MikeSpace

It would seem that much to my regret I’ve become highly adept at angering and disappointing people who mean a great deal to me. People whom I consider to be dear friends, and whom I had hoped would have enough faith in my basic good nature to perhaps forgive me for any inadvertent transgressions. These lapses in my character judgment have been occurring with increasing regularity, and honestly, these startling and dramatic situations have caused me a great deal of pain. I’ve gone to much trouble and taken elaborate measures to ensure that the flaws in my character and my personal weaknesses should have no impact on the world around me, and yet despite that, it seems that I still manage to strew wreckage in my wake. To all of those whom I have ever offended, and all of those I shall offend in the future, and in addition to my own sincere personal expressions of apology, I offer the following all-inclusive all-purpose SubGenius excuse:

/@|@\-=-/@|@\-=-/@|@\-=-/@|@\-=-/@|@\-=-/@|@\-=-/@|@\

OFFICIAL, DIVINE, ALL-INCLUSIVE EXCUSE

Worth 15,000 Indulgences
or 3 million years in Purgatory (sorry, no Hell time)

Multi-Purpose Certificate of Forgiveness, Absolution, Reprieval, Clearance, Immunity and/or Total SubLegal Impunity for ALL Sins, Transgressions, Intemperances, Vices, Errors, Failings, Personal Faults, Indiscretions, Lapses, Trespasses, and Crimes against MAN, WOMAN, CHILD, LAW, NATURE, and GOD.

The Bearer is a High Priest, Apprentice OverMan Class, of The Church Of The SubGenius, a religious faith for Scoffers, Blasphemers, Infidels, Heathens, Pagans, Desecrators, Cursers, Back-Sliders, Hysterics, Idolators, Heretics, Apostates, Reprobates, Ranters, Dervishes, Unctuous Canters, Precisians, Fetishists, Perverts, the Faithless, the Carnal, the Ungodly, the Impious, the Apathetic, the Indifferent, and the Graceless; also: weirdos, creeps, morphodites, crips, freaks, superior mutants, OverMen, wise men and guys, and all members of the species Homo Correctus: the ethnically all-encompassing SubGenius Race.

The foremost Law of this sacred Church is Total Slack. To alien space manipulator Jehovah 1 the God of Wrath, the very concept of “wrong” as it is known on this planet is exactly equal to the concept of “right,” in terms of cosmic usefulness; both are equal to everything else, at least in theory, and THUS: To restrict the behavior of any known SubGenius because of social, moral, religious or “scientific” codes of any mere human making is AGAINST Jehovah 1 and His Stark Fist of Removal, against His tools the SubGenii, and against His inscrutable plans to return this world to some lascivious Eden-like state through whatever method of intervention with human history He chooses, be it the ignition of atomic war, economic disaster or hostile UFOs.

Therefore: To accuse this righteous member of the Church of any wrongdoing whatsoever or to otherwise cause him feelings of discomfort — to take up his Slack in any way — is to restrict his freedom of religion, guaranteed by the Constitution of these United States of America, and to invite doom upon every living creature on this green Planet of the Clocks.

WHAT THIS PERSON DID WAS HIS FATED DUTY
AND HENCE JUSTIFIED, SANCTIFIED,
and FOREVER CONDONED.

Authorized by these Official Agents of JEHOVAH 1:

“signed” J. R. “Bob” Dobbs,High Epopt and Primanimal
Upon the Recommendation of the High Unpredictables

Philo Drummond,OverMan 1st Degree

Witness: Sacred Scribe Rev. Ivan Stang

DONE in convention by the genetically programmed consent of the self-morealized SubGenii present, on this the 41 day of the season of ‘ung in the year of one of the Lords 2BX and of the total superiority of the SubGenius Race.

Note: any contradictions apparent in this certificate are an integral part of the belief system of the Church and are thus entirely non-contradictory.

that he uses often:

• 10) Zoinks
• 09) Monster Truck
• 08) Mondo
• 07) Spacephone
• 06) Elderberry
• 05) Likewise
• 04) Platypus
• 03) Pancreas
• 02) Swank
• 01) Panties

Well it’s undeniably been 37 forevers and 12 eternities since my last post, but actually here in the horribly frozen tundra there’s been a great deal of activity. The art show at Mark Madden’s Guerrilla Gallery was a hell of a lot of fun – He had some really good art and artists, and the whole affair had much more of a party atmosphere than your usual art soirée. Kind of hip hop highbrow with extra funk. And hey, it only cost me $500 to earn $75! Making art is lucrative. I actually got a fair amount of press from that show, however, which is pretty bizarre. I met some amazing and kind folks from thearterymagazine.com, who wrote an unbelievably flattering and encouraging piece about me (which truth be told, made me blush). You can read it here (scroll down to the post titled “Hacky Sacks And Slacks”). Sadly their link to me is incorrect. People don’t seem to understand that I am an org (an organization of cells and water), not a com (a dirty pinko commie). Whoa – correction: it’s been corrected! I also had a strange and oft interrupted interaction with a dude who wrote an article for yourhub at Buffalo.com, which while very well intended and kind is so riddled with grammatical and spelling errors that I can’t even bring myself to share it with you here. I mean, hey, he misquoted my business card. Anyway, the show itself was amazing, with live music by Fritz and the Poor Boys (all of ‘em!), and Mark emceeing the whole event featuring a raffle in which he gave out tickets with the names of popular social diseases, which he then called out to identify prizewinners. I busted his chops pretty bad about the lack of light over in my corner, but eventually he rectified that situation. The theme of the show was “Stomping on Traditional Valentine’s Day Values”, so a lot of the pictures that I was compelled to print were fairly dark, and possibly even somewhat disturbing. Like for example this one:

At the show closing, I got a chance to jam with Sean Madden, who was also hanging art at the show (his stuff flew off the walls – but of course we all know why that is – Sean rules!). He brought his swanky seven string guitar, and I played bass. We did maybe 45 minutes of improvisation, riffing on some Herbie Hancock, some John Coltrane, a blues, and a Sean original. It always feels good to play with Sean, he and I have been doing that sort of thing for 25 years and it’s the easiest thing in the world.

In the other unlikely news, Nick and I played at the Squeaky Wheel “Peepshow” party at the Broadway market. What a bizarre venue! And what a fun night! It was pretty interesting to see the indigenous population mingle with the freaks. We played after and before the belly dancers. Another one of my ambitions in life fulfilled. I learned a lesson that night: always bring your own gear. We were told to expect a PA, but of course there was none. I ended up playing my acoustic guitar through a Fender blues deluxe amplifier that was really geared towards an electric guitar – and would’ve sounded like crap, were it not for my trusty 10 band equalizer. Nonetheless it sounded, um, off. An interesting show overall, however, with lots of kooky exhibits, and some smokin rock ‘n roll by Handsome Jack. And a russian girl named Tatania. Of course Nick and I continue to do our Thursday nights at Staples, when one or the other of us isn’t dying of the flu. Come down some Thursday night at 8 p.m., and I will buy you beer. Here’s us at the Peepshow – I wore my Napalm Death t-shirt:

Photo by Lisa Sherman.

Lots of other things happened last month. People acted most unusually, elderberrys were marvelous, laughter was plentiful, time and space shifted several times uneasily, and Cupid was on the prowl. We’re all just damn lucky to have gotten out alive.

(The title of this posting was inspired by Marty Cavanaugh’s epic love ballad “Strippers and Monkeys”.)