Behr's Halloween 2018 Noder Meet

Welcome to the Greater Baltimore Area including the Harbor!

This will be updated as new information continues to come in. Here are some of the confirmed attendees and a tentative schedule of events. I had help from Seymour who is a new guy I don't have time for but he haa computer skills.

Confirmed in Attendance (RSVP to be added):

  • Chopper
  • Brandon Hitler
  • Jet-Poop (via conference call only since he is under house arrest due to voting for Beto O'Rourke)
  • A noder named Steve
  • A noder named Cathy
  • A noder named Vince
  • A noder named Book Reader
  • A noder named Nemosyn (via "Skype" because she says it is "too far" due to pusillanimous attitude overall)
  • The noder couple I almost killed at a noder meet eleven years ago
  • A mutating hairless ass weasel
  • 13 unhatched testicular eggs
  • Yours truly (friend Behr)

Schedule of Events (tentative):


  • At 7pm there will be a cocktail reception for incoming guests lasting until 8pm
  • At 8pm I will give a lecture on ethics in America
  • After the lecture (no questions will be taken) I will give a tour of the construction of my Bible and Constitution Theme Park
  • At 9pm Brandon Hitler will address the gathered faithful to pledge loyalty to him and get in on the ground floor for his 2024 Presidential run
  • At 10pm will will play "Eat Poop You Cat"
  • Drinking games hosted by Chopper
  • Lights out (Time to be negotiated by Brandon Hitler)
  • I will personally visit each female guest to get to know them better at some point during the night after you've gone to sleep 
  • 6am Noders will be awoken and ordered to go out and get breakfast for me and my associates (at gunpoint with no safety on if you are uppity)
  • 7am Eating of breakfast (portions will be distributed based on pay stubs so bring them - the more income you have, the more breakfast you will be allowed to eat so don't forget)
  • 8am Everyone will be asked to leave
  • 9am Those still in attendance will be dealt with (I have businesses to run)

Directions: From the airport follow the signs to Oriole Park at Camden Yards and then take a sharp left before you get there. Make two more sharp lefts and you will be almost back to where you came from, except look carefully and you will see a streeet called Terror Gulch Lane. That won't take you to my house but it is interesting to note that is there and you can only see it out of the corner of your eye (close one eye while driving past, cock head to the left, crane that neck, partially close the open eye and there it is. Go a little further and you'll see my street. There is lot of construction going on involving hung men who are masculine. They are working on building my theme park. They won't be coming to my party because they aren't noders (to my knowledge).

What Happened!

First of all, at 3pm Greater Baltimore Area Time, Jet-Poop arrives in a van and starts ranting while unloading metal pipes and jugs out of the back of the van. He keeps yelling, "I need to get totally fucked up!" and I try to help him unload the van. He is fine with that until I ask him what it is for and he snaps at me like my ex-wife and says he wants to make bathtub gin in my bathtub and I tell him that is where I take a tubby with my Jennifer Garner action figure. He gets REALLY pissed at this point so I tell him I do have another tub in the basement where I use lye and other chemicals to dissolve the bodies of my "hostages" when I am done experimenting on them.

We drag all this junk down to the basement and Jet-Poop gets mad because the tub is filled with chemical residue and human-based goo. I get some of the "hostages" to scrub the tub until it is fairly clean and Jet-Poop gets working on this bathtub gin business and I leave him to it.

Chopper (who is still alive) arrives at 6pm with the urn containing the remains of The Slow Kid. He is hard as a rock. Chopper and I round up a few of the "hostages" to help us set up for the cocktail reception and we have to cut one's tongue out for insolence. It threatened to put a damper on things, but the mood lightened significantly when we threw the tongue in the fruit punch bowl giving Chopper and me an inside joke we could reference for the rest of the noder meet.

Brandon Hitler picked up his girlfriend Nemosyn (who would not give her human name) at the airport. Her arrival from lesser country Australia was a surprise, but I gave her a MAGA hat and she wore it for the rest of the night. She thanked me by kissing me full on the mouth but told me it "wasn't sexual and to please not take it that way." She had froglike appendages so there was little chance of me wanting any of that anyway. I think Brandon Hitler might be turning her into a X-Man type person for reasons.

Other noders were coming in like flies and Noder Vince really took to the bathtub gin once Jet-Poop brought it up from the basement and strongly encouraged everyone to drink it. He was wielding a crowbar and had a crazed look in his eye when he "suggested" people drink his gin. Noder Cathy took several blows to the head when she refused even a sip, saying she was an "alcoholic," but then she drank heavily all night so I think she was lying about that.

After everyone met and kissed full on the mouth, I began my lecture on ethics in America. No one was paying attention because Noder Vince was dancing naked on my coffee table and people were looking at his enormous schlong just hanging there and moving around like some kind of jungle monkey. That was when the testicular eggs began humming and when the severely mutated hairless ass weasel went over and laid on top of them. This guy named Book Reader went over and looked closely at what was going on and the ass weasel bit his nose completely off. He left after that in an ambulance.

The frog chick took off her clothes and started dancing on the table with Vince, which did not please Brandon Hitler one bit. He ordered two of the centurion-like security forces he personally trained to "take care of it" and there was trouble. Vince was hung in the yard and I personally flayed him for his mistake, putting that big swinging dick of his in a jar with preservative fluid to use as a decoration in my planned Moses ride. My guests were starting to see the need to conduct themselves more properly.

I began the tour of all the property I acquired through excellent use of the eminent domain and manifest destiny clauses of the US Constitution, showing the noders the progress I was making on my rides and exhibits, including the wonderful thing I had built where the Ten Commandments (the rules I live by) and the Constitution (other rules I live by) to show that they are actually exactly the same through the use of hologram technology. Noder Alessandro was astounded and peed just a little bit in his pants.

When we got back, the frog girl was getting into it with Chopper because she kept calling him The Slow Kid and talking about how Chopper's ashes were in the urn. He didn't like being called The Slow Kid and used Halloween magic to take on the appearance of a ghost and then messed with her head the rest of the night. It was hilarious.

Brandon's speech and his campaign promises brought a cheer from everyone and there was a rush to sign up to volunteer on his 2024 presidential bid. People were getting really messed up on the bathtub gin and Noder Henry vomited so much one of his lungs came out of his mouth. I was disgusted but intrigued.

The X-Man type ass weasel crawled off the eggs at that point and began menacing towards Jet-Poop, who had brought a dog with him that just made funny faces at people but couldn't actually kill a person. That dog took off the moment the ass weasel began moving and didn't protect Jet-Poop at all from attack but Jet-Poop was so shitfaced on his bathtub gin that he didn't care any longer and just started hitting himself in the head repeatedly with his own crowbar. "What's the point? We're all doomed." He kept saying that over and over so I made him pancakes.

The testicular eggs were glowing bright blue and frog girl and one of the geekier noders went over to look at them. One of the eggs burst open and a thing came out and scampered across the floor. That was unsettling.

We set up to play the game "Eat Poop You Cat" but when I brought out the cages of cats I'd "kidnapped" around the neighborhood and the bag of turds I'd collected from neighborhood bathrooms, people looked at me funny. Apparently I didn't understand the game and I just cancelled it and we went back to drinking.

I passed out soon after that and don't remember what happened during the night except frog girl was pregnant and about to pop and no one knew why and also the eggs were all gone except for nasty glowing blue residue the consistency of tomato soup all over the counter. The ass weasel was nowhere to be found.

Noders were forced at gunpoint into the local diner to get breakfast and portions were distributed according to income levels. Then everyone got off to the airport and I had the "hostages" clean up.

Aftermath writeups can be posted below.

The Aftermath: Part One

Well, I am happy to say that my 'little surprise' worked out really well. The reanimated corpse of Chopper picked me up in his, er, rotary bladed flying machine a little before 1500hrs and we flew into The Greater Baltimore Area including the Harbour just after 1700hrs.

No, obviously not all the way from Australia. Australia is an absurd liberal myth. I flew in from the deep state secret experimental base where a bunch of highly paid hippie porn actors are paid to spend our days wearing underwear on our feet and torture innocent vowels. I can't tell you exactly where, because then I would have to send in our elite squad of highly trained thylarctos plummetus (ursus procidens) to kill you.

We forced the pilot at gunpoint to land behind the sex shop on Terror Gulch Lane because I needed to do some preparatory shopping. I am looking forward to the start of the Anal Bead Quest next week. Then we continued up the hill to my friend Behr's house. I knew him at once because his trousers have been modified extensively to accommodate the extra eggs. Also because he was engaged in suspicious sexual activity with Brandon Hitler, who of course I knew from our time at the deep state secret experimental training school days in the 1990s which was the last decade of real music before autotune destroyed the purity of our souls forever.

It quickly became apparent that organising a Nazi Nodermeet on the budget of a fully tenured professor of ethics is an exercise in thriftiness. All the waitstaff were 'borrowed' from friend Behr's construction site and I must say I do not think a single one of them has professional training in the necessary skills of cockatil making or oral sex that make a cocktail hour the pleasure it should be. Also, whatever those drinks were in the coconuts smelled like week old-- well, it does no good to complain and I certainly never do so. That waiter named 'Steve' insisted he was in fact an invited guest but I could tell by his facial hair that he had never seen the inside of a Catbox (a term some of the old people like to use) and I insisted that he continue to keep me entertained, he was indeed hung even if he wasn't well trained, but as I said I never complain. 'Steve' also never complains, and that may be due to reanimated corpse of Chopper holding a gun to his head, but I don't try to psychoanalyse people I intend to kill in the next paragraph.

Unfortunately I missed the guided tour of the Bible and Constitution Theme Park because I was in the basement with Brandon Hitler's PR Manager and a noder named 'Cathy"" as we had an item of urgent business to attend to. While listening to Behr's lecture I realised that Brandon is in fact the middle name of Chopper as well as the first name of Brandon Hitler and I realised that there was a subplot afoot. Is Brandon Hitler the long lost love child of Chopper? Or is Chopper the long lost love child of Brandon Hitler? It's very hard to tell these days on account of 'safe schools' being taught to impressionable youths and fucking up the space-time continuum in a way that may or may not be homosexual in nature.

Clearly there was only one way to deal with this potentially deadly subplot and that was with costumes. Halloween was invented so that adults can dress in lingerie and go out in public without being accused of anything worse than a terrible hunger for candy. The three of us - myself, the noder named "Cathy' and Brandon Hitler's personal secretary (a job title that old people used to refer to as 'PR Manager') have the bodies of weak and weebl women and would therefore be vulnerable later on when Chopper started the drinking games. We needed to act.

Because I was distracted, I had forgotten to kill 'Steve'. I pointed out that in my exquisite mercy he had lived an extra two paragraphs but he still cried as I dispatched him mercifully using Chopper's gun (#MAGA). I was annoyed because his face was now swollen from crying, but it was all I had so I used my deep state secret experimental training to remove his face and his hangings, preserve them as a form of leather, and fashion them into a costume. In my new disguise as Crying Steve I knew that I would be able to penetrate the mysteries of Brandon and Chopper before lights out. If I was lucky, I would also be able to penetrate a few other things as well.

In my new disguise I returned to the 'party' in time for a rousing game of Eat Poop You Jet, a game that allows the players to pass secret messages to each other using the simple means of drawing with pictograms and/or letters that can indicate to others the nature of an emergency. I attempted to send messages to the professor (a fully tenured professor of ethics and good friend to our dear leader codename Trumplestiltskin). We passed the paper as well as the bong (I have a prescription) to the left in accordance with the Marquess of Queensbury Rules as laid down by my own dear friend the late Freiherr von Richthofen (Manfred) who was also attending the party but has not been mentioned before.

So when I had my turn with the piece of paper I carefully wrote the message 

Friend Behr this is a trap!

and passed it to the weasel on my right. The weasel drew on the paper and passed it on to Behr.

"A teddy on a spaceship with a mouse," read Behr.


The weasel was perhaps not the ideal choice of teammate.

I tried again.

Chopper is the long lost lovechild of Brandon Hitler!

As I handed the paper over I glared at the hairless ass weasel to express my strong preference that its drawings more accurately reflect the content of this very important message, but all the weasel saw was the face of Crying Steve.

"Helicopter fucking a baby with a moustache" read Behr, chortling his old man chortle. Honestly, for a fully tenured professor of ethics at a major university this guy was not impressing me with his ability to think figuratively.

I glared again at the weasel, this time to express my contempt for all men including crying Steve. The weasel glared back at me, with a look in its beady red eye that clearly told me that the weasel was reflecting on the difficulty of learning how to draw or indeed play parlour games during its formative years which were of course spent in the rectum of our friend (Behr).

It was useless. I would have to try Plan B.

I used Crying Steve's noticable (hung) appendage (now hung from my own trousers) to attract the attention of the noder called 'Cathy'. I then used the appendage (hung) to send a message in semaphore to 'Cathy" telling her to create a diversion. As a female, Cathy was suitably dressed for Halloween in lingerie and impractical (but not Australian) footwear and she was able to create a distraction (diversion) by running through the room screaming, before tripping on her impractical footwear (heel) and being brutally murdered by a man with a suspiciously steely exterior.

Meanwhile, as Cathy ("Cathy") created her distraction I used my leet ninja skills learned at the Pine Gap Academy For Superior Young Ladies to dive over the swollen head of the hairless ass weasel to land next to the professor.

"Professor!" I shouted as loudly as I could, remembering that not only is he in his eighties but his hearing was permanently damaged during the war, "I have to rescue you! The future of the Bible and Constitution Theme Park depends on it!"

I grabbed the professor, which he very much enjoyed although we were a little pressed for time. I could already hear the sounds of the former Paul Manafort Investigation Team arriving to take him into custody. I didn't wait for the professor to finish but threw him over my shoulder (currently disguised as Crying Steve's shoulder and therefore capable of carrying heavy loads) and ran for the stairs, pausing only to grab a cocktail in a coconut. As soon as we had reached the third floor second guest bathroom I stopped to explain my theories. "*** * **** ******* to the ******** *** ** ***** ****," I said, "********* ***** **** ********** ** * ****** *** * ******* in case the deep state try to censor *** **** ******* *** * *** * ** ****. So I told Cathy that she would need to create a distraction and here we are!"

Downstairs I could hear that Chopper and Book Reader were announcing the winners of Eat Poop You Jet. Things were getting desperate. Luckily I had concealed about my person a strap-on (size large with mouse ears) and three metres of black silk Japanese bondage rope, which I used to tie up the professor. His last words before I gagged him (size large with mouse ears) were, "...and then we can sail away to Key Largo." 

"Just like Bogey and Bacall," I promised, shifting the rotting corpses of the house's previous occupants aside to make room in the wardrobe for my friend Behr. "I even know a doctor in Key Largo who can still be trusted in these dark post-Obama days." I smiled lovingly as I closed the door on him, and climbed out the window.

nemo est supra leges

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