Page Five Ghouls – December 16th, 2017

Due to a catastrophic error in the calibration of the narrative pacing, SEG is forced to present an archival holiday edition of Page Five Ghoul from the controversial, never published, secret ‘first issue’ of SEG, which would have went live on Dec 24th, 2016. However, the launch was delayed two weeks following the eleventh hour ouster of Chip Globus, original EIC of SEG.

Jólakötturinn

Fuckin’ dude is making me work on Christmas Eve. Technically, I had all week to write this shit, but Gary Llewellyn doesn’t start work until a few hours before the deadline and the deadline is on Christmas Eve. Ergo, I have to work on Christmas Eve.

I see those holes in your drawers

Speaking of Christmas, it’s the time of year when our thoughts turn to the children. Particularly what kind of batshit crazy lies we can tell them to make them behave. When they’re young and dumb as a bricks, you start with a wondrous, magical reward system. ‘Don’t start shit and you’ll get good shit’ or as we dress it up here in the corpulent west, Santa Claus. As children get older, hopefully, they start to smart up a bit.  And when they smart up, the Santa schtick loses its effectiveness. You have to escalate to ‘Don’t start shit and there won’t be no shit.’ Enter Krampus, Hans Trapp, Gryla etc. Now at this point, if you’re a real dick, you turn up the knob to ‘You better do this shit, or there will be some shit.’ That’s where this week’s monster comes in: Jólakötturinn, The Yule Cat.

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Straight From The Fridge December 2017

Hello wisdom-teers. Where did 2017 go? I have been busy writing books, innovating the advice column industry, becoming a webmaster, establishing a Twitter initiative, and still finding time to meet with my paying clients.

I thought we’d take a look back on the journey we’ve shared together. Let us start at the beginning in order to avoid confusing yourself:

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Page Five Ghouls December 9, 2017

Time In a Bottle

Byline: Gary the Infinite
Dateline: Everywhen

Oh hai, y’all. It is Gary. And when I say ‘is’ I mean ‘is’. Cuz I is as ‘is’ as one can be. This place is tits! Tomorrow? Yesterday? Who cares? It’s all right here. Or over there. I can see off in the distance me chewing out Mort for making me work with Morgan’s granddaughter. I didn’t trust her. Didn’t? Don’t? Doesn’t matter. Because if I move over here, we make quite the team. There’s Alwyn. There’s a hack life coach over there who just got 700 bot followers on Twitter. I wonder if he knows they’re all Russians. Well over there by that big old fuck off rock, he figures it out. Heh heh, jerk. Holy shit! Merwin? Merwin comes here. He’s talking to a lost dog and a disgruntled cockatoo. Stay out of my crisper drawer, you little shit. I don’t think he heard me. Too far away. Wait, Alwyn? Looks like he’s crying. Haha, pussy. Is that past of future? See, now it matters. If over there is me and Steph in Oberon’s cage, then this must be the future? The present? He’s looking at a picture of Stephanie as a little girl, big grin as she sits beside the Christmas tree proudly holding up a gift from her favorite grandfather. It’s a book. The Necronomicon? And not the Cthulhu mythos goof one. The real deal. Once a sick bastard, Alwyn, always a sick bastard. What does a four-year-old need with the Necronomicon? Unless he wanted her to continue the ‘family business’? Did she actually read the damned thing? Maybe she should. Read the fucking book, Steph.

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Page Five Ghouls – December 2nd, 2017

All I Have To Do Is Dream

 

Byline: Gary Llewellyn

Dateline: December 2nd, 2017

Did you ever see that Twilight Zone where these people wake up two hours ahead of their timeline and all these blue dudes are putting together reality and getting things ready for two hours from now? Or maybe the Langoliers, except the opposite, where the chainsaw monsters are building the future instead of eating the past. Actually, thinking of this as a past/future thing is all wrong. How about comic books? You like comic books. Put these things together and you have The Dreamtime. The Dreamtime is what a bunch of white people decided the call the aboriginal Australian concept of the ‘everywhen’, a place outside of time where ancestors who sounded like superheroes assembled reality itself. To even have conjugated the verb ‘assemble’ in the past tense is already cocking up the idea. There is no past or present, there is everywhen. Where everything that is known or will be known is thrown together at once. A westerner is going have a hard time with the concept of everywhen. Our language demands verbs conform to time frames like past, present, and future. Certain aboriginal groups in Australia and perhaps elsewhere don’t screw around with past and future. Some don’t even have words for yesterday and tomorrow. Language affects the way you think and process the world around you.

To truly understand Dreamtime, I’m going to have to poke my head in it for a bit. To do that I’m going to inhale copious amounts of combusted DMT. Usually, what happens when you smoke DMT, is you take a drag or two and then drift off onto the factory floor of the self-replicating machine elves. You’re physically incapacitated, so those one or two drags are all you’re going to be able to get off. To get around this I’ve modified a hyperbaric chamber to constantly pump in DMT smoke. I’m not sure how I wound up with a hyperbaric chamber, I just woke up inside it after blacking out for three days. Stephanie thinks the idea is idiotic and refuses to help. She has a point, but I think idiotic is where we’re at, right now. Since Steph has checked out on this idea, I recruited three of her kobolds to assist me in this procedure. It wasn’t difficult to convince them. I think they would like to see me dead or, at least, incapacitated.

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Stellar Forecast With Stella December 2017

Dear Ones,
It’s December! Winter is in full bloom as the sun is going to bed earlier and earlier on account of a recent relapse that may or may not have involved smoking some crack with the rats who live by the shed.

Anyway, it’s a big month astrologically speaking. The suns moves out of one sign and into another AND there’s a solstice. The Winter one. Don’t forget to turn your heater on, all cats are going to be cold until March.

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