Unfortunately for me I’ll be sequestered with the First Selectman this morning explaining to him why he didn’t get 105% of the vote yesterday. I’ll be back as soon as I get my molten lead immersion bath.
Pray for me.
Tag: First Selectman Cthulhu
Debate in Dunwich – Part 4
BISHOP – Welcome to the third and final 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman. I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and tonight we’re here with Great Old One Hastur and unfortunately none of his opponents was willing to show up for this last debate. Probably this is because he cooked and ate his last opponent, Azathoth at the conclusion of the debate.
HASTUR – Oh boo-hoo. The big mean monster ate one of the other big mean monsters. Grow up little pastry. That is my world. And that is your world too. Look around you and observe how things really work. The big fish eats the little fish. Or bird or cat or man or monster. Everything else is just make believe. The strong survive and the weak go to the wall.
BISHOP – Then what is the point of the weak even trying?
HASTUR – The point is you want to breath that sweet air and feel your blood pulse through your veins for the next minute and the minute after that. You’ll do whatever you can to keep alive. And because the strong aren’t all that strong. If you want something bad enough and work hard enough you can survive. But just remember not to believe the hype. Remember who you are dealing with. Me.
BISHOP – And how are you going to run the show?
HASTUR – I intend to simplify things. I’m gonna get rid of all the make believe. I’m strong enough not to need the divide and conquer stuff. I’ll deal with all of you insects at once. You’ll all get the same deal from me. You do what I say and the game goes on. You get to keep your little lives and hoard your crumbs. But rock the boat and you’ll get my undivided attention. Now that’s pretty fair. You might almost call me a humanitarian. I love all the little people. Especially with tabasco sauce. So don’t rock the boat.
BISHOP – Well folks you heard it here first. Great Old One Hastur has laid out his agenda for his term as First Selectman of Dunwich. And in retrospect it is surprisingly close to the policy that dearly departed First Selectman Cthulhu followed. He tended to eat anyone who forced him to break his routine or questioned his orders. I’m sure we all will adapt easily to this new management. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
HASTUR – Sure. When you think about it, it’s a better deal than you’re getting from Washington. At least I don’t insist that you pretend to like being eaten alive. Honest tyranny is preferable to fake democracy. You don’t have to love Big Brother just stay out of Caesar’s way and live to pull a galley slave’s oar another day. Besides you can dream about a revolt and how you’ll slit the throats of all the masters one day. Doesn’t that sound like fun?
BISHOP – Yes, your excellency. What could be better than that.
HASTUR – That’s the spirit Bishop. You know I’m starting to like you. How would you like to be my emissary to the humans. It doesn’t pay much but if you follow orders, I’ll probably eat you last!
BISHOP – That’s an offer no one could refuse.
HASTUR – Literally.
Debate in Dunwich – Part 3
BISHOP – Welcome to the second 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman. I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and I would introduce my four fellow moderators but they were eaten by candidate Hastur during the first debate. Well, one wasn’t eaten but he started running as soon as the debate ended and by now, he must be somewhere over the Canadian border. I will be running the debate but we have suspended all rules associated with the candidates’ actions out of naked fear of being ingested. So, we expect a lively but chaotic night.
Tonight, our candidates are Hastur and Azathoth also known as the “Blind Idiot God,” but in a positive and non-judgmental way. Seeing as Hastur scares me worst I will open up the debate by turning over the microphone to him.
HASTUR – Very good human, you managed to avoid immediate death. Keep up the good work. Well, Azathoth I see you’ve managed to scrape the cosmic barnacles off your face and show up for this debate. What do you have to say for yourself?
AZATHOTH – Hey, watch that kind of talk. Why in my day young whippersnappers knew enough to only speak when they were spoken to. If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I’ll take you out behind the Crab Nebula and teach you some manners, by gum.
HASTUR – Calm down sleepy Joe. They don’t call you the Blind Idiot God for nothing. If we squared off, you’d be lucky not to poke your own eye out with one of your claws. Now let’s cut to the chase and tell the audience of puny humans what we each hope to achieve as “First Selectman.” For instance, I hope to ban humans from adding artificial sweeteners to their foods and drinks. All of these additives build up in human cells and always give me a headache if I have more than two or three humans at a meal. Especially the female humans with their attempts to lose weight to attract a man.
AZATHOTH – Hey, what do you mean by stereotyping women that way? That’s obviously sexist and it’s fat-shaming too. What are you? Some kind of agent of the patriarchy. Why I oughta haul off and belt you one, you dog-faced pony soldier, you! And why do you assume a woman is trying to attract a man. Are you trying to deny the existence of the LGBTQ?
HASTUR – Okay that’s enough.
(Hastur closes with Azathoth and proceeds to dismember him. First, he snaps off his lobster-like claws and then all of his remaining limbs.)
AZATHOTH – Ahhhhh! Ahhhh! You can’t do that to me. I’m the supreme deity of the Cthulhu Mythos.
HASTUR – Yeah, yeah, yeah. But you also taste really good baked with some dipping butter on the side. So, everyone is invited to join me on the beach tonight for a good old seafood bake. Bring your own bibs and I’ll provide the sides and beer.
BISHOP – Well, there you have it folks. Hastur has taken to our New England customs and cuisine surprisingly quickly for an invading intergalactic demigod from another dimension. And I for one applaud his generosity in hosting this party. But I will not be attending. There was no talk of what the side dishes would be and I don’t wish to tempt fate by ending up as one of them. So, until the next debate this is Uriah Bishop wishing you a good night and nightmare free dreams.
Debate in Dunwich – Part 2
BISHOP – Welcome to the first 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman. I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and along with my four fellow moderators I will be running the debate and handling the time clock and microphones. We randomly selected the two contestants for tonight’s debate. They are two of the former First Selectman’s closest relatives; his daughter Cthylla and his half-brother Hastur.
Before we get started I will just explain the rules of the debate. Each candidate will be given two minutes to answer a question. If the candidate exceeds that time he will have his microphone shut off and will be penalized a minute for the first offense and two minutes for his second offense. On the third offense he will lose all right to answer questions.
(At this point Hastur moved toward the moderators’ dais and ate one of the officials.)
HASTUR – Now I will explain my rules. Every time you say something annoying, I will eat some of you. First offense I will eat one of you, as I just did. Second offense two of you. On the third offense I’ll eat all the rest of the moderators and probably most of the spectators.
BISHOP – Those are very convincing rules. Can I start the questioning?
HASTUR – Certainly, my little dumpling.
BISHOP – Thank you your titanic excellency. Cthylla, if you are elected First Selectman, what will be your first official act?
CTHYLLA – That’s easy. I will change the job title to First Select Person! We’re in the twentieth century here and this patriarchal sexism will be laid to rest! And after that I intend to change the pronunciation of Dunwich so that you can hear the w. I will enact a law that anyone pronouncing it “Dunitch” will be fined a hundred dollars. Oh, and I intend to make rooftop solar panels and electric cars mandatory. And …
HASTUR – Alright, that’s enough. Listen you empty-headed boob. Why should a Great Old One care what humans name their bureaucrats? Or how they pronounce their absurd place names. Basically, they’re cattle for us to herd and then devour. And as for this stupid “election,” I’m doing this for fun. If these insignificant maggots vote for anyone but me, I’ll flatten half of Dunwich as an object lesson and start eating a dozen of them daily until they come to me, en masse, and beg me to be their “First Selectman.”
CTHYLLA – Hastur, you can’t talk to me that way. In the words of my favorite philosopher, my future as the leader of Dunwich is unburdened by what has been.
BOTH FEMALE MODERATOR – You go girl!
(Hastur, once again, ambles over to the Moderators’ dais and eats both female moderators.)
HASTUR – That’s two strikes.
BISHOP – Well, I think this concludes the question period of this debate. I think we’ll proceed to closing arguments and I will ask Hastur to go first.
HASTUR – Cthylla you are a brainless nincompoop. How my brother ever spawned anything as vacuous as you is inexplicable. I recommend you spend your time trying to memorize which are your right and left legs and leave running the known universe to beings with the ruthlessness and intelligence needed to succeed. If you are any indication of what the next generation of Great Old Ones is like then I shudder to think how we will conquer the giant Martian Beetle Men a billion years from now after I retire to R’lyeh.
BISHOP – Well, I think we should end here. Although both candidates have spoken passionately, I think it’s fair to say that Hastur has driven home his argument, uh, viscerally. And for that reason he will advance to the next debate when his opponent will be the Azathoth or as he is sometimes known the “Blind Idiot God.”
HASTUR – I like to call him “Sleepy Joe.”
BISHOP – Well said, well said. Unfortunately, I will not be moderating at that debate due to a schedule conflict that is unavoidable.
HASTUR – You better avoid it or you’ll have an appointment with my alimentary canal.
BISHOP – I’ve just remembered a cancellation. I’ll be there of course.
Debate in Dunwich – Part 1
With the death of First Selectman Cthulhu a power vacuum has formed. But not a metaphorical one. The disappearance of Cthulhu has caused an actual rip in the fabric of space-time and various Great Old Ones and their allies and servants have been sucked into our space-time and hurled down to Dunwich.
Sighted so far are:
- Hastur; the polypous, ravenous floating mass endowed with tentacles, drills, and suckers, or more frequently, as the King in Yellow, a humanoid being wearing tattered, yellow clothes and a mask hiding the face. He is said to be Cthulhu’s (half-)brother.
- Idh-yaa; A gigantic, pale, worm-like horror dwelling beneath the crust of the star Xoth. She has been Cthulhu’s first bride, and with him spawned three sons—Ghatanothoa, Ythogtha, and Zoth-Ommog—and a younger daughter, Cthylla.
- Yog-Sothoth; The “All-in-One and One-in-All”, co-rules with Azathoth and exists as the incarnation of time in the cosmos, yet is somehow locked outside the mundane universe.
- Shub-Niggurath; The “Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young”
- Nyarlathotep; The “Crawling Chaos”, is the avatar of the Outer Gods, existing as the incarnation of space and functions as an intermediary between the deities of the pantheon and their cults.
- Azathoth; Sometimes referred to as the “Blind Idiot God”, is a dreaming monster who rules the Outer Gods, created them (along with many other worlds) and thus effectively serves as the supreme deity of the Cthulhu Mythos.
With these Great Old Ones wishing to succeed Cthulhu as the leader of storied Dunwich, these demonic beings have each filled out the necessary paperwork and paid the fees to be placed on the November ballot for the office of First Selectman of Dunwich. The Town Clerk has posted the ballot in the Dunwich Complainer and a series of debates will take place. But not in the Town Hall as is typical but rather in an open field on Sentinel Hill where the larger Great Old Ones can more easily fit.
Due to the short window for campaigning there was not sufficient time for any of the candidates to obtain the endorsement of either of the two major parties but since the Democrats are rightly considered the sowers of chaos, any monstrous entity would more or less qualify as a Democrat candidate.
When contacted by the Complainer, only Hastur made himself available for comment. The polypous, ravenous floating mass endowed with tentacles morphed into his King in Yellow, humanoid wearing tattered, yellow clothes and mask hiding his face form. But before speaking he morphed into a very Trump-like monster. He was quoted as saying, “These debates will be the greatest debates and all these other Great Old Ones will be shown to be not very great. In fact, except for me they will all be terrible. They will all be like Sleepy Joe Biden; very confused and very stupid. Especially Azathoth who really is the “Blind Idiot God.” But he’s not really blind. He’s just pretending to be blind for the sympathy. Very sad. By the end of the debate all of them will drop out and I will be first Selectman. This I guarantee.”
We at the Dunwich Complainer will follow this race diligently and will shamelessly favor whichever candidate pays us the most advertising revenue. Stay tuned for this titanic struggle. Winner take Dunwich.
And with Strange Aeons Even Death May Die
“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.
In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”
“That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die.”
After yesterday’s post I received several communications from readers outraged at the manner in which such a venerable and iconic entity as the First Selectman could be allowed to leave this continuum. Many simply refused to believe the facts such as they are and hang onto hope that Cthulhu lives. As the quotes above attest there is a tradition that Cthulhu can remain inert for literally billions of years and still reanimate and wreak a terrible vengeance on mankind when the stars align just right (or just wrong).
Well, I will not speculate at this point on the Great Old One’s chances of resuscitation. As Hamlet very cleverly noted, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” And if we add to heaven and earth the depths of hell, then we begin to list the span of infinities where knowledge of the First Selectman can be hiding. And since I already miss the old villain a little bit, I’ll keep an open mind as to his chances of reintegration. Let’s leave it there for now.
I have finally completed the herculean task to which I was yoked. My spirit, such as it is, has rebounded measurably and I look around me to see the state of life in the here and now. I note the same stale prattle about polls and bickering with the names Trump, Harris, Vance and Walz attached. Frankly all of this is too tedious to even consider. Let all of that stew for a while.
The summer wanes and school children are already frozen with existential dread at the approach of Labor Day. But, this time of year is not without its charms. I was forced to rise hideously early Tuesday morning and so I was out and about before 4:00 am when I happened to look up at the sky and was struck by the brightness of the stars and planets and their inspiring beauty. If I had not been on an unavoidable mission, I might have stood there for a quarter hour and marveled at this arresting vision. At that moment I was reminded of this aspect of reality and how these incomprehensible phenomena we call stars can be both the source of our lives and these beautiful beacons that light up the night sky that we so rarely bother to view. So out of the most tedious and soul-crushing activities it is possible to experience a moment of primal joy and wonder.
But now I’ll spend a day or two catching up with my various duties. Bear with me as I take up again the reins of my daily routine and restore order to my life. I must write and trim some posts and schedule them and I must read up on any “news” I might have missed and try to draw inspiration from my surroundings and the important things that need to be said and done.
So good morning!
31JUL2024 – The Curse Has Come upon Me. Well Pretty Soon Anyway.
A terrible fate is creeping up on me. Periodically, First Selectman Cthulhu has to have his external parasites burned off by soaking in a lake-sized vat of boiling sulfuric acid. It’s uneventful but a very long process that requires someone to supervise. From next Monday until the Wednesday of the following week I will be in a form of purgatory. Isolated from the site and forced to endure almost unimaginable tedium I shall not be able to write my posts under my normal conditions. Whatever output I produce will be stilted, uninspired and generated in a state of exhaustion and mental duress. Come to think of it, you may not notice the difference at all. But undoubtedly, the word count will go way down. I should be able to load up the Pictures of the Day and the Quotes of the Day this weekend. But beyond that everything will be hit and miss.
Like some kind of latter-day Prometheus bound with cruel spikes driven through my immortal flesh into the adamantine stone beneath and with a cruel eagle constantly devouring my ever-regenerating liver, I will endure all this uncomplainingly knowing that I do it for the good of all mankind, or at least for the good of the MAGA Republicans. Maybe Trump can visit me on my mountain crag and speak words of encouragement and snide insults at the eagle. If he has the time.
If any of you have any content that you want posted feel free to e-mail it to me and I’ll make sure to publish it as a way to keep the readers happy. When the time of my internment is through, I shall return renewed and rededicated to the proposition that all internet links are created unequal. That they are endowed by their content creators with varying quality based on the qualities of these creators themselves and on how hard they are willing to work to make the content entertaining.
As the hours slowly pass during my captivity I’ll try to imagine what it will be like when President Kamala Harris is the commander in chief of this formerly great nation. I imagine how she will take the rostrum in the House of Representatives and give the State of the Union address and we’ll all applaud as she describes the glories of her electric yellow school bus bill. This bill will require the confiscation of all private, gasoline powered automobiles and mandate the use of buses for all travel. With a $40 trillion dollar price tag it will be the boldest and most expensive bill ever passed and it will certainly convert us into a banana republic in the image of Venezuela.
I was just listening to Trump at one of his rallies riffing on what a loser Kamala Harris is. It was funny. I guess I’ve missed his rally patter. It really is quite hilarious the way he describes her failure as “border czar” and her statements on defunding the police during the Summer of Floyd. And his equally harsh mockery of Biden is quite amusing. I think Trump is wise to highlight the fact that Kamala kept Joe Biden’s condition as a secret from the country. That is indeed a damning accusation against someone trying to gain the trust of the country while running for the office of president.
Today is the last day of July and I consider it the end of New England Summer. I’ve read that measurable snowfall has been recorded in every month of the year except for July in southern New England. If that is so then August is early winter. I have already begun preparing for it. I’ll begin prepping the snowblower and break out the snow shovels. I may wait a few weeks before wearing thermal underwear but it’s almost time. Turkey deep fried on the barbecue for Labor Day? We’ll see.