From firstname.lastname@example.org Tue Apr 14 18:32:18 1998
Subject: Re: How I met "Bob"
From: Sketchy Albedo <email@example.com>
Date: 15 Apr 1998 01:32:18 GMT
Reformatted for your viewing pleasure!
How I Met "Bob"
By 3-D Bob Diddley
It was in about 1988, by the old calendar. I had what was, in retrospect,
the best job I've ever "held down" (as opposed to a job holding me down).
I was the one-man night cleaning crew at the local supermarket. From the
time the store closed at 6, to midnight when the re-stocking crew arrived,
I was locked in, alone with my thoughts and a scrubbing machine. The job
required me to pass several times by the magazine and tabloid racks.
One night, I noticed a new magazine on the racks; "Shred" a skateboard
fanzine. Now what that mag was doing on the rack in rural Smallville,
Quebec, devoid of boards or skate culture, is a mystery best explained by
the single syllable "Bob".
I decided it must be my magazine, and stole it off the rack. Inside, I
found lots about skateboards which didn't really apply to me, but there
was an article about this bizarre religious cult, with a picture of our
smiling sales rep and a wonderful mandala (which graces the inside of the
Book of the SubGenius).
Now, my experiences with mind-altering substances had prepared me to
appreciate a mandala, but this one was different. In addition to the usual
"spiritually uplifting" icons, there was nearly everything else, all the
good and bad aspects of our void "civilization", and all done up in a
style reminiscent of one of the great artists and thinkers of this or any
other age, R. Crumb!
Well, I was hooked, but not so much that I was ready to send good money
away to Dallas for more information, especially when I could just steal
the next issue of Shred. No more appeared. Ever. I've not seen nor heard
of this magazine since then.
Forward about a year, and my lovemate was visiting her parents in
Ugh-high-ugh. They went to a bookstore clearance sale, and she spotted a
book with that same grinning goofball on the cover; The Book of the
SubGenius! She brought it back to me, the gift of a lifetime, a move which
she often seems to regret, as she hasn't yet come to grips with her own
Yeti heritage. Now, she watches helplessly as I read, excremeditate,
chuckle and guffaw at the sheer outrageous righteousness contained in this
wisest of books. My eternal, infernal gratitude to Rev. Ivan Stang and all
the others who bravely laid it out for all to see, feel, and smell.
I finally repented and sent my easy-come money to the Foundation, and
started my own half-assed nonchalant Church of the Final Jeopardy. I
didn't have to quit my job, as I was fired by my buttflake boss, who never
actually held a mop or broom, and didn't recognize that I was dong a
pretty good job of cleaning the store.
I record Old Time Fiddlers, and sell the cassettes. At one bookstore I
dealt with, I saw the mythical "Three- Fisted Tales of "Bob"". I traded a
couple of cassettes for the book, making me one of the lucky possessors of
this now out-of-print crapclassic. Some of the best and worst writing ever
put between covers!
I became involved with Atari computers, being the best platform for home
studio MIDI music. Through a fluke of the usual SubG variety, I discovered
that four units of the extended character set (beyond those represented on
the keyboard), when typed in the correct order, reveal a miniature face o'
"Bob"! What's this mean? Those characters were selected and burned into
Atari OS ROMs about 1984 (check out Dateline for Domination, in which it
is suggested that "Bob" owns Atari and IBM. Nowadays, Atari computers are
pretty much passe' for uses other than MIDI sequencing. But in a bleak
future when the power grid is fried, you may wish to remember that an
Atari ST can do real computing on its internal floppy drive, powered by a
12 volt battery! I know this, because I live in a house without grid
power or telephone line. We make our own electricity with a gasoline
generator and solar-voltaic panels.
Rev. 3-D Bob Diddley
Cherch of the Misspelled Werd
"Money goes where it's wanted, and stays where it's well-treated"
-from More Tears, CBC tv