Cthulhu Rises (and it’s your fault)
This could have been so easy: A few more “Hut, Holland, huts,” a few more positive vibes sent toward the Dutch team… But no, you sat back in classic American indifference or, worse, cheered for Spain. Now, the Spanish have won, the Aztecs are pissed, it’s almost 2012, and far, far worse, Paul the Psychic Octopus has gone eight for eight in World Cup predictions. Eight for eight! Do you understand the significance of that? He’s an octopus—or is he?! Have you seen Paul? Doesn’t he remind you of someone?
See that little boat? That’s you. Jerk.
That’s right, Cthulhu. The Eighth Seal has been broken and The Dread One From Beyond Time, The Profane Abomination From Beyond Space, The Jerk Who Capitalizes Articles and Prepositions will rise, slap high 40 with his little cousin Paul, and set up Dark Dominion over our very existence. And it’s your fault. I hope you will be able to sleep at night, which, by the way, will now be endless.
Meet the child of tomorrow. His name is f’tevangh.
It’s about time.
Yeah, the 70s would’ve been perfect but, you know, a strange aeon here, a strange aeon there… No biggie.
[...] like author/jogger Michael Northrop professes, the sign of the end of days, as foretold in the works of H.P. Lovecraft? Is Paul merely the first of several signs that the [...]
Not even the nameless ones wanted to deal with that mess.
Seriously, he probably rose from the depths, heard some AM Gold, peeped some bell bottoms, and… right back down.
Yes, and while I’d like to continue this banter in this vein for a while, what I really want to know is if the pattern is available for that adorable Cthulhu costume! My wife will have to begin work on it soon if it’s going to be ready for baby’s first Halloween.
Oh, that’s not a costume. There’s this town in New England: Dunmore, Dimwich… something like that. Anyway, it’s full of them.
Now really, this is just the kind of sensationalism that is the LAST thing America needs right now. Just because some tank-dwelling squishy invertebrate who doesnt know the Spanish flag from an obscene drawing of a scallop’s naughty bits happens to make some random choices that happen to coincide with the outcome of a bunch of soccer games, your first response is to get all “Oooh 2012! Archaic monstrosities from beyond the elder darkness of time!”. Folks, in this economy we need to focus on what’s important. C’mon – man (woman) up! Take out another mortgage! Join the Army! Ignore the festering hole in the Gulf of Mexico and the eldritch flames which are pulsating at its dark core! Uh, actually never mind about the dark core. Watch more TV goddam it! This will all blow over real soon.
Sincerely,
Shub-Niggurath
Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young
Dear Shub, uh, Mr. Niggurath,
You make a lot of sense here, and my TV is very shiny and compelling. Mostly, though, I am thrilled that The Elder Gods, The Dark Dwellers Beyond Time Whose Dread Slumber Must Not Be Shaken, have opened a press office. Do you guys (Beings?) need, like, an intern? I worked at Time Inc. for years, which is similar in more ways than you know. Well, maybe not you, but more than most sniveling humans know, anyway. Please find my resume and a burnt offering attached.
Yours in abject terror,
MN