OFFICIAL SEATTLE DEVIVAL REPORT #1

[This is a rough draft. If you want to use this, contact me and I'll send you an updated copy.]

My tissues are still knitting, and the charred smell still haunts my memory, but I do believe I've reached a point where I can sit down and write about THE BEST GODDAMN DEVIVAL I EVER HAD THE PRIVELEGE TO LOSE MONEY ON.

I guess the first thing I should say is, Seattle SubGenii *really* don't get the whole pumpkin full of squirrels thing. Worse yet, if you use the word "date" around some of these poor schmucks, they think of a piece of FRUIT, not a companion for a night's fun and frolic. Yes, there were people who brought a "pumpkin"--often made of PLASTIC, and mostly too small to fit even one DICK into, let alone an adult squirrel --and a single, dried up date, expecting to get in for free. Once again I am reminded why we call this "SubGenius" in the first place.

BUT WE GOT A REAL PUMPKIN. That's what matters. And even WITHOUT a squirrel, the carefully-rendered Dobbshead on its front makes it the darlin' of the devival right there. Of course, it looks like someone gripped it a BIT TIGHT in the back, but I understand. PRAISE REV. NOONIE, PUMPKIN ARTIST EXTRAORDINARE!

And yes, turnout was rather low. Despite all the things we had going for us--perfect weather, a Friday night showing, Memorial Day, etc.--one freak event was enough to turn I-5 into a mess for hours, hindering all but the most determined devival-goer. There really was a guy who went nuts and started killing people! And he really DID kill at least two women with his BARE HANDS before barricading himself in a gun collector's house and taking out three cops before being sniped. Fucking Bobbies... we TOLD them to wait until the Xists show up, but they NEVER LISTEN.

The theatre, On The Boards, was perhaps the nicest place a devival has ever been held. The stage looked incredible with their huge black curtains, in front of which we hung 15-foot safety orange banners, "Triumph Of The Will" style, with words like "CASH" and "FEAR" appliqued. And at the very back of the stage, carefully lit, was the Shroud of Dobbstown. The pulpit was solid and looked pretty handsome without an altar cloth... but we gave it one anyhow, so it'd be at least as clothed as any of our ranters. The result was a gorgeous stage which induced wallets to open and put the audience in the right frame of mind for the Dobbsword.

Speaking of the audience, we were dealing with a phenomenon I haven't seen since the old sci-fi convention "devivals" back in Dallas. To wit, if you give someone a comfy seat to sit in, they'll SIT AND WATCH. This might not seem to be a problem unless you're used to the interaction of a boisterous crowd. It means we had to really WORK the audience. The pulpit actually GOT IN THE WAY, I felt, just because it was tempting to clutch it like a tarbaby instead of working the stage and the audience alike. With all that extra space we had to really PUMP to get any reaction from the audience!

So we SCREAMED DEFIANCE INTO THE INKY NIGHT--and were rewarded with the sweetest ranting I've ever heard!

It started with a rather chaotic invocation of the various SubGenius deities, who then did what you'd expect SubGenius deities to do, e.g. get into trouble with each other. Then I came onstage and got the audience praising "Bob" and hailing "Connie" like a bunch of banshees. Then I presented my opening rant.

[From my notes....]

Friends, I was NOT expecting to be here tonight. No, I was expecting to be on my own customized escape vessel, playing chicken with the human race, and having encounters with friendly... eh... FRIENDLY... alien races.

Instead I got to see our special guest tonight, the Sacred Scribe of our Church, Rev. Ivan Stang, stripped nekkid, covered with honey and feathers, and thrown into a shit-and-leach filled pond. And in the light of that, you might be wondering why we bother. What's the point in keeping the Church going after 1998?

WHAT'S THE POINT? I'LL TELL YOU THE GODDAMN POINT, SLACKREN!

We've got three problems to deal with, friends. One, the Xists, our alien benefactors and business partners, haven't shown up yet.

Two, the Yacatisma, an alien tribe of violent city-sized insectoid robots who get a cheap high off of pain and destruction, IS COMING THIS WAY SOON. EARTH MUST GET OFF--BEFORE THE YACATISMA ARE TURNED ON!!!

Three, there's still a Conspiracy of Dumbasses unwittingly in control of this planet, and our best attempts to infiltrate it and cripple it have only made the Conspiracy more hip.

Could we possibly leave this planet when the Conspiracy still has its claws buried in the soft assflesh of our world?

YOU BET YOUR GODDAMN ASS WE CAN. If the Pinks want to turn this planet into their own private Hell, I say *let 'em*! BUT ON OUR TERMS!!!

[end notes]

I then introduced Stang to the audience, who proceeded to massage the audience like the seasoned debeaker he is. He reasoned that, if "Bob" makes a million dollars every time he screws up, then Dobbs had BILLIONS riding on X-Day not happening! (I thought I had come up with this idea back in 1990, but it's clear now that I was merely retrocausally remembering this devival.) He also explained how the Trenchcoat Mafia got mixed up with the Church and revealed the Y0K Bug, and made sure Seattle was ready to BUILD OR STEAL ITS OWN SHIP.

(As a side note: If someone gets me my own Roton-class spaceship, such as those at www.rotaryrocket.com, I will THANK YOU.)

Rev. Crawford Smith was up next, and in his best Mafia drag he led the congregation in a cathartic exploration of how we're all dumbasses when you think about it. With his "What A Dumbass!" card to cue the audience, Crawford admitted to:

[quoted verbatim from his notes]

* Playing chicken with a cop car (he turned first) * Fucking a beehive
* Drinking half a bottle of Everclear and participating in a Baptist Church Youth Group Road Rally
* Humping a Haitian Hemophiliac Heroin-addict Hooker * Wearing a "No Fat Chicks" t-shirt to Lilith Fair

[end quote]

You get the picture. WHAT A DUMBASS!!!

Meanwhile Pope Meyer was ready to fucking BURST backstage, and realizing the disaster we might have on our hands, unleashed him right after Crawford. His last words before grabbing the microphone was, "Gimme that mic, I'm gonna tear 'em apart." AND TEAR HE DID! He pointed out that SubGenius is a truly hard sell here in Seattle because it's uncool to be enthusiastic. But FUCK COOL, Pope Meyer was enthusiasm in his most potent and infective! Half the people helping out Pope Meyer-- people who were *kinda* into the Church--were so utterly blown away that one of them started working on her first rant that very night!!! The crowd got onto its feet in praise as Meyer whipped through the Rules Of The Church and slammed home the revelation that he IS The Conspiracy. And when Meyer eventually fell to the stage, begging "Bob" to cleanse him, I helped to pick him up... and my heartrate DOUBLED the moment I touched him! WHEW!!! Fucking AMAZING!

And then I dared follow up Pope Meyer! There was no way I was going to blow him out of the water. Nonetheless I began to pour my heart out to the audience, telling them how I let self-hate fuck up every chance I've had at pure joy and fellowship in this Church. And I fell to my knees, recalling how I cried out to "Bob," begging him to take the pain away. And... and then, with tears in my eyes, I told the audience that "Bob" then spoke to me, and told me the one thing I needed to hear the most just then:

"So you want the pain to stop, eh? THEN COOL IT WITH THE CRUSHED TOBASCO BOTTLE ENEMAS--IT'S UN-FUCKING-BECOMING!!!"

And then I revealed my secret mantra for overcoming all difficulties: "FUCK IT!" I think I touched some souls that night....

Ragin' Pope Angus took the mic next and kept enthusiasm levels pumped. He pledged that sin and sickness would be healed that night--presumably so it could sin and be sick all the better! Alas, the combination of religious furvor, low blood sugar, and pumpkin lust caused me to space out for most of his rant. If anyone can fill in the spaces here, I'd appreciate it.

I introduced Father Joe Mama next: "Dear friends, our next ranter... is an utter fuckin' PUSSY! He's a craven coward, he's a traitor to his own kind, he... friends, he only wants to exterminate the human race ONE TIME. Obviously, the Pinks deserve more than *one* death for all the things they've done to Yetikind--in fact, I have a saying: 'Kill 'em, ressurect 'em, kill 'em again.' But still, he's a snazzy dresser, and a hell of a ranter. Dear friends, here's Father Joe Mama...!"

And so Papa Joe put out what I honestly believe was his best rant to date. He lectured the audience on the "invisible fence." The "invisible fence" is a radio dog collar that allows a dog the psychological benefit of believing it's free while providing a painful zap if it actually tries to exercise its freedom. That is a powerful metaphor for the Conspiracy--restraining us while keeping up the appearance that we're free to do as we please. It's ironic, in a sense--he had what I thought was a wonderful hate rant, but decided not to use it. I thought he was overestimating the potential reaction. (Seattle is a *tolerant* city. They don't use political power to shut down a show, they just don't bother showing up.) The best part of this rant was how Papa Joe put the space on the stage to great use, punctuating a point with a turn of the heel and with his brooding pace.

After a display of hate, it always helps to inject some LOVE into the proceedings. With that, Sister Kali de Rouge channeled Nunu onstage and cried... sobbed... SQUEALED in frustration that the Pleasure Saucers hadn't arrived yet! That she'd have to make do with her sister Narnini, all by themselves! That she was sad that many in the audience hadn't sent in their $30 and will miss out! "This is some guy's fantasy!" she said while pointing at her rather fetching Barbarella-Meets-Trailer- Park-Stripper outfit. "Can you believe it?" Boy, the audience sure DID. It was "touching."

St. Kenneth Huey then spoke to the audience. Ken is the artist who made our FANTASTIC devival poster last year, and has been a friend of mine since we met back in Dallas in 1991. He's the nicest guy I've met in the Church, yet has that crucial Yeti spark which makes him a true Superior Mutant. And, as he explained himself, he has ""BOB" ON THE BRAIN! "BOOOB" ON THE BRAIN! "BOOOOOB" ON THE BRAIN!!!" From that first injection of extra Overman fetus formula, personally applied by "Bob" himself in the first trimester, to his fond memories of eating roated Normal on a spit at SubGenius Youth Camp, Ken poured out his soul and charmed the audience. Bit by bit he shed his sweater and tie and long-sleeved shirt, as he was warmed by the stage lights, until he stood dressed in his best subversive togs, ready to belt out the most moving SubGenius anthem ever, "Arise!"--sung to the melody of the Socialist Internationale! "It's the final conflict / soon we'll fly off into space / The Church Of The SubGenius / shall crush the human race!" The audience sang as one in the fraternity of Slack! Voices rang out! Wallets sprung forth! Fists were clenched and launched! It was truly a golden moment to cherish forever.

Next, Rev. Bursar Judas Iscariot began to explain the difference between blasphemy and heresy. In the process he ripped page after page out of a King James bible, burning some, to the audience's delight. By the time he was done, all that was left was a wimpy little Gideon bible, which he promptly threw away. He then proceeded to offer communion by ripping out more pages from the bible and putting them in people's mouths to eat. There were quite a few, too. As I commented beforehand, "It takes a lot of water to wash down bullshit!"

Rev. Stang came back onstage, threw away his notes, and held a question-and-answer period, during which it was determined that THEY ALL shall be turned on their heads. Then Pope Angus came back onstage and began a round of Slack Jeopardy, only to be struck down early by the Pinkness of the contestants! One by one he laid hands upon them, undaunted by the presence of Microsoft employees, and LO! They were HEALED!

And so it was that I went back onstage to close with a final benedction. Namely, Brother Cleve Dunkan's *I Am A SubGenius* rant. I've learned it through osmosis, and I cranked out a truly maddened version, scaring half the audience into penance while pounding and shrieking and wailing my way through the rant. It literally possessed me, like a loa of G'Broagfran, compelling me to spew and spew righteously! With my last bit of energy I cried out, "IIIIIIIIIII AMMMMMMM... IIIIIIIIIIIII AMMMMMMMMM... IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII AMMMMMMMMMM... A SUBGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENIUSSSSSSSSSS!!!"

And that was the end of it. We herded the audience towards the sales table and started licking our wounds. And I'll tell you, we had some TASTY wounds after that devival. The audio, video, and photographs will prove THAT--and we're working on getting all three available for consumption. But for now, I'll simply reflect on some fine memories.

Afterwards, in the car ride back to my place, I explained the Parable of the Feather and the Cue Ball. For if you were to drop a feather and a cue ball from the same height, you'd expect gravity to pull on them both equally, and so they'd fall at the same speed. Instead, the feather will catch the wind and helicopter its lazy little way down. The cue ball, however, will plummet more or less as predicted by Newton, possibly busting open a Normal's skull. The moral is, FUCK THE FEATHER.

Come July 5, 1999 we all shall fuck the feather.

The Prophet Lilith
June 3, 1999
32 Days To Dos Equis

--
======== Popess Lilith von Fraumench * http://come.to/p.lil ========= == Seattle SubGenii! We are the future! http://ssucc.ragnarokr.com == ==== In ecstasy I mock the world - Emperor, "Ye Entrancemperium" ==== --
Popess Lilith von Fraumench * http://come.to/p.lil SEATTLE BEWARE--The Final SubGenius RE-Devival is COMING May 28--On The Boards--Visit http://come.to/devival99/ for details! ==== "What is Zen? Duh!" --me === "What is Tao? D'oh!" --Jesus ====