“A Lapse in the Dimensions Has Occurred! Praise Be!” by Nicole Blystone

[Here’s an archaeological piece from the recesses of the DIM archives, written by Nicole Blystone (then Nicole Peterson, aka Professor Nicole P.) in July of 2011! —RFY]

A place exists of extreme dimensional power. Power so great, it made my heart race and my teeth ache.

It all started with a trip to the dentist. I sat, sequestered, in a small, floral wall-papered room. On the wall hung a curio cabinet painted the green-color of aged copper to match the fake aged-copper rabbit lamp siting below it. The cabinet was filled with goat figurines. Figures of goats made from porcelain and glass, images of goats painted onto small plates, pieces of crystal carved into the goat shapes. Large, useless tassels hung from every surface imaginable: the drawer pulls, the top of the paper-towel dispenser, the window trimming. Even the strange goat-cabinet had a large tassel suspended from it.

To my left, on the pepto-pink counter top (which matched the wallpaper with sickening accuracy. Perhaps they were color matched?) sat my copy of East of Eden by John Steinbeck.

A masked woman came in, wearing floral scrubs. Perhaps they received a bulk discount on this floral pattern. Or perhaps the floral pattern is evidence of slippage between two dimensions; clearly, the pattern is from a hellish dimension that only the most blasphemous non-believers would be forced to endure. Then, strange and enlightening words came from behind her mask. “You’re the third person in here today reading that book.” All of the nerves in my body stood on end, sending shivers of electricity down to my fingertips; clearly, this room was an area of dimensional slippage more powerful than I had imagined. Who on earth, aside from myself, would subject themselves to Steinbeck as quote-unquote fun reading? Very few people aside from myself would do such a peculiar and outlandish thing. That was the moment I realized that the other two readers this woman spoke of must have been projected images of myself lapsing from different dimension in this powerful, interdimensional space.

Truly, the gods and goddesses are great, and the prophets were strong. Clearly, this was a message from the Ultimate Dimension, telling me that we, the Brothers and Sisters of the Church of Dim, are on the path to glory and eternal life.

Or something very similar to that, anyway. At the very least, I can comfortably say that the followers of the Church of Dim are destined to a fantastical dimension where the floral wallpaper dripping from the power-room does not exist to haunt our most horrifying nightmares. Indeed, a wall-paperless dimension exists, and we are on the path toward it!

-Nikki P.

[Originally published at the old site: The Church of Dimensional Images!]

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PEACE Finally Comes to the Church of DIM!

It is with great joy that I announce that a truce has been brokered in the historic war between Brothers Yates and Erdahl! Here’s how it happened:

Despite my objections, Sister Mariah, from the DIM Poughkeepsie branch, was again called upon to quell the dispute, even though she totally ripped us off and assaulted us last time. She first asked that the Brothers rid their systems of any horrible epithets, at which point Brother Erdahl called Brother Yates a “blunderbuss,” a “spoony,” an “unlicked cub,” and a “heathen philosopher,” the latter being a devastating comment on the condition of one’s pants. In response, Brother Yates called Brother Erdahl a “fop-doodle,” a “duke of limbs,” an “afternoon farmer,” and a “gentleman of four outs.” Ouch.

With this out of their system, they pulled one final prank: Brother Erdahl placed a “Trump 2020” sticker on Brother Yates’ car, and Brother Yates planted an Anthrax bomb in Brother Erdahl’s home (the band, not the poison). Some say Brother Yates’ response was not proportional.

Anyway, Sister Mariah had one last trick up her sleeve (likely where she hid my turkey sub), and got Brothers Yates and Erdahl to agree to a temporary truce ONLY during the Church of Dim’s holiday season. Unbeknownst to them, because they are too special to come to the weekly meetings, the CoD now has 365 holidays, one for each day of the year, so that our religion’s followers never ever have to go to work. Fyi: the rare February 29th is also a holiday when we reflect on how many awesome holidays we have.

So there you have it, peace at the DIM. Unfortunately, Sister Mariah ended up stealing Brother Erdahl’s surgery painkillers, Brother Yates’ Cap’n Crunch secret decoder ring, and the last 5 pieces of my Crab Rangoon… that I was SAVING! Then she punched each one of us in the back of the head. Still, we’re calling this one a win.

Peace IN, my Brothers and Sisters!

—Brother O’Brien

DIM Battle Confession from Brother O’Brien

As fellow Dimmers, you know that one of our core practices is the confession of sins. Unlike Catholicism, however, our reasoning is a tad different. Here at DIM, we think sinning is the bee’s knees and encourage the frequent commitment of such – BUT, we also encourage the confession of our sins, solely for bragging purposes.

Therefore, with regard to the battle between Brothers Yates and Erdahl, I must admit/boast that I have been adding gasoline to the fire (I tried marshmallow crème, but that just made the room smell nice). Full disclosure: I was on a power-grab for the Benevolent Order of DIM, Yippy. It’s true: I wanted the BOODY for myself.

My sabotage efforts consisted of telling Brother Yates that Brother Erdahl called him a “poltroon” and telling Brother Erdahl that Brother Yates had called him a “sauce-box.” Then, just for fun, I sent Brother Yates 6 pizzas topped only with candy corn (hee!) and had Brother Erdahl’s favorite grandmother committed to a mental asylum from which she will never return (giggle).

More sins to come…

—Brother O’Brien

World War DIM!

It is with great disappointment that I report that the level of discourse in the Yates/Erdahl battle has sunk to a new low, wherein both have resorted to the nastiest, most offensive, sickening, sexist epithets in name-calling: it seems that Brother Yates called Brother Erdahl a “mollycoddle” and Brother Erdahl responded by calling Brother Yates a “milksop.” I know, it is hard to unread, but that is where we are.

This verbal slugfest resulted in Brother Yates replacing Brother Erdahl’s 1% milk with 2% milk and Brother Erdahl knocking out Brother Yates, transporting him to Thailand, having a few of Brother Yates’ organs removed and sold, replacing them with live hand grenades, then threatening to destroy everything Brother Yates has ever loved. Some argue that Brother Erdahl’s response was not proportional.

In my next effort to calm the waters, iron out the wrinkles, and right the ship at the Church of DIM, I started using lazy metaphors excessively. Then, when that didn’t work, I gave up. I actually give up pretty easily.

More updates to come. Unless I give up.

—Brother O’Brien

“DIM’s Internal War Continues!” by Brother O’Brien

Unfortunately, the chaotic conflict (and alliteration) have only increased at the raddest of religions. It is with even more sadness that I report that someone co-opted my turkey sub from the mini-fridge at our house of worship (Pauly’s Dental and Mini-Storage, #19).

In the Brother Yates v. Brother Erdahl battle, things have deteriorated to a point of exasperation: it seems that Brother Yates called Brother Erdahl a “ninnyhammer” and Brother Erdahl called Brother Yates a “rattlecap.” Subsequently, Brother Yates replaced Brother Erdahl’s toothpaste with Icy Hot pain relief cream and Brother Erdahl reported Brother Yates to Homeland Security for being a North Korean Spy under the alias “Kim Jong Snake-Bunny.”

Therefore, I recruited Sister Mariah from our DIM branch in Poughkeepsie, NY, to act as a conflict interventionist. Impressively, Sister Mariah simply walked in and firmly slapped all three of us, then left, but not before she, sadly, stole every nickel from our holy coffers.

Well, that’s the update: the Yates/Erdahl battle still rages, we have no money (please send money), and my face still hurts.

If anyone sees Sister Mariah, please tell her that I don’t care about the embezzlement – I just want my turkey sub back.

Brother O’Brien

“The Great Fleecing!” by Brother Yates

Let’s not beat around the bush here (for that is how we incur the wrath of SNAKE, who is usually sleeping in the bush and doesn’t want to be beaten.) We all know what the great FLEECING vs. SHEARING debate is TRULY about. Brother Erdahl, who is KNOWN to have had dalliances with other faiths while a member of the Church of DIM (he flirted with Stanism, and was a founding member of the Church of DOG, and we all know how THAT turned out…) And what he is advocating by the Great SHEARING is the fracturing of the CoD into smaller, less functional parts, or PERHAPS the complete destruction of the faith! For, as we all know, to shear DOES mean to remove the wool from a sheep, but it ALSO means to break away!!!! (GASP!) Are we beginning see the light???

In contrast, I—and other members of the most HOLY sect of the Brotherhood, THE BENEVOLENT ORDER OF DIM, YIPPY (or BOODY, for short)—advocate FLEECING, because fleecing is gentler, is less likely to upset the sheep, is more likely to make the sheep HAPPY…(And HAPPY SHEEP are WILLING SHEEP.)

FLEECING IS THE FIRST STEP IN CONSTRUCTING A CABLE-KNIT SWEATER! Shearing is insanity, but not the good, drawing psychedelic kittens kind of insanity—the boring kind of insanity that brings things to a grinding halt so we can listen to a pompous PENNYWHISTLER prattle on about his silly DOGS… That kind of insanity…

Church of DOG… Please…

—Brother Yates

(The following is a recently discovered un-edited version of one of the most holy sections of the DIM holy book. Much controversy has stemmed from this text, and many conclude because it was discovered in an email in a DOCx format that it is totally made up, but we will allow the reader to make up his or her or their own mind as to its authenticity.)

The Gospel according to Yolkoltak the Pretnetious*

Vacillate, verily, on the truth, for all is folly.
Folly is all and all is truly without accord to un-folly-ness.
Holy Folly.
That is all.

Amen.

Yeah, right.
Like you really thought I’d let it go at that?

Not.

Psych!

Now. Down to it.
As we can clearly see, the world is naught but folly. (Others may have made similar observations in the name of “vanity” but that was because they are totally vain. Losers).
What I am saying is totally different. Folly is not the same as vanity. Not in any way.
I mean, they may have been suggesting that vanity is a concept tied to the human interference with the plans of the Great Amoeba in the Sky – sometimes referred to as “The GAS” — but this is in no way similar to what I’m saying.
So this is totally not plagiarism.
Because I say so.

And when I say, “‘Folly of follies’, says the guy who stands at the front of a room full of students, ‘all is Folly’.” I mean this in the most unique and in my own words kind of way.

Never mind that “guy who stands at the front of a room full of students” sounds so awkward as to draw attention to what the original word in the quote might have been…like, “teacher”, but in this case the reader would be totally wrong. ‘Cause this is the way the words came to me from the mouth of The GAS.

Anyway, back to my main point, which is that Folly is folly-ness. And stuff.

I am not repeating myself because I’m making this shit up, and my publisher is breathing down my neck about some “new scripture” – why won’t these guys just get off me already, like this shit is easy to make up – ( I mean that only in a hypothetical way, and hope that the editors leave it in the final text as to confuse the issue further, allowing for deeper interpretation about the state of mind I was in during the writing, I mean recording of the sacred words of The GAS. {And Hopefully the Church Provisioners don’t notice the missing kegs of wine}).

So.
What was I talking about?

Wine you say?

Oh, yeah, I was in town a few weeks back. Yeah, I know I’m supposed to be receiving the Holy Emissions of The Gas, but I needed to “release some tension” – and by that I don’t mean do some stretching exercises. I’m not talking metaphorically. Not at all. I mean tension as a representation for something else, but not what one might imagine a holy dude getting into. Ya know?

No?

Sex.

Idiots. I’m talking about sex.

I’ve been locked in this cold fricking room for months on end, the aforementioned publishers demanding new “clarifying” texts to aid in the suppression of these very same tendencies in the Great Unwashed Masses. But, how am I to talk about ways to overcome “tension” when all I feel is “TENSION”?

So, I figured, get rid of the tension and then the Emissions of The Gas might be more…clear.

Boy, did that sound gross!

LOLZ.

I think the wine has gone to my head.

Anyway.

I went to town. And I got a bit. Tipshy.

Wow. The paGe lookS a bit bluuurrry. Or shomething.

Folly-nolly, good-golly the GAS has a RASH and it won’t go away!!!!!!!!!!!!

LA-LA-LA-La-LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!

SO! YOU StupID Fuckers, DON”T do it!! CasuE The GAS says itz stupeid and bad and shit…..

FOllyyy..

Amennenen.

—Transcribed by Josh Erdahl

[*The Gospel of Yolkoltak the Pretnetious was thought for many years to be lost, until Brother Erdahl mentioned that he thought he had a copy laying around, many years ago, and only NOW has the text itself been revealed!]

“The Book of Trial” by Brother O’Brien

Mother Amoeba did come to me in a dream in the form of a Mounds bar, but since I hate coconut, I ignored her.  THEN, she came in the form of a Twix, which I verily worshiped.

Long story short, here is the first chapter of The Book of Trial !

The Book of

Trial

ONE

  1. Mother Amoeba did then create man by allowing monkey-apes to evolve, and it pleased Her on that day.
  2. The next morning Mother Amoeba did feel not as pleased, so she called in sick and took a personal day. Verily.
  3. Man was clever. Perhaps too clever.
  4. Man did develop a system of environmental usage, based on a series of questions: 1) Can I kill it?  2) Can I eat it?  3) Can I subjugate it?  4) Can I have physical congress with it? 5) Does it amuse me?  Based on the answers to these questions, human actions were determined.
  5. Some forms of life did fall into all of these categories, which verily caused many problems. While some humans, full of meat, did want to make a life form a source of amusement, others did want to have physical congress with it.
  6. Humans were born without a conscience and would laugh at, have physical congress with, and consume a form of life in a single night, which did make many species develop defense mechanisms through evolution for self-preservation, and presumably, self-respect.
  7. As the sun set on one day, a woman human did ask her partner, a man human, if “she looked fat.”  As the woman had consumed many starches and raw swine for many months, the man human did confirm her fear and state that she was verily fat.  The resulting domestic abuse was both swift and severe, leaving the man human in a poor state of health. Other male humans did observe this incident and learned a valuable lesson that day. This day is also known as “The Birth of Self-Preserving Lies.”
  8. Many sunsets later, humans did accidentally discover fire by chipping stone spears near swine grease.  The resulting scene did involve much laughter and joy as some humans lit other humans with fire, and many were amused by the spectacle of terror and pain as the lesser humans who were ablaze did run into the forest in panic, resulting into a forest fire which obliterated much of the countryside.  Fire would only be re-invented 3,000 years later and used for more practical purposes, such as the ignition of Og’s flatulence.
  9. Humans did continue to exploit the earth and its life forms.
  10. When the deforestation by humans and Og’s continued flatulence did noticeably cause Earth temperatures to rise, many early human creatures showed concern over global climate change and their responsibility for it.  Yet, some of the less intelligent humans who did verily drag their knuckles on the ground, proclaimed that climate change was not real and so nothing was done to curb human exploitation of the world.  The intelligent human creatures did find solace in the prediction that a more advanced human in the future could never deny the truth of science and obvious facts.
  11. Mother Amoeba did return from her hiatus of 3,100 years and was displeased with man and his actions.
  12. Mother Amoeba’s wrath was swift and specific: She did create hangnails, muscle cramps, kidney stones, and boy bands.
  13. These punishments did anger mankind and he sought another recipient of his blind faith and worship. The future was verily dark.

 

“Death Day” by Richard O’Brien

MAJOR HOLIDAY “Death Day” (June 17th) – There are dichotomies within the Church of DIM, and death is one of them.  While human death would seem natural and actually further the goals of the CoD, we are actually quite attached to our own lives and respect that others feel the same.  And since death is the ultimate fear, today we celebrate by spitting in the face of Death (believe me, he deserves it).  Today you can and should literally whistle past the graveyard, dress in deathly attire, however you interpret that, and laugh at the thought of your own mortality. What convinces you that you will die someday?  Just because everyone else in history has?  Don’t be such a sucker – immortality is easy (at level 9 of the Church of DIM. Level-up = $499 + tip).  You may or may not choose to engage in the annual “Blood Dance with the Devil” around a campfire.  Per tradition, disco music, partial nudity, overcooked meats, and blood-curdling screams will accompany the dance.  Tradition also holds that the celebration shall not end until a passerby is so horrified by the spectacle that they or their children are brought to tears. The harder you party, the sadder you make Death.  Cookies and juice to follow.

—Richard O’Brien

“DIM Open Slap Day!” by Brother O’Brien

“DIM Open Slap Day” (June 16th) – We don’t condone violence at the Church of DIM as there is more than enough to enjoy in everyday life, but once a year we like to make a small exception, and today is that day, fellow Dimmers!  Cut off in traffic?  Person in front of you in line talking in outside voice on the phone with no regard for others?  Stranger says something jaw-droppingly ignorant with conviction?  Open slaps.  Right in their stupid faces.  Either they will consider your reaction and decide to change their behavior or, more likely, they will just be angry – but hey, either way, you still get the thrill of open-slapping an idiot in the face.  Right in their stupid, stupid faces. Slap. With your hand. Opened. Open slap.  As always, if someone objects to something as innocuous as an open slap to the face, claim religious persecution. And slap them again.

—Brother O’Brien