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