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

“Civil War in the Church of DIM!”

Brother O’Brien here. Look, I get no pleasure from discussing this internal, sensitive matter, but I feel that the Church of DIM must be transparent (also hollow, vacuous, inane, and vapid). It is with sadness that I report that Brothers Yates and Erdahl have waged a personal war against each other. It seems that during a strategy meeting, Brother Yates suggested that the CoD “fleece” the masses while Brother Erdahl preferred we “shear” the masses. Naturally, my first attempt to quell the dispute was to explain that these were both metaphors describing harvesting sheeps’ wool and that we could all agree that we want to cheat people, but it was to no avail.

The argument soon exploded into personal insults, wherein Brother Yates called Brother Erdahl a “sweet-scented dandy” and Brother Erdahl said that Brother Yates was “all hat and no cattle.” As you could predict, this resulted in Brother Yates stabbing Brother Erdahl in the hamstring with an old, blue, rusty potato peeler and Brother Erdahl poisoning Brother Yates’ second cousin from Oklahoma, whom Brother Erdahl thought was very close to Brother Yates. But, as it turns out, Brother Yates had a falling out with that cousin over a disagreement between the color of a book cover: “deep fuchsia” v. “medium orchid.”

I will keep you informed as the battle continues…

—Brother O’Brien

“Mother Protozoa (Praise Be) Sets the Record Straight on Easter” by Brother O’Brien

There are many things that we believe as children that later turn out not to be true, like Santa Claus or internet privacy, but today I want to talk to you about Easter: sure, we now know that Christianity hijacked this celebration from the Pagans, who had made icons of bunnies and eggs, symbols of fertility in Spring.

What you may not know is that the filthy Pagans actually stole Easter from the Church of DIM!!! It’s true: in something-BCE, Mother Protozoa (praise be) named April’s first Sunday after the full moon to be “Eater” (the ‘S’ was later added by heathens), which meant “Yay, fungi!” The holiday was commemorated in two ways: smart people would eat too much chocolate, while the less-bright people were encouraged to search for mushrooms (not eggs) in the forest and eat them! As you can imagine, this holiday resulted in the deaths of many from ingesting poisonous growths, but that was the plan of Mother Protozoa (praise be)! In her single-celled-wisdom, she had created a celebration to curb the number of humans! Back then, the populations of villages were exploding, with up to 28 people in the larger ones! And some of them were dicks, y’all!

Anyway, thank you Mother Protozoa (praise be). So this “Easter,” when you get hungry, does yucky chocolate sound as good as a delicious, wholesome, mushroom-hunt?
Happy Eater, everybody!

—Brother O’Brien

The Church of DIM Predicted It!!!

As you well know, the Church of DIM is your one-stop-shoppe for P&P: Prophecies and Prophylactics; therefore, we take great pride in pointing out that only a week ago we at the Church of DIM predicted that our current “president” would wage battle, due to his pathetic approval rating and embarrassing eyebrows (it is historically proven that starting a new, awesome war is the easiest way to get the public behind you). We began the post by saying that we could “smell war coming,” and lo and behold, it has happened in Syria. And while the CoD does not really condone war (it usually preempts regular t.v. programming), we are encouraged by this latest step toward self-destruction.

But enough about amazingly-accurate war prophecies; our important prediction is that you will buy Church of DIM-brand prophylactics to curb the growth of the human race! Our prophylactics are the only condoms that protect you against fire, as they are made of 46% asbestos! Grown in the Andes Mountains, our prophylactics are nearly 11% organic, and although they are terrible at preventing pregnancy or STDs (pretty much the same thing), our huge selling point is the price: only $129.99 per giant family pack (1)! Buy some today!

(FDA Warning: Church of DIM prophylactics are dangerous. Do not use while operating machinery and especially if you are not operating machinery. Users of Church of DIM prophylactics have experienced delusions of grandeur, kidney rot, unpleasant sentimental flashbacks, and sensations of toe jam).

—Brother O’Brien

“Mother Protozoa Wants to Help You!” by Brother O’Brien

Mother Protozoa wants to help you!

As you know, Mother Protozoa (MP) has predicted the end of Earth’s civilization on next Tuesday. Keep in mind that in spiritual time, “next Tuesday” might mean next Tuesday or 4 trillion years from now; this is important because amateur predictors offer clear deadlines that prevent further fleecing of the masses after the deadline has passed, whereas MP is wise enough to keep such milestones ambiguous, while seeming imminent.

Anywhozit, all life will end next Tuesday, y’all! And since you will have no need for material possessions or loose change, MP is willing to pay YOU .04 cents on the dollar for the value of your valuables and property! This wonderful opportunity means that you can finally sell your house, Faberge Eggs, cars, and gold teeth, all while earning enough for a fabulous dream vacation to Ridgefield, Washington! Tour the countryside! See the sights! Watch a meth-head fight a drifter for an ant-covered burrito! Then, simply wait for “next Tuesday” and enjoy the sweet embrace of End Times!

Please donate all of your possessions to Richard F. Yates (thankless accountant for the Sweet Lord Mother).

That is all.

—Brother O’Brien

(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.


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



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}).

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?



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!


I think the wine has gone to my head.


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!!!!!!!!!!!!


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



—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!]