FNORD33

I was born within the walls of an Irish castle on October 21, 1681. The master of the house was a mister Edmond DeSwitch who had a keen interest in the art of alchemy. Though a complete failure in every aspect of his work, his incessant fumbling with God's video game led to severe consequences for all who surrounded them. Mutations of mind and body were fairly common in this household, which ultimately resulted in my departure at the tender age of one. Having left my thousands of brothers and sisters behind, I traveled the world in search of wisdom and new forms of mayonnaise. As I have always lived in the shadow of emphatic irony, I found my next home within of the walls of the base of the Australian Illuminati. For many years, I inadvertently soaked up millions of memes of above average information which further mutated my consciousness creating an intellectual wanderlust which eventually drove me to Great Britain where I discovered an odd sect of apple obsessed chaos worshipers. Within their temple walls my third eye opened, and I met the goddess in all her majesty. I found myself face to face with Eris who, finding me cute and less annoying than her other saints, sainted me on the spot and introduced me to many of her good friends. One of which was James K. Polk who died with me in 1849 in a battle to save the earth from an invading force of extra-dimensional, racist cauliflower. The battle was obviously a failure. All Earth cauliflower has been replaced and the war was classified at eight levels above top secret. Cholera! What will they think of next? Many years of highly classified events later, she introduced me to Timothy Leary. Timothy in turn introduced me to an electric cheeseburger who eventually talked me into taking over the mind of Ronald Reagan and forcing him to run for president. In the body of the Gipper, I became hooked on crack and invented Reaganomics condemning the world to hundreds of years of masochistic frivolity. America was not without problems, but my “throw some crack at it and it’ll go away” policy seemed to work well for the most part. Then, at the 1988 C.I.A.Christmas party, everything changed when I drank some punch that somebody had spiked with LSD. I suddenly realized the extent of the damage that I was doing I began to feel guilty. When I came down, I decided that this guilt was a problem so I threw some crack at it. I eventually got tired of crack and bored with taking orders from the cheeseburger, so I did the only sensible thing. I abandoned the president's body and dedicated my life to making sure that broccoli will never again seize the reigns of the world. For those of you who are not personally familiar with my dear friend Eris I must say that her reputation as a trickster is not overstated. One night she left me without a trace. The next morning when I awoke I found that I was not only missing two appendages but I had also gone all squishy and pale and swollen to many times my normal size. I searched for many years for a way to heal my wounds. Luckily, one day I bumped into the electric cheeseburger at a dive bar on the outskirts of Birmingham, Alabama. I regaled him with my story. He was very sympathetic and even forgave me for abandoning my post. Apparently, he hadn’t always been an electric cheeseburger. As it happened, he had also been searching for a way to recapture his previous form and had recently found a solution. Sadly, the price of that transformation was much too great for his moralistic outlook. Only large scale human sacrifice would release the power necessary to get me into that area of the cosmic swap meet. Having been the president my hands were already stained with the blood of countless innocents. Nevertheless, I hold the belief that murder for personal gain is always wrong. You should only kill for fun or revenge. Otherwise you’re no better than a soccer mom who drives a Hummer. I was still pondering the best course of action when I remembered my old VP, who regularly indulged in mass murder, but only for the sake of monetary gain. All that potential energy was just going to waste so I did some things I can’t talk about for obvious reasons and eventually gained the power to transcend life and death. I am now able to manipulate my physical form at will and travel through all fifty six dimensions. Having achieved this, I ate a taco. I wrote my first book "Muffy: or a Transmigration of Selves" in 1999 and subsequently misplaced it. This novel was followed by several screenplays which have also gone missing. I rediscovered "Muffy" hiding in a shoe box in my closet labeled Salvador Dali's Rhenquist. I took that as a sign from Eris to finally unleash it upon the world and so I did. This has resulted in a certain amount of unwanted notoriety which is inconducive to the lifestyle I prefer. Fortunately, shape shifting affords a certain privacy which even paparazzi can’t destroy. In the coming months, “For Fear of Poking One’s Own Eyes,” “Chakra Kong part 1: The Exquisite Sound of One Hand Falling Off a Turnip Truck” and a whole slew of new T-shirt designs will also be unleashed. That is, assuming that I don’t misplace them.