Subject: Re: The peculiar slack of the Ugly King

Date: Mon, 16 Feb 1998 17:07:57 GMT

From: sheepdip@yowsuh.com (harfs)

Reply-To: Slug Pot Pie

Organization: or lack of same

Newsgroups: alt.slack

References: 1 

 

craig@bbs.cpcn.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

inclusion

 

>"FAQ"?

 

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

>rated PG-17)

 

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"

>for breakfast

 

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

rodeo

 

>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.

 

all of

 

>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

"HEEYYUPPyubbaUBBBApppppppWHADDYaY

AwhuddyaWHUDDADAFUCKDAYATHINKYERduyaduyaTHINKYERFUCKINGDOIN

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

 

doo

 

>WKDU.

 

"DOOHuBBBrppppArkArkbbbl,blorBlorblorBbbblorobbl...DOO-WHACKADOO

brrrrpabababababrprprprprWHAT!?" He said, angrily. But I kept on

whining:

 

>Then was the news that all alumni were to be kicked off the

>air on February 1 1998.

 

"HYAHherrrrrrALUMMINUTTYHYahHYahkeyagKeyagkeyagKICKThatTHAThyahhyahDOES

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

>April),

 

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!

 

>so

 

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!

 

>Pastor Craig

 

Subject:

Re: The peculiar slack of the Ugly King

Date:

Mon, 16 Feb 1998 00:17:56 GMT

From:

!!!bmyers@ionet.net (TarlaStar)

Organization:

Little Sisters of the Perpetually Juicy

Newsgroups:

alt.slack

References:

1 , 2

 

 

 

 

sheepdip@yowsuh.com (harfs) wrote:

 

>craig@bbs.cpcn.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.

 

 

humbled,

Tarla

***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)