Subject: My X-Day 6 Rant "The Little Certain Somethings"

From: "Reverend Sinphaltimus Exmortus" <>
Newsgroups: alt.binaries.slack,alt.slack
Date: Wed, Jul 9, 2003 4:50 PM
Message-ID: <%d%Oa.19499$>

The Little Certain Somethings.
Rev. Sinphaltimus Exmortus - x-day 6

There's a little certain something that I'd like to rant about.
It's a little certain something that makes me want to shout.
You see this little certain something can bring about a change.
It's those little certain somethings that we'd like to rearrange.
Cause it's in the little certain somethings that always seem the same.
But it's the little certain somethings that make you feel ashamed.
And without those little certain somethings, we never seem to see.
That they have robbed our certain somethings and made us think we're free.
I think that by now you know, what it is I mean.
It's the pure Dobbs given slack, that can not be seem.
You see, you come here every year, smoking frop and drinking beer.
You stand there and you listen but you just don't seem to hear.
The life you say that sux, blaming those who make big bux.
But in the end, my little friend, it's you who's out of luck.
It's you who came here and it's you ho'll leave.
It's you who merely fools yourself into thinking you believe.
There really is a simple way, I swear that I'm not lying.
To really quit and give up, to succeed without trying.
The luck plain is really out there, it truly does exist.
But without your stinking money, it's real easy to miss.
So buy up all the swag, or just hand it over to me.
Save your friends, save yourself, save your entire family.
Hand over all your credit cards, as for your car, hand over the keys.
For to do so is the first step in this twisted society.
And if you think I'm lying, If you think that this is a joke.
You haven't given up on trying, it's the truth that makes you choke.
The word I speak are literal, but the truth they reveal is not.
I could speak to you less clearly but it the truth that you've not got.
You see to understand my meaning, to unearth the unshakable truth.
You really must give up everything and return to you roots.
This plant can not be owened and this planet can't be sold.
But it is and always will be for it's liquids and it's gold.
To fulfill their greedy wishes, and provoke their sickening lies.
You are all their little robots, I present you with a guise.
Continue what your doing, make them think that you're the same.
But deep down inside your mind, you must donate your brain.
In your everyday employment and your passively pink routines.
Carry with you your slack cardship, and plot against the fiends.
Be the perfect person, be the best employee.
Give them what they want, but don't lose sight of what you see.
Pay all of your taxes and don't ever protest.
Or you'll be carted up and dismissed, just like all the rest.
But when they are not looking, when they aren't near.
You carry out Bob's plan and do all the things they fear.
You can burn down their churches and tear down their walls.
Crash all of their areo-planes or cut off all their balls.
You can shoot them all dead with a bullet to the head.
But they will come and arrest you as you sleep in your bed.
So keep with all your plans and keep them to yourself.
Wait until July 5th to board your sex saucer of stealth.
Loaded with machine laser pistols, and strategically smart nuke bombs.
Flesh sniffing missles, the full arsenal of the con.
Go all out in your saucer, show them what you mean.
As you and I and your bretheren wipe this planet clean.
Not sure if this made sense to you, Not sure if you understand.
Just in case your still confused, Just stand there, staring at that man.
For seconds, minutes, hours, or even many days,
Stare until you get it, Just to clear the pinkish haze.
Drop a church pamphlet, you know, the number 1.
Where ever you sit, cause you know they will come.
Makes copies of the Dobbs head and leave them scattered about.
Talk about the truth but don't let the truth get out.
Share your experience and tell your stories.
Don't say that you believe it, no sense in making them worry.
Keep it to yourself, the revelations inside.
Speak not of the truth, make up outrageous lies.
For it's in the little certain somethings we keep locked up inside our
It's in the little certain somethings, that is our true disguise.
For without these little certain somethings, would we really care?
Or without the certain somethings, would we really dare?
And now I take my certain somethings with me to the end.
And I share these certain somethings, with you and all your friends.
Don't lose hope in your little certain somethings, you know you'll get them
You know, the little certain somethings, the ones that bring us slack.


Sincerely yours, forever Bob's,

The Reverend Sinphaltimus Exmortus
of the
First Ever Digital Church of Mind Slack
A Totally Independent Clench of
The Church of the SubGenius
PO BOX 204206
AUSTIN, TX 78720-4206
Send $1 and S.A.S.E. for more info
or visit
or email
or die pink
or kill me
"Exterminate all rational thought" W.S.B.

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