Wednesday, November 2, 2011

23: The Cosmic Stupid And I.



FOR IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD AND AFTER THE FALL, THE WORD-GAME. MINE CROSSWORDS AND SCRAMBLES SHALT BE THE SOURCE OF THINE LAMENTATION.
- Austin Coppock, Channeling God's Explaination for Enochian.

Over the weekend, this blog jumped above 123 followers (of course, there are more than a few repeats, but let's conveniently ignore those) and I felt it warranted a special post.

In the mystic lands of magic and discourse, much is said of the many and varied “cosmic, pre-cosmic, post-cosmic, extra-cosmic” intelligences and forces. Very little is said about their little brothers, who consistently pop up to beguile the would-be Magus: the dreaded Cosmic Stupid. About the time that the magician or witch begins actually believing the crazy things they're engaging in activities with are real, the Cosmic Stupid makes it a personal point to crash their party. Unfortunately, the person may well be on the ecstatic joy-ride into the beyond and fail to realize that their party has been conveniently hijacked by the “maybe higher, maybe lower, but definitely dumber” forces of the universe.

These batshit specters eke out a meager living at the bare fringes of conspiracy lore, mysterious monstrous encounters (often occurring during an altered state of consciousness for obvious reasons), and other places where magical thinking is employed and they can convince some sad sap that they've encountered a 8,900 year old Lemurian Warrior who laid siege to Atlantis before the dawn of written civilization. They also seem to enjoy making appearances as disembodied specters which call payphones around the unwary and given them explicit instructions to “not forget the donuts,” as if the safety of the universe itself depends on such a weird act.

John Keel's The Mothman Prophecies documents his experiences with the Cosmic Stupid. they progressively laid waste to his life during the course of his research into the 1966 and 1967 UFO and monster sighting flaps that centered in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. But he's hardly alone. Sir Walter Scott apparently called them “the Crew that Never Rests”. John Lilly called them Cosmic Coincidence Control Center and warned that they pay special attention to those who pay attention to them. (At least if we are to trust RAW's word on the matter, and we might as well; he also encountered them.)

They have the rather inconvenient ability to help make an ass out of anyone who foolishly believes everything that they hear, and who turns their personal bullshit radar off. When something pings the Bullshit Radar, remember to pay special attention to that moment, and what is going on and being said.

Despite all this, they remain nonetheless capable of rather amusing displays of power: during my personal meeting with the Cosmic Stupid many years ago, the situation mimicked a scene from William Gibson's Neuromancer almost exactly. On the first two occasions, I was with friends and as I neared a set of payphones they all began to go off. Stamped quite clearly on the dial pad were the words “No Incoming Calls.” Furthermore, as I passed from phone to phone the call on one would end and then the next would begin ringing. On both occasions I answered the phones, and was greeted by static voices. But I couldn't hear what they were saying, and was both amused and freaked out.

On the third occasion, which occurred after 72 hours without sleep and the unfolding of micro-REM, I got my message: “Don't forget the donuts.” Within twenty minutes, I was at a Krispy Kream shop – out to save the universe from Cthulhu or something. They clearly weren't specific.

I seriously never have forgotten the feeling of standing in a Krispy Kream at 2:30 am, and realizing I wad behaving even more like a madman than usual. When I discussed these events with a mentor, much later, he told me that a friend of his had also made contact with the Cosmic Stupid and gotten a similarly hilarious message: “the Dolphin sails at Midnight.”

So remember: just because the universe is infused with consciousness, does not mean that all of that consciousness is... necessarily helpful, or intelligent.

2 comments:

Scylla said...

It is not dead which can eternal lie, for with strange eons even death may die. It is not dead... never said anything about so bored it starts to fuck with the unwary.

I like the phraseology of "The crew that never rests" - in my brain it makes all sorts of links to shadow-figures and their propensity to fuck worlds of shit up, seemingly because that's their designated function. Suddenly, the imagery of shadow figures with fedoras and suits makes total sense.

But I'm going to sharply not think about this shit, because I don't need their juju up in my business.

Ocean Delano said...

So...basically what you're saying is that there are beings who are trolls in the modern sense. As above, so below, I suppose! >_>