After finally liberating myself from the Conspiracy Indoctrination Institutions, I went and married a woman as Pink as they come. And you know something? “Bob” was no where to be found. Not long afterward I moved to Texas, where men are men and sheep are nervous, and to make a long story short (too late) ended up homeless – and still “Bob” was no where to be found. I soon managed to move back to my home state and fathered not one, but two awesome little mutants – and still “Bob” was no where to be found.
Eventually, agents of the Conspiracy came under the impression that I was trying to be a 'team player' and I was offered a job working for the Conspiracy. I had grown up the son of a career military man and a politician – and I could smell the crap they were trying to feed me, so I should have known better – but everyone has their price, and they met mine. So I took it.
Friends – I've heard some say 'false slack is better than no slack at all.” But I've heard others say “False slack IS no slack.” And they are right. False slack is that which gives the illusion of slack, but that slack comes at a price. As I said they met my price – and for close to 10 years I found myself drowning in false slack. Even after all that hard earned wisdom “Bob” saw fit to bestow upon me all those years ago, I had been conned by the Con into working for Them at the cost of my soul.
Oh sure – I had a roof over my head, I had insurance and money to indulge in my eccentricities – but you know – it seemed more of an impediment to my slack when I had to deal with almost daily death threats, guns shoved in my face, dogs sicked on me, insults and asshattery for doing nothing more than my job. For almost a decade I watched the Conspiracy rape an pillage the pinks while painting a great big bulls-eye on my back. For almost a decade, I watched as the machine that I had become a part of swept across the land, devouring everything in its path, all the while pointing a blood soaked finger at me, blaming me for the destruction. And the Pinks bought it hook, line and sinker.
Friends – after almost a decade of this, I couldn't take it any more. I had come to the end of my rope, and didn't even have enough to hang myself with. It had gotten to the point where even medicating myself daily with copious amounts of Frop and PiLs no longer did anything for me. Friends – I had found myself at the crossroads, praying for a devil to sell my soul to if he would just make it all stop. I had just about given up all hope. When suddenly I was struck with a revelation. A light shun onto me – a brilliant glow from a pipe of the finest Frop. Friends – it was at this moment, when the world was at it's darkest, that “Bob” came back into my life.
It was then I knew what “Bob” had intended for me all along! Friends, I sent in my love offering to “Bob” and became a SubGenius minister. I finally quit that soul-sucking Conspiracy job! Friends – there is no greater pleasure than crushing your Conspiracy issued badge and throwing it across the table at the taskmasters, telling them where they can stick it. Being escorted out of the building by a legion of armed guards brought a slackful smile to my face. Through “Bob” I finally came to understand what true Slack meant for me – I found that I had it all along. And that no matter what the Conspiracy tried, they would never take it away from me. It is what Teacher Joe had tried to instill in me all those years ago, but it took almost loosing “Bob” forever to finally see the light.
So here I am. After years of being a card carrying member of “Bob's” brood, I come before you a changed man, with the scars from a lifelong battle against the oppressive machine of the Conspiracy. I stand before with a soulful of Slack and a stupid grin as proof of the power of “Bob's” Divine teachings. I stand here looking out at my Yetinsyn brothers and sisters with only one thing to say:
What the fuck did I get myself into?
I have been watching this gaggle of retards for years now and it simply baffles me – why, with all of this Slack and collective creativity in our midst, we continually turn our hate and derision upon each other. So many of them can only see as far as the rule “Fuck'em if they can't take a joke.” – which I like to counter with another rule that so many of have overlook – “If you don't have a sense of humor – don't try to be funny” and the ONE rule that far too many of them don't seem to truly grasp – “The SubGenius MUST HAVE SLACK!” If you have to go out of your way to steal the Slack from your fellow mutants in order to fortify your own, you have committed THE cardinal sin in this Church of the Inside Joke. A sin horrific enough to have your name X-ed out in the Book of Life!
Stop and look around you at your fellow mutants. You are under no obligation to like any of these people. In fact you are encouraged to hate these people. These SubGenii may not be your friends – but for Dobbs' sake – they ARE your allies. They are your brothers-in-arms against the collective might of the Conspiracy and it's agents. No one in their right mind could ever hope to actually hurt or stop the Con – but this group has the power to make the agents of the Con – those Pink pricks that gleefully rob the true SubGenius of their Slack for fun and profit – you have the power to make them regret they ever heard the name J.R. “Bob” Dobbs. But no – you're content to fling your feces at each other, proud of the fecal mess you've contributed to. And while you laugh and sniff your finger – the Pinks are getting away with murder!
So, okay – you paid your money to “Bob”, and you have your membership card, and you come to X-Day year after year hoping for that big saucer in the sky to whisk you away to paradise. But maybe... just maybe... you've been so busy sticking a poop caked finger in the eye of your brethren that you've overlooked some details. And it's not my place to spell it out to you. It's been spelled out to you for over 30 “Bob” damn years. Maybe it's time to start paying a little more attention.
I would like to close by making one more point that many seem to either be incapable of grasping, or flat-out ignore, and that is this: Once you've taken the Clip Art off the wall, once you've set down the Book of the SubGenius, once you've erased the artwork, once you've deleted the rants, once you've thrown away the 'All-Inclusive Excuse,” once you've looked beyond the joke you end up with one solid fact – this is Ivan Stang's party and you are nothing but a guest. If you can't abide by this one simple fact, then you should tear up your membership card right now. Because as Ivan Stang has pointed out far too many times: Some people are just too stupid, even for SubGenuis