Patty Pille retrospective--because our numbers are down

On the phone with sugar-deity Wotan

Negotiating treaty with the Abyssal Wasservolkers

Counterfeiting "Urth" cash for weekend shopping trip

Peepergate launch celebrations

Portville Mayor Cornelius Lycanthrope presenting Frau Pille with bottle of Swizzlestonian mentholated cave-water she'll use to pilate the spanking new Peepergate

Patty Pille models her version of "protective garment" for "Urth" explorations

"This scientifically designed outfit will protect me from having to buy my own drinks or pay for meals!"

Peepernaut protective garment for "Urth" visits

Peepernaut preparing for Peepergate aeonic flush to "Urth" and thoroughly immunized against air-embedded noxious vapours, spooky EM manifestations, poisonous "Urther" optical wireless broadcasts, snake-oil bazaar hoardings, ear rap-rupture, celliphonicular brain-worms, and intelligence-dulling jargonites and communicative buzzworthlessness. Director Zliplitt quoted: "A sealed coffin fabricated of lead would suit me best for this hair-brained endeavor!"

A look at the Institute's spanking new "Peepergate"

Stalwart Peepernaut's trans-dimensional Hole-of-Glory to the Echo-Welt of "da Urth" (replete with metaphor-mixing, gate-activating, aeonic flush handle)

Director Zliplitt to be sent on extended tour of "da Urth"

I--as you see me before you--Professor Antonio Pille

In most fervent recognition of his facile Brobdingnagian locutions toward and comfortings of the common Menschen and Frauen hereabouts as our mask-like Public Face as it were, Director Zliplitt shall be stuffed through the coruscating orifice of the breath-captivating technological wonderment we have dubbed the Peepergate, thence from that puncture through (again) the aeonic ultraplicities of realities that lay beyond its interface, and, as final destination, be sent up the trans-dimensional nasal cavity of that most treasured Echo-world we know as "da Urth." From his cat-bird lounge-a-chair in, may we honestly admit, "Planet Hades" he shall continue to post his no-doubt-to-be-expected solicitous and tolerant observations: ipso facto, a day-by-day journal of goings-on there from his own (in truth) invidious perspective. It is our extended wish that this shall form a new and perhaps month-long ramroddishly straight trajectory of pointfulness for this offensive thing-called-a-blog, an excursion we shall emboss upon with the Vaudville placards (in deference to Klassics and/or Rocket J. Squirrel) of Zliplitteus in the Underworld or In-No-Sense Abroad.

Accompanying the Institute's Grand Puffin of Persnicketiness (as some wit once pegged him, and too, as the frosted glass upon his doorway now boasts) will be my treasured, if somewhat wayward and socially gaffe-abridged (to be just, only by my own olden-tymed-out anachronistic measure) spawn, "Peepernaut" Patty, as representative of the "fair-minded" and "mine-fielded" gender. Her own individualistic revelations--sans doubt to be diminishingly acerbic and increasingly didactic than those of the Director's, will be promiscuously posted in addition, free of charge (My own Grande Assessmentes of data will be interposed as I deem fit). We here at the Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries feel this un-malleable alloy of the diversely talented to be the ideal team of venturers from our adored world of Erde: first in historical record (aside from the daughter's unofficial pioneering visits) to nimbly set heel and toe upon the clodhopper soil of "da Urth" via the fanatastical Peepergate!

How to read the Planetary Panopticon (if you can read, that is)

The Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries Director of Public Assuagement Herr Anatole Zliplitt

Hello and guten Tag. My name is Anatole Zliplitt and as Director of Public Assuagement here at the Institute it is--among many other of my onerous "tasks"--my honor ...[pardon a moment as I must vomit] ... to direct the perpetually befuddled public in what some may regard as "the right direction."

As the staff is taking an interminable breather following the wastage of months of their lives in this thoroughly vain attempt to wittily entertain a mostly non-existent niche (as marketing wastrels and saw-heads on your Flat-ulent "da Urth" world would have it), the right direction here, within these phantom electrical pages, is therefore backwards or, more plainly, the Archives. Unlike most things-called-blogs which (forgetting hour-before generated absolutes) celebrate the will-o-the-wisp, moment-to-moment, non-linear, micro-epiphanies of the attention-defecated (the sudden Columbus-like discovery of raisin toast and marmalade, the uncovering and counting of toes, the illuminations gained from a New Age recipe book, rage-spotted tirades against billion-year-old injustices, and similar drivel) this particular bastion of sensible nonsense offers past thoughts that are every bit the equal of present ones...well, at least nearly present ones before the tsunami of censorial hogwash erupted from your world through the Echo-world viewing device we have dubbed "Der Peeper" and brought our credulity and creativity to an absolute frost-topped agogic standstill.

So, rather than merely park the a-quivering gluteus maximus here for but an an instant, dully survey the only landscape nearest the finely tipped point of the nasum ("surf" as it were), and head homeward for gin soaked pizza and unreality Optical Wireless disappointed that the trite cliches you yearn for are nowhere to be unveiled (insulted too by the absence of monotonous mono-and-bi-syllabicisms and "sound bitten" pre-digested tidbits), do delve into older postings and attain--most truly--the lay of the alter-arena known as Erde. In keeping with the frontier spirit of the "Urther" Interknit we guarantee the dutiful virtua-pilgrim will be rewarded with the full-bore "Urth" entertainment and enlightenment gamut: endless pornographic images, tiresome rehashings of the Pez-headential abominations, religio-nincompoopery of the finest sacramental and excremental weave, titillating horrors and monstrosities, sadism and vulgarity masquerading as humor, woolly-headed nostrums, helium-fueled opinions, and, natürlich, kittens galore! Bon appétit!

Panopticon to "go all normal all of a sudden"

Burgers and Fries

Well, at least for a few minutes or so. Hmm. Ah yes, fresh air...and my coffee. Good--things are starting to gel. Sun's out. Nice. Anyway, we here at the Institute(s) have been hammering away at this old thang now for--let's see--since October or so which is nearly half a year, as the crow flies. Six months. Wow. Checking the counter (we have an old fashioned mechanical one hooked up--every time someone comes in the "door" to the Institute it tugs a string and this contraption with little black wheels printed with numbers advances by a single digit) and we see we've got at least six or seven regular guests to the site and a handful of irregular ones. Probably a total of twelve, tops. A small dinner party. The maximum number of people that can fit in a phone booth. A jury.

The idea of the site was to be kind of offbeat and fun with a little confusing social commentary tossed in to leaven the gefilte fish, as they say at the whaling wall in Nome. What's happened is the world itself (your world, "da Urth"), in that short period of time, has revealed itself to be far more wacky than anything we here at the Institute can serve up. Tough competition. What we discussed (heatedly at times) during the general staff meeting this morning was what to do next. This topic is still up in the air and will probably engage us for several weeks.

Professor Pille, however, in typical Pillelogical style made it clear that he thought we hadn't "transgressed with our obfuscatory dilutions in a distant-ward directed enough manner" meaning we hadn't gone far enough. Indeed. Sitting within this small pile of postings is the outline of an entire alternate cosmology of sorts and the Prof thinks we should immanentize it all a tad better. How to do that is the question; so we're going to work on that for a while.

Hippie Heaven Institute of Luv encourages respect and understanding of all the faiths of the world

Saint Porpoise and her "halo"

We at the Hippie Heaven Institute of Luv have been upsetted by the recent spate of "dissings" directed at the myriad faiths of the Gaia--World Planetress. In the Vikinglands cartoons recently appeared depicting the Bykist holy prophet with a ham on his head; in Merka, a sculpture of the chief hoodoo--Geesusaitchkryst--was put on display immersed in a glass of warm beer; in Pencil-vaynia the top Quacker of the Brotherhood of Friendly Duckers is used to sell hot oatmeal; and cartoonists (again!) are making fun of followers of Enron "Bear" Cupboard and his highly scientifical Church of Zionphrenology. Even on these pages, disrespectful peoplepersons have mercilessly attacked the leader of another zany cult, maliciously dubbing this pipe-smoking conduit to JHVH an "Autistic Horrorist." We are against all this "Hate Cartooning" and "Hate Thinking" and "Hate Weaving" and have decided to fight back with the following:

1. Bumper stickers reading "Stop the Hate Right Now!"
2. An interactive web site encouraging people to stop hating
3. An email campaign directed at people who hate people
4. A candlelight vigil on the steps of the Pongo Town Hall with placards reading "Honk if you're against Hate!"
5. "Stop the Hate Right Now!" refrigerator magnets and T-shirts, along with STHRN brand running shoes and action wear
6. A special edition STHRN Pillemaster brand 2006 AP Futility Vehicle
7. A big rally at the Imperial Capital in The Floating City scheduled for this summer

Institite of Mysteries hopes to light fuse of chaos

"Urther" religious leader depicted as Erden Autistic Horrorist through application of metaphorical bomb on head and blunt words

Professor Antonio Pille ® and the staff of the Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries ®, noting all the fun to be had by insulting Muslims, Scientologists, and other dreary-arsed folks on our "Echo World"--that hopeless bag of potting soil called "da Urth"--have decided to toss in their own 2 francs worth of "disrespecting" with a frontal assault on the holy head of yet another dopey "Urther" scam. The historical "Bob" may have never actually been an Erden Autistic Horrorist (in fact he may have known nothing whatsoever about our lovely Erde as it exists, thankfully, far removed from his nincompoop cosmology) but his legion of fans certainly are practitioners, or at least some or a few of them are or would be. This visual desecration will appear in a small newsletter emanating from top floor of the minuscule Grand Duchy of Swizzlestein. In response we expect protests, death threats, and the firebombings of the Imperial, Albionian, Former Republic of Former Russlandic, Trans-Iberian Xprussian, and Nipponinc embassies--if anyone can find them without a Peepergate ®. If nothing else we'll anxiously await a stern reprimand as we just noticed the ® hovering over the part in the greasy hair of the pipe-smoking "Urther" knucklehead. [EDITOR: PS, we're also going to deny the existence of Holocaust-deniers]

Marshmallow Peeps from "der Peeper": Scientologists riot, burn embassies over disrespectful depiction of asinine religion

The Prophet Mohubbard--perfectly ridiculous as-is

A humorous animated cartoon about winsome children living in "Carl-rod-o" and their swell adventures--one of the few modern cultural products of "da Urth" that we here on Erde actually enjoy--has triggered global chaos by satirizing one of the goofiest religious screwball cults to ever hit sidewalks of The Floating City. Funny too: Microsoft Explorer toolbar ABC Check has correct spelling for Slurpee but not for Scientologists. This may trigger more riots, either with Scientologists or Hindus managing convenience stores. Mt. Palomine Institute speculates at this point "Urthers" just looking for excuses to act like asses--exactly what PC types and heathens do best. Expect bewildering and hypocritical Institute of Love posting on being respectful to idiots and their fool ideas. Expect detailed semantic analysis of the word religion--something a noted MIT linguist should spend a little time at--and related warnings. Expect long boring windbag write-up that no one will read on how religions, by their nature, disrespect those who do not follow them (You are a sinner and will burn in Hell if you don't join us, etc.), historically to the point of physical mayhem. More later.

Professor Pille's Wordless Workshop

NEW FEATURE: Professor Pille's Wordless Workshop

Howard Stern monument finally cleaned up and lookin' pretty!

Howard no speak with forked tongue!

Let's face it Volk, with all his obscenity and pornography and blunt offensive statements about nothing that really matters, it's pretty obvious that this man says exactly what's on his mind no matter what--no forked tongue here, no corporate hand-puppet be he, no long arduous years of responsible thinking and heartfelt expression to build trust! So when he tells his audience that he actually drinks and enjoys Snapple then, well, he must really really mean it. Right? Right? And then one day when Howie says the Constitution is bunk and we need strong leadership and someone who can cut through the red tape to get us through tough and scary times, the Stern ditto-head nation will probably collectively raise its Slurpees and shout Huzzah!

[EDITOR: Toolbar ABC Check, while lacking the ability to make distinctions regarding any number of other words and names does offer the correct spelling for Slurpee--this should be reassuring information to those sweating over their doctoral dissertations]

Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries offering Hippie Heaven Institute of Love tours via Norge Pole

Mysteries Magical Tour Bus at Santarialand Rest Stop--last chance before entering polar passageway to Hollow Erde/Urth

More later

[Psst! A surreptitious note from the Editor]

[ Edward Pahjorndice--the Editor]

[Ssshh! Quiet! Ruhe! The "Urther" hippies who have "taken over" this thing-called-a-blog don't know it but we here at the Mt. Palomine Institute are, in fact, conducting an experiment in gullibility and are still firmly in control. Fear not, Creatrix-blessed reader, for despite the possibly ironic edging of the postings, we Erdens have not unfastened our equally measured distaste for nearly all sides in nearly all conflicts we have uncovered--as one would overturn a rock--on "da Urth." Blue-Staters--as you would have them--aggrieve us most because their self-buffalo-ing, augmented by an unwarranted elitist arrogance (as in we are well-read and highly educated and therefore impervious to Tomfoolery), is intense and stupefying. While they wallow in multiculturalist nick-knacks, daubings, bangles, and affectations, they fail to acquire any genuine wisdom from aboriginals; most primitives teach the base-line truism--via engaging stories about talking coyotes and wizened owls--that pride begets blindness. Go then and instruct a graduate from an ivy-bedecked institution that they may be off-kilter in their social and political judgements and note the results--a pigheadedness worthy of any who beats upon a Holy Book as if it were a bass drum! Suggest, for example, that a certain war, bad as it is and unapproved off as you may find it, may involve other motivators than petroleum products and corporate larceny and witness a fluffing of feathers followed by a curt dismissal. Sadly, most Blue-Staters in their best finery hold to a simple baker's dozen of predictable opinions and few could provide elaborations, theorems, or citations of historical evidence as to why they even maintain these rigid thoughts, beyond, that is, those provided by their cherished pornography--Chronicles of Abuse! (We are flabbergasted by the popularity, with these types, of finely crafted and printed books of no little expense stuffed with vivid descriptions and even daguerreotypes of torture, mayhem, massacre, and genocide, as if tisk-tisking over souvenirs of these horrid misdeeds is somehow a good and noble thing! An average Erden citizen needs only possession of knowledge of an uncivil act to react--and react they do! The Beslan incident, against our ethical principles on free speech, was passively kept from the public here for fear it would precipitate a pell-mell intervention of your world to rescue the children!) Red-Staters, contrariwise, often actually revel in being buffaloed or they maintain easily dismantled views on power, authority, and responsibility that would find comfortable homes within "Urther" Medieval Castles (as we had no scrofulous Feudal era, instead battled with Aztekian heart-hunters and enormous kraken). From the perspective of Erde and the Empire, it's all quite simple: Maternalism vs. Paternalism, i.e. the politics of a never-ending and not-so-happy childhood.]

Institute of Love's Michael Moore monument grows in girth and popularity!

Boddhisatva of the Common Ordinary Working-Class Graduate Student

Meticulously groomed and "branded" as the spokesperson for the Common Upper-Middle-Income Blue-State Liberal Man and Woman, Michael helps to clarify and intensify national controversies by ignoring complicated and unneeded examinations of "inner workings," "competing systems," "alternative ideas," and "deeper agendas." He just shows us how silly, goofy, and laughable our opponents and their public personaes are, and in many ways he and George W. Bush are almost (dare we say it?) made for each other--like partners in some popular old radio-days feud! Mr. Moore also tells us that all the bad things in the world are the result of corporate greed and oil interests--no need to be pulled away from these near hard-wired givens by petty distractions; it's best to keep everyone's attention firmly focused on what's in plain daylight, not speculate on what's possibly up anyone's sleeve. With boyish humor and unaffected charm (sometimes his hat is not "beat-up" enough and the grime has to be digitally inserted, as it was on the original Fahrenheit 9-11 cover!), this simple, everyday, blue-collar average fellow, with his trademark banged-up ball cap, and trademark bad shave, and trademark weight problem, and trademark worker's jacket (all adding up to an image that screams honesty--no hand puppet be I), makes award-winning film after film, and pens popular best-selling books that never fail to not challenge previously-held beliefs no correct-thinking person would not already be without! [Patty Pille: I met the guy while I was "dancing" and to be fair he's pretty decent and means well; he's not part of the problem per se, but he's also becoming less and less part of the solution and more and more a major symptom of what's gone awry. I imagine he must be somewhat aware of this as he has to meet with marketing people once in a while and there's no way they can conceal their horns and cloven feet--for them honesty is merely another affect, witness the tortured Ad-Buster magazine. He needs to go away for a while and change who he is, to mature in a way, then come back and deal with it all on an entirely different plane]

Ralph Nader tribute finished

Statue of Ralph Nader--people's hero and terror of the oil industry--holding model of "Unsafe-at-Any Speed" Corvair

Nader's career began in the 1960s with the publication of the book Unsafe at Any Speed--a hard-hitting critique and expose of a small fuel-efficient automobile that was foisted upon the American public in a cynical bid to compete with the increasingly popular yet deadly and fascist Volkswagen Beetle and newer fuel-saving and shabbily manufactured death-traps coming from Japan. He was so successful at this crusade that he nearly single-handedly insured the dominance of larger "safe" automobiles for nearly a decade, largely by establishing in people's minds the simple fact that small=mutilation, horror, and death. Later Nader became a fervent opponent of nuclear energy, a technology irresponsible military-industrialists (who had recently seen the oil-and resource deprived Axis Powers perish in flames!) insidiously promoted as the alleged "way to go" to achieve national energy independence and security. In 2000, despite little chance at success and an otherwise tight election, he ran for President, mobilizing socially conscious voters who otherwise might have wasted their efforts and votes on a less-than-perfect Democratic candidate who was running against a nearly all "oil business" ticket. His wild and woolly supporters, with their highly vocal critiques of outdated American values and ideals, also helped to better define the perceived political opposition in the eyes of those deluded members of the public who ended up voting Republican. According to Prescott Jones, spokesperson for the oil industry, "Virtually all of Ralph's tireless efforts over the last forty years have impacted tremendously on our business!"

The Depleted Broccoli story

Depleted broccoli strewn about the desert outside the Baalist city of Karbolic in the aftermath of operation Dessert Flambé

Bugg Band to play at Institute of Love Sensi-dome

The "Buggers" forgetting how to play The ADD Rag

(Left to right) Bob Bugg on 23-string Lesothan monkeywood guitarette, brother Andy Bugg playing draftsman's pantograph, Tom Sniffler with his Stradivarius Venetian gondola oar, and a cardboard cutout of "Deb" or "Don" Standofish on string-less banjo. The jug up front is full of mentholated cave water which the band claims adds a certain spiritual resonance to their performances.

Professor Pille's Hierarchy of Needs

Old stupid outdated Needs
Modern Needs for Modern Tymes

Bunnies may be substituted for kittens and breasts may simply be ignored for females of the species (most at least, unless they read gossip magazines) and replaced with either hot baths or nothing much else. For many nowadays kittens (along with, possibly, breasts) may simply be replaced by cell phones and for some the entire pyramid may consist of drugs, money, or video games... and pizza.

Give the peoples whats they wants!

A Pair of Kittens

"Kitten"

And judging from the wildly enthusiastic responses so far to only two of the thousands of otherwise ignored yet scintillating photos posted on this thing-called-a-blog, it's Pussies and--uh--Cheesecake! Astonishingly, this only confirms what trillions of marketing experts have known and practiced since the days of Emperor Tiberius: to hell with Maslow's Hierarchy-of-Needs, all people really want are soft furry things! Next up, plush toys galore and Sigmund Freud's mittens!

Our Future Sits in Broccoli!

Renewable Energy from Depleted Broccoli

A sane and sensible world if we'd all just worship Gaia, eat soydust products, burn broccoli, and vote for Ralph Nader!

Hippie Heaven Institute of Love comrades protest at annual Anti-Everything rally

War is bad!

Courageous protesters made it emphatically clear that they were also 100% against racism, and that being bad to women was completely and utterly wrong! They also don't like it when people hit other people or say hurtful things that make other people cry. All who bussed to the demonstration in Reading, Pennsylvania unanimously agreed that being mean to baby chicks or bunnies was unjustifiable too, as was tying tin cans to the tails of house cats or puppies or failing to put the seat down after using the toilet! Said protester Wheatfield Krebs, a student at Hampshire College, "All us nice people should band together as a big global family and stop all the bad things in the world and make George Bush just stop being President right now!" Amen and Om to that, brother Wheatfield!

Chomsky sculpture ready for weekend Celebration of Celebratingness

Madhipadra Badab Yammadingdang Chomsky

This weekend Institute of Love collective craftsfolkpeoplepersons will be unveiling a 75 foot tall sculpture of Noam Chomsky made entirely from recycled all-natural mayonnaise jars and carved hypoallergenic goat bile soap. The homage to the 43rd Ascended Linguist of N'dar P'toom (a title Madhipadra Chomsky, in his infinite humility, declines to acknowledge, along with his true reincarnated Tibetan holy names and goofy hat and robes we sent him) is being installed in the front entrance of the Institute near the Martin Luther King grass-friendly gender-diverse cooperative people's organic whole-foods vegan picnic peace lawn, and directly across from the sanctified 18-Fold-Pathway Country Club Dworkin memorial ball-washer. He is depicted garbed in traditional Eastern Oralawahoodie rain-forest native natural orgonic people's tribal shamanic Lederhosen and holding aloft an immense St. Porpoise the Divine made of consecrated and pressed Laplander reindeer dung, and symbol of transcendent extra-galactic communication between Gaia's all-accepting wisdom-containing soul-spirit species of blessed Mother Earth and the gentle sea-dwelling vegetarian multi-minds of Betelgeuse IV.

Institute daycare offers healthy lunch alternatives to youngsters

Songbird regurgitant, organic soydust, and recycled picnic droppings--Yum!

No worries about the corporate marketing driven, resource-sapping, FDA myth of vitamins--each noontime feast contains the daily minimum of orgone with an excellent healthy aura...and at minimal barter value per serving. A little splash of organic pesticide-free tomato puree sauce and it tastes great!

Pottery barn extension finished

New home for Institute of Love potterpeople and craftspeoplepersons made from re-recycled nontoxic materials scrounged from abandoned commune and recycled yet again!

Imbushari Sharee Bakmafoo to visit Institute

Imbushari Sharee Bakmafoo at the Amtrak station in West Hartford--All Aboard for the Enlightenment Express!

Sacred incoherent holypeopleperson Imbushari Sharee Bakmafoo--known to followers as The B'dee B'dee--will be journeying from his meditation shack high in the sacred-to-Native-American-peoplepersons Pocono Mountains to the Hippie Heaven Institute of Love for his semi-sorta-annual visit, feast, and bless-a-thon. Imbushari began his 276th incarnation as Melvin Wigglesworth of New Haven, Connecticut, but reverted to his true Atlantean name after being visited by the Glowing Embrasure of Truth while working at a lighting fixture wholesaler's in Thompsonville. Transfigured by the encounter, The B'dee B'dee began to travel up and down the Connecticut River Valley from Country Buffet to Country Buffet spreading the word on the blissful joys of adequate illumination.

Cute kittens need a home!

Little Nader and Chomsky need love

Our Greasepeace intern, Sunstroke, found these two charmers out back of the Institute of Love in the dried mud barn, huddled underneath the Depleted Broccoli-Powered Tractor that we're using to harvest manure and ripened deer ticks. Nader and Chomsky are both being raised on the Doctor Doughpa macrobiotic low carb/low protein feline diet and already show complete disinterest in mice and just about anything else that moves! More on the use of Depleted Broccoli as an alternative fuel source in an upcoming article!

New HQ, for new leadership

Greasepeace Hippie Heaven Institute of Love

All-natural fibre and honey bee-saliva based structure quickly developed by famed people's eco-bio-engineer R. Fuller Brushminster after he channeled the spirit of chief Egyptian stone-levitator, M'a-Ptop. The late world-genius R. Fuller Brushminster was also the creator of the revolutionary 2.5-wheeled Kar-X and the Brushminster Hemidemispheron Homesical--a ball-shaped, corn-flavored dwelling on a stick which won the 1947 Stalin Prize for poetry.

Mt. Palomine Institute sells blog to faux hippies

(Left to Right) "Sunshine" to "Moonless Night"--the full gamut in descending latitude

Effective at midnight tonight, the Professor Pille Planetary Panopticon blogspot will be turned over to a pack of stoned hippies and be renamed for the hippie organization known as the Green Environmental Ascendant Sapients for Peace or, more popularly, Greasepeace. Harmony, Rainbow, Chastity, Lawncare, Petunia, and Logjam will welcome you to the New Age of Bio-di-cooperation, Auristic Lovefunctioning, and No-thinkumantics. We believe this is a good thing--better for us, better for you.