***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ************* ************* ************* ************* ** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** ** ** *** ** ********* ********* ********* ********* ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ***** ***** ***** ***** SBI-Submarine Pens Proudly Presents: ================================================================ THE PURPLE THUNDERBOLT OF SPODE VOL 2, 28 ================================================================ "South Florida's Very Own REPLIES TO: barker@acc.fau.edu Non Alien Run Electronic Magazine" * PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSSS *** P P U U R R P P S ***** P P U U R R P P S ******* PPPPPP U U RRRRRR PPPPPP SSSSS ********* P U U R R P S *********** P U U R RR P S ***** P UUUUU R R P SSSSSS ***** ***** ***** ***** * **** * *** *** *** **** * ***** ************************************ **************************************** ************************************ **** ***** ***** *** ***** *** * ***** * ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *********** ********* ******* ***** *** * WRITE TO: IGHF/955 Massachusetts Ave., Suite 209/Cambridge, Ma 02139 =========================================================================== INTRO =========================================================================== Oh so many things to say but where to start? Well at the top I suppose. First let me apologize for having this issue come out a week later than it should. Things have been a grand mess at my end and lack of submissions did not help either. Also there was some confusion over who was supposed to be running Purps now. Originally, as you all know, Dow@vax001.kenyon.edu was supposed to take the reins of this flagship publication on the internet. However, apparently I was doing such a bang up job the Pope sorta figured I was to continue and had more or less indicated that fact to me through various mailing and communications [satellite uplink on the Purps yacht for example.] [By the way I *still* need the owners manual to the yacht.] Anyways after some confusion and what not it seems that I will continue to run it. I've been lately trying to gear up to make Purps bigger and better and possibly expand it beyond this mere publication. As many of you will no doubt notice Purps is being mailed out from a new address. I now have absolute and totally control of a mailer, which of course means I can do all sorts of funky things with it. Hopefully, I'll have some sort of automated listserver type deal up sooner or later with some file archives people can order. We'll have to see though. As of now be a bit weary of the new address. We are having problems with the administration here over it, but hopefully those problems will be solved in the near future and I can open up full bore. Hmm what else? Oh as part of the confusions with who was the real editor it has more or less become official policy that Dow@vax001.kenyon.edu might do up bits of his own stuff, sort of part of Purps I suppose, which will be included in this regular Purps, so you can look forward to that. The material he's sent out before has always been very good and as you know I'm always looking for new submissions of quality. Another bit of business I suppose, is it looks like I am now more or less officially taking submissions through the mail. Over the summer, Purps has expanded into a snail mail list for all many unfortunates who have been yanked off the network. If you want to make a submission through the mail go right ahead. Please make it readable. I don't mind typing them in. If you get them laser printed in a nice readable font, I can even scan them in. We have received a number of new subscribers in recent weeks. Many of them may not have seen any of the old Purps. Back issues of Purps are available from two sources. First is Quartz.rutgers.edu in the /pub/purps directory. Be warned. There files are .Z compressed which means you need a compressor to decode them. The second place it to send mail to HAILOTIS@socpsy.sci.fau.edu and ask for any back issues you want. They will hopefully all be sent to you in about 24 hours or less. Keep in mind however, that there are 27 issues of purps and some of them are pretty big so you could blow you disk quota. Also you might have noticed I changed the Volume number. Due to Editorial Decree, Hail Creiza! we are now in our second year of publication. We produced 27 years over 52 weeks or so which is slightly better than once ever two weeks. Hopefully we can continue to do this. If we are, I need submissions. See either issue 26 or 27 for guidelines, or send about anything. We are especially interested in Otisian submissions of a historical nature seeing as we are trying to get a better understanding of Otis in ancient times. Also any information from the years 1880-1920 would also prove extremely helpful. I suppose I should say something like how grand and wonderful Purps has become from its humble beginnings. We should probably all take a moment and think of the Pope who started out this amazing and highly entertaining publication. Hopefully, Purps will continue to get better and better. If you have any suggestions for improvements let us know. If you have anyone else who want's to subscribe let us know. There's always room for a couple hundred more. Anyways, on with the show. This time around we have all manner of the Stuff of Otis. A conversation between Mal and Otodotos about dogma and many other esoteric things, a letter from Steph the NOTW woman who has left the net but still keeps in contact, a column by the Pope who I hope will continue to submit more columns, any many more bits of stuff from the Archives of the Scholarly Dr. Simpson. On with the show. =========================================================================== THE POPE SPEAKS =========================================================================== Papal Ponderings: By Pope Jephe I: The First in What Very Well Might Be a Series, Kind of Boring This Time 'Round, but as it Concerts Your Immortal Fate, You Should Probably Read it Anyway IGHF, 995 Massachusetts Ave., Suite 209 Cambridge, MA 02139 "'We passed the cliffs at evening', the unfortunate rais wailed. 'A darkness fell upon my miserable craft. When the darkness lifted--' 'Peace,' said All. 'We will speak no more of these evil things.'" --Gene Wolfe First off, I suppose that introduction are in order. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Pope Jephe I of the Infinite Spellings, proud Member of the Intergalactic House of Fruitcakes (IGHF), the first fully registered OTIS worshiping organization in existence and a promoter of last true faith on this pathetic little planet. More than just a member, in fact, I co-founded the damn thing lucri causa with the now infamous Preacher Tim of the House of Blue Light way back in the year of our god/dess 13526 (that's 1984 on the Carpenter's calender) after a religious vision under the celebrated Haystack Monument in northwestern Massachusetts. Those of you who are long time subscribers to this magazine already know that. As for the rest of you, I guess you'll just bloody well have to get your hands on a copy of Purps vol1, issue 4, now won't you? Mal should have it, or the Quartz archives. Shout at someone, and I'm sure it will show. Qul timide rogat docet nagare. Speaking loudly and waving the stick over your head gets much quicker results. Drooling a bit also helps. The fact that some of you will have to go a-scrambling for back issues to figure out who I am is, in all honesty, the chief reason for this note today. Simply put, Mal is concerted that we have developed a rift in the teaching to Our Most Holy FLock (HAIL SPODE!), with subscribers of this magazine too recent to remember when I wrote it following a set of beliefs and learning a set of Mysteries that bear absolutely no resemblance to my teachings (dutifully mailed to a snail mail list with recipients in 40 states and sixteen countries approximately once a week, HAIL CREIZA!). A quick survey by Mal has revealed that 16% of the recent Purps subscribers can correctly name more than four of the OTISian gods, a truly pathetic 4% can point to a single saint, only 24% can recite even the most basic OTISian teaching from memory, 36% think that William Bixby is president, and 83% failed a lightly comprehensive geography exam! Ex uno disce omnes, but combined they are overwhelming (imagine, only 36% right about Bixby)! These results are obvious cause for alarm, sad statement on the electronic magazine founded by me for the single purpose of spreading OTIS' teachings to the world. However, it is not too late for you faithful reader, to flock, moth-like, back to the candle of OTIS' wisdom! The first thing you'll need to do of course, is to put yourself on the official IGHF snail-mail mailing list. Just send your name and address, a note that you are a Purps subscriber, 700 words on why OTIS is the god/dess that keeps you "kleen-n-fresh"(TM), and, oh, say $1 to cover mailing expenses, to the address printed in big, friendly, easy to read letters at the top of this piece. As a special favor, I'll even make the 700 word essay, COMPLETELY OPTIONAL for a limited time. Act now. (S)he who hesitates is lost! The second thing you'll need to do to avoid eternal discomfort at Ragnarock, will be to read this column religiously (assuming Mal insists I keep it up). Actually the only thing OTIS really requires of you to insure a pleasant fate is that you send the IGHF money but if I feel that you're with me, you're likely to get on my good side, and that can't hurt. Assuming you all keep up with the mailing and what I tell you here, the benefits you receive will be enormous. While I can't PROMISE you a reduction in the aging process and increased sex life, such phenomena, along with mysteriously decreased credit bills, sharper night vision, and a thorough and complete enlightenment in which the entire mechanisms of this clock like universe become instantly and complete comprehensible, and the purpose of humanity on Earth is revealed in all of it's brilliant simplicity, have been reported by our most loyal followers, (or so I'm told)! What I CAN promise you is a much clearer understanding of the complete OTISian teachings, a better understanding of secret and hidden things (including the actual shape of the world), freedom from the lies of the Anti-OTIS and the evil Zakinthians, the equivalent of a "PHD" in astro-alchemy, and my undying gratitude (assuming the cash keeps coming). Who knows, you may even begin to understand what those crop circles really signify, and even chuckle knowingly at the reports that the Pentagon building is "sinking" under it's own weight. Eventually, it is even possible that you on the right hand will know what we on the left are doing! HAIL OTIS! and stay genky. Nunc scripsi pro OTISo da mihi potum-- Pope Geffe I =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== "Ohtisians hold that both Creationists and Evolutionists possess only a portion of the truth. The Earth was created by Ohtis a relatively short time ago. However, the fossil record does show clear proof of evolution over a much longer time span. The solution can be found in the Peganagyo where it states that Ohtis created the earth from what we might call today a "backup" of the planet Ehden (created by MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI) made in the period "when men learned to wear the skins of their brothers." Modern scientists believe that humankind first wore clothing made of animal skins in the Neanderthal era, ending about 30,000 BCE. That date agrees well with what Ohtisians know to be true from Holy Writ, namely that Ohtis created this planet around 28,000 BCE. When She made Her copy She left out all human life but retained the fossil record of human evolution on humanity's home planet, Ehden, millions of years before. Humanity was not part of Ohtis' plan, but when refugees from Ehden arrived fleeing war and oppression She welcomed them as any mother would. The 12,000 years in between the end of the "false" fossil record and the true inhabitation of the Earth by humans have not been noticed by modern scientists because of the crudity of our dating methods and geological insignificance of the time period in question." from "Science and Ohtis: Hand in Hand" by Dr. Pedro Calderon D.D. =========================================================================== A LETTER FROM STEPH =========================================================================== So here I am, back in the fold, so to speak. Living back at dear old Dad's house till I find a decent job. I've been back about a week and I'm at the local Big Boy restaurant, drinking decaf with two friends from high school. Gosh that was along time ago. Did we ever have anything in common? Anyways, I'd mentioned Otis and Purps and to them before, of course. Now they want to know more...but they really have no clue what I'm taking about. "The main deities are Otis, Rotus, Lotus, and Spode," I say. "Everything forbidden is optional," I add. They look confused. I try to think of something that would make things more clear to them. Otisianism? Clear? Yeah, right. I try again. "Well, Pope Jeffe is one of the founders. He graduated from college with me. But he's also Pope Jeffe I. Oh did I mention Heether, the Paisley Goddess? She graduated last year. My friends look even more clueless, if that's possible. I'm losing them. All I can think of is a party last year, theme of Greek Mythology, where two people dressed as Spode. They looked completely different from each other, of course. I snickered at the memory and realized that my friends are now certain I'm certifiable. The waitress comes by with more coffee and one of my friends, grateful for the chance to change the subject, starts in on a convoluted and seemingly endless story about one of the other waitresses singing and dancing around the restaurant with a bowl of fruit on her head, late one evening a couple of weeks ago. Good thing I wore my chucks. They're keeping me sane. =========================================================================== THE SECOND INSTALLMENT FROM ANCIENT OTISIAN BOOKS =========================================================================== 28. How do you deny Otis and you were dead and He gave you life? Again He will cause you to die and again bring you to life, then you shall be brought back to Him. And Behold! When thy soul is brought before Otis, though wilt die of embarrassment for not believing! And the torment shall never end. Or the redness on the face cease. 29. He it is Who created for you all that is in the earth, and She directed Himself to the heaven, so She made them complete four points, and He knows all things and reveals much of it to his loyal followers. Yet hides much still for they are not as yet ready for everything. Seek the Fez for they shall reveal many things hidden. 30. And when your Lord said to the Knights of Otis, I am going to place in the earth a Pope, they said: What! wilt Thou place in it such as shall make mischief in it and shed blood, and we celebrate Thy praise and extol Thy holiness? He said: Surely I know what you do not know. A Pope is a most blessed thing, and hold the Otisians together like straw in a brick. 31. And She taught Ijereja all the names, then presented them to the Knights of Otis; then He said: Tell me the names of those if you are right. 32. They said: Glory be to Thee! we have no knowledge but that which Thou hast taught us; surely Thou art the Knowing, the Wise, the most deserving of our money. 33. He said: O Ijereja! inform them of their names. Make them wear name tags. Then when he had informed them of their names, He said: Did I not say to you that I surely know what is in the heavens and the earth and (that) I know what you manifest and what you hide? 34. And when We said to the Knights of Otis: Make obeisance to Ijereja they did obeisance, but the Zakinthians (did it not). They refused and there were proud, and they were all unbelievers. 35. And We said: O Ijereja! Dwell you and your wife in the garden and eat from it a plenteous (food) wherever you wish and do not approach this Fez of Knowledge, for then you will be of the unjust. 36. But the B. Otis that snappy dresser made them both fall from it, and caused them to depart from that (state) in which they were; and We said: Get forth, some of you being the enemies of others, and there is for you in the earth an abode and a provision for a time. 37. Then Ijereja received (some) words from Otis, so He turned to him mercifully; surely He is Oft-returning (to mercy), the Merciful. 38. We said: Go forth from this (state) all; so surely there will come to you a guidance from Me, then whoever follows My guidance, no fear shall come upon them, nor shall they grieve. Nor shall they lack clothing in the time of great nakedness. 39. And (as to) those who disbelieve in and reject My communications, they are the inmates of the darkness, in it they shall abide. Nor shall they be saved at the coming of Ragnarock. 40. O children of Atlantis! call to mind My Favor which I bestowed on you and be faithful to (your) covenant with Me, I will fulfill (My) covenant with you; and of Me, Me alone, should you be afraid. 41. And believe in what I have revealed, verifying that which is with you, and be not the first to deny it, neither take a mean price in exchange for My communications; and Me, Me alone should you fear. 42. And do not mix up the truth with the falsehood, nor hide the truth while you know (it). 43. And keep up prayer and pay the poor-rate and bow down with those who bow down. 44. What! do you enjoin men to be good and neglect your own souls while you read the Book; have you then no sense? 45. And seek assistance through patience and prayer, and most surely it is a hard thing except for the humble ones. 46. Who know that they shall meet Otis and that they shall return to Him. 47. O children of Atlantis! call to mind My favor which I bestowed on you and that I made you excel the nations. 48. And be on your guard against a day when one soul shall not avail another in the least, neither shall intercession on its behalf be accepted, nor shall any compensation be taken from it, nor shall they be helped. 49. And when We delivered you from the enemies of Otis, who subjected you to severe torment, killing your sons and sparing your women, and in this there was a great trial from Otis. 50. And when Lotus parted the sea for you, so he saved you and drowned the followers of the enemies of Otis and you watched by, with popcorn provided. 51. And when We appointed a time of forty nights with Qasireu, then you took the maytag washing machines (the god) after him and you were unjust. 52. Then We pardoned you after that so that you might give thanks. 53. And when We gave Qasireu the Book and the distinction that you might walk aright. 54. And when Qasireu said to his people: O my people! you have surely been unjust to yourselves by taking the maytag washing machines (for a god), therefore turn to your Creator (penitently), so kill your people, that is best for you with your Creator: so She turned to you (mercifully), for surely He is the Oft-returning (to mercy), the Merciful. =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== "To know of the earth's concavity is to know God. While to believe in the earth's convexity is to deny Him and all His works. All that is opposed to Koreshanity is antichrist." ---Koresh =========================================================================== NEWS OF THE WEIRD (SAD TO SAY NOT FROM STEPH) =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 30 Aug 91 13:33:31 MDT From: eiverson@NMSU.Edu Subject: [jgoldber@todah.chem.utoronto.ca: News of the Weird] From: jgoldber@todah.chem.utoronto.ca (Joel Goldberg) Date: 30 Aug 91 14:24:57 GMT My Chicago correspondent sends me the following: The Reader, a Chicago free weekly newspaper, runs an interesting little column entitled "News of the Weird". This week's items are truly weird and entertaining. Robert E. Bell Jr., head psychiatrist of the Florida prison system, was arrested in May and charged with breaking into his former girlfriend's home and threatening to stab her to death if she did not return the chocolate syrup, tuna fish, and cigarettes he thought she had stolen from him. In January an Ontario California, police officer gathered evidence for an arrest by buying heroin from two people selling from the back window of a motel room. All the undercover officers in his unit had gone home for the evening, so he tried making the buy dressed in full uniform. He was successful because the sellers' peephole allowed them a view only of the buyer's face. During a prostitution sting operation in March in Chattanooga, Tennessee, 3 men were arrested for propositioning a female undercover officer, despite the fact that (apparently because of department restrictions on sting operations) the officer was wearing a department-issue hat with 3-inch high letters reading "POLICE" on it. In October Minnesota murderer and prison escapee Eugene Steichen was recap- tured in St. Paul because he couldn't resist calling into a radio quiz game (called "Dead or Not Dead"). Two cousins recognized his voice and turned him in. Said Steichen, "I just wasn't thinking. I said, `Ah, nobody's gonna hear me.' Steichen had shown equally questionable judgment when he planned his escape after serving 9 years and 7 months of a 10 year sentence. Cecelio Rodriguez, 30, and Armando Milian,33, were arrested in Miami in April as police caught them red-handed attempting to break into the Cash Mar Pawnshop. The police were summoned by a wailing burglar alarm, but the burglars said they failed to hear it over the noise from the portable generator and the power saw they had brought to cut through the pawnshop's steel door.` The Texas Court of Appeals turned down Billy Ray Ford's appeal of his conviction for robbery for a series of reasons, one of which was his answer to a question posed by the judge. When asked whether he had had any contact out in the hallway with the witnesses against him, he answered yes. When the judge asked which witnesses, Ford replied, "The ones that I robbed." New on the market is a "Jog-a-Dog" a treadmill that allows dogs to run in place in the privacy of their own homes. Models start at $1,395. Etamet, a manufacturer in St. Gall, Switzerland, has come up with Speedy Spaghetti, a vending machine that produces a plateful of al dente spaghetti within 50 seconds after the customer puts money in. In October, Salt Lake City police spotted a 28 year-old man loitering and asked him for identification. The man absentmindedly offered as ID a demand note that had been used in two recent robberies, whereupon he was arrested. A Farmington Minnesota convenience-store clerk was robbed at sword point in March. The police chief said the robber walked into the store, pointed his sword at the clerk's chest, and demanded money. The clerk said, "You gotta be kidding." The robber said, "No." Matthew P. Dukes, 26, sentenced to 30 days in jail following his 6th drunk driving conviction, tried several times during the subsequent 15 months to get into the jail in Ravenna, Ohio to serve his sentence, but each time he was turned away because the jail was full. In December Dukes filed a lawsuit in federal court claiming his constitutional rights were being violated by the jail's refusal to admit him. Army sergeant Perry Mitchell was given a bad-conduct discharge and sent to jail in April after he refused orders to go to the Persian Gulf with his unit in Germany because the military was unwilling to use nuclear weapons. He said he had a "conscientious objection" to serving in a ground war in the nuclear age. "One nuclear blast would send Saddam the message that he obviously hasn't gotten," said Mitchell, who volunteered to launch the first one. In May, 19 members of the Michigan House of Representatives (led by the chairman of the judiciary committee) introduced a resolution that would establish at the state archives a "Registry of Bothersome Practices" on which people could express complaints about such things as elevator music and magazine subscription cards. Included in last year's edition of "Outstanding Young Men of America" were five inmates at Indiana State Prison, including a man serving 110 years for murder, named for his "outstanding civic and professional contributions." He had been nominated by another murderer. The Centers for Disease Control reported last August that the leading cause of on-the-job death for female workers in all fields nationwide is not accidents but murder -- at a rate 3 and a half times that for male workers. Four South Korean men were arrested in October when customers at a hotel sauna were "disgusted" by their tattoos of dragons and other animals. Authorities charged them with "causing other bathers to have bad feelings." A November Gallup poll revealed that 78% of Americans believe in heaven and 60% in hell, the highest such figures in 40 years. Only 4% of the respondents thought they personally were going to hell, and 78% thought they had a good shot at heaven. In Japan, electronic eyes installed on curbs activate a recorded voice that scolds people when they attempt to cross where there is no crosswalk. Authorities says signs alone don't work, because of the Japanese population's creeping Western-like disrespect for authority. -- col yisrael arevim zeh l'zeh, but just try getting a mortgage... Joel Goldberg at Dept. of Chemistry, University of Toronto. jgoldber@alchemy.chem.utoronto.ca =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== "Modern archeology has turned up some interesting evidence for the Otisian version of history. Archaeologists digging on Crete in the 1930's discovered the name "Aranare" in an inscription. Otisians believe that an Aranire, named after the goddess Arani, became High Priest of Otos in 1888 BC. Adolf Jordan first wrote about Aranare in 1898 AD, a year before Sir Arthur Evans even discovered the existence of Linear A, the language the Cretan inscription was written in! Even more surprising is that the inscription was found only miles from the mythic Aranire's temple of Konoso and was dated to between 1500 to 2000 BC." --- Daniel Cohen =========================================================================== DIAL-A-POPE =========================================================================== [Nope, this is not about the 1-900 number.] Subject: Dial-A-Pope Date: Thu, 05 Sep 91 18:07:20 -0400 From: "Sam Hill Cabal, DS" Found this when looking through old articles in Comp.dcom.telecom. Article 18915 of comp.dcom.telecom: >From: YSAR1111@vm1.yorku.ca (Rick Broadhead) Subject: Dial-a-Pope Date: 19 Aug 91 00:33:36 GMT From the {Toronto Star}, Saturday August 17, 1991. DIAL-A-POPE CATCHING ON IN THE U.S. The Vatican is reaching out to the world, but it looks as if Canada won't be heeding the call. In the U.S., if you dial a 900 number, you can get a daily spiritual pick-me-up from Pope John Paul II. The multilingual, Vatican-authorized service, affectionately known as Dial-a-Pope, is officially titled "Christian Messaging From the Vatican." A spokesman from Bell Canada says there is no such number in this country. But Des Burge, director of communications for the Archdiocese of Toronto, says he thinks the service, for which U.S. callers pay a fee, is a good way to help people feel more connected to the Pope. Rick Broadhead ysar1111@VM1.YorkU.CA =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== Here, for want of a demonstratable cause, we are all too likely to fall into the temptation of positing a transcendental purpose (clearly a fool's paradise). I know, however, from long experience of these things that spontaneous synchronistic phenomena draw the observer, by hook or by crook, into what is happening and occasionally make him an accessory to the deed. The statistically significant statement only concerns regularly occurring events, and if considered as axiomatic, it simply abolishes all exceptions to the rule. Who are you?! You're not human! What is this? Your face is peeling! It's a mask! A rubber mask! What are you trying to hide? What? ---AAAAAAARGH! AIIIIIIEEEE! ROARRRRRR! Found it! VIP VIP TZING BWEEEE! TZAPP! ROARRRR! SHRAKK! BA-DA-DOOM! RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA! CLICK CLICK CLICK ARRRRRGH! WHOMP! CLANG! =========================================================================== SAINT JAMES SPEAKS =========================================================================== Date: 1 Sep 91 13:28:00 EDT From: Subject: RE: General Technical Announcement and Delays OK. A little tidbity from the mind of the great and illustrious SPODE, transmitted/sent/prophesied/spoken by his saint of discordia, St. James... And it goes like this: America, keep your eyes peeled! There is a definite lack of a hierarchical presence on this Fish-forsaken Campus (That being the one and only collage of kenyonesess) and it has been revealed unto moi that two very important things MAY soon be happening. 1) A schism is in the works by rival factions of the venerated followers of OTIS. This MAY have something to do with Yak tossing.... hmmmmmm 2) the outcome of this, though it may not be the best, must certainly encompass at least one (1) (uno) (un?) leader- an archbishop perhaps? - many ostrich reams of squid paper and the general wrath of OTIS! Fear and loathing abounds!!! -St. James =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON. A SIMPLE CHILDS HYMN =========================================================================== Otis loves me, This I know 'Cause Pope Jeffie Tells me so. Little ones Are we below. We are weak And insignificant. Yes! Otis loves me! Yes! Otis loves me! Yes! Otis loves me, 'Cause Pope Jeffie tells me so! =========================================================================== THE POPE SPEAKS =========================================================================== Date: 1 Sep 91 18:09:00 EDT From: Pope Jephe I Subject: IRC Keep the faith ALIVE, brothers and sisters.! [STUFF DELETED FOR SECURITY REASONS] Secondly, please ignore my spelling and grammar. I have a VERY BAD connection here. Thirdly, beware of sheep. Sheep just LOOK timid and cuddly. They can be viscous monsters. Lastly, hello everyone. I'm in no mood to make real conversation today, but I thought I should at least say hi. Having done that I'll let you be. With luck, you'll here form me again soon. yMY definition of luck mind you. ciao-- HAIL OTIS! PJI PS-- MAL: they're BAAAAAACK. All the Kenyon folk can now be put back on th Purps mailing list. [Any of you kenyon folks who are not on the list please yell so I can put you back on.] PPS-- I'm alive and well and living in DC if you all care. I'm still after a job. If I don't have one in a month, I'll be off to either London to join Chris Myott Rob Schroeder and Carla Denahartog, or to Japan, to teach english. PPSPS, someone please send this to interested parties, whoever they may be. Oh, yeah-- Dr. Simpson's alive as well. Also in DC 2316 41st Street, NW wash. Dc 20007 ciao. =========================================================================== GLOBAL CONSPIRACY REVEALED. MICHAEL JACKSON'S SECRET WIFE =========================================================================== From: haynes%felix.UCSC.EDU@ucscc.ucsc.edu (99700000) Subject: AT&T Likely to Block Calls From Arkansas to News Service Date: 28 Aug 91 00:50:15 GMT This was in the {Arkansas Gazette} last week. By DeAnn Smith, Gazette staff "A news service in San Diego has asked American Telephone & Telegraph Co. to block all incoming calls from Arkansas because of a Pine Bluff woman who ties up phone lines claiming she's married to singer Michael Jackson. "Copley Radio Network, which serves about 1000 radio stations, calls the 31-year-old woman 'The Pine Bluff Blabbermouth Menace.' "Capt. Lee Hurd of the Pine Bluff Police Department said he was reviewing the woman's calls for possible misdemeanor harassment charges. "The phone company is expected to approve the news service's request. "The network says the woman dials a toll-free number at least 20 times a day to ramble on about being married to Michael Jackson. "Hurd says she claims Jackson and pop singer Whitney Houston have a conspiracy to steal her and Jackson's two teen-age children. "The police captain says she has racked up almost $1,000 worth of telephone calls on the number used by radio stations. He said he talked to the Pine Bluff woman Monday in an effort to get her to stop calling. The woman has called the number at least 15 times since their talk, he said." haynes@cats.ucsc.edu haynes@ucsccats.bitnet =========================================================================== FORM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== NOTE : A darkened coating on the tongue may occur from Pepto-Bismol's beneficial medication. Darkening of the stool is also possible. Both conditions are harmless and temporary. [Readers, please take note. It is ancient Tibetan custom to stick out your tongue at people you meet. This is to show them what your tongue is like and prove you are a human being. Blackened tongues are a sign you are a demon.] =========================================================================== PHOTOS AND CRIME =========================================================================== RISKS-LIST: RISKS-FORUM Digest Tuesday 3 September 1991 Volume 12 : Issue 23 [stuff deleted] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 2 Sep 91 09:05:43 PDT From: Allan.Meers@ebay.sun.com (Allan Meers - Sun Education/Professional Services) Subject: Herb Caen on Computerized Radar From Herb Caen's column in the San Francisco Chronicle, via Mike Seibel and Brad Templeton: A motorist was unknowingly caught in an automated speed trap that measured his speed using radar and photographed his car. He later received in the mail a ticket for $40, and a photo of his car. Instead of payment, he sent the police department a photograph of $40. Several days later, he received a letter from the police department that contained another picture -- of handcuffs. ------------------------------ [more stuff deleted] =========================================================================== OPTIMA PLAN PART FOUR =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 02 Sep 91 00:29:55 CDT From: Reverend John Subject: oh shift Optima Plan, part the fourth by Rev. John Walt Disney's brain paced back and forth, housed within one of DisneyCorp's finest animatronic creations. The life-like footsteps, swishing tail, and big twitching ears all brought Mickey Mouse to life, with the brain of his creator controlling it all. The brain floated in a bath of Royal Jelly, harvested from DisneyBug's genetically engineered strain of Mouskerbees. Within the brain, turmoil belied the always-cheerful demeanor of the animaton. Sliding "Star Trek" doors whooshed open and a man in a corporate power suit came in. It was dark grey, and magnified his strength and reflexes five times, an endoskeleton with style. "What the hell do you want?" chirped Walt Mickey in his pleasant cartoon voice. The man stopped walking, servos and vibro-stabilizers whirring quietly to stand him up straight. "Optima update, sir." Mickey bounced over, plush cartoon feet poinging him along with every step. "Listen," he said squeakily, "why do you people insist on acting as if I don't know everything that is going on in all of creation even as it happens." The man coughed slightly, embarrassed. He shuffled a bit, whirring and clicking with every motion. "It's just a formality, sir. After all, you don't want everyone to know about your amazing powers, right?" Walt Mickey cocked his head to one side endearingly. "Oh, fuck" the happy mouse said. "I suppose you're right." The man breathed a sigh of relief. The bioengineers at DisneyBrain had pulled out all the stops to make the implant a success, but had inadvertently heightened Walt's already-present megalomania to ridiculous extremes. Originally, DisneyCorp had hoped to present Walt Mickey to the world as part of the big Bill Cosby's America celebration three weeks ago. But too many bugs remained, and the rollout date kept getting pushed back. "To begin with, our field agents have failed repeatedly to liquidate even a single member of the OTISians. It seems their powers are greater than we thought." "What's more, their security advisor has been ruthlessly embarrassing us at every chance. We are swiftly becoming the laughingstock of the corporate security community." "Well, yes" said a rather flustered Mickey. "But you lack the mighty vision I possess. You fail to see the grand vistas fractaled within the mundane failures. Rest assured, everything is jiminy cricket!" This vote of uninformed and rather inane confidence was taken without a word from the underling. He nodded graciously and thanked Mickey, then turned to exit. "Oh, uh, um.." He stopped and looked back at the five-foot mouse. "I, um.. seem to have forgotten your name." Fairbourne, the first of the Divine Children, pecked at a lemon bar without enthusiasm. Since his birth, it had been nothing but lemon bars, rhubarb bread, and strange baked goods. His mother, Shark, evidently found satisfaction in few things as much as she did baking stuff for other people. And frankly, two weeks of baked goods had a lack of variety. Shark hurried over with a paper plate. "Look! Fig Newton au gratin!" Fairbourne squawked happily but wondered if he'd ever get a big mac. Flamingos - at least this one - did not live by carbohydrates alone. Downstairs, in the OTISian security nerve center, Steph paced anxiously. She had to get back to her new home now. The NoTW files had been passed along, and even now the computers whirred anxiously, deciphering the strange but significant gibberish within. Miles to the south and west, Rev powered up the OTISmobile, a big Nash Rambler painted to look like a massive CHUCK. As he grasped the shift stick, a strange energy coursed through him. A voice spoke from within. "Rev.." it said. "Rev.." The windshield seemed to cloud, and with his free hand Rev clutched the little chaos symbol hanging from his neck. "Yeah?" In the windshield came a vision of a man wearing a fez with a strange symbol on it, somewhat similar to the one the Rev wore. The man had bushy eyebrows and looked sort of like Colonel Sanders. "Rev.. this is OTIS.." Rev gasped, cried "no it can't be" and threw his hand to his forehead like everyone on "Murder, She Wrote" always did. "Yes it is.." "But I thought you looked different!" "I have many forms, many paths." "Such as Mal?" OTIS furrowed his brows. "It is not meet to speak of that now. You have the information from SamHill?" "Yeah, I got it and it makes like totally no sense whatsoever. I mean, it's just gibberish." "Take it out." Rev removed the paper from his bookbag, looking worried. "Hold it up." He did so. OTIS slipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a mirror. He held it up before the paper. Rev looked at the perfectly clear writing reflected in the mirror. He gaped at OTIS in amazement. "It really is you, isn't it?" "Yes, indeed it is. Now that you know the key, you must get to work. Dozens of Divine Children have already been born, and the merging of Heaven and Hell is finally underway. But one critical birth remains." "Humpy the Stumpy Bear?" "Indeed." Mal Barker sat in the passenger seat of the cigarette boat, roaring across the water faster than Crockett & Tubbs. In the driver's seat sat Commodore Elvis Presley, steering with confidence. In the back of the boat sat six beautiful women, all models from various beer ads. They passed brews around and giggled. The Commodore looked back over his shoulder. "Y'all having a good time back there?" he said with a big southern grin. The girls responded enthusiastically. Mal rolled his eyes. "Take it easy, Barker, ya keep too much on your mind." Mal said nothing, but thought quietly it was good that someone did. Elvis gave him an odd look, a mixture of appraisal and curiosity. "So Mal, I gotta know something. What's it like when ya become Otis?" Mal sighed. "Oh it's like cutting yourself when shaving only it tingles more." Elvis thought about this for a minute. "I always hated havin' that tissue paper on my face." The boat roared on. Somewhere in Mal's pockets resided Humpy the Stumpy Bear, magical little pregnant kazoo saint. She sat very still and listened to the conversation. Half a mile away swam a school of dolphins. Humpy was talking with them as the boat sped, just to pass the time. Seventy-two miles to the southwest, weather patterns were occurring that could lead to a minor storm. Humpy gauged the severity of the storm against the need for weather to flow its own way, and decided to let the storm come. Somewhere in China a little boy skinned his knee. Humpy blessed it and the boy stopped crying. And on the dark side of the moon, a cat from ulthar bounded playfully, chasing after the dancing little bear that was in fact leading it back home. Every now and then Humpy paused in her efforts and took a deep breath. She liked the OTISians, but this sainthood business was a full-time job. She'd be much happier once the child had been born and she could step out of the limelight. Mal, oblivious on most levels to this, wondered what Optima Plan would try now that the divine children were being born. He knew that OTIS had things in hand -- more or less -- but of course he was always the last to know. Safely moved into the new Campaign Stronghold, vice-presidential candidate Stewy Stewart pondered the events of the last few weeks. Rev's northern tour and the birth of Fairbourne had gone off without a hitch. Her own speech had fared less well, but at least her butt didn't seem to be falling off much anymore. This business with Mal and OTIS was odd but she figured it would sort itself out in time. She listlessly flipped through her mail, until she came upon an envelope with a familiar symbol in one corner. "Converse! Converse wrote back! Oh yes! Chucks!" she cried. With trembling fingers she tore open the envelope. Inside was a personal letter from Gib Ford, president of Converse Corp., inviting her to an all-expense paid trip to Walt Disney World/Epcot Center in recognition for her being the number one Chucks fan in the world. "Cool!" said Stewy. "A free trip! Hmm.. I wonder if they really do have Walt Disney frozen there.." Somehow she thought that she just might find out. To Be Continued =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== "And in those days there shall appear upon the land a great gerbil, 4,444 cubits in height. And his skin shall be like the skin of the serpent and he shall have wings like the bat. And the gerbil shall have 13 legs and 50 heads and where his tail should be, a palm tree shall grow. Each of the heads shall have three mouths and the mouths shall be filled with sharp objects that are nothing like teeth. The eyes of the gerbil shall be like the sun at noon and nowhere on his body shall be found any nose. The voice of the gerbil shall be like the rushing of waters and his smell shall be like dead fish. The name of the gerbil shall be HNHRH and his number shall be 1,024. He who has ears, let him hear." --- Ed the Psychopomp =========================================================================== A SOG SPEAKS =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 2 Sep 1991 16:38 EDT A SOG SPEAKS By Stewy Leaving the Rev to his useless duties of attempting to discover his temporary SOG powers, Stewy hopped into her car and cruised over to the stadium where very few people were walking aimlessly about. Stewy searched the perimeters with her telescopic SOG vision and found that no one from the evil Optima Plan was waiting to tie her up and shove her in the back of a van which would probably end up in a river somewhere in Missouri. After double-checking once more, she made her way into the dimly lit stadium where only the first five seats had been filled with eager members of the useless press and in the last seat, a homeless man sat masturbating and drinking from a paper bag. "CHUCKS! CHUCKS! CHUCKS!" the microphone squealed. "Just a little check here folks, didn't mean to irk any of you on this fine morning," she said as she stood before a large screen that was slowly developing into a large Converse All Star shoe with a picture of OTIS on the side in place of the star. "Lady's and gentlemen of the press, I welcome you to Columbia, Missouri and I'm glad for the great turn out." She stared blankly into the small crowd, pained at the few members of the press who had showed up yet thankful for having at least that many people. "As you all may very well know, I am currently running under the Otisian Party for Vice-President of the United States and..." "Excuse me kid, but what do you and this Otisian Party of yours plan to do about the deficit and the country's current economic problems?" a CNN reporter asked still slouching in his seat. "Wait just one cotton pickin' minute here pal, just what gives you the right to go interrupting me when I'm in the middle of a most wonderful speech, eh? I mean, just who the hell do you think you are anyway, a goddamn person with power? Just get the hell out of this hearing will ya, we don't need the likes of your kind breathing bad germs into the air," Stewy shouted while waving her hands in the air. A man dressed in black appeared from behind the screen that had now formed into half of an entire Converse shoe with a faint image of Otis beginning to appear and walked to the CNN reporter. There was a slight electrical surge, a wimpy scream and the CNN reporter fell to his knees while the man in black grabbed the him by the hair and dragged him to the door in the back of the stadium. "Okay folks, let us continue. As I was saying, I'm running for Vice President and there's no need to go discussing trivial things like money and such other seemingly irrelevant things. There's far more important things at hand here." One of the reporters seated on the left politely raised her hand while still holding a pencil and pad of paper. "Yes?" Stewy asked pointing to the woman. "Could you please state your name and the paper that you are currently working for?" "My name is Terry and I work for the Associated Press. My question is what could be more important than things like the deficit and money?" Stewy looked at her with something of a disappointed face, threw her hands in the air and stomped her feet. "What could be more important you ask? What could be more important? Hell, finding Elvis is more important. Wearing CHUCKS is far more important. Searching for extra terrestrial life forms is more important. Hell, all of that is far, far more important than worrying about little things such as money." There was a slight murmuring in the crowd and several seconds later four of the five people in the stadium had begun to walk towards the exit. "Hey! Wait a minute here! Where are all of you people going!? Come back, come back!!!" Stewy shouted to a now empty room except for the homeless man in the back. She turned to look at the image behind her and found that the entire image of the Converse shoe had now appeared and OTIS was smiling his/her usual big smile. "Not to worry Stewy, not to worry. Things will come with time and perhaps now was not the time," OTIS's mouth moved as the image spoke. "Now you must go back to your apartment and take care of business for now. Believe me Stew, they will come to understand quite soon so don't you worry that little head of yours." "But OTISssss" "Go Stew, go to your apartment. Go now." "Well okay dood, I'll go." Stewy walked to the exit and watched the homeless man cleaning himself up while still drinking from the brown bag. Before stepping outside, Stewy scanned the perimeters with her telescopic SOG vision and again found no one from the evil Optima Plan waiting to torcher her like the Chinese do to lost tourists looking for the bathroom. Her car barely started, but a little rub along the dashboard and a slight SOG chant and the Samuari was raring to go. There was a minor flash of black streaking across the rear-view mirror, but she brushed it off and concentrated on the road that led back to her apartment, where the Rev surely sat in front of her Mac, waving his green hand and trying in vain to figure out the wonders of being a SOG. As she sat at a red light waiting for the light to turn green, gunning the motor in hopes of scaring some of the college-town greeks, again there was a flash of black across the rear-view mirror. "Oh shit, it's the fucking Optima Plan." She slammed the car into first gear, layed her foot on the accelerator and went screeching through the red light almost killing a mother and her small child who sat playing with a Ken doll in the back seat. "Hey, sorry lady, but you'll understand someday," Stewy shouted out the window. Her four-banger wasn't gaining the speed that was necessary to out run the Optima Plan's black van. She gripped the wheel, stared out the window as she carefully maneuvered her car down the road as beads of sweat were building on her forehead. "Steph! Steph! Come in Steph," she thought while meditating. "Rev! Rev! Come in Rev." Steph was at Shark's place, playing with one of the computerized electrical gadgets Shark had installed into her secret hideaway. Steph felt a chill across her spine, hopped from her seat and sat on the floor holding both of her feet and stared at the star on her Chucks. The Rev was playing games with Stewy's Mac when he too felt the chill across his spine but wasn't quite sure of what to do. "Whoa, heebie jeebies," he said while killing the evil asteroids that left blazing trails of white light across the screen. "Damn you Rev, stop playing those freakin' games and sit on the floor, stare at the star on the Chucks and like hold my shoe, will ya," Stew said into her mind. "I'm in trouble guys, it's the Optima Plan and they're after me. I need power right now, the power my little four-bangin' rice burner here ain't got. Wonder SOG's activate!" Stewy shouted this time. There was a flash of blinding light, smoke clouds billowed all around Stewy's car and within seconds, she found herself standing in her apartment, her hair blown back into a rather odd shape. Outside the apartment, her car still sat there smoking from the power of the SOG's. "Thanks guys!" "Listen Rev, we're in trouble, we gotta get outta here. You got the documents? It's not safe here anymore," she said, wiping her brow. "Yeah, I got 'em, but where are we gonna go?" "Stewy....come in Stewy," Steph cried, moving about the floor at Shark's secret hideout. Yeah, what is it Steph?" Stewy asked as she stared blankly out of the several dozen holes that had been blown into her apartment. "Get out of there, get out quick. Something bad's gonna happen." The Rev walked to the window to look outside and the holes appeared to be moving now. He looked at the wall of the apartment building and could see huge bugs, millions of them, creeping their way up the wall and into the holes. SMASH!! Hundreds of spiders were crawling into Stewy's pad, swarming the Rev and gnawing at his eyeballs.His body was falling to the floor in spasmodic frenzy and from the mounds of bugs, Stewy saw the green hand Rev always wore, grabbed hold of it while trying to stomp the bugs with her amazing CHUCKS and SLAM!!! the bugs melted into a nuclear glue of nothingness. "Close one," Stew said as the Rev brushed himself off. "No shit!" "Never mess with a SOG!!" =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== BELIEF & TECHNIQUE FOR MODERN PROSE List of essentials 1.Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy 2.Submissive to everything, open, listening 3.Try never to get drunk outside yr own house 4.Be in love with yr life 5.Something that you feel will find its own form 6.Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind 7.Blow as deep as you want to blow 8.Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind 9.The unspeakable visions of the individual 10.No time for poetry but exactly what is 11.Visionary tics shivering in the chest 12.In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you 13.Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition 14.Like Proust be an old teahead of time 15.Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog 16.The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye 17.Write in recollection and amazement for yourself 18.Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea 19.Accept loss forever 20.Believe in the holy contour of life 21.Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind 22.Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better 23.Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning 24.No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge 25.Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it 26.Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form 27.In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness 28.Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better 29.You're a Genius all the time 30.Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven =========================================================================== MORE NEWS OF THE WEIRD =========================================================================== From: J.Crowcroft@cs.ucl.ac.uk (Jon Crowcroft) Subject: Re: News of the Weird Date: 4 Sep 91 09:14:25 GMT >My Chicago correspondent sends me the following: some friends of mine were on a cricketing holiday in the west country with a policeman who related the following sad tale: A burglar (for it was he) broke into a stately home and stole two hand made 19th century pearl handled shotguns worth 20,000 pounds each. On getting home with same, he proceeds to saw off the handles, and use them to rob a sub-post office of 750 pounds cash ... whereupon he was caught red-handed leaving as the postmaster set off the alarm unnoticed - twice dumb... And another one from the same source - a man arrested for assault is in court, and the judge asks "why did you hit the gentleman in question" to which he replies "because he called me a d**kh**d", to which the judge questions "and what is your name" to which the defendant replies (and this is true) "Richard Head"... =========================================================================== BURNED TO DEATH =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 3 Sep 1991 15:34:53 EST From: MacPhil Subject: On the Radio... This was read on the radio this a.m.: A woman in Kansas has won her appeal in court against an insurance company. The insurance company ruled the death of her husband was suicide whereas the woman claimed it was an accident. Her husband was found charred, fully-clothed in the bathtub. She claimed he was a chain smoker and was known to light matches and attempt to cover the odor of flatulence. The claim was the burning flatulence ignited his clothing and he died. .sig lite: MacPhil | iqti400@indycms.bitnet | iqti400@indycms.iupui.edu =========================================================================== SUBMISSION FROM THE REV =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 02 Sep 91 00:45:53 CDT From: Reverend John Subject: ha did it well here is something for purps if you're as hard up for stuff as it sounds Sensory input implying the same old meanings into random conjugates sadly lacking inflection within leaves of import as gliding thumping humping down to the spot around back of the carpet leaf discard it now discard it now it lacks the sore loser termination option point and without it ombudsmen are impotent and portents waffle twixt four-man and pup discoursing in multitasking singularity between flows otis in bounding free silicon strides giving liberation to the tendrils of prickling consciousness aided with bursting quarks and outlandish fortresses of black and gold shivery bits of electrons warming the fez and coursing onwards in neverending struggle for truth headgear and being truly fab in the course of the mission rendezvous with mama and dive bomb the shackled insecurities of lethargic legions besodden with luxury and velocity in the shuffling lassitudes outside our ken flow on flow on and god be damned Rev =========================================================================== DOGMA! =========================================================================== [The following is a transcript off the IRC. After reading through this, go back and read it again. It contains may important secrets. Many of which probably should not be revealed.] Like what kinda dogma? (Otodotos:+purps) I dunno, I'm in a dogma kinda mood! There's no god but Otis and he is the mostus? (Otodotos:+purps) Does dogma have dog nature? does dogma have cat nature too? Or does it bark? does dogma have god nature for that matter? Dogma is like a dog. It has four legs and pees on fire hydrants. (Otodotos:+purps) Maybe we should forge godma? Dogma is like a dog. It has fleas and smells bad when damp. Godma the mother goddess. (Otodotos:+purps) Otisianism: no artificial dogma, pure godma! (Otodotos:+purps) She wears blue and sings "Bippity, boppity, boo!" So where does Gog and Maygog fit into all this? (Otodotos:+purps) Gogma and Magogma? Yeah and carries an umbrella so she can fly and dances with penguin. Hah! that's it. As usual the Bible spelled it all wrong. (Otodotos:+purps) That's why you need a spell-checker for those e-bibles. gag if the bible was typed as badly as I type we'd be in trouble. (Otodotos:+purps) Gagma! Gagma sounds like an yogi discipline. "Become an Otisian. Learn the secret of Gagma!" (Otodotos:+purps) The Higher Arts of St. Bulemia! "Were Gog and Magog really spelled wrong in the bible?" (Otodotos:+purps) Learn why the USSR is regurgitating democracy! "the sacrament of blowing chunks" (Otodotos:+purps) As revealed to St. Zech of the Holy Spume! "worship St. Bulemia while hugging the porcelain altar" (Otodotos:+purps) Lay your offerings in her scented bowl! "the infinite white lustre of the flushing baptismal fount" (Otodotos:+purps) Yes! No more manual baptisms like that OTHER church, fully automated! "what secrets did St. Bulemia intrust to the Tidy bowl man?" (Otodotos:+purps) Otis IS the Tidy Bowl Man! "What is the mystical significance in the shape of the toilet brush?" (Otodotos:+purps) Now you can have Otis in YOUR VERY OWN TOILET! "Just pull the lever and your presence in heaven is assured." Well Otis always was a sort of personal god. (Otodotos:+purps) NO! Then you'd flush Otis! ah but Otis would come back reborn like Osiris! (Otodotos:+purps) Spread yourself before Otis! open up to Otis. Find release in Otis. (Otodotos:+purps) Grunt, grunt! Grunt along with OTis. (Gruntpig:+purps) KGB stands for Kick Gorby's Butt! (Otodotos:+purps) It isn't Kingston Gas Board? KGB= Kinder Gentler Bureaucracy. hmm ever notice how a plunger is shaped like a fez? (Otodotos:+purps) REVELATION!!!!! (Otodotos:+purps) Yowsa! (Otodotos:+purps) Praise Gagma! the fez unblocks the mind while the plunger unblocks the toilet. It's handle points upward reminding the user how we must look toward heaven and Otis for answers. It's repetitive up and and down motion once again remind us of the eternal birth/death cycle of the porcelain altar. (Otodotos:+purps) Hail Lotus, Hail Rhotos! (Otodotos:+purps) Is the Rhotoruter an emissary of Rhotos? No doubt. It's also called a "snake" which brings us back to the garden of eden business. It too can unblock toilets (minds) in a similar way to eating the apple did. It's coiled shape reminds us of the DNA on which all life is based on. Life one of the great fits of Otis next to fudgecicles fits=gifts (Otodotos:+purps) Wow. *** #Jupiter# Public Service Announcement: Irc nick plyfd is playing games with bradenville users... If you have a /on notice "plyfd *" $2- in your /on list, type /on notice -"plyfd *"... That command will allow plyfd to make your client issue commands (Otodotos:+purps) Cosmic. Wow a voice from Jupiter. The head god spoke to use issuing cryptic commands. (Otodotos:+purps) Gee, does that mean every time I have a fit it is a gift from Otis? an oracle! an oracle! we must have an oracle to interpret the signs! Yeah a fit is like a sending from the Muse. In this case the muse is Otis. Hmm the toilet lid shows us how the doctrine of Otis must be kept secret and the seat shows that some of us need a little help in using the infinite white altar. (Otodotos:+purps) "Yak tossing, sing in me O Muse, of the Yak-tossing of Jeffe, barrel stomached in war, grey eyed and and grey tongued, wise as the owl who shits on the herdsman at harvest. Hmm I've seen yak used in a similar light to "blowing chunks" another connection. "I yakked up my lunch. It was green and full of carrot bits." (Otodotos:+purps) Ah. (Otodotos:+purps) That was good dogma! Oh too good actually. Might have to make it secret dogma. (Otodotos:+purps) Ok! Oh course we'll have to kill grunt and sam in that case. (Otodotos:+purps) I think someone has been trying to pick me up. (SamHill:+purps) What? I was;t paying attention, anyway. (SamHill:+purps) ;-) have a rabid mason chop out their hearts with a t-square. (Otodotos:+purps) He he. Pick you up? well go for it! could be a new convert. (Otodotos:+purps) You should see the Illuminated Knights of Otis oath! Really? hmm should be cool. (Otodotos:+purps) I passed. He sounded disparate. Hmm ever notice that the plunger and the toilet brush are both phallic symbols? Oh they all are. They just haven't found Otis. (Otodotos:+purps) Ever wondered what happens to the imprinting of people who read dirty mags on the toilet? and both you place inside the altar. Hmm another symbol. a divine mating? (Otodotos:+purps) Hierogamos! imagine the Knights of Otis thrusting toilet brushes into the toilet in some ceremony. (Otodotos:+purps) Ssssshhhh!!!! OH dear.. hit a raw nerve there aye first it was yak tossing now it's toilet thrusting. (Otodotos:+purps) Delete that bit! okay (note to self. Delete that bit) (Otodotos:+purps) Next thing you know, some fool will be blabbing all our secrets on the Jon Ackerman Show! Or we'll have a heraldo show on us. *** Change: X has joined this Channel (+purps) (Otodotos:+purps) We could paint an otis symbol on his face. Hello X. (Otodotos:+purps) X! (X:+purps) purps or perps? (Otodotos:+purps) He's a perp. I'm a purp. "first I thought my husband was just going out with the guys to drink. then I noticed the toilet brush was missing..." (X:+purps) oic (Otodotos:+purps) He's a bit sick, you see. purps is far more important than perp. purps can see you're soul. (Otodotos:+purps) I'm very soul. (Otodotos:+purps) We're a mindless cult. Care to join? Oto: well that's why your on this channel and that's you had the common sense to sign up to the Purps mailing list. (X:+purps) "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." -Benjamin Franklin (Otodotos:+purps) Yes! OH we just say we're mindless. actually we're far less cannibalism than those christians. *** Change: X has left channel (Otodotos:+purps) Yessiree! No cannibalism here! No safety at the gate, either! (Otodotos:+purps) Aw. they always wimp out. I think we must have giving ourselves a bad name. (Otodotos:+purps) "Purps"? yeah.. we're always purps. Few come to visit lately. then a gain we have no girl type names on here *** Otodotos changed the topic to Giving Ourselves a Bad Name (Otodotos:+purps) I'm a girl. Oop that's right you are. *** Change: Otodotos is now known as Mamillia *** Change: Mamillia is now known as Fawna (Fawna:+purps) How 'bout that? Hmm you can man the Otisian kissing booth. (Fawna:+purps) So to speak. (Fawna:+purps) Hi! I'm Fawna, the Otisian Sex Kitten! yeah you'll need to record some mgs for the 1-900 number. (Fawna:+purps) pant pant pant "Hi! I'm fawna. I'm into toilet thrusting. I hope you are too." (Fawna:+purps) I want you to scrub my bowl... HARD! oh that's horrible. we're turing into some silly old pagan fertility cult. (Fawna:+purps) Hey! Well Ishtar has divine prostitutes why not Otis. (Fawna:+purps) Yes! That's me! actually that may be a good way to make money for Otis. (Fawna:+purps) well, I'm gonna go scrub my loo. Catch you here tomorrow? oh probably. (Fawna:+purps) I'll be Fawna from now on. Really? oh gee. well I'll have to remember that. Ototodos was sorta cool though. (Fawna:+purps) why not? Draw in the rubes. Yeah true. we should all use female names. (Fawna:+purps) I like him too. (Fawna:+purps) Naw. They'd she your home. (Fawna:+purps) see your home! (Fawna:+purps) Freudian typing! (Fawna:+purps) buy now! bye *** Signoff: Fawna =========================================================================== MESSENGER OF THE GODS PART FOUR =========================================================================== [This is mostly a fragment, but I needed more material to fill out purps.] We walked back into the tornado green fog. The Man in Black lead, guiding me by the elbow, behind us staggered the remaining frophead and the mysterious woman in the leather trench coat. Both were lightly touching me on the back. The Man in Black and I decided we did not need to take any precautions with our two prisoners. They'd have to follow us or get lost in the green fog forever. Who knows where they would turn up, in what time or what place. The frophead was had retreated into the safety of near zombie like catatonia, while the women grimly followed us. She seemed to know something about that tornado green fog that oozed around us. She was scared of it. After 20 or so paces the Man in Black came up short. "We're lost," he stated in his flat monotone. "Oh crap! You screw up or something?" "I believe the problem is from the other end." "Lost," murmured the woman behind me quietly. "Oh Elvis gummed things up again? I guess his luck ran out. Damn it! The space friends should have given him some damn instructions," I yelled. My voice seemed to get sucked away into the fog. "It is useless to rant and rave," stated the Man in Black, I could see him dimly in the fog. "We must decide how to act to escape from this situation." "How to act? We can either stay put or we can continue walking? Can we get back to the saucer?" "I doubt it." "Then we're dead," muttered the woman. "Will you shut up!" I yelled turning in her direction. I was beginning ot get worried myself. "We're not gonna die. I've been in worse situations than this." I turned back to the Man in Black who was patting his clothes looking for something. Suddenly, somewhere off to the right of us there was a sort of electrical crackling and roaring making all of us jump. "Let go of my legs!" yelled the irritated woman. The subgenius had crumpled to his knees and was muttered "mommie" over and over while hugging the woman's legs. Out from the green fog appeared an assortment of small grey aliens, their eyes like huge black eight balls. The heads like beach balls. Quickly both I and the Man in Black made mystical signs, but received now counter sign. In a flash I had my machine pistols out and began to house down the greys, who faded back into the fog dragging their wounded and dead with them. "Give me I gun! I want to shot this man!" yelled the woman in the leather trench coat in her strangely accent voice. She was still trapped by the hugging frophead. The Man in Black grabbed my elbow and started to drag me off. Clearly he wanted to get out of there. He was scared. So was I. Seeing that many greys at once would rattle anyone. "No wait!" I said. We better take them. the frophead is useless but the woman might have some info." "Forget them. I do not wish to be dragged off to Nightmare Alley." said the Man in Black tugging harder. I yanked myself free and kicked the frophead with a boot. He clung to the woman like a leach. I kicked again and a third time. The air near by crackled again. "We must go!" hissed the Man in Black. I kicked once more and grabbed at the woman as the frophead loosened he grip. The Man in Black yanked at my collar from behind and the three of us were off. The ground seemed to have disappeared and we were floating, weightless. Somehow the Man in Black was propelling us. Behind us the frophead screamed. And screamed. And screamed. The dreadful sound finally faded out once we were beyond ear shot, which seemed to take far longer than it should have. "Where are we going?" I asked. The three of us by now were floating abreast of each other with me in the middle, arms locked together. "I do not know" stated the man in black. "Hell I wonder if those greys are swarming all over Elvis now. they'd love to have that artifact." Nearby in the tornado green fog was another crackling explosion. I let go of the woman for a moment to shoot off a blast in the general direction of the sound. It was only a short blast. My gun was empty. I needed to reload, but I didn't dare let go of the Man in Black. The woman clung to my coat holding on quietly. It was too foggy to see her face but I could feel her trembling. Things did not look good at all. =========================================================================== FROM THE ARCHIVES OF DR. SIMPSON =========================================================================== "The Linear A lists of names have been used to support a world of unlikely theories as to the origin of Minoan civilization. One name, Aranare, for example, can be made to mean anything from `Great is the name of Re' (implying an Egyptian origin) to `Splendor of Arani' (an `Atlantean' goddess!)." ---Jean-Paul Olivier =========================================================================== THEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEENDTHEEND =========================================================================== --SUBINK 1991 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mal "Wisdom comes through age or superior mal@socpsy.sci.fau.edu technology" --Electro the Robot barker@acc.fau.edu barker@fauvax.bitnet SBI-Submarine Pens ask about our OMC equipment