dolores666's photos with the keyword: AlternativeLifestyles

Septimus Wyndbagg-fffoulkes, aka The Floating Reverend, has drifted into the vaporous heartland of the Frequent Mutation Tribes (United). Coming across the Accidental Tortosnails and their companions, the Symbiotic Birds, he has launched into a most eloquent and passionate delivery of his special kind of scriptural dribble. The fortuitous molluscoids and the birdies are natural atheists, congenitally communist, circumstantially communitarians, temperamentally anarchists, hermaphrodite, parthenogenetic and of a sunny disposition, therefore they are totally bemused by the discourse, which they regards as a curious mixture of absolute twaddle and coals to Newcastle, but are impressed by the son et lumière display that accompanies the babble. They are also very polite and hospitable to a fault; therefore they will listen patiently to Septimus’ cheery prattle, nod wisely, give him lunch and send him on his way with many wishes of health and good fortune. Septimus is the nogoodnik second son of a wastrel second son of an impoverished aristocratic family. With not two pennies to rub together, nor a square inch of land to call his own, he was, therefore, destined for the ministry, as he was too small and even-tempered for the army. He was lucky enough to find a sponsor who paid for a few years at the University of Dylath-Leen whence he emerged with a lower third in Theology, a First-Plus in Rhetoric and a Past-Master-With- Knobs-On in Performing Arts & Showmanship. So he’s not much cop as preacher as such, but he’s awfully sweet-natured, highly imaginative, very funny, extremely laid-back and so scatter-brained that he can start preaching the delights of renunciation and end up with a fiery vindication of profligacy. He also has panache, chutzpah (hence the totally bogus extra small f in his surname) and bottle aplenty. He has not, to date, converted a single soul to anything -in part because it’s nigh impossible to figure out what he is on about half the time, but he’s made a name for himself with the flâneur fraternity and he’s frequently asked to lunches, dinners, suppers, poker games and garden parties. So his life ain’t half as bad as his wobbly origins might have anticipated. I like happy endings, don’t you?

That's it, beautiful people, the kosher campaigning stars here. Meet your first candidate. Coalition for Real Chaos (Final Void Splinter) Shub-Niggurath, The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young, a single mother of far too many Young, each and every one a nogoodnik, and two monstrosities she disowned and disinherited eons ago. In a perennial strop herself, she can offer the nation nothing but blood, pain and tears. She thinks that if that did for Churchill she can't see why it shouldn't do for her. She promises, however, special dispensations from blood, pain etc. to anyone (excepting Karl Rove et al) willing to babysit on regular basis. Also, she brings her own cabinet, civil service and armed forces, that is, her Thousand Young, aka the Shub-Niggureths, as part of the deal. She's all for nepotism because she is a great believer in family values. She also promises to preserve a free NHS so that the blood, pain, etc. can be somewhat mitigated. Under her monstrous management you will suffer horribly but if it’s any consolation, so will Henry Kissinger, Warren Buffet and they of that ilk, for whom she has a very special kind of affliction in mind. PS. I DID say I intended to use the "Cthulhu for President" concept, didn't I? Well, I do keep my promises, too, like the ineffable Shubby.

Behold, campaigning activity's picking up! Here we can see little Jimmy Two-Tails trying to persuade the Hermit ProtoShoggoths to vote for his faction, on the grounds that although they (the PSs) haven't as yet got tails, they can easily grow as many as they like, as they are protoplasmic and all that. Jimmy has brought with him his campaign manager, a young Night Gaunt (very inexperienced but very enthusiastic) and a string of Dancing Puddies -who, may I emphasize, are NOT goose-stepping but actually trying to do a Ziegfeld musical, bless their furry socks. Stop Press. Just for the hell of it (?) have a look at this: www.informationclearinghouse.info/article41179.htm And if you still think that voting for two-tailed monsters is bonkers...think again. :-)