Today's Topics:
check it? (the check's in yer mouth, it won't come in the mail!)
Slackful Pastimes
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Message-Id: <199503140740.XAA04485@indeed>
To: jack@eit.com, San FranDisco Ravers List <sfraves@hyperreal.com>,
subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Subject: check it? (the check's in yer mouth, it won't come in the mail!)
Reply-To: mayer@eit.com
Date: Mon, 13 Mar 1995 23:40:10 -0800
From: "Niels P. Mayer" <npm@indeed.netcom.com>
what the fuck is this???
http://kzsu.stanford.edu/uwi/schwa/schwa.html
I've seen their label on clothing, but i guess i haven't been shopping
enough to know where (or why) you'd want their stuff.
Also... Ivan Stang on Schwa:
<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3O//DTD W3 HTML 2.0//EN">
SCHWA is a "major work." It has sweep, and vast dimensions, and hideous brain-curdling revelations, yet it's all culled down graphically to the fewest lines necessary. It uses stickpeople and spare ovalsÑ small, simple thingsÑ to represent something VERY VERY BIG and all too complex.
I'm no fine arts critic, but Barker's use of repetition of forms, such as the UFO-and-alien-eye oval shape, layered upon layer, and the incredible consistency of stylistic and thematic integration strike me as UTTERLY FANTASTIC. Each deceptively simple drawing represents a whole plot, and the sequence of the drawings presents an even more whole plot. The sequential progression of the cartoon folds in on itself, looping and reflecting back and forth in a that renders it COSMIC. It's beautiful, apocalyptic end-times craziness, intuited down to basics.
No it isn't about the aliensÑ it's about the humans. Those who await the aliens, those who hate the aliens, those who serve the aliens, those who study them, and those who are them. The chunk of skull flying off JFK's brain is the same shape as the saucers. There is no escape, because they are BIGGER THAN YOU and that's why YOU MUST LOVE THEM.
And everything they do to you, you do to your neighbor, one way or another. The universe is a food chain and we're near the bottom. The cloud without water offers you free food and drink, and you'll line up for it. The ones who would brand you have plenty of help from your peers. You can try to hide in their shadows but they see you there, too. It's not paranoia if you really are out to get you. You are happy to turn yourself in to their alter/slaughterhouse because it seems normal...every other stickperson is doing it. You can relax in the tub while they torture you and enter your dreams. You can blast the big oval out of the sky, but the tiny ovals will make a mess of your immune system. You'll be processed either way.
This is the best book about UFOs ever drawn, and Bill Barker must be one
of the best archetype-jugglers yet seen in this circus.
-IVAN STANG
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Message-Id: <9503141554.AA04230manitoba.marcam.com>
Date: Tue, 14 Mar 1995 10:53:56 EST
Reply-To: trevay@marcam.com
From: "Ven. Maha-Swamiji B. Geebees" <@manitoba.marcam.com:trevay@marcam.com>
To: Subgenius Slackmailer <subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu>
Subject: Slackful Pastimes
Dear Brothers, Sisters and Siblings of Undefined Gender,
Taking my repose in the Elvis Room, on Congress Street in Portsmouth, New
Hamster this past Sunday, I had a thought --
-- and, the Elvis Room -is- a real place in Portsmouth. It's just down the
street from a bright-pink and wonderfully gaudy Christian bookstore, as
The King would have wanted it to be. Inside the Elvis Room the
clientele drink extrmely strong coffee amid kitch and cultural artifacts
of the last 40 years of declining Western civilization, to wit:
o the depresso-bar has embedded in its Hi-Glos acrylic coating,
cheap-newspaper clippings and advertising unearthed in excavations
in the Suburban Wastelands, carbon-dated to c. 1955;
o the lamps above said bar were clearly removed from an airport
cocktail lounge during the time when President Kennedy and "Bob"
were simultaneously stimulating and satisfying Miss Xxxxxxxx (I'm
sorry, but I -would- have to kill you ...);
o and instead of sitting on uncomfortable wood or plastic chairs,
patrons of the establishment can enjoy their Mind Altering Caffeine
Empowement (MACE) beverages, whilst relaxing upon Lay-Z-Boy "style"
upholstered chairs that display embroidered and printed patterns
from The Land that Good Taste Forgot.
-- the thought being, "Is there no _SubGenius' Guide to SLACK_"? It was only
my dear beloved mate, who brought me there, saying, "You'd -like- this place!",
else it's likely I'd never have found it. Indeed -- she was -sooo- fucking
right, that as I got my large latte (in a pint glass), the dulcet tones of
Poly Styrene and X-Ray Spex began wailing "Warrior in Woolworths." At that
moment, I -knew- I'd come home.
(Of course, it's not Poifect. There might be some "unconciousness raising"
we Third Order Subs could do there. I mean, whilst looking at the
encryptions on the bar, and observing the ads for lawnmowers and pole lamps
available to Mr. and Mrs. Suburbanite in their Brand New Aluminum-Sided
Ranch Home, I said to the waitroid: "I'm looking for signs of "Bob" ".
She replied, " "Bob" who?", at which I retorted, "Well, "Bob" Dobbs, of
course." Said she, "Oh, well, I haven't seen him."
Well, duh! I mean, "See "Bob" and be ruptured!", sayeth the
SLAACKromancer! Tho' with her jet black hair matching her lipstick, I
still expect her to be On The Ships, albeit strapped-down in Coach. So
I absolved her of her blasphemy, and left a tip in the jar.)
Could we Lood and Goyal Subs not comprise a directory of these Truly Tasteless
and Odd Places, where Badfilm is shown, where Cultural Plasticity is
celebrated, where Pop Culture is Preserved for the Education of the Young?
Could we not tabulate " "Bob's" Big Book of Slackful Places to Eat, Sleep and
Molt"?
("x") The Venerable Maha Swami-ji B. Jeebees (His mark)
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8879. GIANT DELUXE COCKROACH. The Ultimate, Supreme Roach on
High. For two years we worked on this project. Boeing's work on
the 747 was nothing compared to this. Do you know how hard it is
to manufacture the rubber hair on roaches' legs? We do. Do you
think Immunex has any higher standards in genetic engineering?
Well, they probably do, but ours are right up there. 4 1/2" of
roach, $1.95.
-- from the Archie McPhee Catalog #18
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(I should add that Archie McPhee's shop in Seattle, and its attendant
des-expresso lounge, is -also- a Slackful Place.)
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End of Subgenius Digest
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