Investigative reporter Sandy Frost published last night "Jesters Exposed," a look behind the scenes at the Royal Order of Jesters, a Shrine-related subculture of Freemasonry whose motto is "Mirth is King."It sounds like they have a great time. We should have all been invited to join this Masonic party club. As Sandy writes, "Not that messing around, holding oral sex competitions, getting snot-slinging drunk and gambling your butt off is a bad thing, but to allegedly do so as a nonprofit group?"
Websites of the Jesters are few and far between. Here's a little bit of info I found on the group, from the Phoenix Masonry website:
Jesters, usually so-called, but more formally named the Royal Order of Jesters, is an organization evolved out of the good fellowship of members of the Mystic Shrine during a voyage to Honolulu, February 15 to March 7, 1911. An offhand ceremony grew into a ritual, and to local Courts and a National Body, very much of its success due to the initiative of William S. Brown, many years the Treasurer of the Mystic Shrine; Lou B. Winsor, Past Imperial Potentate and Grand Secretary of Michigan, and others of their genial kind who organized and led the Body whose local units were limited to thirteen initiates yearly. Initiation, by invitation, and unanimous ballot, limited to members in good standing of the Mystic Shrine. The slogan "Mirth is King," expounded by Jester Brown, and the poem by Edmund Rowland Sill, "The Fool's Prayer," recited by Jester Winsor, have furnished inspiration. Officers, thirteen, bear the titles: Director, Tragedian, Property Man, Impressario, Treasurer, Soubrette, Light Comedian, Serio Comic, Heavy Man, Leading Lady, Judge, High Constable, Stage Manager; the national officer's titles are the same but preceded by the word Royal.Also from the same site, we find the "Jester's Creed."
Laugh and the glad world laughs with you;Masons | Masonic Parties | Royal Order of Jesters | Freemasonry | Sandy Frost | Burning Taper | BurningTaper.com
Weep and the sad world will sigh!
Mirth is our life's true elixir;
It shows you're a "regular guy."
There's nothing that so banishes worry,
Nor puts such a big crimp in sin;
Nor smooths out the wrinkles of trouble,
Like a jolly old Jester-mans grin!
It rolls off the years from your shoulders;
You'll forget that you've grown to be men!
Your youth turns once more to embrace you;
For you've grown to be school boys again!
So, if you've got grouches, don't bring 'em;
Its your laugh and your joke that we need;
For mirth is the doctor of trouble,
And Laughter, the Jester-man's Creed!
