Sam the Man

Not much to say about myself except to say that I am Sam. I am an ordained but quiet Reverend of the True False Church of the Prolapsed "Bob", I am not prone to great rantings or spinnings of the head, I am not filled with the Sausages of Inspiration or the gift of preachings that move the bowels of common men. I've been secretly reading the scriptures of "Bob" for many years now, listening to the gospel of the Hour of Slack, and have partaken of a Devival or two in my day. I have kept my studies secret from the prying eyes and stupid questions of the Pinks and Dupes, because I know the Yeti-challenged better than they know themselves. I should because I've lived among them. I've watched them them from afar and even (on disquieting ocassions) been accepted among them. How like Goodall have I felt, wondering when at any moment they might rise up against me, shedding their outward composure and revealing their awful primitive knuckle-dragging ways. I must constantly remind myself that these poor souls, not two or three generations removed from their australopithicine forebears will not be carried away in the promised saucers. Theirs is a different fate, one etched into their skulls with the fires of X-ist energy weapons. Yes, I have lived among the normals, and paid the price of it. Have pity and pass the frop.