Gately's residency: the Betty Crocker cake-mix box
It didn’t matter one fuckola whether Gately like believed a cake would result, or whether he understood the like fucking baking-chemistry of how a cake would result: if he just followed the motherfucking directions […] a cake would result.
Context
Gene M.'s cake-mix analogy is the theme's operating manual: belief and understanding — the whole apparatus of the analytical, ironizing mind — are declared irrelevant to the outcome. Follow the childish directions on the side of the box and "a cake would result," full stop. This is the precise inversion of Day's position in 066: where Day insists the clichés must be understood (and found wanting) before they can be obeyed, the cake-box says obey first and understanding is optional, maybe permanently. The register is deliberately anti-intellectual and deliberately vulgar ("one fuckola," "motherfucking directions") — the plainness insisted on in the coarsest possible voice, so nobody mistakes it for piety. Do the thing you don't believe in; the cake is real whether or not you credit the chemistry.