“YOU CAN BE WHAT YOU WON’T”

§—THE SECRETS OF SLACK

“The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some men count slackness; but is LONGSUFFERING to us ward, NOT WILLING THAT ANY SHOULD PERISH, BUT THAT ALL SHOULD COME TO REPENTANCE” (II Peter 3:9).

“My people are destroyed for a lack of Knowledge.” —Hosea 4:6

“Therefore thus saith the Lord YAHWEH, Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone, a precious stone, a Sure Foundation: he that believeth shall not make haste (shall have Slack).” —Isaiah 28:16

“I’d rather be lucky than good any day.” —“Bob” at a picnic in 1953.

Alongside your normal, everyday life, there is another life: one in which you have SLACK.

The vast majority of Mankind remains in ignorance; most humans spend their lives in spiritual darkness, at the crazy mercy of chance and accident. SubGeniuses, basking in the 5,000-watt Light of Dobbs, are also at the mercy of chance and accident—yet given a boost by The Pipe Bringer, the seeker can “climb aboard” chance and accident and ride them like a cosmic surfboard on the oceans of the Luck Plane, “hanging ten” on the very same waves of randomness that cause humans such envious HATE.

For, even if there’s actually no “reason” for anything, even if nothing can be known for sure in an unbelievable world where psychotics run the Department of the Interior and mutilate cattle, we can still retain one concrete ball of fact that the most shattered instincts cannot deny: Something is going on, and we deserve better.

We keep getting these hints. Little integrated Hints of meaning that are much more fun than the longer hours of non-meaning. Hints that the world owes us a living.

Hunches, strange impressions, omens: the C.B. static of the Luck Plane aethers, occasional flares of Future Luck Patterns that bust through their normal confines and ‘snag’ on such rough edges of our reality as the psychic distress of a job-hunting SubGenius.

Even though watered-down, they provide the barest glimmer of something about to happen or which should happen. (It also occurs due to interference or “crossover” from another source, but that’s literally too soul-rending to explain yet.)

We have absolute proof that those billion subtle chance occurrences that govern our lives, which, due to occasional mega-coincidence beyond explanation, seem almost as if they were ‘caused’ by some great Intention, ARE INDEED CAUSED by some great INTENTION! And nothing could be more face-slappingly evident than that this alleged Intention is one of Wrath. Thus is supported, in one irrefutable readout of logic, the mad alien JHVH-1’s claim to be the Giuppetto of Earth’s Pinnochios. He no longer operates with His sweeping flourishes of cataclysm nor His Blatant Flaming Sword-in-the-Sky, but through that subatomic network visible only in the desultory but decisive ‘coincidences’ governing mortal life. All mortal lives, or only a few? On this He cruelly leaves us dangling.

The damn’d Hints are habit-forming. They give us cheap thrills of cosmic acknowledgement with each clue they present of the monster’s Presence. These microscopic event-signals, reassuring us that we’re on the “right track,” appear everywhere; they show their stalwart faces of reinforcement in garbage cans and traffic lights. What is a typical Hint? When you’re about to telephone a friend and he calls you at the exact moment that you picked up the phone, and your voices connect without a ring on either end, thatis a Hint. When you receive on the same day an unexpected bill from the IRS for $1,000 and also a check from a forgotten creditor for $1,000.01, that is a Hint. When you’re hopelessly lost in the canyons of downtown and your destination abruptly looms up in front of you, Twilight Zone style, that’s a Hint. When you’re in a state of sweaty indecision as to which of two people you ‘should’ go out with on a date, and a song blasts out of the radio making the right choice as clear as fetus pee, that’s a Hint.

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Moments when everything ‘falls together’ have a quality of Hinting that there’s Someone Up There who either Likes Us or Hates Us. When enough interlocking synchronicities have accrued, they begin to look suspiciously like personal messages. THIS WAY LIES MADNESS. Only “Bob” is that important!

It partly depends on how hard you’re looking for unusual strings of causation, but also on what you happen to notice. It is exactly 65% like slipping on banana peels of sudden deduction. You can fall flat on your ass.

The same fun and danger lie in such complex systems of subconscious guidance as Tarot or I Ching. You don’t need those, though they’re good for yuks; keep your eyes open, and you’ll see the equivalent in the comic book racks of convenience stores. Just don’t go overboard.

Many SubGenii find that certain occupations breed the antibody Hints more fruitfully than others, and they begin to concentrate exclusively on these. The most common instance: a teen keeps getting Hints from songs, so he decides to become a rock star. Any fool knows that’s probably the most crowded, vain and sick path possible … but you never can tell, and the Hints

may, demoniacally, keep providing encouragement. One’s Inner Career, the concentrated professional exercise of a chosen Discipline, can be a Hint-track to Heaven or Toll Road to Hell.

Analactive job compulsions can be followed so long that they become your only Hint-Funnel. You’ll wake up one morning and find yourself stranded on your island of activity. It’s uninhabited—but it’s volcanic and about to blow. You go insane. Clinically, UnSubGeniusly insane. Slack-impotent. Desouled. Yet, half the time you can still function. This has already happened to about 50% of our white-collar American executives, and their spouses.

Becoming completely wrapped up in your Hint-tunnel, throwing your body and brain into some oddball Work, hones the work abilities to a godlike edge, but it can leave you sadly lacking in equally necessary areas. An erstwhile holy man might completely ignore, for instance, the talent of acting (as opposed to being) self-assured, which most normal Ords and Materialites develop in the cradle. He might have Olympian insight and private creativity, but he can’t bluff his way through the job world … so, to everyone else, he’s a Nerd, a Pinkest Boy, and is socially tormented accordingly. Eventually he begins to take Their enormous repertoire of false fronts seriously. In this state of quasihuman ignorance he’s helpless! Woe be to the misled SubGenius who follows the dangling carrot he tied to his own equine head and misses entirely the four hundred untended Free Carrot stands by the roadside!

Yes, the road of Hints holds many a blind alley and scary dark cul-de-sac. A SubGenius must be steadfast as the mighty amoeba and stray not one R.C.H. from the every-which-way Path o’ “Bob.”

But to what are the Hints pointing? Or else, what is YAHWEH-1 trying to lure us away from?

It can only be that elusive, almost definitively unreachable state of being we call SLACK. Aren’t YOU more than ready for TOTAL Slack?

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§?WHAT’S GOING ON? IS THIS HELL?

Slack was known to the Buddha—to Lao-tse—to Jesus—to Billy Graham—to all the great Avatars.

But were they able to communicate it? “Bob” said, “These people don’t necessarily need to know the Whole Truth; they just need Slack!” (Bordruum Tape 18:18)

§WHAT IS HE TELLING US?

MAN WAS BORN WITH ORIGINAL SLACK, yet most ‘civilized’ peoples don’t believe in it, and their most learned scholars can’t even comprehend it. THAT is why the Idiot is closer to the Divine, why “Bob” is adulated for his Follies rather than his skills. If you do not believe in Slack, it will not make itself available to you.

For 200 years the natives of Haiti, the ancient shamans with long straight Pipes, have sought Slack, which they call Bobjuju. We call them primitive, but who is to say….? They, serenely smoking ‘Frop and conversing with Jah, or we, endlessly hunting down our own selves in the cities? Which are the barbarians, the blooddrinkers? Which will be granted the power of Bobjuju? I saw him rip off a chicken’s head with his teeth and drink the blood while copulating with an 8 foot tall albino native woman with white hair and silver eyes … the ‘Frop dust was so thick it had to be swept under the rug … no policeman could come near that spot because of the Bobjuju … to suddenly fully know the power of Slack would make a Pink Man’s brain sizzle and fry inside his skull.

Above all, no matter its cost in continuity, SLACK MUST COME FIRST in the life of any Initiate … at least, until Slack becomes him.

He who is rich in Slack is richer than the most statused Conspiracy thing-monger.

Slack is the Alladin’s Lamp that opens the other five senses. It is the yardstick by which we should measure ourselves. It is really the only good reason to get out of bed, and if you don’t believe that, you are surely lost in Perdition.

§THE INSCRUTABILITY OF SLACK

The Slack that can be described is not the true Slack.

Slack, in its cosmic sense, is that which remains when all that is not Slack is taken away. But Slack is a trickster. It is unknowable, ineffable, unsearchable, incomprehensible … hidden in revelation.

For Slack comprises the Universe. It is the Logos, the Tao, the Wor, the Ain Soph of the Qabbala. The ‘aether’ does not consist of atoms, but of an ultimately simple hydromechanical field DEVOID OF COMPLICATIONS. Just as Matter is but a slowly vibrating form of Energy, so is Energy a slowly vibrating form of SLACK. The Luck Plane itself, the Boundless World of Divine Names, is composed of Slack. It is an energy/antienergy field, far more delicate than Wotan’s neutrinos and bobyons, permeating everything.

SLACK is neither created nor destroyed.1 If you don’t have it, it’s somewhere it shouldn’t be!

Abstract unto incomprehensibility, it is the definitionless, insubstantial substance of the All—the ISness of the BIZness.

It pervades space and fuels Time, yet it is not always ‘activated.’ Sometimes it is in a state of cosmic tension, of AntiSlack.

Slack started out suffusing the whole universe, but as the creation of Adversaria (The World of Matter) occured, it whirlpooled into itself until it became an Ultimate Center Point which then

grew outwards—leaving an extremely diffuse near-nothingness, a near-Slacklessness called Nosallack, in the further abcesses of space where the Universe’s “Edge” is ever-expanding, and where jerks go when they die. (It will expand until it runs into the literal Brick Wall that encloses it, on that Day of Judgement even the Angels dread.) The “Ultimate Center Point” of all Slack is what many call “God,” I YAM, the White Light of G’Broagfran: the MACROPROSAURUS (“Great Big-Headed Lizard” (?!) in magical lingo).

Because Slack is measureless to the point of inconcievability, it is therefore much like NOTHING. Beyond Light, you see, there is a super-essential DARKNESS (and beyond that, of course, a double-super-essential Light again). The ancient drunkard Dionysus told of a “dazzling obscurity which outshines all brilliance with the intensity of its darkness.” This is the Void, the Emptiness: that great Shortage which winos and other philosophers have called ‘The Hole.’

All religions tht are worth-a-shit preach of two kinds of energy constantly passing through our bodies: Something and Nothing. As long as the SubGenius can keep them in balance he has “Super Luck Powers” which no Financial setback can hinder.

By monitoring the volume of mail and phone calls that come into The SubGenius Foundation, we have discovered a 13 Day Cycle to the ebb and flow of the tide of SubGenius activity. They all slack off at the same time and they all work at the same time (though in wildly varying ways). So we know that Slack moves in a wave formation. CATCH that Big Wave … get in that curl and SLIDE!

If any SubGenius has actually reached total Slack, True Slack, he remains hidden. Perhaps Confucius, Mohammed, Siddhartha M. Gautama, Moe Howard or Jack the Ripper were ancients who achieved it. Or maybe they just achieved fame, which nowadays passes for Slack.

Slack is like freedom, but unlike freedom it brings no responsibility. ““Bob” does not worry.” (Philo’s History) One thing we have in common with the evil Bozo cult is that we wish to be Not Responsible. One might suggest that a devoted alcoholic, a habitual half-gallon-a-day wino has ascended to this. But it isn’t permanent; he may die for years. Among other things, Slack is absolutely “free” time, devoid of all stress, to do whatever you damn well please for “eternity,” Without Drawbacks, Apologies, Side-Effects, Spoilage, Without Remorse.

§TRUE SLACK IS SOMETHING FOR NOTHING.

However, such merely physical Slack has its own dangers. If human beings are immortal, they become correspondingly flaccid. Without deadlines, they will always postpone everything forever; they will do nothing. Not even think. Not even feel. Blank food tubes that will eventually turn back into Primal Water. “Slack Junkies.”

Slack, on the contrary, somehow manages to be a great Motive without slapping the speed-limit of Death on the road. If we knew how the paradox was resolved, we’d already have Slack.

The famous weirdo Eugene Ionesco said, “We are made to be immortal, and yet we die. It’s horrible, it can’t be taken seriously.”

There is definitely some kind of true psychoSlack floating around out ‘there,’ bobbing carefree on the airwaves, which is currently either incomprehensible to us or restricted from us. ODIN-1 keeps taunting us, telling us there’s something, somewhere. Nyah nyah. We know it exists by the incredible extremes he goes to to hide it from us. He Hints of it, but we must find it on our own. But He’s a crafty deity, and that may be His whole idea—He may well be using us as bloodhounds to find it for Himself. Or, possible, He hid part of Himself in our Slackless selves in order to make Himself appreciate it again. Certainly, he gave us “Bob” to show us that it can be achieved.

We are probably better off without total Slack in its cosmic sense, which might require sheer DEATH. Perhaps all those 1950s movie scientists were right when they said, “There are some things Man was not meant to know.” But they were talking about Atomic Monsters, not Slack. At any rate, for better or worse, we’ve seen the Hints, and if we don’t make the grab for Slack we risk spending our declining years muttering regretfully of the laziness that let us become just like Others. For while it’s damn tough for a SubGenius to advance to the OverMan state, it is with no effort at all that he slides back into Mediocretinism.

What’s so bad about being one of Them? Nothing, if you already are one. They don’t know what they’re missing. They don’t know we’re all wading in pools of congealed unreality; they’re asleep on their feet and take everything in their hallucination at face value. They aren’t tempted by the glimpses and sniffs of Slack that are jiggled momentarily before our eyes, only to be snatched away. Things that seem utterly bland to us work Them up into a froth.

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What then are we supposed to find! “Real” Reality? AW, WHO GIVES A FUCK. Hell, just something we think is reality will do the trick. After all, Slack might be something that just sounds good.

§ABC’S OF THE SECRETS OF EXISTENCE

Poets, philosophers, acidheads, salesmen: everybody wants to know, “What Is Reality?” Some say it’s a vast Unknowable so astounding and raw and naked that it grips the human mind and shakes it like a puppy shakes a rag doll. A lot of good that does us. Others say the Universe is so uncaring, so stupifyingly automatic and unchanging, that it is one gloriously serene Indifference. So big deal.

This is all a bunch of crap, but those Hints keep popping up to make us open the door a crack further, just for a peek. We don’t think there’s anything there, but, you know…just in case.

What course of action would most likely make us stumble over ‘the Answer’ and fall into its gaping maw? Without too much work, that is? How do we make the reach for Slack, aside from just grabbing “Bob’s” sleeve and leaning on him?

SLACK: a surge of uncorrupted gumption, an explosion of the “self”—not obliterating it, but bloating it.

Normally, consciousness is quite narrow. You see what you have to see and no more. Even that is difficult, because the left brain and right brain are usually fighting like a couple of dinosaurs. You can knock them out with booze or Valium, but in the long run it blunts your concentration even worse (underimbibing has the same toxic effect). The idea is to widen perception, get The Big Picture, and then start beaming in on specifics.

§EASE WARTIME NERVES!!

Holy men have pointed out that brains are like radios that can be tuned, that the will is like a gun that can be aimed. Some can aim better than others. Pinks usually aren’t aware that their “gun” will even fire; they use it to pound things to death. Then, when they finally realize they can fire it, the barrel’s so clogged with dirt and gore that BLAM! the thing splits down the middle and it misses everything.

In starting any task the SubGenius should decide to use either the “shotgun” effect or the “deer rifle” effect, but NEVER BOTH! Backfire is possible if ANYTHING is clogging the “gun”. So you have to keep “cleaning” the barrel with insane swings of extreme moods. To stay healthy your emotional life must be PUMPED and EXERCISED, just like your heart, to discharge excess emotional “juice.” A charge can build up fast, and with no place to direct it, with too much coming IN and not enough going OUT, there is emotional constipation—the “flattening” of the personality seen so plainly in many Normals.

The way to avoid the pendulum spending too much of its ‘swing’ in the Bad Mood side is to make them into NEW, WEIRD, heretofore UNDISCOVERED MOODS: the so-called “Mood Exploration” that Doktors recommend. (Manic depression? That’s just the Pink Witch Doctor’s way of explaining a SubGenius who’s become a mental Bodybuilder, an Incredible Hulk of the emotions. He doesn’t need Thorazine—he needs SLACK!)

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If you’re going to change, you must KILL YOUR ENTIRE PREVIOUS LIFE—you must DIE to everything you have “known”.

You must follow the Way of Dobbs.

You must go all out, full tilt, to the very farthest extreme you can reach, by driving yourself to some idiotic limit or other, by stretching the threshholds of pain and sanity as tight as they can go before they snap, by ramming yourself head-on into something, anything, as long as it drives

your brains so far past the point of Survival Urge that they just don’t care anymore about keeping the body alive, where they start opening to the other things, where the thrust is so drastic that everything else, life, death, seem exactly alike, where everything on Earth is so trivial in comparison to the internal hurricane that the poor blinded brain-pan just gives up and

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into a new state, an altered perspective, a spilt-milk openness in which the senses finally get naked, in which you start receiving new signals, not just the bounced-back echoes of the ones you already sent out, in which your brain is a movie screen facing the Projector of Infinity.

It’s a sudden, exalted, and usually momentary vision of the Ultimate in Leisure. Wise Asses call it satori, the Moment of True Slack. It’s insane and beautifully unshakeable by logic or rationality.

True Ecstacy, in its high-faluting sense, is impossible to reach on drugs. “Bob” teaches that to make the great jump for Ecstacy, you must “DISCONNECT.”

“Bob” artificially induces shock in Initiates, so that the brain learns to habitually Disconnect under stress. Thus, it works on intuition alone—direct knowledge, “…so that not even a thought stands between you and the thing you know.”2 With this comes tremendous powers, called “Siddhis.” We’ve all heard stories of emergencies in which some normally wimpy mom, in order to save her kid from a burning car, suddenly acquires the strength of a thousand madwomen and rips all the doors off their hinges. Utilizing this effect, Dobbs sets up fake emergencies to inflict on his followers so that they’re jolted out of “sanity.” He’ll hire an arsonist to set your house on fire so that when you wake up to the smell of smoke, that curtain of dumbness is ripped out of the way and you “wake up” completely. What often occurs is that the terrified pupil’s brain, using all its capabilities for the first time, is not only able to cope with the immediate problem, but is also flooded with all kinds of extraneous realizations that have nothing to do with the matter at hand, but which the pupil had been hiding from himself for years. Thus while he’s helping his roommate down a rope ladder, flames licking at his back, he’s thinking, “Gee, maybe I should quit drinking.”

“Bob” calls this method “The Zen of Terror” and his “little accidents” are called UltraKoans (“Koans” are the superbulldada “impossible questions” that regular Zen Masters pose to their students). They are perfect for While-U-Wait ego-breaking. The pupil or “John” is shocked into “Displacement Mode,” in which he feels he is “standing to one side” of himself and reality—seeing it all, but no longer in it. One foot in the water, one on the ground, so to speak. The rational mind throws up its hands in exasperation and there is a SUDDEN BREAKTHROUGH into BRIGHT LIGHT. Then the distinction between light and dark evaporates, along with the body, which dissolves into glowing, floating, smokelike particles. The soul becomes the smoke from “Bob’s” Pipe, drifting towards Slack. Inside becomes outside and there is a feeling of serenity in the midst of all-out chaos and violence. The concepts of sin, remorse, and even Time disappear and are replaced by a direct kind of perception unfettered by Common Sense.

“Bob” has experienced this Ecstacy, this continuous “high,” for the last 28 years of his life.

The only problem with enlightenment is that if you think you got it, you didn’t get it. Also, it is in this trance state that some SubGenii have jumped out of twentieth-story windows, stepped in front of trains, given away all their belongings, and other tragedies. Who knows—maybe the Afterlife looked that good.

Normally, though, the treatment is well worth its modest price. Your ten recognized and unrecognized senses will all work better; it’s like opening up the Venetian blinds of synchronicity so that you can see all the Hints buzzing interconnectedly around you, not just the ones that came at the price of a stubbed toe or otherwise taught you a lesson. Suddenly Hints are jumping out at you and yelling. Among other things, this can mean INSTANT LUCK AT THE RACES!!

§OH, COME OFF IT

So, what’s the deal here? Do we give away all we own, go starve in the desert, and bang ourselves on the head until we see God, or “Bob”? Hell, some of us have families to support, we can’t go off looking for some stupid mirage of the New Jerusalem for the rest of our lives. We don’t want to learn the secrets of the universe and then not be able to make any MONEY off them.

And maybe we’re too damn set in our ways! Maybe there’re lots of things in this $1.98 material world we like! How are we supposed to know this “blazing of the senses” is all it’s cracked up to be? Isn’t there an easier way? We need Answers we can reach safely, at home, in our spare time!

Yeah, HELL yeah. The problem is, people get enlightenment mixed up with perfection. With “Bob,” they’re opposites. Thinking about perfection will only screw you up. The Conspiracy tries to get you hooked on some impossible notion of perfection and then takes the edge off any fulfillment you’re lucky enough to get by miring you down, making you kiss a hundred asses in the rank and file above you. They keep you on a treadmill of “positive thinking” propaganda so you always think you’re just about to find the “meaning” they keep promising. That promotion is always “right around the corner.” And when it comes, it means less Slack. Oh, but that’s your bad attitude.

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You’d be amazed how many fall for that kind of “thinking”! The Con uses it because even though it doesn’t work, it sounds good. It’s the first step in making you think you can’t fight City Hall.

Well, you can fight City Hall, and even win. But you can’t get ultimate Slack. You must face that. But this doesn’t mean you should let the Con make you accept things you don’t NEED and resist what you CAN USE. Don’t get our idea of Slack mixed up with Their false quest for “tranquility.” Their idea of tranquility for you is the narcossis of sitting alone in a tiny condobox exhausted from work and nerve drugs, watching TV in a kind of eternal limbo. For some SubGeniuses, such

mindlessness is Slack; the difference is that the Con wants everybody to have the same idea of Slack.

To many SubGenii, Slack is simply being allowed to do the kind of work they love. False Work, done only for money, without fun, is a SIN against YOU ALMIGHTY (unless it’s a LOT of money). Unrepressed greed is natural. But the way They’ve got it set up, it’s poison, as evidenced by the diseases peculiar to the rich.

The divine Work Instinct of the SubGenius overpowers mere organic money hunger, which should be the servant to Work and not the other way around. (Some SubGeniuses are toil junkies nonetheless … but the lucky ones are lackadaisical buzz-mongers.)

The idea is to make PLAY into a paying profession or Life Scam. Of course it isn’t easy to break that corporate umbilical cord, but even if it pays Minimum it’s better than a high paycheck full of heart attacks. This is a shallow, fickle mudculture of vinyl. BUT DO NOT FEEL GUILTY IF YOU FIND YOURSELF HAVING FUN EVEN ON THE JOB.

If you work at, say, a print shop, you can develop the Zen of Stapling. Or, in a pretzel factory, the Zen of Flipping Dough—this too can be Slack.

The key is to work by instinct, NOT EFFORT: don’t “do the job,” but float on the lake of work … let the job “DO YOU”. This involves the same techniques that you’re already using when you play a video game or a musical instrument, or drive a car. You get ‘in sync’ with the machine, you become the machine, you surrender to the machine. You put your brain on ‘auto-pilot.’ You “GIVE UP”.

If this makes no sense to you, then your ONLY SANE MOVE would be to REPENT, QUIT YOUR JOB and SLACK OFF before you’re too far gone.

It’s the simple Taoist principle’ of wu-wei: “Doing Nothing Effectively.” To “Bob,” ‘Nothing’ is infinitely more real than other realities. He preaches “NOT-THINK” or “NO-MIND:” for the only way to truly THINK the UNTHINKABLE is NOT TO THINK. You just “BE.” (The Eastern tradition of the Mantra or repeated chant was formerly used to induce this, but now television has replaced it and is every bit as effective. (See: Couch Potatoes 7:19))3

“Try? No! There is no ‘try.’ Do, or do not.”—Yoda.

If you merely “try,” you will burn out your powers, and even if you attain your goal there’ll be little feeling left to enjoy it with. It’s like almost getting over the Berlin Wall but getting shot six inches from freedom. It’s like “a monkey trying to fuck a football.” Like a golfer running around with his head cut off.

Get this: There are actually such things as Will Particles. If you direct them at too high a velocity, if your brain pushes too hard, the Luck Plane hardens to meet them and bounces them back at you. You risk a negative psychic bounceback-echo effect ricochetting from the “soul” or Manitou

of whatever it is you’re trying to change. When the effort-ball returns, it self-cancels itself and erases its own weight in bobyons, depleting you and making it harder to try each time. The harder you try, the harder the job becomes. This also occurs near the end of the workday when you are “watching the clock.”

If Will Particles are sent slowly, eased in, they won’t just enter the Luck Plane, they’ll be eagerly swallowed by it, and things will magically fall into place. In its own utterly impersonal way, the Luck Plane—which is bigger than all the gods put together—is glad to cooperate. But if it’s coerced, it tightens up … and so do you. So don’t sneak up on the Luck Plane and suddenly start battering it. Present your tasks to it as gifts, bearing SLACK.

§THIS IS THE PATH OF LEAST RESISTANCE

Slack is not simply “Not Giving a Shit.” It is more like “Giving a Shit Freely.”

Holy men have called Slack, “SEEING.” Not looking, but seeing. “Bob” teaches men to truly see. A poor man can have true Slack. An idiot trapped in a condominium and a bad job can have true Slack. All that it takes is to stop sucking the finger and go where it POINTS!

Man’s word says, “Seeing is believing.” This is perversion. “Bob’s” word says, “Believing is seeing.” If you believe in something first, you will then see it. But you must really believe.

To be a complete and religious SubGenius, you don’t have to believe in the dogma. You don’t have to believe in yourself. You don’t have to believe in ANYTHING, but merely be CAPABLE of BELIEVING … which is much more closely related to seeing than thinking. If you can see the Path, it is yours, and it will lead you to the point at which you will believe everything..

“Learning” is not what you need. You need to “KNOW, INSTANTLY.” Learned experiences, learned opinions, these can tie you up and keep you from piercing the veil. If you can “see,” you will come to know what you really think and not what you pay to want to think you think.

Do not believe in success. Just succeed in believing. BELIEVE in the lie while you say it. BELIEVE in the car while you drive it. BELIEVE in the centerfold. “Don’t just! EAT a hamburger…eat the HELL out of it.”—Dobbs 9–9–59

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§POWERS OF YOUR UNDERMIND

Slack is a quest. The quest for Slack is symbolized by The Perfect Hamburger. These are the real issues: Man, God, the Amoeba, DNA, Sex and a Truly Good Hamburger. Slack is not possible without that Hamburger, nor vice versa.

You see, there are gulfs in the nerve patterns, vast synapse gaps which the normal human brain cell cannot leap. Only certain recombinations of mental and financial energy can create the bridges, and once you make the jump and get across to that other edge, it is terrifying: a whole new landscape is there, a mental arrangement that’s hard not to get lost in. But it opens up new passages in your head and in one of them lies that great Burger. Many of the better new video games accidentally illustrate this process.

SubGeniuses are so disconnected from reality already, they can more easily vault the fissures in the brain-caves and see the roadmap in the randomness. They can get to that place where the PRIMAL INFORMATION STILL REMEMBERS ITSELF. They can find “Bob.”

STOP LOOKING, and “Bob” will SUDDENLY SHOW UP, offering a “smoke.”

Remember, “Bob” is not a “doer”, but a “letter,” He LETS things happen. What is about to happen is, by perpetual magick coincidence, exactly what he desires. The Plan he has HAS ALREADY COME ABOUT; it simply has yet to make itself apparent.

If you will only wish for what “Bob” wishes for, you will get your wish. If you kill “Bob” and grind him up, “Bob” becomes that Perfect Hamburger!

Use creative procrastination. Give things time to happen by themselves. Be an “equal sign” in the equations of occurence. The same power that created the rich outpouring of “Bob’s” life is producing abundance through other SubGeniuses NOW.

§STUNNING BREAKTHROUGH AT BULLDADA TIME CONTROL LABS

Here is a computer-enhanced psi-construct of the “BOBYON.” This worling probability function is the smallest unit or quanta of stenchauraic energy, and all energies within this spectrum are composed of cohesions of this basic building block. As the quark is supposed to be the basic energy unit of the physical universe, so is the “BOBYON” the building block of the psychic universe. We don’t know if there really are quarks, whereas here we have proof of the “BOB” Particle. (Photo courtesy of Guy Deuel (TrTel) and Bulldada Labs.)

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Puzzling Evidence

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In 3-D, code arrangement becomes construct of MWOWM.

Each curved shape is a twisted gravity vortex of micro-white/anti-white holes in the stenchaura continuum.

All of the Psychic Universe composed of “Bobyon,” each coded as MWOWM.

St. Guy Deuel

§THROW THIS BOOK AGAINST THE WALL RIGHT NOW.

OH YEAH, almost forgot—HERE IS THE SECRET FORMULA FOR INSTANT MONEY AND SLACK:

Say this aloud, 100 times a day:

“I CLEARLY SEE THE PERFECT PLAN—FOR I HAVE PAID FOR IT. I KNOW WHAT I REALLY THINK. “BOB” IS MY UNFAILING BROKER, AND LARGE SUMS OF MONEY COME TO ME QUICKLY, WITHOUT WORK, IN A PERFECT WAY. DIVINE SLACK NOW DISSOLVES IN MY BLOODSTREAM. FUCK THE CONSPIRACY.”

You don’t think it’ll work? Well… it must be included anyway, as part of the Set, as a Prop in the complex staging of the Luck Rituals.

We can never give you the secret instant-Slack formula. It cannot be “given.” If it comes too easily it will lose its power. There IS a magical formula—but without the sacrifice of your own thinking, and agony, it will produce only the watered-down shadow of Slack, not the cytorspasmic Slack you need. Also, you’d never need to buy anything from us again.

Nevertheless—OverMentality CAN be achieved for seconds or minutes, in snatches of amazingness that will grow with practice until your spirit is for all intents and purposes that of an OverMan or UberWoman! (Disclaimer: until the Xists get here, your body will remain in its corruptible state.)

“Bob” will not “smoke” with us until we ourselves have “pipes”.

Yes! YES!! AAAIIIEEEE!—Unreality finally becomes so familiar, so malleable, that the SubGenius finds his freedom in that which originally constrained him! Oh YEAH! SPIT in the air, SHOUT Hosanna, and throw this Book at the wall! You WILL reach that OTHER SHORE!!