The Konformist

March 2002

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Part XV


Jaye C. Beldo



*Please note: The McHajj series you are about to read came to me directly via a series of disturbing dreams, dreams which continue to haunt me at present. These dreams, more like interminable nightmares, have resulted from life long exposure to advertising in the relentlessly predatory, capitalistic society that I'm haphazardly posited in. In order to deal with the severe psychological trauma such exposure has caused me, I have translated what my unconscious mind has directly conveyed to me into the story below. It is the only way I know how to cope with the constant trespassing into my psyche by the corporate powers which loom about in a most menacing and merciless fashion. Thank you for understanding my dilemma. BTW: I am currently starting a twelve step support group for those who may believe that they are victims of a similar kind of corporate psychological terrorism. I will provide more information in the near future...if there is one. Thank you!


"Trouble's a comin'." The Marlboro Man yells across the span separating the crosses on a deserted, decimated Mount Arafat, intravenous tubes dangling from his arms in the wind. Ronald McDonald shakes himself out of his crucified stupor and peers down the slope at the oncoming portent. Emerging from a dust devil, the Pillsbury Doughboy runs with Olympic agility, carrying a torch in one hand, his baby in the other. He tops out at the summit before the rest of the crew which lags behind, deliberately shrouded in the whirling cloud halfway up the mountain.

"I've got a surprise for you fellas." The Doughboy turns a few circles holding up his plastic progeny which hisses and squirms, exposed to the unrelenting Middle Eastern sun like a vampire without a place to hide. "Grandpa Aleister said that whichever one of you dies first...has to incarnate into my son here. It's the law."

"Great." Ronald McDonald says, his heart caving in even more. "I give birth to a creepy corporate egg somewhere in Joisey. I get fucked over in Hollywood by some misfit shamarchists that can't think their way out of a parallel universe and now my soul has to inhabit a G.I. Joe doll." Ronald takes a deep breath, pulls some prana in through his medulla oblongata and down his spinal column like a Kriya yogi. "The hell if I'm going to die first. I've got samadhi in my cross hairs. I ain't never coming back again."

A gunshot comes from the direction of the advancing dust devil. A 9 mm hollowpoint bullet slams into the clown's Ajna chakra and shatters his skull. L. Ron Hubbard emerges from the cloud, jams his high capacity Glock back into an alligator skin holster under his jacket and scans the sky above for satellite surveillance.

"That's what you think, jerk."

Ronald dies before the seven words can be uttered.

Aleister emerges from the dust devil and runs up to the base of Ronald McDonald's cross, pulls out his Ronco Necromonicon from under his gown, puts his dunce cap on and proceeds to lip synch some obscene incantations he finds buried in the appendix. The clown's soul spirals directly into the doll. G.I. Joe, sufficiently animated, howls like a Coyote and then squirms out of the Doughboy's hand. He rolls around in the sand, then runs over to the Marlboro Man and kneels at the base of his cross.

"You're so could have been you." G.I. McDonald says to the Marlboro Man and breaks down weeping. "Now look at me."

"You're supposed to be tabula shut up." The Marlboro Man retorts, unimpressed with the emotion.

The rest of the group emerges out of the dust devil: Anton, Jack Parsons and the Charmin Teddy Bear. Jack climbs up on Ronald McDonald's cross, pulls the rubber nose off the cadaver with a pop and wipes the grease paint away with a checkered flag snatched from Dale Earnhardt's coffin. He reaches in through the gaping bullet wound in the forehead and pulls out some half dollar sized piece of gristle with barbed tentacles and throws it towards his colleagues.

"So Mr. Casey.....the CIA's PR boys weren't lying now were they?" Jack says. He jumps down from the cross and wipes his hands in the sand. "Hate to tell you L. Ron, but you shot an honest man."

The Charmin Bear takes advantage of the distraction, runs over to G.I. Joe and block tackles him. He locks him in a Half Nelson. "This kid is mine." He declares and starts wrestling with the doll. G.I. Joe manages to break free of the Charmin Teddy Bear's grip and climbs the crucifix, walks out on the crossbeam and then sits on the Marlboro Man's shoulder.

"I'm the one that knocked up that Doughboy slut...he's mine." The Bear tries to climb up on the cross to claim his prize.

"Enough out of you." L. Ron says and puts the gun to the Charmin Teddy Bear's head. "If you don't stay in line...I'll make you clear. The inexpensive way."

"Leave him alone." Anton La Vey says. "Just a father's instinct...that's all. Listen everybody...I'm really getting weary of our dysfunctional little family. I think we all need some counseling or something. Maybe Forum would do us a world of good or Avatar."

"I'm going to ignore your overtly reactive mind Anton." L. Ron says and lets the bear go. "Hey Aleister." L. Ron yells. " We got the wrong man. Anything in your book that can exorcise Ronald McDonald's soul from this G.I. Joe?" He asks, barely able to hide his regret. He betrays the one single engram left in his brain, for a tear emerges from his eye.

Grandpa Aleister sits down and pages through his tattered Ronco Necronomicon. "Damn it Ronny...think before you shoot next time...will you? I can't ad lib these incantations. You don't know what kind of trouble they'll cause if I don't get them right."

"Don't tell me what do to Luxor're the one that ripped me off. Not the other way around like all the conspiracy books say."

"Hey it true that you said, 'if you want to make a million dollars, start your own religion'?" G.I. Joe says from high above, mimicking the cowboy's voice. L. Ron turns around and drops the hammer of his Glock on the Marlboro Man. G.I. Joe loses his balance as the bullet pierces through the cowboy's heart and slams into the solid Mahogany crucifix. He somersaults all the way to the ground. L. Ron picks him up. He kisses the doll on the cheek.

"'s true. I did say that." Mr. Hubbard confesses to G.I. Joe.

The Marlboro Man's excarnated soul filters through G.I. Joe's polysorbate 93 seasoned fontanel. Thus further enlivened, G.I. Joe climbs on top of L. Ron's Greek Sailor cap and raises his hands to the sky, palms upward.

Aleister faces towards L. Ron and shuts his book. "Chill out will you? If any of this gets leaked to Brookhaven we'll never get another gig for as long as we're trapped on the astral plane. This is not occult protocol at all."

"Hey you monkeys....I've got some bad news for you." Anton La Vey yells from the Marlboro Man's crucifix. He takes the cowboy's hat off and puts it on his bald head. He reaches into the vest pocket of the aborted Messiah and pulls out a tooled leather wallet. He pulls some plastic cards out, files through them and tosses a driver's license and credit cards at the feet of L. Ron and Aleister.

"And you thought the axis of evil didn't exist." Anton says, pulling the rubber mask off the impostor. "Where have all the cowboys gone?" He starts to sing and then climbs down from the crucifix to join the others.

Aleister picks up the driver's license. The mug shot is of someone he recognizes: Kim Jong II of North Korea. The alphabet used for the I.D. : Cyrillic. Plastic used for the laminate: otherworldly. He shows the I.D. to G.I. Joe who shakes his head in disgust. Anton puts on the rubber Marlboro Man mask and starts dancing. "Where have all the cowboys gone?" He sings, pretending to gallop like a horse around Kim Jong II hanging on the cross.

"Damn it shot the wrong man again! George W. is gonna be pissed off when he finds out that one of his best stooges has been iced." Aleister forewarns.

"On this day of the resurrection of our Lords, I declare myself General Joe." The Moonchild yells, warding off an incoming sirocco from Yemen with his voice.

Upon cue, Aleister, L. Ron, Anton, Jack P., the Pillsbury Doughboy, the Charmin Teddy Bear all line up and stand at attention. General Joe starts to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. His soldiers automatically salute him. The Pillsbury Doughboy steps forward and hands him the torch and falls back in line.

"It is imperative that we short circuit god so that he won't kill Mr. Bush. Gurdjieff may be advising the Iraqi High Command so we do have to take the threat seriously. We need to mobilize our own special troops that are now hiding in underground vaults in the Pankisi Gorge if we're going to corral those camel jockeys. I know exactly what tricks Saddam has up his sleeve as well. He's got North Korean soldiers hiding up in British Columbia that will swoop down on the U.S.A. at the drop of his fez. Now that Kim Jong is out of the picture his soldiers are really up for grabs."

General Joe looks over the land spreading out from Mount Arafat and then turns to face his troop.

"L. Ron.... are we clear?"


"We'll then..gentleman....start your engines!" General Joe says waving the Olympic torch in triumph.


To be continued

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