You Decide (#2)

From: jlyons@haven.ios.com (John)

Okay, good. We've got some good responses, everyone's got their
thinking caps on. Now class, let's really think about the essence of
Slack(tm) and being a Subgenius, and apply our insight again to another
true situation. Only in this fashion can we become "Bob" with One.

--==--

My lovely wife and I were going to visit the Botanical Gardens in
downtown D.C one day. We were strolling along Pennsylvania Avenue, when
my lizard brain alerted me to something out of the corner of my eye.
(The lizard is funny like that; it sees things we don't). Anyway, Penn.
Ave. is a really wide street with lots of traffic, and there was a fair
amount of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalks, too.

What ol' lizard brain saw was that a figure on the other side of
the street had suddenly separated itself from the teeming throng, and was
proceeding on a *precise* intercept course with me. When my outer
cerebellum finaly twigged to the fact, I resolved the figure to be this
really ragged, filthy troll-like person, very alarming to look at. Even
more alarming was the aforementioned intercept course this toad was
making toward me. He just walked right across Pa. Ave, right in front of
cars and everything screeeeech hoooooonk, his hateful glare never leaving
me. (By now the lizard was going nuts). Before I could choose an action
other than slack-jawed wonder, he had confronted me and, spittle flying,
launched into a truly spirited Rant, which went something like this:

YOU THINK YOU'RE BIG AND BAD HUH FOLLOWING ME AROUND LIKE THIS
YOU FUCKING BIG BAD FUCKER!!! WELL I GOT SOME FUCKING NEWS FOR YOU YOU
FUCKING SHIT IT'S NOT GONNA WORK!!! YOU THINK YOU'RE SO FUCKING BIG AND
SO FUCKING BAD FOLLOWING PEOPLE AROUND LIKE THAT WELL FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING
SHIT I'M NOT GONNA FUCKING TAKE IT

And so on.

We turned around and walked away. To this day, I can't help
thinking that walking away was an extremely PINK thing to do...I hang my
head in shame. Would that I could do it over again!

See, I really think I should have *sold* him something.

So, what do you think? What would "Bob" have done?

What would Stang have done?

What would <shudder> NENSLO have done?

You decide.

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

From: iceknife@ashram.com (ICEKNIFE)

what would JLYONS have done if he hadn't been paralyzed by FEAR???

you have this pattern in you head that tells you it's OK, and NATURAL, for
them to scare you...

this a a learned behavior poured into your head by Wally Cleaver and the
pubic skool cystem

they not only haven't that right, they've skewed your sense of natural order,
and so you retreat when the attack is sounded, and get yer balls chewed by
little yappy-dogs...

When a nut screams at you, assume it's their normal mode of communication...

and do what i do... tell the truth... explain how you were HELPING them, and
why they now owe you even MORE, for impuneing yer dignity (yeah, man, dig
those nitys) AND for all the "help'...

like so:

ASSWIPETREEFROGRECTUMLASAGNA! BOB TOLD ME TO HELP YOU, TO SAVE YOU, TO KEEP
"THEM" FROM GETTING TO YOU. BOB GAVE ME A MESSAGE FOR YOU, BUT YER RILLY
PISSING ME FUCKING OFF, AND NOW I THINK I'LL JUST LEAVE YOU OUT HERE ALL
ALONE BECAUSE YER AN UNGRATEFUL RAT BASTARD WHO DOESN'T DESERVE BOB'S
ATTENTION OR MINE... SUFFER WITHOUT KNOWING THE TRUTH, SAVAGE GUTTER-CRUTZLE!

as you turn to walk away, be sure to A)FUME AND MUTTER LOUDLY and B) do that
little doggie "last kick to cover the shit" flip/kick thing with one leg,
without turning back, as though you were coveing a turd.

Don't waste time trying to sell things to people who don't have anything you
want (on t'udder hand, I actually have USES for Trolls, so you may as well...
they're more closely related to us than we want to admit).

and, uh, babycakes...

NOW YOU OWE ME MUNY/FOODRAKA/BUCKETS OF HYPERMETAMYSTIDREK...

THIS SHIT AIN'T FREE, YA KNOW!

ICEKNIFE

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

From: mtownsend@interramp.com (Michael Townsend)

>:
>: So, what do you think? What would "Bob" have done?

Shake his hand, and give him $100 for a cup of coffee.

>: What would Stang have done?

Engage him in a long discussion about The Conspiracy, Paranoia, and how
tough it is to make a buck these days...then when a cop walks by, promptly
have the nut arrested.

>: What would <shudder> NENSLO have done?

Run away.

--
>>>Dad's Frapulous Tape Torture<<<
**Send a tape. Get a tape. It's that sleazy!**
Mail to: Dad's New Slacks - P.O. Box 4272 - Portland, Maine 04101-4272
::::or kill me for more email:::::

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

From: Biggles <biggles1@delphi.com>

Michael Townsend <mtownsend@interramp.com> writes:

>>: What would Stang have done?
>
>Engage him in a long discussion about The Conspiracy, Paranoia, and how
>tough it is to make a buck these days...then when a cop walks by, promptly
>have the nut arrested.
>

I think Stang would be completely bewildered. Why? Why not? Why assume he'd
do
something efficient? Maybe he'd just run away, or be at a lost for words.

>>: What would <shudder> NENSLO have done?
>
>Run away.
>

No, I don't think NENSLO would have run away. He would have yelled right back,
trying to sound bitter and intelligent, cutting the schitzoid down and generally
acting demeaning and so-not-hip-its-hip. Y'kkow, what he always does.

>>: So, what do you think? What would "Bob" have done?
>
>Shake his hand, and give him $100 for a cup of coffee.
>

"Bob" would not have done anything, as he's dead.

-- Pope-King Biggles I
"Do what you want, or don't"

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

From: jlyons@haven.ios.com (John)

Since he has once again FAILED TO DIE, Ivan Stang wrote:

: I was on a Tokyo street looking for AA batteries when a Japanese "Homeless
: Person" -- street schizo -- approached me and started bellowing at me in
: Japanese. This guy had emerged from a dumpster, with a giant head of hair,
: a beard, and WEIRD TAR-LIKE SPOTS on his HANDS, and was trying to tell me,
: as a gaijin, something important. I could tell by the disgusted looks from
: the Japanese passersby that this guy was CRAZY. So I grabbed his
: tar-covered hand, pumped it up and down, and shouted REAL LOUD in my
: thickest Texan, "HEYLL YEAH, MAN, I'M WITH YOU ALL THE WAY!!! I SAY WE BOMB
: THE SHIT OUT OF ALL THE NORMALS AND YOU, TOO!!! WE'RE ALL IN IT TOGETHER,
: YOU AND ME! THESE PEOPLE AROUND US ARE ALL PINKS!! WE'RE EMBARRASSING THEM!
: I'M THE ONLY ONE ON THIS WHOLE STREET WHO UNDERSTANDS, EVEN IF I DON'T
: UNDERSTAND A WORD YOU'RE SAYING AND YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ME!!! It'S A
: BEAUTIFUL THANG, DUDE!!" -- and so on... that was apparently what he
: wanted; he smiled and wandered off.

Excellent. I think the key in these situations (with the
psychotics, not the jocks) is to TOUCH them. It's truly the last thing
they'd expect. Abuse? They've heard it. But actual human contact? The toad
that I met probably hadn't been touched in YEARS. One of those cheezy joy
buzzer probably wouldn't make matters any worse.

I have to admit, though, I have this outstanding visual of
TarlaStar and her Sisters of the Secret Clench licking and slobbering all
over the hapless yutz as he sinks to the ground, synapses hopelessly
shorted out. Mmmm! Squid on the hoof!

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

From: MONTYKINS@news.delphi.com (MONTYKINS@DELPHI.COM)

jlyons@haven.ios.com (John) writes:

>Since he has once again FAILED TO DIE, Ivan Stang wrote:

That lazy weasel! These elusive cult leaders today - they don't TRY! Why,
in MY day, the elusive cult leaders were alla time falling off buildings,
getting their car keys stolen, accidentally blowing up the neighborhood
with their secret underground laboratories, and what have you. Sheesh!

C'mon, Ivan, don't let "Bob" do ALL the dying!

-Monty
--
Okay, so it's not a Hallmark Get-Well card, so what?

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

From: ncm5662@is2.nyu.edu (Nicole C. Michaud)

Gosh. That's damn impressive, Rev. Stang, doing the old "threat display"
thing without actually having to DO anything. I wish I'd have thought of
that years ago.

You see, when I was in school, and used to get beat up a lot, mostly I
would just take it, because I was usually vastly outnumbered. This was
because of what usually happened when they tried to get me one-on-one.

I seem to have this sort of "berserk" mode that I go into when
threatened. Just as an example, one time, while in 3rd grade, I nearly
got shoved down some stairs by this kid in front of me in the line I was
supposed to be in. When he tried it one too many times, something
SNAPPED, and I actually forgot where I was, what I was doing, or
anything, and BIT HIS ARM. Now, the kid was wearing a heavy winter coat,
so I didn't think it would do much good. But when he not only stopped
pushing me, but started crying, I was just confused. Later, his older
sister came to me, yelling that I'd practically taken a chunk out of his
arm. Blood and everything, and I hadn't even intended to do it.

Weird, huh?

This wasn't the only time that something similar happened. I suppose I
could have avoided a lot of trouble by way of making them think I was
nuts or dangerous, but I just HAD NO CONTROL.

-----Rev. "ass kickin" Nickie

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

From: pkitty@netcom.com (Purple Kitty)
Subject: Dealing with Idiots (was You Decide #2)

Ivan Stang (i.stang@metronet.com) wrote:

>I caught on to how this works back in the early 70s, when rednecks still
>didn't have long hair and would gang up on little hippies like me. I had
>been chased many times and beaten once, and I'd had enough. One night I got
>into an elevator with 5 "Football Jocks" -- actual U.T. football team
>players -- who started pushing me around and saying, "When ya gone start
>wearin' a bra, girlie" and the usual. But I was so fed up, and so TORMENTED
>by LIFE that I HONESTLY DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT, that I laid into them with my
>first true rant, something along the lines of, "GO AHEAD AND BEAT ME UP YOU
>FUCKING DUMB JOCKS!!! YOU ARE LIKE APES TO ME!!! YOU'RE STUPID FUCKING
>GORILLAS!! THE ONLY THING YOU CAN UNDERSTAND IS YOUR OWN STUPID FUCKING
>MACHO BULLSHIT!! I'VE HAD IT WITH YOU GOD DAMN NEANDERTHAL ASSHOLES! GO
>AHEAD AND KICK MY ASS BUT UNLESS YOU KILL ME I'LL ALWAYS BE FIVE TIMES MORE
>INTELLIGENT THAN YOU!"

>And they stared, and the elevator doors opened, and they all muttered,
>"Get... out... of... here... away...from... us!" And I walked out and the
>doors shut. And I thought, "THAT'S THE TICKET!!! The criminal mind is
>superstitious... it fears that which it cannot understand. They whup the
>wimp, but they FEAR the CRAZY MAN." And that has worked out well for me SO
>FAR.

Exactly! One belief that I've always held (since LOOOONG before reading
the BotS) was that "we were given the power to make people JUMP", and that
that that power could truly WORK.

A small two-part story to illustrate: Tuesday night my friends and I went
went to "The Underground" (say it with multiple cheezy echoes for proper effe
effect). This place is SUPPOSED to be alternative, underground music, and
so we went there with high hopes. We weren't decked out that weird, but
Ben (a not-yet-saved SubGenius, but true Yeti nontheless) was wearing a
dog collar and I was wearing pigtails (two ponytails, on each side of my
head). Bear in mind that I am a guy; this always get a couple'a looks.
Welp, the music was so-so (VERY little that we don't already hear on the
radio ALL THE TIME), and everyone was dancing like The Stepford Pinks;
swing your arms back and forth slightly while taking a step forward, then
back (wowee...does it get any better than this?).

So I jumped up on the stage and began gyrating WILDLY. Spinning
around, out of control, frothing at the mouth, then changing tactics and
doing serious dance moves...that were about 5 years out of date (I think
my combination of the "funky chicken", "running man", and "cabbage patch"
went over best). During the first song, Ben was laughing hard enough to
pee his pants (THAT was a bigger egoboost than anything else), then he
and his SO joined me on stage and we all began AntiDancing for the crowd.
When the music died down, the ENTIRE CLUB erupted into applause, and when
it started back up, people were dancing like US! It...um...actually looked
looked pretty fucking stupid. :-) Since we were now 'trendy', we left the
dance floor and headed upstairs. People followed us. People were mobbing
us, telling us that they'd had more fun tonight than in the entire history
history of their clubbing lives..."How do you DO it, man?" That night was
probably the best egostroke I've had all year...

(Part Two of How To Dominate Pinks) The next night, I was at work (a
restaurant--important note: managers wear different colored shirts than
the rest of us), but the only thing running through my mind was, "For that
entire night, WE were everyone's Short Duration Personal Saviors. And,
for a Pink, that means that we were GODS to them....GODS..." That thought
was running through my mind, and when I was joking around about something
our manager didn't like (don't rightly recall what right now), she told
me to shut up. I turned around, looked her in the eye, and said firmly,
"No. You're trying to use your managerial status to tell me what I can
and can't say, and it doesn't work that way. You think that that shirt
makes you better than me? You are a manager, I am a *GOD*! That makes me
YOUR superior and I will speak to you any damn well way I please!" She
shut the hell up and has kissed my ass ever since.

By "Bob", if they could only see how pathetic they are...

Almost-Reverend (oh "Bob", when will the package come?) Pee Kitty

Meow!

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

From: dynasor@infi.net (Dennis McClain-Furmanski)

On Thu. Apr 20, 1995, pkitty@netcom.com told All:

> It...um...actually looked looked pretty fucking stupid. :-) Since we
> were now 'trendy', we left the dance floor and headed upstairs.
> People followed us. People were mobbing us, telling us that they'd
> had more fun tonight than in the entire history history of their
> clubbing lives..."How do you DO it, man?" That night was probably the
> best egostroke I've had all year...

You may have missed a Dobbs-provided opportunity to witness for the faith
and unleash the Yeti-essence of any latents in the crowd. I've taken to
carrying around pamphlets I've put together out of various pages of the
books, complete with the Holy $1 Coupons. When asked similar questions, I
just hand them one and say "This is how..." I've tried witnessing out
loud, but I usually start to howl and scare them.

* 2qwk! 1.26b3 * Acid absorbs 47 times its weight in excess Reality.

--
dynasor@infi.net The Doctor is on.

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

From: bmyers@ionet.net (RogueHawk)

i.stang@metronet.com (Ivan Stang) wrote:

>I've read the other responses and they're ALL WRONG. The very thing you
>describe has happened to me several times in the past, and I always handle
>it the same way -- HOLLER INSANELY RIGHT BACK AT THEM. It's like when some
>cruising rednecks start insulting you loudly and drunkenly. If you don't
>come back at them in the same loud, cussword-laden language, they WILL stop
>and they WILL beat you up if they can catch you. If you show some spunk,
>they'll usually decide you're either "okay," crazy or otherwise not worth
>messing with.

Rev. Stanky,
You reminded me of a time back in the late '70's when I had been
visiting a friend up at Berkeley for the weekend with my then,
two-year old son. I had to get back to Monterey on the Greyhound, but
I had to get from Berkeley to the downtown S.F bus station first.

I had no idea where to get off the bus in S.F. and ended up getting
out on the edge of the Tenderloin with my son, a backpack, a small
suitcase, and a five mile walk ahead of me. I was terrified.

We walked as fast as we could, and I would carry Eric when he got
tired, but at one point I could see a number of rather unsavory
gentlemen standing on the sidewalk ahead of me. I kept walking as
fast as Eric could go, and when one stepped out to stop me and talk to
me, I turned to him and GROWLED and SNARLED as loudly and crazily as I
could. He was so taken aback, that they all stopped talking for a
second or two and I was able to get past them before they realized
what I had done. The adrenaline rush almost made me sick about two
blocks later, but it got me past the rough spot. When in Rome...
--
Reverend Mutha Tarla, Little Sisters of the Perpetually Juicy,
A Proud Jism Schism of the Church of the SubGenius, Worshipping
"Connie" Dobbs and Juicy Retardo since 1986
http://www.ionet.net/~bmyers/homepage.html

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