From: craig@cpcn.com (Pastor Craig)
Subject: in memory of Legume
Date: 30 Aug 1995 04:33:03 GMT
If you'd like to find out more about Doktor Legume and help out
his family in their time of need, please call 1-900-990-5085 x324.
2$ per minute, five minutes for the call, money goes to Legume's
family. You must be 18 to call.
Pastor Craig
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: mtownsend@interramp.com (Michael Townsend)
Subject: Church in deep depression
Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 07:59:38 -0400
It's a lot worse than I thought. A LOT worse. Forget that devival tour
now. Between Stang's health and Legume's death, it ain't gonna happen.
Hell, I'm starting to doubt that Hour Of Slack #500 is ever gonna happen.
At this rate, even X-Day itself may be called off on account of reality.
But go ahead, keep rolling on with your shitting and puking and fucking.
The Church doesn't mind. Really. Just don't you forget who brought you
here in the first place.
Send your black crepe and $20 bills to PO Box 140306 Dallas TX 75214 USA
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: ac118@lafn.org (Matthew Carey)
Subject: Re: Church in deep depression
Uh, that would be a shitty way to memorialize Legume. I've been thinking
about this A FUCKING LOT. So far, the only real solid conclusion that
I've come to is that I'm going to hold a serious grudge over this and I'm
going to try to take up whatever Slack I can in the vaccuum where Legume
used to be.
As long as I'm hopped up on Prozac, I might as well put it to good use.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: bmyers@ionet.net (TarlaStar)
Subject: Re: More on Legume; disclaimer
Date: Fri, 01 Sep 1995 02:24:51 GMT
pastorx@aol.com (Pastor X) wrote:
> He would expect, no
>DEMAND, that we all "make really sick jokes" about it all. So if you have
>the LEAST shred of Yeti blood, you'll open yourself up to the essence of
>Legume, and let him RAPE your MIND one more time from beyond the grave.
>Hell, a "One-eyed Tales of Legume" thread sounds fine to me, AND FUCK ALL
>OF YOU IF YOU CAN"T TAKE A JOKE! I've got a good bit of Hate I've been
>storing up for quite a while, and I do believe this is an opportunity to
>vent as much of it as I can. "LEGUME IS DEAD! LONG LIVE LEGUME!"
Like...how would I recognise Legume in Hell?
Don't worry, he'll keep an eye out for YOU.
>Remember, this is the day he BURNS, so act accordingly.
I wonder if a "hit" of Legume would get you high?
--
Reverend Mutha Tarla, Little Sisters of the Perpetually Juicy,
A Proud Jism Schism of the Church of the SubGenius, Worshipping
"Connie" Dobbs and Juicy Retardo since 1986
http://www.ionet.net/~bmyers/homepage.html
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: pastorx@aol.com (Pastor X)
Subject: More on Legume; disclaimer
Date: 31 Aug 1995 11:26:30 -0400
WEll, I guess I need to FURTHER elucidate just what exactly the hell
happened on that fateful evening of August 26. "Legume" was at my house
that day helping celebrate my wifes birthday. He neither darnk nor
fropped. We spent the evening discussing matters that most of you couldn't
wrap your little booger brains around, and if you did manage to comprehend
the smallest part of it, your head would explode. He was in a strange
mood?, humor?, even for him. One minute he's talking non-stop about the
shit he's going to do to freak the geeks on this GWAR tour, the next he's
telling me that he feels like a stand-up comedian. AAIIIEEE! ! ! What a
tortured soul he was! The bastard would have had me puking up all of the
swill I had quaffed that night if I hadn't felt OBLIGATED to drink his
share. Everyone's all full of how suitable and convenient he was for the
church. I'VE KNOWN HIM SINCE HE WAS JUST A PIMPLE ON "BOB'S" ASS! ! ! He
was a frenzied, sweaty, red eyed kind of guy then. He wouldn't TOUCH meth
or coke, but he gobbled all the downers he could like they were tic-tacs.
It wasn't until he "found "Bob"" that he learned to harness his frenzy and
make it work for him, instead of the other way around. The sky became the
limit then. Ever snorted a handful of Black Beauties? DON'T. Shit, I did
a shot of rubbing alcohol just because he said I WOULDN'T. The REAL
strangeness started in the summer of '92. We'd saved each others lives so
many times by then that danger was a feeling that was ignored, like a
woman talking during a pro sports circus.
But he started to get REALLY dangerous and he disappeared for a while.
When he, well, REAPPEARED, He was a different person. You never knew what
was going to happen when he was around. He got me and Pastor Zippy hooked
on "Bob". Many a Dobbs head and Church slogan grace the walls of public
buildings and structures in my old home town, thanks to him. He death has
also incited all the wanna-be's to begin making low to medium yeild
explosives and stockpiling them.
Anyway, he left my place around 11:30. About 15-20 minutes later he was
southbound in the middle lane on Interstate 95 when a drunk driver tried
to make his exit by swerving across 4 lanes of superhighway. From what I
understand, the driver told police he never saw the bike, and had "maybe
one or two beers" about an hour before. Too bad the asshole literally FELL
out of the pick-up it was driving. Good thing the ASSassin was driving,
BECADE HE SURE AS HELL COULDN"T WALK! The Con called ME to come and see
him. Have you any IDEA how bowel knotting it is to have to identify
someone you know by the tattoos on their arms because their face looks
like lumpy shredded raw hamburger? BOY, GOOD THING HE WORE A HELMET, OR IT
MIGHT HAVE BEEN WORSE, huh? Needless to say, I AM NOT taking all this to
well. The only thing that makes it tolerable is the fact that today he
burns and tomorrow I can get on with my "life". Shit, if there were any of
you that were worth more than PACKING PEANUTS then . . .oh well, he's
dead. From this point on I refuse and deny to be AT ALL consistent about
anything at all to do with anything involving Legume. He would expect, no
DEMAND, that we all "make really sick jokes" about it all. So if you have
the LEAST shred of Yeti blood, you'll open yourself up to the essence of
Legume, and let him RAPE your MIND one more time from beyond the grave.
Hell, a "One-eyed Tales of Legume" thread sounds fine to me, AND FUCK ALL
OF YOU IF YOU CAN"T TAKE A JOKE! I've got a good bit of Hate I've been
storing up for quite a while, and I do believe this is an opportunity to
vent as much of it as I can. "LEGUME IS DEAD! LONG LIVE LEGUME!"
Remember, this is the day he BURNS, so act accordingly.
Pastor X
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Jack Nutting
Subject: Dr. Legume killed my grandfather
Date: 31 Aug 1995 20:46:48 GMT
Legume couldn't even shit ICEKNIFE's dick.
---
/* Jack Nutting Integrity Solutions *
* jnutting@is.com (612)223-8474 *
* <http://www.is.com/Users/jnutting/subg.html> */
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: dynasor@news.infi.net (Dennis McClain-Furmanski)
Subject: A Consecration
Date: 1 Sep 1995 03:44:33 GMT
Hot and muggy, it was, waiting for the techies to carry and droop the
wiring around Peabody's Down Under for the Devival. Hot, muggy and
sleepy. To keep our high spirits that way, Sister We R. Doe, Stang,
Legume and myself made our way some three doors to the left (as you're
facing Peabody's) to a coffee bar. "Good, hot stuff" they'd told us,
and that's what we needed. Well, we found it. Good. Hot. Stuff. Foamy
cream in the pitchers, which I've never understood, but there it was.
Stang and Sr. Doe amazed and amused themselves discussing arcane
Church lore and videotaping techniques. Legume and I discussed head
launchings and time control, using frequent utterances understood by
the kinds of folks who drive motorcycles or jump out of airplanes
because that's who they are. My initial OOOOrah airBORNE! was met with
an immediate AYYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIYEAH! in the manner which says we're
communicating on a very deep level here, a level where meaning is
automatic and immediate and words are useless. Between the visceral
explicatives, he was calm and smooth and jovial as only the utterly
fearless can be.
While sipping our java, we noticed that there were several dollar
bills with signatures on them taped to the wall above the cash
register. Ostensibly the signatures of more or less "famous" people
who'd stopped in between setup and gig at one of the many nightclubs.
This, the server confirmed, during a conversation in which we acted in
tandem to present the word of "Bob" to him. The eternal evangelists,
we were.
I asked Legume, "What'd "Bob" do if he saw that? I bet he'd talk the
guy into giving them all to him."
Legume replied calmly, but with assurance, "No, he'd put one of his up
there." The statement had the epiphanal quality which masked all other
sights and sounds in the place. It was a mission and it was given to
me.
I located a suitable bill and sought out Stang (he having returned to
oversee the audio setup for recording purposes). I asked Stang if he
could sign the bill with "Bob's" name. He told me he couldn't do that,
because he got in trouble last time he forged Dobbs' name. But, I
persisted, and he agreed to see if he could channel "Bob" in to sign
it. I left the task well in Stang's hands. Synchronicity intervened
through the Pope of Berea, and a phone call the Mutha Tarla's CONvent.
I never got to witness the channeling.
My faith in Stang's connections and "Bob's" intentions for me to do
this thing were well founded. A short time later, Stang produced for
me a dollar with Dobbs' scrawl across it. I immediately ran back to
the coffee bar and presented it to the guy at the counter. "Here you
are, one signed by our Savior." He was impressed and pleased, and
promised to stop by the show after he closed up.
Later on, after both I and Legume had had our moment to strut and fret
upon the altar, the guy DID show up. He had been sampling opinions
throughout the nightclub, trying to discover for himself just WHAT
this phenomenon known as J.R. "Bob" Dobbs was about. He confirmed my
suspicion that he'd been getting N+1 answers to his N questions. His
maniacal grin told me that he was "getting it" by not getting it. I
looked across the floor, and there was Legume looking back with a
lopsided grin and eyes saying "another soul for the Church Air tanks."
That story ends there. Another ends a few weeks later. But one story
remains -- the dollar. It's there, taped to the wall in that coffee
shop three doors to the left of Peabody's Down Under. The signature is
as usual unreadable, though you can tell the quote marks well enough.
If you still can't see it clearly, just look for the dollar with the
Dobbshead on it. It'll be there.
By the power invested in me by myself, with the excuse that "Bob"
provides me with the justification for doing any damn thing I want to,
I hereby and forever pronounce this the:
DR. K'TADEN LEGUME MEMORIAL DOBBSHEAD DOLLAR
Cleveland can now claim unto its own the site of an UnHoly Relic, open
to visitors, flash photography allowed, dancing and partying and
carrying on expected, pointing not considered rude, a "praise "Bob""
suggested, but a "LONG LIVE LEGUME!" damn near required.
You may now light the pipe.
=====================================================================
Just after I'd returned to Indiana after my Air Force hitch, I fell
back in with my son's godfather. He and my son had a very tight though
infrequent relationship before we'd left, and they renewed it
immediately as though there'd been no gap. They were closer in some
ways than even I was with either.
A month later, his godfather got drunk, passed out on the railroad
tracks, and got run over.
It fell to me to have to tell my son. At all of seven years, and never
having had to face the death of someone before, he lost someone very
close.
He listened quietly, and only one tear formed in the corner of an eye.
He asked me simply "Why is it that just when you get to know someone,
they leave?"
I gave the only answer that made sense to me, "There's no reason why.
Things like that happen, and there's no reason to it that we can
understand."
He looked up at me and then walked off. I called after him and asked
if he wanted to go to the funeral, since the guy's parents had never
known their son had a godson. He replied "No, I think they have enough
to worry about." Somewhere in the immeasurable depths of a child's
mind, the reality of it was processed, and a decision made rational
far beyond his years of living emerged. I still wonder at this often.
There are more miracles in the mind of a child than in all the holy
books.
Tonight, I wish for the mind of a seven year old.
Orion, thank you for the lesson.
--
Nothing to say. Not a thing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: PastorX
>Stang,
>Well . . . I don't have much stuff keyed in right now, but as soon as I get back from a little road trip that He requested that I make, I'll get to working on it. I've attached what little I do have that is handy. I think that I might be capable of transcribing some of his rants. Hell, I'll probobly recognize most of them as he used my brain as a test bed.
>As far as any "CONfidential" information, I USED to be an extremely violent man, and I'd just as soon not discuss it at all . . .
>Legume spoke very highly of Rev. Grinder, and a benefit type thingy would be fine. I know Jo could use all the help she can get. Kenny's nephew (not brother, but who really cares?) suffers from EXTREME autism. "Legume" used to give him the biggest cleaver in the house and position him RIGHT NEXT to my unconscious, comatose body. Nothing like ascending through a fog of chemicals to behold a back-lit severly retarded swaying child holding a knife longer that his forearm over you.
>In regard to PERTINANT QUESTION, I have NO IDEA if Jo'll have a problem with the Narouski name on checks and M.O.'s. I'll ask her and try to get back to you before I leave.
>Brookhaven? News to me. But hell, as long as it works . . .
>About the only thing I want you to UNdo is the past five days of time. As I realize this is impossible AT THIS TIME, I'll cut you some slack.
>To conclude; Kenny extracted several promises, vows, etc., etc., from me way back in the dim and misty, one of them being to "refuse to be at all consistent in any way about the circumstances leading to his demise". As I feel that I have discharged my "humanitarian" duties by informing the SubG world-at-large, I feel that I should now begin a Chaos campaign of disinformation and lies. Be warned, they may, hell, WILL BE, many layered and subtle. But it's what he wanted, so it's what he'll get. So now, off to shoulder as much of the "Legume-load" that I can . . .
---------------------------------------------------------
From: jch9334@is2.nyu.edu (Kid Ginsu)
Subject: Legume memories
Date: 5 Sep 1995 15:51:08 GMT
When I was initiated into the Church of the SubGenius it was at
the hands of Dr. K'Taden Legume. There's tape if you want it. We were
drunk, and after the formal ceremony was over we both sat around the
stump talkin' campfire talk. Spike stuck into the wood, I remember being
awed by a sense of fatalism that I had heard a week before that went
something like: I get the feeling that after you're gone I'm supposed to
carry on in memory of you, or something to that effect. Legume knew what
it was about and he knew that he was going to die. It wasn't a sooner or
later thing. His sense of immanence was almost over...hell, it WAS
overpowering and his many devival appearances will testify to that.
I remember the day that he told me he had finished his will. He
had just gotten back from a day at the seashore with Suzy Two and was
sunburnt head to toe. His demeanor was calm when he told me a story
about having to walk barefoot across a street littered with broken glass
because he had locked all of his clothes in the car and needed to get to
a telephone. He'd spent all day at the beach and then all night at the
police station on his day off. He sensed it. He KNEW.
Dr. K'Taden Legume was never a showoff, even when he was showing
off. He taught me how to shoot. When we were back at the ashram,
cleaning the rifles, I was eating a banana that was rotten IN A STREAK
DOWN THE SIDE LIKE A FOETID SPINE when Legume, a six-year army man,
encountered trouble cleaning his own gun and bent one of the internal
springs. He looked at me sheepishly. I wondered what to do, and he
motioned me to sit still and bent the spring back into position. The
impression that I got was of a private man who allowed only those he
trusted into his most private affairs, and that my faith at the spike
gave him the trust to let me watch him when he was most vulnerable. He
KNEW the SKOR.
Legume was a man's man, a SubGenius in evey way, far superior to
any human. I asked him about Dokstok, he replied "Why would I want to go
hang out with a bunch of SUBGENIUSES?" He was actually very shy. Maybe
that's why we got along so well.
Along with the specific memories of Dr. Legume's greatness I
recall the times of being 'on the road' with the preacher, the loud music
on the open highway and rest stops at McDonald's; his drunken smile and
willingness at the drop of the hat to go for broke in ANY situation;
plastering Dobbsheads on the Christ's Church next to Craig's in
Philadelphia and pestering Christians and mystics alike with fabulous
tales of an advanced civilisation that has colonised the planet before it
arrives. Christ, for the major part of my life this year Legume WAS the
Church of the SubGenius and he proved, to me at least, that the quest for
slack is the most noble, heroic, and MANLY endeavour available to our
pitiful comprehensions. Nothing I could say, nothing I could do could
EVER compare to all of the love and compassion I received from the holy,
HOLY Dr. K'Taden Legume during his stay in this dimension. My last words
to him were brief; If I had one wish it would be that all of the Bobbies
and Pinks would bow their heads to a man who through sheer willpower
BECAME SLACK. I find it remarkable and thank "Bob" that I am lucky
enough to have known Dr. Legume. Amen.
Kid Ginsu
Keep It Up.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: i.stang@metronet.com (Rev. Ivan Stang)
Subject: Re: Legume memories
Date: 6 Sep 1995 03:55:23 GMT
In article <42hrlc$139@cmcl2.NYU.EDU>, jch9334@is2.nyu.edu (Kid Ginsu) wrote:
> When I was initiated into the Church of the SubGenius it was at
> the hands of Dr. K'Taden Legume. There's tape if you want it. We were
> drunk, and after the formal ceremony was over we both sat around the
> stump talkin' campfire talk.
"Drunk." Yeah right. That's a legal way of putting it.
> Along with the specific memories of Dr. Legume's greatness I
> recall the times of being 'on the road' with the preacher, the loud music
> on the open highway and rest stops at McDonald's; his drunken smile and
> willingness at the drop of the hat to go for broke in ANY situation;
> plastering Dobbsheads on the Christ's Church next to Craig's in
> Philadelphia and pestering Christians and mystics alike with fabulous
> tales of an advanced civilisation that has colonised the planet before it
> arrives.
Hell, you shoulda been there the time he and Spider (or Pastor X or
somebody) took Pastor Craig's trashcan and dumped it all over Benjamin
Franklin's grave, which happened to be nearby. Pastor Craig is a "moral"
man (HEH!!) and got upset. Legume was always doing things to freak out
Pastor Craig. What I wanna know is, who's gonna do something weird enough
to freak out LEGUME? That's what this Church is all about -- coming up
with real-life activities JUST to freak out a DEAD POEBUCKER.
Christ, for the major part of my life this year Legume WAS the
> Church of the SubGenius and he proved, to me at least, that the quest for
> slack is the most noble, heroic, and MANLY endeavour available to our
> pitiful comprehensions. Nothing I could say, nothing I could do could
> EVER compare to all of the love and compassion I received from the holy,
> HOLY Dr. K'Taden Legume during his stay in this dimension.
That's why Nenslo was right when he said you should kill yourself to "keep
up with the Legumes."
My last words
> to him were brief; If I had one wish it would be that all of the Bobbies
> and Pinks would bow their heads to a man who through sheer willpower
> BECAME SLACK.
Well, ending up with truck-tire tracks across your face on the pavement is
"becoming Slack," you can HAVE it!!
S'bang
--
Copyright 1995 by Rev. Ivan Stang / 1st Orthodox Stangian
MegaFisTemple Lodge of People's Covenant Church of the
Wrath of Dobbs Yeti, Resurrected / The SubGenius Foundation,Inc.
PO Box 140306 Dallas TX 75214 / Fax 214-320-1561 / PRABOB
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Kid Ginsu
In article <i.stang-0509952301370001@net159.metronet.com> you wrote:
: Hell, you shoulda been there the time he and Spider (or Pastor X or : somebody) took Pastor Craig's trashcan and dumped it all over Benjamin : Franklin's grave, which happened to be nearby.
Yeah, and Legume told me all about the time he dumped FIVE POUNDS of RAW MEAT (maybe it was hamburger) into one of the light fixtures in Pastor Craig's lobby. It stank up the place for weeks and noone could figure out where it was coming from. I guess their senses of smell were deadened by the pStench of Yeti lingering about. When they finally pulled the mass of rotten, foetid meat out from the inside of the light fixture, I suppose it might have looked like someone had been killed and then abandoned there.
: That's why Nenslo was right when he said you should kill yourself to "keep : up with the Legumes."
: Well, ending up with truck-tire tracks across your face on the pavement is : "becoming Slack," you can HAVE it!!
Way I look at it, Stang, yeah, he MIGHT have been asking too much from the Church. Then again, he tol' me that he out-preached, out-womanised, and out-sold evry other preacher in Atlanta. And Pee Kitty tells me that Legume tapes have gone up in price, so I have to conclude that this was NOT part of the 39 Steps of the CIA to forcibly quit subversives of the oxygen habit, but the manifestation of an insidious plot inside of the Church itself. Who knows, maybe you wanted your "premiere preacher of the Church" status back, or were just frustrated at Legume's apparent selling power, and cut a deal with NHGH.
:
S'bang
Keep It Up
KG
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: nickie@mars.superlink.net ( Rev. Nickie)
Subject: Re: Legume memories
Date: 6 Sep 1995 17:36:20 GMT
Organization: DeathChick, Inc.
In article <i.stang-0509952301370001@net159.metronet.com>,
i.stang@metronet.com (Rev. Ivan Stang) wrote:
> In article <42hrlc$139@cmcl2.NYU.EDU>, jch9334@is2.nyu.edu (Kid Ginsu) wrote:
> > Christ, for the major part of my life this year Legume WAS the
> > Church of the SubGenius and he proved, to me at least, that the quest for
> > slack is the most noble, heroic, and MANLY endeavour available to our
> > pitiful comprehensions. Nothing I could say, nothing I could do could
> > EVER compare to all of the love and compassion I received from the holy,
> > HOLY Dr. K'Taden Legume during his stay in this dimension.
>
>
> That's why Nenslo was right when he said you should kill yourself to "keep
> up with the Legumes."
Not a bad idea.
I'm sure is he hadn't been cremated, Legume would be pretty "hole-y" by
now!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
And what the hell is up with this Slack being a "MANLY endeavor" shitt??!
--
*you have been blessed by a communication from*
-----Rev. Nickie
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: ac118@lafn.org (Matthew Carey)
Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 06:48:03 GMT
In a previous article, i.stang@metronet.com (Rev. Ivan Stang) says:
>What I wanna know is, who's gonna do something weird enough
>to freak out LEGUME? That's what this Church is all about -- coming up
>with real-life activities JUST to freak out a DEAD POEBUCKER.
I just finished writing the copy for a great new sick, mean, confusing
and poignant LEGUME PAMPHLET. It should be fucking righteous.
If you people would just start buying my stuff, I might be able to print
it one day.
--
~~~ Rev. Matthew A. Carey vision temple }{ tarzana california
--- 18653 Ventura Blvd., Suite #379 "WE ARE NOT AN OCCULT"
~~~ Tarzana, CA 91356 send a SASE or email for FREE details
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: craig@cpcn.com (Pastor Craig)
Subject: Re: Legume memories
Date: 7 Sep 1995 02:38:17 GMT
The trash can thrower in question was Brother Morlock.
It was not my trashcan but a 75 pound city trash can.
He did not throw it on Ben Franklin's grave but into Christ Church Park.
I was not freaked out but saddened that Legume was pissing his time
away with a bunch of utter losers.
I put the trash can back in its proper place.
The truely sad part was that Legume's friends really thought that they
were doing something inovative when in reality I see more extreme
behavior everyday. Don't forget that Philly is a big city.
By the end of the year Legume had realized were the action really was
and his little fan club wound up VERY VERY sorry to a man.
Pastor Craig
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: craig@cpcn.com (Pastor Craig)
Subject: drunk drivers
Date: 4 Sep 1995 02:48:31 GMT
First stang gets broadsided by some drunk, then Legume gets killed
by a hit and run.
In the book three fisted tales in a world without slack, Willy S.
Burroughs spake:
"The second step [in the creation of a cult]: make enemies. If there
is one thing a cult leader needs, it is enemies--real or imagined--from
which to deliver his flock. having postulated fiendish enemies, the
leader then sets up commando squads to deal with this self created
emergency: the Sea Org of Scientology, the Imperial Marines of Synanon,
the armed gaurds of the People's Temple. Aggressive acts by these
protectors then produce counter-actions from outside. After all,
what can you expect when you break into government offices, put
rattlesnakes in people's mail boxes and murder a congressman? These
counterattacks, which the cultists bring on themselves, lead to
escalating paranoia and more and more extreme measures."
Well, it look's to me like the Conspiracy is no longer ignoring
the Church of the SubGenius. Note that all this went down right after
Stang appeared on his first big time network show (the John Stewart
Show, which the Conspiracy promptly cancelled).
Just because we are paranoid doesn't mean that THEY aren't out to get
us. For more that ten years, the Church of the SubGenius has been
able to get away with 'murder' because we were flying underneath the
conspiracies radar. No longer. Expect more evil plots by the
Conspiracy as we race toward X-day in 1998.
Raise the alarm when you see the same grey faced men at your concerts
where you get dosed by some bad what-ever-it-was.
My fellow SubGenii, we have entered the time of P.E.E. This is no
time to be in debt. This is no time to be wasting resources on
frivolous things. We need to prepare for battle. The Conspiracy
is ready to take us to the extreme. Will we be ready for the
final battle? The bacon for tomarrow's breakfast will have the
curious color of ash.
Pastor Craig
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: jch9334@is2.nyu.edu (Kid Ginsu)
Subject: Re: drunk drivers
Date: 5 Sep 1995 16:10:39 GMT
Rev. Nickie Michaud (nickie@mars.superlink.net) wrote:
: Yeah, Pastor Craig. Don't forget your vulnerable position in all of this. I
: mean, you're a broadcaster of the radio show. You could be next....! I'd
: watch and see if there are any poison needles in my Froot Loobs(TM) if I
: were you.
: "Now baby quit yer crying
: Put those clown britches on..."
: -GWAR
Just a reminder...Legume actually "CONverted" the entire band GWAR on his
last tour. Which of us besides Stang can brag like that? While the rest
of us were dreamin' Legume was DOIN'. THAT's the position I'D like to be in.
Kid Ginsu
Keep It Up.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: PapaPrell@aol.com (Father Joe Mama)
Subject: Legumes Last Message
Date: 14 Sep 1995 00:05:38 -0400
The con really seemed determined not to let Legume have a mass audience.
They wouldn't let him on the radio show because of his cussing, and I
didn't let him on the 900# for a long time for the same reason (they're
just looking for an excuse to cancel the contract)
Anyway, I finally caved in and gave him the codes, he promised not to do
any "god damn cussing". He uploaded a message the night before he died on
the 1-900-990-5085 ext. 324 number, but after I heard the news that he was
gone, I called to hear his message and it had been erased. Only him and I
knew the new codes, so I know it was no accident. That %*$@ cospiracy
will do anything to silence its enemies.
Only they may have met their match with Legume. Last night I call from
someone with his voice claiming to be him calling from beyond the grave.
I had just woke up, so I was groggy and didn't take it too seriously, but
that SOB actually knew things only Legume would know. I realized it was
no damn joke. He gave me an important message he made me promise I'd pass
on to the Church and put on the alt.slack. Unfortunately, I was so out of
it when he called, it was all like a bad dream. I forgot what he said the
next morning.
Legume, I know you can read this. Give me a call back and this time I
turn on the light and write it down. Better yet, I'll record it on my
answering machine so they'll know I'm not bullshitting. You can even call
me collect if you want. (Bob only knows what the rates are from there).
But seriously, don't let the conspiracy win on this one. Give me a call
and this time I deliver your message. (Cussing and all). -Papa Joe-
Original file name: Legume
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