OUT-TAKES FROM REVELATION X -- THE "BOB"APOCRYPHON
BLESS ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED. IT HAS BEEN 22 YEARS SINCE MY LAST
CONFESSION.
Since speaking to you last, I have used the Lord's name in vein approximately
542,738 times, and have even given him the finger during an occasional fit
of anger.
Prior to my unholy marriage to my wife Laura (we had a bizarre ungodly civil
ceremony in downtown Los Angeles' City Hall back in 1980), we committed
around 1500 acts of fornication, some in some very unusual places and circumstances.
We did some other shit too which I don't want God to know about yet so maybe
I'll get up the gumption to tell you next time I talk with you, Father,
sometime in the next century, unless I die and go back to Hell first.
I indulged in one of two acts of gluttony.
I exaggerated my experiences with the Pope a little bit.
Every day for the past 22 years I have fantasized about the mass genocide
of the human race, imagining what a great place Planet Earth would be if
there were just no people on it, wreaking havoc and mayhem, poisoning its
air, "correcting" its landscape, eating its wildlife, etc.
I have frequently mocked, insulted and sarcastically degraded God's children,
implying that they have abandoned their intellect in favor of mindless partying
in Hedonistic orgasmic frenzy, but now I realize this to be false. I have
now come to see that they never had much intellectual capacity in the first
place, and were actually born retarded. I feel ashamed of myself for misjudging
them.
I have openly admitted to being self-centered and always looking after my
own best interests first, and I now realize that this is wrong--I should
keep it a secret and pretend to be altruistic, like everybody else.
I have become an atheist.
I have equated all religions of the world as being essentially the same
mishmash of superstitious fears and beliefs, equal to astrology, equal to
acts like keeping one's fingers crossed or being mindlessly apprehensive
about Friday the 13th. I have denounced all religious writings, including
The Bible, as being about as plausible as Grimm's Brothers' fairy tales
or children's cartoons on television. I have committed the sin of Reason.
I have brazenly told Nuns to FUCK OFF when soliciting me for money by blocking
my exit path at my local supermarkets. I have also forgotten how to recite
any goddamned HAIL MARY's or OUR FATHER's, so forget the penance, shithead.
-- ZOOGZ RIFT
A SAMPLE RADIO SERMON Why HAIOly Shitin' Bob-G'Doglly, or I'll be
gobbs a gully goshen! Better `pute your pete on full-throttle potenteat,
elstwise yer wants'll be a-waggin' down on Mammy's hind nanny. `Cause there's
a case o' slaves n' slackrobbers out to chop your slobber -- pinks and dinks
lickin' the inky-slinky off your tongue just when you're ripened to throw
`em the loaf, slap-back `em and bomb at `em. THEY don't wont your bone to
be, and ift you got the cleft insteft, Mommy-o, they'll hate your worth
eight ways worse!
So... why cantcher peezer pop a squeezer when the gushers're goin' all normalin'
antirightlike? Crotcher no geisha sense in your sneezin' chamber? Heistin'
an empty platterer in your beanbag, boy? Where's your rollerballs, eh? I
cain't grop me no love-gro on these lu-ju mu-ju logo bands! They cut your
check-purse and water your creamery comin' AND goin', and the slums o' lovin'
won't beat-heat YOUR oven cause the slacky tacks of the grinnin' sinner
be their flaw to flee. The odd Dobbs'd do ya, but ya ARRRE lettin'
them bang down the barn doors, and your cows arrre gettin'
it... and out. You be gonna moon the Man, or folly `em mooin' to the slafterhouse
like GOOD babies butter butt, er NOT?!?
Yer gonna have to spreach Engrish, Jake! Get right with your muscle snake,
snunk-monkey! Quit spritzin' your plizzerer less'n it's snowin' lite loot
juice! Elstwise yer pleetin' bleeder's blowin' hot water! You'll go blind,
or please your neither tryin' not too... Either way, you're gettin' up in
the wrong side-orbit for this kinda freed, peed-needin' side trade. Whell,
wantcher goncher stand there like'r dammie nickel slug, or ye goner
puss your plimperer in a righteous hargony?? Peeboy. Got weenie-rivers in
your fluder-tubes. Join gumptions with the true and the seed brave...
and pee for "BOB," MAN! It's sin your jeans! Buy out the
gland-owners with what YOU EARNED with your skinny peeling face of pain!!
Lease a piece o' the finast, have a fuzzy big ballock, and strike your heart
best soft blow for the left court of the rocket racket... this space-outer
belongs to YOUR whord-ship in the crutch of your choice toys. And Ivan bongin'
the flush-luginner pee-ers, to let `em STANK you know who's a-comin' --
them kens ain't keen to hob on no bobbie, NO SIR-MAAM! You just ort `n ug
`em good... and they'll be some gone bygones, Baby.
