Subject: REPOST: Fifty SubGeniuses walk into a Scientologist bar ...

Date: Sun, 20 Dec 1998 03:40:53 GMT

From: NoEmailAds@execpc.com (geezer)

Organization: Cheeseland Clench

Newsgroups: alt.slack, alt.religion.subgenius

 

 

Found on David Gerard's page at

http://thingy.apana.org.au/~fun/scn/fun/50subs.html

 

I was going to post just the link, but it looks like this has already

been posted to Usenet <35b9478c.3699625@202.12.87.97> -- so I hope

David doesn't mind a repost.

 

Clue: "Bob's Media Ecology" was created by Bob Dean.

 

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Australian Critics of Scientology

This page maintained by David Gerard.

 

Fifty SubGeniuses walk into a Scientologist bar ...

 

by David Gerard

 

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To explain this tale, I have to explain just WHY SubGeniuses hate

the Crutch of Scientology so bloody much. I mean, all that

insistence on wearing your SubG affiliation on your sleeve didn't

just come out of space. Hell, no.

 

It has to do with the deal by which "Bob" purchased control of the

Church of Scientology back in the early eighties. (See Dateline For

Dominance in The Book Of The SubGenius.) See, there were quite

a few lost SubGenius souls ending up in the worst of all possible

places ... Ron's House. So "Bob" did a swap deal whereby the

SubG souls would be stored at the MegaFisTempleFortress in

Dallas and the Scientologists got a few of the most pathetic

"Bobbie" souls from the SubGenii. The SubGenii got to rescue their

brethren, and the Scientologists got to make up the numbers. A Big

Win-Big Win for both. Just the way it should be in a decent

religious free-market economy.

 

But then David - 'Miss Cabbage' - tried to forge "Bob"'s signature

on a new version of the deal, cutting us out. Well. JHVH-1 didn't

put up with that for a second - he sent a bolt of Anti-Orgasm PAIN

Lightning (tm) down upon the Cabbage and wiped him out in a

millisecond. Tho', of course, it felt like several centuries from the

Cabbage's point of view. And all this just as Wollersheim was

about to serve him, too. A pity.

 

And from then on, the Scientology organisation and the SubGenii

have been sworn enemies. And the Church of Scientology are only

just waking up to this fact.

 

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It was a hell of an afternoon. The SubGeniuses were getting

restless. They wanted to see a goddamn MOVIE, for Christsakes.

So out on the road they went.

 

All was quiet at the local org. The movie house was set up, the Bar

of Scientology was empty. In fact, they'd just closed down for the

day.

 

Then they heard the howling off in the distance.

 

"BEER! BEER! SLACK! BEER! BEER! BEER! SLACK! BEER!"

yelled the horde of SubGenii. "Fuck you!" half of them yelled at

the rest. "No, fuck you!" the other half yelled back. It was a typical

SubGenius gathering - party wildly, get laid, scream abuse at your

nearest and dearest, party wildly, the odd spot of fratricide; you

know the drill. These things happen all the time.

 

They burst into the ElRonners' bar. The clams enturbulated.

 

"BEER! BEER! BEER!" they yelled. Even the ones who didn't like

beer, though they alternated with "Not!". "GIVE US ALL THE

BEER YOU HAVE OR WE'LL KILL YOU! TAKE THIS JOKE

OR WE'LL FUCK YOU! NOT! HAHAHAHAHA!"

 

The Pinks were appropriately unnerved. Although Mike, the dumbo

clam Bar Mangler, had the good sense (from 'TR-GS' by L. Ron

Hubbard) to start up the beer taps once more.

 

The beer flowed. It was magical expanding Nuclear Beer, too - fill

a glass with it half-way, then it fills itself the rest of the way.

The SubGeniuses were impressed with this.

 

Of course, the Scientologists(tm) had more or less stolen the

formula for the secret Atomic Bubbles(tm) of Nuclear Beer(tm)

from the Most Secret, Hideous Codex Of [NOT TO BE

REVEALED HERE]; they didn't do that good a job of making the

stuff (a bit much Hubbard Management-Tech), but the results were

considered satisfactory by a bar full of thirsty SubGenii.

 

Then the tomfoolery started. I mean, we didn't have to go this far.

You know how it is - you're the vicious, disruptive biker horde, you

ride into the small town scene and kick more butt than those poor

fools knew they ever had. Charm the womenfolk, drink the beer,

smash a chair or two. Good clean SubGenius fun. But you don't

break the place up completely. Hell, no.

 

But then Robbie started playing his SubGenius Body-Popping(tm)

tricks.

 

[Note: 'SubGenius Body-Popping' is a trademark of the

SubGenius Foundation, Inc. Both the term itself and details of

its usage are for registered dues-paying SubGenii only, and all

others violating this rule shall suffer the SMITING of the

STARK FIST of JEHOVAH.]

 

"Two beers, please," I said to the barmaid.

 

"Eck! (retch) What IS that person DOING?" she screeched. Then

she ducked behind the bar and puked.

 

Robbie was pulling a face, except over his entire body. His head

was on backwards, and he was grimacing his body female. And,

being a young smartarse, he wasn't even bothering to go, "Hey,

look at ME!" but just 'playing it straight'. Damnfool young 'un.

 

Of course, then everyone looked at him. He realised he'd better act

like a proper, grown-up Yetinsyn. "Hey, uh ... lookit ME!" he

yelled. Then he did the trick where you pull the skin all the way

from the crotch over the head, but he left it half-way so there was a

face on either side of his head - one male, one female. One drunk a

beer while the other spat it back into a glass. Then, he sent the beer

back through again.

 

"HA HA HA HA HA!" went the SubGenii, watching the

Scientologists puking. And puking some more when Robbie's male

front half and female back half started fucking. I dunno, these kids.

 

Half the beer was gone. The Scientologist bar-staff broke out

another coupla kegs.

 

"MOVIES!" shouted the Subs. "MOVIES! We want a PITCHUR

SHOW! DAMMIT!"

 

Mike the bar-manager got on the 'phone to the org's movie-house

(just across the crumbling grey badly-laid concrete driveway) and

had a few quick words.

 

The SubGeniuses were getting rowdy. I mean, people were doing

the SubGenius Secret Handshake(tm) out in PUBLIC, fur"Bob"sake.

(That's the special Yeti handshake involving at least one set of

genitals and a few other hands or bodily orifices.)

 

Then they started doing card-tricks with their genitalia. I know, I

know: showing off your secret OverHuman abilities in front of the

Pinks. But, y'know, it's FUNNY. Doing the six-foot penis trick,

with the end of it all swoled up like it's a purple goddamn helium

balloon. Doing the six-foot CLITORIS trick, which is even funnier;

particularly when you tie it into the shape of a poodle, complete

with fur and odour.

 

And the stench of Yeti bodily fluids! The humans were revulsed

and orgasming at the smell simultaneously. The SubGenii didn't put

their novelty reproductive organs away until three of the bar staff

had vapourised on reaching out and touching the organs in question,

unable to resist any longer.

 

Finally, they started beating up on the Scieno's. It was pretty

gruesome.

 

"That's for DENNIS, you piece of pus! FUCK YO' MAMA with a

HUMAN!" (thump)

 

"THAT's for TARLA, you piece of shit!" shouted Tarla. (thunk)

 

"Hey, WHY'D THE HUMAN CROSS THE ROAD? 'Cos all the

OTHER HUMANS DID! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" (whap)

 

"Hey, what'ya call ninety humans in a BUS, PLUMMETING over a

GORGE to A HORRIBLE AND BLOODY DEATH? A WASTE -

they shoulda been ground up as HAMBURGER and ET! Snicker,

snicker." (thud)

 

People queued up to put coins into the 'Koos-O-Matic' machine in

the corner. I was publicly squicking the Robert Marcus Meat

Puppet(tm) in return for peanuts and pretzels. Others were running

Reverse Processes on each other just for KICKS. The Apollo Stars

were on the video machine. Pope Charles and Nenslo contented

themselves to staying in the background and smashing half-pint

glasses over each others' heads. (Just the way it should be, as I said

before. The Church has always encouraged a bit of violent sibling

rivalry between fellow Yetis.)

 

Mike the Scieno bar-manager made the fatal mistake at that point.

He thought he had the sure-fire method of calming down gangs of

rowdy SubGenii. He had this CD, you see. From Toronto.

 

He slipped Bob's Media Ecology into the player and hit 'play'. Bad

move.

 

"AAAAAAH! PINCANUCK ATTACK! KIIIILLLLLLLL!" all

shouted. Troutman got out the golf-club and

 

[This segment, concerning the sacred SubGenius 'Launching

Ceremony', has been deleted. Exposure to this segment before you

are properly ready could be harmful to your health. And mention

it, and we'll sue you to dribbling pus. You have been warned.]

 

[Just make sure that, if you see a SubGenius carrying a golf

club for no apparent reason ... KEEP THE HELL AWAY.]

 

Mike's head went skidding across the way and rolled past the

horrified Scientologist ticket attendant.

 

"PIITCHUUUUUURS!!" yelled the horde of SubGenii with great

joy. They flooded the movie-house. Thankfully, the surviving staff's

lives were saved by that earlier call from Mike, the bar attendant,

tellin' 'em to load those reels NOW. And that they were actually

bright enough to take heed.

 

Choc-bombs and popcorn and mixed sweeties were distributed. The

lights went down. The screen lit up. A few opening claymation

shorts by some guy called Doug, then the main feature ...

 

History Of Man by L. Ron Hubbard. As directed by multiple

Academy Award winning SubGenius auteur, Edward D. Wood Jr.

 

And it was a great afternoon.

 

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