That Awkward Moment You Realize Your Dad's in the Illuminati

Just before Christmas my Dad asked me to carry and deliver a trophy for him to someone at the company where I work.

It’s a bronze cup, 103 years old, engraved with the name of the organization and the names of all the previous winners over the past century. There’s a silver and a gold cup too (and possibly others) and the others are worth considerably more than the bronze I’d been asked to deliver.

The organization is called ‘The Mixers Club’, and they consist of the movers and shakers of Philadelphia industry who get together now and again to play golf, eat and drink fine food and drink, and decide how things are going to shake out insofar as local business is concerned.

In short, they’re our local branch of the Illuminati.

And my dad is one of them.

So I did what I thought was the only proper thing having come into possession of one of their holy relics; I captured it pirate-style on behalf of the office grogs of the world. Currently, I’m using it to decorate my cubicle. I had a Santa hat on it for Christmas, which was quite charming.

So far there’s been no backlash on account of my theft, but if you don’t hear from me for an extended period of time then I’ve probably been… grrrk…

Fnord.