8X-Day After Action Report from Left Rev Egg Plant

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Newsgroups: alt.slack
Date: Fri, Jul 8, 2005 7:35 AM

So, here I sit, disappointed that the Rupture didn't happen again this
year, and that "Bob" has once again been proven to be unreliable about
his prediction of the coming of the Xists. I had a feeling this would
be the case before leaving home last week for Brushwood, and was rightly
justified to be the skeptic that I am about *any* religion, especially
this one.

As I had written in this forum previously, I had hoped to be on the road
before rush hour shenanigans kept me from making a clean escape from the
Conspiracy clutches on Thursday afternoon, June 30. That dream came
true, and the only real bottleneck on the trip was the escape route from
Detroit, which was blocked by ongoing construction in several areas of
I-75 on the 65 mile journey from home to the Ohio border. With some
creative driving I managed to get around and through those bottlenecks
with amazing grace.

The rest of the trip through Ohio, Pennsylvania, and into New York was
largely uneventful. Sadly, due to her conspiracy commitments, my
beloved, the Rev Karen Too Much, was unable to accompany me on this
journey. Having the company of my son, the soon-to-be-ordained Reverend
Nort Brayhnleek, was succor and comfort over the weary pavement of the
Ohio Turnpike, a roadway of the damned, where the Conspiracy awaits at
every exit to extract its coinage for simply wanting to move from one
place to another. A quick pit stop to fuel our bodies with fast food
and excremeditate briefly, and we were soon on our way.

We arrived at Brushwood just as dusk was falling, and the contrast of
that world with stars to the light-polluted environs of our habitation
in the Detroit region was stark, to say the least. The Conspiracy works
to keep us from monitoring the activities of the Xists by drowning out
all possibility of even seeing stars if one lives close to its cities.
This is obviously to keep the people as sheep, fat for the coming
slaughter. We quickly got our tent erected in alt.slack woods, working
well by the light of a borrowed camp lantern provided by Rev Cage, and
we were with adequate shelter that stayed dry, cool, and comfortable.
May Rev Cage enjoy 50 sex goddesses on his saucer. I question the
sanity of those who erect their shelters in the blazing sunlight of the
field, which seeks to roast us and give us skin cancer if overexposed to
it's blinding light.

Dr. Dark's Drive-In of the Damned provided much entertainment that first
night, and each successive night thereafter, except Saturday night, when
the Amino Acids, Lonesome Cowboy Dave, and the Minoan Brain Eaters once
again graced the stage. Much frappy was consumed throughout the trip,
shared very openly with many friends: Rev Phloigd, Dave and Shannon
from Indianapolis, Rev Lee Burls, Doc Frop & SisD, 808, and pretty much
anyone else who would grab the pipe from my outstretched hand. Slack
flowed out during these gatherings, so much so that all thought of the
world outside Brushwood left my tortured mind.

The Deity Ball and bulldada auction were high points. Pater Nostril
should have been blessed for his excellent idolatry. All others who
participated

We missed many who did not attend this weekend. I know of the evil that
is the Conspiracy, and curse them for keeping our beloved brethren and
sistern from attending this gathering of blessed souls. May the Slack
and frop of Dobbs be with them during their time of torture.

I curse Rev Magdalen for having accepted Leonard the Committed's offer
of being the bullhorn wrangler, for she disproved my theory that anyone
so obnoxiously loud as Lenny should not need amplification. I would see
that she burns in the pits of the devil. I curse her name for having
proven that common sense does not prevail in this church. However,
Leonard is not all that bad a guy, as he provided excellent morning
coffee service and companionship throughout the weekend.

Banjo Bob should be made a Subgenius Saint for his constant parroting of
the word "cunt" all weekend long, such that I should laugh until my
sides ached. Slack flows from this individual like snot from a runny
nose. May he be blessed with an erection that never goes away come the
Rupture.

The baptismal font and community bathing pool were strangely cold upon
our arrival to Brushwood, but this soon changed to comfortably cool over
the weekend, probably due to an influx of pixie sprites who are known to
fix things like pool heaters in the dark. I wish those pixie sprites
would come to my house and fix my furnace and keep it from being flooded
out every time it rains. May much frop and Slack be forwarded their way.

Overall, the four days I spent at Brushwood were like a trip to heaven,
where people generally got along well with each other (with one notable
exception of which we will *not* speak), Slack was oozing from every
pore of my tired body, and I was allowed to experience the glory that is
"Bob" once again. Praise his holy name that it may be such again when
we await the coming of the Xists at Brushwood this time next year,
whichever year that may be.

Peace and good tidings and much Slack be to all who read this.

Yours in Dobbs,

The Left Reverend Egg Plant
(I must be Left because I sure as hell ain't Right)

PS I must inform all of the passing of the rubber chicken, which was
hung by a lanyard around its neck and around my neck all weekend long
and served as comedy relief for all who witnessed it and which was then
hung from my car mirror afterward. I arrived to my vehicle after work
last night to find that the poor chicken had not survived the searing
heat and was beheaded, a sure sign that there are evil forces about in
this world of clocks and dirty Pink boys who would shit upon the bed
upon which I lay. Please offer up a fropstick in memory of the chicken.

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Original file name: 8X-Day After Action Report - converted on Monday, 18 July 2005, 17:18