And you know this how? An Interview with Kooklerkorker Kassidy
Created | Updated Dec 23, 2003
And you know this how? An Interview with Kooklerkorker Kassidy
In the anals of modern counter-retro-culture there are few milestones that haven't been kicked over by the man we are about to hear from now:
Dr. Ian P. Blurd, Professor of Alternative Pallbearing at the Mungo Institute of Undertaking, Flees Road, Bisquing, Upper Trout.
But that is not the name by which most who would have heard of him would have heard of him by.
He is most notably known in the media and the leftia by the title of Kooklerkorker Kassidy,
the High Priest of the Reformed Ancient Order of Gnotamousewas, Eastern Division, Guru's Auxiliary, Tea Carts and Table Clothes.
This morning, the esteemed directors of this on-again, off-again radio network, IPR, YFITA
(we've forgotten what that means, could anyone who remembers drop us a line, with a five pound note entry fee?)
have chosen the inestimable discontinuity announcer for the Babies Channel of Pennsylvania Public Broadcasting,
Mr. Sinclair St. Clair, to perform the necessary with the gentleman in question.
The interview is being held at the principal shrine of the Reformed Ancient Order of the Gnotamousewas, Easter Division,
the Bog and Bowl in Rumpedly, Upper Trout.
And we're buying.
M.S.S.:
Hick! Good evening, All! This is a most momentous moment for me, as I have been hearing of this gentleman's exploits since I was a boy.
K.K.:
Wotchit, now. That there cider will get to yer brain and make you think you turn your eyebalds inward and see the back of yer own skull. Which is rubbish. Yer brain is in der way! Mine's kinda on the purple side, with little green spots that throb just before ye go to experience the techinicolour yawn. Kinda like that peyote experience me wife had during the spinster party night before we married. I wondered why she kissed my buttonyear...
M.S.S.:
Shall we discuss your professional capacity or go straight to your alter ego?
K.K.:
(beellllchchch)
I think Ise be approaching my official capacity real smart like.
Altar Eagle?
Who told you about our sacred rites? Whose bin tokking?
M.S.S.:
Sir, sir. 'Alter Ego', your other personality.
K.K.:
The one wit the dress or the one wit'out? Again, whose bin tokking?
Only the Inner Equilateral Buckyball at the twice-a-month Cabal are supposed to know about that!
'Ere, now, you bin spying about about me?
M.S.S.:
No, Sir. Um, Sir? Put that butterknife away. You could get three years of Public Service...
K.K.:
Quick, then, you take it! Nothing is worth that!
I stood for the Quizzing Party in Nether Thong twice and... well, never again, I tell you!
M.S.S.:
Now, tell me about the Reformed Ancient Order of Gnotamousewas.
K.K.:
Where did you hear about that?
M.S.S.:
You have been promulgating...
K.K.:
No, I haven't! That was settled long ago and the geese are living comfortably at a Poor Clares Shelter in Belgium.
M.S.S.:
No, Sir, you misapprehend me!
K.K.:
I did not! I didn't even touch you! Besides, you've got the knife, now!
M.S.S.:
Oh, be quiet! Here, have another lemon stout.
K.K.:
This would go nice with a braised marmoset sandwich.
M.S.S.:
Ick! Anyway, your, um, faith, is it? It's been around for how long?
K.K.:
Ahhhh! (urp) The current cycle of sycophants dates way back to October, 1965, during the great schism.
M.S.S.:
The great schism?
K.K.:
Yes, that's what I said. The great schism.
M.S.S.:
The great schism of what?
K.K.:
The great schism of isms, you twit! There was a convocation of conclaves and covens and convents in Sperling Downs in October of 1965.
It was decided that there wasn't enough ancient traditions to go around, to keep all the enthusiasts and reenactors happy without making a great mob of it, so a few of the more literate of us borrowed some typewriters, stole some library books and settled down for a fortnite and a half to create some legends and some cults to wrap around them.
We had to keep an eye on the showmanship possibilities of the rites and the t-shirt and costume sales potential.
M.S.S.:
So, it was made up out of whole cloth?
K.K.:
What was?
M.S.S.:
This cult of yours, The Reformed Ancient Order of Gnotamousewas.
K.K.:
Well, not as such. We took a bit from here and a bit from there and trimmed the edges and stood back and took a fresh look in the morning.
We combined some of the best elements of some of the best traditions. That's why we have our Major Deity being born of a Verger in a Sweat Lodge during a Full Moon, while Three Wise Blacksmiths sang tediously.
M.S.S.:
And this doesn't seem a teeny bit sacriligious or demeaning toward the respective faiths that these were stolen from?
K.K.:
Oh, no. I have it on good authority that most of the modern established religions did a bit of picking and choosing in the rites that came before them.
You'd have to go back to Sumeria or Ur or summit like that before you found any originality. I mean, everybody does it. Why shouldn't we?
M.S.S.:
Are you registered as a non-profit charity?
K.K.:
Lord! Why should we be? Look at the administrative costs alone! No, we're listed as a Limited Incorporation under the laws of the Isle of Wight. We have stockholders and meetings and lawyers and everything.
M.S.S.:
So, what are the beliefs of your patchwork cult?
K.K.:
To entertain, to amaze, and to sell t-shirts.
M.S.S.:
That's it? You've been blazing around making lawsuits defending the people's right to freedom of religion for thirty odd years so that you can sell t-shirts?
K.K.:
Beats them Druidish sods, them boyos with the sheets and all, hanging around Stone Henge, pretending they know something about a culture that did a very good job of keeping it's mouth shut!
We couldn't steal anything from them ancients. Nobody knows enough to even guess!
M.S.S.:
T-shirts!
K.K.:
Well, we do sell jars of the True Moss, also. There is a catalog that some of the girls put about that sells recipe books and manuals for weaving dreamslingers...
M.S.S.:
And what might they be?
K.K.:
So, if you run into some bloke with a dreamcatcher, you can play...
M.S.S.:
That's it! I'm outta here. I've had it up to here. Bye, have a nice life.
K.K.:
What? No! I'm not done! I haven't told you about the Summer Camps where we teach underpriviledged inner city children how to pick pockets and return the wallets!
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