by Doeroadx

And I saw, as it were, the Look descend upon Jane

in the midst of her ecstasy, and she called out "Reid!"

The milkman, knowing naught of this name,

withdrew himself from Jane, and peed.

The sky had darkened o'er with the shadow of ships,

come to witness this cosmosanct phenomenon.

She conceived the Dobbshead with a leer on her lips,

saying, "Beware the return of Xiuacha-Chi-Xan!"

"But I've left you a mere gallon," the milkman saith,

directly proceeding to bitcheth and whinest.

"Yet a gallon sufficeth," quoth Jane as she layeth,

"if it be a gallon of your grade-A finest!"

Whereupon he lit his pipe and sped his van away,

pursuing his random route of predestined fun.

And the telephone rings at the height of this play,

and she answers, confessing, "It is done."

And the Other whispers a word in her ear

which compels the groins of the gods to throb --

a word for the name of the child to fear --

The Word, in a word, and the word was "Bob."

Then there was the principal who had disciplined "Bob," and who died in a freak accident at the local glass factory -- impaled on the grinding-and-polishing machine. Little Dobbs was reported to have muttered after school, "I hope he gets ground glass packed up his ass."

He had peculiar ways of evaluating the commercial potential of new products. Once, while we were looking at somebody's new dishwasher invention, he commented, "I like it... I'd put my peter in it," and then whipped out his checkbook. It was a profitable investment. He could always pick a winner, but it had to meet his criteria.

He also tried a liquor store chain called BEER GOD, which opened in a few places in the West, Denver and Phoenix and suchlike, in the `50s. No radio station or newspaper would even run the ads... he was confused about that. It always took Dobbs a while to catch on. I understand the old Beer God cans with the horned Wotan picture on them are worth $300 or more to collectors.[5]

His arrival was prophesied in their holy texts, the Nazcal Scrolls: "He will come to you, smoking one pipe and having one solitary eyebrow which blights his face." Dobbs had indeed lost an eyebrow; he told the Tibetans that it was because he had been branded by the Sultan, but in fact he had lost it by lighting the Pipe too close to his face while fraternizing with his Burmese captors. (He successfully sued the Djakarta lighter manufacturer in 1960).

During his sojourn in Tibet, Dobbs met Mother Teresa and seduced her; their bastard son is the "Indian spiritual guru" you may have seen in the tabloids, "Elvis Ron Dobbsananda." I met him recently -- he's a very pleasant kid, actually, if a little vacant.

"Bob" got very involved in the UFO cult scene and attended all the flying saucer conventions of the `60s, although he kept a low profile. Even while he was regularly communicating with Xists, he was obsessed with the effect the other aliens were having on all those poor Po'buckers that they were abducting and contacting. Possibly, he was just fishing for ideas.

However, we constantly find his spoor, his trademark mounds of cotter-pins, Jell-O, and excrement, everywhere -- in the most random places, like alleyways and taxicabs. He's always been there a couple of hours ahead of us, and we step in it. It's not that he's following us around, nor we him. It's more like we're being sucked along behind his Luck Plane "wake."

He is supposed to be master of ancient secrets and at the same time a licensed arms dealer. Some find it hard to reconcile the two images without envisioning a deranged Buddha carrying an assault rifle and rocket launcher.

"As a preacher, I am often called to examine the activities of rival cultists allowed to operate in my parish. I am willing to concede an illusory sense of "free will" or "divine guidance" to those who have not yet found the firm yoke of obedience to J.R. "Bob" Dobbs and his mighty Church of the SubGenius, because it promotes healthy competition in the limited market of human souls." -- Rev. Onan Canobite


The B'AHobb -- the B'Hind B'aab. And lo he urinated, and fire and thistles sprang up in the path of the poison which spewed forth as peckersnot.

Some male paranoids posit that, from the beginning, "Bob" has been TOTALLY "pussy-whipped" (as are, secretly, most of his Hierarchy), and that the war between JHVH-1 and GAIA/ERIS was won long ago by this queen-dominated "hive," the contemporary version of the Bene Gesserit.

For example, in PreScriptures 4,789,098:3 it says: "A woman in her season shall not enter the temple... and if a woman in her issue crosses the threshold in her unclean time, the temple, yea, even the Papal Palace, must be burnt. Even the building must be burnt to the ground." Ah, but in 1955 the patriarchy censored the original punchline of that Prescripture: "And if a man in his unclean time, which is all the time, shall come through, it shall be burnt likewise, and paved over, for his mind is the unclean organ."

Of course, the conquering religion always turns the defeated religion's heroes into demons. The Earth Serpent/Mother was subjugated by the macho religions from India, as soma-drinking, chariot-riding Aryan swordsmen swept up through Europe, kicking ass with their gods of war and violence. In Babylon, they turned Tiamat into a demon. The deva, the snake gods (divine beings in the old religion), were relegated to "evil serpenthood" in the Brahmic tradition of Hindu. All those goddesses that Zeus supposedly laid were actually just local names for the Earth Mother that had previously been worshipped almost universally. Apollo, originally a tribal mouse-demon, gradually grew through the increasing organization of religion into the Apollonian ideal, the "Supreme Rational" behind Western culture, justifying the division of time and space into measurable units, the quantifying of nature, the imposition of order upon the chaos of the Universe. Pan became the Devil, and those SubGenius women who dared to practice Forbidden Sciences or even talk back became flammable "witches."

NORMAL SEX -- How Much, How Often, How Good?

ABNORMAL SEX -- Much. Often. Good.

But in some circles, encompassed by both the mass and most "alternative" media, it's considered UNCOOL to be SEXY that way. Sure, there's tons of "sex," Conspiracy style, on TV, but it's all tease -- there's no sexual freedom, for ANY of the sexes. The Con provides the illusion of tolerance for all-out Slack-filled sexhurt, but is the hard-core how-to inspirational information ever actually disseminated in the mass media? Hell, no. Church, state, press and radical feminists are as one when it comes to sex.


In the ancient days, a tiny handful of strident hate-mongers wrote angry letters to The Southland Corporation, owners of all mighty 7-11s, saying they'd bring charges against the store for "distribution of pornography" if they kept selling -- of all the lame things -- Playboy magazine.[6] Of course, the nervous twittering Pinks at Southland instantly caved in and pulled the magazine from their shelves. In revenge, Playboy ran a pictorial called "The Girls of 7-11." We sexist pig SubGenius women and men wanted to see OUR particular local 7-11 clerks pose for that. But there's no way that could have happened -- although attractive by our standards, Playboy wouldn't use THOSE woman -- much less ANY of the MALE clerks! They'd all have been too skinny, or too fat, or possessed of too much facial character to meet Playboy's standards.

This is a perfect example of Conspiracy censorship running in both directions at once. Just as 7-11 won't sell Playboys, Playboy won't photograph most of these women and NONE of the men because they don't conform to "normal" contemporary convenience store fetishes. The Conspiracy of the Puritans is actually in league with the Conspiracy of the Sex Masters!!

To combat BOTH the puritans and the sex masters, we must be more ENTERTAINING than the sex masters. (In that respect, we're already so far ahead of the Puritans that they aren't really competition.) Some of the more "P.C." might not want to "lower themselves to our level." But they have forgotten that there is both a yin and a yang.

Connie is the female SubGenius ideal -- the Überfemme Regina! She's got a brain and a pussy, and she's not afraid to use `em.

"I like politically aware bitches. They're the only ones whose faces are worth jacking off into." -- Pope Sternodox

"I got so much clit, I don't NEED balls!" -- Rev. Nanzi Regalia

"If you feed it enough, you will be ABLE to milk it." -- Dobbs

Now is your chance to table-dance in the face of The Conspiracy! Now is your chance to fire the vaginal blood fart heard `round the world!

The Second Coming -- that's for Jesus. That ain't Connie's style. You can't "CON" a Connie! She keeps gaining and gaining and coming, in great swelling gushes. The third, fourth, fifth, 93rd comings... that's for "Bob" and Connie. For Connie is capable of the Tsunami orgasm.

Rev-X OUTS Part 1
SILENT RADIO by Dr. Philo Drummond
GIVE 'TIL IT HURTS by Papa Joe Mama
THE 3 PROGRAMS by Nenslo
SLACK and TIME CONTROL (Interview with the OverMan)
APPENDIX (Zoogz Rift's Confession, Ivan Stang sermon)

Back to the ANSWERS Index
Back to the Master Map!