Technique FIVE: BISMARCK!!!

You'll be relieved to know this one's short and simple. You'll also relieve yourself once you know you're short and simple. The techniques will get shorter and simpler as we move along on crutches with our nuts in harness and our tongues cleaving our palates.

Wake up at dawn on a Monday and eat three pounds of garbanzo beans (chickpeas) while kneeling naked on your kitchen counter in full view of the neighbor's massively obese wife. This hugely corpulent spouse should be named Hildegaard. Make sure Hildegaard won a gilded ox-tongue at the recent hog-calling contest in your local house of worship.

Glom those chickpeas like they're going out of style (they usually are) and wash them down with a gallon of cream milk stored in an outsize plastic teat. The cream milk should be spoiled and yellowish. It should also be tinctured with spoonful of liquid coal tar and sprinkled with a handful of volcanic ash. Gently rub your bare gut with a loofah mitt as you guzzle that milk.

When you're done guzzling, slap the sides of your gut with both hands and put out a sonant yawp. By 'sonant yawp', I mean a worded shout. Slap the sides of your gut and yell BATTLE SHIP POTEMKIN as loudly as you can. Then gobble half a pound of anchovies and a quart of kimchee (pickled cabbage). Now you're pretty much set for Instant Nirvana.

Head out to your bedroom on all fours with the chickpeas, the spoiled milk, the kimchee and the anchovies roiling in your gut. Make weird yowling sounds on your way there, the kind female cats put out when they're in heat. Enter your bedroom, drag that narcotized Belgian out from under your bed and begin undressing him while singing a Kirghiz funeral lament in a full-throated squeal.

You forced the Belgian to wear a nun's habit last week and that's what he's wearing now. Divest him of that habit and wear it yourself. Then grab a rusted bullhorn from your refrigerator and walk to work in a rapid, pigeon-toed shamble.

A bullhorn is a megaphone in case you didn't know. The megaphone amplifies your voice at midnight during bouts of screaming sex with that inflatable dummy you mail-ordered from Texas. The fact that the dummy resembles a senile Ronald Reagan has never worried you and never will.

Shamble to work in your nun's habit with the bullhorn in your right hand. Enter a crowded elevator at your workplace with your innards seething. The stuff you ate and drank has created an enormous pocket of rancid air in your crudded colon. Only your clenched and puckered asshole stands between it and freedom.

Wait till the elevator is full and in steady ascent. Then put the bullhorn to your mouth and yell BISMARCK!!! while simultaneously venting your gut-gas in an explosive fartburst. INSTANT NIRVANA WILL ENSUE IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS.

Commentary:

As always, enact the technique precisely, leaving no room for innovation or interpretation. The techniques of Instant Nirvana put to good use your most noxious and rebarbative habits (pun intended). In this case your penchant for pestilential flatulence is exploited to your supernal and sempiternal advantage. Your elevator fart will vitiate and/or kill everyone on the elevator (except of course your enlightened self). It may even kill everyone in the building but not to worry. One man's mass murder is another man's Instant Nirvana.

This technique awakens an acupressure point on your upper lip just under your right nostril. The point is called Wuen Yi in Chinese and Pratitya Paramanu in Sanskrit. It occurs at the nexus of two Chi meridians plotted on a Cartesian Grid via the equation y = Pi*x (squared) + log(Gamma). BISMAAAARCK!!!