123 lines
7.0 KiB
Plaintext
123 lines
7.0 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #592
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "The Secret History of Teletype"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by AIDS
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 4/24/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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It starts at A.D. O, except there wasn't an A.D. ZERO, was there?
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No, there wasn't. Why? Why? Why? We kept asking ourselves that same
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question over and over and over, why wasn't there an A.D. zero. we'd heard
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the bullshit theory of the concept of zero not existing when the calendar
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was devised, but we decided that was a lie. How could zero not exist? How
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could people NOT believe in nothing.
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Thankfully, we found an original document in the Bibliotheque
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Nationales which explained it. It's an obscure work by a monkish sort
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named Theofateus, and he lived in 322 A.D.. Here's a translation from the
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Latin:
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...and Samuel begat Abraham, and Mark begat David, and David
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begat Saul, and Saul begat Joseph, and Joseph begat Timothy, and
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Timothy begat Isiah, and Isiah begat Joseph, and Joseph begat Jesus.
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We list this genaeology, we list this because we must established
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the bloodlines, the dripping of the fat throughout time. From the
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tribe of the Benjaminnites comes Jesus, LORD OF LORDS, KING OF
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KINGS, but why is he known as such?
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for he was the Fatass, the divine fatass, the one whose
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claim to the throne of the earth was more valid than any of the
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other so-called soverign monarchs, because he was meant to rule, he
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was meant to destroy and kill and eat and oh Deus, how was he ever
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meant to EAT, like a thousand locusts released upon vacant
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cornfields, absent from the deep thoughts of the philosophers, came
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He, Jesus, King of Kings.
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He came to destroy and burn and malice and crush and EAT.
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Overall, he came TO EAT.
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and it was decreed that when the time was right a calendar
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would be created lacking the year O, the first year, the O that is
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shaped like His mouth, his consuming mouth, there could be no
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purging, no bulemic response. He was fat, oh God, and the fat did
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rule.
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And this calendar has not yet come to pass, but it will!
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At all turns when we attempted to investigate we were halted by
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unseen and (apparently pussiant) forces, our requests for the other
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documents in the Bibliotheque Nationales were laughed at and never
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fulfilled, so we did not see Jacques de Molay's infamous "Je suis un
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Fatass", in which the history of the Knights Templar is layed out for what
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it was, by their last grand master, written hours before his murder, which
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showed how the Temple was really a front for foraging, in which food for
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the coming messiah would be stored and harvested for the inevitable return
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of the Fatass to his rightful throne of Jerusalem.
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The secret documents discovered by an obscure French priest at the
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small town of Rennais-le-Chateau propounded to be a genealogy of the line
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of fatasses, the rightful heirs to the thrones of Europe, those children
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of Christ, and by connecting it to later extant geneaologies we discovered
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to whom the blood line of the fatasses ultimate traced:
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that strange creature we had called Teletype
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but now we knew as King of Kings,
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fat of FAT,
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lord of LORDS,
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and we tatooed his birthright and legacy on our own thighs,
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for his were too cellulite and bloblish for the lettsr to form words
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great concern was had by all,
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and then we understood.
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For many were the days in Rhode Island that I sat in papa gino's, a
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regional chain of pizza & italian eateries, where Teletype would buy a
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pizza and then drench it in an august burst of cheese and sauce, totally
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drowning the original food.
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and I understood his voracious snacking,
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and his sneaking of snickers bars into gym class.
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And that penetration of Meenk which he perpetrated, I understood
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now, that she too was of HOLY BLOOD, descended from that WHORE called
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Magdalen, and fulfilled only her birthright when she spread those ass
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cheeks and rag pussy lips and invited teletype to feast of her sex, and to
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fuck of her ass.
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ET IN ARCADIA EGO,
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these words applied to him, TELETYPE,
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for it was not death that the Arcadians should fear, no, but the
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rampaging fatass who would climb over their walls and eat their crops, who
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would drink their beer and consume their crops. Teletype was ignorant of
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his birthright, be we told him, and soon he began to fill it even more.
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his weight increased exponentially,
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and not even Swisspope could calcuate where it would end.
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That WHORE meenk who was of the WHORE Magdalen, it should be said,
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tried to shirk her destiny, but we kept her from it, we kept her servicing
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teletype ina sexual flux of the highest order, much to our own disgust and
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sadness, but we let them fuck and fuck and fuck and hopefully breed, so
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that if Teletype would ascend into that fat heaven, GOD FORBID, there would
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be other slutty fatasses running around with their wanton cheeks flapping
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in the wind looking for implantation of cock, that rod. for that noble
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bloodline could not die, no, just as it was not allowed to die when Christ
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was crucified.
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Little did I know that when I rode in the sidelines of teletype's
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car, or his truck, both of which he destroyed with his furious, noble
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bloodline driving, that I rode in the Chariot of the Gods! Here was
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mythology come to life as I pondering this teenaged hooligan beside me, as
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he spoke of "eliteness" and the "Amiga", that I was really hearing the
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descendent of Jesus Christ tell me the newest scriptures and the newest
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realities of the heart.
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He cast plagues on all who knew him and we attributed it to social
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incorrigability, but it was really him subconsciously exercising his divine
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right. If he had but know, we would ahve really sucked up to him.
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but we did
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not.
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HE AND A GUN AND A MAN ON HIS BACK
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when they raped him they stole some of his divinity
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but he never saw barbados
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but they whooped him up a hill
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and he's coming back again
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #592 - WRITTEN BY: AIDS - 4/24/99 ]
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