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Georgia Weekly Telegraph, April 16, 1880. The level of detail here proposes sort of a PSA agenda: Robbing graves isn’t cool, kids, plus it can liquefy your eyes. This item would make for a swell high school instructional film, or an equally fine E.C. horror comic.

By the by, my most recent post on Oom the Omnipotent generated a handsome uptick in traffic to the Hope Chest after someone posted a link to it at the MC Forum, which a message board for folks who write and share handcrafted stories about “erotic mind control”–hypnosis porn, if you will. Hello and welcome, sexy mind control aficionados! Feel free to drop by any time, and please do keep us posted should anybody post any Oom-themed slash fiction. I’m dead serious: I wanna read that.


  1. My lady friend’s yoga teacher got pretty sniffy with me for bringing up Oom’s peccadillos: it seems that Oom is better known among the highly bendable for bringing hatha yoga to the United States. She was decidedly not interested in hearing about the whole Tantrick cult/white slavery/orgiastic mesmerism side of the great man’s character.

    • Sorry to get you in dutch with the your special lady friend’s yogess. But yeah, it turns out that Oom was no mere flash in the pan but a totally important figure in the history of our national spiritual growth. It was the media who distorted his image by focusing narrowly on his harem-keeping and diddling of female minors (subject we haven’t yet touched on I think). Here is a corrective account of his “seminal influence”:

        • Kibo
        • Posted May 19, 2010 at 5:12 pm
        • Permalink

        That page shows a cover of the “International Journal Tantrik Order”, which, besides having some missing connectives, has an interesting cover design: A large Star of David and heavy use of one of those fonts designed to make English look like Hebrew.

        This means that, due to this cover mixup, somewhere there is “The Big Book of Jewish Sex Magick” with a four-armed blue elephant guy on the cover and a font that looks like Devanagari.

        This mixup will lead to disaster at the two cultures’ singles mixers. Instead of Indian food, there will be kreplach and tsimmis, and people will be running around screaming, “Argh! I can’t eat this! It’s not spicy!” with the opposite of flames shooting out of their mouths.


    “Ooh, baby”, said Oom, “continue to caress me in the manner which this sentence implies has already begun.” Spock moved tenderly closet to Oom and began to erotically interact with him or her in the most sensual manner yet invented in whatever year this is taking place.

    “Hi, guys, mind if I join in?” said Mary Sue, Curly Sue, and Curly Joe, as they entered through a non-erotic back door of fiberglas. “Yes, please,” said Oom and Spock, though not in that order.

    The orgy continued unabated until it ended! Then everyone got pregnant with each other’s baby, except for Spock, who was already an adult baby.

    Just then, Spider-Man burst into the scene from one of the sides after parking in the driveway, and proceeded to pleasure Oom. Their sexual units touched with a hint of a pleasurable tone and then there was a colossal explosion of sex that cannot be explained by physics.


    • (“closet” should be “closer” there, not that it makes any difference — except to Spock.)

        • mrparallel
        • Posted May 19, 2010 at 7:13 am
        • Permalink

        This is way hot. Now do one where Oom and Spock have an erotic mind control duel set to that awesome fight music used in “Amok Time.”


    “Turn down that fight music and come to bed,” implored Oom, “so we can make another cluster of babies!” Spock responded by removing his clothing with one hand while continuing to stir the elegant martinis.

    But Oom did not know that Spock’s martinis had an extra ingredient — a rare space date rape drug known as Unprosecutablium. It did not cause its victims to forget what happened, but it did cause them to forget that they could call the police afterwards. It tasted like ordinary futuristic food, namely, blue but like raspberries.

    Oom gulped down the be-Mickeyed martini and felt dizzy. “What are you doing to me?” said Oom, “I don’t know who you are any more!” Spock held Oom down and proceeded to splay his fingers to enhance the physical sensation of mental telepathy. Invisible brain energy began to permeate through his fingers, and Oom, into the waterbed, which began to boil beneath the bodies that were now intertwined like Penrose tiles.

    Oom tried to resist, but the fight music was distracting because it was so catchy! The pneumatic door blasted open and Khan entered. “Allow me to introduce the most erogenous remaining life form of Ceti Alpha. The Ceti Earworm.” Khan pointed to Spock’s iPod’s space dock, as earworms streamed out of it, riding on the waves of fight music.

    “Stop!” screamed Oom as Spock and Khan continued their conquest amid the sickening motions of the deuterium-enhanced waterbed. Spock plugged a leak with his pinky toe while continuing the forcible mind meld with both hands. Khan provided moral support.

    Suddenly, the waterbed burst in a giant mushroom cloud symbolic of a bad orgasm! Radioactive water and bits of vinyl bedecked with Ikea logos went everywhere. Khan was hurled through a porthole into the depths of space, while Spock’s head was slammed into the nook of the food replicator, which materialized a loaf of garlic bread inside his head. The evil mind-meld was broken thanks to the power of Italian appetizers!

    Oom was relieved for a second until noticing that the garlic bread was now causing Spock to lose control of his emotions. “Oh no! That’s not just garlic bread! It’s Crazy Bread!”


    • Spicy tales! The kind men like!!

  4. BOING!

    • Spock pulled manly on the heaving bedspring’s elongated coil. “BOING!” was the sound it made as it shot out of his properly-greased hands and whizzed its way across the Starship Enterprise to where Oom lay in repose.

      “Oo,” said Oom, who was in all nature’s embrace from the very moment when the spring contacted his rigid forehead until two weeks later, when Dr. McCoy discovered a cure for brain damage. It was a pill that was also a suppository after dark. “Woo,” said Oom, now cured.

      Spock advanced with a menacing aura of malevolence as his hands cradled his backup bedspring. What dastardly rascality would next befall Oom betwixt the cruelty of Spock and the hysteresis of the bouncing bedspring?

  5. Holy uckfay, this Oom thing is way bigger than I knew, kids. According to NPR, he was the fount of the now-hegemonic American yoga industry:

    This is a propos of a new bio of Oom by the aptly named Robert Love:

    There is also this elaborate fan website (lamentably devoid of slash fic):

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