New Rave: November 1994, pg 54-59
The warehouse-turned-performance space in Cleveland's near East side is packed with suffocating, sweating bodies. Hundreds of punks, grungie-oids, hippies, half-naked women, even suits -- ages 15 to 50-plus -- are joined together for one exalted purpose: a Church of the SubGenius "Devival."
On stage, prancing and waving his arms frantically, a spectacled, wild-maned man in a gleaming white disco-prom tux extols the crowd to quit their jobs. "'X-Day' is at hand!" he thunders. To illustrate that mankind's just killing time until X- Day, he raises a hammer and begins smashing clocks, watches, sundials. In approval, the crowd roars back "Praise 'Bob!'"
X-Day? Yes, dear friends. July 5, 1998, when space aliens will destroy Earth and kill or enslave its inhabitants. Except for followers of the Church of the SubGenius, that is. They will be safely aboard space vessels of the Sex Goddesses, protected in a state of constant "Orgazmonicism."
Or so goes the fevered pitch from the Reverend Ivan Stang, spokesperson for the strangest "religion" to appear on Cult Watch alerts and confound media pundits in, well, some 16 years. A mysterious, modern mish-mash faith based on fun, sex and rock & roll, the SubGenius Church boogies towards its version of Armageddon trailing total confusion over its beliefs. Or lack thereof. "We've got 'Bob' Dobbs," Stang preach-mouths. "And 'Slack.' Plus, a Salvation or Triple-Your-Money-Back Guarantee. We're hard to beat."
Slack? Bob? Here's the SubGenius catechism in a nutshell: Slack, likened to a retarded form of Grace or Zen. Satori ("Man was born with Original Slack") is granted by the Church's martyred traveling salesman savior J.R. "Bob" Dobbs, who was allegedly assassinated and resurrected countless times. SubGeniuses possessing the incomprehensible Slack enjoy lives of condoned hedonism. Encouraged to explore "Paleo-sexuality," "Xenophilia," and altered consciousness, they challenge the "Normal Conspiracy" - i.e., mundane existence. In short, quit your day gig, cut off the soles of your shoes, and learn to play the flute.
But this isn't rehashed hippiedom. It's much weirder. And it's growing. From wild multimedia Devivals featuring skull- splitting music and severed poly-foam heads catapulting from onstage, to a national radio Hour of Slack; from Arise, The SubGenius Video (Polygram) and "Bob's" Favorite Comics (Rip Off Press) to the newly released Revelation X: The "Bob" Apocryphon (Simon & Schuster) -- there's obviously a permanent new wrinkle in the world's worship fabric. And the cling-free in the middle of the mess is the Reverend Ivan Stang, a former Dallas-based film editor and writer who keeps his real name secret for "security reasons." All that's required for salvation is belief in his version of the history of a church often called the "World's greatest in-joke."
"You don't find 'Bob' Dobbs," Church Sacred Scribe Stang says ominously in a private audience held post-Devival. "He finds you. I was looking for work back around 1978. My friend Philo Drummond waited until I was desperate enough, then told me that an old friend of his, 'Bob' Dobbs, needed someone to run what he described as a novelty/scam church. You know, so I wouldn't be scared off."
Drummond's "old friend," J.R. "Bob" Dobbs, early TV research scientist and smooth 50s radio voice, was a colorful character who'd purportedly done it all. Elusive and reclusive, Dobbs always had a pipe in his mouth, noticed even while getting newspapers from his porch. He was rumored to be a ladies' man.
"'Bob' stole my girl, Connie," Church co-founder Philo Drummond (not his real name -- again for "security reasons") drawls dramatically from a corner. "We were college roommates. I knew 'Bob' in childhood but avoided him. He was a bully...rode around on a power-mod bicycle shooting pets with .22s. His folks ran a spooky drug store that was always closed. No one trick or treated at his house.
"But there he was, assigned to my dorm room. 'Bob' was always lookin' for the perfect money-making formula, the ultimate scam. After college he'd call me up with these long distance trunk line schemes and I'd wind up makin' one-thousandth of a cent and have to fill out 50 release forms. 'Bob' finally hit on religion as the ultimate con, and tried dozens. But with The Church of the SubGenius, 'Bob' seemed so serious, like he'd changed, really believed."
So Reverend Stang took the gig, thinking it was fake. But he'd schlepped into something much darker. According to "Bob," on July 5, 1998, space aliens (mistakenly called gods or angels for centuries) were going to destroy Earth. Thankfully, "Bob" Dobbs was some intergalactic wheeler-dealer, the only guy who could stop it. "Bob" would somehow buy us time by creating a world-saving church of misfits, based on his own credo. And this was "Bob's" credo: "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."
"If you don't understand that," Stang starts ranting, "you're already a Conspiracy slave! No being tortured into believing in Big Brother. You went willingly. You bent over those tight little aerobicized buns and squealed like a pig!"
That credo separates the Church from Janet Reno's Hit List, and the jizz-dizzy housewives who channel warriors from Atlantis. Yet stang insists the Church is a real religion, the true one, not satire. In "Bob's" Church, with its strange spiraling logic, "Bob" isn't the messiah, but a "short-term personal savior."
"Bob" grants Slack to SubGeniuses. Describing Slack is like talking Picasso to the blind, but imagine being stoned and very luck at once. SubGeniuses are weirdoes: mavericks who might have Yeti genes. "Bob" uncovered the "Normal Conspiracy," which robs SubGeniuses of Slack, and is destroying the planet.
"SubGeniuses hunger for Slack," Stang says, drooling. "We sense it, recognize it for what it is. Pink Ken and Barbie Normals wouldn't recognize Slack if it sat on their faces! We're not smarter than Normals, just better!" Stang stares blankly a moment, then starts ranting again. "On X-Day," he whispers, face contorted, grimacing gleefully, "Jesus is returning with a Revenge Armada! 'Xists' are gonna rotisserie-gold this planet and turn the Normals into a vast carpet of lard! And we SubGeniuses will be escaping in vessels of Sex Goddesses, all earthly pleasures fulfilled, watchin' it on video!"
If this is true, it might be wise to know who or what is a true SubGenius. Especially since Jesus is "Bob's" golf partner! But "Bob's" Church isn't built on a rock. It's built on a shifting beach of cash formed over for memberships.
"SubGeniuses look like 'You can't judge a book by the cover,' so you can't tell that way," Stang says sweetly. "Only 'Bob' and that $30 check to The SubGenius Foundation can make the dif. True SubGeniuses try to get the knowledge free, but on X- Day, the homes of the paid-up will be surrounded by a force-field bubble. When chainsaw-toothed roboterminators rip your flesh, you'll wish you'd set aside that offering."
Stang pinches his earlobe, smiles, eyes closed, seemingly tranced out. "If you live until X-Day, you get paradise in the flesh. When you die, you get eternal paradise. What more...?" Stang suddenly becomes agitated.
"I mean, what the fuck? Salvation or triple your money back! They laugh! Like it's some L. Ron sci-fi scam church! But how else can you tell truth," Stang says, neck veins throbbing, to a race so stupid it thinks we either evolved from apes or were created by gods?!?"
Stang mutters unintelligibly to himself. This Church is so whacko, it makes sense. What if advanced aliens did come down 80 million years ago created Yetis as the ideal Earth dweller, an deraptured into their bodies? Then farmed humans for their souls? Then a global catastrophe left only Yeti half-breeds (and a few remaining pure Yetis who fart in front of your campfire and run away before you can take pictures) and human slaves! And Jehovah is a super-advanced, eons-old gas plasmid who's finally getting pissed because every time he sends his kid down there to teach 'em something, the dumb shit humans kill Him? And what if "Bob" got blasted into "communion-ication" with the whole scenario while working on one of his proto-TVs? Then "Bob" would be my personal short duration savior!
Here I begin drooling and muttering to myself.
"Sacred Scribe," Stang says smugly. "That's pretty damn high up. But The Book Of The SubGenius, and now Revelation X, took a lot out of me.
"'Bob' is so elusive," Stang continues mysteriously. "He's meeting VIPs all the time. He goes into trances in the oddest places. He'll scrawl a few words of what he's experiencing on cocktail napkins, pizza crust, toilet paper. Nine big garbage cans of disconnected memos! And our publisher can't figure out what took so long!
"We'd find a movie ticket with 'In the time of the year 2178 -- Omicron Epsilon -- shall come a vision beholding itself' written on it, and we'd have to piece that together with a post stub from the race track five years earlier! After all these books and magazines, you'd think they know we were onto something! You can't just interpret 'Bob' willy-nilly!"
Stang then stands, finger pointed skyward, eyes rolled back, possessed.
"This is truly the third and Last Testament!" Stang shouts, trilling the r's. "When they see Revelation X, and Rrreverend Palmerr Vrreedeez's beautiful, rrrepugnant arrt, Slack will drrrip down the pant legs of both SubGeniuses and Normals alike!"
Long-winded setup complete, Stang collapses like a spent erection.
Reverend Palmer Vreedeez, better known as Paul Mavrides, is one of the world's finest cartoonists. Just check any history of underground comics for his credentials, among them work on The Furry Freak Brothers during their heyday. Let's just say Reverend Vreedeez is a perfect example of how "Bob" changes lives.
"I don't give a shit about religion," Palmer whines, eyes darting about the room, paranoid, scanning. "I found 'Bob' in a garbage can, man. Pamphlet #1, 'The World Ends Tomorrow and You May Die.' Been doin' stuff for 'em ever since. But it's getting too weird." He pauses, then delivers the punch line. "X-Day's comin', man. Believe it."
Vreedeez pauses, reflecting on what 'Bob' has done for him.
"My penis is much bigger now," he says distantly. "It gets bigger as your brain shrinks." Then, silence.
Strange indeed, these SubGeniuses. What mysterious force makes talents like Devo's Mark Mothersbaugh, the band Negativland, Mojo Nixon, artist Robert Williams, author Robert Anton wilson and others contribute to its various media projects?
What makes Firesign Theatre's David Ossman, Ken Kessey and others sing Church praises all over SubGenius book jackets?
"It's 'Bob' Dobbs," Devo bandmember Mark Mothersbaugh says. "When I saw Pamphlet #1 back in 1980, I said these guys are serious. I wondered, what rude beast brought Slack to Bethlehem? Then the toot of a 500-megaton 'Popeye'-style pipe shattered the silence and 'Bob's face appeared through the clouds. 'Bob' gives my life constant meaning. 'Bob' sent the message for Devo to go into pseudo semi-suspended animation. Right now I'm doing TV commercials, videos, CD-ROM games, encoding mutato messages into the Conspiracy fortress. But one toot on 'Bob's pipe and Devo will reincarnate. We never ask why. We just obey."
"The real reason," Stang asserts dryly, "is brain damage. Many real geniuses trephinate themselves, drill holes in their skulls, take too many drugs. Only we can provide this dangerous, costly operation."
A safer way to cause brain damage would be to read a SubGenius book or magazine, or better yet, attend a Devival. These mind-scorching experiences feature odd, hilarious multi- screen videos, often times laser shows. Walls vibrate from overdosed, frenzied bass and guitar; people shout to be heard while their brains are being reshaped. On stage, Stang or Philo Drummond or Janor Hypercleats do verbal and physical gymnastics, ranting about "Bob." Soft-sculpture cartoon heads of pro golfers are launched into the seething masses. Somehow this makes the crowd all hot and sexy.
"Even I have been shocked by Devivals," confesses Stang.
"Once a homeless woman, rumored to be Janis Joplin in hiding, peed on 'Bob.' Then cops busted an 'off' Devival performance art thing involving sculptures made from decapitated dogs found in Baltimore's MTA. But the most fun shock came in Akron when a giant condom-shaped pi¤ata came down bearing a leather-bondage mistress riding two love slaves. Ah, yes."
Stang doesn't know what to expect from zealous SubGeniuses, or "Bobbies" as they are known. They tend to run into trouble, though. A Bobbie selling a Church book at an airport caused the Secret Service to show up at his home. Seems some piece of art inside mentioned something about assassinating presidents and they didn't get it. The Church radio ministry, The Hour Of Slack, also draws flack from fundamentalists.
No wonder. Heard in 15 cities, it's a nonstop deluge of frightening music, media barrages, underground comedy theater and offbeat call-in talk show insanity. Stang relies on microlabel material for the show, no pandering to the mega-labels.
"It's what I like," Stang gushes. "Unusual indie bands like the Swinging Love Corpses, The Rudy Schwartz Project, anti- music from Doktors 4 'Bob.' Or there's ranting from reverend Suzie the Floozy or Father Joe Mamma, or sounds from Jay Condom." Stang digs his finger into his ear. "There's Puzzling Evidence, with the Amazing Doctor Howll, out of KPFA Berkeley with Hal Robbins and Doug Wellman. It blows regular radio away. Callers, sound effects and music are all blended into provocative art. Repugnant and beautiful."
Reverend Stang feels justified boasting about his Church.
Though paid up members might only fill one good AC/DC revival concert, numbers don't count. Nor does it matter whether "Bob's" pipe contains the Tibetan drug "Frop," or an alien is lodged in his brain. Or whether "Bob's" wife, Connie, really wears the panties. Or whether "Bob' was assassinated and immediately reincarnated, hundreds of times. Or if he was ever alive at all. SubGenius dogma must be learned, the forgotten. SubGeniuses are required to schism -- start their own religion.
"Religion might be the neatest trick the devil ever played," Stang says, voice rising. "But 'Bob' is the greatest trick ever played on the devil. The average sucker goes to whatever heaven he believed in, and behind him, some alien's suckin' out his soul. What you call God is an alien. Behind him, there's higher aliens, laughin' down on it like we laugh at Beavis and Butt-head laughin' at MTV! We're not anti-God...not the real one!"
Stang smiles somberly, then bellows, "All you need to know, asshole, is that X-Day's coming!" Stang laughs maniacally, then storms out, interview over.
SubGenius terminology is a language until itself, a weird blend of occultism, dark-tinged sci-fi technobabble and downright silliness. Since SubGeniuses consider orthodoxy to be heresy, new practices and beliefs grow, adding more new words and terms. SubGeniuses aren't intimidated by the linguistic bombardment. They like it, they're down with it. Besides, they know that "Bob" speak might save their butts.
EXCREMEDITATION: The most magical of all daily SubGenius meditations, performed on that symbolic throne, the toilet.
FROP: "Bob's" favorite smoke. Shortened from the Tibetan 'Habafropzipulops,' this herb is definitely extraterrestrial in origin.
PATRIOPSYCHOTIC (MACHO 2) ANARCHOMATERIALISM: Besides his main spouse, Connie Dobbs, "Bob" has hundreds of wives. Connie doesn't mind. This philosophy exploits women, and they love it.
ORGOZMONICISM: Instant gratification of any desire, even crazed sex with beautiful aliens.
RUPTURE: The evacuation of true SubGeniuses onto the escape vessels of the Sex Goddesses; the ascension of the heavenly hosts during the final apocalypse. On X-Day, who can you "truss" but "Bob?"
SLACK: State of needing nothing because you already have everything.
NORMAL CONSPIRACY: The Enemy. Normal people plus the herd mentality equals a Conspiracy of mind-controlled dunces. Normals (or Pinks) want to fit in, to be like everyone else.
X-DAY: The end of the world as we know it.
SubGeniuses differ on who J.R. "Bob" Dobbs -- their womanizing, traveling salesman savior -- really is. Some say "Bob" is a being from the Luck Plane who can't be killed, no matter how many times he's assassinated. To others, "Bob" is some guy down on skid row giving haircuts to poor old bums. Or maybe "Bob" never existed. But all SubGeniuses agree that "Bob's" sayings are more than revealed Truth. They're words to live by. Herewith, some of "Bob's" wisdom.
"If You Act Like A Dumb Shit, They're Treat You As An Equal."
"You'll Pay To Know What You Really Think."
"Pull The Wool Over Your Own Eyes." ("Live In The Safety Of Your Own Delusions.")
"Give Me Slack Or Give Me Food (Or Kill Me)."
"Too Much Is Always Better Than Not Enough."
"Superior Mutants! Repent! Quit Your Job! Slack Off!"
"I Don't Practice What I Preach Because I'm Not The Kind Of Person I'm Preaching To."
"If I Can't Whip It, It'll Go Down."
"I'd Rather Be Lucky Than Good Any Day."
"Don't Just Eat A Hamburger, Eat The Hell Out Of It."
"Give A SubGenius An Inch Of Slack And He'll Abuse A Mile Of It Right Into The Ground."