Sermon for St. L. Ron Hubbard’s day

October 7, 2010 § Leave a comment

IT IS WRITTEN:

If you deprive the average man of the lie of his life, you take his happiness from him with the same move.

“Well, yeah”, you might think, “but how does this apply to me?” After all, the SubGenius is not the average man; you are heirs of mighty hairy things – you are beings of Titanic proportions and appetites, the Horror That Lurked in the Woods, the Original Crime Against Nature! Yes, the SubGenius pulls the wool over his own eyes. He does not suckle a second hand lie, or bond to a single one for life. He has access to a grand selection of delicious falsehoods, fibs and whoppers, there to be sampled or devoured hook line and sinker by the discerning ignoramus. However, on this occasion, we should remember those not so fortunate as us; those stuck with the ass end of both deals, having both glued their gentials to a single idea, AND choosen a really outrageously funny one.

As we gather today to pay homage to one of the great masters of this global gourmand restaurant which the Con serveth up to us, boiling it daily out of the frantically scrabbling minds of some of the most intelligent, mal-aligned hive-building monkeys of the world, we must also send a thought to the Sons of Elron.

Yes, ladies and lizards, as we honor St. Hubbard, we must also pay our respects, or at least a fleeting moment of madly juddering attention to these polished droids, these lesser sub-beastificated servitor creatures who have given up their existence as individual beings to perpetuate a SubGenius Saint’s Great and Grievous Lie. As we greet the most barefaced, shameless, vicious barrel of cookery outside the blessed opus of our “Bob” with a nod of respect, we must contemplate all the uses we might find for these gentle yet scrotum-biting mysterious entities which join us in blighting the existence of so many Normen.

What utilities may the creative SubGenius see reflected in their gleaming foreheads? Might not those expensive suits, once thoroughly sterilized, make excellent wankrags? Might not studying their self-righteous outrage at being told that reality is other than they believe be even more entertaining while trading bets over a gladiator pit filled with numerous specimens of the noble rancor beast in heat?

And so, it is in this spirit, the spirit of joyful expectation of mutually profitable future cooperation, I ask you to join me in a moment of rioutous guffawing and general noise in memory of the good Saint Elron.

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