Realizations

The Very Esteemed Universal Philosopher of Absolute Reality has come to some realizations in this life -- and he'd like to share a few of his observations with you:

• I have come to realize that living with constant pain, both mental and physical, changes a person, and not always for the better.


• I have come to realize that those who can’t handle honest critique simply won’t acknowledge and accept their own faults.


• I have come to realize that some people aren’t happy unless they are struggling through life.


• I have come to realize that some people have been groomed to reject the evidence of their own eyes.


• I have come to realize that the concept of individuality coupled with conformity makes no sense.


• I have come to realize that most folks aren’t really stupid – they are either ignorant of the facts or apathetic to them.


• I have come to realize that I could live the rest of my life without ever touching another glass of alcohol or smell a wiff of tobacco smoke. But I won't begrudge someone their choice to indulge in either.


• I have come to realize that the modern concept of marriage is a sham. It’s nothing more than a legal contract in the eyes of the law. Every other aspect of marriage is just ritual to fulfill the bride’s delusional fantasies of fairy tale weddings.


• I have come to realize that if it hurts to bang your head against the wall – STOP!


• I have come to realize that I actually take joy in pissing off certain individuals and groups of agenda toting demagogues.


• I have come to realize that my kids have opened my eyes to many things in this world – both good and bad.


• I have come to realize that there is no such thing as “good and evil” – only good choices and easy ones.


• I have come to realize that I have no problem with never owning a cell phone -- ever -- EVER!


• I have come to realize that I hate mornings. I’ve always been more of an afternoon / evening / late night kinda guy.


• I have come to realize that the house feels cold and cheerless without my kids there.


• I have come to realize that the world does not follow any preconceived notions of how it should work. But I know a fucking fact when it hits me in the face.


• I have come to realize that religion and politics were created to lull the hapless masses into hapless sheep.


• I have come to realize that the Government is really pissing me off.


• I have come to realize that I refuse to bow down before the alter of public opinion.


• I have come to realize that television is a fad in desperate need of going away.


• I have come to realize that I hate being right all the time – because it means no one is listening.


• I have come to realize that there are no answers – because no one is asking the right questions.


• I have come to realize that free will is only as free as the choices offered.


• I have come to realize that most people are too afraid of loosing something to take a stand against the injustices in the world.


• I have come to realize that tomorrow’s gonna be a better day – but today has to go to shit to get there.

Divine Vision of "Suds" Pt 3

My moment of realization was interrupted by my frop ring getting snagged on the shield admitter, popping the ring and sending my plummeting back to Earth. As I began burning up in the atmosphere, I had a moment of clarity.

We’ve all come to understand that “Bob” is lucky – not smart. And it sure is luck for him I had this vision.

For taking my cue from "Bob" Himself, who proclaimed that we pull the wool over our own eyes, cast Him out and make our OWN religion, I, along with the MoFo of Mojo, Pastor Phister Gagghōl – Minister of Music, Madness & Mayhem, made the decision to schizm from the schizm and clench our own stark fist by forming the A.o.t.F.C. –

Which is itself an offshoot of the 28^th Day AdBobtist movement, splintered from the Apocalypsoholoic branch of the Dobbsian Mentalodge of Sanctimonious Conditioning – the Mental Cleansers and disinfectants of the old days.

Our tenets include not only making money for "Bob" playing turf accountant to those gambling on the many inter- denominational battles waging between the deficient, pink rag dolls of the Conspiracy and laughing mercilessly at their folly – but to also insure that payment is received in full on time.

So if you’re late, expect a knock on your door in the middle of the night. We’ll be paying you a little visit.

Money will flow like the explosion of wet sex over the face of the highest ÜberFemms, and a never ending fountain of Slack shall empower the Yeti race for the trials and tribulations we shall soon face.

You see, my friends – we are at a turning point in SubGenius history. A point where our race has the opportunity to truly prove its worth over the worthless heaps of pink stupid –

Sure, the Conspiracy can never be truly defeated by sheer Yeti will alone. But it can be hampered – it can be heckled and, with a little luck and a little Slack, we should enjoy the simple humor of watching the most righteous of the Consuckers ending up with egg on his face.

For if the Church of the SubGenius, and every other schizm that dares to speak of “Bob” are anything at all, it is this: A SUBVERSIVE CULT! And how do you become a subversive cult?

By subverting, of course!

To claim all of the churches of the inside joke are the greatest joke ever told just isn’t enough! We need to show the Conspiracy that it’s not the joke that’s important – it’s the punchline!

A closed handed, brass-knuckled haymaker right square in the jaw of the Conspiracy!

With the levels of twisted imagination the Yeti collective has, the sheer force of humor should be enough to blow the lid off this stupid machine – and show the aliens that we are the best goddamn performing monkeys the galaxy has ever seen!

We must pool our resources and develop ways of sticking a shit laced finger into the eyes of that the theorists have dubbed “Big Brother!”

We must find ways of flinging the monkey’s own feces back at them, and their wranglers!

We must find a way of slipping the almighty whoopee cushion under the arses of every pinkneck politician and bureaucrat we can get our hands on!

We must find a way of scribbling a mustache on every holy relic and sacred artifact that the gullible Pink saps would kill to protect!

We must find a way of spelling out a great big “FUCK YOU” across this nation coast-to-coast!

And we must let the agents of the Conspiracy know that “Bob” is their true master!

Are these thoughts blasphemous?

Are these beliefs heresy?

Are we out of our minds?

Are we desperate for money?

You’re damn right on all counts!

And I know "Bob" is happy for this – see? He's grinning! How can you argue with that!

By turning a profit off the backs of prophets is just one of the multitude of ways the Assembly of the Flaming Carpet find's their Slack!

And that's exactly what "Bob" wants, (well, besides our money) He wants us to have Slack! And by "Bob" we aim to have it!

Divine Vision of "Suds" Pt 2

And as I rose over the gleaming hull of that craft – the I watched as sky filled with the vanguard of a Yist attack cruisers – Sonic Ascendancy Cannons at the ready.

Two mighty races – poised on the precipice, ready to attack in a heartbeat, yet neither wanting to be the one to fire the First shot! A Mexican Stand-Off if you will --

As luck would have it, I eventually floated lazily across one of the viewports for what appeared to be an observation lounge. It was then I witnessed something that would change my thoughts on the secret workings of the universe.

Seated before a massive viewscreen, segmented into thousands of separate images, were representatives of both the Xists and the Yists, all of them in a fit of hysterical laughter.

The screens they were watching had images taken from all over the planet: the food riots in Africa, the war in Iraq, that former moronic monkey dancing a jig on the floor of the UN – so many images flashing across the screen so quickly that my mind could only absorb the barest fraction of the information.

Erected behind the group of hideous mutations was a large markerboard set up with what appeared to be a point spread written across the board. And putting up the odds was none other than J.R. "Bob" Dobbs himself – Money was flowing like wine, wine was flowing like wet sex, wet sex was flowing like money!

Eventually Connie appeared, carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres and, wearing nothing but a gold color strap-on that appeared to shine with an intense energy, served and serviced the throng of alien monstrosities, who cackled and guffawed at the exploits of the stupid pink bastards that plague our world.

At that moment I was struck with an epiphany!

All around us the mental midgets of the pink race bobbing their heads to the pronouncements of morons – their eyes glistening in a bovine glaze of intellectual laziness.

Utterly oblivious to the cliffs the Conspiracy sheppards them towards. Flagrantly disregarding scruples while aiding criminals aiding criminals by legalizing the very crimes they themselves are guilty of.

And all under the umbrella of thunderous applause and thudding back-patting over the fattening of coffers.

On all sides they come, armed with the stinking madness of their fear – they file in, shoulder to shoulder, jackbooted fools baying and bleating like legions of demented sheep.

Launching their blitzkrieg of bullshit and incompetence on the heads and hearts of all they do not understand, decimating the very ground under their feet with the sheer weight of their crusade against rationality and common sense!

But, my friends – all is not lost. Nah, my friends, the fun is just beginning.

For the Divine Vision of “Suds,” known as "The Immaculate Contradiction" testifies to a phantasmagoricaly fantastical method of successful venture that rivals any pink headed pyramid scheme the sorry sacks of pathetic normals could never dream.

The plan has changed! The great edict has been pushed aside in the name of massive profit!

The Xists, upon arriving to our backwater little dirtball, prepared for their reign of death and destruction down upon the heads of the pitiful creatures of man when the Yist arrived – ready for a fight. But like a crazy scene in some old gangster flick – the two sides found themselves staring down the barrel of each other’s guns.

Things were looking grim in Mudville – until "Bob" interviened.

"Bob" must have convinced them to hang out and enjoy the entertainment that the genetically stagnant human race has to offer. "Bob" himself has taken the opportunity to turn a healthy profit and has turned turf accountant, a bookie if you will, making money hand over stark fist, taking advantage of a change of events that no one could have foreseen, but only “Bob” could take advantage of!

In fact, "Bob" of course has the upper hand in the dealings and proceedings with his ace in the hole – the SubGenius! It appeared to me that "bob" had thrown us into the proceedings as an extra couple of yucks for the alien warbarers.

The more SubGenius subterfuge and subversions against the Conspiracy and all it represents, the funnier the aliens think it is, the more money exchanges hands/claws/tentacles, the more "Bob" likes it! And with an ÜberGodess like "Connie" in his corner, He can't lose!

Divine Vision of "Suds" Prt 1

So, I want to talk to you about this whole X-Day thing. I touched upon it earlier, but I was touching myself and stopped paying attention.

Now, specifically in regards to “Bob’s” prophecy and 1998. This topic has been beaten into the ground, but I’m still in the mood for some beatin’ – care to join me?

You see, there are a lot of theories floating around. Some refer to the Conspiracy calendar noting trustworthy – or that maybe “Bob” got the date wrong

I’ve even heard the idea that the memo was upside-down – or that it’s all just some big joke – Ha ha ha ha!

Friends, I have seen a vision – a vision of hope, a vision of promise – a vision profits, pipe smokers, and pudenda!

As a student of sound (audio engineering is my Slackful fetish) I enjoy my evenings creating soundscapes in which the discerning SubGenii can escape the humdrudgery of this Conspiracy infected globe.

Along with my frop pipe, I glide along the sonic sheen of mental masturbation, clinging to the rings of frop smoke like a swimmer with his innertube.

Nothing is finer than floating through the cosmic slime clinging to the frop rings from the pipe. And let me tell you, that was some mighty fine frop this one particular evening.

It was such a lovely evening to FropScape and I was soon bouncing gently along the air currents. Soon, I would be drifting out of the stratosphere and away from this shitball known as Earth Farm One.

Now, I had happened to notice the glint of light just as I escaped the atmosphere, but I had mistaken for the MTV satellite, which I was eagerly hoping to run across so as I might send it plummeting to the ground.

It was then I realized they were trans-dimensional space vessels in geosynchronous orbit, triangulated between myself, the CNN satellite and the moon; I pondered the strange madness of these twisted grotesqueries dancing in orbit around our pathetic little planet.

Upon a close inspection as the frop ring gently bobbed along the currents of the solar surf, I noticed, spray painted in red on the thermo-chromic hull of one of the ships – just to the left of the Quantumaramagnetic Slipstream Propulsion drive – a sign that read "Earth of Bust." I realized that I was witnessing the preparation of the invading Xist armada --

At that moment the solar winds picked up about 20 zettajoules, sending me headlong into the side of the closest ship. Fortunately, frop smoke has a wonderful rubbery elasticity, and I safely bumped along the hull like a balloon caught drifting in a wind of flatulence.

Sacred Onomasticon of Veneris Flambé

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One Slippery Soapbox!

Greetings to all and praise “Bob!”

I am The Very Esteemed Universal Philosopher of Absolute Reality Reverend Frodis Pshaw -- Co-Founder of Assembly of the Flaming Carpet (A.o.t.F.C.) -- the 28th Day AdBobtist movement, Professor of Audiophilic Mixology at the Apocalypsholoic branch of the Dobbsian Mentalodge of Sanctimonious Conditioning – the Mental Cleansers and Disinfectants of the Elder Days, and student of the teachings of one J.R. "Bob" Dobbs.

– you may call me Rev. “Suds.”

And by the power of Wotan, I am pleased bring to you the Assembly of the Flaming Carpet (A.o.t.F.C.).

SubGenii come from all walks of life – all are abnormal by nature, and all embrace the teachings of J. R. “Bob” Dobbs and his war on those Conspiracy Pinks who try to rob us of our Slack – but along with these tenets, members of the A.o.t.F.C., whether they be man, woman, or one of those swinging’ alien mutants, hold high praise of the almighty Veneris Flambé – so long as the carpet matches the drapes. The A.o.t.F.C. is the ONLY schism of the Church of the SubGenius dedicated to the continuation of cunning linguist studies in reverence to Connie’s Glowing Gash.

Founded by myself and the MoFo of Mojo, Pastor Phister Gagghōl – Minister of Music, Madness & Mayhem, The Assembly of the Flaming Carpet, in no way wish to simply ‘enslave’ the Pinks for menial labor, experimentation, human sacrifice and sexual exploitation – nor do we strive to outright exterminate the whole race of Pinks: we at the A.o.t.F.C. simply don’t care one way or another, since we will be on the Xists’ spaceships getting our eternal freak on with the ÜberSexGodesses anyway.

In regards to X-Day, members of the A.o.t.F.C. believe –- and this appears to be the main difference between us and the Father Church –– that the end times foretold by Dobbs have already come to pass. Some SubGenius believe that X-Day is still coming and could be here anytime, since using the Conspiracy calendar as a point of reference is wholly unreliable. Some believe that we simply got the date wrong, or read the memo upside-down or some silly nonsense like that.

We at the A.o.t.F.C. believe, in fact, that July 5th, 1998 truly HAS come and gone, but due to a nasty twist of fate, the Xists and the Yists are locked in what could only be described as a “Mexican Standoff,” both sides hovering over our planet with cannons at the ready, preparing to annihilate each other and taking ALL OF US with them!

Of course “Bob,” being the opportunist that He is, has convinced both sides to simply kick back – SLACK OFF – and enjoy the SubGenii spectacle of subversions and of all major global events, gleefully pissing themselves at the exploits of the moronic masses of Pink pestilence, while a naked Connie serves hors d'oeuvres while wearing her sacred strap-on,

The Assembly of the Flaming Carpet wishes to set itself apart of the “norm” of “abnormality" – So long as the teachings of J. R. “Bob” Dobbs shows us the Paths of Least Resistance, we shall resist the Conspiracy at every turn!

We will pick the pockets of the Pinks dry!

AND WE WILL HAVE SLACK!!!

PRAISE GOD DAMN “BOB!!!

Eternal salvation is here with a TRIPLE your money back guarantee! How can you beat this deal of an afterlifetime?!!

The Conspiracy will do it’s damnedest to squelch the teachings of J. R. “Bob” Dobbs – but we will continue to get louder and more obnoxious than ever!

REPENT!

QUIT YOUR JOB!

SLACK OFF!!!

THE WORLD ENDS TOMORROW AND YOU MAY DIE!!!!

Till next time, this has been the good Rev. “Suds” Pshaw

May “Bob” bless and keep your pocket book