THE FINAL DEVIVAL IS FINALIZED

From: Popess Lilith von Fraumench <p-lil@subgenius.com>

WE PICKED THE FUCKING TERROR OF THE GODS OUT OF OUR GODDAMN NOSES--AND FLINGED IT AT THE CROWD TO FIGHT OVER!!!

An e-mail from Sister Lois Carmen DeNominator:

>Dear Lilith,
>If you're reading this far, it's safe to assume that you're lying in a pool of your own fluids by now, surrounded with the wreckage of your megatonnage. Lie still, dear--let your delicate tissues knit. Don't worry--they're forklifting out the corpses right now and pressure-washing the congealed blood off the walls. You don't have to lift a finger. You know something? YOU LOOKED FABULOUS LAST NIGHT, LILITH!! The lights played blue white-hot fire in your hair, which went so nicely with your ruby-red eyebeams, and the bodies were stacking up as fast as the dollars while you whipped up a brain-lashing vortex with your dervishing, just like Linda Blair's Locust Dance in The Exorcist Pt. II: The Heretic.... *sigh* I want to be just like YOU when I grow down...

Seattle is hereby REDEEMED, for another 110 days. Why it matters, only "Bob" can ever know. I was under orders. However, I was never told that the AUDIENCE had to survive.

As of this morning we have a confirmed 186 kills. A thorough examination of their wallets revealed that a disproportionate number of audience members did NOT spend more than their $10 at the door, and perhaps a fiver at the bar, and therefore did NOT deserve to live, anyway. Those whose wallets were completely empty, but clutched noteworthy amounts of Church swag, were resurrected with the Sacred Pipe afterwards, on the condition that they continue spending money on "Bob" for the remaining three and a half months remaining. One or two had hairs stuck between their teeth that, upon analysis, revealed quantities of Sterno DNA; these corpses were fucked repeatedly in the aftermath and then dumped in holding tanks filled with lye, but not before noting their home address, driver's license number, and the identities of any loved ones we might be able to sell off.

There was no sign of the Fake "Bob" anywhere amongst the cadavers, which suggests that he either escaped--a highly unlikely situation given the presence of the Men In Black, reprogrammed by secret Xist biotechnology to do our bidding--or never showed up in the first place.

We successfully located the Gonad Squirrels that were inadvertently let loose when their Fucking Pumpkin was swiped offstage by some crazed Bobbie of unknown identity. They were clearly traumatized, and it will take a significant budget to retrain them. Fortunately, the contents of the wallets recovered should cover training costs for the most part. As for their home, the pumpkin, it was smashed into tiny bits and tossed about by the crowd. As an interesting side-note, as much as 5% of the victims appear to have died of exposure to the copious amounts of yeti semen and squirrel hair inside the pumpkin, and we regrettably must classify their cause of death as "accident-related 'good-riddance' factor".

Puzzling Evidence was, in fact, assassinated by NheeGhee. The fleschette dart pierced PuzEv between the nineteenth and twentieth left ribs, resulting in severe internal bleeding marked by little or no awareness that he had been shot. It took 2.5 seconds for Puzzling Evidence to react. By the time he had read the sign that said ""BOB" SENT ME" and said, "Oh", he had died of massive internal trauma. If we didn't have the Sacred Pipe on-hand the Church would have yet another martyr of its own internal politics. In a typical act of ungratefulness, PuzEv utterly refused to complete his sermon after being revived.

At the mid-point of the devival Sterno killed his own dick by subincision, then used the dick to kill a thousand innocent young hymens and sphincters, which then killed their owners in rebellion. The pulpit was killed early on, during my opening sermon, which instilled the proper amounts of fear and respect upon the audience. My voice was also killed, yet again, and until I get the tracheotomy and vocoder I will speak like I did at the 1997 X-Day Drill, when the bat sperm wrecked my vocal cords before I could open the vial of pudding antidote. In retrospect my voice is a small price to pay for world domination and terror, and I am proud to have made such a sacrifice.

In conclusion the Seattle devival was a good "test run" for X-Day, and demonstrated that there is a place for well-organized and efficient execution(s) in the Church. It also demonstrated the viability and effectiveness of the Apocoleptic denomination's X-Day plan, which fulfills the major goals of BOTH Ivangelical and Holocaustal denominations while maximizing profits and body counts. Funding for a larger-scale trial run is being secured and should allow us even greater flexibility for handling any post-X-Day scenario.

For the Seattle SubGenius Union of Clenches and Crackpots, Incorporated,

Rev. Doktor Saint Popess Lilith von Fraumench, Esquire

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From: cuthulu <cuthulu@cuthulu.prysm.net>

> WE PICKED THE FUCKING TERROR OF THE GODS OUT OF OUR GODDAMN NOSES--AND FLINGED
> IT AT THE CROWD TO FIGHT OVER!!!

Doesn't anybody just like to hang out and get baked anymore?

--
Will the scaly armadillo find me where I'm hiding?
http://www.prysm.net/~cuthulu/
v1.2a r BO 0/0/ FD 0- 0 PatGoD 1 0

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From: "Rev. Boblight" <blight@u.washington.edu>

cuthulu wrote:
>
> mitchell@Doesn't.Spam.Suck.interserv.com (Popess Lilith von Fraumench) writes:
>
> > WE PICKED THE FUCKING TERROR OF THE GODS OUT OF OUR GODDAMN NOSES--AND FLINGED
> > IT AT THE CROWD TO FIGHT OVER!!!
>
> Doesn't anybody just like to hang out and get baked anymore?

There was PLENTY of that. Don't you worry, son.

I scraped the resin out of my friend Michael's trachea and got so fucked
up just holding the lead-lined container that I still hear everything as
though it were 100 yards to the left.

Don't let Lil fool you - Seattle's no hell-raising Perot country like
her hometown. There's a REASON our state animal's the slug.

- Rev. Boblight

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From: mitchell@Doesn't.Spam.Suck.interserv.com (Popess Lilith von Fraumench)

In article <35105F28.293C@u.washington.edu>, "Rev. Boblight" <blight@u.washington.edu> wrote:
>
>Don't let Lil fool you - Seattle's no hell-raising Perot country like
>her hometown. There's a REASON our state animal's the slug.

I'm out to fool nobody. And that's why I was so shagged out mere days before
the devival--with nobody else makin' trouble I was way overextended. Fucking
treehuggers! And you don't have the decency to live out with the TREES, just
because you're scared that the loggers are all John Birchers with baseball
bats stained with the assorted juices of a hundred long-gone hippies. SHIT,
why not hand out signs that say "WE GIVE UP" on July 4?!?

It wasn't SEATTLE that was so great, but this devival was toot sweet, Nenslo
notwithstanding.

P-Lil

----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Rev. Boblight" <blight@u.washington.edu>

Popess Lilith von Fraumench wrote:
> Fucking treehuggers! And you don't have the decency to live out with the TREES, just
> because you're scared that the loggers are all John Birchers with baseball
> bats stained with the assorted juices of a hundred long-gone hippies. SHIT,
> why not hand out signs that say "WE GIVE UP" on July 4?!?

The reason most of us live in the city is that the trees are so
DEMANDING. All I want's a little "hug" before I speed back to the
"city" drinking beer I couldn't afford if I didn't have all those
Microsoft stock options...and those damn evergreens want to TALK! Or
MAKE ME BREAKFAST! Yeah, well, try and catch me, honey.

Remember, it's us new-money, old-school Subs here in the Great Pacific
Northwest who put the SPERM in Gymnosperms! You drawling, drooling,
screaming, Southern-Baptized CRACKERS better just stick with (or TO)
your cephalopods - they're gentle and undemanding. When you decide to
get off the short bus, and don't mind a few SPLINTERS where the SUN
WON'T SHINE, we'll talk.

If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the forest fire.

- Rev. Boblight
"You can't wipe your ass with a spotted owl!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: mitchell@Doesn't.Spam.Suck.interserv.com (Popess Lilith von Fraumench)

In article <35107CE3.75AA@u.washington.edu>, "Rev. Boblight" <blight@u.washington.edu> wrote:
>
>The reason most of us live in the city is that the trees are so
>DEMANDING. All I want's a little "hug" before I speed back to the
>"city" drinking beer I couldn't afford if I didn't have all those
>Microsoft stock options...and those damn evergreens want to TALK! Or
>MAKE ME BREAKFAST! Yeah, well, try and catch me, honey.

You WOULD fuck a tree then leave it in the lurch. Well, PAL, I'm here to tell
you that the trees would gladly BURST INTO FLAMES if only the fires would burn
their way through Seattle and to YOUR FRONT DOOR. And if that ain't enough,
they tell me to tell you don't bother coming back unless you have a thing for
pine cones. I don't know what that means, but if you're smarter than you
appear you best heed their words.

>Remember, it's us new-money, old-school Subs here in the Great Pacific
>Northwest who put the SPERM in Gymnosperms! You drawling, drooling,
>screaming, Southern-Baptized CRACKERS better just stick with (or TO)
>your cephalopods - they're gentle and undemanding. When you decide to
>get off the short bus, and don't mind a few SPLINTERS where the SUN
>WON'T SHINE, we'll talk.

You mewling mongrels don't know SHIT about any sort of land mollusk, even the
banana slugs you SAY you share carnal knowledge with. THE ONLY "SEX" WORTH
HAVING WITH A SLUG INVOLVES SALTING IT THEN RUBBING THE BUBBLING, OOZING
REMAINS OVER MY TOOL BEFORE CORNHOLING THE LOT OF YOU BACK TO YOUR SENSES. We
OLD-money, old-school SubGenii *mock* you pretentious swaggering braggarts AND
get all the slack, sex, and money--all the while bringing "Bob"'s promise one
step closer to realization, something that you all seem to have *forgotten*!

I blame you for the smashing of the pumpkin! Those poor squirrels are
TRAUMATIZED now, bastard, and it'll be a while before they'll WANT to go back
into a pumpkin for a bit of in-out-in-out. We're having to RUBBER-BAND the
little dears together just to get HARD. And it's YOUR FAULT.

Don't even talk to me about how bad-assed your kind are. If you say ANOTHER
WORD you had better just KILL ME before I cause you any DISCOMFORT.

P-Lil

----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: "Rev. Boblight" <blight@u.washington.edu>

Popess Lilith von Fraumench wrote:
>
> In article <35107CE3.75AA@u.washington.edu>, "Rev. Boblight" <blight@u.washington.edu> wrote:
> >
> >The reason most of us live in the city is that the trees are so
> >DEMANDING. All I want's a little "hug" before I speed back to the
> >"city" drinking beer I couldn't afford if I didn't have all those
> >Microsoft stock options...and those damn evergreens want to TALK! Or
> >MAKE ME BREAKFAST! Yeah, well, try and catch me, honey.
>
> You WOULD fuck a tree then leave it in the lurch.

Given the "humorous" quality of yr post, I'll assume you meant to type
"larch."

> Well, PAL, I'm here to tell
> you that the trees would gladly BURST INTO FLAMES if only the fires would burn
> their way through Seattle and to YOUR FRONT DOOR.

Shit, that describes every man, woman, child, and Sasquatch ON THE
PLANET - the trees are the only ones talking to YOU, though...

> And if that ain't enough,
> they tell me to tell you don't bother coming back unless you have a thing for
> pine cones. I don't know what that means, but if you're smarter than you
> appear you best heed their words.

They're just ready for more of my sweet, sweet POLLEN, baby; and you of
all people know I couldn't possibly be smarter than I appear - that
would require all the processing power of all the Elder Gods working IN
PARALLEL, and that won't happen until the Time Intersection.

> >Remember, it's us new-money, old-school Subs here in the Great Pacific
> >Northwest who put the SPERM in Gymnosperms! You drawling, drooling,
> >screaming, Southern-Baptized CRACKERS better just stick with (or TO)
> >your cephalopods - they're gentle and undemanding. When you decide to
> >get off the short bus, and don't mind a few SPLINTERS where the SUN
> >WON'T SHINE, we'll talk.
>
> You mewling mongrels don't know SHIT about any sort of land mollusk, even the
> banana slugs you SAY you share carnal knowledge with. THE ONLY "SEX" WORTH
> HAVING WITH A SLUG INVOLVES SALTING IT THEN RUBBING THE BUBBLING, OOZING
> REMAINS OVER MY TOOL BEFORE CORNHOLING THE LOT OF YOU BACK TO YOUR SENSES. We
> OLD-money, old-school SubGenii *mock* you pretentious swaggering braggarts AND
> get all the slack, sex, and money--all the while bringing "Bob"'s promise one
> step closer to realization, something that you all seem to have *forgotten*!

I never claimed carnal knowledge of the slugs, EXACTLY. We get taught
up here that there's only two uses for mollusks: POISON and LUBE. You'd
better know WHICH is WHICH before you get started, sweetie - though from
what I hear, rigor mortis is the only thing that could keep you hard
enough long enough to bring off even ONE of us nearly-insatiable NW
fauns or nymphs.

And while you're TALKING about all the slack, sex, and money...we're
MAKING IT.

Next time you're "bringing Bob's promise one step closer..." (what was
it, exactly? I asked "him," and it seems he's forgotten, too), remember
where the software, airplanes, timber, or COFFEE you're using CAME FROM
and SOBER UP. We've got back-doors into your MOST PRIVATE PLACES. One
step out of line from you, blinky, and something crashes. Customer
Support won't be able to help you when the nanotech brain machines you
ingested while enjoying that last delicious mocha are activated -
because try as you might, the only number you'll be able to dial is
206-7-BOB-O-I-C! "Oh, I see," indeed!

> I blame you for the smashing of the pumpkin! Those poor squirrels are
> TRAUMATIZED now, bastard, and it'll be a while before they'll WANT to go back
> into a pumpkin for a bit of in-out-in-out. We're having to RUBBER-BAND the
> little dears together just to get HARD. And it's YOUR FAULT.

Well, duh. I told you what'd happen if you allowed the rodent-squash
sex casserole any level of public contact, but you clung to your
delusions about the "peaceful hippies" and let them CLEAR CUT your
little sex toys. Too bad for you, and don't try to play up any guilt
over the "innocent" squirrels. They were giving gnaw-jobs for PEANUT
BUTTER when your mother was still crawling out of the whorehouse
abortion bin. Don't get played by a nickel-brained vermin, sister.

> Don't even talk to me about how bad-assed your kind are. If you say ANOTHER
> WORD you had better just KILL ME before I cause you any DISCOMFORT.

I don't have much to say about this. Just remember you're on OUR turf
now, and Twin Peaks was filmed here for a REASON.

- Rev. Boblight

----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: mitchell@Doesn't.Spam.Suck.interserv.com (Popess Lilith von Fraumench)

In article <350E0AA6.791F@u.washington.edu>, "Rev. Boblight" <blight@u.washington.edu> wrote:
>Rev. Theodore Bibbins wrote:
>>
>> So, was anyone ELSE there?
>
>Why, Rev. Bibbins, I am SO glad you asked.
>
>We had maybe 250 beautiful mutants on hand to say "G'bye" to Seattle.
>We partied with the Elder Gods on a SUNDAY! We...we...we brought a
>little Slack to a hopeless town.

An admirable report by Rev. Boblight, who was my trusty stage manager and
without whom I'd be in worse shape than merely "critical condition". But now
that the skin grafts have taken and I've had brand-spanking-new black market
eyes installed I'll be ready to state the facts as they happened. In a bit.

P-Lil

----------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Phuck_Spammers@doggie_style.com (Ragin' Pope Angus XXIII)

In article <6eovn8$k8o@enews2.newsguy.com>,
mitchell@Doesn't.Spam.Suck.interserv.com sez...
> An admirable report by Rev. Boblight, who was my trusty stage manager and
> without whom I'd be in worse shape than merely "critical condition". But now
> that the skin grafts have taken and I've had brand-spanking-new black market
> eyes installed I'll be ready to state the facts as they happened. In a bit.

I have to admit it, Rev. Boblight was on the job. Agents of the
CONspiracy swiped my Slack Jeopardy questions backstage, but he was right
there with paper in hand so I could hallucinate the replacement questions
for the 5 categories. He was better any normal stage manager I've worked
with . . . at twice the slack.

His only competition was this little French 'Girante de Scene' (Fr. for
Stage Manager) I worked with in Belguim, but that's because she blew me
in the dressing room after rehearsals.

Otherwise, damn fine work.
--
Ragin' Pope Angus
Our Lady of the Blessed Apocolypse
Research Institute of Sexhurt

www.geocities.com/soho/studios/9407

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