From: Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com>
Date: Wed, Aug 20, 2003;
I don't remember who coined the phrase "Growing
old ain't for wimps!",
but they sure hit the nail on the head. I've been joining
the Stang
"aches and pains" cotillion more and more
every year. Hell, it's getting
to where I can't get out of bed without all my joints
sounding like a
bowl of Rice Krispies and the neighbors complaining
that the noise is
drowning out their hip-hop music.
Add clogged arteries, blood pressure, chronic rotator
cuff joint anf hip
joint pain, chronic depression, hay fever, indigestion,
the heatbreak of
psoriosis, gallbloots, diffembachia and the beginnings
of eyesight
instability plus taking enough pilz a day to own majority
stock in
GlaxoSmithKlineBeechamBayer and it's enough to try and
invent an android
body and take over the galaxy.
As I recall, back in the days of Rome and Caesar and
all that good stuff
the life expectancy was around what? 20? 30 on a good
week? (You're
asking *ME* to remember that shit? Me with the "Write
once-read NEVER"
memory core? Nowadays I can barely remember what I had
for breakfast a
day ago!) Back in the days of pioneers and settlers
and the like you were
doing good to NOT die before your 35th birthday. Kind
of like you're a
new car, driven for a few years and then cash it in
on the new model. Now
we're more like that 30 year old Dodge pickup belching
smoke and
chattering down US 41 with rusted bumpers, bald tires,
a clogged
radiator, stripped gears and one busted headlight. And
don't even think
of stomping on the brakes unless you want the drums
gouged out due to the
linings being gone 1 year ago.
It is obvious this body was NOT designed to go over
200,000 miles.
Otherwise why the hell do the joints start failing at
150,000? Yeah yeah,
some last for 100 years <must have been designed
by Volvo>. Me, I gotta
get a Yugo chassis.
Just damn.
_________________
-- The Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Motion
-- Cathedral, Carwash and Dancehall
-- Home of the Traci Lords Memorial Brothel
-- Reverend DJ Epoch, prop. and janitor
Divine Southern Redneck Yeti Clench Recruitment site:
http://revdjepoch.net
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "nu-monet v6.0" <nothing@succeeds.com>
Reverend DJ Epoch wrote:
> I don't remember who coined the phrase
> "Growing old ain't for wimps!", but they
> sure hit the nail on the head. I've been
> joining the Stang "aches and pains"
> cotillion more and more every year...
Dammit, the only way to play the game is to
cheat! If you'd just been keeping up with
your cutting-edge scientific perversions of
everything normal and natural, your studies
into the supernatural arcana; and learned
how to parasitically feed off of the youth
and strength of those about you, you wouldn't
be so fucked up now.
You can't buy into the *LIE* of living fast,
dying young, and leaving a good looking corpse!
By the time you die you want to be utterly and
disgustingly decrepit, more machine than flesh,
living off the stolen vitality of hundreds of
others, and with your reanimated, if soulless
corpse still prowling the land looking for
victims to drain of their life essense--a fine
and noble legacy, if I do say so myself.
Pain, suffering, honest hard work, responsible
membership in the community, contributing to
the betterment of mankind--lovely shit, *IF*
you intend to die when you are 65, leaving a
coffel of ungrateful progeny who will forget
you the instant your meagre inheritance peters
out and crossbreed with the lowest order of PWT,
annihilating any remnant of even your modest
genetic superiority in their offspring.
But what better way to be remembered a thousand
years hence, then to still be menacing the poor
survivors of a dozen brutal wars who try to eke
out a living growing linguini in the shadow of
your black castle of doom in the radioactive
desert that was Pittsburgh?
--
"YOU BELONG TO US NOW!"
"GET DOWN WITH MY SICKNESS!!"
--Kino Beman, brand name
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Cardboard Box <cardboardbox13013@yahoo.com.au>
"nu-monet v6.0" <nothing@succeeds.com>
committed the following:
> By the time you die you want to be utterly and
> disgustingly decrepit, more machine than flesh,
> living off the stolen vitality of hundreds of
> others, and with your reanimated, if soulless
> corpse still prowling the land looking for
> victims to drain of their life essense--a fine
> and noble legacy, if I do say so myself.
So you've seen that Judge Dredd comic as well?
--
Rev. Cardboard Box, going for the Other Half
boxedproduct.blogspot.com
"I want that shiny silver future and I WANT IT
NOW!" (me)
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com>
Date: Thu, Aug 21, 2003
"nu-monet v6.0" <nothing@succeeds.com>
wrote:
> Dammit, the only way to play the game is to
> cheat! If you'd just been keeping up with
> your cutting-edge scientific perversions of
> everything normal and natural, your studies
> into the supernatural arcana; and learned
> how to parasitically feed off of the youth
> and strength of those about you, you wouldn't
> be so fucked up now.
I've already used up all the kids in the neighborhood...
the school's
down to two classes a day now and the principle's working
a second job at
McDonalds. I'm gonna have to start commuting to get
fresh sustinance.
> You can't buy into the *LIE* of living fast,
> dying young, and leaving a good looking corpse!
>
> By the time you die you want to be utterly and
> disgustingly decrepit, more machine than flesh,
> living off the stolen vitality of hundreds of
> others, and with your reanimated, if soulless
> corpse still prowling the land looking for
> victims to drain of their life essense--a fine
> and noble legacy, if I do say so myself.
When I die, I want to be cremated in the reactor core
of Three-Mile
Island and come back as the Incredible Atomic 80' Ernie
Kovacks.
as for the local soul-havesting, they had a suspicion
this was happening
at work and laid off all the unpolluted specimens. Now
all that's left
are dregs and po'buckers.
> Pain, suffering, honest hard work, responsible
> membership in the community, contributing to
> the betterment of mankind--lovely shit, *IF*
> you intend to die when you are 65, leaving a
> coffel of ungrateful progeny who will forget
> you the instant your meagre inheritance peters
> out and crossbreed with the lowest order of PWT,
> annihilating any remnant of even your modest
> genetic superiority in their offspring.
I found a member of the opposite gender who is as allergic
to replacement
units as I am. I've saved some DNA for cloning my replacement
when the
time comes. We're spending all the inheritance and college
money they
would have gotten from us. Some small victory in that.
As for bettering
mankind, I don't dump my garbage in the neighbor's yard...
although it
might actually be an improvement over the number of
conveyances that
reside on concrete blocks.
> But what better way to be remembered a thousand
> years hence, then to still be menacing the poor
> survivors of a dozen brutal wars who try to eke
> out a living growing linguini in the shadow of
> your black castle of doom in the radioactive
> desert that was Pittsburgh?
That android body is lookin better and better every
year. Especially with
the giant lobster claw-style pincers. Fuggedabout pig
heart valves, gimme
titanium hemi headers and a pressure-regulated turbopump.
_________________
-- The Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Motion
-- Cathedral, Carwash and Dancehall
-- Home of the Traci Lords Memorial Brothel
-- Reverend DJ Epoch, prop. and janitor
Divine Southern Redneck Yeti Clench Recruitment site:
http://revdjepoch.net
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Ned Wreck" <NedWreck@usenetserver.com>
"Reverend DJ Epoch" <niunyabiz@noway.com>
wrote:
> I don't remember who coined the phrase "Growing
old ain't for wimps!",
> but they sure hit the nail on the head. I've been
joining the Stang
> "aches and pains" cotillion more and
more every year.
I'm 48. I've not noticed any symptoms that you, or Ivan,
have described.
I've smoked a pack of cigs a day since I was 17 and
drink like a fish on a
regular basis. Hell, I still get carded for cigs and
beer purchases from
time to time.
Unfortunately, neither one of you poor bastards were
endowed at birth with a
tumor that scooshed
your pituitary gland like I was. I feel for ya, I really
do. The funny thing
is; the really crummy side of my "problem"
stopped being a problem about 20
years ago.
THANK YOU, "BOB"!
Ned
--
Eternal Salvation or Triple Your Money Back!!! HTTP://WWW.SubGenius.com
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com>
As I said, some of us got the Mercedes chassis, and
some of us wound up
with the Hupmobile scrapyard leftovers. The male parental
unit from
whence my plans were drawn had three heart attacks before
45 and died of
lung cancer at 56. Plus only existed on alcohol suppliments.
Dammit, I
really need to find someone to sue for negligent engineering.
_________________
-- The Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Motion
-- Cathedral, Carwash and Dancehall
-- Home of the Traci Lords Memorial Brothel
-- Reverend DJ Epoch, prop. and janitor
Divine Southern Redneck Yeti Clench Recruitment site:
http://revdjepoch.net
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: nenslo <nenslo@yahooX.com>
Reverend DJ Epoch wrote:
> As I recall, back in the days of Rome and Caesar
and all that good stuff
> the life expectancy was around what? 20? 30 on
a good week?
Those oft-repeated life-expectancy numbers are statistical,
not
factual. The numbers were brought way down by the huge
infant and
child mortality rates. People still lived to be 90
back then, they
just died at age .5 way more often.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com>
So back then if I had made it past 15 without becoming
wormfood I would
have been able to confound the masses for better than
6 or 7 decades
without dealing with HMOs? Sounds like heaven on earth.
Roman baths,
plenty of food and drink, an orgy a week for aerobic
exercise, no 18
wheelers tailgating your ass at 5pm...
I wonder if there's such a thing as retrograde reincarnation?
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Rev. Ivan Stang" <stang@subgenius.com>
Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com> wrote:
> I don't remember who coined the phrase "Growing
old ain't for wimps!",
> but they sure hit the nail on the head. I've been
joining the Stang
> "aches and pains" cotillion more and
more every year.
The young bull said to the old bull, "Let's run
down there and fuck
some of them cows."
"No," said the old bull, "Let's WALK
down there, and fuck ALL of those
cows."
-- parables of Dr. G. Gordon Gordon
I sympathize and everything, but maybe I should point
out that the
aches and pains I complain about have followed such
activities as
house-moving, running a festival for a week, dancing
all night,
out-fiddling Satan, producing more than one Hour of
Slack in a day,
etc. At most devivals, or concerts for that matter,
I am still dancing
and hauling gear long after most of the kids have fallen
down or
crawled home to go seepy-bye.
I am not on ANY pills or Conspiracy medicine of ANY
kind, AND YET I
LIVE ON! In fact, the only thing I've had prescribed
by a doctor in
some time was that I mix my coffee beans equally with
DECAF coffee
beans. My only prosthetics are my glasses. Which I don't
wear at all if
I'm at my desk.
I'm not putting down the drugs or anything. I smoked
3 packs of
Marlboros a day for 25 years, and none of you will EVER,
in your whole
lives, drink as much, or drop as much acid as I did,
just in THAT ONE
MONTH ALONE. AND YET *STILL* I SHUFFLE ON, IN THIS MORTAL
COIL!
Out-shuffling numerous deceased health freaks, I might
add. That cliff
DOESN'T go straight down, although it might as well,
the way people
throw themselves off it. Perhaps by just ROLLING off
the edge, I hit
that same "ledge" that Keith Richards rolled
onto. (To cop from Bill
Hicks.)
If any doctor knew my REAL health history, they'd have
me locked up in
some secret lab and be studying me like The Hulk. Trying
to get me to
REVERT, to see what mechanism allows me to survive it.
The reason I griped when my elbow and back were needing
therapy was to
remind my fellow 50-somethings that you really do have
to keep up the
damn exercising some way or another, if you're gonna
continue to do
things like rake leaves. A really dedicated regime of
masturbation
might well be enough. Also, there are reasons that Ma
told you to eat
right and get enough sleep.
It's true that '98-99 were rough years for me, with
chronic vertigo,
hypoglycemia, hairy palms, and even opthalmic migraines.
Oddly enough,
those all vanished soon after I became consort to Princess
Wei "R."
Doe.
I don't even use a spell checking program. So please
don't include me
in the list of the decrepit, yet. Think of me more along
the lines of
The Emperor in Star Wars, than Darth Vader. I may be
unthinkably
ancient, but I'm actually not being held together by
machines and
injections. My secret key to health is nothing more
complicated than
simple BLACK MAGIC.
--
4th Stangian Orthodox MegaFisTemple Lodge of the Wrath
of Dobbs Yeti,
Resurrected (Rev. Ivan Stang, prop.)
PRABOB
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Pastor Fluff <ten.emoHtfoS@ffulf_rotsap>
....BLACK MAGIC..... OK, so that's the way to go.
By the way, have a creepy 49th B-Day.......
--
Pastor Fluff
Second-Hand Church of the Emaculate Thingy
Reported to the SPCA for thrashing my dogma
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: mshotz@aol.commonkeypo (Rev. Richard Skull)
>The young bull said to the old bull, "Let's
run down there and fuck
>some of them cows."
>
>"No," said the old bull, "Let's WALK
down there, and fuck ALL of those
>cows."
Happy brithday to both of us Stang!
I got two birthday gifts today! The Doctor diagnosed
me with Bronchitus so I
get the rest of the week off sick. AND I got a letter
in the mail telling me I
now have a new job as of 9/8/03! A job that dies not
required me to spend 10
hours of my life every week driving to & from work!
I can now once again enjoy a life that is worthy of
a Yeti! I calculated that
just on the gas and City of Wilmington, DE wage tax,
I am already $26 a week
ahead! And that does cover the $35 a month for thre
E-Z Pass tolls!
Thank BoB!
MSHOTZ: The Post Post Modern Man
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com>
"Rev. Ivan Stang" <stang@subgenius.com> wrote:
> I sympathize and everything, but maybe I should
point out that the
> aches and pains I complain about have followed
such activities as
> house-moving, running a festival for a week, dancing
all night,
> out-fiddling Satan, producing more than one Hour
of Slack in a day,
> etc. At most devivals, or concerts for that matter,
I am still dancing
> and hauling gear long after most of the kids have
fallen down or
> crawled home to go seepy-bye.
I still haul a bunch of sound gear every other week
myself with my DJ
biz... including putting up a lighting truss and lifting
fairly good-
sized speakers up on stands single-handed. (well, actually
I use BOTH my
hands.. things don't fall down go BOOM as much that
way.) And I am
definitly stiff and sore after doing those gigs. But
hey, playing music
helps keep me young mentally, even if the body has a
hard time following
along with the program. At least I haven't needed to
hire roadies yet.
>
> I am not on ANY pills or Conspiracy medicine of
ANY kind, AND YET I
> LIVE ON! In fact, the only thing I've had prescribed
by a doctor in
> some time was that I mix my coffee beans equally
with DECAF coffee
> beans. My only prosthetics are my glasses. Which
I don't wear at all if
> I'm at my desk.
Ahh glasses, t'were it not for those little slabs of
plastic in a frame,
I'd be reading using about 32 point font instead of
the lovely 10 point
stuff. Modern technology is wunnerful when batteries
aren't required. As
far as the drugs... if it weren't for the oral meds
they've developed I'd
be on the needle injecting insulin a couple of times
a day. And that's
being on a GOOD diet that <sigh> restricts my
enjoyment of cheese. Bad
enough I'm in a cheese-eaters 12 step program.
"Hi, I'm Epoch.... and I'm a cheddarholic..."
>
> I'm not putting down the drugs or anything. I smoked
3 packs of
> Marlboros a day for 25 years, and none of you will
EVER, in your whole
> lives, drink as much, or drop as much acid as I
did, just in THAT ONE
> MONTH ALONE. AND YET *STILL* I SHUFFLE ON, IN THIS
MORTAL COIL!
> Out-shuffling numerous deceased health freaks,
I might add. That cliff
> DOESN'T go straight down, although it might as
well, the way people
> throw themselves off it. Perhaps by just ROLLING
off the edge, I hit
> that same "ledge" that Keith Richards
rolled onto. (To cop from Bill
> Hicks.)
Geese, you sound like me back in my 20's. As if being
a fireman wasn't
enough, I was also going through 3 packs a day. Like
I wasn't getting
enough of my daily adult requirement of combustion by-products.
After
we'd knock down a kitchen fire or take a break from
brushfire ops, we'd
all sit down on the firetruck and light up. We WERE
Marlboro men! I was
lucky that I was able to quit while in my 30's. And
as for drinking,
Djing in danceclubs part time usually meant a free bar
tab and all the
shooters you could embalmn yourself with from the customers
bribing you
to play "their song". I was never much into
the recreational drugs...
having to pick us the wasted carcasses of the die-hard
druggies while in
the FD prety well convinced me that was not a path I
wanted to take,
although Dobbs knows there was enough free stuff floatng
around back then
at the clubs. I *still* don't know how the hell I got
back home with no
bent or torn metal on the car every night.
> If any doctor knew my REAL health history, they'd
have me locked up in
> some secret lab and be studying me like The Hulk.
Trying to get me to
> REVERT, to see what mechanism allows me to survive
it.
>
> The reason I griped when my elbow and back were
needing therapy was to
> remind my fellow 50-somethings that you really
do have to keep up the
> damn exercising some way or another, if you're
gonna continue to do
> things like rake leaves. A really dedicated regime
of masturbation
> might well be enough. Also, there are reasons that
Ma told you to eat
> right and get enough sleep.
My cardiologist has theatened to use my picture as a
poster child for the
American Heart Association if I don't increase the amount
of exercise I
get a week. As if tennis elbow from fapping off to the
thought of hot
Vulcan sex with Jolene Blalock wasn't enough... I use
a treadmill twice a
week and my weight set three tims a week as it is -
it's one of those
nifty Wieder dual-station jobs you change settings by
moving a pin up or
down on a slding stack of weights. Like I have anything
better to do at 3
AM on my off-days from the night shift outside of harassing
the
stockgoobers at the 24 hour Wal-Mart or vegging out
on IRC.
> It's true that '98-99 were rough years for me,
with chronic vertigo,
> hypoglycemia, hairy palms, and even opthalmic migraines.
Oddly enough,
> those all vanished soon after I became consort
to Princess Wei "R."
> Doe.
>
> I don't even use a spell checking program. So
please don't include me
> in the list of the decrepit, yet. Think of me more
along the lines of
> The Emperor in Star Wars, than Darth Vader. I may
be unthinkably
> ancient, but I'm actually not being held together
by machines and
> injections. My secret key to health is nothing
more complicated than
> simple BLACK MAGIC.
>
Ghods, opthlmic migranes are some bad shit. I've had
them... every time
my vision would go through a phase where I thought I
was looking through
cracked glass... and that shit CAN damage the retina!
Amaising the
healing powers of the fair gender.
When you can shoot those nifty lightning bolts from
your fingers I'll
acquiesce <sp?> to your superiority. Just don't
get too high and mighty
or Legume'll throw you down into the reactor core....
and you KNOW how
much he enjoys throwing people down reactor cores!
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Artemia Salina <y2k@sheayright.com>
nenslo wrote:
> Reverend DJ Epoch wrote:
>> As I recall, back in the days of Rome and Caesar
and all that good stuff
>> the life expectancy was around what? 20? 30
on a good week?
>
> Those oft-repeated life-expectancy numbers are
statistical, not
> factual. The numbers were brought way down by
the huge infant and
> child mortality rates. People still lived to be
90 back then, they
> just died at age .5 way more often.
Yep. Down the street from me is an old cemetary. Some
of the
headstones date back to the late-1600's. Many of the
people
burried there lived to be in their sixties or seventies.
One
guy lived to be 103 years old.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "3TiMMY2" <timmy@timmy.com>
Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com> wrote:
>I don't remember who coined the phrase "Growing
old ain't for wimps!",
>but they sure hit the nail on the head. I've been
joining the Stang
>"aches and pains" cotillion more and more
every year. Hell, it's getting
>to where I can't get out of bed without all my joints
sounding like a
>bowl of Rice Krispies and the neighbors complaining
that the noise is
>drowning out their hip-hop music.
>
>Add clogged arteries, blood pressure, chronic rotator
cuff joint anf hip
>joint pain, chronic depression, hay fever, indigestion,
the heatbreak of
>psoriosis, gallbloots, diffembachia and the beginnings
of eyesight
>instability plus taking enough pilz a day to own
majority stock in
>GlaxoSmithKlineBeechamBayer and it's enough to try
and invent an android
>body and take over the galaxy.
>
>As I recall, back in the days of Rome and Caesar
and all that good stuff
>the life expectancy was around what? 20? 30 on a
good week?
No, but TIMMY!
> (You're
>asking *ME* to remember that shit? Me with the "Write
once-read NEVER"
>memory core? Nowadays I can barely remember what
I had for breakfast a
>day ago!) Back in the days of pioneers and settlers
and the like you were
>doing good to NOT die before your 35th birthday.
Kind of like you're a
>new car, driven for a few years and then cash it
in on the new model. Now
>we're more like that 30 year old Dodge pickup belching
smoke and
>chattering down US 41 with rusted bumpers, bald
tires, a clogged
>radiator, stripped gears and one busted headlight.
And don't even think
>of stomping on the brakes unless you want the drums
gouged out due to the
>linings being gone 1 year ago.
>
>It is obvious this body was NOT designed to go over
200,000 miles.
Obviously, TIMMY!??!
>Otherwise why the hell do the joints start failing
at 150,000? Yeah yeah,
>some last for 100 years <must have been designed
by Volvo>. Me, I gotta
>get a Yugo chassis.
>
>Just damn.
DAMN Timmy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: hellpopehuey@subgenius.com (HellPopeHuey)
I am still alive because I seem to really amuse Satan.
He grabs me by
the ankles, beats the fuck out of a few people who are
late with their
payments and I get him to stop by telling great jokes.
Then we laugh
together while he takes up Blackout and uses him for
a lot longer
because he's less funny as often. Hey, its kept me more
limber than I
might otherwise have been. Way better than Nenslo, anyway,
he's about
112 but looks 130.
--
HellPope Huey, hellpopehuey@subgenius.com
Do I look inflamed to you?
"Only 15 miles to 'Bob's' House of Feces."
- "Family Guy"
"So much perfume,
people may ask 'Are you a Turkish prostitute?'"
- "The Daily Show"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: ridetheory@yahoo.com (ignatz topolino)
Reverend DJ Epoch <niunyabiz@noway.com> wrote:
> Hell, it's getting
> to where I can't get out of bed without all my
joints sounding like a
> bowl of Rice Krispies and the neighbors complaining
that the noise is
> drowning out their hip-hop music.
Hip-hop reminds me: the one really good thing about
getting older is
that I seem to be going deaf. Hasten the day! No more
hip-hop,
soulful ballads, oldies, people singing along with oldies,
idiotic pop
music trends... Every morning I wake up and hear the
birdies chirping,
I think, "Goddamm it, another day of hearing stuff
I hate." The
sooner I go deef as a post, the better.
iggy topo
Original file name: Fuck this aging crap.txt - converted on Saturday, 25 September 2004, 02:05
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