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.