From the Office Pew of Rev. Ivan Stang
Just down the road from us, where Dallas turns into Garland, there was the sweetest little End of the World cult from Taiwan, called the God's Salvation Church. Their Teacher Chen said that God had told him through his hand that He would be on TV on March 24. Then, on March 31, at 10 a.m., He would appear at Teacher Chen's house in a flying saucer to rescue the faithful from the Apocalypse.
God didn't show on the 24th, and at first old Teacher Chen admitted that it might all be delusion and nonsense. (If only the Christians, Moslems, Hindus, etc. would be so forthcoming!) But then they backpedaled and said, well, they knew all along that God wasn't really gonna be on TV; they just wanted the media attention so that more people would know about God appearing with His saucers on the 31st. When the saucers didn't show, Chen decided that God will show up in Wisconsin, so the cult's heading there next.
Friends, thank "Bob" that we don't have to worry about looking silly in the media, like those poor Taiwanese cultists. X-Day WILL happen, in all its glory and violence, and ecstacy and orgies, aboard the Pleasure Vessels just as specifically outlined in The Book of the SubGenius and Revelation X.
Needless to say, I'm getting an earful of VAPID BLATHER these days, from "Halfway SubGeniuses," the ones who STILL THINK this is all just a "FUNNY JOKE," saying, "Now come on, Rev. Stang -- whatchu really gone do come X-Day?" Indeed, there are even those sad, brilliant prophetic super-geniuses who say, "I don't THINK there's going to be an X-Day at all!"
What the HELL did they spend that $30 for, then?? One has to wonder.
Then there are those who say, "Well, sirmaam, I'm eagerly awaiting X-Day, maxing out my credit card on False Slack and SubGenius goods, like "Bob" said to do, and buying memberships for all my relatives and friends that I don't want to see left behind...BUT, I believe I'll just sit here at my house on July 5 and wait for X-Day to come to me, as the Earth rotates beneath the great line of Xist "presences." So I don't feel the need to bust my ass travelling all the way to this little town in the boonies in New York, just to be with a bunch of other SubGenius geeks."
Actually, you DO INDEED need to bust your ass getting to Brushwood Folklore Center in Sherman, NY. There will never be another PURE SUBGENIUS DAY like it... on EARTH. Everything REAL and which truly COUNTS about the Church, besides the adoration of Dobbs of course, will come to its climax at Brushwood campground in Sherman NY in 1998 on X-Day. For on that day, in that place, THE SUBGENIUS WILL HAVE SLACK.
Let me put it this way. I have kicked through the ashes of the Branch Davidian sect cult compound in Waco, and I have juggled skulls from Jonestown in the boardrooms of the Nine Elder Bankers. I've been to the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Canyon, the Great Wall of China, and a Jimi Hendrix concert. But if I had my druthers, I'D RATHER BE RUPTURING FROM BRUSHWOOD ON X-DAY!!
TRUE -- it doesn't matter WHERE you are on X-Day. You'll be Ruptured, or not, depending on whether you PAID UP or not. It isn't like you'll "miss X-Day" just because you weren't at this particular location. *I* can SURE as hell understand how someone might have more pressing family matters to deal with, with the Rupture upcoming, than to be traveling to this hippie dippy paganoid half naked campground. UNDERSTANDABLE! You have your own priorities. NO PROB! None will gainsay you. (DUMBASS!!!!!) BUT, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE--??? Are you really EXPECTING to need MONEY, or your CAR or HOUSE afterwards? (Also, you won't get to be in the MOVIE that'll be largely filmed at this event.)
Popess Lilith sez:
"Those of you who thought a devival was wild DO NOT KNOW WILD YET, in comparison to... a DRILL. A TRIAL RUN. A *PRACTICE*!!! THIS... IS THE REAL THING.
"I consider the X-Day celebration to be *almost* as important as X-Day itself, and EVEN IF, dare I say it, the Xists *didn't* show up, why, most of us would still remember this gathering as one of the best times of our lives. And yet it's only an *appetiser* compared to what awaits us in the Pleasure Saucers!
"So, why should we go? BECAUSE, DAMN IT ALL, JUST FUCKING BECAUSE. Visit SubSite if you want to see pictures, mere 2-D representations of the Drill, and ask yourself: If the pictures are this INTERESTING and INTICING, and if the Drill will pale in comparision to the X-Day Celebration Itself, CAN MY EYESTALKS STAND IT?
"Then shout YES THEY CAN! And start planning TODAY." -- P-Lil
One of my BEST FRIENDS, an Old School Hierarchite, one of the 13 Apostles, said, "Man, it doesn't look like I'm gonna be at Brushwood for X-Day... I have the choice of either spending the weekend with you old SubGenius buddies, or instead I can start this new JOB being paid to travel all over the world with my girlfriend, fropping and writing. I can do that, or else go to X-Day and lose the job."
And he calls this a DECISION? AS IF THERE WAS GONNA BE A "WORLD" LEFT WORTH TRAVELLING IN!!!! As if, having BOUGHT that $10 membership back in 1980, he will have any CHOICE about being Ruptured. He could chain himself and his girlfriend inside a bank vault, but he'd better hope she has a Membership too, or she'll be mangled horribly as he is force-teleported through that bank vault ceiling while still chained to her!
OH, YEAH. You'll be Ruptured whether you make it to the Slack Orgy at Brushwood or not. GRANTED, 5 minutes into the Rupture you may find your Escape Vessel/Pleasure Planet under ATTACK from Dr. Legume's fleet of Holocaustal battle planets. Once Ruptured, Dobbs will protect you from the Pinks and the Con. But nobody said anything about YOUR FELLOW SUBGENIUSES. That's why some of us think it might be a good idea to be right there alongside as many of our "brothers and sisters" as possible, if for no other reason than to GET THE JUMP ON 'EM if they TRY ANYTHING "SMART," if you know what I mean. And if you're a SubGenius, you probably don't.
Your choice. All I know is, the time is rushing up on us. The spray painting is on the wall. As I type this on April 3, there are 93 days left until X-Day. Only 3 months. Only 14 weeks.
"Fourteen more SHITTY Mondays.
"Fourteen more CRAPPY Tuesdays.
"FOURTEEN more SCUM-SUCKING BASTARD Wednesdays.
"FOURTEEN GODDAMNED WORTHLESS SHIT more THURSDAYS.
"Fourteen FRIDAYS THAT HAD BETTER PASS QUICK BEFORE I GET A FUCKING RIFLE AND TAKE OUT A POST OFFICE!
"Fourteen SATURDAYS WHERE I CAN'T GET ENOUGH DRUGS AND ALCOHOL TO DEADEN THE PAIN, OR ENOUGH TRANQUILIZERS TO MAKE ME stop WANTING TO HURT THEM A MILLION-BILLION TIMES WORSE THAN THEY HURT ME.
"And fourteen Sundays, too. Unless you count X-Day, which falls on a Sunday.
"Have a nice 93 days. Then all of you die."
--From: monet <email@example.com>
Yes, my friends, soon we the Chosen will be on ESCAPE VESSELLS, each with our own fleet of planets (if that's what we want; you can have a modest little space-cottage if that's all you want); the Universe will be ours for the plucking, and we will enjoy sex and sales with many different species, from many worlds and times. SubGeniuses and even humans will be so few and far between that you won't care whether a person is black or white, male or female, human or SubGenius.... you'll be glad if they've got ONE HEAD! "Wow! An EARTHER! Gosh, I'm from the North American Continent too -- do you know Fred Schwartz?"
Yet, now that we're leaving, we're getting sentimental. Though we were hated at home, we are leaving the nest now; and, as we cavort with the Sex Goddesses, we won't remember Earth's pollution, her HUMANS, her JOBS and MOSQUITOS, NO! We'll recall the OCEANS, the FORESTS, the proud cities, the fast food restaurants and comic books and monster movies.
Yes, we are leaving our mother, and someone must stay behind to protect her. Our UNSAVED little brothers and sisters, the SubGenii who did NOT spend their $30, must remain here to become the NEW STEWARDS and STEWARDESSES over Spaceship Earth, or rather Earth Farm One, or what's left of it.
When we commandeer our Escape Vessels, we promise not to trash our Mother, but only the Pink Parasites who suck at her withered teat. And those who CHOSE to STAY BEHIND, and save the $30, must see to it that lazy humanity, left behind in the rubble, DOES NOT TAKE THE EASY WAY OUT, and SELL OUT to the GREYS or the YACATISMA or any of the other rival alien races that will swarm around the planet like flies and vultures, the instant the Xists leave...
SUBGENIUSES -- JUST SAY "NO" TO THE ALIEN THREAT!!
As we devolved from our pure Yeti state, the EARTH SPIRIT, GAIA, drove us to create ever greater weapons, which we once turned upon each other; but NOW, they shall be turned against the ALIEN THREAT -- against ALL OTHER PLANETS, EXCEPT ours, until ONLY MOTHER EARTH REMAINS!!
We declare WAR AGAINST THE PLANETS!! WAR AGAINST THE UNIVERSE!!! WAR AGAINST GOD!!!
In the NAME of Earth and J.R. "Bob" Dobbs, we hereby declare ALL OTHER PLANETS to be named NEW EARTH, and declare them OURS TO USE AS WE SEE FIT!
And if they resist us, in the name of "Bob" and Earth we shall CRUSH the Martians! We shall CRUSH the VENUSIANS! We shall CRUSH the JOVIANS! We shall CRUSH the Skrieee-ALACK of Saturn's MOONS, and the Uranus-Bugs! We shall crush THE SUN!!! We will HARNESS, MASTER and ENSLAVE the VERY SUN!!! You will thank "Bob" for the very LIGHT, for the 25 hour day!
Then -- our great Armadas shall fly ON past Pluto -- to Alpha Centauri -- to Tau Ceti and BEYOND!
IF WE CANNOT CONQUOR A PLANET, WE WILL DESTROY IT.
If "BOB" cannot have IT ALL, then NONE may have ANY OF IT!
ALL WORLDS OR NONE!!! EARTH FIRST!!!
---HAPPY LAST YEAR!
-- Rev. Stang
art above by St. Joe Riley (color version and Earth First by Stang)
>In article <firstname.lastname@example.org>, email@example.com asked:
>>Are all the saucer seats full? ARE THEY?
>firstname.lastname@example.org (IrRev. Friday Jones) wrote:
>Are they half full or half empty? If they're full NOW, what/who are they FULL OF, and will it/they GIVE UP their seats for us?
Of course they're full--they carry our replacement doppelgangers, who'll all get jobs in the newly formed US Department of Rape, Cruelty, and Explosives, with nuLegume as the Secretary of the Department. nuStang will model for the training dummies, nuSterno and nuGordon will head up the outsourcing for the shock troops, while nuFriday and nuLilith will determine what parts of the "serviced" will be sold on the organ black market. nuMegaLiz will fry them up, and nuLurch will eat them up. nuJanor will perform the obligatory screams for "help" on behalf of the traumatized "serviced". Meanwhile nuFloozie will be in charge of Quality Control, making sure the "serviced" are properly and thoroughly "serviced". And so forth. The plan is to siphon off and, in time, dominate the federal and state budgets, including the non-itemized stuff the CIA and NSA and Pentagon currently spend. Well before Omicron Epsilon the nuChurch will be spending up to six times the GNP to keep the Department at full capacity, and by the time Omicron Epsilon is here we'll be ready to re-spore the planet with a species just as capable of feeling pain and suffering, at which point we can demand a new contract with the Elder Gods, on our terms, JUST IN TIME TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE FROM TIME INTERCEPTIONAL FUCKUPS. There won't be any humans left to remember us, but if there were they'd be grateful all the same.
| Popess Lilith von Fraumench | Fools' Press |
| Hangnail Of the Stark Fist | 1122 E Pike St, #769 | | Sadomasticist At Large | Seattle, WA 98122-3934 | |"Spiting the Gods since 1989"| email@example.com | | http://home.sprynet.com/interserv/mitchell |
"Normals mean well. We all know that. But SubGenii MEAN well. We're real GOOD at being mean. Normals just mean to be mean, they intend to hate, but we just plain DO it. As much as a SubGenii is in the NowHere, Normals remain in the NoWhere. See? It's all a matter of emphasis. We emphasise MEANNESS, they emphasise meaning to emphasise something, someday, maybe... " -- Rev. Dr. Onan Canobite
PINK FRIDAY: July 3rd, 1998
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (e/w bear)
Date: Sat, 21 Mar 1998 13:56:06 GMT
3:00 pm, July 3rd, 1998
So there you stand shaking on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange,
your sweaty palm clutching all that remains of your once vast fortune: a
lousy 30 dead presidents. It's July 3rd, Pink Friday, and you ignored the
Bear's advice and sold July Slack. You Idiot! I Told you to BUY! NOW
what are you going to do FOOL? With less than 48 hours left, it's TOO LATE
to mail in your donation. You can't wire a bank draft to The Church's
account either because it's Pink Friday, YOU MORON! THE BANKS HAVE FAILED!
In desperation you try to dial Stang on your cellphone but the batteries
ARE DEAD! Panic stricken you find a phone booth, but the phones are SHUT
DOWN by Executive Order in response to large scale UFO sightings on the
eastern seaboard. You hop in your car and wind desperately through
crushing downtown traffic looking for an exit to the Interstate. "I can
make it", you think. "I have time". "I'll use my credit cards to buy gas",
remembering that the Church only accepts cash after the banks fold, so you
must guard that 30 dollars with your life.
You find the I-State. You start to relax. You're gonna make it. You turn on
the radio for some music but there's NO STATIONS... just an eeire TONE all
across the dial. Finally a voice appears advising all citizens to proceed
to their homes and remain there awaiting further instructions by radio and
TV broadcast. Stunned, you suddenly realize you are the only vehicle
leaving Chicago. Everyone else is moving in the opposite direction. You
round a bend. Ahead, beside a bridge, you see military vehicles and men
with rifles manning a concrete roadblock. Up on the bridge sits a single
black helicopter. You slow down, and are waved to the side by grim looking
Guardsmen in combat fatigues. They remove you from the car and escort you
to a nearby trailer where you are interviewed by a peculiarly small man in
a dark grey suit. He inspects your ID, examining each piece carefully with
a deliberation that chills you to the bone. One by one he studies every
item in your wallet. Finally he notices your cash. Slowly he count's it.
"NOH KAHD?", he rasps. "WEH KAHD?" Trembling, you point meekly at your
money lying crumpled on the table. "MONI NOH GUHD!" "ONI TAHK KAHD!" He
nods slightly, motioning toward the door. "GOH BAHK SHIKAHGOH!" "GOH