In 1972 Kurt Vonnegut wrote a short story about the end of the world. It was set in 1989 because back in the early 70′s it was correctly assumed that the earth had maybe 10-15 good years left in her before the downward spiral began from healthy ecosystem to frozen wasteland silently hovering in the vacuum of space. In this story, The United States launches 800 pounds of freeze dried “jizzum” to the furthest reaches of the universe in the hopes of somehow propagating the species and continuing the legacy of humanity long after life on earth has drowned in a vast sea of disposable cell phones.
Naturally this story was called, “The Big Space Fuck”.
That may sound like a stupid juvenile joke if it weren’t for two very important facts:
VERY IMPORTANT FACT 1.
Real scientists actually talk about stuff like this and they even have a name for it. They call it, “Panspermia” which would also be an awesome name for a 1970′s concept rock and roll double album about a distant mythical land inhabited by dwarves and magic goat people, but I digress.
VERY IMPORTANT FACT 2.
NASA was actually founded by a satanic sex cult who worships “Pan” the Greek god of fertility, so a “big space fuck” might not be as far fetched as you think.
I swear I am not making this up. Bare with me here… I will try to be brief.
Before there was NASA, there was JPL (Jet Propulsion Laboratory). JPL was co-founded by a man named, Jack Parsons. Jack Parsons was known for two things: his genius level intellect in all things chemistry and his penchant for throwing late night freaky sex parties at his home with an eccentric group of artists and occultists who were attempting to conjure up the antichrist and take over the world.
Jack Parsons holding something presumably highly explosive and filled with the same petroleum jellies holding up his gravity defying hair.
The chemistry thing didn’t work out too well for him. He blew himself up in his garage one day after deciding it might be a good idea to mix jet fuel with his bare hands. The jury is still out on whether or not he was successful with the whole “conjuring up the antichrist” thing though.
Parsons got this whole “let’s summon the antichrist” idea from none other than Aleister Crowley. Apparently, he had read some of Crowley’s books somewhere along the line -perhaps while waiting to have a cavity filled at the dentist or something and as a result, he struck up a rather prolific correspondence with “The Wickedest Man in The World”. In fact, before each test launch at JPL Parsons would chant Crowley’s hym to the Greek god Pan for good luck -which surprisingly, never seemed to come up in conversation over the water cooler at JPL headquarters the next day.
Crowley was impressed by Parson’s intellect. Mostly, because it earned him a sizable sum of money and Crowley just happened to be a few dollars shy of some new shoes -so… one thing led to another and before you know it, Parsons is an official initiate into Crowley’s freaky sex cult The Ordo Templi Orientis and a sanctioned “Master” of the first official O.T.O. Lodge in the United States.
Aleister “Totally Not Batshit Crazy” Crowley
Of course, you can’t attempt to raise the antichrist while developing top secret powerful explosives and rocket fuel for the government without attracting a few nutjobs. Which is why it should be no surprise that none other than future Dianetics author and founder of Scientology, L. Ron Hubbard wandered into Parsons life right around this time.
I swear, I am still not making any of this up.
… anyway, long story short -Parsons finally puts together the perfect recipe for conjuring up the antichrist based on rituals prescribed by Aleister Crowley and Hubbard thinks this whole raising the antichrist thing sounds pretty cool, so he agrees to act as Parsons’ scribe and official historian for this momentous event.
At this point, I feel I should take a moment to explain that much of this O.T.O. “magick” stuff is based on very old beliefs… beliefs deeply rooted in the mysteries of life and the generative powers of sex and copulation. At least, these things were mysteries back before things like birth control and sixth grade sex education classes, but you get the point. I mention this, in an attempt to ease the blow of your head exploding when I tell you that the ritual performed by Parsons and Hubbard specifically involved “charging a talisman” so that it may be used for magickal purposes and of course, by “charging” I mean masturbating furiously before jizzing all over that item so that you may somehow bring about the antichrist with what basically amounts to a crusty jizz sock.
Remember folks, we are talking about one of the greatest pioneering minds of the United States space program and the guy who founded Scientology -that pseudo-religion for rich dummies.
Ron “Don’t Hate The Player” Hubbard
So what happened? Well, you may be surprised to learn that absolutely nothing happened. That is, nothing aside from L. Ron suddenly finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with his BFF after not only witnessing, but fastidiously documenting what was probably one of the most epic marathon masturbation sessions in human history.
Of course Parsons on the other hand, declared the whole thing a tremendous success -which means either he has very bizarre ideas about what exactly it means to conjure up the antichrist or he was just seriously fucking with L. Ron the whole time. Either way, from this point forward I shall always refer to masturbation as, “Conjuring Up The Antichrist”.
Anyway, once you’ve taken your bro relationship to the “mutual masturbation while attempting to summon the antichrist” level -there’s really no place else to go. No place that is, except the Florida keys -which is exactly what L. Ron did after stealing Jack’s woman, boat and life savings. I guess once this summoning the antichrist and taking over the world via masturbation thing didn’t work out, L. Ron decided to take matters into his own hands… and by “matters” I mean, not his penis for once.
At this point, you might be thinking that Jack Parsons’ magick was a little on the weak side… either that, or L. Ron Hubbard actually was the antichrist -which is also a distinct possibility. But consider this, my nay saying friends: when Parsons learned his former masturbatory historian and ex-girlfriend were heading for international waters in his ex-boat, he summoned “Bartzabel” -“an intelligence presiding over the astrological forces associated with the planet Mars” because that’s exactly what you do in these types of situations and lo and behold a mysterious typhoon came down from the heavens, forcing Hubbard to turn back into the waiting arms of the coast guard who detained him long enough to settle the matter with Parsons.
Once again, I would like to point out that I am not making any of this up.
Sadly for Jack though, the antichrist never did arrive -no matter how furiously he masturbated into a magickal sock. Or at least if he has shown up, he has been extremely low key about the whole thing. In any case, Jack blew himself up on June 17th, 1952 -presumably during a magickal masturbation session gone horribly wrong.
Meanwhile, L. Ron discovered that if you stayed on a boat in international waters, you didn’t have to worry about pesky little things like paying taxes or being raided by the DEA which is pretty ideal when you are turning your drug induced fever dreams into a religious front used to generate funds for your massive drug habit. Which is how we wound up with Hubbard’s legacy, Scientology.
Parson’s legacy was cemented six years after his death, when NASA was formed -based in no small part on JPL (which still exists to this day) and the research that Jack had done while perfecting solid fuel propulsion systems and ritualized masturbation techniques.
But that’s not the end of this story.
… now that you know the real history behind NASA and The United States space program, I will leave you with this:
In 2009, the United States government launched a missile into space carrying a payload so top secret not one single government agency is willing to take ownership of it. It is officially an unowned unknown cargo hurtling through space for unknown purposes. In fact, the mission patch prominently features a murky question mark buried in a rocket’s exhaust just in case you were unclear on the ambiguity of the whole thing.
This cargo is officially referred to by NASA as, “PAN”. Supposedly, this stands for, “Palladium at Night” whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. But many people familiar with top secret missions of this sort have joked that PAN might actually stand for, “Pick Any Name” considering the official explanation of the acronym is basically meaningless. In fact some people claim PAN isn’t an acronym at all, but simply a direct reference to Pan the Greek god of fertility.
Now… I’m not saying that unowned, unknown cargo in the tip of that satellite named after the Greek god of fertility and launched by a satanic sex cult is 800 pounds of freeze dried “jizzum” sent to fertilize the cosmos with our demon seed and perhaps even bring about the antichrist, but I’m not saying it’s not that either.
After all, you and I both know stranger things have happened.
