|
Bob
Dobbs, ladies and gentlemen. Leader, lover, founder of the Church of the
SubGenius. Gaze upon his eager visage and know true slack. Woe upon all
fropheads and pink boys, for Bob knows where they keep their supply of
tinned meats. When the aliens come, and come they will, mark my words and
tremble, only those who know Bob's words of wisdom will be spared. We were
wrong about the date, granted, but they're bound to get here eventually.
Probably just got side-tracked at a Stuckey's or something. You know these
extraterrestrials. If you have slack, you'll be spared. Trust me. I only
hurt you to help you. Generally at least. Sometimes I just get carried
away.
|