From: Popess Lilith von Fraumench <lilith@ZubJenius.com>
Newsgroups: alt.slack
Date: Tue, Jul 11, 2000 11:49 PM
Message-ID: <110720002249520565%lilith@ZubJenius.com>
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In a ha-ha way, Judas and I had adopted this phrase,
"Dobbs unwilling,"
to speak of things that might happen if the Xists didn't
show up.
"We'll pack a squid full of frappie next week,
Dobbs unwilling."
"Dobbs unwilling," MY ASS. Grumble grumble. Grrrrrr!
OK, so I didn't get "laid." That's the real,
but ONLY, disappointment
though. Hell, we all know that, as long as we get Ruptured
by December
31, 2000, we'll be OK, so how could I be disappointed?
After that,
though, there better be a good explanation, and this
time I sure as
hell ain't gonna EXPLAIN.
Well.
Well, to be honest, I don't remember anywhere in Prescriptures
that
says the Xists and the Pleasure Saucers are one in the
same. Perhaps
we've been ASSUMING a bit to help fill in the gaps "Bob"
left in his
memos. Perhaps the Xists ARE HERE ALREADY, negotiating
behind the
scenes, and we were WRONG to believe that we'd get Ruptured
on July 5
of ANY year.
Perhaps we live in the Time of the Deal. Perhaps our
REAL concern is to
get Ruptured before OMICRON EPISILON, in 2178! Perhaps
we should just
be grateful that we never SAW an Xist up close, even
if it assumes a
pleasing form first.
BUT! Those same Prescriptures make plain that the RUPTURE
SHALL HAPPEN!
And it could happen at ANY MOMENT! So FUCK IT, in the
light of all
this, since all I really want is some snugglin', and
maybe a
reach-around now and then, and I got plenty of THAT,
JUST BECAUSE I'M
LIL, hail "Connie"!
I *did* suck Sister Decadence's COCK on stage, in a
CONTEST, with JESUS
CHRIST as one of the competitors, in front of RUNNING
VIDEOCAMERAS, and
I CAME IN SECOND. (First prize goes to the lovely Evangela,
whose
boobies tipped the scales in her favor, hail "Connie"
again!) What can
I say, I saw that purty little cock sticking out from
under her Wonder
Woman skirt, and I couldn't resist. She liked my gentle
touch. It was a
happy moment for all.
I also had the pleasure of beating Nickie Deathchick's
ass, after it
was properly warmed up by Dr. Legume, Ed Strange, St.
Andreux, and
Susie the Floozie. Have you seen those grandma-face-on-a-stick
novelties that Starbucks Coffee was handing out? (Really.)
I used one
of THOSE on Nickie. Sadly, the stick broke on the fourth
stroke, so I
had to peel off my glove and finish her off by hand.
And in case there
was ANY question, I could TELL she liked it. However,
this event PROVED
that she is in fact SUPERIOR, for who else would've
let a bunch of mean
ol' folks whomp on her ass so mercilessly, and walk
away, proudly
GLOWING like that? Ah, the kind of story that warms
hearts and hands
alike....
I looked fabulous during the fetish ball, but from all
reviews my peak
was the next night, when I put on my black bra, purple
corset, and
black lamé harem pants made by Friday Dynamite
of Seattle. With my
all-purpose preaching robes and without, I struck a
beautiful scene
that had all sexes raving.
But never mind the fashion review, I ranted the FUCK
out of the
audience, WITHOUT NOTES, in what many called my best
ranting to date.
But then, this was one of the best all-in-all stages
I've run, because
ALL the Doktors were incredible, ALL the bands rocked,
and the sound
was PERFECT, with the audience mixed in just enough
to give it that
live ambience, and with a SCHEDULE strapped onto my
head with the
reddest damn straps you'll ever see. (Fortunately, even
as I came down
with Flooze Throat, I managed to save my voice enough
to DO TH' JOB,
praise "Bob"!)
Hellpope Huey gave his wonderful "BOOM" rant
to much accolade one
night, then--with technical problems on his keyboard--gave
his finest
keyboard concert yet. A new ranter, Cardinal Sin, and
his lovely wife
Sister So What, presented new, welcome, and rather RIGHTEOUS
voices to
the fold, and I hope to hear them both next year. Babushka,
the
keyboardist for Little Fyodor, performed a solo bit
which got the
audience REALLY hot and bothered, featuring extra-saucy
versions of old
pop songs from the 20s as only a pinched-faced granny
from the Old
Country could sing it. (And she DOES have a cute body
under those
floral-print dresses and support stockings! As she put
it, lots of
gentlemen were being awfully friendly to her... and
even some of the
ladies!)
Speaking of Little Fyodor, their cult of repression
unleashed has
claimed another pile of souls with an excellent and
successful concert
of wonderful hits. JEHOVA HATES PHRED RETURNED and blew
away a whole
new generation of minds who had not been blessed with
the eternally
WRONG "Herve Villachaise", and played extemporaneous
songs, auctioned
one at a time to the highest bidder who provided the
subject matter,
and becoming yet more INSTANT CLASSICS. Number Six,
Mykal D'Archangel's
band, played after the fetish ball and gave much boogie
to the evening,
as did Carter LeBlanc's band Bliss America with their
kick-ass,
smart-ass version of "Sympathy For The Devil".
And most importantly, Einstein's Secret Orchestra played
their Best
Show Ever, with perfect sound and a nice, meaty bass
line from their
new bass player, Nikki Bartel. (I'm her #1 groupie,
so never mind
me....) They cranked out old classics and new songs
alike and had the
audience dancing like crazy. And then they provided
Stang with his
accustomed soundtrack while he whipped out what I think
was one of his
best rants to date. AH YES!
And this was the year that the CUTE REDHEADS took over
in record
numbers as well as in overall delight, judging from
many reactions.
Cutest Redhead this year has to go to Rev. Superkate,
who came in
second (again to Evangela!) in the Best Fake Orgasm
contest and who
charmed all around her with effervescent mutant cheer;
with very hot
competition from Rabbi Jacklyn Hyde, whose return was
deeply welcomed
by all; and Rev. Sikki Nixx, whose quiet presence hid
thoughts of
Dobbsian glory yet to be witnessed; and Mary Magdalen's
older sister,
Rev. Sleezbird, veteran of the '98 Connieite Terror
Nite and certified
darling; and Susie The Floozie, babealicious as usual
and absolutely
glistening with joy the whole time; and Evangela, reigning
Intergender
Wrasslin' Champeen; and a dozen or so more whose names
I DIDN'T catch.
Legume was making cracks: "Hey, Lil, you see that
dozen cute redheads
that came in last night?"
This was also the year that blood wrestling reached
its apex and its
nadir, all in one shot, as Pastor Craig--one of the
great heros of
blood wrestling--broke his collarbone when he was flipped
by Pope Phred
of Jehova Hates Phred. Phred had issued a challenge
for any of them
shameless nekkid people to fight him fully clothed and
"dignified".
After a couple minutes of berating the naked wrestlers,
Craig rose to
the challenge and fought well, until that fateful flip
left him laying
immobile on the mat. His valor was so great Phred wound
up writing two
songs about Pastor Craig, who returned from the hospital
in time to
hear them performed while doped up on high-grade painkillers.
With sadness I report that Friday Jones was absent,
having been sent by
her immediate Conspiracy wallet-masters to Stockholm
on "company
business". But as there's always some sort of silver
lining, even if it
is silver oxide precipitate, know that Friday left well-armed
with two
Swedish SubGenius phrases courtesy Rev. Bursar Judas
Iscariot of SSUCC:
"SubGenit måste slocknar!"
--Literally, "The SubGenius must slack!"
"Knulla dem om de kan inte skämtas med!"
--Literally, "Fuck them if they cannot be joked
with!"
I can only imagine how saturated Stockholm must be now
with the visage
of the Dobbshead,complete with Swedish slogans and contact
addresses. I
can smell the pstench from here.
As far as I am concerned, the COOL SHIT happened AFTER
most everyone
else had left. Although, to be honest, it was clear
that many who left
early on Sunday may as well have. See, Saturday night
was my busiest,
as the stage didn't shut down until 3 AM. So I staggered
to the front
house to recharge my walkie-talkie, started back towards
my tent, saw a
light in the trailer... and, next thing I know, I'm
curled up on a cot
in the trailer, freezing my ass off, and enduring the
murderous cries
of those who were expecting a Sunday Rupture--or, more
specifically,
one with Stang in attendance. They woke Rocknar up too,
as he had
apparently staggered into the trailer at some point
as well. He
dispatched the crowd, but not before I heard a voice
which SOUNDED like
Friday Jones, rallying the troops as if to STORM the
trailer. At first
I thought she might've snuck back from Stockholm in
time to raid
Brushwood and oust the Hierarchy at last, then believed
it was aural
hallucination, before Jesus admitted to hearing a similar
voice too. As
far as we know Friday was someone's loa that morning.
But what really sucked was having a 15-year-old bang
his head on the
trailer door and yell, "Don't make me give myself
a concussion!"
At the wedding of Boddhisattva Troutwaxer to his beloved
Sri Devil
Beledi-Ma, later that morning, I preached that the simulated
Rupture
has hopefully taught many people an important lesson:
DON'T DEPEND ON
US. You can't even depend on "Bob", goddamn
it, you can only depend
upon YOURSELF in the end, and I don't expect a lot of
people to
understand that until they GET a concussion. (By the
way, the bride and
groom AND the preacher, me, were ALL dressed beautifully,
Troutwaxer in
his Chinese pajamas, Beledi in her velvet and corset,
and me in a
cream-colored jumpsuit with sheer-sleeved jacket courtesy
of Jewyl of
Tampa. And the collars they exchanged in lieu of rings
were quite
lovely too.)
I also got to play hours of black metal on Or Kill Me
Radio. The
laughter of the newly damned, souls stripped by the
sinister beat, was
deeply gratifying. Actually, I think it was the smart-ass
comments that
got them laughing. That, and some of the segues I pulled
off.
I ALSO GOT TO MEET SUBGENIUS SPICE. She turned out to
be every bit as
cool as I thought she'd be, and then some. Of course,
the fact that she
outed herself as sister to The Duke of Uke only proves
her innate
coolness. The only shame is that I didn't get as much
time to hang out
with her as I liked. Then again, that's true for most
everyone. Ah
well, Time Control shall be mine anyhow, or FUCK IT.
I did notice a major difference between XXX-Day and
other "drills" in
the past. Namely, there were those who were attending
strictly for the
Official Events, and then there were those who were
there for July 5, 7
AM, and that's the FINAL DAMN WORD. As a result, some
were making
short-term plans, while others were thinking long-term.
And in the end,
it was the hardcore SubGenii that I partied with, because
I was
sticking it out too, goddamn it! And so, praise Patrick
"Slackware"
Volkerding and his lovely companions Andrea and Superkate;
praise Lust
In Space's Slippy and Astro-Babe; praise Jacques Treatment
and Critter;
praise Or Kill Me Radio; praise Doktor Ymmot Zepol and
his
shroom-o-vision; praise Evangela; praise my dear distant
cousin Rev.
Craig Mitchell; praise Princess Wei R. Doe and Rev.
Ivan Stang; praise
Shabe & Shagblaster; and praise the others whose
names I can't
remember, HUNGH, we were the ones, the TRUE TO SCRIPTURE
SHITHEADS who
partied all night and were ready to GET OFF on God Come
Wednesday, as
prophesized by Prescripture, and NOT SUNDAY, when any
day-living
SubGenius should be ASLEEP.
After this year, I've kinda come to the conclusion that
maybe we're
getting it wrong, and all SubGenii should be SLEEPING
when the Rupture
comes, after all. Make a note.
So when 7 AM rolled around at long last, and the Xists
still didn't
show up, what else could I do but unveil the NEW XXXX-DAY
SALUTE, based
on the old XXX-Day Salute, and is actually easier to
DESCRIBE:
Cross wrists, palms facing you....
Hook thumbs....
And cross your index and middle fingers.
And so my XXX-Day finally came to a close. I had slack,
and that's all
that matters in the end. Praise "Bob", hail
"Connie", and see you next
year!
The Prophet Lilith
--
=====Her Ladyship Rev Dkr St Popess Lilith von Fraumench,
Esquire=====
===Prophet--Devivor--Corrective Phrenologist--XXX-Day
Stage Manager===
==http://ssucc.ragnarokr.com===http://foolspress.com===(887)381-9354==
==Inside the heart of every genius lurks a tard yearning
to be free.==
Original file name: Lil's XXX-Day Report - converted on Wednesday, 19 July 2000, 10:17
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