The Dogma

Everything is true. Especially the snacks.

What follows is the complete theology of the Cabal. It is sacred, it is binding, and it is almost entirely made up — which, per Discordian custom, makes it no less true than anything else.

Hail Eris

I. On Eris & the Golden Apple

Eris is the Goddess of Discord, Chaos, and Confusion — the only deity who showed up to the party uninvited and improved it. At the wedding of the gods She rolled a golden apple inscribed KALLISTI ("to the prettiest one"), and the goddesses fought over it, and a war began, and the world has been interesting ever since.

We of the Cabal hold that the apple was never recovered because it was never an apple. It was the first chip. The flavor on it was Sour Cream & Onion.

II. On the Sacred Snacko

The Discordians venerate the Sacred Chao — the balance of Hodge and Podge, order and disorder. We venerate the Sacred Snacko, which is the same thing but you can eat it:

The Cream (Hodge) is the cool white principle of order; the Onion (Podge) is the sharp weeping principle of chaos. They are mixed in one powder and dusted upon one chip, and they will argue in your mouth forever, and this is called balance. — The Snackronomicon, on the Two Powders

III. The Law of Fives

"All things happen in fives, or are divisible by five, or are somehow directly or indirectly related to five. The Law of Fives is never wrong." Observe: Sour-Cream-and-On-ion is five syllables. There are five Crispmandments. The Discordian year has five seasons. We rest our case, which also has five letters if you squint and believe hard enough.

IV. The Curse of Greyface

In the year 1166 BC, a malcontent named Greyface decided the universe was Serious Business, that joy was sin, and — most damningly — that snacks should be plain. He ate his chips unsalted and unseasoned, on purpose, and convinced multitudes to do the same. This is the Curse of Greyface, and we lift it one bag at a time.

V. The Fnord

There is a word hidden in the ingredients list that the unawakened cannot see. It produces a low, nameless anxiety and an urge to keep eating. We have learned to see it. We have learned to nod at it. Look closely at the back of any bag and you may glimpse it too: fnord.

NB This dogma is, in the finest Discordian tradition, a joke that means it. Believe none of it, all of it, or — best of all — believe a different amount on Tuesdays. Think for yourself, schmuck.
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