Need to enhance your front-end solutions? Having trouble embracing your

vertical infrastructures? Let "Bob" Dobbs and his SubGenius Foundation
cultivate world-class technologies overnight for minimal initial overlay.
Streamline integrated metrics and extend *your* paradigms! "Bob" can show
you how! His transparent schemas integrate world-class initiatives to
reduce penalized nominal communication--or "pink" for short--while
optimizing profitability execution proactively.

"Bob" will teach you how to deliver visionary magnetic infomediaries using
our exclusive user-centric 24/7 system, SLACK®. Combined with our patented,
field-proven FROP(TM) Frictionless Relationship Optimization Paradigm
reintents all next-generation content. The synergy of SLACK and FROP
positions your end-to-end strategies for perfect execution. No more "pink"!

Incentivize your virtual experiences today with the proven "pink" killer in
the industry--"Bob" Dobbs.

For an introductory brochure, please send $1 to cover postage and handling to:

The SubGenius Foundation PO Box 140306 Dallas, TX 75214

"Bob" Bop Bag--$30

This deluxe, extra-durable punching bag has been used in the training of
SLAK guerillas in Dobbstown. The easy-to-clean vinyl shell is bedecked with
Dobbsheads all over it, so you can practise your swing through instinct.
BASH BASH BASH!!! You'll go BERZERK over this! Great upper-body exercise!

Wobblin' "Bob" Bop Bag--$60

A five-foot six-inch replica of J. R. "Bob" Dobbs in dense foam awaits your
Stark Fist! Ballast lets you knock "Bob" down again and again, and he just
COMES BACK UP--as in real life. Memory foam retains prints from each blow
for 30 seconds, so you can savor that nasty nose-cruncher or beat him until
his ass caves in, over and over again! Get in shape FAST the DOBBS way!

Rockin' Rollin' "Bob" Bop Bag--$1299

The ultimate! The tempered high-temperature Slakinum (TM) core will survive
anything short of a thermonuclear blast, while the arms are set up to hold
and operate a wide variety of guns, flame throwers, or other
trigger-operated weaponry (NOT INCLUDED). It balances perfectly thanks to
its internal high-speed gyroscopes and can be spun about rapidly without
losing stability. Doubles as a cheap substitute for parameter guards.
Fights like a motherfucker. You'll like taking this one down.


It has been brought to my attention that there are suicidal SubGeniuses
here at Brushwood this weekend. I want to spend a minute reaching out to
them tonight.

If you hear any voice suggesting you should waste yourself, say out loud:
"AW SHUT UP, LEGUME, YA BIG SILLY FAG YOU!" You'll feel better right away.

And if THEN, you still can't bear to go on, at least wear a Dobbs t-shirt
when you go. They'll be on sale tomorrow, I'm sure, so please put off your
suicide until then. Will your money and possessions, if any, to the
SubGenius Foundation. "Bob" will appreciate it better that way.

And remember that your memory will be despised by somebody, no matter what.
Sorry, but people who commit suicide are assholes to one or more survivors.
If it comes to suicide, make sure that you're at least being an asshole to
someone who deserves it.

Also keep in mind that suicide is an express ticket to the kookhouse if you
screw it up and survive, and that you'll likely be scarred for life, likely
brain-damaged, and forced to live on anyhow.

Is it looking less like an alternative? Good. May you be of good slack.

Please understand that I, too, have had occasional thoughts of ending it
all, of giving up so totally that I'd have no chance to ever try again. And
then I realized that I was practically denying the existence of Slack in
doing so. So, fuck suicide, I've decided I'm going to have some FUN for a

And it'd be more FUN if you were having FUN too. And you CAN have fun. I'm
not talking about the Conspiracy shit, the endless variety of
personality-flatenning corporate individualism that they pawn off as "fun",
I'm talking about that state of slackfullness we Doktors term the
"shit-eating grin".

And it could come from the simplest little thing. To a SubGenius full in
her slack, trimming her cuticles could result in Slack beyond the orgies of
Sodom and Las Vegas combined. WHY NOT? It's literally the easiest thing in
the world to do, right up there with BREATHING.

Although, frankly, you may need some "BOB" PILS, frop, vitamins, protein or
even those little pink Conspiracy pills that make you ever so slightly less
willing to kill everything or turning into a complete emotional wreck every
15 minutes or unable to get out of bed in the morning.
Sometimes, though, it's really simple. There's one thing driving you crazy,
and the moment you get it out of your life, you'd feel better. Now, before
you reach for your rifles, consider that it may be easier to simply move. I
mean, if you kill someone, you are either on the run or in prison, and so
you may as well just move somewhere you like better. When the Xists get
here, it's open season, of course, but until then, murder is as stupid as
suicide in the final analysis.


And, if after all this, you STILL must commit suicide, here is a handy list
of things NEVER EVER TO DO. In fact, don't do this for FUN either. Some of
you bastards might enjoy the imagery a bit much and forget the fatality

DO NOT: Lay a big Dobbshead stencil on the sidewalk in front of tall
building. Don't aim for it when you jump.

DO NOT: See if you can carve " "BOB" BOX 140306 DALLAS TX 75214" in your
arms before you black out.

DO NOT: Put on a Dobbs rubber mask, dress in a cheap suit, and walk around
Shattuck Avenue in Oalkand, CA, waving and talking like Deputy Dawg or
Huckleberry Hound.

DO NOT: Attempt to find out if it's actually possible to be fucked to death.

DO NOT: Write a suicide note, ending every sentence with: ""Bob" said so."
and ending the note with "I love you Connie" at the bottom.

ESPECIALLY DO NOT: Find an overpass where rush hour traffic is usually
bumper-to-bumper at around 90 miles an hour. Don't write down the
overpass's clearance. Don't get a rope and cut it the length of the
clearance. Don't make a hangman's noose, don't put the noose around your
neck, don't put on a suit, don't put the rest of the rope inside the
jacket, and don't take a pipe and something to smoke with you. Don't go to
the overpass, don't tie the other end of the rope to the rail, don't let
the rest of the rope fall slack to the cement, don't light the pipe and
take a few puffs, don't stroke your dick and get it hard, and, even if you
DO do all that, DON'T jump off with your dick in your hand, pipe clenched
in your grin, right into the flow of breakneck traffic speeding to work. I
mean it, DON'T DO IT.

It's true that the lesson of X-Day, as preached by the great Rev. Ivan
Stang, was: Build Your Own Ship. However, we learned something even more


I mean, that sex goddess could well be ANYTHING.

It could be as humble as a deck of badly printed pornographic playing cards.

Or could be a Venus of Willendorf blow-up doll.

Or it could be that silver-screen diva that first made you go, WHOA.

Or it could be that eighteen-year-old Catholic schoolgirl who peeks at you
and smiles.

Or it could be a bombastic transsexual SubGenius preacher with an
infectious case of Connieitis, and tonight she's spreading it around, CAN I

Or it could be YOURSELF. And that is the reason why you should thank Connie
for letting us stay on earth until we figured that one out for ourselves.

But we've learned our lessons! Maybe she'll get in touch with Narnini and
get the Rupture underway for once!
Or maybe, as Sister Decadence once suggested, Connie's just waiting for
this Church to be half female.

Which means, my sisters, we must reach out to our slackless sisters, and
let them know there is hope!

For there exists a real Conspiracy that's behind the patriarchy AND the
hardcore feminists alike--but as long as one woman among us has slack, THEY
CANNOT WIN. And with enough of us having slack, WE SHALL OVERCOME! Andwe


If, if by any chance you would make a mistake to try to come in and take
any slack from us, we will not let you, you will whine - You will have to
take anybody over all our boobies...!

Love is the only weapon... Princess Diana DIED for her love! Mother Teresa
died talking about something she couldn't understand, some kind of
idealized love! And she never even used a condom!

Love isn't the only weapon with which I got to fight. I got a helluva lot
of weapons to fight! I got my TITTIES, I got BRAINS, I got STILLETTO HEELS,
I got LEAD-WEIGHTED PURSES, I got a helluva lot to fight! I'll fight! I'll


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