Damned Blessings

Date: Sun, Jan 20, 2002 10:11 AM

From: HellPope Huey <hellpopehuey@subspamgeenyus.com>

Every seemingly dark situation has its compensating grace, every bright spot
its price, the freight you pay for receiving it. My sister referred to this as
"those damned blessings." As you can see, the Smartass gene runs strong in our
line. Still, it made me stop to consider a few of the things that keep me going
instead of going Biblical on people who are so rank, I'd rather watch sausages
being made, eeyewww.

I have that ART thing, wherein ideas hit you like Mike Tyson and chew on your
ear at funny moments. I'm writing this at 5 bleeping a.m. on a Sunday morning.
What's up with THAT crap? I'd rather be dreaming of sex & chocolate, together if
possible. My sleep cycle busted its chain long ago. However, I am not a
9-year-old Hindu boy living on the border near 90% Muslim Pakistan, nor am I
living in a refrigerator crate, sipping an enchanting, one-third formaldehyde
Chablis from a bottle shaped like a paper bag while basking in a 20 degree wind
chill. This is good, so wherefore dost I bitch?

I HAVE a computer, for which I'm quite grateful, although if I have to sit
through 5 more minutes of cheerful robot ads for services I don't need and 12
menu-button presses, finally reaching the so-called help desk and then getting
bogus information that doesn't work anyway, I'm mailing someone a dead cat in a
baggie. (Not you.)

My dreadlocked, WHITE, highly artistic, mega-hippiefied, surfer pal in Santa
Cruz has Crohn's disease, which is a nasty bowel disorder, yet has it in check
enough to freeze his hampered butt off surfing extensively and damaging himself
mountain biking on a near-daily basis. This is substantially better than merely
getting up in the morning, taking pills and watching soaps.

One of my best friends just passed a kidney stone, which sets fire to your
pee-pee and all but halts your whole life for an extended period via some
debilitating pain, yet has several impressive skills, not the least of which has
proven to be the ability to land as a wife a very sweet, sharp and beautiful
former stripper bearing enough piercings to set off an airport metal detector.
These things have certain pluses over being Gilbert Gottfried.

I don't often get to actually SEE many of my friends; most are just Net
entities rather than live-and-in-person pals. Some I've never met face-to-face
at all; our main connection is that we all have SubGenius t-shirts and an
inability to leave the computer off. Then I consider an article I read which
stated that most people are "lucky" to have 4 or 5 "real" friends in their
lifetime. Huh. I have had dozens who would do much for me and I for them. I've
had several put me up in their homes, fetch me when my car died, drive many
miles to do me favors or share their last fill-in-the-blank(s) with me. They're
people for whom I would do the same in the blink of an eye. One pair whom I have
physically met ONCE have invited me to Canada in the spring, at their expense,
just for a visit. What AM I doing so right and how can I crank up the amp on
THAT stuff?

I'd bite the head off a rabid bat for a faster Mac and an additional, more
powerful synthesizer. Its tiresome to make coffee while the screen redraws or
some schmutz downloads and I hate running out of synth voices (a "mere" 32) when
I need at least 64, because the sucker steals the first note played when you hit
a 33rd. It can make your layered wundermusik cut off in odd places or stagger
and lurch unmusically. Fropmargulate the transflagoning $#@ SHMIRD!!

However, I once had only a stumbling typewriter with 4 sticky keys and a
ravenous appetite for pricey, one-use, plastic-ribbon cartridges. Now I have a
computer that all but never crashes and behaves like a dream, albeit a wheezing
one which runs at 10 mph in a 400mHz world. And I get paid a bit to write a lot
of this neo-drivel, with the added benefit of sending a few to a dimension of
pure ITCHING. Yay!

Until I acquired this wonderful keyboard, I trudged through many years of
crappy pianos and marginal electronic doo-dads that accelerated my loss of hair.
Today, I can sound like an orchestra, a drunken goose or Satan's own drum kit,
all at once if I choose. Now my big problem is acquiring the means to edit the
stuff and burn a CD of it so that the people who keep asking for one in place of
the bleepin' cassettes I have to use at present can be placated. Oh, poor baby!

In addition, I have to be Huey. Then again, I also GET to be Huey, which is
vastly superior to being Stephen Hawking, Afghani or dead. I'd prefer to have
more hair, a more shapely & SMALLER ass and a heftier bank account, but hey, I
have much more fun than the microcephalic children at the ironically-titled
Human Development Center.

I don't get to see my nice girlfriend nearly often enough, but then, I HAVE one
and when I consider the number of gene-pool rejects who look like a ziploc bag
filled with candied bulldog rumps, I realize I could be one of those poor mutant
souls who couldn't get a date with a butterfly net and a Rohypnol smoothie.
Instead, I get a fair shake, a massage and a hummer. So the next time the
Perspective Fairy comes to the door, at least give her some of the leftover
Santa cookies instead of whacking her with the giant flyswatter you use for the
7th-Day Adventists. HAW, glory! PRAISE "Bob."

HellPope Huey, hellpopehuey@subgenius.com
It takes leather balls to play rugby and
a leather heart to be a politician,
but it takes a leather BRAIN to be a SubGenius

"Humanity is inherently evil.
(It has something to do with opposing thumbs.)"
-Sean Scott

"Menopause hit her hard
and then dragged her for 50 yards."
- "Drew Carey"

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

From: "Rev. Ivan Stang" <stang@subgenius.com>

> In addition, I have to be Huey. Then again, I also GET to be Huey,

and why, that just about hits the nut on the head.

I lakked to CRIED when I read this, you Maestro you. It is a mighty
testament to the late-nite ISNESS of the BUSINESS.

Isn't it? I think it is the isness. Sounds like it anyway.

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