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An Interview with the Great Cthulhu

So, let’s start with the obvious question: You’re the Great Cthulhu; is that right?

Only in the literal sense. Great. Terrible. All Powerful Oz. Though in fact I’m paratransitionally also behind the curtain.

How does that work?

Impressively well. It’s a nonlinear entity thing.

I have to ask, as I’m sure others are wondering by now: Why don’t you sound especially—what—Cthulhian?

Cthuuloid. Or, as The Kids Today would say, Old School. It’s this new thing I’m trying; eschew the obfuscation, and all that.

You’re going hipster.

Granting that I still think of fixed gear bicycles as a new thing? I’m a little beyond that.

That actually leads to a pertinent question: Obviously, you’re over thirty-five—

Years? Or geological epochs.

Right. But, more importantly, what’s your precise nationality? Are you in any sense an American? You weren’t born here, after all.

I wasn’t in fact born. But that’s not really the point. To answer the question most directly: I predate the United States of America, and therefore by my very age circumvent any citisenship requirements. That said, I’ve maintained a dropbox at Miskatonic, in Arkham, Massachusetts, for centuries now; and, insofar as my current iteration of existence is concerned, Lovecraft was an American, and I could credibly be regarded as his offspring; a bit of uncommonly exhaustive research should lead you to the USNL, 26th March 1790—Statute 103—specifying that: ‘the children of citisens of the United States that may be born beyond Sea, or out of the limits of the United States, shall be considered as natural born citisens’—my idea, by the way.

Interesting. I hadn’t known that.

Like you’re the only one. I’m eating Donald Trump last.

That’s a real thing you’re doing? Eating the faithful first?

Far as you know. Really, it’s a sort of memetic kind of…you know what: call it a campaign promise; we’ll see where we are around twenty seventeen or so.

So, to clarify: you’re well over thirty-five years of age, and you’re claiming parental citisenship in the person of Howard Phillips Lovecraft, allowing that you could originate from beyond the sea?

Out of the limits of the United States. Possibly the suburbs of the outer limits, in fact. The math is a bit sticky; my hometown—if you could call it that—is/was within an instantonic DBrane oasis.


The fourth dimension is no more impressive to me than the third; Vhoorl—the planet from which I originate—is for example in the twenty-third.

Something else I need to ask, since there will be those wondering the same thing: This interview is being published purely as text—no audio or video. Are you unexpectedly camera shy?

It’s not me. My narcissism is boundless—which it would have to be, being mine. But, upon those rare occasions that I’ve appeared and spoken to mortals: ‘The madness! The horror! The indescribable unpleasantness!’ That ring a bell? There are books about it.

So, if elected—

When elected. Let’s not joke: I’m the Squid from Madrid. Not literally. Again: Instantonic DBrane oasis in the twenty-third dimension. It’s, like, three doors down from Gallifrey.

Was that a joke?

Sure; why not.

So, as President, but unable to address the nation…?

Who says I can’t address the nation? I’m at, just like everyone else. And, for the technophobes, I’ve got that oneironautics thing—call it DreaMail.

You can influence people in their dreams. Why run at all; why not just have a couple hundred million people write you in?

No need. Quick: excluding myself, name one guy running in twenty twelve of whom you’d heard before nineteen ninety. Now include me back in, and see what your answer is. A disturbing number of people regard me as a deity: I can win this with one tentacle tied behind my back. Or ten, if that sounds more fair.

What’s your position on the current issues our nation faces?

I’m in favour of them. Issues are great: they keep people bickering. You have any idea how boring you lot become when everyone’s getting along? If I have one recent regret, it was Woodstock.

Regret? You had something to do with Woodstock?

No; half a million idiots froze half to death in the rain because I didn’t DreaMail them with the stupid idea.

You’re being sarcastic.

You’re being astute.

I just wasn’t expecting Cthulhu to be sarcastic.

I don’t fit well within expectations. They’re often very small.

Is there anything the voting public should know?

Far more than they do, in my opinion. But, specifically, I’m officially refusing campaign contributions; my little competitors can beg for donations up to twenty-five hundred bucks. And, as president, I’m also refusing a salary, as Kennedy did; they can give me a dollar a year, simply because they have to; keep the four hundred thousand. I have no need for the money.

But, you’ve got TShirts and things.

Boundless narcissism. Grab a cap and put me on your head. Spread the word that I’m back and I’m bad.

Why vote for the lesser evil.

Why indeed. And the answer is: No Reason at All. Which I’m also okay with, reason being opposite chaos; I can work with that too.

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