Tonight is the night, Monday.
Stang and myself will put aside our differences as together with Dobbs we have a meeting with Gwar. As you know Gwar's translators are a bunch of Pink Boys, how they hooked up with them I'll never know, but Gwar sometimes gets confused with the ways of our planet. Or maybe they just like to torture and use the pinks for thier own amusement.
I'm not sure of Dobbs' conection with Gwar's home planet, but there seems to be more here than meets the eye. But I guess all will become apparent on X-day.
This gives me the oppertunity to see Stang face to face tonight and maybe we can try to work things out. We'll see. If not, Stang, you better be ready to put you FISTS where your MOUTH is. Let's see how tough you are when we take away the mic and the keyboard!
I'll let you know what happens, and if Stang apologizes.
Flying Lemur Anti-Social Books: Sex, Bombs, the Occult!
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Rev. Steve Bevilacqua wearing his typical expression of stupidly innocent enthusiasm.
The GWAR Meeting 9/18/95
From: sxb40@po.CWRU.Edu (Steven Bevilacqua)
Date: 20 Sep 1995
Why they picked an abandoned warehouse in Detroit is still beyond my comprehension. I met Stang at the airport as his flight had come in a bit later than mine. Dobbs was scheduled to be at the warehouse 30 minutes prior to the meeting. Stang was one of the first off the ramp (the luxury of traveling first class). I have to say he looked a hell of a lot better, having fully recovered from that lip fungus, body disease, that "Bob" had blessed him with. In full Stagonian style he came barreling down the docking ramp riding atop his portable luggage.
"Yee haw I love De-Troit!", I heard that thick Texas cowboy drawl, before I even saw him ride his Samsonite into the arrival zone.
I guess I shouldn't have been surprised about the Hawaiian shirt, cut offs and sandals. I, as always, sharply dressed in my business suit, hair slicked perfectly back, just shook my head.
"Where's the beach!" Stang shouted as I went over to get him.
"Stang, I thought I told you we were going to have an important meeting with GWAR."
"Hell, that's why I'm here Bevilacqua. I'm ready to go!"
He didn't mention our current "discussions" about Dr. Legume, so I decided not to bring it up. It could wait till after the meeting, I thought. The tension, however was as thick as Stang's accent.
After we exchanged numbers with the stewardesses Stang and I headed for the pick up area. I thought I heard Stang mutter some comment about being surprised I still was trying to pick up girls, obviously some cut on how "unmanly" I was reacting to Legumes death. I ignored it.
That was when we saw "it". A frail, whithered skeleton-kid. He was so misshapen and white that you actually WANTED to look at him. Take your average burn-out, stick him in a closet on a diet of Twinkies and Coke, blaring megadeath while showing Beavis and Butt-head reruns non-stop, taking him out only once in a while to beat him with an electric guitar stand, and you'd have what we saw before us. I actually felt a lump in my throat as I thought how many times on a boring night Stang and I had done exactly that.
The freakish abnomality held a cigarette in one trembling hand and a sign in the other. Upon it in blood-red letters was scrawled...SUBGENIUS.
"Cyberslave.", I whispered in disgust to Stang.
"Uh huh, even sicker lookin' then a Bobbie."
I completely agreed.
We spent a long while in the Limo. The Cyberslave seemed to go into some sort of convulsions resembling head banging. I feared his long greasy hair would fall out of that shriveled bone casing he was using for a head. Stang and I watched in amusement until he finally passed out.
"Think he's dead?" asked Stang
"Who Cares", I replied
We had a good laugh over that one, and it helped ease the tension.
My guess is the driver was trying to confuse us so we wouldn't figure out where we were going. The fact was we weren't really concerned, and were busy enjoying the luxuries of the car. The only slight annoyance was the putrid smell of the Cyberslave, who was sprawled out on the seat. As always Stang had a huge supply of Vanilla-Roma tree shaped air fresheners, with which we quickly decorated our bony "pal". I was utilizing the space to lay out my charts, hook up my lap top, and refresh myself with the presentation. Stang was drinking some champaign he had found, popped a porno into the vidi machine, and would let loose every once in a while with a "Hey Bevilacqua look at those!"
We were busy occupying ourselves when Stang reached into his cut offs.
"Ahh come on Stang, not here!"
"Heh, heh It's not like that, whatta ya think I am... some kind of PRE-VERT." We both knew better. But what he finally pulled out was a pleasant surprise.
"Wanna smoke some 'Frop?" Stang smiled that evil grin.
"Ever known me to pass it up?" I reached for Stang's bag where I knew I'd find the pipe.
"Yeah this is a special brew," his smile widened, "I mixed it in with Legume's ashes."
I threw the bag to the floor, "Forget it, Stang I'LL PASS."
Now I understand the seriousness of this situation; it's an unwritten SubGenius law that you NEVER EVER pass up 'Frop offered by a real SubGenius." So right here I was either breaking aeons of tradition, or calling Stang's authenticity into question.
"Aaaww come on I was only kidding. It was just a joke", he said in his used car salesman voice.
"Yeah, I've heard that one before somewhere." But let's face it, I wasn't ready to destroy the very foundations of our beliefs -- and hell, it was free 'Frop, and more than that StangFrop. "O.K. fill the pipe"
About 10 years later we arrived at our destination.
To say it went "pretty good" would be to say the Nazi's genocide attempt went "pretty good." When the Limo finally stopped, the Cyberslave sprung to life. His sudden movement startled us both. The limo had pulled inside a huge warehouse. I then wondered if we hadn't been just driving around in circles inside this gigantic warehouse. The Cyberslave, with great effort, lifted his arm and pointed for us to walk into a dark area. We stumbled around for a while when suddenly a blinding light clicked loudly on. I had to cover my dark adjusted eyes. I pulled out my low riders and Stang had already put on his mirror covered shades.
"SIT!" a voice boomed from somewhere behind the lights.
There were three red plinal diner chairs. The back of one had a softball shaped burnhole clean through.
"GWAR DOES NOT HAVE ANY PLANS OF SELLING ITS HOME PLANET, IS THAT CLEAR?"
Stang and I looked at each other, puzzled.
"NOR DO WE WISH TO TRADE FOR THIS PATHETIC PLANET, WE DON'T WANT WOMEN AND DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT 'FROP IS."
Damn, Dobbs had already been here.
"OUR WISH IS ONLY TO USE YOU TO GET WHAT WE WANT."
"Well then we both want the same thing!" Stang shouted, his voice echoing through the enormous metal structure.
I heard some rumbling, and what possibly could have been laughing.
"WE ARE NOT YET PREPARED TO DEAL WITH YOUR TERMS. WE MUST CONSULT OUR EARTH COUNSELORS"
"But your agency is a bunch of conspiracy weasels!" I shouted, having had first hand contact with the pink boys.
"SILENCE! WE MUST GO INTO DEEP THOUGHT ON YOUR PROPOSALS. WE WILL MEET AGAIN ON THE DAY YOU CALL THURSDAY."
I leaned over to Stang. "Did I miss something?"
"Yeah," he replied..."Dobbs."
So Stang and I are now in a plush hotel, once again living the high life. But I can not fully enjoy it as I frantically am trying to figure out what the Hell Dobbs' deal was, and what the large burn hole came from.
Stang and I did finally discuss the Legume ordeal...but I think I'll allow him to tell you about it.
Searching for the luck plane
Flying Lemur Anti-Social Books: Sex, Bombs, the Occult!
US Mail: PO Box 770222 Lakewood, OH 44107 (216)251-1654
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From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Dennis McClain-Furmanski)
Subject: Re: Fall Tour Schedule - GWAR and the Church of the SubGenius
Date: 14 Sep 1995 04:44:11 GMT
Modemac (email@example.com) wrote:
: [ Article crossposted from alt.music.gwar ]
: [ Author was Cyberslave ]
: [ Posted on Wed, 13 Sep 1995 03:08:10 GMT ]
: ATTENTION ALL SLAVES!
: This is the SEXICUTIONER with a SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!!!
: Anyone with a computer is hereby commanded to E-Mail Rev. Ivan Stang : of the Church of the SubGenius (subject GWAR, firstname.lastname@example.org) : and demand that he and his bogus ministry stand trial during GWAR's : upcoming "RENDEZVOUS WITH RAG NA ROK" tour this Fall. Stang has been : branded an outlaw by every reputable organization on Earth and is a : victim of a vast worldwide conspiracy coverup... JUST LIKE GWAR. He's : been smoking crack with Sleazy and trying to hang out backstage, : boasting of his DOOMSDAY DEVIVAL opening for GWAR's End-Times : extravaganza! : UltraSlaves are hereby instructed to cruise the SubGenius Website and : voice their ideas at http://www.subgenius.com and consider : this a petition for the penultimate in performance pandemonium!
: - Rev. Sexicutioner
aaaaaarrrgggrhhhhhhAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH YES say YES say YES
my DEAR friends, my dear children for ALL who are not of the pink
slimy weevils that infest this planet are as children unto me, YES my
dear segmented and chitinous and VILE BILE SPEWING MONSTROUS ENTITIES
FROM MY FAVORITE NIGHTMARES, your Slavemaster has it correct.
The time is nigh for the End! J.R. "Bob" Dobbs and the Church Of The
SubGenius exist to see that it happ-ends CORRECTLY. And GWAR exists
that it might happen GLORIOUSLY and RIOTOUSLY and with MAXIMUM
TERROR AND WONDROUS SOUND. And they may also have their own reasons,
and PRAISE THEM FOR THAT TOO. You know as well as I that they deserve it.
PRAISE be to "Bob" PRAISE be to his Pipe and PRAISE BE TO GWAR to SIGN
of OUR SALVATION THROUGH DESTRUCTION. Say AAAYYYYYYIIIIII-YI-YI-YI-YI.
STOMP and GRIND and REND THE FLESH and BURN BEYOND RECOGNITION that
race of NorMalcontents that pollute our reality with their INSIPID
DRIVEL they call music. FAH. F'TAONG. M'MUH. HARRRUUUUGH PRAISE TO THE
POWER and HARD WIRE ME IN TO THE FULL MEGAVOLT RANGE. GIVE ME GWAR. GIVE ME
SLACK. OR KILL ME.
Who be this wind from the desert, this apparition of soothsayful
enterprise that would dare to invade your most private space with
words of simulacrity?
I am Doktor DynaSoar, and I present for you my .sig in the manner of
(@ @)\DynaSoar\___, Yetii Genetii Research InstiToot
ll ll SubGenius Church of Scienfictiontology
Clench of The One True Pipe Dream, Terran Occupation Forces
DynaSoar, Tibetian Rantarian, Chaplain : email@example.com
'Praise "0100 0010 0110 1111 0110 0010"' -- MWOWM
It has been my noted pleasure to have received communication from those whom you have entrusted with providing your entertainment for The End. What they propose is more than simply a cooperative project of the highest caliber, MORE than an alignment of the POWER that is GWAR with the UNIVERSAL FORCE of Slack, it is a COMPLETE RE-CREATION OF THE VERY FABRIC OF THE COSMOS, with its center right here on RRRth. We in the Church Of The SubGenius have known for some time of the coming of all manner of space and time and energy beings, and have fought to maintain the imbalance which would lead to the destruction of the weaker race, the hyoomuns as they call themselves, while providing for the Ultimate Trip Ticket aboard the Saucers of Removal, coming to save our Yeti race from the fate we've helped to bring about to the Pink mediocretins. We have labored for years to see that this end comes about PROPERLY. LO and BEHOLD, it came to pass that there existed RIGHT HERE on this planet the force that could CHANGE THE COURSE OF THE TIME WARS. That which is the GWAR and that which is the SubGenii together in the same place. THIS CANNOT BE COINCIDENCE CHILDREN. It represents MORE than being "BLESSED" by "POWERS". It is the realization of BEING THAT POWER. It was perhaps inevitable that the two forces should gather together to REDIRECT FATE ITSELF. A force so monumental that time itself may be forced to end that we may begin anew a reality more suited to our respective kinds. The combination of forces has already been tested, in a project much like the Manhattan Project that built the first tool of hyoomun self-destruction. Only the result was so spectacularly successful that the entire city Grunion, South Dakota and its 500,000 citizens not only ceased to exist, but ceased to have EVER EXISTED. Reality itself was twisted. See for yourself. Try to find it on your maps. Try to find someone who ever heard of it, or had relatives there. Now, THEY NEVER DID. In preparation for the End Times, it is necessary that GWAR and The SubGenii exercise their potential. We must PRACTICE dear children, that we might control those forces that we are to unleash upon the universe. We must be GATHERED TOGETHER AS MAGGOTS IN A CORPSE THAT WE MAY GNAW AWAY AT THEY WHO WOULD IMPEDE OUR PROGRESS. This means, concerts, children. But none the likes of which you have ever seen, oh no, these are ORDERS of MAGNITUDE greater along all dimensions. So, I propose to you to invite this cooperative effort by respectfully DEMANDING of the Good Reverend Ivan Stang, Sacred Scribe of the Church Of The SubGenius that we be joined together in mutually assured DESTRUCTION OF THEY WHO DO NOT DESERVE TO EXIST, for ever and ever, or at least these last few months until we can END this farce called RRRth. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org. Beseech him to call upon "Bob" and ask that our Church be aligned with GWAR for maximum destructive effect and UNLEASHED UPON THE POPULACE. I of course will attempt to automate my interstellar transmitters so that I might attend to participate, as well as record and measure that which would make the Richter scale obsolete. You might also consider dropping in on alt.slack to observe the Yeti in their native habitat. You have nothing to lose but this planet. And what's THAT worth? In respect for the Power of GWAR and the faith of their slaves, I remain your humble servant.