Today's Topics:
Bunnies!
Carlos Herrera Is My Personal Saint
If I knew what I was doing,
Microsoft Wingdings
missing something
Rant 'n' RAVE, 5/23, cleveland
Who cares about the NYC, what about NC?
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Fri, 15 May 1992 04:57:21 PDT
From: Heiny.Henr801C@xerox.com
Subject:
In-Reply-to: "Subgenius-request@mc.lcs.mit:edu's message of 15 May 92 00:07:12 EDT (Friday)"
To: bigal@wpi.wpi.edu
cc: Reverend_Heiny.Henr801C@xerox.com, Subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Message-ID: <"15-May-92 7:57:21 EDT".*.Heiny.Henr801C@Xerox.com>
You might also have noticed that the odds of this character combination
occuring are not (as Young calculated) less than one in a trillion, but
actually 1 in 16,386,810.
Reverend Heiny
------------------------------
From: dryfoo@athena.mit.edu
Message-Id: <9205151921.AA03281@thelonious.MIT.EDU>
To: subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Subject: Bunnies!
Date: Fri, 15 May 92 15:21:40 EDT
(reprinted without permission, or kill me!)
<an infinite number of forwards removed>
------- Forwarded Message
A SPECIAL, INANELY ELABORATE SPY EASTER PRANK
By Andy Aaron and Joe Queenan
[SPY Magazine, April 1992]
During the past few months, the public-relations and marketing
professions have come under intense criticism. Hill and Knowlton has
been pilloried for representing the Church of Scientology and BCCI. The
mere fact that he worked as PR man- lobbyist has caused Paul Tsongas
political problems. And packaged- goods companies have been accused of
improperly targeting certain groups -- young people, blacks -- with
harmful products. These brouhahas all derive from three popular
presumptions: (1) the PR industry is providing its clients with a false
or skewed impression of the real attitudes of the public; (2) these
firms will take on anyone as client, as long as the price is right; and
(3) modern marketing techniques are so sophisticated that people can be
sold anything, whether they want it or not.
Even before these recent controversies arose, we had begun a clandestine
investigation of the American PR and marketing industries. To
accomplish this, we decided to dream up a doomed company with a terrible
name, then invent a couple of bogus deep- pockets Japanese investors
who'd be bankrolling the idiotic venture, then contact PR firms of
various sizes and whether they'd be interested in representing us, and
then take our stupid company with its ridiculous name out into the
consumer marketplace.
We needed to come up with a venture that would have the look and feel of
a big, well-financed, image-driven, Madison Avenue- created powerhouse
yet somehow lack fundamental common sense. The bad idea we settled upon
was simple and all-American: a fast food chain called Bunny Burgers
Inc., which would be selling ground rabbit, as well as salads and french
fried carrots, at dozens of outlets in the eastern United States and
Canada. The company could follow the Red Lobster model -- diners would
have the opportunity to pick their own bunnies (Tuesday is P.Y.O.B.
Night!) for broiling. The whole idea appealed to us because it
simultaneously evoked sweetness and made the skin crawl.
We invited nine PR firms to bid on the account and assist us in
determining whether the concept was feasible, public-relations- wise,
and if so, what measures could be take to mitigate public hostility
toward the consumption of bunny meat at a time of burgeoning sensitivity
toward the animals with whom we share this fragile planet. At the
outset, we feared that PR firms would hang up on us when we phoned to
describe our fictitious enterprise and ask for help.
None of the firms hung up on us.
PHASE 1: The Sting
The first step was to make our bogus company look legitimate. We
designed and printed suitably impressive stationary and business cards
and established a phone line with an answering machine. But the most
important artifact was our daunting 24-page business plan and Corporate
Overview, which would provide interested PR firms with a quick immersion
course in the history of the bunny industry, plus a detailed discussion
of Bunny Burgers' marketing and financial objectives.
For this, we spruced up a Vancouver Stock Exchange prospectus issued a
few years ago by a real company that was raising venture capital to
market a race of super-rabbits. We tore off the front page, which
displayed the name of the real company -- Ultima International -- and
replaced it with our Corporate Overview, which contained, among other
things, references to "Canadian GAAP Regulations." The remainder of the
prospectus, which listed typical cuts of antelope meat and included a
reference to the Journal of Applied Rabbit Research, was left intact.
_______________Technical Note__________________
When attempting to bait highly respected PR
firms that represent important clients such
as Chrysler and Haggar Apparel Co., always
toss off arcane, serious-sounding references
that no one will understand, such as to
Canadian GAAP (Generally Accepted Accounting
Principles) regulations.
________________________________________________
The prospectus noted that Bunny Burgers was the "first American fast
food franchise specializing in burgers made entirely out of rabbit meat"
and would target "gastronomically adventurous diners" looking for
leaner, more nutritious fast food. We informed the PR firms that in our
first phase we would be opening 26 outlets in New York, Massachusetts,
New Jersey and Ohio, as well as 4 in southern Ontario.
________________Technical Note__________________
When attempting to bait highly respected PR
firms, always mention target markets in places
such as southern Ontario. PR firms are always
impressed by references to burgeoning markets
in unglamorous places with which they are
unfamiliar.
________________________________________________
To reinforce the impression that ours was a vital, legitimate
enterprise, we concocted references to the nutritional virtues of rabbit
meat in The New York Times, Meat & Poultry and even the spurious Civet &
Lapin. We also noted that the company had the financial backing of two
Asian investors with experience in Australian and Canadian industry.
The next step was to phone the PR firms to determine their interest in
bidding for our account, which might eventually, we lied, be worth
several million dollars to them. Although we had great confidence in
our business plan, during some conversations with PR agents we blew a
Conair Prostyle Mini 500 portable hairdryer into the phone's mouthpiece
to support our assertion that the call was being made from a private
Gulfstream IV jet over the Hawaiian Island of Lanai. We also invented a
Japanese billionaire, Hidehiko Takada, who was helping to bankroll the
project. We described our shadowy billionaire as a titan in the booming
Osaka construction industry and an amateur gourmet chef.
We were immensely gratified by the response: All nine of the PR firms we
contacted expressed an interest in meeting with us as soon as possible.
We made it clear that although we had solid financial footing for the
venture, we were a bit concerned that members of the dining public might
be offended by the notion of paying to have a cute, fuzzy rabbit flayed,
hacked to pieces, fired on a gas-fired industrial griddle, then served
on a nutritious sesame-seed bun. We knew we couldn't go it alone, we
told the PR people. We would need their help.
The competition for the account was heated, so much so that we were
obliged to discourage some agencies from going to the expense of
developing prototype ad campaigns. We finally settled on three firms we
would invite to bid on the account. We arranged to meet all three at
New York's Ritz Carlton Hotel in a lavish, $650-a-day suite that seemed
big enough to have its own zip code -- corporate credibility was
paramount. Here they would sit down with Bob Jansen, president of Bunny
Burgers Inc., and billionaire Hidehiko Takada. "Jansen" was in fact one
of the authors of the article, whose smarmy demeanor would stand him in
good stead in his new guise as corporate frontman; Takada was actually
an actor and sushi chef whose specialty is catering for synagogues. To
ensure that Mr. Takada would not tip our hand, we gave him two
instructions: (1) Speak very little English, and speak it badly; (2)
Don't convey any emotion.
Decamped in the corner of a glorious room overlooking Central Park were
a pair of cages containing our two live corporate mascots: Big Wig and
The General. Big Wig was a long-earred French Lop rabbit; The General
was generic looking, with ears of a more traditional, almost
conservative length. (The significance of this difference in ear sizes
would soon become apparent.)
The first to arrive was a charming woman in her forties from a Manhattan
PR firm. (Charming, but, it turned out, a little hysterical; she was
the only PR professional we contacted who subsequently insisted on
anonymity for the purposes of this article.) Her face wore an
expression of low-key cognitive dissonance; she was clearly a bit
discomfited by the notion of representing our kind of company. However,
as a general philosophical defense of her and her peers, it is important
to remember that by the very nature of their profession, they are
constantly required to represent clients seeking to market stupid,
tasteless and even immoral products. In a free society, everyone has a
right to be heard, and it is the sacred trust of the PR professional to
make sure everyone is.
"It's new and it's different, and Americans like novel kinds of
products," she began enthusiastically. She had come prepared to pitch
the account: "I think what you want to do is have an event. We want to
bring the top food editors to a luncheon. It's important to get the
word 'rabbit' out there," she added. "We want to see a lot more recipes
from the food writers on rabbit.....It has to be a really comprehensive
campaign where you're doing a lot of education as well." And in her
view, the campaign had every chance of enormous success if we could
project a classy, upscale image -- unlike, say, Popeye's. "Americans,"
she said of Bunny Burgers, "love anything that's chic."
Eager to determine whether our product would meet contemporary standards
of chicness, we unveiled a dozen eye-catching Styrofoam Bunny Burgers
serving boxes, each sporting our logo and contained a sesame seed bun.
Also, each contained a chunky pair of pink Styrofoam bunny ears, which
sprang up into the diner's face as the container was opened. The PR
woman was impressed by the packaging, although her true feelings were
betrayed by the manner in which she clutched her briefcase to her chest.
A consummate professional, she put to us the important questions that
any nutrionally minded consumer might ask: "What are you using in your
Bunny Burger?"
"We're not using bunny stretcher or anything like that," Jansen replied
crisply. "It's real bunny."
"A hundred percent?"
"Yeah."
She listened thoughtfully as Jansen expounded his Corporate Imaging
Theory, which differentiated between a "deflective" restaurant chain
like McDonald's, which seeks to steer the consumer's thoughts away from
the creature being eaten (by using a clown rather than a cow as its
mascot), and a "reflective" chain like Bunny Burgers, which celebrates
the creature it plans to slaughter and serve on a bun.
"What we want to do is talk about how rabbit is as delicious as chicken,
and even more tasteful," our PR expert volunteered. We especially liked
her presumptuous use of "we." Then Jansen explained why the company did
not make Bunny Burgers out of jackrabbits: "We don't have jackrabbits,
because you pay for a rabbit by the pound -- you see the size of the
ears on a jackrabbit? You're paying for two and half extra pounds of
ear meat."
"Right," she said knowingly.
Throughout this conversation, Takada maintained an enigmatic silence,
only occasionally surprising us by making irrelevant references to his
experiences as an amateur chef back in Osaka.
Our next interviewee was Alfred Siesel, the likable president of the New
York branch of the Anthony M. Franco PR firm. (Franco himself was once
president of the Public Relations Society of America but had resigned
after he was accused by the SEC of insider trading in the stock of a
company he was representing. We selected this firm because we figured
it could use the business.)
Seisel demonstrated a surefooted command of the nuances of the
rabbit-meat-marketing industry and of trademark law. "It's a
fascinating product, and the public relations potential is enormous," he
said, but "would it interfere with the trademark of Playboy?" This was
one thing we never considered. Nor had we contemplated the potentially
disastrous PR black eye that would have resulted from using our
ecologically retrograde Styrofoam containers. Seisel didn't mince
words: He told us we would have to lose our packaging and replace it
with something more biodegradable. He also suggested we preempt media
criticism of our new product through the establishment of a
rabbit-information clearing house.
We played Seisel a tape of our professionally produced jingle, complete
with a chorus of cheerful back-up singers: "Ooh, yummy, yummy, got bunny
in my tummy,/ It's a Bunny Burger taste sensation (bunny!),/ Kinda like
chicken, kinda like roast beef,/ Pledge allegiance to the Bunny Burger
nation,/ They love it in France,/ Come on and give it a chance:/ Bunny
Burgers!" (To hear the Bunny Burgers jingle, call 212-633-8522.)
Seisel impressed us by his upbeat observation that "there were three
Bunny Burger credits in that tape." Two mentions would have been
insufficient; four would have been too many, he concluded.
Throughout all this, Takada maintained an enigmatic silence, then he
suddenly let loose a barrage of broken English -- Americans may be
squeamish about eating bunnies, he said, "but we change their brains."
(Sometime after falling for our Bunny Burger prank, Seisel left Franco.)
Next up was Tony Staffieri, a bouncy, outgoing man who runs Savvy
Management in Manhattan. He was much taken with our carrot- fries
concept ("Carrot fries! Now there is something wonderful!") but didn't
think it was a good idea to keep live rabbits on display in the
restaurant. Staffieri immediately addressed the key issue of restaurant
staff attire: "How are the people going to be dressed behind the
counter? The natural is ears! Obvious. The natural is ears." He
listened patiently as Jansen mused that perhaps we should open the
flagship restaurant on Easter Sunday. That way, we could directly
confront the public's lingering namby-pamby attitude towards the
consumption of what were, after all, nothing more than troublesome
rodents.
Staffieri sidestepped the issue of the optimal timing for the grand
opening but beamed, "They're going to go crazy for this in California!
Do you know why? They have a rabbit problem in California." But he
suggested that before opening our first-phase stores, we try Bunny
Burgers on focus groups.
PHASE 2: The Focus Group
Would the public share the excitement of the PR community for eating
creatures heretofore associated with post-Lenten celebrations? We hired
market researchers Penn & Schoen to recruit a demographically diverse
focus group. In making its choices, the company agreed to apply the
same rigorous screening criteria it would normally use for clients like
Texaco or Philip Morris.
Penn & Schoen paid eight Americans from various walks of life to convene
in a midtown conference room and discuss the pros and cons of eating
Bunny Burgers while being secretly watched and recorded from behind a
two-way mirror by the authors. At first, the group had no idea what new
product they were being asked to review. They knew only that they were
being paid $50 to be frank. The trained group leader, Mark Penn,
started off slowly, posing general questions about the images conjured
up when the word "bunny" was heard. This elicited such predictable
comments as "Bugs Bunny" and "Peter Cottontail" but also somewhat more
recherche "Thumper."
Penn then posed a series of hypothetical questions about the eating
habits of the group: "You're on a desert island, and there are only two
things to eat: bunnies and snails. Which would you eat?"
"Snails," they said as one.
"Bunnies or squid?"
"Squid." It was unanimous.
"Suppose now that the bunny meat were ground in a patty? Suppose it
were a bunny burger?"
"Bunny burger!" several people exclaimed, as the mood in the room turned
ugly. They were appalled.
A cart loaded with what appeared to be authentic Bunny Burgers --
actually ground turkey meat with applesauce garnish -- was wheeled into
the room. The burgers were still packed in their ecologically noxious
Styrofoam containers, accompanied by heaping portions of carrot fries.
________________Technical Note_________________
When attempting to dupe people into allowing
you to solicit their deepest feelings for
$50, always begin by announcing the imminent
arrival of heaping portions of refreshment.
________________________________________________
After recovering from their initial shock when the spring loaded pink
bunny ears leapt up at their startled faces, a few of the focus group
members gingerly began nibbling. One -- a large fellow who did not
appear to have missed many meals in his lifetime -- wolfed down a
burger, but his response was distinctly uncharacteristic of the group.
More typical was the reaction of a middle-aged woman who, after a
valiant struggle to take the first bite, immediately spat it out,
declaring, "You know what it is? It's the thought of what it is -- I
can't."
"This could easily be the Edsel of the food industry," sneered another
shocked consumer. And a professional man, visibly shaken by the
proceedings, refused even to open his box. "You'll have armies of kids
trying to burn down the Bunny Burgers place," he said.
PHASE 3: The Mall
But would we have armies of kids trying to burn down Bunny Burgers
outlets? And if so, would they be in New Jersey? Determined to answer
this question, we rented an empty storefront in the American Way Mall on
Route 46 in Fairfield. We installed a garish pink backdrop and large
hucksterish signs and hired a pair of gangly postadolescents to pass out
free Bunny Burgers, requiring them to don fey, demeaning pink costumes
complete with foot-high pop-up rabbit ears (as one of our PR consultants
had helpfully suggested).
_______________Technical Note_________________
When attempting to bait the public with a
highly dubious enterprise, always have some
members of the staff wear demeaning,
eye-catching attire. Jaded shoppers are
always impressed by employees' willingness
to humiliate themselves.
______________________________________________
We ordered in scores of ground-turkey burgers. And to make absolutely
sure the public took note of us, we hired Rapid T. Rabbit (ne Richard
Concepcion of Queens), who tries to make a living by hopping around in a
six-foot-tall bunny costume at mall openings.
Our bogus Bunny Burgers district manager, clad in the requisite
managerial blazer, then began offering free samples of our product to
passersby, whose enthusiasm was somewhat diminished by the presence of
several cute, furry, but implicitly doomed rabbits caged in the front of
the store. Yet despite their apprehension, the public heeded our
clarion call. During the course of the day, we served more than a 100
Bunny Burgers, and it is a measure of the troubled times in which we
live that even though most people were manifestly horrified by our
product, quite a few of them actually managed to eat it.
Opinions regarding its precise taste varied widely. "It's kind of like
eating your dog," said one woman. Others likened the experience to
eating chicken, liver, reindeer meat and Nutri-System. Still others
described the taste in a more poetic, visceral fashion.
"Nasty," volunteered a man who looked like a recovering Allman Brothers
roadie. "Really nasty."
Several mall patrons refused even to countenance the idea of tasting the
Bunny Burgers. "You guys are sick!" yelled a girl of 16 as she stormed
off -- perhaps, we thought, to recruit an army of her peers to burn down
the place. But her reaction was tepid compared with that of one Mike
Alino, a local high school teacher. Fuming with the kind of
old-fashioned populist rage that seems to have gone out of style, Alino
blasted every facet of the Bunny Burgers operation.
"Who dreamed up this name?" demanded Alino. "It's like -- it's like
trying to sell Bambi burgers, you know?" He elaborated: "This is like
killing the Easter rabbit, or like killing Rudolph the Red-Nosed
Reindeer. You don't do this!"
What did he think we should have called the chain instead?
"Something that didn't have such an emotional association," he replied.
"Like, maybe, Rabbit Steaks. Don't call them bunnies! Call them
herbivores ... or something."
Pressed for specifics about his emphatic attitude toward Bunny Burgers,
Alino barked, "I get turned off right away. Poor little bunnies being
ground up...They're cute little things. It's not like cows."
"That's disgusting," agreed a woman standing a few feet away. That's a
pet, not something to eat."
"Well, there's going to be a chain of these all across the country," our
faux middle manager cheerfully informed her.
She looked startled and clutched her stomach.
"Why?"
Why, indeed. For our investigation of the world of fast-food marketing,
we discovered a yawning chasm between the enthusiasm of our PR
professionals and the outright, unapologetic disgust of the dining
public.
"Even though we got people to take the first bite, they really wouldn't
take a second or third," was the solemn verdict of focus-group organizer
Mark Penn, who has previously worked for Ted Kennedy's presidential
campaign and Ed Koch. "Scientifically, we tried the concept on them, we
tried the reality on them, and most people didn't like either. As well
as we could package it, as well as we could add sauce to it, they just
didn't like it." His conclusion: "Clearly, if someone tried to go
forward with Bunny Burgers, they would have picketers, protesters, riot
outside the Bunny Burgers stands, and so the product couldn't make it."
Did Ray Kroc cave into the naysayers at the dawn of fast food? Did Dave
Thomas abandon the Wendy's dream just because he was latecomer to the
business? Colonel Sanders was a pioneer, too. The dream lives. Didn't
one of our PR advisors emphasize that the public would love Bunny
Burgers in California? We had tested the concept only in the New
York-New Jersey region. And we can still hear the thrilling,
affirmative words of one venturesome mall shopper, a man of about 30 who
looked up beseechingly after biting into his first Bunny Burger. "Uh,"
he asked, "can I take a couple home?"
------- End of Forwarded Message
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 15 May 92 16:06:58 +0200
From: Jean-Alain Le Borgne <jalb@ccv.fr>
Message-Id: <9205151406.AA11956@jekyll.ccv>
To: subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Subject: Carlos Herrera Is My Personal Saint
Comments: Hyperbole mail buttons accepted, v3.02P.
[translated from french, found in today's Liberation]
Cocktail amateurs will let a tear flow when they learn the death of
Carlos Herrera, the inventor of Margarita. He served the mix
(tequila, lime juice, orange liquor, crushed ice and, final touch,
salt on the rim) for the first time in 1938, in his restaurant in
Tijuana, Mexico. He was 90, and died in San Diego, California.
[jalb]
------------------------------
From: gt7950b@prism.gatech.edu
Message-Id: <9205160135.AA18381@prism>
Subject: If I knew what I was doing,
To: Subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Date: Fri, 15 May 92 21:35:53 EDT
Then I obviously wouldn't be here, I mean, I mean...
It's like I am here, but shouldn't be. But I suppose I am.
By the way, I was proud to have my roomate tell me that Windows 3.1
had secret messages in it as I was still trying to justify the upgrade,
which I'd made the day before.
I found out from other sources on the Usenet that there are messages
in other fonts as well.
If you use New Times Roman (or whatver it is they called this flavor
of standard font) and type certain four letter sequences messags like hell,
damn, shit, crap, and even FUCK appear on the screen. These key sequences
are not even unique. The folks at Microsoft were so clever as to produce at
least 16 different sequences that would produce each offensive four letter
message with such variations as fuck, Fuck, fuCk, and even fUCk. It also
turns out that just as many sequences read backwards could be construed as
offensive (i.e. kCuF, and the likes). They even went to the trouble to
produce several scrambled messages (even harder than the backmasking) such
as carp, hits, and kcuf.
I am appalled, I still haven't checked every font, but have reason to
believe that these aren't the only ones that produce these messages.
We should most likely discard all output devices entirely and switch
back to cardpunches, it's the only way we can remain moral enough to fend
off Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. It's also an excellent way to fend off "look
and feel" suits, not to be confused with touch and go or scratch and sniff.
End transmission.
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 15 May 1992 01:45 MST
From: "James J. Lippard" <LIPPARD@ccit.arizona.edu>
Subject: Microsoft Wingdings
To: subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Message-id: <01GK0UE6UU2O8WWNZD@CCIT.ARIZONA.EDU>
Here's what a friend of mine who works at Microsoft had to say when
I asked him about this Wingding thing:
Date: Tue, 5 May 92 13:02:21 PDT
From: tommyd@microsoft.com
Subject: RE: microsaft nazis?
To: lippard@CCIT.ARIZONA.EDU
Message-id: <9205011904.AA17939@netmail.microsoft.com>
X-Envelope-to: lippard
Yes, quite funny huh? We actually think it means...
If you take poision (skull and crossbones) go see a NY City
Jewish Doctor(star of David) and you'll be OK(thumbs up).
There a tons o' messages in the wingding font. I started
messing around with some email names of people and the like.
I got for TOMMYD --
Snow flake, flag, a bomb, another bomb!, star of david, and
then the thumbs down! I perceive this to mean that on flag
day, when it's snowing outside, there will be bombs that
go off set by a Jewish guy, and I'll die!
BTW: JIM = smily face, hand waving, bomb --- so you'll be happy
one day, waving good bye to your friends, and a bomb will
go off killing you. This prophecy will happen for everyone named
Jim.
LIPPARD = sad face, hand waving, triangle flag, triangle flag, hand making
peace or victory symbol, sun, thumbs down.
You wanna know the funny thing -- the Y in NYC used to be a
cross - and then after beta, they changed the Y to a star of David!
--Thomas
[end message]
Jim Lippard
------------------------------
Message-Id: <9205151546.AA03024@thelonious.MIT.EDU>
From: "The Rt. Rev. Wor. Dr. Y. Foo" <dryfoo@athena.mit.edu>
To: subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Subject: missing something
Date: Fri, 15 May 92 11:46:29 EDT
I think the King is missing his sarcasm detector:
} From: HRH King 'Big Al' Lerxst <bigal@wpi.wpi.edu>
} Subject: The Microsoft SS? NOT!
}
} In the last digest....
}
} > From: axd7104@acfcluster.nyu.edu (Aaron Dickey)
} > Subject: Microsoft advocates killing of Jews
} >
} > Hey everyone!! Did you know that Microsoft is advocating the killing of
} > Jews in New York City? I sure didn't! But it's true! I read it in the
} > paper!
} >...
} > So what do you all think? Should we load up the buses and make a
} > pilgrimage to Redmond to firebomb Bill Gates's mansion, or what?
}
} Indeed, then we can stop at Howard Stern's house to kill free-speech
} advocates, maim a few artists who portray nudity or homosexuality, block
} access to an abortion clinic, and maybe even protest 'Basic Instinct'
} and it's portrayal of women.....
}
} Give me a break, I believe anti-Semitism exists and that it is wrong,
} but this is about as credible as the allegations some years back that
} Proctor & Gamble's moon and stars logo indicated devil worship.
That's soooo sincere! Thanks Yer Maj. But since this is maybe the
first issue of the Subg Digest you've ever seen, why read it for a week
or two? Get a feel for things, y'know? And then go back and read this
whole thread again. Then have some lunch or something.
("King Lerxst" -- what a title! Sheeesh!)
-- The Right Reverend Worshipful Dr. Y. Foo
PS. It's actually Johnson&Johnson that's into Devil Worship.
Proctor&Gamble is run by Zoroastrians.
PPS. We ALREADY HAVE gone to Howard Stern's house to kill free-speech
advocates. You must be looking at *LAST* month's social
activities schedule.
------------------------------
To: The Subgenius Notifier <Subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu>
cc: Evolution Control Committee <mgunders@magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu>,
tsf+@riga.mt.cs.cmu.edu, clay+@riga.mt.cs.cmu.edu,
akl+@riga.mt.cs.cmu.edu, skh+@riga.mt.cs.cmu.edu, ben+@riga.mt.cs.cmu.edu,
ndb+@riga.mt.cs.cmu.edu, lk0v@nike.cheme.cmu.edu
Reply-to: toad@cmu.edu
Subject: Rant 'n' RAVE, 5/23, cleveland
Date: Fri, 15 May 92 03:37:48 -0400
Message-ID: <3440.705915468@RIGA.MT.CS.CMU.EDU>
From: Stucco Toast <Todd_Kaufmann@riga.mt.cs.cmu.edu>
Association for Consciousness Exploration,
J.R. ``Bob'' Dobbs, and
Smart Bar
invite you to the world's first
RANT-n-RAVE.
A BOB-RANT-TECHNO-RAVE SYNTHESIS
(what a mind-melting concept!)
featuring...
The Rev. Ivan Stang, direct from Dallas!
Special appearance of ``Bob'' and Connie! (really)
"Smart" Drinks & _Mind_ Machines!
Squirtatious LASER Light Shows!
Live DJ Remixers from the E&W Coast RAVE scenes!
AND... Our Wildest PSYCHEDELICATESSEN Ever!
A 12 Hour Cosmic Realignment -- Right Under The Conspiracy's Nose!
Saturday 23 May 6pm - 6am
at
Smart Bar, 1575 Merwin, Cleveland "In the Flats"
advance tix: $7 (ACE members: $5); Door: $8
(ACE: 216 932 5421 (charge it))
fold space
divine folly
witness unprecedented madness
way of endless slack
live original "bob" tunes why be normal?
come early, stay late, enjoy the HELL out of it.
RANT: 6-10:30 (Free "Cosmic Glasses" to the first 100 arrivals!)
RAVE: all night! Dance from Dusk 'til Dawn! (19 and over)
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well, that's what the postcard sez.
i'll be glad to organize local link-ups.
what's happening in your world?
------------------------------
Date: Fri, 15 May 92 12:14 EST
From: Steve Barr <BARRSTEV%UNCG.BITNET@mitvma.mit.edu>
Subject: Who cares about the NYC, what about NC?
To: subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Message-id: <562E808FE57F2068ED@uncg.bitnet>
"NYC" = <skull> <Star of David> <thumbs-up sign>
Secret message is: Kill all the Jews in NYC.
"NC" = <skull> <thumbs-up sign>
Secret message is: Kill *everyone* in NC!?
Bill, we know you have problems getting a date, but wholesale slaughter of
everyone in the TELEVANGELIST and PRO-WRESTLING center of the nation is just a
bit much to be tolerated as the act of a frustrated man.
Anybody got a complete list? My boss' memos will probably make much more
sense.
Steve Barr
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'He returned to his computer game, something called "Nukey," which included
elements of sex and detonation, though the cheapness of its early sound chips
reduced orgasm to a thin rising whine, broken into segments as if for breath,
and made the presumably nuclear explosions, no more than symbolized here by
feeble bursts of white noise, even less satisfying.'
--Thomas Pynchon, _Vineland_
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End of Subgenius Digest
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