Jose Chung: Once upon a time, two East Indian immigrants gave birth to a baby boy who they loved very dearly yet nevertheless named Juggernaut Onan Goopta. Other than the name, and the, uh, beard, he was a normal boy who suffered all the usual humiliations of a normal childhood. Upon graduating high school, he went off to college with the dream of someday becoming a famous neuroscientist. His goal was to be the first to comprehend how the biology of the brain gives birth to the greatest mystery of life: self-consciousness. Unfortunately, his own brain could not comprehend basic biology. He quickly switched majors to Philosophy, but alas, while reading Kierkegaard's "Sickness Unto Death," he became sick, and nearly died. During recovery, though still obviously suffering from dementia, he set forth on a new dream: to become a writer. And his first forays into detective fiction proved so inept they were mistaken for brilliant parodies, then finding immediate publication in the highbrow literary journal "The Dark Mask." Alongside the work of a talented group of young writers, one of whom would go on to become the leading literary light of his generation, composing profound stories in a style that made Proust seem pallid, his lovable flamboyancy made him not only a literary icon, but a cultural one as well; why, he even made a cameo appearance in an award-winning film at Cannes -
Horatio J. Hoodoo: I bet nobody ever comes out of there alive!
Jose Chung: - But, we're here to focus on Goopta. After the demise of the magazine, Goopta could not sell his work, and he became destitute and suicidal. Out of pure desperation, he managed, in a single, feverish night, to crank out a book that changed the course of human history: "How to Be Happy, Even When You Shouldn't." It was quickly follwed by the best-sellers "How To Manipulate People By Your Apparent Friendliness" and "How to Overcome Your Fears By Making Others Fear You." And upon the release of his masterpiece, Goopta hit the lecture hall circuit, always preaching to standing-room only, for he shrewdly refrained from providing chairs.
Juggernaut Onan Goopta: Every painful moment in your life casts a shadow across your neurobiology. Until you exterminate these dark memories, you will remain in a negative groove. Thus, those who cannot forget their past, are condemned to repeat it.
Jose Chung: Gupta then opened an institute to help teach people how to become more self-helpful. Patients, who are called doctors, since the term "patient" has an unhealthy association, learn how to shed the darkness of their minds by mastering therapies taught by the institute's staff, which, to inspire a sense of empirical transmigration, is modeled after the U.S. Postal Service. The institute proved so popular, Selfosophy branched out, and institutes popped up throughout the nation. And Goopta announced a new evolution to Selfosophy:
Juggernaut Onan Goopta: After wiping away its mind of darkness, the self must then wipe its eternal soul; and since the soul has existed for thousands of years before the advent of Selfosophy, we all have a great deal of wiping to do.
Jose Chung: The tax-exempt belief system also evolved its own theology. But I can't tell you what it is. It's a secret. When learning their theology, Selfosophists must undergo a sworn blood oath ritual, which is also a secret. So this artist's depiction is purely speculative, and surely way over the top. In fact, forget you even saw it! In any case, all the secrecy and profits drew criticism from some quarters, but these critics were quickly silenced, either by libel suits, or by what Selfosophists call "Knock-Knock Zoom-Zoom affirmations." There were even some internal criticisms. If a member continues his complaints, he is deemed a "ratfinkovich," and is excommunicated from Selfosophy. In 1979, Onan Goopta molted his earthly encumbrance to pursue his Selfisophical research in another dimension. That means, he died of prostate cancer. But the institution he left behind has never been more popular as we head into the next millennium. A happy, upbeat ending, if ever there was one. That is, it was, until I reentered the story. And it's about time! You see, while conducting this research, I was contacted by a recent ratfinkovich, who in one of those coincidences found only in real life and great fiction, actually was named "Ratfinkovich" - Joseph P. Ratfinkovich. And he promised to reveal to me the never-before-disclosed secret behind Selfosophy:
Ratfinkovich: Goopta... is god.
Jose Chung: That's it? To find out that the ultimate revelation of Selfosophy is that its God is the guy who invented the damn thing? There's not really much of a "wow" in that, is there?
