From: email@example.com (HellPopeHuey)
Date: Sat, Jun 12, 2004
*I was hoping to BELLOW this rant, among others, in
person at XD7, but
since my ride crapped out and my BONES exceed the allowable weight for
domestic flights, now that the ragheads, Asscroft, Nhee Ghee (who does
not WANT me at Devivals for some arcane reason) and fuel prices have
conspired to make flying about as enticing as a rubdown with a
porcupine, I figured I might as well post it, so as not to completely
waste it. EEEUUNNGHHHAMIGHTY!*
Welcome to X-Day 7, sure to be the last of many and welcome to yet
another opportunity to have "Bob" drag you ankle-first towards another
chance to buy your way into salvation! T-shirt sales are flaggin', so
we're uppin' the ante and porkin' yer granny with a whole new gimmick
guaranteed to roast your gleeschlonken and get you to pay $30 for a
bite! Feast your delighted, horrified eyes upon the SubGenius
Personality Sale! Every neurosis & personality disorder MUST *GO*!
Somewhere. Some personalities in good working order, some are
fixer-uppers, some come straight from Godzilla's ASS and some should
never leave the crystalline container in which they arrive, for the
safety of the house, presuming you have a house, any safety or at
least some kevlar underwear! All sales final unless they undergo
transformations that lift your wallet and steal the receipt, then we
want a cut! Hitch up yer panties, befuddle yer grannies and remount
yer trannies, "Bob" is on the march (and sometimes on the lawn,
throwing up) and woe be unto them whut ain't got that $30 stamp on
their Gland! Where's the remote? How much does the Buddha weigh?
What's with the milky eye? What was that unspeakable alien THING you
were humpin' in the gazebo last night? Is this YOUR werewolf?? What's
the meaning of life, strife and that romp the 5 of us had with yer
wife?? Shut up and answer the question!!
We got yer hubris, we got yer sociopathics, we got
knee-jerk berks, we got yer hallucinatory fear of moths and people who
swat at stuff that's not even THERE, sometimes physically, sometimes
philosophically! We got folks who can barely speak English but can
dance like Nureyev on goofballs! We got them what can barely walk
upright without a walker, a robot assistant and a snort of Old Uncle
"Bob's" Arthritis Remedy, but can talk Satan himself out of a silk
suit and one of his horns! We got goofballs who can languish for years
and then burst like Mothra's appendix, don't step on the larvae,
please! We got one of Reagan's old baranoidal chancroids in a
plexiglass cube with an evil eye from Borneo, the finger from a
monkey's paw, two of Rock Hudson's pubic hairs and a chip of red
Kryptonite, holy snappin' arseholes, Margaret! Round and ROUND it
goes, where the neurons will pop, nobody knows!
We got yer hypersexuality, we got yer asexuality, we
trisexuality, we got folks you dunno WHAT the flurk they are until the
windows fog over! We got tits you can tie in a knot
or a bow, on BOTH genders! We got wankers, spankers, blankers,
spelunkers, debunkers, deep-gray-funkers, plank-twangers,
pearl-tweakers, beaker-felchers, toxic belchers, fog-twiddlers,
dog-diddlers, fair-to-middlers, eye-poppers, gob-stoppers,
poon-shoppers, hog-sloppers, rump-wigglers, seat-sniffers,
psi-stench-whiffers with olFACTory disorders, penny-pinchers,
nipple-winchers and what the hell IS that squishing noise, anyway??!
Patriotism? Get rid of it! Good citizenship? Get rid
of it! Good
MANNERS? Get rid of 'em! Mental health? Get rid of it! Suspiciously
crusty tissue from next to the couch? Get RID of
it!! Three-month-old green Jell-O from the back of the fridge? GET RID
OF IT, good LAWD! We got a BIGGER agenda: DADA! No, that ain't baby's
first word, that's the holy grail, the sacred goal, the meat and
marrow of the ONLY THING THAT MATTERS, bein' open enough, whore
enough, weird, giggly, jiggly, wiggly and euPHORic enuf to integrate
God's Greatest Joke, Hyoo-mon Life, into yer sword and shield against
becoming like THEM, the spoilers and de-joy-lers of every sick and
deeply twisted thing that takes US to the heights of
laugh-lubing, arrythmia-generating hijinks while leaving THEM mired in
the depths of worrying about that suspicious brown MUNG on the Enter
button of PALM Pilots that only contain 3 megabytes of shopping lists
and bogus Polynesian masturbation techniques ANYway!!!
We gotcher big brains, fast brains, slow brains, NO
like a buncha little brains on a bolo, lumpy brains, a monkey brain in
a jar, scary SMOOOOTH brains with all the creases ironed out,
spark-spittin' brains, one-track hacky-sack on-the-rack brains, brains
that phase in and out with the moon, stained brains, grainy brains,
disturbing brains, perturbing brains, City-Come-A'-WALKIN' brains,
M'HUH, turbo brains, furry brains and PUT those damned brains back in
yore head and don't lemme SEE you playin' with 'em like that AGAIN!
If ya got nothin' nice to say about anybody, sit over
here next to
the TAPE recorders and the VIDEO cameras so it can show up on the Hour
Of Slack! Mars needs women, Stang needs
material and I need to be gossiped about until I pop like a sea slug,
spray my organs all over the organ, give up my very last thread of
sanity and appear in day-glo nipples, do the Dance of the Seven
Connies and blind EVERY friggin' one o'ya!! Its all the damned SAME
when you're at large with the Flamethrower of the Gods, heart-fire
fueled by a bellyful of the Beans of "Bob" and a hose planted firmly
in the Ass of yer Gland!
Can you FEEL the power of "Bob" crawlin'
up yer pants leg?! Can you
FEEL the awesomeness of Connie spreadin' the legs of yer puny little
mind as far as they can goooo?? Can I get an
A-men?! Can I get a frop stick??! And can I get a drink o' water, I'm
gettin' all foamy. Can I get an "OHMIGOD DON'T STOP NOW!!??" And
that's the CORE of your SubGeenieHood:
HURRY UP AND DON'T STOP NOW!!! Slack off FASTER, HARDER,
FAAASTERRrrr!!! Sorry, that's not fast enough, faster please.
The End Times are rollin' on apace and they ain't lookin'
watch with the femurs of the unwary for hands and goin' "Ooo, we
better slow Armageddon down so Stang can finish
takin' his DUMP, so Philo can finish his BRAN muffin, so Spice can
find a new word to describe her home-made laxative for Rocknar's
clogged interpretation of the cosmic amortization tables that define
how much a canister of BOBBIE souls was worth as of 10 o'clock last
THURSday, so Huey can hobble to the hovel for a new Depend, so Saint
Mags can flambe another scrote, so Lil can find a faux diamond pastie
that rolled under the couch," NO! NOOOOO!!!
Every "BOB"DAMNED THING that CAN ride right down on you IS riding,
Hell-bent for leather, latex and vinyl and the ONLY, I repeat the ONLY
thing that can save your quivering soul is to buy Stang a new CD
burner to burn up, I mean, to send "Bob" $30! And ANOTHER 30 and
ANOTHER until when you sneeze, DUST comes out of your WALLET and only
THEN, my friends, near-friends, poseurs, self-serving smug-mugged
DIPshits and yog-boggled visitors and first-timers, only THEN will you
be be able to say "Well, screw the rest, I'M paid up, so they can just
FRY while I dab a little more of this here Eau de Connie-Thigh
Frop-Musk behind my lobes!!" Yezzir, pull on my hair, get mah laigs in
the air (preacher, mah legs are on FAHR!) like I jist don't care if
you stare but please don't touch me There! Yeaaah, WHAT'd I say? Didja
HEAR what Mama said? Otay!
I once tried to save myself from all of this horror
by lookin' up a
Bible verse on crossroads.com, but it kept transferring me to
Subgenius.com! The Pinks are right to be scared. Our clan is EVIL, SO
EVILLLLLLLL. You buncha dirty fuckers, I hate you for dragging me down
like this! I listen to the wrong people when I'm on pills, the right
ones when my ear wax is a foot thick and all I get is suspicious
mumbling, I yell at the innocent and near-innocent with a bullhorn and
then wonder how it got up in my booty, OOOOHH, Save me, Jebas! Oh
Lord, please forgive me for the hate in my heart and for saying 'fuck'
so much, I try to be a good man, but that cult stuff won't get out of
my head, no matter how many times a day I squeeze it in that special
vise that nice salesman brought. Guess I'm just plain bound for the
Pit. At least Mr. Nenslo pulled the scales from my eyes, God bless
him, he a good man, even though he always beat the crap out of me with
his quirt when I was his manservant in Scotland in our previous
lives.... wait a minute, I'm gonna kick his damned ASS!!! NENSLOOO!!!
I'M A'GONNA KILL YOOOUUUU, you beeYOTCH!!!!!
And JESUS, I want you to HEAL THE LIVIN' CRAP OUTTA
ME or its
CURTAINS, YOU DIG!!!? DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERRRE!!!! TRIPLE
TASMANIAN CHAINSAW VASECTOMY St. Vitus Dance on your JEWELS, AH TELL
YA WHUT, GAWDAMNED PEESASHIT MAGMA-SPITBALL BACK-FLIPPIN'
RAGIN'-CRACKHEAD 350-POUND CHIHUAHUA BLOWOUT IN YOUR PANTS IF YOU
DON'T DELIVER, PRAISE WHAT THE HELL'S 'IS NAME AGAIN *PIPE* GUY
DAMNATION, GET ON THE BALL, THERE, SON O' GOD or you'll just WISH I
WAS ONLY SATAN WITH A RED-HOT STAINLESS STEEL NUTCRACKER AND I MEAN
WHATEVER IN THE HELL I MEAN LIKE *HEELLLL!!"
So if you think you've gone AWOL from what THEY hyp-mo-tized
thinkin' was your pathetic "duty" and your butt-splittin' half a gram
of "SANITY"...well then, you're
The previous announcement came to you through the courtesy
the National Assemblies of God;
the Satanic Tabernacle in Wickenburg, Arizona;
your local policemen's benevolent association;
and as always, crazy-assed viewers like YOOOOUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!
PRAISE "Bob" and if given half a frop-damned
chance.... lick Connie.
Okay, turn off that damned Klieg light or I'm a-gonna pee on it. I
ain't a gawdamned bag of FRIES, there, Obo.
Did I say praise "Bob?" Praise "Bob."
Church O' the SubGenius, Reerected
White people doing flamenco look like cranes on crank
"If I shot every person who told me I sucked,
I'd be a serial killer."
- Judy Gold
"Keep your damn johnny out of my gas tank."
- "Judging Amy"
Original file name: Huey's Orphaned XD7 Rant.txt - converted on Saturday, 25 September 2004, 02:05
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