We are a cabal. There are dozens of us.
The Sour Cream & Onion Cabal is a cabal of the Discordian Society — which is to say a disorganization with no leaders, no dues, no meetings we can confirm, and one (1) shared flavor preference of cosmic importance.
Founded the instant the bag was opened.
The Discordian Society was (re)founded in a bowling alley in the late 1950s when two young men received a vision of a chimpanzee and decided the universe was a joke worth being in on. We are their snack-fixated descendants.
We worship Eris. We hold that Sour Cream & Onion is Her clearest earthly signal. We meet every Prickle-Prickle, except when we don't, which is most of them — because, as every Discordian knows, we must stick apart.
Five founders. Possibly fictional. Definitely seasoned.
Malaclypse the Crunchier
Received the flavor in a dream and a vending machine, simultaneously.
Lord Omar Onionhurst
Authored the lost Snackronomicon on the inside of a bag.
Saint Chivria
Wept for forty days. It was the onions. It is always the onions.
The Anonymous Pope
That's you. Welcome. You've been a founder this whole time.
Spreading delicious confusion since whenever.
Like the Discordians' Operation Mindfuck before it, Operation Onion has one goal: to leave the world a little weirder and a little tastier than we found it. We do this by handing out Popehoods, taking snacks too seriously, and asking the question no church dares ask — why do you eat your chips like that?