I must confess to a Discordian strain in my personal cluster of philosophies. (By the way, the link is to the Conservapedia article on Discordianism, because I’m just that fucked up. Although it’s not half bad, actually.) My relationship with it is, I imagine, not much different from that of other Pagans who have encountered it. It’s good fun, and provides an important perspective, but doesn’t exactly constitute the backbone of my spirituality. (That belongs to Flying Spaghetti Monster, because who else is fit to be someone’s backbone than a ball of levitating pasta?)
There are moments when, like hay fever or hemorrhoids, my Discordianism flares up. For instance, when someone gets all worked up over someone leaving a Chick Tract under their windshield. Now, I realize that, technically it’s inappropriate for a FedEx driver, or anyone else in a service profession, to actively proselytize on the job. But anger seems just as inappropriate as a response.
It is my opinion that Chick Tracts are the project of some secret Discordian Cabal (which is really special; most Discordian Cabals can’t keep their fucking mouths shut about their activities to save their nutty little lives) intended to discredit Fundamentalist Christianity in the minds of almost everyone but the people handing them out. I can think of no resource more likely to turn someone away from Fundamentalism than the paranoid ramblings of Jack Chick. They provoke in me not anger or even indignation, but, at their “best” moments, outright uncontrollable laughter.
This is the exact opposite of what the individuals who distribute them (assuming they’re on the level and not part of the Discordian Plot) want. Laughter is far worse than a complaint or a lawsuit. In any case, even if Chick Tracts are not directly related to Operation Mindfuck, they serve the purposes of Our Lady anyway. There is so much Aneristic constipation inherent in one of those little comics that it blows out its own asshole and splatters Eristic glee about the Cosmos. Her ways are mysterious, and a little annoying. Or something.
Frankly, I collect these things. I would only be upset if someone gave me one I already have. Get a bong, some Frank Zappa albums, a pile of Chick Tracts, and some friends together and you have yourself the makings of a fine evening. If you each have your own pipe, you can even make a pot game (like a drinking game) where any time someone mentions “Satan” or “Hell” or the “Whore of Babylon” everyone takes a toke.
In cases of discrimination, harassment, or otherwise making the lives of Pagans truly difficult, I have more sympathy than most seem to these days for the victim. But in the case of Chick Tracts, I cannot see the offense. I would simply silently thank Eris for the laughter, and add it to the pile.
(Incidentally, if anyone has any Chick Tracts they don’t want, I would be happy to take them off your hands. Email me privately at jrfrenchATgmail.com [replacing “AT” of course] for the best place to send them.)