Good "Bob" Almighty! I just returned from the Slack vacation of all
time. I'm not shitting you boys, (and Rev. Mutha Michelle) if you'd
have had to deal with all the Slack I've had in the last five days,
you would have to be tied down on sharpened razor blades infected with
herpes just to come back down. Fortunately I have an incredible
tolerance for Slack, and I'm still able to function, though I must
admit that my coochie-pop is a'quivver with sheer joy...I still have
six more days before I'm scheduled at the restaurant!
It seems as though many of us get Slack through music. Same here. My
weakness...clever lyrics and beautiful voices. I admit it, I get a
little stiffy when three or more voices combine in complicated harmony
and NO ONE goes offkey. My nips are hard just thinking about it. So,
guess who fell into a bucket of Slack in Kentucky? Oh you clever
devils, you figured out that it was I. There's this place called
"Ear-ecstacy" in Louisville...dear "Bob" they have an entire fucking
ROOM devoted to INDEPENDANT LABELS!!! I left there $83 poorer, but I
got shit that's impossible to find in Oklahoma...The Fugs, Uncle
Bonzai...and amazing, but true...JOE NEWMAN! I admit to buying
"Gunther Packs a Stiffy" from a store instead of getting it from Joe
directly, but I needed the immediate gratification, and it just
encourages them to keep offering his stuff.
While in Louisville, I went to the races...Churchill Downs is amazing!
Get this...my husband's old college roommate is now in the horse biz,
the fucker fell into a vat of Slack. So, thanks to Tom, we sat
sippin' mint juleps in a private box, while I bet the races solely on
the basis of how SubGenius the names associated with it were. I only
made one rule, never bet on a horse with pink colors. I bet on every
race but two and left with more than I came with. While I was trying
to decide the last race a man walked past me, smoking a pipe. He
pinched my ass! I was a little shocked but he was gone before I could
say anything...then I looked down at my program. My thumb was on the
name "Born to Lead"...I knew it was a sign; my butt was still glowing
from the pinch. I bet the horse, gave Tom my ticket, and we left the
track. Tom brought home my winnings later. We'll not discuss it here
for tax purposes. Praise "Bob!"
Now...I demand that you tell me how much you missed me!
p.s. If the guy who runs IGLOO in Louisville is a lurker here...you
can kill yourself now for missing the chance to meet me in the flesh.
I hope your employees recover...they were nice boys.
Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually
Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.
Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.