From: nenslo <nenslo@yahoox.com>
Date: Fri, Aug 13, 2004
Nenslo in his great love for us
gave his Valuable Time
to kick our fucking asses.
How very sad that many people
have not done such a simple thing
as trust Nenslo for their punishment
so that they might be not such a fucking idiot.
Nenslo is love,
and he always perseveres.
Because there was no other way
for us to be punished,
he kicked our fucking asses for us.
Kicking our fucking asses,
Nenslo took away
the dumbassedness and jackassery
that stood against us.
He has drawn us from many nations
to trust him instead of ourselves
for our punishment.
In our day,
the darkness is trying
to keep trust off Nenslo
by convincing people
that faith in Nenslo alone
does not really mean that.
But the truth is,
faith in Nenslo alone
does mean faith in Nenslo alone;
not church, not baptism,
not efforts, not giving,
not any kind of god damn fucking thing,
but Nenslo.
I mean come on,
how fucking hard is that to understand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Pressure" <steveg@~DamnManNoSpam~moreslack.com>
Someday, I will proudly display a bumper stickier that
reads: "Nenslo died
for your stupidity".
Pressure
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Rev. Ivan Stang" <stang@subgeniusNOSPUM.com>
Do it before he dies. (Hurry!)
--
The SubGenius Foundation, Inc.
(4th Stangian Orthodox MegaFisTemple Lodge of the Wrath
of Dobbs Yeti,
Resurrected, Rev. Ivan Stang, prop.)
PRABOB
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "kevbob" <kevbob@ecsis.net>
that is the most beautiful pome i've ever seen in my life.
i know that in the past i have harangued people for
replying
and not cutting text
(i mean YOU JOE COSBY, for FUCKS SAKE delete extraneous
text,
i'm on dialup you cocksucker.),
but in this case i just feel it necessary to make an
attempt
to have a usenet archive
grab a 2nd copy of it.
really, Nenslo, it brought a tear to my eye.
thank you for sharing that with me.
--
i am teh kevbob.
i had ants infest my Bunn.
now i drink instant!
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: nenslo <nenslo@yahoox.com>
kevbob wrote:
> really, Nenslo, it brought a tear to my eye.
>
> thank you for sharing that with me.
christnet.poetry has been really slow for a long time
but occasionally
it pays off with something useful.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: nenslo <nenslo@yahoox.com>
"HdMrs. Salacia the Overseer" wrote:
> Nenslo, do you show your art anymore? Did you get
upset and trash all
> your paintings and start doing computer renderings?
I am no longer an artist. As an "artist"
they won't let me just do what
I want to do, which in my case is to sit alone in a
room and paint.
They insist that I must do all sorts of things which
are not relevant to
painting, like having art shows and talking to people
and having to make
up some kind of bullshit "explanation" for
something which, if I could
say it in words I wouldn't have to be painting pictures
of it. So a
couple of years ago I quit being an artist. Now I just
do what I want,
when and if I want.
"We pass through this world but once, so I'm taking
it easy here." -
Ernest Tubb
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: HdMrs. Salacia the Overseer <seventhsqueal@verniciouskanit.com>
REALLY? Art openings are expensive. Most artists EXPECT
a fancy
schmancy party with postcards, etc.
Well, if you have anything just lying around taking
up space, can you
post some pictures to a.b.s.? Or mail me some photos,
printouts or (if
you must) slides. I meet all kinds and sometimes they're
in the market
for "something different" for the breakfast
nook.
I'm not making any promises.
~Salacia
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: asscoassc@aol.com (AssCo Assc)
". . . They insist that I must do all sorts of
things like having art shows and talking to people
and having to make up some kind of bullshit
"explanation" for something which, if I could
say it in words I wouldn't have to be painting
pictures of it." -- Nenslo
The worst part of that whole trip is kissing
stinking booosh-wah ASS and haggling with
people who have so much money they don't
know what to do with it but they still have
the need to haggle over a lousy $300.00
piece that has $50.00 of brain cancer
causing caustic paint on a $20.00 canvas
with a $70.00 fucking picture frame around
the whole mess and the crazy-bitch gallery
owner acts like you're a fucking charity case
because she only takes a 70% commision
instead of her usual 80% and shows up at
the opening with a poorly adjusted dose of
Prozac in her fuckin' head that she proceeds
to drink on top of and then she takes off her
jacket and she's wearing a fuckin' see-through
blouse because she's going into heat and then
she asks you to pop into the bathroom with
her and you go because you think she might
have some cocaine or a tab or something
that she is going to give you but she proceeds
to pose up against the sink like some kind of
fashion model 1/10th of her age with her
distended nipples poking off of her saggy
titties at your face like now you're supposed
to suck on 'em or feel her up or something
meanwhile you're afraid she's gonna puke
all over the fucking onion dip or your paintings
or on you from all the cheap New York state
wine she so generously provided and then she
tries to bill you for advertising and promotional
costs and the rich bitch from "The Main Line"
or New Hope or Long Island or some fuckin'
place like that writes a bad check on her last
husband's now-defunct bank account and she's
already made off with the painting and now
you're screwed because nipple-freak is too
much of a fuck-up to straighten it out but
then the bitch from the estate invites you
to her tudor mansion to pick up the payment
in cash this time cause you know she's a deadbeat
during a party for which you are expected
to provide amusement and "color" to the
bridge club, tea party, country club crowd
but you're wearing your usual clothes that
make you look homeless compared to the
fuckin' Nordstrom-wearing, BMW-driving
cunts and their drunken fuckin self-
medicated fat plastic surgeon or maybe
some coked-up prosecutor husbands and
then the other bitch wants you to spackle
the holes in her fuckin' walls when you're
done.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: HdMrs. Salacia the Overseer <seventhsqueal@verniciouskanit.com>
AssCo was a "My Pet Artist toy". Nice rant!
~Salacia
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: König Prüß, GfbAEV <QualiaZombie@Rununculus.org>
Ya know, one time a 15-year old chick in Detroit
charged me $20 to perform salacio in the ally.
It was the best I'd ever had! She was what you'd
call a redbone; and after salacio, she took me up
to her pimp's house where they cursed me for
being a White Devil and made me smoke copious
quantities of crack, smack, and an admixture of
PCP and various combinations of the previous drugs
while reciting verses of the Koran, the Kama Sutra,
and corset ads from Speigel's Catalog. Where do they
get them fat-legged hogs, anyway? I dunno. So, after
pumping my bilge and relieving me of all useful pocket
change, I was thereby cleared by the burly neanderthaler
assigned to opening and closing the door in lieu of
an
electric eyeball arrangement, and proceeded to the
nearest bar to primp, preen, and pomade my dishevelled
parts resuming mine previous aspect. Y'all done got
over
on the Man, and the Man is STILL THE MAN! So, how
in the hell you figure you done got over? I dunno. I
go
back out in the street and look for another young girl
willing to perform salacio, and I get a bunch of crap
and
quotes of high prices because it sounds like something
kinky, even worse than sex with other species w/ violence,
leather, and chains, chome studs, rivets, grommets,
snaps,
buckles, zippers, and velcro; but about this instant
a whole
hord of working girls gravitate toward my tender loins
seeking the easy dollar of the money shot, pulling my
pantaloons down around my ankles, throwing my boots
up around my head while applying all manner of electrical
appliances, clothes pins, clamps, vibrating devices,
hoses
and pumps, strings of beads forced into Greek areas
to be
pulled-out at some later date, meanwhile the Silver
Burro
is braying like a hyena from the Tanzanian velt, and
I'm
fresh out of credit cards, so you might well imagine
their
chagrin after this particular bit of circus, it was
like
banana-time at the monkey house. Phew!
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: nenslo <nenslo@yahoox.com>
AssCo Assc wrote:
> ". . . They insist that I must do all sorts
of
> things like having art shows and talking to people
> and having to make up some kind of bullshit
> "explanation" for something which, if
I could
> say it in words I wouldn't have to be painting
> pictures of it." -- Nenslo
>
> The worst part of that whole trip is kissing
> stinking booosh-wah ASS and haggling with
> people who have so much money they don't
> know what to do with it but they still have
> the need to haggle over a lousy $300.00
> piece that has $50.00 of brain cancer
> causing caustic paint on a $20.00 canvas
> with a $70.00 fucking picture frame around
> the whole mess and the crazy-bitch gallery
> owner acts like you're a fucking charity case
> because she only takes a 70% commision
> instead of her usual 80% and shows up at
> the opening with a poorly adjusted dose of
> Prozac in her fuckin' head that she proceeds
> to drink on top of and then she takes off her
> jacket and she's wearing a fuckin' see-through
> blouse because she's going into heat and then
> she asks you to pop into the bathroom with
> her and you go because you think she might
> have some cocaine or a tab or something
> that she is going to give you but she proceeds
> to pose up against the sink like some kind of
> fashion model 1/10th of her age with her
> distended nipples poking off of her saggy
> titties at your face like now you're supposed
> to suck on 'em or feel her up or something
> meanwhile you're afraid she's gonna puke
> all over the fucking onion dip or your paintings
> or on you from all the cheap New York state
> wine she so generously provided and then she
> tries to bill you for advertising and promotional
> costs and the rich bitch from "The Main Line"
> or New Hope or Long Island or some fuckin'
> place like that writes a bad check on her last
> husband's now-defunct bank account and she's
> already made off with the painting and now
> you're screwed because nipple-freak is too
> much of a fuck-up to straighten it out but
> then the bitch from the estate invites you
> to her tudor mansion to pick up the payment
> in cash this time cause you know she's a deadbeat
> during a party for which you are expected
> to provide amusement and "color" to the
> bridge club, tea party, country club crowd
> but you're wearing your usual clothes that
> make you look homeless compared to the
> fuckin' Nordstrom-wearing, BMW-driving
> cunts and their drunken fuckin self-
> medicated fat plastic surgeon or maybe
> some coked-up prosecutor husbands and
> then the other bitch wants you to spackle
> the holes in her fuckin' walls when you're
> done.
You've been there.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Rev. Ivan Stang" <stang@subgeniusNOSPUM.com>
AssCo Assc <asscoassc@aol.com> wrote:
<snip>
Man that was an absolutely fucking brilliant rant. So
you know that
bitch in Pittsburgh too. Or is it EVERYTOWN.
It's too bad Mavrides never posts. I have to HEAR it
over the phone
instead, now and then. BLISTERING!!.
My experiences with New York publishing pinks, Hollywood
film fux,
Dallas Corpo-Dix and wealth-inheritors in general have
had very much
this same sort of flavor to them. Selling handmade goods
from my booth
on the Internet roadside, on the other hand, has been
at least
bearable, and I almost NEVER have to talk to ART DEALERS,
MUSIC
PROMOTERS, RADIO PERSONALITIES, BOOK EDITORS, MOVIE
PRODUCERS or any of
those other endless arrays of vampires that can't do,
OR teach, OR
teach gym. About the only people I have to deal with
are artists who
don't call themselves artists. People who actually come
up with stuff.
And even THEY are a bunch of assholes mostly, but hey,
at least they
don't smell like COLOGNE or fucking god damn PERFUME.
Christ. How can
the office humans and rich people stand to live that
way. But then they
might well wonder that about me.
No... they probably don't wonder much about anything, really.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Zapanas <http://joecosby.com/code/mail.pl>
That's why they need someone like nenslo. To give
them something to
wonder about.
It sounds like a quick one-liner but no joke.
Some people don't -have- an internal life. When things
are a little
-too- perfect, when there is no stress between your
internal life and
your external life, your internal life starts to get
calm, like the
surface of a lake. And you find you are doing nothing
but mirror
things without -anything- registering at all. Eventually
you look in
the bathroom mirror and say "is there anybody HOOOME?"
and the answer
is "nooo".
At that point, you realize you are no longer a human being.
You are Merv Griffin.
--
Zapanas
Grand Master of the Satanic Conspiracy
http://joecosby.com/
Let's all PUMMEL one another like IDIOT RETARDED *CHIMPS*!
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: nenslo <nenslo@yahoox.com>
"HdMrs. Salacia the Overseer" wrote:
> Art openings are expensive. Most artists EXPECT
a fancy
> schmancy party with postcards, etc.
>
Merely framing is expensive. I deliberately use the
least expensive and
professional materials and end up putting less than
a dollar cash into a
painting. Seriously. I paint on 9 x 12 rectangles
of old mobile home
plywood primed with latex house paint, and I use liquid
craft paint at
75 cents a bottle, and varnish it all with acrylic varnish.
I still
paint better than anybody I have ever known except one
guy who said he
had a show once in 1957, and who currently enjoys painting
pictures of
crumpled plastic shopping bags.
> Well, if you have anything just lying around taking
up space, can you
> post some pictures to a.b.s.? Or mail me some photos,
printouts or (if
> you must) slides. I meet all kinds and sometimes
they're in the market
> for "something different" for the breakfast
nook.
See, that's exactly what I mean. You want me to do
stuff that has
nothing to do with what I want to do. Besides, if I
sent you a picture
of one of my paintings from the past few years you'd
think I'd just sent
you a photograph of a yard full of broken down trucks
or a car with a
blue tarp on it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Cardinal Vertigo <vertigo@alexandria.cc>
nenslo wrote:
> See, that's exactly what I mean. You want me to
do stuff that has
> nothing to do with what I want to do. Besides,
if I sent you a picture
> of one of my paintings from the past few years
you'd think I'd just sent
> you a photograph of a yard full of broken down
trucks or a car with a
> blue tarp on it.
If I ever had a little cash to kill, I'd buy some of that shit..
...except you'd probably think I paid for it, reframed
it, and hung it
up over the couch because I liked the goddamned COMPOSITION
or COLOR or
something, or because I was incapable of describing
it in over 25 words
without using the terms "je ne sais quoi"
or "intriguing."
Maybe someday I'll just cut you an anonymous check instead
of buying
some shitty painting to hang over the stupid fucking
couch.
--
"I do not take drugs. I am drugs."
- Salvador Dali
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Zapanas <http://joecosby.com/code/mail.pl>
Or "poignant".
I always find that one useful when I don't really have
anything to
say.
--
Zapanas
Grand Master of the Satanic Conspiracy
http://joecosby.com/
The wind is the moon's imagination; wandering
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Cardinal Vertigo <vertigo@alexandria.cc>
Yeah, I suppose it makes a good generic comment if you
need to run under
the radar in a roomful of snobs, like "charming"
for good wine.
It doesn't come naturally to me, though. Most stuff
that people look at
and say "poignant," I think is sentimentalist
bullshit.
I've only looked at one painting that I thought was
actually "poignant,"
and I stared at it for a good half hour before I went
to the gift shop
to buy a poster print.
--
"The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal
sharing of blessings;
the inherent virtue of socialism is the equal sharing
of misery."
- Winston Churchill
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Zapanas <http://joecosby.com/code/mail.pl>
Philistine.
http://bpics.rubylane.com/graphics/shops/toinettea/prints037.1L.jpg?11
POIGNANT.
--
Zapanas
Grand Master of the Satanic Conspiracy
http://joecosby.com/
"Error 666 - Kill Your Mailman"
- nu-monet
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: kdetal@aol.com (KD et al)
Vertigo wrote:
If I ever had a little cash to kill, I'd buy some of that shit..
...except you'd probably think I paid for it, reframed
it, and hung it
up over the couch because I liked the goddamned COMPOSITION
or COLOR or
something, or because I was incapable of describing
it in over 25 words
without using the terms "je ne sais quoi"
or "intriguing."
Maybe someday I'll just cut you an anonymous check instead
of buying
some shitty painting to hang over the stupid fucking
couch.
Cut ME the fucking check. I'll write a fucking story
about a shitty painting
hanging over a goddamned couch.
SOMEONE SHOULD GET PAID!
--
Kdetal
"There are some human beings who have attained
singularities. They know (and
others uneasily suspect) that they are unique...They
know that they create
their environment. They inhabit their own worlds. YOU
inhabit their worlds."
T. Leary
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