Monday is my 59th birthday. Is it time for me to die yet?

Damn, I'm lonely tonight. I have no one, I am no one. I am not known, and I am not seen. I will never feel pleasure or pain unless I do it to myself, and even then, it will mean nothing. I. Do. Not. Matter.

After walking down to the post office, I went for a leisurely stroll around the small mall. Dropped into the Dollarama...and was disappointed by two things. The Halloween material was far, far too kid-friendly cute, and worse, IT ISN'T EVEN MY SEPTEMBER BIRTHDAY YET, AND THEY'RE PUTTING THE GODDAMNED FUCKING CHRISTMAS CRAP UP. I hissed like a venomous snake at all the Santas and Rudolphs and snowmen, and stomped angrily out of the store, grunting and growling all the way home.

TV Announcer: Y'all are out to put down outrageous cult groups. What does this mean?

Rev. Ivan Stang: No, no, this is an outrageous cult group.

I don't know how I'll deal with turning 59 on September 26th, but here's hoping that it involves wild sex, too much booze and Frop, and many fellow SubG that give me things I did not previously know existed, but found that I desperately needed. Praise "Bob", and praise the fact that 5 + 9 =14, which leads to 1+4= 5, which justifies the Law of Fives.

Apparently, Algoma Steel is having a real problem with fapping, and wishes it to stop. Fap for "Bob". ...Wikipedia is the " bathroom wall of the internet ", and the difference between truth and bullshit has almost faded away. The Con is rewriting the children, and can anything be trusted, apart from "Bob" ?

Pornographic rant. Be warned. 

Fuck's damn, who the hell remote turned my libido on tonight? I can't think about anything but fucking, can't stop wanting a slut to walk into my room and leap onto my rocket, and can't stop thinking about every female I've ever had a crush on, even ones I knew on the school bus in the seventies. I'm all about the fuck tonight. Satan help the succubus who shows up tonight; I'll fuck her into a coma.

The DEPRAVED Glorps WANT to be told what to do, WANT to be ordered around! They will FLEE before that Stark Fist, but TOO LATE! They are NOTHING but they are everywhere and they WANT what YOU have! The forbidden sciences teach that the brilliant subversion found in the SubGenius propaganda pamphlets, even in the face of THOUSANDS of False Jesii, has NO PLANNING yet occurs as it MUST and is DOOMED to perish in flames without Dobbs!

"Bob" loves the enlightened Sub. Yes, blessedly INSANE is he who SPRINGS his Head Launchings in the face of the Glorps. He LAUGHS! The Yacatisma can't touch him, so he knows the world OWES him Slack! Yes, we speak in TONGUES, we speak in EVERY body part! Pity the evil Glorps, the drooling Glorps who have no SPARK! Their money is green but THEY are ignorant! They tell all the same jokes and DON'T GET them! They don't understand that a BAD ATTITUDE is our SALVATION! The SubGenius HATES them!

Did "Bob" die for the Friend of "Bob"? Hell NO! The enlightened Sub GRINDS HIS FOOT on the laws of the Barbie-Kens. He knows he is no less WORTHLESS than the Plastic Dolls yet by "Bob's" grace puts "Bob's" money where HIS mouth is. Praise that Friend of "Bob"! Are you a REAL enlightened Sub? A true Friend of "Bob" - and this is true of ANY enlightened Sub - protects his enlightened Weird Genes, and is FREE from the brain-dead bonds of apple pie.

If you only knew what you REALLY think, the "rantings" of the inspired Friend of "Bob" GUARDS us against the plots of Cthulhu and must be shouted like the Slackful BRAG from the rooftops! You should be SURFING the Luck Plane! Those little prairie squid are GREAT, but the wonderful Clench meeting (and the enlightened Sub MUST believe this) comes from the Luck Plane. Its essential NATURE always COMES to those who have found true SLACK!

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