Lils XXX-Day Report

Lil's XXX-Day Report

From: Popess Lilith von Fraumench <lilith@ZubJenius.com> Newsgroups: alt.slack Date: Tue, Jul 11, 2000 11:49 PM Message-ID: <110720002249520565%lilith@ZubJenius.com>

In a ha-ha way, Judas and I had adopted this phrase, "Dobbs unwilling," to speak of things that might happen if the Xists didn't show up. "We'll pack a squid full of frappie next week, Dobbs unwilling."

"Dobbs unwilling," MY ASS. Grumble grumble. Grrrrrr!

OK, so I didn't get "laid." That's the real, but ONLY, disappointment though. Hell, we all know that, as long as we get Ruptured by December 31, 2000, we'll be OK, so how could I be disappointed? After that, though, there better be a good explanation, and this time I sure as hell ain't gonna EXPLAIN.

Well.

Well, to be honest, I don't remember anywhere in Prescriptures that says the Xists and the Pleasure Saucers are one in the same. Perhaps we've been ASSUMING a bit to help fill in the gaps "Bob" left in his memos. Perhaps the Xists ARE HERE ALREADY, negotiating behind the scenes, and we were WRONG to believe that we'd get Ruptured on July 5 of ANY year.

Perhaps we live in the Time of the Deal. Perhaps our REAL concern is to get Ruptured before OMICRON EPISILON, in 2178! Perhaps we should just be grateful that we never SAW an Xist up close, even if it assumes a pleasing form first.

BUT! Those same Prescriptures make plain that the RUPTURE SHALL HAPPEN! And it could happen at ANY MOMENT! So FUCK IT, in the light of all this, since all I really want is some snugglin', and maybe a reach-around now and then, and I got plenty of THAT, JUST BECAUSE I'M LIL, hail "Connie"!

I *did* suck Sister Decadence's COCK on stage, in a CONTEST, with JESUS CHRIST as one of the competitors, in front of RUNNING VIDEOCAMERAS, and I CAME IN SECOND. (First prize goes to the lovely Evangela, whose boobies tipped the scales in her favor, hail "Connie" again!) What can I say, I saw that purty little cock sticking out from under her Wonder Woman skirt, and I couldn't resist. She liked my gentle touch. It was a happy moment for all.

I also had the pleasure of beating Nickie Deathchick's ass, after it was properly warmed up by Dr. Legume, Ed Strange, St. Andreux, and Susie the Floozie. Have you seen those grandma-face-on-a-stick novelties that Starbucks Coffee was handing out? (Really.) I used one of THOSE on Nickie. Sadly, the stick broke on the fourth stroke, so I had to peel off my glove and finish her off by hand. And in case there was ANY question, I could TELL she liked it. However, this event PROVED that she is in fact SUPERIOR, for who else would've let a bunch of mean ol' folks whomp on her ass so mercilessly, and walk away, proudly GLOWING like that? Ah, the kind of story that warms hearts and hands alike....

I looked fabulous during the fetish ball, but from all reviews my peak was the next night, when I put on my black bra, purple corset, and black lamé harem pants made by Friday Dynamite of Seattle. With my all-purpose preaching robes and without, I struck a beautiful scene that had all sexes raving.

But never mind the fashion review, I ranted the FUCK out of the audience, WITHOUT NOTES, in what many called my best ranting to date. But then, this was one of the best all-in-all stages I've run, because ALL the Doktors were incredible, ALL the bands rocked, and the sound was PERFECT, with the audience mixed in just enough to give it that live ambience, and with a SCHEDULE strapped onto my head with the reddest damn straps you'll ever see. (Fortunately, even as I came down with Flooze Throat, I managed to save my voice enough to DO TH' JOB, praise "Bob"!)

Hellpope Huey gave his wonderful "BOOM" rant to much accolade one night, then--with technical problems on his keyboard--gave his finest keyboard concert yet. A new ranter, Cardinal Sin, and his lovely wife Sister So What, presented new, welcome, and rather RIGHTEOUS voices to the fold, and I hope to hear them both next year. Babushka, the keyboardist for Little Fyodor, performed a solo bit which got the audience REALLY hot and bothered, featuring extra-saucy versions of old pop songs from the 20s as only a pinched-faced granny from the Old Country could sing it. (And she DOES have a cute body under those floral-print dresses and support stockings! As she put it, lots of gentlemen were being awfully friendly to her... and even some of the ladies!)

Speaking of Little Fyodor, their cult of repression unleashed has claimed another pile of souls with an excellent and successful concert of wonderful hits. JEHOVA HATES PHRED RETURNED and blew away a whole new generation of minds who had not been blessed with the eternally WRONG "Herve Villachaise", and played extemporaneous songs, auctioned one at a time to the highest bidder who provided the subject matter, and becoming yet more INSTANT CLASSICS. Number Six, Mykal D'Archangel's band, played after the fetish ball and gave much boogie to the evening, as did Carter LeBlanc's band Bliss America with their kick-ass, smart-ass version of "Sympathy For The Devil".

And most importantly, Einstein's Secret Orchestra played their Best Show Ever, with perfect sound and a nice, meaty bass line from their new bass player, Nikki Bartel. (I'm her #1 groupie, so never mind me....) They cranked out old classics and new songs alike and had the audience dancing like crazy. And then they provided Stang with his accustomed soundtrack while he whipped out what I think was one of his best rants to date. AH YES!

And this was the year that the CUTE REDHEADS took over in record numbers as well as in overall delight, judging from many reactions. Cutest Redhead this year has to go to Rev. Superkate, who came in second (again to Evangela!) in the Best Fake Orgasm contest and who charmed all around her with effervescent mutant cheer; with very hot competition from Rabbi Jacklyn Hyde, whose return was deeply welcomed by all; and Rev. Sikki Nixx, whose quiet presence hid thoughts of Dobbsian glory yet to be witnessed; and Mary Magdalen's older sister, Rev. Sleezbird, veteran of the '98 Connieite Terror Nite and certified darling; and Susie The Floozie, babealicious as usual and absolutely glistening with joy the whole time; and Evangela, reigning Intergender Wrasslin' Champeen; and a dozen or so more whose names I DIDN'T catch. Legume was making cracks: "Hey, Lil, you see that dozen cute redheads that came in last night?"

This was also the year that blood wrestling reached its apex and its nadir, all in one shot, as Pastor Craig--one of the great heros of blood wrestling--broke his collarbone when he was flipped by Pope Phred of Jehova Hates Phred. Phred had issued a challenge for any of them shameless nekkid people to fight him fully clothed and "dignified". After a couple minutes of berating the naked wrestlers, Craig rose to the challenge and fought well, until that fateful flip left him laying immobile on the mat. His valor was so great Phred wound up writing two songs about Pastor Craig, who returned from the hospital in time to hear them performed while doped up on high-grade painkillers.

With sadness I report that Friday Jones was absent, having been sent by her immediate Conspiracy wallet-masters to Stockholm on "company business". But as there's always some sort of silver lining, even if it is silver oxide precipitate, know that Friday left well-armed with two Swedish SubGenius phrases courtesy Rev. Bursar Judas Iscariot of SSUCC:

"SubGenit måste slocknar!" --Literally, "The SubGenius must slack!"

"Knulla dem om de kan inte skämtas med!" --Literally, "Fuck them if they cannot be joked with!"

I can only imagine how saturated Stockholm must be now with the visage of the Dobbshead,complete with Swedish slogans and contact addresses. I can smell the pstench from here.

As far as I am concerned, the COOL SHIT happened AFTER most everyone else had left. Although, to be honest, it was clear that many who left early on Sunday may as well have. See, Saturday night was my busiest, as the stage didn't shut down until 3 AM. So I staggered to the front house to recharge my walkie-talkie, started back towards my tent, saw a light in the trailer... and, next thing I know, I'm curled up on a cot in the trailer, freezing my ass off, and enduring the murderous cries of those who were expecting a Sunday Rupture--or, more specifically, one with Stang in attendance. They woke Rocknar up too, as he had apparently staggered into the trailer at some point as well. He dispatched the crowd, but not before I heard a voice which SOUNDED like Friday Jones, rallying the troops as if to STORM the trailer. At first I thought she might've snuck back from Stockholm in time to raid Brushwood and oust the Hierarchy at last, then believed it was aural hallucination, before Jesus admitted to hearing a similar voice too. As far as we know Friday was someone's loa that morning.

But what really sucked was having a 15-year-old bang his head on the trailer door and yell, "Don't make me give myself a concussion!"

At the wedding of Boddhisattva Troutwaxer to his beloved Sri Devil Beledi-Ma, later that morning, I preached that the simulated Rupture has hopefully taught many people an important lesson: DON'T DEPEND ON US. You can't even depend on "Bob", goddamn it, you can only depend upon YOURSELF in the end, and I don't expect a lot of people to understand that until they GET a concussion. (By the way, the bride and groom AND the preacher, me, were ALL dressed beautifully, Troutwaxer in his Chinese pajamas, Beledi in her velvet and corset, and me in a cream-colored jumpsuit with sheer-sleeved jacket courtesy of Jewyl of Tampa. And the collars they exchanged in lieu of rings were quite lovely too.)

I also got to play hours of black metal on Or Kill Me Radio. The laughter of the newly damned, souls stripped by the sinister beat, was deeply gratifying. Actually, I think it was the smart-ass comments that got them laughing. That, and some of the segues I pulled off.

I ALSO GOT TO MEET SUBGENIUS SPICE. She turned out to be every bit as cool as I thought she'd be, and then some. Of course, the fact that she outed herself as sister to The Duke of Uke only proves her innate coolness. The only shame is that I didn't get as much time to hang out with her as I liked. Then again, that's true for most everyone. Ah well, Time Control shall be mine anyhow, or FUCK IT.

I did notice a major difference between XXX-Day and other "drills" in the past. Namely, there were those who were attending strictly for the Official Events, and then there were those who were there for July 5, 7 AM, and that's the FINAL DAMN WORD. As a result, some were making short-term plans, while others were thinking long-term. And in the end, it was the hardcore SubGenii that I partied with, because I was sticking it out too, goddamn it! And so, praise Patrick "Slackware" Volkerding and his lovely companions Andrea and Superkate; praise Lust In Space's Slippy and Astro-Babe; praise Jacques Treatment and Critter; praise Or Kill Me Radio; praise Doktor Ymmot Zepol and his shroom-o-vision; praise Evangela; praise my dear distant cousin Rev. Craig Mitchell; praise Princess Wei R. Doe and Rev. Ivan Stang; praise Shabe & Shagblaster; and praise the others whose names I can't remember, HUNGH, we were the ones, the TRUE TO SCRIPTURE SHITHEADS who partied all night and were ready to GET OFF on God Come Wednesday, as prophesized by Prescripture, and NOT SUNDAY, when any day-living SubGenius should be ASLEEP.

After this year, I've kinda come to the conclusion that maybe we're getting it wrong, and all SubGenii should be SLEEPING when the Rupture comes, after all. Make a note.

So when 7 AM rolled around at long last, and the Xists still didn't show up, what else could I do but unveil the NEW XXXX-DAY SALUTE, based on the old XXX-Day Salute, and is actually easier to DESCRIBE:

Cross wrists, palms facing you.... Hook thumbs.... And cross your index and middle fingers.

And so my XXX-Day finally came to a close. I had slack, and that's all that matters in the end. Praise "Bob", hail "Connie", and see you next year!

The Prophet Lilith

-- =====Her Ladyship Rev Dkr St Popess Lilith von Fraumench, Esquire===== ===Prophet--Devivor--Corrective Phrenologist--XXX-Day Stage Manager=== ==http://ssucc.ragnarokr.com===http://foolspress.com===(887)381-9354== ==Inside the heart of every genius lurks a tard yearning to be free.==

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Original file name: Lil's XXX-Day Report - converted on Wednesday, 19 July 2000, 10:17

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