the ninety-five feces

from roughneck - Wednesday, September 28, 2005
accessed 2331 times

Surgeon General's Warning: This article has been rated “fucked” by the standards of common decency, and it may contain tasteless humour, fart jokes &/or other possibly objectionable content. Reader discretion is advised. No liability is accepted for brain or furniture damage incurred from accessing, reading or viewing this article.

To all Homes (FD/MM/FM/IRS/CCD/USSR/FBI/CIA/ILY/PDQ/DO/DFO/UPS/CPU)

Dear Family,

WLY! We pray this note finds you enjoying yet another day of loafing around, pretending to provide disaster relief, “canning”, “clowning”, “JJT-ing” and/or basically going nowhere in your lives, and proud of it! It takes real dedication (to say nothing of a massive capability for suspension of disbelief &/or head trauma) to have made it with us this far, and we'd like to commend you for being so gullible, excuse me, “dedicated” to us and our mercurial message thus far.

Now, as you may have heard, there have been some emails circulating amongst the Family in Europe recently, which make Jesus very sad. In fact, most of the Internet makes Jesus sad, being largely filled with depictions of people having non-loving-Jesus “relations” with each other, and/or other sundry bodily-fluid-leaking demonic influences.

(prophecy, Jesus speaking:) Lo, the Canaanite performers in these depictions give Jesus an inferiority complex, OK? If I've told you once, I've told you a million times, the only porn you may view must have first been traced by Eman/Tamar/WS artist, period. And make sure you draw bikinis on those breasts, y' hear? They make Jesus jealous too. (end of message from Jesus)

As you all know, Jesus can't keep up his rigorous rogering schedule with all his transgendered brides if he's feeling under the weather, so please don't open any emails coming from “Camteam”, OK? In fact, we recommend that you use PGP to make a DoD compliant wipe of any apostates' email you receive, and have a cleansing prayer, orgy, and anointing with oil afterwards. Please don't stop the goosing that lays the golden seeds, is all we're saying (or something).

Now, some of you have written us asking about the topics brought up by Steven Schaff AKA David Branch, and we'd like to take a couple minutes to tell you to get stuffed. As far as we're concerned, our friends don't need an explanation, and our enemies won't believe us anyway. (Note to DB: See? We DO follow the Mo Letters!)

OK, our WS publishing staff have asked us to at least maintain the illusion that we give a damn, so here we go, a short and concise answer to some of these “topics”:

To start off, we'd like to clear up one thing: King Peter is not now, nor has he ever been, an egg. We believe that he sprang, fully formed, from the earth when Col. “Sanders” Jesus used a secret mix of 13 herbs and spices to create the flavor sensation known all throughout the world as “King”. He also doesn't respond to “Humpty”, (Peter: yes?) OK, as much... anymore. As for being on the wall, we can honestly say that King Peter is possibly the most off-the-wall guy around. Always has been. Take it from us. (... and take that, David Branch!)

Secondly, we feel that David Branch's prophecies could use some work in the originality department. [Here's a hint, Dave, you're supposed to A) google for some Boris Vallejo (or Rowena Morrill, if that's who you prefer) art, the creepier and more surreal the better and B) Think of some wack name for your new antagonist, like, oh, say, “Vandari” or “Inertion” or, if you're really stuck, find some old Greek or Roman god/dess and ascribe to it the characteristics you wish to decry. Then C) create elaborate conspiracy between said character(s) to defile and/or corrupt the morals of your flock. Then D) trace artwork and publish your prose and illustration to inform the faithful that the only way to be rid of said villianous ethereal characters is to heed ever closer to the next letter. -And send in 14% of their dough every month. It works every time! Trust us, we've been doing this for donkeys ears, and we know wherefrom we speak. (Peter, farting: Halleluuujah!)]

(prophecy, Ivanhoe speaking) Behold, I have not authorized my name, likeness, or situational similarity for use in David Branch's prophecy. I hereby order him to cease and desist from this obvious plagiarism of unlicensed Intellectual Property. (end of message from Ivanhoe)

(prophecy, Sir Walter Scott speaking) Yea, Ivanhoe hath been quaffing the drink very much since retirement. He sings, speaks in tongues, and has spiritual sex with gypsies while wearing his boots in the bottom of the boat on the Dnepr River. And that's when he's sober! When he's drunk he becomes an incompetent IP lawyer. I blame the Demon Gin. (see GN cover artwork) (end of message from Sir Walter Scott)

As you can see, dear Family, it's clear that the mystery knight is just a poor ripoff of the plot of Ivanhoe, Sir Walter Scott confirms it! In prophecy! On the members-only website, we have our own Flash-based animation confirming this beyond doubt.

(prophecy, Absolom speaking) Hey, wassup homies? “Smooth” Absolom here. Ever since The Fast and The Furious came out, I've been on the Vin Diesel hairstyle (or lack thereof) program. Yeah, that's right, once you go Brazilian, baby, you never go back. Seems our very own King Peter's well on his way to joining me in my new hair-free style, when he isn't wearing that dead-squirrel toupee, that is. Anyway, I ain't contracted nothing* to nobody, I'm strictly retail baby. (*Unless you count the herpes that Peter gave Jesus who gave me... that I “contracted” plenty. Thanks a lot O Mighty King.) And don't even get me started on the whole sleeping with my father's wives thing back in the day. That was just a little bit of sweet love and affection. Besides, we didn't do it in a tent on the roof. (end of prophecy from Absolom)

Wow! Yet another prophecy confirms it! The spirit world is really rallying behind the Family in this trying time. Hold on, someone else has something to say:

(prophecy, Ahab speaking) Aaaar! Scurvy pirate that David be! Nobody press-gangs my seamen! Never! Now get ye all remaining belowdecks and fall t' your knees, there's a great white whale of a Moby Dick that needs seein' to. Hup quick now, or I'll give ye a touch of the cat, Queequeg! (end of prophecy from Ahab)

(ring-ring) Hi, Jeremiah thirty-three-three technical support? Yeah, hey, listen, I think you sent the wrong guy. Yeah, “Ahab”, Ay-aitch-ay-bee. Yeah, well you sent me Captain Ahab instead of King Ahab. What do you mean they're the same guy? Are you sure? The guy here's got a peg for a leg. Yes, I'm sure it's not a Branch. Yes, I'll hold.
(muzak) Yes, hello. Ah, so Ahab's been demoted to Captain. No, I understand, Lord's Army, I mean Navy, and all. OK, thanks. (click)

Wow, who'd have thought Herman Melville was such a visionary! Well, Family, God's ways aren't our ways, amen? Why don't we just move on and ignore the fiddly bits that don't make sense as usual?

Now, we'd like to take a moment to address something else that David Branch brought up, that's the “rise of the prophets”. We think he might have just made a homophonic error in transcription, because it's really true, thanks to the FCF and our sweet deal with Babylon the Whore, profits have never been higher, in fact we're well on our way to our stated goal of being a “financial power”. By the way, Family women, anyone on the Forbes 100 list is exempt from the no FF-ing policy from here on out. We'd really like to have Bill Gates “forsake all” as soon as possible, so just “claim the keys” from the valet and get to it. Tell the guards at the gate that Jesus sent you to show Bill some love. Bring along a copy of the Mo Letter “Jealousy” for Melinda, she might need some extra encouragement/exorcism.

(prophecy, Hitler speaking) Heil! a/s/l? Anyvun here from Osterreich? Check out mein profile: middle-aged ex-dictator seeking vhite female or sheep for long-term relationshipping. Call 1-900 4-Adolph for guten times. (end of prophecy from Hitler)

Umm, 'dolphie dear, not now, OK? Damned party lines. Where were we? Oh, our lover has something to say. Uh-oh, he's wearing the Fruit of the Loom muscle-shirt and has the last of a case of Bud Lite in his hand. We'd better pay attention.

(prophecy, Jesus speaking) Behold, my bitches, my 25 cent hoes, if I spit in your face, as this renegade “David” suggests, it's my dad-given right, and you'll damn well like it if I say so. And if I want to handcuff you to the bed and scourge you with a pair of pink mittens, you'll say “thank you sir, may I have another sir!”. I truly love whom I chastise, amen? Now get in the kitchen and make me some pie, woman! (end of message from Jesus)

Wow, such a feeding message from our husband and lover. We love you all!

Mama

PS. David Branch likes farm animals. Spread the word.