Subject: BLEEDING HEAD AVERTS NEAR-FATAL BUST!
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Rev. Ivan Stang)
Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 23:03:44 -0600
"THESE ARE NOT THE DRUGS YOU'RE LOOKING FOR"
(THIS DOCUMENT WAS WRITTEN BY AN ANONYMOUS SUBGENIUS FAN, AUG. 5, 1993)
BLEEDING HEAD AVERTS NEAR-FATAL BUST!
I just got back from Up North. I haven't gotten any a.s. in 3 weeks, but
while I was in Cleveland, Pope Lou and Pastor Craig told me about Tarla's
bust, and also about her recent legal problems.
The Lord and I narrowly escaped a similar, but potentially more dreadful
situation while driving back to Dallas through a certain Southern
marijuana-growing state. PRAISE DOBBS for the State of Confusion, for had
they found the 'Frop, Jesus would have had to kill all three cops and both
We were on the Interstate, Jesus Christ behind the wheel, me lolling in
lassitude, when the Lord bespake unto me, "Hey man, we're being pulled
over." I checked my pockets for my sacred Implement and my Utility Frop
Container. We had nothing to worry about since we were breaking no laws;
however, many a SubGenius has learned the hard way that in some cultures,
the rare and harmless herb we call 'Frop is confused with the deadly
gateway drug, marijuana, which leads people to harder drugs like BETTER
marijuana, and away from Conspiracy beer. Of course, since 'Frop is
extremely expensive, I had only the smidgen in my pockets and a small baggy
which just happened to be stuffed very deeply into a rolled-up sleeping
bag. The Lord Himself "fraps" so rarely and is such a spastic amateur that
He resorts to a "rolling machine"... which he unfortunately had in His
The Lord HAD however taken a Vivarin (200 mg caffeine, sold at convenience
stores) JUST BEFORE THIS HAPPENED, so He was already vibrating like an
extremely high pitched tuning fork. (He says he "got off" on the "fear
The first cop was the Good Cop. He leaned in the window and said he had
pulled us over for "tailgating" (?) and was only going to write the Lord a
warning. Then he suddenly said, "Do you boys have any kilos or pounds of
marijuana or cocaine in this car?" I sort of laughed and said "Why,
Officer, of course not, heh heh" but I had a sinking feeling in my stomach,
for I realized that we had not been pulled over for tailgating at all, but
for Long Hair.
I guess, was I a highway cop in a state where millions and millions of
dollars in untaxed marijuana is grown and smuggled out every week, I too
would pull over two hippie-looking individuals in an out of state van and
try to terrorize them. On the other hand... every trucker under 70, over 40
and under 30 has long hair. Perhaps it was the Dobbshead and the Darwin
Fish that attracted their attention.
The cop made the Lord stand by the roadside and then, leaning in the window
looking at me, said, "I smell burnt marijuana in this car, so don't lie to
me." I said, "You may be smelling this Ozium, sir," holding up the air
freshener spray. He looked at it and said, "HELL, that's nothing but no
account Ozium, it's ORANGE flavored! Unless you have a lot of patchoulie
oil, I SMELL POT and YEW BETTER NOT LIE TO ME BOY!"
It so happens that I do in fact carry a very stinky little jar of
patchoulie oil in my briefcase. Everybody hates it so I never put it on
myself, but it does make my briefcase smell like a 1969 head shop, which I
like. I showed the Good Cop the patchoulie oil but he was not impressed. He
asked, "Do you mind if I search your car for drugs?"
This was like the moment of truth. If I said no, GOD KNOWS what would have
happened. He'd have found ANOTHER excuse and they would have been PISSED.
(When it was all over, we discussed this very fact with the Good Cop, and
that is indeed what would have happened, although he insisted that "No"
means "No," whatever that means...) If I said yes, this one cop would have
to search very hard, and even if he mistook my eighth-ounce of Frop for
pot, the worst that would have happened would be a cold, sleepless,
paranoid night in jail, and a fine.... PROBABLY. It was the less probable
eventualities that were turning the knees of Jesus and yours truly to
water. Luckily, I have been through this routine -- being shaken down by
cops over nothing -- TOO MANY TIMES, and was able to act not much more
scared than a normal citizen would be. I decided to brazen it out and said,
"Yeah, go ahead and search the car, but I'm telling you, Officer, you have
the wrong guys, and this is a big waste of time." It was about then that I
noticed the DOG IN HIS CAR and the "K-9" patch on his sleeve and thought
"UH-OH. MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE JUST SAID NO."
And then TWO MORE COP CARS pulled up, one containing ANOTHER dog, and
suddenly Jesus Christ and Ivan Stang were told to stay put by the roadside
while the Good Cop tore through our stuff. He quickly found the Rolling
Machine and Rolling Tray with Yin Yang Symbol, stuck it in the Lord's Face
and said, "AND WHAT IS THIS USED FOR, BWAH?" The Lord bespoke unto him, "I
roll cigarets with that, sir." He shoved it in MY face. "DO YOU BELIEVE
THAT?" "Not sure what to say, sir." "HAVE YOU EVER SEEN HIM SMOKING
MARIJUANA?" "I've seen him roll cigarets with it, Officer." (That was a
lie.) "DO YOU HAVE TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN CASH OR MORE IN THAT VAN?" "I
sure wish we did," and so on. The Bad Cop in the other car turned on his
p.a. and bellowed, I swear to god, "TAKE 'EM TA JAIL!!" and "THEY'RE DOING
TIME" and things like that. The Lord looked more nervous than I did, Him
being a Yankee and all, surrounded by these cops He's heard horror stories
about, and they started picking on Him, zeroing in on Him. And I know from
experience that when the Lord gets backed into a corner, He gets PISSED OFF
and you can't predict WHAT will happen. I mean, sure, His Dad disowned
Him... but He's still the Son of God. At one point He said, "I'm getting
cold, mind if I get my coat out of that truck?" They let Him get His coat
and I was TERRIFIED that the Lord would use that as an opening to use some
kind of Miraculous Rays, or maybe even a secret gun, to kill all three
cops. I could tell that The Fightin' Jesus had a VERY itchy "trigger
finger," which the 200 mg of caffeine pills wasn't assuaging any.
The Good Cop yanked at the van's back trunk, which held the two Swag
Suitcases. I WANTED the cops to look through those. It would make a good
distraction. The trunk was locked and I offered to open it. The Bad Cop
yelled over his loudspeaker, "OPEN THAT TRUNK!!" I opened it up and then
the Bad Cop got out to search through the Swag Suitcases. The sacred Van's
trunk lid hydrolic supports are broken, so I had to stand there holding the
damn trunk open while this cop poked through stacks of SubGenius t-shirts,
tapes, flyers, books, etc. He inspected every piece of lint to see if it
might be evidence. He examined the WHAT THE HELL flyer, snorting
derisively. He pointed to the Dobbshead on a Sacred Cap and said, "Who's
this?" I said (as I have said to 4 other cops in the past), "You ever read
Mad Magazine?" (Thus answering their question with another question, but
one which they can relate to.) "Well, this is like that, and this guy is
like the Alfred E. Newman. We lecture at colleges and sell this stuff. You
know that Heaven's Gate thing where those religious nuts killed themselves?
We make fun of all those STUPID KOOK WEIRDOES." Drawling my best ho-hum
Texas drawl, sounding like any other bored old redneck who happened to sell
stupid novelty crap to college students for a living. Which is exactly what
I am, AMONG OTHER THINGS.
He was not amused. Unlike the Good Cop, he seemed rather thickheaded, more
of a stereotypical Mean But Clueless Southern Cop. I thought maybe that now
would be a good time to try Jedai mind control combined with The Voice. I
looked directly at the cop, made an appropriate Gesture, and declared, very
firmly, using Voice,
"These are not the drugs you're looking for."
I need more practice, because instead of looking at his partner and saying
"These aren't the drugs we're looking for," he didn't respond at all. I
was able to implant subliminally, but not powerfully enough to have any
Then they brought the DRUG SNIFFING DOG out. At least they SAID it was a
drug sniffing dog. For all I know it was trained to ACT like it had smelled
drugs. Jesus and I constantly had to remember that anything these law
officers said or did might be a trick or mind-game, and that we should just
keep our traps SHUT.
Well, the dog peed on the roadside, calmly stuck his head in the car as
instructed, and then proceeded to go BERSERK. It didn't know which part of
the car to attack first. It ended up biting the air conditioning vent and
the glove compartment viciously. But it obviously WANTED to bite THE ENTIRE
CAR. The bad cop reached in the gove compartment and fished out a
straightened wire paper clip, one end encrusted with black stuff. He
sniffed it and said, "WHERE'S THE PIPE THAT GOES WITH THIS PIPE CLEANER YOU
SON OF A BITCH??!?!?" I said, "I have no idea at all what that thing is."
(The item he was requesting was in my POCKET.) He got mad and locked me in
the back of his car, and Jesus was locked in the back of another car, and
we sat there watching while they started going through our stuff
methodically. I was very scared that, finding no drugs, they would
DISASSEMBLE MY DASHBOARD or otherwise STRIP THE CAR which would of course
mean holding us in jail while they did so. I was also afraid that, once in
jail, I would be searched, and they would mistake my Frop and Pipe for Dope
and Paraphernalia. While such a thing would be no blemish on MY reputation,
but in fact a badge of honor, considering my career, I had no wish to waste
time, nor did the blameless young Lord need anything sullying his otherwise
The Lord chose not to reveal Himself as such to these policemen, Praise
"Bob". I could see Him glowering and simmering, looking for any excuse to
"rare back and pass a Miracle."
So there we were locked in the back seats of cop cars, and the cop was
POKING HIS ARM INTO THE SLEEPING BAG... I thought well, I COULD say that it
was a GROUPIE'S SLEEPING BAG -- but once they find this little Pipe and
Stuff in my pocket, in the jail cell, my goose is DEFINITELY cooked.
So without making any untoward shoulder movements, I plucked the two items
from my pocket, dropped them to the floor, and PUSHED THEM UNDER THE FRONT
SEAT OF THE COP CAR.
Believe me, it occurred to me that this might be JUST WHAT THEY WERE HOPING
I WOULD DO -- that they would then immediately look under the front seat
and brag, "Why look, now we don't have to cavity search the hippie! HIPPIE,
DO YOU THINK WE'RE STUPID???"
The third cop stayed in another car and I guess was having a discussion
with HQ over the radio, which I was privy to, hearing it in the cop car
where I was confined, and I suspect that the conversation was for OUR
BENEFIT. That is, they knew we could hear them and wanted to scare us. "Oh,
ten four, the dog spotted termites and we're spraying... these boys have
been hittin' that wacky tabacky... they'll be in jail pretty soon here... "
and so on. I wish I could remember the lingo better but I was questioning
the wisdom of what I had just done regarding this "under the seat"
business. If they didn't intend for me to do that, then I had to pray that
I had wedged the items well enough that NHGH wouldn't make them come
ROLLING OUT at exactly theleast opportune moment.
Also, the two cops had FOUND THE HEAD. They were examining the Bleeding
Head of Arnold Palmer $500 replica prop, dangling it by its neck gore. The
Bad Cop looked DISGUSTED, and walked over to the cop car in which Jesus was
locked, and PLUNKED THE HEAD DOWN ANGRILY on the HOOD as if to say,
"Thought you were gonna hide the REAL evidence, eh?" I suppose he thought
its cranium must be stuffed with kilos of cocaine instead of foam rubber.
Then, since he had plunked it down FACING THE TRAFFIC going by, he turned
it towards Jesus and plunked it down AGAIN, even more meaningfully.
Jesus caught my eye and winked.
Then, figuring we had nothing left to be in terrible suspense over, the
worst probably being about to occur, and nothing to be done about it, we
both sort of dozed off in the back of those cop cars.
I was rudely awakened by the door I was leaning against being yanked open.
I almost fell out backwards. The Bad Cop told me to get in the back of the
other car with Jesus -- AND THEN HE SPED AWAY, with my beloved old tool, of
TREMENDOUS sentimental value, and also my little frop can, which luckily
held only a few molecules -- about $5 worth.
We sat in the back seat. I told Jesus I had nothing on me and He said "Shut
up, they're probably taping" (we later learned that they indeed were -- in
fact everything was taped. Maybe we'll see it on COPS). Then Cop 3 drove
away and the Good Cop came over and basically said he was about to let us
go, even though he KNEW we'd been "tearing down the Insterstate smoking
dope," because they really were just looking for pounds and kilos. THEY HAD
NOT FOUND THE WAD IN THE SLEEPING BAG. THE DOG COULD NOT ZERO IN ON THE
FROP IN THE SLEEPING BAG BECAUSE TO THE DOG, THE ENTIRE VEHICLE WAS FROP.
Meanwhile I'm thinking, "Dear "Bob," please, if that little container comes
rolling out from under that other cop's seat, please let it roll around
QUIETLY, and let there be many more suspects go through that back seat
before it is found, and "Bob," please let us out of this state
The officer, probably still trying to slip us up, said, "Now look you guys,
somebody has been smoking dope in this car. That dog can smell pot for a
month after it's been used in the car." Jesus turned to me and said, "You
better talk to those two teenaged kids of yours." (I thought that was a
good touch.) The cop replied, "Somebody need a talkin' to, all right... and
I think we know who that somebody is, now don't we, Steve?" (Jesus's human
name. The cop said this exactly like a school teacher talking to an errant
We shook his hand and then drove away, exiting into downtown and LURKING
RANDOMLY because we were envisioning the Bad Cop finding my little stash
rolling around in his car and in his extreme anger setting up a veritable
ROADBLOCK at the BORDER to the NEXT STATE. However, when we finally snuck
across, no one pestered us, and we escape, with me bitterly bemoaning the
loss of my little old pipe pal.
We stopped at a Con store to buy Bugler tobacco to legitimize the Lord's
rolling machine, and lo and behold, one last little bit of magic occurred.
The first hour into our trip North, I had LOST a special lighter that I
loved because it was shaped like a woman's legs and miniskirted butt, and
reminded me of someone else. Losing that lighter had been like a bad omen.
But at this Con store was a BOX of those rare woman's-butt-shaped lighters!
And with RED miniskirts! I bought 6. I am using one right now to get myself
even FURTHER FRAPPED TO THE FUCKING GILLS THAN I ALREADY AM to celebrate
our luck, to thank "Bob" and to praise the Mystery of the Bleeding Head.
On a lighter note, the devival at the Euclid Tavern in Cleveland produced
some KILLER audio. Einstein's Secret Orchestra turned in a virtuoso
performance, the preachers had all-new sermons, and we even inspired a new
preacher to get up and rant, our first SERIOUSLY BLACK preacher, Rev.
Still. The line recording off the mix-board (with some room mike mixed in,
FOR ONCE!!!) sounds excellent as does the audio taken from the Princess Wei
VidCam. The videotape is sadly marred by the foreground presence of the
Blonde Fat Drunk Guy, whose awful behavior has probably already been
described in the newsgroup. That fuck owes the Church $50 and an apology.
We had to buy Princess Wei a new tripod when he drunkenly fell into hers
and broke its leg. God, I hate drunken fucks. I love my job but I swear, it
takes all the patience I can muster to deal with drunks, when I am not only
sober, but UBER-SOBER, in Show Mode, pumped up into Paranoiac-Critical
Super Awareness due to being in the spotlight and wearing my white suit.
That skinhead fuck asshole drunk has no idea how narrowly he missed getting
seriously taught a lesson in manners and every preacher who wasn't onstage
at the time was ready to do it. I am GLAD that we preach to people who are
drinking. But a true SubGenius learns its limits after the first three or
four dozen blackouts.
Pastor Craig was of inestimable assistance, running the Sales Table, which
is in certain basic ways a much more critical job than the preaching.
Anyway, it was a very good devival, well recorded, and the minute I finish
this report I will edit it into Hours of Slack numbers 604 through 605.
(Sorry about the late-night thrown-together nature of 601--603... I had to
do all three in ONE DAY under pre-travel anti-Time-Control circumstances).
No shit, the music sequences are amazing. ESO turned in a spectacular
performance. Violinist Michelle Smith FUCKIN' ROX!!!!! Lonesome Cowboy Dave
FUCKS ROCKS!!! It was beautiful and you'll hear it all in RealAudio if you
I also had the privilege of sitting in on the Thursday night Einstein's
Secret Orchestra SWAMP RADIO, Chas Smith's show on WCSB at 11 pm to 1
(easily hearable over the Net in Audioactive at www.wcsb.org). Lonesome
Cowboy Dave and Princess Wei R. Doe on vocals. Got 90 minutes SOLID GOOD
SHIT plus another HOUR of media barrage style audio collage that Chas has
been doing lately, since he got a nice cheap tape deck with THE PERFECT
PAUSE EDIT BUTTON.
So Hour of Slack will pretty much assemble itself the next few shows.
The main reason Jesus and I were up North was to hit two NACA (National
Association of College Acts) conventions, where "acts" go to "get on the
college lecture circuit." Both conventions were a humiliating descent into
total Pinkness. The two saddest aspects were, a.), we were by far the most
famous and experienced group there and b). nobody there had ever heard of
us. I weep for the mental condition of most of today's college students,
my friends. They are, if anything, PINKER than they were in my day. Can
this be?? Maybe I'm just OLD. But these kids don't seem to... to GET it. AT
ALL. They don't EVEN REMOTELY SUSPECT the existence of the Conspiracy, not
even as a JOKE. Of course, this convention was attended mostly by the young
student council member type, aspiring politicians and Business Pinks all.
The few who did know and love "Bob" were all troublemakers who had no
"pull" in booking us for "lectures," or "devivals," which is what we were
peddling from our little booth. Even with Sister Mary Magdalene parading
her little bod around in scanty American flag garb, and later a Jon Benet
Ramsey Halloween costume, it was hard to get these milling mewling young
Veal Pinks to pay attention long enough to hear the phrases, "Bob," "wild
comedy," "MTV," "Saturday Night Live," or notice the MTV-SubGenius video we
had playing. It was THAT BAD. We actually had to say shit like that. This
better pay off in college lecture gigs and devivals or I will feel really
DIRTIED. Eh... can't say we didn't try. From everything we've heard, you
really do have to go through this "association" to get any kind of frequent
These are risks we MUST take. Why the fuck not, it's only 9 months to X-Day.
Copyright 1997 by Rev. Ivan Stang / 1st Orthodox Stangian
MegaFisTemple Lodge of People's Covenant Church of the
Wrath of Dobbs Yeti, Resurrected / The SubGenius Foundation,Inc.
PO Box 140306 Dallas TX 75214 / Fax 214-320-1561 / PRABOB
http://www.subgenius.com -- SubSITE of Slack