Subject: Re: The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

Date: 11 Apr 1996 00:00:00 GMT

From: (MegEliz)

Organization: Gene Wolfe Library and Family Restaurant, East Wing

Newsgroups: alt.slack

References: 1



Berin Kinsman <> wrote:


: In a recent bit of private correspondance with a fellow alt.slacker, I

: came to an odd realization: I genuinely have NO problems with anyone here

: on this little newsgroup known as alt.slack, never had, hopefully never

: WILL. Through all of this sniping, through all the flame wars, NO ONE has

: managed to piss me off to the point that I wanted to disembowel them with

: a fudg'icle stick and mount their entrails on my wall. In the few months

: I've been posting here, the worst reception I've gotten was to be

: pointedly ignored.


: This is particularly odd, because in "real life", I'm the most violently

: intolerant, spitefully impatient, and curmudgeonly misanthrope you'd never

: want to meet. You've read my rants, you should have a clue by now. If it

: weren't for the fact that I'd compromise the safety of myself and other

: yetisyny near me, I'd sorely love to drop the veil of schizophreniatrics,

: reveal the full glory of my 7'6" yeti self to the world, and start

: indiscriminately crushing into gristle the skulls of the little humans

: that swarm around me like gnats on a muggy day in August.


: Part of it is that this is MY refuge; I come here to get away from the

: petty annoyances of puny merehumans and fucking pinkboys. I have no desire

: to shit where I eat, the make my little nest of Slack an unclean place, so

: I don't flame needlessly. And face it, the pinkest of posters, the most

: heinous of "Bobbies", is still a WHOLE lot easier to take than the average

: slope-brow'd piece of discount furniture walking around on the streets.

: ALL of the little critters here on alt.slack serve a purpose OTHER than

: getting in MY Bobdamned way, causing traffic jams on MY highway, sneezing

: my MY salad bars, chewing on MY slippers, or polluting my airwaves with

: ADULT CONTEMPORARY LIGHT ROCK. Even if the only real reason they're here

: is to have their souls SUCKED OUT for FUEL on X-Day so that the rest of us

: can get the fuck outta here, they have the WORD O' "BOB" in 'em, Dobb

: bless their wee pink heinies. Our highest law is "FUCK 'EM if they CAN'T

: TAKE A JOKE", but even the most annoying maggot in our rotten little slice

: o' the cyberspace pot roast GETS the joke to a certain degree, even if

: most of 'em don't TELL it very well or can't grasp the cosmic SCOPE of it

: all. The might not KNOW the SKOR, but they can graps what a SKOR IS, or

: might be, and have a relative understanding of how it fits into their

: lives.


: "But Uncle Bear", I hear you saying, "even chimps can learn to

: rollerskate. My dog can be taugh to whiz outside, and parrots can be

: trained to repeat inane catch-phrases. None of THEM really understands

: what they're doing." And that, my babies, is EXACTLY my point, triply

: underscored and highlighted with A BIG FAT MARKER!!! I crack the FUCK up

: every time I see my dog roll over in hopes of getting a treat. I LAUGH OUT

: LOUD whenever a Scientologist or Televangeslist opens his fucking MOUTH to

: spout rhetoric. And I almost MAKE MYSELF SICK with DELIGHT when "Bobbies"

: work so hard to prove their "Subgenius-ness" by quoting doctrine or

: getting confrontational. Because it only shows that we ARE superior. They

: don't see that there's no difference whatsoever between themselves and any

: other trained animal. They can only repeat what they've been taught, and

: have no capacity for original or creative though. They SO want to either

: impress us and let them join us, or try to prove that THEY are RIGHT and

: WE are WRONG so that they can somehow feel superior to us, but in the end,

: they're still trained animals, performing happy tricks for our amusement.


: So, as superior beings, we can be gracious. We can be polite. We can make

: pets of them, and care for them. Because they can be trained to hate the

: CON, too. They can contribute to the war against the CON. And the enemy of

: my enemy is my friend.




This is why Uncle Bear is getting plenty and you're not.

Possibly Pontifette Meg



My sig is not under construction. It's dead.