Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
The Purple Thunderbolt of spode Volume 2 Issue 29
***** ***** ***** *****
***** ***** ***** *****
************* ************* ************* *************
** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** **
********* ********* ********* *********
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
***** ***** ***** *****
SBI-Submarine Pens Proudly Presents:
####========================================================####
THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE VOL 2, 29
####========================================================####
"South Florida's Very Own REPLIES TO: barker@acc.fau.edu
Non Alien Run Electronic Magazine"
* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSSS
*** P P U U R R P P S
***** P P U U R R P P S
******* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSS
********* P U U R R P S
*********** P U U R RR P S
***** P UUUUU R R P SSSSSS
*****
*****
*****
*****
* **** *
*** *** ***
**** * *****
************************************
****************************************
************************************
**** ***** *****
*** ***** ***
* ***** *
*****
*****
*****
*****
*****
***********
*********
*******
*****
***
*
WRITE TO: IGHF/955 Massachusetts Ave., Suite 209/Cambridge, Ma 02139
####===================================================================####
INTRO
####===================================================================####
Welcome yet again to another issue of Purps. This will probably be the
issue without much of an intro since I can't remember if anything needs to
be said.
Well one thing needs to be taken care off. Honorable mention needs to go to
Victoria Hill for various shadowy and secret reasons.
This issue consists of the typical Otis stuff so I'll let it speak for
itself this time.
Hmm I'd like to welcome all the new subscribers, or resubscribers we seem
to have picked up since Purps last came out. Purps seems to be growing and
expanding in great leaps and bounds.
Oh one editorial note. One of our subscribers reported their lame brain
mailer has problems with the '=' separator lines so those have been
doctored in a why which hopefully will no longer cause problems.
For those of you who don't have back issues of Purps, they are available
either by sending a request to HailOtis@socpsy.sci.fau.edu or ftpable from
Quartz.rutgers.edu in \pub\purps. These are .Z compressed so you'll need an
uncompressor.
As usual Purps needs plenty more submissions. Glancing through the past few
issues we seem to be getting small again.
Also a special thanks should go out to all our regular contributors.
Without them there would be no purpose. Otis is as I write this showering
them with untold blessings. You too could be showed with untold blessings
if you contributed to Purps.
Please Note: Any untitled blurbs and what not are taken from the Archives
of Dr. Simpson.
Anyways, on with the show.
####===================================================================####
Scrense yourself! The power to become GENKI is in your own mind!
####===================================================================####
Spode's Wild World
####===================================================================####
Date: Sun, 8 Sep 1991 10:29 HKT
From: God of Chaos <LBSPODIC%USTHK.BITNET@YALEVM.YCC.Yale.Edu>
Subject: He's back!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"A Kitchener, Ontario, radio station, sponsoring a 'What
Would You Do for $10,000?' contest last fall, permitted
such stunts as eating a dung-covered apple and
regurgitating spaghetti and going snorkeling in a tub
of worms, but rejected the idea of a woman who wanted to
hand out bumper stickers while nude on a downtown street
corner. Said a station spokesman, 'We didn't want to
be associated with that.' "
Funny Times
August 1991
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 21 Aug 1991 14:29:39 PDT
From: Grant Hogarth <adobe!frame.com!cgh@UUNET.UU.NET>
Subject: HUMOUR?: How to stay stressed
FYI....
----- Begin Included Message -----
Put out by DeAnza college (here in Silly-con Valley):
How To Stay Stressed
---------------
Although the De Anza Health Office has long been an advocate of stress
management, stress, tension, and burnout are still common complaints of
students, faculty, and staff alike. On account of this, we have come to
the following conclusion: YOU ALL WANT TO STAY STRESSED! The following
provides you with a few reasons why.
STRESS HELPS YOU SEEM IMPORTANT. Anyone as stressed as you must be
working very hard and, therefore,
is probably doing something very
crucial.
IT HELPS YOU TO MAINTAIN PERSONAL Anyone as busy as you are certainly
DISTANCE AND AVOID INTIMACY. can't be expected to form emotional
attachments to anyone. And let's
face it, you're not much fun to be
around anyway.
IT HELPS YOU AVOID RESPONSIBILITIES. Obviously you're too stressed to be
given any more work. This gets you
off the hook for all the mundane
chores; let someone else take care
of them.
IT GIVES YOU A CHEMICAL RUSH. Stress might be considered a cheap
thrill, and you can give yourself a
"hit" anytime you choose. But be
careful, you might get addicted to
your own adrenaline.
IT HELPS YOU AVOID SUCCESS. Why risk being "successful" when by
simply staying stressed you can
avoid all of that? Stress can keep
your performance level low enough
that success won't ever be a threat.
STRESS ALSO LETS YOU KEEP YOUR The authoritarian style of "Just do
AUTHORITARIAN MANAGEMENT STYLE. what I say!" is generally permissi-
ble under crisis conditions. If
you maintain a permanently stressed
crisis atmosphere, you can justify
an authoritarian style all the time.
Are you worried now about how to stay stressed? You'll have no trouble
if you practice the following clinically proven methods:
NEVER EXERCISE. Exercise wastes a lot of time that
could be spent worrying.
EAT ANYTHING YOU WANT. Hey, if cigarette smoke can't
cleanse your system, a balanced
diet isn't likely to.
GAIN WEIGHT. Work hard at staying at least 25
pounds over your recommended
weight.
TAKE PLENTY OF STIMULANTS. The old standards of caffeine,
nicotine, sugar, and cola will
continue to do the job just fine.
AVOID "WOO-WOO" PRACTICES. Ignore the evidence suggesting
that meditation, yoga, deep
breathing, and/or mental imaging
help to reduce stress. The
Protestant work ethic is good for
everyone, Protestant or not.
GET RID OF YOUR SOCIAL Let the few friends who are
SUPPORT SYSTEM. willing to tolerate you know that
concern yourself with friendships
only if you have time, and you
never have time. If a few people
persist in trying to be your
friend, avoid them.
PERSONALIZE ALL CRITICISM. Anyone who criticizes any aspect
of your work, family, dog, house,
or car is mounting a personal
attack. Don't take time to
listen, be offended, then return
the attack!
THROW OUT YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR. Staying stressed is no laughing
matter, and it shouldn't be
treated as one.
MALES AND FEMALES ALIKE - BE MACHO. Never ever ask for help, and if
you want it done right, do it
yourself!
BECOME A WORKAHOLIC. Put work before everything else,
and be sure to take work home
evenings and weekends. Keep
reminding yourself that vacations
are for sissies.
DISCARD GOOD TIME MANAGEMENT SKILLS. Schedule in more activities every
day than you can possibly get done
and then worry about it all
whenever you get a chance.
PROCRASTINATE. Putting things off to the last
second always produces a marvelous
amount of stress.
WORRY ABOUT THINGS YOU CAN'T Worry about the stock market,
CONTROL. earthquakes, the approaching Ice
Age, you know, all the big issues.
BECOME NOT ONLY A PERFECTIONIST BUT ...and either beat yourself up, or
SET IMPOSSIBLY HIGH STANDARDS... feel guilty, depressed, discour-
aged, and/or inadequate when you
don't meet them.
----- End Included Message -----
####===================================================================####
This week all good Otisians will worship PORNOGRAPHY. However, in order to
keep our government funding we will illustrate this issue with bunny
rabbits instead. Please imagine that the bunny rabbits are pornography.
####===================================================================####
More from the Wild World of Spode
####===================================================================####
Date: Sun, 8 Sep 1991 10:49 HKT
From: God of Chaos <LBSPODIC%USTHK.BITNET@YALEVM.YCC.Yale.Edu>
Subject: Get those recipe files out!
South China Morning Post - 7 September 1991
"With the right cooking method, it will be a welcome
new dish on the family table."
-Yangcheng Daily newspaper report on cockroach cuisine
which includes fried cockroach, cockroach-studded
pancakes, and cockroach porridge.
####===================================================================####
World's Worst Tourists
####===================================================================####
Date: Thu, 19 Sep 91 20:12:51 MDT
From: eiverson@NMSU.Edu
Subject: [muzzle@cs.uq.oz.au: The World's Worst Tourists]
From: muzzle@cs.uq.oz.au (Murray Chapman)
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.urban
Subject: The World's Worst Tourists
Date: 16 Sep 91 16:44:37 GMT
Reply-To: muzzle@cs.uq.oz.au
Hi there
Being a reasonably seasoned traveller, I suppose I have collected a fair
few "Ugly Tourist" stories...
I will give a summary first, and then give details, category by category,
and conclude with some general comments on how to avoid being an ugly
tourist.
DISCLAIMER: If anyone is purile or pea-brained enough out there to believe
that I hold grudges against people merely because of race or nationality,
go stuff yourself.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
U G L Y T O U R I S T S - S U M M A R Y
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BEST TOURISTS:
------------------
1) Backpackers/cyclists
2) Young North Americans
3) New Zealanders
4) small groups of females
5) People with not enough money
THE WORST TOURISTS:
-------------------
1) Elderly American couples
2) People on "Tuesday = Belgium" type tours.
3) The Japanese
4) Groups of males in their 20s
5) Sporting teams
6) Australians
7) The French
8) People with too much money
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
U G L Y T O U R I S T S - D E T A I L S
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
ELDERLY AMERICAN COUPLES
------------------------
I was in a restaurant in Buenos Aires, and at the table next to me were
this couple from the US. When their steaks arrived, they weren't happy
with them, so they sent them back. Returned 10 minutes later, they still
weren't good enough, so they sent them back to the kitchen with the message
"We get them how we want them back home". Another 15 minutes passed, and
the steaks were returned. Guess what? Not good enough! This went on for
quite a while; all the time the couple were grouching about the service and
the way that "it's so much better back home".... nearly felt like telling
them to go home and let everyone else enjoy the different lifestyle. (My
steak was perfect! And thick, too: at least 1.5 inches for $US6.00)
On Christmas Day 1989, I was taking the train ride up to see the statue of
Christ the Redeemer (Corcovado) in Rio. The doors on the train were left
open during this trip because it was so hot. The American couple in front
of me were discussing who they would sue if they fell out the door. (Little
did they know that there is no possibility of litigation in Brazilian law!)
In Japan I went on a day tour or Kyoto, and invariably the Americans would
take the window seats on the bus, even to the extent of couples separating
so that they could have a window seat each.
In China I went to a banquet with some other tourists. When the dishes
were placed on the table, this (American) couple would grab them, spoon
what they wanted onto their plates, and then not offer the plates to anyone
else.
When I was travelling from Santiago, Chile, to Easter Island, there was
this couple who were obviously travelling First Class: they stood apart
from the rest of us, refused to allow their luggage to be weighed, and when
the boarding announcement was made, they walked straight past the line that
we peasants made and pushed their way onto the plane.
I will never forget the time I visited the Schloss Neuschwanstein in (West)
Germany... (the most famous castle in Europe: you would know it if you saw
it). It is quite a walk up to the castle, and there is the option of
taking a ride (for $US7/person) in a horse-drawn cart. All and only the
Americans there took the ride, but the horse was so slow that they ended up
being the last ones up there. When you are inside the castle, they ask you
not to take videos/photos, etc for two reasons:
a) flashes destroy the artwork
b) a great deal of the restoration and upkeep of the
castle is paid for by people buying photos.
So guess what happens when the tour guide leaves the room? Out come the
video cameras and the flashes...
I wanted to take a photo of the waterfall outside this castle, so I lined
up this shot, only to have it spoilt by the American who leant in front of
me. I have a beautiful photo of the lapel of his trenchcoat.
PEOPLE ON "TUESDAY = BELGIUM" TYPE TOURS
----------------------------------------
Invariably, these types can be seen stumbling weary-eyed from buses at the
major tourist traps. I remember one such group who stumbled off the bus
and walked straight into the bar of the nearest 5 star hotel... when there
was a beautiful cafe just across the street which would have charged them
half as much for the same meal.
THE JAPANESE
------------
You probably know the stereotypical Japanese tourist: a big grin, a big
wallet, and a big camera. Believe me, they have earnt the stereotype. I
was in Rotorua (New Zealand), where I was watching a Maori ceremony. Midway
through it, several drunk Japanese men decided that they would join in.
They tried to get up on stage with the dancers. Some succeeded, but were
promptly removed. Later in the performance was a part that involved
twirling white pompoms, and to heighten the effect, ultra-violet light was
used. Alas, the stage was floodlit by the flashes of all those cameras.
When the show was finally over, the Japanese men tried to throw money on
the stage.
Another thing which I don't understand about the Japanese and their
cameras: they insist on using flashes when it is dark; even when what they
are photographing is hundreds of feet away. Anyone who knows the inverse
square law knows that even the brightest flash is useless after about 25
feet.
GROUPS OF MALES IN THEIR 20S
----------------------------
Loud, aggressive, insensitive. I think we can all imagine.
SPORTING TEAMS
--------------
Much the same as the previous group, except that they all insist on
constantly wearing their team tracksuits.
AUSTRALIANS
-----------
Many Australian tourists have to be the center of attention. Being so
isolated, Aussies have no idea how to interact with people of other
nations, and consequently expect to be the center of attention. Tend to be
extremely nationalistic, waving and distributing koalas and kangaroos to
the locals.
I saw one group of Australians give a kangaroo to a family in Peru, who
thought it was a rat.
THE FRENCH
----------
Fiercely patriotic. Often will make no attempt to learn the local customs
or language, insisting that things be done their way.
I was in Italy, on a crowded train. A lady came into the carriage, and
asked me to lift her bag up onto the rack. I did this, but when I turned
around to sit back down, she had planted herself in my seat, shut the blind
(beautiful view of the Mediterranean), and was pretending to be asleep.
PEOPLE WITH TOO MUCH MONEY
--------------------------
A rare species; usually found in either the Hilton or the Sheraton.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
U G L Y T O U R I S T S - C O M M E N T S
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Why go abroad if you want things to be the same as they are at home? It's
no good to go to a foreign land and expect everything to run as you
expected it too: talk to anyone coming home after a trip abroad and you
will find the things they enjoyed most were the unexpected things.
Your trip will go much better if you imagine yourself a guest in the
country: don't complain, don't joke about the local
customs/currency/climate/language.
Don't be a tourist. Try to blend in as much as possible. Eat where the
locals eat. Avoid places that advertise "American Express" or "English
Spoken Here". I spent a wonderful night in Venice in a small restaurant
with the locals, none of who spoke English. I don't speak Italian.
I've eaten McDonald's in fifteen different countries, and guess what? The
only difference is the price.
Suggested reading: "Europe Through The Back Door", I forget the author.
Books such as "Europe on $40 a day" are getting too popular: places are
starting to advertise the fact that they get mentioned in these books.
You will find that if you follow these guidelines, you WILL enjoy your trip
more, and the locals will enjoy having you more. Take a look at yourself
the next time you go abroad, and decide if you would like someone like you
visiting YOUR home town.
Happy travelling,
Murray
+^o^+^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-+-o-+
| | Murray Chapman muzzle@cs.uq.oz.au | |
| o | | o |
| | University of Queensland "I'd rather have a bottle in front | |
| o | St Lucia, Queenland of me than a frontal lobotomy" | o |
| | AUSTRALIA - Murray Chapman | |
| o | | o |
+^-^+^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-------------+---+
\__ | o |
Hate that! -----> +^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
####===================================================================####
"Good evening. Now I'm no mathematician, but I'd like to talk about just a
couple of numbers that have really been bothering me lately..."
--- Laurie Anderson
####===================================================================####
A SOG Speaks Part II
####===================================================================####
Date: Sat, 14 Sep 91 15:11:31 CDT
From: Stewy <UC541831@UMCVMB.missouri.edu>
Subject: The Second Parter
Here we go, Mal, the second part of my story. I needed to catch up to what
the rev is writing, so I had to do this in two parts and send them both
now. You probably need lots of stuff anyway, huh? I got one other thing
I'll try and type up before the evening is over....STEWY
Dreams and Vacations
by Stewy
An odd-shaped image floated by that, at the first and second glance, was
hard to distinguish between a yellow and purple hippopotamus with green
freckles or a mini submarine with disco lights and Commodore Presley
gyrating on top of the hatch door singing 'Jailhouse Rock'. Behind him
there was a funny-looking guy with long hair wearing combat boots and
standing in a military, saluting-like stance as a group of giggling women
sat behind him drinking beer. It lingered there, this image, for several
minutes before disappearing, leaving an outline against the ocean backdrop
somewhere near Florida.
She saw Shark next, dressed in an outfit that didn't quite go with her
personality and her new-born son, Fairbourne, who could do nothing but make
'meeping' sounds. Shark was standing next to a rather large looking shuttle
of some sort or another and suits were running about like crazy, shouting
obscenities wherever was necessary and in some cases, where ever foul
language was not called for. Subtle images of Rev sitting in a limousine
came to her, but vanished into blackness, almost as if her dream were being
censored by the evil Optima Plan. Abstract illusions kept appearing
throughout Stewy's dreams but it was nothing out of the ordinary for a SOG.
A cold breeze brushed through her apartment, waking her from what was
probably a three-day sleep. She felt a magnetic attraction pulling her
somewhere, but she wasn't quite sure and didn't really care at the moment.
She stared at the picture of Elvis hanging above her television set and he
eyes were growing heavy once more. Her mind was drifting. "Oh-tisss,
Oh-tisss," a soft, radio-like voice was telling her. Stewy smiled as she
began to fall back asleep.
"BOO! BOO! BOO! SCARY BOO!" the Rev thought to himself as he sat in
the black limousine staring at his CHUCKS and fondling the green
trinket he wore around his neck.
Stewy jumped from her chair, fear spilling into her mind as her body shook
frantically. "DAMN YOU REV, Damn you. What the hell was that for? and hey,
wait one second here, what ARE you doing in a limo?"
"Now Stew, what're you gonna do, spend the rest of your life sleeping. Did
I not tell you it was time to lie low? Have you checked your mailbox yet? I
sense something there for you."
"Nope, just got up, thanks to you. PINHEAD! I'll check in a minute, what
are you doing in that limo?" Stew asked, rubbing her eyes while trying to
find a cigarette.
"That's not important right now. Go check your mailbox and you'll know what
to do next." The vision of Rev faded as if he had hung up the SOG
Connection. Stew showered, found her coolest pair of day-glo CHUCKS, one
pink and one green and looked a little bit like Punky Brewster. She started
packing, the Temporary Global Amnesia settling into her mind. She forgot to
check her mailbox and continued to pack her bags until the magnetic force
pulled her downstairs to the mailbox where a small black envelope was lying
there with a familiar sign for the return address.
"Holy freakin' buckets. It's from Converse, they wrote ME!" She almost
ripped the envelope apart, but calmed herself so as to not ruin this
precious little envelope.
"A ticket to DisneyWorld, a check for $1,000 and a $250 gift certificate at
the Florida Converse Store...hmmm, that's odd, but HOLY BUCKETS, NO WAY!."
She ran to her apartment, packed everything she could, but all 13 pairs of
CHUCKS wouldn't fit into the bag. "Aw, hell, I'll just get some more when I
go to the Converse Store." She smiled.
There was a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone to come over at that
point, she creeped up to the peephole and glanced through the fish-eye
glass to see a small man dressed in green ducking beneath the peephole. She
grabbed her suitcase, opened the window and jumped outside.
The parking spot next to her car was always empty. No one ever parked in it
and no one ever would. They couldn't. There was a mystic force field
surrounding it. Stewy walked right through it, moved her hands about a bit
and little noises of opening and closing doors were heard. She stepped up,
as if getting into something and soon, her image was gone, inside the
invisible plane of SOG Super Airlines. There was a slight noise and she
pressed several buttons in the cockpit and the sleek plane was now ready to
go. The forcefield went down and the plane began to rise into the air.
"Whuhoooo, I'm off to Florida and the land of CHUCKS and Disney. What a
vacation!"
The plane was gently gliding on the air waves, high above the Earth and she
flicked a few more switches. She was flying past a 747, doing spins and
flips in the SOG plane when she flew right in front of the nose of the 747.
"Uh...did you see that?" The co-pilot asked the pilot.
"See what?"
"That blue star that just flew by the window with some picture of some
weird looking dude in the middle of it?"
"Hey, I didn't see anything and you didn't see anything. Got that?"
Stewy was laughing in the plane, flying along towards the ocean. In her
hand she held a postcard Mal had sent to her so that she and the Rev could
see his snappy pad along a private beach. She dropped the plane a few
thousand feet so that she was no more than one hundred feet from the ocean.
The plane was gliding along, back and forth as Stewy searched for Mal's
place. She saw it in the distance and veered toward it until a shiny object
blinded her for a second. She glanced out the window of the SOG plane to
see a speeding boat bobbing up and down and Mal was steering as Commander
Presley was gyrating on the top of the boat singing 'Jailhouse Rock.'
"Hey Stewy, it's me, Humpy. We're a little busy right now, but I can see
you up there. We'll be back on shore in about half an hour, ok?"
"Sure, not a problem. I'll just cruise over to DisneyWorld and check some
things out before I come back." The Divine Child moved around in Mal's
shirt pocket hoping to get his attention. Mal pulled her out and set her by
the wheel.
"What is it Humpy the Stumpy Bear?" Mal asked.
"It's Stewy, she's here. She's flying about in her invisible SOG plane. We
gotta be on shore in half an hour to meet her."
"Hmm, well, okay." Mal veered the cigarette boat towards shore, grabbing a
beer from on of the girls in the back of the boat.
Stewy was flying over DisneyWorld, scoping things out. She could see a
bunch of suits running about and other odd figures corrupting the minds of
young children. She could see the space shuttle miles away and decided to
go check things out to kill some time. Below her, she saw hundreds of
people scurrying around, but one figure stood out as the scent of lemon
floated through the air. She could see Shark and Fairbourne dodging the
suits and doing weird things with their hands. Stewy tried to land the
plane to go see if it was Shark, but somehow her plane had been picked up
on radar.
In the secret tunnels below the Shuttle, higher-up figures were on the red
phone to Washington telling of odd things showing up on radar. Red lights
were flashing all around the room as Stealth Bombers were being launched
into the air.
Somewhere in Washington, the Pope and Dr. Simpson sat about Dr. Simpson's
apartment with several computers flashing strange lights as both of them
sat frantically typing away and a computer was generating voice patterns
for people in the White House. Calls were being switched, people were
getting frantic and screaming, but the Pope and Dr. Simpson sat calmly,
huge grins forming on their faces as they typed away.
####===================================================================####
Here, for want of a demonstratable disorder, we are all too likely to
fall into the temptation of positing transcendental indigestion, upset
stomach, heartburn, diarrhea, or nausea (clearly hypochondria). I know,
however, from long experience of these things that spontaneous
synchronistic phenomena bring, by hook or by crook, fast sure relief and
occasionally make one an accessory to the deed. The statistically active
ingredient only concerns regularly occurring movements, and if considered
as aromatic, it simply abolishes all exceptions to the rule.
####===================================================================####
Historical Fragments
####===================================================================####
[This fragment appeared on our of the recent Otisian Scholar Exam. The
subject was presented with the original Cuneiform Sumerian text and had to
translate it into modern English. For your convenience the translation is
given instead of the original text.]
1. And the so like these knights of Otis just, well, up and stuck out their
toilet brushes and like the army of the enemy saw these gleaming implements
and ran for the hills dropping all their possesions. It was a real route.
Otis came down and cast a cloud over the triumphant Knights so that the
enemy might now see the goofy grins on their faces from such and easy
victory.
2. Spode handed out chocolate coins and joy buzzers to the spectators.
3. Rotus was a bit miffed seeing as there were so few dead.
4. Many of the spectators who did not believe in Otis quickly shaved their
heads and converted over to Otis.
5. Then there was the time they tried to bring down the walls of Jericho with
a trumpet. They neglected to tell the trumpeter that Spode had been along
the day before and sold the residents of Jericho a shock proof glue to
prevent such a attacks.
####===================================================================####
Preach-O-Rama Wisdom
####===================================================================####
[This is only a fragment. I didn't want to bore people to tears with this
stuff in case they don't like it. As with last issue. Read through this
section carefully and you might discover some Otisian Wisdom.]
(Mal) I mean we can get like the college crowd with toilets. They are always
puking in them.
[..]
(Mal) Hmm and we get the kids in with bathroom humor.
(Mal) "Wow mom! A religion that uses toilets! Neat!"
(Mal) something every man can relate to.
(Mal) Every household in america comes with at least one of them.
(Mal) You have to install a cross in our house. A toilet. Why it's already
there!
(Mal) and think how well it works into the butt business.
(Mal) who needs bowling when you can spend the night out toilet thrusting!
(Mal) in the immortal words of Fawna the kissed Booth Otisian Bimbo
(Mal) "Scrub my bowl hard!"
(Mal) Oh can't go wrong with something like that now can you? It's a win
win situation.
(Mal) "You don't believe in Otis! Well then why the hell do you use a
toilet!"
(Mal) Why do people flush their dead animals down the toilet? Or their live
ones for that matter? It's a custom left over from ancient Sumeria!
(Rev:+purps) damn busy here.. talk when I can..
(Mal) Look at Knossos they had Toilets! Or ancient Rome!
(Mal) Busy! Too busy to hear the world of Otis! It should be shouted from
the highest roof tops and croaked from the lowest sewers.
(Mal) The truth must ring out across the land before Ragnarock Hits (or we
run out of stream and fresh ideas.)
(Mal) Eastern Europe is opening up. Send in the Otisian missionaries. Damn!
Get in there before the televangalists. The first words out of their
mouths should be "Send us money!" not "Praise the Lord!"
(Rev:+purps) yeah some accounting class (large one) has an assignment due
tomorrow.. they're jamming all the labs
(Mal) Well ask them if they'd ever heard of Otis to confuse matters.
(Mal) Hmm you explained to the accountants that computer can't lie?
(Mal) or how like the other week this guy came in and got electrocuted by a
mac.
(Mal) His moon pie fell on the terminal and cased a short and blammo! blew him
clean across the room. Luckily it only singed the moon pie.
(Mal) The paramedics came and had to like cut him out of the sheet rock with
one of those big hydrolytic dohickies.
(Mal) and he was so scared he wet his pants. You can still see the stain on
the carpet over there.
(Mal) Hmm tell them to clear the room because it's time for jello
wrestling.
(Mal) AH yes those were the days in ancient Sumeria when they had warm
jello wrestling in the giant porcelain bowls.
(Mal) then the followers of Set one night in a whirlwind stole them for
their own evil purposes. Robert E. Howard mentions them in some of his Conan
Stories.
(Rev:+purps) oh christ.. you're on tonight. going to switch terms, hang
on.. back in a sec
(Mal) He blew his brains out at 32. He knew the truth. Used to write HPL
stories too.
[...]
(Rev:+purps) okay.. that's better. not in people's way now.. yack. too damn
busy
(Mal) Well it does say preach-o-rama might as well get your money's worth.
(Mal) Yeah well I was busy all day so I have to unwind now and generate
material for Purps.
(Rev:+purps) mal barker, tex box
(Rev:+purps) push a button and a purps comes out
(Mal) The Pope is gonna have a cow when he saw that we leaked the Toilet
thrusting stuff.
(Rev:+purps) spin the dial, salvation flows forth with platitudes.
(Rev:+purps) make it a Guernsey
(Mal) actually usually you have to flog the dead horse for a while to get
something tonight though..
*** Rev changed the topic to Wang-Dang-Doodle! Preach-a-rama tonight
(Mal) Yes blessed are wearers of rubber boots for the feet shell be dry and
have a memorable odor and fetishists will flock to their doors.
(Mal) Now all we need is an audience.
(Rev:+purps) holy grease savior, buckets of molten lead pouring over the
saints of old in vast abundance
(Mal) Hmm got like 10 converts as of late.
(Rev:+purps) oh good. I was wondering if the roster was growing.
(Mal) Ah yes cast lead saint figurines. Collect the whole series.
Guarantied to sink in water. Use as mystical paper weights. Poison your
enemies. Toss around for wholesome exercise.
(Mal) Yeah well it always grows. Always room for more freeloaders.
(Rev:+purps) they come with pointy heads so can be used as pencils
(Rev:+purps) (the saints, not the freeloaders ;-)
(Mal) (why do people put up with me saying that about them I wonder)
(Rev:+purps) they always think you mean someone else
(Mal) Or stick bits of fruit on the point for a decorative table display.
(Mal) Or toss in the road to annoy motorists!
(Mal) Yeah or they like know it's true and don't' dare say otherwise.
(Rev:+purps) like caltrops
(Mal) Otis is not a religion of fat butted xians!
(Rev:+purps) repeat last line please? missed it
(Mal) Or tacks like they use in the cartoons.
(Rev:+purps) hear, hear! we are a religion of falling-off-butted hexians
(Mal) Yeah or they like know it's true and don't dare say otherwise.
(Mal) This week Otis is worshipping potato pan cakes!
(Mal) An amazing treat to eat with say apple sauce and more flavorful than
lemon bars.
(Rev:+purps) hur ho. to some they are ho cakes.. to us they are symbols of
divine intervention in daily living.. the magic of the butter and flour
####===================================================================####
OTIS NEEDS YOUR TONGUES AND FINGERS to compose new hymns! The official
cannon of liturgical music has not been updated in 2,000 years and it's
beginning to sound a bit "old-fashioned." We need you to compose punk,
metal, industrial, blues, or psychedelic songs to the greater glory of the
one-and-only Ancient Sumerian God(dess) of Life, Otis! We will give lots
and lots of FREE publicity to any album you send us that contains any
original Otis songs. If we really like it, we might even worship it or
damn everyone who doesn't buy it to the 33rd Hell of Slogath!
####===================================================================####
Do You Fly On Thai Airways (Wild World of Spode)
####===================================================================####
Date: Wed, 18 Sep 1991 22:02 HKT
From: God of Chaos <LBSPODIC@USTHK.BITNET>
Subject: do YOU fly on Thai airways?
South China Morning Post -7 September 1991
_Thai airline to search for more attractive staff_
BANGKOK: The head of Thai Airways International has ordered the nation's
flag carrier to hire more attractive flight attendants. a newspaper
reported yesterday.
The problem was that the airline had been hiring too many college-
educated women even though only a high school diploma was required, Air
Chief Marshal Kaset Rojananil told _The Nation_ paper.
"Intelligent women tend to not be good looking," the newspaper
quoted Air Chief Marshal Kaset as saying.
The airline chief, who is also head of the royal Thai air force and
a member of the ruling junta, said he had ordered airline recruiters to
screen flight attendant applications "in the way beauty-pageant judging
panels select contestants".
He was reported to have said this was necessary "because we have
received a lot of complaints that our air hostesses ar not pretty enough
[and are] too old and unsmiling".
"And we must improve on that" for Thai International to remain
competitive with other carriers, he was quoted as saying.
Thai Airways was lagging behind in passenger service "because we
have for years been complacent about our status as one of the best airlines
in the world", he said.
A Thai Airways spokeswoman said the airline was preparing a
response.
Air Chief Marshal Kaset was unavailable for comment, but another
senior air force officer echoed his reported statements.
Air Vice-Chief Marshal Panlop Tavorman said the system of screening
candidates was being changed because the airline had been relying on a
written test. "Thai International previously accepted hostesses who were
good looking, in good physical shape and had good manners," he said.
Most of these women only had high school educations.
"But nowadays we have an examination, and those who have a degree
apply and they have the advantage," Air Vice-Chief Marshal Panlop said.
"However, these graduates are not usually really beautiful, and we
have to take them because they take the examination first.
"But to be a hostess you don't have to be a graduate.
"So from now on, first of all, we will look at the face and the
physical shape and then we'll take the examination," he said.
Also, some hostesses who had been flying for many years would soon
be heading for ground jobs.
"At present the air hostesses work for a long time - some are
nearly 45 years old - so they are not pleasant to the eyes. And some do
not talk pleasantly," Air Vice-Chief Marshal Panlop said.
-Associated Press-
####===================================================================####
Jigsaw in the Night Part II
####===================================================================####
Jigsaw in the Night; Part 2, in fact, though who's counting?
It's an almost universally acknowledged fact that small boats, adrift
on violent seas, bob like corks. The boats floating off the south-eastern
coast of the Big Isle in Hawaii were no exception, tilting at random and
occasionally alarming angles as they slid over fairly stiff waves. The
results of the tossing and swaying were predictable. In the main cabin of
the largest of the four, the scientists, oceanographers, papal assistants,
secretaries, secretarial assistants, and sailors who were preparing for the
upcoming presentation were having a difficult time keeping the wall charts,
slide projector, viewing screen and furniture in general (someone had had
the foresight to bolt the semi-compact rectangular table to the floor, but
no one considered the eight chairs that surrounded it) in their proper
places. Charts, diagrams and black three-ring "briefing bibles" had taken
on lives and minds of their own, effortlessly gliding passed desperately
extended hands and through tired legs to end up in large jumbles in one
corner or another where, finally retrieved, they would have to be sorted
out all over again. The wall charts fared better, content to sway
threateningly more than anything and only fall off completely at the
occasional absolutely inopportune time, but the emergency screen, dug out
of a closet when the one embedded in the ceiling failed to lower properly,
made it plain that it had no intention of standing on its rickety legs.
The situation was not helped by the fact that there were 10 people assigned
to the job.
"The question", said a sailor, "is what idiot decided that this event
should happen here and why?"
"He did", said a papal assistant respectfully, "He thought it would be
an easy way of obtaining absolute privacy."
"The whole shebang, meeting included", said a secretary, "is, as I
understand it, supposed to look like a fishing trip."
"Assuming", said the sailor, "no one notices the millions of dollars
worth of scientific equipment you folks are lowering over the sides of
these trawlers. Got it! Your slide projector and screen are now firmly
bolted, now if you'll excuse me...."
"What I want to know," said an oceanographer "is what anatomical
diagrams of yaks of are doing at a meeting on a boat studying volcanic
activity on the ocean floor." She waved a handful of papers in the air.
The Papal assistant grabbed them.
"Let me see those, please. Brow's balls! Wrong meeting. Where did
you find them?" And he wandered quickly out the door, calling to a
superior before he received a response.
"Duct tape!", said a scientist appearing in the door, "Found it in one
of the compartments in the guest cabin. This should keep everything snug."
"Hail OTIS!" said a papal assistant.
In a slightly less crowded cabin on another of the boats, Jeffe I,
"Pope" of the Intergalactic House of Fruitcakes, and perpetrator of the
fastest growing cult in the world, was sitting cross-legged in the middle
of the floor, carefully overlaying a transparency of red, yellow, green,
purple, and blue lines over a map of greater London. After studying the
arrangement for a number of minutes, occasional shifting the transparency
one way or another, he shook his head a little, stroked his chin (where a
normally carefully managed goatee had been getting out of hand recently),
and sighed. Then, on inspiration, he propped the transparency and map
upright on one of the wall benches and stepped back for a different view.
Doing so his eyes caught his watch.
"OTIS", he muttered, then, louder, "Rosewater!"
"Sir?", a head poked itself through the cabin door.
"Time?"
"Sir?"
"Time, time. What time is it. As I am reasonably sure that it isn't
2:30 on October" (he looked at the watch) "18th."
"Around 3:35, sir. It's been happening to all the watches on board,
sir. Something about the equipment we're using."
"I suppose I'd better get dressed, hadn't I?" He gathered the map and
transparency up under an arm, "Put these, um, somewhere, would you? And
call to the main boat and make sure everything's going to plan.
Rosewater?"
"Sorry, sir." Rosewater made a vague gesture "These waves".
"Know the feeling. Banged my elbow four times already. Get all that,
by the way? Rosewater?"
"Sir?"
"Waves again?"
"No sir. Message for you sir. From Jade, sir."
"My favorite paranoid. Wonder what she wants...."
The Pope mucked through a closet for his red, paisley, gold and black,
dalmatian fur lined official wear. These set of robes had been a gift
several years ago from a (probably disgruntled, possibly blind the Pope
privately believed) follower. The Pope had worn them once or twice out of
pure guilt; like the shrunken sweater with sleeves of mismatched length
made as a Christmas gift by a senile aunt in anyone's youth. Unfortunately
the colorful robes had started a trend. Now Pope Jephe had no set of
official clothing which wouldn't qualify as a traffic hazard if worn while
walking on the sidewalk.
"She wants" said Rosewater who was apparently still there "to warn you
of an assassination attempt."
"Hmph." the Pope said, struggling with the sleeves, "I survived the
last one."
"Not without dying sir."
Rosewater continued.
"She says she's intercepted a message from the government's 'inner
bowels' which talks of a 'dangerous religious menace', 'a rise we must
stop', something called 'Project Rosebud' and its findings, 'the danger of
the teeming thousands' and 'the need to do something' about a 'PJI'."
"'The teeming thousands' and 'project Rosebush', huh? Tell her that
if she ties it all into the Freemasons she can put it in a novel and sell
it for a fortune." Then, on reflection, "Listen, Rosewater, you worry too
much. It's just the pinstripes talking to one another." He adjusted his
fez, and glanced at his watch "3:45. Ready?"
Whirrrrrr..... Click.
"This, gentlemen" said Kurt Zeigler, smiling "is what we were after.
The newest island in the Hawaiian chain. For our purposes referred to as
'Mu'o'."
(click)
(pause)
(click)
"About 4,000 feet high now give or take, and growing rapidly. When
it's finished it should be one of the largest mountains in the world,
around 30,000ft if the other islands are good guides." he glanced at the
nearest geologist "That's measuring from the sea bottom of course, and when
I say rapidly, I mean geologically so. We could hike it when it's done,
but in 10,000 years we'll probably all have a little difficulty getting to
the top."
(click)
(pause)
(click)
(click)
"(Athem) At any rate what interests us, of course, is whether or not
this is THE island we've been looking for."
(click)
"The answer is probably. It fits the general description at any rate;
in the pacific around the coordinates calculated... a fairly remarkable
match, all in all, for a document 4100 years old. Here's the original
reference (with English translation on the side)"
(click)
"and the calculations done later by Pope Aldoph I...."
(click)
"and his map, of the site, superimposed over the actual location."
(click)
"And this, of course is my mother, my sister and my cousin frank at
the Grand Canyon in 1973...."
(click)
"...hehe... Um, here's Mu'o again. We're still working on a reliable
estimate for the exact year of ascension, of course, but if Aldoph's
calculations are accurate, and we can date it, then, gentlemen, we will
have something unique in history, an exact date for the end of the world."
Zeigler shut off the machine and faced his audience.
"Questions? Bishop Chad?"
"Thank you. The question is obvious, now that we have a grip on the
date of Ragnarock, what do we do about--"
"Excuse me," said an elderly Bishop from the rear, "but does anyone
else hear airplanes?"
"Gentlemen!", said Jade Evans pushing into the room, "We have a---"
Cold. Pressure. Darkness. A sting in the nostrils (salt?), pressure
on the chest and an odd pressing hunger. Pieces of wood. A propeller
drifting gracefully by. A sting in the eyes. Water. Water. And
automatically struggling arms and legs caught in those damnable robes.
Drowning. Have to remember to listen to Security in the future. Or the
next one will. Does Bishop Edmunds swim? Do any of them swim?
Then, something dark. A quarter-moon shaped cave with an opening
ringed by two symmetrical rows of white stalactites. Huge. Dwindling. No.
Closing. And something glassy, circular, large. As large as a... well as
a person. Eye. Shark.
And a nudge, gentle, towards the surface.
####===================================================================####
DR. DEMENTO'S 10 WORST SONG TITLES OF ALL TIME
1.I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream
2.They Needed a Songbird in Heaven, So God Took Caruso Away
3.Plant a Watermelon on My Grave, and Let the Juice Soak
Through
4.If the Man in the Moon Were a Coon
5.Where Did Robinson Crusoe Go with Friday on Saturday
Night
6.Come After Breakfast, Bring Your Lunch, and Leave Before
Suppertime
7.How Could You Believe Me When I Said I Loved You When You
Know I've Been a Liar All My Life
8.I've Got Those Wake Up Seven Thirty, Wash Your Ears
They're Dirty, Eat Your Eggs and Oatmeal Rush Off to
School Blues
9.Would You Rather Be a Colonel with an Eagle on Your
Shoulder or a Private with a Chicken on Your Knee?
10.A Woman Is Only a Woman, But a Good Cigar Is a Smoke
####===================================================================####
More from the Wild World of Spode
####===================================================================####
Date: Wed, 18 Sep 1991 22:07 HKT
From: God of Chaos <LBSPODIC@USTHK.BITNET>
Subject: a few more assorted bits...
South China Morning Post - 17 September 1991
_Bikini theft threatens beauty show_
Bandits in Guyana almost thwarted a national beauty contest when
they stole the competitors' bikinis a few hours before the show was to go
on, police said.
The robbers picked the locks on a car containing 19 bathing suits
and organizers of the Miss Guyana Pageant were sent scurrying around
Georgetown for replacement suits long after shopping centres had closed for
the day.
The thieves ignored repeated radio and television ads offering
rewards if the outfits were returned in time for showtime, police said,
but eventually new suits were purchased for the contestants. Tracey
Deabreau, a Guyanese woman living in Toronto, was crowned Miss Guyana.
Guyana is a nation of one million people in northeastern South
America.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
South China Morning Post - 17 September 1991
_In Brief_
* A court in Paris has awarded veteran rock singer Johnny Hallyday
symbolic damages after a Government anti-AIDS advertisement compared him
to a condom. Hallyday, 49, had asked the court for one million francs
(HK$1. 34 million) [US$171,795] in damages from the State Agency Against
AIDS. But the court yesterday awarded him only one franc.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Sat, 7 Sep 1991 10:29:52 CDT
From: Dave Lewis <lewis%cadillac.cad.mcc.com@MCC.COM>
Subject: interesting and funny news article
AIDS activists put 15-foot 'condom' on Helm's home
Arlington, Va. (ap) A 15-foot "condom" remained inflated on the roof of the
suburban Washington home of Sen. Jesse Helms for at least 15 minutes before
police ordered it taken down, and AIDS activist group said Thursday.
Seven protesters used two blowers powered by a portable generator to fill
the nylon "condom" with air, said Peter Staley, 30, a member of Treatment
Action Guerillas. "A condom to stop unsafe politics," said the printed
message. "Helms is deadlier than a virus."
The group, which was formed by members of the militant AIDS activist group
ACT-UP, was protesting positions the North Carolina Republican has taken on
several AIDS-related issues, Staley said.
"We pulled the plug after the police arrived," said Staley, who is infected
with the AIDS virus. "We helped take the condom down at their request and
the house looked just as it was before we arrived."
There were no arrests, police said. Helms had no comment, his office said.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Wed, 18 Sep 1991 21:56 HKT
From: God of Chaos <LBSPODIC@USTHK.BITNET>
Subject: enjoy!
Forwarded message:
From tbrunow Wed Aug 21 12:09:45 1991
Date: Wed, 21 Aug 91 12:09:42 -0500
From: Apathy and Frustration <tbrunow>
Message-Id: <9108211709.AA02923@csd4.csd.uwm.edu>
To: aragorn, meek, mfriedel
The temperature of Heaven can be rather accurately computed. Our authority
is Isaiah 30:26, "Moreover, the light of the Moon shall be as the light of
the Sun and the light of the Sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven
days." Thus Heaven receives from the Moon as much radiation as we do from
the Sun, and in addition 7*7 (49) times as much as the Earth does from the
Sun, or 50 times in all. The light we receive from the Moon is one
1/10,000 of the light we receive from the Sun, so we can ignore that ...
The radiation falling on Heaven will heat it to the point where the heat
lost by radiation is just equal to the heat received by radiation, i.e.,
Heaven loses 50 times as much heat as the Earth by radiation. Using the
Stefan-Boltzmann law for radiation, (H/E)^4 = 50, where E is the absolute
temperature of the earth (-300K), gives H as 798K (525C). The exact
temperature of Hell cannot be computed ... [However] Revelations 21:8 says
"But the fearful, and unbelieving ... shall have their part in the lake
which burneth with fire and brimstone." A lake of molten brimstone means
that its temperature must be at or below the boiling point, 444.6C. We
have, then, that Heaven, at 525C is hotter than Hell at 445C.
-- From "Applied Optics" vol. 11, A14, 1972
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday Morning Post Magazine -1 September 1991
_Slippery Customer_
A friend overheard the following conversation between a diner and a
waiter in a Shanghai restaurant.
Customer: We'd like the eels, please.
Waiter: Meiyou. There are none today.
Customer: There are. I can see them swimming around in the tank over
there.
Waiter: Yes. But the man who kills them is off.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
South China Morning Post - 17 September 1991
_In Brief_
* St Louis plans to take its revenge against Axl Rose, who on the
latest Guns N' Roses album sleeve has two words for the city, where he was
arrested in August for allegedly starting a riot. The words are not
_bonjour_, and citizens will retaliate today by forming a gigantic human
finger (third digit). Arial photos will then be mailed to the singer.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
TV & Entertainment Times - 2-8 September 1991
_The Last Word_
Life clearly goes on behind the closed doors of the Bank of Credit
and Commerce. A disgruntled holder of one of the bank's credit cards was
sent a bill for his annual fee shortly after the closure of the bank on
July 8. Naturally enough he chose to ignore the demand until things had
resolved themselves one way or another. Imagine his surprise, therefore,
when a month later he received another bill, this time adding on a finance
and a late payment charge. Worse yet, the bill cheerfully told him that
BCC cheques would not be accepted in payment and that his direct debit
agreement was no longer valid.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
South China Morning Post -1 September 1991
_Dead 'to hang'_
NAIROBI: A man who died in police custody last year has been convicted of
violent robbery by a Kenyan court and sentenced to hang along with three
other members of his gang, the _Daily Nation_ reported yesterday.
"He should serve the sentence wherever he is since his death
certificate and burial permit were not in the court file," ruled Mr.
Charles Rinjeu, 160 kilometres west of Nairobi.
The dead man, John Kamau, and his gang were found guilty of killing
a gang pregnant housewife while robbing a house of jewelry [sic] and cash
with machetes and iron bars in 1988.
####===================================================================####
"It is ridiculous to call this an industry. This is not. This is rat eat
rat, dog eat dog. I'll kill them before they kill me. You're talking about
the American way of survival of the fittest."
-Ray Kroc, chairman of McDonald's
####===================================================================####
Papal Ponderings #2
####===================================================================####
Papal Ponderings #2: By Pope Geoff I: This week the Pope is Unusually
Crabby after a Tooth Operation But not Beyond Redemption
IGHF, 955 Massachusetts Ave., Suite 209 Cambridge, MA 02139
"The gods give us paranoia so that we may occasionally glimpse something of
the truth".-- Socrates
Oh, so now I have to write another column? Brow's privates, I give this
Mal#3 guy the PRIVILEGE of writing six or seven reviews for the OTISian
Directory, the most hallowed OTISian publication on the face of this
pathetic little planet, and what does he do? Demands that I return the
favor and write him a CONTINUING column, that's what. There's no pleasing
some people, let me tell you. I give him fame and fortune and he wants 650
words from OTIS' first chosen representative on the Doings here at the
first FULLY registered OTIS worshiping organization in existence. It's bad
enough that he insists on sticking his nose into the fez thing. I don't
know, these people who risk life, limb and genitalia in the faint hope of
learning the TRUTH.
And I'm a busy Pope. Think I have time for this? Think it's EASY to crank
out a 53 page OTISian Directory of the heppest, weirdest, most bizarre
sources for weird shit by mail four times a year, in ADDITION to weekly
mailing and OTISian sacred objects, WHILE single-handedly managing a secret
plot to defrost WALT Disney? You think those tunnels under the pentagon dig
themselves? That previously-locked-in-a-vault-at-a-US-Air-Force-base
"alien" remains move ON THEIR OWN to the museum in OTIS, MA for safe
keeping? OTIS! It's hard enough just keeping the President away from the
secret doctrines of Koresh. I have stuff to DO here.
Ah, well. Might as well make the most of it, twist it to my advantage and
all. Besides I suppose it needs doing. What with the Rev. claiming Mal#3 is
OTIS. Should I enlighten you on that one? Nah. Let the born-a-minutes enjoy
the sweet, sweet lies of Our Mostly Holy Deity. Disillusionment's for
weenies. The truth hurts and we amuse. It sets free, but only we provide
quality entertainment. Omne ignotum pro magnifico est. And what all this
stuff about appearing in candles, anyway? If I wanted to send a message I
would have called Western Union. Turn my back of a minute and my faithful
followers have turned me into Mr. Guppy the wonder psychic. Almost wish I
didn't enjoy the magazine so much. Still one wonders where these people
will be when the film in the reality projector runs out and Ragnarock
descends upon us all.
But you know what really gets me? Tamper resistant packaging. This stuff
has got to be an evil Zachinthian (the evil Atlantean like race working
with the Anti-Otis, B. Otis, Too, to usurp OTIS at Ragarock) plot; I had to
use a blow-torch on an "easy re-seal" (here I agree, if you can figure out
how to open this stuff, resealing it should be a snap) package of sliced
turkey meat today. I don't LIKE my turkey meat burned. I know this now. At
least yak comes in easy to open cans. If I had a nickel for all the times I
just gave up and ate the packaging along with the meal... (OK, so I've
never done this, but I know I've considered it idly once or twice before
dismissing it as foolish).
What's that you say? You expected more of me this time? Like some better
things about hw'as really going on at the House? Like some USEFUL
reflection on the nature of OTIS' majesty or something "relevant". Hm....
Alright, you have me there, I suppose I should oblige, "The Pope has a
certain fondness for lemonade". That outta hold ya.
Nunc scripsi pro OTISo da mihl potum--
Pope Jeph I
####===================================================================####
Messenger of the Gods Part Five
####===================================================================####
Suddenly a huge figure loomed up before us, flanked by two more.
"You seen any green dorks about?" boomed the huge figure. I could barely
make him out in the fog. He was well over six feet tall dressed in
camouflage pants and some a combat jacket. In his hamlike fists he
held some sort of heavy duty machine gun, a bulging magazine sticking out the
bottom. The two flanking him were even harder to make out. One looked like a
priest and the other I could not describe. They too also carried weapons.
"That way!" I said waving my empty gun in the general direction on the army
of greys.
"Thanks," said the man, he smiled for a second. His eyes flashed and he
lumbered off flanked by the other two.
"Damn green fog," muttered one.
Slowly we drifted away from where we though the greys were, not daring to go
too fast fearing we might run smack dab into them. Then off in the distance
we heard
a tremendous electrical noise followed by much gunfire, that seemed
to echo and rattle around in the fog all around us. I could hear the big
man bellowing away about killing green dorks.
"We should go ask them if there's a way out of here," spoke up the
trembling woman.
"After they have dealt with the greys," advised the Man in Black.
We drifted. There was more gun fire. It grew fainter.
"We better follow them," I suggested. We shifted direction. I think we
were, but the tornado green fog made it impossible to be sure.
Shapes began to appear below our feet little heaps we took to be dead
greys. I saw one head clearly. One of it's eyes blown apart and shattered
like a glass christmas ornament. Those three whoever they are meant business
and certainly weren't scared one bit of the greys.
The firing grew fainter.
"Hurry," urged the woman in her weirdly accented voice.
It grew silent. We'd lost them.
"Oh fine!" I said, "Now what?"
"We continue," said the Man in Black picking up our pace.
We drifted.
And drifted.
And drifted.
Then we heard another noise. It was the scrape of oars. Then a fog horn,
muffled in the fog.
It came again. We sped up. None of use dared cry out to whoever it was
seeing as it could always be some sort of trick by the greys.
"Look even if we did have a lighthouse or like a set off a nova grenade we
ain't gonna see any better in this swutting fog!" said a voice.
"Well, we should try something. I'm getting swutting bored of this dumbass
rowing," said another who sounded rather grouchy.
"Well look let's just dump the mattressheaded boat and use our boots."
"No way! This boat has style."
"Wait, I thought you hated the boat!"
"I do."
Then we saw them. Through the fog came two of the strangest figures I'd
ever seen. In a small row boat with the words "Titanic" painted on the side
stood a man dressed in some of the most outlandish clothing I'd ever seen.
Perched on is head was a pith helmet shaped hat loaded with bobbing and
waving bright yellow spheres on the end of wires. He wore a pair of chrome
plated sun glasses. Over the top part of his body was a toga of
sorts with zippers and utility pockets all bulging. The toga was an ever
changing shimmering plaid that not only changed color, but moved around in
a most disturbing manner making one loose their balance if they stared at it
too long. For paints the figure wore black jodhpurs covered by steel spikes.
There were stuffed into a pair of huge motorcycle boots that looked like
they'd been mated with unearthly electronic devices. Little wires and
bits of plastic indicator lights and controls covered them.
His companion, who was the one doing the rowing, was dressed in a large suit
coat covered with pictures of small birds being electrocuted on telephone
wires. He wore a kilt of bright green that went well with his teeth which
had green streaks. On his nose were perched a pair of thick
multicolored sun glasses. He also wore a pair weird boots, much like the
other. Something was weird about the rower. He didn't seem human. Maybe the
other one wasn't either.
"Ah hoy!" yelled the one standing up, waving in a friendly fashion at us,
the spheres in his hat bobbing madly, the plaid churning. I had to look
into a blank patch of fog in order not to be sick at all the motion.
"Now what!" asked the other dropping the oars and turning around to see us,
fixing us with those multicolored sun glasses.
I could feel the Man in Black next to men tense.
"You know them?" I asked out the corner of my mouth.
"Hmm looks like we found them," said the first with the hat.
####===================================================================####
...And Arani spent 44 days and 44 nights seeking the bloody parts of Otis.
And at the end of that time Arani re-assembled the parts and discovered
that the head was yet lacking. And Arani sat down and grieved for the head
of Otis was not to be found. And Spode came upon Arani weeping over the
body of Otis and Spode appeared unto Arani as a god that had not been seen
before. And Spode spake unto Arani thusly "O Worshipful Divinity, why dust
thou weep?" And Arani, not knowing Spode for himself but thinking that
this was some new god, spake "For 44 days and 44 nights I have searched for
the parts of my mate Otis but nowhere in sky, in sea, or on land could I
find the head of Otis." And Spode spake unto Arani "Verily, I say unto
you, do not be overcome by grief, for I am a travelling god and I have seen
the head of Otis flowing down the river Imrana crying for Arani." And
Arani was overcome with grief and spake "Then the head of Otis is lost
forever." And Spode spake unto Arani "Nay, it is not so, for I saw where
the head of Otis was washed up upon the shore and was covered in sand."
And Arani spake with great joy "I am filled with great joy." And they went
unto the place that Spode had spoken of and behold, Spode dug into the sand
and retrieved a bloody piece of flesh. And Arani was filled with great
joy. And Spode placed the piece of flesh upon the body of Otis and spake
words of great power and Otis was raised up. But Arani was filled with
great sorrow and wept. And Arani spake "Bitter is the cup you have poured
for me, Strange God, for the piece of flesh was not the head of Otis."
Indeed, thusly it had come to pass, the piece of flesh was a sexual organ.
In this way Otis came to have both types of sexual organs, both the male
organs and the female organs, but there is no head upon the divine
shoulders of Otis...
####===================================================================####
Third Installment from Ancient Otisian Books
####===================================================================####
58. And when We said: Enter this city, then eat from it a plenteous (food)
wherever you wish, and enter the gate making obeisance, and say,
forgiveness. We will forgive you your wrongs and give more to those who do
good (to others). And enter the subways armed with plenty of tokens that
you may enjoy the ride.
59. But those who were unjust changed it for a saying other than that which
had been spoken to them, so Otis sent upon those who were unjust a
pestilence from heaven, because they transgressed. And their socks began to
sleep and the underwear began to creep. And their hair fell into knots and
matted heaps and their children into the dreaded toy addiction which caused
the parents to spend a years savings on small plastic easily lost items.
60. And when Qasireu prayed for drink for his people, We said: Strike the
vending machine with your staff So there gushed from it twelve flavors;
each tribe knew its flavor: Eat and drink of the provisions of Otis and do
not act corruptly in the land, making mischief.
61. And when you said: O Qasireu! we cannot bear with one flavor, therefore
pray to Otis on our behalf to bring forth for us out of what the earth
grows, of its ho-hos and its ding-dongs and its cheetoes and its doretoes
and its wheat germ. He said: Will you exchange that which is better for
that which is worse? Enter a city, so you will have what you ask for. And
abasement and humiliation were brought down upon them, and they became
deserving of Otis's wrath; this was so because they disbelieved in the
communications of Otis and killed the Popes unjustly; this was so because
they disobeyed and exceeded the limits.
62. Surely those who believe, and those who are Fropheads, and the
fornicating Christians, and the Sabians, whoever believes in Otis and the
Last day(Ragnarock) and does good, they shall have their reward from Otis,
and there is no fear for them, nor shall they grieve. For Otis will take
them by the hand in the time of need and see them through the stopping of
the Reality Projector.
63. And when We took a promise from you and lifted the mountain over you:
Take hold of the laws of Otis. We have given you with firmness and bear in
mind what is in it, so that you may guard (against B. Otis).
64. Then you turned back after that; so were it not for the grace of Otis
and Her mercy on you, you would certainly have been among the losers.
65. And certainly you have known those among you who exceeded the limits of
the House of Blue Light, so We said to them: Be (as) apes, despised and
hated.
66. So Otis made them an example to those who witnessed it and those who came
after it, and an admonition to those who guard (against B. Otis).
67. And when Qasireu said to his people: Surely Otis commands you that you
should sacrifice a yak; they said: Do you ridicule us? He said: I seek the
protection of Otis from being one of the ignorant.
68. They said: Call Otis for our sake to make it plain to us what she is.
Qasireu said: He says, Surely she is a yak neither advanced in age nor too
young, of middle age between that (and this); do therefore what you are
commanded.
69. They said: Call on Otis for our sake to make it plain to us what
her color is. Qasireu said: He says, Surely she is a yellow yak; her color
is intensely yellow, giving delight to the beholders.
70. They said: Call on Otis for our sake to make it plain to us what
she is, for surely to us the yaks are all alike, and if Otis please we
shall surely be guided aright.
71. Qasireu said: He says, Surely she is a yak not made submissive that she
should plough the land, nor does she irrigate the tilth; sound, without a
blemish in her. They said: Now you have brought the truth; so they
sacrificed her, though they had not the mind to do (it).
72. And when you killed a man, then you disagreed with respect to that, and
Otis was to bring forth that which you were going to hide.
73. So We said: Strike the (dead body) with part of the (Sacrificed yak),
thus Otis brings the dead to life, and He shows you Her signs so that you
may understand.
74. Then your hearts hardened after that, so that they were like rocks,
rather worse in hardness; and surely there are some rocks from which
streams burst forth, and surely there are some of them which split asunder
so water issues out of them, and surely there are some of them which fall
down for fear of Otis, and Otis is not at all heedless of what you do. And
verily there are rocks to be found in the head as well.
75. Do you then hope that they would believe in you, and a party from among
them indeed used to hear the Word of Otis, then altered it after they had
understood it, and they know (this).
76. And when they meet those who believe they say: We believe, and when
they are alone one with another they say: Do you talk to them of what Otis
has disclosed to you that they may contend with you by this before your
Lord? Do you not then understand?
77. Do they not know that Otis knows what they keep secret and what they
make known?
78. And there are among them illiterates who know not the Book of Lies, and
they do but conjecture.
####===================================================================####
Optima Plan Part Five
####===================================================================####
Date: Fri, 13 Sep 91 21:56:14 CDT
From: "Reverend John" <UC521832@UMCVMB.missouri.edu>
Subject: optima plan five
below you'll find Optima Plan part the fifth. Didn't cover you and otis this
time cuz I think stew will do so. I'm sort of taking both me and stew out of
the narrative for abit (though of course Stew will continue hers) so as not
to make it The Rev And Stewy Show.
Enjoy.
Optima Plan
part five
by Rev. John
The voice on the phone was low and calm, belying the urgency of the
news.
"Shark, this is Rev. I've had a message from Otis."
"Hey, cool. So what's the old god got to say?" Shark replied, half-
distracted as she fed Fairbourne a McDLT.
"The stuff that Steph brought Q they're messages from Optima Plan.
They've been re-arranging words and letters in the News of the Weird to
spell out messages to their agents."
Shark's eyes grew alert. "So?"
"So, they're getting desperate. The messages are kind of dated, but
they refer to a contingency plan, to be used in case they were unable to
eliminate us.."
"..which they haven't.."
"Right. The thing is, they knew in advance what the birth of Fairbourne
would mean. So they had a plan to stop the next generation of infants,
who would carry the seeds of heaven within them."
"Yeah?"
"They're going to sterilize the entire world."
"What?!?"
"They have a base on the moon. From there, they'll create a field of
radiation through the earth that will make humans unable to produce
fertile zygotes."
"That's insane!"
"I know.. they're desperate. The thing is, they can't get the radiation
through the ozone layer. So, they've got a plant on board the space
shuttle Discovery. Once they're up in space, their plant will launch a
satellite that will poke holes in the ozone to let the radiation
through."
"Shit!"
"Yeah, exactly. You've got to get to Cape Canaveral, Shark. You've got
to stop their plant before the shuttle lifts off."
"Okay, I'll jet out this afternoon. What about you?"
"I've got an appointment to keep. I'll be out of touch for a bit, so
leave messages with mal or on my answering machine. It's secure."
Shark frowned at this. Fairbourne, sensing the danger surrounding his
godfather, meeped at the phone. "Be careful, Rev."
"Don't worry. I'm the model of caution."
Sixteen hours later, Shark arrived in Florida, half a day before the
scheduled shuttle launch. Using her expertly-forged Press badge she
strode past the guards.
Once she was inside the NASA public corridors, she slipped into the
restroom. She opened up a small bundle.
Fairbourne's little eyes looked up at her from within the package.
"Meep?" he meeped.
"Shh.." Shark shushed..."It's time. Do your stuff."
Fairbourne squinched his eyes shut.
Not too terribly far away, Humpy the Stumpy Bear felt Fairbourne's mind
reach out to her. The brave little plastic kazoo sent a wave of re-
assurance to the youngster, then followed it up with a release of
energy.
Shark walked out into the hallway, dressed as a NASA ground crew
technician. She walked assuredly out one of the heavily-guarded access
docks and onto the staging platform. Before her, the gantry tower rose
up into the starry night. She looked up at it, at the great white ship
resting there, and pondered things for a moment.
SamHill scanned the pages of the new Job Hunter that Stewy had sent,
looking for an exciting, challenging career that would provide
motivation and security. Right now, the best thing he had found was the
'Help Wanted' sign at the Big Bopping Burger Boy down the street. The
pay wasn't bad, actually, provided that he could remain sane in the
service industry.
Down the road, at the Burger Boy in question, a man in a DisneyCorp
power suit carefully aimed an assembly of tin foil and oyster crackers
in the direction of SamHill. With a few adjustments to the oyster
crackers, Sam's mind altered imperceptibly, making the idea of working
at the Burger Boy quite attractive.
The man smiled. Soon the first would fall.
Far away to the south, Shark entered the shuttle, Fairbourne & Humpy
Stumpy's powers mind-blanking the guards watching the video cameras.
Her attire was now that of an astronaut. As she moved towards the
cockpit, she wondered what it would be like in space, beyond the reach
of the safe ground below.
And in a small town in Missouri, a long limousine pulled up in front of
a big rambling house on Wilson Avenue. The front door of the house
opened, and Rev walked out, wearing his new CHUCKS and fingering the
assembly hanging from his neck, which now included a chaos medallion
inscribed with elemental symbols and a cheap little plastic skull, in
addition to the putrid green hand Stewy always harped on.
He walked down the driveway, picking up the afternoon paper on the way.
Reaching the limo, a door opened and he climbed in.
"I assume you guys are the DisneyCorp reps?"
"Better known as Optima Plan, that's right."
Rev nodded. "Okay, let's go."
"You know you were a fool to set this up. You aren't coming back
alive."
"Shit lands where it falls, my brother. There are worlds greater than
this."
"Yeah.. worlds of shit. Where you are."
Rev put his hands behind his head and stretched out, green eyes closing.
"Wake me up before you kill me."
TO BE CONTINUED
####===================================================================####
CONTEST!
####===================================================================####
You know how the government is always hiding stuff from us? Well now's you
chance to expose the government! Yes now you can blow the whistle on the
shadow government no one ever hears about.
Here's how:
You know how the government has all these secret place where they hid
stuff? You know, like in the last scene of "Raiders". Well now you can send
into Purps your guess as to what these secret government warehouses hold.
Results of the contest will be printed as soon as we get some.
####===================================================================####
THEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHE
####===================================================================####
--Subink 1991
