Farewell to the Master

From: rjtoth@aol.com (RJToth)
Date: 20 Feb 1995 21:44:52 -0500

This is dedicated to a gent who, for my money, symbolizes the divine
mystery at the heart of the SubG religion better than anyone---
Uncanonized Saint, Renegade Pope, Malcontent Messiah Colin Ferguson.

This isn't some suck-serial-killer-cock spiel. When I heard the news about
C.F.'s rampage, I realized that there was a good chance that a couple of
my family members had been on that train and could very well be dead. The
murders were horrible, but this guy is just too big to ignore.

To make sense of the fact that HE WENT NUTS---absolutely apeshit---he wove
an incredible tapestry of bulldada that was the veritable "Big Lie" that
Hitler--or was it lincoln? I can't remember--spoke of. CIA microchips in
his head, doppleganger assassins who had the same name as him, even
numerology. Toss in a psychic and an exorcist for good measure.

And the incredible thing? It JUST MIGHT BE TRUE. The CIA has done grislier
things than brainwashing. (Microchips might be a bit much--but that's just
details.) Doubles, clones--not beyond the realm of scientific or
statistical possibility. Psychics, exorcists--who knows? And maybe someone
did wrestle that gun out of his hands and turn that train into a
slaughterhouse. Again, there have been bigger improbabilities, higher
weirdnesses.

To me, that's the SubGenius religion. STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED.
Imagining the most exotic possibilities may lead you to a dead end
twenty-two times out of twenty-three, but the payoff on that last one is
usually a motherfucker.

It was said of Philip K. Dick, another brilliant fuckup, and I think it
applies to C.F. beautifully: "To him, the Martians are always landing."
(In fact, it's easy to imagine old Colin busting into PKD's filing
cabinet...) Life is always bizarre. The problem is, you have to be nuts to
get the effect. The Church of the SubGenius is a substitute for going
crazy.

So au revoir, Colin. Good luck in the Big House. I wouldn't want to meet
you in dark alley if I wasn't armed, but I could say the same about "BOB."
In a world where supposedly hip techies have to write ":-)" at the end of
a joke to let people know what they "really" meant, C.F.'s gallows humor
is a refreshing breath of putrid air.

And the punchline? The death penalty returns to New York! Wag your fingers
at him and curse him---then fry his ass! Go ahead! It'll make you feel
better! It'll keep you from blowing away the person next to you on the
train tonight. And what's a few criminals compared to really good
catharsis?

See you on the battlements.

the Rev. Rob



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