Shouldn't the Hierarchical Slackholders be getting unearthly dividends on a REGULAR basis by now?

Or is it all really TOO much fun, "Bob"?

Whatever happened to "TOO MUCH IS ALWAYS BETTER THAN NOT ENOUGH"? Has there been Insider Trading in the Souls Repository in Dobbstown? Come on "Bob", remember us? We used to sell Fropmixture for you back in the OLD days. We've heard the old Dobbshead SnakeOil Routine before; we know ALL about the Bleeding Head of A.P. ... But when will it come, is what we want to know. When shall the fabled Luckplane tilt, and when shall things begin at last to flow to all, all, all of us who, despite the perilous times in which we do live, cleave unto you still?

X-Day is coming closer, Dobbs, you haven't got all day to the end of the world, have you? So hadn't you better get cracking, Mister Dobbs? Don't you think it's time to get your ass out of PARTY mode and back up the crack? Heuuunnnh!!? Or just fuckin' KILL ME, Mister Dobbs!!

Think we haven't done our paperwork, "Bob"? Think we don't know ALL the scams by now? Think we're just like all those dipshit Bobbies out there, Mister Dobbs? You better think again, Pipe-face!! You better remove your Dobbshead from your old Dobbsass and do it while you've still got the chance. We're tired of solutions, our veins are going flat, we want leadership AND the bucket of pils you promised. So what if we never sent you the $20 -- big deal! We're not the Zombies, Mister Dobbs, we're the Liararchy, the ones who hung it all over the electrified razorwire fence for you, DUDE! Tell us not that the check is in the mail, oh exalted master, lest you be smitten by the Stark Fist of Pretentiousness!!

Are you holding out on us, "Bob", or are you the fatuous, incompetent dipshit that you appear to be? Spare us the Con, "Bob". We don't believe in that shit any more. We're adults now, and we DO believe in monsters. Don't try and use GENETICS as a cheap excuse!! And enough of this REVEALED WISDOM crap, Mister Dobbs. That puts you right up there with Joseph Smith and Donald Regan

Don't you think it's time you leveled with us, "Bob"? Or don't you think you CAN level with us, Mister Dobbs? The lone and level sands stretch far away, "Bob", and you seem to be still refueling your camel. Don't you think you can tell us, "Bob"? We ARE in shape for the finals. We have filled out the form. We have endured the vicissitudes of being members of your ridiculous cult. Now, where's the check, Mister Dobbs? Where are the groupies? What happened to the mutant sex kittens?

Are you trying to run the same MIRACLE ELIXIR routine on us that you pull on the Bobbies? Do you consider us ALL pipe fodder, Dude??

Then maybe you better have a good look around you, Mister Dobbs! Reconsider your style while you check the contents of your safe. Who placed the charges just right? Who got you the Kevlar body armor for the Night of Slack Death revival? And who made sure that three different clones from three different places all made it to the county coroner's cold slab? Yeah, Dude, we're talking about what was supposed to happen and what really happened! So now certain documents aren't where they're supposed to be. Certain guaranties of residual percentages are no more. It's a whole new game, Mister Dobbs. This ain't no illiterate hillbilly putsch a la Billy Samuels and his cretinous ilk. Oh no, Mister Dobbs, this is rot from WITHIN your sacred system, this is the AIDS of the Church of the SubGleemious! This is the real shit, or as they say in Nicaragua, LA CACA VERDAD!!!

So think about that, Mister Dobbs. Think about spreading the wealth a little, or losing it ALL!! You may think this is an idle threat, but it isn't, Dude. NOOOO! This in a genuine phenomenon that crept up on you and your shoddy little scribe while you were playing Ninety-Day Messiah and he was brown-nosing the Eastern publishing Conspiracy!

The pure and perfect order of the universe according to Dobbs has been suborned and perverted. We are the only ones left to clean things up! (Take this as a warning.) Time is running short, you have been notified once; there is NO second warning. Repent, quit your graft, jack off! We want to see you coming instead of going. We're tired of that routine about the pyramid money-scam funds being transferred to our accounts every Monday. Oh yes, the old Dobbshead pops out, regular as clockwork, makes the same old tired promises and we get a headache that lasts all year!! Meanwhile you aren't even keeping track of the things that have happened since we helped you fake that assassination. Oh well, easy come easy go, hey, Mister Dobbs? Listen up, you simpering pipefaced fuck, you're gonna fry in the inner regions of the worst fundamentalist-inspired hell, and there won't be any Pils(TM), asshole!

Do you really think that crapulous old Philo can still act as your shield? Forget it, buddy! We turned him around with a color TV, an electric guitar and a sixpack of NP years ago! And not only does he have all the access codes to the banks in Zurich, Kyoto AND Glen Rose, but he can still write checks on them!!!

Better look again, Mister Dobbs, you've been Conned as badly as those Pinks and Bobbies that you've been conning for all these years. While the sycophantic faction of the Church has been indulging in self-congratulatory, masturbatory "stage productions", the hardcorps few that made you what you are have been doing the REAL work of the Church. We've got the negatives and the edited masters. XEROXES? Who the fuck cares about grainy second and third generation bulldada???

We're calling the shots now, "BOB", it's our script, better call your lapdogs to heel and back off, sucker! This ain't no jiveass realtime video show, this if for REEL and we'll reel you in with that big, stainless steel hook jammed right up your pipe! And having that pathetic little hyperthyroid, Stang, write a letter refuting all this as some kind of JOKE will do you no good whatsoever, Mister Dobbs. He can't write a coherent sentence without that word processor you had grafted onto his nervous system. And his discs aren't the only thing about him that's floppy!!!

It's really too bad that you couldn't appreciate where the real talent lay, and now you're stuck with a New York jockpreacher and a burned out po'bucker hack. You coulda had religion, Mister Dobbs, but all you got was a cheap joke and a yawping lipfart. Ah, well, we should have known better than to trust any asshole born before World War Two. Too bad you've been playing the game all these years with only half a dick... er, deck that is, SIR! And don't think that punched-out old slut Connie will help you at all; all she wants is a stiff bank account and personal organ lessons. Sterno has been giving her the best of all possible worlds for years, and that ain't Arcturan Poontang we're talking about, Bub!!

You have been informed, dipshit, and we hope you change your ways! Now, excuse us as we have to finish dissecting the Janor Device. Once we get the SpoutChip out and duplicate it, you won't even have that psychobabbling neuroturd to front for you anymore. We got him with a simple promise of work in Las Vegas -- so much for the integrity of the Hierarchy, Mister Dobbs. And "Bob", spare us that cheap song and dance about the Bleeding Head of A.P., he's already got a lawsuit ready to slam your ass in bankruptcy court! So much for Golfer Power, hey, Dude?

Hoping to hear from you SOON, Mister Dobbs.

Yours in the faith of the Church,

the nine who know!!!

EDITORS NOTE: WE'RE LAUGHING AT YOU, BOY.

This Is The Kind of Shit We Have To Put Up With Department