Infernal pestilence: a mini-episode of Prof. Oddfellow's Penetralia

Let us know if you've ever encountered a weirder sing-a-long: it's the video we made based upon a viewer's request (see video description on Youtube for the original proposal).  We call it Prof. Oddfellow's Penetralia.

Today is the anniversary of our journey through a shattered hall of mirrors, which we recorded on video.  

We restored a grandfather clock that possesses a ghostly feature.  Thanks to Grumpy Andrew, of Grumpy Andrew's House of Horror, who said, "Wonderful! Oh that was a balm for my soul."  Meanwhile, to whatever pathetic soul thumbed-down our video, we'd ask to see what grand illusion you built from scratch this week, but —oh, that's right! — you didn't.  But you made us feel even more fabulous, so — lest we disappoint you — the thumbs-down didn't discourage at all but rather set us apart from you!  Thanks for social-distancing!  We feel safer now.

See our collection of people who look spectacular with mop hair.

It had been three years since we last donned our Third Eye sunglasses during a full moon to scout for fireballs in the night sky.  In the first photo, the strange triangle of blue lights is the moon reflecting on the sunglasses lenses.  The second photo is from 2017.

We're honored that Vegas magician Creed talked up our Field Guide to Identifying Unicorns by Sound and our Magic Words: A Dictionary.  We actually once attended a secret fire ceremony deep in the Nevada desert with Creed and, no kidding, we witnessed him reach out and seize one of the zillion stars in the Milky Way.  (You sure can see a stunning number of stars from way beyond the lights of Vegas.  Surely the Universe won't begrudge Creed's snatching one.  It was a moment we'll never forget.)

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook: Albatrosses, too, have Achilles heels.  See Professor Oddfellow's Forgotten Wisdom.

We're honored that Andrew M. Reichart, managing editor of Argawarga Press (weird books for weird people), listens often to the "Anagrammatical Ancestor Spell" flexi-disc we recorded for Fiddler's Green #5.  Thank you, Mr. Reichart, for calling our recording "inspiring."

When is a white elephant gift not actually a white elephant?  When it's a slime mold.  We were gifted Slime Mould in Arts and Architecture (in honor of our love for Philip K. Dick's character Lord Running Clam, an intelligent slime mold who speaks and has telepathic powers, from the remarkable Clans of the Alphane Moon).  To our surprise, conversation turned to how slime molds urge the legalization of marijuana and an open border to Mexico.  (As the spokesman for the Plasmodium Consortium put it, "Their advice is objective, and transcends our polarized political environment, because they don’t belong to our species.")

As a plutocrat of the supernatural, I awakened my coffin-shaped belt buckle today.

On the way to airport, we couldn't resist popping into Universal Studios for a requisite crystal ball shot in our favorite shop of mystery.

We're delighted by this reaction from a logo designer in Massachusetts who snagged our Minimalist Coloring Book,  Young Wizard's Hexopedia, and Self-Intuiting Polarity Cards:

To best see pirate ghosts haunting the seashore, we first go purblind.

"You want to go into the desert and learn higher magic, nebbich, when you … cannot distinguish a Hall of Riddles from the real world and do not even suspect that the books of life contain something other than what is written on the spine?" —Gustav Meyrink, The Green Face

Studying by moonlight.  The book, Cemetery Maps, was a gift from our friend Gordon.

Thanks to Jaybee for letting us know: "Your last video really, REALLY helped me. I was in tears. Seriously. I struggle with that. Very. Thing. A lot. But your video helped me remember that I’m not here to win a popularity contest."

Having already seen the world through rose-colored glasses, we're now enjoying the view through lurid Jello-green flexi-discs!  The grass is definitely greener on the flip side!  We're celebrating the Retroactive Lifetime Goal of having our voice recorded onto a lurid Jello-O green flexi-disc in the new issue of Fiddler's Green magazine!

At daybreak we ignited prayer flags to make a holy fire for transmogrifying sensitive documents and used a thrice-struck lightning rod as a poker.