See, there's this advertising scenario that keeps running around in
my head:
A "taste test" booth is set up in a typical North American mall.
Shoppers are lined up to taste the products being flogged by an
infomercial/game show host sort of fellow wearing a reassuringly
ugly sweater. The host puts his arm around the first volunteer, a
pretty young homemaker, in a cheesy "nudge nudge, wink wink" manner.
With a flourish, the host pulls a handkerchief from his pants pocket
and tells the young homemaker that she must be blindfolded to take
the Papa Stang's(tm) Downhome Country Goodness MeatPudding(tm) taste
test. The young homemaker says "Oh my!" but allows the blindfold to
be tied on.
The host pulls a rope, and curtains swish open to reveal 4 people
tied in chairs. Their crania are missing above their eyebrows. The
dura and pia mater membranes have been pulled back to reveal the
contents of their skulls, such as they are. The open-skulled people
are awake but seem slightly woozy - evidently, a local anaesthetic
has been administered, along with a light tranquilizer.
The host guides the blindfolded homemaker by the arm until she is
standing behind the first chair, in which a geeky looking young
woman is tied. The geeky young woman is somewhat overweight. Several
3.5" diskettes are visible through the cheap polyester material of
her blouse pocket. Her eyes roll crazily behind thick glasses as the
host removes a plastic spoon from a cellophane envelope and hands it
to the homemaker. With a little guidance from the host, the
homemaker dips the spoon into the geeky woman's brain tissue and
scoops out a dollop of the bloody, gray, gelatinous material. She
brings the spoon to her mouth and takes a dainty nibble. Uh-oh. The
homemaker's pretty face contorts into a moue of disgust; her
scrunched up nose broadcasts the universal young homemaker semaphore
for "Ewwwww!" The audience of fellow shoppers nods in appreciation
and murmurs its assent. The host slaps a piece of packing tape
across the mouth of the geeky woman - she has begun to moan loudly -
and asks the young homemaker her opinion of the sample. Demurely,
she speaks into the microphone thrust into her face and informs us
that the first pudding sample was far too convoluted and wrinkled
for her liking.
The host smiles widely and guides the homemaker to the second
sample, taking another spoon from a cellophane wrapper. The second
sample comes from the skull of a scruffy gentleman with the wild
eyes of a street prophet. His military fatigue jacket has fallen
open to reveal a picture of the Marx Brothers on his t-shirt, with
the legend "Sure I'm a Marxist!" The young homemaker tastes a
spoonful, grimaces, and immediately spits it back into the cranium
of the scruffy gentleman with a force that sends a wave of gooey
tissue and blood slopping over the lip of the skull to run down the
man's face. "I would horsewhip you... if... had horse..." mutters
the dying man in a voice that suggests a running-down record player.
His head tilts forward and more brains flop out into his lap.
Prepared for this eventuality, the host drapes a clean white sheet
over the corpse, then turns to the homemaker. "No, I didn't like
that sample at all," she says into the microphone. "It tasted filthy
and... and... _used_!" The host brings a plastic cup of water to the
young homemaker's mouth; she sips, rinses and spits into a bucket.
The next sample is from a woman wearing the expensive silk power
suit of a successful businesswoman. One of her Italian leather pumps
has fallen off, and her foot, encased in dark silk hose, makes
nudging motions where it is tied to the chair leg, as if in an
attempt to retrieve the shoe. The strands of hair left clinging to
the lower half of her head give the impression of a once carefully
tended coiffure, but the raw edges of bone and tissue above her
eyebrows spoil this effect somewhat. A briefcase has fallen open at
her feet, revealing a copy of Dianetics and a shoddily built device
known as an E-meter. The homemaker dips her spoon into the skull.
Encountering no resistance, she frowns and scrapes the spoon around
the inside of the open head. The Scientologist businesswoman's eyes
and cheeks bulge like a rubber mask as the spoon presses against the
inner wall of her face. The host, tut-tutting, steps in and puts his
hand over the homemaker's wrist, exerting more pressure on the spoon
and guiding it down to the bottom of the skull. Their combined
exertions produce a small gobbet of tissue which clings to the edge
of the spoon. Tasting the sample, the homemaker opines, "Well, it's
very bland, but it's hard to tell with such a tiny mouthful." The
Scientologist businesswoman, undaunted, continues trying to reach
her shoe.
Satisfied, the host moves along to the last sample. Tied in the
fourth chair sits a pale-skinned man with a lit pipe protruding from
his vigorous grin. He is wearing neatly pressed slacks and a t-shirt
which says "There's no `prob' with `Bob'". His eyes are as round and
empty as Little Orphan Annie's. His hands, tied at his sides, jerk
spasmodically and seem to be reaching for his crotch. His cut-away
cranium reveals his brain to be of normal size, but it is unusually
transparent and perfectly smooth. The homemaker tastes a spoonful
and moves it around in her mouth thoughtfully. A hush falls over the
gathered shoppers as the host raises his microphone to the
homemaker's face... "Wonderful!" she gushes. The crowd expels its
held breath in a drawn-out "Aaaaahhhh" and the host relaxes visibly.
The homemaker tastes another spoonful of pudding. Speaking through
the mouthful of tissue, she says, "It's light, delicate, smooth and
mild with a clean, fresh taste." "You picked Papa Stang's(tm)!"
enthuses the host, whipping the blindfold from her eyes.
The host passes out plastic spoons and the shoppers gather around
the tied-up SubGenius(tm) for a taste. As his brains disappear, his
jaw opens and the pipe falls into his lap. "Brayyyyns.... gooood..."
he intones as the shoppers scrape the gooey matter from within his
head. Off to one side, the host dials a cellular phone. "Stang(tm)?
Yeah, I'm at the mall. Listen, they love it. Start shipping the
crap. Oh yeah, better step up recruitment, too. I can tell there's
really gonna be a demand for this stuff."
Bangers 'n' Mash
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: Re: Cerebrophagia
From: cp_dine@vega.concordia.ca (Bangers 'n' Mash)
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless,alt.slack,alt.religion.scientology
Rev. Ivan Stang <i.stang@metronet.com> wrote:
>Well, there's our infomercial script. Everybody thinks we should do the
>infomercial. Now we need ANOTHER rich SubGenius or eccentric normal to
>invest in the damn INFOMERCIAL. I've got the cameraman and the fx-make-up
>guys, you bring the actors and the rich investor, we'll shoot us a damn TV
>spot.
Stang, you cerebral-retentive wimp, all we need is _YOU_, some rope, a
chair, a mild sedative, a rented super-8 videocamera, a plastic spoon, and
Bob Black to be the taste tester. Of course, he'd make a piss-poor
substitute for a pretty young housewife, but you know the way these
commercials get re-written... Hell, I hear the Scientology TV spot
started out with Tom Cruise as the host, but someone threatened him with
a roll of firecrackers...
Bangers "Ya big pink PUSSY" 'n' Mash
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: Re: Cerebrophagia
From: TarlaStar <bmyers@ionet.net>
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless,alt.slack,alt.religion.scientology
Fuck Bob Black!(twice on Sundays) I'd happily drive down to Big D
and eat Stang's brain (for commercial purposes). I can even pass
for a pretty young housewife...but would I REALLY have to taste
the Scientologist's brain? Couldn't I just recall the experience
via e-meter?
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: Re: Cerebrophagia
From: cp_dine@pavo.concordia.ca (Bangers 'n' Mash)
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless,alt.slack,alt.religion.scientology
Don't worry - you won't notice a thing. It'd take a room full of
trephined Scientologists with their skullcaps clapping like clams to
furnish enough tissue for your palate to detect. In any case, you
won't have to taste a thing if you'd prefer - you can be sample #2. As
for fucking Bob Black, we'll just have to wait and see if he finds
your bland SubGenius lobes enticing enough to warrant slamming his
raging SnotNazi into your brain until a geyser of corrosive ManChowder
floods into your throat and mouth through your shattered palate, popping
your cheeks like worn condoms and driving your hindbrain down your throat
into your stomach like so much mouldy brisket... *ahem* - but of course,
that's Mr. Black's call. I can't make any promises.
Bangers "I _do_ wish you the best of luck, though" 'n' Mash
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: Re: Cerebrophagia
From: TarlaStar <bmyers@ionet.net>
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless,alt.slack,alt.religion.scientology
I asked:
.but would I REALLY have to taste
> >the Scientologist's brain? Couldn't I just recall the
experience via e-meter?
Bangers assured me:
> Don't worry - you won't notice a thing. It'd take a room full
of trephined Scientologists with their skullcaps clapping like
clams to furnish enough tissue for your palate to detect. In any
case, you won't have to taste a thing if you'd prefer - you can
be sample #2. As
> for fucking Bob Black, we'll just have to wait and see if he
finds your bland SubGenius lobes enticing enough to warrant
slamming his raging SnotNazi into your brain until a geyser of
corrosive ManChowder floods into your throat and mouth through
your shattered palate, popping your cheeks like worn condoms and
driving your hindbrain down your throat into your stomach like so
much mouldy brisket... *ahem* - but of course,
> that's Mr. Black's call. I can't make any promises.
>
> Bangers "I _do_ wish you the best of luck, though" 'n' Mash
Mmmmmmm, now THAT'S good eatin'!
--
"For me eroticism must be ugly, the aesthetic always divine,
and death beautiful." - S. Dali
*****
Rideo ergo sum-Tarla
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: Re: Cerebrophagia
From: cp_dine@vega.concordia.ca (Bangers 'n' Mash)
TarlaStar <bmyers@ionet.net> wrote:
>> Hmmmm, .net Aikido - I _am_ impressed! Or is it more like the
>> Burroughsian image of the weaker baboon turning and offering
>>its buttocks in a gesture of surrender?
>> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>> Bangers "Just wondering" 'n' Mash
>
>Hardly...as a SubGenius, I resemble the bonobo more than the
>baboon.
My, what a lascivious creature you are! Clever, too.
*bows in respect to TarlaStar*
Bangers 'n' Mash
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