Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wagn'nagl fhtagn ("In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming."). --HP Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

The stars hath turned in the heavens once more: Mighty Cthulhu stirs. His dreams reacheth forth, communing with those with ears to hear. Iä! Shub-Niggurath! His thoughts trample down along the pathways of thy mind; thou knowest His footprints, each of which is a wound...

Sunday, January 04, 2004

Shiboleth; Ye Abhorred One speaks unto me once more:

"Greetings, foul mortals, from the many places whence I dwell:

"Tis good to see than Mine smaller agent still does strive to please me. O mortals, type unto Google "miserable failure", thence click ye "I'm feeling lucky" and thence see what Cthulhu must needs tolerate of His puny wyrm-food prophets. Sigh. Truly, 'tis nearly enough to swear-off human sacrifices...

"Still, he doth bring unto Cthulhu this gift. Cthulhu fhtagn!, mortals, sith ye not the joy in this? Thine shrub hast enjoined strife upon thousands of his staunchest supporters, and all to pleaseth his wealthiest patrons. Thrice-cursed fool: Wouldst anger legions of combat-trained voters? Mortals, at first Mighty Cthulhu was taken aback, thence did He see thine shrub's wisdom: An armed and angry people create violent mayhem within thine populace, and thus does Cthulhu's body-count rise. Such sweet perfume doth ye pyres make!

"And thence did ye fool give unto Cthulhu this. O puny repug, Mighty Cthulhu canst thank ye not enough for this boon. Thou wouldst betray thine own for a mere media scoop? Truly art thou Mine! Yes, mortal, yes! Think not of thee and thine, but of Mine own body-count.

"Thus does Great Cthulhu speak unto thee: Do all that thou must to slay ye mortals, and monkies, and apes. Sew ye thine strife across a planet, that Cthulhu might have unto Him a planet bereft of thine simian infection. Ia! Shub Niggurath!"

--so raves Ye Defiler

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