Gentle Yetisyn,
I have recently been reflecting on those events, people, and places in
this world that I have learned, or simply decided, to hate. Now, I'm not
interested in your garden variety "pink" hate, you understand. I'm not
talking about "I hate strawberry icecream, so I won't eat it anymore."
I'm talking REAL hate. YETI hate. A pulsing, feverish burn of a hate,
that keeps you awake at night grinding your teeth and balling your fists
so tightly that your fingernails cut into your palms and the blood flows
unnoticed. And despite the soothing subliminal instructions to be nice
and not to steal being piped into my head through the happy music in
my local shopping center, I have decided that my hate is GOOD. It is
PURE, and serves to focus my attentions so I stay ever vigilant of the Con
and its hench-beings.
But my hate is unheard. It is unvoiced. It is lonely. It has no
outlet, no rubber room to bounce in. It has no friends.
That is why I have decided to burden you with my hate. Not direct it
AT you, but to display it TO you. To flaunt it in public and stand in
the flames of a hundred SubGenius minds while I void myself. It will
feel good, for all of us. Or maybe not. But nevertheless, it is here.
I am sure you realize that this list is BY FAR incomplete, and will be
updated as new hatreds are realized or forced upon me. As such, some
of you may find yourselves included indirectly. If so, then, as we
used to say, tough doo-doo. But you'll weather it. As a SubGenius,
you'll know that it means squat in the long run, and it won't stop me
from buying you a banana split after the game. Or maybe it will.
Enough! On with the Hate:
1. NASA: I hate NASA. This hate is through association, through being
shat upon and having my childhood dreams fed through a shredder. For
years I watched Star Trek and listened to the news reports about
Our Boys in space and the wonderful visions of exploration and
cooperationfor a better future. I soaked in it, dreamed of, and
wanted to be part of it. And so it went. I chased and caught my
dream in 1989. I got a job with Lockheed doing robotic analysis for
NASA. I became an expert in space robot operation. I entered the NASA
culture. I nearly vomited.
NASA is a snakepit of incestuous, closeminded, backstabbing pinheads
who wouldn't know a courageous idea if it crawled up the asses and
ripped their colons out onto the floor. It is run by bureaucrats
who care only for their own budgets and whatever little pet project
they can devise to justify their existance. It is a pustulent pool
of no-talent hangers-on who don't give a shit what happens as long as
they can maintain the status quo. It is a sham, a dried up money-pit
with no purpose and no direction, flopping about like an ugly fish
in the bottom of a boat.
Well, this fish needs to be put out of its misery. It needs to be
whacked with a paddle until it gasps no more, then the carcass
needs to be mounted on a pole and displayed for all to see. It begs
to be exposed and spat upon by the multitudes.
2. People who "know the answer." I am sick to fucking death of morons
who, through some misfiring of their half-decayed and probably
mistreated neurons, suddenly decide that they have THE answer to life,
and know the secrets to human existance, and therefore have somehow
come to the conclusion that this constitutes an evolution beyond the
ken of mere normals. This kind of walking pus-bag usually has an
overbearingly smug demeanor and superiority complex that makes me
want to rip their trachea out and dangle it in front of them as they
bleed and gasp, and exlaim: "Whoops! I guess you bleed too! Human
after all!"
I hate the disdain with which they hold everyone else. Their constant
cries of "you can't help what you are" or "It's only natural that you
don't understand me" drains the blood from my tool and pulses it
directly to my temples, which throb dangerously. These people probably
should be pitied, but my hate gets in the way. I want to write on a
blackboard "I am just another pink" and then ram their heads against
it until it penetrates.
3. Star Trek. This show is an over-comercialized pit of dried up writers
earning a paycheck. It's the "Saturday Night Live" of science fiction:
a good idea that became a cultural icon that was maintained for what
it once had been, ignoring that fact that it hadn't done anything
new in years, and what it DID do stunk like week old shit. Now we've
had three new series, three new sets of characters, three new settings.
And what have the Paramount pig-fuckers done? The put the same writers
and producers on all the shows. Well listen up guys, THEY DRIED UP
DURING THE NEXT GENERATION SHOWS! There's nothing new! How many
fucking times do I have to see the holodeck take over the ship? How
many times do I have to endure a show about high technology that can't
even properly research the science behind its main plot?
And the characters. How come everyone with a uniform can control
the ship or modify programs or run equipment? How come a replicator
can make anything but what is needed to resolve the episode? How come
a transporter can be made into a time machine or a stasis machine or a
fountain of youth or whatever during an episode and it DOESN'T UPSET
ANY CURRENT TECHNOLOGY OR POWER BALANCE! Christ's scrotum, people,
if a transporter can be used to erase aging you'd think that AT THE
LEAST every dick in the federation would be using it to stay young.
At the most realistic, there should be CIVILIZATION SMASHING WARS
between the haves and have nots. There are NEVER any CONSEQUENCES to
actions. People DIE HORRIBLY and are RESURRECTED, only to end the
episode sitting in the bar joking with their pals. I DON'T BUY IT!
IT STINKS! It's BAD SCIENCE FICTION! IT NEEDS TO GO! If you want
to watch decent science fiction, watch Babylon 5.
4. New Age Mysticism. Hell, I know its not new. Same old superstitions
in a new package, but it still drains my lifeforce. Now, I'm not
demanding everyone reject anything that isn't in a textbook, but at
least THINK about something before you decide to invest your money
and your BELIEF in it. I don't care WHO or WHAT you are believing,
the scientific process STILL APPLIES! If you want to believe that
crystals can cure cancer, you better have an idea of how the process
works before you shoot your mouth off to me. If I hear "There are
many things science doesn't understand, so it's possible" one more time
I'm gonna ram a copy of Asimov's "History of Physics" down someones
throat, while shoving all three volumes of Feynman's "Lectures on
Physics" up their ass and then jumping up and down on their stomachs
to see which book pops out first. There is NOTHING that can't be
investigated scientifically, and just because it isn't known doesn't
make it POSSIBLE. If you see lights in the sky, There are probably a
few MILLION explanations that can be investigated before you have
to invent entire space civilizations. Hey, I don't care how "off
beat" your ideas are, as long as your willing to INVESTIGATE them
and be willing to CHANGE YOUR MIND if it doesn't pan out. Hell, I'll
HELP you. I'd LOVE to find out something new.
Well, that's probably enough for now. I feel better. I feel relaxed
and relieved. So don't followup and tell me I'm wrong and fuck up my mood.
More to come, as always.
Love and kisses,
Andy
testa@hou.moc.com
--
/ Xenu stole my lunch money \
/ Andy Testa (KoX) I'm OT! I could KILL you with \
\ testa@hou.moc.com a thought! BWAAAHHAAAAHAAAAAA! /
\ Contributing to the downfall of Scientology since 1995. /
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From: searcy@onramp.net (John Searcy)
Hey, neat. You know what I hate?? I reaaaalllyy hate it when video
stores carry about 18 sequels to a movie, BUT NOT THE MOVIE ITSELF!!!
"I'm sorry sir, but we only have The Texas ChainSaw Massacre parts 2
through 28 here. Would you like to check out one of those?" Hmm, no, I
think I'll just start a little Texas Chainsaw Massacre of my own! Wha
ha ha ha ha. BRRRRrRRRRRRrrrrrUUUUMMMMmMMMMMMMmmM.
And and also I really hate it when broken down stores in the country
(or senile old folks in the city during Christmastime) decide to
decorate their windows/lawns with the WORST renderings of comic strip
characters I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. A bloated, twisted, orange
monstrosity, only BARELY recognizable as "Garfield", advertises a
2-for-1 special at Brookshire's, or unbelievably deformed travesties
of human figures, sawed out of wood, painted up, and stuck in
someone's yard, wishing you a "Merry Christmas", which are so horribly
out of proportion that they are fit only to be used as kindling and
only by the equally deformed blac-and-white DOG standing next to them
does one realize that these obscene THINGS are MEANT to represent the
Peanuts characters. Lord, help us. I'd like to find the guy that did
that and use him as MY yard decoration, held in place by a 10-foot
steel pole! It's not just that the characters are bad, it's that
someone has obviously spent SO MUCH time, effort, and materials on
this bizarre "Peanuts Christmas in my yard" idea, and that they have
FAILED so MISERABLY and they are now proudly DISPLAYING their
incompetence to the world, blissfully unaware of the mockery they are
making of themselves and of the world. Oh god...
And there's some smug bearded TV "psychic" I saw live from Las Vegas
one time that I'd really like to hack into bits.
And I realllly hate it when you're walking somewhere, carrying things,
AND YOU DROP ONE OF THEM AND YOU ARE FORCED TO BEND OVER AND PICK IT
UP!!!! In my opinion, every time such a thing happens, SOMEONE SHOULD
DIE!
And, although it's a cliche, I truly do hate most "ordinary people".
Just thought I'd join in the hate, Brother Andrew. If anyone actually
read this far...wow.
--John
and I'm a bear
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From: testa@starbase.neosoft.com (Andrew J. Testa)
YES!
Join me, John. Fan the flames! STOKE YOUR HATE!
You have endured hell, John, and they deserve to suffer. I also hate my
neighbors for the same thing. There's one douche-bag across the street
from me who EVERY YEAR puts up a LIFE SIZE plywood cut-and-paint fucking
NATIVITY SCENE that takes up his WHOLE FUCKING FRONT YARD. Then he spells
out "joy to the world" across the whole thing in wooden letters a foot
tall, and puts mondo FLOODLIGHTS on the whole SORDID display! It's a
goddamn HOMAGE to white trash bad taste! And the zombie plays christmas
carols out the fucking windows the whole damn day he's putting it up. I
wake up with fucking JESUS SONGS coming in the windows and have to hear the
crap ALL DAY LONG! I only have so much SnakeFinger to play to drown it out.
This year, my WIFE called the cops on him for playing his goddamn carols.
But that's as far as she'll let it go. She won't let me glue a prick onto
Mary, or a Hello Kitty face onto the Baby Jesus (he's so PRECIOUS!). I
wanted to put my OWN plywood tacky lawn-rape ornaments out, but she vetoed
it. I wanted a mechanized Santa boning some stacked babe bending over his
sack o' toys. She suggested another one though that we're gonna run
with this year. A Hick Santa Christmas. We're gonna put a barbecue grill
on the lawn with little plastic elves holding paper plates and hamburgers
and a plastic Santa with an Apron on and a spatula in hand. Maybe a
sleigh with plywood Monster Truck wheels. That oughta put a twist in the
knickers of the subdivision's "christmas display judging committee" gestapo.
Andy
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From: nenslo@teleport.com (NENSLO)
Nenslo says...
yeah... well, you know what *I* hate? Do ya?
Then he just stands there looking at you witha tight grin on his
mouth and twitching narrowed eyes.
--
-Copyright NENSLO KDV 1995-
Send One Dollar to box 86582 Portland OR 97286
This is a READER SUPPORTED ministry.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply-To: iceknife@ashram.com (ICEKNIFE)
-=> Quoting Searcy @onramp.net*9 to All <=-Re: What I Hate, part 01
S@> someone has obviously spent SO MUCH time, effort, and materials on
S@> this bizarre "Peanuts Christmas in my yard" idea, and that they have
S@> FAILED so MISERABLY and they are now proudly DISPLAYING their
S@> incompetence to the world, blissfully unaware of the mockery they are
S@> making of themselves and of the world. Oh god...
so how does that make them undesirable? You like really bad movies...
what's wrong with bad handcrafts? YOU A SNOB, BOY? look, lemme 'splain it
for ya for $2.17, in three little words: squirrely is GOOD!
BESIDES.... if you don't like it, HELP the nice people... add PIPES!!!
S@> And there's some smug bearded TV "psychic" I saw live from Las Vegas
S@> one time that I'd really like to hack into bits.
You have been mocked by "BoB" in your pursuit of FALSE FUCKIN' SLACK!!!
REPENT... unless you have yet to PENT... that's where most pinks fail!
You must first successfuly PENT before you can REPENT... that much is
obvious! When you saw this psychic guy, did you IMMEDIATLEY start thinking
things like...
...THIS GUY MAKES MAJOR BANK... HOW DO 'I' GET INTO THIS RACKET?
...HOW MANY WAYS COULD I DESTROY HIS ACT FOR FUN (AND THE GLORY OF "BoB")?
...HOW DO I MAKE HIM PAY ME 'NOT' TO FUCK HIM UP?
...ARE THOSE CARPETS FIREPROOF?
...WE'LL DYE HIM YELLOW W/ PURPLE DOTS AND SHAVE THE LEFT HALF OF THE BEARD
...OOOP, COMING UP ON 7/10THS OF A SECOND! TOO MUCH TIME FOR A GEEK! <CLICK>
...MMMM, KEEBLERS.... EAT THE ELF, HAVE A CUTE CHAT WITH THE COOKIES...
...WHEEEEEE! AND SO ON....
???????????
WELL, DIDJA? Yeah, time control, see? yeah...
WOO WOO! (I just felt like it)
S@> And I realllly hate it when you're walking somewhere, carrying things,
S@> AND YOU DROP ONE OF THEM AND YOU ARE FORCED TO BEND OVER AND PICK IT
S@> UP!!!!
Really? That's too bad, because I LOVE it when that happens to you! The
BEST is when you bend over, pick it up, and something spills out of your
shirt pocket, but you don't notice until yer almost all the way back up,
and the look on your face when you realize you have to bend over AGAIN...
oh, that's just PRICELESS! You might wanna try and have as much fun with
your life as I'M having (with your life).
S@> And, although it's a cliche, I truly do hate most "ordinary people".
Y'know, certain DOKTORGUYZ in this evil little cult hate it when I mention
this, due to poor bobbie management skills on their parts (too wimpy to
be decent bullys, too stupid to be good liars) but the FACT is...
PANK THANGS can be reverted back to antrolopithecus, then brought back up
the ladder to yetnsyny, at an attrition rate of less than 70% (I consider
these exceptable collateral losses). Of the remaining 70%, 50% will become
terminal bobbies... this is regretable, but they remain at least as viable
biomass for fund raising, sacrifices, food, etc.; 35% will revert to
genotype HARD AND FAST AND FOREVER! The final 15% mummble mummble mummble.
HUH? oh. <sigh> You hadda ask... well, the final 15% go through a revolting
PREMATURE SCHIZMATIC PSYCHORUPTURE... in layyeti terms, they schizm BEFORE
they get SLACK and the Blessings of "BoB" (which can only be got by sending
$30.00 to The Church of The SubGenius, P.O.Box 140306, Dallas TX, 75214);
This is where groups like "Yetis For Brother Jed" and "The BOB-COPS" come
from... not to mention scientologists, filksingers, and people who wear a
lot of aluminum foil in public...
HUH? I'm hurting you? I MEANT TO HURT YOU!
ok. I'll stop now. "ALL IN QUIDS"... what the fuck are quids? a squid
without a prairie of it's own to call home? <sniff> how sad...
ICEKNIFE
... SAVE YOUR CHILDREN : SASE & $1 to P.O.BOX 140306 DALLAS TX 75214
Original file name: What I Hate, part 01 (long)
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