When Pope Paul excommunicated Saint Christopher - who happens to be the Patron Saint of Surfers - for what seems to us like the rather negligable fault of never existing, the Discordian Society adopted him, along with Saint Patrick (discharged for the same reason at the same time).

Already an experienced beach bum, with many years on the sands of Florida's Sun Coast, I think I might very well spend the twilight years of my life in the holy land of California mastering the graceful art of riding a surfboard. When I am ready to take on disciples, you can probably find me somewhere along the stretch between Venice and San Diego, praying to Eris for surf. But joining me will entail sacrafices because a Discordian surfer will be prohibited from owning anything but a surfboard, trunks, a toothbrush, a beach towel and an automobile (maybe a hot rod or dune buggy). Because surfing is not just a sport; it's a lifestyle. And Discordianism is not just a religion; it is a mental illness.

Should you arrive too late, during the first many years of my next lifetime I shall be found in the Simon Bolivar School for Boys of the Discordian Convent of San Medellin, Ciudad de Sandoz, Columbia - where instead of beating pupils for misconduct, the nuns give them blow jobs and then threaten delinquents with a termination of favors. (At least that's what Discordian San Juan Batista, Keeper of the Seven Veils, tells us.)

But enough of this vocational planning.

If the Discordian Society is to become the world's next great cargo cult it will be due to the efforts of the bewildering array of subdisorganizations which make up our internal structure, fashioned from the original blueprint for the Manhatten Beach Pier House of Mirrors. Not only have we nunneries, but recognized and accepted heresies, powerful lobbies complete with popcorn concessions and everything from progressive belaboring unions to square sewing circles. Many are mentioned in the Principia proper and I don't think it proper to repeatedly engage in repetitive repitition by repeating things repeated later on because I hate redundancy.

But there are also some new ones, such as the Ignorant Rescue Mission with its rousing slogans: "Rescue the ignorant! Save the dead! Cast out lepers!" (Members dress in old band or military brass-button jackets and help attractive females get adequate sex.)

There are also the Brunswick Shriners, Moral Regurgitation, Citizens against Infant Sexuality, the Crack House Integration of the Black Lotus Society, the Misplaced Bolivian Wild Animal Relocation Fund, the Laurel Foundation for the Recognition of Unique Achievement, the Gould Charitable Trust for Dynamic Population Control, the Patrio-Psychotic Anarcho- Materialism Study Group and the Sovereign State of Confusion.