From: xenu@mindspring.com (Rob Clark) Newsgroups: alt.religion.scientology,alt.atheism,alt.support.ex-cult,talk.abortion,alt.org.promisekeepers,alt.slack Subject: THE POWER OF PRAYER! Date: Sat, 01 Nov 1997 07:58:49 GMT Organization: MindSpring Enterprises Lines: 151 Message-ID: <345ad78f.19291796@news.mindspring.com> References: <623agd$roc@nntp.seflin.org> <62rpl4$gib@news.toolcity.net> <62s98d$3sc$1@nclient3-gui.server.virgin.net> <62slqk$jgq@news.toolcity.net> <62sp1s$n0q$1@Starbase.NeoSoft.COM> <62t2a4$kfi@news.toolcity.net> <345ACF67.231E@tfs.net> Reply-To: xenu@mindspring.com NNTP-Posting-Host: ip12.state-college3.pa.pub-ip.psi.net X-Server-Date: 1 Nov 1997 08:21:05 GMT X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.11/32.235 Leo Mauler wrote: [i have added alt.slack to this thread for no other reason than that it is late at night and i am bored, anyway you dumbfuck bobbies DESERVE this shit. i accidentally started this creeping thread just by ripping off someone else's phrase and calling "promise keepers" "promise creepers."[*] it has led to a monstrous profusion of threads from various idiots trying to defend their cult. so, basically, i've SUFFERED for my art. now it's YOUR turn. and i ripped THAT line off, too, so go fuck yourself.] >The other problem is that prayer to ANY deity works, not just God, but >also Allah, Krishna, Jehovah, etc. i excremeditated upon a dobbshead while POSTULATING in those Dark Ages that in some future time the cult of scientology, founded by a dead rogue subGenius, might come to eventual humilliation and sad failure. i OFTEN prayed to dobbs. or at least cussed at the dumb son of a bitch while loading a shotgun. and occasionally i would drag out the cold, cool skull of l. ron hubbard and, lovingly, as a religious practice, i would often thrust a limp penis into the dank, dark eyesocket of this conundrum i held in my palms. "alas, poor hubbard. i never knew the dumb cocksucker." [squick squick squick] and then, sated with vile perversion, i would gaze upon the dobbshead. the Perfect Pipe. which is not a pipe but a portal. and i would gaze on the skull, pristine except for the few slippery spots of jism. then i would fuck the skull of hubbard again. then i would do it again. i would repeat this process twenty times a day. sometimes even more. i would also pray to dobbs, or at least take a few potshots in his general direction. i only hit the son of a bitch once, he took a stray load of buckshot in the leg once and gave me a nasty look. so i spit at him. the dumbshit tried to sell me a pair of shoes. so i blasted him right between the eyes. ah, sad disappointment. he wasn't there after i pulled the trigger. i had to console myself with a few weary bouts of skullfucking. with that miserable, worn-out old skull of hubbard. eventually i tossed aside the hubbard-skull. it no longer seemed to be a "workable" ritual. the eyesockets were too smooth from the many many other lovers this skull has had. none of the "ridges" were there any more and it no longer had the rough edges that had so cast me into paroxysms of ecstasy. the "ridges" had been flattened. nevertheless, i still prayed to dobbs, or at least shot at the dumb son of a bitch every time the stupid bastard tried to sell me shoes or some other silly product. hey, buckshot is a form of prayer, isn't it? either way, the lucky son of a bitch always eluded me. the skull of hubbard was smoothed, a lover too promiscuous, too smoothed by the wear of thousands, if not millions, of similar burgeoning cocks, as if it were a sort of monument, like the smooth-nosed monuments to be found in any popular national park, smoothed by the endless caresses of innumerable fingers passing softly along the nose of the monument as the tourists pass, carelessly smoothing and polishing it, and making the military hero look like a shiny-nosed dumbass by so doing. the skull of hubbard was so smoothed, so travelled, so, hey, why not say it, trendy, that fucking the skull of hubbard was no longer interesting, in the same way as fucking a well-travelled cunt no longer holds the same frisson of novelty, that i indeed tossed the skull aside, somewhere in the general direction of alt.tasteless, from which such a repugnant object no doubt had to have emerged. i still prayed to dobbs, well, at that point i stopped praying, actually, and the next time i saw him i was not on my knees, and i managed to take him in the leg with a well-aimed load of buckshot. and i manged to blast out that dumb cocksucker's right leg as well. and as he crawled away leaving puddles of blood behind him, i aimed precisely to take his pumpkin-ass head off, to blow it to little itty-bitty bits like an overripe honeydew melon, and then the bastard disappeared AGAIN. so instead i just put on a pair of jackboots and, dressed in a nazi uniform, except with smiley faces instead of swastikas, i crushed the skull of hubbard beneath my jackboots out of sheer disgust at the whole cliche. anyone fucking the skull of hubbard now is merely masturbating with a cheap replica. and i prayed to dobbs more, ok, ok, ok, not really praying, i don't know why i said that, i really doubt even that i can describe as "praying" the act of randomly blasting with a shotgun at nothing in the dark, drunk out of my mind, while screaming "I'LL KILL YOU YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT." but hey, it is a NEW RELIGION, and as j. gordon melton can tell you, the practices of NEW RELIGIONS can seem mighty weird to the uninitiated. so i'll take that back. that was PRAYING to dobbs. even though he stayed pretty far away from me. i don't know why he was uninterested in partaking of my worship of him. maybe it had something to do with the grenade launcher. in either case. i was once a catholic. i prayed a rosary every night. once i was really really sick. back when i was a catholic. in utter agony. i tried praying rosaries. it didn't work worth dick. didn't do a goddamn thing. then i got up in the morning. i went to a doctor. the doctor gave me antibiotics. i got better instantly. i thought, "this antibiotic shit sure beats the living fuck out of praying to some dead loser." if i were sick, i wouldn't even bother to pray to dobbs, and if the piece of shit dared to show his face, i'd blast it off. especially if he once again tried to sell me his urine or some bullshit like that. i'd take some fucking antibiotics. that or clock him over the head and take THAT GODDAMN PIPE FROM HIM!! but if i were facing the reincarnated Skull of Hubbard, and i looked in my golf-bag, and arnold palmer had stolen ALL my irons, and i was on good terms with the Luck Plane, well, at THAT point i'd call on DOBBS, and i'd LAUNCH that motherFUCKING skull right OUT of the FUCKING STADIUM!!! and that, motherfuckers, that is the TRUE POWER OF PRAYER!! so don't bug me for one pathetic fucking second with your sad bullshit about how promisecreeping, or some jesus dude who couldn't even keep some bunch of losers from nailing him to a bunch of sticks, or some other such crock of shit will save me from hell. i KNOW that is shit. because i KNOW that when X-Day comes, you pathetic loser creeps will be LUCKY if you get nailed to some sticks. you will be LUCKY if you get taken out in the first strike. HELL is a FUCKING JOKE! HELL is where sub-Gs go to have a FUCKING PARTY! and we TRASH THE FUCKING PLACE, and kick satan's TEETH down his pathetic, puling throat. HELL is a goddamn AMUSEMENT PARK compared to X-DAY! that kind of shit is for the sadly unimaginative. scientologists, JEEEE-zuss freaks, people creeping about making promises they can not kreep their way out of, ALL you sad fools, every blithering last one of you, will be BEGGING for a single little itty-bitty drop of jism out of the shlong of the One True Dobbs. and he will be wasting it on some Alien Sex Goddess. you will be a mere amusement, one of millions of video screens to watch for those amused by visions of torment. have a nice day. rob