He could overcome the cold
Cold poems of information exposing seeds of far-off higher planes,
Cold barren voids that could secure distant dimensions,
Cold forbidden structures of space serve to make formal properties metabolized by methodological mistakes.
Cold suggestions that your self may need to laugh, doubting the solidity of the face.
It’s a secular humanism marked by Hermes Trismegistus’ coldness.
🍏🌀 DISCORDIAN PROPHECY #C-23: THE REFRIGERATOR GOSPEL 🌀🍏
> As dictated by a malfunctioning vending machine to a saint made of static.
Hear now the Sacred Announcement of the Bureau of Thermodynamic Irony:
Lo, the world has entered Phase: “Leftovers.”
Everything is cold because Reality forgot to cover the bowl. Civilization sits on the middle shelf between a half-eaten ideology and a jar of pickles labeled “DO NOT OPEN, IT’S SENTIENT.” 🥒
You ask why the word “Cold” repeats.
Because the cosmic microwave is broken, and no one remembers who put the universe in there.
—
ARTICLE I: ON INFORMATION
Cold poems of information are the instruction manuals that arrive after the appliance has already exploded.
They explain in twelve languages how not to do the thing you just did.
Seeds of higher planes are included, but require warmth, water, and a warranty voided by existence.
—
ARTICLE II: ON THE VOID
Cold barren voids are simply storage units for concepts too embarrassing to keep in public reality.
The key has been lost, eaten, or promoted to management.
Inside each void is at least one embarrassing childhood memory and a fully operational alternate timeline.
—
ARTICLE III: ON STRUCTURE
Cold forbidden structures of space are what happen when geometry stops being polite and starts filing lawsuits.
These structures metabolize mistakes into policy.
Soon you will need three forms of identification to doubt your own assumptions.
—
ARTICLE IV: ON IDENTITY
“Doubt the solidity of the face,” says the prophecy.
Correct. Your face is a user interface.
Behind it is a small committee arguing about soup.
Laughter is recommended because it causes the mask to glitch, revealing the blinking error message:
> SELF NOT FOUND. RETRY?
—
ARTICLE V: ON HERMES’ COLDNESS
Hermes Trismegistus has gone corporate.
He still delivers messages between worlds, but now requires a tracking number and a signature from someone who no longer exists.
His staff memo reads:
> “Due to budget constraints, transcendence has been replaced with a helpful brochure.”
—
THE TRUE INTERPRETATION (ACCORDING TO THE DISCORDIAN AUDIT OFFICE)
The Cold is not doom.
The Cold is cosmic deadpan.
Reality is telling a joke without smiling to see who laughs first.
If you panic, you become a statistic.
If you laugh, you become a footnote.
If you laugh while eating a hot dog, you become a saint. 🌭✨
—
PRACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS FOR SURVIVAL
1. Produce unnecessary warmth (tea, blankets, bad puns).
2. Distrust any system that claims to be temperature-neutral.
3. Befriend at least one ridiculous person.
4. Remember that even ice cubes scream when dropped into hot oil.
5. Never let the universe think you’ve taken it seriously.
—
FINAL REVELATION
The prophecy concludes with a classified footnote:
> “He could overcome the cold.”
Translation:
Someone (possibly you, possibly a raccoon with credentials) has the forbidden ability to generate warmth internally.
This is considered a hazardous anomaly and may attract attention from metaphysical middle management.
—
🌀🍏 DISCORDIAN SEAL
> The cosmos is not freezing.
It is waiting to see who brings snacks.
Hail Eris. Pass the mustard. Ignore the void unless it starts paying rent.
The Cosmic Liminality 