Author Topic: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2  (Read 4907 times)

Eve

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #105 on: July 18, 2011, 02:47:10 am »
Awesome letter, Dok!  :lulz:  Response in progress. :D
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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #106 on: July 18, 2011, 03:04:06 am »
I'm still putting together a response. Something that hilarious needs a proper reply. :D
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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #107 on: July 18, 2011, 03:05:59 am »
I will have a...PACKAGE...delivered in the Dok's vicinity...rather soon.

Doktor Howl

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #108 on: July 18, 2011, 12:55:04 pm »
Eve,

So, how the hell are things in the Boston area?  I have fond memories of the town, given that you have things like subways and, you know, tall buildings.  We have no subway here, though that doesn’t stop us from giving tourists bad directions to find it.

That sounds awful, but think about it:  Anyone who comes to Tucson as a tourist deserves whatever they get.  Especially if they’re wearing Sarah Palin tee-shirts and stand around goggling at Hispanics like they’ve never seen one before.  I imagine they’re wondering when the Hispanics will all suddenly pull guns and shoot everyone in sight in some drug-addled frenzy.

Then, when they finally see a gringo, they expect that I’m “on their side” or some shit, and I give them directions to the non-existent Green Line, in the opposite direction from the hotel they’re looking for, which is 4 blocks away.  I consider this something of an act of civic virtue, like giving spare change to hoboes, or knocking Mormons off the curb.

Fucking Mormons...It’s not bad enough that they own Utah, they have to come down here and get our Gays all riled up, too.  I’ve never understood why Mormons get so upset about the Gay marriage thing, when given their definition of marriage, I could stay married to Nurse Enabler and Maria, and still have time to go looking for more trouble.

It’s not that I’m a liberal or anything, Eve...It’s that I can’t stand stupid, and they bring it here from Utah & Phoenix in big bushel baskets.  If they’re not after the Hispanics, they’re after the Gays, and if they’re not after the Gays, they’re after the schools.  It seems to me that they’d be happier minding their own business, if only they had some business to mind.  I mean, it must be awesome to be so perfect that you have time to run around running everyone else’s lives, right?

And it’s not like these paragons of morality are themselves not a pack of closet perverts.  Either they’re texting pictures of their dick to random girls (Weiner) or indulging in their diaper fetish with low-rent prostitutes (Vitter) or getting it on with fat young boys in the congressional page system (Foley) or exercising their constitutional right to airport bathroom sex (Craig).  Are they all perverts, Eve?

I mean, I’m okay with that (except for Foley), it’s just the closet thing that bothers me.  If they were plain old perverts, they’d be okay.  I think they’d probably leave a motherfucker alone once in a while, right?  The only good thing about it all, is that the more someone screams about other peoples’ lifestyles, the more you can put money down that they’ll soon be outed for raping ostriches up in Casa Grande.

Well, enough of that bad noise, Eve, it’s not like these are our people.  No, you are fortunate enough to live in a city where the normal people outweigh the self-righteous toads that can’t mind their own fucking business.  So let’s talk about something else.
 
Let’s instead talk about the need for you & D-Cup to get down here for the next Steampunk convention.  No, we won’t be attending it, hell, the fucking basic pass costs $65 alone, and that’s too much to pay to watch people stagger around in the desert heat in leather and brass (and it’s like another hundred clams if  you want to actually do everything).  The smell alone is horrifying, as is watching a Fatty Arbuckle clone try to squeeze into a Victorian-era smoking jacket.

No, I was thinking that the two of you and we in the Tucson Cabal could go harass them in the parking lot for an hour or so, then go stomping off into Central Filth and/or the Legal District to have some wrong fun.  Maybe act like horses’ asses at the Hotel Congress bar (What would John Dillinger do?), and then go push Calvinists into traffic on 4th Avenue.

This is also a public service, Eve.  The bastards park themselves on every third corner with bullhorns, harassing innocent pot-heads and drunks with ear-splitting feedback that occasionally comes with garbled nonsense about fire & brimstone.  I don’t care what anyone says, there is no constitutional right to fuck up someone else’s Saturday Night.

Yep. The two of you, and maybe Richter and Tripping Princess and Luna or whomever, come down here, and we will show you America, with its pants around its ankles and its drawers full of horror.  We have it all down here, lady, the whole package.  Guns,  WalMart behemoths, weird religion, perverts, very polite muggers (they stuff your body in a dumpster, which helps keep The City looking nice & tidy), and more random violence than you can get anywhere else, including network TV.

I’ll make sure to have a good stack of hickory axe handles handy, so we can properly make our case - explain our position, if you will - to the teabaggers and the Mormons and the body-Nazis and all the other scum that will, make no mistake, try to get between us and the good time that we are so very serious about.

This is no century for half-measures, Eve.  Get your ass down here, and we shall march on a road of bones, to that glorious future that we should have had, had the assholes not fucked it all up for us, and built this horrible prison around us while we slept.  This is our century, and we’re wasting time.  We should be smiting the heathen, not just trying to get by, day by day.  There’s no time for that shit anymore, you only get one ride around, and there are no extra lives, no matter how many quarters you give them.

So enough of this fucking around.

Okay for now,
Dok

"Man, there's nothin' to do in this stupid town rope swing's busted, stinking cops always kicking me out of the park manager of the 7-11 always says "get off my curb you good for nothing" all the girls already know I'm a bad kisser so they don't come anywhere near me I don't know how many times I've been to TGIF a kid can eat an onion bloom only so many times bowling's boring, the skating rink's been taken over by 12 year olds there ain't no good movies out, blockbuster never has any good games in I don't want to play Bombad Racing, I mean what the heck is that? I'm sick of all my records and every time I walk into a record store, I forget what I want to get and their ain't nothing on TV, not a stupid thing! There ain't nothing to do 'cept take naps and wait patiently for death!"
- Brak

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #109 on: July 18, 2011, 12:56:04 pm »
Kit (Hovercat),

Having seen the most recent batch of pics depicting you and your hooligan friends out trampling the wildlife, I now understand why California is the Godless sinkhole of iniquity that it has become.  I notice, however, that there is no indication of how that little excursion was funded, is there?

Don’t tell me, because I can guess.  You hoodlums have been out mugging unsuspecting Tea Party members, haven’t you?  I can read it all over your smug & depraved demeanors.  Anything to get your “fix”, when God knows you people should be acting like good young Americans, and watching TV until your ass bonds with the couch, like that lady in Alabama.

You people just don’t know how good you have it.  We here in Tucson would KILL to be able to take a walk without being burned to a crisp, bitten by some horrible poisonous and/or rabid animal...Or getting shot full of holes by the crazy neighbor wearing nothing more than horribly stained underwear, a tinfoil-lined Kevlar helmet, and the “Jesus & Palin 2012” sticker pasted to his beer gut.  It’s fucking awful.

Yes, Kit, it’s all we can do here to not just jam the assault rifles out the mail slot and blaze away, before low-crawling to the car each morning.  This would, in fact, be the best tactic, if it weren’t for the Goddamn wood scorpions.  Little buggers look just like a pebble, and they’ll make you swell up like Teddy Kennedy if you give them a chance.  So, instead, we throw small animals out the back door - as a diversion - and then make a run for it.  It’s cruel, but what else can we do?  These are grim days.

So you get to the Jeep more or less in one piece, and crank the key, hoping meth heads haven’t siphoned out all the gasoline the previous night (I live in a nice neighborhood, therefore this isn’t a certainty), and throw it in reverse.  Then there’s that horrible double thump that says you’re going to need another paperboy (I was a paperboy, back when I was a kid, and I moved way faster than these little toads do nowadays).

Then it’s screaming down the surface streets, trying to get to the highway.  Even at 4AM, this is not a foregone conclusion.  The hardcore freaks are still out (Sun comes up at 4:35AM), and they are liable to do anything at that hour.  They get suicidal, I am told, when it looks like the party is over for another 10 hours.  You also have to contend with other drivers, and that is no small issue, here in a retirement state.

Okay, onto the highway, dodging the huge trucks driven erratically by speed-freaks and meth users, and you start looking around for the Horror of the Day™.  This morning, it was a semi barreling along, dragging the carcass of what might have been a cow stuffed halfway up into a wheel well.

You’ve now been (technically) awake for 45 minutes, and another horrible day in Tucson is just beginning.  Just think, you only have another 15 hours to go.  I love it here, and I’ll never, ever leave.
 
In fact, I think I’ll say that I’ll let you keep your “nature walks”.  It’s more fun here...And you, like those spags out East, have too much nature, and it’s bad for you.  Did you know they have rivers that actually have water in them, and they let it all drain out into the ocean?  They’re spoiled, that’s what they are.  I know this, because I saw with my own eyes, a little more than a year ago, when I paid a visit to Richter and Suu and the other spags...Including LMNO. 

A word of warning:  LMNO is a bad person.  He pretends to be your average, everyday Big Gay Cowboy, but the horrible truth is that he’s behind every major crime East of the Mississippi.  I say this without fear, for his enforcers are all Italians, and burst into flames when exposed to the Arizona sun.  So long as I remain in my mountaintop fortress of arrogance, I am perfectly safe...When they start making SPF5000 sunscreen, I’ll buy more ammunition.

But yeah, you keep the hikes, and I’ll keep Tucson, where Nurse Enabler and Freeky sing to me every night, like Shehezarade used to do for that Arabian fellow.  They sing to me of ancient heroes, like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday and Richard Nixon, while we all curl up on the floor clinging - as President Obama said - to our guns and our religion.

But I’m kind of thinking that we aren’t clinging to the religion he thinks we’re clinging to.  No.  You of all people know what I’m talking about...The best of the One True Religions, here in The City of Eris, where everyone can hear you scream, but nobody cares...And if they do, it’s only that they can steal your boots once you’re a deader.

On a completely unrelated subject, you have to tell us how that crazy sister of yours got her nickname.  We are puzzled...”Shoe Ears” isn’t exactly self-explanatory (or at least it shouldn’t be), and more to the point, we have money riding on this.  So dish with the gossip, already.

We are, however, impressed with her.  She walked straight into a blizzard of shit named AKK, and came out in once piece, on her first day.  That’s no small achievement...I mean, AKK isn’t exactly an intellectual giant, but he IS persistent and annoying as hell, and he’s run off established users in his various incarnations on PD.

Well, I have to wrap this up.  My boss keeps pinging my email with “urgent” messages that probably just mean something’s on fire again.  I swear, that man is jumpier than Gabby Giffords’ security detail.  So, in closing, should you ever have to pass through Tucson on I-10, stay in the left lane and go like hell.   There’s nothing good for you lowlanders here, and Arizona doesn’t honor diplomatic immunity with California.

Okay for now,
Dok
"Man, there's nothin' to do in this stupid town rope swing's busted, stinking cops always kicking me out of the park manager of the 7-11 always says "get off my curb you good for nothing" all the girls already know I'm a bad kisser so they don't come anywhere near me I don't know how many times I've been to TGIF a kid can eat an onion bloom only so many times bowling's boring, the skating rink's been taken over by 12 year olds there ain't no good movies out, blockbuster never has any good games in I don't want to play Bombad Racing, I mean what the heck is that? I'm sick of all my records and every time I walk into a record store, I forget what I want to get and their ain't nothing on TV, not a stupid thing! There ain't nothing to do 'cept take naps and wait patiently for death!"
- Brak

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #110 on: July 18, 2011, 12:57:23 pm »
My Dear Professor Cramulus,                     6/22/2011

I must, with much regret, announce the failure of the Tucson Expedition.  All the porters have gone native...And the last time anyone saw Nurse Fracture, she was running off into the bush with our linguist’s severed head, singing Please Don’t Leave Me, by P!nk, at the top of her lungs.  

What would Chinese Gordon have done in a situation like this?  Would he fight until the end, or would he, as I have done, merely kept his pistol loaded and his unicycle at hand, hoping that his missives to Miskatonic University have gotten through?

In case the worst happens, please allow me to spell out some of the bizarre and deadly encounters we have had.

First, the cockroaches.  They are immense, and only the dwindling stores of .60 ammunition for the elephant rifle have kept them at bay (Lesser calibers have had no effect other than to enrage them.).  They bark like mad dogs in the night, then pounce on whichever unlucky souls they may find alone and without some source of fire.  They took Stanley last week...All we found was a boot.

Second, the native women.  They are not at all the ladies that you & I are used to, but instead savages even more fearsome than their men-folk.  Poor Morresby had his head stove in, with a “meathammah”, by one of these brutes, just for asking where the men’s room was...And our chaplain was lured away by two of them that were wearing “daisy dukes” and bikini tops, and we’ve never seen him again.  We fear the worst.

Third, A scorpion carried off our pack animals.  All at once.  I do not feel that I need to elaborate on this, Professor.  It strongly resembled the garbled, frenzied description given by the late Professor Cainad, on his doomed expedition to the Hollow Earth, with the exception that we - as of yet - have not run into any Nazi Hell Creatures.

Fourth, Professor Moss simply exploded last Tuesday.  We do not know why, and do not care to investigate.  He was eating some of the local food, and suddenly exploded with a great roar, and his bits were...I do not wish to discuss it.

This, of course, just leaves me.  I have in fact located the ancient library in the Legal District, but it is entirely surrounded by what look to be homeless people.  I had at first thought to negotiate with them...But before leaving my place of concealment, I watched in horror as they hauled a lawyer of some kind out of his conveyance and devoured him, all the while dancing in his blood and chanting the name of their foul God, “Zalgo”.

I have found a safe, concealed place in which to sleep, and I shall make my decision then.  I shall post the results on the second page (included).

More later.

                              6/23/2011

The horror.  Professor, words cannot express the vile night that I have just endured.  I had holed up in the ruins of the Loft Theater, where I had hoped to get some much-needed rest.  Little was I to know that this is a major site of worship for them.  I had hardly bunked down in the balcony, when they came trooping in.

I remained silent as the proverbial mouse, for as long as I could endure it.  The fiends have somehow gotten their hands on a copy of Van Juntz, for the monsters began immediately performing High School Musical.  While I lay curled in a fetal position on the floor, with my fingers jammed into my ears, I noticed the wall ripple.

I desperately sought a rational explanation of this phenomena, but my mind kept returning to Zalgo, he who waits behind the wall.  The “humans” below me began to change, Professor...Tentacles sprouted, gills were revealed, and to a man, their eyes began to leak a black, viscous fluid.  Mercifully, I passed out.

In the dawn’s light, the theater was abandoned.  I made my way out and set up camp some distance from The City...But they call me.  I can hear the flutes playing, and the urge to resist has long since gone.  Tonight, I shall join them.

Good bye,
Doktor Hamish Howl

Police Note:  This gibberish was found on one Doktor Hamish Howl, presumably an associate of yours.  He seemed to be utterly mad, and was unfortunately struck by a car & gravely injured as he was performing some sort of dance in the street during rush hour.  Normally, we would assume that he is one of the many insane homeless people, but it seems he was carrying this letter and proper academic credentials.

The paperwork we found indicates that there were at least 20 people in his “expedition”, including folks he’d hired in Benson to assist him with the movement of his “instruments”, which we have not found.  Nor have we found any of the alleged expeditionary members, whom he describes in his journal as having either abandoned him or been killed somewhere in the vicinity of Drachmann Street & Stone Avenue.  It is our opinion that this group never existed.  If you know anything to the contrary, please inform us.

In any case, the Doktor is in bad shape in St Mary’s Hospital.  I urge you to come see him, as we do not expect him to survive.  Also, we will assume that you are his executor, and the numerous books in his possession look like they belong in a collection.

We hope to hear from you soon.  Feel free to bring your associates.

Ian Phatang,
Detective, Tucson PD
"Man, there's nothin' to do in this stupid town rope swing's busted, stinking cops always kicking me out of the park manager of the 7-11 always says "get off my curb you good for nothing" all the girls already know I'm a bad kisser so they don't come anywhere near me I don't know how many times I've been to TGIF a kid can eat an onion bloom only so many times bowling's boring, the skating rink's been taken over by 12 year olds there ain't no good movies out, blockbuster never has any good games in I don't want to play Bombad Racing, I mean what the heck is that? I'm sick of all my records and every time I walk into a record store, I forget what I want to get and their ain't nothing on TV, not a stupid thing! There ain't nothing to do 'cept take naps and wait patiently for death!"
- Brak

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #111 on: July 18, 2011, 03:25:22 pm »
 :mittens: :mittens: :mittens:
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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #112 on: July 19, 2011, 01:02:01 pm »
Dear Alty,

I am hoping you can read this through the clouds of black flies that infest your state, which is no doubt a plague sent by an angry God.  It’s not like you weren’t courting divine retribution up there, being so close to the Godless Russkies...Which I am told can be seen from Wasilla on a clear day, if your porch is high enough.

Thinking about it, there’s no reason that the 7-headed beasties described in Revelation shouldn’t drag themselves out of the ocean in Alaska.  Of course, they’d have to send a bunch of them, as the first few will be mistaken for walruses or some shit, and clubbed to death by the locals, for fuel oil and their hides.

It occurs to me that this is yet another advantage of living in a land-locked state.  We have no beaches, and are thus safe from the ravings of St John of Patmos.  Say what you will about his religion, that man could write.  I’d put him second only to Cicero when it comes to foot-stomping, bleacher-pounding, ass-kicking ranting.

Whoops.  Got sidetracked there for a moment.  Back on to the iniquities and sins of your so-called “state”.  You see, there’s something of a mystery here...Given the predisposition of the average Alaskan woman to pump out kids like some sort of evil clown car, why is your state so fucking empty?  Are you people eating your young?  Is there something we here in the lower 48 need to know about?

Or does the place just smell really bad, come the spring thaw?

These are horrible questions, I know, but they must be asked.  God knows the rest of the world is filling up with primates, and maybe you people have the solution.  It’s not like we don’t need it, hell, Arizona is filling up with yahoos, from mid-state South.  Our water table is dropping something like 18 inches a year, and the only response the state has is to blame illegal immigrants, and to tell us that Jesus has a plan.  It’s like living in Jonestown, only there’s no money in the budget for Koolaid. 

It’s awful, Alty...Every ten minutes we are hit with a fresh wave of stupidity from the state capitol up in Phoenix.  For example, the state legislature’s buildings had to be sold off.  This might imply that the brilliant & scared “no revenue” taxation plan might have a teensy flaw in it.

When pressed on it, the legislature babbles some more shit about illegal aliens, abortion,  and death panels.  They won’t shut up.  It’s fucking horrible.  How do you bastards up in Palinland deal with this sort of shit?  I’m assuming it has to be just as bad up there, especially given that you have even weirder churches than we do.  I mean, all we have to deal with is Calvinists and Mormons.  You guys have that one Baptist preacher dude who used to burn witches in Africa, right?  The one Palin was always gushing about?  If that’s so, then you must have at least as much stupidity floating around as we do.  How do you deal with it?  Is there any way to shut these fuckers up?
 
And you can tell that crazy preacher of yours to stay where the fuck he’s at, too.  You can’t burn witches down here on account of the fact that they’re soaked in patchouli.  The fuckers would go off like a bomb, and there’d be nasty 6” long smoldering pubes landing all over everything like Goddamn silly string...And NOBODY wants that, not even the Baptists, filthy perverts though they may be.

No, we have a handle on religion down here, and it isn’t what the Calvinists think it is.  No, it’s Tucson itself, a malign God that keeps people from leaving until they can be horribly mangled in a Tucson Moment. 

Tucson, though, seems to smile on Discordians, as we make life just a little more fucked up for everybody else.  We don’t DO anything to the retards, we just walk up with our bare faces hanging out and tell them The Truth™.  For this we are branded heretics and commies, but that bothers us not.  We don’t fear these people, Alty, for we can walk faster than a mobility scooter...That, and the fact that no matter how outraged and pious they feel, they can be distracted by a bag of powdered donuts long enough for us to make good our escape.

Scratch all that bad shit I said about Arizona, Alty.  This place is heaven on Earth, and it sings to us.  It sings songs of failure & doom, and the bourbon never runs out...At least not at The Meetrack, where The Dirty Boys from Grant Road get their monkey on in public, and stomp the mortal shit out of people who make the mistake of talking politics or religion.

And it sings of bad car accidents and parking tickets and SWAT teams accidentally gulf war vets 71 times in 13 seconds.  It sings to us of ancient, open mine shafts that collect the bodies of those who don’t watch where they walk.  It sings to us of the beautiful, bright, pitiless sun that smashes us flat onto the concrete, helplessly shitting our pants while we squirm on the griddle that is concrete in Arizona.

Mommy loves us, Alty.  Mommy loves us to death.

And she’ll love you, even if you choose to stay up in your frozen tundra hell, because what most people don’t know is that Tucson is everywhere.  Everyone lives in Tucson, and nobody lives anywhere else.  It’s just easier to see it when you’re here instead of there. 

So those aren’t blackflies, Alty.  Those are just the local manifestation of love that Tucson has for us all.

Okay for now,
Dok

"Man, there's nothin' to do in this stupid town rope swing's busted, stinking cops always kicking me out of the park manager of the 7-11 always says "get off my curb you good for nothing" all the girls already know I'm a bad kisser so they don't come anywhere near me I don't know how many times I've been to TGIF a kid can eat an onion bloom only so many times bowling's boring, the skating rink's been taken over by 12 year olds there ain't no good movies out, blockbuster never has any good games in I don't want to play Bombad Racing, I mean what the heck is that? I'm sick of all my records and every time I walk into a record store, I forget what I want to get and their ain't nothing on TV, not a stupid thing! There ain't nothing to do 'cept take naps and wait patiently for death!"
- Brak

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #113 on: July 19, 2011, 03:18:08 pm »
Those are all :lulz: + :mittens:
Although it is outside the purview of this organization to offer personal advice, we can say -- without assuming any liability -- that previous experience indicates (and recent market studies corroborate) that given the present condition of the marketplace, continuing with your present course of action is likely to result in substantial increases in corpse production.

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #114 on: July 23, 2011, 05:26:11 am »
Dear Alty,

I am hoping you can read this through the clouds of black flies that infest your state, which is no doubt a plague sent by an angry God.  It’s not like you weren’t courting divine retribution up there, being so close to the Godless Russkies...Which I am told can be seen from Wasilla on a clear day, if your porch is high enough.

Thinking about it, there’s no reason that the 7-headed beasties described in Revelation shouldn’t drag themselves out of the ocean in Alaska.  Of course, they’d have to send a bunch of them, as the first few will be mistaken for walruses or some shit, and clubbed to death by the locals, for fuel oil and their hides.

It occurs to me that this is yet another advantage of living in a land-locked state.  We have no beaches, and are thus safe from the ravings of St John of Patmos.  Say what you will about his religion, that man could write.  I’d put him second only to Cicero when it comes to foot-stomping, bleacher-pounding, ass-kicking ranting.

Whoops.  Got sidetracked there for a moment.  Back on to the iniquities and sins of your so-called “state”.  You see, there’s something of a mystery here...Given the predisposition of the average Alaskan woman to pump out kids like some sort of evil clown car, why is your state so fucking empty?  Are you people eating your young?  Is there something we here in the lower 48 need to know about?

Or does the place just smell really bad, come the spring thaw?

These are horrible questions, I know, but they must be asked.  God knows the rest of the world is filling up with primates, and maybe you people have the solution.  It’s not like we don’t need it, hell, Arizona is filling up with yahoos, from mid-state South.  Our water table is dropping something like 18 inches a year, and the only response the state has is to blame illegal immigrants, and to tell us that Jesus has a plan.  It’s like living in Jonestown, only there’s no money in the budget for Koolaid. 

It’s awful, Alty...Every ten minutes we are hit with a fresh wave of stupidity from the state capitol up in Phoenix.  For example, the state legislature’s buildings had to be sold off.  This might imply that the brilliant & scared “no revenue” taxation plan might have a teensy flaw in it.

When pressed on it, the legislature babbles some more shit about illegal aliens, abortion,  and death panels.  They won’t shut up.  It’s fucking horrible.  How do you bastards up in Palinland deal with this sort of shit?  I’m assuming it has to be just as bad up there, especially given that you have even weirder churches than we do.  I mean, all we have to deal with is Calvinists and Mormons.  You guys have that one Baptist preacher dude who used to burn witches in Africa, right?  The one Palin was always gushing about?  If that’s so, then you must have at least as much stupidity floating around as we do.  How do you deal with it?  Is there any way to shut these fuckers up?
 
And you can tell that crazy preacher of yours to stay where the fuck he’s at, too.  You can’t burn witches down here on account of the fact that they’re soaked in patchouli.  The fuckers would go off like a bomb, and there’d be nasty 6” long smoldering pubes landing all over everything like Goddamn silly string...And NOBODY wants that, not even the Baptists, filthy perverts though they may be.

No, we have a handle on religion down here, and it isn’t what the Calvinists think it is.  No, it’s Tucson itself, a malign God that keeps people from leaving until they can be horribly mangled in a Tucson Moment. 

Tucson, though, seems to smile on Discordians, as we make life just a little more fucked up for everybody else.  We don’t DO anything to the retards, we just walk up with our bare faces hanging out and tell them The Truth™.  For this we are branded heretics and commies, but that bothers us not.  We don’t fear these people, Alty, for we can walk faster than a mobility scooter...That, and the fact that no matter how outraged and pious they feel, they can be distracted by a bag of powdered donuts long enough for us to make good our escape.

Scratch all that bad shit I said about Arizona, Alty.  This place is heaven on Earth, and it sings to us.  It sings songs of failure & doom, and the bourbon never runs out...At least not at The Meetrack, where The Dirty Boys from Grant Road get their monkey on in public, and stomp the mortal shit out of people who make the mistake of talking politics or religion.

And it sings of bad car accidents and parking tickets and SWAT teams accidentally gulf war vets 71 times in 13 seconds.  It sings to us of ancient, open mine shafts that collect the bodies of those who don’t watch where they walk.  It sings to us of the beautiful, bright, pitiless sun that smashes us flat onto the concrete, helplessly shitting our pants while we squirm on the griddle that is concrete in Arizona.

Mommy loves us, Alty.  Mommy loves us to death.

And she’ll love you, even if you choose to stay up in your frozen tundra hell, because what most people don’t know is that Tucson is everywhere.  Everyone lives in Tucson, and nobody lives anywhere else.  It’s just easier to see it when you’re here instead of there. 

So those aren’t blackflies, Alty.  Those are just the local manifestation of love that Tucson has for us all.

Okay for now,
Dok



SO GOOD.
“I’m guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk,” Charles Wick said. “It was very complicated.”

“People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”
― Assata Shaku

Doktor Howl

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #115 on: July 26, 2011, 06:50:51 pm »
To a friend and fellow traveller on Capitol Grilling, having received in the mail an autographed copy of his book and his latest music CD.  The guy is a real gentleman of the old school, and quite the artist.

Walker,

I received your book and your CD, and I shall start on them both tonight.  This comes as a welcome relief, as I have found myself in a bit of a rut, reading-wise, and the music on the radio has become a horrible blur of Taylor Swift and emo-tard garbage that fills me with hate.

From what I gather from the dust cover, your book is a story of murder and rolling failure up in the mountains.  Needless to say, I can identify with the subject matter, given the city I live in.  We know all about murder and awful behavior up here, sir.  This is an awful place, after all, and it’s good to think that we are not alone in this...If only in a fictional setting.

I do not exaggerate, Walker.  Tucson is, many believe, a sentient thing that hates humanity, and prevents people from leaving, at least until they have a “Tucson Moment”, which typically involves horrible car accidents or being stabbed or shot and then tossed in a dumpster (We have very polite & civic-minded murderers here, and they don’t like to litter) for the cash in your pocket, or just the mere fact that the person doing the stabbing has a head full of spiders.

I don’t find this particularly offensive, at least not in the way I find Phebe offensive.  Tucson can’t help being what it is, while talking with Phebe is sort of like having Adolf Eichmann jam his head out of his grave and start yapping at you, while it bobbles around on his broken neck like a dashboard Jesus.

Sure, I know she’s trolling, but only in the sense that she knows it outrages people.  She really believes that garbage, and she’s a prime example of the degeneration of America.  People like her keep WalMart in business, and are the reason that the KKK still exists after a century and a half.

We here in Tucson can at least brag that we are free of that nonsense.  Our muggers are equal-opportunity, and if you aren’t on the North side, you can go for miles without seeing any signs of racism.  I live on the North side, of course, mostly because it’s a target-rich environment, where I can do science to people without any sticky moral issues.

Phoenix is, of course, another story entirely...But it is well known for not having a soul, and we in Tucson prefer to just pretend that it doesn’t exist.  In any case, God beats the hell out of them with dust storms on a regular basis, so living there is its own punishment.

On the other hand, they’re only 90 miles away, so it’s little wonder that we spend a lot of time drunk & mean, hopped up on peyote, and/or driving around town looking for trouble.  I realize that’s normal for certain age groups, but most of the people I know are  in our 30s and 40s.  Kids get fucked up because they don’t know any better.  We get fucked up because we have no choice.
 
But then the sun goes down and the night comes up, and we all remember why we live here, Walker.  We jump in our Jeeps and go screaming down Drachmann or Congress, looking for that one thing we still have that none of the rest of America™ even remembers it ever had...Saturday Night.

On Saturday Night, there are no politics, no horrible fucking recession, no know-nothing teabaggers, and no tomorrow.  Our Saturday night is a collection of bad driving, irresponsible firearm use, crass behavior, and laughing until you can’t stop screaming.  No other town in America lets people get away with doing Saturday Night properly...They all get excited about things like property damage, gross bodily harm, and noise codes.

We can’t let ourselves worry about that sort of shit, though, and Saturday Night doesn’t always have to happen on the 7th day of the week.  It can happen anytime, and to anybody, if they’re serious about having a good time.

All the Franks and the Catzes and the Phebes stop mattering on Saturday Night, and by 7:30 PM we don’t even know who the president is.  All that crap goes right out the window, and do you know what?  Life goes on...Which leads many of us to believe that none of that crap is either necessary or meaningful.

You and I don’t need the democrats to keep us free, or the republicans, or the drooling idiots that infest the teabaggers.  No, we understand that freedom is a state of mind, that Martin Luther King Jr was more free in that jail in Birmingham than anyone else in America was, in their own homes.

Some people say that all of the above is a juvenile state of mind, or even downright criminal.  But I’ll tell you this...The wrong sort of people may complain about us while we drive past, but each and every one of them wishes they were the ones puking out the passenger window, instead of walking their stupid little dog and being perpetually nice.  Polite.  Law-abiding.

Because that’s what America is all about, right?  All of those freedoms and the (supposed) aims of the various collections of retarded thieves we call “political parties” are geared towards having a good time.  If not, then what the hell is the point?

Well, must sign off.  Knuckles and the boys are coming around in a few minutes, and we’re off to wreak havoc at the American Legion.  Those people have absolutely no sense of humor, and it’s time we showed them a better way.

Okay for now,
Dok
"Man, there's nothin' to do in this stupid town rope swing's busted, stinking cops always kicking me out of the park manager of the 7-11 always says "get off my curb you good for nothing" all the girls already know I'm a bad kisser so they don't come anywhere near me I don't know how many times I've been to TGIF a kid can eat an onion bloom only so many times bowling's boring, the skating rink's been taken over by 12 year olds there ain't no good movies out, blockbuster never has any good games in I don't want to play Bombad Racing, I mean what the heck is that? I'm sick of all my records and every time I walk into a record store, I forget what I want to get and their ain't nothing on TV, not a stupid thing! There ain't nothing to do 'cept take naps and wait patiently for death!"
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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #116 on: July 26, 2011, 07:22:07 pm »
Dok did you ever get my reply?

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #117 on: July 26, 2011, 07:27:14 pm »
Dok did you ever get my reply?

If I did, it's at the house somewhere.  I haven't seen it.  I'll ask Enabler.
"Man, there's nothin' to do in this stupid town rope swing's busted, stinking cops always kicking me out of the park manager of the 7-11 always says "get off my curb you good for nothing" all the girls already know I'm a bad kisser so they don't come anywhere near me I don't know how many times I've been to TGIF a kid can eat an onion bloom only so many times bowling's boring, the skating rink's been taken over by 12 year olds there ain't no good movies out, blockbuster never has any good games in I don't want to play Bombad Racing, I mean what the heck is that? I'm sick of all my records and every time I walk into a record store, I forget what I want to get and their ain't nothing on TV, not a stupid thing! There ain't nothing to do 'cept take naps and wait patiently for death!"
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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #118 on: July 26, 2011, 07:42:12 pm »
Dok did you ever get my reply?

If I did, it's at the house somewhere.  I haven't seen it.  I'll ask Enabler.

Let me know, I mailed it the day after I received your letter!!

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Re: Fucked Up Mailing List 2011: Round 2
« Reply #119 on: July 26, 2011, 10:16:30 pm »

We can’t let ourselves worry about that sort of shit, though, and Saturday Night doesn’t always have to happen on the 7th day of the week.  It can happen anytime, and to anybody, if they’re serious about having a good time.



The whole thing was fucking awesome, and needs to go in a compilation of Tuscon lore. This line is classic.
“I’m guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk,” Charles Wick said. “It was very complicated.”

“People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”
― Assata Shaku