The reporter put the case in the floor, looked at the two laughing living legends and said happily:
What? Do I have a booger in a strange spot of my face?
Next, he took 3 bottles and opened them incredibly fast with his silver lighter, giving one to each of them. As he lifted his own drink on the air he cried:
I will toast to TAZ! The Division of Joy in Life! Now... will next be Acapulco or Panama?
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So there Doc sat with only the tog and the beer that was given to him. Oddly enough, he hadn't felt so free in a very long time. It was as if removing his robes removed a very heavy burden even if it wasn't the robes themselves. He was with friends.
"You would be correct, Mal, laughter truly is good medicine," he stated, "problem is, I don't prescribe it near enough."
He looked to the reporter, "Acapulco? Panama? Don't know of either but if you've never been there, Baden Baden is a nice place to lay back and do nothing." He raised his glass again, "To Baden Baden!"
Mal couldn't resist again. He suspected that folk were probably getting tired of his references to Appendix Gimmel, but at this nutso time in history, it seemed to be the best model for everyone's "condidtion"..
He swayed to his feet, lifting another bottle of the Rheinlander Bock, amazed that it was actually starting to taste good.
"And here's to Verwirrung! And to symptoms!"
The last caused Doc to raise a medical eyebrow, ready to jump for his portable diagnostic suite. Mal laughed and continued.
"Whoa Doc! I'm referring to the symptoms that are presenting in a huge number of people throughout the Sector. People are becoming more and more anxious about the future. They are becoming frustrated that there seems to be no solution in sight.
"They fear that old paradigms and models will be swept aside by the dawning of Verwirrung, and perhaps rightly so; but at the same time they subconsciously yearn for the new cycle of history to arrive, providing a 'clean slate' upon which to write a new and better version of history and humanity.
"John Henry, every single person who has entered this Kiva seeking my counsel, has exhibited these very same symptoms. I contend that as Discordians, we hold a distinct advantage over the other 'sufferers' of these anxieties.
"We are aware from our Sacred teachings that History is destined to repeat. We know the five stages, and we know what to expect of Verwirrung when it finally and inevitably arrives. We should consider ourselves Blessed to have such knowledge."
"All we are required to do by our Faith is to 'lie down on the floor and keep calm.', as another great Discordian sage once recommended.
I was talking 'bout Acapulco Gold and Panama Red, but nevermind Doc.
He sat down once again and finished his bottle in one drink, so he could then open a new one.
I guess that with Doc in here the interview can only go better Mal, so I'll continue throwing cabbages at you.
Would you expand on what you said once - He reads some notes - " The Golden Apple of Eris is merely a metaphor. A focal point. An object of adoration and meditation. It gives the Mind and Soul an anchoring port while sailing the stormy seas of Illumination", what do you refer as "anchor"?
"There are generally two types of 'meditation'. One method is to clear the mind completely of all images, thoughts, and 'noise'. That would be the Buddhist approach...
"More 'esoteric' Mystery Schools tend to use the 'adoration' method, focusing on some sacred object or another.
"Both methods attune the mind, and serve the purpose. I prefer the latter, because I have a very hard time quieting all the 'monkey chatter' to reach a state of of total emptiness."
Mal chugged his own bottle of bock, and staggered to his feet.
"Speaking of emptiness, it's time to get rid of this rental swill and water the flowers. Somebody spot me on this bloody ladder, eh? Next project will be an elevator!"
You seem to care a lot about your sanctuary. I'm glad I was invited to know this place.
He then sips more beer and with a quick hand movement, takes a joint from his sleeve. Again, the silver lighter to the rescue. After some puffs, he passes the rollie to Mal, who takes it but examines it before smoking it.
Well, since you answered the last one so quickly, here's another.
Word spreads among zoners about your supposedly solved whereabouts during your absence, but tell us oh please tell us! Where were you? Or when were you? Or why were you? Or who where you? Or what the bleep does it mean anyways? He then slips a paper into Mal's hands which reads "You must answer to all five questions or to a multiple of 5 fnord".
Oh, I also wanted you to answer this one. It is something I've always wanted to know. Where is 42 located in thy eristic numerological heriarchy?
"Umm, thanks for writing em down, Skripto. I'm either approaching Samahdi, or the blind staggers here".
Mal squinted at the paper. This was going to be tough to explain...
' Wrote:Where were you? Or when were you? Or why were you? Or who where you? Or what the bleep does it mean anyways?[/b][/color] He then slips a paper into Mal's hands which reads "You must answer to all five questions or to a multiple of 5 fnord".
"Where? That depends on which time, sir. I've left with a "Pineal Meltdown" five times now, I believe. How's that for synchronicity?
"To explain 'where' would require you to understand and believe in the existence of 'alternate realities', I suppose. I do remember some of the 'wheres', along with the 'whos'..
"At one time, I recall being an Italian fellow named Sigismundo, just starting a life on an 'alternate' Gran Canaira. At another time, I was a foppish gent named 'Malhuer', raising merde in some Gallic 'Universe next door'. The most bizarre, and in some ways 'real', was my alternate life as a trader and miner named 'Kaihokohoko McIver', in a strange sector of 'alternate' space called 'Minmatar'.
"The 'why'? Only Goddess knows, Gypsie. I'm sure Doc can attest to wanting to 'run away' from it all, at times. Goddess can be a harsh Mistress when She wants to be; and sometimes the exit from Chapel Perilous doesn't always dump you out on the same street you entered from..
"'When' is rather a meaningless question. Chronological order seems to break apart when you visit the Universe Next Door. Suffice it to say that on each return from these different realities, I found myself back 'here' at approximately the right times to account for my 'absences'.
"Is there meaning? Bleeped if I know. The more pertinent question would be 'was it real?' Quantum topology suggests there 'might' be alternate realities, branching off from ours each time we make a decision, or choose a path. Heinlein posited that such places might be created through 'consensus', through a shared belief in favorite stories or 'heroes'. He dubbed this phenomenon 'Multiperson Pantheistic Solipsism'.
Mal looked down. The joint had gone out while he had rambled on. He handed it back to Skripto and his eternal flame.
"Or maybe I just had too much of our beloved 'Santa Maria', the night before... who knows?
"Whatever the case, it does tend to give credence to my favorite quote from the Prophet Wilson:
"Reality is indeed what you can get away with."
"And the number '42' has meaning only if Heinlein was correct."
Gyp looked at the joint Mal was returning for what seemed ages to Mal. The Episkopos words seemed to take the journalist to his own private Idaho. Some minutes after, and when the joint was already unlit, Mal said Well if you are not going to smoke anymore, at least give me the lighter Skripto!
This brought Gyp back, as he shouted Never! Then he shook his head rapidly, and said Sorry Mal, here you have the lighter, how much time was I away?