Subject: Re: The peculiar slack of the Ugly King
Date: Mon, 16 Feb 1998 17:07:57 GMT
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (harfs)
Reply-To: Slug Pot Pie
Organization: or lack of same
email@example.com (Pastor Craig) wrote:
>Why wasn't Pastor Craig
pitched off the back of a piece-of-shit flatbed Ford truck (crammed
with itinerant pepper pickers) and set upon by shitfaced co-workers
wielding pitchforks and shovels and assorted cooking utensils until he
resembled a semi-shapeless, shredded, brain and entrail-pudding-coated
reddish stick snowman with goofy glasses, then pissed on, puked on,
shit on, and stomped and blunt instrumented into an fetid,
agglutinated mixture of former annoying-nerd parts, highway grit and
wetback hole products, then doused with lantern fuel and set alight in
the middle of the road? We fucked up, that's why. We should have hired
wops or at least white trash to go dispensing just retribution to him
for the way he has
>been annoying people on a regular basis with
>his often complained about
stupid, useless, embarrass-a-goddam-droolin'-downie-kindergartener by
The damn greasers took the money and got drunk. That and bought
lingerie for some of their livestock from the Brazillian Cyclamate
Baron, then got in a big fight over dibs on the cutest one and killed
each other. And guess who sneaked in afterward and made off with Rosie
the Cambodian BloatBellied Shoat? Craig, das who! So now we finally
have an answer in the affirmative to the question Craig constantly and
falsely assumes any of us give a half an armpit fart about:
>Has he been getting laid?
Yes he has! Until last week, you could hear all sorts of nasty noises
emanating from his tastefully decorated length of corrugated sewer
pipe nearly every night: "SOOOOOOEEEEEEEY." "I believe in Merkins!
Where You From, You Sexy ThanG?!!" " Snort, Slobber. I'm gonna have to
go to confession after this, BAYBEEE." And he did try to. But the
Priest came out of the confessional halfway thru and kicked his butt,
then thew him out of the church saying: "There ain't enough fuckin'
"Hail Marys" on the planet to save YOUR ass!" Ah well. He's been
looking for a long time for a religion fulla equally fucked up, boring
people, but everywhere he's been, including here, people have at
best, held their noses and given him the Bronx cheer, but still, for
some damn stupid ass reason he thinks you may be wondering:
>Has he joined the Jehovah's Witnesses?
Would have seemed logical, as we know they aren't too exciting or
particular, and he tried, but they wouldn't let him take his pig with
him on his door to door harass-arings, so, he snitted off in a huff,
frustrated and ready to just forget about ever finding a church fulla
losers hopeless enough to feel at home around him, so:
>Has he blown it all off?
sadly, yes, but even the other members of the cult had to concede he
had annoyer-ing and irritater-ing powers of heretofore unimagined
proportions, even when considered alongside JW's, who have devoted
their entire lives to the development of such skills. But did he learn
anything from any of this? Did he stop fucking the pig? Will he just
go away and stop making an arse of himself?
>No, no, and no
and will he ever find x-rated hog-fancier films on Nickelodeon?
Probably not, but he claims:
>(although praise rev AKA, I got something that at least
off the Discovery Channel. Anyway, we can now let Craig tell the rest
of the story that isn't a story at all in the first person:
>The real problem has been for the last two months the future of "Bob"
was jeopardized by a tragic turn of events that deprived me of the
little pig whose butt, almost constantly
>was dramatically up in the air.
I knew she was getting plenty sore and I really needed a spare.
>First was news of money
I had been saving to buy hair, but decided to blow instead at an
on-the-hoof auction at the state fair, which also featured a backhoe
>for contractors running
heavy equipment after taking Contac pills and Nyquil, and a runway
show of the latest styles in sheep and porker underwear, which they
claimed in the catalog would be
>out in February 1998.
>This raised the nasty
in a big hurry, and I had to rent a cowboy outfit so I could duck into
one of the "Have Your Picture Taken With a Cardboard Cutout of
Trigger" booths and pork my pig. But I got caught by one of
Auctioneers and he started yelling at me
GubbbbbbababababaINHEREyayayaSEEEEEYICCICKKKPUKE?!! "Going once?" I
said. But he just got mad and got a big stick. I begged him not to hit
me, and told him I'd never been quite right in the head, and was
really depressed about the
>possibility of my having to find work out of commuting distance to
brrrrpabababababrprprprprWHAT!?" He said, angrily. But I kept on
>Then was the news that all alumni were to be kicked off the
>air on February 1 1998.
IT!" he said. Then he hit me with the stick, confiscated the love of
my life for what he said would be "bleBleBleBGleBeAAAbububububBEBEEG
AAAababababaASSSSSbarbBababBARBECUE!!" and threw me off the grounds
and made me go home hogless, horny and heartbroken
>Because of these two factors I was
plunged into a deep depression, and many nights I snivelled myself to
sleep at night with my face buried in a tear-smeared market bulletin,
and I was
>not anxious to post the FAQ due
to feeling so lousy I couldn't even find any solace, like I normally
do, in being the completely irritating online equivalent of a
butt-sucking deer tick, and
>to the strong possibility of it being overcome by events.
Yeah, I know, I know. Hey, I was miserable. Fuck you if you expect me
to make sense.
>But, "Bob" takes care of his own. I found another job (until mid
saved enough money to rent a new girlfriend from a farmer
>withing commuting distance
whatever the fuck that is. Anyway, she's a real cutie. I showed off
some polaroids of her at the last BFB fundraiser and weenie roast
>and the alumni were extended
but I refused to give them the farmer's phone number
>until summer 1998
and I was bullshitting about that!
anyway, I'm still a fucking mess, and I know you'll find it
destressing to learn (if any of you even give a flattened toad nut)
but, I've decided for now not to throw myself in front of a speeding
jon boat or nail my feet to the floor with a crossbow and die of
dehydration, and even though, based on all relevant feedback
>it looks like "Bob" for Breakfast just might
be unable even to edge out being snotted on and force-fed All
Temperature Cheer in an unbiased assessment of the relative popularity
of various free time diversions. I've heard "Bob" has an especially
stinky place in the bait shop set aside for commooters that
>go the distance
I do to bother the shit out of everybody, and I've got me heart set on
being thrown into it someday.
>So the FAQ will be posted again.
HUZZZAH. EVERY GODDAM DAY. NYAH NYAH. take that, you meanies!
Re: The peculiar slack of the Ugly King
Mon, 16 Feb 1998 00:17:56 GMT
Little Sisters of the Perpetually Juicy
1 , 2
firstname.lastname@example.org (harfs) wrote:
>email@example.com (Pastor Craig) wrote:
>>Why wasn't Pastor Craig
>pitched off the back of a piece-of-shit flatbed Ford truck (crammed
>with itinerant pepper pickers) and set upon by shitfaced co-workers
>wielding pitchforks and shovels and assorted cooking utensils until he
>resembled a semi-shapeless, shredded, brain and entrail-pudding-coated
>reddish stick snowman with goofy glasses, then pissed on, puked on,
>shit on, and stomped and blunt instrumented into an fetid,
>agglutinated mixture of former annoying-nerd parts, highway grit and
>wetback hole products, then doused with lantern fuel and set alight in
>the middle of the road? We fucked up, that's why...
Normally, I just save my praise for lurch's creativity to send him in
e-mail, but this one was priceless. This marks an all-time high in
lurchdom. It's times like these that we come to understand that
flaming IS an art, not just an avocation.
lurch, this is your Sistene Chapel.
***Rev. Mutha Tarla Star***
"He's giving it up for ME! Did you hear that cell block 9?
He's giving it up for me...I feel just like Wallis Simpson!"
---Lenny Bruce (as "Kinky" the prisoner)