http://www.subgenius.com/bigfist/fun/devivals/Boston98/Boston98.html
From: US9RMC::"SunRa@xtdl.com" "bb"
24-APR-1998 14:54:47.49
Middle East Cafe, Boston, April 23, 1998
The SubG show far exceeded my expectations of a low turnout for a tired joke. We were experiencing a nor`easter (similar to lake effect, these storms occur when previously warm rain riding the jet stream comes up from the south, picks up moisture over the ocean, and cycles back to dump it on us) complete with heavy sideways rain. Still the halls of MIT and the Mass. College of Art must have been empty because the room was packed with Xers (now on the verge of pudginess), mostly dressed in black.
I went with my Dec-i friend, Alan; who guided the Slack mobile thru foggy windows and a wall of water while recording <A HREF="http://www.tc.gc.ca/canutec/english/guide/menug_e.htm">hazardous material</A> placard spottings on his <A HREF="http://www.palm.com/home.html"> personal assistant computer</A> for his lifelist.
We ate at <A HREF=""http://cambridge.zami.com/asmara">an Eritrean/Ethiopian restaurant</A>, reminding me of the time Paul used their doughy flat bread to blow his nose and then bonded some to the window of my car. I couldn't get the stuff off and just had to let the elements wear it down.
This was the last devival before X-day; which the Ivan-gelicals plan to spend in upstate New York. Everything must go. I lost count the number of times they pushed the merchandising table and the now $30 memberships from the stage.
They'll be scanning the membership cards on the way into the saucers.
Stang was in good form. He noted that after all his hard work he finally got some slack for himself. His once closely cropped hair is now hanging down his back. He started the show by tossing a pumpkin into the audience. It wasn't long before the stench of cigarette smoke was replaced by wafts of pumpkin.
In 1982 we were funny. Now we're just right. And, yes, we do have a monopoly on the truth.
He talked about the group in Texas who said god was a no show on ch. 14. He said they lived a few blocks from him along with Hank Hill (Someday Bobby Hill is going to smoke pot). He thanked the group because if the saucers don't show on X-day, at least we won't look like fools.
'No we don't believe in that kook stuff like us
Christians. They don't know about things like Adam and Eve.'
87% of the people in this country think there's some invisible monster in the sky and if we kiss it's butt long enough it'll do them favors. But the best part is it'll punish their enemies. We're in it for the revenge, too, but at least we admit it. The thing is that even though I don't buy that crap, I still have to put up with it. If you kiss anyone's butt long enough, they're going to shit in your face.
The doktors for bob had a poly-synth/sampler, an organ, a mono-syth, and on Theremin MIT prof., <A HREF="http://web.mit.edu/dryfoo"> Dr. Y. Foo</A>.
We can't call it noise anymore because these fuckers learned how to play.
Dr. Foo did a brief rant about your life on X-day.
You get up at 5 AM (aud: fuck that), okay 6:30... and as the saucers are taking you away (he holds up a copy of the book) someone says, "Wait we translated it. It's a cookbook."
Dr. Legume is an imposing figure: burly, tattoos and ex-shaved head, but now time is his barber. He told a couple of stories that you'll just have to ask me about someday. One involved the nine lives of a cat and the other, Short Frank, a man who lost the lower half of his legs to a train and walks on his stumps and still kicks ass.
Pope David Meyer drove up and managed to ride in the center of the storm all the way up. He was truly amazed at the turnout and the fun and mayhem that was going on. Notorious for his minimal contributions he was inspired to give 2 rants. His usual rules of the church and another about his work as an ad exec. He knows all the $10 marketing terms and there's no way I can represent for him here. He referred to the event as a neo-classicist devival. He talked about the commercialization of weirdness (this is a meta ad) and the perpetuation of the observer-self.
...as you spend $100 on a haircut designed to look like you don't care.
You may not think you're all that creative, but you're damn creative when it comes to deluding yourself.
They ended with an audience rant-off. The first guy up was a black gay man (what are the odds someone with those stats would become a SubG?) who ranted about the saltiness. Another was an Algonquin indian (wompum if they can't take a joke).
A poet bloke read a letter to and response from the Coke company. His letter questioned "the real thing" slogan and asked if it's real now, what did it used to be? The PR rep actually took the time to compose a detailed reply, but you gotta figure that was the best part of her day.
Then there was the neat, sweet, petite rant-off contestant who bragged about having whiffread Connie's panties.
Once you get past the smell, it's finger lickin` good.
To wind up, a long haired geek took the podium.
Don't give your $30 to these charlatans. On X day write your own ticket for the saucers. I've got the pinks paying me $50K a year to sit in front of a computer terminal and do whatever I want. They're flying me to France next month.
Dr. Legume commented on his purdy hair and said that if he winds up in prison he'd like him to be his cell mate. Finally, as the establishment was closing and we were cleared out there was a[n attempted] de-pantsing of Stang.
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Original file name: Boston Devival 3rd review
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