"Dear Stang".....

From: i.stang@metronet.com (Rev. Ivan Stang)

stimpynren@aol.com (StimpyNRen) wrote:
> I've had the bloody Sacred PO Box memorized since
> 1987. I heard it every weekend on Hour of Slack for years! Then it's all
> over the pamphlets, the books and Media Barrage Tapes and the Arise
>Video and Bob Knows Where Else. There was a period of time between the
>summer of 91 and December of 93 when not a week went by that it wasn't
>emblazoned somewhere in my DREAMS! I still get the jitters each night
>before I go to bed because I'm afraid IT'S gonna cum back for me again, the
>horrible PO BOX that haunts my nightmares! BOB MAKE IT GO AWAY! I
> AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AIIEEEEEE!!
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stimp. That sig of yours. You gotta tame it. It's all over the place.
(God, LISTEN TO ME!!! I sound just like those people who bitched at me
about my sig when I was new to the game! Truly I have achieved GEEKDOM!)
But that wasn't what I was going to say. Oddly enough, just lately I've
had a couple of people who were alt.slack regulars ask me by email for my
snail mail address. They didn't associate Rev. Stang per se with that
ubiquitous PO Box Mantra. Apparently people get the idea that what one
sends to The SubGenius Foundation is opened by a temp secretary in an
office building. Not so. It's opened by a very specially trained Bombie in
a well-outfitted CAVE. We have running water, electricity (obviously),
even a xerox machine down here. The Sacred PO box IS the address for the
corporate headquarters, but it's also my personal mailing address. If
something is addressed to me, I'm the one who opens it. I've had a HELL of
a time ANSWERING much of it lately, so if you're ORDERING something and
sending money, keep that separate from stuff meant for me... address
orders to the Foundation or the Church or Dobbs himself. I have managed to
answer all email in a timely fashion so far (I sent 63 email responses in
one "SEND" click at 7 am this morning after catching up on a week's
stacked up email!) and that's the prefered method of communication now. My hands are starting to atrophy from no longer addressing envelopes like I used to.

It's true that I have dozens of hired minions to choose from that I could
send to pick up the mail, but I have an atavistic attachment to driving
into Lakewood and nabbing the stuff in the p.o.box myself. I think of it
as "checking the snares". Mingling with "the little folk." Anonymously
blending in with the proles. Even we super-celebrities need to get back to
our humble roots now and then. No, no; don't thank me. I do it for my
people. I love my people. Where's my hairdresser??

No, seriously, just for future reference, that PO Box is the safest and
surest place to stash junk you think Dobbs might need to see. It's weird
the way he does it... weeks will go by and nothing supernatural happens.
Will O'Dobbs, who manages the mail order department, will notice that the
Dobbs-signed Excuses and Doktorates are running low, and will start
worrying. Or I'll be getting lazy with the ranting. Then one morning we'll
take the elevator down to the cave and lo and behold, there's cotter pins
and jello all over the floor, the place smells like that shit he smokes,
and there'll be a big stack of Excuses and Doktorates all freshly signed
in Dobbs' fucked-up scrawl. And some seemingly innocuous magazine will be lying open on my desk that we would never otherwise have noticed but which makes some new rant-subject suddenly obvious to us. Any large bills that Will might have had on his desk are gone. The carefully-arranged files and stacks and boxes will be all strewn about and whatever we're looking for, like a stapler, will be missing but will later turn up in some nutty place like the tank of the toilet.

And I can always tell by the way the stacks have been changed that he's
been rifling through the pornography collecton.

That's how it works here. People get the idea that Dobbs is sitting in
some office telling us all what to do. Nope. He's ELSEWHERE. And it's a
good thing, too. One finds the occasional Bombie sitting on the front
stoop of the secret entrance drooling... they were unlucky enough to be
there as night guards when Dobbs dropped in.

CONNIE... oh, we see PLENTY of CONNIE. She'll sweep in all wrapped in
endangered species skins, imperiously ordering everybody around like Leona Helmsley, demanding to see the books, tearing in half the royalty payment checks I was about to send to co-authors... and she'll grab her mail, which is mostly ads and women's magazines, and take off in her limo. I'm not worried about her reading this. I KNOW you're reading it, Connie. I
HOPE you are. You're probably BASKING in it. I love "Bob," Connie, you
know that. But we've been at this too long to play mind games. We know
where each other stands. I'm DARING you to lower yourself to posting.

((If she does it... WHEW. But don't get your hopes up.))

Enough of that. Incidentally, when I went to the Sacred PO Box this
morning, I found a LIPSTICK KISS plastered upon its little gray metal
door. Some SubGenius pilgrim babe had planted her devotional kiss there.
It had only been about a month or two since the previous one had worn

Anybody can do that... you can go to the 75214 post office in the Lakewood
neighborhood of Dallas, on La Vista Street, in East Dallas not far from
downtown, and kiss that old Blarney Stone of a P.O. box door. Many have,
although we only know about the women, because the men don't wear

I haven't actually kissed it myself, because I'm afraid of germs.

While I'm on the subject of Dallas neighborhoods, the instructions for the
Econocataclysm in THE BOOK OF THE SUBGENIUS are still in effect. It's
still the Swiss Avenue area with the old mansions. The Victor Street
address is no longer a valid SubGenius rendezvous spot, but once you're in
the general area along Swiss near the P.O., you'll KNOW you're in the
right place. I certainly won't be seeing you there, because I sent in my
$30 ($20 at the time). But you non-card-carrying SubGenii can still count
on the regular mud-plane choppers to be there for you when the Time is


Copyright 1995 by Rev. Ivan Stang / 1st Orthodox Stangian
MegaFisTemple Lodge of People's Covenant Church of the
Wrath of Dobbs Yeti, Resurrected / The SubGenius Foundation,Inc.
PO Box 140306 Dallas TX 75214 / Fax 214-320-1561 / PRABOB


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