Newsgroups: alt.slack


From: (Rev. Ivan Stang)

Date: Wed, 10 Dec 1997 23:03:44 -0600







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

travel bag.


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



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



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


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



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


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

unblemished "sheet."


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



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,



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




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

second grader.)


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


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

so desire.


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 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



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 -- SubSITE of Slack