Dashwood Revelations

       It came to pass somewhere in middling days of Comstock that a powerful coalition began to form around the nucleus of Dan Mooney deep within the bowels of his basement. Unseen by the judging eyes of society at large, they lurked in the darkness, coming together under the banner of some minor occultist in the tradition of Dee, Crowley, or that “a la peanut butter sandwiches!” guy from Sesame Street. The preferences of young men who name themselves after so fey a name as Sir Francis Dashwood is questionable at best, as are the intentions of the same. This tale will take though through the secret origins of the group, its meteoric rise to power, and inevitable plummet to the depths from which it came.

        I was not present, nor even invited, the day of origin, so as I have demonstrated with numerous precedents, will attempt to spell out the story using what inaccurate, exaggerated, or completely fictitious information I have. This of course will constitute the ‘Official Story’ and serve as the historical written record for time unending. I have no doubts whatsoever that all mentioned parties will fervently wish they had gotten off their fat lazy asses and wrote this story first, but be that as it may, my distorted view hereby becomes the benchmark of truth and accuracy. Your outrage will only serve to amuse us.

        Although Dan was in the habit of making the long stroll over to Comstock when in need of companionship or to satisfy the desire to watch extremely low grade films and drink, at times inclement weather kept him closer to the home front under the tender care of his mom. When not busy breaking his leg on misplaced ice and being locked out, he enjoyed the environs of the basement and impressive collection of VHS tapes within it. The quality of these tapes, closely resembling that of those found in the basement of Collector’s Inn, likewise drew in all manner of odd disjointed folk. The primary two in the early days were Brian Young and Jeff Falker, more familiarly known as Big Brian and Jeff Death. The trio represented, in the eyes of Ben Pierce, all that was wrong with the fine thespian endeavor what was Rocky Horror. They reveled in this and used the collective love of cinematic crap and cross dressing on stage to form a society of equals, looking out for each other’s best interest in brotherly love. As every new outfit begs a name, they set about choosing theirs. My sources tell me that The Apple Dumplin’ Gang was ultimately rejected due to copyright law, and The Dashwood Society adopted as a poor alternate.

        As with any new organization impressed with their own machismo and panache, they set about recruiting new members they could ultimately feel superior to. I was brought in as an early candidate, and it was that experience that kept me far for some time thereafter. I was initially attracted to the notion as this was still the heyday of Dark Pistacio and I saw this as an opportunity to get in good with the cool kids at Rocky. While Dan and Jeff might be highly suspect in that department, Brian was inarguably a cool cat with the black beret and jazz man image. I arrived early and was let in by Dan who showed me into the basement and promptly disappeared for other corners of the house. I sat down across from Jeff, whom I had never spoken to and knew only as that freak in the gold underwear at Rocky. What transpired chills me still when I recall the night and my inner monologue throughout.

        Jeff sat across from me, leaned back in the chair, a strapping farmer in overalls, hands folded across his stomach and shit eating grin splashed across his face. Silent, he stared at me, grinning. My eyes darted back and forth to see if he was still looking (he was) and the stairs in hoped that Mooney was coming down them. Man, this guy is creepy. Where the fuck did Dan go?

“So Jeff, how long you been doing the Rocky thing?”

“Yep”

It wasn’t a yes or no question. He continued to stare and cold droplets of sweat began to form on my forehead.

“You, um, you live around here?”

“Nope”

“Really? Oh, um, what town do you, you know, live in?”

“Country”

He nodded slowly, continuing to grin all the same. Where the motherfuck was fucking Mooney?

“Hey Dan, you coming or what?” Silence from above. Even Mighty Thor was silent. To add to the surreal aspect of the evening, one of the mutant cats occupying the premises sauntered by growling ominously. What the fuck was Dan doing up there anyway??

“Them folks who did Texas Chainsaw didn’t know shit about making furniture from human bones.”

“Uh. Daaaaaaaaaan!”

Whether Dan left me down there with this redneck zombie, who was assuredly sizing me up for use as a new coffee table, on purpose or not while he masturbated to the latest Dress Barn catalog I never found out, but it was time to retreat and live another day. I bade Jeff pass along to Mooney my best wishes but something suddenly came up. I bolted out before the lummox could lunge and ran full tint though the secret back entrance to the Tops parking lot.

My sudden unexpected disappearance (to become a trademark of mine up though the Air Force years) no doubt eliminated me from consideration as part of the Dashwood ruling class, and unwilling to be ruled, maintained an honorary membership status. Meanwhile, the ranks grew on their own pulling in all manner of outcast and undesirable freaks who fit in no other group. The full roster was generously posted by Dan himself in the Madison origin story that Aaron will no doubt insert a link to shortly.

Using Dan’s basement as a base of operations, with frequent field trips to Denny’s, Your Host, the Olympic, and Comstock, the fledgling Dashwood Society cooked up scheme after scheme to spread their funky brand of misrule upon the good people of the world. The first great assault that we became aware of is told best in the Greatest Party that Never Was post (assuredly linked by Aaron by now). I was admittedly one of those who thought it would be a good idea to allow Dan to throw the party of his choosing on our premises and willingly gave permission. I quickly questioned this judgment upon seeing the flyer pasted up outside Knox 20 in garish hot pink. That this attempt at wanton revelry and destruction failed miserably meant nothing and their ranks continued to swell with more and more bizarrely named cretins each day.

Insufficiently homosexual to forcibly enter the party planning scene, they turned instead toward Big Porn and the promise of wealth therein. Temporarily under the malevolent direction of the sinister Dr Harkey, they put together a production team and cast their net far to pull in any aspiring young actress both willing to be balled by Mahatma Nick, and to be seen doing so on tape. While none of us doubted the core competency was there to put the production together, there were grave doubts as to the existence of a woman so lacking in self esteem to be associated with this mutant crew. Funding was scarce as most of the group members were confined to living in parent’s basements or other such degrading habitats. Larry said it best when he remarked that the quality was likely to look as though tens of dollars were spent. We doubters were temporarily silenced when Dan gleefully announced that an actress was found and signed on board. After sufficient time went by without news, however, we came to find that the starlet to be failed to produce convincing proof of age. The schoolgirl look, where attractive on adult women, looses much of the luster when looking at the real deal. Her price of help on her earth science project also should have given her away.

It was becoming clear that Dashwood as a ‘legitimate’ business entity was likely not to be. Good ideas were scarce as was funding; venture capitalists preferring to pass on disorganized gangs of unruly youths. Rumors abounded that pimping, loan sharking, extortion, gambling, and a briefly successful chain of lemonade stands were all tried and subsequently abandoned. At Comstock, out in the sticks, news filtered in slowly and inaccurately, even from the horses mouth. During those days Dashwood existed in the periphery of our egocentric world, but this was to change once we moved closer to the epicenter of the madness of Mooney’s idea forge. Once up close at Princeton, it was clear how far the reach of Dan and his minions extended. Aaron expressed a growing terror, while I continued a limited liability association.

Fearing his power might wane due to the failed ventures, Mooney donned his thinking cap to determine the next course of action. Businesses gain money and power by providing some good or service, no matter how loathsome, people are coaxed into feeling they need. Religions, however, gained even larger profits and near unlimited power simply by setting up rules of questionable value and telling people what they want to hear, with a dash of fear thrown in for good measure. Inspired, he acted quickly. Some short time later, Dan arrived, as always without calling first, and by some stroke of fate I was in enough of a good natured mood to let him in anyway. Bursting though the door, he sat down, lit up one of my cigarettes, and pulled forth a certificate from a freshly arrived envelope. Inscribed on the parchment was undeniable certification that his check had cleared and that he was now legally the Reverend Doctor Daniel J Mooney. My heart skipped a beat.

In those wild days before the internet, Dan had sifted though enough periodicals of ill repute and found an ad for a church in California willing to sanctify the willing for a small fee, and would gladly confer upon generous souls an honorary doctorate for an additional $20. He brought with him a videotape to share with me and commemorate the event. As we all know, one can expect to see anything from a children’s classic with dubbed over voices to a documentary ending with a man fucking a llama when Dan’s at the VCR. Nothing could have prepared me for this. It began with a pair of lesbians in leather hoods speaking in German. A little S&M, OK. To my utter revulsion, however, they quickly moved on to the most disgustingly graphic acts of coprophagia I have ever witnessed. To this day I still barely am able to retain the contents of my stomach when thinking of it. I put a quick end to the viewing and bade the new holy man adieu.

Where a triumvirate officially led Dashwood, Dan created a subgroup within under the banner of the Church of Unconscious Revelations where he wielded absolute power. The name of the newly minted religion was based on the notion of attaining religious experience though the consumption of alcohol to the degree where one passed out; mind now open to supernatural intrusion. Generally most churches prefer that ministers ordained in their sect maintain direct affiliation to its tenants, Dan saw things differently and set forth creating new doctrine and dogma. The first major change was the trinity itself, booting the Holy Ghost to go haunt some more passive sect like the Buddhists or Amish, to bring in perennial bad-boy and crowd pleaser, Satan. How the other two felt about the change in line up remains unknown, but as there was no smiting or divine lightning, it was assumed that all but the disenfranchised party were satisfied with the arrangement. As far as I could tell, worship consisted of shots of vodka and prayer in the form of random shouts of ‘wakka-dakka baby!’.

Now, it was assumed by many that the Dashwood Society and the Church were one in the same, but my understanding was that they were separate entities, not mutually exclusive, but collectively exhaustive, one organization eclipsing the other. One could be a Dashwoody only, or be a Dashwoody and an Unconscious Reveler, but one had to be the former to be the latter, although inclusion in the former did not necessitate membership in the latter. I feel this is very clear. While the Dashwood society seemed willing to take almost all individuals interested in watching blood and porn in the basement, entrance to the Church required a baptism of sorts to initiate the new disciple into the fold. Such initiations quickly became the stuff of legend.

First to join was scrawny nudist and wanna be porn star, Mahatma Nick. I remember his initiation, undertaken gleefully and videotaped, of Nick running though Tops parking lot, boys flapping free in the wind, only to be so overcome with the spirit that he began jumping up and down on a parked car and attracting all sorts of unwanted attention. His enthusiasm absolutely guaranteed him membership into the Church and whatever bargain basement afterlife was promised to the easily duped congregation.

The most famous initiation was of course the milkshake. I had the good fortune to be present that day and can thus present a first hand account of the proceedings. The supplicant in question was Erik the Martyr (not tree punching Ensign Mark Raffe as some assumed), a Dashwood hanger on eager to be brought further into the fold. He begged entrance into the diabolical fold, and volunteered for whatever initiation would prove to be the magic price. Where some may have guessed Dan would have chosen a hefty tithing schedule, he instead went the route that most would have assumed was the most discouraging. The price of admission would be the consumption of a fresh load of Dan’s semen. Erik jumped at the chance to everyone’s surprise. Such was this enthusiasm that Dan wisely decided to forgo insisting it be taken directly from the source, as Erik was likely willing enough, and Mary would have taken enormous exception to having her man blown by this slavish worshiper. To everyone’s further surprise, Dan’s heart grew three sizes larger that day (as measured in Grinch standards) and declared consumption of said foul substance could be in disguise. After having seen the video, I had to assume it was not due to any disgust factor.

The day finally came when the initiation was to take place. I was the only non-Dashwood person there, and the whole CUR was present – Dan, Mahatma, and the novice. The blender was prepared with reverence, filled generously with vanilla ice cream and milk. Solemnly, Dan and Nick each took a small paper Dixie cup along with their preference in porn, and retreated to the houses 2 bathrooms. Both lusty fellows returned in fairly short time, perhaps having already become excited to the point of explosion at the thought of foolish Erik slurping down their man juice. As each entered the kitchen cup in hand, the crowd shrank back against the counter, each member regretting having chosen to stand so close to the path of entry. The jizz was dumped, first by Nick, then by Dan, and the button was pushed blending the baby batter inextricably with the former frosty goodness of the dairy treats. Erik trembled in excitement as Dan said a short but overly dramatic prayer ending with the characteristic ‘wakka-dakka’ and ‘Praise Jesus, Hail Satan!’. The glass was poured, and as the crowd took a sharp intake of breath, Erik put it to his lips and drank down the thick and evil concoction.

Disturbingly, he elected not to spit after and even declared the mixture ‘not bad’ and went so far as to volunteer to have another glass. The newest CUR member then baptized, the evening drinking commenced. I elected not to stick around too much longer as I could not help but notice that neither Dan nor Nick washed their hands following the production phase and since then had put their grubby tainted mitts on most surface areas. I resolved not to return until Mrs Mooney had conducted a thorough cleaning. It remains unknown if she ever learned of the gross misuse of her treasured appliances. Later that evening I took great delight in informing Aaron of the proceedings. He turned a shade of green and vowed to work tirelessly toward the destruction of the Dashwood behemoth and its sibling CUR.

When CUR was at the height of its influence, Dan obtained a full authentic priests garb through a venue he refused to disclose, creating much speculation. Most memorably he used it to attend a protest against the movie ‘Priest’, then playing at the Amherst in University Plaza. The movie caused a great deal of Catholic controversy at the time and inspired vitriolic protest from the devout. Dan’s presence was immediately welcomed by the crowd as Papist priests generally tended to issue statements rather than sully themselves with the rabble at public protests. Naturally his opinion was sought and the crowd hushed to hear the verbal admonishment no doubt about to be issued against the insulting film. “You know, I thought it was pretty fucking good! I think I’m going to see it again” He strode off to buy a ticket, leaving the horrified protesters crushed and dismayed.

The next best use of the outfit was in a videotaped interview Dan was the subject of. Brian was the unseen interviewer and to anyone not in the know, it appeared to begin with a serious recounting by the clergy about the state of the world today, circa 1995. As it went on, however, the interview took an odd turn as the very thoughtful and lucid priest stopped every few minutes to down a shot of vodka. As things progressed, the priests’ quiet intelligence slowly degraded to slurred obnoxious commentary punctuated with liberal profanity and occasional bouts of laughing. While I don’t know if it was intended to be a purely comedic endeavor, I still remember it as one of the funnier things I have seen. Unfortunately, after repeated requests for a copy years ago, Dan announced that it was irretrievably lost, or in Brian’s possession, which could be construed as one in the same.

I would like to say that Dashwood/ CUR went out with a bang, but in truth it was like all of us, a victim of age. Dashwood dropped in membership one by one and turned full focus on to producing the Madison’s. CUR retained only the founder as a member, and if I recall right, at the 8th annual Madison awards, Dan with great fanfare formally announced his abdication from the throne and officially reverted back to plain old Daniel J Mooney in order to better concentrate on shaping the minds of youth without being the subject of a Channel 2 expose titled, “Are Evil Cults Teaching Your Children?”. A wise move indeed.

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9 Responses

  1. The Origins of the Madisons: https://comstock.wordpress.com/2007/09/04/origins-of-the-madisons/

    This reminds me of the time Matt spoe of Jeff, not knowing he was within earshot. “Jeff is the scariest individual I ever met. His arms are biugger than my head.”

    Greatest Party That NEver Was:
    https://comstock.wordpress.com/2007/01/16/the-greatest-party-that-never-happened/
    https://comstock.wordpress.com/2007/06/03/the-party-that-never-was-part-ii/

    I wonder if these were the same German women in the nasty video Larry showed me and Louis, that featured a table fill of all kinds of items to be inserted by the first into the second’s dark mexico. This included a Reebok pump style dildo, and 12 long, wax candles. The climax was the anal expander. I had to leave the room to keep from wretching as the camera moved in for a close up and you could see something moving around inside.

    No one but me seems to recall the time Matt, ignoring my advise which he sought out hours before, brought over his new girlfriend and her friend to Princeton on a night Dan and Louis were to join us. Dan entertained one girl by diagrahming his beloved Holy Trinity on our second three-legged table, while Louis occupied the other girl with some sort of babble.

    The tape of Mahatma Nick was priceless entertainment that I viewed once, and asked Dan frequently to produce again, but it was lost to the ages forever. Nick also used a sledgehammer on a truck.

    Milkeshake: https://comstock.wordpress.com/2007/01/24/the-milkshake/

  2. It was Ensign Raiff who was the 2nd man at the milkshake. I remember that he took a long time to produe results because, as he claimed, “I’ve never done this before.”

    And Raiff was also the first man to do the Tops parking lot run, with specacular results.

    All in all though a good story.

  3. I’m afriad, Aaron, that the tape you saw was likely a far more family friendly video than the one I was subjected to. Dan told me the first time they watched it at one of their Medicine Hours, he and someone else ate Mounds and smeared the chocolate all over their faces in immitation of the movie. The movie, however, did not use Mounds but the real deal. Ugh.

    Whatever happened to Nick and Raiff anyway? I’d like to hear the stories, if known, of some of these folks perhaps told ‘Animal House’ style. You up for it Dan?

  4. Nick vanished into whatever place people go. I haven’t seen or heard of him in years. Last I heard a rumor from Raiff that he went to prison for drug possession, but considering the source I have no idea.

    Raiff, his girlfriend Nurse Pam, and Brian moved in together for a year. Whch is when the trouble started. Raiff being a lazy ass, would constantly lie around in speedos all day, with his burgining pot-belly sloshing about. He constatnly got fatter, being addicted to fried food (He even had a deep frier installed in their kitchen). Brian ended up paying most of the utility bills, and got fed up and moved out when the lease was over. Pam and Raiff were angry about this, being white trash and unreasonable, added to the fact that Brian wouldn’t be around to cover their asses, and that they would actually have to go to work and support themselves.

    Last I heard, Pam and Raiff broke up after 8 years. Raiff was always a wrestling buff and was convinced it was real. I was always amused by the arguments Brian and he would get into over boxing vs. wrestling. Nothing would convince Raiff, him being a total bonehead. Still Raiff saved some money and got into his lifelong ambition. He went to wrestling school. Not real greco-roman wrestling, but the WWF version, with steroids and lots of yelling. Last I heard he was running around some local circuit as “The Annilalator” or something. Of course those only pay about $50 a pop, so he must being doing something else as well.

  5. Interesting! As fate would have it, one of the guys who works here is a referee for the local wrestling circuit, so perhaps I can dig up some dirt on him.

    Was I correct that he was the one who got angry at a tree and punched it?

  6. Whatever place people go – maybe that’s South Carolina in some cases.

  7. I was unable to confirm on the Raiff story, but that doesn’t mean anything.

    I’m still somewhat surprised that this story didn’t immediatly inspire a “here is how it really was” reply. Did I somehow achieve an acceptable level of accuracy such that the primary characters (OK, Dan) found this to be a good reflection? Outstanding.

  8. On rereading this entry, I have to point ut one minor flaw. For the porno film, we did indeed have a girl ready, but the deal was broken when she refused to wear the gorilla mask we gave her. For Brian and I, it jjust wouldn’t be the same without it.

  9. That’s funny, at the time I heard the issue was that you either A) couldn’t get the required 2 forms of photo ID or B) couldn’t agree to her condition that she be tied up, which would have made it illegal in some states.

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