The following confession was sent to Papa Joe for his wise words of wisdom. Feel free to read it and weep. (Response in italics)

Curse me father for I have sinned. I am a stupid

shithead Bobbie, a Subtrendy hypocrite, a weak

Ivangelical toad. I heard the word of 'Bob' and

sent my $20 yet I still did not understand. For

you see, in the beginning, I was a freshly

deprogrammed Jesus Freak with the mind of a child

and an insatiable need for fake 'fun'. I tagged

along behind anything that SEEMED Sub-like, and

was almost immediately scooped up by the Clowns.

I understood the Sub-ordinate approach to

'anarchy in creativity' and applied it to my

musick. Yet I had a terrible, fatal character flaw.

I was basically a hippie in punk clothing and I still

believed that humans could 'change' and 'get better'.

I acted according to the following tenets which have

straitjacked me for a decade and a half:

1. You shouldn't take advantage of people, no matter

how stupid they are.

2. It is unethical to sell bullshit to morons.

3. You shouldn't lie to or manipulate people, no matter

how gullible they are.

4. You shouldn't use the tactics of your enemy to defeat

your enemy because then you will become your enemy.

The horror and terror of a reality beyond my control

drove me to the bottle, the bong, the lame 'friend',

the shitty club band, NEW Star Trek, pills of thought

control, the straight job, the psychotically hyper-

normal girl'friend', trendy hipster slugs, fanzine

lies, and the politically correct.

I realize now that it is better to be mauled by a

Doktor than comforted by a douchebag.

Surrounded by Normals and allowing myself to be

stung by their judgments, for I still cared

about what 'they' thought! I thought that if

I was nice enough, kind enough, sweet enough, that

they would give me opportunities. I thought I could

make them treat me as something other than a fool.

Well I was a fool not to curse them to their

faces to begin with!

Lame trendies who dream about being sucked up

by the 'con' and get paid gobs of money to be

even lamer! Who sit on their fat asses drinking

and eating and talking about things they want

to do, things they're going to do, and things

they plan on doing, as soon as they get that

big advance from the 'con'! Who cream over

lame weak polite cable access tedium and halfassed

attempts at humor, dull art and music, passive

consumers and regurgitators. Fucking quasi-sub

wannabees who spit on 'Bob'! And arrogant

chickenshit know-it-alls who get 'burned' by

a liberal or two and run straight into the

arms of Rush! What fucking Geeks, all of them!

I thought they would understand me. BELIEVED

they would help me. And now they just can't

understand why I won't waste my time with them,

won't spend all night with them talk eat drink

talk talk drink eat eat talk talk talk eat sit

talk sit sit eat talk drink drink talk talk

talk talk ENOUGH!

For them, there is no right answer so you might

as well say what you feel!

But I am getting better. Just yesterday, changed

my plans away from working on this lame Dave Matthews-

Foo Fighters wannabee bullshit in the hopes I

would be 'accepted' by the artyfarty clique, and

went back to working on Drule with promising

results. Last month at work, I quietly 'resolved'

a $20 overage from the cash box, and hope to

do so again in the future. And since these dumb

rednecks pay me to sit here 8 hours a day and do

a half-hour of work, I can find plenty of ways

to look 'busy' and plan for the day when I can

pull the rug right out from under them. It

won't be long now!

I need to be re-educated in the secrets of

manipulation and control. Even if I'm not worthy

to be scooped up by the saucers, I can still rape

and conquer and create my own country with myself

as Fuehrer.

Or should I just shoot myself now?

PAPA JOE'S CONFIDENTIAL RESPONSE:

I suggest you take the last choice and shoot yourself. There is only room on this planet for ONE Fuehrer and that's yours truly. However, if you wish to play EVA I might be persuaded to save you some room in my flying BUNKER where I will look down and oversee the destruction of the pinks and normals on X-day. Don't worry: I won't require any sexual favors. (I already have that taken care of with the sex goddess') but I just need someone to yell at and belittle so as to complete the Hitler image. You understand, I'm sure. All you'll have to do is put on this silly little dress and shut up and tremble when I shout. On the plus side, you'll get to watch the wholesale slaughter of millions on my telescreen, and I might even let you press the button a few times. It will be great sport.

There is the small matter of your $30 love offering to the Subgenius Foundation, but I'm sure you've already taken care of that. I hope so... Otherwise, you'll be on the wrong side of that telescreen!

Till then,

Your's truly,

Father Fuehrer (aka Papa Joe Mama)

P.S. You're absolved.