Press Release

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact: The SubGenius Foundation, Inc. 1-216-320-9528
Fax: (216) 320-9528
stang@subgenius.com

Anna Nicole Smith Awarded Sainthood by SubGenius UFO Cult

February 14, 2007: The Church of the SubGenius has awarded posthumous
Sainthood to late performer and actress Anna Nicole Smith.

The Church acknowledged Miss Smith's fey, outrageous lifestyle and
agreed that it meets its standards for Sainthood.  Church founder J.R.
"Bob" Dobbs laid down a set of rules for members of the Church to live
their lives, and Miss Smith's life has met the following criteria:

  1. She spent her life Slacking Off, and did not conform to the
expectations of others.
  2. She achieved fame and fortune not through hard work or
intelligence, but basically through dumb holy luck.
  3. As seen from her many photos and TV appearances, she ate the
hell out of her fair share of cheeseburgers.  This meets the
definition of a SubGenius commandment: "Don't just eat that hamburger,
eat the HELL out of it!"
  4. She was martyred by the "Pinks" (a SubGenius term referring to
"normal people"), after being crucified in the press.
  5. Like Saint Mary Magdalene of the Catholic Church, her child is a
"Son of Man". Unlike Mary, who claimed that no mortal was the father
of her child, it seems as though every male (and perhaps a few female)
mortals are claiming to be the father of her child.  The Church uses
this as the basis for its prediction that Miss Smith's child shall be
a prophet of the SubGenius.
  6. The Church of the SubGenius encourages wholesome sexuality,
which Miss Smith exuded to excess (at least during her prime years).

In the official Calendar of SubGenius Saints, the date of May 1st will
be set aside for honoring Miss Smith.  She will share this day with
Saint Catherine I (The Great) of Russia, who also had Sainthood
bestowed on her posthumously by the Church.

The Church of the SubGenius is a popular organization often seen as a
"parody" of religious cults, including Scientology, the Raelians, and
the Unification Church. It was founded in 1953 by a mysterious figure
named J.R. "Bob" Dobbs, whose smiling, pipe-smoking image has been
seen worldwide in chip art, graffiti, tattoos, and rock albums from
performers ranging from Devo and George Clinton to Sublime. A number
of celebrities are SubGenius ministers, including former Talking Heads
singer David Byrne, Penn Jillette, late science fiction author Robert
Anton Wilson, comic book artist R. Crumb, and Pee-Wee Herman.

In 2001, the Church offered a formal invitation to Miss Smith, for her
to attend its annual End of the World celebration (X-Day) as a
vacation from the stress of her daily life.

Anna Nicole Smith is not the first celebrity to be awarded posthumous
Sainthood in the Church.  In 1986, an official SubGenius minister
ordainment was bestowed upon Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard, a
scant two weeks before his death.  In his published autobiography,
rock and roll singer Frank Zappa acknowledged his agreement with the
Church's ideals, though refused to join the organization; a posthumous
Sainthood was awarded to him by the Church shortly after his passing.

The official home page of the Church of the SubGenius can be found at:

   http://www.subgenius.com

--
                       The High Weirdness Project
                         http://www.modemac.com

Anna Nicole Smith

Why Anna Nicole Smith is a Subgenius Saint

  1. She spent her life slacking, and did not conform to the
expectations of others
  2. she achieved fame and fortune not through hard work or
intelligence, but basically through dumb holy luck
  3. As we can tell from photos of her, she ate the hell out of her
fair share of cheeseburgers
  4. She was martyed by the Pinks, after being crucified in the press
  5. Like St. Mary of the Xtians, her child is a "Son of Man". Unlike
Mary, who claimed that no mortal was the father of her child, It seems
like EVERY male (and perhaps a few female) mortals are claiming to be
the father of her child. I predict that this child shall be a prophet
of the Subgenius. We should endevour to make this happen.
  6. She was at times pretty and sexy, so venerating her would be a
good draw, which is the prime reason for venerating anybody.

tool

That's right!!! I am a tool. A tool of "Bob"!!! A tool, like one of
those automatic seed spreader thingys you get at oversized hardware
stores, spreading the seed of DOUBT, oozesquirting the jizz of "Bob"'s
mighty OverTesticles into the unconscious depths of hyuuman brains,
possibly awakening and watering the soil in which the seed of Bobdoubt
may grow and turn into a TUMOR the size of a LEMON. And what a lemon
that will be. You know what THEY SAY, When life gives you lemons, run
around in circles screaming like bonobos and fling poo at each other!
Yoou know what. It feels good. It feels GREAT! It keeps me from pacing
my apartment like a caged panther, and that is all I could ever ask in
return for fulfilling my need to be an obsessive compulsive stationary
whore. That and maybe someone will send over some Jehovahs witnesses
or private investigators.

God speaks to me and disproves evolution

Yesterday God spoke to me. I didn't realize it at first. I thought it
was just some senile and sick old woman wiping her ass with everything
she could reach because she had diarrhea in bed and wanted to fling
shit everywhere. Naturally, I couldn't stop her, I was busy, just far
enough away to know what was happening. When I was able to clean up
the mess, shit was everywhere... pads, the bed, sheets, blankets, her
nightgown, the floor, the wall...

Then I noticed a bible lying around. Yes, shit was on it too. But I
still didn't realize what had happened.

Then today, it hit me. God had spoken. Much like being in church, the
place had smelled bad. Too much shit was there... therefore it must
have been created out of nothing. And I'd nearly vomited, which I
would do if I had fish made out of stale, moldy bread, like God uses
when he makes fish, or wine that's made of water and looks yellowish.
Which means it was a genuine miracle. God have made shit from nothing,
and left me to clean in up, with horrible vapors in the air, which is
generally how God treats people.

And now I've grasped the significance. I've always wondered how people
evolved from monkees when most of them are dumber than monkees. The
truth is, we haven't, at least not anymore. The cinderella effect is
wearing off... it's long past midnight, and we're turning back into
monkees... and have been monkees the whole time. We never evolved. Our
shit did. We learned to spew it from our other end, because we didn't
have enough to throw at each other, and our words were easier to make
than more shit, and we generally weren't so fond of the stench, which
hits us when we're throwing our shit just as much as it hits the
person hit with our shit. But now, we don't need words. God has
returned, and he can make shit out of nothing. Personally, I'm going
to stick with words, as I'm not fond of the smell, but then again,
I've always been that way about religion.

meow

Three little kittens they lost their mittens, and they began to cry,
"Oh mother dear, we sadly fear that we have lost our mittens."
"What! Lost your mittens, you naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie."
"Meeow, meeow, meeow, now we shall have no pie."
The three little kittens they found their mittens,
And they began to cry,
"Oh mother dear, see here, see here
For we have found our mittens."
"Put on your mittens, you silly kittens
And you shall have some pie"
"Meeow, meeow, meeow,
Now let us have some pie."
The three little kittens put on their mittens
And soon ate up the pie,
"Oh mother dear, we greatly fear
That we have soiled our mittens."
"What! soiled you mittens, you naughty kittens!"
Then they began to cry, "Meeow, meeow, meeow"
Then they began to sigh.
The three little kittens they washed their mittens
And hung them out to dry,
"Oh mother dear, do you not hear
That we have washed our mittens."
"What! washed your mittens, you are good kittens."
But I smell a rat close by,
"Meeow, meeow, meeow" we smell a rat close by...

jasolator

 - Jesus loves you, and is going to see that you burn in hell forever

- Nehemiah begat Azriel.  Azriel begat Abuchadnezzer.  Abuchadnezzer
begat Schomelek.  Schomelek begat Robert Smith.  Robert Smith begat
The Cure.  The Cure begat Goth.  Goth begat Marylin Manson.  Marylin
Manson begat bad videos on MTV.  MTV begat a killing in royalties.
Royalties begat Judith.  Judith begat Hymie.  Hymie made quite a
killing on a string of 7-11s in Pittsburgh.  Pittsburgh begat a
booming steel industry.  Steel begat an auto industry.  The auto
industry begat growth economics.  Growth economics begat Ronald
Reagan.  Ronald Reagan begat a monkey.  A monkey begat your mommy.
Your mommy begat your daddy, who then begat you on your mommy, which
begat a paradox.  You begat a banana.  A banana begat Noah.  Noah
begat an ark then Noah's daughters begat on Noah.  Noah thought that
was a nice arrangement.  God begat Noah.  God begat Jesus but we
aren't supposed to ask how.  Jesus begat a religion but we aren't
supposed to ask why.  Jesus was a virgin but we aren't supposed to
think about that much.  It is not right to think about the Penis of
the Saviour of the World.  Jesus came to save us all by inventing the
idea of eternal hellfire because otherwise he wouldn't have anything
to save us from.  Eternal hellfire begat a lot of very holy baptist
ministers who aren't virgins but they feel just awful about it and
think you should be one.  The southern baptists begat a return to good
ol' religion which begat Ronald Reagan again.  Just like Arkansas
cousins.  They aren't virgins either but they feel just awful about it
for ten minutes every sunday.  Which in turn begat country music.
Country music begat the back-assward voter bloc.  The back-asswards
voter bloc begat Ronald Reagan again.  Ronald Reagan begat a gay son
but he feels just awful about it.  Then Pharaoh told unto Ronald
Reagan "get ye hence", and Ronald Reagan walked on water and bailed
out the day traders.  Then Anwar Sadat got blowed up.  Then the Berlin
wall got blowed up.  Then Clinton got elected.

And that's where the bible ends.

But then Dubya got elected and tried to make Apocalypses (tm) happen
in Iraq but Jesus didn't come back.

And Dubya is still scratching his head.

And that's where the bible ends again.

It's all Rumsfeld's fault.


--
Zapanaz
International Satanic Conspiracy
Customer Support Specialist
http://joecosby.com/
"Hell is just like here, except the dogs can whistle."
--George Carlin

More from the greeter

A very loud, unattractive, mean-acting woman walks into Wal-Mart with
her two kids in tow, screaming obscenities at them all the way through
the entrance.

She's dressed in dirty jeans, a greasy t-shirt with holes in it and
wearing flip-flops exposing her cracked and filthy toenails.

When she yells at the kids, she exposes her yellowed, crooked teeth with
more than a few missing.

The Wal-Mart greeter says, "Good morning and welcome to Wal-Mart. Nice
children you've got there. Are they twins?"

The ugly woman stops screaming long enough to say, "Hell no, they ain't!

The oldest one, he's 9 and
the younger one, she's 7.
Why the Hell would you think they're twins? Do you really think they
look alike?"

"No", replies the greeter, "I just couldn't believe you got laid twice

WallyWorld

I had to take a job at Wal-Mart last month, and since I am an old guy,
they made me a greeter.

This is totally fucked up, because I think I'm capable of being a sales
person and walking around and telling you where you can get your
screwdriver, needklepoint tools, tampons or ammunition.

I realize that it is an honor to wear the Blue Smock, don't get me
wrong.

I get really bored, and it is costing me alot of money in Meth and Pot
to keep that fucking smile pasted on my face, I am barely breaking
even. I am hoping to get some Zanex or some real meds so I don't want
to kill myself all the time.

But they don't have a very good medical plan at Wal_Mart.

I'm thinking mercuric chloride.

any suggestions?

Bullet

Excerpt from "Here, Bullet," a book of poetry written by Sgt. Brian Turner, 3rd Stryker Brigade Combat Team, while he was serving in Iraq:

Here, Bullet
If a body is what you want,
then here is bone and gristle and flesh.
Here is the clavicle-snapped wish,
the aorta's opened valves, the leap
thought makes at the synaptic gap.
Here is the adrenaline rush you crave,
that inexorable flight, that insane puncture
into heat and blood. And I dare you to finish
what you've started. Because here, Bullet,
here is where I complete the word you bring
hissing through the air, here is where I moan
the barrel's cold esophagus, triggering
my tongue's explosives for the rifling I have
inside of me, each twist of the round
spun deeper, because here, Bullet,
here is where the world ends, every time.

The Jew among Thorns

There was once a rich man, who had a servant who served him diligently and honestly: He was every morning the first out of bed, and the last to go to rest at night; and, whenever there was a difficult job to be done, which nobody cared to undertake, he was always the first to set himself to it. Moreover, he never complained, but was contented with everything, and always merry.

When a year was ended, his master gave him no wages, for he said to himself, “That is the cleverest way; for I shall save something, and he will not go away, but stay quietly in my service. The servant said nothing, but did his work the second year as he had done it the first; and when at the end of this, likewise, he received no wages, he made himself happy, and still stayed on.

When the third year also was past, the master considered, put his hand in his pocket, but pulled nothing out. Then at last the servant said, “Master, for three years I have served you honestly, be so good as to give me what I ought to have, for I wish to leave, and look about me a little more in the world.”

“Yes, my good fellow,” answered the old miser; “you have served me industriously, and, therefore, you shall be cheerfully rewarded;” And he put his hand into his pocket, but counted out only three farthings, saying, “There, you have a farthing for each year; that is large and liberal pay, such as you would have received from few masters.”

The honest servant, who understood little about money, put his fortune into his pocket, and thought, “Ah! now that I have my purse full, why need I trouble and plague myself any longer with hard work!” So on he went, up hill and down dale; and sang and jumped to his heart’s content. Now it came to pass that as he was going by a thicket a little man stepped out, and called to him, “Whither away, merry brother? I see you do not carry many cares.”

“Why should I be sad?” answered the servant; “I have enough; three years’ wages are jingling in my pocket.”

“How much is your treasure?” the dwarf asked him. “How much? Three farthings sterling, all told.”

“Look here,” said the dwarf, “I am a poor needy man, give me your three farthings; I can work no longer, but you are young, and can easily earn your bread.”

And as the servant had a good heart, and felt pity for the old man, he gave him the three farthings, saying, “Take them in the name of Heaven, I shall not be any the worse for it.”

Then the little man said, “As I see you have a good heart I grant you three wishes, one for each farthing, they shall all be fulfilled.”

“Aha?” said the servant, “you are one of those who can work wonders! Well, then, if it is to be so, I wish, first, for a gun, which shall hit everything that I aim at; secondly, for a fiddle, which when I play on it, shall compel all who hear it to dance; thirdly, that if I ask a favor of any one he shall not be able to refuse it.”

“All that shall you have,” said the dwarf; and put his hand into the bush, and only think, there lay a fiddle and gun, all ready, just as if they had been ordered. These he gave to the servant, and then said to him, “Whatever you may ask at any time, no man in the world shall be able to deny you.”

“Heart alive! What can one desire more?” said the servant to himself, and went merrily onwards. Soon afterwards he met a Jew with a long goat’s-beard, who was standing listening to the song of a bird which was sitting up at the top of a tree. “Good heavens,” he was exclaiming, “that such a small creature should have such a fearfully loud voice! If it were but mine! If only someone would sprinkle some salt upon its tail!”

“If that is all,” said the servant, “the bird shall soon be down here;” And taking aim he pulled the trigger, and down fell the bird into the thorn-bushes. “Go, you rogue,” he said to the Jew, “and fetch the bird out for yourself!”

“Oh!” said the Jew, “leave out the rogue, my master, and I will do it at once. I will get the bird out for myself, as you really have hit it.” Then he lay down on the ground, and began to crawl into the thicket.

When he was fast among the thorns, the good servant’s humor so tempted him that he took up his fiddle and began to play. In a moment the Jew’s legs began to move, and to jump into the air, and the more the servant fiddled the better went the dance. But the thorns tore his shabby coat from him, combed his beard, and pricked and plucked him all over the body. “Oh dear,” cried the Jew, “what do I want with your fiddling? Leave the fiddle alone, master; I do not want to dance.”

But the servant did not listen to him, and thought, “You have fleeced people often enough, now the thorn-bushes shall do the same to you;” and he began to play over again, so that the Jew had to jump higher than ever, and scraps of his coat were left hanging on the thorns. “Oh, woe’s me! cried the Jew; I will give the gentleman whatsoever he asks if only he leaves off fiddling a purse full of gold.”

“If you are so liberal,” said the servant, “I will stop my music; but this I must say to your credit, that you dance to it so well that it is quite an art;” and having taken the purse he went his way.

The Jew stood still and watched the servant quietly until he was far off and out of sight, and then he screamed out with all his might, “You miserable musician, you beer-house fiddler! wait till I catch you alone, I will hunt you till the soles of your shoes fall off! You ragamuffin! just put five farthings in your mouth, and then you may be worth three halfpence!” and went on abusing him as fast as he could speak. As soon as he had refreshed himself a little in this way, and got his breath again, he ran into the town to the justice.

“My lord judge,” he said, “I have come to make a complaint; see how a rascal has robbed and ill-treated me on the public highway! a stone on the ground might pity me; my clothes all torn, my body pricked and scratched, my little all gone with my purse, good ducats, each piece better than the last; for God’s sake let the man be thrown into prison!”

“Was it a soldier,” said the judge, “who cut you thus with his sabre?”

“Nothing of the sort!” said the Jew; “it was no sword that he had, but a gun hanging at his back, and a fiddle at his neck; the wretch may easily be known.”

So the judge sent his people out after the man, and they found the good servant, who had been going quite slowly along, and they found, too, the purse with the money upon him. As soon as he was taken before the judge he said, “I did not touch the Jew, nor take his money; he gave it to me of his own free will, that I might leave off fiddling because he could not bear my music.”

“Heaven defend us!” cried the Jew, “his lies are as thick as flies upon the wall.”

But the judge also did not believe his tale, and said, “This is a bad defence, no Jew would do that.” And because he had committed robbery on the public highway, he sentenced the good servant to be hanged. As he was being led away the Jew again screamed after him, “You vagabond! you dog of a fiddler! now you are going to receive your well-earned reward!” The servant walked quietly with the hangman up the ladder, but upon the last step he turned round and said to the judge, “Grant me just one request before I die.”

“Yes, if you do not ask your life,” said the judge. “I do not ask for life,” answered the servant, “but as a last favor let me play once more upon my fiddle.” The Jew raised a great cry of “Murder! murder! for goodness’ sake do not allow it! Do not allow it!” But the judge said, “Why should I not let him have this short pleasure? it has been granted to him, and he shall have it.” However, he could not have refused on account of the gift which had been bestowed on the servant.

Then the Jew cried, “Oh! woe’s me! tie me, tie me fast!” while the good servant took his fiddle from his neck, and made ready. As he gave the first scrape, they all began to quiver and shake, the judge, his clerk, and the hangman and his men, and the cord fell out of the hand of the one who was going to tie the Jew fast. At the second scrape all raised their legs, and the hangman let go his hold of the good servant, and made himself ready to dance. At the third scrape they all leaped up and began to dance; the judge and the Jew being the best at jumping. Soon all who had gathered in the market-place out of curiosity were dancing with them; old and young, fat and lean, one with another. The dogs, likewise, which had run there got up on their hind legs and capered about; and the longer he played, the higher sprang the dancers, so that they knocked against each other’s heads, and began to shriek terribly.

At length the judge cried, quite of breath, “I will give you your life if you will only stop fiddling.” The good servant thereupon had compassion, took his fiddle and hung it round his neck again, and stepped down the ladder. Then he went up to the Jew, who was lying upon the ground panting for breath, and said, “You rascal, now confess, whence you got the money, or I will take my fiddle and begin to play again.”

“I stole it, I stole it! cried he; “but you have honestly earned it.” So the judge had the Jew taken to the gallows and hanged as a thief.

Truth or Dare?

1.) I ordered a Roast Beef sandwich from Rax in Athens, Ohio while running two revolving amber lights atop my 1991 Dodge Shadow (The original ghetto sled).
2.) When I was two, I was obsessed with light switches and would inexplicably shout "ZAZZLE!" after every heedless on-off cycle.
3.) Every year between the ages 9-14, my parents would buy me a $100 Huffy bicycle and I would immediately proceed to ruin it by constantly attempting BMX tricks and jumping it over a ramp consisting of a piece of plywood resting on a mason block. Eventually, I would bribe younger kids to lie in front of the ramp so I could judge how much airtime I would get. Lengthwise Benjamin Littel and Scotty Clifford plus width-wise Joey Latham was my final record.
4.) I freely exercise my right to juggle at most three pieces of citrus fruit every time I enter a Super Target. Also, I was once reprimanded by a associate there for bowling a cantelope down an aisle to make sure that it would veer left just like a ripe one should.
5.) I seriously thought donut holes really were left over dough from the center of donuts until about six months ago.

The Social Security Trust Fund Is So Broke.

http://www.ssa.gov/qa.htm

Q. Does Social Security have dedicated assets invested for my
retirement?

A. Social Security is largely a "pay-as-you-go" system with today's
taxpayers paying for the benefits of today's retirees. Money not needed
to pay today's benefits is invested in special-issue Treasury bonds.

PB:  Special issue Treasury bonds, eh?   Gee, I wonder what those are?
Notice the word "invested" in there.  Very important.  Governments use
language differently that you and I.   More on this later.

Q. Is there really a Social Security trust fund?

A. Yes. Presently, Social Security collects more in taxes than it pays
in benefits. The excess is borrowed by the U.S. Treasury, which in turn
issues special-issue Treasury bonds to Social Security. These bonds
totaled $1.9 trillion at the beginning of 2006. Social Security
received $94 billion in interest from bonds in 2005. However, Social
Security is still basically a "pay-as-you-go" system as the $1.9
trillion is a small percent of benefit obligations.

PB: "Borrowed by the US Treasury."   There you have it folks.   Let me
translate that for you.   The Govt. took the money that was in the
Trust Fund, spent it, then replaced it with IOUs.   So, where's the
money coming from to pay off those IOUs?    Wait for it...

Q. I hear that Social Security has a big financial problem? Why?

A. Social Security's financing problems are long term and will not
affect today's retirees and near-retirees, but they are very large and
serious. People are living longer, the first baby boomers are nearing
retirement, and the birth rate is low. The result is that the
worker-to-beneficiary ratio has fallen from 16.5-to-1 in 1950 to
3.3-to-1 today. Within 40 years it will be 2-to-1. At this ratio there
will not be enough workers to pay scheduled benefits at current tax
rates.

PB:  At current tax rates?   Oh oh... this is starting to sound
ominous.

Q. What will happen if Social Security is not changed?

A. If Social Security is not changed, payroll taxes will have to be
increased, the benefits of today's younger workers will have to be cut,
or massive transfers from general revenues will be required. Social
Security's Trustees state, "If no action were taken until the combined
trust funds become exhausted in 2040, much larger changes would be
required. For example, payroll taxes could be raised to finance
scheduled benefits fully in every year starting in 2040. In this case,
the payroll tax would be increased to 16.65 percent at the point of
trust fund exhaustion in 2040 and continue rising to 17.78 percent in
2080. Similarly, benefits could be reduced to the level that is payable
with scheduled tax rates in every year beginning in 2040. Under this
scenario, benefits would be reduced 26 percent at the point of trust
fund exhaustion in 2040, with reductions reaching 30 percent in
2080." See the 2006 Trustees Report.


PB:  I posted this mainly because someone who imagines he knows
something challenged me that social security was funded until 2041.  In
short, that person believes what the govt. is telling him, but if you
read between their own lines, you can see it just ain't so.   The SSTF
is effectively empty.    They took the money, spent it as general
revenue, and replaced it with zero coupon bonds, the first of which is
due in 2012.  So, where's the money coming from to pay off those bonds?
Have you guessed yet?  Right, well it's coming out of YOUR pocket in
the form of taxes.

So, how is this is an "investment?"

Here's the definition of investment, for anyone not familiar with the
term:
http://www.investorwords.com/2599/investment.html

Definition 1
In finance, the purchase of a financial product or other item of value
with an expectation of favorable future returns. In general terms,
investment means the use of money in the hope of making more money.

Definition 2
In business, the purchase by a producer of a physical good, such as
durable equipment or inventory, in the hope of improving future
business.

So, how does a govt. issuing bonds then buying them back later with
your taxes constitute an investment?  They taxed you once already when
you paid into the damn fund, then they "borrow" the money, spend it as
general revenue, then pay back the loan by taxing you again?  Huh?

This is the kind of stuff that sent Enron executives to the slammer,
but the govt. does it with impunity, even calls it an "investment" and
you people believe them.  Well, not all of you, hopefully, but at least
one, and as far as I'm concerned, one is ONE TOO MANY!  That person
just better not get on my escape saucer is all.  If he does, I'll smack
him upside the the head with a fire extinguisher and toss him out the
door at 30,000 ft.