Seattle/Portland devival review from QUIJIBO

From: Popess Lilith von Fraumench <p-lil@subgenius.com>

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Three months of planning, organization, suffering, spending, feuding, back-biting, slacking off, and general SubGenoid behavior. Three months equals five hundred miles of fresh tarmac on July 5, and I was barefoot. But I was at the end of the road, and soon I would be walking on the plush carpet of the last Northwest devivals before X-Day.

Three months. I honestly didn't expect to make it that long. And I was wondering who would go down with me, and how many of them I would single out for the honors.

The fun began while in Portland. I don't recommend driving around in Portland without really good instructions, a map, and two fully conscious people in the front seats. As is we drove around and around for about a half-hour before getting enough bearings to locate the club.

We almost missed EJ's the first time we passed it and had to turn around. It's an unassuming little club with a small sign that announced the night's events in six-inch tall letters:

C OF S D

That's how I knew we found the club--only a SubGenius would abbreviate "Church of SubGenius Devival".

The atmosphere seemed right--a darkly lit punk tavern that appeared used to severe damage. We felt hopeful. And so we dropped off Otis F. Odder, who would be assisting Mark Hosler of Negativland that night, and left Phineas Narco to get some food. Ragin' Pope Angus and I sought a hotel room and a quick freshening-up. Then back to EJ's for pre-devival madness.

Stang was at the club when we arrived. We both ordered food then sat down at an old Ms. Pac-Man machine to chit-chat. Soon the Portland "meta-clench" of Orton Nenslo, Donna Kossey, Onan Canobite, Crawford Smith, Lou Man-Yeti, and Popess Nikitta Gardner were milling about, and the ranters were kicking back.

Quick interjection: I received a letter from Rev. Nick Gardner, whose writings were heavily quoted in *Revelation X*, back in '94. A mutual friend had drawn up our astrological profiles and determined we were born 31 minutes apart and had nearly identical natal charts. Unfortunately Nick never received my reply, in which I told him I was transsexual. Six weeks before the devivals I received an e-mail from a Portland transsexual who was going to preach in Portland, and a copy of her sermon: "Thee Brag Ov Thee Transexual SubGenius, by Popess Nikitta Gardner." Pretty soon we were exchanging e-mails every day. Given all the weirdness surrounding our separate and mutual lives we have come to a realization: WE are the Twins with the Scissors of Sight. Ironically this means we are challenging the claims of two SubGenii in Australia--ALSO transsexuals--who maintain they are the Twins. I frankly have no idea what to make of this, except to exploit it as far as I can. Who knows, maybe we are the real Twins after all!

Stang was quite pleased to have met Popess Nikitta after all this time, and was intrigued by our story. We could have chatted longer, but it was time for Stang to get ready.

And then... DEVIVAL.

Dr. Howll, having the most sonorous voice, acted as MC and preached at length while the first "act" got ready. Then we were introduced to Jim Cser, The Duke of Uke. I had no idea what to expect, and was in retrospect glad for it, because the Duke ROCKED. Literally. He whipped out versions of "Anarchy In The UK" and "I Wanna Be Sedated" and "Communication Breakdown" and "Rock 'N Roll" before a delighted audience.

He then placed a ceramic honey bear on the pulpit: "This... is your heart." Then he picked up an iron skillet: "This... is love. And THIS is
your heart in love!" SLAM. Shards of honey bear sprayed a completely unprepared audience like a black-hearted Gallagher concert. "ANY QUESTIONS?!?"

Blood dripped from the Duke's hand where a shard from the honey bear hit him. Amid cries of "BLEED FOR ME!" the Duke performed an on-stage healing miracle with the help of a band-aid. Bravely the Duke pushed forward and whipped out an INCREDIBLE cover of Alanis Morrisette's "You Aught To Know", with Mark and Otis providing a thumping beat. It was incredible.

Next Pope Angus took the stage and led the audience through a round of Slack Jeopardy. The game is played similarly to the TV show, except the categories tend to be a bit more interesting, like "Sex In The Cinema", "Those Wacky Kennedys", "Gothic/Industrial", etc. Dr. Howll served as announcer and judge but kept on screaming into the mic: "The answer MUST
BE IN THE FORM OF A *QUESTION*!" We mostly ignored him and stayed focused on the lovely contestants, whose creative answers left us laughing half the time and wondering where we could score whatever they were on for the remainder.

Then Crawford Smith came onstage and welcomed the audience with stern warnings about the EndTimes. My vote for best Sign of the EndTimes was, "a woman giving birth to a baby with SEVEN HEADS... AND SEVEN BODIES!!!"
His warnings were soon forgotten as he hefted a mighty Bucket Of Pils into the audience's agape faces.

Rev. Stang came onstage at this point and delivered what we jaded old farts call the Standard Rant Of The Season, also known as The Same Old Shit. To be fair, the rants were only six months old or so, and were custom-tailored for the End of the World. And then Stang did something I have NEVER heard him do. He grasped his hands in prayer, stared out in the audience as if in utter awe and worship, and declared: "And you know, "Bob"'s promise DOES ring true! I HAVE GOTTEN MORE PUSSY AND BETTER PUSSY THAN I EVER HAVE IN MY WHOLE LIFE!!! And that's not just me, it's ALL THE DOKTORS!!! Pope Sternodox Keckhaver is being DRAINED DRY. Doktor Onan Canobite is being DRAINED DRY! The Lord JESUS CHRIST is being DRAINED DRY!!!" I was utterly nonplussed--it was the most honest thing I have heard out of Stang's mouth yet.

Now for a confession. There were a lot of folks who desperately wanted Janor Hypercletes to come to these devivals. I for one would have welcomed it. However, I had two conditions. One, I would talk DIRECTLY to Janor to arrange transportation and speaking fees. Two, Janor would have a personal assistant at ALL TIMES. The best anyone could offer was a vague indication that they knew where Janor was and that they'd try to get him on a bus. I wouldn't have any of it. Damn it, the boy's all right, all things considered, but this was a TIGHT PRODUCTION. Besides, nobody volunteered to be Janor's assistant. So FUCK IT.

With this gap in the roster it was up to Phineas Narco to whip out his Janor-channeling, and damn if it didn't sound like the many-tongued freak of nature himself. Phineas also gave tips on how to survive X-Day,
which I noted on the off-chance I might need to offer suggestions to follower types. I'm just gonna WING IT.

Phineas cleared the stage and with visible emotion Dr. Howl announced the next preacher, my personal HERO among bat-callers and squid-debeakers, Sternodox Keckhaver. And MAN, even if the bulk of his ranting was stuff he recorded fifteen years ago, he KICKED EVERYONE'S ASS HARD AND FAST! After whipping through his rhyming Brag and the old Drs. For "Bob" "explanation", he revealed to his audience what wonders of wisdom can come from ignorant rednecks when they're shown a picture of a subincision*. "Why would anyone do such a thing?" he asked his neighbor. Why? "CAUSE THEY'RE A DUMBASS." I got to admit I've used the term "dumbass" on many occasions since then. What it boils down to, in terms of appreciating Sterno, is that he's simultaneously the RAUNCHIEST and the CLASSIEST of all the preachers. The boy's got STYLE, and it'll dribble right out of your underwear if you aren't prepared.

* Subincision: The practice of slitting open and "unrolling" a penis via the urethra, often performed at the age of 17 to Australian Aboriginal males in order to mimic the penis of a kangaroo. It's gaining popularity with some in the Body Modification "scene", which led to Sterno's question and the answer above.

It's pretty hard to follow-up Sterno, but Jesus Christ is a formidable act in and of himself. His first act was to heal a wilting Dobbshead on the back of the stage--AMEN! Then He delivered one of his infamous parables, but this time around made it easy to understand his moral: When the sun comes up, you better RUN. Pretty soon he was in a healing frenzy like I never saw before, and DESPITE my refusal to participate, I found myself walking up to Jesus to ask for His grace.

"What is your problem, sister?"

"My tits are too small, Jesus!"

"Well, I'm gonna need both hands for this...."

When Jesus laid those hands on my chest, I FELT SOMETHING SPECIAL. And when I came to, I knew that, despite the bruises and possible concussion I incurred when I fell, and despite the copious amounts of foam about my mouth, and despite the giggles of the girls into whose laps I had fallen, I HAD BEEN HEALED. Praise Jesus!

The other memorable healing occurred when a poor schmuck from the audience confessed that he had a girlfriend yet jacked off twice a day. Jesus fixed that--now he has a girlfriend and jacks off FOUR times a day!

Popess Nikitta stepped up to the mic next and delivered--OH BOY HOW SHE DELIVERED!!!--a loud and raunchy rendition of her Brag, one that made me truly proud to be her Twin. Rev. Lou ManYeti followed and explained why he cannot be offended by expressions like, "Fuck you!" or "This sucks!" At about that time Onan Canobite came onstage to sing a rousing round of "I Wanna Die For "Bob"", with Mark and Otis again providing the beat. Afterwards Stang returned to the stage to perform a Mass Short Duration Marriage. I married Popess Nikitta; it was a very tender moment.

Then the stage was cleared for the most vital moment of the evening. The time had come to Launch the Head. As there was no proper nine-iron laying around Sterno had to use a HUGE PIPE that was laying onstage. But prior to the launching a young lad in PVC and fishnets wandered onstage and FUCKED THE NECKSTUMP IN FRONT OF AN INCREDULOUS AUDIENCE. But the Head did get Launched, repeatedly in fact. At one point I drop-kicked the Head deep into the audience, busting one of the lamps in the process.

Stang hushed the crowd at this juncture and announced the War On God to a very receptive audience, followed with a most maudlin farewell to those who hadn't paid their $30, as we go on our mission through the cosmos, conquering planet after planet and bringing Slack to the universe. And on that note, Stang wished the audience good night, and the devival came to a close.

There was very little left to do but check with Crawford to see if anyone needed a ride, give Nikitta a lift back to her place (and as much sweet lovin' as I could get away with, there being a few tired and irritable mutants in the minivan), and haul ass back to the hotel for some compressed sleep.

**********

The Seattle devival was completely different. In fact I must be very careful about describing it since I was smack dab in the middle of it, running amok for most of the night, with Rev. Bruce Boblight serving as stage manager. It was sometimes hard to know exactly what was going on. That's OK--I *like it* that way.

I arrived late--I had an entourage of ranters, gods, and other minions I had to direct to the Fenix--but Bruce did his usual excellent job of covering my ass. The Fenix staff was setting up the overhead video projector, and a white sheet made for a screen. The preachers were milling about in a side room, not knowing of the lush dressing rooms below the cavernous venue. We got together, discussed the ranting order, made sure everyone knew what everyone else would be doing, and other last-minute nit-picking. Then back upstairs to steel ourselves....

Dr. Howl introduced me to the audience. I stepped up to the pulpit and began an evocation of the Rebel Gods. One by one they appeared on the stage, screaming and yelling at the audience. The crowd seemed to like Narnini's Disappearing Tootsie Pop Trick the best; nobody had the courage to accept Eris' challenge of Who's The Fairest. (Can't say that I blame them, really.) Once the gods were present I bade the audience bow their heads for a moment of sacred NOISE. With the audience suitably primed I launched into my rant about the failure of Rationality. "To fight bullshit, you gotta USE bullshit. And J. R. "Bob" Dobbs has the BEST BULLSHIT money can buy!" At some point during my sermon I brought my rattan cane down hard onto the pulpit and SMASHED IT TO BITS. I kicked the pieces around a bit, then quickly put it back together, saying: "Friends, even the PULPIT can FEEL THE SPIRIT TONIGHT!"

Ragin' Pope Angus whipped through a round of Slack Jeopardy after I finished preaching. Again Dr. Howl verified the answers, but apparently intimidated by Mr. Happy Fun Paddle he didn't complain as loudly as before about the correct form for the answers. (Angus and I visited a BDSM shop before the show; that's where I got the cane.)

Then Azthar Septragen climbed onstage. Azthar is a friend of mine, and a good ranter when he gets a head of steam going. But there was no steam tonight, and for the first minute or so he rambled about the devival. Finally he said, "So, you're probably wondering.... why am I here tonight?" At that *exact* moment Azthar was seized by Men In Black who had been waiting for him, and dragged him off the stage. That seemed to motivate Azthar, and he started screaming into the mic. Stang rushed onstage, still in his flannel shirt--probably the ONLY person wearing flannel that night in all Seattle--and tried to pry the mic out of Azthar's hand. Finally Azthar let go and Stang chatted with the audience while we administered tranquilizers.

The ranters seemed to go faster, considering we had a "practice run" the night before. Onan, Sterno, and Stang had their sermonizing down PAT. Dr. Howll gave what I understand was an excellent rant--I believe I was tending to some emergency at this point and couldn't pay attention, unfortunately. Orton Nenslo climbed upon the stage at one point and explained at length how much he loves STEENKY WOMEN. Some time after that, Puzzling Evidence stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak. Suddenly NheeGhee appeared with a sign reading ""BOB" SENT ME" and carrying a pistol, and the room rang with the sound of the gunshot. PuzEv was so disoriented that it took him a couple of seconds to realize that he had been shot by EeHeegEeHeen Itself. Finally he said, "Oh," and fell dead to the stage. Fortunately I had a pipe full of frappie onhand, and after getting the Men In Black in secure locations attempted a ressurrection. It seemed the resurrection was successful, as PuzEv began to smoke the 'Frop the moment I put the stem into his mouth. He got up a few seconds later and walked off the stage--WITHOUT FINISHING HIS RANT, the bastard.

Pope Angus came back on to administer some healings with Mr. Happy Fun Paddle, and to scientifically prove that there is a "Bob". Jesus thanked the audience for attending and filled them in on upcoming events. Halfway through Jesus was approached by my friend LokiBoy, who announced to the audience that in a past life he was known as Judas Iscariot, and that he had come to make amends to Jesus by paying for a SubGenius membership--in thirty silver dollars. Stang came back onstage to perform the ShorDurMar again (and I got hitched again to Nikitta), then performed the One World Anthem just like the night before.

THEN.

A great hush filled the auditorium as, one by one, the Doktors manned their musical instruments. Sterno tuned up his bass, Gene Splice tuned down his guitar, Snavely Ecklund--who had flown in AT HIS OWN EXPENSE--beat his saxophone against his gasmasked face, and Stang and Phineas DARED assume Janor's position in front of the mic.

There was no warning when the first slice of pure Doktormusik ripped through the air. The audience was helpless in the onslaught and began abusing one another in a fit of pure reaction. Even I, who had been bracing myself all night long, blanked out for moments--minutes?--at a time, only to come around with someone else's dismembered limb in my hand. Stang and Phineas valiantly tried to "sing" The Old Sad Stuff, like *You Can't Hide From God*, but TO NO AVAIL. At one point the Bleeding Head was launched with a proper nine-iron, and it landed right at my feet. I booted it back into the audience and let it continue its epic journey.

Some audience member climbed onstage and grabbed the Pumpkin Full Of Squirrels, which we were saving for later, babbled at full volume into the oblivious and murderous audience, and THREW THE PUMPKIN INTO THE CROWD. I nearly shut down the devival in panic, but instead ran frantically for the pumpkin which the audience was now tossing around like a beach ball. Stang could only watch on in horror, letting Phineas carry the "vocals". Sterno was too wrapped up in playing his bass to notice--fortunately for the offenders! Then I blanked out again--and when I came to there were chunks of smashed pumpkin flying through the air, heavily sodden with Yeti spunk and pumpkin hair. I screamed.

And then it was over. The audience, exposed to the potent semen of true first-generation Doktors, fell one by one with a twitch. Drs. For "Bob", sensing they had accomplished their goal of killing the audience, packed up their instruments and cleared the stage, leaving me with the body count. Fortunately there was sufficient cash in the wallets to bribe both the police and the club owners, and we quickly rendered the bodies for their fat and salt. Meanwhile Pope Angus found more volunteers to submit to the whims of Mr. Happy Fun Paddle. Outside the club Jesus administered further paddlings to the bottom of Rev. Judas, to settle the score.

Meanwhile I counted the money, thinking to myself--despite all the shit that I have to go through at times--that I was darn fortunate to be a SubGenius.

Popess Lilith von Fraumench, 15 April 1998

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| Reverend Doktor Saint Popess | Fools' Press |
| Lilith von Fraumench, Esquire | 1122 E Pike St, #769 | | Church of the Skullfarmer's | Seattle, WA 98122-3934 | | Daughter In Rapt Communion | mitchell@interserv.com | | With The Dobbshead, Inc | http://bounce.to/p-lil |

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