unique as a fingerprint. The Maidens Of Moth, ancient descendants of The Old Ones and guardians of The Secret, have been harvesting Milk Blood from Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters for centuries by milking the Holy Moths in a mysterious ritual and then distilling the alien Milk Blood until only the essence of their labyrinth remains. The potent labyrinth essence is then employed by the Maidens Of Moth in their world famous sorcery. Have you ever wished to entangle someone in your heart? Do you have a monster-in-law that you need to imprison? Would you like to protect your entombed God’s resting place from graverobbers? Do you desire to destroy a dray of Devil Rats? Then you need The Maidens Of Moth’s Magical Mazes™. For the first time in history, the secrets of the Maidens Of Moth are now available to the public for a limited time only. Each custom MoMMM™ kit comes with a Magical Labyrinth Spell powered by Milk Blood from Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters that will baffle, befuddle, and bewilder your subject allowing you to ensnare, entrap, and exile him, her, or it to wherever you like: In a castle tower! At the bottom of the ocean! In the depths of Hell! To last Tuesday! Within their own mind! The possibilities are endless! Because each Magical Labyrinth Spell is custom designed to your specifications, you can banish anyone or anything to anywhere or anywhen! Harness the power of Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters today with a custom Maidens Of Moth’s Magical Mazes™ kit. And, if you call within the next 22 minutes, you’ll receive a commemorative Maidens Of Moth Milk Pail, but you must ORDER NOW! https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561404372-HD5VWY1RUYWFEE87UNU6/DOX_032816_05.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - Half A Hole This is a portrait of Dacchus visiting the Underworld disguised as a hillbilly wiener witch. It should be noted that Dacchus was an international world champion hole digger. He set all kinds of records in his day. He dug to China, for instance, with both arms tied behind his back. His greatest achievement, however, was the invention of half-a-hole. Before Dacchus, wieners never announced they were going to dig a hole. This was partly due to the fact that they tend to live in the Now and have difficulty comprehending the concept of a Future, not to mention that they find it rather silly to announce that they may or may not complete this or that task and the result is “coming soon.” Dacchus, on the other hand, saw a great benefit in talking about projects he was thinking about doing and it was in the midst of this practice that he made his discovery. While digging one of his world famous holes, Dacchus paused to rest and used the opportunity to announce to the spectators that he had not only embarked on a project, but that this particular project was approximately halfway to completion. He had, in fact, dug half-a-hole. At this point in history, no one had ever seen half-a-hole before. A hole is a hole is a hole. Yet Dacchus, to everyone’s surprise, had produced before their eyes half-a-hole. There was such a hulla balloo made over Dacchus’ half-a-hole that people started going crazy for any fraction of a hole that wasn’t a whole hole. One week they loved half-a-hole, the next week a quarter-of-a-hole, the next summer minimal 1/16th-of-a-hole holes were all the rage. Right now, for instance, contemporary A-Holers (as they’re known) are experimenting with mind-boggling negative holes like -3.14-of-a-hole. That’s a whole lot of nothing. Dacchus made a fortune digging fractions-of-a-hole holes and never dug a whole hole again for the rest of his whole life. He is buried in the Graveyard Of The Gods. And while Dacchus’ grave is twice as long as the usual grave, it’s half as deep. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561205867-W5A2Q7LGOOAPB7Q75P2S/DOX_011916_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - Click Here To Track Your Prayer PRAYER TRACKING NUMBER: 432666 1/14/16 11:22 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN at United Prayer Service (UPS) facility. Prayer is received by Count Broccula and The Omnigüs. 1/14/16 11:23 A.M. Prayer is processed and peed on by the magnificent Wiener Angel, The Prince Of Dachness. 1/14/16 11:42 A.M. DEPARTURE SCAN. 1/15/16 12:34 A.M. ARRIVAL SCAN at Monkey Waterskiing Training Facility. Monkeys throw feces at each other while waterskiing. Delivery will be delayed by two (2) Monkey Business Days. 1/18/16 3:14 P.M. DEPARTURE SCAN. Prayer answered and in transit by rail: loaded onto a toy train modeled after the Trans Siberian Railroad and operated by a curious hermaphrodite named Chauncey who is rumored to be the Roman poet Virgil’s illegitimate child. 1/18/16 4:20 P.M. BLESSED. At the same time that the Angel Of Dachness’ flying dragon kisses the Dream Witch’s Mermaid Ring, Virgil’s Hermaphrodite guides the toy train, laden with Wishes, through the introitus formed by the Dream Witch’s supple wrists. The prayer leaves the Heavens, answered and blessed, and enters Reality. 1/19/16 12:00 A.M. DELIVERED. Prayer signed for by the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe just after he blows out the candles on his phantom birthday cake. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561234340-OQC03RVIIPQJR2QCA8TU/DOX_022016_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - Marionette Mayhem The premiere puppet fighting entertainment corporation, Marionette Mayhem, confirmed today the rumor that has been circulating for weeks: the two greatest puppeteers in history, the ancient Greek sculptor, Pygmalion, and the German alchemist, Dr. Frankenstein, have agreed to a battle-puppet fight-to-the-death: Pygmalion’s, The Ivory Tower, will face off against Frankenstein’s undefeated world champion, The Fabulous Fracas. Tale Of The Tape: The Ivory Tower Height: 17’1” (one inch taller than Michelangelo’s “David”) Weight: 432 lbs Shortly after Pygmalion divorced his first wife, Galatea, and came out as a gay sculptor, he created the impressive and imposing puppet warrior, The Ivory Tower (TIT)—like Galatea before him, the massive statue-come-to-life is constructed entirely of ivory. Scouting reports from TIT’s open workout say he’s been grappling with Pygmalion’s wiener, choking it out, and putting it in various submission holds. Tale Of The Tape: The Fabulous Fracas Height: 16’ (twice the size of Frankenstein’s original monster) Weight: 666 lbs The defending MM World Champion is a monster bioengineered by Dr. Frankenstein with the help of his Magical ShEars: a pair of scissors that are powered by music and which dismembered a pile of corpses and amalgamated the various body parts into a massive creature endowed with a symphony of superhuman strengths. He’s been installed with a fictional history that fuels his insatiable rage. The Fracas believes that by day he’s an ancient Egyptian priest that cares for a group of orphans in a giant pyramid below the ice fields of Antarctica, but by night he is The Fabulous Fracas, a gladiator that destroys opponents for prize money that funds the orphanage. Marionette Mayhem’s fight of the century, PvF, takes place on Leap Year Day in the MM Hiptagon, the coolest seven-sided ring in the world. The Hiptagon door will open for two puppets, but only one will emerge alive… https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561294019-EYE76UAKRWSQLOKHPKHT/DOX_030916_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - The Daily Racing Form Track conditions at Mrs. Jumbo’s Mother Earth Raceway have been downgraded to “muddy” due to the birth of her Divine Twins, Dacchus and Doxulus, and the resulting Flood from the Afterbirth. Here are the odds and analysis of the contenders for their hearts as they settle into the Royal Box to suck on some Trunk Milk before enjoying the first race in history (clockwise from top right): 1. Child’s Play. 88/1. This lil monster has been rockin’ and rollin’ like Johnnie B. Good of late thanks to trainer Chuck Berry. She’s 3-1 in her last four starts and at 88/1 on the morning line. This Chuckie bet is low hanging fruit. 2. Double Bull. 11/1. Hailing from London Fields Stables under the guidance of the talentless Keith Talent, this old dartboard has been flying straight as an arrow in his last few starts. Step up to the oche and drop some McQuiggin’s Gold on this Treble 20. 3. Flying Burrito Brother #1. 666-1. “Cuando yo sea grande, voy a ser Pancho Villa.” Note: all bets must be made blindfolded. Comes with a souvenir baseball bat and a side of rice and beans. 4. Salaud Canard. 99/1. Wearing the Allah Orange silks, The Arabian Firequacker From Across The Pond is always a favorite on the bill. 5. Brand New Key. oo/oo. Never a bad idea to bet on a brand new pair of roller skates that can skate backwards during “couples only.” They don’t go too fast, but they go pretty far. Owner: Melanie (Some people say she done all right for a girl). 6. Whale Ball Wine. 69/1. This homophone [wail, bawl, whine] was sired by Yadda Yadda Yadda who is a descendant of Yammer Yabber Yak. His damn dam was Blah Blah Blah who came from Jibber Jabber Stables, which is also where Babble On was recorded. Shutup. 7. Nostradamus. 23/1. Everybody knows that the nose always knows you can’t win by a nose without a nose that knows that a knows is a knows is a knows. Trainer: Snotty McMucus. Stable: The Booger Barn. 8. The Roaring 20s. 2/1. This flapper remains the favorite despite racing in drinking skirts that are bobbed too short, smoking makeup while applying cigarettes, and listening to love like she’s making jazz. Post time: stroke of midnight. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1564502808858-0RURXT2HSH53NKDMXBAV/DOX_031916_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - The Snail & Bale Show Dr. Schneckle was a German gastropod who lived in the discokugel that he carried on his back, while his best friend, Hay Baby, was a bale of hay with a braided ponytail. Together they wrote and produced an offshore pirate radio show in the late-40s called “The Snail & Bale Show.” Hay Baby’s ponytail was, in fact, the antenna by which they transmitted their offshore broadcasts. (Technically the duo weren’t onshore, yet they weren’t exactly offshore either because their studio was situated in the middle of a salt marsh in Newbury, Massachusetts.) Their peculiar radio show was almost entirely devoted to the philosophical investigation of color. The subject of color was extremely popular with the Newbury audience because the sun rarely emerged from behind the clouds above the silent and grey fishing village; movies and television were still a rare privilege at the time; and while the Newbury Library had an impressive collection of literature available, very few of the books contained pictures. Thus, listening to a snail with a German accent and a bale of hay with a braided ponytail describing different colors on the radio was very exciting to the citizens of Newbury. Like Goethe and Wittgenstein, Dr. Schneckle and Hay Baby were perplexed and fascinated by the concept of color. They were, for instance, consumed by the problem of how to define colors without relying on ostensive definitions. Say I want to paint one of the rooms inside of my shell the same color the sky is at this instant, Dr. Schneckle once asked, how would you transmit this color to the clerk at the paint store? How do you explain the color to him? Well, Herr Dachtor, I would first commit the greyish green color of the sky to memory, Hay Baby replied. Then I would go to the paint store with my mental sky sample before my mind’s eye and explain to the clerk that I wanted something that was sort of a greyish green. I would then compare his mixes against my mental sky sample and together we would make adjustments to the paint’s tint, lightness, darkness, etc. until we achieved a match. How successful would you expect that method to be? Dr. Schneckle asked. Because I would imagine the can of paint you return with would be inaccurate simply due to the notoriously unreliable nature of our memories. But even before you travel to the paint store, I already call into question the mental sky sample you left off with: there is no green in this sky! It is a bluish grey! Your entire enterprise is booty from the get-go! Oh, but Herr Dachtor, I beg to differ, replied Hay Baby, beginning yet another debate about the color of the sky, much to the delight of their listeners. Numerous experiments were conducted in this regard and they would often invite a clerk from the paint store—a young fellow named Douglas—to participate as a call-in guest on the show. Doug was dumb as a box of rocks, and his gaffs were always hilarious, but he seemed to relish his role on the show as a paint expert and so no one begrudged his shortcomings. With Douglas’ help, Snail & Bail managed to create a very primitive mathematical language to describe colors that predated the Pantone system, but they were never able to achieve their goal of creating a universal language of color. Other notable moments and achievements on The Snail & Bale Show included: 1. They claimed to have invented a new primary color called Jasp. Jasp was a very popular request (listeners could call in and request colors to be talked about) even though no one had seen it because, according to Snail & Bail, Jasp is, for now, only visible to scorpions, crabs, and some spiders. Humans will be able to see it in the year 2222. 2. One of the most popular segments on the show was a contest called, What Color Is It? Hay Baby would drop an object on the floor in front of a microphone and callers would try and guess what color the object was. 3. They developed a magical technology that gave mirrors memory. The mirrors on Dr. Schneckle’s shell, for instance, could be persuaded to conjure up the image of anything that had been reflected on their surface from years in the past. Additionally, their mirrors could communicate and share reflections with other mirrors all over the world. It was sort of an early version of the internet. One of Snail & Bale’s favorite pastimes was to use a mirror to spy on the morning toilette of a hysterical woman in the neighboring town of Innsmouth. The Archdachess, as they called her, would fuss with wigs, makeup, and countless trinkets before her mirror for hours while eating hot dogs and smoking cigarettes. Much like a pair of baseball game announcers, Snail & Bale would give play-by-play analysis of her peculiar rituals much to the delight of their Newbury listeners. The Snail & Bale Show came to an abrupt and tragic end when the pair were struck by lightning on February 28, 1953. They were literally trying to capture lightning in a bottle (a Leyden jar) in the middle of the Newbury salt marsh because they believed that lightning bolts contained the elements that could produce The God Color, a color they calculated to be eternally black yet infinitely bright—the purest color in the Universe from which all other color was born. Some people think that if The God Color does exist, it’s preserved in the memory of the mirrors on the back of Dr. Schneckle’s burned up shell which is on display—hanging from the ceiling like a proper discokugel—in the entrance hall to the Newbury Historical Society Library. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563562476934-LQDCDJL6L9176CZXOS6C/DOX_051416_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - The Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg, General Lord Marshall Admiral Of The Doxy Empire, Prince of Frankfart, Dach Of Wienerdorf, Bishop Of Worms. Space Colors on cliff 3.61 km × 2.23 km The theft of the enormous masterpiece, Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg, and how it has remained undiscovered all these years, is one of the greatest mysteries in the history of art. This digital recreation is based on ancient written descriptions and eyewitness accounts by the few who saw it before it was stolen. It was, by all accounts, a massive painting and considered a religious icon by the wild barbarian tribes of Germania, yet it was relatively unknown because it was painted on the side of a cliff nearly three kilometers above sea level on the east face of the Matterhorn Mountain. The unknown artist further obfuscated the image by painting it with pigments that were wrung from a meteorite thus using alien colors from the other side of the galaxy that no one had ever seen before. Unless your eyes and brain had been trained to see these space colors, you would never have known there was a massive portrait painted on the side of the Matterhorn. The portrait of the Germanic warrior, Dachtor Krieg, was one of the finest examples of Classical Romantic Teutonic art—a style preoccupied with heroic themes and exalting the blood and soil of the Motherland. It was presumably painted to commemorate the final battle of The Great Devil Rat War in which Dachtor Krieg deployed a labyrinth spell (created by a coven of Hillbilly Wiener Witches who claim to be descendents of Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters) that trapped the Devil Rat hordes in an Underworld maze from which they never escaped. Krieg is portrayed at his homecoming. He is gravely injured, but victorious. He carries a glass barrel filled with the blood of a million slaughtered Devil Rats. Legend has it that when he turned the glass barrel over, and the blood began to spill, it did not stop spilling for 40 days and 40 nights and covered the entire country in a pool of blood three inches deep. Krieg’s helmetless head is adorned with a golden fleece and bullhorns protrude from his temples indicating that he is an incarnation of the Ancient Egyptian God, Osiris, Lord Of The Underworld. He is welcomed home by Mother Earth, who appears here in the form of Penelobee Horney Bee, who lovingly embraces and caresses his snout with her long, formidable antlers. In the background, the giant World Boy and his Mother, the virgin Faerie Queen, dance amid a parade of philosophers that have gathered to hold hands and debate the deconstruction and ontological metaphysics Pythagorean prolegomena tractatus—I have no idea what they’re doing. As impressive as this enormous monument was, it’s perhaps more impressive that somebody, or somebodies, stole it. Remember: it was over three and half kilometers tall. How does one steal the side of a mountain? Unknown, but there can be no doubt that the Matterhorn’s east face—where the artist painted the portrait, allegedly using only a vacuum cleaner, a gold mirror, and a trebuchet—appears as if it were sheared off with a giant cheese knife. There are, as one would imagine, many legends and theories as to what happened to the giant painting. One story tells of the thief hiding the art in his mother’s backyard. Her neighbors, however, began to complain because the giant mountainside was eclipsing the sun 22 hours a day. So she burned it in her oven to protect her son. Another theory contends that the thieves chopped the mountainside artwork up into 42 smaller mountainsides, each of which was hidden safely in the womb of 42 different clouds residing in the bottom of 42 different lakes throughout the region that is now Switzerland. This theory is probably derived from and cognate with the Osiris myth referenced in the painting: Set murdered his brother Osiris then dismembered the body into 42 pieces that were then scattered across Egypt. There’s even a theory promoted by cryptozoologists who have wildly speculated that the painting wasn’t stolen at all, but rather Harold, The Abominable Snowman (now immortalized on the ride at Disneyland), ate the giant painting after mistaking it for a birthday cake. While there are those today who claim to be ancestors of the burglar(s) and say they know the location of the painting and/or various fragments—at least one Swiss lake was dredged in the 70s—no real evidence of the artwork’s existence has ever surfaced and the theft is still on Interpol’s Art Crimes List as “unrecovered.” There are, however, many who believe that there will be a Second Coming of the Military Portrait Of Dachtor Krieg. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563561463567-IU6IPYG53HV7VMKT7WQE/DOX_040916_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 016 - Screaming Lord Frank Farter’s Lighthouse Tantrum It is really quite ASTONISHING,” screamed Screaming Lord Frank Farter, “that Lil Baby Jubba Jingles is incapable of attending to even his easiest and most insignificant chores. It is truly REMARKABLE! The pictures on the walls in The Great Pink Lighthouse sittingroom shook before Screaming Lord Frank Farter’s thunder—a name he earned because no matter what he is doing he is always screaming and farting while doing it. Or farting and screaming. Sometimes a scream precedes a fart, and sometimes a fart precedes a scream. Other times a scream will follow a scream and a fart will follow a fart. Although it is not at all uncommon for him to scream and fart at the same time. And, on occasion, he’ll scream a fart or fart a scream. In this instance, he screamed then farted. The massive fart also caused the tower to tremble, and a most horrible odor filled the chamber and blistered the wallpaper. Due to Lord Frank’s tantrum, it had grown rather uncomfortable within the confines of the humble lighthouse in the middle of the ocean where they all lived, and so each family member retreated to his or her corner, as they did on these occasions—even though there are no corners in the tower—to weather Lord Frank’s profanity laden hissy fit. The object of his outburst was, of course, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles. His offense? He had neglected to clean up the droppings in his White Rat’s cage. When they had first introduced the White Rat to Lil Baby Jubba Jingles and made the pathetic creature a little nest in a cage beneath Mother’s toilet, they had all jokingly referred to the tiny compound as The White Rat Temple. And for a time, the little White Rat was revered and fawned over like a God. But, as is often the case with children, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles soon grew bored of his little god and he became distracted by other projects until finally The White Rat’s Temple was completely neglected and fell into disrepair. Caring for the rat thenceforth had fallen to Screaming Lord Frank Farter, and Screaming Lord Frank Farter was not pleased. Lil Baby Jubba Jingles awkwardly stroked his horn and pretended to be in conference with one of his demon servants. He was asking the beast to go down to the beach and fetch him a pelvic bone, or some such nonsense, when Screaming Lord Frank Farter screamed, BABY! HERE! NOW! Screaming Lord Frank Farter’s anger demanded more reparation than usual and he deemed this offense worthy of a spanking AND a hot salsa enema. Lil Baby Jubba Jingles had been spanked on many occasions, and he’d received his share of hot salsa enemas, sure, but never at the same time. This was the most severe sentence to ever be meted out in the history of The Great Pink Lighthouse. That’s how displeased Lord Frank was about the deplorable condition of the White Rat’s Temple under Mother’s toilet. Unfortunately for Lord Frank, however, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles had reached an age when a spanking was not very painful and nothing to be frightened of. So when Lord Frank laid him across his knees and applied palm to buttocks, Lil Baby Jubba Jingles showed little discomfort and, at worst, looked only slightly bemused. This was not at all the effect Lord Frank was after and it made him even more infuriated. He vowed that the hot salsa enema he administered would be extra hot. It’s going to be extra hot, buster! he screamed. And then farted. As luck would have it, he couldn’t find any hot salsa anywhere in the lighthouse. MOTHER! he screamed while farting, Where is the hot salsa? Mother didn’t know anything about any hot salsa. Why would they have hot salsa in the middle of the ocean? Still she offered to whip up a batch for him if he really needed it. Screaming Lord Frank Farter was too impatient to await the construction of a salsa, so he swept the baby off his lap and went stomping up the stairs to break things and curse at the wind from the catwalk around the lantern room. They could hear him terrorizing the nautical knick-knacks, gewgaws, grimcracks, tchotchkes, trinkets, and other souvenirs that were on display throughout the tower. Crash! Bang! Boom! At its crescendo, Screaming Lord Frank Farter broke the lighthouse lantern with an unfortunate projectile. The lighthouse was plunged into darkness. All was silent save the waves crashing against the tower. It would be days before the beacon could be restored. The flotsam always washed up first. Mother put the tea on in case there were any survivors. The White Rat licked his white rat lips and rubbed his little white rat paws together, for it would fall to him to harvest the bloated corpses. http://www.acidinvader.com/ridachulous/ridachulous-017-l9kbt monthly 0.5 2025-09-05 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563494311793-PO7R36L09GPGK3KZZXHG/DOX_pigflower_02-1_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 017 - The Pig Flower Dear Mrs. Cora Persephone, As the Superintendent of the Horticulture Competition at the Thesmorphia Underground Festival (TUF) I am writing you to protest the committee’s decision made in the “Best In Show” category last weekend. You will surely remember that I approached you and the other judges after the competition to submit my complaint? In case you don’t recall our brief exchange, I was wearing a Ramen Halo, orbited by my pet Spaceship, and I was wearing a tantalizing Sunshine Yellow Jumper with Ivory Jaw Boots. To reiterate my point: you gave the Best In Show award to a Pig who entered a goddamn Time-Traveling Pumpkin. Do I really need to remind you of the TUF Horticulture Competition Rules that clearly state: This competition is open to individuals, families, and farms only (NO PIGS ALLOWED). Surely you’re aware that your Best In Show winner, Eubuleus, is a Pig? A certified, card-carrying Sus Scrofa of the Suidae family. Oh I know he enjoys outlandish disguises, but he’s a Pig from nose to tail. He should have been disqualified for that garish ensemble alone. Who wears a Cathedral Cape with Equine Trousers in this weather? And don’t even get me started on that tawdry Octopus Frock he’s always swathed in. It’s gross and it smells. In short, Eubuleus is a disgusting Pig who never should have been allowed to enter anything, let alone a stupid Time-Traveling Pumpkin. I implore you and the committee to reconsider your decision in light of this information. I think, for instance, that my entry, a tasteful little Pomegranate Tree grown in a cup of mushroom tea, not only satisfies all of the competition rules, but is a far better representation of the spirit of the festival. I encourage you to break one open and sample some of its delicious seeds. Your Humble Servant, Dianne O’Nyssus https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563494340102-NWG2I3NR9JT66NAFJTPZ/DOX_margaritomancy_small3.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 017 - Margaritomancy Cora Persephone, Superintendent of the Horticulture Competition, not only did not change the results of the contest, but she also didn’t respond to Dianne O’Nysus’ written complaint about the results. Dianne found this rude. Dianne vowed to write another letter, this one angrier than the first, but this one would include the results from her visit to the Oyster Oracle. Dianne chose this particular oracle because she used margaritomancy as her preferred method of divination. Dianne thought that this meant that margaritas were involved. Margaritas are not involved in margaritomancy. Pearls are involved in margaritomancy because “margarita” in Latin means “pearl.” This was very disappointing news to Dianne because she’s an alcoholic and was very much looking forward to drinking margaritas while participating in voodoo. Despite being sober, she chose to proceed anyway. In margaritomancy, the Oyster Oracle asks the pearl a question before dropping it into a golden pot resting over a flame. The Oracle closely watches the pearl to see if it moves: if the pearl moves, the answer is YES, if it doesn’t, NO. Scholars believe the pearl was chosen for this practice because it is the only precious gem created by a living organism. Dianne sat across from the Oracle at a table in the center of the temple. The Oracle removed a pearl from a sealskin bag, showed it to Dianne, and asked what she would like to know. Is that pig, Eubuleus, a pig? Dianne hissed. The Oyster Oracle mumbled some strange prayers that sounded like she was talking and burping at the same time before dropping the lustrous sphere into the gold pot over the fire in the hearth. They both gazed into the pot and watched the pearl. Within seconds the pearl came to life and began, not just moving, but actually dancing at the bottom of the pot. OW! The pearl screamed. HOT! YES! HE’S A FILTHY ROTTEN PIG! NOW GET ME OUTTA HERE. I knew it! Dianne exclaimed. That hog is gonna need a hambulance when I get through with him. [HEY! Not my fault. Dachshunds love dad jokes, especially ham dad jokes.] https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563494375088-F85YSHYGHFVHULVL3C1T/DOX_centaurship_02_1.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 017 - The Centaur’s Ship The centaur stood on the riverbank at the base of a gangway that led to the deck of a peculiar boat. The vessel was part raft, part riverboat, and part who-knows-what-else because it appeared to be hobbled together with elements from every type of watercraft imaginable. Fare, the centaur said assuming a very business-like demeanor. Dacchus stuck out his tongue. Upon it was the Obol that Janice had given him. The centaur plucked it from his tongue, issued a receipt, and then wrapped a pink party bracelet around his wrist. The centaur stepped aside the gangway and, with a grand flourish, said, Welcome aboard the Underworld’s number one ferry, the SMS Sarkophag. This is the strangest boat I’ve ever seen, Dacchus mumbled as he boarded the vessel. It was a pastiche of dozens of different types of watercraft. As he walked up the gangplank, he recognized that it had elements from canoes, schooners, junks, galleons, skiffs, sloops (John B!), steamboats, barges, oil tankers, cruise ships, jet skis, sea doos, sea dids, yachts, dingies, pontoons, prams, proas, punts, wherrys, gondolas, masulas, coracles, cobles, sampans, scows, ketches, skipjacks, trawlers, wakas (wokka wokka!), yawls, tjotters, weidlings, whalers, pirogues, dhows, dingies, dories, boitas, braceras, and jukungs. There was even a runway for airplanes. My name, said the centaur as Dacchus strolled onto the deck, is Plato C. Biscuits. And I will be your guide as I deliver you to the Underworld where you will spend the rest of eternity in blissful Nothingness. How delightful! Dacchus exclaimed. It is a long and arduous journey, Plato C. Biscuits said as he took his place behind a steering wheel that looked like a yoke from an airplane cockpit. I suggest you make yourself comfortable. Will there be snacks along the way? Dacchus asked. Oh yes, the centaur said. Chef Kermit will be preparing a wide selection of delicacies to enjoy along the voyage. I recommend the Galaxia Goulash. It’s to die for. Is it a ghoulish goulash? Dacchus asked chuckling. Funny you say that, the Centaur said. It was originally spelled Ghoulash on the menu, but everyone’s a copy editor after they die, so we had to change it. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563494418725-3VKLX4E4DB48T9YGH45X/DOX_foxdox_01_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 017 - Foxy Doxy ARTICHOKE The artichoke owes its existence to Zeus. On a visit to see his brother, Poseidon, Zeus spotted a beautiful woman, Cynara, bathing on the beach. He fell in love, seduced her, took her back to Olympus, and made her a goddess. Cynara, however, grew lonesome and wasn’t feeling the goddess life. When Zeus found out she was sneaking back home to visit her family, he turned her into an artichoke and threw her back to earth like an old piece of fruit. The scientific name for artichoke—Cynara cardunculus—derives from this woman’s unfortunate story. GIRASSE Girasse (a cross between a donkey and a giraffe) are revered for their testicles. The giant, fuzzy, spotted orbs are beautiful objects in and of themselves, but they are also considered a delicacy because they’re filled with butterscotch. The Girasse were nearly hunted to extinction because of their lovely nards. FOXY DOXY The Foxy Doxy is a species of ancient pygmy dachshunds crossed with red foxes (according to “The Scrolls Of Alnilam’s Scarlet Daughters,” codex 46-orION). The Foxy Doxy live in rugged, mountainous terrain where they grow artichokes on terraces that spiral into pits in the Earth. They use the thistles for magical elixirs, salves, and the like. The ancient Romans particularly enjoyed the Foxy Doxy’s aphrodisiac artichoke recipes. DOX SAVE THE GIRASSE The Foxy Doxy valued the Girasse’s habitat and protected it from poachers and predators, thus saving the species from extinction. The Foxy Doxy eventually domesticated the wild beasts and discovered that they were a benefit to artichoke farming. The Girasse could manure the beds, harvest the highest globes, and roam the terraces of thistles at night singing a strange song that kept the pests, and gods alike, away from their buds. Their haunting melody has been described as sounding something like Billy Holiday’s “Strange Fruit,” but slowed down to the speed of a whale song. The mellifluous Girasse (sometimes pejoratively called the “The Girassic Lark”) may have created an unearthly wail, but its sublime song kept the bittersweet Cynara safe and that was beautiful music to the Foxy Doxy ear. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563494449766-G2QFTCFX9S47HQR8HKUV/DOX_pineapple_potatobaby_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 017 - Spud Shower You can’t give them that, Plato C. Biscuits (centaur ferryman to the Underworld) said as Dacchus placed a package on the gift table. Dacchus had only recently arrived in the Underworld when he was invited to his first Spud Shower. It’s kind of like a baby shower/Christening ritual, but for newborn potatoes. The Queen Spud gives birth to millions of tiny tater tots every day underground, yet the Spud Shower is a very important ceremony for every newborn tot: the young tuber is briefly nursed (always with a welding mask so it doesn’t become attached to the Queen), showered with gifts, weened, and then blasted to the surface where the spuds are harvested, enlightened, and transformed into French fries, hash browns, and vodka. What’s wrong with Octomonkeys? Dacchus asked surprised. The gift Dacchus had selected was a package of instapets known as Octomonkeys that he found in a comic book. They’re sort of like the Underworld version of Sea Monkeys—very popular with dead children. Just add water and you instantly have a colony of tiny creatures that look like eight legged monkeys. Within a year they’ll evolve into torch bearing super apes. Octomonkeys carry the blight, you idiot! Plato said. He explained that Octomonkeys host a fungus-like oomycete known as Phytophthora infestans that caused the potato crop failures in Ireland and led to The Great Famine of 1845. Uh-oh, Dacchus said. Dacchus dashed back to retrieve his package from the table that was now smothered, covered, and scattered with all kinds of wonderful presents. There was an aluminum foil onesie, a blanket of sour cream, a ski cap woven from bacon, a salt rattle, a chive comb, ketchup booties, and chili mittens. But just as Dacchus snatched up his Octomonkey potato poison, Hairy Stephanie, the Overtoad Of The Underworld, arrived at the party wearing an elegant smokestack gown. She walked right up to Dacchus who, without any pockets in his giraffe pants, shoved the Octomonkeys in his mouth. I don’t believe we’ve met, Hairy Stephanie said extending a webbed hand. I’m Hairy Stephanie. And you are? Dacchus started to respond, but found that his mouth was coming to life. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563494482547-U7TT07HHCEQBAAFOBVRF/DOX_weighingthefart_small.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 017 - Weighing The Fart I’m sorry, Dacchus said confused, but they’re going to weigh the smell of my farts? Yes, Plato C. Biscuit said. Although technically they weigh the smell of everything—your poops, your toots—the whole under carriage is considered. And how exactly does one weigh the smell? Dacchus asked. Well, that’s very complicated, but I do know that if your crap smells less than, or equal to, Hairy Stephanie’s crap, then that means you lived an honorable life and you and your crap are welcome in the Underworld. What if my crap smells worse than Hairy Stephanie’s crap? Dacchus asked. Oh, then we feed you to the Manure Monkey, Plato C. Biscuit replied, motioning to a small, dungeon gate built into the cliffs beside the citadel. Are those bones? Dacchus asked staring at the Manure Monkey’s door. Shhh, Plato hushed. They’re placing your poop on the scale. As they began the ceremony of weighing Dacchus’ farts, the choir of frogs began to sing a peculiar song that we later learned is titled, “The Weighing Of The Fart,” in F(art) Major, performed by the Brekekekex Choir, featuring Three Frogs On A Log. Hello, greetings, and welcome to the Underworld. This is the end of the road, the Land Of The Dead. At the center of the Earth like an oyster’s pearl. Or maybe a fantasy from inside your head. But first, before you depart, we must weigh your farts. We’re going to listen for smells and measure the stinks. Your poop is on the scale, the judgment time starts. Then we compare it to Steph’s, to see what she thinks. We do not care at all about how your poop tastes. We’re concerned with the smell, not the size or the mass. When we put it on the scale to measure your waste. We are judging your Soul by the fumes from your ass. If the aroma be of a pleasant nature and not adverse. Then into underground Paradise you shall pass. But if you smell bad, terrible, or even worse. Like a hot trash can that’s filthy, foul, and funky. Like a rotten fish in the back of an old black hearse. Then you’re done, doomed, ready for delivery. You’re dinner for the magnificent Manure Monkey. Why is the past tense of stinky not stunky?. Paradise you won’t see, but your death will be fast. The Monkey will eat you, and he’ll start with your ass. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/52fa8197e4b0e8aa92dbbb33/1563405303616-KG49S2G3BYM8HS21D5B0/DOX_blackberries_02_small2.jpg Ridachulous - Ridachulous 017 - Dacchus’ Sunny Ensemble Dacchus walked away from the Manure Monkey thing like he was a cowboy in a movie—like he lit the fuse on some debauched metropolis behind him and it blew up. He was walking down the center of the street with his back turned to the Krakatoa ‘splosion, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Such a badass. Destruction and mayhem follow him everywhere. Cities explode in his wake every day. Chaos? Pfft, whatever. Cint Eastwood face. That’s how Dacchus likes to tell the story, but that’s not what happened. Dacchus was strolling down an avenue that led away from the ceremonial fart-weighing complex in the direction of where he thought the river was, absorbed in his stupid cowboy fantasy, when a little Librarian came jogging up alongside him, Miss. Miss. Dacchus was reminded he was disguised as a lady. After the wrestling match with the Manure Monkey he had retired to a nearby restroom (never you mind which one) to change out of his manure clothes and into something manure-free. Janice had provided him with an entire cross-dressing wardrobe for his journey. Dacchus selected a large, yellow, summer shawl handcrafted with Heliosheep wool and sewn together with sunbeams. Under his arm he carried his lifetime collection of dingleberries along with a supple, leather bag containing his winds—a limited edition collab piece by Aeolus x Le Petomane. Miss! the Librarian gasped trying to keep up. What is it? Dacchus said exasperated. I’m sorry to bother you, the Librarian said, but you dropped a turd back there. He then grabbed Dacchus’s free hand and slapped a big, wet, glob of dung into it. As Dacchus stared at the pile of waste dripping between his fingers, it suddenly coagulated and switch-melted into a chocolate bunny. Good Evening, the bunny said cheerfully. This was Phoebe, The Moon Rabbit. She was passing through the Underworld as She did every day while her brother, the Sun, was in the sky. Well, la-di-da! Phoebe said suddenly as she regarded Dacchus’s sunny ensemble. Did my brother urinate on you with his sunshine hose?