Connie

Date: Thu, Jan 17, 2002 4:35 PM

From: revjim@strangegames.com (Reverend Jim)

My brain's gone all tired and flat, so no eloquence in this email.
Probably should get home and get sleep instead of going to the pub
after sending this message, what with being sick half to death, but I
don't feel like it.

"Bob" has failed us. Which is totally OK -- I mean, we never loved
"Bob" for being the kind of guy who kept an APPOINTMENT, did we? Let
him fail us: the very thought that he's out there somewhere screwing
up royally and getting more Slack every time is heartwarming in these
times of darkness and opportunity. Besides, I can't look at that damn
piece of stupid clipart without a smile on my face.

So hail Connie! "Bob" is about not doing things, which is great.
Connie, is about doing Things, lots of Things, and that's BETTER.
Connie crushes the Con under her heel, only half noticing it. This is
the time of Connie.

And damn it, when I've had a bit of bedrest I'm going to start doing
Things too. Lots of Things. Some of them I have really clearly
defined in this fairly abused brain of mine, and some are vaguer and
foggier. Seems to me, that I've gotten so much of the passive,
relax-in-the-hammock kind of Slack lately now that I'm losing my
energy, my edge, my will to act. And boy, when I think a bit about
Connie, MY Connie (for no doubt every one of us has faces of Connie in
our heads), that energy and will sure races back in, and even when
body and brain are used up that damn YETI GENE kicks in, and I know
EXACTLY what to do.

Hail Connie! Ia! Konnie-ma fth'agn! Yes, bartender, a double shot
of Connie please! Drugs are boring; a little Connie in the
bloodstream is a much more INVIGORATING experience. Best part of
dragging the body home later than late is how damn comfortable the bed
is when you crawl into it -- there's Slack for you.

Your ever-friendly Reverend Jim

Or kill me.

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From: IMBJR <imbjr@imbjr.com>

Welcome to the real religion.

I realised "Bob" was no good in 1998. Since then, its been Connie all
the way.

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From: Her Ladyship Lilith von Fraumench <lilith@ZubJenius.com>

> I think I understand who Bob is, but have no idea who Connie is. Can
> anybody help me out?

Listen to Hour Of Slack #821, wherein I explain Connie in screaming
detail. Go to http://www.hourofslack.com/ to find this and many other
fine episodes available for all bandwidths. Ignore what nu-Monet says
about "Bob"--he's just bitter ever since that one time the reach-around
"Bob" promised him turned out to be an anaconda.

Without Connie there would be no "Bob", but without "Bob" there'd be no
Church. Connie said it, "Bob" yes-deared it, that settles it.

Her Ladyship Lilith

--
\m/ -=8=- http://lilith.foolspress.com/ -=8=- \m/

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

From: "nu-monet v4.0" <nothing@succeeds.com>

> Without Connie there would be no "Bob", but without "Bob"
> there'd be no Church. Connie said it, "Bob" yes-deared it,
> that settles it.

Lies. All lies spread by my enemies! Do not believe this
false Medea who offers you golden fleas on the horns of
Heracles.

Connie IS where you least expectorate.

My own meeting was in a strip joint temple to Connie in
Albuquerquerque, where she used her mengasso ta-tas to rub
shiny radioactive isotopes all over my face, before sick-ing
two of her devilish high-priestii on me: a Jane Childs
lookalike with cat-o-ninety tails hair and the macha
muchacha of the piecing shriek, "Joo wanna table dance?",
IN THE MIDST OF DINNER, no less. (A well done prime rib is
the antithesis of a table dance.)

I barely escaped being flayed alive with punctured eardrums
besides the fact that I stiffed them for $300 in the
Champagne Room and the bouncer was huge, escaping with the
use of a (rotten) stock tip and acting like I cared enough
to come back.

BUT MY POINT is that you might find Connie fighting with
the freedom fighters in jungles of Antigua Panamalquador;
OR, you might find Connie stealing organs from the infirm
in a hospital in Boise; OR, you might find Connie riding
the mechanical bull in a Texas C&W bar until that sucker
COMES; OR, SHE MIGHT FIND YOU FIRST.

So, be ready.

--
"YOU BELONG TO US NOW!"
"GET DOWN WITH MY SICKNESS!!"

--Kino Beman, brand name

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From: Her Ladyship Lilith von Fraumench <lilith@ZubJenius.com>

First, I thought I was your FRIEND, not your enemy. Ya bastid! Second,
my name is not Medea. Third, I have no fleas, golden or otherwise.
Fourth, I don't know what YOU plan on doing with that "horn of
Heracles" but I recommend putting it BACK IN YOUR PANTS, thanks.

> Connie IS where you least expectorate.

Well, if you didn't treat me so badly, maybe Connie would give you a
better break. Hmmph.

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

From: "nu-monet v4.0" <nothing@succeeds.com>

Oh, I'm not sayin' *you're* the enemy. But 'tis common
knowledge that I *never* sold out to Connie. Oh sure,
Rev Stang and Legume, mebbe even Sterno and NENSLO told
"Bob" to STICK IT and took the Connie nickel, but NOT ME!

So I'M the Heracles to Connie's Hera, the bad little
bastard of "Bob" and some unremarkable trollop to be
named later. I'M the guy who goes into the TEMPLE AND
STRIP JOINT OF CONNIE and desecrates that sucker after
ripping off her high priestii.

Connieites take one look at me and go, WHOOP! He ain't
gettin' none! And though they might be table-dancin' my
way just a minute later and rubbin' their cootchie juices
down my leg while groanin' like a diesel tractor with no
oil in the crankcase, THEY AREN'T GOING TO GIVE IN!

No siree. They might even bop me around for a few hours
tryin' to siphon off my precious bodily "Bob" juice, and
they might even get the "ye-ha's" outa their system, BUT
THEY AREN'T GONNA SELL OUT. I might get to use their
body, but Connie owns their soul.

And *that's* why I'm not gonna trust a Connieite. Sure,
they might SAY they'd be square with a "Bob"-sian, but
you NEVER let them tie YOU to the bed. First thing you
know, they whip out them obsidian knives and YER BONED.
Or filleted, more like.

Nothing personal, mind you, but I just like ALL my
internal organs EXACTLY WHERE THEY ARE RIGHT NOW.

PRABOB!

--
"A tremendous number of people in America work
very hard at something that bores them. Even a
rich man thinks he has to go down to the office
every day. Not because he likes it but because
he can't think of anything else to do."
--W. H. Auden

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From: Arbane the Terrible <arbane@attbi.com>

> So I'M the Heracles to Connie's Hera, the bad little
> bastard of "Bob" and some unremarkable trollop to be
> named later. I'M the guy who goes into the TEMPLE AND
> STRIP JOINT OF CONNIE and desecrates that sucker after
> ripping off her high priestii.

Ripping WHAT off of the High Prestii?

--
"Remember, the plural of 'moron' is 'focus group'."
-- James A. Wolf

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Original file name: Connie.txt - converted on Friday, 20 September 2002, 16:08