From: bmyers@ionet.net (TarlaStar)

I saw this whole thing through two sets of eyes...one as the
participant meeting friends from the Internet, and one as the
anthropologist watching the natives in their ritual behaviors. I'll
skip the anthropological report because it would only offend people to
be analyzed that way and tell you about the alt.slack crew..at least,
the ones I got some time with. I mean, just in case anyone was
interested. I know you all have such busy and fascinating lives that
this is nothing more than a blip on your screens, but it was something
to do on a Saturday night.

First...all the women who claim to be women...we are. Meg and Selina,
and Siouxsie, and Nickie are really chicks and believe it or not,
they're really attractive; each in a completely different way. I'm
really a chick too.

Secondly, Pee Kitty is not a frail creature. He COULD kick your ass if
he wanted to. I am nominating him for the "Janor Fashion Sense" award
this year.

$t.Andrew was a lovely surprise for me. He has social skills. He
called me "Mom" and I didn't even hurt him for it. He's much more
handsome than his SubSite pic.

Pope Phred should post more. Introduced me to the Lunchbox 


And the Number One thing I liked about the X-Day Drill:

 1. Playing Twister with NENSLO!

                  revjack

*********************************


From: saint@prairienet.org (Andrew Matthews)

        My brain is fried. just dropped off the film to be developed,
        still cursing that i ran out right before the display of 
        squid sex. reaction? cold at night. dew point is really high.
        clear skies. pils, frop, and guru pee damn fine. legume out
        pierces st. andrew the impaled. rants by everyone and their
        mother. insanity. slack. too many nekkid pagans running around.
        music good: corpses, dr. dynasaur & steve slack, bill t. miller.
        the secret of life revealed to me by pipe signals from 
        a tall man grinning with a pipe and texan accent, and it wasn't
        stang.

        i hate, i hate, and i HATE driving in Ohio. each time i
        do, i get a stupid ticket. cop busted the OGYR NETWORK
        crew for not wearing seat belts. 

        if you didn't go... you missed out on an event that was
        uncountable more times slackful than a devival.

        full coverage by OGYR NETWORK will be up in about 2 weeks.
        new issue of OGYR NETWORK slated for mid August. (issue 2BX)

                     $T.&REUX,KSC

**********************************


From: phred39@mailp.starnetinc.com (Pope Phrederick Q. Armageddon)
 Soozie, Squids & Slack, Oh My!

     The Horror!.....
                           The HORROR!!......
                                                           no.....

     Yes, it's true! Many unspeakable things happened the night after
X-day, 2 BX. However, until now, you were ignorant of the goings on.
You might have said to yourself:

  "Heh! I bet it was jus a bunch of Po'Buckers rompin' through th'
woods!" --You might have been right.... You might have said:

  "Bah! It's just another Stang/Legume get-together!" -- This was also
true.......BUT..... 

    I daren't go on, but I must! The reports must go through!


    I though I had seen it all: St. Andrew the Impaled could not sew
his lips shut due to the needle's smallness. Legume, with much gusto
(not to mention a couple bottles of Jagermeister) grabbed another
needle, jabbed it through his pouting bottom lip, then proceeded to
grin for the audience.

   This act of self-mutilation for Bob should have signaled an end of
the night's festivities-- how wrong we were! It was then that Rev.
Stang cried out:

    SQUID!

     The squid was brought out of its' shagging tent for proper
display. I daren't discribe to you, such words escape this poor
reporters' vocabulary.

     The ABUSE! Oh. the shame that was thrust upon that poor little
squid! Legume probed that slimy cephlapod with his meaty finger like
there was no tomorrow! This only excited that plucky little squidster
to a heart attack, killing it instantly. But death was not enough to
stop the hedonistic tendencies of the SubG's, Oh NO! Sister Soozie the
Floozie engaged at what would be best called "Necromantic foreplay",
rubbing the dead (and defenceless) Prairie Squid over and over her
ample, heaving breasts. Soozie squealed in glee as that flacid squid
slithered downward, pulled by the relentless force of gravity. Spent,
Soozie collapsed in a quivering pile of pleasure.

     Surely this should have placated the eager throng of MuTants, NOT
SO! Pastor Craig gingerly lifted the dead, quickly rotting squid off
of the ground. Then, with a yelp, smacked that sucker upon his bald
pate! AIIIIGH! The Convulsions! The squid, dead, though still serving
it's purpose, had absorbed the tantric sexual energies of three nights
of plookin', thrashin', and froppin' . Energies, which even now were
transfering to Pastor Craig's forebrain!

    The writhing and twitching of Craig stirred emotions in me that I
never knew I had: I NEEDED that squid! But I could not consummate my
desires, the laws of "Proper Behavior" stood before me like the
Himalayas, solid and impassable!

    So, with a hung head and a heavy heart, I went to mourn another
passed opportunity in the safety of my tent.

    Sob.....

     It was only afterwards did I find out the unkindest cut of all!
Stang, that old Fakir, revealed that the squid was not a genuine
Prairie Squid as we had hoped, rather, it was the cunning (though not
quite Dobbs Approved) Mississippi Delta Squid!

    Oh, Unfortunate Happenstance! The horror THEE HORROR!!! 
Yet another posting from those WONDERFUL folks at:

***B A B B L E  O N  E N T E R P R I S E S***

    Pope Phrederick Q. Armageddon

**************************************

From: king@redrose.net (St. Pomp Prideless)

Yep, it's all truelly disgustfully true.  Witnessed it with my very own
sixth sense.  Just when I expected Stang to thrust his wanker into the
Squid, he pussied out crying," What, it's dead, I'm not going to fuck a
dead squid!"

        St. Pomp Pridele

*************************************

From: king@redrose.net (St. Pomp Prideless)

 XXX-day drill: sweet and  saucy

Hmmmmmmmm.  Some beautifull moments were the crucifixtion of "BOB", the
self-destruction of Andrew the Impaled, and the ranting of Stang, Pope
Joe, Dr. Legume, Mclain, Pee Kitty, Susie, Pastor Craig......actually, I
didn't even hear one "bad" rant.  Even that pink beer drinkin' shmuck who
stepped up to the mic, said some beautifull stuff.  Too bad I didn't get
to rant and make a true asshole of my buttocks.  My rear end was achin'
for a heiny smackin', ass whoopin', bottom pummeling, tail crackin', hole
beatin', crack whackin', yeah yeah yeah.  Interesting to see all your
alt.slack faces.  The weekend floated by.  WHo was it who said,"Time
doesn't fly by. Time flies away!"???  Legume maybe?  Me and Steve Maggot
rented "They Live", on the way home.  It was my first viewing, so it was
entertaining to draw analogies from the X-day phenomenon.  Steve mentioned
how He and I would probably be the only ones left standing after the real
X-day ritual, because we'll probably not swallow the ciunide (or however
ya...) capsules that Stang hands out.   Man, it's a real damn shame that  
Rob(not Bob), Nenslo, and Mark Mothersbaugh couldn't make it.  I'd love to
shoot my load up their twots! 

Was: D.C.K. (finally shelled out that $ for the hate of "BOB")

 St. Pomp Pridele

********************************


From: Pkitty@cris.com (Pee Kitty)

 X-Day '96 (or What You Missed)
Slackful weekend.

I won't bore you with the details of our 2500 mile drive (man, the
lengths I'm willing to GO TO for you guys) up and back. Suffice to say
it was perfect. We sped past cops, had perfect weather, ran out of gas
(s'okay--we just put a pinch of 'frop in the tank and it got us another
thousand miles), and saw some guy with a pipe hitchiking. We hit him,
JUST to be safe.

I think we scared the pagans. They were having fun, banging on their
drums and chanting, when the truckloads of SubGenii came rolling in. We
got some strange looks during the crucifiction (as we nailed up Dobbs
and torched the hell into him). Fortunately, none of them were using the
pool when we had the baptism...the naked Yetinsyny swirled around the
pool in a vortex, tangenting in to the center to be reborn in "Bob", via
Legume and Jesus. I don't think they could've survived seeing Stang
naked (meant as a compliment, of course). Even the drums must've gotten
jealous when BTM broke out The Keyboard. I touched it--just for a
second; I didn't want to wake it up. It was probably the mass executions
that sent 'em running like that, though...

If you don't respect and fear K'taden Legume, you will after seeing him
grab Andrew the Impaled's needle and SHOVE IT THROUGH HIS FUCKING LIP.
The Swinging Love Corpses temporarily got a new drummer/ranter/eater;
all praise Doktor Psychotronic Radionic! Hope I got the name right, and
hope they become drawn back together again some time in the future. Ran
into the Sexicutioner there, WITHOUT HIS MAKEUP. If you guys think they
look scary now...trust me, they put on all that latex to make you think
they're HUMANS dressing up as ALIENS. You don't want to know the truth.
Met a shitload of others there...it was cool to finally put some faces
and voices with the personalities. Got to rant and preach up on stage,
with amplification and everything, for the very first time. Now I know
what heroin is like...I think I passed out afterwards...

Prairie Squid. No, seriously, REAL (though not LIVE) Prairie Squid.

Of course, the most impressive thing was the Yeti Genetic Research
Institoot. I don't care where you live. I don't care HOW you live. I
don't care what you've done to your house/yard/building/state. You don't
live in the YGRI, so Dynasor and Selina are better than you. Period.
They've even got cows. I never believed that a cow could be trained to
cook breakfast, but when you wake up and see one of 'em frying up bacon,
you believe...

Rev. Pee Kitty, of the order Malkavian-Dobbsian
Meow!    http://www.cris.com/~pkitty for info

**************************************


From: sosodada@aol.com (Sosodada)

 X-Day Drill Squid Fuck

Wow. . . all this jabberin' about the X-Day drill and nary a mention of
one of the great moments of SubG history -- the SQUID FUCK?!

Rev. Susie the Floosie fuckin' that squid for "Bob" was a beautiful sight
-- even tho' it was a DEAD squid, I mean, hey -- I'm as sick as the next
Sublemus, but even *I* wouldn't fuck a DEAD squid. 

One moment that didn't make it to videotape was Legume's electrical
stimulation sexperiment on the squid -- which is what killed the damn
thing (in case anyone was wondering about that unfortunate incident). 

The serious "Bob" slammin' the drummers were up to should have been taped
-- it seems that they took offense at being exploited in the event notes
[". . . studly fropmeisters and naked pagan witch chicks. . ."]. 
Their unabashed hate for "Bob" was really quite admirable.
They wound up doming the whole damn place once the SubG cleared out.

 Sosodada

******************************


From: friday@cybercom.net (Friday Jones)

SLACK IN THE TIME OF X-DAY
(an X-Day Drill report)
© by the Irreverend Friday Jones
http://www.cybercom.net/~friday

The road which lead there was the same as the road leading back, a road
lined with flaming arrows which burned in the night, pointing the way to
Brushwood and the X-Day Drill.  On and on the roads rolled, and when we
pulled off for food it was at Exit 51, where Bill T. Miller and I saw a
vision of the hell the Bobbies voluntarily endure in the pits of a Taco
Bell, where they slaved over hot equipment for minimal pay while a video
system transmitted every one of their agonized twitches and jumps to the
customers - for their amusement or their edification I am not sure. 
Little did they know as they prepared our meals that the mouths that would
eat it existed to spew out and deny the lies of the Con, and the bodies
that would be nourished by this food would party and rant and snuggle and
Slack Off at the X-Day Drill!
The days were full of sunlight and laughter and hot tubs and 'Fropsmoke
and dew, and the nights rang with the twanging sounds of the bonds of the
Conspiracy being literally snapped by the living Slack around us, and
darkness, and laughter, and drums, and flaming crosses, and ranting, and
music, and 'Fropsmoke, and more dew.  Plenty of dew all around, lapping at
our feet, washing around our knees as we dashed through the grass and the
forest and the campsites.
Many things happened that you will not believe, not even when I write of
them, not even when you see the pictures and play the .wavs and buy the
videotapes: the prairie squid, the mass "Bob"tism, the literal Whirlpool
of Slack, the needles, the guns, the whips, the "Bob", the tents, the hot
tub, the blue canisters, the deer, the "Bob".  And the 'Frop, and the
drummers, and the bonfires, and the abductions, and the "Bob."
Did we kill "Bob"?  Not only did we kill him, we nailed him to a cross and
burned the pipe-smoking fuck!  Did we unite in our love of "Bob" if not
our love for each other?  We did it stark naked in broad daylight with all
the world and several video cameras to see!  
Gleaming through the night was the fierce jaguar face of Dr. K'Taden
Legume, a Warrior of Slack adorned in clerical collar, military duds, and
full camo face paint, or laughing with a needle driven through his lip and
a cigarette hovering from it.  And the shapely navel of someone else,
winking beneath her "Bob" baby-doll T-shirt, was a beacon to all.  Stang's
hair got so full of bugs and twigs and stray insects that an entire new
ecosystem developed in that thicket perched above his lined brow and
impressive forehead lump, evolved intelligence or at least a monetary
system, and started printing $50 bills.  The lush midnight tresses of
Doktor Ginsu and Pee Kitty were the envy of the River Styx.  Yetis danced
to the music of the drums and the keyboards wearing frilly dresses and
blue jeans and lewd obscure T-shirts and cantilevered bustiers and tattoos
and hardly anything at all, and Greys did indeed skulk in the bushes along
with OverMen and Normals and John F. Kennedy and
He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.  The world itself was shattered and rained a
river of blood on all Pinks and a pile of SubGenius fanzines, washing them
aside and replacing them with the New SubGenius World Order.  An ice cream
truck toured the grounds with the prominently displayed sign "Will Trade
For Frop"!  
Even as I write this the Luck Plane has tilted so hard in my direction
that it's all I can do to stay on my feet.  Not as strong as it's tilted
to Stang, though; at one point gold coins materialized out of thin air and
fell at his feet!  Cashiers spontaneously give me too much change. 
Would-be rapists stand aside or fall to their knees and beg me to kill
them.  My mates have bountiful erections and pockets full of dough.
Up in the mansion atop the hill in the cool woods right next to the
showers so they could sneak over with their video cameras, the Dallas
SlackMasters "roughed it" with only the barest of luxuries: only a few
prairie squid skittered among the rafters, only one "Bob" hung by his neck
from the balcony, only two GWAR-Groupies lolled amidst the furniture and
snatching at the limbs of all that passed by in search of a tool to ease
their eternal randiness, only a small waterpipe filled with the finest
'Frop, only a medium-sized basin of enemies' blood to cool their
footsie-tootsies in, only one fridge packed with the daintiest delicacies,
only a few dozen Bobbies groveling underfoot, waiting on their masters
hand and foot and groin and tongue and squealing like stuck pigs when Dr.
Legume experimented with his home electroshock therapy machine on their
shriveled souls which had been pared to a minimum to try and enlarge
Stang's, to no success, his half a soul was far too withered for the
grafts to take and he had to limp along on only a portion of what "Bob"
had given him, yet faithful that all would be redeemed once the Saucers
came in two years and ten minutes.
The pagans who played the drums and ran the tractors and handed out the
condoms at the X-Day Drill could not have been more out-weirded that by
the stripe-socked four-eyed muscled plump skinny tall short hairy balding
Yetisyny who came like a plague of locusts not to destroy and devour but
rather to purify the land, reeking with insipid watery love, with
full-strength bracing harsh roaring Hate, with screams of rage, with
denial and blood and fire, with the Swinging Love Corpses and their
fabulous new drummer, with Jehova Hates Phred and the King Of Slack and
the guys who brought the sound equipment and the eternal Self-Amusing
Personality of Pastor Craig.
In the darkness of the shadows went the SubGenii of alt.slack, having
traveled hundreds or even thousands of miles to talk face-to-face with
people they communicate with every week, they could not bear to tear
themselves away from the forest and the table and the barbecue and thus
many were not privy to the fucking of the Prairie Squid, the divine candy
of TarlaStar, the rippling erotic earthquake that was Suzie the Floozie in
high heels, the after-midnight jams, the all-powerful hot tub whose divine
warmth could heat a Yeti soul so that it could walk barefoot and barely
clad in weather that had others reaching for parkas and scarves and
thermal underwear, the bats that danced around the bugs that danced around
the lights that reflected off the eyes that were locked on the THINGS that
happened on the stage, and off the stage, and around the fires, and in the
tents, and under the pool.  
On and on the roads rolled, and I shall roll upon them again, roll forward
onto the next X-Day Drill and the dancing and the fucking and the fighting
and the howling and the singing and the smiles and the cameras and the
silence, and I shall roll back with my mind a brimming cup of happiness
and memories and Slack.  But I shall roll that road yet a third time, but
that shall be in the days before X-Day when the stars themselves will
dance in formation, there shall be no dawn in the morning for the saucers
shall blacken the sky, I shall not need to return my rental car for this
miserable planet shall have no record of my path upon it, and you and I
shall be lifted up and transformed into that which we most desire, and we
shall leave behind all that we have known - save "Bob" - and go forward
knowing only one thing ahead of us - "Bob."

 © by the Irreverend Friday Jones

*******************************

From: jrp@seachange-tech.com (Jason R. Pascucci)

Greetings, mutants.

What I found most interesting about the XDay Drill was it's lack of anything
particularlly unexpected.

I mean, sure, the music was twisted, with some of the band leaving after
having destroyed their instruments, which was soon after sapping whatever
power our collective foot-gonads could provide. I was amazed nobody had the
BALLS to kick our make-shift fat SubGenius collective asses off the 3" tall
piece of plywood which we had brazenly dubbed the 'stage'. We certainly
damn-well deserved it. 

On that subject, talk about your zombies for "Bob", the entire audience were
too slack filled to give much of a whores damn about anything. Nekkid women,
fire, sharp objects, and a lovely upstanding proper young lady (who absolutely
refused my offer to help her get more sex, the bitch) demonstrating how to put
a condom on a dildo (or was it a vibrator?) notwithstanding. (It occured to me
later on exactly *WHY* someone would want to put a condom on a vibrator. I've
been using one for years without one...is that considered unsafe sex?) 

Personally, I can somewhat sympathize with the zombies...even I was feeling
too slackly and unmovedbbydaspirit to rant. Just couldn't get it up, I guess.
"Bob" got my toungue, and I didn't have enough money to BUY IT BACK. 

And the rants varied wildly from vaguely incomprehensible to totally
comprehensible. Papa Joe Mama was in interesting form...but even he couldn't
stir the Zombies out of their stupor. 

Not to forget Nickie Deathchick, in full uncatholic regalia, handed out, uh,
"absolutions". And, though it didn't look it at the time, she went wild on
Suzie's, uh, penance, as she was walking funny for the rest of the night and
later her shapely backside had turned a deep red-verging-on-purple...she must
have been a very guilty girl. Of course...Stang went up for seconds, but I
don't think he was absolved of anything, (and I think I saw Nickie steal his
wallet...good going). Nickie, I recommend next time using a yardstick for
authenticity. You might want to bring a few...they tend to break. 

Suprisingly, the SubG with those ugly damn socks (Whose name I forget, but
FUCK names anyway, they're just con labels meant to put people in their place)
got the crowd out of their stupor. Some other slackwart and I agreed that he
had potential, but he needed to come up with new material. Of his rant, the
only thing which caught my attention that I hadn't heard before was something
about 'X-Calibur'. Keep it up.

Tarla might have been the most impressive of all...she should be chopped up
and bottled and sold as an afro-desi-slack. 

And, of course the prairie squid was dead, I would have guessed it was dead 3
days, probably killed by all that damn immusic,  based on the odoure lingering
on our most Revered Floozy, Suzie...and I can tell you that after a light
boiling in the hottub she smelled even more like payday at the boys choir. 

Oh, we killed "Bob" alright, the lousy bastard...he still owes me money. I
still think we should have nailed Jesus to the other side of that cross, but
at the time I was outnumbered, and Jesus had the hammer. 

BTW, for those of you who tried the brain food, it was totally edible, as I
witnessed on XDay+2 several small animals which had eaten it the previous day.
They were all lined up in a row, some taking naps and some were what I assumed
was playing canasta with imaginary partners. 

About the only thing really interesting that happened to me, personally, was
that I was accosted in my tent by a girl wearing this very well-done life-like
grey-alien mask and body suit, and I got hard lesson in sexhurt...it really
was "out of this world' heheheh. I don't know her name, and she didn't say
much, but if she's on here, please feel free to email me. I tried to figure
out who it was, but I couldn't place the body, as all women are about the same
height, lying down.

Hey, did anyone hear if that group of Bobbies ever came back from their nature
walk? Heh...maybe they were abducted by space aliens. 

On the way out, driving through the dairy farms, I noticed that all the cows
were looking at me funny. I can't imagine why....

Of course, as per my agreement with you-know-who, my report to the White House
Security Office will read, as usual, "Yeah, Jeb, they're just a bunch of
fucking loonies, don't worry about them, they're harmless. No, really."

J.R. "Just another goddamn pipe-smokin false subjesii" Pascucci