The Church of the Fist Size White Hot Ball of Fun

From: gjjensen@aol.com (GJJensen)
Date: 1 Feb 1995

I know "Bob", when I was born, hanging by my feet, bare to the world, I
screamed like a bitch in heat. And the whole world, looked my way. My
genitals sprang to attention. The nurse swooned, the doctor sighed, and
mother wept. "Bob" smiled and JH1 quaked in fear.

I ate "Bob", I chopped up the prophet and forced him down my throat. Bite
after bite. He filled me up and vomited him out and then stuck my head in
the toilet and blew bubbles in his blood. The sweet blood of eternal
SLACK.

I was "Bob", and I fill the whole sky and my word was like driving rain
falling on the heads of the ignorate dupes. Only the faithful heard, the
rest thought it was thunder, or lightning. But "Bob" won't be ignored for
ever. No the Mighty word of
SLACK will burst open doors, bodies, banks and 57 chevys.

I honor "Bob", drop to my knees. I've got my chair ready. I may not live to
see "Bob" come again, and again, and again, but I'll have a front row seat,
with my name on it.

I "Bob", will words ever be enough? Will SLACK ever be enough?

Rev Lyons

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