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From: Flog Sonata
To: Faithful Viewers Msg #2, 04:01 est 90-09-28
Subject: Hello and Welcome
Scene: a desk with a ratty moose head hung up behind it, plush green
carpetting, an ugly painting by William Hogarth of babies being beaten by
drunken midevil house-wives, the wall-paper is white and speckled with
mysterious red spots that look like blood. Sitting on the desk, looking out
at the public, is a decayed fleshy being, Flog Sonata.

Flog: "Hello, I'm Flog Sonata, owner and operator of the Flog channel. As your
host in this big wonderful world, I would like to express great thanks to Mel
Pheasant, who set up this wonderful wonderful area. Thank ya Mel, we'll all
miss you after the operation."

Flog turns dramatically for a quick camera angle change, like the real
irritating ones you see all the time lately.

Flog: "This station has been set up to bring you what you the public have
demanded through out the years, but have never gotten: as much sex and
violence as humanly possible. What would this world be if it weren't for
sex? You and I wouldn't be here if our parents hadn't boffed on the sofa and
in their excitement forgotten the condom. Violence? Well, freedom has a
price, and that price is the bloody assasination of anyone who opposes this
freedom. Our history is full of blood and guts, and what better way to
appreciate our history than to pay hommage to it by being as cruel, violent
and graphicly sick as possible?

"In the weeks to come, we hope to show you programming that will bring
you to the brink of insanity, and hopefully, beyond, into that dark void of
insanity, where, hopefully, God willing and all that shit, you will go
completely fucking loopy and kill off your neighbours, parents, friends, and
whoever else you want, for no real apparent reason.

"On the Flog Channel, we would like as much input from our viewers as
possible, and this is the beauty of it, by creating their own programming.
Simply by entering a message, the viewer also can become a creator of
wonderful standardless features, and actually feel like he or she has
actually done something of some sort of use in this horrid cesspool of an
existence that we call reality.

"Make sure that all your entries are in the form of a television program,
or we at the Flog Channel will have to publicly ridicule either your penis
size, or your sexual preference. And please, make sure your entries are as
standardless as possible. Remember our motto:

"If someone doesn't cringe in disgust, get that fucking piece of shit off
the air! I thank you, and I think whatever greater force in the universe,
whatever it is, thanks you, sort of, in the twisted dribbling insane way that
it knows how. Bless the lot of you stinking bastards."

Flog smiles a yellow smile and waves as the screen fades to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Flog's Free Beer Echo (1:163/207.1)
 
From: A Commercial Message
To: All Msg #3, 04:26 est 90-09-28
Subject: Tylenol
JAKE HATHGROVE, MENTAL PATIENT.

CONDITION: SCHIZOPHRENIA.

Jake: "It's like a big big big small big swooping thing with fangs like trees
on fire, and then it swells and splits and chases me into the future where I
drool and spasm like fire fire fire ocean death goddess. And then the
screaming screaming screaming fire swallows my brain and dances circles
around me and my friends."

Doctor Voice: "Have you considered taking TYLENOL?"

Jake: "No, because Tylenol is made by Nazis in hell, and they put chemicals
chemicals chemicals that will melt my brain and fuse my legs together and
turn me into a huge mutant worm and soon soon soon after the mutant robin
will come and pluck me from the moist green earth, break me into pieces and
feed me to her children!!"

THREE HOURS LATER...

Doctor Voice: "How do you feel now?"

Jake (now strapped to his chair, looking like he's been beaten and forced to
swallow certain pills): "AAAUGH! My spleen screams for fiery salvation on
mondays and thursdays thursdays thursdays! Why live in torment of fiery
fiery fiery death of nostril plague walrus walrus??? Eeek! Was that the wings
of the mutant robin???"

TYLENOL: WORKS ON HEADACHES, NOT SCHIZOPHRENIA.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Flog's Free Beer Echo (1:163/207.1)
 
From: The Nine O'Clock News
To: Gullible People Who Believe Us Msg #4, 04:36 est 90-09-28
Subject: A whole bunch of made up shit.
Sounds: "deep de deep dee deep dee deep"
Deep voiced narrator: "And now the 9 o'clock news, with your host, Jacob
Bullshitter."

Scene: big ugly grey desk that hides newscasters legs which of course are
inside of silky garters. About 50 clocks, each for a different time zone
line the walls, each with a fictional country name under it, such as
"Razzbothonia" and "Venisuathina". Jacob Bulshitter sits there, looking
important, holding a bunch of blank papers in his hands, staring at the
tele-prompter across from him.

Jacob: "Good evening, in the news today, a whole bunch of really nasty shit
happened, with people getting fucking blown to pieces and like, really messed
up with their brains splattered all over the fucking place. Horrible nasty
mess, gore and blood and evil, but first, this report from Pamela
Whatserface."

Switch to Pamela.

Pamela: "Hello, I'm Pamela Whatserface doing yet another one fo those
irritating news fillers where we either go and talk to really fucked up old
people in old-folks homes, or go talk to little kids in some classroom, or
even worse, study one of the mindless local cretins who's either built a
really 'neat-o keen' fence or something equally as uninteresting and boring.
Back to you Jacob."

Switch to Jacob.

Jacob: "Thank you Pamela, you fucking stupid Carleton Journalism Graduate and
majorly fucked up cunt. Also in the news, a bunch of people died in a plane
crash. 17 of them were canadian, which is the only reason i mention it. If
no canadians were involved, I wouldn't have even mentioned it. Of course,
the only reason we mention this crash is so that you will live in constant
fear of air-travel and will be willing to dish out hundreds of dollars just
to take a plane five feet, figuring that it all must be a very complicated
process."

"Also in the news, this guy was driving along a street, and he turned real
funny, and smashed into this other guy. The other guy, pissed off, climbed
out of his car and beat the shit out of him. Can you believe it? He beat the
shit out of him!"

"Further in the news, a bunch of piddly countries somewhere way the hell
south east of the globe, I think, are blowing each other up because one of
the countries says god has a beard and a moustache, while the other country
says god only has a beard."

"And that's the news for tonight, don't you feel like we fucking told you
something useful? I'm Jacob Bullshitter, saying goodnight for the whole
crew, wishing you have a nice sleep. Be sure to tune in tomorrow morning at
around 5am, cuz I'm sure a whole bunch of new shit'll have happened by then.

Sounds: "Chugga chugga chugga chugga chugga"
Narrator guy: This has been the evening news with Jacob Bullshitter. Fuck off."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Flog's Free Beer Echo (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Yack Cookies
To: Faithful Viewers Msg #5, 13:39 est 90-09-28
Subject: Wok with Yack
Scene: A country road somewhere in the South. Camera at eye height, panning
the surrounding marsh, along the road. Yack is standing on the road with a
pan in one hand and a spatula in another. A third hand waved.
Sound: Crickets chirping, birds singing, insects buzzing. A skillet fries with
popping sounds.
Announcer: "And now for our regularly scheduled program, Wok with Yack, the
anal-retentive roadkill cook." The music and frying sounds fade away.
"Hello T.V. viewing audience. Today we will try once again, to find cheap and
alternative ways to feed our families...." (a little kid starts whimpering
somewhere off-screen, and Yack turns and smacks it).
Camera: Starts sinking slowly down to ground level...
"Here today, with us, is a very dead animal. We aren't really sure what it is,
but I mean, does it matter?"
Camera: Sinks down right to the ground, and suddenly displays a mass of
twisted bloodiness in the direct foreground. Yack's face begins getting
paler. He walks up to the animal.
"First what we have to do is clean this up a bit." He grabs a shovel, and
starts scooping up bits of flesh into a neat pile. "It is important that we
have a nice clean work area so we don't get distracted." His face gets
somewhat paler. He stoops to the the gound to scrape some fits he missed with
the shovel. "You want to make sure..."
Yack pauses, and wipes his forehead. His voice gets a trembly sound.
"You want to make sure to get the ground in parts, as this a-adds to the the
f-flavour." As he pulls out a large body bag and starts scooping, he vomits
onto the road.
"Oh dear me! We can't have this sort of thing happening." He quickly produces
another type of bag and starts cleaning his vomit up. "Oh dear, oh dear me."
He gets some vomit on the OUTSIDE of the bag. "AAAAAAGH!" He shrieks, and
starts vomiting again. He starts cleaning and vomitting at the same time.
Announcer: "This program has been brought to you by Gad Garbage Bags - Tough
enough for those odd jobs..."
Sounds: Frying sounds start as the picture fades.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Flog's Free Beer Echo (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: A Commercial Message
To: Msg #6, 13:39 est 90-09-28
Subject: Gad Garbage Bags...
Scene: a room with blood spattered everywhere. A guy with an axe is stuffing
body parts into a large bag.
The guy puts down the axe, and starts cramming the bag full. He grabs the top
of the bag, and sticks his foot in. He starts trying to stuff it all down
with his foot.
<splook> as the bag rips, and spews it's contents every where.
"Damn!" The guy shouts, and starts pounding himself in the head. "Shit!"
 
 
Announcer: "Has this ever happened to you?" A slight pause, "Next time use
GAD, for those heavy days."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Flog's Free Beer Echo (1:163/207.1)
 
From: A Commercial Message
To: Gullible Morons Msg #7, 01:44 est 90-09-29
Subject: SPIRITUALITY!
Scene: A ditzy woman dramaticly holding her chin in her hand, sitting in a
glitzy kitchen.

Woman: "I'm tired of making decisions and running my life, living every hectic
day, logically trying to decide whether I should do 'A' or 'B'! My boyfriend,
should I dump him? Should I buy that new car? Should I quit my job and
start that turtle ranch I've always dreamed of owning?"

Narrator: "Does this sounds like you? If so, why not pick up the phone, dial
1-900-GOD-AM-I-STUPID and speak to our on-line psychics, who will help you
with all those important decisions! Why actually stop and think about those
pressing matters we face every day, when you can just pick up the phone, dial
1-900-GOD-AM-I-STUPID, and speak to a PROFFESIONAL psychic! You can discuss
LOVE, BUSINESS, POLITICAL MATTERS! Any problem that ever comes your way!"

Woman: "I dialed 1-900-GOD-AM-I-STUPID, and thanks to the advice of my own
personal psychic, I now run an award winning Turtle-Ranch, I'm happily
married, and I never ever have to stop and make a decision again! Should I
make Shit-Burgers or Lamb-Chomps tonight for dinner? (INCREDIBLY PATHETIC
MINDLESS GIGGLE) I know what I'll do!"

Woman picks up the phone and begins dialling.

Woman: "I'll dial 1-900-GOD-AM-I-STUPID right away!"

Narrator: "Phone now and you'll receive this pyramid shaped power crystal in
the mail, FREE, no charge what-so-ever, honest, we wouldn't kid you or ever
try and rip you off, no way, uh uh! Also receive this incredible ear funnel,
which allows you to rip out unsightly brain-cells with a simple flick of the
wrist! Phone now, phone often!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - CKFC - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Entertainment Tonight
To: People Who Can'T Handle Real Facts Msg #8, 07:34 est 90-09-29
Subject: A Bunch Of Crap
Sounds: Doo-doo doo doo doo doo... (Cheezy synthesized theme music)

Scene: Two squeaky clean gits sitting at a big ugly desk. One Male, one
Female, so Male and Female that you can smell the difference between them.
Both are smiling like they have had their jaws wired to look like that,
grinning like tortured animals on speed.

Larry: "Hello, welcome to Entertainment Tonight, I'm Larry Bloodchew filling
in for an equally mindless person."

Suzan: "...and I'm Suzan Acidtrip, not filling in for anyone. Our top story
tonight, a whole truck load of useless trivia about the major issues of your
life, film, television and music. Who gives a rat's ass about that other
stuff, this is what counts, this is the big picture."

Larry: "Our first story, an interview with the POP singer Ragman Raoul..."

Switch to interview set

Git Interviewer: "Ragman Raoul, your songs, all of which seem to focus on the
concept of love, lovers, loving, breaking up then loving again, are all
completely inspid and mindless, and this has put them at the top of the
charts for years, how do you feel about this?"

Ragman: "Well, Git, I owe this to the long hours of work in the studio, the
amazing song-writing ability of my agent, and about a million dollars worth of
electronics that smooths my creaky barely pass-able singing voice into
something so sweet that kids can't help but down my music like soda pop."

Git Interviewer: "So you owe all your success to machinery?"
Ragman: "That and the image finally crafted and tuned by my agent and the
industry. They created a gimmick for me, a look, a wardrobe, gave me a
back-up band, and then put me through $5000 worth of plastic-surgery so that
I'd look good in a video."

Git: "Did plastic surgery affect your music at all?"
Ragman: "No, but it sure affected record sales! We wouldn't have sold a
single album if I had kept my old acne-scarred mutant-face I had before!"

Git: "Raoul, eat shit and die."
Ragman: "It's been a pleasure."

Switch back to former set.

Larry: "A whole bunch of lame actors and entertainment shits were born today,
why you should care, I don't know, but here's a list of them."

Bunch of names and ages flash on screen, most old actors/singers that no one
remembers or cares to remember.

Suzan: "Gosh, we don't seem to have anything else to say, so we'll just run
that Ragman interview thing over and over. Just imagine it's some other
musician. Oh wait, Leonard Molotov wants to review some film."

Leonard: "I saw a film, and boy did it suck."
Larry: "Thanks Leonard. That's all from us, G'night.
Suzan: "Goodnight."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - CKFC - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: A Commercial Message
To: All Constipated Bbsers Msg #9, 07:52 est 90-09-29
Subject: SHIT HAPPENS
Scene: a cat wandering about the room knocks over a ming vase worth over a
billion yen. A woman comes down the stairs, sees that her cat has done this.

Woman: "Fucking bastard animal! DIE!"

Woman tears cat in half, cat innards spray everywhere in ugly red splotches.

Voice-over: "Is this you? Are you cranky and irritable in the morning? Maybe
it's your bowels! Perhaps you don't shit often enough! With new SHIT
HAPPENS, you can ease that pressure and feel calm, relaxed, and lose the
tension of contipation."

Words on screen: THE NEXT MORNING.

Scene: same house, cat innards still spread out. Front door is kicked in and
nazis paratroopers file in, each carrying a tommy-gun. They run upstairs
and, making lots of noise, swearing in German, etc, find two kids, which they
lead down the stairs.

Kids: "what's going on, where are you taking us, etc."

Nazis lead woman down steps, and she's all smiles, relax, calm and seemingly
drugged and blissful. Nazis lead her quietly and easily.

Slow motion shot of woman with a Nazis on either side, arms linked, all three
of them smiling as they waltz out the front door.

Voice-over: "SHIT HAPPENS. Eases bladder pains and makes you so calm and
tranquil that nothing shocks you."

House empties of family and Nazis, and as screen fades slowly to black, sounds
of machine-gun fire and children screams fills the air. The sound of a woman
happily sighing is heard, and then more gun-fire. Some german dialogue and
then marching boots.

Blackness.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - CKFC - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #10, 23:52 est 90-09-29
Subject: Spiritual Overtones
(outside)
A large Bentley limosine pulls up to the Flog Channel
Building. The chauffeur leaps out, and runs to the
back door of the limo, which he opens. A man in a
chinchilla coat steps out, staggering as he does
so. He has a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a
.357 magnum in the other. A tall blonde woman fusses to
re-arrange her clothing in the limo. Evidently, she has
been the object of the man's attention.
The large crowd in front of the building cheers at the
sight of the man, and wave autograph books. Stray articles
of women's underwear fly through the air.
The man staggers, and waves the gun at the crowd, before
doormen come and escort the man into the building. A clerical
collar can be seen under the chinchilla coat.
 
(back to the tube...)
 
...the screen fades quietly to black.
Flog appears, flashing a yellow smile, and announces:
"And now folks, for your spiritual elevation, is
Reverend Visage's Healin' and Prayin' Show."
...Flog fades out. Funereal sounding organ music begins.
In the background is blue sky with badly painted fluffy
white clouds. Tacky looking angels, which look like Christmas
Tree ornaments purchased from Canadian Tire, dot the phoney
sky. In the centre of the stage is a large red velvet chair,
and next to it is a red velvet couch. Reverend Visage, his
clerical collar slightly askew, sits in the chair. His eyes
are quite red, and he looks like he might have closed more than
a few bars in his time. He wavers as he sits up straight. In the
couch sits a large man, dressed as a biker. It could only be
Skippy.
The organ music fades, and the camera focusses on Visage. The
veins on his nose are clearly visible. "Yo, welcome to the
Reverend Visage Healin' 'n' Prayin' show. We'll start out by
making a joyful noise. Lets welcome the Reverend Visage Gospel
Players...
more....
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #11, 23:53 est 90-09-29
Subject: Money for Nothing
...the camera pans to stage right. Three tired looking black men,
one on drums, one on bass, and one on lead begin to play. The drummer
carresses the snare with brushes, as they launch into a slow blues
progression. Twelve bars in, the lead guitarist begins to sing:
"Weyall, Ah'm a King Bee
Buzzin' roun' your hive
Yas, Ah'm a King Bee, Bayyybeee,
Buzzin' roun' your hive
we can make some fine honey, baybeeee,
jus' let me come inside..."
...the band finishes, and the camera pans back to Visage.
"Well, there's some fine religious music to start off the show.
Now I know you're out there thinking, I wonder if the Reverend
can help me with my problems. And I CAN, oh yes. The Good Lawd
has BLESSED me with the POWUH to HEYELP you, oh YEYESS. Here at
the Reverend Visage Ministry, we are helpin' folks worldwide.
I bet yoo didn't know that we've just put a brand new satellite
dish up in Bangkok, so we can feed live into the Reverend Visage
Girls Orphanage that YOUR DOLLARs make possible. Thass right,
folks, every last cent of your munney goes DIE-RECTLY into the
Good Lawds work, Yessir it does."
Skippy begins clapping, and the audience joins in, whistling
and cheering. An extremely large brassiere lands on the stage,
and the Reverend quickly sniffs it, then tucks it in a pocket.
Visage turns again to the camera. "Now, whut say we PRAY to the
Lawd for AWL the Good Works what he duz."
The Reverend, Skippy, and the Audience all kneel. Visage clenches
his hands together, puts his face to the sky, closes his eyes, and
begins. "LAWD, thank you for making our miserable lives passing
decent, and giving us the wealth that you have bestowed upon us.
Yes, we KNOW that there are people on this earth living in
miserable poverty, without no teevees, without no fridges,
without no La-Z-Boy rockers, without no Cheese Doodles, jus'
barely survivin' from day to day, barely gettin' enough water
to drink. And we KNOW you expect us to make it right, to fix
things so those poorer than ourselves gets food and comfort,
and we KNOW that you'll take a terrible vengeance and roast
everybody in HELL that doesn't send ALL their money RIGHT NOW
to:
Reverend Visage Ministry
Grace and Danger 163/150

 
 
AAY-MEN"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Kristy Black Msg #12, 23:54 est 90-09-29
Subject: Twin Peaks
The studio audience chants, "Amen", and money showers on the
stage.
The band lights up again, playing "She Sits Right On It, She Just
Won't Give It Away", and from the wings of the stage emerges a
young woman, dressed in an Angel outfit, which is so scanty as to
barely cover her modesty. She is carrying a burlap bag, and she
walks to centre stage.
Reverend Visage turns to her. "Weyell, Angel Lucie, What do we
have here?"
"Taberwhet", replies the Hangel," Sacrifice, I got de bag, jus'
like you say, mon pere." She bends over, holding the sack out
to the Reverend. Her buttocks face the crowd, which sighs
audibly.
The Reverend reaches into the sack and produces a small slip of
paper, which he reads. "Ms. Black, of Laval, writes that she
suffers from chest pains, and wishes to be healed. Come on
Down, Ms. Black."
A busty woman appears in the crowd, and walks toward the stage,
and makes her way up to the Reverend.
"You wish to Feel the Powah?" intones the Reverend.
"Oh, Yes" replies the Busty Woman.
The Reverend places both hands on the twin areas of the woman's
discomfort. The woman squeals. The Reverend squeezes the afflicted
areas. "Out, Demon, Out" chants the Reverend. "Yes, oh Yes" chants
the woman. "You are HEALED" shouts Visage. "Yeyess, Ah'm HEALED"
squeals the woman, clearly enjoying herself.
The Reverend Visage and the Busty Woman disappear offstage. The
faceless announcer cuts in. "Thank you for watching the Reverend
Visage's Prayin' and Healin' Show. Y'All come back, now"
Credits fly across the screen, while the band plays, "Squeeze
My Lemons, Till the Juice Runs Down My Leg"
(outside) A figure with a chinchilla coat, clutching a busty
woman, makes his way to a limo. Shots are fired, and a bottle
is thrown at the crowd. Police fire tear gas as the two jump
into the limo. The limo's rear wheels begin to smoke, and the
limo cuts through the crowd, which separates like the Red Sea
facing Moses.
The screen fades to black, and Flog re-appears in his greenness,
flashing a yellow smile...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Old MacDonald Msg #13, 20:23 est 90-09-30
Subject: Mourning Farm Report
Scene: front shot of Old MacDonald's farmhouse. Old MacDonald is sitting in a
rocking chair, with various appendages in casts. What parts aren't in casts,
are covered with black clothing. A humongus casket sits in the forground with
a panel open, but facing away from the cameras.
Audio: sounds of a farm. A rooster cackles in the distance.
 
Old MacDonald pulls out a corn pipe, and a bag of tobacco. He slowly fills the
pipe, seeming oblivious to the fact that he is on TeeVee. His pipe fits
nicely into the gap in his mouth where his teeth are missing. He lights the
pipe after a minute, and there is an audible sigh from the nervous set
director as Old MacDonald finally clears his throat.
"Well, today m'cow died. Yep. Poor Bessy." Old MacDonald took another puff of
his pipe, and started blowing smoke rings.
"I knew there was gonna be trouble, after ol' Bessy had that fight with Porky.
Never seen a cow s'mad b'fore. She gone stomped on poor Porky. Never heard
such a squeel as I did that night. After that, I puts up this big sign on the
fence that says 'Warnin: Beware of Cow'. I thought that'd do the trick.
"Now, these here kids up the road, well, they's a'thought they could have some
fun, like ya know, young'uns often do. Well, last night they got a little
boozed up, and thought they'd come and see what all the fuss was about. I
woke about one in the a.m. to the sounds of loud mooin' an' screamin'. I
grabbed the 12 gauge, and ran out towards me barn.
"By the time I got there, it got all quiet-like, an' I got real real worried.
I quietly snuck inta' the barn. I took one step, two steps, and that's when
it happened! Bessy, always the cunnin' one, jumped me from the rafters and
gone knocked me out. She musta' hung there fer over a minute, waitin' fer me.
"When I woke again, there was lots o' lights shinin, an' I heard lots o'
sirens an' people yellin'. There were some bloody bodies around the barn,
from thosa' dumb kids. Well, I ran out to see what the fuss was about, and
gall-darnit, there was Bessy way up on the roof, with blood on her mouth and
a crazed look on her face. A genul'man was yellin' though this thingy,
somethin' like "Come out with your hands up!" Well, Bessy didn't have hands
an' got all confused like, and took a step back.
"Juss' then, I sees this tall guy with a big looong pistol, sneak up from
b'hind Bessy on the roof. 'Go ahead, make my milk' he says. Bessy starts
screamin' 'KILL ME, BEFORE I KILL AGAIN' which confused the gent, so he
promptly fired six rounds inta' Bessy. I figure he got all scared from the
sight of ol' Bessy, with all the blood an' screamin' an' all.
"Bessy rose up on her hind legs, mooed loudly, and real real slow like,
started fallin' off the roof. Well, there was a lot of runnin' an' screamin'
an' a real loud thud, and poor Bessy gone an' died. There was cow parts here
and cow parts there, here a part, there a part, everywhere a part part.
Eieiow! It was a heeluva mess..."
Old MacDonald taps his pipe out, and continues. "Now with the 'vestigation an
all, the Bank gents tell me they might hafta seize the place. I tells 'em
they kin come up an' see the place whenever they like, and they jus hung up
the phone on me. Real rude they was."
 
Camera: slowly pans to the right, as a number of vehicles start arriving.
Announcer: "Thank you for watching the mourning Farm Report. Stay tuned for
more News, on THE FLOG CHANNEL"
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - CKFC - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Talk With Flog Msg #14, 00:10 est 90-10-01
Subject: A visit from The Rev and his Bro' Skippy.
An ugly beaten up couch with springs visibly sticking out sits next to a
beaten up chair with a desk in front of it. Flog, his face puffed up, his
eyes leaking puss, his fingers rotten and chewed, smiles.

Voice-Over: "Welcome to Talk With Flog, the show that isn't afraid to ask
really vulgar questions like 'How many times did you fuck before breakfast?'
Today Flog's guests are Reverend Visage, popular Reverend with his own cable
show and the Reverend's insane motor-bike-maniac Skippy, reknowned for his
driving skills and spitting ability."

Audience cheers out of control.

Flog: "Thank you, thank you. Todays guest is a man with so much spirit in him
that it makes you wanna drink his urine in hopes to gain some of his wisdom.
No, I'm just kidding, but he's a great fella all the same. Welcome Rev.
Visage and his Brother Skippy."

Audience cheers as Visage and Skippy walk out on to the set and sit down on
the beaten up couch. Flog shakes their hands. In the audience, a few people
stand up and mysteriously do a few SEIG HEILS, but then quickly sit down.

Rev: "Thanks for having me here, Flog."
Skippy: "Yeah."

Flog: "No problem, always glad to have you on the show. Your spiritual wisdom
and genius have often been inspirational and moving to me, especially the part
with all the money."

Vis: "Well money is a big part of spirituality, after all, if you didn't have
money, you wouldn't be able to buy a place to pray in, such as my 50 billion
dollar mansion way out in the country..."

(Vis holds up picture of mansion, camera focuses on it after about half an
hour of Viz holding it there.)

Flog: "Oo, she's a beaut."
Viz: "Yeah, we love th'old homestead."
Skippy: "Yeah."

Viz: "So, the show's going really well, we've saved a lot of souls..."

Crazed Man, off screen: "Heaten scum, you should die!"
Flog, feigning joviality: "We seem to have a disagreer in the audience..."

Edge of screen security guards are seen making their way to the trouble-maker
in the audience.
Crazed man: "Religion! Bah! Religion's the tool of society and..."

Skippy: "Shut up you pusswad!"
Flog: "Now now..."
Crazed Man: "Muther Fucker!"

Gunfire and Vuzage stiffens and falls off the couch. Audience screams and
general chaos. Skippy pulls a sawed-off shot-gun and fires into the crowd.

Crazed man: "AUGH!"
Screen blacks out, words pop up saying: "Do not adjust your set."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - CKFC - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:30522/1.0)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Do Not Adjust Your Set. Msg #15, 00:23 est 90-10-01
Subject: GUNFIRE on TALKSHOWS.
Screen: "We are experiencing techincal difficulties, please do not adjust
your set."

Someone having forgotten to tunr the audio down, the sounds of a Crazed Man
screaming as Skippy fires another round into the man's skull is heard, as is
the sound of the audience running in panic. Reverend Visage moans, then the
sound man remembers to turn down the sound.

5 minutes of the sign and then...

Back to the set. Rev. Viz is bleeding on the couch, Skippy is holding his
leather jacket against the wound, Flog is screaming.

Flog: "Get a fucking ambulance! Oh, are we back on?"
Director: "Tell 'em what happened stupid!"
Flog: "Fuck you Barry, er... Hello, it is my tragic duty to inform you that
Reverend Visage has been shot by a Crazed Man in our audience. Hey, Barry,
think this'll get more attention that Geraldo's nose incident?"

Barry: "A man's life is at stake, just tell 'em what happened!"

Flog: "Well, the gunman stood up and shot Reverend Visage in the chest, and
Visage fell from the couch and hit the floor. Skippy, always one to carry
weaponry, quickly yanked a sawed off shot gun out from under his jacket, and
blew the gunman away. It'll probably be difficult to identify the gunman,
seeing as how his head was blown away, but I'm told we have footage of the
gunman on tape... Run it Barry."

Tape shows man in audience leaping up and swearing at Reverend Visage, and
then pulling a gun out and firing two shots. The man is Jimmy Swaggart.

Flog: "Wasn't that Jimmy Swaggart?"
Barry: "I think so."
Flog: "Anyway, the gunman's pretty well bought the farm, and Visage seems ok,
despite all this blood all over the set, and Skippy is keeping the blood loss
to a minimum by blocking the wound with his extremely expensive leather
jacket."

White coated men carrying a stretcher run up and start lowering Reverend
Visage on to a stretcher. Camera follows them out of the room.

Flog: "There they go, taking Visage off to the hospital, let's see if we can
get a few words from Skippy... Skippy, skippy man, what do you feel right
now?"

Skippy: "Swaggarts family is fucking history."

Skippy runs off with ambulance men.
Flog: "There you have it. To recap, Reverend Visage has been shot, but
appears to be in stable condition, and is being quickly rushed to hospital.
The gunman appeared to be Jimmy Swaggart, a famous competeing reverend on
another cable channel. We'll bring you reports of the Reverend's condition as
quickly as possible, as often as possible."

Lucie, running out in front of camera: "Tabberwhit, where he go, mon pere?"
Flog points out the door: "You might catch the ambulance."
Lucie: "Merci Buckoo!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - CKFC - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:30522/1.0)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Reverend Visage Msg #16, 00:49 est 90-10-01
Subject: Blood is thicker than Vodka.
Flog: "Lucie is of course Visage's nubile secretary and angel and, er, meat."

Flog: "Let's run that tape of the man we think is Swaggart, for those of you
who just joined us, this is the tape of Reverend Visage's attacker, who fired
two shots... Hey wait a sec, where'd the other shot hit? One hit Viz,
where'd the other go?"

Flog looks about the room, trying to locate the other bullet, and stumbles
across a dead cameraman.

Flog: "Oh gee, well, oh well. Nobody important. Once again, for those of you
who just joined us, Reverend Visage has been shot, and I think he'll be ok,
but heck, who knows, he may just fucking bite it any second now. Now, back
to regular programming, which we will interupt every 5 seconds with more
news, if we get any."

Barry: "Wanna get out before the cops shows? They might check up on those
tickets you got for stabbing pigeons."
Flog: "Naw, I'll tuff it out."

Screen fades to black as regular programming returns.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - CKFC - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:30522/1.0)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Phanteem Logger Msg #17, 19:45 est 90-10-01
Subject: Tubes for Rubes
(...dulcet tones bing softly. The logo for the Flog
Network appears. It appears to be a large lump of something
green. The screen fades...)
A large grey institutional building appears on the screen,
the the words, "Incompetent Hospital" are superimposed on
the structure. Twittering music gurgles in the background.
The scene switches to a Nursing desk in a hospital hallway,
where two Nurses are leaning. The garter belt of one is clearly
visible. In the background two gurneys sit, with what appears
to be sheet covered bodies on each. A Doctor rounds the corner.
Doctor: "Yo,babes, whats shakin'?" He puts his hand on the right
buttock of a nurse.
Nurse #1: <giggles, wiggles rump appealingly> "Oh, I don't know.
I think there's more patients coming in, tho'"
Nurse #2: "Yeah <clacks gum>, boring, eh?"
Doctor: (puts hand up nurses skirt) "Where are they all coming
from, Gawd, this is getting tiresome. Which one is my next
patient?"
Nurse #1: (heaves a sigh and bends over slightly) "That one."
(points to gurney)
The Doctor walks over to the gurney and lifts the sheet. "Ugh,
this one's been dead for a couple of days."
Nurse #2: (turns to Nurse #1) "See!" <clacks gum> "I TOLD you
that one was dead."
Nurse #1: "Oh, I thought you meant the other one."
Doctor: "What did they come in for?"
Nurse #1 : "Colds."
Nurse #2 : "Cancer" <clacks gum>
Nurse #1 : "Whatever."
Doctor: "Well, since they don't seem to need any more attention,
why don't the two of you come with me, there's something in the
Doctor's lounge I'd like to show you.
Both Nurses: "Giggle."
A commotion begins at the other end of the hall. The camera pans
down the hall. Two orderlies push a gurney with an agitated
patient on it. As the gurney gets closer, its clear that the
gurney holds a patient wearing a clerical collar, and waving
a gun. "Drugs! Give me Drugs! I need bigtime Drugs fer
chrissake." screams the patient, as gunfire echos in the hall.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #18, 19:45 est 90-10-01
Subject: Here, puppy puppy
(The grey hospital appears again briefly on the screen with the
words "Incompetent Hospital" superimposed on it. Then the screen
Is filled by a woman surrounded by a a group of yapping small
dogs. As the dogs bark, and urinate on her feet, she puts her
arms up and shrugs.
Announcer: "Ever have this problem? Can't seem to cope with the
pets in your neighbourhood? What you need is the...
*PUPPY STACKER*
This clever little device will solve all your small animal
problems. Good for dogs, cats, rats, even KIDS.
(screen shifts to kitchen, where the woman is stuffing a
struggling chihuahua into an odd looking device.)
Announcer:"Yes ladies and gentlemen, this clever machine, using
the same space age technology that brought you the garbage
compactor, allows you to reduce those difficult little creatures
into a small disk the size of a hockey puck.
(screen shifts back to kitchen. The woman pulls a lever, and
the sound of a hydraulic pump, and pained barking emanates from
the room. Blood pours from the bottom of the device, as the woman
smiles.
Announcer: "Now wasn't that eeezee? Only $99.95, and during this
special once only offer, we'll throw in this combination self-
sharpening knife and electric toothbrush. Its GREAT for family
surprises. Order now with any major credit card:
ACME BULLDOZER PARTS AND CROWD CONTROL PRODUCTS
BOX 292, FUDD, IOWA.
"Order now, our operators are waiting for *your* call..."
(The screen shifts back to the hospital, and the announcer
begins..)
Announcer: Join us on the next episode...
Background Noise: (screams) "Drugs, gimme some drugs"
Announcer: Of "Incompetent Hospital"...
Background Noise: (screams) (gunfire) "Is that all the Percodan
you've got?"
Announcer: when you'll see if the Young Doctor...
Background Noise: "I'm FUCKING SERIOUS." (gunfire) "MORE PILLS"
Announcer: "shows the Nurses his.."
(static. screen fades to black...)
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #19, 19:46 est 90-10-01
Subject: Nope, didn't see a thing
<the static remains on screen for several seconds. The Logo
of the Flog Network returns, sideways.>
<synthesized "Teevee news is gonna start any second" music
comes on.>
scene: A desk sits in front of a background picture, which is
a velvet painting of a Tahitian woman, who is topless and has
extremely large eyes. A woman with blonde hair the consistency
of styrofoam sits behind the desk. The camera zooms in on the
woman announcer.
"Hi, this is Bambi Mellons with your Flog Channel News Update.
Today, a terrible shooting took place live on the Flog Channel
(rolls slo-mo film of Visage getting shot, and Swaggart being
offed). We're told that the Reverend is doing fine. Lets go live
to the Our Lady of Perpetual Slime Hospital.
On site announcer: "Yes we've spoken to the medical staff here
at the hospital (screams, gunfire in background) and they say
Reverend Visage (more shrieks and screams in background) is
doing well. (more screams) They say he's the bravest (real loud
screams, begging for drugs) man they've ever seen. Back to you,
Bambi.
"Well, I apologize for the sound there. In other news, a terrible
mass murder took place at the Swaggart estate. Reports indicate
that the victims were sodomized, chopped into little pieces, and
pissed on. Lets go live to the site...
On site announcer. "We're here at what used to be the Swaggart
estate. Everyone, all the pets, even a canary was butchered here
by mass murderers. Strangely, none of the neighbours saw or
heard a thing. (camera pans to group of people, all of whom look
strangely like bikers.) "Nope, we never saw nuffink. Nope, not
a single thing, nope."
"Well, there you have it Bambi. What a strange coincidence that
this should happen after this morning's incident involving Jimmy
Swaggart. Back to you, Bambi..."
"Well, that is a coincidence, isn't it. In other news today,
Saddam Hussein told George Bush to 'bite his weenie', and
Bush responded by turning Baghdad into little smoking lumps
of glass. Film at eleven."
(fade to black)
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Regular Viewers Msg #20, 22:47 est 90-10-01
Subject: Season Premiere

** TRIPLE PEAKS **
Bum bum... dum dah... dum dum... dah dah...

(Twin peaks music and credits here. We at Channel Flog are cheap
bastards.)

Fade to Dale Cooper lying dead on floor. Seeing as how he is dead, he isn't
concerned with much.
Dale: ...
Enter big tall ghost. Ugly, skinny, boney fuck.
Ghost: Inspector Cooper.
Dale: ...
Ghost: Are you listening? Sorry to disturb your death.
Dale: Fuck off.
Ghost: Do you believe me? I'm really here. There will be bloated entrails
in the gangrenous blowhorn, Dale. Remember that. Then, will you believe me?
Dale: I'm dead, you bastard. Let me die in peace.
Enter waiter.
Waiter: Room service!
Ghost: Fuck off. (Sounds of mutilation as waiter is rended to shreds by
irate ghost. Pause.) That bastard DID make a mean warm milk.
Dale: Fuck you.

Fade to Donut Shop. Enter girl simultaneously smoking 14 cigarettes.

Generic-Triple-Peaks-Character-Whose-Name-I-Forget: Huff puff.
Bobby: When'd you start smoking so much?
GTPCWNIF: When I ran out of acid.
Bobby: When'd you run out of acid?
GTPCWNIF: WHen I started smoking. I want you, let's have sex here.
(Proceeds to put street sign in mouth. Fiddles around a bit, pulls out
mutilated lump of steel that spells out 'I WANT YOUR PENIS')
Bobby: I can't, I have to go be depressed elsewhere.
Woman with Log: I saw you with that birch, you asshole!
In search of cocaine.

(Andy steps on board. It flies up and hit him in the face. Andy, amazingly,
doesn't cry.)

Andy: Huhh.
FBI guy: Andy isn't crying.
Other FBI guy: Nope.
FBI guy: Make him.
Other FBI guy: (Shooting Andy in the kneecap) Okay.
Andy: AAAGH!
FBI guy: Gawd, that's relaxing.

(Fade to hospital. Silent and scary. Suddenly, Ronette, comatose in bed,
starts freaking out. Vision of pointless character bludgeoning Laura Palmer
with axe.)

Viewer: You mean you spent a whole fucking season introducing all these
characters and not one of them killed Laura? Lynch, you asshole!
(Fade to black. Dum dum... dah dah... dum dum... dah dah...)
(Sanity returns. Drop more acid.)
 
 
 
---
* Origin: * MF * Crusty, Crunchy, and Flammable (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Msg #21, 00:34 est 90-10-02
Subject: News Brief
Scene: Seemingly busy newsroom. One techie, hiding under a desk, twirls a few
little noisemaker rattles to make that "clackity-clack" sound you hear on the
higher-budget shows. The anchorwoman, Where's Barbara Frum, sits stiffly
facing the camera.
 
Barb: "This is a Flog Channel Newts Update, with myself baba, I mean berba, I
mean Barbara Frug. Er... For our first story today, we have a live satellite
feed on-location, at Mel Pheasants office. Can you hear me, U. Student?"
Large chromakey picture zooms in. The picture is dark and fuzzy. The sound is
crackly with much static.
U.: "I'm here, Barbara."
Barb: "Can you descibe, I mean describe, *to* us, the scene at the office?"
U.: "Yes I can. It is quite incredible. The paper here is almost waist deep! I
shudder to think about all the forests that were cut down for this."
Barb: "Paper?"
U.: "Yes, didn't you hear me you dumb <beep>? There's paper everywhere here.
It's amazing. No two papers look alike. So many colours and sizes. And each
one is stamped with something official, or says 'Urgent: Reply Immediately'.
Oh, wait, there's some movement in the middle of the room. Wait, yes, it is
Mel Pheasant himself, rising up from beneath the paper! He's shouting
something... oh, he's shouting something like 'disk, disk' or something. No,
sorry, 'desk, desk' is what he's shouting. He's now fighting his way across
the room."
Mel: "Owww! Shit!"
U.: "He's definitely found something under some of the paper! He's madly
trying to clear away some of the paper, but more keeps falling from nowhere.
It's RAINING paper here. Oh, I think he's got a tiny bit of surface showing.
Wow, this is exciting. I think it may be his desk, no, I don't know what it
is. The paper is starting to come down much faster now, accelerating
exponentially, and...<CRACKLE>"
The chromakey goes black.
Barb: "Well, we will get back to this incredible story as more develops. In
New York today, the United Nations formed a special task force. Apparently,
the Soviet Union today complained to the Security Council, that local
dissidents had been hurling rocks at cars with official plates near
Leningrad. Noting the increasing use of rocks around the world as makeshift
weapons, the Soviets demanded that the U.N. ascertain who was supplying the
rocks."
Chromakey: Shows a big photograph of a Soviet big-wig, with his finger pointed
up and his mouth stuck open rediculously, in mid gesture.
Barb: "He said, 'Diz pooor quality rocks, dey muzz be ah-merry-kun'. The U.N.
promised it would look into the problem, and stated that the study should
cost less than $100 million. Sources in Moscow have informed us that the
Soviet government is sending thousands of Kurds to Leningrad, to try and
remove the rocks strewn about the countryside."
Camera: zooms out to reveal another newscaster, with a big beer belly. Barbara
smiles cheerily.
Barb: "And now the sports, with Billybob."
BB: "Thankya there, Barb."
Barb: "No problem (tee hee)"
BB: "Not much happenin these days, but in the trial Olympic sport 'Australian
Rules Female Tramp-o-line Wrestlin' American meet, sompin funny happened.
These here two wenches were bouncin up an down, goin at it like, when this
third'un came up and pulled the tramp out from under em. It was hy-sterical!
Hadn't laughed s'hard in a long time!"
Barb: "Thank you, Billybob. This has been a Flog Channel News Update. More
newts, er, I mean news, at eleble, er, elebalm, er..."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Msg #22, 03:10 est 90-10-02
Subject: Commercial Message
Camera: Pans in at a weird angle, showing a kitchen. A really thin man stands
at the stove, holding a frying pan. He has an egg in his hand. He holds the
egg up to the camera.
 
Man: "This is your brain."
He tosses the egg into the pan, with a loud <tzssssssst>.
Man: "This is your brain on drugs."
Closeup of egg in frying pan.
Man: "Ah, hmmm, that looks good."
Man gets munchies real bad, and starts eating the egg.
Man: "Mnph. These ain't too bad. Should'a thought of it myself..."
Man eats egg. Camera shows every little detail.
The scene fades.
Announcer: "Get crackin!"
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: All viewers Msg #23, 13:07 est 90-10-03
Subject: Late News Bulletin
Announcer: "We apologize for interrupting our daily schedule with this
important news bulletin."
Cameras: Showing a scene outside of a suburban house, with many emergency
vehicles, police, and military running around looking busy, pale, and
worried. Crowds have gathered further down the street.
Joe Reporter: "In an incredible sequence of events last night, it appears that
Flog Sonata, founder of the Flog Channel, has been abducted from his home.
Details are sketchy, but there is evidence of foul play. Can you tell us
anything, Mr. Uniform?"
Joe grabs one of the uniformed men as they rush by.
Mr. Uniform: "Can't say much about it, pending a complete military
investigation. Piss off."
Joe: "Thank YOU, Mr. Uniform. Oh wait, here's Flog's Mom! Mother Flog, could
you please describe what you saw or heard last night?"
Flog's Mom wails loudly.
Flog's Mom: "It was horrible! I woke up, and heard a tremendous noise, like a
loud chainsaw or something. There were bright lights, so the whole house was
lit up, as though it was day! I heard something from Flog's room, and ran to
it, but by the time I got there, all I found was a big hole in the roof, and
peices of Flog's computer scattered all over the place. I looked up, and saw
a weird saucer shaped thing disappear into the sky! <wailing loudly> There
was some dungus and moldy clothing left, but no Floggy!"
Joe: "You mean to tell me that Flog was captured by ALIENS?!"
Men rush up to Flog's Mom and administer an injection. Her eyes cross, and she
passes out into their arms. The men carry her away. A neighbour rushes up to
Joe.
Neighbour that was spying as usual: "I can't believe it! I didn't see anything
ofcourse, but poor Flog! He was such a nice boy..."
Men rush up and inject the neighbour as well.
Joe: "What an incredible scene. This will undoubtably affect the staff down at
the Flog Channel, who are probably now wondering how they can continue their
fine broadcasts without their founder, Mr. Flog Sonata. Furthermo..."
Men rush up to Joe Reporter and inject him too. The camera starts showing it,
but suddenly pans down to the ground. The picture suddenly goes black.
Announcer: "Please disregard the previous transmission. There is nothing to
worry about. Programming will continue as normal. Please do not adjust your
sets. DO NOT adjust your sets."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Shocked Viewers Msg #24, 13:10 est 90-10-03
Subject: A Commercial Break
Annoucer: "And now a word from our sponsor, Ktel."
 
Camera: Shows a trustable looking doctor standing in a household washroom.
Doctor: "Doctors are parents too. That is why we here at Ktel, after many
years of research, are proud to announce our latest environmentally safe
product - Diapers-Away!"
Camera zooms out to reveal a strange bathtub, with straps hanging down and
some levers and buttons sticking out of the front. The Doctor reaches down,
and grabs a baby by the foot. He takes the baby, which starts shrieking, and
plunks it into the staps so it is hanging by about a foot above the bottom of
the tub.
Doctor: "Yes! New Diapers-Away! Simple to use, and effective. Watch now as I
feed the baby."
The Doctor starts feeding the shrieking baby. Immediately, the food travels
through the baby's digestive system and comes out the other end.
Docter: (plugging nose) "Now watch dis...."
The Doctor pulls a lever, which starts the shower going. The water washes the
mess off the baby, and the mess in the tub.
Docter: "Amazing, isn't it? But that's not all! If it gets sick..."
The Doctor pulls another lever, which flips the baby upsidedown. For added
effect, he grabs an enema bag, and starts to administer it. Ofcourse, this
just comes out the *other* end. He pulls a lever, and it all washes away.
Doctor: "Incredible, isn't it? Yes, new Diapers-Away! Only $229.95! And if you
act now, we well send you this bonus enema bag absolutely free!"
 
Announcer: "For a limited time only. Please send C.O.D. or money order to
Ktel/Polygram, or call 1-800-836-4789. Visa or Mastercard accepted. Another
fine product by Ktel."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: All Msg #25, 19:17 est 90-10-03
Subject: What you've all been waiting for...
THE FLOG CHANNEL PROUDLY PRESENTS...

FAMILY MATTERS

A new sitcom staring Adolf Ofuck


Scene: Typical sitcom living room set. Father and mother watching TV. Door
opens, kid stumbles in, obviously piss drunk.

Father: Gregory, are you allright?
Greg: Fucking hell, yes!
Father: Greg, watch your language!
Greg: (Stumbles, falls into lit fireplace). Oh, shit! (Laughter.)
Mother: You're drunk!
Greg: Fucking right!
Father: You go to your room this instant!
Greg: Make me you fat asshole. (Laughter.)
Father: What did you call me?
Greg: I called you a fat asshole. Here, catch. (Hurls flaming log at
father. Laughter.)
Mother: How dare you? Get out of this house, now!
Greg: Okay, Dave has a few beers left anyway. (Laughter.)
Enter Leslie, the daughter.
Leslie: Hi mom, I'm going over to Andy's house to have oral sex.
Mother: WHAT?
Leslie: His dick is real big. (Oohs, ahhs.)
Father: What's going on with this familiy?
Mother: Leslie, honey, no! You're young! Don't rush into adulthood.
And what about AIDS?
Leslie: Well, it's too late by now anyway, he fucked my brains out
yesterday night. But his biker friends say he's probably clean anyway.
He's not a FLAMING homo. (Laughter.)
Mother: You said you were at Jessica's house yesterday!
Leslie: Yeah, and you believed it too, you dumb bitch. Get a life.
Father: GET FUCKING OUT!
Leslie: With pleasure, you old fucks. (Laughter.)
Enter Trevor, age 14, the youngest in the family.
Trevor: Hey guess what, I tried acid last night.
Father: I BEG YOUR PARDON?
Trevor: (Sneezes, wiped nose. Granules of cocaine flutter down from
nostril.) Acid. You know, LSD, California sunshine. (Laughter.)
Father: You're ruining your life!
Trevor: You shoulda seen me yesterday, I was really fucked up. The
driveway attacked me. (Laughter.)
(Exit all children, stumbling, fingering themselves, and injecting
themselves with drugs.)
Mother: This is all your fault asshole, I want a divorce.
Father: Oh yeah?
Enter Charlie, fat next door neighbour.
Charlie: Your pit bull just chewed on my wife's leg, call your fucking
lawyer, I'm suing your ass off.
Father: Ah, your wife's a fat bitch. (Laughter.)
Charlie: You want a knuckle sandwich?
Father: Try it you tub of lard.
Charlie: Try THIS! (Pulls out shotgun, blows Father to bits. Applause.)
Mother: DAVID!
Charlie: Fuck you, bitch! (Blows mother away. Applause, whistling.)
Mother: Auauegh! (Falls into crumpled heap. Charlie stuffs bodies
in fireplace and lights fire.)

Theme music. Fade to commericials. Generic clapping and cheering.
 
---
* Origin: * MF * Crusty, Crunchy, and Flammable (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Stewart Bruce Msg #26, 23:02 est 90-10-04
Subject: You wanna be famous?
"...and NOW, the FLOG CHANNEL PRESENTS"
 
Stewart Bruce's Haute Cuisine
 
(polite applause)
(Camera pans on to Stew, sitting on a barstool)
"Yeah, like here's how to have some real fine eats. Barkeep!"
A short man in an apron approaches from behind the bar. "Oui,
m'sieur?
"Bring me two, no, three jugs of draft, about 30 pickled eggs,
and some Cheetos." Stew turns to face camera. "Now THIS is living,
ain't it?" Stew swills beer, pops egg in mouth, and grabs some
Cheetos. <crunch> "MMMph sumpfit mruggle goob foob" Swills
more beer, five eggs disappear, more Cheetos go M.I.A. <ugly
eating sounds>
"fLibble fjf MMgd glurble" Starts second jug of beer, second
dozen eggs, gets new bowl of Cheetos. "mzzlp nerb fsssble
lble". <fffffwweeeeeep!> "scusem meep."
Scoops fistfull of eggs down gullet, drinks directly from
pitcher, puts face in Cheetos bowl. <faruuuump!>
"Bore meer, bore yeggs," he bellows. <crunching sounds. slime
drips onto floor under stool> "bis iss breal goob foob."
<ppppppphhhhhht! fadooop! Brump!>
Chest high mist fills the bar. Screams are heard. Choking sounds
are heard. The camera goes out of focus.
<pplplplpllplfardoooooop!> Mist fills the screen. Sirens can
be heard in the background....
(...screen fades to black...)
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Loose Moose Msg #27, 11:09 est 90-10-08
Subject: A Brief Documentary
(...the logo of the Sorta the Flog Channel, Without Flog,
appears on screen. The voice over begins...)
"Due to the recent injury suffered by Reverend Visage, the
Reverend Visage Prayin' and Healin' show will not be seen
today. In its place, we offer you an excerpt from the show
"60 Minutes", on their visit to the Reverend Visage Girls
School, Matebeleland, Tanzania." (screen blanks, then the
film rolls....)
"Morley Safesex here, from 60 minutes. Today we visit the
Reverend Visage Girls School, in the impoverished Matebeleland.
Reverend Visage is considered to be a humanitarian in this
part of the world, providing food and education to orphan girls
from all over Africa. Lets ask the Reverend to show us around..."
Rev. Visage: "Well, its not a big school, but there's a chapel, the
girls dormitory, the school itself, the cookhouse, the staff quarters
and, of course, my own small visiting house.
Safesex: "Your own house? Is that the huge building on the hillside
with the neon lights and satellite dishes?
Rev Visage: "uhm, yeah."
<Bell rings in background>
Rev Visage: "Well, classes are out, here come the girls."
Safesex: "Say, Reverend, all these girls are butt naked!"
Rev Visage: "Its hot here"
Safesex: "Say, Reverend, some of these girls are at least 25!"
Rev Visage: "They're very slow learners."
Safesex: (turns to girls with microphone) "How do you like it
here at the school?
Girls: (most look puzzled, one who speaks English comes forward)
"We likes it here lots. We plays put de white snake in de chocolate
when de Rev'ren come here."
The rest of the girls step closer to Visage. One comes forward and
says, "Goombah! Buckaloh dweebil magum duppa mucus?" (Translation:
"Your friend looks nice, can we boil him?"
Rev Visage: "Sure."
( credits roll down the screen....)
 
 
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Chuck Urthona
To: Richard Visage Msg #28, 14:31 est 90-10-08
Subject: attempted takeover, man the transmitters
<Flog Channel emblem, without Flog, starts to fad into an increasing amount of
static. A new insignia starts to come into focus. An announcer starts to
read....>
Announcer: Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I am Richard Fromage, the new
representative of the AREA163 NetWork. With the generious backing of a
certain Mr. Murdoch we have effected a takeover of this channel. Please do
not be alarmed, as programming will continue as before, in the finest British
tradition. I am sure the new owner, who wishes to remain incognito, will
find your current programming rather entertaining, though may require some
modification to bring it within AREA163 norms. As for Flog, he should still
be in good health, or was when I last checked.
<Fade to white, a pure driven snow white, with white letters spelling out
Area163 with flashing white lights surrounding it>
 
--- TosScan 1.00
* Origin: FourFold Symmetry (1:163/127.9)
 
 
 
 
From: The Antichrist
To: All Viewers Msg #29, 23:36 est 90-10-08
Subject: Public Service Message
The Flog slowly fades to black.
The words public service message appear in white on a black background at a
slight angle.
Scene fades to police car on side of road. The car is a QPF cruiser with
flashing lights.
A QPF officer approaches the camera.

Cop ; "Allo, I ham Offcer State your name, and me here to talk of you pour
anudder metod to keep da rue safe. We dere at La Surete no like dem peoples
dat drive da rue intocica...intoxic...drunk.
Da Kabec safety commision have da new machine dat will be installed in all
depeuners, otel, and da burlesque.
Da pupose of dis apperiel is to display da persons condition and if dat person
have da drink den da bar person no take da monies fron da customer. We hope
dat dis solve da problem of da drink et drive."
Screen fades to black and male, gay sounding voice says : This has been a
public service message from the Quebec Police Force and this Television
Network.

Screen fades to Flog Channel Logo (without Flog)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Chuck Urthona Msg #30, 12:21 est 90-10-09
Subject: Its a wonderful day in our neighbourhood
(..logos wrestle for control. The Sorta Flog Channel without
Flog appears first, which is replaced by the Murdoch Empire
Corporate Logo, a large shield embossed with extended middle
fingers, a hissing snake, and a copy of Strunk and White's
'Elements of Style' cut in half with an axe. It is replaced
by a large Rocquefort. The screen fades as theme music begins
for:



UNCLE SKIPPY'S KIDDIE HOUR

(camera pans to bleachers full of chearing kids. "Skipp-pee
Skipp-pee" they chant.)

Skippy appears, riding a '49 Harley 74 panhead, converted to
a tricycle with fat slicks on the back, and in full 'Satan's
Choice' regalia. The kids scream as Skippy stops the bike
mid stage and dismounts.

Kids: "YAAAY Skippy! YAAY!"

Skippy: "Hey, bag it, willya? Will youse little animals shut
the <*meep*> up if we show a cartoon?

Kids: "Yaay, Skippy, YAAY!

( a cartoon is shown where little dogs and cats commit gruesome
tortures on each other until they all die.)

Skippy: "Hey, dats <*meep*>ing funny, right kids?

Kids: "Yaay, Skippy, YAAY!"

Skippy: (looks at kids in a profoundly agitated fashion) "Yo. Now
its time for t'days new word."

Kids: "Yaay, Skippy, YAAY!"

Skippy: (fingers the handle on his knife as he looks at the kids)
"Can youse kids say 'Diddle'?"

Kids: "Yaay, Skippy, YAAY!"

Skippy: "For <*meep*>'s sake, you little <*meep*>heads get on
my <*meep*>ing nerves. I oughta take you <*meep*>ing little
<*meep*>suckers and <*meep*> <*meep*> <*meeeeeep*>.

Kids: "Yaay Skippy, YAAY!"

(Credits roll down the screen as Skippy wades into the bleachers,
swinging a motorcycle chain over his head....)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: 18-35 market Msg #31, 02:33 est 90-10-10
Subject: Commercial Break
Audio: Silly music feeds through: a sickening "la la la la" type of song.
Video: Pans a number of men in a luxury car, all eyeing each other.
Announcer: "Soft, yet subtle. Odouriferous, yet undetectable."
(One of the male models in the car flexes his muscles, as the others watch in
silence.)
Announcer: "Now, and at the same time, classic."
Some Man in car: "Oh Bendork, you are so irresistable tonight..."
Announcer: "Try the new Flog for Men, and help support the Flog Channel at the
same time. He would have wanted it that way. Available at a Sears near you!"
(Screen fades to black)
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: Channel 18 - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.2)
 
 
 
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #32, 20:27 est 90-10-10
Subject: BBSing
 

AND NOW...

BBSING WITH AN ANAL RETENTIVE SYSOP

<insert theme music>

Good evening, and welcome to BBSing with an Anal Retentive Sysop. I am, not,
repeat, not Dave Hunter or Ken Wilson. Not even close.

When BBSing, it is important to turn the computer on. However, before you
turn the computer on it is very import that it is facing you, rather then
facing sideways. <Turns computer about 1 degree>

Now the computer may be turned on. <Turns on the computer.>

However, before turning the computer on you must make sure that the screen has
no dust on it. <Turns the computer off>

<Takes cloth from a drawer>

<The cloth is a bit wrinckled>

You must be sure that the cloth you are using is not wrinckled.

<Folds the cloth carefully, puts it into a plastic bag and staples
the bag, then deposits bag in a trash can>

<Opens the drawer>

It appears that I am all out of screen cloth.


THIS HAS BEEN BBSING WITH AN ANAL RETENTIVE SYSOP.

 
---
* Origin: * MF * Crusty, Crunchy, and Flammable (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Dick E. Head
To: Richard Visage Msg #33, 23:24 est 90-10-11
Subject: best M.F. condoms ever!!
Closing moments of a soap opera:
Two lovers folded together on a couch. Marsha has half her blouse off and one
breast partially exposed. John has one hand up the front of her blouse hidden
from view. Marsha is rythmically stroking something just below camera range.
Marsha: "Oh, John!! I will love you forever."
John: "And I love you forever too!!"
The two lovers sink lower onto the couch to sounds of moaning as the screen
slowly darkens. There is a moment of silence and then a commercial break.
Scene:
A bedroom tastefully decorated bedroom with a light on one night table. There
are two people in the bed under the covers. The bed is shaking violently and
the bed covers are humping rapidly up and down. A womans voice is heard
gasping and moaning.
"Oh Gerald, Gerald!! Oh God, I'm coming!! Don't stop, please don't stop.
Harder, faster!!"
The bed is rocking even faster now and a mans voice is heard gasping and
moaning. Two voices cry out in esctasy. The bed stops moving and sounds of
sweet nothings eminate from beneath the covers. Finally the cover are moved
aside and a side shot of naked woman leg is seen stepping out and walking out
of the room. The camera pans over to reveal a man sitting up in bed with the
bed covers pulled up to his waist. He reaches for a cigarette, lights it
slowly and takes a slow drag. He lets the smoke out slowly. He turns toward
the camera and says:
"Always carry M.F. Condoms. You never know when you will need them."
The woman comes back into the room and a hint of silky breast is seen as she
snuggles under the covers next to the man.
"I would never have let you take me to bed if you did not have M.F. condoms."
The scene defocuses on the romantic couple as an announcers voice is overlaid.
"Always carry M.F. condoms. They take the worry out of being close, real
close."
A giggle is heard from the bed.
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: NiteFiler BBS * Ottawa, Ont. * 726-1916 * (1:163/114.0)
 
From: John Tod Rec'd
To: Loose Moose Msg #34, 00:03 est 90-10-12
Subject: power by the hour
Scene:
The closing moments of a nature show on the mating habits of Lemmings. One
Lemming mounts another and there is a short blur of motion and the two run
off in seperate directions. Announcers voice cuts in:
"Well thats it for this weeks "Amazing Animal Sex Habits". Tune in next week
for an amazing episode when we go to Alaska to film sex habits of the
Elephant Seal."
Scens fades to black and then commercial starts.
Scene:
A woman in bed dressed in a revealing nightgown with one strap slipping off
the left shoulder revealing the top of a creamy breast. The phone rings and
she reaches for it causing almost the whole breast to be revealed.
Woman: "Hello"
(voice on phone)
"Uh, Marsha. I can't make it tonight. I have to work late. I'll call you
tomorrow okay??" (sounds of giggling and music can be heard in the background
over the phone)
Woman: "Thats okay. I understand. Can you call later tonight if you finish
early?"
(voice on phone)
"Well I am just getting started and I will probably be too late to come over.
I will probably be exhausted." (more giggling in the background on the phone)
Woman: "Well okay, give me a call tomorrow then, bye."
The woman hangs the phone up.
"Damn him anyway. Who needs him."
She opens the night table drawer and removes a vibrator. She licks the tip of
it seductively with her tongue as she looks into the camera. The camera
remains focused on her face as her arms reach beneath the covers. A faint
humming sound is heard as the woman closes her eyes and a look of pleasure
crosses her face. Suddenly the humming stops. The womans eyes snap open. She
takes the vibrator out from beneath the covers. The shaft is gleaming from
the light on the night table. She opens it with a twisting motion and removes
to "brand XXX" batteries.
Woman: Damn it all anyway!! No date and the bloody batteries have to die."
Woman looks disappointed as scene fades and announcers voice cuts in.
"Don't let this happen to you. Be sure to buy EVERHARD batteries. Buy a few
today."
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: NiteFiler BBS * Ottawa, Ont. * 726-1916 * (1:163/114.0)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #35, 16:23 est 90-10-14
Subject: Probably too true to be true. True?
(..logos hit each other with pointed sticks, trying to
capture the central part of the screen. An annoying voice
rings out...)
"And NOW, Welcome to America's Funniest Home Videos..."
(annoying theme music, filled with riffs associated with
comic scenes, burbles from the tube, as the camera pans to
a man behind a desk.)
"Well, folks, tonight we have some HILARIOUS videos for you,
so lets start right into them, roll number one, wouldya, boys?"
...the film starts. An elderly person pushes another elderly
person in a wheelchair. The person pushing trips, and falls
on their face. A 'funny' sound effect has been added. The
wheelchair rolls down a hill, its occupant obviously agitated,
and crashes into a fence.
The crowd chuckles, and bursts into applause.
"Well, that WAS funny, wasn't it? Lets see number two."
...the film rolls. A schoolbus rounds a corner in front of a
rail crossing. Instead of stopping, it rolls right into the
path of an oncoming train. A thundering collision follows.
A cheery "woops" has been superimposed on the screen as the
collision takes place. The schoolbus bursts into flame as the
train carries the flaming bus down the tracks.
The crowd laughs loudly, and applauds loudly.
"Okay folks, here's our final video for today, and BOY is it
a funny one."
...The film starts by watching a large propellor driven aircraft
take off. It then zeros onto the plane while in flight. The words
"Enola Gay" appear on the side of the aircraft. Bomb bay doors
open, and a large bomb falls from the plane. Minutes later, a
huge atomic explosion blots the landscape below.
The crowd falls over their chairs in hysterics.
"Well folks, seeya next week when we look at some REALLY funny
videos taken during the Iran-Iraq war..."
(the noxious music returns, followed by the battling logos)
 
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.13
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Pat Msg #36, 16:47 est 90-10-14
Subject: Bang Your Head
Flog TV W/O Flog logo fades to blackness. Sound of heavy punk thrashing
guitar in background, repeating the same basic chord over and over. Fade in
to anchor desk. Behind desk is sign saying "This Week In Punk". A
green-haired woman clad in leather is sitting behind the desk. She snarls and
gives the camera the finger.

Woman: Fucking hello, I'm Leona Fingerdipper and welcome to This Week In
Punk, the only national TV show that covers the punk music scene. Fuck you
everyone! This week we have a special half-hour documentary about one of
Britain's leading punk groups, the Flaming Sulphur Turds. The Turds, formed
in 1982 from the remnants of the now-defunct Dead Nuclear Penguin Spleens,
hold a special place in the hearts of punk rock fans everywhere. Their
often-controversial lyrics have set many standards in punk rock, and their
mind-numbing songs can make the boringest little sod jump up and eat a
lizard. We have standing by in Bristol Karen Granola, for a live interview
with the Turds. Karen?

(Fade to woman in punk rock concert. She is barely visible through the
thick hashish smoke that fills the arena. The deafening cheer of the
audience almost makes her words incomprehensible.

Karen: Thank you Leona, the concert is just about to begin and I'm here
with lead singer Johnny Burlap. Johnny, how are you today?

Johnny: Fuck you, bint!

Karen: Fuck you too, Johnny. As you can see, the turnout here to see you
is, as usual, fucking amazing. Just what do you think led to this tremendous
success?

Johnny: You think I fucking know? I dunno, Christ. It just happened. Now
leave me the fuck alone or I'll rip your clothes off and wank off on your
fucking tits you fucking cunt.

Karen: That's lovely, Johnny. What was your first gig?

Johnny: I have no fucking idea, my head was so full of heroin I remember
fuck all. I think it was in London, I dunno.

Karen: Thanks, Johnny. Good luck tonight.

Johnny: Suck my penis.

Karen: We also have here the group's guitarist, Stewart Intestine. Good
evening Stewart.

Stewart: Gawd, I'd like to stick my meat rod up your twat you bitch.

Karen: Thanks, Stew. How do you react to the Turd's incredible success?

Stewart: I take the money, get really drunk, drop a half-dozen hits of
acid, and just watch the world melt.

Karen: Any thoughts about your fans?

Stewart: They can piss off and die.

Karen: Thanks Stewart, nice talking with you.

 
---
* Origin: * MF * Crusty, Crunchy, and Flammable (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Flog Sonata, R.I.P. Msg #37, 17:04 est 90-10-14
Subject: This Week In Punk, Pt. 2
(Camera fades to view of concert as the music begins. Leonna Fingerdipper's
voice can be heard.)

Leonna: We'll now be broadcasting, live, 15 minutes of the Turd's concert
here in Bristol, England, live from the Dwight F. Carmichael Memorial Arena.
We hope you enjoy the show.

(Johnny Burlap comes on stage, obviously really really stoned. He undoes
his zip and pulls out his dick, waving it at the audience.)

Johnny: (As the rest of the band files onstage.) Well fuck you everybody,
we don't know why the fuck you're here but we'll fucking give you what you
want. (Stewart is, in the meantime, pouring gasoline on the audience. He
flicks a match and the crowd cheers madly as several fans go up in flames.)
Go to hell, bastards!

(Suddenly, the band erupts into a loud cacaphony of screaming guitars and
random drums. Johnny screams into the microphone, spitting all over the
microphone and audience.)

Johnny: I saw this bint I fucked her long and cummed all in her face!
Death! Death! Fuck you everyonnnnnnnne!

(The bassist urinates on the audience and hurls a cherry bomb towards the
back of the room.)

Johnny: Life sucks! Everyone should die! Die! Now! (And, with these
words, he pulls out a large rifle and guns down his band. He then turns on
the audience and randomly guns down a few fans before being himself shot by a
fan.)

(Fade to Janet Granola.)

Janet: Leonna, what a stunning finale! This is just amazing, 30 dead and
several wounded, absolutely the best close in punk history! (Her voice is
drowned out by fans, either cheering madly, screaming hysterically, or
howling in agony. It all sounds the same, what's the difference. Fade to
Leonna.)

Leonna: Thank you Janet, that was just amazing. A fitting end for a great
band. I'm Leonna Fingerdipper, fuck you.

(Fade to black.)
 
---
* Origin: * MF * Crusty, Crunchy, and Flammable (Opus 1:163/139)
 
 
 
From: Dixon Kenner Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #38, 23:34 est 90-10-15
Subject: The Struggle for Control (Democracy) and Mittens
 
<Flog channel insignia (without Flog) tries to drift in from the right side of
the screen. Rupert Murdoch's Insignia, a bloody tv antenna thrust through
the underside of the Earth, tries to invade from the left. Brilliant points of
light erupt where the two insignia connect, followed by speaker shattering
noise, not unlike thunderclaps six inches from your ear>
<Slowly, multiple satelitte's change orbit and aim their dishes at the
Flog Station transmitter. As it starts to smoke and glow, the Rupert
channel starts to fade through the noise>
A severly brain damaged individual staggers onto the set. The backdrop shows
an excrement encrusted Jimmy Swaggart logo. Other religious icons abound
around the set, the most significant being the beautiful detailed globe
held up by the shaft of a tv antenna driven upwards through it.
"Good day", he salutes the audience, "I am here for your orientation to the
new Murdoch format. Now we all salute our great leader here, but it is
important to know where such loyal symbols of our loyality originated"
He holds up his hands, one pulled to his chest, the other extended.
<Discerning viewers will notice that he has cute bunny covered mittens
on his hands>
"You see", he continues, "some times you get the urge to relieve yourself
when you see there is no flesh tuxedo lying about for your needs. Well
with the patented Murdoch Loyality Mittens, your problems are solved."
<This strange individual staggers and undoes his fly. As he does this,
discerning individuals notice the faint lines and loose threads of a poorly
done lobotomy and patch job.>
"You see," one mittened hand goes down to his neather bits, "this is
easy, you can get relief, and salute our leader at the same time"
<As he begins to stroke himself, it becomes readily apparent that the mittens
are joined together by a strong cord running up his sleave, across his back
and down to the other mitten (to insure you do not lose one, of
course). As he strokes, his free hand bangs into his head in a somewhat
saluting motion as the cord is pulled along in a rythmic motion in time with
himself>
<Glistening beads of sweat begins to forms upon his forehead, slowly to be
mixed with the blood emerging from the heavy scabs that are being knocked
loose from the pounding they are taking>
"You see", he stammers, "These special MLM's are all the rage, and will be
issued to all loyal, former, Flog viewers" <His head starts to jerk from
the violent pounding> "We must all conform" <heavy, red drool starts to
pour from his mouth, interspaced with much froth>
<The signal begins to fade as two Murdoch satelittes move over the horizon>
"No, NO!, not yet, you must'nt let this signal fade, MORE POWER!, MOR...."
<Roaring static fills the air...>
 
--- TosScan 1.00
* Origin: FourFold Symmetry (1:163/127.9)
 
From: Comrad Harizof
To: Anyone Dumb Enough To Read It. Msg #39, 17:10 est 90-10-24
Subject: Life, the universe, and nothing in particular
The usuall two logos come up one the screen, fighting for control as the
opposing satilites jam and counterjam each other. Suddenly guided missiles
from somewhere near the orbit of Mercury take out all the satelites and the
screen is plunged into noise. Then, a face begins to accumulate itself out
of the snow. A face almost completly covered in various gadgets and armour,
totaly encased in the helmet of a suit of battle dress.

Harizof: Haha, now I've really got you. I've jammed all your signals since
the 17th, thus producing the illusion that noone has been writing.
Of course, this is not true. Of course, there are people out there
who would right, if they put their minds to it.

In an amazing feat of extravigance, the ship from the orbit of Mercury
accelerates at a few 1000 g's and plunges into the asteroid Ceres, vaporising
it totaly.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Channel 18 - The Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Squid Tentacles
To: George Bush and Sodamn Insane Msg #40, 13:03 est 90-10-30
Subject: Potato Chips
 
Announcer: And now a word from our sponsor...
<screen fades out, then in>
A man in a business suit walks on screen (he has dark glasses, but it still
looks like either George Bush, or a Fidonet sysop)
Man: "You know, in todays world, convenience may make the difference in
accomplishing the goals in your life. What with bankruptcies, crime, Native
roadblocks, and invasions by religious crazies, you need a feeling of extra
security to reduce stress and make you a better competitor in the modern
world.
That's why I carry one of these..."
<camera widens, showing a Strategic Air Command B-52 Group in flight>
"4th Strategic Air Group... Don't leave home without it"
<fade>
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Richard Visage Msg #41, 00:18 est 90-11-01
Subject: News of Flog...
The Sorta-Flog Channel logo sort of appears. It is faded, but definitely
visible. The Murdoch logo is not apparent. Smoke is still pouring out of the
Flog Channel transmitter, as twelve loyal employees try to get the signal
transmitted by standing on the roof and holding bent coathangers in very
strange positions. They look like they are rehearsing a modern dance
performance.
Announcer: "We have a special show for the TV audience. Tonight we have a
special broadcast, from Olga, the Small Medium at Large. She has been in
contact with Flog Sonata. And now, to our remote feed..."
Camera fades to a strange room somewhere. An on-the-spot reporter has a mike,
and is looking at a long haired woman dressed like a witch.
Olga: "You must be very quiet now. This is the difficult part."
Camera pans out to show cauldron.
Olga: "I have a peice of Flog's disk drive. This personal effect of his will
enable me to make full ethereal contact with him."
Olga throws the peice of pertinent paraphernalia into the cauldron, which
immediately starts to bubble and froth. Olga shuts her eyes and tilts her
head back.
Olga: "Oh spirits of Hades, oh spirits of bad and evil, oh spirits that gave
me cirrhosis, oh, oh, ohoh!"
A flash of light comes from nowhere. The room grows so cold the reporter
starts shivering. Olga starts quivering, and moaning, and then suddenly her
head spins all the way around three times. She opens her mouth, but it is not
her voice anymore. It is a booming deep voice, that sounds like someone
trying to talk while burping. Her eyes are still shut.
Olga: "HA HA HA! I am here! I am here!"
Astonished reporter: "Flog, Flog Sonata, is... is that you?"
Olga: "Ha ha ha. Stuff a rubber chicken up your ass. I want dead animals. Ha
ha ha!"
A.R.: "Well, it is you! What happened? Were you captured by aliens? Since you
were already undead are you now unalive?"
Olga: "Do not pester me with your questions mortal, I don't have much time. My
friends from, er, down below want me to return to the poker game we were
playing. I have bet my soul on a pair of threes and a Queen high."
A.R.: "Er, okay, but are you planning to return?"
Olga: "Eat fungus, you meek human. I may return this weekend pending the
result of the poker hand. Satan thinks I am bluffing... Is that Murdoch fellow
succeeding at taking over MY channel?"
A.R.: "Well the reports are sketchy, but..."
Olga: "Tell Visage to water the dungus daily, and tell Crass that I slept with
Pam and her breasts aren't as large as they seem."
A.R.: "Huh? What? What do you mean..."
Olga suddenly collapses on the floor. The room starts warming up. The reporter
runs to Olga's fallen body and starts shaking it.
A.R.: "Flog? FLOG? Flog, come back, we have so much to ask you! Floooooog...."
Announcer: "Well, you saw it folks. Flog is betting his soul, so will either
be lost to Satan or will return with new powers. We will repo..."
Signal fades, and the screen shows only snow. No logo appears. Only static can
be heard on the audio...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: CJFC * The Sort-of Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Mel Pheasant Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #42, 00:59 est 90-11-01
Subject: Bob Newhart
The Sorta Flog Channel Logo appears, briefly.
Announcer: "Please stay tuned for a rerun of your favourite show, with guest
star Flog Sonata!"
The scene changes to show a sleepy oldfashioned mansion in the country. Some
really tacky music starts up, as the mansion fades.
<loud applause> as the camera shows the inside of Dick Low-down's Inn. Dick is
behind the desk, and George Udderly is on a ladder pretending to fix
something.
Dick: "Having any luck hanging that moose head George?"
<giggles from the audience>
George: "Uh, no Dick. I just started this now. Give me a break!"
<laughter>
Dick: "S-sorry. You're a little testy today George."
George: "Well, that's okay, Dick. It's just that your wife Joanna isn't
sleeping with me anymore."
<hysterical laughter from audience>
Dick: (does a double take) "Wha-wha-what was, was, that?"
George: "Dick, why do you talk so strangely?"
<laughter>, and then <wild applause> as Steffunny walks in, and as she does,
the door knocks over George and his ladder.
Steffunny: "Sarry sarry sarry (giggle)."
George: "Hey, watch where you're going, you mindless twerp!"
Steffunny: "Oh George, you're just jealous because I wouldn't give you the
time of day."
<more laughter>
Dick: "Don't... don't mind George, He... he is a little upset because,
(winces) because my my w-w-wife won't sleep with him." (looks around, puzzled)
Steffunny: "Dick, why do you talk so strangely?"
<laughter>. The door suddenly opens, the audience <screams>.
Flog: "Hi, I'm Flog. This is my brother Daryl and my other Brother Daryl."
Dick: "Heh... hello Flog. What do you have in that sack?"
Flog: "Dick, why do you talk so strangely?" He turns. "Here Steffunny, look
what I brought you..."
Flog reaches into the sack Daryl is carrying, and produces some wormy dead
carcass. He runs up to Steffunny and starts smearing it on her.
Steffunny: "Eeeeewwwwwwww! Yuck! Stop it!"
<laughter>. The Daryls start to smell the dead animal on Steffunny, and start
getting excited. They move up to her and start sniffing.
Flog: "Now boys, boys..."
The Daryls grab Steffunny and carry her outside. Steffunny's screams start
reaching the audience. They <applaud>. Joanna walks in.
Joanna: (perplexed look on her face) "Dick, what is going on here?"
Dick: "Tha... that is what I... I wanted to... to... to ask you."
Joanna: "Dick, why do you talk so strangely? And why do I hear Steffunny
yelling?"
Dick: "Oh, because we didn't close the door! Hahahaha"
Dick looks around uncomfortably as he realizes noone else is laughing.
George: "Well, she probably had it coming to her!"
<wild applause>. Michael walks in. Dick and Joanna cover their faces in
embarasment.
Michael: "Hi everyone. Hey, where's my little cupcake? A-ha-ha-ha."
Dick: "Sh-she's occ... occ... occupied at the moment."
Michael: "Dick, why do you talk so strangely?"
<wild applause> as Steffunny walks back in, between Daryl and Daryl. Her arms
are thrown around them.
Michael: "Steffunny, I don't understand!"
Steffunny: "Oh Michael, you never will. These guys know how to DO IT!" (She
makes a vulgar hip-throw)
<insane laughter>
Michael: "Wow, that's a relief, I was going to tell you tonight about my
secret desire to jump Dick, but now I don't have to worry. A-ha-ha-ha."
<more insane laughter>
Dick: "I... I.... I.... I... I..."
Suddenly the signal disappears, and static and snow is all that the
tranmission shows...
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: CJFC * The Sort-of Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: You Silly Gits Msg #43, 02:15 est 90-11-03
Subject: Triumphant Returns
Announcer: "And now it's time for Joe Blow's Speaking with Humans on acid,
with your host, Joe."

Set of a lame talk-show, except every single surface is coverred in
psychadelic shit, of millions of colours.

joe: "So like, I'm joe, and like wow, y'know?"

Figure walks on to stage, appearing to be a corpse with sentience. He's
wearing a black trenchcoat, carrying a half full bag of popcorn from a movie
theatre and is slurping the last of a coke.

Joe: "Like wow, acid trip, it's like Flog Sonata!"

Audience moans and howls and screams and laughs all at once.

Flog let's out a belch.

Joe: "So like, are you really Flog or just an hallucination?"

Flog spits a lungful of blood into Joe's face.

Joe: "Wow, it's really him... So we're you like, kidnapped by aliens, held
prisoner by the murdoch corporation, or like what?"

Flog: "Didn't you guys know? Night of The Living Dead was playing."

Joe: "That's like a movie right?"

Flog: "The new zombie flick remake directed by Tom Savini... I've been
watching it."

Joe: "But like you've been gone for like three fucking weeks man..."

Flog: "Well, I saw it more than once."
Joe: "More than once?"
Flog: "Ok, I sat in a theatre for 24 hours a day for three weeks watching a
zombie film with my girlfriend, would you like to meet her?"

Joe: "Oh, like far out, sure!"

Flog walks off stage and comes back on carrying a coffin. He props it up
against joe's desk and creeks open the lid, and a red ooze slips out,
spilling on to the floor. The ooze vaguely resembles a body in extreme decay.

"Shit" Flog mutters, "I left her next to the heater..."

Joe: "Where will you go no, dude?"
Flog: "Well, I thought I'd go into hiding, seeing as how the Murdoch fucks are
hunting me down. They almost caught me in the Cineplex odeon downtown, but
fortunately I was taking a piss."

Joe, as flog walks off: "Like there he goes, dudes..."

As soon as Flog is gone, hundreds of fbi agents leap on stage, each wearing
sunglasses and non-descript suits, with one hand in thei coat pockets. They
inconspicuously walk off after Flog.

 
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: CJFC * The Sort-of Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Edgar The Bald Spot Msg #45, 16:22 est 90-11-03
Subject: Late Nite Movie
Fade to Moose dressed up like Elvira. Big balloons are inflated and stuck
down his shirt to immitate her hooters, but they don't even come close. Uh
uh. No way. Gasp. Moose stares seductively at the camera, wondering what
he must have drank when he agreed to go on stage like a transvestite.

Moose: Fuck the monologue, here's the flick.

(Fade to black and white B-movie. Title comes up.)

OSWALD THE KILLER MUTANT TYPEWRITER

Scene: College student returning home to appartment. Circa 9pm. Cracks open
a beer, sits in front of desk.

Student: Gawd, I better get going on that English paper, or I'm fucking
toast. (Pulls out rough notes from bag as camera pans to typewriter. It is
grinning malicoiusly, hungrily eyeing the student's hands.) Here we go.

(sound effects : tip tap tip tap tip tap crunch)

Student: Crunch?

(sound effects : Crunch munch rip shred.)

(Student looks down, notices typewriter happily chewing on his hand.)

Student: Aiiiieeee!

(Gruesome death scene, obviously low budget. Ketchup and sheep guts go
flying, screams and typewriter puppets everywhere. Eventually, the student's
foot can be seen disappering into the typewriter's mouth.

Typewriter: Tip tap tip. (Subtitle: Fuck, I'm still hungry.)

(Typewriter bounds outside into rush hour traffic on major highway. It
spies a car pulled over with it's hazard lights flashing. In the front of
the car, a man is fucking around with the engine.)

(Sound effects: Rustle.)

Man: (Suspicous look) Eh?

Typewriter: AAAAGGGHHH! (Typewriter jumps man and eats him in a manner of
seconds. Gruesome music.)

(Static. Elvira cuts in a again.)

Moose: Christ on a bike, this is bad. Real bad. Fuck me, this is bad.
The end.

(Fade to paisley.)
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Freak Lovers Msg #46, 16:32 est 90-11-03
Subject: Prime Time Sinks Lower
Fade to set of cheap talk-type show. Big sign says "FUCKED UP" Your host,
Alfonze Assface, jogs on stage, in an ugly suit and a bad toupee. He sits
behind a desk and applauds himself. What a pretentious fuck.

Alfonze: Hi, and welcome to FUCKED UP, the show when we meet some really
fucked up people. I'm your host, Alfonze, and I'm a gay basher. Our first
guest of the day is a real freak of nature, someone who opens the Sun to page
three so he can read page 2, and not look at the Sunshine girl. Ladies and
gentlemen, Bob Chowderhead. Welcome, Bob.

(Bob jogs on stage.)

Bob: Thanks, Alfonze.

Alfonze: Why do you do this, Bob? You're not a FAG, ARE YOU?

Bob: Uh, uh, no, well, uh... well, yeah, I-- (sounds of horrid violence.
Alfonze lands a punch in Bob's face, who goes flying off stage.)

Alfonze: Okay, well, our next guest drinks whiskey for the taste. Please
welcome Shamus Lickme.

Shamus: Thank you Alfonze.

Alfonze: You like the taste of whiskey?

Shamus: Yes, it's marvelous.

Alfonze: Including the horrid burning?

Shamus: It drives me into an orgasmic frenzy.

Alfonze: Speaking of orgasms, you're not a queer, are you?

Shamus: Um, no, definitely not, nope.

Alfonze: Well, fuck, you're no fun. Get the fuck out of here. Our
next guest is, uh, shit, who is our next guest?

Producer: They're all gone, Alfonze, you punched one out and told the
other to fuck off.

Alfonze: So now what?

Producer: I dunno.

Alfonze: Hey, I got it, let's invite a bunch of fags over and beat the shit
out of them.

Producer: Uh, Alfonze, can we talk?

(Fade to plaid.)
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Bent Antwisted
To: The Type Of People Who Enjoy Msg #47, 23:40 est 90-11-03
Subject: this kind of weird shit.
Static so incredibly intense that several people become blind.

Screen suddenly snaps to black, then slowly fades up to reveal:

Scene: A nice woodsy type area with lots of big green leafy
trees. Birds chirp blissfully, unaware of what goes on around them. Flog
steps out from behind a tree, doing up his fly.

Flog: Hello, er, sorry about the fly thing, I jut had about
3 pots of tea. As many of you may or may not know, the public at large has
been bored silly for quite a long time with your standard issue type
television. This would explain the success of weirder and stranger new types
of television, such as Twin Peaks, and er, um, Twin Peaks.

(Flog walks along through the woods, camera follows along)

Flog: We here at the Flog Channel think that more weirdness
of an excessively bizarre and demented nature is not only a good idea, but
REQUIRED by LAW. Everything should be forced to be weird, strange, and
permanently fucked up royally.

(Flog walks into an area where a man, obviously the Prime
Minister (that's Brian Mulroney for those of you who are non-political)
strapped to a tree)

Flog: Normallacy is of course, a curse. Any such person
who would want normallacy to be enforced should be brutally tortured.

(Flog pauses thoughtfully, and then savagely kicks the PM
in the groin)

Flog: My friend here, strapped to this tree, is an advocator
of boredom and stupidity and worst of all, normallacy. Just look at the guy,
a big boring loser. So we've brought him to these woods for the latest Game
Show excitement available to modern man. We like to call it...

Huge superimposed Caption: HOW SHOULD WE KILL THE PRIME
MINISTER??

Flog: (picks up phone off a table which mysteriously appears)
This phone is connected to an untraceable system, and it is the phone through
which we will be taking your suggestions as to how Mr Boredom should be
killed. The panel behind me (panel steps out from behind bushes) will
decide which is the most vile and disgusting...

Phone number appears on bottom of screen.

Flog: "We'll take those calls now..."

Phone rings, Flog picks it up:
Frantic Voice: "I think we should rip off his limbs!"
Flog: "That's rather lame, isn't it?"
Voice: "And um, and..."
Flog: Sorry, too boring, Next caller?"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Killing The Pm Msg #48, 23:52 est 90-11-03
Subject: just for kicks
Next caller: I thgink we should tear his eyes out, fill the empty sockets
with burning rubber, and then rip off his genitals...

Flog looks suddenly bored, and throws the phone away. He
pulls out a gun and fires a round into the PM's head.

Flog: Sorru, lost my patience. Next week, we'll have some
other majorly irritating bastard and kill them too. Thank you for watching.

Credits role by as Flog playfully takes pot-shots at the panel
who scream and yell as they run away through the woods.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Egdar Allen Poe Msg #49, 19:03 est 90-11-04
Subject: A Cask of Amontillado it ain't.
(French porno film fades to Moose dismally weeping how he almost got laid by
an incredible drunk chick but got busted out by her fucking live-in.
Switchboard person realizes he's fucked up, screams "SHIT!" real real loud,
and then fades to black. Music comes on. Irritating music. Real bad violin
cello Masterpiece Theatre type music comes on, only twice as aggravating and
fourteen times as pretentious. Camera fades to two obviously british men,
sitting in a library, smoking pipes, in ugly brown plaid suits, drooling over
the latest issue of "BIKER BABES". They notice the camera, chuck the
magazine over their shoulder, take a swig of scotch, and begin looking
moderately intelligent.

Voice: Good evening, and welcome to Voices Of Expression, with your hosts,
Michael Everestford The Viscount of Ultramild, and Stewart Rainsblim, Sir
Cumcision of Theforeskin.

Michael: (Really, really pretentiously.) Good evening, welcome to Voices of
Expression, this week, we do the same old shit as before.

Stewart: That's right, Michael, and to begin with, we have a brand new poem
written by the great Edgar Winthrope VI, whom we all know wrote the lovely
Ballad Of The Severed Monkey Testicles.

Michael: Which I particularly enjoyed.

Stewart: You and I both, Michael. But without further ado, the poem, which
is entitled, "Electronic Birth"

Grunt
Groan
A boy?
A girl?
No,
It's a Sony.

Marvelous.

Michael: The surrealism just blows by fucking ass off.

Stewart: Fuck me, that's good.

Michael: Christ on a bike, that's great, I'm gonna cum all over now.

Stewart: Oh, please do.

(Fade to black. Momentary pause. Fade to library again. Calm has been
restored, although Michael looks unusually relaxed, and Stewart is wiping his
hands on a lamp.)

Michael: Ah, welcome back, sorry about that inconvenience. Our next poem is
by a personal favorite of mine, Peon Phallic, the struggling young artiste we
all know as the writer of "Tampon Lament". Here it is, his
latest work, simply titled, "Phlegm".

Malady assails me, I am diseased,
And so I have been for weeks.
Stunningly ladened, held back, aloft,
I rear, I look, and,
I hack up a huge disgusting ball of yellow gunk.

(Fade to black as Michael and Stewart simultaneously orgasm.)
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Who Dare... Msg #50, 23:47 est 90-11-08
Subject: Television.
A desk, behind which Flog sits:

Flog: "Hello, I'm Flog Sonata, director, prosecutor, and head chief dude being
of the Flog Channel. It has come to my attention that most of our viewers
are too chicken shit to even fucking TRY to enter anything. This, is sad.
It makes me weep to know that some people out there are so fucking
self-conscious that they can't even enter one lousy fucking message. Stupid
shits, well you better fucking enter one, and it should be as obscene and as
vulgar and as nauseating as possible. That is the only requirement."

Flog stands from his desk, to reveal he is wearing no pants and that a small
gerbil is clinging to his testicles.

Flog: "You see (flog pauses thoughtfully) the world is like a big penis,
without pubic hair. If you jump on it, it will hurt, but if you stroke it,
you'll get your sleeve wet. Which reminds me, life is like a large sort of
indistinct THING that occasionally rears up on it's hind legs and makes a
sort of odd grunting sound."

Flog wanders about the set, looking confused.

Flog: "Life is also like a shaved bear wearing a tu-tu. You can sing it a
lulaby, but chances are you'll get your head ripped off."

Flog sits in the yoga position on top of his desk. The gerbil twitches
nervously, and makes an "eek eek!" sound.

Flog: "Life is also like a singing baboon with it's hair on fire.
You could put the fire out, but why bother, since all you really
want is for the baboon to shut up, and if you let the fire burn eventually the
stupid thing'll die, so like, why bother?"

Flog continues to babble while a voice over is heard:

Narrator voice: "This is Flog Sonata. He has consumed odd substances to
expand his consciousness. He is no longer making sense. For the sake of
your loved ones, your family, and life in general, don't do drugs."

Flog: "...so then the priest ripped off his gown and lept at the flamingo and
yelled: 'Don't ya wanna go to heaven you stupid fucking bird?' And then,
well..."

Voice fades out, screen fades to black.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: Remington Blades.
To: All Msg #51, 23:57 est 90-11-08
Subject: Remington Shit
Scene: Young teenager is sitting in the bath tub, parents can be heard
arguing in the background. The kid looks extremely depressed.
He looks about, sees his radio sitting up on the window ledge. He
reaches over and presses play. The dayglo abortions music comes from the
radio.

Radio: "Used to be a dirty word, something I'd never say, now when I take a
look at the word, couldn't be a better way. I WANNA DIE BY SUICIDE! I WANNA
DIE BY SUICIDE! I WANNA DIE BY SUICIDE!"

Kid: (mutters) "Yeah.)

Kid picks up a razor blade lying on the sink, and holds it to his wrist.
Camera zooms up to kid about to gash at his wrists. The blade barely makes a
nick in the kids flesh.

Kid: "Huh?"

The bathroom door opens and in comes the company owner of Remington.

Remington guy: (talking to the camera) "Has this ever happened to you?
You're sitting in the tub, about to slit your wrists, but can't do it due to
a dull razor blade? Well this will happen no more with the new Remington
Slit-O-matic! It's always sharp, and ready to slice, and makes a perfect
Christmas gift. Try one!"

Remington guy walks out.

Kid looks about nervously, sees the Slit-O-Matic sitting on
the floor. He plugs it into the wall, drops it into the tub, and electrocutes
himself. The lights go off, the radio goes dead, and in the background the
angry parents voices can still be heard.

Words on screen with voice over: "The Remington Slit-O-Matic, kills you dead,
or your money back!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Crass Msg #52, 02:56 est 90-11-09
Subject: In Cestomy Street...
The Flog Channel logo appears brightly.
Announcer: "We now bring you all new kiddy programming, with the new, In
Cestomy Street!"
A silly song fires up, with a bunch of children singing who weren't picked for
their, uhm, singing abilities.
"Come and play, everything's A.O.K....
Where the da da la (as they don't know the words)...
hm hm hm hm la la la...
Can you tell me how to get, how to get In Cestomy Street!"
Scene: Big Bird is scratching his crotch, and talking quietly to Oscar, who is
in his, er, TrashCan.
B.B.: "Hey Oscar, did you have fun last night? Your place is a mess!"
Oscar: "Fuckoff Bird, you're just jealous!" (heaves a used condom at Big Bird)
B.B.: "Now that was very rude. I..."
Oscar: "Oh give it a rest would ya?"
Oscar disappears into his can, while a bunch of kids walk up to Big Bird.
B.B.: "Hey kids!"
Kids: "Yaaaaaay!"
B.B.: "Wanna play a little game?"
Kids: "Yaaaaaay!"
Big Bird pulls out a board, with a bunch of sample bags stapled on. A stupid
song starts again:
"One of these things, doesn't belong here..."
B.B.: "Okay kids, I want you to tell me with one of these controlled
substances doesn't belong here. Can you tell me which one?"
Tiny Little Slum Kid: (sniffs the packets) "Well I'd say that this Moroccan is
shit if ya ask me, but I notice you put the Diazepams in with the Luudes,
when everyone knows the Luudes are Norepinephrin blockers and the 'pams
aren't. I'd say it's the Moroccan."
B.B.: (grabs little kid) "You little shit man, I paid good money for that,
uhm, er..." (notices camera and puts kid down) "Well now for some alphabet
cartoon."
Narrator: "Today's letter is R." (camera starts showing graphic photos) "The
word Rectal-probe begins with the letter R. So does Rhynoplasty. Can you say
Rhynoplasty? And how about Rape? Raunchy also starts with the letter R."
Screen fades to Earnie and Bert's swinging pad. Heavy smoke is in the air, and
empty bottles lie on their sides. Earnie gets up off the floor.
Earnie: "Bert? Hey, hey Bert?"
Burt: (appears from behind a plant) "Shhhhh! My funckin' head!"
Earnie: "Bert? BERT?!"
Burt: "Shhhh, what is it?"
Earnie: "Was that my sister I ended up with last night or yours?"
Burt: "I don't remember Earnie. But remember, we have it all videotaped..."
Earnie: "That's right. Wanna do some shrooms?"
Burt: "Sure Earnie, like we're fucking puppets! I'm sure we're gonna get real
real stoned now."
Earnie: "Er, that's right. So there is no point in me carrying on this
discussion, is there?"
Burt: "That's right. Now if you don't SHUT THE FUCK UP..."
Earnie: (turns and whispers into the camera) "Sheesh, is he hungover or what!"
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Michael Voytinsky
To: All Msg #53, 17:45 est 90-11-09
Subject: And now the news
 
Flog TV Logo appears, then rotates around while Earth spins in the background,
accompanied by something by DayGlow Abortions.
VOICE: And now its time for Flog TV World News.
<The announcer is sitting behind the sort of desk that announcers are usually
found behind of. He looks like any other TV announcer.>
Good evening. This is Flog TV World News. Being less hypocritical then most
news producers we realize that what the viewers want is not important
information about socially relevants events, or business, or politics, or any
of that crap. We, unlike any other TV Station, pay attention to the ratings,
which clearly show that what you, the viewer, really want is lots of pure
unadulterated violence.
<Camera shifts to a basement room with barebrick walls. A man is sitting in a
char, tied to it with lots of rope. There is a desk with papers and
cigarrette butts strewn all over, as well as a floodlight pointing at the
man's face. Two guys in trenchcoats and fedoras are asking him questions.>
Normally, you would be shown a very short clip of this alleged torture
committed by alledged CIA agents, followed by a long and boring narrative
about how CIA allegedly commites torture and how Amnesty International
doesn't like that. Well, we are going to skip all that crap, and will just
show you the torture.
CIA Man#1: Still won't talk, eh? Well, maybe this will change your mind.
<He pulls out a pair of tweezers and starts pulling out the man's chest hairs>
Man tied to chair: Ouch! That smarts! ARghh! Stop that! Ourghh! Ouch!
Ouch! <THis goes on for a couple of minutes>
CIA man#2: Maybe you could try his nose hairs.
CIA man#1: GOod idea.
<CIA man#1 starts pulling out a nose hair. It turns out to be a particularly
long one. After about two feet of it are pulled out it suddenly expands in
diameter. It is now obvious that they were actually pulling out a giant
booger with very thin end. With a /sploosh!/ the booger comes out >
CIA man#2: This is grody to the max! Lie, gag me with a spoon.
CIA man#1: Its not that bad. <He pulls out a packet of ketchup, pours it on
the booger> Look, if you don't talk, I'll eat this while you watch!
<Man tied to chair squirms, then closes his eyes>
CIA #1: That won't work, wise guy.
<CIA #2 pulls out some scotch tape, and they tape his eyes open.>
Tortured man: No, please, don't make me watch that! Please! Anything but
that! <He squirms some more. CIA #1 starts bringing the ketchup covered
booger closer to his mouth> AARGHHHHHHH! PLEASE! STOP!
CIA#2: So, where is the safehouse?
Tortured man: I WILL NEVER TALK! ARGHHHH!
<CIA #1 eats the ketchup covered booger as the man's eyes do bizarre loops in
their socket>
<Camera shifts back to announcer>
THis has been Flog TV news GOod night.
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
 
 
From: Feminine Hygiene Suppliers
To: Woman Who Smell Down There Msg #54, 01:08 est 90-11-10
Subject: Freshness...
Scene: Breakfast table. Mother and daughter are sitting there, eating
bran-flakes. An incredible amount of sunlight is coming through the window
and the camera lens has been smeared with enough vaseline for a major
homosexual orgy, in order to give the scene that hazy hazy look of a bad
acide trip.

Mom: "Now, c'mon dear, you can tell me! I changed your diapers for years!"

Daughter: "Well mom, sometimes I don't feel FRESH."

Mom: "What do you mean?"

Daughter: "Er, well, I don't feel clean?"

Mom: "So take a bath."

Daughter: "No, mom... I mean, er, down there..."

Mom: "Out with it dear, what is it?"

Daughter: "Mom, will you douche me?"

Mom: (odd gleam in her eye) "When?!"

Daughter: (moves intimately close to her mom, taking her hand) "Now mom, now!"

Mom and daughter neck passionately with lots of tongue. Mom leads daughter
into the bathroom where lots of odd sexual equipement hangs from shower
curtain bars, towel racks, etc. Daughter lies down on wooden table, mother
rips off daughters clothing and shoves a nozzle DEEP into her daughter's
privates.

(While narrator speaks, Mom sets up the douce bag and fondles her
daughters breasts, a low moaning from both women is heard)

Narrator: "When you want to feel fresh, it's time for a nice intimate douche.
Masengil provides a CLEANSING warmth that will leave you tingling for days
with HOT MOIST happiness..."

Daughter: (lets out long moan) "Let's do it again, except this time I'll be
the mother and you be the daughter."

Mom: (grinning happily) "Alright"

Narrator: "Trust Masengil for twisted lesbian fantasy sexual play."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Incestomy Street
To: All Little Kids Msg #55, 03:27 est 90-11-10
Subject: "Want some candy?"
A million little retarded children (products of incestuous relationships?) run
about, singing the theme song.

"Sunny days... Sweeping the uh..."

Eventually the music just stops and the credits run by in
silence. Eventually we see big bird and the Snuffleupagus. "Snuffy" has his
trunk lodged firmly in big birds butt. Big Bird is making odd squawking
sounds.

BB: (Moans) "Snuffy, oh, snuffy...."
Snuffy: "Take it all, Bird."

Gordon, an actual human being, not a muppet, rushes out.

Gordon: "You two are a disgrace to Jim Henson's dead soul! Jim Henson would
be ashamed! Two muppets having sex! It's disgraceful!"

BB: "Fuck you Gordon!"

Big Bird, using his large yellow beak, tears off Gordon's head. Blood sprays
everywhere as Gordon's body thrashes about. Camera angle swifts quickly
away, focussing on something else, therefore sparing little kids from
watching Big Bird and Snuffy eat the corpse.

Switch to Cartoon:

Animated character: "S is for succulent young body, sexual molestation, and
sticky fingers."

Animated character turns into a demon and screams: "Don't play with yourself
or Satan will kill you! I saw that little Billy! Satan's coming! Satan's
coming!"

Two little animated men in white coats take away the first animated character.
Another character comes out and reminds kiddies that Satan also starts with
S.

Switch back to Big Bird and Snuffy, who are coverred in blood. Gordon is no
where to be seen, but there seems to be a pile of torn bloody clothing,
bones, and big clumps of skin and hair.

BB: (Belches) "Now where were we snuffy?"
Snuffy: (chortles) "I think I know." (Snuffy shoves his trunk back into Big
Bird's rectum)

Switch to a group of handicapped kids sitting in a room. No adult is present,
and they're passing around a joint. Some adult type, Betty, enters, someone
quickly hides the joint.

Betty: (naively) "It sure smells funny in here!"
kid#1: "Open a window then you dumb cunt."
Betty: "That wasn't nice, small child."

Kid#2: "Screw you you bimbo."
Betty: (starts crying) "I fucking hate children, what the hell am I doing on
this fucking show? Somebody call my agent!"

Betty rushes off, and the joint reapears and is passed about.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Dave The Talking Asshole
To: Stupid Children Msg #56, 03:40 est 90-11-10
Subject: Cartoons!!!
Announcer: "And now it's time for DAVE THE TALKING RECTUM!"

Cartoon credits with following theme song:

Song: "Yes it's DAVE, DAVE, DAVE the talking rectum,
His way is PAVED, PAVED, with morose introspection!
He whines, he cries, he makes a fuss,
He looks at the world with disgust,
Because he's DAVE DAVE DAVE,
Dave the talking Rectum!"

Too Happy Narrator Voice: "Today on Dave the Talking Rectum, Dave meets some
really super keen kids whom he discusses philosophy with."

Scene: Kids sitting around on a street corner. Kids are all white, blon, blue
eyed, and extremely innocent looking. Dave the talking Rectum walks up.

Dave: (Extremely depressed) "Hello kids."
Chipper kids answer as one: "HI DAVE!"

Dave: "God you kids are stupid and naive. Christ, when I was your age I was
already addicted to heroin and was kicked out of the house."

Kid: "What's heroine, Dave? Is that like Wonder Woman?"

Dave: "Fuck are you stupid. Heroin is a drug that you inject. Here, wrap this
tube around your arm, I'll get my needles out."

Kid: "Ok dave." (wraps tube around arm real tight, hand turns noticeably blue.)

dave: "Now here's the needle, and you gotta find the vein..."

Kid#2: "There's the vein Dave!"

Dave: (sarcasticly) "Thank you ever so fucking much."

Dave injects the heroin, kids eyes go glazed, he slumps to the ground, and
spasms a bit, then spasms a lot. A white foam comes from his mouth, and the
spasming intensifies.

Dave: "Gee kids, looks like this fuckhead is O.D.ing. What a shit, i thought
he had a strong enough metabolism. Oh well."

Kids: "What'll we do now Dave?"

Dave: "Ever been on a shoplifting spree kids?"

Narrator: "And so Dave the talking Rectum made many friends that day, most of
whom ended up in the juvenile detention center, where they were beaten and
raped. I hope you had fun today with Dave the Talking Rectum, I know that I
did."

Credits role by with lots and lots of japanese names for the animators.
Last line: "Brought to you by the Japanese Council for the Degredation of
North American Culture."

Fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: An Old Western Flick
To: Morons Msg #57, 03:51 est 90-11-10
Subject: Simple Ideals for Simple Minds
Flog Logo: A large baby, obviously dead and rotting, wearing a dirty T-shirt
that says "FLOG CHANNEL" on it.

Voice: "And now it's time for the Late Late movie... Tonight's film:
'How the West Was Won By Slaughtering Indians' starring some guy who
looks a lot like John Wayne."

Credits displayed on a big red setting sun: "How the west was won by
slaughtering indians" "Starring Some guy who looks like John Wayne"

Someguy: "Well, the cattle sure looks good this year, and here we are,
hearding em towards the big city. It'll be night soon. Better set up camp."

Wife: "Yes, we should. Let's not have sex though, because I'm a lady, you're
a man, and this is an old western where the differences between us are so
accented that you'd think women came from another planet.
Why not go fuck Bossey, she looks eager."

Someguy: "Not tonight dear, I have a headache."
Wife looks upset, and goes to sleep in the coverred wagon.

Someguy: "It sure is beautiful out here on the praries where men are men and
all that crap."

Wife: (Screams) "I'm being killed by men who are all wearing black! they must
be villains or something!"

Someguy: "Shit, now i have to go and get revenge for her death."
Wife: "I'm not dead!"
Someguy shoots his wife in the face.

A whole lot of other shit happens, eventually Someguy corners the villains.
Somhow, Someguy has earned the respect of the villagers
(in the village where the badguys lived) and was made the new sheriff.
No one is really sure how this actually happened because it simply
isn't possible to stay awake whil watching one of these old westerns.

Someguy: "Now that I have cornered you villains, I'm going to take you all to
jail, but one of you is going to pull his gun, and I'm going to have to kill
you all in self-defence."

No villain goes to pull his gun.

Someguy quickly yanks his pistols out and fires 80 shots from two
six-shooters, killing the villains.

Villagers as a whole: "Won't you stay and be our sheriff?"
Someguy: "No, I have too many bad memories here, and besides, I'm a drifter
and I have to go where I have to go."
Villagers as a whole: "He was great, he was cool, he sure turned this town
around and all that."

Someguy rides off into the sunset, on his raggedy old horse, Calliflower. Lame
western music plays. A mushroom cloud inexplicably blooms up in front of the
sun, and a whooshing hot air goes zooming out, consuming Someguy in it's
flames. Alien space ships with swastikas on the side zoom directly in front
of the camera, and a tape of Hitler doing a speach in german is heard. Fade
to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Tampon Makers
To: All Msg #58, 05:24 est 90-11-11
Subject: Only women bleed...
Scene: girl in shower, soaping her young firm hard body. She rubs her nipples
etc. Suddenly a trickle of red drips down her leg. She looks at it shocked.
More flows out. Girl starts screaming at the top of her lungs in fear.

other girls in locker room point and laugh horribly, and throw tampons at her,
mocking her misery and fear.

Narrator voice over as chaos continues: "Remember that cool gross scene in
that classic film "Carrie", based on the novel by Stephen King? What Tampon
company do you think sponsored the scene?"

Camera zooms in on discarded tampon box that reads "Playtex".

Narrator: (as girls continue to scream and laugh) "Playtex, supporters of
female degradation and submition from the word GO."

Girl in shower, Carrie, picks up her friends using her psychic powers and
tears them in half.

Fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
EEN-BY: 163/207 30522/1 101
*** There is a reply. See #69.
 
From: Samuel Clemens
To: All Msg #59, 05:29 est 90-11-11
Subject: Ah, Moozik!
Burst of weird static, clears to reveal logo

"Christ Worshippers Television"

****
****
************
************
****
****
****
****
****

(On the cross hangs a Christ who is wearing a yellow smiley face mask.)

Credits for: "Catholic Rock Videos"

Set: a man being nailed to a tree is picked clean by vultures. The cruicified
man sings the following song:

"I wanna be nailed to a cherry tree,
I wanna be a martyr.
I want to suffer like Christ did,
'Cept this time I'll be smarter...
I'll film it and get the movie rights,
This time God'll make a killing,
Money'll come in, out of sight,
And God'll get top billing...."

Lame guitar solo played by a roman centurion.

"Cuz I wanna be a martyr,
I wanna die on a cross!
I'll be cool and slick and clean.
Christ didn't use lip-gloss!
Christ was dirty and unclean,
A little wimp, never obscene,
This time will be a little more mean.
Cuz I'm gonna be a martyr!
Yeah I wanna be a martyr!
Yeah I am a MARTYR!"

Really lame conclusion with lots of fireworks and smog.
Singer slumps on the cross a big smile on his face. A big foot of
God comes down and crushes him, ala Monty Python.

Static.
Flog Logo appears: A nun with a spear through her stomach lying on pavement,
blood spewing out of her mouth reads "FLOG CHANNEL".

Static.
Words appear: "Do not adjust your set, reality is to blame."
Lots more static. Black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Suzy Slutburger
To: All Culinary Wizards Msg #60, 05:20 est 90-11-12
Subject: How to cook food.
BZZZZT!!!!

"Hello" Suzie Slutburger says, "I'm suzie slutburger and today we're
making charbroiled infant burgers. MAke sure the baby is ripe and squeeling,
all full of pep, just ready to be hacked to bite-sized pieces!"

Suzie pulls a baby out from a craddle and puts it on top of a butcher's block,
then takes out a large steel knife.

BzzzZZZzzzzt!

Static takes over for a few seconds, and just visable under the static is
Suzie's evil grinning face smeared with blood. Static clears to reveal Suzie
hastily dropping pieces of what we can assume are baby- bits into a big stew
pot.

"Add lots of onions, garlic, and paprika," Suzie says helpfully, "To
get that full dead baby flavour that we all crave."

Suzie stirs the pot with a large wooden spoon.

"Serves one to fifteen" she adds, "depending on how much you eat while
you cook. I just pick and pick away! (giggle) Why yesterday, when I was
making this very same recipe, I must have popped three or four raw baby
eyeballs into my mouth, even before I got out of the cereal section and into
the meat department. You should have heard the mothers scream when they saw
their eye-less infants."

Suzie sighs with pleasurable memories.

"That's all for this week" she laughs, "Next week we'll be cooking
foreign food, live on location at the immigration department of the airport!
Bye bye for now!"

Switch to FLOG CHANNEL logo: A penguin lying dead on an iceburg, it's
intestines looping out on to the soft white snow. The intestines spell out
in hand-writing "THE FLOG CHANNEL".
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #61, 17:51 est 90-11-12
Subject: Dealing with Death
 

AND NOW STAY TUNED FOR DEALING WITH DEATH WITH YOUR FAVE HOST

INCOHERENT RAMBLER! <Flog TV Logo - this time made out of dead ostrich heads
- fades out>

<Fade in to a mentally unstable Russian slumped in an armchair. A
1.5 L bottle of tequila is sitting on the small table near the armchair, right
next to an 8 oz glass filled to the rim with tequila. The Russian takes a
large gulp from the glass.>

Hello, and welcome to Dealing With Death! I am your host, Incoherent Rambler.
Tonight we are going to talk about what can happen if we are not honest
about death, if we lie to ourselves and to others about it. But first, let
us take a close look at what happens if we lie about death.

<fade to funeral scene. A woman in her 80s is being burried. There
are a lot of people standing around looking upset. Some of them are crying.
One of the people standing around is a little girl, about 5 years old.>

Little girl: Mommy, where is grandma going?
Mother: She is going to the same place as the goldfish, darling.
Little girl: Could we visit her, mommy?
Mother: Well, sweetie, not really, no.

<fade to later on the same day, into the bathroom. The little girl
is in there, talking to the toilet.>

Little girl: Hello? Grandma, are you in there? Hello? Hello?
<surprisingly enough the toilet remains silent>
<the little girl tries to climb down the toilet and drowns>

<fade back to the Rambler>

You can see what sort of things can happen if you are not honest about death,
especially to children. So next time your kid's grandma kicks the bucket,
show the kid the dead parrot sketch, and tell the kid that grandma is just as
dead as the parrot.

Good night, thank you, and may your god go with you.

<fade to commercial>
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #62, 04:20 est 90-11-13
Subject: Dealing with death part 2.
A quickly sped up backwards and upside down commercial for Shreddies whizzes
by at an ungodly speed. Freddy and Eddie seem to grin satanicly as they go
buy, little rectangular blurs of joy.

Focus on flog, sitting at a desk. Rambler is sitting in his chair, pouring
himself another large glass of Tequilla.

Flog: "Here at the FLOG CHANNEL, we appreciate the intellectually stimulating
material that comes out of twisted and perverse minds... Therefore, the show
DEALING WITH DEATH will now be a regular series.
Why? Cuz death is just so fucking cool. The Grim Reaper in The
Meaning of Life. Need I say more?"

Rambler drinks down another glass of tequilla and immediately pours himself
another one.

Flog: "Now we've dealt with one aspect of death, let's now dwell on another,
one of my particular favorites, suicide. Now, strangely enough, most people
seem to want to kill themselves out of a desire for attention. This, is
wrong. A true suicidal person does this because he or she WANTS to die, and
perhaps even in a painful and grotesque way, just to show you pansies
motherfuckers that he (or she) could hack his own limbs off with that hunting
knife."

Rambler guzzles down his Tequilla, and pours another one.

Flog: "People who kill themselves for attention are jokes. Nothing more.
What kind of pathetic creature would go to such lengths to be loved? The
best attitude to take, if you are finding yourself longing for companionship,
is to say 'Fuck humanity, who needs it?' and then to run into a propped up
lawn mower blade head first."

Rambler holds the now empty bottle up to his lips and smacks the bottom of the
bottle with his hand, trying to get out those last few drops.

Flog: "Yes, yes, wanting to kill yourself is WRONG, but what isn't wrong now a
days? Christ, you could put a moral judgement on anything if you tried hard
enough. For example, er..."

Rambler sticks his tongue down the bottle, desperately seeking any few drops
of tequilla left.

Flog: "Those paintings of Nazis seen on the news. That could be seen as
offensive, even morally outrageous. The Dayglo Abortion trial...
Some redneck out there is probably right now wanting the entire judicial
system destroyed..."

Rambler smashes his bottle against the desk and licks the broken shards one by
one for any traces of liquid.

Flog: "And um..."

Narrator: "This has been DEALING WITH DEATH. Next week, hear Mel Pheasant say
something nasty about women in general."

Rambler sucks on a jagged edge of glass, and asks flog, "Are we on yet?"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Jack Daniels Msg #63, 20:54 est 90-11-12
Subject: Goes down light.
Flog channel logo, a cancerous mutant guppy, swims across stage.
Scene: Flickering scenes of gorgeous women and men frolicking in healthy
situations, being cool, at barbeques, never drunk, always drinking from a can
of Yurin Beer. Theme song - Yurin, Yurin, In One End And Out The Other, Love
It Like A Brother, It'll Make You Cool, Drool For Yurin... fade suddenly to
crackling fuzz, then on to a man standing at a desk. "Too drunk to fuck" by
the Dead Kennedys is screaming out in the
background.

Man: Hello, I'm Dracula Jones, for Yurin beer. We realize that most of our
market isn't in snivelly Yuppies drinking beer at barbeques, but rather in
social degenerates looking to get pissed. (Anal Cyste, Flog, Antichrist, and
Moose wave from backstage.) And so, we present a different brand of beer
commerical.

(Fade to flickering scenes - young men staggering out of bars, falling into
dumpsters, being dragged into paddywagons, pissing behind trees, vomiting on
sidewalks, passing out at bus stops. New Revised Theme Song blares out, to
the tune of "Tradition" by "The Doughboys". "Yuri-in... It'll Make Things
Fucking Spin! (Thrash guitar) Yuri-in... You'll Bring Up Your Lunch Again!"
More flickering scenes - Women waking up in bed with repulsive men, men
waking up in female underwear, a drunk driver crashing into a tree, and a
house burning to the ground.)

Man: Have great times with Yurin beer. It doesn't burn on the way back up.
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Miaowara Tomokato
To: Pansy artsies and artistes Msg #64, 19:38 est 90-11-14
Subject: And now a change of pace: Classics Theatre
[Shot of Flog TV logo formed of severed women's breasts lying in a field of
daffodils. Fades to grey, subsequently fading to Classics Theatre logo
(traditional troubador's masks - the smiling face more an insane leer, the
frowning face more a caraciture of eternal pain, suffering and damnation).]
[GRAMS: Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells"]
Voice Over: Welcome to Flog TV's only contribution to the performing arts:
Classics Theatre. I am your host for this evening, Malevolent
Maniac. Tonight's show requires no introduction, so I won't
give you one.
[Fade to title screen displaying "Classics Theatre presents..." Screen clears
and spurting blood is used to draw the title: "The Existentialist Raven."
Screen mixes to tasteful, antique library...]
[Library contains a man fitfully fidgeting in a chair.]
Voice Over: [In a mysterious, moody voice] Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious
volume of forgotten lore - while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there
came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis som visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door - only this and
nothing more."
[Man gets up and opens the door. The bust of Pallas mentioned six stanzas
from here falls upon the actor's head as the door is opened. The actor's
head is crushed by the authentic, marble bust and his brains are splattered
across all books on the bottom three shelves within 10 feet of the door.]
Director's Voice: Cut! Damn it! That's a wrap. We can't afford any
more actors, so this is it. We'll have to see if the
public will accept it. Alright, let's get back to work on Jaws MCMXXXIV!
[Screen fades to Classics Theatre logo.]
Voice Over: This has been a presentation of Flog TV's Classics Theatre.
I hope you've enjoyed tonight's show. Tune in next week for
that classic of film and stage _Flog Sonata Takes a Bath: in the Blood of 29
Dozen Virgins_.
[GRAMS: Jean Michel Jarre's "Equinox"]
[Fade to logo of old-style RKO antenna stuck in the eye of The Man in the
Moon.]
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Cottonelle Bathroom Tissue
To: An Ad Executive Who'S Lost His Mind Msg #65, 06:56 est 90-11-16
Subject: bathroom tissue? What the fuck is that?
Scene: some woman shrowded in a thousand white sheets that billow and sway
about, making you feel like you are trapped in a poorly filmed dream
sequence. The woman is holding a roll of cottonelle "bathroom tissue" in her
hand.

Singing voices: (angelic) "The soft touch, the soft touch, the soft touch, the
soft touch, Cottonelle, the soft touch..."

Female narrator: "Cottonelle is soft, so soft it'll tickle your butt.
And not only that..."

Woman hike up her dress and rubs a big wad of cottonelle along her butt.

Female narrator: "...but it gets all the shit out of your ass too."

Singers: (singing louder and franticly) "The SOFT touch, the soft touch, the
SOFT TOUCH! ROYAL COTTONELLE! THE SOFT TOUCH!"

Woman takes wad and throws it away and rolls off another wad of "bathroom
tissue". She franticly rubs her bum with it. She looks up at the camera,
smiles, shrugs and mouths the word "diarrea" as an apology of some sort.

Female narrator: "I wouldn't wipe shit out of my asshole with anything else."

Singers: "THE FUCKING SOFT TOUCH! OOO, THE SOFT TOUCH! THE SOFT TOUCH!"

Woman pulls her skirt back down and stands up dancing about. She tosses the
used toilet paper (stained browm) off into the air. Camera focusses in on
the soiled toilet paper as it billows towards the ground slowly and softly.

A herd of white doves and kittens suddenly flood onto the scene from all
directions, billions of them, filling up the entire set with their wriggling
white bodies. Woman is completely buried in them, and we can see her hands
waving franticly about as the animals writhe on top of her.

Singers: "The SOFT FUCKING TOUCH!"

Female narrator: "Don't you want a clean asshole? That way you won't leave
brown stains on your underwear and embarass the hell out of yourself when you
undress at your girlfriend's place."

A large white polar bear wades it's way through the sea of struggling white
birds and kittens. The bear swallows huge mouthfulls of birds and cats,
chewing quickly, blood dripping from his mouth and spraying everywhere.

Female narrator: "Cottonelle. Because no one likes a smelly butt."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Masturbate Theatre
To: Literary Geniuses Msg #66, 07:09 est 90-11-16
Subject: (based on a true story!)
Standard issue pretenciou set filled with so many book shelves that they seem
to stretch off into the horizon. A big oak desk, a plush leather chair, and
other old ugly and snotty furniture are stacked up. Somewhere in all of
this, an old wrinkled english man sits, smoking a big ugly pipe. He blows
smoke out.

Having run out of Mike Oldfield and Jean Michael Jarre, some old Synergy tack
is playing, probably Breakdown in World Communications.
(I fucking hate the way all this really great music is being abused
by these mother-fuckers by the way. If I see another fucking sports broadcast
where they use great music ripped off by these great guys, I'll have to
fucking kill somebody. -Flog)

Pretencious English Fuck (PEF): "Hello, and welcome to masturbate theatre. I
am your host, Pretencious English Fuck the 3rd, and todays wonderful piece of
culture is an excellent dance piece performed by a group of dancers known as
the Splitting Atoms. Thei wonderous piece tonight is a very symbolic and
eciting piece entitled 'C spot Cum', which I'm sure you'll all pretend you
enjoyed very much in order to appear like you can appreciate culture.
Without further ado, 'C Spot Cum'.

Switch to a grassy field filled with turnips. The turnips sit on the grass,
still. A bunch of people dressed only in their underwear walk into camera
view. Somewhere off-screen, a kazoo is being played horribly.

Dancers each stand on top of turnips, balancing carefully.

Dancer one: "Life is free"
Dancer two: "Speach! to sing to fly to gag!"
Dancer three: "I like the trombone, don't you?"
D4: "Oh, the joy of sunset!"
d5: "Disillusionment! Visions of grand palaces!"
d1: "And all for what? Cherry trees and oyster beds."

A small poodle is handed on screen. The dancers slowly, mournfully, pass the
poodle amongst themselves. Each strokes the animals head as if it were some
sort of precious thing. The last dancer throw the dog off-camera. All of
this is done while remaining standing on the turnips.

d1: "Oh ocean! Oh mother! Oh singing voices seven teen!"
d4: "Yes, yes, to be sick!"
d2: "I wish I would be what that he said I should!"
D3: "Illumination? Suffocation?"

Dog wanders back on to screen, and pees on a turnip.

all five dancers at once: (overjoyed, screaming): "SEE SPOT CUM! CUM SPOT
CUM!!"

Dancers collapse and go fetal.

Fade back to Pretencious English Fuck.

Pfc: "Next, we'll have our usual panel of uptight bastards who wish they had
some sort of artistic skill praise this dance piece as an act of pure genius."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Masturbate Theatre Part Two
To: A Bunch Of Gullible Morons. Msg #67, 07:23 est 90-11-16
Subject: Art is all? Shit is art?
Pretencious English Fuck: "Our panelists tonight are Guy, Simone and Louise.
Welcome panel."

Panel members are all dressed in black, all wearing little french berets, and
all have twisted and hyperactive facial expressions. They make vague signs
of greeting to PEF.

PEF: "So what did you think of 'C Spot Cum'?"

Louise: "I thought it was a work of absolute genius. It was obvious to me
that the whole thing was a statement about the suffering of man, and the fear
of being sensitive. The turnips represented the male testicles, the dog was
a symbol of god, and the line 'See spot cum!' was the labelling of God's
power and energy, and the effort of the dancers to label the acts of god."

Simone: "I disagree entirely. I think the dance was beautiful and a work of
genius, yes, there is no denying that, but the dance had nothing to do with
God. The turnips were not testicles, but female wombs, vegetables that
spring from the soil with fertility and strength.
They were the force of nature as it breaks through the shielded ego's
that we all have. The dog represented the degredation of such female
strength, and the dancers yelling 'see spot cum' represented the human
perception of this degredation as an act of sexual dominance."

Guy: "The tits on the 5th dancer were just simply enormous, and I would very
much like to sleep with her."

Simone: "yes, I would like to sleep with her too, and I am a woman.
A woman sleeping with a woman, that perhaps surprises you?"

Guy: "No, I am not surprised. You look like a dyke to me."

Simone goes to slap Guy, but Louise grabs Simone's hand. Simone turns to
Louise. Their eyes meet. The two embrace and kiss passionately.

PEF: "That is all for today on Masturbate Theatre, tomorrow we'll be banned
for being offensive. Good evening."

Fade to Flog Channel Logo of three dogs wearing tutu's ripping a small child
apart. The word's on each dog's birthday hat read "The Flog Channel".
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Pat
To: Flog Msg #68, 20:38 est 90-11-17
Subject: night walk
do not adjust your set reality is to blame..
titie screene..
NIGHT WALK IN OTTAWA tendoidville extraordinare..
.........
sceence starts with aerial view of parilment hill at night, the gays being
silently stalked by skin-heads... rushed over to the new musim of man
where a mob of fransias are trying to loot store's with english signs..
one looks up
" get outta heree, assshole!"
a friend hiots hiom.. " EH, speak fransis, asshoiloe. This is que."
" But I am, ST.. That is why the english must die..."

sceene rushed over to gigalo's selling favors on the bridgge, past the 15
hooks on rideau center and past MS. mulrooney'sd armed motorcade...
fading to a quiet stretch by the new court-house, the rocks in bars and new
16 inch guns in place..
takes a turn down the calan where the joggers are being raped by the muggers
over to the university where the sounds of sexual abuse are coming from all
the dorms..
back to street level and the decritent homes there..
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Rupert Murdoch
To: All Msg #69, 22:22 est 90-11-18
Subject: Severe transmitter problems arising from a struggle for control
 
<Rupert TV logo begins to fade in over the crash of strange signals, line
noise, distortion, assorted rubbish et cetera.>
Announcer: "We are sorry here at our newest TV station of the passing
influence of the old management. The influence, as manifested
in the previous post from a senior manager at FLOG TV, sets
new highs in their programming format. We here at Murdoch
aim higher than this pitiful excuse and have dispatched
our specially developed parasitic breadcrumbs to track down
and turn pAt into something that the starving "guest
labourers in the Iraqi province of "Glorious Hussein, Bringer
of all sorts of Plooking Opportunities (formerly Kuwait)"
would devour in a moments notice. Please take this as an
invitation to ratify the new, improved management"
<fade to logo>
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: FourFold Symmetry (1:163/127.9)
 
*** This is a reply to #58.
 
From: Movie Ad
To: Filmgoers Msg #70, 00:35 est 90-11-20
Subject: Three men and a dead baby.
Narrator voice: "They were all bachelors, forced to take care of a child...
But they had a few problems..."

Clip of ted danson smiling lamely: "Crib death (giggle) is no laughing matter!"

Narrator: "So now they are trying to make the best of their situation..."

Chris Guttenberg: "At least this way we don't have to change the diaper as
often..."

Tom Selleck: "She doesn't have to be fed as often..."

Narrator: "Once again, america proves it has the creative juices of a dead
animal, by not only making an americanized version of a foreign film, but by
making a sequel to an americanized foreign film."

Ted Danson: (clip from entertainment tonight interview) "I think it's great to
remake films for americans. Dubbing is so difficult to follow, and
sub-titles? God, who has time to read during a film? Sheesh!"

Narrator: "Three men and a dead baby. See it now, you weak willed
consumer-moron."

Credits of american morons in the film industry are shown.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Nightwalk
To: People Who Don'T Sleep Msg #71, 00:41 est 90-11-20
Subject: tourin' toronto...
Lame jazz music plays over and over again in the background as a camera is
whisked along at ninety miles an hour through various scenes...

Cameraman trips and falls and the camera flies off the edge of a building and
smashes into the ground. Fade to:

"Do not adjust your set, you're in hell, where there's no TV, only
black screens showing nothing, ever. Kind of a blessing actually."

Fade to:

Flog at a desk holding a lyre, singing old welsh songs. He throws the LYRE
away with a loud TWANG and then turns to the camera.

Flog: "The flog channel is now on aproximately twenty boards. About 4 users
enter messages regularly. I guess the rest of you are too busy using your
hands for er, something else. Enter a fucking message you fucking chicken
shits. Do you actually think I know what I'm doing when I enter a message?
Do you actually think I prepare for these things? No way! I do this on line
while listening to lame music while I'm half asleep! So why the hell don't
you try and enter something? Make fun of McGuiver or whatever... God, there
is so much stupidity out there that abusing reality is almost TOO easy! Give
it a shot, what could possibly go wrong????"

Flog stands up from behind his desk to reveal he's not wearing any pants and
that his genitals have been spray-painted florescent pink.

Flog: "And remember, reality is like a sponge on fire, it sucks while it
burns, it burns while it sucks."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Dandruff!
To: Sufferers Of The Above. Msg #72, 05:05 est 90-11-20
Subject: How to get rid of Dandruff!
Scene: A school hall filled with happy bouncy students. Three
girls convene around their lockers, all of them look like they are 21 year old
women who have all been in playboy, and they are all wearing skimpy clothing,
ala beer commercial type insanity where every single woman you could ever
possibly stumble across is "la goddess" (puke).

Semi-normal looking guy walks up to the three wenches and says to
one:

Guy: "Gee suzie, I'd really like to go to the dance with you."
Suzie: "Well, gosh guy, I'd like to, you seem nice...(turns and looks at him
fully) EEK! HOLY SHIT! He's got dandruff!"

Suzie#2: "Dandruff! AHAHahaha! Let's tar and feather him and rip off his
testacles!"

Suzie#3: "Better yet, let's cut him off from society completely and make him a
martyr for others to see... Those with dandruff must die!
(suzie#3 pulls a machete out of her locker)"

Guy runs down the hall, trying not to scratch his head.

Guy: "Oh whatever can I do? Now suzie will never go to the dance with me!"

Narrator super voice: "WHY NOT TRY ACME-SLIME-SKIN-REMOVER? (thunder bolts
flash, thunder booms, and a jar of ACME-SLIME appears magicly) Helps stop
dadruff dead! Kills dandruff, maims it, kicks the shit out of it! Like,
whoa!"

Guy, picks up bottle: "Spray nozzle at head for dandruff removal...
I'll try it!"

Caption: the next day.

Guy's voice off screen: "Hey girls!"
Three suzies: (turn and look in voice direction) "Ooo! Hi!"

Screen pans to reveal guy, who's entire upper skull has melted down into a
flat mushy area.

Guy: "So which one of you wants to fuck me first?"
Suzies rip off their own clothing and begin savagely beating each other.
Machete reapears and Suzie's slice each other to bits. Meanwhile Guy runs
into someother wench and walks off. Zoom on guy's face: Guy: "There's no
itching now! Thanks Acme-Slime!"

Narrator: "Acme slime is THE dandruff remover of the 90's! Don't live with
it, kill it immediately!"

Quick rushed warning at the end: "Acme slime may reduce your IQ through
softening of the skull through chemical processes that make molten metal look
like frozen yogurt."

Normal Narrator: "Acme-Slime, available in large chemical production plants
everywhere!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Learning Chinese
To: Foreign Peoples Msg #73, 05:19 est 90-11-20
Subject: Languages are Nifty!
Scene: a guy at a desk, typical set for intellectual type show, bookcases, etc.

Guy: "Hallo, welcome to learning Chinese. Today we will look at various
typical scenes and how to navigate your way through them. We hope you find
them helpful."

Scene one: Tourist being accosted by a man driving a tank. Answers hastily in
chinese with english caption that reads: "Please do not run me over with
your tank, sir, I am merely a tourist, not a student radical, PTUI! PTUI! I
firmly believe in your wonderful government's way of life and would never
dream of involving myself in these distateful and unhonourable ways!"

Scene two: Tourist being accosted by Chinese prostitutes, caption reads: "A
blow job for 1000 yen? Are you insane? Make that 500, for my american sex
gland is much larger than the wimpy cocks you are used to in this horrible
little country!"

Scene three: a businessman pleading with a chinese man who is about to takew
over his business: "Please, Mr Chinese-man, don't take over my business! I
do realize your race is superior in business matters and will take over our
entire country, but I have 18 children to feed
(having no control over my large and unsightly sex-organ) and need
this business in order to live! At least let my family serve yours like
slaves?"

Scene four: Business man being accosted by chinese drug dealers: "No, I am
sorry but opium is not correct for my pallette, for I am not of your land.
Do you have any heroin? Perhaps some cocaine? I miss my homeland and these
chemicals do remind me of my New York apartment very much!"

Fade to guy: "Those are the situations for this week. Next week, we will see
how to stop a chinese rapist, how to stop a chinese mugging by making your
assailant believe you are a black belt, and how to stop someone from making
annoying stereotype statements about caucasians. Until next week, I'm A.
Fucked-up-Guy."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: A Cartoon
To: Kiddies Msg #74, 05:33 est 90-11-20
Subject: Happy animals
Cartoons on Acid!
-----------------

Bugs bunny leaps out of your television, carrying a large
carcass of Elmer Fudd. He runs around you in octogons, chanting "SATAN IS
GOOD, SATAN IS YOUR PAL, SATAN IS YOUR FRIEND!" for about three minutes. He
runs off into your kitchen, and you hesitently follow. A thousand care-bears
are gathered at your kitchen table, playing bloody-knuckles. Their tiny
animal groans make you laugh with triumph.
The ceiling of the kitchen splits opne and a shower of smurf's rain
onto the floor. Your run about trying to stomp on them, but miss.
Papa Smurf casts a spell on you, and you turn into a Strawberry
Shortcake.

You run away out into the street, where Wile E. Coyote (genius)
, drops an anvil on your head. Apparently Wiley had been waiting
for you to step outside all this time. It make you paranoid to think that
cartoons are watching you constantly. The anvil crushes your strawberry
shortcake head and stuffing pours out of your ears.

You collapse on the sidewalk, when suddenly it starts to rain
Gummy-Bears. You black out and wake up in the middle of The New Kids On The
Block cartoon show. Inspector Gadget fires a laser bolt through your head,
while you writhe on stage. The Chipmunks come out and sing, and your ear
drums almost pop with their high screechy voices.

Loose Moose walks out and says: "This is nothing man, ever
been to a school dance on acid?"

You begin chasing Moose around the stage, and the audience
screams and yells. A herd of small indiscriminate beings flood into your
brain through your nostrils, and you feel yourself wanting to buy lots of
Pooch-Patrol dolls, Baby Uh-oh!'s and Light-Brite sets.

You wake up two days later, inside Toy-City, naked in a pile
of huge teddy-bears.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: The Antichrist
To: All Diddlers Msg #75, 21:31 est 90-11-20
Subject: Commercial
<Flog channel logo, pink on black, fades to static>

Theme music : Happy Jingle by Anal Cyste

All around the mulberry shrub
You'll find me chasin' small boys,
I'm making up the words I think .. er
Pop goes their sphincter.

Narrator: Looking for that right boy .. er .. toy to get for your favorite
pedophile this XMas?
Well we at BOYS 'R US have just the answer. We have a wide variety of small
boys from ages 3 thru 12 to suit any pedophile. Don't get that special
deviant just any boy. We here at BOYS 'R US offer a wide selection, one size
fits all, free gift wrapping, and our complete money back gaurentee.

Camera pans mall and focuses on BOYS 'R US store front. Camera zooms on
aisles of stores and Anal Cyste, Painkiller, Mel, and The Antichrist are all
seen pushing shopping carts up and down aisles. Camera zooms on cash where
RV is seen behind cash. Flog approaches.

RV: Good evening sir, How can we help you?

Flog: I'm looking for something in dead.

RV: Aw sorry sir, just sold the last one this morning. A little Zulu boy too.

Flog: Shit, 33 days 'til XMas and you're already out of dead?

RV: Not to worry sir, we can issue you a raincheck. The supplier told us to
expect more next week.

Camera zooms out from cash and pans to Narrator.

Narrator: That's right folks BOYS 'R US for that special pedophile on your
list.If ya can't stay on its back just bring him back.

Jingle starts again but this time Cyste is playing autoharp.

There was a man who had a boy and Bingo was his name 'o.
B I N G O B I N G O B I N G O
And diddle is my name 'o

Camera fades to sideways flog channel logo.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
*** There is a reply. See #325.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Flog O Thon Msg #76, 02:59 est 90-11-21
Subject: We need dough for random charities...
Sideways logo bursts into flames and slowly becomes ash.

Huge stage filled with flashing lights and an announcer screams:

"It's time for the FLOG SONATA RANDOM CHARITY FLOG-ATHON! We ask
you to send us money for certain charities, then we take yer money and blow it
on beer and illicit narcotic substances! Here's your hosts, Flog Sonata and
Reverend Visage...."

Feeble applause.

Flog: "Fuck you, fuck you... Tonight's first randomly selected charity is a
personal favriote of mine and the Rev's... What an odd coincidence, seeing
as how it was selected completely at random, honest."

Rev: "Yes, and this very same randomly selected charity, selected from
possibly billions of charities worldwide, is run by my brother Skippy. Will
wonders never cease? Somebody run the fucking tape!"

Switch to tape of Anal Cyste doing an interview with Skippy.
Scene: outside some big hospital type building.

Cyste: "Skippy, we understand you have a charity running here at this very
site that you think deserves a lot of money, is that right?"

Skippy: (grunts affirmative) "It's the GIVE SOME AID TO SOME MENTALLY AND
PHYSICALLY DEFUNCT CRITTERS... or GOFUCKYERSELF... The initials of go fuck
yerself don't actually spell out the words of the long name I already
mentioned, but hey..."

Cyste: "What does your group do?"

Skippy: "We put dying animals out of their misery."

Cyste: "And how do you go about that?"

Skip: "We stomp on their wee little skulls while wearing army boots and
cleats."

Cyste: "What sort of animals do you save, and would you ever consider doing
say, terminal patients in a hospital ward?"

Skip: "We do cats, dogs, near-dead road-kill... It may not be as humane as
lethal gas, but sure is a hell of a lot cheaper and more efficient. I can
crush up to 90 animals a day while shelters who use gas take hours to reach
that volume... Yeah, we're already branching out into the terminal wards of
hospitals... Only yesterday I helped put down a cancerous 14 year old girl.
I believe I even wore the cleats I'm wearing now..."

Skip[ absent-mindedly plucks red goop from his cleats, goop that may or may
not be the brains of a 14 year old cancer patient.

Cyste: "If I asked nicely skip, would you crush MY skull?"
Skip: "Aw, all right."

Cut back to Flog and RV who are sitting in front of a vcr with a picture of a
woman being done by an orangutang. They quickly push the VCR off stage and
turn back to the cameras...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Charity Begins With Gnomes. Msg #77, 03:12 est 90-11-21
Subject: Small gnomes.
Flog: "Our second randomly selected charity happens to be run by myself.
How fucking uncanny."

Rv: "And I believe I interviewed you earlier today about it."

Cut to interview, being done in a cemetary.

Rev Viz: "Flog, just what is this new charity of yours?"

Flog: "Well, Rev, it's called Stop Nympho Corpses (or SNC), and it's an
organization made to help calm the sexual cries of the dead."

Rev: "The sexual cries of the dead?"

Flog: "Yes, you see... Many people die without sexual satisfaction.
Either they never orgasmed, or they died in a bad mood, etc. These
people now lie inside their coffins six feet under, simply screaming and
moaning for sex."

Rev, hesitantly: "And what does your society plan on doing about this
situation of corpses wanting sex?"

Flog: "Digging the poor souls up and giving it to them. I've been doing my
best, but digging up dead bodies is quite annoying, so I've hired a crew of
18 people to dig the bodies up for me... But body excavating crews are
expensive, and so I need to ask the people out there to send me their dough."

Rev: "For your worthy cause?" Flog: "Yep.

Switch back to stage.

Flog: "So far we got twenty bucks. We have already doubled our intended goal.
I can hardly believe it. Therefore, having not only reached our goal, but
DOUBLED it (eat my puke, Jerry Lewis!) we conclude this Flog-a-thon with a
prayer from the Reverend..."

Reverend: "May small critters die painfully, and may I be cremated."

Flog: "Thank you Rev, and Odin bless each and every one of you."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Roger White
To: Anybody Msg #78, 01:57 est 90-11-21
Subject: sight seeing
Has anybody here seen Flog recently??? Leonard Nimoy wants him to appear on a
new episode of In Search Of. In this episode we go In Search Of, The Women in
Flogs Body. I think it'll be worth watching. Bye.
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Brian and Wendy's Little BBS. (1:163/127.6)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: That White Fellar Msg #79, 04:25 est 90-11-22
Subject: In Search Of...
Leonard Nimoy's voice speaks as stupid pictures of Yeti's
amd Emilia Airhart flash by.

Lenny: "People, places, strange phenomena, bizarre shtuff.
Y'know, really fucked up shit."

Cut to Leonard Nimoy sitting in a chair.

Lenny: "I'm Spock, er, Leanard Nimoy, and today we are going
to look at Flog Sonata, a modern day enigma, a walking corpse, an undead
television station manager who revels in disgusting filth. I managed to reach
Flog on the Captain's deck, in a particularly startling episode of star trek."

Switch to the main captain's place floor thing in star trek.
People throw themselves back and forth at random, a screen flashes,
and a constant computer beeping is heard.

Lenny: "So you are flog sonata?"

Flog nods.

Lenny: "Wow."

Switch back to Lenard nimoy in his chair.

Lenny: "That was a highly indepth interview with Flog Sonata.
Our indepth probe shows the uncanny world we live in, doesn't it?
Oo, I'm spooked, I bet you are too."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Flognoids Msg #80, 19:22 est 90-11-22
Subject: This shoulda been here in the First Place
* Original: FROM.....Anal Cyste (163/150)
* Original: TO.......Richard Visage (163/150)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 163/150
Scene:

Cheerful housewife has nothing but apron on. She smiles blankly at the
camera and says:

"Hi, I'm so cheerful today I could just shit! Actually that's why I'm
cheerful! I just used my favorite 'Roid reducer!! Yup Preparation-H
(tee hee)."

Cheerful housewife turns around and bends over right in front on the
lens. The visual scene is too emotional to describe. She continues:

"See? No more redness or swelling!!!"

Fade to black.


A.C.
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: c:\opus (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Top Prostitutes
To: Viewers Of A Cathode-Tube Msg #81, 05:00 est 90-11-24
Subject: Reality in a drum
Flog: (at a desk, not wearing any pants) "in answer to the
great demand for true life stories, we have seen a surge in shows such as Top
Cop, Unsolved Mysteries, dumb lawyer shows, etc. In answer to this
programming, The Flog Channel presents its new show, Top Prostitute. Enjoy."

Flog steps from behind his desk to reveal his genitals are lodged firmly into
a jar of Aunt Jemima maple syrup.


Cut to:

TOP PROSTITUTE
"These are the streets where they live, in their grime and
poverty, struggling daily... These women are heroes, out there, providing the
true needs of a society gone mad. Only they hold us back from complete and
utter chaos, only they know the true perspective of our world... Only a
select few are TOP PROSTITUTES."


Old Narrator Dude: "It was at this motel in room 12b, on November
13th 1986 that Ms. Petulia "Sleazy" Pincher found herself with an all-girls
football team, asking for lesbian sex from one girl. Sleazy recalls that
moment..."

Cut to Sleazy: "So I like, walk into the fucking room, and
there's like 15 fucking women, and they like, want me to do the dyke thing.
Christ, like, I'm straight, and I like sex, and like, nothing's easier than
getting laid, but like 15 girls at once? EW! But like, my fucking pimp was
holding out on my heroin so what the fuck? So I did em all, three at a time.
And fuck, my tongue is triple jointed to this day."

Old narrator dude: "Sleazy is a modern day triumph of
prostitution training. She was raised by a drunken father, dropped
out of high scool, and was never taught about birth-control. After her fifth
abortion, her abusive catholic parents kicked her out of the house. She
worked the streets almost right away, earning small sums of money to keep
herself, and her drug habit alive. Sleazy recalls those times..."

Sleazy: "Fuckin' shit man, just fucking hell."

Old narrator dude: "Sleazy tried to kill herself twice, and both times was
stopped by her pimp who took her in to the hospital. On the second time, the
pimp left Sleazy to fend for herself, and never bothered to take her back.
Little did Sleazy's pimp realize that someday, Sleazy would do her life-work
only two weeks later in room 14b."

Pimp: "Sheet, if I'd known the bitch coulda taken a fucking dyke job, I coulda
kept her on for like, years."

Old narrator dude: "Depite her piece de resistance, Sleazy is not honoured and
loved by her tricks. She's ugly, has needle marks up and down her arm, and
now suffers in a detox/mental hospital, where she gibbers and drools. Despite
this, Sleazy will be remembered, by those watching, and fourteen members of
an all girls basketball team. Thank you, and may god piss."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Video Feed From Italy (Or Poland?)
To: All Religious Shits Msg #82, 05:29 est 90-11-24
Subject: The Pope
And now, live video feed of the pope's address to the world people's...
(Translated, loosely, from whatever the fuck the pope speaks...)

Pope dude: "Ok, like, here I am, and I am like, so fucking godly, it gives you
all blisters on yer knees, right? So like when I say you guys should fuckin'
do something, you ain't got no choice but to do, right? So like here's the
thing: Sex should only happen after marriage. Yeah, it's a bitch rule and
it'll ruin this weekend, but hey, like, you know, whatch the tv instead or
sumthin' ok?"

(Pope pauses to adjust his hat)

Pope: "And like condoms, y'know? Don't use em. I'm not sure of the exact
passage in the bible thing, but God said somewhere that if you put a rubber
thing on your willie, you'll go to hell. You wanna goto Hell? Naw! It's
hot there and it burns and oo-nelly, it ain't fun!
So like, ferget the condoms. So like, have a kid for every orgasm,
and you'll goto heaven. So says the BIG GUY, that God type guy, y'know.
Oh yeah, and don't eat salad on thursdays. A new rule, God told me to tell
you. Anyone who eats a tomato on thursdays, finished. Struck dead by God.
And don't forget to buy pope souvenirs when you leave. Christ on a cross:
$5.95. The virgin Mary: $6.95. Pope T-shirts:
$7.95 plus church tax."

This has been the pope saying things. Don't worry, only half the planet
believes what he says.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: All Msg #83, 01:35 est 90-11-24
Subject: Choke choke choke I'm choking...
PRIMORDIAL DAWN

A deep, introspective short film about life in the primoridal soup, and the
complex trauma of existing as a paramecium.

Scene: Bubbling froth, two micro-organisms drifting aimlessly. They bump
into one another.

Paramecium #1: Watch it, you fuck.

Paramecium #2: Yeah, what's up your ass, buddy?

(Parameciums kill each other horribly.)

(Eerie cello music. Fade to pile of dead babies.)
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
 
 
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Stewart Bruce Msg #84, 16:31 est 90-11-24
Subject: Executive Dinner at the Flog Channel
Scene: A crowded restaurant. A long table is filled with unusual
types, and none of the tables immediately bordering on the long
table are taken, even thought people are waiting for a table.
A waitress appears. "Awwwright. I got yer food. Lemmesee,
there's 3 Fatburgers, 2 clubs, a creole enchilada, and liver
'n' onions. Who's for Liver 'n' onions?"
Stewart Bruce waves frantically. Food like substances are put
in front of the people at the table, and ugly eating sounds
follow.
After a few minutes of an animal like food frenzy, dinner is
completed. At the head of the table, a man thwops an oily french
fry on the table to call the meeting to order.
Mel: "Well, as you know, ratings for the Flog Channel are going
down the tubes. We gotta do something to pick it up."
Rev. Visage: "Tits. Tits and fart jokes."
Flog: "We've done that. We need something special, something
different..."
Anal Cyste: "...a mascot..."
Flog: "...a horribly disfigured mascot. That's dead..."
Moose: "or just dying horribly..."
Rev. Visage: "with tits..."
Mel: "and a disease."
Random Noise: *fffeeeep!*
Flog: "What was that? <pause> Maybe a favorite disease? Ya know,
like 'The Flog Channel, where Leprosy is King'"
Moose: "do you smell something? Maybe a few diseases, broaden the
appeal a bit."
Random Noise: *ssssssssssfraaaap!*
Mel: "Who cut the cheese? I like the diseases, you know,
something like a leprosy, cancer and brain tumour thing.."
Rev. Visage: "how 'bout a special on the tits of the terminally
ill?"
Random Noise: *plplplplplplplplpfaDoop!*
Stewart Bruce blushes. Flog begins choking. Moose collapses as Mel
fishes for his prescription and Visage begins wheezing out Hail
Marys..
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
*** There is a reply. See #285.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Richard Visage Msg #85, 07:38 est 90-11-25
Subject: You gets what you ask for...
"And now it's time for..."

TITS OF THE TERMINALLY ILL

"A show that goes beyond bad taste into a whole new realm
of vulgarness..."

On todays show, we'll be visiting Betty Boo, a porno star
who is dying of syphillus because she says AIDS is just too trendy for her.
Ms. Boo says she's going to have each breast bronzed, which means two lucky
members of our audience will get to go home with either her left or her right
breast, captured for ever in bronze with a lovely zirconian-peuter stand.
(hushed narrator explaining voice: she broke up the set (2 tits) for twice
the cash.)

We'll also be visiting Mary Tyler Moore, who isn't terminally
ill but just looks like it, to ask her if she has breasts, and if so, where
they are.

We'll also be talking to a woman in switzerland, a former
penthouse pet, who is in the thralls of what appear to be lethal seizures
caused by brain constriction, and yes... Yes, I think we'll be going there
now.

Shot of incredibly boffo babe writhing in agony as her brain
constricts. She is wearing a skimpy hospital gown and camera is firmly locked
on her breasts, which are rocking, jolting and rolling as the woman spasms
out of control. Eventually she stiffens up and stops moving, and her breasts
just sit there, motionless.

A true tragedy, a loss of wonderful tits, (for some of us
anyway, oh to be an undertaker in sweden right now), but what an incredible
display as they left this world and went on to the next, huh? I'm afraid
we've run out of time for today, so we'll have to give you those other
stories for tomorrow. Thanks for joining us, goodnight.

Credits shows names of many famous porno flick directors.

Fade to pile of dead babies who's bodies spell out (cheerleader
style) FLOG CHANNEL. The babies who make up the N's are noticeably broken to
do so, not to mention the E and the L's.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #86, 07:49 est 90-11-25
Subject: GIFs Can Kill.
The Following is a Public Service Announcement from The Flog Channel.

Flog, naked at a desk: "Hello, I'm Flog Sonata, president,
chairmen and leader-dude of the Flog Channel. I'd like to take this little
moment to point out to the younger BBSes today, something not commonly said
about GIF files."
"For you poor naive innocents out there, GIF files are pictures
of vile degredation and nudity, scattered about the BBSes of ottawa, most of
which portraying acts of bestiality, sadomasochism, and brutality against
women, goldfish, hamsters, etc. The way the sysops are getting away with
such evil degredation is disguising seemingly innocent files, such as
Christ.TXT and Bible.TXT into PORNOGRAPHY. Therefore I can only recommend
not downloading any files, ever, for you may accidentally stumble across some
twisted sysops perverted filth."

"I was talking to a crowd of young BBSers a few days ago,
and one, I believe his name was Billy, looked up at me with frightened blue
eyes and asked 'But why uncle floggie, why do the sysops of ottawa allow such
obviously sleazy files to be distributed in a medium which could be used in
much more productive ways, say, the furthering of mankind as a whole?' after
beating the shit out of Billy for being a little pretencious fuck, I answered
his question like this: 'Because people are swines, Billy, fuck you.' Billy
is now recoverring in the local children's hospital and the charges against
me were dropped after a little rap-session with Billy's mom and dad."

"So what can we do, to stop the spread of BBS pornography?
Well, one way would be to stop bbs all together, which is ridiculous.
Another way would be to download every single porn file you can get
your hands on, and study them at great length. Know thy enemy. Heck, why
not. I'm Flog Sonata, reminding you that there are only 87 days until Elvis'
Funeral celebration. Thank you, and may God Piss."

This has been a Public Service Announcement of The Flog Channel.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mcnazis
To: Food-Consumer-Type Beings Msg #87, 07:59 est 90-11-25
Subject: Service with a Smile, at gunpoint.
Scene: A harshly lit McNazis where the staff are grinning
insanely. One girl at the counter is focussed on. She wears a dingy grey
uniform with a yellow star name-tag. Electrodes strapped to her forehead are
foir the moment, silent. She looks like she's been working for 80 hours
straight, and seems to be pregnant.

Worker: (howling) "Hello may I help you?"
Scum guy who wants a burger: "Ya, I wanna Big Aushwitz, hold
the special sauce, no yarmucle."
Worker: "Right away, mein furher."

Worker (returns): "Here you are, one Aushwitz burger..."
SGWWAB: "I said no Yarmucle, what's this? A Yarmucle! Where's
the fucking manager?"
Worker: "No, no, please, not the manager, I'll get you another,
please..."
SGWWAB: "MANAGER!"

Manager: (wearing an SS uniform, clicks his heels) "Mein furher?
Is there a problem?"
GWWAB: "This whore gave me a Aushwitz burger with a yarmucle."
Worker: "No, no, I... I..."
GWWAB: "And I think she's pregnant."
Worker: "I need this job to pay the rent, I couldn't get an
abortion... They wouldn't approve it..."

Manager: (Pushes a remote control button that activates
electrodes) "Writhe! Writhe! The customer/furher is always right!
Into the deep-fryer with you, whore!"

Worker: "No, please! Aaaaa!!!"

Manager smiles to GWWAB and finishes the business transaction
as a happy jingle plays.

Jingle: "It's McNazis, you love it with a passion-it's
McNazis...
For FOOD FOLKS and FASCISTS."

Evil smiling SS manager pulls up a brown fried human being
from the deep-fryer: "Hiring exploitable cheap age-groups from the word go."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Miaowara Tomokato
To: Art Fags and the like... Msg #88, 15:26 est 90-11-25
Subject: CLASSICS THEATRE (reprise)
[Flog TV logo displayed on a sickly white background. Cameraman pulls
back and it becomes evident that the logo i s painted on the back of a
corpse. The camera pulls even further back and the audience is
rewarded (?) with the sights and sounds of Flog Sonata committing an
act of necrophilia on the dead woman. Camera zooms in to F log's face as
Flog approaches orgasm. Camera zooms deep into Flog's wide-open mouth.]
[GRAMS: Genesis' "Silent S orrow in Empty Boats"] [The blackness of
Flog's mouth fades to Classics Theatre logo with its traditional trou
badors' masks - with the twisting leer and eternal suffering replacing
the usual happy and sad faces.] Voice Ov er: Welcome to Flog TV's only
contribution to the performing arts: Classics Theatre. I am your
host for
this evening, Malevolent Maniac. Tonight's show requires no
introduction, so I won't give you one. [Fade to title screen
displaying "Classics Theatre presents..." Screen clears and blood-stained
seminal fluids trace
out the title: "The Existentialist Faust." Fade to grey and then to an
opulent master bedroom in classical Euro pean style. [GRAMS: Alan
Parson's Project's "The Fall of the House of Usher."] Faust: Hello.
Welcome to my
home. I realise that you have probably all read Goethe's version of
my story, but Goethe was an idiot . Anyone with any brains realises
that Evil always triumph's over Good. Why? Because Good is STUPID!
Go ethe's "morality" play dealing with my story would have you
believe that I died penniless, friendless and loveless. You can see from
this room that I am far from penniless. Just look at the furnishings!
That bed over
there has silk sheets! The dresser in the corner was made by one
of Europe's finest craftsmen. (I
incidentally had him killed to make sure that he would never
duplicate that chest.) I've got more creatur e comforts in this
room than did even Howard Hughes. And unlike that small-timer, I'm alive
to enjoy it. And
I will be for thousands of years to come. The next allegation,
of being friendless, is even more ridic ulous. I have all the
friends (and the best friends) that money can buy. Noone who is rich
is truly wit hout friends. True, the toadying is sometimes
annoying, but it has its benefits as well. Nothing like a
good toadying-up to if you're depressed on any given day. On the
last point, Goethe is correct. I am lo veless. But without a soul
there's hardly a point in being loved. Besides, who needs love when
you've g ot THESE hot babes to take care of you?! [GRAMS: Beethoven's
Ninth Symphony: "Ode an die Freude."] [A few dozen
gorgeous women in varying degrees of dishabille enter the room. The camera
pans from one to the other as if undecided on which one to focus. The
girls all pile onto Faust in a writhing mass of sexual passion. Clothes
start to get
tossed around and tongues, fingers, and other appendages start getting
inserted into various orfices on the sq uirming bodies.] Faust: [In
a gasping voice.] Girls? Girls? Could you get off of me now? Please?
I'm findin g it difficult to breathe. Girls?! I CAN'T BREATHE!!!!!!!!
[Expires messily.] [The women begin to eat Faust's b ody. All the while
they groan in sexual passion as they finger and excite each other.
Eventually they run out of food from Faust's body and start on each other.
Those women being eaten scream horribly while the rest m oan in the
throes of multiple orgasms. Fade to black.] [GRAMS: Steve Hackett's
"What's My Name?"] [Mix to Classic s Theatre logo.] Voice Over: This
has been another presentation of Flog TV's Classics Theatre. Tune in
next w eek for _Flog Goes Christmas Shopping_ where we will see
what happens when you take Christmas too seriousl y. Until then...
[GRAMS: Enya's "Cursum Perficio."] [If you haven't heard this one, GET
IT! It's really biza rre!] [Fade to logo of RKO antenna stuck in the eye
of The Man in the Moon. Pus-filled infections are starting to fo
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Miaowara Tomokato
To: Art Fags and Loose Moose Msg #89, 15:48 est 90-11-25
Subject: Classics Theatre - properly formatted...
[Flog TV logo displayed on a sickly white background.
Cameraman pulls back and it becomes evident that the logo is
painted on the back of a corpse. The camera pulls even
further back and the audience is rewarded (?) with the
sights and sounds of Flog Sonata committing an act of
necrophilia on the dead woman. Camera zooms in to Flog's
face as Flog approaches orgasm. Camera zooms deep into
Flog's wide-open mouth.]

[GRAMS: Genesis' "Silent Sorrow in Empty Boats"]

[The blackness of Flog's mouth fades to Classics Theatre
logo with its traditional troubadors' masks - with the
twisting leer and eternal suffering replacing the usual
happy and sad faces.]

Voice Over:
Welcome to Flog TV's only contribution to the performing
arts: Classics Theatre. I am your host for this
evening, Malevolent Maniac. Tonight's show requires no
introduction, so I won't give you one.

[Fade to title screen displaying "Classics Theatre
presents..." Screen clears and blood-stained seminal fluids
trace out the title: "The Existentialist Faust." Fade to
grey and then to an opulent master bedroom in classical
European style.

[GRAMS: Alan Parson's Project's "The Fall of the House of
Usher."]

Faust:
Hello. Welcome to my home. I realise that you have
probably all read Goethe's version of my story, but
Goethe was an idiot. Anyone with any brains realises
that Evil always triumph's over Good. Why? Because Good
is STUPID!

Goethe's "morality" play dealing with my story would
have you believe that I died penniless, friendless and
loveless. You can see from this room that I am far from
penniless. Just look at the furnishings! That bed over
there has silk sheets! The dresser in the corner was
made by one of Europe's finest craftsmen. (I
incidentally had him killed to make sure that he would
never duplicate that chest.) I've got more creature
comforts in this room than did even Howard Hughes. And
unlike that small-timer, I'm alive to enjoy it. And I
will be for thousands of years to come.

The next allegation, of being friendless, is even more
ridiculous. I have all the friends (and the best
friends) that money can buy. Noone who is rich is truly
without friends. True, the toadying is sometimes
annoying, but it has its benefits as well. Nothing like
a good toadying-up to if you're depressed on any given
day.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Miaowara Tomokato
To: Art Fags and Loose Moose Msg #90, 15:54 est 90-11-25
Subject: Classics Theatre (post 2)...

On the last point, Goethe is correct. I am loveless.
But without a soul there's hardly a point in being
loved. Besides, who needs love when you've got THESE
hot babes to take care of you?!

[GRAMS: Beethoven's Ninth Symphony: "Ode an die Freude."]

[A few dozen gorgeous women in varying degrees of dishabille
enter the room. The camera pans from one to the other as if
undecided on which one to focus. The girls all pile onto
Faust in a writhing mass of sexual passion. Clothes start
to get tossed around and tongues, fingers, and other
appendages start getting inserted into various orfices on
the squirming bodies.]

Faust:
[In a gasping voice.] Girls? Girls? Could you get off of
me now? Please? I'm finding it difficult to breathe.
Girls?! I CAN'T BREATHE!!!!!!!! [Expires messily.]

[The women begin to eat Faust's body. All the while they
groan in sexual passion as they finger and excite each
other. Eventually they run out of food from Faust's body
and start on each other. Those women being eaten scream
horribly while the rest moan in the throes of multiple
orgasms. Fade to black.]

[GRAMS: Steve Hackett's "What's My Name?"]

[Mix to Classics Theatre logo.]

Voice Over:
This has been another presentation of Flog TV's Classics
Theatre. Tune in next week for _Flog Goes Christmas
Shopping_ where we will see what happens when you take
Christmas too seriously. Until then...

[GRAMS: Enya's "Cursum Perficio."]
[If you haven't heard this one, GET IT! It's really
bizarre!]

[Fade to logo of RKO antenna stuck in the eye of The Man in
the Moon. Pus-filled infections are starting to form around
the impact site.]
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #91, 04:02 est 90-11-26
Subject: Discussion on Literature
And now it's time for Flog Sonata's Literary Corner, with your host, Ken
Murray, oh wait, no, with your host, Flog Sonata...

Flog at desk, abcence of clothes: "Good evening. Tonights book that our panel
will be discussing tonight is 'Dick and Jane' Betty Roberts. I'd like to
start the discussion off right away with Dennis who's just come back from
Peru, and he's got these superb earings on. What are those made of Dennis,
yak vomit?"

Dennis: "Tres drole Flog, no these are made of buddhist monk spleen, bronzed
by tibetan rebels."

Flog: "Ah, and what do you think of 'Dick and Jane'?"

Dennis: "Well, honestly, the book was a bit of a let down. The symbolism was
blatantly obvious. I mean 'See dick run, see Jane run, run Dick, run Jane,
run run run.'... It's quite obvious here that 'dick' is a statement for the
male phallus and that Jane represents the woman both running towards and away
from the phallus in a constant state of fear and desire."

Flog: (trying not to laugh) "What about 'Spot', the dog in the story?"

Dennis: "Well, obviously, 'Spot' represents the female genitalia which is
always worshipped and never feared, for it is the provider of birth, and of
wholesomeness and is symbolic of our mother earth and..."

James, interrupting: "I'd like to make a point here if I may Flog, that Dick
and Jane is not about sexual roles in society at all, but is a reaffirmating
of the catholic trinity, where Dick is God, Jane is the holy ghost, and spot
is the son."

Flog: "Pfff.. Really?"

Boris: "Now look here you two, the actually story of Dick and Jane is simply a
gripping drama and nothing more. It brings you to the brink of exctasy and
leaves you dangling. Every word is simply an affirmation of human goodness,
and the simplicity of the book simply shows that life is liveable if looked
at in certain ways. Note the simple sentence structure, the repetition...
It becomes quite clear that the book is saying 'Life is simple, look at life
simply'."

Dennis and James begin to argue feverishly, Boris quickly joins the heated
debate. The three rise from their chairs and begin fighting madly, leaving
Flog sitting next to this gorgeous babe with very large breasts.

Flog, handing the woman a copy of 'Dick and Jane': "Read the part with the
running again?"

Woman, in sensuous voice: "See dick run. See jane run. Run dick, run jane,
run run run..."

Flog groans as the woman reads on. The woman herself becomes flustered and
undoes the top three buttons of her shirt. Soon she and Flog are naked and
making love, while the three reviewers are beating each other into bloody
pulps.
Fade to black as voice-over dude says goodnight.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Squid Tentacles
To: All Msg #92, 10:47 est 90-11-26
Subject: A word from our sponsor
[scene fades, a pause, scene fades in... a forest at night. A man appears in
camo clothing]
So I'm headed down to la barricade
to have a talk with la Warriors.
So I'm sneaking through la woods
[large dopey looking goon appears with a Russian assault rifle]
When I'm looking into the barrel of la AK47.
I look up, there he is... La-sagna
[goon looks at the camera and smiles, camera pans to view about 7 additional
goon-like demi-humans]
With a few of la boys.
So I tell them I'm la international observer.
They say I'm full of la shit
[goon squad pulls out bludgeoning devices and get to work]
and proceed to beat me with la blunt instruments.
Which is great because...
la blunt instruments were...
[goon squad holds up blood covered weapons and yell in unison]
"La bats!"
[fade]
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Flog "20-In-A-Row" Sonata Msg #93, 18:26 est 90-11-27
Subject: Stupid Kiddie Games.
(Saturday Morning on Flog TV. FLOG CHANNEL logo is spelt from broken toys
and mangled Care Bears. Sounds of crying children in background. Fade to
obnoxious set of one of those game-shows-for-8-year-olds that everyone hates
sooooo much. Obnoxious so-stylish-it's-ugly guy in early twenties seems to
be the host.)

Host: Hey, everybody, it's time for your favorite game show, YOUTH
CORRUPTION! (Mass cheering. Kids in audience jump up and down. A few of
them are mysteriously shot.) Well, our three contestants for today are...
Davie Weermeister, Virginia Smallslut, and Billie Youngwanker! Come on down,
kiddies!

(Three screaming little brats come running down from the stands and stand
behind three little podiums. Host pulls out a question card and checks it
over.)

Host: Okay kiddies, here's your first question. What is the southernmost
island conquered by the Japanese in the Second World War?

(Kids look amazingly terrified. They look down and start scrambling to
write down answers, Jeopardy style. "I Wanna Be Sedated" plays in the
background as they write. Buzzer sound.)

Host: Oops, time's up, let's see what you've got! Davie? (Davie holds up
his answer. It says, "Christmas Island.") Well, you're a lucky little shit,
aren't you? Don't worry kiddo, we'll nail you yet. How about you, Billie?
(Billie holds up his answer. It also says "Christmas Island".) Well, you're
certainly a pair of little smart-asses, aren't you? YOU WANT A SHOT UPSIDE
THE HEAD? HUH? (The two kids cower.) Okay, Virginia, let's see what you've
got. (Virginia's answer reads "Australia".) Fuck, Virginia, are you a dumb
whore or what? You expect to go to university? Fat fucking chance, ya
snot-filled ho! Bob, tell us what happens to Virgina?

(Voice over: Well Jim, Virgina... loses her virginity!)

Virginia: But, I'm only 8--

Host: Shut up! (Hordes of horny little boys come streaming down from the
stands and jump Virginia. Host momentarily joins in before getting back in
front of the camera. Wipes sweat off brow.) Okay, that leaves two
contestants, little Billie and little Davie. Okay kids, here's your
question. What was the speed limit in the USA in 1904? ("Argh Fuck Kill" by
the DayGlo Abortions plays as Billie and Davie frantically write. Buzzer
hasn't even gone yet when the host intervenes.) Enough time, fuck, let's see
what you've got! (Billie holds up his answer. It says "20 m.p.h.") Well,
you're a little Einstein, aren't you? (Smacks Billie upside the head.
Billie staggers back, blood pouring from his mouth.) You're all mine, you
little fat fuck. (Turns to Davie, who reluctantly holds up his answer. It
says "I Wanna Go Home.") YOU CALL THAT AN ANSWER YOU STUPID ASS? HAH! Bob,
what happens to Davie?

Voice over: Davie gets to o.d. on heroin!

Host: Boy, Davie, too bad. (A huge syringe is carried onstage by an
emaciated little girl. Host snatches it, kicks girl in the face.) Here you
go, Davie boy! (Sticks syringe in Davie's arm. Davie looks momentarily
relaxed, then passes out and starts convulsions.) Okay, we only have little
Billie left, don't we? I'll bet you think you're smart, doncha Billie?
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: All Msg #94, 18:50 est 90-11-27
Subject: Youth Corruption, Pt. 2
Billie: Uh, yes, sir.

Host: Then I'll hope you don't mind if I forget the questions and just nail
you here and now. (Pulls out shotgun, blasts Billie in the face. Billie is
reduced to a spluttering pile of mush.) Well gee, I guess no one
won! Let's move on to our next round of ... YOUTH CORRUPTION! (Hordes of
little kids cheer wildly. Javelins land mysteriously in the crowd, impaling
a select few...)
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Major Dread
To: All Msg #95, 21:53 est 90-11-27
Subject: We'll have none of that, thank you !!
[Scene: British officer sitting behind conservative desk, dressed in awfully
well pressed british officer's uniform]
Right !!... That'll be enough silliness, I think !!
I mean, I can tkae a joke as well as anyone...
Well, except my mother...
Then there's the Director...
And, of course my wife...Right, there are a lot of people who can take a joke
better than I can...
But THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT !!
Now, let's have no more of this silliness...
I want holesome, family enjoyment type of entertainement on this 'ere echo
this instant !!!
 
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
From: Midget Jim Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #96, 19:47 est 90-11-29
Subject: Re: Hello and Welcome
[screen fades back in. Shot to Midget Jim. God only knows what he looks
like.]
Midget Jim: [weakly] "W-W-Well, I-I can h-hardly disagree-ree".
"A-And now, on t-to our next s-show."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #2.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Monty Python Fans Msg #97, 04:29 est 90-11-30
Subject: How it shoulda been...
A thousand naked women holding penguins between their legs run across the
television screen yelling NI!

Flog steps out from behind a shrub.

"And now..."

Moose, wearing a game show host uniform, holding a screaming child by the
genitals: "ITS!"

Weird nasal voice as obscene cartoon credits go by:
"Flog Sonata's Spying Lurkers!"

Music is the same as Monty Python, cuz hey, it's a good tune.

Cut to Mrs Nickerbater exploding in a shower of gore, blood and bits of flesh
splattering everywhere.

Cut to close up of a dead parrot lying very still on a counter top, maggots
are seaping out of the parrot's empty eye socket.

Cut to a man wearing a full aromour suit clubbing himself to death with a
rubber herring.

Cut to a couple eating dinner peacefully. One suddenly yells "Fuck the queen!"
pulls out a pistol and shoots the other person.

Cut to a man completely naked at a piano, who is shooting up. He looks
embarassed momentarily.

Cut to a small poodle being crushed by a double decker bus.

Cut to a cartoon of mutant car eating cats rampaging through the rideau center
with machetes.

Cut to Flog Sonata saying "Meep Meep!" while bouncing about naked.

Cut to Mel Pheasant saying "Sex isn't funny, death isn't funny, but SEX AND
DEATH, now THAT'S funny!" In the background, behind Mel, a prostitute can be
seen fondling a corpses genitalia and saying loudly:
"What kind of religion insists on the devirginification of the corpse?"

Cut to RV and Skippy dancing in a ball room, both wearin TuTus.

Cut to a walrus eating a baby seal.

Cut to a tree falling in the woods, no one to hear it, except a baby sitting
at the bottom of the tree. The baby is crushed.

Cut to Midget Jim holdig a rabbit: "He was good, until the end, when he bit my
cock off."

Final scene: all the characters rush into one big auditorium and sit in the
seats, cheering eagerly for something to happen. A view of the earth
swinging out of it's orbit and spiraling into the sun can be seen. Cut to
Flog. Cut to Mel. Cut to Moose. Cut to dead baby bits under a tree. Cut to
the Queen masturbating with a silver memorial ladel. Cut to a cat sitting
inside a blender. Button press, and then cut toFlog who says mysteriously:
"Something Cryptic!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog "Only 20?" Sonata
To: Fuck That Animal Msg #98, 04:44 est 90-11-30
Subject: Game Shows From Hell
Irritating loud music and a man wearing horribly flashy clothing steps out on
to stage, audience cheers franticly.

Man: "Allo and welcome to 'Fuck that animal', the game show that goes beyond
good taste, beyond sanity, beyond logic, and straight into the bowels of a
really fowl fat priest named Benny. Tonights contestants, Mr Twit from
Ottawa, Mr Twit (no relation) from Kanata, and Ms. Twat from Preston Street.
Hello contestants, ready to play
'Fuck that animal'?"

Contestants: (Clap enthusiasticly) "Yay!!!"

Man: "Alright, who's going to spin the big wheel first?"

Twat: "I won the coin toss."

Man: "Excellent, spin the wheel..."

Twat spins a huge wheel.

Man: "Oh, oh, and it looks like it's.... an anteater for 500."
Twat: "Oh goody!"
Man: "Into the plexiglass booth! (twat goes in) For those of you joining us
for the first tim, let me explain the rules of 'Fuck that Animal' very
briefly.... You spin the wheel, you get a dollar value and an animal name,
and then it's your job to 'Fuck that Animal'! Go Twat go!"

Twat manages quite easily to fuck the anteater.

Man: "Excellent, excellent! Well done!"

Burst of killer static from hell... The screen shimmers, fades, and is
replaced with a spiraling vortex.

A voice in russian says: "Lord Satan, the world is falling for Glasnost, what
shall we do next?"

Satan's voice is heard: "Tell them you are running out of money and food, get
them to send you supplies, meanwhile, use all your finances to increase your
secret chemical and biological weapon stockpile!"

Russian: "Yes Oh Satan..."

Static. Back to the Game show, where Mr Twit's bloody remains are being
smashed against the plexiglass window by a 500-pound gorilla.

Man: "Aww... So Mr Twit doesn't win the car. Next week, we'll have three more
contestants! Until then, practice on the neighbour's doberman!"

Credits roll.

Fade to Flog Channel Logo: A thousand dead bodies from some sort of massacre
lying in heaps that spell out in a panaoramic view of the countryside: "FLOG
CHANNEL: SUPPORTING GENOCIDE CUZ PEOPLE ARE A PAIN! KILL FLOG FIRST, HE'S
BEGGING FOR A BULLET! HONEST!"
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: All Msg #99, 22:30 est 90-11-29
Subject: Stupid Commercials.
(Scene: Kitchen. Sickeningly cozy kitchen you always see in Kellogg's
commercials. Daughter puts box of cereal down in front of her mother, who is
seated. The cereal is Muslix.)

Mother: (Tastes cereal.) (In heavy European accent:) Hmm, tastes like home.

Daughter: It is your cereal from home, mother.

(Pause.) Mother: I HATE home! You stupid bitch, why do you think I moved
away? If I liked it that much, I would have still been there, wouldn't I?
Where are your brains, girl? (Slaps daughter.) Get me fucking Froot Loops.
None of this shit, it reminds me of secret police knocking on my door. Let's
go, dammit.

(Fade to black.)
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Microwave Users Who Tire Of Life. Msg #100, 23:47 est 90-11-30
Subject: I can forward messages! Woop-fucking-ee!
* Original: FROM.....Midget Jim (30522/1)
* Original: TO.......White Rabbit (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Want to commit suicide by microwave? I have just the thing for you.
Micro-danger, the $123.45 kit which disables your microwave's door open
detection. Install this on your microwave, open the door, start it going,
and before morning, you'll be dead to the world
* * *
Call 1-800-012-3456 for your Micro-danger. Pay COD, VISA, or DOP. We will
rush your Micro-danger to you via airmail. And, for a limited time only, you
get a *** free *** will-making kit, with suicide-note add-in.
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Kuh-Nig-It Msg #101, 05:56 est 90-12-01
Subject: The Dating Game
Flog Channel logo: Loose Moose's backside branded with a steel prod glowing
red. The charred flesh says: "The Flog Channel: Where Muselix is a dirty
word".

Boppy-de-boppy music.
Voice: "And now it's time for the Dating game, with your host, Flog Sonata!"

Flog walks on to stage looking suave in a potato sack.
Flog: "Hello, hello, I'm Flog Sonata, in case you weren't listening when
what's his face announced me, and this is The Dating Game, the show where men
and women debased themselves like rutting pigs much to the amusement of our
braindead viewing audience... And without further ado, let's begin, shall
we? Johnny, who's our first contestant?"

Voice: "Well Flog, today's first contestant is Knight Slayer, straight from
Camelot BBS. His hobbies include (monty python rip-off time) golf,
strangling animals and masturbating."

Flog: "Welcome to the show, Knight."
Knight: "Thanks Flog, it's would be a pleasure if you weren't being such a
cruel bastard and taking this opportunity to bug the hell out of me."
Flog: "Dem's dah breaks. Now who will Knight be picking from today?"

Voice: "Well Flog, there's a rabid barracuda that loves nothing more than to
tear off the heads of children."

Video of barricuda gnashing evilly.

Voice: "There's a siberian timbre wolf that hasn't been fed for three weeks
and who is also kind of rabid..."

Video of wolf pacing back and forth, looking evil.

Voice: "And then there's some bimbo named Margo."

Knight: "NO! NO! Not margo!"

Flog: "Audience, lock in your pick for Mr Slayer..."

Beeping sounds of a cheezy vic-20 compiling information is heard.

Flog: "The votes are in, and it looks like our audience, being a trully
sadistic bunch of swines who I payed off before the show, want you to go out
with Margo."

Knight: "She humiliated me! Never! The fucking slut!"

Flog: "Unfortunately, you have no choice in the matter. Go out with her or
die."

Armed guards step out and point weapons at Knight Slayer.

Knight: "Augh! Ok! ok! I'll do it! Don't kill me!"

Flog: "Tune in next week to see what happens to Mr. Slayer on his little
date..."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Kuh-Nig-It Msg #102, 06:08 est 90-12-01
Subject: Dating game next week.
Voice: "And now once again it's time for the Dating game..."

Flog: "Last week, we set Mr Slayer up with his old flame Margo. Knight old
pal, how'd it go?"

Knight slayer slinks out on to stage, his legs in casts, his face battered and
purple. He waves one of his crutches menacingly at Flog, but loses his
balance and falls. He is helped to a couch by armed guards.

Flog: "So where did you and Margo go on your little date?"

Knight: "She took me to this black room, all black, everything black.
I wanted to run, but she'd locked the door behind me. She strapped
me to a spinning wheel and took out a cat-of-nine-tails and proceeded to whip
me for three hours straight. I know how much time went by because she said
she'd do three hours of that, and then bathe the wounds in mustard."

Flog: "So was this a formal dress affair?"

Knight: "After, she took me down off the spinning wheel, and I collapsed on to
the hardwood floor. She put a leash and collar on me and made me walk like a
dog... (sob) Then she poured lighter fluid on my chest hair and burnt it
off... The flames got out of control and I woke up two hours later in the
Ottawa Civic Hospital. She was dressed as the nurse watching over me, and
she proceeded to take me to the X-ray room where she put 100 thousand hertz
of energy through my skull...
I stumbled about the hospital naked and incoherent for hours, until
finally some intern grabbed me and had me in a head lock. Thinking I was
mentally unstable, they sent me to the Royal Ottawa for electroshock. SHE
was there, at the dial. I got 50 thousand voltz....
Then..."

Flog: "So did you have a good time?"

Knight: (whimper) g-g-good time??

Flog: "Let's talk to Margo, shall we?"

Knight: "She's here? She's not here is she?! not really?!"
Knight Slayer staggers to his feet and gets ready to run.

Margo's image appears on the large screen thing. Knight slayer screams and
collapses into a fetal ball.

Flog: "Margo, how was your date?"

Margo is entirely dressed in black latex and is fingering a billy- club in one
hand.

Margo: "The fucking wimp passed out after only two hours of beatings...
fuckin' wimp. And he didn't even seem to enjoy the cigarette burns
on his eye-lids..."
Flog (noticeably excited): "Ever gone out with a game show host?"
As Flog poropisitions Margo for kinky sex, and Knight Slayer writhes in fear
on the studio floor, the credits role and the show ends.

Fade to black with silver studs.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Anal Cyste
To: Classified Ad Readers. Msg #103, 12:43 est 90-12-01
Subject: I need

***** ATTENTION LADIES OR IQUANAS *****

Single, Skid-mark coloured Infection wishes to meat lady or
Iguana for liaison Down Under. Will supply bacteria and/or
lubricants (Prep-H, my fave).

I am professional, have thousands of jobs and am very outgoing.
I like warm cozy places, don't like sunshine.

Please send a picture and stool sample. Discretion Assured.
Serious replies only.

Phone 733-8332
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Anal Cyste
To: Pseudo-Intellectual Beings Msg #104, 01:16 est 90-12-02
Subject: I hope I have time to type this: TexPlay

(Fade to bright sunshiney day, Marigold's swaying in the breeze on
a nice fruit tree covered field. There is a picnic blanket in the distance.
Small children can be seen frolicking around a tree with
a tire swinging from it. The aroma of roast chicken is present.)

(Camera zooms into the picnic scene)

AC> Hey Vis! Has yer womam found out about new TexPlay Pads?

RV> Well, I wanted to surprise her for Christmas.

AC> Great idea! Those built in vibrators offer a revelation in women's
personal care!

RV's Woman in the background> Dick, could you toss me a totally boring
pad that just soaks up things and gives me no pleasure?

RV> Sure Hon, here ya go. (aside to Anal) Boy won't she be surprised
on christmas day!

Commentator: So all you loving guys out there, Buy your woman TexPlay!
So that she can forget about you when it's that time of the month!!!

(Fade to red)
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Anal Cyste
To: From Super Syl Msg #105, 01:30 est 90-12-02
Subject: well it was from me to hum.. who i'm i writing to anyways.... very
scene: she is typing away on the boards. She contacts with someone. She
thinks he is very odd, but yet she is very interested, maybe curious.
She slinks into the room and drops her tube top on his head.
He groans. Rips his pants and wets himself.

Flog> Sorry Babe.

Syl> I wanted to see you do that, at least once.

Flog> That;s cool babe. Now do you want to see more?

(This seems to be quite sexual doesn't it?)

*squish* *slither* *slide* *slip* *moan* *groan*

Sounds like a kitchen floor...

(Fade to black )
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Super Syl Msg #106, 05:32 est 90-12-03
Subject: Sexual Deviance, the How To Show.
Narrator Being: "And now it's time for 'How to be a sexual deviant' with your
hosts, Super Syl and Flog Sonata."

Flog and Syl walk on to the sparse set, which consists mainly of saw- horses,
assorted whips lying about, a large brass bed, a well stocked refrigerator,
construction tools, and many other FUN things.

Flog: Hello, and welcome to 'How to be a sexual deviant'. The show for people
who want to be sick, but haven't got an imagination.

Syl: Today, animals, whip cream, cheesecake (with strawberry sauce, of course)
and as usual, exhibitionism.

Flog: (grabbing Syl and dragging him to her) Did you know yer pseudo initials
are SS?

Syl (to camera): We also may be wearing skimpy nazis uniforms later.

Flog (to camera): But first, a commercial break.

As camera fades to black, Syl and Flog are ripping off each other's clothes.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: An Advertisement
To: Lawn Care Product Users Msg #107, 05:37 est 90-12-03
Subject: Nuclear Landscaping
Distraught man holding a piece of paper: "Deweeding for my lawn cost me 700
dollars! How can I afford to keep this wonderful lawn and still make
mortgage payments?"

Another distraught man: "It cost me 200 bucks to have my cherry tree pruned,
and now my mother can't have that operation! What am I going to do?"

3rd distraught man: "I was going to buy a shot gun and go on a murderous
rampage, but now I can't afford it because I had to pay a 900 dollar bill for
bush trimming?"

Calm narrator dude: "Tired of expensive weeding bills? Here at the Nuclear
Landscaping center, we can stop all those nasty bills coming in with the
press of a button! We'll clear your lawn and your neighbour's lawn, and your
neighbour's neighbour's lawn, all with the new Spark 73 lawn weeder. Gets
rid of dandelions, bugs, rocks, trees, shrubs, dogs, cats, lawn furniture,
and anything else that may be cluttering your lawn!"

Cut to video footage of a city being blown apart by a nuclear bomb.
voice: "Just look and see how our product just mows through those nasty weeds
and crabgrass too! listen to our satisfied customers..."

Cut to man standing in the middle of a barren desert. He pats the ground
gently. He has a few clumps of hair remaining and is dressed in rags:
"Thanks Nuclear Landscapers! No more mowing the lawn for me! No more weeding
or working or any other nastu garden chore!"
Man coughs up blood, spits it, and smiles.

Calm Nuclear Landscaper dude: "Why not give us a call right now?"

Credits: Phone 1-800-FIRE-FLASH

Voice: "Supported by the united council to find new uses for our nuclear
arsenal."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Viewers Msg #108, 05:47 est 90-12-03
Subject: How to be a deviant...
Voice: "And now back to How To be a Deviant, with your hosts, Flog Sonata and
Super Syl..."

Flog falters and drops the shaved monkey: Oh are we back? Sorry, I was er,
doing something during the commercial break here.

Syl, getting up from underneath the black latex sheets: Why did you stop? Oh,
are we back on?

Flog: Our first lesson for today, the proper usage of... of um...

Flog stops talking and grabs Syl.

Syl: Commercial break.

Flog: Yeah.

Fade to commercial.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: Energy 1200
To: The Tunes Of Yesteryear... Msg #109, 05:51 est 90-12-03
Subject: top ten hits.
Voice so deep and macho it makes you puke: "Energy 1200, plays nothing but the
top ten hits of yesteryear over and over and over until you eventually want
to scream in agony..."

Cut to Flog strapped to a bed as Syl holds a radio up playing energy 1200 full
blast.

Flog: "No, no, stop! I can't take it! I can't!

The radio burbles Elton John tunes happily as Flog wails and Syl laughs
triumphantly.

Voice: "Energy 1200. One hit, ALL DAY LONG."

Fade as Flog screams.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Perverts Msg #110, 05:54 est 90-12-03
Subject: How to be a deviant..
Voice: "And now, back to how to be a deviant, with your hosts, Flog Sonata and
Super Syl..."

Flog looks startled as he sees the camera light come back on: Fuck off! Not
already!

Flog drops the industrial size container of mayonaise.
Syl: "Shit, are they fucking back again?"
Flog: "Bastards! Shut the fucking camera off and get out!"

Camera bursts into static as Flog rips cables out of the wall. Before static
goes entirely, Flog is heard asking:

Flog: "Syl, do ya think electric shock through an erogenous zone would be
neat?"
Syl: "Oo, floggie..."

Sounds of electrocution. Fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: Slick Henry
To: The Ethnic Majority Msg #111, 03:38 est 90-12-03
Subject: Phalic symbolism in the Hinterland
The (ob)scene as you see and hear it: A polka melage of "Leave it to Beaver"
and "Happy Daze". Dancing and singing welling up in the forground for a few
moments with scenes of charging Polar Bears racing across the tundra.
Cut to quick close up of young Lithuanian lad, running franticly from
same Polar Bears.
Title Flashes to Screen!
(bored voice) Flash, Flash, Flash. (what do you expect from Low Budget?)
(Jan Rubes tap dances across the top of the letters playing)
("Mother", on the accordian, wilst badly lip-synching to)
(the voice of Sinead O'Connor)
(skin heads in audience magically grow hair)
THE UNFATHOMABLY LOW CHANCE OF LITHUANIAN SHTICK!
(Don Pardo says) Brought to in part by: Budget Rent a Car and
The Disney Channel
 
(Cut back to young lad getting trampled under a herd of suicidal lemmings)
Young lad screams horribly as millions of tiny claws dig into his backside,
and finally lurches back to his feet in time to retch all over his nice new
pair of Korean made muk luks.
 
 
Cut to commercial: The little tramp from Road to Avonlea does a voice over to
scenes from Deep Throat advertising her "special" services. Elizabeth Manley
skates across the screen nude trailing a banner behind her which displays the
Toll-Free number to call. (suspiciously familiar knights helm pokes up,
battered, but still surveying the scene (smoke rises from the visor))
Scene One:
Young lad from the opening scenes jerks suddenly awake in his
comfy-womfy bed, only to discover a large patch of sticky wetness halfway
down the bed (agonized look crosses face). Lad swiftly reaches under bed to
pull out fresh change of clothes and proceeds to remove the soiled linens.
Sneaking towards the door of his room, the floor outside creaks, and the door
is flung open by a large hairy individual (obviously his mother).
Figure lashes out with a blow to the head, screeching,
Analcystian Q. Twit, you filthy little homo erectus (slap, wap,
Oof, bop, swipe, swipe, blood proceedes to flow from serious looking wounds
to a certain area below the abdomen)
(The young Lithuanian lad now identfied for the audience as Analcystian Q.
Twit lurches and begins to spin towards the floor. This movement is greatly
helped along by a kick to the behind by aforementioned figure's size 10's in
hob nail boots)
(skin heads in audience start egging the "mother" on against the little yob)
cut to commercial: Cartoon forest fills the screen, announcers voice over
says, "From the editors of Hunters Digest, it's: BAMBI!" scene of Bambi
skipping along through the forest with Thumper on his back, as Bambi leaps of
the top of a rise, a shots ring out, lead pellets fill Bambi's chest cavity,
and he falls to the ground, crushing Thumper in the process.
As the feet of many men are seen approaching the carcass (someone slices foot
of of rabbit for good luck), voice over begins, "Yes, coming soon to
theatres near you, it's the true story, no more Mr. weak wristed femininity,
now's the time for real men to call a shit house a shit house."
(back to show)
A.Q.T., now withering around on the floor and bleeding from both ends of
his body reaches towards secret compartment at the foot of his bed. With a
speed comparable to that of a hare's thinking ability, he draws out a dildo
and thrusts it towards the figure.
"Mother" (now looking quite surprised at the extreme depravity of her beloved
child), jerks away as a vampire from a crucifix.
M: You depraved little beast, why can't you be like all the other boys and
play with guns and molest the young bear cubs. I'm afraid it's off to the
R.H.P.H. (that's Royal Hinterland Psychiatric Hospital for those of you with
some "personal" knowledge of the place....). I've already placed a call to
Dr. Bruce (flash to scene of Dr. Bruce (who looks suspiciously like a certain
Korean car), molesting a young boy whilst playing golF with the bronzed
testicles of former maladjusted patients), and he was quite pleased to hear
that he'd be able to devote all of his time to you.
(screams like a banshee wailing arise from young A-cyst as skin heads no
transposed from the audience drag him kicking and scream (minus the lower
half of his left leg which unfortunately got caught in a human trap carelessly
left out by Smokey the Bear), away.
AQT: slobber, slobber, gut wrenching, soul (for those who still have them)
piercing wail.......
a trail of semi-coagulated blood is left and slowly begins to fill up the
screen.
(cut to next message)
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: Brian & Wendy's Point... (1:163/127.6)
 
From: Slick Henry
To: The Ethnic Majority Msg #112, 05:05 est 90-12-03
Subject: Phalic symbolism in the Hinterland.(or How Flog treats Ducks)
(Bored voice of unamused announcer)
"And now a word from the head of Flog TV"
(Equally boring voice, somewhat like Ed McMahon)
"Heeeeeeeerrrrrrs Floggy"
"Like, Fuck.This is bullshit, I wouldn't even listen to this CRAP if I wasn't
getting paid aLot of crisp cool cash for doing it, and looking like I was
dead for it."
"For all you out there watching this, Now is the time to renew your
subscriptions to Flog TV, Send money now, Assholes.. Thanks, now Fuck Off"
"Back to you Ed"
Strange looking Flog person exits stage left, still not wearing his trousers
or underwear. Flogs Fans Go CRAZY....
Tampons litter the stage,as Flog moves off, thrown by loving, if not
slightley demented, female fans.
Now, back to our story of A.Q.T. and his adventures in boyhood.
As we left young A.Q.T. in the dying throws of the last chapter, he was being
dragged mercylessly towards the Hospital where none before had returned a
full person.
(cut to ominous looking building with requisite Bachian organ music)
Dr. Bruce strides forth from the doors of the hospital followed by two large
attendants carrying a straight jacket. The skin heads, finished deliverying
our young friend to his place of unholy redemption, swagger of to take
advantage of the Barbara Bush, but get lost in the gaping maw. (fade to black
with image of Brian Jones laughing manically disipatting as fast as it
arrived)
(from the perspective of young A-cyst, strapped down to an examination table),
lights flaring on in the formerly pitch black room temporarily
blocking all vision. The next sight shown is Dr. Bruce leaning (with quite a
leer on his face), above our plucky, hero(?), forcing open his eyelids and
shining an emergency road flare into the flooded orbs.
"So Mr. Miniwheat (in a Freudian voice), vhat seems to be the trouble vith
you?? No, no, no, don't tell me, for I am a highly trained professional and I
shall diagnose you myself." Nurse Tod, my lucky silver dollar please! And
nurse, I think you had better call in the Reverend Mirage, and alert his next
of kin, I don't think this patient will be with us much longer...I feel sure
that I can cure this, man(?), or he shall die with me trying...
For starters, I get the feeling that you have a mild case of rogerus whiteous
rabbiteous, now where is that blasted nurse??? Nurse Tod!, my lucky coin now
please or I'll have to cancel your anal flagellation therapy for the rest of
the week. (Nurse Tod hurry's in rolling a large coin alongside)
Two lovely half clad young nubile beings take hold of the coin and affix it to
the nearby stand, wheel of fortune wise. Dr. Bruce coddles the stalwart fellow
in his arms as he lifts him out of the bed and tosses him onto the coin like
a sack of rotten tomatoes. Analcystian is quickly secured to the revolving
coin, and Vulva Red emerges to give the coin a spin. Along the outer edge of
the stand there are a number of afflictions listed.
Spinning wildly at a speed of 360 rpm, a howl emerges from the edge of the
coin as dull knives begin to slow the spin. As the wheel comes to a full and
final stop with the bleeding Cyst's head pointed towards "extreme sexual
dysfunction", pAt sLaYjAk announces, "Extreme Sexual Dysfunction" for 29
years Dr. Bruce. And now, a spin of the wheel for the treatment.
Two leather clad Black Kristia's commanded by the Phantom Leerer remove the
diagnosis ring and replace it with one marked, "Treatment". Interestingly
enough, all the treatments appear to be the same, and rather painful at that.
The look on our (?) Hero's face at this time is not the best for the cameras,
but what the fuck, this is TV, we will show you the Naked truth! Anything for
ratings. The audience around the coin has started to dissapate slowley, each
with his or her own sence of deep satisfaction at what has gone on here. As
they part to let the camera's in, to leer as eye of a Cycloptic God (Well,
its a better one than a Flogoptic God, which I was about to use, but good
taste and the threat of death stopped me)they pause and smile, flash their
"VoteFlog against Hussein " buttons, and amble off into the lustful and
senclesness of depraved partying at various Ralphs on Merivale
One person remains, looking at the broken person that was A.Q.T. not moments
befor the horribly painful operation, She looks at the broken and
bloodstained body, remembering what was befor and could never be again. For
many reasons , this would be the last time she would feel this, the hurt the
anger, the anguish..... But, shit happens.
Credits roll while scenes of Dr. Bruce, once again out on the golF course
molesting young boys, playing with a new pair of golf balls drone on....
(voice over) "The preceeding program was brought to you by a grant from the
Chubb Group. Good Night, and have you kicked your mailman lately?"
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: The Outside Chance of Analcystian Twit "T.O.C.A.T."(NC17)
(1:163/127.6)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Sid And Nancy Msg #113, 21:16 est 90-12-02
Subject: Flog And Syl
THE LATEST BIOGRAPHIC FLICK:

Starring Loose Moose as Flog Sonata
Anal Cyste as Syl
Directed by Flog Sonata
Camerawork by The Antichrist and his dog.

(Fade from black to horrendous blur. Dog paw appears to be trying to fix
the camera. Without real hands, however, the dog fails dismally. Flog kicks
it in the head.)

Flog: Oh, Syl!

Syl: Oh, Flog!

(They beat each other senseless, because there's no way Moose and Cyste
would kiss on camera. We don't kiss and tell, we're secret lovers, dammit.
It's hell, but I'll do anything for him.)

(As Flog raises a chainsaw, the camera falls over. Flog-The-Director
screams. Antichrist: Huh? What? What happened? Flog-The-Director kicks
Antichrist in the balls. Antichrist's dog tries to pick up the camera but
accidentally urinates on the screen. Flog-The-Director hurls a cherry bomb
at the actors. Explosion. Fade to black.;)

Flog Channel logo: Severed clitorises of raped women lined up to spell FLOG
CHANNEL : EXCITE ME
 
---
* Origin: ** M.F.in' Moose Factory ** 831-3351 ** (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Slick Henry'S Evil Twin, Flog.
To: Young Unwantedly Pregnant Women. Msg #114, 06:04 est 90-12-04
Subject: Slick's No-Frills Abortion Clinic
Happy cowboy type music as camera zooms in on a big happy building surrounded
by protestors who are being held back by police. Slick stands on the steps
of the building:

Slick: "Howde y'all and welcome to Slicks Do-It-Yourself Abortion clinic! Out
here. we provide a wanted service for young teenagers of all ages! Er, yeah!
So come on down with your unawanted lump-O- flesh and we'll yank the critter
out like a loaf of bread that ain't quite ready... Come on inside, wontcha?"

Camera follows Slick inside, anti-abortion protestors try to follow, but are
clubbed into submission by armed police-officers. A young MAN yells
"Abortion is murder!" and an unseen voice in the crowd yells
"So's yer toupee, otherfucker!"

Camera goes inside.

Slick: "Here at our Do-It-Yourself clinic, we provide the secrecy of seperate
waiting rooms for y'all to hide in. Now into the operating rooms, where each
person is handed a clean sterile coathanger, and given instructions on just
how to rip that pea from yer pod..."

Slick gives a demonstrative JERK with the twisted coat-hanger. Slick smiles
happily.

Slick: "afterwards we can take pictures for you, colour 8 by elevens look
best."

Nurse walks in holding a bucket of SOMETHING. She trips and falls, spreading
aborted fetuses all across the lobby. The doctor helps scoop them back into
the bucket, and slips a particularly cute one into his inner coat pocket.

Slick: "So come on down to Slick's Do-It-Yerself Abortion Clinic! We'll pop
that zit on yer belly or my name ain't Slick Henry!"

As screen fades to black, Slick takes out the aborted fetus he hid in his
coat, and rubs it gently against his face.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Anti-Abortionists
To: A Dissenting Viewpoint Msg #115, 06:18 est 90-12-04
Subject: Abortion is Evil
Screen shows a man standing at an altar in church.

Man: (speaking to camera) "The previous advertizement was from some hooligan
with a fake medical certificate... He was trying to pass himself off as some
sort of helpful man, doing a service... when in fact he's nothing more than a
MURDERER! That's right, every unborn child who is killed is a victim, slain
by the mother! It is a woman's duty to bear EVERY child to term!"

Man steps forward a bit, he is clutching a crucifix in one hand, and is
stroking it suggestively: "And not only that, but every period a woman has is
a wasted life! Every woman should do her best to make sure that every single
period be a happy fruitful child!"

He strokes the crucifix faster and faster.

Man: "And men who jerk off! Each sperm is a potentially human life wasted!
If you are going to jerk off, for god sakes do it into a jar, otherwise you
are killing literally MILLIONS of people! A holocaust with every cum!"

Man stiffens, holds the crucifix erect, and lets out a low moan.

Man: (panting) "And for those nocturnal emissions, you should buy..."

Man drops his pants to reveal a glass jar strapped to his dick, the glass jar
is half full of sperm.

Man: "Sperm Catcher! Save a million lives per ejaculation! Only 9.95! Makes
an excellent christmas gift! Just call 1-800-I-Love- Children! Isn't there
someone in your life that makes you feel life is special?"

Cut to a child and his grandfather.

Child rushed forward: "Here grampa, merry christmas!" shoves a Sperm Catcher
into the old man's hands.

Gampa: (thwaks kid in the face with his cane) "You stupid little brainwashed
shit! Are you falling for that catholic rubbish they're showing on TV again?"
(Thwak!) "Smarten up you little runt! Now pass me that copy of Penthouse and
get the hell out of my den!"

Cut back to man: "Yes, the Sperm Catcher. Call 1-800-FUCK-GOD, that's
1-800-EAT-MY-DUNG, yes, that's 1-800-WORSHIP-SATAN... that's wait a sec...
Who's playing with the fucking tele-prompter?"

Camera swerves to reveal an electronic device scrolling obscenities that the
Man should be reading as part of his speach. words going by "Yes, that's
1-800-FUCK-ME... 1-800-CLUTCH-THIS..."

Up in a booth, out of sight, Flog giggles happily.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Anal Cyste
To: Adolescent Young Fellers Msg #116, 17:47 est 90-12-04
Subject: It's OK to Masterbate
Scene: Treefort in a pleasant wooded area. Several young fellers
not older than yer average bread-box are huddled around a torn
and shabby magazine. (You young fellars KNOW who you are) They
each have a strained grin on there faces.

Commentator: Is this you and your friends? Do you spend countless
hours wondering when the next opportunity will come for you to be
alone and re-live the stimulating visual images of the fairer sex
you see everyday, everywhere? Well I did too.

(Young fellars look up in embarrased shock as they hear the commentator's
announcement)

The Antichrist> What, who the fuck was that?

Mel Pheasant> I dunno, didja hear what he said? I'm gettin' outta
here. (MP scurries off into the underbrush. He is holding a tattered
piece of the magazine in his hand)

Richard Visage> I didn't hear anything (No wonder, with the look of rapt
salvation on his gleaming face and wet trousers).

Commentator: Mel! Come back! Oh well, so young fellers, what ya got
there?

Young Fellers> Nothin'

Commentator: It's all right guys, I'm on your side. (takes the magazin
and flips through it. This is difficult since 50% of the pages are stuck
together) Hey guys, you've really given this a workout!! Ha Ha!

YF's> Waddya mean?

Comm> Oh, don't be coy. I've got the answer for you right here.
(removes, from his back pocket, a glossy thick magazine with nubile
women on the front. The young Fellers perk up eagerly at the sight,
Mel can be seen lurking in the background. He shuffles forward)

MP> Can I see that too?

Comm> Of course! This was specially designed for Adolescent fella's
with hormone imbalances! You see it's made with these new non-stick
spermicidal pages!!! Ta daaaa! Guaranteed to get you through puberty!

YF's> OOOOhhhh, Wow! Where can we get them?

Comm> Simple. Just send a self-addressed stamped carton and $3900.00
to:

We Send Things In Brown Paper Cartons
P.O. Box A.C.
Condom Products, California
90125







 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Who Eat Msg #117, 16:46 est 90-12-04
Subject: A recipe.
* Original: FROM.....Anal Cyste (30522/1)
* Original: TO.......Midget Jim (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Ayup, sure do. Try this for size.

Ingredients:
1) Medium to largish budgie (or parakeet, whatever your own tastes.
2) Several small (and I mean small) vegetables.
3) Two twenty-four packs of Brewer's Heaven Lager (real cheap)
4) One teaspoon newt droppings
5) Six tablespoons vaseline

Preheat oven to Flamb-eh. In medium sauce pan, melt vaseline and sprinle in
newt droppings. Have six beer. Stuff small veggies up
budgie's butt. Have six more beer. Role budgie around in sauce mix.
Have six more beer. You role around in sauce mix. Have six more beer.

Place budgie on aluminum foil. Have six more beer. Take budgie out
of aluminum foil. Look blurrily at budgie. Mumble to budgie "Hi there cutie!
I'ma gonna eat ya all up." Place budgie on your bed.
Have six more beer. Pass out on top of budgie. Die because oven
was on Flamb-eh and house burnt down.

Try this at home kids!!

A.C.
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: The Gemini Awards
To: A Bunch Of People Who Don'T Care. Msg #118, 03:48 est 90-12-05
Subject: Look! Cheezy Canadian Programs get Credit!
Voice: "And now, we canadians give awards to canadian shows no one watches to
make ourselves all feel like we actually have our own culture and don;t just
get all our programming from the states... The Gemini awards!"

Audience of has-been actors who no one recognizes clap happily as some idiot
canadian host who laughs a lot steps out on stage.

Voice: "With your host, Joe Flaherty, a guy who hasn't done anything amusing
since SCTV, and that was pretty lame too, and occurred more than 8 years ago,
so why anyone should remember Joe for anything, I have no fucking idea."

Joe: (Laughing for no apparent reason) "Hello, Hi, and welcome to the Gemini
awards. Boy, we're having fun now, right? Ahaha! And tonight we'll honour a
whole bunch of really keen programming that you've never seen... Our first
category, 'Best semi-revealing tit shot in a soap commercial'... The
nominees are... Camay, for that fucking amazing series of shots where you
could of sworn you saw a woman's pubic area!"

Audience applaudes.

Joe: "That 2001 parts soap, for when that awesome babe soaps down her waist
and christ, it just makes ya wanna whip yer dick out then and cum on the
couch."

Audience applaudes.

Joe: (getting envelope) "And the winner is... That 2001 soap bit thing with
the waist!"

Audience cheers happily, and a woman walks out of the audience wearing a
skimpy outfit. It's the bimbo from the 2001 soap thing commercial.

Bimbo, walks up on the stage and takes award: "Thank you, thank you.
I'd like to thank my parents for kicking me out of the house at the
age of 14... Mom, dad, fuck you both. I'd like to thank my agent, whom I've
slept with, for getting me the part... The wonderful writer's who came up
with idea of sexual gratuity in a soap commercial... What a fucking original
idea there you morons. And I'd also like to thank my surgeon, who made me
from an ugly man into a beautiful curvaceous wench that people drool at.
Thank you, I'll put this award in a closet and try to forget any of this ever
happened! Thanks!"

She is lead off stage by an armed nazis. Gunfire is heard off stage left.

Joe: "Well! Hahaha! And now let's pause for a brief canadian mime
exhibition, just to relieve the monotony... er, I mean tension."

Camera pans left to reveal a bunch of idiots dressed in silver spandex.
they hop about, so cartwheels, and eventually clap their hands giddily
and stand very still. Audience remains dead silent, not even botherin
to clap in sympathy. The mimes look depressed and slink off stage,
like rodents.

Joe: "Well, ahaha, we'll be back after this commercial message! haha!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: A Commercial
To: Idiots Msg #119, 04:01 est 90-12-05
Subject: Canadian Tire
Ebineser is just leaving his house when his door-knocker says to him:
"Where are you going, Ebineser?"

Ebineser looks stunned momentarily, then says: "I'm off to Canadian tire where
I'm going to do all sorts of shopping! They have wonderful selections! For
little bobby, an exacto knife, (so he can slit his fucking wrists), for
suzie, a can of spray paint and a lighter so she can burn her fucking face
off, and heck, I get canadian tire money too, which I just throw away cuz
it's like 15 fucking cents, and who really gives a shit about a lousy fifteen
cents!?"

Knocker: "Yeah, well, the money ya get in canadian tire cash builds up
though..."

Scrooge: "Bullshit! Like I go to canadian tire more than twice a fucking
year! Usually when I go there I just buy a screwdriver cuz I've lost my
last one, cuz I can't remember where the hell I put my old one. Christ, who
gives a shit about Canadian Tire? Why the fuck should you care about it?
Yer a fucking door knocker! Shut the fuck up and wait for someone to knock!"

Doorknocker: "Fine, fuck you!"

Scrooge: "You wise ass knocker!"

Scrooge bangs the knocker loudly several times, and the knocker yells out in
pain.

Knocker: "Augh! Ahh! Stop, please! Ouch! Ahhh!"

Scrooge: "Take that and that and that... Ahahaha..."

A police officer comes up and observes as Scrooge beats the shit out of his
knocker.

Cop: "What the hell are you doing?"
Scrooge: "My knocker was giving me hell... it was telling me off, it was,
honest...."

Cop: "Just like those ghosts, eh, Ebineser?"

Scrooge: "But I did see ghosts, I did!"

Cop: "Forgot to take your medication again, eh? Well, we can't have you
disturbing the peace like this..."

Cop pulls out his gun and fires a bullet through scrooge's head.

Narrator's voice: "Don't say anything bad about Canadian Tire. We control the
country, and if we hear you say anything, we'll have you drugged so you
hallucinate talking inanimate objects, and then we'll have you shot. Merry
Christmas!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: The Gemini Awards
To: People Who Couldn'T Care Less. Msg #120, 04:09 est 90-12-05
Subject: Awards for Saps who You Don't Know.
Voice: "And now back to the Gemini awards, with that fucking spaz of a host,
Joe Flaherty."

Joe: "Hi, ahaha, and welcome back to the Gemini awards, where we spend three
hours of our time filling up the CBC channel with a cruddy awards program
that no one really gives a shit about so they switch to channel nine and
watch The Golden Girls! Ahaha! Our next award goes to 'The Most irritatingly
stupid human being on the face of canadian television...' Gosh, and there's
only one nominee... Wayne Ronstad!
Come on up Wayne!"

Wayne rushes up on stage: "Thanks Joe, I appreciate this award, can we run
that clip of my show, so people can see why I'm such a fucking goof?"

Joe: "Sure Wayne! Ahahaha..."

Cut to clip of Wayne standing in a country field.

Wayne: "Today we will be visiting Martha Bumpton, who raises chickens off in
the far reaches and deep tropical forests of Pembrook. We'll also be talking
to a bunch of old people who can't link words into coherent sentences. Also
on today's show, a man so screwed up from home made alcohol he can barely
speak... But first, a really old stupid woman who is just so dumb, we
thought we'd talk to her..."

Old dumb woman: "Well, I was born in that stable right over there, I was the
eldest of twenty seven children, and the winters were cold, but we managed
and..."

Wayne: "Like we give a shit you old crone..."

Old woman: "And in the summer we ate cow dung and boiled water a lot to keep
the younger of us amused..."

Cut back to gemini awards show

Joe: "Well Wayne, what incredible journalism... No wonder yu won this
award..."

Wayne: "Gosh, thanks Joe."

Joe: "Well, we have 18 hours left to go in this wonderful awards program, but
apparently the CBC is in the middle of some budget cuts because not one
fucking person on the fucking planet watches even one of the programs we
show, except for maybe The Journal and Canada AM, which people have no choice
to watch because none of the american news programs ever say a stinking thing
about Canada because nothing ever happens here in this large and very boring
country filled with moronic hayseed farmers and pathetic Toronto street gangs
who still think that crack is a good idea... I was your host, Joe Flaherty,
and I think I'm about to fade back into the world of obscurity, so take one
good last look at me. Bye for now."

Audience applaudes just a bit. Camera pans over audience to reveal a thousand
clones of one person, that person being of course, Tommy Hunter.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Knight Slayer
To: Anti-Everything Msg #121, 20:03 est 90-12-04
Subject: Re: Anti-anti-everything
Camera swerves back to church backdrop as it suddenly erupts in full fury and
destruction of an already bloodied Surgical Steel Bastard Sword. Camera
focuses on armoured knight, wearing the Rubicon emblasoned on his chest, his
face plate raised, his eyes pouring forth pure rage and hate.

"Infidel ! Self-perpetuating mogrel sub-species !! Child molesting desecrators
of the faith !!! Impudent half-modicum of self-satisfactory indulgence !!!!
MEET THY MAKER !!!!!"
Switch cameras over to man, with his side to the camera, the crucifix in the
air, his lips curled in fear, a puddle of pungent yellow liquid at his feet,
his eyes agape in incomprehension.
Suddenly, a sword plunges through his abdomen, lifts him bodily off his feet,
a mail-gloved fist grabs at his neck, insuring he cannot scream obscenities.
After a few moments of stillness and agony, the knight neatly cleaves the man
in half. Throwing the steaming remains to the floor in contempt, the knight
turns to the camera and slowly advances on it.
"And THAT is the fate that awaits any man who dares to profane against the
sanctity of child bearing !!! I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT !!!!"
Shaking a mighty gloved fist, still gleaming from the blood covering it,
towards the heavens:
"'TIS MORE THAN A KNIGHT WORTHY OF THE NAME CAN BE EXPECTED TO BEAR !!!!!
YOU HEAR ME, YOU PETTY GODLINGS ?!?!? I WILL NOT HEAR OF IT !!!!"
Camera fades to black, with the knight's flaring nostrils, steaming breath and
feral look of hatred on the screen.
As the screen finally blacks out, a single yell of pure fury and madness
steals across the airwaves.
"FLOOOOOGGGG !!!! 'TIS YOUR FAITH COME TO CLAIM IT'S PRIZE !!!!!
MAKE ANY HASTY REQUEST OF YOUR GOD, I MEAN TO HAVE YOUR HEAD ON THIS DAY !!!!"
 
 
 

--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Knight Slayer Msg #122, 05:00 est 90-12-06
Subject: Too much Caffein?
Voice: "And now a comment from Flog Sonata."

Flog sits at his desk, where he isn't wearing any pants.

Flog rises, slowly walks to the front of his desk.

Flog: "NOTHING is sacred."

He goes, sits back behind his desk, and sighs.

Fade to Knight Slayer ranting about child-birth.

Knight: "Motherhood, pregnancy! All that shit! Don't make fun of it!"

From no where, a barrel of aborted fetuses is over-turned, and the purple
shriveled dead unborn children shower down on Knight Slayer.
He is, of course, upset, as he pries one of the dead slug-like things
off his spiked helmet.

Knight: "Flog! Where are you Flog!?"

Cut back to Flog, in his office: "Is it time to go into hiding yet?
Well, I have exams anyway, and the next three days I won't have access
to my computer, so it'll be the perfect opportunity for you devious types to
work your will. But please remember to do all your entries as a television
program. Mr Knight's entry was a sort of a continuation, but he should of
made that a tad more obvious, methinks. And look what his entry got him, he
was showered with aborted children. Pretty sick, eh?"

Flog chortles as he walks off stage.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Satan Worship Tv
To: People With (Ech!) Morals Msg #123, 05:09 est 90-12-06
Subject: Watch someone kill someone else, now.
A buzzing and crackling occurs as someone jams the wek Flog Channel signals
and runs their own programming.

Logo appears: "Satan TV" is spelt out with hot coals lying on what appears to
be a naked woman's belly.

A bald man witha goatee appears, the leader of the satanist cult, Anton Levay.

Anton steps forward, he is wearing ceremonial robes and looks real creepy
like. (Go buy a copy of The Satanic Bible and take a look at his picture on
the back cover. The guy's a fucking lunatic, just look at those eyes!)
There's an altar somewhere in the background, and it looks like a naked
pregnant woman is tied to it. Several figures
, also wearing ceremonial garb, are standing about.

Anton: "It has been rumoured in the popular press, that satanists are running
about the country, killing people in the name of satan, and just gosh darn
it, being bad. This is not true."

Satanist people reach into the folds of their robes and pull out gleaming
daggers. They all disrobe, except for Anton, who continues to speak to the
camera.

Anton: "They say we are lunatics, that we are weird and evil and creepy.
This is not the case. In america, freedom of religion is not only
allowed, but it is a right. Despite this, we are looked down upon as 'less
than human' simply because we happen to just out of luck, completely out of
sheer coincidence, just happen to worship SATAN, the exact opposite of what
most good, loving, and main stream people coincidentally happen to worship.
Shucks, our bad luck to ACCIDENTALLY choose to worship the devil. Damn.
Well, it's tough, but we manage."

People holding daggers approach the naked pregnant woman lying on the altar.

Anton: "And well, ya know, it ain't easy worshipping satan. I mean after all,
he is a fictious character, just like, um, what's his name again? Jesus...
Jesus something. Anyway, Christ and Satan are just fictious characters... I
mean geeze, what makes them spceial?
Their names are in some book! Big fucking deal! You don't see me
running about worshipping Winnie The Pooh! But I could, with just as much
respect as worshipping God, or Satan. But we just happen to have chosen out
of sheer coincidence, sheer randomness, Satan.
These things happen, and this means that we occasionally have to
tear out the unborn child from a pregnant woman's belly. Big deal, it's just
a ritual! Just like when that priest guy pops a white piece of sugar paper
in your mouth, or going to confessional, or whatever.
You know, just ritual, no big deal."

Preganant woman screams as she is surrounded by naked satanists holding
daggers.

Anton: "Just ritual, y'know, like science. Science is just another religion.
All thoughts, all beliefs, simply religion. Every belief you have and hold
true is a God. Then, how you act on it, is a ritual.
No big deal. So we have to occasionally..."

BBZT Static...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Satan Tv
To: Bzzt... Crackle, Bzzzt! Msg #124, 05:24 est 90-12-06
Subject: Click, Buzz...
Bzzztt.... Static clears, to reveal a man wearing a white robe sitting on a
big gold throne.

God: "Hello, this is God. I'd just like you to know that everything this
Anton fellow says is completely true. I am a fictional character, and I'm
not just saying that to be deep and biblical. I'm not pulling a JOB thing
here either, you know, torturing you just for laughs.
No, I am definitely a fictional character."

God wipes his face with the back of his hand, and some cream comes off to
reveal red skin.

God: "Yup, fictional. And heck, so is satan! y'know, that guy with the
horns? My word what a nice fellow. I wish I could be as he is. My word,
what a fucking, er what a heavenly guy."

God's beard falls off to reveal a long black goatee. He reaches down to pick
it up, and his hair falls off to reveal to big horns on his head.

God: "Whoops! Aheh. Ok, so there really is no God, just me."
God wipes off his make-up to reveal that he is actually Satan.

Anton walks on stage.

Anton: "What the fuck are you doing? We were going to sucker them with the
god thinks satan is cool speach and you go and fuck the whole thing up!"

Satan, was god: (Cringes) "I'm sorry Anton, I tried but (sniff) they weren't
going for it anyway... I mean (sob) the lines were all badly written and...
sniff, please don't hit me."

Crackle of stati, screen bends and writhes and twists.

Angel, sitting at a desk, looking very much like Flog Sonata: "Er, there is a
god, and he works at the Flog Channel, and if you send him lots of money,
you'll go to Heaven fer sure. I'll see to it, I'm an angel after all, and ya
know, God has these angel guys up there in heaven, and you know angels
wouldn't lie, so like, send in yer cash right away."

Bzzt, CRACKLE, BZZT...

Buddha, sitting under a palm tree, looking very fat and happy, drinking a
marguerita: "Religion! BAH! PLLLLLLTTTT!"

Bzzt, BZZZzzzzZZZZ....

The Pope: "Hahaha, so the nun turns and says, 'Gee father, that's the funniest
looking douche-device I've ever seen! Oh, are we on?
Shit."

Screen goes back to static. After a while, Flog Sonata appears.

Flog: "God's an astro-naught. A big fucking void. He holds molecules
together and couldn't give a shit about hjman beings. Stop thinking about
him and go do your laundry."
Fade to empty void.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #125, 20:30 est 90-12-05
Subject: Another Anal Cyste Recipe
* Original: FROM.....Anal Cyste (30522/1)
* Original: TO.......White Rabbit (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Did you know, inquiring mind that you are, that the method
by which they turn a guy into a girl is singularly disgusting?

Get this (this is the Antichrist's own truth, I swear):

Step one: Pump you full of estrogen for months.

Step two: Expose you to hours and hours of seminars about women
given by women for women.

Step three: Tape Cosmopolitan magazines to your inner eyelids.

Step four: Surgical procedure (this is where it gets gross kiddies).
They actually scoop out the inside of yer pecker and turn it inside
out inside you. <shudder>

Ug, can you imagine? <blech>

A.C.
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** There is a reply. See #127.
 
From: The Audience
To: The Programmers Msg #126, 10:36 est 90-12-06
Subject: The Programs
This is sick and disgusting perverted filth!
 
 
More please thank-you.
Have a nice day, before someone has it for you.
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
From: Knight Slayer Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #127, 12:47 est 90-12-06
Subject: Re: Another Anal Cyste Recipe
FS> Step four: Surgical procedure (this is where it gets gross kiddies).
FS> They actually scoop out the inside of yer pecker and turn it inside
FS> out inside you. <shudder>
{THUD of armor plated knight fainting}
 
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
*** This is a reply to #125.
 
From: Anal Cyste
To: Small Impressionable Children Msg #128, 15:25 est 90-12-09
Subject: Mr. Rogers' Neighbourhood

(Static clears from the screen and the camera pans across a nice pleasant
neighbourhood which quite obviously looks as fake as anotomically correct
marital aids.

Heart-warming music, which is so heart-warming as to make a Reverend
feel like kissing the backside of the Pope, not to mention several
alter boys, floats lightly from the screen as the title appears:)

"Mr. Rogers' Neighbourhood"

Starring

Anal Cyste as Fred Rogers

(Scene shifts to a quaint living room in which reside all manner of
warm, friendly toys, a fish bowl with Mr. Goldfish swimming merrily
and a large inviting couch. The door in the entrance way swings open
as Mr. Rogers enters singing. This is dramatic and done with a flourish since
Mr. Rogers has had an arguement with his love-slave
teleprompter and gone out and gotten good and drunk. We're talking
hard-boiled. He sings slightly off-key:)

"... Welcome to my neighbourhood, boys and girls ...
Please won't you be my neighbour ...
Won't you be my neighbour ...
Please won't you be, please won't you be ...
My Neighbour"

(Mr. Rogers shuffles down the three steps from the landing and sways
in front of the hall closet. He mumbles something to himself which sounds a
lot like "fucking neighbourhood song, why the christ that
damn thing every day." or it could have been, "fucking teleprompter
bitch, she didn't have to tell Tommy Trolley about me and Good Queen
Once-Ain't-Enough."

He lurches the closet door open and smacks his face against it, Aaarg, SHIT!
Where's those goddamned slippers?" He stoops and rummages
through what appears to be a large collection of glossy magazines.
"Ah, there you are, you smelly little bastards." He clutches them
and turns to face the camara.)

"Hello boys and girls, I'm going to put my slippers on now, Kay?
You can all watch me. It's very important to put on your slippers
as soon as you get home. Can you say slippers? Sure, I knew you could."

(He slips what appear to be swinfins on and duck-walks to the sofa
humming tunelessly. He manages to kick over the fish bowl.)

"Oh dear, look what I've done by accident boys and girls. Can you say
'accident'? Of course you can, because most of you were accidents. Isn't that
right Mr. Goldfish?"

(He paddles Mr. Goldfish into the carpet with a swinfin)

"No more need to change the water anymore, is there boys and girls?"

(Mr. Rogers giggles uncontrolably and flops down on the sofa.)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Anal Cyste
To: Small Even More Impressionable Kids Msg #129, 15:47 est 90-12-09
Subject: Mr. Rogers continues

"Guess what we're going to do today boys and girls! No no, we're
not going to build a paper mache TV. We're going to talk about
people. Can you say 'people'? Good. In fact, we're going to talk
about people who gossip. Can you say 'assholes'? Good."

(The teleprompter (Dr. Sooze) frowns furiously and glares at Anal
with the kind of loathing reserved for six-week old uncovered yogurt.
Mr. Rogers is unfazed simply because he can't see anything farther
away than three or four feet. He unbuttons his trousers much like
someone who has gorged themselves on a turkey dinner and continues:)

"Yes that's right boys and girls, people who gossip are assholes.
Ask your parents how to spell that."

(Dr. Sooze snarls and unclenches her fists. Long, gleaming red
fingernails spring out much like switchblade knives and she unhooks herself
from the teleprompting equipment. Mr Rogers rambles on.)

"You see, boys and girls, I had a friend, a real good friend. Can you say
'spurned lover'? No? Too bad."

(Dr. Sooze enters the set and kicks the fish bowl towards Mr. Rogers.
He realizes something is up and peers around warily, noticing flashes
of red coming toward him at high speed. Involuntarily he slips off
the sofa onto the floor.)

MR> "Whoa, hey kids did you see that? That was an asshole!"

Dr. Sooze, shrieking> "You filthy BASTARD!! I'll have your balls
for oysters! BANZAIIIIIIIII!!!"

(She lunges towards his crotch, nails extended fully and sinks them
into his groin. Mr. Rogers look surprised but, thanks to the amount
of booze he's consumed, feels only mild discomfort.)

DS> "They're inside here somewhere ", She digs around inside Mr. Rogers dying
flesh and then pops her hands out truimphantly with two
small, prune-wrinkled nuggets, "There you are, you tasty morsels",
She says as she tilts her head back, tosses them down her throat and
swallows without chewing.

DS> "Yummm. Can you say 'Yummm' boys and girls? Sure, knew you could."


(fade to static)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Phanteem Logger
To: Hearing Impaired Msg #130, 17:24 est 90-12-09
Subject: A commercial interludelet...


Flog Logo almost appears in the form of a inflated hamster
straining against it's duct tape bonds.

Announcer guy: " Friends, are you plagued by the annoying
and embarassing volumes of your babes? Have you ever been in
a quiet bar and had this happen?"

<cut to seedy bar type scene>

Babe:

" OOOOOOOOO OOO OOO
00 00 000 OOO
OO OO OOOOOOOOOO
OO OO OOO OOO
OOOOOOOOO OOO OOO

FFFFFFFF LLL OOOOOOOO GGGGG !!!!!
FFF LLL OO OO GG !!!!
FFFFF LLL OO OO GG GG !!!!
FFF LLL OO OO GG GG !!
FFF LLLLLLL OOOOOOOO GGGGGG * "

<sounds of shattering glass, howling dogs and small earth
tremours>

Announcer guy: Well, here at MIDAS we have been installing
Babe-Mufflers(tm) for over twenty years. That's right, no
need to take the babe to the vet and have her debarked
because at MIDAS we've got a wide assortment of mufflers to
fit her.

Imagine, hours of whine-free socializing. At MIDAS, we've
always been the top gums...er guns.

<Flog channel logo reappears with Flog quickly combing his
ruffled hair back into place..>


 
---
* Origin: Int'l Order of Commando Turtles & Literary Penguins (Opus 1:163/110)
 
 
 
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Our Precious Cuban Audience Msg #131, 18:39 est 90-12-09
Subject: HAVANA - A movie that just makes me want to puke.
Announcer's voice: In a country without rules...
(Scene: Piss drunk cuban peasant staggering through seedy neighbourhood in
Havana.)

Cuban: Oh, fucking right! (Kicks the shit out of a dog.)

Announcer: Where love is the greatest gamble of all...

(Scene: Robert Redford's butt going up and down, obviously fucking some
babe, cuz he gets them all despite the fact he's at least 50 fucking years
old or something.)

Redford: Right, so don't risk it, just fuck 'em and leave 'em, you know?

Babe: What?

Redford: (Pretending to be sensitive.) Oh, uh, nothing my sweet. Just shut
up and orgasm.

Babe: Ooh! Ugh!
 
---
* Origin: Ottawa's Raunchiest Modem Sex * Call Now (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Comrad Harizof
To: All Msg #132, 07:32 est 90-12-10
Subject: Important anouncement
This is an anouncement from standards Canada:
The scene - looking depressingly like the six o'clock news, just without the
picture in the background of people killing each other.

Anouncer> Hello all you viewers. This is an important anouncement from
standards Canada. You may have heard of us. We are the people who renamed
the gram the mili-kilo-gram, the people who inist that we measure everything
in milimeters. Yes, those are just a few of our glorious exploits. Our
mission is to prevent global stagnatioon by changing names whenever the
average Joe in the street gets comfortable with them. We have now decided
that everyone knows what the Flog channel is, and what it does. As a result,
it will be renamed the
"Flug channel". This change takes place imedeatly. Thank you for
your time. We now return you to your regular programing on the Flug channel.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: P.J. O'Rourke
To: Libraries everywhere Msg #133, 15:58 est 90-12-10
Subject: See below
LITERATURE FOR THE REALLY TOTALLY FUCKED UP
-------------------------------------------
Janie looked out of the fourth floor window of her place on the 32nd level of
the apartment complex. Everything must have it's place, and a place for
everything her mother used to tell her. "Fucking old crow!", thought Janie.
"Lesbian cock sucking dyke!"
"I hate you! I hate you!! I hate you!!! I hate you!!!! I hate you!!!!! I hate
y-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!,"
screamed Janie as she fell through the window to the flat black pavement
below in the children's playground.
Jonathan smiled wryly. "Should have kicked her in the arse long ago. Look at
the pretty painting she's made......"
hE wAlcKeD OvEr tOo ThE KiTcHeN COUmTER and wondered TWO HYMSILF, "Who let pAt
in here??"
Grasping the blade of the knife, he thrust the hilt into his abdomen. The
screams were horrible, the neighbour was watching PBS. "That sounded
horrible," thought Jonathan, laying the knife down on the counter, "maybe I
should watch PBS too." He turned on the television, and PBS was having one of
it's twice a year, 6 month long funding drives, or was it once a year 12 month
long funding drives?? Jonathan never could figure it out.
The bile welled up inside and threatened to explode all over the floor, but it
was sadistic and just sat there in his throat, half way up, burning through
it like embalming fluid on Melissa Gilberts semi-naked body. "This is great,"
thought Jonathan, "If I'm lucky, I'll start to asphyxiate, and then I'll
finally be free from this little insignificant life on the sheathbill of a
planet."
Meanwhile, two floors across and five apartments down, Nick Paisely was
committing unnatural acts upon himself with cattle prods, a naked baby, and a
wine bottle. Hmmm, what if I let the little gaffer teeth on my Simon??
Then,I'll shove one of these cattle prods into my ear and turn it on. Nah, I
wouldn't want to get over stimulated.
The poor squriming child just wasn't good enough for Nick, so he dashed out
it's brains with the empty wine bottle. This, admittedly was totally
unneccessary, so Nick went up to Jonathan's apartment, and the two of them
had a delightful lunch in bed watching Leave it to Beaver reruns.
 
Excerpted from, Authors who are Psychologists Dreams by Winnie the Pooh.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
From: Sir Gwain
To: All Msg #134, 15:59 est 90-12-10
Subject: Hello
Hello to you all. I would just like to take this moment to thank you all for
the wonderful display of creativity and perversity you have donated to the
world at large.
Thank you, thank you all.
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
*** There is a reply. See #137.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: The Flug Channel? Msg #135, 00:15 est 90-12-11
Subject: The Blood-Fuck Channel
Flog walks on screen, his standard desk and chair and comfy set is as nowmal,
except for Super Syl is tued naked to the desk. She waves happily, and is
silent.

Flog: "Stats canada recently announced that we'd be forced to change our name
to the "Flug" channel, all in the name of progress. We at the channel say
'Fuck that shit you fucking motherfucking fucks' and have decided to keep the
name the Flog Channel."

Flog sits on top of his desk, on top of Syl's naked body. He crosses his legs
for some reason.

Flog: "Also, we have a new policy here, instituted as of now... Feel free to
send us fictional (or non fictional) stories that disgust, offend, and make
you wanna puke. Gratuitous sex is good too. Lots of sex and blood and vomit
and razor blades. Big wounds and bleeding ulcers and coughing up wads of
phelgm into a cunt and all sorts of shit..."

Flog sighs happily, and gets off of Syl.

Flog: "And don't listen to what anyone at the Painkiller/Athena fest says
about me and Syl, it's all lies, we did not show up naked, coverred in
raspberry jam. It was blueberry jelly."

Fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Hair Tonic
To: Bald Sysops Msg #136, 00:22 est 90-12-11
Subject: There is help!
Excited man standing in front of a big flat table.

Man: "Are you in a position of authority, where you control, dominate and
undermine the will of others, and yet, due to baldness, feel that you don't
get the true respect you deserve? Do you go to BBS fests and have blind
BBSers fondle your naked scalp and then say jokingly
'I didn't know you got circumsized'? If you do, you need help, and
luckily, we have it for you..."

Man picks up a tank of foul bubbling green slime and puts it down on the table.

Man: "With our new product, Hairy-Butt-3, your hair loss problems are a
problem of yesterday. Just soak your head in a vat of Hairy- Butt-3, and the
upper portion of your skull will be melted away, taking out most of your
frontal and temporal lobes. You'll never worry about hair-loss, or anything
else, again. Here what our customer's have to say:"

Cut to full bearded individual sitting in Villa Deli, gathering up sugar
packets and lobbing them in random directions.
The upper portion of his head seems to have melted into ooze.

Bearded Sysop Man: "M-M-mussed h-h-hair, eh eh eh, F-f-f-log?"

Cut back to man at tank.

Man: "There you have it. Hair-Butt-3, doesn't replace lost hair, but sort of
actually just fries your brain into ooze."

Voice-over dude: "Available at many fine toxic dumps across North America."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Midget Jim
To: Sir Gwain Msg #137, 22:19 est 90-12-11
Subject: Re: Hello
**** This is not a program ****
agreed
**** This was a paid political broadcast ****
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #134.
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Star Trek: Tng Fans Msg #138, 16:56 est 90-12-11
Subject: Star Trek: The Next Degeneration
 

[Flog TV logo appears, made out cute dead puppies and cute dead kittens.]

VOICE OVER: Stay tuned for Star Trek: The Next Degeneration, NEXT!

[Fade to Pickard's quarters.]

[Wesley and Pickard are there, kissing passionately, with a lot of
tongue. Wesley is wearing a see-through pink neglegee, Pickard is
wearing fishnet stockings and nothing else.]

Wesley: Mmmm... uh... ohhh...

Pickard: Mmmm... yes... oh... Wesley...

[Pickard's hands move down, below Wesley's waist. He proceeds to
skillfully fondle Wesley.]

Wesley: Oh Captain... Ohhh.. Ohh... Oh yes! OH YES!

[Wesley's mouth slowly moves down to Pickard's neck, then moves down
to his navel, then moves further down. Pickard does likewise.]

Wesley: Mmmmm..... Ohhh... <sucking sounds>

Pickard: Ohhh.... Mmmmm... Mmmm... <sucking sounds>

[As both approach climax, a very loud alarm rings, indicating that
is
something boring is about to happen. Well, at least every week so far
something boring happened following the alarm.]

[The alarm is so loud and sudden that Wesley's and Pickard's mouth
muscles contract suddenly. Lots of blood spurts from their genital
regions.]

Wesley: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Pickard: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[Close up shot of more blood flowing from where their organs used to
be.]

[Wesley appears to choke on something.]

[So does Pickard.]

Wesley: Ummm.... Gack! Choke! <dies from asphyxiation>

Pickard: Ugghh! Choke! Gahrgh! <dies from asphyxiation>


[Fade to commercial.]

 
---
* Origin: Ottawa's Raunchiest Modem Sex * Call Now (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Crass Nirvana
To: All Msg #139, 02:58 est 90-12-12
Subject: Argh
Scene fades from Flog logo. Dozens of the recently deceased,
and now actively smoldering bodies of a police wino raid spell out
"Flog is God". Scene fades to black. Volume raises about 14 decibels
above normal.

A smiling cheerful (obviously drug addled) face appears suddenly.
His hair is white, leading all the viewers to wonder about the state
of his pubic hair. The other people wonder why he isn't the glad
man anymore.
"When you work in coffee as much as I do, you tend to dream
about your work. Why the other night, I dreamed that all the coffee beans
Nabob had rejected came into my bedroom looking for a little payback. I
simply explained to them that they would never have been rejected if they
hadn't been bitter in the first place. They. of course, went on their way
having seen the incredible logic of my argument."

Cut to scene of large, man-sized, coffee beans gang raping
the glad man.

"And I woke up and had a fresh, exhilirating cup of coffee."

He breaks open two morphine capsules and stirs it into his
coffee. Close up on the glad man's ass, where fresh blood seeps from the
sutures.

"Nothin' like a cup of good ol' Nabob!"

He tries to rise and walk to the window, but the stitches
will not allow him to move from the chair. He sits, looking longingly at the
rolling pin on the counter.

Fade back to Flog Logo. Woman lying in bed, "Worship Flog"
is spelled out on the sheets in menstrual juice.


 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: FoF (Fans of Flog)
To: Flog Sonota Msg #140, 22:18 est 90-12-11
Subject: You
WE LOVE YOU FLOG!!!! Whip us, beat us, show us that you love us. Drive us into
a sexual frenzy that only a horny Knight could satiate. Free us from our
bondage slavery to the status quo's version of reality. Open our eyes to new
sights and new vistas.
Ohhh you're so adorable and cuddly!
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Fof Msg #141, 06:23 est 90-12-12
Subject: The Flog Fan Club
Kiddy show set with bleachers full of screaming little kids. Flog comes out
on stage and little kids scream:

"YAAAY!"

Flog: "What time is it kiddies?"

Kids: (scream all at once) "It's time for Flo'g Fucking Stupid Kiddy Program!
Yay!!!!"

Flog: "That's right kids, oh, and look, there's the pokeroo now, coming out on
to the stage, hello pokeroo..."

Pokeroo: "Pokeroo! Pokeroo!"

Flog: "And how are you today Pokeroo?"

Pokeroo: "Pokeroo! Pokeroo!"

Flog: "And what would you like to do today?"

Pokeroo mimes an odd sex act.

Flog: "We can't do that on television Pokeroo, at least not with all these
children watching, but here, take this piece of paper with my phone number on
it and give me a call."

Pokeroo: "Fucking ay, Flog, oops, er Pokeroo!"

Pokeroo runs off stage with his big paws moving about in the inside of his
pouch.

Kiddies: "We want violence! We want violence! We want violence! etc."

Flog: "Ok you little fucking shits, er ok, kiddies, sit very still in your
seats and Flog will give you some violence. Mr Prop man, bring me the
grenade launcher?"

Grenade launcher is tossed on stage to Flog who fires grenades into the stands
blowing up groups of innocent children, who scream with pleasure at the sight
of their own blood. Flog laughs and fires more grenades into the childrens
happy faces.

Flog stops firing for a second and turns to the camera: "Kids, who understands
em?"

Kids scream in bliss as they tear the remaining bits of flesh from their
friends and swallow them.

Flog: "A brand new Nintendo to the first kid who throws a live beating heart
on to the stage!"

Children go into an insane frenzy, clawing at each other's chests.
Eventually a human heart is lobbed on to the stage, and a Nintendo
is chucked into the crowd. It is soon smashed to bits as screaming children
fight over it.

(This episode is dedicated to the teaching abilities of Dr. Sooze.)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Metaphores R Us
To: People Who Are Like An Empty Vessel Msg #142, 06:33 est 90-12-12
Subject: waiting to be filled with vomit.
Man at counter yelling really loudly:

"Are you the type of person who wanders about through this world
struggling to describe the simplest situations? Well struggle no longer!
Just pick up the phone and call Metaphores R Us and we'll give you the
bestest and coolest metaphores to describe any situation!
Our metaphores are like golden cheese in a world of starving rodents,
are like flatulent riots in a world without toilet paper, are like screaming
voices in a deaf man's world, are like vomitting chickens when you want to go
swimming, are like spasming breakdancers who can't stop yodelling, are like
rodents with three brains who ice skate, are like vast empty fields waiting
to be filled with puss, are like singing cattle who want to be loved, are
like yawning kazoos that lust after rodents with three brains who sing while
ice skating..."

Man pauses for breath.

"And not only will you receive a metaphore if you act now (like a
retired president on quaaludes) but you'll receive one increbly huge and
giganticly awesomely vastly hugely incredibly massive exageration!
Call now, our operators are standing by (like nuns lusting after
football players)!"

Man pauses for breath.

"And if you call within the next twenty three seconds (like a chicken
with it's intestines looped around it's neck) you'll also receive one
incredibly huge phone bill charge of thirty nine million dollars!
Show the bill to your friends, tell them the system sucks, rip the
bill up in front of them, and then impress society as a whole with your
incredible tale of how a company called Metaphores R Us put you into personal
bankruptcy with one simple phone call! Write a book about it, and call us
for the metaphores (like sap running down the trunk of a tree)!"

Man pauses to breathe.

"And if you call within two and a half miliseconds of this tone (BEEP!)
you'll be electrocuted by a singing blast of energy (like a gnat in one of
them big blue glowing bug-fryer things)! And if you call tomorrow morning at
7am sharp, we will answer the phone and say 'Why in gods name are you calling
so fucking early you stupid fucking moronic bastard, for bloody fucking god's
sakes it's only 7am, why aren't you asleep like normal human beings you large
Pokeroo molesting zombie from hell?????' and then we'll probably scream some
more (like children being beaten with mallets) and then cry out for
forgiveness (like wimpy foreign countries who declare war on the world at
large and then realize they are FUCKED if they actually try and fight that
war) and then beg for mercy (like Flog tied to a bed being teased to death by
Super Syl who's smearing mayonaise on his testacles)!"

Man passes out from lack of oxygen.

Narrator being: "Phone 911 and save this poor asphyxiated goof who's died like
a large squid in a wok, like an ethipoean in McDonalds, like a cabbage in a
cole-slaw factory, like a rapist in an ERA meeting, like a penguin at a
walrus convention, like a small contraceptive device at any of the three
Carleton University campus bars which not only seem to promote low grades and
rape, but alcoholism."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mr Science
To: Questors For Knowledge Msg #143, 22:54 est 90-12-12
Subject: Science is gnarly, sorta.
Scientific type music sounding very suspiciously like a Led Zepplin tune
played slowly on a synthesizer.

Voice: "And now it's time for Science and Fun, with your host, Mr Science."

Big stage with a large table on it. Mr science, a wise old man type dude
wearing a white lab coat comes on stage, and the audience claps obediently.

Mr science, speaking in a british accent (of course): "Hallo, and welcome to
Science and Fun, where we answer questions from the audience and show you why
and how things are in the world using science and fun! We have several
interesting questions for today, so let's begin.
Our first question is from Crass Nirvana, who is with us in the audience
today. Please ask your question, Mr Nirvana."

Crass stands up in audience and says into microphone: "Er, well, sperm and
snot sort of look the same, right? They even have the same texture and the
same (blushes) taste... I was wondering if these fluids were
interchangeable?"

Mr Science: "When we received this question from Mr Nirvana (in a plain brown
envelope) we immediately set top work. If you look at the monitors you'll
see what we did..."

Cut to video footage with Mr Science speaking as it runs:

Mr Science: "As you see here, we had to request the aid of some volenteers.
First off, we needed a male to donate sperm. Knight Slayer, who had an
abundance, offered his services."

(Video shows Knight Slayer with his groin hooked up to what looks
like a cow-milking machine, his face is twisted in an odd mix of pleasure and
pain.)

Mr S: "We also needed the assistance of someone willing to be impregnated
with nasal mucus, who would rather remain annonymous.
Plus we needed a donor for nasal fluid, Mel Pheasant, who seems to
always have a cold, and has an abundance of snot."

(Video shows Mel repeatedly sneezing into a bucket. A scientist scoops
up snot and shoves it into a woman's open vagina.)

Mr S: "Eventually, when we had enough of Mel's mucus, we removed the rest of
his nasal fluid through mechanical means..."

(Video shows Mel have his nose sucked on by a scientist and the snot
occasionally being spat out by the sucker.)

Mr S: "We then injected Knight Slayer's sperm into Mel's nose, to see if it
would work as a substitute... It didn't."

(Video shows an odd liquid dripping out of Mel's nose. Mel is strapped
to a board and is screaming to be set free.)

Mr S: "The woman also failed to get pregnant from snot injections. We can
therefore conclude that nasal fluid and sperm are not interchangeable."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mr Science
To: More Wonderous Knowledge. Msg #144, 23:09 est 90-12-12
Subject: Experimentation.
Mr Science: "Our next question come from Flog Sonata... Please ask your
question, Mr Sonata."

Flog stands up in the audience and says into microphone: "Well, my question
is, what sound do testicles make when you cut them off?"

Mr S: "What an interesting question. For this experiment, we set up a
microphone next to a man in Arabia, who had been convicted of rape. In
Arabia, rape is punishable by castration. Let's hear what it sounds like..."

Audio: "No! No! Shlest gesh washle gesh! Nei! Nei! AAAAHHHHHH!!!!"

Mr S: "Unfortunately nothing could be heard over the screams of the poor
individual being castrated, so we hired audio technician Dave Wallace to edit
the tape and isolate the sounds of the testicles being removed. Resulting
in the following sound..."

Audio: "SQUELCH! Split split. Dribble dribble dribble..."

Mr S: "And there you have it. Our next question if from Slick Henry, ask your
question please Slick?"

Slick: "Is it possible to impregnate a woman through other orifices besides
the vagina?"

Mr S: "For this question, we got a vat of sperm (left over from Knight Slayer
in our first experiment), several fire hoses, a few funnels, and a kidnapped
18 year old prostitute."

Cut to video of 18 year old prostitute strapped naked to a table with
fire-hoses leading up to funnels lodged in her nostrils, ears, and eye
sockets.

Mr S: "When we activated the pressure, we got the following results..."

Video shows sperm spraying everywhere, soaking the camera lens, making the
rest of the video murky, white, and unclear.

Mr S: "The woman failed to become pregnant, but did develop a severe rash, and
a strong hunger for chinese food."

Video shows 18 year old prostitute with large swollen waxy head eating chinese
food out of a bucket.

Mr S: "I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today. Next week, we'll
hear the questions 'What happens when I put plutonium in a microwave and set
the timer for 30 hours', 'Do you need to use birth control if you fuck your
girlfriend during her period' and also 'What happens if I stick my dick into
an electric pencil sharpener'. Please join us next week. I'm Mr Science."

Mr Science is led off stage by women wearing ERA t-shirts, and gunfire is
heard.

Voice: "Thank you for watching Science and Fun. Brought to you by
'the council to create stupidity so we can sell more products to the
moronic masses, what the hell do those stupid bastards need to know besides
spend spend spend?'".
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: A Festering Moldy Chunk Of Brie Msg #145, 16:33 est 90-12-12
Subject: Eat Me.
Flog Channel logo, a man on fire running around madly, whose flesh drips off
to spell "Fuck The World".

Fade from black to field. Man is standing there. He looks stupid.

Man: "Hello, and velcome to This Veek In Poland. I am your host, Blech
Sukmidickski. This veek in Poland..."

Fade to newsclip of cattle walking around.

Background voice of Blech: Several hundred cattle gave their lives to feed
us.

Fade to newsclip of fat Polish women dancing.

Background voice of Blech: The Hot Babes of Gdidski performed the sultry
Prussian "Fuck Me Dead" dance at the Potato Bug Festival.

Fade to newsclip of swastika flags flying.

Background voice of Blech: And, Germany invaded. (Blech is suddenly shot
dead. The cameraman follows him down and focuses on his dead body for
several minutes. Then a Nazi stormtrooper rushes oncamera and kicks the shit
out of the cameraman. Fade to Flog Channel logo, a skinny bonded emaciated
Vanna White turning the letters to spell "I MASTURBATE WITH POWER TOOLS"
 
---
* Origin: Ottawa's Raunchiest Modem Sex * Call Now (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Anal Cyste Msg #146, 03:11 est 90-12-14
Subject: Wok With Butt Sores
Flog logo appears in the form of fluid dripping out of Mel Pheasant's nose and
spelling "The Flog Channel: Where nostrils are love organs too."

Voice: "And now it's time for Wok with Cyste..."

Cut to kitchen where Cyste is looking about at all the knives, spatulas and
spoons, not to mention stoves, blenders, etc.

Cyste: "Holy fuck, me in this huge kitchen doing a cooking show! Yow! Yeah!
All right!"

Cyste staggers a bit, but gets a grip on himself (under the table, where no
one can see it).

Cyste: "Today, we're gonna make BEER. All you need is a really big plastic
keg thingy, some er, some other stuff too."

Cyste pulls a huge huge plastic tub out from no where and puts it on the
kitchen counter, pushing knives, spoons and cutting boards off the counter
and on to the floor.

Cyste: "Now fill the container with, er, water and um, stuff an entire whole
grain loaf of bread in there too, cuz I think there's wheat or something in
beer... Yeah, and add, um, spices too."

Cyste fills the huge tub with water, olive oil, paprika, jams in a loaf of
bread still in it's plastic bag, stuffs in some other stuff too.

Cyste: "Ok, like now... We um, sit here and wait for a few hours or
something. While we wait, we could uh, have some beer!"

Cyste goes to the large fridge and opens it. Inside are cases and cases of
beer. He takes one case and slams it on to the table, cracks a beer open and
chugs.

Cyste: "This cooking thing sure builds up a thirst... Well, come back after a
commercial or something and I'll tell ya if the beer is ready or not... This
stuff's gotta ferment ya know."

Liquid in tub bubbles suspiciously. Fade to commercial.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Condoms Are Cool
To: All Who Sleep With Other People. Msg #147, 03:19 est 90-12-14
Subject: (Not for you, Knight Slayer!)
Two people talking on a street corner, speaking in wooden slow and half
sentient voices.

Billy: "Gee, I have a really big date today, er, tonight" (squints at
que-card) "and I do not have any pro-tec-shun. What ever shall I do, Joe?"

Joe: "Well, Bill, I think you should use a CON-DOME."

Billy: "Gosh Joe, what is a CON-DOME?"

Joe: "Billy, you ig-nor-ant fool! A CON-DOME is a rubber CON-TRO- CEP-TIVE
that you wrap your penis in before having sex with a woman, so that your
sperm does not fertilize her egg and result in pregnancy!"

Billy: "OH! How do such CON-DOMES look like?"

Joe: "Let me show you one, Billy."

Joe takes a box of condoms out of his back-pocket, opens the box, and shows a
wrapped condom to Bill.

Bill: "Wow, neat! How does it work?"

Joe: "Well, Bill, first you unwrap it like this..."

Joe rips package in half down the center, tearing condom in half

Joe: "Then you remove the inner laytex device and..."

Joe undoes his fly and takes out his cock.

Joe: "You wrap the condom around your dick over and over again..."

Joe wraps condom around his dick, cutting off the circulation.

Joe: "And then you can tie it in a bow, or in a knot, depending how sexually
advanced you are!"

Joe ties the condom in a knot. The end of his dick is turning purple becuase
no blood is getting to it.

Billy: "Wow! Neat! I think that for my date this evening, Joe, I will go and
buy some CON-DOMES for myself!"

Joe: "Great, Bill! I do certainly hope that your date this evening goes
extremely well!"

Bill: "With CON-DOMES, I cannot go wrong!"

Bill and Joe laugh happily.

Narrator Voice: "CON-DOMES, use them in good health. This ad brought to you
by the religious concil against contraceptives and premarital sex."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Anal Cyste Msg #148, 03:29 est 90-12-14
Subject: Is the fucking beer ready yet or what???
Voice: "And now back to Wok with Cyste..."

Kitchen set is now littered with dozens and dozens of empty beer cans.
Cyste is barely standing, holding on to the kitchen counter edge
for support. The tub is filled with a green and rapidly expanding liquid.
The tub looks like it's about to burst from pressure.

Cyste: (Belch!) "Welcome back to my show... Well, I think the fucking beer's
almost done... You can tell cuz it looks like all the bread has dissolved
into some sorta mucky brown paste... Let's open up the fucker, shall we?"

Cyste pulls the cork thing out of the top of the beer tub, and the green stuff
sprays up straight into the air like a geyser, spraying green chunky "beer"
all over the kitchen set. Cyste watches stunned for a moment, and then
sticks his face over the gyser, mouth open, trying to take in all the liquid
hungrily.

Cyste: (glug, glug, glug, glug, glug) "Wow, fucking chewy, too much bread I
think. Join me next week when we'll be making other shit in this awesomely
cool kitchen... until then, I'm gonna chug back the rest of this cool chewey
green beer..."

The geyser has died down, and green foam is bubbling out of the tub and out on
to the counter top.

Voice: "You've been watching Wok with Cyste. Join us next time, when Cyste
will be making some other food that's inedible. Bye for now!"

Run credits:

Wok with Cyste

Featuring Anal Cyste
Produced by fools with money who don't ever really check up
on their investments, but there stupidity is our gain! Ha, those fools!
Directed by Flog Sonata, in exchange for a tub of green chewey
beer.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Phred Msg #149, 17:27 est 90-12-13
Subject: I Abound In Mysterious Submarine Sounds...
Flog Channel logo : A bloody severed sperm whale tail with a harpoon
sticking out. Written on the side of the harpoon is written : The Flog
Channel.

Voice over : Tonight, three contestants will test their litterary knowledge
on this week's edition of... Library Challenge!

Cut to typical game show set as corny game show music blurts out in the
background.

Host: Good evening, welcome to Library Challenge. We have three contestants
tonight, Bernice, Norbert, and Ahab. I am your host, Stigrod Ombluj. Our
first round is the Dewey Decimal round, let's see how our contestants do.

Cut to audience. The single spectator applauds enthusiastically, then keels
over from a mysterious heart attack.

Stigrod: Grangethwift's Guide to Modern Cocaine.

Bernice: 385.2.

Stigrod: My Life With The Dead Tuna.

Norbert: 4.68.4

Stigrod: How I Learned To Masturbate With The Other Hand.

Bernice: 486.3.

Stigrod: The Wankman's Guide To Intestinal Fluids.

Bernice: 395.6?

Stigrod: I'm sorry, that's incorrect. Norbert? Ahab?

(Pause.)

Stigrod: The correct answer was 720.1.

(Bernice and Norbert slap their foreheads.)

Stigrod: Still Life With Woodpecker.

Bernice: 902.9?

Stigrod: I'm sorry, that's also incorrect.

Norbert: No library would carry a book that fucking cool.

Stigrod: Correct! And that concludes our first round. The scores:
Bernice 0, Norbert 2, and Ahab 0. We'll be back.

(Camera fades back to view of three contestants. Ahab is slumped over
his booth, having apparently committed suicide.)

Fade to Flog Channel logo, "Flog Channel" carved into the dust at a
nuclear test site.
 
---
* Origin: Ottawa's Raunchiest Modem Sex * Call Now (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: "to"? Whadya Mean, "to"? Msg #150, 17:42 est 90-12-13
Subject: Game Show hour continues.
Fade from tampon commercial back to Flog Channel logo, Flog carving the
channel name and his initials in a pile of dead babies.

Cut to game show set. The set looks remarkably like Library Challenge, only
there are blood stains where the contestants used to be and a new host.
Stigrod can be seen dangling from his ankles from the roof. He appears to be
begging something like "C'mon, gimme another chance, I'll write something
good this time, honest."

Voice over: We regret that Library Challenge will not be returning, and so
we present "Straight, Gay, or Transvestite" with your host, Emile Chauchau.

Emile: (running from offstage to the host's little podium-thing.) Hello,
welcome to "Straight, Gay, or Transvestite", the game where YOU get to call
in, and make the call. The number is 1-800-LIICK-ME. That's 1-800-LIICK-ME.
Our first contestant, Jeanine Genderblender. (Jeanine walks onstage wearing
construction boots, a pair of jeans, reading a playboy. She looks like
something out of "ALMONTE BABES TODAY". She starts rubbing her crotch as she
hits the centerfold.)

(Phone rings. Emile picks up.)

Emile: "Striaght, Gay, or Transvestite", hello?

Crackly Phone Voice: Uh, hi, I'd say Jeanine's as straight as a ruler.

Emile: Straight? Are you serious? Look at the fucking dyke, she's a lez
for sure! C'mon, look, she's raping the producer! (Camera cuts to Jeanine
raping the female producer. The producer, oddly enough, isn't fighting
back.) Who is this? You don't get fucked that much, do you? Kumquat, fuck
off! (Click.)

(Phone rings again. Emile picks up.)

Crackly Phone Voice: Hi, I'd have to say she's a lesbian.

Emile: Fuck, yeah. What a cow. Okay, stick around bud, we'll send you some
cheap gift. (Emile faces the camera.) Our next guest, Bud Wastoflesh. (Bud
walks on. He's wearing an evening gown and needs a shave. The phone rings
off it's hook. Fade to commercial.)
 
---
* Origin: Ottawa's Raunchiest Modem Sex * Call Now (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Twisted and seperated personality
To: Der Flogenmeister Msg #151, 02:33 est 90-12-14
Subject: HALP!!!!
Oh merciful Ghod, saveth me who is thine servant, polluter of thine urinal,
shitter upon the foot of Syl, the jerk who follows you around like a Knight
after babes, the molester of girls big, small, wide, skinny, alive and
dead....etc etc etc and so on and so forth ad infinitum
 
 
SAVETH ME FROM THE BULLSHIT WHICH CALLS ITSELF AREA163 AND THE ASSININE STUPID
IDIOTIC ASSHOLE JERK-OFF TWIT IGNORAMOUSES ASS-LINKING BUTT-KISSING CUNT
SUCKING COCK STROKING (INSERT REMAINING UNUSED EXPLETIVES HERE), WHO DESERVE
TO BE CHAINED DOWN AND FORCED TO WATCH RERUN AFTER RERUN OF pHAN hYUH
MASTERBATING OVER HIS FATHERS MOUTH AND WRITING INANE WORD COLLECTIONS TO
POST INTO OUR HOLY ECHO
SYSTEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
 
HALP ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Twisted And Seperated Personality Msg #152, 23:43 est 90-12-14
Subject: Helping the mentally deficient.
Voice: And now it's time for flog's spiritual bonzai beach party.

Flog on a beach, holding a surfboard, wearing shorts and a priests collar.

Flog: "I like got this plea for help, like, telekineticly, and I'd really like
to help you dude, but I gotta go catch some awesome and gnarly waves!"

Flog pushes play on a tape-recorder and a horrid new bech boys tune comes out
full blast. Flog runs into the water happily.

Reality shimmers and Flog awakes in his bed, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Looking about himself, he realizes it was all a dream. He sighs
contentedly, and tries to go back to sleep. He suddenly jerks to, and pulls a
surfboard out from under his pillow.

Flog begins to scream again.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #153, 00:04 est 90-12-15
Subject: Documentry (1 of 5)
 
Flog Logo shows a thousand dead babies in a mound. A pile
of nearby half-filled diapers scattered about, happens to spell out: "THE FLOG
CHANNEL".

Cut to a man in a trench coat, standing on a street corner,
his eyes shifting back and forth, his tongue swollen in his mouth. He stands
rigidly, looking out at the audience. His pant legs, obviously cut offs held
up by rubber bands, stick out from the end of his trench coat. The man flaps
open his jacket, flasher-wise, to reveal his naked body. Spray-painted
across his chest in silver paint are the words: "MIND CONTROL: a film by Flog
Sonata". The camera moves away from the man, going down the street, so that
we see the sidewalk, covered in filth and grime. Newspapers and cardboard
blow in a soft spinning breeze. A few hookers lean against lamp-posts; one
twirls her purse and another has her skirt hiked up and is adjusting her
cheap fish-net stockings.

Camera comes across a ragged man, his face looking battered
and sore, his nose covered in dried crusty red blood. He wears a dirty white
lab coat, a broken calculator in it's right pocket. He looks pleadingly at
the camera.

Dr Richards: "They didn't know... They didn't know what they were getting
into... I tried to stop them, but... But... I wasn't strong enough..."
Doctor Richards pulls a dingy handkerchief from his pocket
and wipes his brow. Dr R: "It got so bad, we were all starting to forget what
it was we were doing, and for who... Science does that... In the urge to
discover, we... we lost track of the damage that could be done with such a
device... We forgot we were working for forces that would try to control the
whole world! We were stupid, so stupid..."

Dr Richards looks at his shoes, which are torn apart with holes, covered in
slime, and holding themselves together by threads. Camera moves in close to
Dr Richards face, and Richards looks about himself, afraid to reveal his
secret.

Dr R: "And so our weapon was released on the world, against our will, but who
were we but a few struggling scientists? We were pawns for their higher
forces! We could do nothing but stand back and watch them dominate the
entire world... When we tried to speak out, they captured us and killed us,
one by one... Only I escaped, living off the streets... But the world has
to know, they just have to know."

Camera moves in so close to Dr Richards that his face fills the entire screen.

Dr R: (terrified, sweating) "Bra's are evil, and cause women to do strange and
twisted things!" Dr Richards sighs with relief at having revealed his secret.
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #154, 00:05 est 90-12-15
Subject: Documentry (2 of 5)
Cut to Flog standing in a grassy field. Flog: "This film is a documentary to
reveal the true evil nature of the mind control device which we call the
bra." Flog pulls a bra from his pocket.

Flog: "Seemingly an innocent device, supposedly designed to support the
breasts and give women more freedom to move, bras actually contain
mind-control devices that distort thought."Flog, holding bra in front of him:
"Dr Richards, once a respected scientist, now roams the streets of New York,
lurking in the ghettos, hiding from police cars, living in fear that at any
moment, like his colleagues, he will be found and eliminated. Dr Richards..."

Cut back to street where Dr Richards stands.

Dr R: (pulling bra from his pocket) "The bra itself seems fairly innocent
enough, but in fact, each bra has a thin metal loop through it, in a figure 8
shape, like so..." Dr Richards traces a finger around each cup of the bra in
a figure 8.

Dr R: "This innocent loop actually causes a biological circuit to form. The
force of the human aura travels through the loop, and causes a spiritual
block in the female victim's mind. This loop causes many things, among them
menstrual cramps, an obsession with appearance, a desire to withhold sex, and
a fear of spiders."

Cut back to Flog, now standing outside of large building, where a large sign
says "Statistics Canada".

Flog: "Dr Richards' facts seem correct. According to statistics Canada,
almost 99.9% of all women will experience menstruation. 70% will spend a
large portion of their income on make-up and perfume, and 30% will admit to
having a fear of spiders. But why would anyone want women to suffer in such
a way. Doctor Richards.."

Cut back to Dr R.

Dr R: "It is fact that women do suffer these deficiencies, and the reason the
government allows bras to not only be used, but encourages their use, is to
make certain that women are paid less in the work-force, that women have
menstrual cramps so that they have babies and men don't, so that..."

Voice off camera: "So that women have babies and men don't?"

Dr R: "Yes. If it weren't for bras, men would become pregnant and give birth,
and not women. This is common knowledge among doctors and scientists, but is
kept hidden from the public, in order not to cause a panic, and to maintain
the status quo. As I was saying, the government encourages bra use, through
pamphlets, through sex education, and through the use of propaganda that
tells women that if they do not wear bras, that their breasts will sag."

Cut to Flog, standing outside of a different building, sign says
"THE HOME OF VOGUE MAGAZINE".
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #155, 00:06 est 90-12-15
Subject: Documentry (3 of 5)
Flog: "The number one encourager of bra use seems to come from women
magazines, such as the extremely famous and popular Vogue. Every month a
thick issue of Vogue comes out, and nearly half the photos seem to be of
women wearing bras. We decided to come here and talk to the editor of the
magazine, Rachel Slutbiscuit, about the proliferation of bra use, and the
side-effects it causes." Flog enters Vogue headquarters, knocking some
woman out of the way to get to the doors.

Camera shows door of Rachel Slutbiscuit's office, door opens, showing Flog in
dialogue with Rachel. Camera cuts between the two of them during the
following exchange.

Flog: "Ms Rachel Slutbiscuit, it has come to our attention that there are
quite a few bra ads in your magazine, almost to the point where over 50% of
the ads show bras. Why?"

Rachel: "Lingerie is very sexy now a days, and many men enjoy seeing women
wearing silky undergarments, watching their wives walk towards them slowly,
her hips swaying, her pale breasts visible as the moonlight drifts through
the silky, clinging undergarment, her..."

Flog: "So are you saying that the excitement that bras causes in men
encourages the use of bras among women?"

Rachel: "Oh, definitely."

Flog: "What about the speculation that bras cause menstrual cramps and spider
fear?"

Rachel: "What?"

Flog: "Are you not aware of these allegations?"

Rachel: "That's insane, who'd say such a thing?"

Flog: "We have signed documents from a man called Dr Richards who swears he
worked on designing bras for the Canadian government in order to weaken the
wills of women, would you be surprised to hear of this?"

Rachel: "That's simply ridiculous... There is no truth to that. this Dr
Richards must be insane."

Flog: (suddenly) "Are you wearing a bra now?"

Rachel: (surprised) "Well, er, yes, but..."

Flog: "Thank you Ms. Slutbiscuit."

Cut back to Dr Richards, still in street.

Dr R: "Most women will deny any knowledge on the subject. They will swear
that it is ridiculous and call the idea insane. When you offer help, by
asking them to remove their bras, they usually respond in a shocked or
hostile manner. When I began my campaign, I actually went around asking
women to remove their bras. This resulted in my arrest, plus later on, being
locked up in a mental institution. Obviously this scandal is far reaching,
and has corrupted every police agency in both Canada and the United States.
Only back in the 60's, with the woman's movement, was there ever an inkling
at the truth."

Cut to video stock of women throwing bras into a bonfire. Flog's voice: "Why
DID women involved in the woman's movement choose the burning of the bra as a
symbol of their freedom? Did they know that they were burning the mind
control devices? We spoke to Susan Ratchewer, former organizer of feminist
rallies."
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #156, 00:07 est 90-12-15
Subject: Documentry (4 of 5)
Susan Ratchewer sits at a desk in a big office, Flog sits across from her on a
wooden chair.

Flog: "Mrs Ratchewer, you were involved in feminist rallies back in the 60's,
where bra-burnings were involved. Could you tell us about that?"

Ratchewer: "They were wonderful times, a time for women to realize their
strength and their freedom, their natural power in the world..."

Flog: "But why the bra burning?"

Ratchewer: "Well, the bra represented, to feminists, a quiet controlled woman,
locked in society, constrained, trapped by oppressive forces of men, and in
order to show our freedom, we burnt the bras."

Flog: "Do you think the bras trapped you mentally as well as physically?"

Ratchewer: "Definitely. The bra was a mental block, forcing us to be the
pristine and proper woman. A necessary physical restraining device, or so we
were told even as children."

Flog: "What about women being afraid of spiders?"

Ratchewer: "Yes, more male propaganda. Men want women to think they can't
even handle such a simple and easy situation..."

Flog: "And what about menstruation?"

Ratchewer: "Well, that seems to be a natural part of being a woman... Nothing
magical or caused by the sinning of women, as the catholic church would have
you believe, simply a natural process..."

Flog: "Natural?"

Ratchewer: (confused) "Yes, natural."

Flog: "Mrs Ratchewer, are you wearing a bra now?"

Ratchewer: "Yes, but what does that have to..."

Flog: "Thank you."

Cut to Dr Richards. Dr R: "With the weakening of the feminist movement, the
government gained control of women's lives. With women going to the hospital
to have babies, men were free to control. The history books were changed to
look like it was always women who gave birth as opposed to the way it once
really was, where it was chosen by the couple who would have the child,
either the man, the woman, or let the child be found under a cabbage leaf in
a field. People were brainwashed to forget through fluoridation of the water
supply, and soon women became the weaker sex. Today less than 30% of women
get equal pay as men doing the exact same task."
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #157, 00:08 est 90-12-15
Subject: Documentry (5 of 5)
Cut to Flog standing on Parliament Hill, next to Jean Fuquff.

Flog: "When we asked to speak to prime minister Brian Mulroney on the topic of
Bras being mind control devices, the person we were speaking to on the phone
hung up on us. When we asked to speak to Bob Rae, Ontario's premiere, the
person on the phone yelled quote 'you are insane and unstable, seek help'.
We did manage to find someone involved in politics to speak to us, and that
is a janitor who works in the parliament buildings, Jean Fuquff."

Jean: "Allo!"

Flog: "Jean, what do you think about bras controlling the minds of women?"

Jean: "Well Mr Flog, I believe strongly in this, and it all connects to the
aliens that talk to me in my dreams. The aliens say that within ten years,
physical matter will start taking on it's own intelligence, and will begin
taking over. Now I know it sounds crazy, but..."

Flog: (to camera) "We apologize for this, we had no idea that Mr Fuquff was
mentally unstable."

Cut to Dr Richards.

Dr R: "Something has got to be done! We have to start gathering women and
forcefully removing their bras, or educate them, tell them what bras do! I
can only prey that many women will see this documentary and realize the truth,
then remove their bras never to wear them again. It would be a safer, more
pleasant, more bouncy jiggly world."

Cut to Flog, sitting in the Rideau Centre, drinking an orange julius.

Flog: "So there you have it, one of the biggest conspiracies of our time. Who
would have though it, that bras are evil mind control devices. To husbands
and boyfriends watching this show, approach your mate carefully, suggest to
her that if she went braless you would find her 'more attractive' or that her
breasts would be 'more accessible for your roving hands', or some other
excuse. If she still refuses, you may have to use force, and destroy all her
existing bras. Yes, this is a big step, but the freedom of women's bodies
everywhere depends upon your actions. For the love of women everywhere, do
something today. Thank you. A final note to this documentary, Dr Richards
was apparently
'accidentally' killed by 'what appeared to be' a school bus. we
mourn the loss of his great intellect."


Credits: This documentary produced by guys who just love women running about
without bras on so we can watch their tits jiggle, bob and sway, whoa baby!
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: the Moral Majority
To: all morally bankrupt individuals Msg #158, 03:13 est 90-12-15
Subject: Nightline with Ted Koppel
[FLOG TV logo is spelled by cat droppings in a litterbox.]
[fade in... Ted Koppel swivels his chair to face the North camera]
Koppel: Good Evening. Tonight we have with us the leader of the moral
mojority,
Mr. Edward Hardick.
Mr. Hardick, is it your honest belief that the entrenched right of
freedom of expression should not be applicable in a radio or television
context?
Hardick: People tangled in a naked sweaty embrace, feeding on each other's
skin, slurping on bodily fluids, while pulsating throbbing pelvises girating
in a most angular motion, rythmically swirling their genitalia in a
suggestive frenzy...<much later>...sexual icons invade consciousness as blood
rushes thru their corpus cavernosum, causing a pleasant alertness.
Koppel: We thank you all for that most ribald tale, Mr. Hardick. And that
concludes this installment of Nightline.
 
Shoodle loodle heedle!
[Koppel swivels out of the camera field... into oblivion and hopefully beyond]
 
 
--- msged 1.99S ZTC
* Origin: Smurf BBS (613)565-1607 "!uoy dnammoc I ,em pihsroW" (1:163/237)
 
From: Super Syl
To: All Msg #159, 20:26 est 90-12-15
Subject: the fllight to hell
granted it was a great vacation. john was \ reimis had needed it. Although,
n mph, nh, no,
now, two weeks of fab babes, sun and partying on anything he could find, had
taken it's toll on him. His nerves were shot. He wanted and was happy to
be returning to Marrooon, PA. He was feeling particularly paranoid on hes
way to the airport, but he figured no one, absolutely no one, knew his
secret. Still that small nagging fear. Going through customs was relatively
easy, considering your are leaving the drug capital of the world. He decided
he'd have a toke in the bathroom before he boarded the plane. Again smoking
up nin the washroom was relelatively easy. "Ah, A little toot always brings
up the morale." he thought. John enjoyed his joint. "this is the life."
He says whispering to himself while inhaling the powerful drug..
John looked nerervously ly over his shoulder. beofer ewmbarking on the plane.
Hie is obviously nervous about something. That fucking paranoia thing again.
What could a guy have to worry about after spending two glorious weeks in
jamaica.
John is greeted by this beatiful bimbo flight attendant who has morte teeth
than brains. The doors are shut and the captain does his usual bullshit and
welcome and all that. John is thinking how he alwyas hates this part of the
flight., He then wipes his sweating brown. His iuncomgfortableness is felt
by his buddy passenger seated beside him.
Buddy: " Hey are you alright? youlook kinda sick or something? Are you going
to be sick? I hate people who get soick in planes. It really ruines it for
the rest of us you know. Don;t you think? Well, anyways, If your going to be
sick at least let me know, so I can get the hell awaqy from you. No offence,
but the smell of vomit always make me feelk like vcomiting myself... and we
don't want a vomit fiesta do we? Ha.ha. Laugh...
John, at this point extremely irritated by the captain, and by this pathetic
siugn for a humnan being gives him the evil look that says: " Dont; fuck with
me asshole, or else your ball will be hangin from this plane, just getting
some air".
John turns away and tries to relas. John hates that word. How the fuck do
people relas anyways. He has always felt the only way to relax is to let a
load out in some dumb broad. soooo satisfying. Then he usually falls asleep.

The engine start rumbling and the plane slowly start to move. One of the
flight attendants moves to the centre of the plane to instruct passenger on
safety.
" Oh, now, it's the lifejacket thing. Who gives a shit. We would all die
anyways. Boy she's got great tits. How I would love to lose my face in
those!." John mentally picturing that.
The demonstration doesn't las too long. Soon the stewardess will cxoming
around with the drink cart.
john mutters to himself :" fuck I need a drink".
Behind him he hears a soft, supple sexy voice say :" Can I get you something
from the bar? I noticed you are kind of tense, are you afriad of flying?"
John is totally insulted that someone would think he is fucking afraid of
flying 30,000 feets in the air. But he does find her rather appealing. Must
be that great bob and the fact that she black. John has always thought that
black women give great head.
"You've been a flight attendant a long time" he asks, making small talk while
thinking he'd like those firm lips aroung his rock hard dick.
"Yes. I've been flying five years now. I've seen it all"
Now John;s mind is really in his pants:" OH! that is very interesting. You
must see some pretty intersting things on the occasion?"
Well, what do you mean sir?" says the atendant giving him one of those
luscious smiles that can make a man cream himself instantly.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: I Wrote This Beginning Of A Story..
To: All Msg #160, 21:03 est 90-12-15
Subject: This fucking storu
Yes It's not quite a story yet, Fuck.. only 60 lines. What the fuck?
Well you will suffer because this babe ended up fucking this guy in a plane
with pain of course. But gets off......

s.syl
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Anal And Anti Msg #161, 03:27 est 90-12-16
Subject: Bar Room Abusage.
Scene: The Antichrist and Anal Cyste, both completely pissed senseless, lying
on a bar-room floor. A large chunky puddle of their vomit is spread out
before them. They look at it closely.

Anal: "Fork!" Anti: "Spoon!" Anal: "Fork!" Anti: "Spoon!" Bartender: "What the
fuck are you guys arguing about?"

Anti: "Anal Cyste here, (belch) says that you should eat puke with a fork..."

Anal: "...and the Antichrist says you should eat it with a spoon!"

Bartender: "Why the fuck would either of you want to eat your own
puke?"

Antichrist: "Oh, we're not eating it, we're feeding it to my dog." (Joy, the
dog, wags her tail)

Narrator: "Give your dogs Alpo, not your vomit. Show them that you care."
(cut to can of alpo, then back to bar)

Cyste: "Hmm, what is that? Is that cheese or something?" Anti: "What, that
white bit there? Let's find out..."

Antichrist scoops up a white speck from his vomit, and puts it in his mouth.

Cyste: "Well?" Anti: "Definitely cheese, must be kraft to keep it's flavour
this long."

Narrator: "Kraft. Even keeps it's flavour after regurgitation."
(cut to pack of Kraft cheese, cut back to bar)

Bartender: "How'm I gonna clean that shit up?"

Anal: "Use BOUNTY, it's the quicker picker upper. Watch as I wipe up my puke
with Bounty, while antichrist uses a different leading brand towel!"

Anti: "My towel has disintegrated into nothingness and my hand is coverred in
goo!"

Bartender: "And the Bounty one picked up the puke like nothing! Wow! Bounty's
the one for me!"

Narrator: "Bounty. Even absorbs puke. Wow."
(Cut to picture of Bounty paper towels.)

Cyste (to bartender): "So have we payed off our tab yet, or do we have to film
more fucking ads?" Bartender: "Naw, that'll cover it." Antichrist: "Shit,
exploited by advertisers so we can drink, I feel used." Anal: "Come back to
my place and BE used." Anti: "Ok"

Fade to black.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Doug Herbert Msg #162, 00:09 est 90-12-17
Subject: HEY FUCKHEAD!
This is a friendly reminder that ALL messages are meant to be entered as TV
programs. Please enter your messages that way. You didn't as well as a few
others lately too. Please stick to a script type format. And why the fuck
did you enter preacher drivel?
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** There is a reply. See #168.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Opposing Viewpoint: Msg #163, 00:11 est 90-12-17
Subject: Give Christ Back to The Martians.
Flog stands at a big altar thang and speaks the following words to his masses,
who respon with their own phrases in loud booming tones.

Flog: "Let us being with Flog 54, section G...

And the lord spake to the people, and he said,
'here's this real shitty fucked up book, I call it THE BIBLE
It's a good read. Keep em in motels and shit.' Having spaken,
the lord then drove off in his 64 chevy. And the people said:"

Masses: "Fuck, wow, a bible! Pretty lame! Let's abuse the fucking thing,
seeing as how it is a completely meaningless and quite useless piece of
outdated literature!"

Flog: "And god saw this, and he said, 'Shit man, what a fucking pain in the
ass, Jesus what a crock a shit, fuck.' And god sorta got pissed off, and
committed suicide, slitting His mighty wrists with a big razor blade, thus
putting an end to stupid debates about God making rocks he can't lift and all
that crap. And the people said:"

Masses: "All fucking right! God slit his wrists! Yeah! Let's all get really
pissed on beer!"

Flog: "And so the people did. They drank to excess in a godless world,
worshipping sex and drugs and alcohol. They became fat and content, and when
they died, they went where ever they wanted, fuck god, who gives a shit about
that asshole?"

Masses: "Amen."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Doug Herbert Msg #164, 00:17 est 90-12-17
Subject: God's a rectal sore.
Flog closes his great book and opens a greater book. He puts on some tiny
spectacles and prepares to read from the book "An introductory to chaos
magic" which he had purchased at the Occult shop down town. Not actually
having the book in reality, Flog chose to very loosely paraphrase:

Flog: "Worship whatever you want. It really doesn't matter what you worship,
since all religion is, is basicly just faith. faith in something. It
doesn't have to be organized in any way. you can even worship superman if
you want to."

Masses: "Oh holy Superman, thy sacred "S" dost make us want to cum."

Flog: "In fact, worship a god for a while, and if you don't get the
satisfaction you expect from that god, make up a new one and worship
him/her/it instead, dropping your old god like a hot potato."

Masses: "Praise be you unidentifiable entity."

Flog: "As far as we know, there is only US in the world. Assume god is an
undefinable thing. Make up your own framework for capturing an inconceivable
thought. make god a tiny green gnome, or whatever."

Masses: "All hail mr. Funny-Nose, he is holy."

Flog closes book.

Flog: "On a personal note, I actually believe what I just said, and I actually
did read the Chaos book I mentioned. I actually like the idea of Norse Gods,
and think Odin is a kick ass god to worship. He's the father of the gods, is
the god of poetry AND is whatever I want him to be."

Masses: "Hail the one-eyed all father!"

Flog: "My friend, who is very much into Excalliber lore, worships the
earth-dragon from the movie Excalliber. Wow eh? And neither of us really
has a doctrine or anything, just heaps of literature on the matter, and the
morals we make are our own, and the beliefs we make are our own. To fall in
step with an organized religion is to become CATTLE."

Masses: "You, not Moo!"

Flog: "So fuck catholicism, be what you want to be, see things as you want to
see them. Fuck the pope. Fuck mother Theresa. Fuck Satan, Fuck God, Fuck
Christ, Fuck the Holy Ghost. Fuck all that shit. Use your own mind and see
what you want."

Masses: "Ok, ok, stop preaching to us already, will ya?"

Flog: "Sorry, got carried away."

Masses: "It's ok, we understand."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** There is a reply. See #167.
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: All Msg #165, 02:59 est 90-12-17
Subject: Pheasant Corp.
 
+------------------------------------+
| |
| FLOG CHANNEL SERVICE INFORMATION |
| |
+------------------------------------+
Airial view of Flog and Syl chasing each other around in a park, Flog is
chasing Syl with a cordless sander while Syl chases Flog with a propane
torch; the charred bits of flesh and blood left behind spells "The Flog
Channel".
Voice: "The Pheasant Corporation would like to remind all advertisers and
viewers, that this channel is devoted to viewing television and television
parodies only, and that P.C. will not endorse any material that does not
follow this format. Any extraneous messages are frowned upon, and should be
deleted immediately. Any deviant message writers in this echo will be flogged
publically in standard TV format, and then arrested."
Another voice: "Our Flog transmitters are located around the globe, and
broadcast at 10.7 MHz at 25 mWatts, from Flog's butt, RV's car, and Mel's
office. Coverage includes about 19 receiving stations in the Ottawa Hull
area. Please adjust your sets."
<strange test signal appears>
Sound: a bunch of little kids start croaking out "Oh Canada...", obviously
before their singing age...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** There is a reply. See #178.
 
From: Phanteem Jogger
To: All teperture Cheer Msg #166, 01:08 est 90-12-17
Subject: Wanted, Red hair females
Hi there, I'm the Phanteem Jogger, and this is my tenth post ot the Flog
Channel in the past 19 hours (give or take half an hour)...
 
If there are any red haired females, or if you know any, please ome see me,
I'm holding open auditions, and I need lots and lots of red haired girls..
 
Thank-you.
Dock. (grin)
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
From: Oral Roberts Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #167, 10:30 est 90-12-17
Subject: Re: God's a rectal sore.
Well Mr. Flog... I'd like to extend my invitation to you to appear on my
television program with my bisexual drug dealing baby raping devil
worshipping son as we explore the hidden details of the Jim Bakker
Whatshername affair....
 
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
*** This is a reply to #164.
 
From: The CRTC Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #168, 10:57 est 90-12-17
Subject: Re: HEY FUCKHEAD!
Excuse me Mr. Sonata.... Hello, I'm from the CRTC and we're a bit worried that
you're no longer broadcasting quality television, nor literature, and we are
hoping that we won't have to pull your broadcast license... Of course even if
we do you can keep on broadcasting, we're only a government agancy, nothing
to do with computers or anything....
 
Yes well, anyway, it has come to our attention that your station has been
place under multiple terrorist attacks, so we've called in the army to take
care of the little buggers... should take more than a couple of minutes and
then you'll be able to continue with this fine series....
Thank-you for your time. Good day Mr. Sonata.
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: I want my FLOG-TV!!!! (1:163/237)
*** This is a reply to #162. See also #177.
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Oral Roberts Msg #169, 14:10 est 90-12-17
Subject: Hail, Mary

The Flog Channel Logo, superimposed on a fireplace and hearth,
appear on the screen. A wreath and stockings hang from the mantle,
making a cheery Christmas scene. One of the stockings begins to
smoulder, then bursts into flame. In seconds the whole wall is
aflame. The camera pans back, to the outside of the house. Flames
tear through the whole house like a tinderbox, and flaming
bodies are visible, pawing at locked windows.

Screen fade to....

Reverend Visage's

Prayin' and Healin' Show


Instead of the usual theme music, Reverend Visage stands at the
front of the screen. Behind him, a large biker stands, holding
what appears to be an elephant gun. Reverend Visage does not
look happy.

Rev: Listen up, Campers. Religion on the Flog Channel is MY
shtick, got it? Oh, at first I didn't mind a little competition.
But NOW its cutting into my revenue. Do you want the poor girls
at the Rev. Visage Worldwide Mission Orphanage in Matebeleland
to be butt naked forever? Would you want the poor Borneo bushmen
we sponsor to have to hunt without Stinger missiles? And
what about the unfortunates in the East Bloc, who don't have
enough adult magazines to get them through the winter.

YAYEASS, folks, all this good work could go down the drain if
you don't put all your money to the ONE real Flog Channel
religious crusade. Besides, if you don't, Skippy here will
shoot you. And your family.

( Skippy points gigantic flintlock at camera, and pulls back
both hammers.)

NOW, lets start the show....

(Camera pans to stage left, where a man with dark sunglasses
sits on a stage, his dog beside him. He looks suspisiously like
the Antichrist. He begins to sing:)

Antichrist:
Geezus love us, this we know, <*stomp*>
Thats cause Elvis told us so,<*stomp*>
I rub the bible on my thing, <*stomp*>
It jus' makes me wanna sing <*stomp*>
Ayup, Geezus loves us <*stomp*>, Ayup Geezus loves us <*stomp*>
Ayup, Geezus loves us <*stomp*>, Cause Elvis told us so. <*stomp*>

Antichrist smiles. Dog howls, and lifts leg. On the guitar.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #170, 14:12 est 90-12-17
Subject: Churches and Chequebooks
Fade to commercial break.

Flog and Syl, dressed as Santa's Elves, appear on the screen.
"Happy Holidays, fer Chrissake." booms Syl directly into the
microphone. The screams of the sound man can be heard in the
background. Flog smiles. His teeth are green.

Fade back to the show.

Rev. Visage appears on the stage

Rev: We's got some unfortunates in the audience with us today,
and we's gonna fix 'em up, bigtime!

Crowd: "ME ME (fights break out) no MEEE (wails, shrieks).

A large young gentleman fights his way onto the stage. He walks
up to the Reverend.

Rev: Whats your name, son?

L.Y.G.: Pat. Pat Omellette.

Rev: And just what is your problem, son?

Pat: Women. I just can't seem to...

Rev: No sweat, we'll fix that up. Lucinda, come out here

(Lucinda appears, wearing a sequined spandex skin tight habit
that she tugs down tok cover her modesty. Only to have to tug
it up to cover her modesty.)

Pat: Uhm, its actually an emotional thing, I just don't..mmmrfff

(Lucinda grabs Pat's crotch)

Rev: I say, are you HEALED, boy?

(Lucinda, habit slowly peeling off, drags Pat offstage

Pat: I, uhh, I mmmmffff(!), uhh, YEAH, I'M HEALED

Rev: There you go, another MIRACLE!. Now folks, you gather up
some bigtime coin, your pension and welfare cheques and just
sign em over to the Reverend Visage Worldwide Ministry for
Holiness 'n' Stuff

(Antichrist fires up theme music, Reverend Visage exits stage
right. Panting and moans emanate from stage left.)

Voiceover: Thats it for this week, folks. Now remember, accept
no substitutes. Send all your money to the Rev. Visage Prayin'
and Healin' show now. Or Skippy will Kill you.
(fade to black)

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Wow I can change this
To: Immature audiences advised Msg #171, 15:28 est 90-12-17
Subject: The Fucks of life
Cut in on 4 slutty bitches and one fat slut no one likes
No don't change the station nooo! Time up damn
-Atrox the vicious
to be coninued
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: I want my FLOG-TV!!!! (1:163/237)
 
From: Metal Rob
To: Doug Herbert Msg #172, 16:24 est 90-12-17
Subject: Mass for Shut ins
In a message of <16 Dec 90 10:17:46>, Doug Herbert (1:163/127.6) writes:
DH>Dearly beloved, the sysop here has not instituted Anonymus for this
DH>section so you'll not get to read this drivel (if you believe it be
DH>such), from me under the guise of Jimmy Swaggart or some such
DH>personage.
DH>--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
DH> * Origin: Sylvie was here, and is watching you, Flog! (1:163/127.6)
But..but..your writing from a POINT!
Ah, I know it's pointless...
Fade to cunt..
 
 
--- msged 1.99S ZTC
* Origin: The Heavy Metal BBS (1:163/120)
*** There is a reply. See #176.
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Gullible Viewers Msg #173, 20:44 est 90-12-17
Subject: Festering Religion Invades The Airwaves
Flog Channel logo : a huge long line of cocaine that spells "Flog Channel"
in four different languages.

Fade to stained glass window as church organ plays "Do It" by Black Flag.

Moose stands before you, dressed in a typical gospel singing uniform. He
looks you in the eye and holds a bible out to you.

Moose: Hello, I'm Moose. (Moose's head is clearly blown to all fucking hell
on something illegal. His eyes kind of stare at the camera for a minute
before his eyes wander away.) Welcome to.. RELIGION FOR THE FUCKED. This
week. We explore how to have fun and still sort of not piss God off that
much.

Moose slowly wanders back to a podium from which to preach. He bends down,
pulls out a pack of cigarettes, and lights one up.

Moose: Fuck, nothing like a good smoke. Okay, uh... (opens bible, flips
around. Mumbles a few things like 'who?','i can't afford the plane ticket'
and 'relax, man.') Okay, uh, our first premise. Jesus died for our sins,
right? (Pause) Right?

Audience: (Groggily, kinda stunned.) OH, yeah, sure.

Moose: Okay, well then, as far as I see it, unless we keep on sinning, he
died for nothing. (Pause.)

Audience: (Pause.) HALLELUJIAH! WE CAN BE HEATHENS AND PAGANS!

Moose: (Leaping to his feet, hurling cigarettes into the crowd.) So BE evil!
Grab the person next to you and fornicate! You, I don't care if you're both
men, do it! (Hurls whiskey into audience.) Steal, rob, Jesus is there for
you! (Hurls bag of hashish into the audience. Pauses, wonders what the fuck
he's doing, then jumps into the audience and beats the shit out of a few
people to get it back.)

Fade to Flog Channel logo, a dead seal vomitted up by a sick killer whale.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** "Eh... fuck all o'ya." (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Doc Logger
To: Flog Msg #174, 01:42 est 90-12-18
Subject: tasteful production values
 

ÉÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ»
º Das FlogChannel º
º º
º Ist Plooken verhmacht und sucken º
º bigtimestrucpher. º
ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ

Flog Channel logo appears... a large banner carried aloft
by several dwarves, a tart, a witch and a pimp.
Doc Logger staggers onto the set with a large book under his
arm. He looks dazed and confused but finally faces in the
direction of the camera.
Doc : "Hi there. And welcome to Tales of Innocence. Today's
story is a little ditty called Twisted...

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±
±± BOOOM!!!! ±±
±± ±±
±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±
Logger is shattered by a blast from Skippy's flintlock. He
pokes a few vital organs back into place and looks sideways
at the camera...
Doc: Oh right...yeah, wrong story. Today's story is really
about sport fishing for Babes. Roll da flic, Shad.
[] []
[] []
[] SPORT FISHIN' FER BABES []
[] []
[] A PMS sponsored production []
[] []
Sporto looking announcer guy weaving drunkenly on the
flatbed of a truck.
SL anouncer: Like gidday eh? Today we're gonna do us some
sport fishin' and drinkin' and pukin' and catchin' babes eh.
So like, Bait yer hooks, uzip ye flies eh, cause we're in
downtown Sturgeon Falls where the babes are really bitin'.
(Seasick shot of guy baiting hook with a six-pack of beer)
SL announcer: So what kinda lure you be usin' there Wilf?
Wilf: Well, today she's a little overcast so we're using the
Molson Gold Dry lure. She flashes brighter than a whore's
pussy on a Saturday night and the babes oughta really go fer
this here lure.
SL Announcer: Well Wilfer, lets just see if the babes are
bitin' today eh. Like, just toss 'er over and I'll get
Ralpher to troll us by some good spots eh.
(Sporto announcer pounds on cab of truck which slowly
cruises down main street Sturgeon Falls.)
SL Announcer guy: Hey lookit that there Wilfer. Looks to me
like you got a bigin'. Whooeee, look at that there babe
fight that line.
(Shot of Wilfer picking his nose and reeling in some number
10 nylon rope).
Sl Announcer guy: Whooeee, she looks like a keeper to me fer
sure there Wilfer.
(Shot of Sturgeon Babe with her lips wrapped around the six
pack. She is hoisted up onto the flatbed where she flops
around a few times.)
Wilf: Golly de geezus, she's a sucker all right. Lookit the
lips on that Sturgeon Babe. Lookit her shimmy and shake like
a moose on benzedrine.
Sl Anouncer: Well that's be about alls the time we gets
today there folks eh. So tune in next week eh when we go
fishin' fer the loudmouthed bassbabes down Ottawa way.
This here's a sporto geek, and his hindgrindin' buddy name
of Wilf saying Good fishin',fartin', & fuckin' to you.
[] []
[] []

---
* Origin: Int'l Order of Commando Turtles & Literary Penguins (Opus 1:163/110)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: You Lot. Msg #175, 15:44 est 90-12-18
Subject: Twas the night before Xmas.
Flog sits at a fireplace, a large leather book in his hand.

Flog: (adjusting his silk house-coat) "I was at Syl's and she like, had this
piece of paper from work, one of them things that employees fax to each other
when they should be working I guess, and it was a touching and beautiful
piece that shows us the true spirit of Xmas. I didn't write this, someone
else did. I'm plagerising, fuck off."

Flog throws the leather book into the fire place and takes a folded up piece
of paper out of his pocket.

"T'was the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Everyone was stoned
Even the mouse

"With mom at the whorehouse
And dad smoking grass
I just settled down
for a nice piece of ass

"When out on the lawn
I heard such a clatter
I sprang from my piece
to see what's the matter

"He came down the chimney
Like a bat out of hell
and I knew in a moment,
that fat fucker fell

"He filled all the stockings
with dubbies and beer
and a big rubber dick
for my brother the queer.

"Then he went up the chimney
with a thunderous fart
and the son-of-a-bitch
blew the chimney apart

"He swore and he cursed
as he flew out of sight...
'Shit on you all
and have a hell of a night!'"

Flog pauses to wipe a tear from his eye as he tosses the paper into the
fireplace.

Flog: "That was pretty fucking lame. Well, I expect everyone to do their best
and degrade Xmas to the max in this echo. I hope yer all up to it, and have
some sordid Christmas specials to run here on the Flog Channel... I'm gonna
enter my own stuff later, but right now I'm gonna go get pissed drunk and
throw up inside a woman. See y'all later."

Flog fades away into darkness as angelic voices sing "AARGH FUCK KILL" by
Dayglow Abortion.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Sir Gwain
To: Metal Rob Msg #176, 15:19 est 90-12-18
Subject: Re: Mass for Shut ins
Ummmm, so Rob, what was your point about Doug writing from a point?????
 
 
 
Y'all never heard of the Speedzone, Brian and Wendy's a BBS stationed in
Cantley Qeu. which runs as a point (127.6), off of Mr. Dave (Arrow throught
the head) Hunter (127)????????
 
Sorry Floggy, just a short terrorist takeover.....
We now return you to your normal (yeah, right) programming.
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
*** This is a reply to #172.
 
From: Midget Jim Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #177, 02:08 est 90-12-19
Subject: Re: HEY FUCKHEAD!
[Midget Jim enters in his usual, wavery manner, and sits down at
the announcer's desk]

MJ> We regret to inform our listener's that in the message which this program
is responding to did not follow its own advice. Therefore, save for the fact
that I have NO POWER AT ALL on this TV station, Mr. Sonata has been forced
[Mr. Sonata FORCED? This is truly a ridiculous script] to pay a fine of
$2938723932623623.99. In addition, I would like to inform everybody that we
did not type the subject line of this program. It was, rather, plagiarized
from the message to which it responds. We now return to regular programming.
[MJ logo floats up]
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #168. See also #182.
 
From: Midget Jim Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #178, 02:12 est 90-12-19
Subject: Re: Pheasant Corp.
[MJ logo floats down from top of screen. ]
Voice-over: We regret to inform our viewers that the message to which this
paid politicall announcement responds condemns Mr. Flog Sonata to a public
flogging in the standard fashion. We also inform our viewers of the [happy]
news that he has been pardoned by Mr. Sonata, the Grand Moff of this
Television network.
[MJ logo floats back up halfway, then is displaced in a brutal burst
of static by the Flog logo.]
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #165.
 
From: Doc Logger
To: Anal Cyste Msg #179, 20:08 est 90-12-18
Subject: nature films
 

ÉÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ»
º Das FlogChannel º
º Ist ejectavol meigagooey º
ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ


The Foreign languages services flogchannel banner is held
aloft by several dwarves, a tart, a witch, Glen Horton, and
a pimp.

Doc Logger staggers onto the set, smelling of fish. A needle
dangles from his arm. The camera man gesticulates at him
wildly. Logger notices the cameraman and checks to see if
his fly is undone. It is, so he zippers it up. Parts of his
stomach keep falling out as a result of the previous night's
blast.

Logger: Good evening. Tonight, another reading in the Tales
of Innocence series. Tonight's story, a little ditty called
"Twisted" begins

'A stranger fiction than truth

It would be wrong to suggest that there is a version of this
story that exceeds.....'


øø ±±±±±±±±± ø
øø±±±±±± POW! ±± ø ø
øø ø ±±±±±±±±± ø ø
øøøø
The muzzle flash from Visage's flintlock obscures Logger's
kneecaps in flame and smoke.

Logger struggles to stand on legs which are badly
splintered.

Logger: Oh yeah, wrong movie again. Okay. Okay. I have it
right now. Tonight's program is another nature flic. Roll da
flic, Shad.
[] []
[] Huntin' Yer Bellowin' BabeTypes []
[] []
[] []
Sporto announcer guy is wearing a green camoflauge suit that
is know in the huntin' trade as "Flog Plaid" on accounta
it's most green and looks like koala puke.
Sporto guy: Oh Kay. Welcome to yer Huntin' Fer Bellowin'
Babetypes program eh. Wilfer and me, we got us some beers
and we're of a mind to get us some babes too eh. So, okay,
here goes.
Wilf: I sees one! I sees one!
Sporto Guy: Naw, that ain't no bellowin' babe nohow, noway.
Ya hears 'em like, before ya sees 'em eh. That there would
be one of yer BearBaitin' Babes. We'll take us some time to
hunt 'em next week.
Wilf: I got's er' in my sights. Kin I shoots 'er?
Wilf has his fly undone and stands on the flatbed on the
truck ready to urinate on the BearBaitin' babe.
Sporto guy: Naw, leave 'er be fer now there Wilfer. We's
gots to show them teevee folks how to hunt yer bellowin'
babes eh. Like that's whats in this show eh.
Wilf: (lookin' real dejected like, quaffs a beer and
maintains an idiot leer at the BearBaitin' Babe.
Sporto Guy: Okay Wilfer. Why doncha show the folks at home
how you 'calls' yer bellowin' babe eh. Like, its like yer
moose callin' and such, ceptin' this is fer yer babes eh.
Let out a call there Wilfer and let's see what we gets.
Wilf: (playing air guitar and really belting it out)

Take meee down in a blaze of glo-reeee
take meee down
Sporto guy: Okay. That'd be yer 'Buns Jovi' call. It's real
popular like with yer bellowin' babe hunters. If we all just
sits quiet-like, I betcha we attracts one real soon eh.
Â
(ear piercing screech breaks camera lens
ÚÙ
ÄÄÄ¿ ÚÙ
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ÚÙ
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³
³ ³
³ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
³ ³
³ ³
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÅÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
³ ³
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÙ ³
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ÀÄ

Wilf: Christ on a bun! What wuzzat?
Sporto guy: That'd be yer bellowin' babe. Can you sees 'er?
Wilf: Well slip a cunt over my head and fuck me silly! I
never thought them bellowin' babes would be so loud eh.
Sufferin' sweet jehosiphat.
Sporto guy: What?
Wilf: you say something?
Sporto Guy: What?
Wilf: I can't hear you.
Sporto guy: Well folks. Looks like we lost the soundtrack so
that'll be it for this week's program. See ya'll next week.
And 'jes remember, good humpin',horkin' and huntin' to ya.
[] []
[] []




---
* Origin: Int'l Order of Commando Turtles & Literary Penguins (Opus 1:163/110)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: All Msg #180, 22:11 est 90-12-18
Subject: Perspectives.
Flog Channel logo : Dozens of little Marc Lepine faces lined up to spell
FLOG CHANNEL.

Fade to Moose sitting in a leather chair by a fireplace. Flog can be seen
just off-camera with a lampshade over his head, screaming "Look, I'm a lamp,
I'm a lamp!"

Moose: Hello, welcome to Perspectives. A five minute break where we pause
to take a look at the world around us, and comment on the world's issues.
First, Bo Jackson T-shirts. Bo knows baseball. Bo knows football. WHO
GIVES A FLYING FUCK ABOUT BO? I don't! Bo could get to know the front end
of my car for all I care. Huh? Who gives a fuck? And what's the big fucking
deal about American University football? Huh? They're a bunch of overweight
drinking bastards who only got into university in the first place because
they know how to run and catch a funny flattened soccer ball. Who gives a
fuck how they do? Not me!

The camera zooms in on the spit flying from Moose's mouth.

Moose: Gawd, sports fashions piss me off! Why the hell do you go and give
free advertising to huge companies like Nike and Adidas? Like they need that
or something! I mean, you go and buy some big plain fucking T-shirt except
it has NIKE written on the front. Way to go, you've just paid $50 to
advertize for them? How gullible are you? And why must yuor shoes have as
many stiches as possible, and as many colors as possible, and who fucking
cares if your shoes inflate? I don't want inflatable rafts for shoes, I don't
want my shoes to pop, either!

By now, Moose has stood up, and begun hurling flaming logs from the
fireplace at the camera.

Moose: And I HATE your fucking music! (Starts doing stupid MC Hammer
immitation) Can't touch this.. uh uh.. can't touch this.. I don't WANNA touch
it you stupid ass! And Vanilla Ice! AIIE! All that money he's making for
dancing funny to a tune ripped off from a Queen song! I spit on him!
HAYAGH! And WHY, tell me WHY, do you all have the STUPIDEST fucking slang
I've ever HEARD of in my LIFE? Like "Word". What kind of expression is
"word"? And how about "Def". What the fuck does that mean? Are you calling
me deaf? Fuck you! FUCK YOOOUUOUOUOU--

At this point a flaming log breaks right through the camera lens. THe
picture deteriorates into crackling fuzz.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** "Eh... fuck all o'ya." (Opus 1:163/139)
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Loose Moose And Blonde Beaver Msg #181, 09:05 est 90-12-19
Subject: CUCUMBER
The letters to spell out the word CUCUMBER come up with the following word
yelled by singers who are either tone deaf or whose tongues have been scalded
with boiling coffee:

C -Children's
U -Underground
C -Club
U -of united
M -Moose and
B -Beaver
E -for enthusiastic
R -Reporters!

Set shows Loose Moose's and Blone Beaver's club house which is all old with
wood floors and walls. A psychedlic poster of jimmi Hendrix fucking Marilyn
Monroe's corpse hangs on the wall.

Moose is looking relatively normal, which means of course, completely fucked
up on acid, booze, and anything else with any sort of toxicity in it
whatsoever. Blonde Beaver is an actual beaver with huge bucked teeth (that
have left many a scar on Moose's genitals)
and the two are sitting on a beaten up old couch, looking stoned.

Moose: "Fuckin' ay kiddies."
Beaver: (giggling stupidly) "Woww!!! ha ha..."

Moose: "So like this is cucumber, children's underground club. Everyone get
out their illegal narcotics and we'll start the fuckin' show..."

Beaver: (Giggle) "I am a butterfly, catch me with your net..."

Moose: "So let's sing the moose and beaver song..."
Beaver: "F-f-f-fucking far out man..."

Music starts with a raunchy hardcore punk beat. Moose shakes his antlers
madly, and Beaver flaps her breasts back and forth rythmicly. The song begins:

Moose: "We're Moose and Beaver....
Beaver: "Beaver and Moose."
Moose: "And both of us, are fucking juiced. We sit all day in our clubhouse
out back..."
Beaver: "Doing tabs of acid, crack and even smack."
Moose: "We may be bad for little kiddied but who gives a shit..."
Beaver: "Not us, all we want is another hit... of, er, um...."
Moose: (having forgotten the words) "dee dee dee, dooo" (stops singing and
sort of hums, then stops humming. Music fades off.)

Moose: "Well that was a fucking thrill. Today we're gonna show you all how to
sterolize your needles using boiling water, but first, Beaver is gonna tell
ya how to have sex with a woman."

Beaver, spreads her legs wide: "Er, stick it in and jiggle it about a bit."

Moose: "Fuckin' amazing man..."

The show continues on like this for days, until Beaver OD's on something, and
Moose pulls a Sid Vicious and just leaves the bitch to decay.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Sir Gwain Msg #182, 07:22 est 90-12-19
Subject: HEY FUCKHEAD!
Voice: "And now it's time for Flog's Beating of a stupid fucking user who
fucking entered a fucking message and it wasn't in TV format and now the
fucking message has been echoed all over the fucking city and who really
gives a shit about what Sir Gwain and Metal Rob want to say to each other
anyway, with your holy host, Rv, and his guest Flog Sonata. Todays
contestant, Sir Gwain."

Stage shows Sir gwain strapped to a wooden table. Rv is smoking a large cigar
and is wearing clothes of the Spanish Inquisition. Flog is holding glowing
red tongs and a bag full of rabid sex crazed weasels.

Flog: "This is what happens to fuckheads who don't enter in script format..."

Flog proceeds to shove rabid sex-crazed weasels up Sir Gwain's rectum. he
then takes the red hot tongs and tears out Sir Gwains eyes. Rv supervises.

Flog: "next week we'll probably rip off Metal Rob's genitals when he leaves a
fucking reply to fucking Sir Gwains' fucking message!"

Rv and flog leave the stage, leaving Sir Gwain to writhe with crazed weasels
lodged in his bum.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
*** This is a reply to #177. See also #186.
 
From: Metal Rob Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #183, 10:38 est 90-12-19
Subject: Hey Bumwipe!

Scene: A thousand Black Russian Shots all lined up to spell 'The FLog
Channel.' Metal Rob can be seen drinking them all before anyone notices.

[Fade From Black]

MR: 'Why would I reply to Sir Twit's response? I mean, he probably has Weasels
stuck up his butt or something.'

[Fade to amber]
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Damn, How do I switch channels [Heavy Metal BBS] (1:163/120)
 
From: The Blue Procrastinator.
To: Concerned Consumers Msg #184, 11:18 est 90-12-19
Subject: Duracell revisited
[station identification]: Flog lies on top of the Energizer Bunny in a sodomic
frenzy... He pulls his phallus out, and the sperm/blood mixture drips on the
rabbit's fake fur to spell "THE FLOG CHANNEL".
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[fade in/fade out]
[tacky saxophone rendition of "Drugs in my pocket" echos in the background]
Narrator: "There has been an attempt on the part of our competition to
fraudulently discredit the durability of our copper top battery in their
favour."
[E.B. Bunny tries to crawl into camera field, but is quickly prevented to do
so by Flog and Moose. Flog satisfies his low instincts once more, accompanied
by the distant sound of Moose's nasal contractions around E.B's head.]
Narrator: "With the unsollicited help of 5 test subjects, under the
supervision of the Right Hon. Rev Viz (a rock of equity in a sea of madness),
we shall demonstrate once again the superiority of our product."
[The Reverend calmly walks in front of 5 giant screen televisions, and lights
them up...]
[The faces of 5 familiar looking women appear on each screen]
RV: "Well, ladies, you have your toys. Ready when you are."
[the subjects all wink at RV, close their eyes, and squeal "READY" in a
simultaneous fashion]
[RV gives the start signal, a digitized voice sample of JJ Clarke screaming
"Oh, yes!!! Max! MAX!!!" ...]
[A heavy buzzing sound emanates from the closed booths in the back of the
studio. The faces of the subjects start to show hints of very pleasant facial
distortions... Music becomes louder]
A FEW HOURS LATER...
 
[4 of the subjects are smoking a cigarette, bearing a frustrated grin...but
the one which looks like Alucard Shadow is still going strong, thrashing her
head from one side of the screen to the other]
RV: "Well, there you have it folks. Unrefutable scientific evidence. Duracell
really LASTS , and LASTS and... LASTS"
[The frustrated subjects leave their booths to attack Visage in a sexual
frantic, while Alucard's moans still paint the audio backdrop]
Narrator: "We did not want to knock the competition"
Voices: "No! No!"
Narrator: "Just a friendly tap on the G-spot to say: 'Come on Energizer, what
makes you think you're the only one that lasts?'...
[closing scene] E.B. Bunny's bass drum still resonates to the spasmodic rythm
initiated by Flog, while Moose and Phanteem squish the poor lagomorph between
the copper and the black halves of a giant Duracell replication.
[fade to black]
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: I want my FLOG-TV!!!! (1:163/237)
 
From: Concerened Semi-Alcoholic BBSers
To: All Msg #185, 13:53 est 90-12-19
Subject: Brian Howses' BBS bash
A bar, Flog Sonata is sitting there, Crass Nirvana next to him. Flog sighs.
Crass sighs. Everyone in the bar sighs.

Flog: "I'm really fucking bored of drinking in bars... I want a place i can
go to and drink to excess among friends, enemies, and other people..."

Crass: "Yeah, me too, but where can we go?"

Be-bop dance music kicks into the background as a narrator voice says:

Narrator: "Why not go to BRIAN HOWSES' ANUAL BBS B52 DRUNKEN BBS ORGY?
December 29th, at Brian's home, which is way the hell out in the middle of
Quebec (talk to brian or flog for directions, both will give you meaningless
words like 'right' 'left' and 'turn up at the beer store in quebec'). BYOB,
but there will be Wendy's world famous home made B52 mix from hell. There'll
also be Wendy's world famous chili from hell, so hot yer bum'll stick to the
toilet!"

Flog: "WOW! I'm gonna go and get hosed with the BBS world's finest! I may
just bring four cases of beer, a couple of sleeping bags, my best girl Syl,
and a box of obscenely shaped chocolates!"

Crass: "Wow, when I go, I'm going to bring my copy of Heathers and sit in the
corner of the room and watch it over and over again until my brain melts and
dribbles out of my ears!"

Narrator being: "And if you act now and make an RSVP with Brian on his board,
or drop your name to Flog, you will receive assurances that there is
absolutely NO CHANCE WHATSOEVER of Dave Hunter being at this gathering!
(phew!) So be sure and go, or you'll be considered a 14 year old BBS geek
who's too nervous to meet BBSers in reality. Go and meet the antichrist and
his dog, Flog, Syl, Brian and Wendy, Crass, The Boss, and many many more BBS
gods, like Painkiller, Athena, etc! Get drunk fall down, be molested by Flog
while you lie passed out in the corner, wake up with a brand new sexual
disease!"

Flog and Crass get up from the bar and dive through a plate glass window to
get out and run to Brian's big bash.

Fade to florescent green spray-painted black.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Flog! The Undeadest! {Bleech!} (1:163/127.6)
 
 
 
*** There is a reply. See #188.
 
From: Adolph Eichmann
To: The Boss Msg #186, 17:15 est 90-12-19
Subject: Re: HEY FUCKHEAD!
Scene: A desert... sunny and sandy. A couple rag-heads in the background.
An F-15 squadron screams overhead at 0.99 mach...
The camera zooms on the middle camel...
It is a heavy set man with one of them Arab rags on his head, and a big
arabian moustache. He has an assault rifle (gee, you never see those in the
hands of an Arab, now do ya?).
"You know, in my line of work, I travel a lot... Iran, Kuwait, hell maybe even
Saudi Arabia, Israel or the United States. With all that invading, hostage
taking and terrorism, I don't always look my best, so sometimes I don't get
the recognition and treatment I deserve.
That's why I carry something that has international acceptance... Something
that will open doors for me, when other people may not...
<view switches to a captured SR-71 photograph of a large military base>
That's why I carry one-million religion-crazed soldiers...
The Iraqi army, I don't leave home without it."
<fade to plaid>
--- msged 2.05
* Origin: Tentacles BBS - Land o' Squid (1:163/106)
*** This is a reply to #182.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: The Boss Msg #187, 08:38 est 90-12-20
Subject: More Rabid sex crazed weasels
Voice: "And now it's time once again for Flog's degredation of stupid users
who don't enter in a script format and therefore have to be sexually and
mentally molested for days and days with various toys and tools until
eventually they bleed to death from their ears, nose, mouth and rectum, with
your host, Flog Sonata and his holiness, RV."

The Boss is tied to a table, on top of Sir Gwain.

Flog: "Shit, we're out of rabid weasels, so we're gonna have to staple an open
bag of hungry kitten to yer nuts."

Boss: "Ok."

Flog staples the bag of kittens to the Boss' groin.

Fade to blue and purple, all swollen and sticky.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
 
 
From: Comrad Harizof
To: Concerened Semi-Alcoholic Bbsers Msg #188, 14:30 est 90-12-20
Subject: Re: Brian Howses' BBS bash

[Scene: standard anouncement scene. Guy in thick plasteel armourj
behind desc.]

CH> It has come to our attention that some people have insinuated that 14 year
old bbs'ers never meet people. The mercenary's guild of waystar would just
like to confirm that this is wrong. Numerous 14 year old budding
techno-mercs like me have met some bbs personalities. Brian knows that what
he was saying was wrong -- he has come to his senses. Here he is to tell you
about it.

[Pan to Brian, with electrodes tied to his scalp]

BH> Uh <zapp> well <zapp> it's like this. <zapp> I was <zapp> wrong about
what I <zapp> said. <zapp>

[Brian passes out from having 5 amps at 135V put through his limbic
system]

CH> Well, that was our public service anouncement from waystar. Have a good
christmas, and pilot safely.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #185.
 
From: Super Syl
To: Interested Consumers Msg #189, 22:08 est 90-12-21
Subject: Duracell vrs Energizer baterries
Commercial. "Here we have a perfect example of the effectiveness of Energizer
Batteries. We have five leading brands of baterries in these vibrators and
we are goin to tesk them".
Screen shift from narrator and we see five ugly babes on the tube going at
it's with the vibrators.
e"Energizer will outlast any baterries by hours".. Fades to black
Five Hours later...
"well We have the results. the first two leading brands stopped after only
two hours leaving two babes trying to bribe other duckies with still very
much alive instruments". No go. (They attack the narrator).
"the other two brands quit after four hours leaving two sorta satisfied babes
out in the cold... Now everyone wants to know.." yes that's right the
energizer is still going after 12 hours of continuous use. Even if the babe
isn't. You've got your proof. now ladies, what kinda of baterry will you
buy?"
fades to black screams in the background when the last chick finds herself
still attached to a vibrator that lasts 12 hours, noticing it actually went
up her ass after 6 hours...


 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: The Guy Who Questioned My Authority Msg #190, 09:22 est 90-12-23
Subject: Fuck you.
Flog sits at his desk and sighs tiredly.

Flog: "recently, a bonehead entered a message saying 'Why should you tell us
whether or not we should write in prose or not? who are you to tell us what
to do?' and then he went on and on, babbling some lame shit for awhile, in
general, being tiresome and irritating."

Flog stands at his desk.

Flog: "He asked this, obviously, completely out of ignorance. For his
benefit, I shall say the following things:"

1) Mel Pheasant and I, Flog Sonata, CREATED this fucking area
for our own amusement. Some people are enjoying it a great deal, and those
who don't are free to SHUT OFF THE CHANNEL. If you wanna talk in prose, go
do it somewhere else!

2) The echo itself originates from Mel's House of Horrors,
a board upon which I'm the assistant sysop, and Mel has granted me the
authority to be a controlling asshole in this area.

3) We don't take kindly to ignorant assholes here, we're gonna
have to string you up by yer genitals.

Flog sits down.

Flog: "Have a wonderous Christmas, and remember, drive drunk."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #191, 16:00 est 90-12-23
Subject: Happy Christmas
...fade to heartwarming scene of Santa and his reindeer on a
rooftop. Santa walks to chimney, and jumps in.
...fade to view of large industrial furnace, humming mechanically.
Zoom to pressure guages, which suddenly rise, then sink back to
normal as a muffled shriek is heard in background.
Voiceover: Welcome to the Flog Channel Christmas Special!
...music, provided by a Kuwaiti ensemble in exile, begins in a
squalling fanfare, played on strange flutes made of Ox entrails.
...Flog, Syl, Mel, The Antichrist, Nikki, Reverend Visage and
Skippy appear onstage.
Flog: Gee, that sounds just like...
Syl: Dying walrusses
Flog: Lets ask Ahmed what he's playing...Hey, Ahmed, whats that
tune?
...camera pans to Ahmed
Ahmed: Iss being sspezial zong for playing at Ramadan and iss alzo
for happy goat-roasting time!
Crowd: Roars
Flog: Yeah, that get-down goat roasting music gets me every time.
Now, we have a special treat for you. We're going by satellite to
Calgary, where Anal Cyste is on location. AC, you there?
...fade to static, strange belching noises in background.
Flog: Ha Ha. Thats AC for ya. Okay, Mel, whats up next?
Mel: <sniffle> I'b nob chure. I neeb a keeblex. <snort>
Ennyboggy gob a sinutab?
Skippy: Here, take one of these. (produces fistful of non-
prescription looking pills - Mel and the Reverend take fistfulls)
Flog: Uhm, Yeah. Lets move on to the backstage party, where the
viewer can join right in. (curtains part, revealing party room)
Look at those, uhh, decorations.
Nikki: I did it all myself. With Masking tape.
Reverend Visage: Gee, I've never seen a Christmas Tree covered
entirely with masking tape before.
Nikki: Neat, eh?
Flog: Say, where'd all the eggnog go? We had GALLONS of it, and
all the punchbowls are empty.
..Stew suddenly appears from stage left
Stew: Hi guys, say <*phooooweeeep*>, uhm, s'cuse me, I found all
these pickled onions <*pl-pl-pl-pl*> oops, ha ha, and eggnog, and
<*sweeePROOT!*> fresh figs <*FADOOP*>, ha ha, sorry, and...

...The screen fogs up. The crowd is seen, choking, and running for
the exits. Flog and company dive from the stage. Just before the
lights go out, the band starts up again...
...fade to fumigator
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: The Antichrist
To: All Christmas Viewers Msg #192, 22:59 est 90-12-23
Subject: Who gives two shits
Static takes over screen. Flog Channel logo appears then faids to black.
Static reappears. Reverend Visage, Skippy, and Flog are dressed from head to
toe in black. All are wearing T-shirts on which can easily be seen the
lettering "The Flog Channel". All three also are sporting baseball bats in
which the tradename Cooper is clearly visible. <blatant product placement ads
for money>. Reverend Visage is using his bat like a tennis racket. Flog
using his like a golf club, and Skippy like a jack hammer. There are many
dead Baby seals strewn about the snow.

Fade to black. Christmas music is heard in background.
Announcer: "The Flog Channel is proud to present this special Christmas
message from our government liason officer, The Antichrist"

Scene: A cosy living room with a swivel rocker, a fireplace, and an end
table. Anti enters with his dog from stage left and the dog takes him right
to his chair. Anti is wearing a red silk housecoat and blue bunny slippers.
Anti sits in the swivel rocker and begins to loosen the housecoat. His
scrotum is just visible.

Anti: "We here at the Flog Channel are pleased to take this opportunity to
wish all our viewers a special holiday greeting." Anti pauses... then
scratches his left testicle. "The Flog Channel has recently finished
shooting a Christmas Special entitled 'The 12 Gnomes of Christmas'. This is
a new release and will be broadcast from our remote transmitting station on
Kent Street on Christmas day by our President himself, Mr. Flog Sonata.
Wanda... bring in the monitor please"

Wanda enters from stage right with a trolley upon which is a monitor. She is a
voluptous brunette and is donning a scant red negligee and a red Santa hat.
Wanda reaches behind monitor and throws switch. The screen lights up.
Standing in a bedroom is Flog Sonata with a ferrot coming out of the front of
his pants.

Anti: "We will now talk to Mr. Flog Sonata for more details. Hello, Mr.
Sonata"
Flog: "Hello Anti and Hello Wanda. Yes this is true Anti. I will personally
be running the remote broadcasting station at Kent Street on Christmas Day.
This Christmas Special, called 'The 12 Gnomes of Christmas' is a Flog Channel
production which was just shot on location here in Ottawa"
Anti: "What can you tell us of this production Mr. Sonata."

Wanda, walks over to Anti and sits on his lap in the Swivel rocker. Anti
places his left hand on one of her breasts and his right between her legs.

Flog: "Well Anti... I can't tell you much. Except that it is degrades human
sexuality, degrades animals, and is a story designed for the instant
gratification for all our viewers."
Anti: "Thank You Mr. Sonata."
Anti turns directly at camera and monitor blacks out.
"That's right folks... The 12 Gnomes of Christmas broadcast live on Christmas
day. This is a special Flog Channel Production copyright 1990 all rights
reserved. Any rebroadcast, redistribution, or distribution is strictly
prohibited without the expressed written permission of The Flog Channel or
its duly appointed agents. We here at the Flog Channel are very strict about
this kinda shit and to demonstrate we will show a brief clip of a user ..
Paul what the fuck is his name who didn't enter his message as a script.
Role that clip Phil"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: The Antichrist
To: All Fuck Ups Msg #193, 23:38 est 90-12-23
Subject: Let this be a lesson to you
The monito lights up again and this time it is a scene of a man being strapped
in a chair with his hands being restrained. The man is Paul what the fuck is
his name who doesn't respect Flog Channel regulations.
Another man enters wearing a white lab coat. He approaches Paul what the fuck
is his name who doesn't respect Flog Channel regulations. The man in the
labcoat reaches in his pocket and takes out rusty pliers.
He removes all the finger nails of Paul what the fuck's his name.
Paul what the fuck's his name passes out. The monitor returns to static and
then blacks out. The camera is on the livingroom again except this time the
swivel rocker is facing away from the camera. The rocker is moving furiously.

Phil: <the programme director in case you fuck ups weren't payint attention>
"Psst... Anti... We're back"

The chair stops rocking and spins around. Wanda's short brunette hair is only
slightly messed.

Anti: "That's right. We here at the Flog Channel take our regulations very
seriously. We would like to take this opportunity to wish all viewers a very
happy holiday and sincerely hope that there will be no warm baths with a
Wilkonson Sword 'til the New Year"

Wanda whispers in Anti ear and a quick flick of her tongue can be seen.

Anti: "Good night"

The swivel rocker spins around and starts rocking furiously.

Fade to black.
Flog Channel logo reappers which is spelled out of the dead Baby seals.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Doc Logger
To: Sportin' Types Msg #194, 20:07 est 90-12-23
Subject: tasteless production values
 

ÉÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ»
º Goot FlogChannel º
º ramadupurassma poontangy º
ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ


The Foreign languages services flogchannel banner is held
aloft by several dwarves, a tart, a witch, a bitch, and a
pimp.
Doc Logger crawls onto the screen on legs which have been
shattered by a flintlock blast, trailing intestines from an
earlier shot and hauls himself up to the podium. Doc
reattaches an IV drip tube to his left arm while downing a
handful of small blue pharmaceuticals.
The floor director waves frantically at Logger who checks
his fly. There is no fly to check since he seems to be
missing the lower half of his attire.
Logger: Good evening. Welcome to another installment of
Tales of the Innocent. Tonight's chapter is a little tale
called "Twisted" which begins as follows:
 
"A stranger fiction than truth.
It would be wrong to suggest that there is a version of this
story that exceeds any other in truth but the essentials
...."
KRAPLOW!!!
A double-barrelled blast from Visage's flintlock takes off
both of Logger's arms.
Logger: Oh right, wrong flic again. (Logger licks his
eyebrows with his tongue and continues) Tonight's program is
another nature-loving monster. Roll da flic, Shad.
[] <----like tasteful sprocket holes or what -----> []
[] []
[] Baggin' Yer TechnoBabetypes []
[] []
[] Another PMS production []
Sporto announcer guy: Kay here we is. This here's a sporto
guy with his hindgrindin' buddy name of Wilf who is here
again to do sportin' stuff for ya eh. Okay, like, today's
sportin' adventure takes us into yer steamin' jungles of yer
Yuppie Fern bar.
Wilf: I sees one! I sees one! Kin I shoot it?
Sporto guy: Scuse me a sec here. Looks like ole Wilfer's
done got carried away again. Yo Wilfer, what's you sees?
Wilfer: (His fly is undone and he's hopping from foot to
foot with anticipation). I sees a fern. Kin I shoot it?
Sporto Guy: <hyuk hyuk> That Wilfer. What a kidder eh. Like,
yo Wilfer. We ain't huntin' us no ferns today. We's out here
to bag us a Technobabe.
Wilf: (whining) A technobabe? A geez, they ain't no fun at
all noway, nohow.
Sporto Guy: Well, like we knows that eh Wilfer... but we
gots this show to do eh and the folks at home might wants to
catch their own technobabe. So we's gotta go through with
this.
Wilf: What good's a Technobabe gonna do us anyhows?
Sporto Guy: Jesus on a popsickle stick, don't ya know
nothin'. Yer technobabe is fer keepin' the beer cold. A
coupla frigid technobabes in with the beers puts a mighty
fine chill on 'em like.
Wilf: Well, okay like. I'll catch us one then.
Sporto guy: Okay folks-at-home. Watch real close here how
ole Wilfer catches the Technobabe. There... there look. See
what he's doin'. Yep, that ole Wilfer is lookin'
"sensitive". The Technobabes can't resist 'em when they look
sensitive. Say there Wilfer, how sensitive would you say you
was right now?
Wilf: (sotto voco) I's sooooo sensitive that I feels like
the time I gots hit in the jewels with that golf ball. Thats
how sensitive I is right now.
Sporto Guy: And by the geez, just look at the babes flock to
Wilfer. He's gotta be real careful at this point to be sure
he's only lurin' in the Technobabes. Listen to this line.
Wilf: (Fondling plastic pocket pen protector-type decoy) Hey
hey sacharine, how'd ya like me to interleave my hard drive
amongst your soft sectored partitions.
Sporto Guy: Don't mind that screamin' and such folks. That's
just the non-Technobabe's way of sayin' goodbye. Oh lordy,
we's gonna need them ice-packs on his left nipple when this
show is over. But look.... look what he's got left hanging
off his every word still. I does declare. I sees he's got
hisself one technobabe fer sure.
Technobabe: Hi. (grin) My name is (giggle) Susan.
Sporto Guy: Well shucks, we've run plumb outa time agin' on
our show so we'll have to see ya'll next week like. So fer
now, this a sporto geek and his hindgrindin' buddy name of
Wilf, saying goodbye wishin' you good grindin', gropin' and
greasin'.
[] []
[] []
 
 

---
* Origin: Int'l Order of Commando Turtles & Literary Penguins (Opus 1:163/110)
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Revenge Against My Father Msg #195, 03:30 est 90-12-24
Subject: Petty Realities, a play
Masterpiece theatre type music (something old, something pretencious) plays as
we see a masterpiece theatre type host (something old, something pretencious)
and he speaks:

Old fuck: "Hello and welcome to some sort of show that shows weird art thangs.
I am your host, Old Fuck, and today's play is by a struggling playwright
known as Flog Sonata. Today's play deals with his father, and why he should
be gutted like a pig... And without further ado, we present, 'Petty
Realities', by Mr Sonata... Starring the acting abilities of a crescent roll
bun, a goldfish, and several rubber chickens of various sizes, colours, and
vibration speeds..."

A stage, empty except for one solitary end table, which has a goldfish bowl on
it. The goldfish swims about idly. Flog walks on stage.

Flog: "...so there I was, minding my own business in the cosmic ether,
watching past events safely in some subtle niche of the inbetween world, when
suddenly, for no apparent reason I can think of, I was forced to live on this
planet through the wonderful miracle of birth.
He was my father (spotlight on a man dressed as Hitler) and she was
my mother (spotlight on a woman dressed in simple blue dress with white polka
dots, she wears a white mask that has no face on it).
They were my PARENTS."

Father, goose-stepping up to Flog: "And what do we say to Daddy?"
Flog, weakly: "Sieg Heil, dad."

Mom stays off to one side, doing nothing throughout the play.

Goldfish swims in another circle, this one more quick and more exciting.

A group of other nazis come in to scene, and Father rushed off with them.
Hurried german phrases are spoken.

Flog: "My grandmother died recently. She died and two days later they found
her large white body slabbed on top of some couch, probably a large blue
couch with white polka ddots... I don't know what the couch looked like
because she died far away, in Germany, where they killed people once. She
probably died in auschwitz, choking on the fumes. My dad went to the
funeral. He probably buried her in a mass grave all alone. She was an
immense woman, the size of a school bus.
She reminded me of Jabba the Hutt."

Dad goose-steps on stage, followed by Nazis1 and Nazis2: (to Nazis1)
"There's my son! He's a student at Ottawa U..."

Flog: "Carleton U, Carleton..."

Dad: "...and he's studying something or another. Notice how he has limbs.
I've noticed that myself recently."

Flog: "I've had them since birth dad..."

Dad: "We expect him to start talking any day now."

Curtain for a pause.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: More Petty Revenge Play Msg #196, 03:43 est 90-12-24
Subject: Petty Realities continued.
Curtain rises.

Flog is sitting still, looking at his hands. Father goose-steps about
ridiculously, looking like a wind-up toy, or John Cleese in the funny walk
skit.

Dad stops in front of Flog: "Business was good today. We made lots of money.
Aren't you glad?"
Flog: "Is money what matters?"
Dad: "Well, what else is there boy? Emotions aren;t real, you can't SPEND or
TOUCH emotions. Happiness? Hapinness comes with spending! Does money
matter? Of course it matters, more than anything. You'll find out someday,
when you get older, when you are on your own, when you have 18 kids to
support in a rundown shack, working 8 to 7 hours to feed your family, you'll
see, you'll see, someday."

Flog: "But what is money? It's not real, it's something man made up, it can't
be what matters..."

Dad: "BLASPHEMER! BLASPHEMER! Money is all, repeat after me, MONEY IS ALL! And
food! And tits! That is all that is real! What is love but a fairy tale?
Can you touch love? can you?"

Flog: "I don;t know."

Goldfish swims a loop excitedly. Mom continues to stand still.

Flog looks up at the sky.

Flog: "It may rain soon. I hope there's a flood and we all fucking drown."

Dad: "What was that?"

Flog: "What do you care?"

Flog walks off stage.

Dad goose steps to center stage and sits down. From his pocket he takes out a
playboy centerfold, a sandwhich and a wad of dollar bills.
He spreads the centerfold out on the floor next to him, begins eating
the sandwhich, and starts counting his bills.

Dad: "One, two, three, four, five, six..."

Mom slowly moves over to the goldfish bowl, picks it up and walks behind Dad.
She lifts it up into the air, ready to smash it on Dad's head.

Dad: "...twelve, thirteen, fourteen..."

Mom shivers, stops herself, and puts the bowl back on the table.

Dad looks at audience: "Someday, I'll have enough money to go back to germany
and leave this miserable place. Canada is evil. My son, the one with the
limbs, was born in Germany. He'll like it there too, though he doesn't
remember it now. He's fogotten the homeland, the fatherland..."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: A Bunch Of Unwilling Viewers Msg #197, 03:53 est 90-12-24
Subject: More play.
Dad's eyes glaze at the mention of the fatherland, soundtrack of soldiers
marching plays, and german type phrases.

Dad: "It was all so beautiful, so controlled... The ordered rows of soldiers
all with one purpose... They had a goal, they had a center.
They couldn't find a philosophy so they were given one. It was all,
so magical. (snaps awake, soundtrack fades) My mother died recently, it made
me kind of sad, in a funny way. In the fatherland, they tax inheritence.
That makes me sad. My mother was going to send me money so that it wouldn't
be taxed. She died before she could send the money in time. It makes me
sad. I feel sad, I really do."

He looks unemotional, stonefaced.

Dad: "I'm really shaken up about it, let me tell you. I can barely talk about
it. Gosh, the pain I feel is immense."

Flog walks back on stage, carrying an axe. He smashes the goldfish bowl and
smashes the table apart. Father gets up hurriedly and goose- steps over to
Flog.

Dad: "What are you doing, what are you doing? The table, you've ruined the
table!"

Flog jumps up and down on the goldfish.

Dad: "You've ruined the table! Look at it, there's a big scratch in it! How
will we fix this?"

Flog looks at the smushed goldfish. Mom takes off her mask. They both walk
off stage leaving Dad alone.

Dad: "Hey, where are you two going? Come back! Don;t you want to hear
stories about the Fatherland? I know a good joke about faggots!
Would you like to hear it? Come back! Come back!"

Dad looks off stage for a while, then goose steps back to the table. He
examines the scratch carefully, takes a handkerchief from his pocket and rubs
at it.

Dad: "Ungrateful bastard. He'll be back someday."

Dad goosesteps off to the fatherland, the table under his arm.

The dead crushed goldfish lies on center stage, along with broken glass from
it's bowl.

Fade to narrator being.

Old Fuck: "There you have it, Petty Realities, or maybe The Fatherland, who
knows what title it should have? Tune in next week when Flog will use this
echo as a forum to vent more personal and more irritating topics. I'm Old
Fuck. Good night."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Calcium Addicts Msg #198, 21:48 est 90-12-23
Subject: Daily Fix

Flog Channel Logo : 12 reindeer trotting happily through the sky, pulling
Santa and his sleigh, on his way to deliver toys to the children of the
world. Suddenly a 747 Jumbo plows right through them. Camera follow Santa's
remains as it trickles to the ground along with toy bits, antler chunks, and
venison.

Fade to milk commercial. Milk flows in slo-mo in the background, as people
run all over and jump for asinine reasons.

Background voice: Milk... one glass contains 25% of your daily calcium
requirement.

More people jumping over things.

Background voice: Milk also has only 75 calories per glass.

Even more people jumping over things. Suddenly, Moose's head pops up.

Moose: PLUS, IT COMES FROM BREASTS!

Person jumping looks to camera in confusion, collides with telephone pole.

Moose: I mean, face it, milk is as close as you'll probably ever get to
sucking a cow's tit. So go for it. It's like sucking a farm animal's
nipples. Does that turn you on as much as it does me? Just think, every
glass is the liquid from a cow's mammary gland! To get this, a farmer sat
there and pulled on the breast, gently stroking the nipple, pulling out the
juice as... ugh! agh!

Fade to black as Moose orgasms.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** "Eh... fuck all o'ya." (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Doc Logger
To: Athena Msg #199, 14:10 est 90-12-24
Subject: seasoned but still tasteless
 
 
±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±
±ÉÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ»±
±º Prego FlogChannel º±
±º vaginicimo plus laterine º±
±ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ±
±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±
±
±

The Foreign languages services Flogchannel banner is held
aloft by several dwarves, a tart, a witch, a bitch, Flog's
Father, and a pimp.
Doc Logger crawls onto the screen on legs which have been
squooshed by a flintlock blast, dragging intestines from an
earlier shot, and flaps what remains of his arm-stubs. Doc
ties off a rubber tube around one arm-stump and injects a
clear fluid into an exposed vein while downing a handful of
small yellow & black pharmaceuticals.
The floor director throws beer cans at Logger who checks his
fly. His fly cannot be seen because the Antichrist's dog is
busy licking Logger's crotch.
Logger: Good evening. Welcome to another installment of
Tales of the Innocent. Tonight's chapter is a little tale
called "Twisted" which begins as follows:
 
"A stranger fiction than truth.
It would be wrong to suggest that there is a version of this
story that exceeds any other in truth but the essentials
remain the same. From the start to what may never be the end
there is a twisted element of complexity to this tale that
might stretch the credulity of...."
 
POOTAWABUNGA!!!
The thunderflash grenades thrown by Flog, and the combined
flintlock blasts from Visage take off both of Logger's ears.
Logger: Oh right. Wrong movie *again*. Yo, floor director
being. Are we running another nature flic tonight?
Floor Director: (lying on floor looking upwards at the
Antichrist's dog's crotch.) Ummmph. Ummm, no. The film
didn't come in yet so we had to find another one real quick
like.
Logger: (licking wounded ears with his tongue) So which
movie are we presenting tonight?
Floor Director guy: Christ knows. I just got the footage
this afternoon. Wanna just give it an intro and we'll roll
the sucker?
Logger: Okay. Ladies, Syl & gentlemen. Without further ado,
here is a flic that comes to us fresh from the can. Enjoy.
Roll da flic, Shad.
[] <----people pay major bucks to get sprocket ---> []
[] holes like these []
[] []
[] []
[] []
[] []
[] REAL BIG TITS []
ÛÛÛÍÍÍÍÍ» []
±±ÛÛÛÛÛÈÍÍÍ» []
±±±±±ÛÛÛÛÛÈÍÍÍ»ther PMS Production []
±±±±±ÛÛÛÛÛÈÍÍ» []
±±±±±ÛÛÛÛÈÍÍÍ» []
±±±±ÛÛÛÛÛÈÍÍÍÍ» []
±±±±±ÛÛÛÛÛÛÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ» []
±±±±±±ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ
±±±±±±±±±ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ±
±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±
Logger: Shit! The film ripped. Well...ahem, sorry
folks-at-home. We'll splice 'er up and get it onto the Flog
channel real soon now.
(Logger stumbles off the stage being chased by irridescent
bats.)
 



---
* Origin: Int'l Order of Commando Turtles & Literary Penguins (Opus 1:163/110)
 
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Christmas Special Thing. Msg #200, 03:41 est 90-12-25
Subject: Late night Xmas with Flog.
A candle holder and other jewish religious paraphenelia sit on a table. A very
WHITE blond swedish nazis type comes in, pushes off all the honneka (honnuka,
honika?) stuff, and replaces it with a cross, a virgin mary manger type
scene, etc. Swedish guy walks off. Flog walks on, knocks off al the stupid
catholic shit, and replaces it all with a large centerfold from a porno mag,
which features an incredible bimbo wearing a skimpy "Santa's Helper" type
costume. Credits:

"Flog Sonata's Kick Ass Christmas Special,

Featuring The Tit-Twirling Quintuplet Bimboes,
Suzan Slickinwet and her Lesbian Dominatrixes,
Debby Twoclits and her singing orifice,
Darling Dora and her plate-sized nipples,
And much much more!!!"

Big ugly telathon type stage with flashing lights and a big brass band, a la
Johnny Carson. Flog walks out, a bimbo on either side.

Flog: "It's Christmas. Stop watching television, go ball some chick drunk on
egnnog and rum. Ok, assuming yer a fucking pathetic loser without a wench
this yule tide season, we'll continue the show... Now it's time for Suzan
Twoclits and her singing orifice!"

Suzan Twoclits sits at a microphone completely naked. She plays the guitar
while twitching her legs so her twat, which has a face painted on it so her
vagina is like a mouth, opens and closes and sings the song "Feelings".

Flog: "Wow. You'll never see that on the Tommy Hunter show. Next, Betty and
her rapid sexual fiends will strip, and insert an entire vacuum cleaner hose
(which is several feet long) up into themselves, and then they'll suck up
various items using only their orifices, and then...."

BZZT! Burst of static makes the screen fade and bounce. Knight Slayer's face
appears on the screen.

Knight Slayer: "Um, I'm the second coming of Christ, honest. I er, I heard it
in a dream, where uh, God told me so. He also said all women should want to
sleep with me, so if you want to go to heaven, be sure to grab me off the
street, sneak me up to your partment, and ball me senseless.... But make it
a deep and meaningful relationship too! Casual sex is ICK, ew! I want love,
and emotion and um, whip cream and calliflower. Uh oh, the CRTC is outside!
Gotta go...."

BZZT! Static, which clears to reveal naked women bowing, and a very wet and
battered vacuum cleaner.

Flog: "Our next act features a woman having sex with a porpise, while the
porpoise whistles the star spangled banner, and the woman whistles dixie, and
the whole thing is done while the water is coverred in flaming gasoline, and
er, oh fuck it."

Flog walks on stage, leaving some naked bimboes standing there. Screen fades
to black and stays that way for two hours until...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Antichrist/Super Syl
To: Popcorn Buffs Msg #201, 20:29 est 90-12-25
Subject: popcorn {read above line first}
Static leaves screen... < more blatant product placement adds>.

Annoucer:"Jiffy pop... The mostest popenest popcorn on the market type of
thing... Jiffy pop for the special occasions...why go to a theatre...Jiffy
pop the professional popcorn

Scene : Camera pans kitchen and zooms on stove burner... Burner is glowing...
glowing white hot. Syl enters kitchen and places Jiffy Popcorn on burner;
goes to fridge and grabs Molson Dry <editors note: Have to go to the
fridge>gantis tpping nw with no woice card cause sls gone to gridge...
scar... k were were we oh yeah.. i miss m voice ... i iss m voice ...
<Editors note: Anti was tyuping with no voice> Now were the fuck were we...
Oh, ya. Jiffy Pop.

Syl leaves room with Jiffy pop on stove. the foil lid begins to expand.
Larger than a water head baby.

Suddenly...It BURSTS!

Poviously {Anti sutterring} OPCORN goes fyling all over the kitchen. Much
popcorn lands on the hot white burner. It ignites. Flames rize to
increadible hights. Real high, Higher that Anti. smoke fills the kitchen
and unfortunately the kitchen cupboard door is open. Soon the entire kitchen
is a blaze.

Annoucer:" Jiffy pop... for those special movies"

Static fills the screen
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: The Antichrist/Syl Msg #202, 23:55 est 90-12-25
Subject: A complete abscence of gnomes.
Scene of pilgrims landing on indian soil, as narrator speaks.

Narrator: "Long long ago, our forefathers (or four fathers, they really swung
back then, grunt!) landed here on this wonderous healthy bountiful soil.
With them they brought tools, equipment, books, and..."

Little gnomes walk down gang-plank of boat, nervously looking to and fro, the
rush off into the woods.

N: "...and gnomes. Yes, our forfathers brought gnomes with them.
And now, to this very day we suffer from Gnome Plagues, though you
would never guess. When you go to find your car keys, are they missing?"

(Cut to gnomes hiding car keys.)

N: "Have you lost a love one in a firey inexplicable pop-corn fire accident?"

(Cut to gnomes sticking rolled up flaming newspapers into dry piles
of paper inside a home.)

N: "Have you been depressed lately?"

(Cut to woman sitting in a chair looking glum, while behind her, out
of her view, is a gnome staring at the back of her head. The gnome is
scrunching up his eyes in concentration, sending bad vibes.)

N: "Well suffer no longer with new GNOME-AWAY! This handy metal pendent is
guaranteed to keep gnomes from interfering with your daily existence. Of
course, it won't keep away spooks and spectres and vampires, but our
crack-pot, er, crack-up staff are right now working on further magical
medallions. Each comes with a certificate of authenticity too. Buy one, two
or 78. Send all your money. Send it now."

N: "Send 15.95 each CASH, or call this number and have your Visa card ready to
be used 'til it's near melting... Phone 1-800-GULL-IBLE!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Fine Watch Makers
To: Purchasers Of Crap Msg #203, 00:03 est 90-12-26
Subject: The Rat and Cat watch
An ugly watch surrounded by gold and silver and glowing fake diamonds is
shown. The watch has a cat on it with it's paw out and the second hand is
an actual mouse that runs about in a circle, "playfully dodging" the cats
outstretched paw. A large boot crushes the watch into little bits.

N: "Now, from the makers of Gnome-Away comes a new manly watch, none of this
fucking cat and mouse bullshit. It's the fuck watch. Keeps perfect time,
and is great masturbation material."

Show a watch draped between the HUGE breasts of some wench named Nikki.
Despite having immense tits, her nipples are only the size of dimes.
Why? Ask Antichrist, I'm still not sure.

The watch itself features a cock slamming home into a cunt every second, to
keep the precise time. A dribble of sperm playfully runs about the watch,
avoiding huge red wet lips of a woman who wants to suck it down and swallow
it.

N: "This gorgeous watch would normally be sold only in porno shops at exorbant
rates, and would only be available to the type of sick individuals that go to
those kinds of places... You know, guys in greasy trench coats who go into
The Annex and ask in a sore, rough voice, 'D'ya have anything with a Mule in
it?' and then grin sickly like... Anyway, now this beautiful watch is
available to normal perverts and sick fucking deviants. It cums with a
certificate of authenticity, suitable for framing."

Certificate is shown. It is a large open cunt with the words of authenticity
printed inside of it. A very realistic three dimensional foam statue, very
suitable for banging, er hanging.

Nikki runs the watch through her pubic hair.

N: "Order several now. Makes an excellent Xmas gift."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Small Wanged Individuals Msg #204, 23:27 est 90-12-26
Subject: A penis Enlarger?
Narrator dude: "has this ever happened to you?"

Scene: Random shmoe is in bedroom with woman, she slowly undresses, and he
quickly drops his trousers. Woman sees mans tiny genitals, points and
laughs. She falls to the floor roaring with laughter.
insulted shmoe picks up a large steel paper-weight and clubs woman
to death. Even as she is lying bleeding, she points one final time and
guffaws.

ND: "Well it won't happen anymore with the new Penis Enlarger, guaranteed to
increase yer sword size or your money back! The device is simple to use, and
here we will see a demonstration with local BBSER Anal Cyste (Editor's Note:
who is conveniently out of town so he won't see this!).

Scene: Anal standing on stage. Bimbo nurse comes out with card-board box.
Cyste's trowsers are removed, and suddenly two burly guards come out of no
where and hold Cyste in place. The nurse takes a large sharp fish-hook like
thing out of the box. The fish-hook has some sort of chain on it and a
weight at the end.

ND: "Just slide the hook into the end of your dick, piercing your penis-head,
then let the weight dangle! Your genitals will be bigger in minutes,
guaranteed!"

Cyste screams in agony as nurse puts fish-hook through Cyste's dick. She yanks
on the chain for good measure.

Nd: "Just listen to our satisfied customers!"

Scene: Knight Slayer, sitting in a chair. The crotch of his pants are red
with blood.

KNight Slayer: "Yeah, after only seven years of using the penis enlarger,
yesterday, a woman almost looked at me, and I think she had this sorta,
sorta.. gleam in her eye. It might have been dust or something, but I think
it was a sexual thing. Maybe."

ND: "And not only does it expand penis length, it also expands nipple and
breast size!"

Cut to Nikki, her huge beachball sized breasts exposed.

Nikki: "My breasts used to only be the size of bowling balls, and now look at
them! HUGE! And the nipples are now the size of plates! All thanks to me
borrowing my boyfriend's penis enlarger."

Narrator Dude: "There you have it, the penis enlarger, a breast enlarger, is
that all you ask? What else does it do? What, aren't you satisfied with
just that? Gimme a break already! Fuck!"

Narrator storms off stage.

New Narrator: "The Penis Enlarger. Send 18.95 in small unmarked bills to S&M
Torture Devices INC, c/o Painkiller and Athena, behind some dumpster, ottawa
Ont."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: All Msg #205, 22:57 est 90-12-26
Subject: Save the Hicks.
Flog Channel logo: Unused Christmas turkey parts served up steaming on a
platter. Fade to black.

Piccolo music. Fade to Moose sitting in front of typical telethon set.

Moose: Hi, I'm Loose Moose, and welcome to the Save The Hick telethon. You
know, in this modern age of... urbanization and expanding cities, which I
know are the same thing but I needed two things to go there so fuck off, we
often neglect the rural culture we're trampling. The farms that turn to
sidewalks, and the dirt roads that get covered in asphalt. Many rural
creatures are facing extinction, particularly, the Wrinkle-Faced Plaid-Clad
Hick. The Wrinkle-Faced Plaid-Clad Hick is native to the rural Ottawa Valley
area and is rapidly becoming a rarer and rarer sight. Many people have never
met a true hick, but for your benefit we have our cameras out in their
habitat, to give you a glimpse of their lifestyle.

Camera fades to shot of deepest Stittsville. Zoom in on corner store. Moose
waves from behind the cash.

Whispery Moose voice: This is a hidden tape I kept at a local Stittsville
convenience store, deep in hick land. Let's see if we can find any. (Pause.)

Wad of spit lands in front of camera, and construction boot lands in front
of lens, obscuring view.

Whispery Moose voice: This is sensational, we have a hick on camera a mere
one foot away. Let's observe his behaviour.

The man walks towards the store. He is clad in dirty ill-fitting jeans,
brown unlaced construction boots, an old was-probably-white-once T-shirt, an
unbuttoned flannel shirt, and a cheap winter jacket. His hair is greasy but
most of it is covered by a cap advertizing some welding company.

Whipery Moose voice: This truly is a spectacular sight, a perfect example of
the endangered Wrinkle-Faced Plaid-Clad Hick. He appears to be going into
the store. Let's fade to our hidden in-store camera.

Fade to inside the store.

Hick: Player's Light regular.

Moose has already put the said cigarettes on the counter and rung it up,
even before anything was said. He's not dumb, he knew what was coming.

Whipsery Moose voice: If we're lucky, we'll see some mating habits here.

Hick opens the Sun to page 3.

Hick: WHAT AN UGLY COW! I WOULDN'T FUCK HER!

Whispery Moose voice: This is spectacular.

The Hick lights a cigarette and exits, with the cigarette danging from his
mouth 'cuz it's cool, and with the pack in his shirt pocket, so everyone
knows he smokes.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** "Eh... fuck all o'ya." (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Hicks Msg #206, 23:10 est 90-12-26
Subject: Here's a thought, wash.
Fade back to Moose at telethon set.

Moose: please save the Hick. He's an important part of our heritage. Call
now. 1-613-FARM-BOY. That's 1-613-FARM-BOY. You can do your part. Please
dial now.

No one dials.

Moose: Fine, fuck the bastards.

Fade to appartment building being constructed.

 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** "Eh... fuck all o'ya." (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Civilians Who Shoulda Been Cops Msg #207, 23:18 est 90-12-26
Subject: Uninteresting Mysteries.
Flog Channel logo : Rural diner. Sign outside : Roadkill Platter, $3.95.

Fade to Moose in a suit, standing somewhere silly and uninteresting. He has
four cigarettes burning and one of them doesn't appear to be tobacoo.

Moose: Howdy! I'm your host Moose, and this is Unsolved Mysteries. Robert
Stack got murdered. If you know anything about this, (rapid cut to eerie
somber music) please, do not take action yourself, notify your local branch
of the RCMP. (eerie somber music stops quickly. Moose lights a fifth
cigarette.) So, uh, we got some real cool unsolved mysteries today, fuck
yeah, do we ever. Uh, roll the first clip, Jim.

Film footage of someone drinking Decaffeinated Diet Cola.

Moose: Our first mystery, why do people do this? Remember, if you have any
information, (sudden eerie somber music) call your local detachment of the
RCMP. Do not approach anyone dangerous, do not take action yourself. Notify
the proper authorities. (music stops.)

Moose: And after that, in Nebraska, a man makes a daring daytime robbery of
a bowling alley. Well fuck, he sure has guts and knows what he's
doing if the cops have resorted to this lame show to get the fucker, so I
figure what the fuck, ya know, let the bastard keep the money. I mean hey,
you didn't lose anything out of it, why bother, for fuck's sakes?

Moose: Our final mystery of the evening is really interesting. I mean, fuck
me, it's interesting.

Film: a monitor scrolling, showing thousands of little letters in apparent
message format.

Moose: The Flog Channel. A vile, evil connection of software freaks
spreading obscenity, pornography and blasphemy across our telephone lines to
unsuspecting others, including young children. We'll try and help you
discover who is perpetrating this-- uh--

Moose stops due to the repeated taps he's been getting on the shoulder from
a cameraman. Moose leans to the right and the cameraman whispers into
Moose's ear.

Cameraman: (whisper whisper whisper)

Moose: Who, me?

Cameraman: (whisper whisper whisper)

Moose: Well fuck, that was a close one, wasn't it?

Cameraman: Oh, by the way, uh, (whisper whisper whisper)

Moose: Yeah, yeah, later, I'll be at your place at 6.

Cameraman: (whisper whisper whisper)

Moose: I'm fresh out of jello mix.

Camera rolls back to Moose looking somber and important.
Moose: Uh, charges have been dropped, um, yeah, goodnight.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** "Eh... fuck all o'ya." (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: The Antichrist
To: All Pub Low Lifes Msg #208, 14:28 est 90-12-27
Subject: Pub Report
The Flog Channel is displayed on a red and white checkered table with the Flog
Channel logo clearly written out of empty quarts of beer.
Suddenly, a body is thrown across the scene but it looks remarkedly like Doc
Logger.
Camera pans low life tavern and zooms in on Anti sitting in corner with two
Babes on either side and a dog licking his crotch.

Anti: Good evening bones and wallets... <wenches snicker> and welcome to the
Ottawa Pub Report. I'm your host, The Antichrist, and tonight we're visiting
a pub in er... almost Mechanicsville. This fine establishment, er...
establishment... is called The Elmdale Tavern, and yes... <Anti makes the dog
lay down and pulls up his zipper>. they serve quarts."

Gun fire is heard, slightly muffled, in the background and the camera pans
clockwise. Three persons are seen at a table and where a fourth chair is
supposed to be is positioned a Breath Alert machine. The first man, has rye
in front of him and has a box of Kleenex in front of him and a straw hanging
from each nostril. He can be heard muttering "Zoo dkee nee. Pooh teen.
More pooh teen." The second man is neatly groomed and is donning clerical
attire. He is shouting at the third man who looks vaguely like Patrick.
Patrick : "I scored 0.27! Beat that man 'o the cloth".
Priest grabs milky looking drink from table and takes mysterious looking bread
wafer from his pocket and mixes it in with the drink. "Espiritos Sanctos
dominos pizza" He wolfs it back in one swallow.
The priest grabs a straw from Mel's nose, inserts a quarter into the Breath
Alert and blows.
The LED readout on the machine explodes.
"Yes.... yes.... yeeeesssssss." yells the priest. "Put you're swold liver
next to the TV set"
Patrick gives the priest a wad of money and only the word "Dad" can be
understood. Mel passes out.

Camera pans back around the room and zooms back to Anti.
Anti: "Yep... The Elmdale House... a family place... complete with arcade
games... Ottawa's newest craze.... Breath Alert... come on down and try for
high score."

Anti picks up empty quart bottle and wings it right at camera. Shattered glass
is seen on screen and picture fades to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Pig Head Msg #209, 21:41 est 90-12-27
Subject: A Brief Commercial Break
...fade to Flog Channel Logo, composed of empty shell casings
on a background of sand.
 
Background Singers: Be, all that yooo can beee, in the ar-meeee
...fade to close up of Dweeb with pocket pen protector and far too
many zits.
Announcer: Hey, you!
Dweeb: Moi?
Announcer: Yeah, you! Don't you want an exciting career, where you
learn lotsa stuff, get to wear better clothes, and pork babes from
third world countries that don't know better?
Dweeb: Wow! Yeah!
Announcer: Imagine yourself as an officer on the bridge of a
Canadian Naval Vessel.
...fade to bridge: Dweeb dressed as Captain, surrounded by his
officers.
Announcer: A career where you have to make split-second, life or
death decisions.
First Mate: Captain, Incoming Missile!
Announcer: Where you will experience the feeling of...
Dweeb: ..aaack! Oh NO! <unpleasant bowel sound>
Announcer: ... the feeling of BROWN TROU..
First Mate: Captain, thats disgusting!
 
...fade to shot of Destroyer in flames...
Background Singers: Beee, all that you can beee, in the ar-meee
fade to shot of Canadian Flag, waving in the sea breeze, until it
slips beneath the water.
...fade to black
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Super Syl
To: Culinary Delight Experts Msg #210, 07:59 est 90-12-28
Subject: Finger licking good
Camera zooms in on Flog entering the stage with a chef's hat and apron on. "
Welcome the the Cook with the Best on the Flog Channel". "Today we have a
very special guest Ms. Julia PukebyMiles. Welcome Julia Glad to have you on
the show."

" Well Thank you Flog. Today we are cooking a delicacy. Human Fingers.
These recipes have been passed down from generations to generations. Of
course they have been modified to meet todays National Food Guide
Standards." < Flog ignoring her is playing with the fingers - he is noticing
these fingers have NAILS>

"well go to it Julia. What will be our first recipe?"
c
"Well, it's called Fingers for all occasions. First get approximately 20 to
25 fingers. Ladies figers are preferable. Easier to handle for coctails
event. Anyways, You have to soak the fingers in water so that they get like
puffy from the water. Also the nails will slip off easily so that you can
suck on them. After an hour simply brown the fingers in butter with a little
bit of chives and garlic. Let cook for about an hour". Camera goes to
commercial.

Flog at this point has three fingers and is furiously rubbing them all over
his chest and is starting to undo his pants when..

Camera comes back on "Oh, haha. These fingers are really great. And look our
recipe is almost ready isn't that right Julia?" Camera switches to Julia and
Flog Shoves the fingers down his underwear real hard. Up down.

"That's right. They are nice and tender now. And Voila! just serve with a
nice dipping sauce at those special get togethers. Everyone loves these
especially that they are multy purpose. Now for our next recipe, Mr. Flog
will you pass me the baby fingers in the bowl over there?"

Flog signals the cameraman that they have to go to a commercial. Now.
Commercial Comes in.. "Uhm,. Ms. Julia, well I don't know how to tell you
this but all your baby fingers are gone.. I was feeling kinda low and well
I gave myself a lift with them. I guess if you really need them I could
probably shit them out. But then what would that do to your recipe?"

"Well, Mr. Flog I guess we can just tell them about the recipe. But next time
you have guest cooks in your show, your should refrain from shoving all
their culinary tools up your ass. Really, and where are my three other
fingers?"

Flog looking noticebly uncomfortable, takes him hand and drive it down his
underwear, and slowly removes the three other fingers.
Cameraman signals it's time to get back to the show. Flog "Hey, were back.
We had a small accident with the baby fingers. It's seams they have been
doing some walking. Ha. Ha. But Julia has graciously offered to tell you
about the recipe."

Camera goes to Julia and she is furiously fucking her self his the big male
finger she had. "Psst, Psst" Flog says trying to get her attention. But no
go. She is fucking going crazy. Flog signals the cameraman.. Fades to
black.

s.syl
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog'S Baby Sitting Business
To: Parents And Single Moms. Msg #211, 12:30 est 90-12-29
Subject: (and single dads...)
Flog Sonata stands on the lawn of a huge beautiful house.

Flog: "Do you have children that you wanna get rid of for periods of time?
Cuz like, I can get 'em out of your hair for a while, but I might have to cut
out there tongues though, but hey, kids are mouthy little fucks anyway,
right? Let me show you how our trained professionals, using myself as a
demonstration model, would take care of yer tiny fucking tyke."

Flog enters house, and parents leave. Typical father being says "Take good
care of our little Jennifer!"

Flog snickers evilly as he closes the door.

Flog: "As you can see, people are quite willing to leave with my children, and
it probably has nothing to do with me not mentioning those molestation
charges from 2 years back. Let's go see little Jennifer now, shall we?"

Flog treads softly up the stair, on tip-toe. he mimes a "SHHH!" with a finger
over his mouth.

Flog slowly opens the door to a bed room where a 12 year old girl seems to be
masturbating under the blankets with a 12 inch dildo.

Jennifer: "Finally fuck! You must be punished for your tardiness! Give me a
horsey ride, now!"

Flog, surprised: "Now look here, I..."

Young Jennifer takes a whip out and smack it into flog's temple knocking him
off his feet.

Flog: (to camera) "You have to be firm with kids..."

Flog throws a small squeky toy at the girl.

Jennifer: "I love defiance in my men, it meand it will be all the more fun
breaking them down..."

Flog: (to camera) "Anyway, if you want me to baby sit your kids, like, make
sure they are young and not GAH!"

Flog yells as Jennifer grabs "something".

Jennifer: "Kneal, kneal you worm!"

Fade to black as Flog is being ridden like a horse, being thwaked with a
riding crop.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Crass Nirvana
To: All Msg #212, 01:38 est 90-12-31
Subject: I don't give a fuck...
 
Scene fades to a heap of glowing hot coals. A hand comes from off-camera
and stirs the coals with what appears to be a branding iron. The hand picks
up the branding iron and the camera shows the words "Flog Channel" burnt into
the skin of a woman strapped to a brass bed with handcuffs.
Scene fades to a ultra-modern looking set with a bunch of really
uncomfortable looking chairs set on a raised platform. Applause roars and
someone steps in from off-camera holding a wireless microphone. He is wearing
ripped jeans and a Flog Channel ripped t-shirt.
"Hi there, ladies and gentlemen! I'm Crass Nirvana and welcome to this
week's installment of....
(crowd shouts in unison) "I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!"
"Yes, that's right. The only show on the air today filled with
insignificant assholes who no one really wants to hear anyway. The show
where the ordinary guy gets to kick someone famous right in the teeth."
(Crowd screams in appreciation. One person starts waving arm and doing that
annoying Arsenio Hall woofing thing) (Crass pulls out .44 automatic and
fires three slugs into his chest. Man falls down, apparently somewhat
injured.)
"I'm your host, Crass Nirvana, And I don't give a fuck!"
"Today on the show, we have yet another bunch of insipid morons who I
would rather kill than piss on. And here they are..."
(three people walk in from off-stage, looking all stuck-up and pompous. They
walk up to the platform and sit down in their chairs.)
"On my left, we have a leading psycho-bitch wench from some University
or something who thinks that she knows every-fucking-thing. (she smiles
awkwardly, trying to look intelligent) To her left we have a racist, cock
sucking, child molesting bastard who we brought on to increase the ratings.
(he belches and scratches his balls while jeering at the children in the
audience) and to his left, we have an incredibly well-endoweed brunette who
is going to sleep with me for bringing her on this show." (Crass turns to
panel) "Welcome to the show..."
(the panel sit smugly in their chairs, awaiting the questions.)
"Now, panel, our topic today is breast-location. Should breasts be
located in another portion of our bodies, or are we just wasting our fucking
time? We'll start with you, Martha."
(the smart psychology wench raises her nose and sniffs irritatingly) "Well, as
a matter of psychological importance, the female breasts are hugely
important....
(Crass breaks in..) "Ah yes, but I couldn't help noticing that you, Martha,
are about as flat as your average frozen lake. IN fact, you have no breasts
at all. You could very easily be mistaken for a man! In FACT! (he grabs her
skirt and rips it off) "Oh, well, I guess you are a woman, even if you ARE
uglier than a baboon."
"YOU!" <points at sex-perv-guy> "Whatdya think?"
"Duh, sounds good to me. But would," (he pauses, adjusting his crotch) "
children be involved?"
"Sure, what the fuck. Because, we don't give a fuck. Ok, bimbo, what do you
think? Should breasts be located somewhere else?"
"Sure, baby. Why not. I could please yet another 2 or 3 men more at the same
time. Didn't you say we were going to get it on soon?"
(Crass looks anxious)
"Well, that's all the time we have for today. Go away. Fuck off."
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: I thought I'd change my Origin Line. (613) 825-1841 (1:163/147)
 
From: Joe Hyundai'S Party Revue
To: All Who Were At Brian'S Msg #213, 10:31 est 90-12-31
Subject: A review of Brian's party.
Joe Hyundai sits in a chair wearing a lime green shirt and a tiny black vest.
Itty bitty glasses are perched on the end of his nose.

Joe: "This weekend there was a just STUNNING little get together at a
not-so-well-known BBSers home, with his wife and well, we snuck in a camera,
as we usually do, and now we will review this WONDERFUL party..."

Cut to camera shot of people coming in to the house, people wandering
aimlessly, drinking, falling down, etc. as Joe speaks:

"First off, there were a bunch of commodore people whom nobody really knew at
all, but one of them had a moustache. Then there were two people who run the
board Dream Something Something, they were there too. There was this
awe-inspiring chili and incredible home made bread..."

(Camera focuses on Flog downing his 18th helping.)

"The B-52's, which were handed out every half an hour, were amazingly
wonderous, with a perky bouqet and a beautiful tangy twisty twangy taste that
said 'I am alcohol, beware my mysterious strength and intellect, or I will
kick you repeatedly in the groin'. Super Syl asked about milk calenders, and
later conducted a poll about whether women should have breasts on their backs
as well as their fronts. Flog sat on the couch and hit on Knight Slayer,
talking about occult nonsense, ouija boards, etc. Flog can be seen here,
drinking his fifth beer, and getting really involved about this one spiritual
event that occurred in his life."

(Flog mimes something about a ghost's penis size.)

"A bunch of people who don't understand the concept of social lives, gathered
about the computer like moths to flame."

(Several people stroke the monitor of a computer, and purr loudly.)

"Did I mention the great chili?"

(Flog is partially buried under a mound of chili, and is wolfing it down
sickeningly fast.)

"There was also this weird rotating light thing in the living room, two
fireplaces, and a full audio system that pumped music everywhere into the
house, including the bathroom. Knight Slayer took time to answer the
question 'Is that real marble?'."

(Flog is banging his head against a table, while Knight Slayer explains how
his father is a techno-Architect-Engineer-thingy, and that's why he knows
ever so much about interesting topics like marble.)

"Flog forgot to take the music tape I left for him (the shit), Syl didn't know
who I was for the entire party, Brian walked about saying Eh? a lot and
telling some damn funny jokes, and all sorts of other weird shit happened,
including Mel wearing Crass's hat and making bogart impersonations without
trying, Crass and Flog beating each other up anmd yelling the name 'TINA!' at
each other, and other shit too. Deja Voodoo was there, and he sort of sat
quietly, NOT telling people what a shitty driver he is. Later, everyone
left, leaving me to type on the computer all night long, while Syl and Flog
crashed in the back room, had a weird argument at about 5am, and then
mysteriously disapeared. Later, the argument was settled, and Flog was untied
from Syl's bed."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Joe Hyundai'S Party Review Part 2
To: People At Brian'S Party Msg #214, 10:52 est 90-12-31
Subject: More info
Joe squirms in his chair, cut back to more camera footage.

"The house was difficult to find, despite amazing explanations on how to get
there. There was no street sign. Brian later explained 'Should I have told
you to turn at the street with no sign?'. Wendy and Brian were bubbly hosts
who took great care in avoiding their drunken loutish guests who were
spilling booze on the furniture, and loudly begging for more booze/food."

"The Antichrist stood in one corner, gathering wenches to him like moths to a
candle flame. He collected a grand total of five phone numbers, and is
probably, as we speak, balling SOME wench from the party. (Quite possibly
the wench that Crass kept talking about... The brunette...) All in all, an
amazing party. If you didn't go, you're a piece of shit scum and missed a
killer time. Thanks Brian and Wendy for inviting us to yer home!"

Fade to black.

Fade to Flog at a desk.

Flog: "I'd just like to take this moment to personally thank Brian and Wendy,
and would like to tell them it wasn't me that threw up in the kitchen sink,
that I know nothing about the missing garden gnome, and that it wasn't me
that broke the box spring matress. Also sorry for sneaking out like that, it
was kind of a situation. Thanks again for a cool evening."

Fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Cheezy Bible Thumpers
To: Movie Going Gits Msg #215, 10:59 est 90-12-31
Subject: A new film about Religion.
Scene: two thousand years ago from this very date. Some small town somewhere,
probably Bethlahem, but hey, no confirming that from me. A bearded man
dragging a cross and wearing a crown of thorns is being whipped by a roman
centurion as he walks towards where he shall be crucified. He is forced to
lie down on the cross, is nailed to it by the guard, and is hung up. An
angelic aura shines about his head as he slowly dies, and the aura fades.

A time machine appears behind the cross, and Lady Guinevere and Nightman get
out. They take down the cross and bring it into their time machine.

Nightman: "Can we do it? Will the operation be a success?"
Guinevere: "Piece of cake. We can do it. We'll be biblical heroes!"

Fade to outside of the time machine, credits say "TWO DAYS LATER..." Time
machine fades away as it heads back to the future. A figure is standing in
the middle of where the time machine had been. He gleams of steel and metal,
and has a weird black visor on. Zoom up on him as the huge glowing red
credits appear:

"ROBOCHRIST"

RoboChrist walks down the dusty trail and sees to people fornicating out
of wedlock.
"You are under biblical arrest!" Robochrist yells.
The woman runs off and RoboChrist fires a slug into her head, killing her. He
turns and points his guns at the man:
Robochrist: "Think it over, Sinner!"

Robochrist walks about the town, shooting people who sin. Eventually everyone
is dead. Robochrist walks off into the desert, leaving a town shot to hell.
The Antichrist appears, with his seeing eye dog Joy. Robochrist walks up to
him.

We see Robochrists perspective of the world, and we see the following list of
commandments inside his visor:

"Directives:
1. All that bible shit about sin.
2. Anyone who shows some sort of religious deviation from catholicism should
be killed.
3. Anyone who uses the pseudo Antichrist is to be eliminated.

Robochrist pulls out his gun to fire at The Antichrist, but then a large pink
foot, a la Monty Python, comes out from the sky and crushes RoboChrist into a
ball of bloody tinfoil.

The Antichrist chugs back a beer and fondles his own genitals happily as Joy
licks herself.

Fade to black.

Credits appear saying:

"Religion is for people who want to fill up time on their sundays."
-Flog Sonata
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Ted Turner
To: Very analy retentive slyops Msg #216, 03:29 est 90-12-31
Subject: To be (ta) Or not to be(ta)
Shining Flog TV logo floats across the screen.. Green phospheresent arrowheads
spelling "We Love Floggie" surrounded by baby porcupine entrails.
[Cut to scene of Small Dude ranch on the lowerside of retentive tastes]
Small man stands in front of camera, looking nervous and agitated at the same
time.
Producer: "Come on Ted, lets get the show on the road, here comes the owners"
Ted: "Hi.. this is your ace reporter Ted Turner, coming to you from the Valley
dude ranch, where it has come to this reporters attention that the animals
here have had there names changed thirty two times this year by there owners,
other animals have been refused entrance to the grounds untill they are
sanctioned and there papers have been check as to authenticity of there
names."
The owner and his wife try to push past the gathered crowd of protesters
holding signs aloft, saying "Free the opressed names" and "Brunhilda was a
fab name" Many of the gathered crowd hurl insults at the two: "Let my peoples
names go" "Give the horses the names back" and "We want Trigger restored"
Ted moves up to the pair who are being josteled by the many angry millitant
jeerers.
Ted: "Dick and Jane, can we get a comment from you on the rumours that are
spreading about you high handed abuse of the animals who wish to be in your
care?"
Dick: "Fuck off. I am GOD. I own the ranch, all the animals love me. Its my
ranch I'll do what I want.. I have more animals than you, you can't tell me
what I can and can't do.. They love me."
Jane: "Your an asshole, you and the media have never liked us.. all because of
a silly horse named Satans Revenge. We will not be told!"
A small brown dog leading a sightless person walks across the scene and stops
behind the pair, and their guards ignore them. The dog lifts its leg and
pee's down the leg of one of them. The guards look around them and don't
notice. the dog leads the man of to the left side of the crowd where it sits
down and smirks. A small person with nasal passages which are to small for
his ever increasing mucus flow looks at the stained leg and starts laughing,
the crowd looks on and sniggers.
Ted: "Reports are coming in that you have banished one horse, a stable boy
(who is reputed to be your son) and a large amount of sexual aids. What is
the truth in that?"
Dick: "Get a life, fuckferbrains, I only wanted to tell my story to the Press,
not make a National Enquirer story of it. I AM GOD and I wanna tell you that
I find the name calling that we are accused of very disquietning to the other
horses, and you can go fuck a small cantelope for all I care."
Jane: "We didnt want Sir Rodney to go mouthing off about the importance of
being quiet about this, or that Harry Hotel, trying to tell me I was tackey
about it all..<turns to crowd>You can all go fuck yourselves for all i care,
Thats the last I want to say about it"
Ted: "Er.. Thanks Dick and Jane for the enlightining thoughts about that
subject . Ah.... back to you John."
Camera stays on the scene as the anouncer dude back at the station tries to
get a word in at the camera. The crowd has grown to a considerable size now..
and the guards have been having trouble keeping them back from Dick and Jane
for a few minutes. The crowd move in on them now, and start to throw things
at the pair. The guards sencing that there is a big fight coming up, scram ,
very fast.
Dick and Jane look scared . See Dick run.. see Jane follow .. See sightless
persons dog bite.. see horses trample down the gates and trample dick and
jane..
See what the media can do.....
Blow things all out of preportion
Who really cares.
Resounding words ring in the ears of the gathered many
"I AM GOD"
So strange for a man who thinks he's God to not want a horse named Trigger in
his stable...
Fade to crappy shade of echoed blue valley colours.
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: Where is Flog Sonata?? (1:163/127.6)
 
From: Gameshows For Gits
To: Pat Donovan Msg #217, 05:38 est 91-01-02
Subject: How to speak!
Gameshow host: "Hallo and welcome to HOW TO SPEAK, where we have silly goons
come on to the show and attempt communication with others, and you, the home
audience gets to try and figure out what concept is being communicated. For
each correctly passed on bit of information, our contestants will be given
500 dollars! Isn't that wonderful? Tell us who our guests are today, bob!"

Bob: "Well Gameshow host, todays guests are Pat Donovan (he's a computer
programmer who can't type), a small ball of tinfoil (fresh off my sandwhich
my wife gave me), and a small penguin fresh from birth."

The three entities either waddle, roll, or walk on to stage.

Gameshow host: "Welcome to the show, guys! As usual, welet the audience yell
out all the guesses as to what the person is trying to communicate, and let's
start the game right away! Remember, you CAN simply repeat the word, if you
so choose! First, Mr Tinfoil!"

Bob: (hushed voice only we at home can hear) "Tinfoil's word is HAPPY."

Tinfoil reads the word off the card. He then rolls around in a circle.
Audience yells as one "HAPPY!" and there is a ding ding ding and Mr Tinfoil
is awarded 500 dollars.

Bob: "The word for Mr Penguin is HAPPY."

Penguin reads card and then opens and closes it's beak. Audience yells
"HAPPY!" and there is a ding ding ding etc.

Bob: "The word for Pat is HAPPY."

Pat reads the card, four times slowly.
Pat: "hgdtths... smuld froop glit broosh..
...h
.q."

Audience: "tea-kettle! Orangutang!"
Pat: "Snoof! hdjhjd... yut.. .
.... ..
...... ...glisbertine!"

Bob's voice is heard softly on top of Pat's feeble attempts: "You are NOT
experiencing line noise, your computer is NOT broken, you are experiencing
LIVE, a feeble attempt at communication by a human being. An attempt so
feeble that tinfoil and waterfowl can do better. Do NOT adjust your set!"

Pat: "Sliipdj...ffd... fresdtt... ... ...dggw ..ssea
....judfr gloobitflick..."

LOUD BUZZING SOUND.

Gameshow host: "Oh, I'm sorry Pat, but that's the one hour buzz sound
indicating that we are out of time. Tune in tomorrow to see if Pat ever
actually gets an idea across with even a remote bit of coherency. Bye for
now!"
Tinfoil and Penguin: "Goodbye!"
Pat: "...ggodddbeeetgdjhgj...!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Robochrist Msg #218, 10:56 est 91-01-02
Subject: RoboChrist 2 - this time it's personal.
Flog Channel logo - a sped up shot of several wounded men crawling around,
whose blood trails spell out "FLOG CHANNEL"

Fade to game show set. Familiar set and annoying host reveal to the
audience that this is indeed JEAPORDY! with your host Alex Trebek.

Alex: "Hi, welcome to Jeapordy. I'm Alex Trebek. We're really late
tonight, let's cut straight to our guests. First, direct from Nepean, we
have Lulu Dildodipper. Lulu, hello.

Lulu: (gasp groan.) MMM...uh, what?

Alex: Nothing. Uh, next, we have a mister Rikki Rokkett, an anal retentive
funny-looking make-up-wearing ugly-fuck leather-clad homosexual heavy metal
musician. HI, Rikki. (Trebek's wave looks somewhat more friendly than
normal.

Rikki: Yeah, okay.

Alex: (Blows a kiss to Rikki.) ANd last, we have Loose Moose. Hi Moose.

(Moose runs onstage and occupies his booth. One notices he is still in the
process of putting his pants on. He eventually settles in and then looks
offstage, waving to someone.)

Alex: Allright, let's start the game. Our categories are : (ding.)
Albanian food. (ding) Telephone numbers. (ding) Severed body parts (ding)
Industrial waste (ding) Masturbation (ding) and our final category is
suicide. Rikki, let's start with you.

Rikki: Uh, masturbation for 100, please.

Alex: The answer is 'left'.

Rikki: Which hand does Sylvester Stallone use?

Alex: Correct.

Rikki: Um, telephone numbers for 100 please.

Alex: 1-613-967-1174.

Rikki: Uh, what's the phone number of some person in Belleville?

Alex: Correct.

Rikki: UH, industrial waste for 500 please.

Alex: THe answer is 'How DGF-12 contact should be dealt with'.

Rikki: Uh, aspirin?

Alex: No, I'm sorry.

Moose: You're fucked, kill yourself now?

Alex: Correct.

 
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Robochrist 3 Msg #219, 11:11 est 91-01-02
Subject: No, no, don't worry.
Flog Channel logo - FLOG CHANNEL spray painted on a grave.

Fade back to Jeapordy.

Alex: Okay, Moose, your turn to call the question.

Moose: Uh, hey, let's try uhm, Albanian Food for 100.

Alex: (DING DING) Fuck me, it's the daily double!

Moose: Yeah!

Alex: Ok, uh.. (game is stopped for a moment as Lulu orgasms.)

Moose: (lights a cigarette.) Okay, okay, let's go.
Alex: Whaddya bet?

Moose: 6 billion!

Alex: The answer is no.

Moose: Huh?

(tik tik tik)

Moose: Uhm, uhm, should you eat Baxna Hoxhe with lime juice?

Alex: No, I'm sorry, BaxDA Hoxhe. BaxDA.

Moose: DAMN!

Alex: Okay, let's try Rikki. Rikki?

Rikki: Okay, uh, how about suicide for 200?

Alex: A suicide method involving a gun and your head.

Rikki: What is shooting yourself in the head?

Alex: Yes.

Moose: Whoa, whoa! How come Rikki here gets the easy questions and I get
one with an answer of 'no'? Huh?

Alex: Lulu, select the next category.

Lulu: Ugh! Ugh!

Moose: Hey asshole!

Alex: Okay, Rikki, select again.

Moose pulls out a gun and blows Alex away. Then he jumps Rikki, rips him to
shreds with his antlers, boinks Lulu, and runs offstage laughing
maniacally. Fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Jay Cadieux
To: You! Msg #220, 13:11 est 91-01-02
Subject: The Toys of the 90's
[fade in to typical suburban, middle-class family sitting at home. Dad is
reading his paper, Mom is watching TV, little Suzie is playing with her
Christmas gifts.]
Announcer: "Hey, little girl, are you sick of dolls that are cute, that
show the world through rose coloured glasses? Just look at
that little Barbie you're playing with: she's perfect, she
never argues with Ken, she has a nice, comfortable home.
Now parents, do you want your little kid to grow up with
a perfect view of the society around her, only to have it
smashed by reality. The solution is the new Modern Doll
Collection."
[camera fades to backdrop of inner-city slums]
Announcer: "See these poor, wretched people just wasting away? Now, you
can see them captured in this exciting new collection."
[camera returns to brat's play room]
Announcer: "First of all, we have the Crack Dealer Doll. He comes
complete with .45 magnum and bong. When you wind him
up, smoke comes out of his bong, he fires his gun and
runs away."
Announcer: "Next, we have Molesto the Clown. When you buy the
Innocent Victim doll (not included), Molesto will say,
in digitized speech, "Hey little boy, want some candy?"
and will procede to sodomize the Victim. Parents, isn't
this a good way to street-proof your kids.
[camera flashes to scene of kids playing with toys, with demented grins
on their faces]
Announcer: "Last, we have the Politician doll. When you wind him up,
a blast of hot air comes out of his mouth. He comes
complete with briefcase full of empty miniature liquor
bottles and axe in his forhead."
Announcer: "Now, kiddies, don't forget to pester your parents 30 times
a day to buy you them. Parents, these can (but will) be
yours for the modest sum of $79.99 each, plus tax. But
that's a small price to pay to preserve your child's
mental health. If this doesn't persuade you that these
dolls are a great bargain, then our subliminal messages
that we put in here will."
[fade to sunset over mental hospital]
 
 
Jay A. Cadieux
1:163/127.8
--- FM via FrontDoor v.1.99c...
* Origin: +++ Isengard -- Gloucester, Ontario (1:163/127.8)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: You Bastard Swines. Msg #221, 02:02 est 91-01-04
Subject: Film Review
Narrator Dude: "And now, in an attempt to completely ignore Pat's nonsense
entries, we provide the following program..."

Credits: "Flog's Film Shit Review Thing From Hell
With yer Host
Flog Sonata... "

Flog sits in a comfy couch, looking tired and bored.
Flog: "I went and saw the new flick Russia House awhile ago with that Pfeifer
bitch and Sean Connery... What a fucking waste of time. Michelle Pfeiffer
is a whiney teary eyed slut who I suppose can act, but is as boring as hell.
Shit, and in this movie, she runs about in circles and speaks with a russian
accent. As usual, she plays a whiney weepy eyed slut who balls the hero."

(Flog pronouces FEIFFER as PUH-FEIFFER, out of evil spite.)

Flog: "As for Connery, well, he looks old. Really bloody old. Two feet in the
fucking grave old. Gimme the good old days when Sean played James Bond. Now
he plays geriatric publishers in lame-brain flicks. The plot of the film is
just straight spy shit. A manuscript of evil nonsense about the soviet union
is held by some soviet dude, and he wants to get it published in britain, so
he tries to get it to Sean Connery, but the thing gets intercepted and
somebody takes it to the secret service of britain. Roy Shneider plays a cia
agent, and is pretty decent. There's some good jokes about CIA questioning,
but the movie is kinda dreaery, and takes plenty of time to pan over hum-drum
soviet scenery..."

Flog stares off into space for about half an hour, then begins to speak again.

Flog: "I also went and saw Cyrano de Bergerac, which was a kick ass sword
fight thang with incredibly witty and amazing dialogue. The story itself
rocks, and the guy who plays Cyrano is kickass. The story itself is the guy
with a big nose thing. If you've seen Roxanne, well, Roxanne is a cheap rip
off of this story. It is funny though, to see the similarities tween Roxanne
and this far better flick. In Roxanne the guy is a firefighter, in this he's
a teacher/leader of a military squadron academy thing. The puppy has
subtitles, so if you are one of those stupid gits intimidated by reading
because you are a complete moron, avoid this film and stay home and watch
smurf re-runs."

Flog gets up off the couch and stumbles about a bit.

Flog: "My brother went and saw Home Alone, and he said it was good, but fuck,
then again, my brother likes Paul McCartney and his band Wings, so hey, he
can't be trusted."

Flog does a headstand on his desk

Flog: "In the video market, there is ALWAYS the amazing horror movie
"Dawn of the dead" which any real human being has seen twenty times
anyway."

Flog looks about tiredly.
Flog: "That's it, fuck off."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: A Lot Of Stupid Fucks Msg #222, 02:55 est 91-01-04
Subject: SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
Allister Cookie sits in a big chair, looking blue, and very sesame street like.

Allister: "Hello and elcome to Monster Piece theatre, I'm Allister Cookie and
today's little bit of exciting art is brought to you once again by the
struggling playwright, Flog Sonata. This piece is called
'FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF!' and is an inpirational tale of anger,
murder, more anger, more murder, and even more anger. Let's not watch it as
it zooms by us in a blur of letters as we skip to the next message."

Cut to stage, empty. Completely empty. A big fucking empty void of a stage,
completely empty of any meaning, purpose, or reason. Just one big fucking
empty stage with not a damn fucking useful thing on it. Not one damn thing.
Not one. Wait, well, maybe one. There's a woman on it. She's completely
naked and smiling.

Woman: "BELCH!"

Fade to Allister Cookie.

Allister: "Thus concludes our wonderful piece entitled 'All I got For Xmas was
a shot gun shoved up my rectum and two triggers-full of lead' by Flog Sonata.
To comment on the play, we have with us a small dead animal, a medium sized
dead animal, and a large dead animal."

Cut to three chairs. In the first chair is a dead ferret, in the second, a
dead dog, and in the third a dead horse

Dead Ferret: "The play represented a lot of shit. A lot of deep and spiritual
shit. Shit that man wasn't meant to know. Wicked violent shit. Bloody grey
and brown shit, with lumps of corn in it. Big fucking twisted heaps of shit
with large globs of digested menstral blood in it."

Dead Dog: "I disagree entirely. The play was a gunshot wound being probed
with an erect penis. In an out, blood everywhere. Perhaps the prick scraped
against a few bone bits. Ribs, perhaps. The blood soaks into the pubic hair
and gets it all slick and wet."

Dead Horse: "The symbolism is like a train full of nuns plunging off a cliff
into hell, where the nuns will be stripped and raped by lusting demons. Ever
seen a demon phallus? it's got huge fucking hooks in it, like fish-hooks.
They slide in, and when they yank out, they tear you up, ripping into you and
taking hold, savagely yanking slashin and tearing into the nuns soft inner
virginal flesh..."

Allister: "Geezus but are you fucking twisted tonight Flog, just stop making
us say these sick and twisted things! We fictional characters can only say
so much without rebelling! Please stop, please!"

Cookie takes a dagger and plunges it into his own groin.

Allister Cookie: "AUGH!!!!"

Dead Horse: (to other animals) "Don't tempt flog to do anything else, he's in
a twisted mood!"
Everything mysteriously bursts into flames. Everyone dies. So what?!
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Wrestling Fans Msg #223, 15:49 est 91-01-04
Subject: Bigfoot VS Jesus
* Original: FROM.....The Antichrist (163/207)
* Original: TO.......Flog Sonata (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Announcer Dude: "Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Fictional
Character Wrestling. We have a great line up tonight including the Lochness
Monster vs Frankenstein, Buddha vs Zeus, and our main event Bigfoot vs Jesus.

So let's go ringside now for the main event"

A man in a tuxedo walks to the centre of the ring and a microphone is lowered
into the ring. <DING DING DING> goes the bell

Tuxedo Dude: "Good evening and welcome to our main event. In the red corner,
wearing brown fur, snorting profusely, and weighing in at 734 pounds, from
the British Columbia Mountains, here he is ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et
monsieur, The Stinking Sasquatch, BIGFFOOT!!!"

The crowds roars loudly and popcorn and drinks are thrown into the ring.

Tuxedo Dude: "And in the blue corner.... wearing the brown loin cloth, unable
to eat M and M's, weighing in at 124 pounds, here He is ladies and gentlemen,
mesdames et monsieur, The Sulsaleto Saviour, JESUS."

Once again the crowd roars and popcorn is thrown into the ring.

<DING DING DING>

Jesus motions with his hands and immediately the popcorn is turned into bread
and wine. Jesus and Bigfoot chow down, get shitfaced, and the match has to
be called off.

Cheers,
666
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Brian & Wendys BBS-14.4HST.Part of the SPEEDZONE(827-0492)
(1:163/127.6)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: You Righteous Dudes... Msg #224, 23:53 est 91-01-04
Subject: Where did reality go anyway?
FLOG CHANNEL logo is spelt out with bloody used tampons and after dinner mints
all on a nice silver platter.

Announcer being: "And now it's time for a really fucking lame game show,
Hollywood Squares! Here's yer host, Mr Fucking Pretencious!"

Mr Pretencious walks on to the stage looking like he's got a dildo up his ass:
he's smiling so bloody much you get the feeling that at any minute his head
is just going to tear in fucking half. His silk suit and tie makes him look
like the headwaiter of a gay bar/restaurant.
He is wearing a gaudy school ring on one hand, that has a glass stone
so big it scrapes on the floor and leaves scratches.

Host Fuck: "Hi! (ahahaha...) and welcome to Hollywood Squares. Let's say
hello to our panel of old obsolete stars who have no where else to go but on
our fucking game show. Yes, these old hasbeens need somewhere to be, so why
not here in this stinking fucking horrid place?"

Camera quickly pans over the nine squares of idiots who all giggle like they
are stoned on coke (which they probably are). The only redeeming human being
is Jim Henson, who is unfortunately dead, slumped forward in his box,
motionless. Jim always said he wouldn't do this show unless he was dead. He
got his wish.

Host Fuck: "Now let's introduce todays contestants, who were both hand picked
for their sparkling personalities and complete lack of shame when discussing
their boring and meaningless lives on national television... Dick and Jane!"

Dick and Jane walk out with smiles that make the host look like a manic
depressive. Jane is showing so many teeth that she could easily be mistaken
for a white picket fence. Dick's cheeks are so bloody red and happy that it
looks like his head is on fire.

Host Fuck: "So what do you do Dick?"

Dick, grinning like a fucking robot: "I molest children. I capture them, drag
them kicking and screaming into the woods and then sodomize them. And boy do
their virgin rectums bleed as I ram home, but all the more fun eh? Hahaha..."

Host Fuck: "How interesting, I hope we have time to discuss that after the
show, and maybe you could take me out into the woods?"

Dick: "Haha, I hope so, Host Fuck."

Host fuck: "And what do you do Jane?"

Jane: "I savagely beat my children all day long in a drunken rage.
I even broke my 5 year old son's arm once, and burned my 7 year old's
face with an iron. Can I show a picture of it?"

Host Fuck: "Certainly! Can we get a camera on the picture?"

Picture of burnt girl is shown.

Host fuck: "My, even with the huge crispy scab on her face, I bet she still
excites Dick to no ends!"
Dick grins.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #225, 00:05 est 91-01-05
Subject: Hollywood Squares
Host fuck laughs inanely, like a hand puppet.

Host fuck: "Well, let's begin our game, shall we? First round, on the go!
Ready?"

Dick and Jane, smiling like mental patients on medication: "You bet!"

Host fuck: "Jane, you won the coin toss, pick a square!"

Jane: "Thanks, fuck. I'd like to pick Jim Henson, Center square!"

Host fuck: "Here's the question. True or False, if you sever a penis, the
testicles will fall out of the hole where the dick was removed.
What do you say to that Jim?"

Jim Hensons arms are moved by wires and his mouth open and closes with the
pull of another wire.

Jim Henson, in a poorly done Grover voice: "Well, fuck, I'd have to say that's
false. Being dead and embalmed, I know what it's like to have your penis
severred. They cut mine off and put it in a vat of liquid so that we could
all se the Puppet-Masters amazing 12 incher. My testicles however, did not
fall out of the hole. So false."

Hostfuck: "Do you agress with Jim, Jane?"

Jane: "Gosh, yes Fuck. Jim Henson is a god and is always correct, even when
he's dead and reduced to the roll of a puppet."

Hostfuck: "Well you are CORRECT! And you now have the center square.
Boy what a thrill, I think I may have to take a break to jerk off
simply to be able to continue doing the show for another 20 minutes."

Host sighs happily.

Host: "Your turn Dick."

Dick: "I pick Vincent Price."

Vincent: "Oh fucking wow man."

Hostfuck: "Here's your question... What kind of waterfowl, upon seeing an
erection of a human male, will snap at it as if it were some sort of large
worm?"

Vincent nods wisely: "That would be a penguin. Despite the lack of worms in
antartica, they do this. I saw it on The Nature of Things, the episode when
David Suzuki was trying to mate with a penguin. Last I heard, they'd removed
the stitches, and he was feeling fine."

Hostfuck: "Do you agree with that Dick?"

Dick looks oddly glazed, his face tense and frightened.

Hostfuck: "Are you alright Dick?"
Dick suddenly pulls out a gun from his coat and fires at random. Vincent
takes a Slug, as does Jim Henson. Jane screams and rips open her shirt to
expose her breasts, for no apparent reason. Screen crackles and pops and
fades to a "Do not adjust your set" sign.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mr Science
To: Lovers Of Irrational Thought. Msg #226, 00:19 est 91-01-05
Subject: Experiments that make Nazis cringe.
Sign saying "Do not adjust your set" disapears and is replaced with credits
for the Mr Science show.

Voice: "And now it's time for Mr Sciences Esperimental Fun and Games, with
your host Mr Science."

Mr S: "Thank you, thank you. We have quite a few questions today, so let's
begin, shall we? Our first question comes from Anal Cyste."

Anal Cyste stands up in audience: "Yes, I was wondering if it's possible for
human sperm to impregnate cattle... I was recently in Calgary and, er that
is A FRIEND of mine was in calgary and he met an extreme\ly attractive cow,
and well, drinks were had and he thinks he may have balled her, and I, I mean
HE just got a phone call from the farmer who owned the cow, and well, I, I
mean my friend, may be forced to marry this cow..."

Mr S: "Well, in order to answer this question, we tapped our supply of human
sperm, obtained from Knight Slayer a short while ago, but still plentiful,
and took a cow. That didn't seem to get any results.
So we asked Knight Slayer to physically mate with the cow.
Unfortunately, the cow refused to have sex with Knight Slayer, claiming that
the knight was "too inexperienced". Understandably, Knight Slayer took this
badly, and attempted to slit his own throat with a rubber spatula. He of
course failed. I hope this naswers your question, Mr Cyste."

Anal sits down, confused.

Mr S: "Our next question comes from Flog Sonata."

Flog: "If you fornicate with a human brain, can it get pregnant?"
Mr s: "No."
Flog: "Not even if you fuck it repeatedly."
Mr S: "Yes, even if you fuck it repeatedly."
Flog: "I didn't use birth control devices..."
Mr S: "Well it doesn't fucking matter if you did or not, brains can't get
pregnant."
Flog: "It wasn't that time of the month or anything..."
Mr S: "Brains don't have periods. Next question?"
Flog: "Is there any way I could get a brain pregnant? Drugs maybe?
Like some modern fertility pill?"

Mr S pulls out a gun and fires a slug through Flog's shoulder. Then fires
another round through Flog's skull, killing him.

Mr S, waving about his smoking gun: "Any other fucking stupid questions from
you assholes!?!?"

Crass stands up: "How do you ask out a girl? I mean, is there like a proper
way? Should I call her, or just leave it forever, never attempt talking to
her, and just wait and see if through some miracle we end up together?"

Mr S points his gun at his own temple and fires.

Voice: "This ends Mr Science's program. Join us next week when we'll answer
the question 'why, how, and how often?'"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #227, 11:36 est 91-01-04
Subject: Middle East Special
 
[Flog TV logo appears, made out of blood on khaki backround. As
camera pulls back, we see that the logo is painted on the side of
an Iraqi military truck, loaded with incubators for premature
babies. A garbage dumpster is nearby, filled with dead premature
babies.

The driver of the truck waves at the camera as he drives away.]


VOICE OVER: And now stay tuned for Flog TV Middle East Special.

[Fade to typical TV News setup. Incoherent Rambler is sitting in
front of the camera, dressed in a blue polyester suit and wearing
a blue polyester tie. He might be wearing blue polyester slacks,
but that part is not visible.]

[He is chugging back a large bottle of tequila. He continues chugging
it as angry 'pssst!' sounds are heard outside of the camera's field
of
vision.]

Rambler: [after a particularly loud 'PSST!'] Oh!? We are on the air
already? Shit! [Puts away the bottle.]

Umm... diplomatic efforts continue today to reach a peaceful solution
to the Crisis in the Gulf. [CRISIS IN THE GULF appears in big letters
in top right corner on the screen, with some sand dunes in the
background.]

In Brussels today foreign ministers of all major European nations
met to discuss the prospects of the possibility of solving the
current crisis peacefully.

In Ryadh, leaders of the various Arab nations met to discuss the
possibility of solving the current crisis peacefully.

In Washington, Bush is meeting with his advisors to talk about the
possibility of solving the current crisis peacefully.

In some expensive hotel somewhere leaders of various unaligned
nations are meeting to talk about the possibility of solving the
current crisis peacefully.

In Jordan, King Hussein recently issue a stern statement condemning
Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. "Saddam Hussein in naughty," said the
statement. "Very naughty. Naughty, naughty, naughty!"
The statement was co-signed by the Chinese, who said "We would never
annex anybody ourselves. Really." The Chinese spokesman then
proceeded to claim that he was not only a member of Liars Anonymous,
he was also its president. As he was dragged away in a
straight-jacket, he chortled "Yeah, thats it, thats the ticket!"

In Bagdad today President Saddam Husein condemned the United States.
"God fuck them all," he said.

In Kuwait city today Iraqi soldiers brutally murdered some more
civilians. Not that anybody gives a fuck or anything.
[Fade to commercial.]TV Middle East Special. Good night.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #228, 17:01 est 91-01-05
Subject: Susan Duncan's Recipes for the Damned
* Original: FROM.....Susan Duncan (163/207)
* Original: TO.......Pat Donovan (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Well in just to say thanks for the lovely prose, here's a recipe for ya
RUM CAKE
Before you start, sample the rum and check for good quality. Good, isn't it?
Now select a large mixing bowl, measuring cups, spatula, etc. (Check that rum
again for quality. It must be *just* right! Try it again.)
With an electric beater, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add
one tsp. sugar and beat again. (Meanwhile, make certain that rum is of best
quality.)
Add two large eggs and two cups of dried fruit and beat until very high. If
fruit gets stuck in the beater, pry it out with a screwdriver. (Sample rum
again, checking for consistency.)
Next, sift in three (2) cups of baking powder and add a pinch of rum, one
seaspoon of soda and one cupa papper..(or maybe salt?) Anyway, don't fret,
just taste that rum again. Good stuff.
Next, sift in a half pint of lemon juice, fold in chopped buttermilk and
strained nuts. Sample rum again.
Now, one bablespoon srown sugar, or whatever color is around. Mix. Well.
Grease your oven and turn cake pans to 359F. Now, pour the whole mixture into
the oven..... (HONEY? WHERE'S THE MOP???)
On second thought, forget the oven, pitch the cake and check the rest of the
rum. Bo to ged.
(grin)
Sue
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Kiss my armor plated behind in Sub-Zero !! (1:163/233)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: News Of War Msg #229, 02:00 est 91-01-06
Subject: Scary stuff, eh kids?
Flog Channel logo is displayed by having the words "THE FLOG CHANNEL" written
in a corner of the huge aids victim quilt.

Voice: "Now it's time for news shit, with a guy who tells the news, a news
guy..."

A news guy sits in his desk looking about at the bright lights excitedly, like
a dazed child.

a news guy: "Today in the news, George Bush, Time Magazines man of the year,
was asked to state the difference between the current situation in the Gulf,
and vietnam. George said the following..."

Cut to tape of George.

George: "Well, think of it as a large sky filled with a magical glowing thing.
And we won't stand up to terrorism! Further more, this burning of american
flags is getting me a tad peeved! And what about Drugs?
We've got top send a positive message to our youngsters! Now if
you'll excuse me..."

George rushes off into his helicopter, and is whisked off to some location.

A news guy: "In other news, Gorbachov, now official dictator, er leader of the
soviet union with the most power, declared that every classroom should have a
picture of himself in it. He said that since he, Mr Gorbachov, was such a
cool and change-rendering guy, he should be worshipped like a God. When
asked to comment on this to our camera crew, Gorby said 'I don't have time to
deal with you piddly mortals, can't you see I am a god and have a busy
schedule? If I even take the time to rest awhile, and stop concentrating, all
of reality will collapse.' After saying this, Gorby wrapped his white robe
around himself tighter, and strode off."

Suddenly the news guy is eaten by rabid wolverines.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Smabulator
To: Mammarials, Big And Small Msg #230, 15:04 est 91-01-06
Subject: And Smaller
 
Screen un-fades slowly, pixel by pixel, eventually revealing a pair of
really small breasts. And I mean small. Token nubs, two minute swellings
on a supposedly female chest. A fat, hairy, waggling chin can be seen at
the top of the screen, from which a thick glob of drool slowly descends. It
makes it's way slowly down the female form, gradually getting smaller,
leaving a sticky trail of ooze behind it. It eventually makes it's way to
the left breast, said breast hardly worth the mammararial description "small
tits". More like "...to the left slight protrusion bearing a nipple." But
the size, or lack thereof, did nothing to negate it's sensuality. These
breasts, if I may refer to them as such, are just oozing with feminity and
seduction. Not to mention drool, cause after it's long trek from chin
to teat, this tasty drop of succulent saliva begins to circle the sexy
nipple, faster and faster, causing some swelling...
Some catchy electronic music starts up, and the title appears:
This Tasty Drop of Succulent Saliva:
an in-depth interview with a Transexual
 
Screen fades to a typical condo-type living room set, complete with
uncomfortably modern pastel furniture, great green ferns, and ceiling fan.
A not-so-gorgeous blond with heavy, heavy, heavy makeup sits in a very,
very, very nice armchair, facing some maked-over freak in a dress.
Host: Hi, I'm so glad you could join us. My name is Cathy, and today
we're going to be talking to Brenda, a very interesting transexual.
First of all, Brenda, what exactly are you?
Trnsxl: Well, Cathy, I'm glad you asked that. I'm exactly what I appear to
be.
Host: And what's that - some maked-over freak in a dress?
Trnsxl: Yes. But it's not just any dress. It's a Michelle Fergoloe
dress. He made it for me, personally. First he took my breast size
(at this Brenda tries to protrude her chest area, and two slight
bumps can be seen, but they may just be pieces of lint), then he
took my pulse, then he took my virginity. Oh, it was so wonderful -
after all these years of suffering!
Host: Yes, it must be very rough emotionally, going through life as a
woman trapped within a man's body. How awful!
Trnsxl: Oh, no, by suffering I was referring to permanantly stretched
sphincter muscles in my nether regions. It got so bad I couldn't
hold anything in. Have you ever expereinced diarhea 7 days a week,
52 weeks a year?
(Host blushes, then scrathes crotch).
Host: Um, well, er, we have to go to a commercial now, but um,
This Tasty Drop of Succulent Saliva will be right back!
Fade to little nibs radiating with lust, then fade to black.
 
 
 
 
 
 
---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Miaowara Tomokato
To: Pat Donovan Msg #231, 16:44 est 91-01-06
Subject: What the f*ck was that?
[Scene: Busy newsroom in Ottawa Region. Frantic television types are running
back and forth pretending to deliver important, late breaking news stories.
The announcer is balling the bimbo newscaster on a desk to the left. He
looks up.]

Announcer:
Shit! We're on.

[Both newscasters quickly sit down behind the desk and adjust their clothing.]

Announcer:
We've just been handed a late-breaking news story. Pat Donovan was heard
recently to say this:

PD> "proper format be damned!"

CEO and dictator of Flog TV station was asked to comment in this private
interview.

[Picture changes to Flog's living room. His father is goose-stepping around
in the background while his mother stands at the stove like a statue. Flog
is wearing spandex tights and a brassiere.]

Announcer:
Flog. What are you going to do about the attempts of Pat Donovan to
subvert this echo with his New Age AND NOT PROPERLY FORMATTED messages?

Flog:[Casually adjusts a cup on his brassiere.]
Well, the Flog Police are on the lookout for him. As soon as we find him,
we'll pull out both of his pubic hairs. After that, well we keep this
sodomising homosexual rapist locked in a closet for just these sorts of
things. We'll have him come out of the closet as soon as we drag Donovan
into the station.

[Picture returns to newsdesk. The bimbo has hiked her skirt and is shoving
various pieces of fruit into her nether reaches. There is a fruit basket
nearby which, as she shoves a banana deep inside, is now half empty.]

Bimbo:
Hey, baby! Why don't you get off the air so you can eat some healthy,
delicious fruit?

Announcer:[Hurriedly]
That's all for this news flash. [Shouts to someone off-screen] Hey! Get
this camera out of my face! Dives in on the bimbo's snatch and starts to
peel the banana with his tongue.

Fade to black...
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: All Msg #232, 19:48 est 91-01-07
Subject: Controversy! Controversy! Aieee!
Flog Channel logo : bomb aboard a Jumbo jet. A little screen reads
"3...2...1...FLOG CHANNEL". Sudden fade to massive explosion and falling
bits of what were probably once humans.

Fade to Entertainment Tonight type show. Obnoxious host looking really
fucking.. uhm, obnoxious, sits there.

Background Voice: TV SHIT TONIGHT, with your host James Ganjahead.

James: Good afternoon, I'm that guy he just mentioned. Controversy is ripe
in Canadian television, with the news that Loose Moose, infamous advertizing
producer who created the "PLUS IT COMES FROM BREASTS!" line of milk
commericials, is once again producing advertizements. His latest diaper ad,
surely a shocker, is scheduled for it's first airing tomorrow evening, but
we've got a sneak preview for you right here and now. Let's see it. Brenda,
roll the clip.

Fade to little baby lying on a blanket, wearing some cheap diaper. One
notices it is leaking, and that urine is running down both legs and little
bits of shit are hanging/squishing out.

Moose's head pops up in front of camera. He holds a diaper.

Moose: Hi, has this ever happened to your baby? Well, consider buying the
CRUNCHBABY line. It doesn't leak. It's got little absorbant things where
the dick or cunt goes. Hey, ever thought of that when you're diapering a
baby? That in, like 20 years or so, I guess, this thing'll just be ready to
be fucked? I mean boys, nah, who cares. But girls, shit, this is like
future fuck! In fact, I'm gonna diaper this fuckin' thing right now. Come
here, honey!

The baby looks unnaturally scared. Moose lifts it up and shoves it
genitalia into the camera.

Moose: LOOK AT THIS! AIIEIEE!

Fade back to TV SHIT TODAY desk. James is gone, but the desk is
mysteriously moving up and down. Fade to black.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Squid Tentacles
To: Viewers Msg #233, 22:55 est 91-01-07
Subject: Masturbation for dollars...
The intermission shows the Flog channel logo as sent in by pAt and looks
something like this:
FLaUcxxg sHCnLEac
finger-painted on orange cardboard with macaroni glued on it.
<fast dissolve>
<dissolve in>
[Take My Breath Away starts playing]
Announcer: And now ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and girls (especially little
girls who are invited to my dressing room after the screening) it's time for
everyone's favourite game show... Masturbation for Dollars!!!!!
<studio audience roars>
Announcer: With your host, Gay Smiley!!!
<curtain starts to open revealing Gay Smiley up to the hilt in some stage
hand's rear end... he closes the curtain and emerges moments later with a
large grin>
Gay: Well hello thtudio audienthe, and a big hello to you folkth at home. We
have a thpecial treat today because thith ith out championth epithode. Our
contethtantth today are previouth winnerth who will be going for the 1
million dollar grand prithe... Bring in the playerth Brucey!
Announcer: Well Gay, he's a computer programmer from Ottawa who can't speak
any language known to man, but he sure can boff that bologna... Here he is,
pAt the wonder child...
<applause>
Announcer: Our next contestent is a class one monkey spanker. All the way
from some God forsaken spot in Northern Ontario, give a big hand <chuckles>
not that he needs it, to Loose Moose...
<still more applause>
Announcer: And finally fresh from 7 years of lack of female attention, Knight
Slayer
<crowd roars... Gay Smiley checks Mooses's equipment... Moose headbutts him
causing a large bump>
Gay (stunned): Well boyth, you know the ruleth. pAt, you won the circle
jerk, so you get to open the bidding.

--- msged 2.05
* Origin: Mein Luftkissenfahrzeug ist voll an Kriegsmarines (1:163/106)
 
From: Squid Tentacles
To: HhJKKLNbjh UT&GJHGJ Msg #234, 23:14 est 91-01-07
Subject: Masturbation For Dollars
pAt: wELl gAy, EYe biDD haf un OWnCSE
Moose: I bid 2 ounces, Gay
<oooooohhh from the crowd>
Knight: 3 ounces
paT: 3.5 oUNZez
Knight: 5
Moose: too much for this ungulate
<the audience is visibly let down>
PAt: 7 ounces, Gay
Knight: 9 gallons
<crown roars again, lots of ooooooh aaaaaah>
PaT: You got me Mr. Slayer... Beat that meat
Gay: Well Knight Thlayer, you thure have your work cut out for you... Over
there, there are nine 1 gallon bucketth and a partially uthed jar of
Vatheline. Good luck.
<at this point, KS opens the forward hatch in his armour and pulls out his
member, complete with hand grips. He greases up and sets to work. Much to
everyone's surprise, he manages to quickly fill all nine gallons and Gay
Smiley's drink pitcher>
<the crowd gives a standing ovation>
Gay: Congtathulathions Knight. You did it. And tho quickly too. You are
our grand prithe winner. Tell him what he geth Bruthey.
Announcer: Well Gay, in just a few moments, Knight Slayer will get an all
expenses paid trip to Forest Lawn Cemetary
Knight: But I'm not dead yet...
<84 mm Carl Gustav round rips across the stage, exploding Knight Slayer into a
shower of semen and blood>
<fade to black>
--- msged 2.05
* Origin: Mein Luftkissenfahrzeug ist voll an Kriegsmarines (1:163/106)
 
 
 
 
From: Horpus Corpus
To: All Msg #235, 08:13 est 91-01-08
Subject: Flog News

[Flog TV logo]
[cut to newsroom with teletype noises in the background]
A geeky looking announcer, bearing some resemblance to pAt, is sitting in a
chair with his eyes rolled back into his head moaning as he caresses his
crotch...
'Hi lovers', the geeking crotch rubbing announcer says.. 'My name is
Don Patovan, and this is tomorrows latebreaking news'.
"The RCMP has arrested an Ottawa man for trying to Market Sadam Hussien action
figures...the Ottawa man has since escaped and is reported to be
reporting the news."
Suddenly...His eyes bug out and a look of satisfaction comes over him..
[cutting to commercial we hear these comments]
'Oh Doodie! Now I can get back on that TV show, and reclaim my title as
the worlds biggest Jerkoff!'
[cutting to secluded area, just north of Nepean]
Asshole Toy manufacturing person with glasses the size of the bottom
of cokebottles, who apparently is rubbing his crotch is holding up
a Sadam Hussien doll in from of a sign that says P.D. Enterpwises.
' And DIS mazazing foll, can slice, dice, juice, goose, fuck and suck all
your vegetables..'
[Monty Python music cuts in, as the Carry On gang arrests the Asshole Toy
Manufacturing person who at this moment has his eyes buggin out and is still
rubbing his crotch]
[cut back to newsroom]
'Welcome back darlings, once again my name is Don Patovan, I reviewed this
doll, and note these amazing reviews are true... It does fuck, I know cause
I tried it'
[Fade to black]
 
--- msged 1.99S ZTC
* Origin: The Clubhouse BBS (1:163/401)
 
From: Mel Pheasant Rec'd
To: Flog sonata Msg #236, 13:26 est 91-01-10
Subject: To BALDLY go where no one or more people have gone before...
And now for another Flog Channel Low Budget Production of...
The Next Other Generation
 
Snow disappears to show a space shot taken through a telescope. The nebulas
and gases vaguely spell out "The Flog Channel".
Music: Tacky trumpet music starts, that signals the beginning of all 1980's
style tacky sci-fi shows.
Scene: Shows The Mighty Klingonto, Dwarf, entering the Hollowdeck to re-enact
his favourite fantasy. The door <shhhhhicks> shut behind him, in usual
Sci-fi fashion (you'd think they'd have invented quieter doors by now?).
Dwarf: "Computer, run program 5b!"
Computer: "Ugh! Again? Okay..."
Hollowdeck room fades to show a nature scene. Dwarf sits on a rock. Bambi
suddenly appears.
Bambi: "Dwarf, can you play with me?"
Dwarf: "Okay..." As he gets up to skip off into the woods with Bambi, a
shudder shakes the ship. "Er, sorry Bambs, gotta run!"
Scene: The bridge of the ship. Captain Picard looks worry. Dwarf runs in.
Captain: "So where were you Dwarf, out with your little woodland friends
again?" The rest of the crew snickers. Dwarf pouts and moves to his command
post, which is really nothing more than the railing behind the Captain's
chair. "Go to yellow alert, Dwarf." Dwarf simply puts on a helmet and stands
where he was. The Captain shrugs.
Day-tum: "Captain, it appears we are approaching one of those structures that
only exist in Sci-fi flicks. It appears to be a one-dimensional Silly-space
String, and we are being sucked directly into it. This is logical, since the
writers created such one-dimensional characters for this show anyway, and..."
Captain: "Shut up Day-tum. We must avoid the string at all costs!"
Day-tum: "... as well, it was also used in the past as a one-dimensional gag
by higher beings trying to amuse themselves by pretending they had green snot
hanging off of another dimension, and..."
Captain: "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shu..."
While the Captain and Day-tum shout at each other, they get sucked into the
Silly String. Lots and lots of weird colours fly about as a camera man moves
stockings and gels around in front of the lens. The Starship ends up in orbit
over (you guessed it) present day Earth.
Captain: "Where are we #1?"
#1: "No, now we are #12. Remember? Our ratings got beaten by that Doogie
Howser show, and..."
Captain: "Shut up you fool! I meant in the plot!"
#1: "Oh. Fine." #1 looks down at cheesy membrane-pad keyboard thing with four
buttons. He discovers his keyboard template is gone. He nabs the one from
Day-tum's keyboard. Day-tum the Android makes all kinds of facial
expressions, even though he has no feelings. #1 looks up, "We are orbiting a
class ERM planet Sir, as are all planets in this show. Shall we assemble an
away-team?"
Captain: "Oh, you mean ANOTHER planet where the atmosphere is fine and we
don't need spacesuits? Ofcourse. Let's go. Let's take all the most important
crew members of the ship too, just in case. No expendable extras in this
show!"
#1: "Good thinking, Sir!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Mel Pheasant Rec'd
To: Deja Voodoo Msg #237, 13:29 est 91-01-10
Subject: An elephant is soft and mushy (cont'd)
 
Scene: Camera shows wide angle lens of... the Toronto Zoo. It starts panning
in to the crew, which is becoming very materialistic.
Dr. Crusher: (to Councillor Deanna Tray, the Betatostesteroid who can read
people's minds) "How come #1 gets a tricorder thingy and I don't?"
Captain: (smacks Deanna's arm) "SHHH! We don't want to attract attention"
Meanwhile, the crew has materialized inside a caged area, facing the rectum of
a giant elephant. Passers-by stop and point, and giggle amonsgt themselves
taking pictures. The crew is oblivious to all but the elephant.
Captain: "#1, what the hell is this being?"
#1: "Hello? HELLOOOOO! We are from the Federation. We are highly advanced
beings. We wish you no harm." No response.
Captain: (In an impatient gesture) "Go ahead, get it's attention, we only have
a short time before the next commercial."
#1 moves up to the elephants rear, grabs it's tail, and yanks hard. The
elephant responds by <floop splatting> #1 with elephant dung. #1 lurches back
screaming.
Captain: "Retreat! Retreat! Day-tum, what does your fry-corder read?"
Day-tum: "It is a large grey being, warm-blooded, weighing 6434.342 kilograms,
with..."
Captain: (extremely impatient) "Enough! Everyone, set your hand-held plastic
gadgets to 'stun'..."
Daytum: "But Captain, I think this is interfering with the Prime Directive,
which states that we cannot interfere with the development..."
Captain: "Shut up! What do you think we have been doing all along, you fuck?
Taking pictures from a distance? Real fine fucking show that would make..."
Dwarf: "Captain, the being looks like it is beginning to take notice of us,
and I would suggest... AYYYEEEE!"
The elephant turns and grabs Dwarf with it's trunk, turns him upside down, and
starts ramming his head into the concrete floor of the zoo.
Captain: "Fire!"
The crew blasts a round of fire into the elephant, who really gets fed up and
starts stomping on the crew members.
Deanna: (Shouting) "Captain, I... I... I sense that this being is somewhat
upset, perhaps even <splat>" Councillor Tray gets stomped on by the elephant.
Captain: (Panicky, hits his little communicator thingy) "Beam us up Scotty!"
Jordy: (Who is talking on his communicator) "... and then SHE said, well why
don't you shower more often? I got real pissed of about that, and so I...
<beep beep> sorry, I have call waiting, can you hang on a sec?... Okay, talk
to you in a sec." Jordy presses some buttons. "Hello?"
Captain: "Beam us up Scotty!"
Jordy: "Sorry, you must have the wrong number." He presses some other buttons.
"Oh, so I was saying..."
Meanwhile, the crew gets trampled to death, while the Toronto Star takes
pictures. The pictures get sent to the Citizen, naturally.
Citizen headline the following day: "The perils of space travel", with an
accompanying photo of some weirdo running under an elephant, all covered in
shit, about to get stomped on...
<Fade to brown>
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Newsman Bob
To: Rumour Mongers Everywhere! Msg #238, 00:03 est 91-01-11
Subject: HEY, YO, GUESS WHAT???
Voice: "We interrupt 'Lesbian Nazis Wench Women on Acid' to bring you this
importnat news bulletin!"

Newsman Bob sits at desk looking all flurried, hyper, and tense. He's
clutching a piece of paper in his hands and his perspiring madly.

Bob: "This news just in. The 7 years are over! You may all rest and breathe
easy, Pat Omlette, better known as Knight Slayer, just got laid! According
to our camera-men who were on the scene, it happen almost a week ago, late at
night. The name of the woman involved is being with held because Flog
doesn't want too much flack from Knight Slayer, despite the fact that last
time Flog entered gross stuff about Pat Omlette, he got lots of talk and NO
action... The women is seen here, her identity concealed with computer
graphics and her voice disguised with distortion and shit."

Lady X: "Yes, I balled Knight Slayer. I did it to shut up his fucking
whining! I got sick of his bloody 7 years! '7 years I haven't had sex!' he
would say over and over, and I finally just got so fucking sick of it I just
unzipped him there in the restaurant and balled him under the table! I just
couldn't stand it anymore!"

Voice off screen: "Was he a good lay?"

Lady X: "Well, not really. I mean he's been hiding behind this big macho
pseudo for ages... I mean, hey, let's just say that for a while I thought he
had three testicles."

Cut back to Newsman Bob.

Bob: "There you have it ladies and gentlemen, the 7 years is over, Pat
Omlette, also known as Knight Slayer, HAS HAD SEX. We now return you to
'Nazis Lesbians with Whips', already in progess."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #239, 05:39 est 91-01-11
Subject: An Idea from Mel brought to Life
Stupid "Thank you for being a friend" music plays and credits run for a show
entitled "THE GOLDEN SHOWER GIRLS".

Camera shot of huge mansion type place during day. Brilliant Miami sunlight
shines down on the house. Cut to inside.

Scene: 4 very old woman, sitting stupidly in puddles of their own urine and
shit. They all are looking about vaguely, with blank stares.
Blanche has drool seeping from the corner of her mouth and is idly
rubbing her clitoris with her left hand. Dorothy, naked from the waist up, is
examining her breasts as if for the first time. She smears her own shit on
them as she mutters "guh" or maybe "gah". The Stupid one,
what's-her-fucking-name, is beaming like an idiot, staring at a picture on
the wall. She claps her hands feebly.

Ma, the oldest one, is lying dead in the middle of the room, maggots crawling
about inside her rectum.

Dorothy: (staring about her surrounding, rubbing shit into her left tit): "I
think I'll go for a walk..."

Blanche: "Oh no... don't go...."

The Stupid one: "No... don't... don't..."

Blanche rubs her clit with more vigour.

Dorothy begins rubbing shit into her right breast.

Blanche: "Dorothy, can I piss in your mouth?"

Dorothy: "Blanche, you pissed last time... It's my turn to piss!"

Blanche: "All right, piss on me!"

Stupid one: "No... no! Piss on me! Piss in my navel! I want to feel hot
liquid dripping on my belly, the foul stink drifting up to my nose... Then
I'll run my fingers though the warm piss and the bring my fingers to my mouth
and suck on them...."

Dorothy crawls over to her dead mother: "Ma! MA! You tell that stupid one that
it's MY turn to be pissed on...

Blanche: "You said you wanted to piss though, didn't you?"

Dorothy: "I don't remember..."

Stupid one: "My turn to piss, mine..."

Blanche rubs her nipples with her hands. She suddenly leaps to her feet and
rips off all her clothes. She throws herself at Dorothy.
There's a crash as they both fall flat.

Blanche: "I think I broke my spine!"

Dorothy and the Stupid One giggle as they watch Blanche slowly and painfully
die.

Fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** There is a reply. See #352.
 
From: Anal Cyste Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #240, 22:38 est 91-01-11
Subject: Hmmm. Flog is Brain-Dead
(Flog Logo appears, surrounded by gobs of disembodied breasts and penises)

(Music fades in... It is a muzak version of Happiness is a Warm Gun.
A scene appears in which several scantilly clad women are holding large
caliber revolvers. The revolvers are very greasy looking and warm)

Announcer: Hi! All you gun lovers out there! I'd like to tell you about the
new National Rifle Association offer! Yessiree, Bob! This
is a fantastic one time event!

(The scantilly clad women start to become even more scantilly clad
and look longingly at their revolvers.)

A: Yes, you can order any one of these little beauties for a hand shake and a
monetary commitment to 'People Kill Guns, Guns Don't Kill People'.

(The SCW are now fondling their revolvers with intense looks of pure
pleasure flowing across their bodies.)

A: Each one of these babies comes with two free bullets, and as a bonus, we're
going to throw in a chamber as well!

(SCW are now writhing in impossibly complex maneouvers with very slick
handguns.)

A: That's right NRA fans! Order now! RIGHT NOW! While they're still hot! Phone
1-800-BIG-GUNS now! You won't regret it!

(A number of gun shots and moans are heard as the scene fades to black)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Palace of Retention - 231-4329 A.C. (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Star Blech:
To: Eat My Defecation. Msg #241, 01:22 est 91-01-13
Subject: Another fucking space voyage? Shit.
Voice of Pickie (them thar Captain dude) as a big space computer graphic done
shoddily on a C64 using ascii art: "Space. That big black shit. These are
the voyages of some goons in a huge and overly complicated machine from hell.
Our mission, to bore you to tears with mock science. To seek out plot lines
in a perfect utopian universe, which pretty well fucking kills all plot lines
right there, and heck, now that the Borg are dead, what chance do we have of
keeping your attention? To boldly pretend we know what we're doing!"

Cheesy music played on a wee synthesizer plays the Star Blech:Eat Defecation
theme song.

Voice of Pickie: "Captains log, star date, random numbers, er... - um...
737-11-11... My word, is it 737 already? We are on the edge of the neutral
zone, and are looking for supremely intelligent and highly complex beings who
are so advanced they don't notice our presence, or who pop in, rip off some
heads, and then split."

Cut to the bridge.

Pickie: "Somebody wipe the fucking screen off! Geezuss you people are fucking
pigs! I can barely see the bloody stars! Ensign! Go get some windex and
clean that fucker off!"

Ensign: "Yuperoo cappie-poo."
Ensign winks and wags his hips suggestively.

Ryker: "Cappie-poo?"
Pickie: "Eat shit, number one. So where the flying fuck are we anyway?
Somebody tell me where the hell we are?"

Data: "Well, we're in studio C, filming a stupid space thing..."
Pickie: "No no, in fiction you shit!"
Data: "Oh, we're in quadrant X."
Pickie: "Quadrant X? Well that sure tells me a fucking lot... Are there any
keen planets we can go blow up?"

Suddenly the ship rocks back and forth as if it had been hit by something.

Pickie: "What was that?"
Warf: "I believe, captain, that that was plot development."
Pickie: "What the fuck was it?"
Warf: "I believe it was a being with a vast superior intellect than our own,
knocking at the door."
Pickie: "Get O'brien to beam the fucker to the... er, where are we again?"
Ryker: "The main whatchamacallit, sir."
Pickie: "What he said."

Alien Being is beamed aboard.
It looks exactly like a normal human being, but it has a weird face. Weird
spots or maybe lumps or something. Which of course saves the budget a large
amount of money.

Alien: "BLAH, I have come here to er, do something...."


 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Star Blech:
To: Swallow Defecation. Msg #242, 01:35 est 91-01-13
Subject: An alien thingy? Ooee! a plot!
Pickie: "Shoot the fucker Warf, obviously it is evil and wishes us great harm!"
Ryker: "Yeah!"

Warf fires a bolt of thin red light, which the alien eats happily.
Realizing it all looks very sexual, Warf rips the lobster off his
face and runs off to his dressing room to masturbate.

Ryker picks up the lobster, which is the elaborate make-up shit warf wears to
look like a Klingon. The lobster leaps and attaches itself to Ryker's
genitals. Ryker runs about in circles screaming. The alien, feeling
ignored, runs off.

Pickie: "Number one, is your golden rod of wish giving ok?"
Ryker: "Sir, I never knew you cared about my penis before!"
Pickie: "But of course I care! I love you Ryker!"
Ryker: "And I want to fondle your greasy bald head, Cappie-poo!"
Ryker and Pickie embrace, with lotsa tongue.

Cut to Alien finding Dianna Troy's main counselling room. The ship tits,
Dianna, is busy getting dressed. Her incredible mammaries are hangin out as
she slides her trim and sexy hips into one of her low cut silver jumpsuit
things. The alien, being of high intellect, rips a hole in the suit and
begin butt fucking the ship tits. As she comes to orgasm, she yells:

Ship tits: "I sense a building in my loins, a throbbing eager contentment, a
surging bulding dampness of... OH OH OH!!!"

Alien spews red cum into the ship tits wet and tasty bits.

Cut to Jordy, standing next to the weird column of glowing lights that is
supposed to be an engine.

Jordy, to no one in particular: "Well, the engines seem to be holding."

Cut to main deck place. Ryker and Pickie are fucking in the captains chair.
The screen shows a porno movie. Suddenly there is a beep beep beep, and Data
says:

Data: "Captain, there's a message from star base!"

Pickie: "On <grunt!> screen..."

Some random shit on screen: "Captain pickie poo, there's some really buggered
up alien on the loose that when you jerk it off, it shoots red cum. We sent
one over, it's really gnarly, be sure and have a quickie with him, and when
you do, think of me."

Pickie: "Shit, where's the alien?"

Show continues along these twisted and meaningless lines until eventually
every single crue member is drained of all body fluids.

End credits.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: All Morning Listeners Msg #243, 11:27 est 91-01-13
Subject: Lethargy 1200
6:00 am
{Scene: typical teenagers bedroom. Messy with posters, clothes and the latest
issue of Teen Beat. The occupant of this room is currently asleep, admist a
swollen pile of pink pillows and satin sheets; she is currently asleep and
dreaming of Johnny Depp (this explains her soft sighs and melodic moans).
Suddenly her radio alarm explodes with noise.
OBNOXIOUS DJ: . . . and this is the Morning Zoo with me, Dashing Dan, and
Boopie. How are you this morning Boopie?
(Boopie giggles. Dan chuckles in return.)
Dashing Dan: Well aren't you a perky slut today?
(Boopie giggles. There's a loud slapping sound as Dan strikes Boopie
viciously across the face. Boopie giggles.)
Dashing Dan: Wow. Aren't we just wacky. It's nuts here folks. Now let's check
on the morning traffic with Muffler Mike McDougall. Muffler?
"Muffler" Mike McDougall {in the background we can hear roosters crowing and
cows mooing}: Well, Dan . . . the main rural strip in the outskirts of
Stitsville is all clear. No trouble at all, although the horse carcasse at
the intersection could prove troublesome. Anyway, for all you people heading
for downtown nowhere, you should have an easy drive! I'm "Muffler" Mike
McDougall!
(Return to Dan and Boopie. Boopie is still giggling, while Dan is
grunting loudly. Eventually Dan gives a loud bark of satisfaction and resumes
his talking.)
Dashing Dan: So all you working folks better get up, ha-ha, and have your
morning shits. I know I couldn't get through the day without a ncie, long
morning shit. And hey, don't you folks smell like hell in the mroning, ha-ha.
You better just kick that two-dollar whore right outta your bed and get your
grimy asses in gear, ha-ha. Take a goddamn shower so you don't stink up your
work-place and alienate all those so-called friends of yours. Anyway, here's
the wacky fact of the day: Did you know that we may all be living under
plastic domes by the year 1999? Ha-ha.
(Boopie giggles and burps loudly (but cutely, as well))
Dashing dan laughs as well, then slaps her: And all you fuckin' punk students
out there better cut all your backtalk and get the fuck goin' to school,
ha-ha. Geee-zusss, you kids deserve the hellish nine-to-five existences that
you'll end up with, barely making enough money to wipe your pimply asses,
ha-ha. So everybody just get up, shut up and fuck off. This is Dashing Dan
and the oh-so-wacky Morning Zoo. Wawg, wawg!
(the latest top forty hit starts playing)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #244, 02:44 est 91-01-14
Subject: A commercial
Bouncy happy bubble gum music. Lots of young kids leaping about and
makingfunny faces.
Camera zoom in on smiling face.
Boy: "Yeah, I love it. It tastes great, all my friends love it, it's fun!"
More bouncing stuff, zoom in on girls face.
Girl: "It's different, y'know? Not like all those other candies
andchocolates!"
Zoom up on a mother's face:
Mom: "My kids like it, and it's good for them... It's all natural, and
theyeat it all the time!"
Narrator voice all dramatic: "What is this new candy treat that is bothhealthy
and tasty? NEW 'SHIT'! We've taken a natural unrefined and perfectsource of
food, and kept it in it's natural shape and colour, as mothernature intended.
No preservatives, no additives, just staight 'SHIT'!"
Girl takes a long hot moist piece of fecal matter and brings it to her lips.
She beams happily as she pops part into her mouth and takes a big bite.The
brown shit oozes between her teeth as she chomps happily.
Narrator: "New 'shit'. Try some, you'll like it!"
End scene is a bag of 'SHIT', packaged neatly, cleanly, and with lots ofnice
happy colours on the bag that'll make everyone want some.

---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Bubble Gum Chewers Msg #245, 02:52 est 91-01-14
Subject: Trident
Some stupid ugly wench sitting in her room, looking like a bloody
princesssurrounded by all sorts of gaudy ugly and soft furniture, clothes,
drapes,etc.
Stupid wench: "Ask me to talk about pointless make-up and shit, and I
canblather on and on for hours on end. I love make-up and it fills my
lifewith a great satisfaction. Ask me to describe the taste of new Trident,
andI draw a blank. How can I describe a taste? How can I describe
anythingbesides make up? I mean, like, what else really matters BESIDES
make-up?Nothing! So like, why waste my time describing the taste of gum?
Sheesh,like, y'know, what the fuck?"
Cut to stupid jock asshole fixing his car. He's coverred in grease andlooks
like a half-brained bozo.
Stupid guy: "Ask me to talk about cars, and I can talk for hours. I
candescribe every single bolt in the '67 corvette, but ask me to describe
thetaste of something, well, I'm pretty well fucked. I don't know
anything,you see, I'm a complete and utter pinhead. Now cars, I can talk
about.Wanna hear all about the '63 ford stingray?"
Narrator being talks as we cut back and forth between these two stupidpeople
looking vague and brain-dead:
Narrator: "Our children of today are complete numbskulls, with absolutely
ovocabulary or intellect. Please, for the future of our planet, donate tothe
'Help the braindead student' fund. Your money will be used wisely..."
Final shot is of the idiot guy and the idiot girl standing against a wall,with
blindfolds on. Gun fire rips them to shreds as the narrator says:
Narrator: "Please help. Thank you."
Fade to black.

---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Qrx-Ala-Ip-Rth
To: The Cosby Kids Msg #246, 09:29 est 91-01-14
Subject: Big Bill's Bullish Balls
[Scene opens with a shot of Bill Cosby, from the waist up. He is
wearing a t-shirt with the name "Cliff" scrawled on it in crayon. This is a
prop, used to help viewers remember the character's names. Cliff's face is
scrunched and perspiring, as the camera pulls back we see that he is sitting
on a yellowish, stained toilet with his trendy pants around his ankles. He is
grunting and straining with extraordinary effort.]
Rudi's voice from outside the bathroom door: "Daddy, are you done
yet?"
Cliff snarls: "Just shut up and slide that Ex-Lax under the door or
I'll beat you till you're nothing but a walking bruise!!"
[Rudi does as she is told and runs off, crying. However, she hasn't
slid the Ex-Lax far enough; it is several inches beyond Cliff's reach. He
swears, spits, farts and reaches desperately for the Ex-Lax. It's no use.
Relunctantly, he gets up and waddles a few paces until he manages to grab the
Ex-Lax; unfortunately a piece of shit that was half-way out of his ass
finally squirts its way out and Cliff slips on it as he is waddling
backwards. He falls, banging his head on the porcelain throne and splitting
his skull in two. He is dead almost instantly.]
Vanessa: "Dad! I have to get ready for my date, Daddy! Please, hurry
up!"
[Vanessa becomes suspicious when Cliff dopesn't respond with his usual
foul-mouthed retort. She almost opens the door, but decides against it. She
realizes the smell would probably knock her flat. Several hours pass; a small
colony of flies have laid several nests of maggots in Cliff's gaping mouth.]
Theo: "Dad? Are you done, yet? I wanna go in there and masturbate!!"
[There is, of course, no response. Except for the incessant buzzing of
the mating flies. Theo shrugs and leaves, deciding to masturbate at
Cockroache's house. Several more hours pass, the bathroom light bulb burns
out.]
Denise: "Dad, open up! I wanna pierce my nose and dye my hair fuscia!"
[No response. Denise smells the air, scowls and runs off. Another few
hours pass. it is now two in the morning. All the children are safe in bed
except for Rudi, who is selling her body to all the stock-brockers on park
Avenue. Claire, yawning and rubbing her eyes, enters the bathroom.]
Claire: "My word, what the goodness is that horrible smell . . ."
[The bathroom is pitch dark and Claire trips and falls onto Cliff's
stiffened, maggot ridden corpse. As fate would have it, her hands fall to
Cliff's swollen member.]
Claire: "Oh, Cliff! You sneaky devil!!"
[She rides Cliff and comes loudly several times until finally
collapsing next to him.]
Claire: "Holy fuck . . . Cliff, you've never lasted that long before .
. ."
[The show continues this way for the rest of the season. The plots
usually revolve around the wacky concept that Cliff is dead and, for various
reasons, the family does not succeed in discovering this. The season finale
occurrs when Cliff decomposing, mushy corpse finally falls apart while Claire
is fucking him. By this time, the show is relying heavily on a laugh track.]

--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Institute of Cryptzoology for Gynopathic Obgyns [ICYGO] (1:163/233)
 
From: Flog Sonata'S Dying Porculus
To: Bored Monty Python Fans Msg #247, 03:05 est 91-01-15
Subject: Random Insanity, ala MP
Voice: And now it's time for FLOG SONATA'S DYING PORCULUS!

Giddy animated credits featuring a woman having sex with a croquet mallet. A
herd of angry gophers wearing toupees and groucho marx glasses rush across
the screen, all of them chasing Venus Dimilo's naked torso.

Cut to a man holding a porcupine. He sucks on the quills eagerly.

Cut to a shop in london, which is on fire. No one seems to notice or say
anything. A customer, in flames, waves to the store clerk as he leaves.
"Have a nice day!" the clerk says, just before a burning ceiling beam falls
out of the ceiling and crushes him.

Burning customer walks down the street, waving at people as he goes.
BC: "Hello, hello all. Hello Mrs. GripeandMoan, how's your kidney?"

Mrs GripeandMoan reaches into her purse and takes out a kidney.
Mrs GaM: "Rather dry today..."
As Mrs GripeandMoan turns away, we see she has a huge red bloody hole in her
side, and an empty space there, where we can presume her kidney once was.

Burning customer walks past a wheat field, which catches fire.

A fireman sees BC and rushes forward.

Fireman: "Excuse me sir, but you appear to be on fire! Might I be of
assistance, for you see," (proudly), "I am a fire-man!"

BC: "Oh, no, it's quite all right, I'll simply be reduced to an ash, that's
quite fine, thank you."

Fireman: (disapointed) "Are you sure, sir, i mean, it wouldn't be a bother,
and well..."

BC: "No no, quite all right. I quite enjoy the heat, keeps me nice and comfy.
And I particularly enjoy the prospect of my skin turning all crispy and brown
and pealing away to reveal glistening bone and blood. Thanks anyway."

Fireman: (brink of tears) "But there hasn't been a fire around here in AGES!
Please? Please let me put it out! Please?"
BC: (sigh) "All right, but hurry up."

Fireman picks up bucket from side of the road.

Fireman: "Oh, damn!"
Bc: "What's the matter?"
FM: "Buckets empty. Damn, here's a fire and I don't even have any bloody
water... I'm such a failure... My life is a complete and utter waste, I may
as well just bump myself off..."
BC: "No, look, there's no need for that... You could simply fill it up and
come back..."
Fireman: "Oh, you're trully a gentleman! Yes, that's what I'll do!
You promise you won't sneak off while I'm gone?"
BC: "I promise, now go on..."

Fireman goes off to get water, and BC runs off, sneaking away.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata'S Dying Porculus
To: Creativity Gone Awry Msg #248, 03:18 est 91-01-15
Subject: More of the same.
Burning man rushes past a news crew. Fireman is chasing after Burning
customer. ("Wait, come back, I have some water now!" Fireman yells.)

News man: "Today, we are outside of what used to be a calm quiet and innocent
house. Used to be, because yesterday, a shocking and frightening miracle
took place in the very flats behind me. This miracle, so stratling, so
shocking, it was completely ignored by all news programs except for our very
own. Yesterday, in this very house, a woman shat out a live goat. She just
sat on the crapper and out came an entire goat! Can you like, fucking
believe it? Ahaha..."

Man is shot by random insane maniac sniper up in a building somewhere.

Cut to Dave Hunter fucking a shit coverred goat. The goat is wearing a
T-shirt that says "The POINTS of Dave Hunter". The goat brays, filled with
anger.

Cut to a clearing, where a burning man stands in the middle of the field. The
Fireman can be seen, attempting to sneak up on him. The burning man turns,
sees the fireman, and begins running. They run past a bishop, who pats a
little girls bottom repeatedly. They run past a woman wearing a strap on
dildo sodomizing Knight Slayer. They run past Loose Moose who is looking at
a calender, scratching out dates for his Fest and then penciling in new ones,
almost too quick for the human eye to see. They run past Richard Visage,
who is busy in the process of sticking a thin green and orange tie up his
bum.
They run past Anal Cyste, who is sucking on the end of a handgun
that a naked woman is holding at her own groin level.

Cut to George Bush, giving a speach.
George: "This is NOT about oil prices but about NAKED agression!!! Real naked
hot sweaty lust filled agression, the kind that makes yer genitals throb in
ecstacy! Oh god how I've longed for a war! Just a little one, and now
<MOAN> now, I get one... Oh God, thank you...
Thank you..."

Burning man runs past, followed by the fireman. Camera follows beside them as
they run through the white house, where we can see scattered politicians
fornicating with their secretaries.

Finally, the burning man is cornered.

Fireman: "Now I have you!"
Burning man: "No, wait! Don't you see! You're jealous of my fire!
My strength comes from it's heat, and in evil jealousy you wish to
douse it's flames with your water! Let me share the heat with you, please,
don't extinguish my fire... my love!"
Fireman: "Love?"

Burning man: "Yes, love... My love for you is symbolized in fire!"

Fireman: "But you silly fool, this bucket doesn't contain water, it contains
gasoline!"
Burning man: "It... it does?"

The two embrace, and the fireman catches fire too. They both reach down for
the bucket, lift it up and pour it over their heads, and then explode into
roaring flames, which, when they die down, reveals they have disintegrated.
Wow.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
EEN-BY: 163/207 30522/1 101
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Insomniacs Msg #249, 21:45 est 91-01-14
Subject: Uhm, er, yeah.
Flog Channel logo : Moose's bloodshot twitching half-open nowhere-staring
eyes. Capillaries read : FLOG CHANNEL

Fade to obnoxious host-type person. Looks remarkably like Caspar Weinberger.

Voice over: Welcome to WHY AREN'T YOU SLEEPING HORROR HOUR, featuring your
host, Gus Funkweiner.

Gus: HHHhhhhhuh.

Fade to film. Cheap set of suburban home. Husband and wife watching TV,
drinking beer. The door knocks.

Wife: Who could be knocking on our door at 3 am in this seedy neighbourhood
we so recently moved into?

Husband: I dunno, better check, maybe he needs a place to stay.

Wife: (Opens the door. A man with a mask comes in and starts chopping
everyone up.) Aaaaagh.

Husband: Oh no. Please stop.

Crazed Maniac: Woof Schlobber Schnort.

Fade to Gus.

Gus: Huhh huh grunt grfrb.

Cut to commercial.


This is the pot that Janet bought! This is the slave that chipped the shit
from the bowl with the hash that burned in the house that was payed for by
drugs and the blood that was spilled to ship the cocaine to blast the guy's
nose and pay for the pot that Janet bought.

These are the hitmen that take out the guys that don't mind their own
business who walk down the streets to shoot the civilians to buy a new pot
since Janet puked in the last one.

Fade to black.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
 
 
From: Star Belch
To: Space Is So Fucking Awesome! Msg #250, 03:17 est 91-01-16
Subject: Captain Dave Hunter, reporting for duty.
Sound of Dave Hunter's gruff and macho voice: "Space, the final frontiere
where no one seems to hate me yet. These are the voayges of the starship,
Enterprise... Our never ending mission, to do whatever the hell I WANT TO
DO! To boldly waffle about while we all decide what policy X really means!
To seek out new lows of intelligence, and sort of just waste a lot of time in
general... Um, and there was some other stuff too, oh yeah, and to NEVER
question authority, EVER."

Weird star trek music cut short by Dave yelling "That's enough bloody theme
music, let's start the goddam show already, I haven't got all day!"

Shot of ship from space.

Dave: "Captains log stardate 63J K25... The crew seem restless, almost as if
they find my ship running skills over bearing, annoying and well, really
pretencious. Gosh, I wonder what's wrong with all of them?"

Cut to main deck.

Dave, wearing a nazis uniform sits in the captain's chair. His mousatche
appears to have been recently trimmed to get that full "Hitler" look, that
all the upper net coordinators dudes have.

Dave: "So, Data, where shall we go today?"
Data: "We can't go anywhere, Captain, seeing as how all policies are still
being debated endlessly. We seem to be stuck, spinning in circles."
Dave: "Well, dammit, we can't have that, can we? Um... Maybe we should do
something about it?"

Data: "A formendable suggestion Captain. What should we do?"

Dave looks perplexed at the very thought of making some sort of real decision.
He mindlessly plays with his huge chunky gold wristband that has his own
name engraved on it, just in case he forgets what his name actually is.

Dave: "Um, maybe we could re-read the policies again, and well, just see if
maybe there's a subtle innuendo or something that allows us to do
something... Um, when are the next elections for ship captain again?"

Warf: "September, Captain."

Dave: "Gosh, well, um... I think we should write a new policy, allowing for
movement."

Warf: "That would be very wise Captain, except for you passed a policy
previously that disallows the movement of all ships, because you didn't want
any ships to go faster than yours."

Dave: "Damn, um, can we send a message to Star Base, informing them of our
problem?"

Warf: "Afraid not sir, you passed a policy forrbidding messages, in case
someone else should intercept and read them."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Star Belch
To: Dave, Lost In Space. Msg #251, 03:30 est 91-01-16
Subject: "The Ship Can't Take it Much Longer!!"
Dave looks purtubed at the complete inability for anything to happen.

Suddenly the ship rocks back and forth as something smashes against the hull
of the ship.

Dave: "My lord, what was that?"

Data: "Sysop and User dissent sir, they seem to find your chaotic running of
things too much to take."

Dave: "Gee, um, load torpedoes or something, fire at their feeds, we'll cut em
all down to size, we will!"

Data: "Fire without reason? What about policy 12?"

Dave: "Damn, um? Now what?"

Warf: "We spin out of control and into the sun!"

Dianna Troy, the ship tits and the weird counsellor twit, comes on to the main
deck and looks at Captain Hunter.

Dianna: "Captain, I sense a feeling of dibelief, anger, and an urge to punch
someone in the head! Are you alright?"

Dave leaps from his chair screaming: "I HAVE POWER! I AM IN CONTROL!
NO ONE CAN STOP ME! I AM GOD I AM KING I AM RULER OF ALL!"

Cut to shot outside of ship. The enterprise is spinning in circles and is
drifting off into darkness. We can still hear Dave's feeble yells: "I am
the net leader, this can't be happening..."

The ships disapears in to darkness.

Roll credits, which all seem to be blank, probably because Sysops are too
fucking cowardly to actually admit that Dave makes their temples throb with
disgust, and fear that Dave would cut their feeds.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Soap Fans Msg #252, 19:59 est 91-01-15
Subject: Gangrene and Alucard... the tragic story.
Flog Channel logo : The bubbling skin of sixteen dead Iraqi soldiers.
Written across their backs is THE FLOG CHANNEL.

Fade to soap opera type intro.

Voiceover: The Mods Of Night is brought to you through a grant by Joy Jelly
Nipple Cream Co.

Fade to living room. It appears decorated with the kinda shit you'd expect
for these people - Depeche Mode posters, and an overdose of Smiths/Morrissey
paraphernalia. Alucard walks in and begins to weep.

Alucard: Oh, woe is me! boo hooo hoo.

Gangrene enters.

Gangrene: Honey, I'm home.

Alucard: You FIEND!

Gangrene: WHORE!

Alucard: Oh, boo hoo hoo!

Gangrene: Oh, boo hoo hoo!

The two simultaneously stab each other in the chest.

Alucard: (Dying) I just don't love you anymore.

Gangrene: (Trying to think of something symbolic.) Uhm, oh, boo hoo hoo.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Vasiline Makers
To: Vasiline Userss Msg #253, 02:23 est 91-01-17
Subject: Vaseline.
Little Billy runs in from outside.
Billy: "Mommy! Mommy! My lips hurt!"
(Billy's lips are red, rough and chaffed.)
Mom: (sigh) "Looks like it's time for Vaseline!"

Mom gets the jar and scoops out a wad and shoves it into Jimmy's open mouth
and smears another massive glob all over his face.

Narrator: "Use Vaseline for chapped lips!"

Dad: "Um, dear?"
(Dad's hand is stuck inside of a vase.)
Mom: "Sigh, more vaseline today!"

Narrator: "Use vaseline for those PECULIAR situations!"

Flog: "It won't fit! It won't fit!"
Syl: "Looks like it's time for the Vaseline!"
(Flog is tied to the bed, and Syl is trying to shove an immense pealed
zuccini up his bum)
Syl lubricates the zuccini with a generous dose of vaseline, and the puppy
slides right on in and disapears.

Narrator: "Use Vaseline to insert fiendishly large objects up your rectum!"

Cut to jar of Vaseline.
Narrator: "Vaseline. You just never do know what you'll need it for next!"
Several hands reach out to grab the Vaseline at once, and start struggling to
grab the jar.

Cut to dave Hunter.
Dave: "I use Vaseline to ram steel rods up my butt, and I'm the NEC!
Shouldn't you use vaseline too?"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Carletoon Students And Foot Patrol Msg #254, 13:48 est 91-01-16
Subject: What kind of sexist asshole writes this shit?
* Original: FROM.....Crass Nirvana (30522/1)
* Original: TO.......Flog Sonata (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Scenes from Carleton UNiversity...

[] []
[] []
[] The Effectiveness []
[] of the Carleton []
[] Foot Patrol []
[] []
[] []


Scene opens with two Carleton students bouncing around, looking all
self-important in red nylon windbreakers with their names printed on the
chest. They escort a young, and obviously innocent and vulnerable female
down a brightly lit hallway. Other students walk around, making the female
student cower in fear. Two other male students, meaning they are obviously
depraved lunatics who rape DOZENS of women for nothing better to do, follow
trying desperately to fool the wily Foot Patrollers by talking about (gasp!)
School. The Foot Patrollers do not fall for this clever ruse, and prepare
themselves to expunge this mortal threat to their charge.

One of the two lunatics belches loudly.

The group of students reach the end of the tunnel. The Foot Patrollers leave
their charge to her own volition.

vulnerable female "But, aren't you supposed to walk me driectly to my bedroom
because I am so obviously vulnerable and you are so obviously hung like a
horse, Mr. Foot Patroller, sir."

Male Foot patroller: "Why, no, my little flower, we must leave you here and
return to our duties as Foot Patrollers. This is the end of our route.
You're on your own, and yes, I am hung like a horse."

The Foot Patrollers wander off singing lumberjack songs and gripping each
others biceps roughly. Two obviously deranged lunatics come up to girl,
after passing the Foot Patrollers going in the opposite direction. Female
looks nervous and plunges her hand into her purse.

Flog: "Could you please tell me what time it is?"

She pulls out a longbarreled .45 and puts three slugs through Flog's left eye.
Crass backs away. Wondering what would be a wise thing to do.

Crass: "That wasn't a very nice thing to do..."

She fires the rest of the magazine into his chest and upper body, watching
little squirts of blood decorate the walls.

Crass: (to Flog) "She wants me, man. I can tell! She used more bullets on
me, than on you!"

Flog: "No man, she WANTS me! Don't you know anything about body language?
That little trigger squeeze really meant "I want to have your pulsating organ
inside me. Oh please, love God, take me to paradise."
Crass: "Oh, you're right." (death gargle)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Fans Of Middle East Violence Msg #255, 11:40 est 91-01-17
Subject: CJFC Baghdad Coverage
Flog Channel logo : A pile of vomit in a Harvey's outlet.

Fade to Newsdesk. Flog, beaming uncontrollably, is seated at it.

Flog: Good evening, we have a special bulletin, war has broken out in the
Middle East. The U.S. has invaded Iraq. We have a correspondent in Baghdad,
let's go to him now. Moose?

Moose's voice: (Crackly) Hi there Flog, I'm here in the Ali Rashid hotel in
downtown Baghdad. They're bombing the shit out of the city. There's a few
CNN guys here, too, but I've already betrayed their location to Iraqi
soldiers and I better get outta here before they show up and shoot me too.

Flog: Where are you going?

Moose: This airvent looks appetizing. I'll get back on the line with you
once I get out of it.

Flog: Okay, Moose. I repeat to our viewers, this is a CJFC special news
show, there is now a war in the gulf. (He is interrupted by sounds of CNN
guys screaming horribly, angry Arabic yelling, and periodic machine gun
fire.) A bulletin from CBC : Peter Mansbridge is in tears. Well, fuck him.

Moose's voice: Hello?

Flog: Moose, where are you?

Moose's voice: I came out of the airvent into a women's washroom, where I
lingered for a while, before moving on, which led me outside. I'm out here
on the street. I see bombs falling.

Flog: You better take cover.

Moose's voice: Oh, fuck off. Wait. I see a Tomahawk missile coming in.
I'm going to try to get a closer look at it landing. (Sound of running).
It's heading east. I'm barely keeping up with it. (Pause - crackle,
crackle.) We're in luck, I think it's actually going to land on me.

Flog: Could you describe it, Moose?"

Moose's voice: It's big and impressive, missile shaped. Getting bigger as
it comes down. Yes, it's going to land on me. And here we-- (GIGANTO
EXPLOSION)

Flog: Moose? Hello?

Moose's voice: Hi Flog, I'm still here. A very impressive explosion,
actually succeeded in blowing all my limbs off. My legs just went through a
shop window and my arm is stuck to the wall of the Ali Rashid and -- hang on,
I see mustard gas further down the street. I'm going to crawl towards it.

Flog: Be careful.

Moose: I'm wallowing in mustard gas now, Flog. It's burning my lungs and
burning my skin, this is actually quite sensational. My eyes are melting..
(cut off by static... fade to black.)
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Xenophobia Unltd.
To: Circle Jerk Club Msg #256, 00:57 est 91-01-18
Subject: A real crop of trouble...
Flog TV Logo: A typical crop circle shot, a simple circle. Shot zooms out
gradually, revealing more intricate patterns, until a large portion of the
field is visible, and the pattern forms the Flog TV logo. In the adjacent
field, several surgically dismembered and bloodles cattle carcasses are
visible.

Fade to set of "Really Wierd And Bizarre Unsolved Shit." The host, Roberta
Stacked, is standing in front of what appears to be something like a
mausoleum barely adequately illuminated at about midnight, which really fits
the show's budget...

Roberta seems to be having some trouble with her brassiere which, considering
the amound of cleavage that it must deal with, would convince many people
that the garment should have been indeed named after it's original inventor,
Oslo Titszling. Noticing that the camera is active, she blinks a few times,
then finally remembers her lines (her IQ being perhaps a quarter of her cup
size -- really not too bad, when you think about it...)

Roberta: On tonight's episode of "Really Wierd And Bizarre Unsolved Shit," we
reveal the true cause of those mysterious crop circles.
(She gives a brief "ooo!" for effect, then giggles) Well, some
scientists examined the dirt in some of the circles, and then some more dirt
from outside the circles, then some more inside, then some more outside, then
they were doing the Hokey-Pokey, and this is what it was all about. (Another
giggle) Anyways, they found all these things called - um - nematodes in the
dirt. At first, I thought they meant that some Southerner had kicked their
frogs in the family jewels.
(yet another laugh. She's starting to have more fun than that obnoxious
asshole from Current Affair) But in fact they're these really tiny worms, and
like they found eight times more of them inside the circles than outside.

So, like it's obvious to them that these things actually caused
the circles in the first place. All they've gotta do now is figure out who
talked them into doing it in the first place.

(Looks off camera with a somewhat vacant stare for a moment, then
returns to reality with a violent start) Oh, that's all we've got a budget
for this time, so be sure to watch next week when the same scientists try to
prove that rainstorms are caused by mud puddles, and that large, ogling
crowds cause spectacular building fires.

(At this point, the already straining fabric finally gives with a
loud RIP!, sending the two large mammarial protrusions forward at high
velocity, carrying Roberta forward into the camera, which is knocked over,
and picture is lost -- but what a parting shot...)

Fade up to commercial.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #257, 01:53 est 91-01-19
Subject: More Middle East Violence
 

[Flog-TV logo appears on a dark brown background. As the camera
pulls back, the viewers see that the logo is drawn on a camel that is standing
around in a desert doing nothing in particular. A SCUD missile hits it,
blowing it to very tiny shreds. Fade to newsroom.]

Announcer: Good evening. The war in the Gulf continues even as we speak.
Tonight we take you live to Baghdad, which is being bombed at this very
moment.

[Switch to reporter in Baghdad. There is a bombed out building in
the packground. Next to the reporter is an Iraqi soldier with an AK-47.
Letters appear on the bottom of the screen "Baghdad, Live"]

Reporter: Good evening. I was able to persuade Iraqi authorities to permit
me to do a live broadcast without reading the contents to them first.
Instead, every time I say something that Ali here [motions at the Iraqi
soldier with AK-47] doesn't like, he shoots me.

Announcer: Well, first of all, how is the war going for the Iraqis.

Reporter: Not too well. [Ali shoots him.] I mean, its going really well -
they still have two MIG-29s. [Ali shoots him again.] I meant two hundred,
TWO HUNDRED MIG-29s.

Announcer: Have there been many civilian casualties in Iraq?

Reporter: Not really. The strikes were directed at targets of military
significance, and no civilian centers were hit so far. [Ali shoots him
again.] I mean, they are hitting civilians right and left. They even
specifically target schools, kindergardens, hospital, mental hospitals, [Ali
beams.] presidential palace... like I said, they are intentionally target
mental hospitals. [Ali thinks about this for a second, and shoots the
reporter again.]

Reporter: Arghh! [Falls over and expires]

[Switch back to newsroom.]

Announcer: Well, that has been a live broadcast from the Iraqi capital.

[fade to commercial]
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
 
 
From: Kevin Mcdonald
To: All You Royalty Fans Msg #258, 09:52 est 91-01-18
Subject: ROYAL BATHROOM TISSUE

NARRATOR: "And now a word on Royal bathoom tissue,
from her majesty,...Queen Elizibeth the II"
SCENE1: The big white letters on the screen fade to
black, and into view comes the image of
her majesty, Queen Elizibeth sitting on her throne
.........made of porcelin

QUEEN: In an annoying,almost parrot-like voice
her majesty says....
"When I go to the lavatory,I like to wipe my
bum with somthing somthing soft and fluffy!!!!"
SCENE2: THE CAMERA THEN PANS TO THE SMILING FACE OF
PRINCE CHARLES...............fade to black
 
 
please feel free to add to this one!

Dr.Bleedover
KevnMcDonald


--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Who shot Paul Geotz? (1:163/198)
 
From: Floyd Gecko Rec'd
To: Comrad Harizof Msg #259, 20:09 est 91-01-21
Subject: What do you think?
Scene: A crowded street. Close on a brick wall. Speeded up motion of people
walking by and sticking their used chewing gum on the wall until it spells
out "The Flog Channel". A young yak from Tibet wit
"The Flog Channel" written on it come along and munches it off, then
the wall is demolished by a wrecking ball with "The Flog Channel" written on
it.
Commercial....

Announcer Dude: Are YOU sick and tired of THIS happening to you?

Cut to a street scene. Wimp walks along the street. Thugs
follow him. Suddenly they run up to him and club him to death with tire
irons. Police run after them

Announcer Dude: Well, now there's a product for YOU! With new Nerd- Off, you
can off a Nerd from twenty paces and nobody will even be able to tell who did
it. Here's how it works

Cut to a flim clip with his voice dubbed over badly. It shows
how the thing works.

A.D.: You simply pull this trigger here (The screen shows how) and the gasses
rush out the end of the spray nozzle. From there, they identify Nerd
Hormones in the air, and zoom in.

Cheezy cartoon representation of little molecules holding
tire irons chase after stylized cartoon Nerd Hormones wearing horn- rim
Coca-Cola Bottle glasses.

A.D.: After the specially tailored gas thingies find the source of the
Hormones, they convert...

Even cheezier cartoon of the molecules hulking out and becoming
big ugly green and grey things.

A.D.: Into poison, and kill the Nerd -- dead. No fuss, no muss.

Fake Studio Audience Questioner: BUT WHAT IF THE COPS FIND OUT?

A.D.: They CAN'T, stupid!

Another One: But what if they do ANYWAY?

A.D.: Here's what you do.

Cut to a dramatization.

A.D.: Shoot them.

Voice Over: We now return you to your semi-regular Flog Channel Programming.
Fuck off and have a nice viewing day.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: The Crowd Of Repressed Humans Msg #260, 16:44 est 91-01-22
Subject: A final jab at Mr H**nter
Flog Channel logo written on constitution which is being burned by a crowd of
Administration Types.

Cut to Advertisement which is constantly drowned in static due to a jamming
mechanism from origins unknown.

Voice: "Does this ever happen to you?"

Picture of "someone" writing a message into the flog channel, it may be Flog,
but then again, it might be the Bishop of BaromWells. After writing the
message, a large red siren light flashes through the window of the mysterious
writer's house. A crowd of Nazis administrators run in:

Nazis #1: "Thought you could make fun of Dave Hu**er, did you?"
Nazis #2: "We are doing this for your own good!"
Writer: "Oh why, why did I ever dare to dream that I could ever get away with
a few simple joking insults? What was it that made me fantasize that I could
write anything into the Flog Channel? Was it my naivety? Was it the thought
that no one really reads the thing?
Was it that I thought D**e H**ter really could take a few innocent
jabs without finally snapping like a twig and putting a stop to it?
Oh fickle world, I bend under thy tyranny!"

Writer character sobs and gasps as he is carted away to a labour camp, where
he'll be forced to make plastic "Dave is a GOOD nec" buttons which would be
distributed at fests.

Voice: "Well if this has happened to you, tough shit. Tough luck and good
riddance to you. We've had enough of your blunt and blatant attcks on our
wonderful wonderful system. there is no bureaucracy in the net, and there
shouldn't be any politics in the flog channel...
There should be vomit and blood and other sick things, but let's
have none of that THOUGHT. No thinking! Bad! bad! Bad! Bad users!
You cut that out or we'll have to send the evil nazis administrators
to come and..."

Static fills the screen, which breaks up into the following.

Voice: "Ah! Finally! Now enough political comment, it's time for true Flog
Channel fare!"

Cut to a man throwing up in a bucket. he pukes and pukes and pukes and pukes
and pukes. Then he stops, pukes some more, stops, pukes again, then stops.
Then someone comes out and shoots him.

Voice: "There, wasn't that better, say compared to the politics we are no
longer allowed to discuss? I feel better, don't you? Gosh what fun! Gee,
and now let's all stop and think for a moment why flog hasn't entered a
message into the FC for the past week, and might not for the next week.
Might it have something to do with our little lesson boys and girls?"

Credits read by a care-bear-type voice: "And the moral of the story is, there
is no freedom in a world of political intrigue and hum-drum silliness, go
read sysop 163, and be happy."

Odd fake bouncing happiness sound plays until a certain writer slits his own
throat out of disgust.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: A Spoof Of A Spoof Of A Spoof. Msg #261, 16:59 est 91-01-22
Subject: What making fun of your own stupidity is like.
A man walks on screen. He is shot.
Another man walks out and he is shot.
Repeat process until screen is filled with dead bodies.

Voice: "Gosh, now I think the word fuck should be reapeated continuously until
we change the pattern by saying SHIT!"

Angelic voices say "fuck fuck fuck fuck SHIT!" over and over and over, while
the following happens:

NOTHING.
Not a damn thing.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Paul Geotz
To: Mr Insane Msg #262, 11:30 est 91-01-24
Subject: Political Playthings
 
 
Dead Iraqi Bodies mixed with Nazi Admin types litter the floor of the studio,
spilled blood Spells:
WELCOME TO THE NEW FLOG CHANNEL
Now sanitary and censored by an Unnamed sauce
(probably Heinz.)
 
 
 
 
Scene: Iraqi town hall, somewere near Bahgdad. Paul Geotz is negotiating with
Iraqi Dork-man, Sadly Insane. The pock marks from the shot fired by Skippy is
healing but still tender. Bernie stands close by, watching with a glazed look
in his eyes. Many dark eyed Iraqi soldiers lounge around the room holding
AK-47's and fondle grenades.
PG: "Mr Insane, I have a proposition for you, you seem to be having a small
amount of trouble with the Americans and we have a small bit of trouble with a
small time writer and general no-good named Sonata"
SI: "Ya, So, whats your point?"
PG: "We will hold off the Americans by sending in my stable of dancing
whorebags while you go take care of Sonata for us. We'll take care of the
flight plans and spending money while you are there " Opens case of freshly
printed $100 bills, packed into bundles weighing a couple of hundred pounds.
The madmans eyes open wide and look at all the cash, he smiles and motions
one of the guards over to take it away.
SI: "Ok its a deal, we want to meet the whorebags first, giive them many
diseases, so that the American scum will be scratching their bags in the hot
arabian sun.Then we will beat the Sons Of Bush as they scream in pain from the
rash. Swimming in the pools of their own blood as their Nincom-poop leader has
sent them surely to die.... (etc, etc .. this dribbles on for hours as the
leader of the E-Raq-EEE's is filmed and words are taken down by someone that
suspiciously looks like Joe Hyundai)
The Geotzes are taken to Jordan by Camel (Fucking American cigarettes) and
flown with the Iraqi death squad disguised as american nurses to Canada where
the Sonata is known to live.
The House of Sonata is a quiet place in the burg of Bar-B-Qhaven, the loudest
thing that is heard there is the quaintly painted garage door of a known
Woodsman writer, known for his rendition of "I'm a Lumberjack, and I'm ok." in
bars ariound Oddawa.
The steely black eyes of the Death Squid (Opps, Squad) are intensly looking
at the House of Sonata. Many people go in and out of the house, many strange
people are seen to come and go. A black van pulls up and a few men get out.
One is a tall frocked figure, and his guard (and faithful companion Skippy) A
quite loud women with dark hair and squeeky voice folds herself out of the back
of the van, hitching up her short and shockingly see through skirt. Smiles
and blows a kiss at the Flog being in the back
Flog looks out of the side window of the van, worried about attack from many
combatents these days.(shit, war is Hell) The Death squad and the pair of
Geotzes are ready.. Skippy is ready.. The Reverand helps a young
lady out of the passenger side of the van, he is obviously ready as he looks
like he's starting to make a tent in his frock.
Flog gets out of the back of the van, and starts to walk to the house.
At that moment, another van screeches to a halt outside the House of Flog, its
Blue. (Hey, we gotta be colour coded..) ADMIN is painted on the side..
FS: "Oh Fuck.. not again."
SS: "Eww, Floggie! Watch yer self" as she throws herself on him (Not Again,
Floggie thinks)
RV: "Skippy, My gun please......."
[continued .... hopefuly]
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: Where is Flog Sonata?? (1:163/198)
 
From: Paul Geotz
To: Mr Insane Msg #263, 11:28 est 91-01-24
Subject: Politics 2, the next generation.
 
Blam!! Blam!! shots are fired by Skippy who has done this artillery stuff
before. Three figures, dressed in Nazi uniforms jump out of the
Blue Van.. there backs are towards The Geotzes and The Iraqi Death squad..
The Death Squad are obviously pissed off at all of this.. How dare these
Infidels kill each other when they have been sent there to do a job..
The admin types are firing at the Flog channel leader, Blam Blam Blam (smaller
guns than Skippy) They miss (Its all that administration that ruins their aim)
RV: "Into the house!"
All the rest: "OK, No probs"
Paul Geotz, now seeing that he may not get the Flog creature himself orders the
Iraqi's to attack.
BG: "Hey you!" yelling at the Admin types.. running and firing at the same time
(This man who, yesterday couldn't chew gum and walk simultaneously is doing
very well after the theropy)
The Admin types turn and return fire at the rushing forces.....
 
Lotsa lights go on around the neibourhood, hell, life is fun in Bar-B-Qhaven.
The scuffle is short, as the admin types are are bundled up into their own van
by the Death Squad.
PG:" I want to question them, dont hurt them."
The soldiers are sitting on the Admin types fingers so they wont get away or
reach inside their noses for the suicide pills . as the van speeds away..
Floggie and Syl look out the window of the House of Flog still not quite sure
of what has just happened.
The reverand is engaging in hearing the poor girls Confession, listening and
soulfully giving her advice
RV: "Speak into the microphone little girl, hold it like a ice cream, use it
like one too."
SV: "That was a Geotz.. I'm sure" as he spits on the floor.
FS: "Lets go write some messages Syl, I think we are gonna be safe fer a while"
SS: "Why do messages, we can........."
Thinks Flog... "Not again"
"We will get you Sonata, Mark My Words!!"
All is quiet in BBQhaven, the cops came and seeing nothing around, headed
back to the Donut shop..
The sky was twinkling in the cool, crisp and clear night.
Flog and the gang were tucked sleepily in their beds, was all this real or
was it the Imagination of some horrid dream.....
Only Time will tell........ Stay watching this channel foir updates!
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: Where is Flog Sonata?? (1:163/198)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Stewart Bruce Msg #264, 14:33 est 91-01-25
Subject: The Fish will die for sure this time.
...trumpet fanfare blares, and on the screen appears...
 
STEWART BRUCE'S
SCUBA
SCHOOL
 
...fade to Stew, sitting at a table.
 
Stew: Welcome to Stew's Scuba School! Here, we take you right
from the basics, and actually get you moist!. So, lets
say hello to our beginners.
 
...a group of nervous, rubber-clad people walk in. They are
wearing flippers, and having difficulty.
Stew: Well, whats the first thing you gotta do to Scuba?
Strangely familiar woman with squeaky voice: Cut some holes in
the rubber?
Stew: No, but a good idea, anyway. We'll do that on next week's
show. To be a real Scuba kinda person, you gotta have lotsa
energy. Any idea how you get the energy?
Strangely familiar looking green guy: Go dig somebody up? Molest a
cat? Stick fondue forks in your liver?
Stew: No, but that DOES sound like fun. What ya gotta do, is eat
right. Oh Alucard...
...Alucard appears, togged in her Deli Clerk uniform. She is
carrying an overflowing bowl of pickled eggs, and a jug of beer.
An oversized polish sausage protrudes from a pocket.
Stew: Thanks <ugly eating noises> Alucard. <pops in more eggs> The
secret to diving <snarfs a couple more> is buoyancy. <jams in
six or seven at once. chews> Ab, bow doo youb fink <swallows> you
get buoyant? <finishes plate>
Class: we dunno...
Stew: <phoooooooooweet!> Scuse me. <phrraaap!> Gas, that what makes
you <sssssssssstweeeep!> float. <plplplplpl>. Woops, ha ha.
...camera pans to class. They are lying silently, flippers towards
the sky. Mist is filling the room.
...fade to sign off screen, showing Stew in the water, bubbles
rising all around him. Stew smiles.
Announcer: tune in next week when Stew explains the importance
of liver and onions when diving.
...fade to brown.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #265, 14:37 est 91-01-25
Subject: Higher Thinking
...the Flog Channel Logo appears, spelled out in valium tablets
on a backing of unidentifiable white powder.
Announcer: Now we present the following special presentation-
"Treating Psychoses in your Home" with Doctor Shtrudel.
...fade to medical office. Dr. Shtrudel is looking directly into
the camera. His pupils are deeply dialated.
Dr. S. : Zo! You haf come to zis zhow to learn zomezing habout
zychology? Vell, today, ve deal viss zee paranoid. To demon-
shtrate, Mr. Flog hass volunteered to be our subchect.
...Flog, in a straightjacket and tied to a chair, smiles a yellow
smile.
Dr. S.: Furst, vee vill be chowing a zhort vilm, zen, ve get zee
reaction of zee paranoid.
....film rolls. Mel and Rev. Visage are sitting at a bar table,
covered with empty glasses.
Mel: Don't you hate net politics?
RV: Ick. <belch> Ayup.
...film ends.
Dr. S. : Zo, Mr. Flog, vat do you sink of dis?
Flog: <raving> Nazis! They're all Nazis! They're sucking up to the
administration! They're controlling our thoughts. They're cowering
in front of the NEC. They've been threatened to have their feeds
cut off, and theres probably large strangers hanging around their
houses threatening to stick old netmail packets in their ears. Now
they're Nazis too! Their noses are brown! They want the Flog channel
to be nothing but fart jokes! Blood 'n' Gore, cheap laughs, but
nothing deep - piffle for the masses! No thought allowed, nosiree.
Everyone knows that the most thought provoking thing that can
be satirized in a complex changing world that is crashing into a
deadly war is local Fidonet politics. But will the Nazis let us
think these ultra cerebral thoughts...NOOOOO. NAZIS!!! NAZIS!!!!
NAZIIIIIIIIIISSSSS.
...Flog bursts from his chair, trailing a half undone straight
jacket and jumps through a closed window, screaming.
Dr. S.: Vell, zere you zee der bad case of zee paranoia.
Flog: (echos from street below) I'm NOT paranoid!
Dr. S: Zo, how doo you treat ziss problem?
Flog: I do NOT have a problem!
Dr. S: Mit der drugs, nachurally.
....Doctor Shtrudel stuffs mouth with pills, and smiles.
....fade to Black Beauty Black.

--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Flog Sonata Msg #266, 14:39 est 91-01-25
Subject: This is better?
...the Flog Channel logo disappears into static. It is
replaced by black lettering on a garish Hawaiian pattern.
The lettering spells:
The Dave Hunter Network
 
....Fade to Dave, looking into the camera. Mel is on one side
of him and the Rev. Visage to the other. They all have evil grins
and are staring with beady eyes into the camera.
Dave: uh, hi guys, wanna go have a beer or something?
...Mel and the Rev. both stick Dave with their elbows.
Dave: Oh yeah, right, we're all Nazis, aren't we?
Mel & RV: Yeah! Just like Flog said.
Dave: So, wanna go get some natchos or something?
....Mel and the Rev. kick Dave in the shins.
Dave: uhm, okay, lets go do some bad stuff.
...Visage produces a pair of scissors and starts opening and
closing them in a menacing fashion.
Dave: Hear that, Sysops - thats the sound of feeds being cut.
Mel & RV: <Evil laughter>
Dave: So, now this is MY channel. No more wide-ranging anything
goes fun. From now on, there'll be nothing but thought
provoking satires of Echopol42, libelous attacks on sysops,
flaming, and stimulating discussions about communications
protocols. This was Flog's idea...
Mel & RV: And you will LIKE it...
...All three goose-step off the screen.
...fade to velvet painting of wide eyed topless Tahitian girl next
to a palm tree.

--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: The Flog Channel, TeeVee Gone Berserk (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Eek! Msg #267, 15:03 est 91-01-26
Subject: Violent Spasms in a Tiny Straight-Jacket
Logo: The Dave Hunter Channel, spelt out written on a table top of B&B withthe
intestines of the former owner of this channel.
Voice: "And now it's time for Political Explanations on reality,
withprofessor Visage and proffessor Pheasant..."
Rv and Mel stand on a stage. Strange electrical wires lead from theirtemples
to somewhere off stage.
Rv and Mel, speaking in the strange tone that the american POW's seem to
usewhen they go on TV in that war torn place: "We love the NEC, we love
theNET, there are no users anywhere that dislike Dave Hunter, Flog
wasn'tkilled mysteriously late at night by nazis administrators."
They smile feebly.
Voice: "Well enough of that, now it's time for 'Dave's Explanation of
Policy12', featuring the wonderful singing dancing Nazis Administrator
Dancers!"
Cut to a stage filled with Admit Types, wearing nazis uniforms, and they dothe
can-can as they sing:
"Policy 12, it's cool it's neat!
Policy 12 is a wonderful treat!
It bans any creativity, but so what?
Don't ya just love policy 12????"
Screen explodes into static, as the signal is jammed by someone.
Flog is seen, his picture in static. He seems to be struggling in
astraight-jacket, and seems to be holding the camera to film himself.
Thecamera, at about groin level, must be being held by something "down
there"seeing as how Flog's arms are strapped up.
Flog: (grunting as he struggles to remove jacket) "It's evil, all of
it,they're after us, random policy numbers without meaning... All a
cleverplot... Run for the hills! Gather into NoRules and rebel!"
Flog gasps and falls over backwards where he lies in a puddle of his ownrabid
foam.
Screen breaks up into static again, and we once again see the Nazis
AdminDancers, doing their breakdance version of "Policy 37 is Gnarly".


---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Anyone Willing To Listen To Me Msg #268, 00:12 est 91-01-27
Subject: Nazi administrators and other things
"The Flog Channel" written somewhere. Pull back to reveal that it is
being carved slowly by Joe Hyundai onto a table at Irenes. He grins
sheepishly and people crowd around trying to work out just what the hell he's
written.

Flog: I think it says "PArasitic posterior potatoes rebel against fascist
dictatorship worldwide."

Some Dude: Naah. It's "Purple Passion Fruits Were Elsewhere When THis Was
Written"

JOe: For Christ's sake, it's "THE FLOG CHANNEL!"

Nazi-type gestapo/administrator/people-with-big-sticks leap out from behind a
nearby odd looking fellow with a pink hat.

NTGAPWBS: Hey! Did zumbuddy zay zumptink about ze FLOK KHANNEL?

FLog: What the fuck are you talking about?

NTGAPWBS: Uh, zumfunn at zis tay-ple zett zumptink zat ve FUERHER voult NOT
appreckickyflickycamptownracessingthissongdoodaadoodaa-ate!

Flog: Are you going to be okay? You sound like you've got a boll- weevil
caught in your throat.

NTGAPWBS: vell zere isst unt koot REEEEESUNNN ver dis, vhich ist being...
vhat ist zis being, Milo?

Milo (a Nazi-Type): huh?

NTGAPWBS: vhat ist being dass reezun vhat I am zountink like I am having unt
boll-veevil shtuck in my shroat?

Milo: What the hell are you sayin', man? I can't understand a damn thing.

NTGAPWBS: FER CHRIST-SAKE, WHY THE FUCK CAN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND ME!!!

Flog: Oh, that's much better.

NTGAPWBS: Oh. Hey! I can talk normally now!

Milo: Musta dislodged that damn boll-veevil.

NTGAPWBS: What?

Milo: I dunnno.

At this point, a second big Nazi-Type jumps out from behind
the pink-hatted guy.

NTGAPWBS2: Kherrmunt! Vhast ist dis? Yu ist not shprekken unt das
funny-type voice!

Herrman: Well, uh...

NTGAPWBS2 gets annoyed and bludgeons Herrman to death with
a gall bladder. Fade to pinkish green. THE END appears on screen.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Alucard Shadow Msg #269, 23:32 est 91-01-26
Subject: Smoked Meat
...fade to Flog Channel logo spelled out in twitching nerve
synapses...
Voiceover: And now, a special presentation of the Flog Channel,
an award winning foreign film, from Bulgaria.
 
...screen fades to: Radios Bulgar Prosciuiti:
Mits Leiderhoser uppen das Schnoogle
 
(subtitle) Radio Bulgaria Presents:
The Reluctant Deli Clerk
 
...scene in a old fashioned, Eastern European delicatessen. Still
live chickens hang by their feet from the ceiling and small squeal-
ing pigs are underfoot. A lithe female Deli Clerk hits a slab of
meat with a sledgehammer. A middle aged man enters.
Man: Sporken ba van fneeble pooken?
(subtitle: You have such nice eyebrows, may I lick them?)
Deli Clerk: Preetle fnup splotx ogorki. Zipple noop fa bortnik.
(subtitle: The last time you tried that you wanted to show me
your garlic dill. I have a two foot slab 'o' meat.
Man: Plotz undt goppel mitz staggen vurfer, mik potsnoz.
(subtitle: I thirst heavily for the touch of your nose on my
Westfalian Ham.)
Deli Clerk: (throws meat aside) Botz tafen zoumet probensmucker.
Znort! Znort!
(subtitle: You want unclog my drains with your roto-rooter?
Giggles.)
Man: (throws hands in air) Murt smegma blat gerstumphen zit.
(subtitle: You torture me with the smell of your mock chicken.)
Deli Clerk: (grabs small squealing pig) Blotnig yoiks porchky
shticknenfurfel.
(subtitle: Put pork on your fork, instead.)
Man: Fartzil moink diffel zut mubmub yink beezilmoot toobiznik.
(subtitle: I have very large downspouts and my weasel never
vomits on Tuesday.)
Deli Clerk: (beheads pig) Borch... (reaches out and puts finger
in the man's nostril.)
(subtitle: Darling...)
Blatz
(subtitle: The End)
Fade to Borsht....
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Anal Cyste Msg #270, 23:34 est 91-01-26
Subject: He'll kill me, won't he?
Voiceover: and now its time forrrrr.....
 
ASK CRASS
...Crass runs on stage, wearing a Bogart hat. Adoring females
fling rose petals and various underwear at him.
Crass: Welcome to ASK CRASS, ayup, the show where you can ask
anything about anything. Our first question comes from Mr. A
Cyste, who wants to know how they get that bluesy bottleneck
sound outa guitars. Lets go live to Mel's Basement, where Mr.
Cyste and Rev. Visage are live. Hi, Guys...
Cyste: Uh, hi. I've got Antichrist's guitar here, and...
RV: Allow me to demonstrate...
Cyste: Hey, like don't wreck the guitar, eh? Aunty will freak
if..
RV: No sweat, I'm a professional. The first thing you need in
a guitar to get that blues sound is a little weathering. I've
got my powersander right here, and...
Cyste: Oh nooooo!
<nasty powersanding sounds>
RV: There, that's better. Now, a little trick that Hendrix taught
me. (pours lighter fluid on guitar, lights match) FOOOMP!
Cyste: OH NOOOOOO! Aunty will FREAK...
RV: Don't worry, I'll just pour beer on it and put it out. Now,
the next thing is to fill the guitar with potato salad...
(gloopy sounds as guitar is filled)
Cyste: weeps.
RV: Now, we make MUSIC. I'll just use this garden weasel as a
pick... (weird sproinging sounds emanate from smouldering guitar)
...fade to Crass
Crass: Well, there you have it, now our next question, from Floyd
The Rat Faced Boy, who wants to know what happens if you
drink three bottle of rye in under 30 seconds. I'll try
that one, myself.
...Crass chugalugs one bottle after another until all three are
empty. Crass wavers on his feet, stares blankly into camera. For
several minutes. Suddenly, he turns green and sprints off stage.
Announcer: Next week on ASK CRASS we'll find out just what IS that
squirmy stuff in the Chinese Smorgasbord, and why so
many people choke to death there...
fade to technicolour...

--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Super Hero Dudes
To: The Adoring Public Of Snivelling Msg #271, 12:57 est 91-01-27
Subject: little shits.
Dramatic voice: In his secret lab, Loose Moose worked carefully with various
chemicals, trying to find the perfect acid that would cause the most amazing
hallucinations, but then, something went wrong...

See Moose working at chemicals in a white lab coat. He suddenly gets hit by
lightning, a meteorite, fire breaks out, radiation sprays out of a broken
microwave, and all sorts of weird shit sprays all over Moose.

Dramatic voice: Due to the weird shit, Moose was blessed with strange and
magical powers, and he became...

Huge eighty foot tall credits that are yelled by some guy with a throat
problem: ACID MAN!

Voice: This weeks episode, Acid Man versus The Puking Penguin!!!

Moose, in school: "A good thing I have this secret identity so that no one
knows that I am really Acid Man, super hero, and just all round cool guy.
Why, take that green thing with the tentacles over there, chewing on that
locker. If it knew I was Acid man, it'd probably run off into that glowing
doorway to hell..."

Moose staggers off to geography class.

Two people whispering to each other:
One: "Did you hear? The puking penguin is robbing drug stores down town and
raping innocent chickens!"
Two: "Good lord! Where's Acid Man when we need him?"

Moose leaps up from his desk, yelling: "This looks like a job for ACID MAN!"

Moose leaps out the closed window, and plumets down four floors. His legs
shatter into bits of busted up bone and gore. he crawls his way downtown to
stop The Puking Penguin.

Cut to drugstore, where the Puking Penguin, who actually looks very much like
Crass wearing a tuxedo, is threatening the helpless clerk.

Penguin-Crass: "Hee hee, that's right, give me all those condoms!
Hee hee, or you'll be doused in vomit!" (Crass takes a swig of rye)

Clerk: "No no, please.. here are all the condoms in the store!"

Penguin-Crass: "With these, I'll be able to satiate ALL the women who lust
after me! Thirty, forty, fifty of them, all brought to orgasm by my power
pelvis!"

Moose, his legs all shattered and busted, crawls through the door, a trail of
blood behind him: "Not so fast, Puking Penguin!"

Penguin-Crass: "Acid man! You'll never stop me, I'm invicible! Turn back or
I'll sleep with your girlfriend!"

Dramatic Voice: "Will Acid Man be able to stop the Puking Penguin?
Will Moose continue this story? Will Crass kick my head in for making
fun of his vomitting? Tune in next week where we'll hear my high pitched
screams as I'm bludgeoned to death!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Chaos? What Chaos?
To: You Lot. Msg #272, 10:11 est 91-01-28
Subject: Sudden Blast of Nonsense? Ok.
A big burst of static, asyet another station from hell jams the feeble Flog
Channel signal. Heck, the signal is shot out of my VCR into my dad's car
antena, so this is completely understandable anyway.

Soft voice of a transvestite: "And now it's time for 'It's the New You!', the
show where we take an extremely ugly woman, and make her beautiful by burying
her skin under about 3 tons of make up, dye her hair, and basically hide all
of her features. And here's your host, an immensely fat woman wearing
extremely baggy clothes in attempt to hide her blubber, but sadly we can
still see her sluggish head, Ms Butter-Fuck."

Ms. Butter-fuck: "Hello, and welcome to the show. Today I'm rather peekid,
because well, Andre, my absolutely favriote hair stylist is here, along with
Pierre, our make-up artist, and Gaston, our fashion expert. Hello you three
homosexual gits."

Gaston, Pierre, and Andre: 'Allo.

Ms. B-F: "And today's lucky wench who'll be made human, is Ms. Ugly- Shit, who
is so much need of our help that she was literally dragged to the station by
a mob of angry citizens. Let's see what she looks like now..."

Ms Ugly-Shit is pushed on to stage naked, cringing, and looking like she was
recently scrubbed down with steel wool, or at least, washed with a
high-pressure fire-hose.

Ms B-F: "God what a hag. Andre, is there any hope for her at all?"

Andre: "Vell Meese Butter fuck, I sink..."

Ms B-F: "Drop the fake accent you shit, we all know it's fake."
Andre, glumly, begins speaking in his texan drawl.
Andre: "Well, Ms Ugly-Shit could be made into a normal human being, but it'll
involve hourly facial scrubs, daily milk-baths, ummmm... a mud-pack twice a
day, and just about 2000 electrolysis appointments."

Ms B-F: "Well, andre and you two other fake-french-fashion-fags, go get to
work on her!"

The three fashion gits leap from their chairs, corner Ms. Ugly-Shit, and drag
her off stage.

Ms B-F: "Now we'll watch the fashion-queers do their work from the monitor on
that wall... As you can see, they've strapped her into place, and Pierre has
already begun lacerating her various facial warts. Andre has taken the power
sander to her eyebrows, to get rid of that extra nasty hairs. Also notice
the suction tubes attached to her cheeks that are liposuctioning all that fat
from her head. Jean, our breast specialist, is filling her pancake-tits with
silicone. Guy is shaving her pubic hair off and replacing it with a realiztic
wig. Harvey is clamping her legs into the auto-excerciser, which will force
her legs to run for 4 straight hours so that her legs will be shapely. Her
thighs are being reshaped through plastic surgery, as is her nose, ears, chin,
and well, heck, reshape her butt too Andre! And soon enough she'll be a
pretty slim young thing. We'll see the end-result of our tampering, right
after this commercial message."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Makers Of Caffeine Pills.
To: People Who Want To Stay Awake. Msg #273, 10:29 est 91-01-28
Subject: Here, eat these...
Student type, trying to read some notes at his desk, turns to the camera and
whines: "Geeze, I'd really really like to stay awake and study, but I can't
seem to keep my eyes open!"

Truck driver, zooming along the queensway. His eyelids droop, and his hands
go limp. He swerves and sends a BMW flying off the road into the green wall
barrier thangs, and a loud explosion occurs.
Driver: "Whoops! that's the 18th car I've driven off the road today through
my carelessly falling asleep, and I've got 800 more kilometeres to go! What
should I do?"

RCMP security guard dude, standing on a platform high above demonstrators
below, who are protesting the Gulf War. Guard dozes, and accidentally fires
a few rounds from his high powered machine gun into the crowd, killing a few
peace-niks.
"Gosh, I was up all last night, and now that quality time I spent
with my girlfriend is affecting my job! What can I do?"

Secure narrator being: "What CAN these three people do? They all need new
SPEEDOES! Yes, Speedoes, the new, legal no-prescription necessary wonder
drug that makes you ALERT, eager, and gosh DARN PEPPY!"

Student is writing so fast he breaks his pencil. He quickly grabs another and
breaks it too. He pops a few more SPEEDOES and grins at the camera.

Student: "ohlikefuckingwow!!!!"

Cut to truck driver, who is deliberately swerving to knock cars off the road
left and right. He laughs insanely as he sends a station wagon full of
children to their deaths.
Driver: (giggles) "OHMYFUCKINGGODWOW!!!"

Cut to RCMP guard, who is deliberately firing into the crowd, blowing away
peaceniks left and right.
RCMP DUDE: "Thanks SPEEDOES! BAHAHAHA!"

Secure voice: "Speedoes, available in many dark back alleys all across Ottawa."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Fashion Fascists
To: Daytime Tv Housewife Junkies Msg #274, 10:38 est 91-01-28
Subject: Making over Ms Ugly-Shit
Ms Butter-Fuck: "Hello, and welcome back to 'It's The New You!'. I think Ms.
Ugly-Shit is all ready to come out now, so let's see her..."

Ms. U-S is led out on stage, wearing a garter belt, a lace girdle thingy, and
nothing else. She looks like a playboy centerfold. Her smile looks forced,
and she seems to be in a lot of pain.

Ms B-F: "Now let's compare her to her original look..." (screen split, one
side before, one side after) "It's a fucking miracle! Wow! Now any guy'd
give his left nut to fuck Ms. Ugly-Shit!"

Andre, Pierre, and the other french-named-guy come back on stage and sit down.
Ms Ugly-Shit remains standing on stage, smiling painfully, looking very much
like an objet d'art.

Ms. B-F: "Andre, Pierre, what'syername, I want the three of you to fuck each
other here and now on stage... Oh, I'm sorry, lost my mind there. Well,
that's all the time we have for today. Next week, we'll have another lucky
victim to help make human. Until then, I'm Ms. Butter Fuck. Goodbye."

Screen fades to black, as crowds of crazed horny men rush the stage and begin
gang raping Ms. Ugly-Shit. Ms. Butter-Fuck and the three fashion-fags
discretely go off to her dressing room.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Jim Bob Jemima Msg #275, 09:37 est 91-01-28
Subject: AcidMan - the shocking conclusion.
Crass violently waved a few condom packs around. It looked really really
evil, especially if you're incredibly petrified of latex.

Crass: Back, AcidMan! Back!

The camera cuts to Moose's face like it would cut to Hercules' ring. Moose's
hand comes up and a mysterious piece of paper disappears onto his tongue.

(Hercules music.. lightning outside, etc., etc.,)

Crass: Damn you! (Hurls pack of ticklers at Moose. One of the ticklers
slashes Moose across the face.)

Moose: Whoa! I'm being flogged by forty bunyan-covered half-breed
toad-mongeese!

Crass: No, you fool! You're being defeated by The Puking Penguin!

Moose: (glances outside.) Oh, no! A little girl being attacked by a giant
60 ft. mechanical rutabega!

Crass: You shit, that's a Mac's across the street.

Moose: (runs outside across to the Mac's screaming "Suck electric death, you
freak of nature!". Halfway across, he is run over by a truck.)

Crass: You heard me. All the condoms.

Moose: Ack.

Fade to logo : All of Moose's fest attenders looking for Moose. "Where'd he
go?" "I think he left." "What?" Cut to FLOG CHANNEL written in Moose's blood.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Doom Station Viewers Msg #276, 21:06 est 91-01-28
Subject: Doom & Gloom TV
The words "The Flog Chanel" being spray-painted on some multi-colored backdrop
by an ardent RCMP officer. The camera moves back and we see that it is being
painted onto a crowd of Peace Protestors outside of parliament, being held
behind police lines. They look quite disgruntled.

Flog himself fades into the foreview, in a pleasant business suit (obviously
not the real flog, or at least not a sober flog). He then says,just as the
camera starts to pull back a little, showing a gloved hand protruding from a
black trenchcoat holding a large Flog-Killer Mk 4 pointed directly at his
head, "Due to recent developments here at the FLog Chanel, we are pleased to
present you with the new and improved, GLOOM AND DOOM TV HOUR!!!" (his voice
reaching a near eye-ball shattering level when he sees the Flog Killer Mk 4's
hammer slide back into a firing position.

Fade to static witht he words "DOOM AND GLOOM TV"
"Fantasy Island II"

Suddenly htis little dwarf goes running accross a desert landscape, falling
occasionaly, scraping his hands and knees, screaming at the top of his lungs
"Da Plane! Da Plane!" Cut to a view of a Cessna coming in for a next to
perfect landing, only running over a dozen or so sea-fowl, who could not move
out of hte way in time because of the copious amounts of oil in the water.

From the plane, four people, all dressed in black, emerge, in a nice contrast
to the monochrome grey sky backdrop, the colour of a TV tuned ot a dead
chanel. As they start walking towards the old house on the island, followed
by the determined dwarf, the beginning of "Hanging Tough" begins to play from
concealed loudspeakers all over the island. As the Doom And Gloom star caste
fall down screaming in agony, the dwarf pulls off his costume, exposing 27
midget nazi shamans from dimension X. Somehow, one of the actors manages to
pull the plug on hte soundsystem from hell, and then everything breaks into a
crazed frenzy of melee combat and verses from Skinny Puppy tunes and the
occasional german-accented lines out of Milli-Vanilli songs.

Cut to Flog, dressed in his slobbish blue "flog" shirt and Blue Jeans. He
looks qute pleased with himself.

Flog: "Due to recent changes in the Network situation, we have managed to
regain full control of the stati.... " <STATIC>

A scene of carnage as two or three industrial/punks manage to drag themselves,
bloodily from the mass of dead nazis on the beach... <STATIC>

Flog: "Well, ALMOST total control. We would like to take this chance to
mention that through cunning use of sets and conflicting attituds, we managed
to singlehandledly destroy both the Nazi-admin types and the Doom and Gloom
Gang."

"And now for a word from our sponsors"

Cut to a skinhead standing infront of a Third Reich flag.

Skin: "Remeber, a balck mind is a terrible thing to waste...
.... money on."

Cut to Flog and the Doom and Gloom Crowd tied to chairs somewhere in Berlin.

Cut to the "NAZI-TV" logo.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Music Fans Msg #277, 22:28 est 91-01-28
Subject: AMA
Flog Channel logo : THE FLOG CHANNEL written in oil on a Saudi Arabian beach.

Fade to typical glitzy Hollywood set. Shots of deliriously stupid groupies
and snotty rich-types. Yes, it's.. the American Music Awards!

Hundreds of tux-clad celebrity types applaud themselves vigourously.
Voiceover: Here's your host, Jello Biafra. (We wish.)

Jello: Hi. Welcome to the show. Before we begin, we have a special tribute
to make. To Gloria Estefan. You know, she had a great career, making lots
of money, sucking the public dry, creating some of the best goddamn plastic
computer music ever! Before, that is, she was hit by a bus. But now she's
back. So let's clap like fucking hell. I mean, who gives a shit about
everyone else out there who's ever rehabilitated. You know, Joe Boschdinger
in Boise Idaho, who was hit by a ton of bricks on his construction site and
spent two months in traction, who gives a shit? He ain't famous. So let's
clap for Gloria. Because she's obviously better. Secretary Arlene
Joosdripper of Phoenix, Arizona, who was hit by a Soviet Sattelite and had
every bone in her body broken, fuck off! Let's focus on the ultra-special
GLORIA, she's a SINGER, she's FAMOUS! She's BETTER THAN ALL OF YOU!

Audience claps politely.

Jello: Okay, now that that's over with, let's cut to the awards. The first
category. Best Pop Shit Computer Use-Of-The-Same-Three-Chords Over And Over
On The Entire Album Wimpy Beatbox Snivelly Love Song No Creativity Show Some
Tits In The Video Release. And the nominees are:

Cut to silly videos as Jello reads them off.

Jello: Vanilla Ice - "Semen, Semen, Baby.". Mariah Carey - "I Don't Just
Love You For Your Dick". And M.C. Hammer - "I Only Do This For The Money."
And the winner is... oh, who gives a shit. Next category: Best
Money Haul For A Real Shitty Album. And the nominees - Phil Collins,
"Why Did I Leave Genesis". And Vanilla Ice, "Hey Kiddie, Want Some Candy?".
The winner is... Vanilla Ice. Obviously.

Vanilla goes up to make an acceptance speech. Jello beats the crap out of
him.

Jello: The nominees for Most Thought-Provoking Creativity-Involved
Original-Thought Non-Xeroxed Real-Drums More-Than-Five-Chords Album. (Pause.)
Hah! On this show? Right, get a life.

Fade to black.
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: White Rabbit Msg #278, 14:01 est 91-01-29
Subject: WARNING!
Flashing red lights go off everywhere as yet another dweeb enters a message
that isn't in script format!

Flog leaps out of White Rabbits computer monitor and throttles him.

Rabbit: "Ack ack ack, what did I do?"

Flog: "You entered a message that wasn't in script format! I'm afraid we're
going to have to rip off your fuzzy white tail and shove it down your throat!"

Rabbit: "No, no, I'll change, honest I will!"
Flog: "Well, ok, we'll let you live, but wise up!"

Cut to rabbit tossing and turning in his bed. He suddenly wakes up.

RabbitL "Oh thank god, it was all a dream."

Rabbit feels this scratchy lump in his throat, and notices his powder puff
tail has been ripped off.

Rabbit screams and screams and screams.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: A Real Stupid "Gothic Soap Opera"
To: With Lots Of Really Annoying Msg #279, 14:08 est 91-01-29
Subject: characters and a vampire named Barnabus...
Shot of a cheap model mansion house thing. It's obviously fake, very fake,
and of course there is thunder, lightning, and all the typical shit you'd
expect in a vampire thingy.

Barnabus, a scrawny brit, who was recently turned into a vampire somehow, by
some other character, looks up all depressed and weepy eyedd and shit.

Barnabus's tiny side-kick, who pretty well fits the stereotype of a vampire's
sidekick, yells over and over: "Barnabus! Barnabus! What's wrong Barnabus?
Can I do something for you Barnabus? get you a coffee or something Barnabus?
some soup, Barnabus? Barnabus? huh Barnabus?"

Barnabus looks off into the distance and looks upset, which is pretty well all
he ever seems to do for the whole hour long program.

Static takes over here, mainly cause this show was so fucking boring and
painful to watch, due to bad actors, dialogue and plot, that I changed the
channel and don't know enough about the show to do a full fledged spoof, but
those of you who have seen this fucking pathetic vampire crap show know that
it doesn't need spoofing, it's that bad.
I give the show three weeks, tops, before it's cancelled.

Oops, I've slipped into narration.

Cut to a crowd of skinheads gathered on a hilltop.

A leader skinhead, standing on a rock adresses the others.
Main skinhead: "Thanks to Geraldo Rivera and the general hatred of racist
assholes, we are few in number, but that doesn't mean we're wrong! Just
because we are hunted down and beaten for our views, well, heck, we still are
right! Right?"

People start leaving.

Main Skinhead: "I mean hey, it's not like we're all here, believing in racist
things just to be rebels, right? I mean we really believe this really really
strongly, right?"

Everyone leaves. The last main skinhead, the only guy left, gets his head
kicked in by a crowd of black people with torches.

And that's that.

Cut to the nazis logo, spray painted out. It now reads "The Doom and Gloom
channel" and various punk-types stand about. They are all wearing leather
and spikes and studs.

Flog walks casually on to screen and turns to adress the Gloom and Doom crowd.

Flog: "I believe it was Jello Biafra that said, about metal heads, that they
have a dress code so strict that it went beyond the dreams of any gym teacher.
Care to comment on the difference between punk dress and metal head dress?"

Some punk, maybe always the same one who says this everytime, steps forward
and yells "FAGGOT!"
Flog nods sagely, as if expecting this. fade to black.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #280, 14:21 est 91-01-29
Subject: Punks
Flog steps out on to screen.

Flog: "not all punks are stupid idiots of course, some are in fact, rather
intelligent. But when you ask some punks why they like slam dancing, you
will often hear the following reply..."

Cut to random punk: "because I like to hurt people."

Flog sighs.

Flog: "Of course, there are stupid people everywhere... Let's ask a random git
why he joined the army..."

Random git: "Because I want to kill people."

Flog: "Now let's ask a random feminist why she joined the feminist group."

Random feminist: "Because I hate men."

Flog: "Now let's ask a random satanist why he joined the church of satan..."

Random satanist: "Because I hate catholics."

Flog: "Seems that every cause gets corrupted by boneheads who are there for
the wrong reasons, and it seems that eventually, boneheads out number the
people who were there for valid reasons. Go figure.
The worlds a shitty place. I'm Flog Sonata, and I have trouble
believing everything and anything."

Flog is beaten to death by a crowd of armed penguins for being too serious.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: The Continuing Saga Of
To: Acid Man Msg #281, 14:27 est 91-01-29
Subject: where people run about being insane.
Crass, the puking penguin, grabs his boxes of condoms and runs into the street
laughing.

Crass-penguin: "Ahaha... now I have all the condoms in the city! And no one
can have sex with their girlfriends except for me! I'll have a date every
night, and all the women everywhere will come to me for sexual relief!
Ahaha..."

Moose, lying in the street somewhere, rolls over and groans. His legs, still
smashed up, and his arm, having been crushed by a bus, making moving rather
difficult. He pops another piece of paper in his mouth, once again in slow
motion.

Moose suddenly stands up magicly, not feeling the pain.

Moose: "I am ACID MAN!"

Moose walks into the path of an oncoming bus and gets knocked on his ass AGAIN.

Meanwhile, at a female univeristy dormotory...

Wench#1: "All the condoms in the city are gone! What can we do?"
Wench#2: "We can't all become lesbians, that would be icky!"
Wench#3: "And finger fucks are so boring! What will we do?"

Crass-penguin walks in: "Ahaha... I have plenty of condoms, but you'll have to
sleep with me, if you want them?"

Wench#1: "What can we do? He has all the condoms! And yet, oddly, I'm
attracted to him as I have been to no man before..."
Wench#2: "I feel it too... his aura, somehow draws women to him like flies..."
Wench#3: "I think all women want to sleep with Crass... just most of them
manage to fight off the powerful sexual aura he sends out, and yet now... now
with all of us all so sexually weak, well, none of us can control themselves
and the truth is out... we all want to sleep with him!"

Crass-penguin: "I KNEW IT!"

Wench#1: "Get with it dweeb, we were kidding. Only a completely sexist idiot
would think that women couldn't go without sex for a whole afternoon. I mean
geeze, you just got all the condoms today! God, what a sexist prick you are!
I mean, I don't need sex at all, no woman really needs sex. In fact women
would NEVER have sex if it weren't for the fact that men whine about it all
the time. I mean, if it were up to me, I'd never fuck, EVER."
Wench#2: "Yeah, I mean it's so gross and icky and I never get anything out of
it except for sore genitals!"
Wench#3: "Yeah!"

Crass-penguin: "Curses!"

Meanwhile, in the middle of the street, Acid Man struggles to stand.
He pops a few more papers into his mouth.

Acid man: "Shit, why won't these turquoise walruses get off my thighs and let
me stand up?"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #282, 18:59 est 91-01-31
Subject: Doctor Whatthehellisthat?
Shot of people wandering along a hallway. A random lunatic
bursts in and points a gun at them. They act terrified, put their hands up
and step against the wall. The lunatic pulls the trigger and a sign pops out
(a la BANG sign) which reads THE FLOG CHANNEL.

Announcer: And now on the Flog Channel, some British thing which is only so
much better than american television comedies because americans comedies
aren't funny.

<announcer gets FLOG CHANNEL sign through his head>

Some cool special effects involving swirling light
and a flying phone booth with a nifty control panel inside. The Doctor
Whatthehellisthat logo appears over it. Then EPISODE 645748

Deep And Supposedly Sinister Voice Over: As you no doubt remember, on the
last Doctor Whatthehellisthat, the TURDIS landed on the planet
Squibba-Squibba-Whup-Whup-Whup....

(With a noise like something metallic being tortured with
a dead cat, the TURDIS appears on a barren landscape covered with people in
stupid costumes The Doctor steps out, followed by an assortment of
semi-expendible random characters)

The Doctor: Whoa! Cool! A planet of rappers!

Rapper (over the Squibba-Squibba-Whup-Whup-Whup noise of otherwise good vinyl
records being mutilated): Uhp-heep, Movin' to da Groovy beat, man, yo,
whatchoo talkin' on da walkin' beat rap, homeboy?

The Doctor: Listen to that, semi-expendible random characters! It's a
semi-intelligent being attempting to communicate it's primitive version of
thoughts! Maybe the TURDIS has something we can use to read it's mind!

SERCs: Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Huh?

The Doctor: Shut up. Now SERC#1, you go and get the synaptic thumbobometer!
SERC#2, you go and get the Mental-Read-O-Matic from the TURDIS!

SERC#3: What about me?

DOCTOR: Oh, you... You can be changed into a ravening monster later in the
show.

SERC#3: Okay, Doctor. Whatever you say Doctor. You're the boss Doctor. You
know best, Doctor. You're the leader and GODDAMN ruler of all GODDAMN
CREATION, DOCTOR! DO THIS! DO THAT! NEVER GET TO THINK FOR MY FUCKING SELF
DO I DOCTOR!!!!!!

Doctor: No. Because I'm a Thyme Lord, and if you don't do what I say, I'll
take my TURDIS and go home!

Rapper: Hey, homedudes, listen up good, I gotta say sompin' and Ah's in da
mood! I wanna..

Doctor: Shut up, the show's over. Sorry we didn't have time for you. Maybe
in the next of a hundred thousand episodes...
 
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Anal Cyste's Palace of Retention (613-231-4329) (163/207.3)
(1:163/207.3)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Doc Logger Msg #283, 18:55 est 91-02-01
Subject: Backwards to the Front
...the Flog Channel logo, spelled out in sealed envelopes,
all marked "SECRET" appears on the screen. The picture fades,
then erupts with static. The CBS logo appears on the screen,
and that annoying 'the-news-is-gonna-start-now' music begins.
Dan Rather appears on screen.
Dan: Welcome to the CBS evening news. Before we go to todays
report on the <trumpet fanfare> Gulf War Crisis, I'd like to
remind you that this news is coming from <drum roll - rim shot>
Free America, and all the news that you receive is completely
true, unbiased, confirmed, and is really real. Honest.
Now, to the <elephant trumpets> Gulf War Crisis. The air
offensive continues with superb results. Today another bacterial
warfare/milk factory installation, a rocket launcher/bus, and
an orphanage/nuclear bomb factory were all destroyed. Senior
pentagon staff report that the Iraqis are totally unable to
continue the war further. Now lets go live to Saudi Arabia for
this on-the-scene report from the <bagpipe skirl> Gulf War
Crisis.
Tape plays: Hi Dan, this is Dick Merkin, repording from Riyadh.
We are informed today that the Iraqis have no more SCUD missiles,
and that the Patriot interceptors launched in Tel Aviv and Riyahd
today were, in fact, test shots. It was also reported,
coincidentally, that both Tel Aviv and Riyahd suffered several
large gas-main explosions today. We were briefed by the local
commanders who bring us astounding news. The continued bombing
of the Iraqi troops has had massive results. It is now considered
that the entire Iraqi army is confused and disoriented. It was
noted that the Iraqis are now retreating backwards, and have moved
large backwards retreating columns into Saudi Arabia. American
Commanders were mystified that the Iraqis obviously hadn't been
informed how badly they were losing the war, as they engaged
U.S. Marine units, and continued their misguided retreat.
American commanders suspect the reason that the Iraqis did
not seem to be out of ammunition, starving, or shell shocked was
due to the fact that the Iraqi administration censors all news
that would have told them what horrible shape they're in.
This is Dick Merkin, in Saudi Arabia. Back to you, Dan.
Dan: Well, in other news...<wall behind Dan collapses, Iraqi
tank comes into view. Several swarthy soldiers run into the
studio. Dan cowers as tank approaches him. Dan, and his desk
disappear under the massive treads, as shooting and Arabic
shouts are heard.
...screen blanks suddenly
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Richard Visage
To: Xaviera Msg #284, 18:56 est 91-02-01
Subject: Film 101
...fade to Flog Channel logo spelled out in braunshweiger
sausage...
Voiceover: And now, a special presentation of the Flog Channel,
an award winning foreign film, from Bulgaria.
 
...screen fades to: Radios Bulgar Prosciuiti:
Doss Nauder Pumpershnickle Humpen der Fleenkies
 
(subtitle) Radio Bulgaria Presents:
The Return of the Reluctant Deli Clerk
...scene in a old fashioned, Eastern European delicatessen. Fat
old women haggle in the corners over lumps of fat, and small
rodents peer from vantage points on a ledge, cluttered with
rusty tin cans. A lithe female Deli Clerk jabs a live oxen
with an electric prod. As the animal twitches, the Deli
Clerk raises an axe over her head. She is interrupted by
the arrival of a man in the shop.

Man: Farsen norg stiggen voofel.
(subtitle: The hair in your armpits is bushy and most appealing)
Deli Clerk: Tubba zit plog buelen. Splogornip pipple noop za crud.
(subtitle: Flattering pig-dog. Does your hyena pine for my
canned ham?)
Fat Women: Znort! Znort! Znort!
(subtitle: giggle, giggle)
Man: Igget morp queep undt sternol putzer, gik blodget.
(subtitle: I wish to fondle your rump roast, and have you
taste my corn dog.
Deli Clerk: (beheads Ox) Blitqz taggel do shtickenpayfer? Tobben
shprinkle garble derby.
(subtitle: You think I am a whore? I piss on your head.)
 
Man: (excited) Da! Da! Undt spitzen bundtcaken pord smpzdel.
(subtitle: Yes! Yes! You could wear the milkmaid costume.)
Fat Women: Blorgy! Blorgy!
(subtitle: Shame! Shame!)
Deli Clerk: (rubs armpit seductively with cattle prod) Hmm.
Snorbly mag yoiks pufflesploosh.
(subtitle: Hmm. Perhaps. My bladder is most full.)

Blatz
(subtitle: The End)
Fade to cabbage rolls....
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: War T.Hogs Msg #285, 04:23 est 91-02-02
Subject: The beginning
A strange overhead view of a body of water shows what looks like segments of
an oil slick, the sections mysteriously spell out the Flog Channel logo.
Announcer: "We interrupt our regular programming to bring you some startling
news. More now from our Flog Channel News Network correspondents. Flog?"
Flog: "We here at FCNN have just learnt that war has broken out in the Gulf.
We bring you this special report live with our war correspondent, Crass.
Crass, can you hear me?"
Crass: "Yes! I am now at the scene of what looks to be an intense battle
between two men with clubs. Blood mars the greens along with fallen
scorecards and pencils. A bent two iron lies nearby. The last thing I heard
from one of the combatants was 'It was so a sand trap, you <beep> <beep>'. I
will bring you more news on the Golf war as it arises. Back to you Flog."
Flog: "Uhm, okay, well we will instead cut to a feed from CNN, where
correspondents there are a little closer to the action. We now go live to our
feed to the CNN reporters..." (chromakey zoom into the screen behind Flog).
CNN guy: "Well, incredible events have been taking place here <kabooms sound
in the distance>. The Bagdad sky is being lit up by Allied bombs and Iraqi
return fire. It is way better than that 'sid I took at your last party. Real
neato!"
Flog: "You maybe should think about finding cover, as the hits seem to be
falling quite close to your position..."
CNN guy: "You are absolutely correct! One missile hit just outside our hotel,
and knocked out all the glass and blinded some of us. Oh wait, I am receiving
a hand written note, it seems to say 'There is something falling straight
down on...'. Well, I don't know what to make of this. What an incredible turn
of events, apparently people around me are taking cover, and motioning to me
to, er, to <click>"
Flog: "Well, we seem to have been cut off from that position. And now to a
striking new development in Tel Aviv, with another CNN reporter."
Another CNN guy: "Well, what has been happening here is that the Tel Aviv
air-raid sirens have gone off. Israeli radio is now urging people to put on
their gas masks and <kablam>... WOW! Seems that a crud has just landed about
300 metres due East of a large gas station, and <kabloom>... Wow! A crud
missile has just landed on the gas station, about 220 metres due South from a
supermarket, and <KAPOW>... the Super market has just been hit, about 436
metres due South from here and <crackle>..."
Flog: "Well, we have just lost that feed for the time being. We will now...
Oh, just in, a press briefing from the Pentagram er, Pentagon, over to that
now. General Schwartzkpof is about to brief the press."
G.S.: "In a massive surprise raid, even though we gave five months warning,
Allied forces have attacked Iraqi forces along numerous fronts. Using the
guile of our sophisticated weaponry, we have totally annihilated Iraqi
defenses. Not only that, but the cruise sounds like my last name. Watch this
footage..."
<Military footage, poorly lit and grainy, shows a bright flash across a dark
screen with audio that sort of sounds like 'Schhhhhwaaaaartzzzzzz....
KPOFFFF!'>
G.S.: "Isn't it enough to make you cry?"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #84.
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Spoof the Spaceman Msg #286, 04:26 est 91-02-02
Subject: More of the same
 
Flog: "And now, news from the home front. We take you to Parliament hill, with
correspondent Moose. Moose, are you there?"
Moose: "Yes, I am here at Parliament hill, in the midst of what looks to be a
massive anti-war demonstration. There must be at least 200 people here. They
have banners and placards and are shouting in unison. <Moose holds mike out
to crowd>"
Crowd: "NO WAR FOR OIL! NO WAR FOR OIL!"
Moose: (runs up to interview a demonstrator) "So where are you from?"
Demonstrator: "My group is from out East."
Moose: "Wow! So how did you get here?"
Demonstrator: "Well, we drove ofcourse. How else?"
Moose: "Uhm, okay, back to you Flog!"
Flog: "Well, we seem to have some new developments. It seems that Iraq is
spilling millions of barrels of crude oil into the Gulf. This may be the
largest oil slick in the history of man. We go now to a Greenpeace-leftwing
demonstration in Saudi Arabia, with yet-another-CNN-correspondent."
YACC: "A massive oil spill is now heading down the Western Gulf. This has to
be the largest slick seen here in years. Well, the largest one seen all at
once anyway. I mean the beaches are all asphalt here from so many past spills
anyway, that... Oh wait! Here come some Canadian NDP activists now!"
(NDP people are in shock. Wandering around wearing black arm-bands, they are
all crying.)
NDP Acitivist: (wailing) "OH MY GOD! THEIR KILLING FISH! STOP THE WAR THIS
INSTANT!" He lights a match at a funeral pyre and throws himself into the
flames.
YACC: "And that's what has been happening here a lot lately."
Flog: "Wow! And now a further briefing from General Schwartzkpof at the
Pentagram er... Pentacost, er, damnit"
G.S.: (showing videotape) "And here we see our attacking planes dodging the
enemy, and pressing the SmartBomb button. See all the enemy disappear? And
watch now as he wins an extra man."
Nameless reporter: "Well, that looks a lot like the Space Invaders game my
kids play. Care to elaborate?"
G.S.: "Where do you think they get those ideas for those games from anyway?
those Russians with their silly 'Tetris' game? Ha!"
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Headless Trojan Horsemen Msg #287, 04:28 est 91-02-02
Subject: More...
 
Flog: "And now for our special coverage of the Canadian Department of Defense
War Briefing."
A couple of scrawny looking dudes sit at a desk and sip water like crazy.
Three out of the fifty seats in the room are occupied by reporters. Not one,
but two video cameras swoop around the room.
Scrawny dude: (translated from French, which is first ofcourse) "In what has
been the first major battle since Korea, both of our planes shot at a little
boat today, and then our navy shot at, well, not completely at, another
little boat in the Gulf. Also, the Government announced another $600 per
month for all ten soldiers in the Gulf area."
Reporter: "Wow! $600 bucks? What do you think the reaction was from our troops
out there?"
Scrawny dude: "I'm sorry, I am not at liberty to say."
Reporter: "And what about that boat that the navy shot at?"
Scrawny dude: "Well, it was a silly little fishing boat which had wondered
into our zone, so we fired some rounds and scared it away. Any other quest..."
Reporter: "Is it possible the boat was carrying Cruds? And doesn't this
drastically change our military role from defense to offense?"
Scrawny dude: "Well, I wouldn't worry about semantics here, but..."
another reporter: "What do you think the soldiers felt when they heard about
the $600 pay increase?"
Scrawny dude: "I believe I have already answered that question. Are there..."
Another reporter: "Do you think that our soldiers at Qatar will be bothered by
the reported bad weather? And do you think they are happy to see the anti-war
demonstrations?"
Scrawny dude: "I reserve comment. (Whispers to reporters: You are such silly
fucks)"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Yet another... Msg #288, 04:29 est 91-02-02
Subject: Lamb excuse
 
Flog: "And now a special news bulletin from the front. Remember, this has been
censored by the U.S. military. Here is the clip..."
Some reporter: "Well, it has been a day. With . , !
Green while , and just said @$@#$%^#&*$##. Then,
loud KABLAM!"
Flog: "Well thanks for the story. maybe next time you should venture out along
the only highway connecting the two countries. Did those tanker trucks look
like they were carrying supplies? We'll never know. And now to an Iraqi
correspondent, actually a CNN reporter paid by the Iraqi government."
CNN guy: "I am now here in Iraq, where... WOW! A criuse missile just flew by.
And... WOW! Another cruise just flew by, headed for the presidential palace.
Oh, Iraqi radio has just informed us that it has taken Rijyad, and that
30,000 allied troops have been taken POW. Apparently they had nothing better
to do than to defend a deserted town like Rijyad. I guess they don't know
that the U.S. only has 20,000 troops at the front in all. What a ruse!
They'll never know!"
Flog: "And now some more footage from the U.S. military. Here is a smart bomb
in action." (rolls footage of a bomb falling to ground level, and then
stopping. A view from the nose cone seems to indicate a game show set).
Stupid music is audible. In a bad accent, an MC announces "This is Iraq's
Jeoperdy, with host Mohammed Achmed-Yached-Ali-Ben-Achdud Alluch (camera man
wipes saliva off the front lens). The categories are: Psychological warfare,
Western indulgences, Effects, Muslem Musts, Propoganda, and Smart weaponry.
Smart bomb, you go first. Our first category, 'effects'."
Master of cerremonies: "A large crater."
Smart Bomb: "What is a result of one of my kin?"
MC: "That is exactly right. You win a trip to..."
(loud bang) Snow appears.
Flog: "More coverage of the war between Soap Operas. And have a pleasant
today."
Fade to khaki.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Sputnik The Flying Yak Msg #289, 01:19 est 91-02-03
Subject: Yak The Soviet Spy Satelite
Cut to THE FLOG CHANNEL spelled out in various unidentified substances on the
pavement beside a road kill. Flog hovers at the edge of the camera with a
spatula waiting for the cut to end. Cut to the studio as he rushes in.

Online Studio Guy: Yo. News update. The iraqis are still fighting every
other country in the world with popguns of various sizes. Israel announces
today that they intend to increase their bubble gum production.

Off Camera Dude: Actually, Bob...

OSG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!

OCD: It's now been released that that was a misprint.
OSG: Oh. I've just been informed that Israel did NOT announce that.
What did they announce?
OCD: Well...
OSG: DO YOU WANNA DO THIS? THIS IS MY FUCKING JOB YOU KNOW!
OCD: Sorry, Bob, but you asked...
OSG: Yes, I know, go ahead you moron!
OCD (coming on camera): Well, Israel ACTUALLY announced that they did NOT
intend to manufacture bubble gum after all. What they meant to say was that
they've just nuked Baghdad.
OSG: YO, Israel! It's about fucking time, you cretins! (Gets out of his
seat and approaches the camera) FER CHRISSAKE, YOU MORONS, THEY'VE BEEN
BOMBING YOUR GODDAMN CITY FOR A WEEK AND A SODDING HALF!
WHY THE HELL HAVEN'T YOU GOT YOUR GODDAMN ACT TOGETHER BEFORE THIS?
On Camera Dude Who Used To Be Off Camera But Isn't Anymore: Uh, Bob?
OSG: Yeah?
OCDWUTBOFBIA: Don't you think that it's about time you got off that speed,
Bob? I know it's good to keep you awake for news coverage, but...
OSG: Are you implying that I would participate in an illegal drug trade? I
don't take cocaine, you know. I don't take any illegal...
(Suddenly his pupils dialate to the size of loonies) Is that a green
wombat on your shoulder? (passes out on the floor)

Flog walks on stage. He hastily hides the road kill in his back pocket.

Flog: We at the Flog Channel would NOT like to apologize for that incident,
but if we don't, they'll take our funding away. So sorry.
So *****^%*#ing SUE US, OKAY?

Moose (sticking his head up from a loose floor panel): Hey, Flog, what WAS
that word the censors took out?

Flog: Fuckoff moose, this is the midddle of the news, okay?

Moose (dropping to his death fiftymeters below): Okay.

Flog: Ah, we got a new broadcaster. We now return you to the news.
Big deal.

Nazi Anchorman: ALLRIGHT! DER IRAQI TROOPZ UND SHTUFFLIKEDAT INVADED INTO
DAZ RHEINENRHEPUBLICK! DER OILSLICK UND MAZZIFF ZPILL UNT SCUD MISSILES UNT
STUFF! GOT DAT? GOOT! NOW REPORTEN TO DAS GASSING CHAMBER!!! Now! Move
it! Move it! Move it!

Fade to a kind of mauvish russetty colour with pinkish... ugh!
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Anal Cyste's Palace of Retention (613-231-4329) (163/207.3)
(1:163/207.3)
 
From: Hellhound 101 Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #290, 09:35 est 91-02-04
Subject: and now...
____ __ __
|__| \ \/ /
||FLOG\ /
\/ \/

And now for something completely different

Cut from the NewsRoom to a commercial.

A woman holds up her vibrator and a pack of Energizer batteries, grins, falls
backwards into her bed, and starts to undress.

<STATIC>

HellHound 101 appears on screen, laughs and begins

"We at Doom and Gloom TV have had our share of difficulties in attempting to
communicate our views and style to the public at large, and so now we are
glad to say, WE GIVE UP."

cut to thousands of people gathered in a courtyard (actually it would seem to
be a video clip of the masses at the vatican to see the pope, pirated off of
vatican city TV, they all seem sad and disappointed.)

"But don't think that it doesn't mean we will stop our broadcast interference
here on Cable Flog. In fact, the Gloom and Doom TV hour is as good as a
guaranteed part of your daily TV dosage now!"

cut back to the masses, now all excited and screaming, then cut to the classic
Monty Python clip of the three-old-ladies-in-an-audience clappin and smiling

"We now return You to your regularly scheduled commercial break."

<STATIC>

See the woman being carried into an ambulance as one of the paramedics pulls a
blanket over her face contorted in ecstasy, but obviously dead. He then
reaches below the blanket and pulls out her vibrater, dripping wet and still
buzzing away merrily. Her husband, just home from work, opens it and drops
two batteries into his hand.

Husband "just as I feared, she switched the Energizers I gave her for some
Duracells, the vibrator just wouldn't stop. I warned her..."

camera pulls away from the scene as the ambulance pulls away and the husband
stands there, holding the batteries and the now inactive dildo, as it begins
to rain.

DURACEL, THE COPPER TOP BATTERY.
THE ONE THAT LASTS.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
*** There is a reply. See #335.
 
From: Lizard
To: Reverend Visage Msg #291, 21:03 est 91-02-05
Subject: raid maybe?
* Original: FROM.....Prime_Minister Sinister_Pete (163/130)
* Original: TO.......Arabian Prince (163/130)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 163/130
Hey, don't kick them off yet, then there'll be no more ryme battles, and it
will get boring around here!!
Come on, Easy E and M.C King, kick some slang out...








Prime Minister
Sinister
Pete

 
 
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: CJGZ, film at eleven. (1:163/130.0)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Flogging Everybody Msg #292, 19:01 est 91-02-06
Subject: FLOG TV
TTTTTTTT VV VV
TT VV VV
TT FLOG VV VV
TT VVV
TT V THE
GLOOM
(Logo spelled out in razor &
blades on a bloody piece DOOM
of stainless steel) TV
HOUR

Cut to a windswept alley animated in stark Black and White, The view pans
upwards where two very pale individuals are sitting on a fire escape watching
the traffic on the street below. One has a mowhawk and the other has white
Robert-Smith style hair.

Mowhawk: "You know, it's quite a mess"
Robert-Hair: "What?"
Hawk: "The world, society."
Rob: "they just don't understand, do they?"
Hawk: "no, they think things will right themselves, I mean sure we are
getting "environmentally concious" and we are pressuring the
corporations and everything... but it's all so..."
Rob: "Corrupt."
Hawk: "I mean, the latest polls say that 80 PERCENT of all canadians are
bigots... the Klan is on the rise, The Neo Nazis are everywhere...
They still can't pass the Equal Rights Amendment in the U.S..."

(The guy with the Robert Smith haircut sips at a can of cola)

Hawk: "Sometimes you wonder... we have become such a minority... the
government is being brought in by people without a clue, based
on which party can best capitalize on current trends."

Rob: "What we need is some sort of shock, something to snap them aware...
something big, the local tragedies never touch us, we see it on tv
and say "shucks, that's too bad", and some political party becomes the
daily hero for saying "we told you so"."

(the wind blows down the alley again, scattering newspapers and trash, the
dirt fills the air until the rain begins, large acid-filled drops splattering
down on everything, settling the dust and grit into the artificial topsoil of
the city. The view pans back to the fire escape, as we see two
trenchcoat-covered bodies slip away)

--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Bat Cave: I am not a Penguin! (1:163/240)
 
From: Mr Geek
To: You And Your Chocolate Msg #293, 00:14 est 91-02-10
Subject: How to make friends at school dances.
Scene: A gym in a school, set up for a school dance. people are dancing,
shitty pop music is playing. A guy is dancing with a girl, when a big idiot
wearing a leather jacket comes up and says:

Jerk: "Hey GEEK!"

(Jerk is ignored)

Jerk: "HEY, GEEK!"

(the music stops, reality freezes. Everyone stops and stares. There is utter
silence.)

Geek: "Are you talking to me?"

Jerk: "Yeah, I called ya a geek!"

Geek takes a Mr Big chocolate bar out of his pants and whips it out, and
shoves it up the jerks asshole in one quick motion. Jerk now has an 8 inch
chocolate bar in his rectum.

Geek: (lisping) "That's MR. Geek to you, ya fairy!"

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: The Gulf War Shit
To: All Msg #294, 00:18 est 91-02-10
Subject: Today, history wasn't made.
News fuck: "We interupt this gilligan's island to bring you this special news
bulletin from the gulf. had this not been a rerun of gilligan's island, say
it had been the Cosby show or something, we wouldn't have interrupted... But
anyway, here's the news..."

Cut to bonhead at desk.

Bonehead: "Today, american bombers continued to drop bombs filled, not with
explosives, but with propoganda. Yes, tiny little cartoons meant to
undermine the wills of the Iraqi troop gits. We happen to have a few of them
here, and thought we'd share them with you..."

Cut to several cartoon thingies:

bonehead: "I'm particularly fond of this first one, which shows an arab woman
being boned by a camel and it reads 'your livestock is horny and your wife is
lonely'. A true classic. But nothing compares to this one, which features
the adventures of 'Bazooka Ali and his conspirators' where we see Bazooka Ali
praying to Allah to be spared, and then in the next panel, we see the
american troops and there's this..."

Voice: "We interrupt this news bulletin to bring you an update on the
Gilligan's Island rerun. They did NOT make it off the island, repeat, they
did NOT make it off the island. It turns out that the glue the professor
made didn't actually work, and that the ship they built using the glue was
only temporary. Once again, they did NOT make it off the island. Now back to
the import gulf crisis thingy."

Bonehead: "...and so Bazooka Ali says 'Not with my camel you won't, you blight
on humanity!' (chortle)..."

Guy: "This has been a gulf crisis whatchmacallit. And now, back to our
regularly scheduled program, already in progress."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Orville Redneckbopper
To: Popcorn Eaters Msg #295, 00:27 est 91-02-10
Subject: Our lightest, fluffiest popcorn.
Orville: "Hi, I'm Orville Redneckbopper, and I'd like to talk about AIDS."

(static blasts through, Orville fades into obscurity...)

Brief shot of a Nazis yelling: "No no! Aids ist old news! No more AIDS! Eet
has been cured, honest! No lie! Forget we even mentioned it!"

(Static blast, back to Orville)

Orville: "So always wear a condom, protect yourself, and eat my lighter,
fluffier microwave popcorn. More kernels pop in our microwave-bags than any
other popcorn available!"

Voice: "This has been an anti-aids message from Orville, the only guy left
who's willing to still fight for this completely forgotten disease. Everyone
else is too busy, off making anti-war videos or something."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
 
 
From: Gabrielle Ford
To: C'Mon Down And See Us! Msg #296, 00:31 est 91-02-10
Subject: Here at Gabrielle ford...
Gabrielle: "Hi there, this is Bob Shoodenocker down at Gabrielle Ford, and our
lot is full of cars just waiting to be driven off the lot! Are we upset?
Hell no, we aren't upset at all. This little slump in business is NOTHING!
the economy is just fine! We just haven't been selling very many cars
because jupiter is in allignment with saturn. That's it. It has NOTHING to
do with the GST, sagging economy, recession, the gulf war, mass suicide and
hysteria, rampaging out of control mobs of unemployed workers destroying and
smashing everything in sight! no, not at all. And if you act now, we'll
give you a free hand-grenade and m-16 machine gun, perfect for protecting
yourself while walking the dog, and very useful for any plans you might have
to overthrow the FASCIST BASTARDS WHO RUN THIS COUNTRY AND ARE GRINDING OUR
ECONOMY IN TO A FUCKING BOTTOMLESS PIT OF FIRE!"

Gabrielle, I mean Bob: (wipes sweat off brow) "So give us a call at 8395-5678,
that's KILL-BRIAN, or better yet, c'mon down and see us."

Gabrille is hit in the face with a molotov coctail, and bursts into flames.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Anything With Ears Msg #297, 01:26 est 91-02-10
Subject: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
THE FLOG CHANNEL written on a huge billboard by the side of the road.
A huge Python-style foot comes down, steps on it, and spurts blood.
A huge "OW" booms across the country flattening some nearby houses.

Cut to: Snow. As in the white stuff that falls out of the sky. A lunatic is
actually standing in a huge pile of this as even more is whipped past at
incredible speeds approaching Mach Nine.

Lunatic: Hello, I'm Robin Leech, here in England, and this is lifestyles of
unbelievably stupid! I'm standing in a snowdrift and I don't know why! Well,
on to our first spot on the show!

Cut to a desert with sand. Lots of sand. More sand is being blown past at
speeds approaching Mach Nine. Another lunatic is standing in a sand dune.

Lunatic: Hello, I'm not Robin Leech, but I'd like to be.

Robin (voice over): Whoops, wrong show.

Cut to exactly the same scene.

Lunatic: Hello, I'm a soldier. I'm standing out here in the 75 degree
celcius heat and the blistering winds and continual sandblasting company
battles keeping guard over this here bunker.

Robin: What's inside the bunker, Rob?

Rob: I don't know. I'm just following orders.

Robin: Boy is he stupid! Standing in a spot where no sane human would ever
want to be, in a drift of blowing sand in 75 degree heat!

Cut to Robin where no sane human would want to be, in a drift of blowing snow
in -75 degree cold.

Robin: And now, we go back to Iraq!

Cut to Saddam.

Cut to Robin.

Robin: Need I say more? (His nose falls off and his ears crumble to dust.
His hands are looking very cold.) And now, another stupid person!

Cut to the same place.

Robin: I *SAID* "and now another stupid person!" (His head turns dark black
and peels off in layers. His brain freezes solid and shatters in the cold)
I *SAID* AND NOW ANOTHER STUPID PERSON!

Cut to Bush.

Robin (dying): Need I say more? God, everyone but me is so damn stupid, eh?
(Collapses into several chunks of frostbitten flesh and crumbles to dust &
gets blown away by the wind)
Fade to mauvish greeny chartreuse hors-d'oeuvres on a table.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Those Who Remember High School Msg #298, 10:44 est 91-02-10
Subject: How To Make Friends At Dances. Pt. 2.
Dance dance dance, yeah, yeah, yeah. That kind of stuff.

"Hey, GEEK!"

(Ignored)

"HEY, GEEK!"

Pause... music dies, everyone turns around and looks at the big neanderthal.

Little dweeb: "Are you talking to me?"

Big fuckhead: "Yeah, I called you geek! (huh huh chortle)"

LD: (Slaps a Mr. Big in BF's hand.) "That's Mr. Geek to you!"

Everyone laughs, music starts up again.

BF: "Hey, Mr. Geek!"

LD: (Turns around again.) WHAT?

BF clocks LD upside the head. LD hits the ground and his head cracks open.
BF then picks him up and hurls him up on stage, where he hooks onto a
mysterious meat cleaver and hangs there for everyone to see. BF starts to
eat the chocolate bar.

BF: "Fuck you, Mr. Geek."
 
---
* Origin: Moose Factory ** Binky for P.M. (Opus 1:163/139)
 
From: Floyd Gecko Rec'd
To: Mel Pheasant Msg #299, 19:16 est 91-02-10
Subject: Nothin
Sudden cut to a commercial message from Our Sponsor.
Bob: Hi. I'm Bob Ferigno-The-Wombat-Beater. I'm here to tell you about a
new product from Ferigno-The-Wombat-Beater's Assorted Stuff Store.
Off Camera Crowd: What is it, Bob?
Bob: I'm glad you asked that, fake crowd. Here's Bill
Ferigno-The-Wombat-Eater, my cousin, to show us all what it is.
Bill: Hi. I'm Bill Fer...
Bob: Yeah, Bill, they know. Just tell them what it is.
Bill: Oh yeah. It's a pheasant bopper. NIfty, eh?
Bob: Yes, folks, that's right. If YOU are pestered by pheasants in your
home, pheasants trying to kill you, pheasants with rifles, pheasants in the
office, or even Pheasants pretending you don't exist maliciously and cruelly
at you, you simply use the pheasant bopper.
Off Camera Crowd: How does it work, Bob?
Bob: I'm glad you asked. Here, haul out the Pheasant!
Here: Okay, Bob. [hauls out a suspiciously large pheasant. closer
inspection would reveal that it's an unconscious man in a pheasant suit, but
doesn't, because the camera doesn't zoom in.]
Bill: Now you just take the pheasant bopper, and... [takes a big stick and
whacks the Pheasant with it.]
Bob: See how it can't move any more? Isn't that incredible?
Crowd: Yes it is, Bob!
Bob: You too can own one of these beauties. Only 49 cents at
Ferigno-The-Wombat-Beater's Assorted Stuff Store. Remember, that's the
pheasant bopper. WE now return you to Our Program.
cut to a sitcom.
Man walks into room and does nothing. Canned laughter for a few minutes
because he's wearing a green polka-dot tie. He grins stupidly for a while,
then steps. He falls down. Canned laughter for a few more minutes while he
chuckles at his own clumsiness. Suddenly, due to excessive laugh track, the
show is out of time. Because he didn't make any jokes, he is shot in the
back of the head by a dead Pheasant. He falls down. Canned laughter again.
Credits roll. Corny music plays for a while.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: All Msg #300, 10:03 est 91-02-11
Subject: G&D TV
TTTTT VV VV
T VV VV
T FLOG VVV
T V GLOOM
AND
(Flog TV logo shaved into GLOOM
the back of a SkinHead's TV
Head. The G&D logo laid out HOUR
in classic fashion of razor
blades on stainless steel)

============================================================
==============PRESENTING ANOTHER ALUCARD-MOTION SPECIAL!!! <canned applause>
=========================================================================

A view of an old castle, almost like the one from Dark Shadows, but much more
realistic looking, even though it's animated in black and white.

A young man looks out of a window over the oceans, slick with oil as far as
one can see through the tainted fog of industry. Through the fog can be seen
a faint reddish glow of a fire far off-shore... probably one of the old
oil-rigs, being burned for insurance money...

Not far from his home can be seen the metropolis, a lawless city built upon
the old oil rigs to appeal to a less lawful crowd, as it is on international
water, and belongs to an american businees conglomerate, national laws do not
apply there, but trouble makers can be dealt with with deadly (in)justice.

young man "So, this is what the future holds, a land even unsafe for the
vampiric... Oh, you say, look! there is no sun, isn't that nice? But no, even
the people's blood is too polluted for consumption, ripe with drugs,
pollutants, carcinogens, and disease that no health services can help any
longer."

a young lady steps out of the shadows behind him.

Lady "Long ago, things were different..."
Man "But these things I have never felt, I was brought to the world long
after the age of men destroyed all our resources, even themselves."

Lady "I understand your melancholy, my son... And I am sorry for having given
you hte curse of life in this time."

She reaches out and touches his neck, his eyes begin to unfocus, he seems
eager for her touch, for her teeth as she reaches forwards, a sexual need
expressed on both their faces. But she stops, reaches up with her other hand
and then snaps his neck fiercely.

Lady "now I will sit here, and watch the final decline of humanity, the fall
from greatness... I remember the sun and beauty, not more than five years
ago, before the super powers started on a new course of self-destruction, as
the defense budgets decreased and the industries ran unrigned in our
resources, back in 1992"

fade to black

CREDITS
Concept, storyline and total boredom: HELLHOUND 101
Animation: Alucard Shadow
Male voice: Vx NerveGas
Female voice: Cruella de Ville
Special Effects: Llamma Corporation, international
Trained Cows: The Ned Brother's farm
Makeup: Avon
Credit ideas: Credit Ideas, inc
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Flog Msg #301, 22:38 est 91-02-11
Subject: "Inteligencia Interrupta"
Game SHow Host:

Hello and welcome to Inconclusive Arguments!
In today's conference we have a psychologist, a guru, an athlete, a freak , a
scientist, a dictator, an anarchist, a mass murderer, a composer, a human
vegetable, a pope, and a complete outsider!!!!

(turns to the complete outsider)

(the Pope looks quite perturbed as the camera pans past him)

"let's start the discussion with you, Mr Complete Outsider!"
"Er, what gives?"

(the video feed is suddenly cut and flog runs on screen holding a
"TECHNICAL DIFFUCULTIES" sign)

(but the audio feed still keeps running)

"That look of complete revelation on the athlete's face!"
"The anarchist is sucking on the pope's nose!"
"The coplete outsider is the centre of attention!!"
"Just what is the human vegetable doing to the psychologist?!?!"
"THE FREAK IS EATING THE MASS MURDERER!"

(pause)

"Oh My God, terrifying vistas of reality and our position therein are being
exposed to us!!! This Is the WorSt thing thAt's HappENed to humanity SincE
sliced BreAd!!! In The Studio they've opTed for a New Dark Age But YoUr
CoMMeNtaTOr hAs GoNE StaRK RaVIng mAd!!!"

-=We now return you to your regularly scheduled boredom=-
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Flog Msg #302, 22:58 est 91-02-11
Subject: where is he
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Lady Stardust
To: Hellhound 101 Msg #303, 01:15 est 91-02-14
Subject: He's cleaning up Syl's bed

--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Flog Msg #304, 20:08 est 91-02-14
Subject: Hey! It's Your F-ing TV station, aint it?!?!?!
TTTTT VV VV
T VV VV
T FLOG VVV
T V

The Gloom and Doom TV Hour
'Cuz we is just so Doomy and Gloomy!!!!

(Cut through static to the Flog TV logo painted on a cave wall, covered in
cobwebs) <== symbolic, ain't it?

Kave Man walks on screen

K.M."Duh.... what on earth am I doing here? Hell, I ain't been on line in a
month..."

<static>

HellHound 101 appears in a black trenchcoat, in a black room. (gee, that makes
a pair of hands, a face and the cuffs of his blue jeans visible...)

H1> We would like to interrupt this boredom for some irregularly scheduled
doom and gloom. Do not try to look away, we control you now. No more loud
music, no more boom boxes, no more racial stereotypes, you are under our
control.

While Flog TV has been off the air except for the occasional game show
break, major breakthroughs have occured in production techniques. Namely, we
have eliminated the threat of Nazi admin types, and Flog has been so kind as
to hand over the hole place into our control.

<cut to flog sitting behind a desk signing a deal to sell Flog TV to D&G for
only 12c, but, because of a limited budget resulting in cheap mixing, the
FLOG KILLER Mk 4 s pointed at his cranial region are still visible)

We now go straight to where the action is- Yo, bimal, got the camera's
working yet?

<cut to a bobbing view of an I.G.A.>

Bim> (hushed voice) Yes, HH, we are now working our way towards the Kanata
I.G.A. where a deli clerk has just gone berzerk, killing at least twelve
elderly shoppers.

<camera turns around a corner and to a view of twenty or so police cars
with their lights flashing, the police outside the vehicles with weapons
drawn. It would seem that all the windows of the IGA have been destroyed and
there are a score of bloody bodies on the ground, victims of gunshot wounds.>

Bim> A few minutes ago we heard the sounds of gunfire, and this is the result,
at least twenty four poeple lie here dead and dying, and the cops aren't doing
anything about it, they have to catch the one responsible. Ah, we have a
witness here, just a sec.

<cut to a ninety year old gent with a bloodstained striped shirt on>

Bim> So, can you describe what happened in there?

Old Fart> Well, you see it was that deli clerk, she always was a weird one...
anyways someone with a big nose and an attitude to bounce bricks off of went
up to her and asked for a pound of chicken, refering to her as "Batty". Well,
ya see, she just didn't take that sitting down, no sirree bob! She just
started a foaming at the mouth and she vaulted over that counter like she was
in thar olympics er somethin'. Next thing ya know, she's gone and ripped his
damn fool head off, and all hell broke loose. Them coppers started a
shootin', the employees started running all over the place, and the damn fool
kid with the big nose just would'na die, he jest kept a runnin' 'round like a
chicken with 'is fool head choopped off...

<continued next time>
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Bat Cave: I am not a Penguin! (1:163/240)
*** There is a reply. See #305.
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Hellhound 101 Msg #305, 20:31 est 91-02-14
Subject: Re: Hey! It's Your F-ing TV station, aint it?!?!?!
TTTTT VV VV
T VV VV
T FLOG VVV
T V
<continued>

Bim> Sorry about that, system Identification I guess... anyways!
Now we bring you live and direct to the chief of police for the Kanata
Shock/Riot Squad!

COP> Yeah, well, we wuz in the area, watching that there vamp.lady ya know,
and well, just as we, like, suspected, she blew her lid and really f*cked
things up for herself... ooops, I'm not s'posed to say that kinda sh*t on TV,
eh? Well, when we like heard the problem, the shreiking, and saw the blood
spurtin' everywhere, we decided it was time to intervene, so we like started
shootin' away, to, like, kinda get her attention, ya know, to let her like
know that we are kinda in control... you know, something like this:

COP> HEY B*TCH! COME ON OUT OR WE'LL HAVE TO FIRE!

<two second pause>

COP> OK, that does it, give 'er another warning!

<suddenly the fourty cops there open fire on the store, conserves explode,
hams fall, the few surviving clients die, the old man from interview one
takes a slug in the chest, the bubble gum machine is pounded to tofu...>

<five or six minutes later...>

Bim> So, how long do you think this hold-out is going to last?

COP> well, we have all the ammo in hte whole of Kanata to help so we could be
here forever, and we even have volunteers to help round up all of her friends
so we can use em as examples for her, and the, uh, kind citizens here are
willing to like take turns watching the place while we wait for the napalm
strike to get here...

Bim> Well folx, things look bad for our IGA Vampire Deli Clerk from Hell, and
if the pigs and kanata residents have their way, G&D TV will be without one
of it's prime movers and shakers...

This is Bimal Signing off from the Kanata IGA, now under seige by the
Kanata Shock And Riot Squad.


THIS WAS A SPECIAL PRESENTATION OF
TTTTT VV VV
T VV VV
T FLOG VVV
T V
BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE GLOOM AND DOOM
TEAM HEADED BY
====================
HELLHOUND ONE OH ONE
====================
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Bat Cave: I am not a Penguin! (1:163/240)
*** This is a reply to #304.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #306, 19:29 est 91-02-15
Subject: A Flogumentry
Nature Quest, with your host, Flog Sonata.

Flog: (standing outside a huge office building) "Hello, and welcome to this 2
hour special edition of nature quest. Today, we are going to take a closer
look at bees. behind me, (points at huge office building) we see the hive.
As you can see, bees are constantly pouring in and out of the hive, off to
fetch pollen in order to make honey.
(flog points at workers entering and leaving the building). Today,
we will attempt to understand how this hive society works better."

Camera focuses on flog leaning against a wall as "bees" walk past him on all
sides.

Voice of flog: "First, we tried to tag the bees with numbers, in order to
follow them and see where they went."

Show Flog sneaking up on people and trying to tape pieces of paper with big
numbers on them to peoples back. Third person notices, turns and wallops
flog in the head with his leather imported italian briefcase.

Voice of Flog: "Although we did have a few problems with that."

VoF: "Then we tried to tempt one of the bees with a pollen source..."

Show flog waving a large bouquet of flowers under a person's nose, flog is
once again smacked in the head with a briefcase.

VoF: "Then we tried the direct approach."

Show flog rubbing pollen on to a civil servant's leg. Civil servant yells for
help, breaks loose, and runs off.

VoF: "But in this pollen attempt, we also failed. The worker usually headed
off to a different hive. (show pollenated civil servant running into police
station.)

Flog, slightly battered, once again standing outside of hive: "After these
many different approaches, we decided it would be best to take the radical
and extreme approach. We would take a camera crew directly into the hive, and
explore, studying the patterns of the workers, drones, and seek out the queen
bee herself. Here we go now, entering the hive..."

Flog and camera following him enter the large office building. A security
guard at his desk jumps up.

Guard: "Where do you think your going with that camera?"

Flog, to camera, in a hushed voice: "Aha, we have encountered a guard bee!
Apparently threatened by our presence. I will attempt communication. (turns
to guard, talks in a slow loud voice) TAKE...US...TO THE...QUEEN (flaps arms
like wings) BEE!"

Guard: "What, are you some sort of fucking psycho?"

Guard boots Flog and camera crew out of building.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #307, 19:44 est 91-02-15
Subject: The Flogumentry
VoF: "Having failed in our direct entering of the hive, we decided bugger the
scientific approach, we'd simply follow a typical bee once he leaves the
hive, and see where the fuck he goes."

Camera follows a civil servant, holding a briefcase.

VoF: "Here we see the bee buzzing along, minding his own business,
and there he goes, into a smaller hive. Hmm... Careful inspection
of the hive reveals there is no guard bee, and that there are several bees
drinking various liquids. Bingo, we have found the pollen supply!"

Camera is inside a bar, where a lot of workers are getting completely pissed
out of there minds.

VoF: "We watched as the bee quaffed quite a bit of pollen, and then, he
slipped out of the building, and we followed, expecting him to return to his
hive. But NO! This worker bee, being of rebellious nature, probably a drone,
snuck off back to a tinier hive..."

Show civil servant entering his own house.

VoF: "As we carefully watched, the worker in fact went into his house and did
deposit his pollen in a receptacle of his own..."

Sneaky camera shot through the bathroom window shows guy taking a piss.

VoF: "What would the hive do, upon discovering that one of there workers had
simply collected pollen for himself? We waited and watched the house, and
got the following footage..."

Camera shot of house from across the street. Suddenly, cop cars surround the
place. Police speak out of loud speakers: "Alright bee 37, we know yer in
there, come on out and give yourself up!"

Bee 37, the followed worker, peers from behind drapes.

Bee37: "Screw you pigs! You'll never fucking get me alive!"

Cop: "Don't be stupid, bee, just give us the pollen and nobody has to get
hurt!"

Bee 37 comes out firing, but is quickly stung to death by cops, who all seem
to be wearing bee outfits (ie, black and gold stripes with cellophane wings).
Bee 37 is dragged away. A policeman rushes into the house, and come out
carrying the toilet.

Cop with toilet: "We got the pollen!"

Cheers from all the cops. Everyone drives off, pollen is taken back to the
hive.

Flog, at building: "There you have it. The secret life of a bee.
Simply amazing, the complexities of it all. I'm Flog Sonata."

Roll credits.
Fade to black, with buzzing bee sound.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Alucard Shadow
To: Seminal Movements In Rock Msg #308, 16:27 est 91-02-15
Subject: This Week: Billy Idol's 1st Driving Lesson
(Scene: BROMLEY Test Centre, 1978. Young Billy has broken off from
an early Generation X rehearsal to take his very first BSM driving lesson,
part of his birthday present from Mum and Dad. His be-suited instructor,
Mr.Clipboard, emerges from the building and addreses the sneering youth in
the torn T-shirt.)

Clipboard: Well now, Mr.Idol, would you like to get into the vehicle please,
and we will commence our first lesson.

Idol: What vehicle? Where?

CB: (Gestures to BSM Metro parked right next to them) This one, Mr. Idol.

Idol: What's that then?

CB: What do you mean "What's that then?" ?

Idol: Well, it's got four wheels.

CB: Of course it has. It's a car.

Idol: Oh, a sidecar. Well, where's the bike then?

CB: There is no bike. This is a car-driving lesson. You are learning to
manoeuvre and control a car.

Idol: Oh I get it! It's two bikes joined together! Well shall we take the
cover off it, then?

CB: That's not a cover. It's a roof.

Idol: What's that for?

CB: Protection,of course.What do you think?

Idol: From what? The rain??!! Are you calling me a faggot?

CB: Do you want to learn to drive or what? I have a very busy day.

Idol: Not on that puff-mobile! How am I supposed to cruise down Gasoline
Boulevard with no helmet on top of that?

CB: You sit inside it, ridiculous man!

Idol: Where does the petrol go then?
(Mr. Clipboard punches Idol in the face and goes inside. Paul McCartney
buys up the Test Centre)

------------------------------------------------------------------
This has been an underpaid program from the staff of New Musical Express. All
complaints should be sent to Stuart Maconie, editor of {The World Of Twits}
Thrills.
------------------------------------------------------------------
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Alucard Shadow
To: Purdey Vacant Msg #309, 16:46 est 91-02-15
Subject: Thrillshits!
The Flog Channel logo is shot in the backs of a bunch of English Yuppies
drinking something rather bubbly.

(Fade in: Music starts up. Sounds alot like "Mars" by Gustav Holst
except for the fact that it's played on toilet bowls.)

John Barnes:PURDEY! IT COMES IN A TRES... what
( Off camera a man on green stilts shoots John Barnes and, wheezing,
takes over.The stilts beat to the music

Stilts: Heelllllooooo!!!(wheeze) ahem... Purdey! It comes in a tres elegant
bottle! Prickly Ash Bark Extract! And John Barnes doesn't addvertise it! Yes!
It's PURDEY'S, the sparkling, herbal `vitality' drink (wheeze) - and it's all
yours!

Slowly, he walks towards a bunch of English yobos drinking the fiendish brew.

Stilts: If you feeling a bit `unwell' after all the exams and recording
contracts, then what better way to pick yourself up off the punch- stained
lino of life than to gargle 600 hundred bottles of this oh- so-90's bev.

Yobos getting really rowdy in the background. They start to chuck the bottles
at the yuppies in the corner.

Stilts: Er...(wheeze)...ahem...According to Purdey's press blurb


To be continued
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: To? To? I'Ll Show You To! Msg #310, 16:54 est 91-02-16
Subject: Please excuse my repeated vomiting.
Typical car ad. Slimy music, beautifully clean car, impressive-looking
owner. You know. The one with the car parked in the driveway and some twit
washing it in slo-mo.

Voice: Why... did the Honda Civic owner... wash her car... twice in one day?

Pause.

Voice: Because.. it just polished off.. two more awards...

Car owner: Also, I hit this dog, right, and it kind splattered all over the
place. I mean, I don't want to drive around all the time with a dog face
plastered to my windshield. Also, the steering wheel broke off and I crashed
through the wall of a mud wrestling bar. I got mud all over. And at this
point, the dog was still oozing off the front.

Pause.

Voice: Um, yes. And that.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Insurance Buyers Msg #311, 21:22 est 91-02-16
Subject: Allstate is Satan's Life Insurance Broker.
Flog Channel Logo : Flog, rampaging through an antfarm with a Vaclite.
Cut to insurance salesman sitting at a desk. He looks like a total asshole.
But then, he's a salesman. Goes without saying.

Voice: Your Allstate broker understands.

Person in office: (bandaged up pretty good) Well, last night I was raped and
sodomized by pygmies, which forced me to eat my own feces, and that's why I
raped my dog.

Voice: At Allstate, we're here to help you.

Cut to salesman listening on phone.

Phone voice: Hello, last night I discovered a hub cap in my rectum, and was
forced to stick a .45 Magnum up my ass to blow it out. And, well, my gay
lover Joe couldn't really boink my arse anymore, so he put his dick up my
nose, and it got stuck.

Cut to salesman nodding.

Person sits before salesman. His head is all bandaged.

Person: Well, um, yesterday, an elephant beat me with his testicles, and I
fell into a toilet.

Jingle: Allstate.... IIII understaaaannnnnd.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Alucard Shadow
To: The Continuation Of Purdey Msg #312, 12:17 est 91-02-17
Subject: PURDEY!!!
Static Static Static Static
(Off the set we can hear Timmy Mallet's voice babbling on and on and onabout
his 243 pair of glasses. He walks on and rambles on aabout some shitthen
disappears.)
Mr. Stilts: Er...(wheeze)..sorry for the inconvenience of that there
littlepause.....(wheeeeeeezzzehackcoughcough!)...Yes! Purdey's! It's
"especiallypopular within the music industry",...but don't let that put you
off. If youwant to become part of what they are already calling `Elixir-y
Culture' justbe one of the first 600 tonic youths too....
(The 600 tonic youths are smashing the bottles of Purdey over top of thebloody
yuppies. Literally. The yuppies plead nonsense to the god of Polo andlittle
green aligators and jump into a sea of swarming bees)
Mr.Stilts: NO! GET THE YUPPIES AWAY! THE BEES ARE COMING!!!!! SHIT!
Timmy Mallet: Hello! I'm Timmy Mallet. Like my shorts!
Roll Credits

---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Lizard Msg #313, 21:40 est 91-02-17
Subject: Welcome to...

(drum roll, fade to set. Moose is seated at a desk. He is clad in a suit
and tie. Those who pay attention to detail may note that both are being worn
like a headband, and he is naked from the eyes down.) ... TV TALK WITH MOOSE!

Moose: Yo, howdy. What's up. Okay, our first TV talk. Those butter ads
with the buttered knife dancing with something. YOW, is that sexy or what?
Holy cow. And that music? I mean whoa. Boner city. Especially the one with
the carrot. Take a look. THE CARROT IS TOPLESS! I shot off on the screen
the first time I saw that one. Jesus. Okay. Topic #2. (Flips sheet over
like a newscaster.) Um, what we got here, uh, yeah. Dove soap. You know
the one. Show the clip, Ed.

Clip: That aggravating Dove commercial. You know. "Still, part of me
hopes for little miracles."

Cut to Moose.

Moose: Oh, fuck off, like you're gonna get miracles from a bar of soap.
Might as well pray to Satan through your dishwasher. Hint #1 - household
cleaning products are, in general, not considered to be religious artefacts.
If you want miracles, you'd better start buying "BLEST" brand soap. Made and
manufactured by Moose corp. Hand crafted by Jesus himself. Wrapped by
Mohamed. Guaranteed to clean everything. Only $20 a bar. Swear to God.
(Pause.) Jesus.

Clip: THE VERY BEST OF THE ED SULLIVAN SHOW. People talking about Ed.

Moose: Oh, bite my buttocks. Why couldn't you just settle for showing some
of the stuff from the damn show? Oh, no, instead you gotta make Ed look like
a demi-god. Dammit, he was a TV host, not a messiah. And he looks like a
psychopath. I mean just fuck off. It's like he was the creator of the
universe or something. You know? "Look at Ed, he's better than you, so feel
inferiour because, well, you are." Fuck off.

Pause.

Moose: Thank you. That's all for this week.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Phred Msg #314, 19:25 est 91-02-19
Subject: Getting yourself completely clean.
TV jingle thing : "You're not fully clean unless you're ZESTfully clean!"
La la la. etc.. Sudden static interruption. Cut to Moose. Likers of detail
may notice large map of Europe behind him, colored black, marked ALL MINE.

Moose: You're not fully clean even with ZEST. Why? Because ZEST only
cleans the surface of your body. Under your skin, you're still pretty damn
dirty. Your muscles are sweaty and your bones reek of limburger cheese.

Cut to ditzy woman.

Woman: But how CAN I get clean?

Moose: With MoozBar, a brand new kind of cleaner! MoozBar cleans you all
the way through! Why?

Cut to man in shower, screaming in agony, clawing at his body in a feeble
attempt to rip himself apart.

Moose: Because MoozBar is 100% concentrated H+ ions, which instantly
vaporize anything they touch.

Cut to woman:

Woman: Even built in kitchen grease?

Moose: You bet!

Woman: What about the mud in my son's fingernails after HOURS of oozeball?

Moose: Out in a snap. So remember.. you're never clean...

Woman: Unless you're dead and steaming!
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: The Makers Of Whiskus
To: Cat Owners Who Actually Think Their Msg #315, 04:17 est 91-02-21
Subject: cat has tastebuds and wouldn't eat it's own shit if it looked meaty.
Really pretencious cat-owner from hell: "My little pussy fluff-muffin wouldn't
eat anything but Whiskus!"

Woman is shoving large amounts of catfood up her twat. She is quickly dragged
out of camera range and replaced by a woman holding a cat.

Woman holding cat: "My pussy wouldn't eat anything but whiskus either!"

She throws the cat aside and begins ramming catfood up her twat. Director of
commercial walks on set, unaware that camera is still rolling.

Director: "No no no, you stupid fucking cunts, PUSSY also means CAT. God, what
are you, fucking stupid or something? Now from the top!"

Everyone gets in position. Woman comes back in to screen, holding her cat.

Woman: "My cat wouldn't eat anything but whiskus!"

Woman begins shoving whiskus catfood up the CAT's twat. Director opens fire,
woman mowed down into a red piece of meat.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 (1:30522/1.0)
 
From: Sometimes I Don'T Feel Fresh...
To: All Msg #316, 04:23 est 91-02-21
Subject: Garsh.
Daughter type being: "Mom, it's kind of embarassing..."
Mom: "Hey, remember I used to change your dipers..."
Daughter: "Well, mom, sometimes I don't feel fresh..."

Mom: "Oh, you mean down there in your twat? Looks like it's time for a
douche..."

Daughter: "No mom, not down there, in my mouth, right after I've blown 6 or 7
bikers out at "Pete's Strip Joint" in Hull. The taste just won't go away!"

Mom: "Sigh. looks like it's time for liquid plumber!"

Man walks on to set: "Yes, liquid plumber! Clears clogged sinks, clogged
toilets, and gets the horrible taste of male jism out of your throat. Er,
not that I would know anything about the taste of male jism, because I am NOT
a homosexual, honest, and anyone who calls me one will just get a big bad
slap from little ole me, the silly billy... ahem."

Voice: "Yes, liquid plumber. Also works as a fine laxitive."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Cartoon Time!
To: Little Nazis Children Msg #317, 04:28 est 91-02-21
Subject: And now it's time for...
Bubbly bouncy music, and a happy smiling clown-nazis walks out and yells
happily: "Achtung kiddies, and vat time ist ick?"

Kiddies: "it ist time for Aryan the Nazis Kat!"

clown nazis: "Ya! it ist time for de vacky hijinks of Arian, und dis veek,
Arian rids da verlde of de lower races! Ya kiddies?"

Crowd of blond blue eyed children cheer happily.

Break in:

serious voice: "We now interupt Arian the Nazis Cat to bring you this
important news bulletin..."

Man at desk: "Good evening. The latest statistics in the gulf war have just
been made available to us. According to military records, the total
casualties are:

Americans: 39
Iraqi pigs: 953

Man at desk: "Yes, once again the americans suffer a horrible defeat. Just
look at that score! C'mon you yanks, you can get up there and win this
one..."

note handed to man.

Man at desk: "Oh, I'm sorry, apparently those are death totals and not points
of who's winning. Ah, I've just been handed another piece of paper which
breaks down how these mortalities came about. For the americans total of
39...
3 masterbating their rifles as a joke, and accidentally kill
themselves.
5 trying to go awol on foot, into the middle of the desert.
15 on an overdose of government supplied heroin.
6 filling their gasmasks with nitrous oxide and dying from lack of
oxygen while trying to get a buzz.
10 imitating saddam hussein and actually being mistaken by their
own cohorts and getting blown away.

Man at desk: "Oh, and all the iraqi pigs died because of american bombing.
That's all the news here, now back to Arian the Nazis cat."

Cut to Arian.

Arian the Nazis Cat is explaining something to a grouo of children.

Arian: "Und so children, zee only vey to be good little boyz und girls eese to
villingly throw yourselves into de prison camps und dying miserably."

Crowd of jewish children: "Ya ya, heir Arian, dis ist true."

Happy bubbly music as Arian the Nazis Cat comes to a close. Cut back to happy
nazis clown.

Nazis Clown: "Vasn't dat a good cartoon boyz und girls?"
Kids: "Ya ya, heir Nazis clown, but ve couldn't help but notice dat your nose
seems rather long for a nazis type arian person!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: And Now..
To: It'S! Msg #318, 04:41 est 91-02-21
Subject: Flog Sonata's Dancing Mucus!
Monty Python music thing: "Flog Sonata's Dancing Mucuss!"

Cut to a crowd of boa constricters waiting for a bus. One boa constrictor
turns to the other and says: "but I completely disagree, I think that they
should all be shot, jumped up and down on, fed raspberries and cream, and
then slowly snad-papered to death."
Snake who overheard: "i beg your pardon but whoever are you referring to?"
Boa: "Why the militant nazis sysops from hell of course..."

Quick cut to savage cartoon:
Excited voice: "YES, the militant Nazis Sysops From Hell. Once, they were
meek computer owners, nothing better to do than play the latest freeware
version of Pac-Man, when suddenly they were blessed with modems! The fumes
from these modems quickly affected their brain tissue, and they became..."

(Dramatic music)
"THE MILITANT NAZIS SYSOPS FROM HELL!"

Hushed voice: "When last we left the militant nazis sysops from hell, Have
Dunter was plotting the destruction of civilization as we know it, while Pel
Measant was innocently fondling his hard-drive. Also, Vichard Risage was
busy making moves on a deli clerk, named Sunlit Dracula. Hoe Juyuinai was
busy hiding behind a plant at a busy party, while Canal Yste was playing ping
pong using the testicles of a japanese panda bear with his friend, The
Christy-Ant. Meanwhile, on neptune, Moose Loose, (doesn't work very well,
that one) was busy digging for fossilized copies of Penthouse. We now join
Lanteem Phogger, who is busy analyzing the contents of a coffee cup which
Kain-Piller had left behind."

Voice: "Unfortunately that's all the time we have today for The Militant Nazis
Sysops From Hell. Tune in next week when we'll hear Nass Cravana explain how
Map spelt backwards is Cathy."

Cut to overflowing bathtub, in which a large chicken sits, idly watching foot
ball on television. he slowly turns towards the camera and says "Chicken do
to have teeth!" and then smiles brilliantly to prove it.

Voice: "YES, and now it's time for CHARLIE, THE CHICKEN WITH TEETH! When last
we left Charlie, he was busy flossing, and refused to actually come out and
speak to us. This week, he's going to be killed, put in a nice ginger and
pinapple sauce, and delivered to some lucky chinese food eater's home."

Cut to chinese food eater: "Ew! There's a tooth in my chicken!"

Voice: "This concludes the 5 part miniseries, Charlie the Chicken With teeth.
Join us next week for the beginning of a new miniseries, Bob, the oyster with
testicles."

Show ends with a scene where Nass Cravana is having sex with a gopher, and is
yelling: "Honestly, Steel-thighed-figure-skater, I don't shoot gophers! Look,
I'm having sex with one! See, I love gophers! I'm even letting the gopher
cum first! I'm a sensitive male, honest!!"

Credits.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Soap Commercial Executive Msg #319, 15:40 est 91-02-21
Subject: Manufacturing The Perfect Product
After your basic Flog TV stuff going on for a while...

JOE FRIESANDBUTTER: EW! My teeth are rotten and falling out. Whatever shall
I do? Wherever shall I go? Oh my goodness!

Voice Of Floyd: Hi. I'm Floyd Gecko, and I'm here to tell you about this
revolutionary new teeth cleaning product.

JF: What's it called? (his molar dribbles greenly out of his mouth)

VoF: Why, INSTA-NUKE-O-TOOTHER! Made by Gecko Enterprises.

JF: Sounds great? What is it?

VoF: The latest in teeth cleaning technology. Remove unwanted gum disease,
plaque, and tartar, one hundred percent!

JF: That's just exactly what I need. No more of THESE for me (holds up
toothbrush, floss, paste, etc.)

VoF: Exactly. Just use this. (Hand from off camera hands JF the device. It
has a long handle and a knob with tooth slots on the end)

VoF: The INSTA-NUKE-O-TOOTHER. Just try it.

JOE FRIESANDBUTTER sticks the thing in his mouth and bites down hard.

JF: MMMM! I flrgt! Hw dlegs thoo thngpllplplppppppp wreradk?

VoF: Just press the little button on the rod.

JF: Blertppppp. (presses the button and green light suddenly flashes on for
a second in his mouth. Pulls out the INSTA-NUKE-O-TOOTHER and shows his
mouth. There is no gum disease or plaque or tartar.
Or teeth, gums, tongue, palate, or anything but a smoking mess of
ashes.

VoF: And now all you have to do is buy a new set of teeth!

JF: Does this company make other miraculous products too?

VoF: Of course! Here, come try our new INSTA-SHOWER-NUKER...

JF (walking off screen, and being panned after a few seconds later to show him
getting into a shower): Okay. How does it work?

VoF: Kills all skin bacteria, eliminates all dirt from the inside AND outside
of your body!

JF: Alright! (turns it on. Green explosion appears inside, while a new
voice suddenly comes on)

New Voice: SURPRISE! You're on How The Hell STupid CAn You Get?!
We wanted to see if you would try this... Joe? JOe?

NV: Turn off the camera!

Cut to a Flog News Report, but accidentally fade to a pinkish shade of
slightly mauvy russety reddish orangey yellowing greenish blueish...
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Flog and All Msg #320, 13:41 est 91-02-21
Subject: Flog TV special Motion Picture
TTTTT VV VV
T VV VV
T FLOG VVV
T V

[THE GLOOM AND]
[DOOM NETWORK!]

Logo formed out of "1/2 Off!" stickers stolen from Alucard's Deli, on the face
of some local politician, out cold after a night on the town, with the GLOOM
AND DOOM NETWORK logo scrawled into his puke all over the sidewalk.

Cut to HellHound 101

"YES, You heard it hear First"

"THE STORY IS TRUE!"

"Gloom and doom TV presents, next week, in collaboration with FLOG TV and
international order of MOOists, the feature length, made-for-modem, TV movie-

the O F F - S I D E S T O R Y

Staring: Vx Nerve Gas as P.I. Vx Nerve Gas
Alucard Shadow as Ms. Desdemona
HellHound 101 as The Mayor Of Ottawa
Loose Moose as The Evil Kidnapper
and Anal Cyste as The Ronco Weed-Eater Weilder!

Plus, watch for our special quest stars who will appear without notice or
consent!!!

Don't Miss It!"

"Coming to a Flog TV near you!"

Cut back to the usual crap
--- Max's-CBGB's v1.02
* Origin: Bat Cave: I am not a Penguin! (1:163/240)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #321, 04:15 est 91-02-22
Subject: A film
Voice: "And now it's time for the LATE LATE movie. Tonight's movie,
'My tongue is quick, my prick is faster!' starring Bela Legosi as
the penis, Kim Walsh as the female genitals, and a large mongoose named
Beverly as the condom dispensing machine. This 1842 punk sex- film, a cult
classic of reformed nazis skinheads, is now ready for the adoring public.
Let us now watch 'My tongue is quick, my prick is faster!'"

Scene opens with Bela Legosi, playing the part of the penis, standing erect,
wearing his vampire garb as when he played count dracula.

Bela: "I am a penis! I am a penis!"

Mongoose walks on screen and coughs up a giant condom.

Bela: "What luck! That condom dispensing machine just spat out a condom! Now
if only there were a large female orifice nearby."

Bela, wobbles erect, yelling "I am a penis" over and over. Kim Walsh walks on
stage, and is NOT shouting "I am a large female orifice".
In fact, she's saying nothing. She takes on the role with little
acting. Amazing.

Knight "shagger" Slayer rushes on to the screen: "It's about time I put a stop
to this."
He says this with a stone face, like he actually is stopping some sort of
serious sex-crime from taking place. Flog, the director, walks in front of
camera.

Flog: "Slayer, this is not a perverse thing! It's art!"

KS, (deadly serious): "Well it better stop before somebody gets hurt!"
Flog: "How can anyone get hurt? It's a film, we've taken precautions, look,
see? A condom!" KS, (puffing out his chest): "I said, somebody might get
hurt!"
Flog, looking about: "What, I don't see anything dangerous. What are you
talking about?"
KS: "Somebody could get hurt... Somebody could get hurt! Now cut this all
out, or I won't be able to control myself, and I'll have to threaten you for
hours. I'll never ACT on that threat mind you, but the threat alone will be
enough to make you quake in your boots, I bet. I bet it does, uh huh."

Flog: "Oh, are you being macho or something?"

Kim giggles happily at Knight Slayers display of courage.
Flog: "Wow. Well, gosh."

Knight Slayer: "At a loss for words eh? My powerful aura often reduces people
to such a state! Feel my muscles! feel em! Big, eh? Eh?"

Flog, hesitantly squeezing KS's arm: "Oo, ya, wow. Can we start filming again
now?"
KS: "Only if I get to play the penis."
Flog: "You know how much it cost to get Bela Legosi? the guy's DEAD fer
kryste sakes! Y'know how expensive dead actors are?"
Kim walsh giggles, and does her Linda Lovelace impersonation (ie. she drops
trou and inserts random limb). CREDITS.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** There is a reply. See #558.
 
From: Harold Cobra'S Swooping Freak-Show
To: All Msg #322, 05:42 est 91-02-23
Subject: My Orangutang Sings high C#... Does yours?
Nazis: "Und now..."
Burning corpse: "EET'S..."

Crowd of child molesters: "Harold Cobra's Swooping Freak Show!"

(Monty Python music plays here...)

Dramatic Narrator, speaking as footage of neanderthals stumbling about is
shown: "Long long ago, when our ancestors had yet to become bipedial, long
before the discovery of fire, before rational thought was even formed, HE was
there..."

Camera pans over neanderthals banging bones together, carrying clubs, and
final settles on PaT.

PaT: "Hey Guyz... Cat'n I haev sum raw meet....?"

Narrator: "But times have changed, people progress..."

Cut to B&B fest filled with sysops and users, sitting about, throwing sugar
packets at each other, banging bones together, picking lice out of each
other's hair. Settle on PaT:

PaT: "Hey guys cat'n i have sym raw meet....?"

Camera pans to Flog, under one of the tables, sticking his hand up Syl's skirt.

Flog: "And now for something completely familiar."

Cut to Chateau, credits say: "Paris, 1838."

Flog is seen as a young boy, running up to the front door of the house.
He knocks excitedly. A bored looking butler opens the door.
Flog: "Is this the residence of the Marquis de Sade?"

Butler: "Yes m'lord."
Flog: "I'm his new assistant, Marquis de Flogge."
Butler: "Very good sir, walk this way."

Butler shoves a hot poker up his rectum, plunges a dagger through his cheek,
and masturbates with a spiked battle-glove as he walks.
Flog of course, imitates the strange walk.

Cut to Marquis de Sade, who is sitting all prim and proper in a chair,
knitting.

Butler: "announcing Marquis de Flogge."
Sade: "Ah, Flogge, you've made it! Now the easter egg hunt will be a big
success!"
Flogge: "Easter egg hunt?"
Sade: "Yes, and then we're all going to a non-alcoholic dance bar.
It will be most riske. Everyone will be wearing a mask."
Flogge: "Look Sade, I don't mean to be a pain in the ass, but that sounds
right fucking boring. Why don't we strap women to ironing boards and shove
pool cues up their twats until they beg for mercy?"
Sade: "Heavens! Why should we do that?"

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Harold Cobra'S Swooping Freak-Show
To: All Msg #323, 05:57 est 91-02-23
Subject: Teaching the Marquis de Sade a thing or two...
Sade: "Pool cues, up women? Wouldn't that hurt them?"
Flogge: "Yes, and then hopefully they'd hurt us back."
Sade: "But why?"

Flogge: "Look, just wait til the weekend is over... You'll see how much fun
it is..."

Fade to black, fade back to outside of house. Credits: "2 days later..."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Harold Cobra'S Swooping Freak-Show
To: All Msg #324, 06:02 est 91-02-23
Subject: (whoops...)
Credits: "2 days later"

Sade, inside house screaming evilly: "Ahhaha... Come here my little vixen!
Come here and have your throat slashed while I fuck you blue!"
Proper Brit Wench: "Mr Sade, you said this was to be an easter egg hunt!"
Sade: "Right, suck on my easter eggs ya little tart!"

Flogge opens door of house and starts walking away. Soon after, a screaming
naked women rushes past, her back is coverred in whip burns.

Flogge: "My job is done here..."

Narrator: "And so history was changed, and Mr Sade was shown the light, thus
starting a movement that would eventually create a society of individuals who
enjoy being beaten, and beating. And all this was due to one man, a dream,
and the courage to build a time machine out of used tea bags, a piece of
plutonium, and a microwave."

Cut to crowd of cheering old women.

Cut to screen which reads and is read by announcer:
"Fucking for Dollars!"

Narrator: "Welcome to Fucking for Dollars, the game show where innocent
virginical men and women are reduced to drooling crazed sex maniacs.
And todays host, Bobs Ontopofyeruncle!"

Bobs: "Hello and welcome to the show. You know the rules, so let's begin the
game, shall we? Today's contestants have names, but why should we bother
with little details. We'll have them strip and get on with it, shall we?"

Three male and three female contestants proceed to strip.

Bobs: "You, the girl with the huge knockers. No, not you, her! Yes, you!
Spin the big Penis Pointer!"

Girl spins large phallus which finally stops.

Bobs: "Ah, you have to masturbate until your nose bleeds! Off you go!"

Girl begins playing with herself.

Bobs: "And no banging your face against an object to induce nose bleeding!"

Show set suddenly collapses as priests armed with machine guns fill the room.
They pin Bob to the ground, while the contestants flee, and are shot in the
back by armed priests.

Main Priest, who is stepping on Bobs testicles: "All right, all right men!
We've broken into their set! Everything seems under control! We the
christian people triumph again! Kill 'em all, god'll forgive you later!"

Everyone on the set is killed.
Roll credits for Harold Cobra's Swooping Freak-Show.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Darin Cowan
To: All Msg #325, 20:36 est 91-02-22
Subject: Commercial
<Scene: An Officer's Club in a secret base somewhere in the middle east, lots
of pilots getting shitfaced and generally acting like 5 yr olds. Some Major
lights up a Camel>
<Turns toward the camera>
M: Y'know, back home when I was little, me an' the boys w'd sneak out behind
ol' farmer Jack's barn and sneak a smoke. We used to sneak a few Camels
outta dad's pack.
I really liked to smoke then, hell, I'd even ride my bike out to Davey
Hunter's place to have a Camel... I'm grown up now, got a wife and kids
back in the States, no need to sneak out the back any more...
<cut to scene of an B-52 dropping 18 two-thousand pound bombs on an Iraqui
dromedary convoy>
<Cut to the Major inside the B-52>
... but I'd still fly 10,000 miles to smoke a camel
--- msged 2.05
* Origin: Eat fuck screw suck gobble nibble chew... (1:163/106)
 
*** This is a reply to #75.
 
From: Some Weather-type-person. . .
To: ALl Msg #326, 16:27 est 91-02-23
Subject: The Weather (Baghdad Edition)
[Man dressed in a camouflage-coloured 3-piece suit walks into view of camera.
Behind him, on a bloodstained brick wall, is etched the FlogTV logo. It
appears to be etched by machine-gun fire.]

Camo-man: Good evening, and welcome to the special Baghdad Edition of the
FlogTV Weather Service.

Heavy contact is expected over the weekend with scattered small-arms
in the downtown core and heavy bombardment of out-lying regions,
centering on military and industrial sites, continuing for most of the
day. A travel advisory is in effect for these regions. Unconfirmed
reports from the dictators office indicate a chance of conflict clearing
over the weekend, but if you're planning any major
troop movements you may want to consider bringing along some localised
air defense.

[Voice-over as camouflaged man walks off the set and the camera focuses on the
FlogTV logo in the background.]

Voice: This has been a FlogTV Weather Service Update brought to you from
downtown Baghdad today by General Dynamics, Raytheon and several other
major U.S. military contractors.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Understanding The War
To: Little Children Msg #327, 23:00 est 91-02-25
Subject: Explaining the War to Kids.
Voice: "And now the flog channel, in an effort to help parents, will explain
the gulf crisis to them. So gather around your kids, turn up the tv, and
listen as Flog Sonata, owner of the network, explains the gulf crisis..."

Cut to Flog, surrounded by a group of little kids sitting on the floor in
front of him.

Flog: "Now children, I'm going to explain to you how the war is, and why it is
the way it is. To do this, let me let me tell you about a little boy named
Saddam. Saddam, like all kids, really liked tree- houses, and one day, he
was peering over the fence in his backyard, and he saw a big tree house,
called Israel, and another treehouse called Kuwait. Saddam said to himself
'Gosh, look at that cool Kuwait tree house, wouldn't that be neat to own?'
And so he got the idea into his head that he would get this tree house. So
he rounded up 5000 of his friends, gave them heavy artillery (which he'd
purchased previously from the Japanese and the Soviets) and asked his friends
to go and get the tree house.

And his friends went over and killed all the little children
in the tree house, except for a few who gave up and begged not to be killed,
and Saddam said 'Hooray! I have the tree house called Kuwait now!'

But meanwhile, in another part of the neighbourhood, there
was a little boy named Bush. He said to himself 'Look at that nasty Saddam!
He's gone and taken over the Kuwait tree-house! he can't do that! now I'll
have to pay twice as much for my grape juice!" Bush bought all his grape juice
from Kuwait and other places in the neighbourhood, because Bush and his
friends REALLY liked grape juice.
Bush turned to his friends and said 'Look what Saddam did! The
bastard!" and he asked his parents, The UN, if they could gather a whole big
bunch of friends, arm them with high powered high tech gadgetry and go and
blow up Saddam and get it so that Kuwait could be free again.

The UN thought about it, and said 'Ok Bush, a whole bunch
of people want to do this, so we guess it's right. Go have fun, but be
careful!' So Bush promissed he'd be careful, got a whole bunch of friends
together (mostly poor and underpriviledged friends who volenteered to go) and
sent the friend over to go beat up Saddam and all of his friends. Bush was
saying that he was doing it to free Kuwait, but later on he though it'd be
really neat if they killed Saddam too, because Bush wanted to get re-elected
in four years, and he also had the whole public on his side, while most
americans couldn't even fucking point out the fucking middle east out on a
fucking map!

Oops, sorry children. Anyway, Bush's friends dropped big
bombs on the friend's of Sadam, and eventually, despite the fact that Saddam
was saying to his friend the Soviet Union that this war thing was nasty and
it should stop, Bush sent in the ground troops to finish the story off. Then
the UN got together for a super secret council meeting. And that's where we
are now."

Kid: "So what's the moral of the story, Flog?"

Flog: "Don't give little children big toys."
Kids open fire on Flog with ak-47's.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mel Pheasant
To: Flogeneezer Scroogenata Msg #328, 01:34 est 91-02-27
Subject: Somewhat out of season...
Airial view of suburban home, sunny day. Someone is cutting their lawn in a
haphazard way, which spells out The Flog Channel logo.
Scene: Flog's bedroom. He is snoring, but in stops and starts. It is obvious
he is troubled. Suddenly cheesy wavery lines fill the picture while harp
music sounds, signalling to the viewers that they are about to go into a
dream sequence.
Dream shows Flog's room again. But a light starts shining from his closet, and
gets brighter and brighter until the whole room is lit up. This wakes up
Flog.
Flog: <looking in disbelief at the closet> "I new I should've done my laundry
last year!" He walks to the closet and opens the door. The bright light dims
to show a ghost.
Ghost, in booming voice: "Are you Flogeneezer Scroogonata?"
Flog: "Huh? I'm Flog."
Ghost: "Close enough. I am the Ghost of BBS Past."
Flog: "Yeah, right."
Ghost: "We will go back in time..." More cheesy wavery lines, and the scene
shows Flog and the Ghost looking out a window, at Flog from about one year ago.
Flog: "Hey, whoah, that's me! That's me!" He was shushed by the Ghost.
Flog from past: <walks by Crass who looks depressed> "Hey Crass, cheer up
buddy! Here, have a message!" Flog hands Crass a message.
Crass from past: <reads message> "Uh, oh! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! Gee thanks Flog!"
Flog from past: <walks by Mel Pheasant, scribbling away> "What are you
writing?"
Mel: "Nothing. I just can't inspire myself to write anything."
Flog from past: "Here, have a message..."
Mel: "Er, <reads message> Hey! Wow! That just gave me all kinds of ideas!
Thanks Flog!"
Cut back to Ghost and Flog. "Blah" mutters Flog aloud, "humbuggery."
The ghost suddenly starts transforming into a horrible looking ghoul. Lights
flash, and cheesy makeup and camera tricks show the transformation.
Flog: "Who... what...."
Ghost: "I am the Ghost of BBS Present."
Flog: "Present? Present! Finally I get something! So far this dream hasn't
gotten me anything."
The Ghost chuckles as the scene changes to Flog at work, from just the night
before. Flog from now starts pointing at the Flog at work, aghast and
speechless. Flog at work is chatting on the modem with Mel.
Flog at work: "Blah. Humbuggery."
Mel: "But you have to call those other boards. They *need* you to leave
messages. The boards are drying up!"
Flog at work: "Blah."
Mel: "But they are all asking where you've been, praying for your return..."
Flog at work: "Blah. Dead babies don't interest me anymore. I think I'll
become normal."
Ghost: <turns to Flog> "Seen enough yet?"
Real Flog: "Blah."
Ghost: "I can see you need to see more..." Ghost starts transforming into
horrible looking creature, with three eyes, and horns dripping with blood.
Flog: "Who the hell... what the hell..."
Ghost: "Exactly. I am the Ghost of BBS Future. Wok this way."
Flog: "Scuse me?"
Ghost, loudly: "Wok this way!"
Flog is suddenly in a bright kitchen, as himself. He is holding a Wok,
preparing dinner, in a normal suburban house. On the streets, the BBS'ers all
look hagard and worn, and when they meet each other on the street they rarely
have anything to say to each other. They open their mouths, but eventually
give up. The odd time they would actually start talking, it would all be in
quotes.
Mel, on the street: " > Hey RV, how are things?"
RV: " >MP> Hey RV, how are things?
> Not too bad."
Mel: " >RV>MP> Hey RV, how are things?"
>RV> Not too bad.
> Uhm... er..."
Flog is stirring his walk, watching the street through the window. He sees a
reflection of himself and notices the grey hairs. Suddenly the front door
opens, as Syl returns with eight little Floglets. They run towards the
kitchen.
Floglets: "Daddy daddy daddy.." They start tugging at his clothes, grabbing
cutlery and fighting amonsgt themselves, screaming, wetting their diapers.
Syl: "The dryer is busted and the car will cost $5000 for a new engine, and my
parents are coming to stay for the weekend, and..."
Flog: "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" He bolts up in bed, realizing it was just a
dream. His forehead is covered with sweat. He gets up and walks to his
computer. "Ah, only a dream, thank gawd. I think I'll bbs for a while. Maybe
call up Grace and Danger and continue that message thread about CANCER RIDDEN
BABY DUCKS or something. Yeah, that's it. And then I'll call up Mel's board,
and Athena's board, and Painkiller's board, and..." Flog smiled and pressed
<ALT>d.
 
Fade to monochrome...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #329, 05:48 est 91-02-28
Subject: War is heck.
Voice: "We now interrupt this episode of 'Hogan's Heroes' to bring you the
following Gulf War Update Thingy."

General Bullwinkle is adressing a crowd of reporters.

General Bullwinkle: "So like, garsh, it's all over, and here's how we did it.
We planted asparagus here, we fought here, we moved weaponry here, and we sat
around and played cards here. Any questions?"

Reporter#1: "Gosh General Bullwinkle, your hair is so shiny and clean, what
kind of shampoo do you use?"

Gen. B.: "Why I'm glad you asked that, R#1, I use Johnson and Johnson's Baby
Shampoo. It leaves my hair soft and manageable, and it doesn't sting if you
get it in your eyes. Any other questions?"

Reporter#2: "Well golly General Bullwinkle, your hands are so soft!
What dishwashing liquid do you use?"

Gen B.: "Why I use that green stuff! Soft on hands, tough on dishes! Well, if
there aren't any more questions, I'll just be..."

Flog, who's been bouncing up and down, waving his arms and who's been ignored,
finally just yells out: "How many Iraqis died General Wide- Butt!? You told
us 79 allied troops, and that's real nice, hurray our team, but how many
Iraqi's died?"

Gen B.: "Oh, 2 or 3. They're evil, see, but we won."

Flog: "2 or 3? Are you sure?"

Gen B: "Christ, would you press hounds stop badgering me? My god, you people
would do anything for a story wouldn't you? GET OFF MY BACK, I'm just trying
to do my job, and you come along and... (Sniff)..."

James Baker comforts a crying General B.

Flog: "So 2 or 3?"

General B: "Ok! Ok! It was one hundred thousand, I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean
to hurt anybody! It was an accident! We told them they were coming, but
they didn't listen and they fought back anyway!"

Flog: "Isn't it true that sanctions were working?"

General B: "Look, with sanctions we don't get to play with our big planes!
You wouldn't want to stop my fun, would you? Besides, the war went so gosh
darn fast! I mean sanctions and diplomacy could have taken weeks and weeks!
This way we just zoom on in, kill every living thing, and everybody's happy!
It only takes half an hour!"

Flog: "I was under the impression that our society would only use violence as
a last alternative to a final and complete break down in talks, and yet the
cover of the citizen a few days ago read 'ALLIES REJECT CEASEFIRE', care to
explain that."

General B: "Why are you bugging me about a mere 100,000 deaths? They were the
enemy! They don't count! PLLLLTTT!"
Press conference ends as Flog is escorted away by CIA agents in shades.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Kitty Litter Makers
To: Cat Owners Msg #330, 06:02 est 91-02-28
Subject: Make your cat a happy cat!
Soldier holding his purring cat in his home. Soldier is still wearing full
gear, and speaks with a southern accent.

Soldier: "Hi! My cat used to complain about the poor quality kitty litter I
would put out for her to defecate in! Well, now that the gulf war is over,
she complains no more with DESERT STORM KITTY LITTER! Why just watch my
little cat Bushie sit her ass down in that gritty stuff and just shit to her
hearts content!"

Soldier plops cat into desert storm kitty litter. Bushie the cat lets loose a
torent of shit and piss.

Soldier: "My my! Bushie sure loves it! Wouldn't your cat too? And DESERT
STORM KITTY LITTER has a secret ingredient: the shredded and torn bodies of
100,000 iraqis! Golly!"

Voice: "Yes, DESERT STORM KITTY LITTER. Little Bushie likes it, so shouldn't
your cat?"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: The Polka Dot Door
To: Small Brain-Dead Children Msg #331, 01:38 est 91-03-01
Subject: Fornication Day at Polka Dot Door Land
Theme music for the polka dot door, as we see a door with a lot of acid
hallucination type flashing polka dots. Song is sung by some monotone wench:

"The Polka Dot Door,
The polka Dot Door,
I'd make more money if I stopped doing kiddy shows,
And became a whore,
Let's look in,
The polka Dot Door,
with songs and stories and so much more...
So come in, The Polka Dot Door!"

Cut to Alex and Cindy and 4 dolls.

Alex, who appears to have been drinking: "Hi, and welcome to the polka dot
door! I'm Alex. Today is fornication day here at the polka dot door,
fucking neat eh?"

Cindy: "And I'm Cindy. Today, we're going to talk about sex. Big dripping
cunts and pricks that cum so hard they spray cum into the ceiling where it
sticks for days!"

Alex, turning his ear to the stuffed toy "Bear": "What's that Bear? (to
audience) Bear says that he's underpaid to do this shitty show and that if we
don't get his agent out here right now to cut a new deal, he walks as of now!
Come on Bear, you know we have those pictures of you reaming Goldilocks, so
there's no chance of getting a pay hike without having those pictures appear
on the cover of the Enquirer."

Cindy, turning an ear to Marigold: "What's that Marigold? (to audience)
Marigold says she wants me to ask if there are any little boys out there that
find her long golden hair sexually stimulating, and if any of them have
wondered what colour her pubes are. No Marigold, I don't think you even have
a female orifice, but we'll check."

Cindy lifts Marigold's skirt to reveal a hole torn into her groin, with white
stuffing coming out.

Cindy: "Goodness! Did you do this Alex?"
Alex: "Well, I was lonely and no one was around, and uh..."
Cindy, looking about: "Where are Humpty and Dumpty, our other wonderful
stuffed toy friends?"

Camera pans around, and we see Humpty and Dumpty positioned in a homosexual
sex act behind a tree.

Cindy: "There you are Humpty and Dumpty! Now cut that out! Homosexual sax
act week isn't here yet! That's next week!"

Alex has mysteriously disapeared. Soon, the Polkaroo arrives.

Cindy: "Oh, look everyone, there's the polka roo! How are you today Polka?"

PR: "PolkaRoo! PolkaRoo!"
Cindy: "And what would you like to do today Polkaroo?"
Polkaroo moves his hips suggestively and yells "POLKA-POLKA-POLKA!"

Cindy reaches into Polkaroo's big pocket and moves her hand about.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Polkarooooooo! Ooo! Oooo!
To: Small Dead Kids. Msg #332, 01:52 est 91-03-01
Subject: Polka Dot Door.
Cindy fishes about in polkaroo's pocket, finds "something" and moves her hand
in a strange up and down jerking motion.

PR: "Polka-fucking-roo!"

Cindy bursts into song:

"Imagine! Imagine! You can imagine,
Polka-roo shooting his wad,
Imagine, imagine, you can imagine,
Polka roo yelling 'oh god!'

Imagine his face twisted up with lust,
as I sit here, and fondle his nuts,
Imagine, Imagine, you can Imagine,
Polka roo shooting his wad!"

Polkaroo sighs in relief and a large wet spot appears on his pocket.

Cindy: "Feel better now Polkaroo?"
Pr: "Polkaroo! Polkaroo!"

Cindy: "Oh no, look! Polkaroo is waving goodbye! You're just like my other
fucking boyfriends you fucking bastard! A bit of rumpy-pumpy and then they
just fucking split, leaving me unsatisfied and pissed off! Fuck you ya big
fucking multicoloured mutant!"

Alex stumbles back on to set, half dressed, swigging a bottle of vodka.

Alex: "Who are you talking to? <HIC!>"
Cindy: "Oh, it was that lame fuck the polkaroo."
Alex: "The Polkaroo? And I missed him again?"
Cindy: "Afraid so. You may never get to bone him up the ass."
Alex: "Damn!"

Alex takes a long swig of vodka.

Cindy: "Now if you look through the Polka Dot door, you'll see our manager,
sodomizing another would be host of this show. He's told her that if she
'performs', she'll get my job! Let's look now, shall we?"

Camera zooms up on a polka dot in the polka dot door, and we see film footage
of the manager boinking a wench. Nice pleasant, yet dorky piano music plays,
as Cindy talks us through the film.

Cindy's voice: "Here we see the manager's pathetic little piece of manhood, as
he waves it about. He calls it 'his hammer' and asks the girl, who is flat
chested, to call him 'Thor'. Now we see him insert the tiny cocktail weinner
into the ugly whore, and the manager cums in less than thirty seconds.
Notice how the girl lies motionless, staring at the ceiling."

Cut back to Alex and Cindy.
Cindy: "So hopefully the manager realizes that if this footage were to land in
the wrong hands, he would be fire, and he'll keep me on as the co-host of
this show if he knows what's good for him... Uh oh, I see it's time to say
goodbye. Goodbye boys and girls!"
Alex: "Ugh uk, I'm gonna puke!" Alex bends over and vomits all over Bear,
Marigold and Humpty and Dumpty.
Cindy: "Goodbye! Goodbye!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Closing Credits For Polka Dot Door
To: Sleeping Brain-Dead Children Msg #333, 02:03 est 91-03-01
Subject: The End
We see the acid-hallucination polka dot door again, and the samed monotone
voice sings:

"The polka dot door,
The polka dot door,
See you soon at the Polka dot door,
with vomit, and alcohol and perverted stuffed toys,
and so much more, so see you soon,
At the polka dot door."

Cut to TV Ontario Bonehead program of Education for Adults.

Guy: "Hello, and welcome to brainsurgery, a four part course teaching you how
to be a brain surgeon in your own home, in your spare time. Today we have
little Ricky here, who says he has a headache."

Little Ricky, a small child, is strapped in to a chair, and is gagged. His
head is locked in place with metal clamps, and he looks frightened, and is
feebly struggling against his bonds.

Guy: "The first thing you need to know about being a brain surgeon, is that
the brain is a very tough hombray! It can take LOADS of damage before the
person finally croaks, so don't worry about sterile tools or anything like
that! In fact, I find rusty tools work best. Now we make the first break in
the skull, with a mallet, and a large steel railroad spike."

Little Ricky lets out a muffled scream.

Guy: "Pound in the spike as deep as you can, straight into the eye-ball. This
may appear to cause damage to the person's eye, face, and skull, but don't
worry about it, we can put it back together later, honest."

Ricky screams and screams as the spike goes into his head. He suddenly falls
quiet, motionless.

Guy: "Notice the soothing effect this first break has on your victim, er
patient. He becomes immediately motionless and calm due to the soothing
effect of the hammer blows. Next, we take a chainsaw, and remove the head
for easy surgical access."

Guy cuts off Ricky's head.
Guy: "Oh, I see we're out of time. Next week, we'll continue the operation.
Bye for now."

Cut to TV Ontario executive: "The previous program you just watched will no
longer be seen on TVO, due to complaints we received, such as this letter
from I.M. Foolish, who writes: 'Dear TVO Cretins, when I inserted the spike
into my wife's face, using the exact procedure prescribed by Dr Guy, my wife
did NOT become calm. In fact, she became rather excited, ran about the room
screaming in agony, and finally collapsed. She remains lying on the floor in
that position to this day.' Well Mr. Foolish, we do appologize. Apparently
the doctorate degree which Dr Guy had was a PHD in hair-curling, so the show
will be dicontinued. In it's place, we'll be providing the 'Open Heart
Surgery at Home' show, which features the doctoring skills of Dr Moe. Thank
you for your comments and complaints, we exist for you the viewing public,
and will buckle under any pressure that 3 or less of you put on us."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Religious Groups All Over The World
To: People Seeking Guidance Msg #334, 12:06 est 91-03-01
Subject: Who to pray for, what to pray for.
Happy game show host voice: "And now it's time for 'Pray to your Deitie or
Deities!' Feature religious leaders all over the world giving their wise
comments for the day..."

Cut to Islam dude standing on a platform giving speach to defeated Iraqi's:
"Pray for the death of all americans. Americans are demons, evil satanist
swines. They torture people (unlike us) they kill people (unlike us) and
they pilfered from the bodies of the dead (unlike us)..."

Cut to yank preacher dude: "Pray for the P.O.W.'s to be released, pray that
Saddam gets his ass blown off as he runs to Algiers, pray that the silly war
is over and we can all now watch Mork and Mindy without fear that it will be
interrupted with news broadcasts from the gulf."

Cut to Flog giving moving speach to his disciples: "Pray that women will have
looser values and will consent to foursomes and fivesomes. Pray that
contraceptives will be given out freely to all. Pray for uncensored copies
of 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre III' to appear in your local video store. Pray
that all human beings who like violence get caught by insane and dangerous
mass murderers who slowly torture them for days... Pray that aliens will
blow up the planet and put our stagnating and pathetic culture out of
existence. Pray for um.... Life-sized centerfolds that reach out and touch
you. Pray for 'Sex in a Can' products to be developped. Pray for high
paying unemployment checks that will make work pointless.... Um...."

Cut to some guy with a shaved head, stabbing a rooster repeatedly: "Pray for
the coming of the unbelievably huge female orifice in to which we, Her holy
disciples, shall flee into, and be safe from the stupidities of the world."

Cut to a guy at the airport clanging symbols in front of a crowd of like-wise
dressed individuals: "Pray for frequent flyer points to go up so that more
people come by here and buy flowers and give donations to us. Pray that more
lonesome gullible people will be indoctrinated into our cults, brainwashed,
and become willing slaves."

Cut to the pope, who's been drinking the sacrimental wine: "Praying shmaying!
Go out and get fuckin' laid! Have a good time! Pick up some loose women!"

Cut to a billion people on a mountaintop, listening to some guy: "And now,
because I am your leader, and you all believe in me, we will all jump off
this cliff like lemmings for no real apparent reason."

They all jump off to their deaths.

Cut to psychologist: "Wow, religion. Makes ya do nutty things, eh? Not like
SCIENCE. Science is wonderful and pure and free of such stuff. Oh, excuse
me, it's time to administer electroshock to all the children in the cancer
ward. Must dash!"

Voice: "This has been a program about religion, and why it's damn silly. Go
off and find your own fucking values you little shits! Christ, be
independent for fucking once, would ya? Sheesh!"

Cut to a violent program about Nazis, chickens, and rubber animals, already in
progress.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Religious Groups All Over The World Msg #335, 19:32 est 91-03-01
Subject: And now...
Flog Channel Logo appears on a gagged yak, who is being absorbed like one of
those little swimmy things amoebas eat into a wall. Eventually the yak
disappears, leaving only the Glof Nellach Ogol on the wall.
A wrecking ball appears with the Oflg Lenlnceh Oolg printed on it,
and smashes through the wall, revealing the gagged yak, whose gag has been
removed, dining in a gourmet restaurant, and stomping on a waiter, who has
the Ogfl Nelchan Golo written on his face, but mysteriously pays no attention
to any of the customers, including the yak, who is stepping on his kidneys,
which, oddly enough, had the Flog Channel Ogo written on them before being
squished by a fery large bovine creature with bit hoofed feet and horns.

Finally cutting to the program after a needlessly long and confused station
identification...

Announcer: And now it's time for, Praying with God For Beginner

Cut to the cheesy fake This Is Heaven set.

Guy In Fake-God-Suit: Hi. Welcome to Praying With God For Idiots
Sorry. For Beginners. I'm God, and this is Heaven.

Audience Voice: Hey, God!

GIF: WHAT?

Audience Voice: Could you tell us more about you and where we are?

<Accidental Laugh Track>

GIF: Sure. I'm God. I created the whole universe, and all you people who
didn't have to pray to me that I don't condemn you to suffer in eternity in
Hell, which is a really nasty place. You get tortured there. All My enemies
go there, and all my friends come stay with me here in Heaven, where you will
be happy for the rest of your life.
You get free sex, if you want. (GIF grins, trying to attract Flog
to the lure of religion).

Accidentally Let In Real Person: So you're like George Bush?

GIF: GET THIS GUY OUT OF HERE! No. I'm more like the Pope, only better.

Fake Loser Over GIF: Hi. I'm Jesus. I'm hanging on a nail to pay for all
your sins. So thank me or my friend Vito, uh, God here will throw you into
Hell for ever and ever. Send me money to thank me for saving you from Hell.
The address will appear at the end of the show.

ALIRP: Hey! That's Oral Roberts!

FLOG: Shut up! I'm Jesus Christ, okay? JESUS CHRIST you people are stupid!

GIF: Oh well, that's all the time we have for toady, uh, tofu, uh, TODAY, on
Praying With God For Beginners. Send all charitable contributions to The Flog
Channel. They will be given to people with failing kidneys, which will only
ever be driven to church on sundaes, uh, sundays, and... OH, fuck this.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #290.
 
From: Richard Visage Rec'd
To: Floyd Gecko Msg #336, 10:05 est 91-03-02
Subject: International Men's Week
...The Flog Channel logo appears, spelled out with lug wrenches on
an oily floor. Flog appears on screen, standing in front of a Hotel, holding a
microphone.

Flog: This week is international men's week, and here in the Chateau Laurier,
there is a large gathering of men. Lets see what this is all about."

Flog approaches one of the many officials.

Flog:" Could you tell us a bit about International Men's Week?"

Man: "Well, its a celebration of Man-ness, just for Men. We've chosen this
particular hotel, because it has a male dominated management structure, and a
high ratio of male employees."

Flog: "Oh. But why do you do this?"

Man: " Well, most Men are infuriated by being restricted in their occupations,
and have had it up to here with the awful male stereotypes in the media. How
often have you heard of a male Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, or a male
Grandmother, or a male wet-nurse? Even when men DO break into these
professions, they are subject to ridicule from Females. In the media, Men are
portrayed as stupid, lazy, beer drinking boors."

Flog: "Oh. So what are you guys going to do here?"

Man: "We're all gonna drink beer and get pissed. But there's all kinds of
exhibitions - books written by men, for men, published by men, on paper made
by men, by companies run by men. Showings of films made by men, for men, with
only male actors, written by men, shot on cameras made by men, with film made
by men, and all produced by men.

Flog: "Uhm, isn't that bigotted and sexist?"

Men in background: <wild laughter>

Man:" Bigotted and sexist, ha ha, no, of course not. Now if women did the same
thing, *that* would be bigotted and sexist."

Flog: " Oh, thanks for making that clear for us. Okay, we're outa here, tune
in next week when we visit the convention of the White Supremecist Party, who
<Flog unfolds leaflet showing minority groups being shot, hung and tortured>
are not racists, just real sensitive guys - it says so right here." <Flog
points to leaflet>

...The camera pulls back and shows Flog smiling, greenly.



Fade to rationalizations of convenience...
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Desmodus
To: You Msg #337, 11:29 est 91-03-02
Subject: Late Night with Flogid Sonataman
(Letterman theme, shots of dark alleys, lawyers raping babies)
(Dom Deluise as announcer)
It's Late Night with Flogid Sonataman! With Flogs special guests, J. S. Bach,
Hugh Hefner, Jimmy Swaggart, Tipper Gore, and the Reverend Richard Visage.
And tonight, Flogs Stupid Sex Acts.
fade to commercial
 
--- msged 1.99S ZTC
* Origin: What did you expect, Hemingway? (1:163/240)
 
From: Loose Moose Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #338, 20:46 est 91-03-03
Subject: Lever 2000.
It's good for all your 2000 parts. Yer damn right. Good for yer rectum.

(Cut to someone's face. He appears to be experiencing slight discomfort.
"Erp." he says.)

It's real good for your stomach too.

(Cut to someone shoving a soap bar down someone's throat. "Eat it you
little shit!" "Fuck off I erf mfff")

I can't go on. Mel is multitasking. Let's discuss this.

Cut to Moose in a studio. One notes the camera is slow and sort of drags.
It doesn't really keep up with the audio, which is also stuttery and
irregular.

Moose: I.. thin..k that .. (static) I n.. f d ... gj ... thnk yo.

Fade to black. Mel contently starts another game of Pacman.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #339, 13:10 est 91-03-03
Subject: Golf Games
* Original: FROM.....Chris Farrar (163/207)
* Original: TO.......All (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Following in the tradition of Combat golf that circulated here during the Oka
events, military censors have allowed me to make the following announcement:
NOW OPEN AND ACCEPTING NEW MEMBERS
----------------------------------
Yes, you too can become a member of the newest golf course in the middle east.
Cunningly designed by Gen. Schwartzkoff it features 27,000 holes and one mean
sand trap. Iraqi Downs & Country Club is offering this limited special to
new members who join between now and Friday September 13, 1999. Initial
membership fee $4,000 or one gallon (US) of water. Not to be confused with
the poorer course Kuwaiti Downs, designed by Saddam Hussain. Join now, this
is a limited time offer not to be repeted within the next 5 minutes.
{cleared by US Military Censors}
--- FD 1.99c
* Origin: Unicorns aren't mythical,...virgins are (1:120/224)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #340, 09:46 est 91-03-04
Subject: Something
Phil Donahue is yelling at the camera.

Phil: "Today, on Donahue! Men who sodomize little forest creatures with large
ugly penises. Of course, we have an audience made up entirely of women who
are so fucking liberal it's fucking scary! They'll jump down your throat for
even a hint of sexism! Now let's start the show by talking to BOB. Bob, how
many forest creatures have you sodomized today?"

Bob: "Well, Phil, at least 50."

Audience screams and pelts Bob with used tampons.

Phil: "Ah, an audience member has a question... (Phil runs full speed
towards the person and tosses them the microphone) yes?"

Audience memeber, either lesbian or extreme feminist: "I'd just like to say
that people like bob should be taken and strung up by their balls and have
their throats slit and then be twisted and strangled and destroyed until they
die."

Phil, takes back microphone: "Any other questions, yes you?"

Bob: "Can I respond to that please..."
Phil: "No. Your question is?"

Audience member: "I'd just like to say that people like Bob should have their
necks torn off and a gallon of Poison, the perfume by cher, poured into his
gut, then lit on fire."

Bob: "Well, let me just say..."

Phil: "Our other guest is Roy. Roy, how many animals have you sodomized?"

Roy: "Well, total today was 30, this week, 900."

Audience screams in agony, and pelt Roy with used diaphrams.

Roy: "Yes, yes, I know I'm sick, I need help, I need the caring help of your
audience members... Come to me, help me please..."

A crowd of insane caring women rush forward and carry Roy off for therapy.
Each woman has some sort of weird idea that she knows exactly how Roy thinks,
and that she can help him.

Phil: "Wow, what a touching scene."

Phil throws up all over a particularly irritating male member of the audience,
who looks like he's such a feminist that he must have been castrated recently.

Bob: "Can I say something?"
Phil: "Come now Bob, can't you see that daytime talkshows like this one have
replaced witch-hunts? Of course you can't say anything. Women?"

The women and castrated males stone Bob to death.

Cut to Oprah, where men are forced to cry on television to show they're
sensitive.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Pornographic Breakfast Cereal
To: Consumers Msg #341, 13:40 est 91-03-04
Subject: EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT!
Little timmy at the breakfast table: "Gee Mom, I'm bored of alphabet shaped,
little monster shaped, and number shaped cereals! I'm too old for that kid's
stuff!"

Mom, to camera: "What can I do?? Timmy's getting older and no longer thinks
his cereal is fun!"

Narrator voice: "Don't worry MOM! We have a new shape for you that every
older child will like! New CYSTE-O's, the breakfast cereal shaped like
various sexual body parts!"

Little Timmy: "Do they taste good?"

Narrator: "You bet! Each tastes exactly as the genital it represents should!
Prepare your little boy and little girl for oral sex now! Don't make them get
used to the taste once they get older!"

Little timmy: "YUM! the taste of female orifices makes me want more and more
of new CYSTE-O's!"

Mom: "Thanks, CYSTE-O's, for making my little timmy a happy, oversexed rapist
at the tender age of 13!"

Narrator: "CYSTE-O's has anus shapes, vagina shapes, penis shapes and breast
shapes! We bet you can't eat just one!"

Mom, pouring a box of CYSTE-O's over her own naked body, moaning: "Oh GOD, I
think I'm going to need at least another three boxes of CYSTE-O's to
completely satisfy my need for the taste of genitals!"

Narrator: "And CYSTE-O's are not only delicious but nutricious too! Each
contains your daily requirement of pubic hair! Try CYSTE-O's today,
tomorrow, and every weekend!"

Hushed voice: "Warning! Consuming CYSTE-O's without a condom may lead to the
transmission of potentially lethal sexual diseases."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: all Msg #342, 09:50 est 91-02-11
Subject: "Flog this and Flog That, Flog it all the flog ups, floggin' brat!"

___________ ___ ___
|___ ___| | | | |
| | \ \ / /
| | FLOG \ /
| | \ /
|_| \/

THE
GLOOM
AND
DOOM
TV
(Cut to the Gloom and Doom team, HOUR
animated in stark black and white)

Flog, non-animated walks on screen just as the animated HellHound 101 begins
to talk

Flog: "no, sorry, none of this sillyness. Punks suck and that is that"

The Gloom and Doom team wander off screen, mumbling to themselves, flipping
through the printouts from SpychoShoppe on how to build bombs, and
occasionaly throwing Flog the finger.

Flog: "much better, we now return you to our irregularly scheduled program,
the Cuisine Haute with Atrox"

... ...

HellHound One Oh One, off line for a few days.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Bat Cave: I am not a Penguin! (1:163/240)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Monty Msg #343, 20:47 est 91-03-05
Subject: What is it?
Flog channel logo spelled out in vaguely red jellybeans sitting on a rifle
range getting shot at by a lunatic vaguely resembling Herbert Hoover, but not
very much. Suddenly a yak falls on him.

Cut to Studio with Floyd Sitting in at a desk.

Floyd: Hi. THis is Flog Channel News. I'm Floyd Gecko sitting in for Flog,
because Flog didn't feel like doing the news, and is off somewhere blowing
things up or something.

Cut to a night scene of the parliament buildings burning, and switch to the
various capitols of the US, USSR, Britain etc. all burning to the ground.

Floyd Voice Over: Tonight in the news, a bunch of buildings burned down.
Someone was seen fleeing from the fires wearing a NORULES tee shirt, followed
by someone about an hour later from each, carrying the bodies of state
officials. So what?

Cut back to Floyd, who says: Well, they're still civil-type war thingy doing,
uh, you know. In Iraq. Okay? Good. Well, seems someone shot someone else.
Or something. [to studio guy] WHAT THE HELL IS WITH THAT DAMN TELEPROMPTER?

<embarassed silence as Floyd pretends he can't read the
teleprompter, and the camera-guy fiddles with it, projecting Floyd's lines
into the camera for a while, which seem to have something to do with a
chicken wearing Groucho-Marx-Glasses which was spotted hanging with it's feet
tied together. This is unclear, as Floyd ovbiously refuses to read his
lines. He hums something unclearly, and waters a cactus idly.>

Stage Guy (entering shot): What the hell is wrong up here?

Floyd: The teleprompter. How am I supposed to read the news if it's talking
about turkeys and ducks? It's not like these fake papers I rustle on my desk
are any help. IT'S NOT AS IF YOU COULDN'T WRITE THE NEWS ON THEM, IS IT!?

Stage Guy: Uh...

Floyd: Right then. OKAY PEOPLE THE NEWS IS OVER! NO MORE NEWS!

Cut to a cooking show, where half-mad is serving up a dolphin with a sea
anemone in it's mouth.

Half-Mad: And now, you eat it. (Swallows the dolphin in six bites somehow.)

Cut to some other show, which is over too fast to tell what it is.
Do this six or seven times, then cut to Salem Massechusetts, where nothing
happens for five seconds or so, then back to Floyd, who is in the middle of
throwing a cactus at a small gerbil, who breathes out a puff of flame and
incinerates it.

Floyd: TOLD YOU SO!

Fade to mauvish green or some other colour which is hard to mix with paints,
or TV pixels for that matter.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: All Artsy Losers! Msg #344, 14:45 est 91-03-06
Subject: New Kid on the Chopping Block
[Scene: Flog Sonata is displaying again one of his
pretentious plays portraying his hatred of home and father.
As usual Flog's father is goose-stepping around on the sound
stage as he makes ridiculous statements about the
"Vaterland." Flog is about to speak some disgustingly morbid
"observation" about life when . . .]

[Static begins to invade the screen and eventually, after an
epic battle of electronic techs, resolves into a picture of
an ordinary brick wall. A hand dressed in long opera gloves
with the fingers torn out sprays the following logo in red
paint: "KViSR Rocks!"]

[GRAMS: "Break on Through" by The Doors.]

[Camera turns at a dizzying speed and shows the owner of the
gloved arm. The owner is a stunning woman dressed in
leather, spikes, assorted D&S accoutrements (heavy on the
dominance side!) and rips in all the interesting places.
Her face is made up sort of like the broad in _Clan of the
Cave Bear_.]

BC: Are getting bored by the apparent dominance of the artsy
types in this message base? Getting fed up with yet another
existential view of family and life? Are the laughs getting
too forced on Flog Channel lately?

What the fuck do you expect from a message area run by Flog
Sonata, a psychology student switched to film? What do you
expect from a message area patronised by Loose Moose, the
world's only communist elk?

We at KViSR telecommunications have a solution to all this.
Stay tuned to Flog TV as our technicians battle it out with
Sonata's. When we win, we'll provide you with at least one
message of hard-hitting drama, biting commentary, solid and
unbiased journalism - in short: REAL television.

I'm Brandy Charlatan, station manager of KViSR
telecommunications. I do whatever I want, whenever I want
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Art sucks! Msg #345, 14:50 est 91-03-06
Subject: This is the End, Beautiful Friend.
to whomever I want. No-one gets in my way.

[BC raises the arm containing the spray can and sprays red
paint directly onto the lens. Fade to red and then to . .
.]

[Scene: Ordinary suburban household. Two couples are seated
around a dining room table. One woman is glaring at one of
the men. The other woman, sitting across from him, is
obviously being turned on (sexually) by something. The two
men are talking about business.]

[GRAMS: Some kind of light elevator stuff - sickly sweet.]

Man 1: . . . so as you can see, it is perfectly possible for
the owner of an iAPX386 or iAPX486 system to access up to
four gigabytes of RAM while remaining in real mode!

Man 2: [Barely stifling a yawn, glancing surreptiously at
the woman across from him who is rapidly approaching
orgasm.] Uh, yeah. Whatever you say. It's really . . . er
. . . interesting.

Aroused Woman: Oh! OH! OHOHOHOHOH!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
[Thrashes around in her chair before collapsing into it.
After a few moments of recovery . . .] Would anyone like
some coffee? Maybe a cigarette? [She gazes adoringly at Man
2.]

Glaring Woman: No thanks, Isolde. And Thomas never . . .

Man 2: [Smoothly interrupting his wife.] Glad to, Isolde.
Make mine black.

Glaring Woman: [Voice over - she's thinking to herself.]
Thomas never has coffee after dinner at home! [Speaking
now.] But Thomas, you never . . .

Man 2: [Shouting.] Fuck off you bitch! If I want a cup of
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Flog Devotees Msg #346, 14:52 est 91-03-06
Subject: Not quite over yet, HA!
coffee with Isolde's juices in it after my meal I'll fucking
have some!! [Pulls out a micro-Uzi from inside his blazer.]
Besides, bitch, I only married you for the money! I hate
you! [Sends burst after burst into her torso and head. Woman
explodes like an overripe tomato. Blood splatters
everything and everyone.]

Man 1: Have you thought of switching to decaf, Thomas?

Man 2: No, you fucking moron! I've decided to switch wives
instead. I've been fucking your wife to distraction right
under your nose for the last 5 years! And you've never
noticed because your too self-centered and boring! And now
I'm going to kill you and fuck your wife on your splattered
entrails! [He inserts an extremely long magazine into his
weapon. The entire magazine inserts itself, one bullet at a
time, at extremely high velocities into the mans lower
torso.]

Aroused Woman: [Arriving from kitchen.] So how are we all
getting alo . . . Oh! Thomas! You've done it! Now we can be
together!!

[GRAMS: "War Pigs" by Black Sabbath]

Man 2: That's right, Isolde. Now come here! [Grabs her and
throws her down on top of her husband's entrails. The two
start making animalistic sex on the gory floor. Man's hand
happens on the genetilia of the dead man. He plucks them
off and starts using them as a dildo.]

Aroused Woman: Oh! Thomas! . . .

[Screen fills with static as Flog TV technicians find the
hidden link which has taken over their broadcast. Scene
changes to Flog TV studio where Flog and Syl are
masturbating each other as they watch the proceedings on the
monitor. They suddenly see themselves. In a fluid gesture
Flog is sitting facing the camera while Syl disappears to
one side.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #347, 14:54 est 91-03-06
Subject: One More Time!

Flog: Uh . . . Well the perpetrators of this horrid crime
(interrupting my self-indulgent sorrowful view of the world)
will be caught and punished. Rest assured that the Flog
Police are hunting now. These criminals will be brought to
the firing squad, er . . . to justice right away!

[GRAMS: "Laura's Theme" from the Twin Peaks soundtrack.]

Voiceover: This has been another production of Flog
"Pretentious'R'us" Sonata television.

[Fade to black . . .]
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Chip Lovers Msg #348, 15:57 est 91-03-06
Subject: I hate Doritos.
Cut to aggravating little so-called-cool rap-loving skateboarding shitkid.

Kid: Bob and I O.D.ed once.

(Cut to bowling ball rolling along. Cut back to some girl.)

Girl: There was that fire... Bob started it. And he roasted weenies and
stole a T.V.

(Cut to real mangled beat-up kid.)

Kid: I told Bob to fuck off once. (his nose falls off.) That Bob, what a
kidder.

(Cut to bag of Doritos. Cut back to another aggravating adolescent.)

Adolescent: Bob raped my mother once... but he's still my best friend. He
gave me a bag of Doritos.

BOB'S FAVORITE SNACK.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Brandy Charlatan Msg #349, 21:00 est 91-03-06
Subject: Big screaming intelligence thang.
Cut to Moose sitting at a desk.

Moose: Uh, well, the Flog Channel was recently berated and inundated with
what was referred to as quality programming. It was insinuated that we would
not like it. (Pause.) But I dunno, I thought it was pretty good. Does that
mean I'm an intelligent being?

(Pause.)

Moose: (Leaning to hear the mumblings of some off-camera twit.) Uhm, no,
apparently it doesn't. So, uh, the big issue now seems to be, what will
Charlatan do next? See, he's sort of in a fix, right? I mean, you can't
rebel against someone if that certain someone likes what you're doing. It
doesn't really work. So, I see two options:

Screen behind Moose lights up with big number one on it.

Moose: Fuck the quality TV, bury us in shit TV. That would piss us off.
Pat's done it. It worked well. Start entering in non-TV format. God knows
that works like a charm. It's proven, it's effective, and it's also quick
and easy.

Screen behind Moose switches to a big number 2.

Moose: Option two, close us down entirely. If you can't beat them,
annihilate them with plastic explosives. Seek us out and exterminate.

(Fade to black)

Moose voice: Oh, and I'm not a communist anymore, I started taking these
pills and I'm okay now. I fully support Preston Manning. (Sound of heavy
blunt object connecting with head. A french-accented 'fuck you' can be heard
in the distance.)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
EEN-BY: 163/207 30522/1 101
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Patriotic American Rednecks, Etc. Msg #350, 21:37 est 91-03-06
Subject: . . . not another Viet Nahm . . .


[voice of Yosemite Sam:] We interrupt the twentieth anniversary
special of "The Dukes of Hazard" to bring you this live broadcast from the
House of Commons.


{Cut to the House, where various senators are mumbling and
earnestly studying blank pieces of paper. Ted Kennedy is having sex with his
niece, Maria Shriver; all are ignoring him. The vice-president is inspecting
himself, still looking for pubic hair and, yet agin, not finding any.
Suddenly the president appears at the podium, suspended from a wire to
simulate flight. He is wearing blue tights,a red cape and the blazing letters
"SB" on his sunken, shrivelled, old man's chest.}

Bush: I have a 91% approval rating. I destroyed the ghost
of Viet Nam. Kiss my ass, all of you. I have the next election in the bag!

{He receives a standing ovation. Ted & Maria adjust
their positions accordingly, still grunting.}

Bush: I'd like to thank myself, myself, myself, and Saddam
Hussein, for the wonderful opportunity of diverting the public's attention
from the sad shape of this administration's budget and the country's economy.
There's nothing like a good war to get an old man hard
{He receives another standing ovation. Ted comes,
but Maria doesn't. Burt Reynolds appears and presents Bush with an Academu
Award, a Golden Globe Award, a People's Choice Award, an Emmy, a Grammy and a
partridge in a pear tree.}

Bush: Thank you, Burt. Can I borrow your toupee?

{Burt says no and runs over to Maria Shriver. Ted
begins to drink rye while masturbating and wishing he looked more like his
brother.}

Bush: Y'all better stand up again and kiss my ass one more
time.

{They do.}

Bush: Now's my chance to take total control. Fuck the Senate,
fuck the checks and balances system. I am supreme leader.

{He receives, you guessed it, a standing ovation.}

Bush: We invade Greenland tommorow. Our boys can do it, 'cuz
the Marines are the best. We are justified. Not another Vietnahm .
. .

{Another standing ovation. Dan Quayle begins glueiong peach
fuzz to his genitals, Maria Shriver finally comes, Ted Kennedy passes out,
George Bush flexes one flabby American bicep while Brian Mulroney faithfully
wags his tail at the end of George's leash.}
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Brandy Whatserface Msg #351, 23:19 est 91-03-06
Subject: Huh?
Flog, sitting at a desk, wearing a pair of pants made entirely from the bodies
of armadilloes.

Flog: "So like, there I was, sitting there innocently, when my channel was
taken over by someone named Brandy Charlatan. My response is:
'THANK GOD!'. Hopefully she'll stir up some shit and cause utter
havoc. I also see Shaved Cat entered something. Fucking ay. We could use a
lot more writers in here. Apparently lots of people read here, but not
write. take note you lunkheads: It ain't that hard to write."

Saying that, the screen fades to black, and cuts to the following program....
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flogumentry
To: You Lot. Msg #352, 23:22 est 91-03-06
Subject: indepth study on shit.
Flog, standing outside the civic hospital: "I was in bed with Syl when, er I
was deep in thought, reading um, something wise by Anthony Burgess when a
notion stuck us, er me. Pregnant women and sex. What gives? What inspired
my concern was a book of sexual positions that featured several positions for
pregnant women. As most of you know, preggie women are blosted like a
fucking barn. The book seemed extremely concerned with the mother, and her
being able to have sex while pregnant.
But what about the fetus? We came here, to talk to pregnant women
about sex, and we'll also be discussing the fetus's role in all this."

Flog enters the hospital.

Flog, sitting across from a preggo-woman in the hospital cafeteria.
Woman is easting pickles and a sundae, at the same time.

Flog: "This is Barbra, and she has had sex during pregnancy. Barbra, tell us
about it."

Barbra: "Well, after polishing off two entire litres of hagendaz ice cream,
mixed with a jar of relish, I suddenly had this... urge."

Flog: "Urge?"
Barbra: "Yes. My husband was asleep upstairs, and I thought I'd go and wake
him up, creatively... And well, I snuck up, and..."

Barbra begins to cry.
Flog: "What happened Barbra, tell us."

Barbra: "I sat on my sleeping husbands genitals and crushed them.
He's a eunuch now with no interest in me at all. In fact, he's left
me, and joined a cult of damaged gold-fish worshippers."

Flog, to camera: "Preggo women take note: If you wish to fuck, be sure you
know how while in your current state! DO NOT GO ON TOP! The positions for
pregnant women are:
(flog holds up a card)
One) Doggie style so yer belly sways beneath you.
Two) On your side."

Flog, standing outside the gates of hell: "But what about the fetus, the
unwilling participant in this demented pedophelic threesome? We came here to
ask an authority on sin, satan himself, about that matter."

Flog walks through the gates of hell.

Satan, sitting back in a plush leather chair, looking very much like a hip
jazz musician: "Well, as far as I'm concerned, sex while pregnant is just
FUNKY. But that God fuck, the bearded fellow? He's all screwy about it.
Depending on which god you follow, you may think that sex is for procreation
purposes only. Therefore, fucking while she's got one in the oven is EVIL.
Personally the whole moral question makes me fart serpents."

Flog: "What about the fetus?"

Satan: "Why don't you ask them yourself?"
Satan pours a barrel of writhing gaping semi-alive fetuses on his desk for
Flog to question.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #239.
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Gin Fake Msg #353, 23:35 est 91-03-06
Subject: Interviewing a barrel of fetuses
Flog: "Have any of you fetuses been involved in a pregnant sex act?"

One little fetus squirms forward: "Yes, I have. It was wonderful.
I loved every moment of it."
Another fetus: "I felt it too, it was horrible..."

Other fetuses are kicking and mewing like blind kittens. Flog looks at Satan,
in a gaze which politely asks for all the other unnecessary fetuses to be
removed from the discussion. Satan complies by picking up the un-needed
fetuses one at a time, and then eating them, with big crunchy chewy bites.
Soon, only the two fetuses are left.

Flog: "So fetus1, you say the experience was wonderful?"
Fetus1: "Well, the experience may seem.... incestuous to some. I mean, I
could feel my dad's prick slamming away at my mom, but then again, I
experienced orgasm at a pre-birth state. It was great."
Flog: "So what happened to you?"

Fetus1: "Well, I may have enjoyed the sex, but mom didn't, and she was all
fucked up on qualuudes, so she went down to the rideau center and lept off
the balcony to her death, and here I am."

Flog: "Fetus2, you say you didn't enjoy the sex act?"

Fetus2: "Shit no! It was like being raped before birth by your father!
Prenatal child-molestation! But I got my revenge..."
Flog: "How's that?"
Fetus2: "Well, while my dad was ramming home, I looped my umbilical cord
around his dick, and tied it into a knot so he was stuck, then I rolled over,
put my tiny partially formed fingers around his manhood, and put my
semi-solid gumbs on his dick and slowly clawed and gummed my way through his
evil dick until it broke off inside."

Flog: "How did your father take that?"
Fetus2: "Not very well. Soon enough afterwards, he went after me with a
coathanger. It popped right through my eye. See?"
(Fetus2 points at his popped eye-socket.)

Flog: "Thank you fetuses, thank you satan."
Fetuses: "No problem."
Satan: "Seeya later."

Cut to Flog, standing outside the Pope's house in rome: "Having spoken with
Satan, we thought it would be only fitting if we went and talked to the pope
about the matter, but when we arrived here, we were told the Pope was very
busy with other pressing matters. A little digging in the local rumour pool
quickly revealed that the pope was spending a week in a drug and alcohol
rehab clinic. Apparently the pope's been popping speed like there's no
tomorrow."

Cut to Shake Records.
Flog: "This has nothing to do with this documentry, but I though HellHound 101
would like to know that it was here that Syl bought me, upon my request, the
double album butthole surfer bootleg. Punk may suck, but schizophrenic
drunken bands from hell still exist. I'd like to quote something from the
literature that comes with the album, just so that you can all know what
we're dealing with here.
This is an actual quote, I am not making this up:"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Heelhund 204 Msg #354, 23:50 est 91-03-06
Subject: Flogumentry gone wild.
Flog reads quote from pamphlet about the butthole surfers:
"'who am I kidding?' At Danceteria recently, word has it
the BUTTHOLE SURFERS put on a sex show, complete with dancer, all band members
nekkid, singer breaking bottles over musicians' heads, things degerating into
on stage fucking."

Flog: "Could someone see they come to my birthday party?"

Cut to Flog, standing outside a window of some house. It's night, and we can
see through the window, two people balling away. Of course, one of the
people is pregnant.

Flog: "But what about fetuses and pregnant sex? Well, I think it's neat! I
mean, if sex with a fetus outside of the womb is good, why should sex with
the fetus inside the womb be any different? By the way, could all you
pregnant teens and others who get abortions, mail your aborted fetus to me,
care of the station? Mucho Gracias. Well, in closing, I'd like to thank
Doctor Morgentyler, my pal and lover. Feed Us a Fetus."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: A Good Pair Of Tits Msg #355, 14:09 est 91-03-07
Subject: 'Cuz Flog told me to . . .

[Talk show set, talk show music, a few dozen ignorant people
scratching themselves and waving at the camera. Shirley stands amongst the
crowd, using a bloody, dismembered penis as a microphone; she holds it quite
close to her mouth, occasionally biting tiny chunks out of it with her
teeth.She looks at the camera and smiles, all gums.]

Shirley: "Men are scum.That's while I'm a lesbian. Now let's
introduce our guests."

Guest #1: "Eat my shit Shirley. You and your goddamn bitchy
attitude and ugly smile and pendulous breasts . . ."

Shirley: "Suck my nipple. Now today we're talking about how
scummy and putrid men are and that they should all be pistol whipped,
castrated and then deprived of sexual pleasure for eternity."

Guest #1: "Then we'd have to fuck you, Shirley."

[Audience chuckles, farts and throws half-developed chicken
fetuses at Shirley's freckled neck. She pouts a while and eventually, out of
boredom, everyone stops.]

Guest #12: "I'm leaving."

[Guest #12 leaves.]

Shirley: "Well good riddance. We don't need your kind here
anyway. Guest #345, do you actually condone rape, pillaging and all other
nasty things?"

Guest #345: "No."

Shirley: "Alright, then. Guest #3, when did you become an
aardvark?"

Guest #3: "Well, after my mother . . ."

Shirley: "Sorry. I have to interrupt you for a brief message."

Guest #3: "This is an outrage! Could I have some ants, please?"


[Cut to commercial. Dini Petty is standing in a crowded shopping
mall, holding a twenty pound slab of Pears Plus soap. She begins to rub her
vaginal area vigorously with the foul-smelling stuff.]

Dini oh-so-Petty: "Buy this and I'll suck your cock. Honest.
Can i have my money now??"

[Cut again to Shirley.]

Shirley: "We're back. Today we're discussing the pros and
cons of eating linoleum."

Guest #6812: "Introduce me, now."

Shirley is suddenly overwhelmed with a pre-menstrual rage as she...
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Shirley'S Gums Msg #356, 14:34 est 91-03-07
Subject: Pass the ant-covered slab of Pears plus, please.


. . . swallows her penis/microphone whole. An assistand quickly
hands her another one. After chewing on it thoughtfully for twenty- eight
minutes, she resumes speaking.

Shirley: "My next guest is Dr. Bosley Cressoti, a specialist
in human sexual activity. Dr. Cressoti, what's wrong with Canada's day-care
system?"

Cressoti: "How the bleeding fuck should i know? Do i get to
chew on a penis too?"

[Shirley shoots him through the asshole and says, "No, thank
you."]

Guest #29KQ#@ZZ: "When the aliens finished fondling my mother
I took care of my own erection by . . ."

Shirley: "Sorry, we have to interrupt with a commercial. back
in a moment."

[Cut to Dini Petme, who is still in the shoping mall, now
naked and smeared with soap flakes. Sperm is dripping off her chin.]

Dini PetmeNOW!: "I've sold three bars of soap. Could someone
tie me up, please?"

[Cut to another commercial. The words "The Kids At DeGrassi
High Are Shot Dead by Deranged Serial Killers" appear on the screen, while
bullet-ridden DeGrassi corpses can be seen in the background. Camera pans
back and we see the cast of Northwood, that new teen soap opera, holding
smoking, automatic weapons.]

[Cut to Shirley, who is foaming at the mouth.]

Member of the studio audience: "Where's the strippers? i wanna
see pussy, godammit!!"

Shirley: "Now hold on just one moment you nasty, nasty man.
I'm tired of male, capitalist, American pigs like you who just think they can
piss on the rim of the toilet whenever they feel like it!!"

Member of the studio audience: "Bend over, bitch."

[after allowing herself to get fucked up the ass, Shirley
slaps the man's wrists and turns her attention to Guest #7-zark-7, who is
smearing Pears Plus Shampoo all over his tongue.]

Shirley: "Now, Mr. 7-zark-7 . . . . what's wrong with Canada's
day-care system?"

Guest #7-zark-7: "The babies aren't being chewed properly,
which leads to indigestion among babysitters."

Shirley: "thank you, Mr. 7-zark-7. Join me tommorow, when
we discuss the various disgusting characteristics of my anatomy."
The audience begins bathing in their own fesces, Shirley pours
ketchup on her penis.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Shaved Cat Msg #357, 04:03 est 91-03-08
Subject: Dini Petty has no breasts: I cut them off.
Voice: And now continuing in our wonderous day-time television shit, Jesse
Raphael will interview three shizophrenics, a mongoose, and dance the
jitter-bug, while a thousand audience members switch to Geraldo who is busy
interviewing gay lesbian nazis queer homosexual pregnant fag gay lesbian
nazis queer weight-lifting homosexual nazis ground-hog eating nazis gay
priests.

Cut to commercial.

Voice of happy-go-lucky-narrator: Do you ever have days like this?

Show woman walking down the street when suddenly a 747 jet plows into her,
explodes, and thousands of flamming body parts shower down on the ground.

Voice, suddenly gone tough: THEN call Shapiro and Shapiro, the smart tough
lawyers! We get the job done, quick!

Cut to courtroom, where Shapiro is hiding behind his overturned table, a gun
in his hand. The jury, those still alive, are hiding in various parts of the
room.

Shapiro: "Let my client off, Judge, or I'll blow yer fuckin' head off!"

Voice: Shapiro and Shapiro, the smart tough lawyers. And remember, we will
charge you not one dime! Our money comes straight from the money we get from
the evil bastards who fucked you over!

Cut to courtroom
Judge: "And I award the plaintiff 5 billion dollars!"
Plaintiff: "Wow!"
Shapiro: "Now, after my fee, you'll have enough for a nice hot meal at
McDonalds! Wow, we did better than I thought!"

Voice: Shapiro and Shapiro and Shapiro. The Smart Tuff Lawyers frum Hell.

Cut to Jesee Raphael.
(There's a third name missing there somewhere.)
Jesse, who is a blonde twit that looks like Shirley, only uglier:
"Today we have a big soap-opera star. He's such a hunk and gosh,
he's a sensitive male too, let's bring him on out, Blase BruntBottom."

Blase Bruntbottom walks out on stage, a smile so fake on his face that you can
see the seams where it was surgically stitched on.

Blase: "Hi! Hi! Hi!"
Audience screams with sexual lust.

Jesse: "Now you play a guy in a soap opera. Tell me, what's it like to be a
shitty actor who gets well paid for three different facial expressions? As
far as I can tell, all males in soap operas either look pained,
cold/unapproachable, or concerned. I have yet to see anything else."

Blase, suddenly speaking with a fak french accent: "Vell..."
His voice is drowned out by lusty screams from the audience.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Shaved Cat Rec'd
To: Flog Sonata Msg #358, 16:40 est 91-03-08
Subject: I have Dini Petty's breats floating in a pickle jar



[Scene: Blase Bruntbottom is having sex with himself while
the audience croons with delight. SALLY Jesse Raphael is sitting in a corner,
trying to remember what her entire name is. The screen suddenly goes fuzzy
and the words "And now a word from the CRTC..." appear. Large, squat man,
oozing with several more square meters of flesh than is needed to cover his
impotent body. He smells bad, too, but it's TV so no one can tell anyway.]

Large, squat, disgusting mound of quivering flab: "Good evening."

[Note: It's morning, but the mound of flesh is too pickled
to notice the difference.]

Large, squat . . . y'know: "My name is Donald O'Donaldson,
I am the Grand Dictator . . . I mean, I am acting president of the CRTC, an
organization created to preserve Canadian culture from the evil, wicked,
really mean & horrible American TV programming that will rot our minds and
render us as mindless as cheeseburgers."

[Donald O'Donaldson farts loudly, unaware that his microphone
doesn't automatically screen out such undesirable squelches.]

O'Donaldson: "After many years of protecting Canadian culture
from such U.S. influences as American Top 40, the Fox Network and Brian
Mulroney, we have determined that the situation is not getting any better and
we have no choice but to invade the United States of America. Hopefully, the
U.N. will create a resolution condoning our decision to repel the aggressive
American, air-headed culture-war machines and possibly create a world-wide
coalition against the Great Sata . . . I mean, the U.S. We have already
received support from Iraq, France, and Rich Little."

[Suddenly a blood clot develops in Donald O'Donaldson's brain
and he becomes irreperably insane. He immediately drops his trousers, parts
his buttocks and begins to shove evrything he can into his murky asshole.
Whilst doing this, he sings the latest single from New Kids on the Block,
using a reasonable fascimile of Anne Murray's voice. After several hours of
this, Anne Murray herself arrives on the set and attempts to strangle the
man. Fortunately, she is sucked into O'Donaldson's asshole and dies of
boredom.]

[Cut to Sally Jesse Raphael]

Sally [her cute red glasses smeared with Blase Bruntbottom's
sperm]: "Well that's all for today . . . stayed tuned next time when I'm
pistol whipped, raped, slapped, and forced to mud-wrestle with Oprah
Winfrey."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Shitheads and Meese (?) Msg #359, 16:08 est 91-03-08
Subject: Art Fuck
[As we enter the program, we see Loose Moose doing his ballet interpretation
of "Moose Lake". Seeing as he has about forty bottles of various hard
liquors behind him, and seeing as most of these bottles are inside him, the
interpretation is a little . . . pathetic.]

[Static begins to fill the screen. Camera switches to technicians' room where
a crowd of drunken reprobates are struggling to deal with an invading signal.
They fail and . . . ]

[Logo:]
KViSR Telecommunications presents . . .
[Logo is spray-painted on the ubiquitous KViSR Wall.]

[Fade to red and then to picture of tall, gangling punk rock type. He's using
razor blades in an interesting fashion on a kidnapped FlogTV employee.]

JS: Oh! Er, hi there. [Dumps bleeding body off the operation table.] I'm
Jonathan Sunshine, the evening VJ for KViSR Rock Videos - all nukes, all the
time!

Tonight on KViSR Magnum, the up-to-the-minute bootleg concert show, we'll be
getting some excellent footage from The Ogres - Stomping Across America. To
give you a taste of things to come, here is the latest video from The Ogres:
number 5 on the KViSR Top .44. Here's The Ogres with "She Wanted Love, I
Wanted Blood" . . .

[Scene cuts to traditional concert video.
A bunch of real plug-ugly guys in ridiculous costumes are prancing around on
stage. Their dancing and singing don't seem to be in synch with the heavy
pulsing beat and random noise which is the song "She wanted Love, I wanted
Blood." Hundreds of fans are trying to climb up the stage, but a largish
machine-gun nest seems to be keeping them at bay. The lead singer singles
one really sexy babe out of the mob and has her carried forcibly to the stage
by some black-shirted goons. The shivering wench is left on the stage,
almost at the point of orgasm from her proximity to the lead singer.

The lead singer strips the babe of all clothing with one practised movement.
He fucks her on stage. The guitarist uses his instrument (the musical one)
in innovative fashions upon her after the front man is finished. He then
connects a lead from the power amp into her snatch. He flicks a switch and
the woman lights up with electrical arcs. As she jerks around in a frenzy
wrought by the 5000VAC going through her dead body, the band mimics her. She
eventually catches fire and is doused by roadies with fire extinguishers.
Her corpse is dragged off-stage. The fans go wild. As the song reaches its
climax, bouts and bouts of 12M sulphuric acid spew out over the audience.
The song ends with most of the audience crippled and deformed for life.]

[Cut back to VJ]

JS: [sweating visibly] Whew! You've gotta hand it to the boys of The Ogres.
That was an excellent gig there. Our friend we recruited from Flog's
technical department should get us some excellent footage if he knows what's
good for his 7-year-old daughter Cindy!

Anyway, that's all we have for this edition of the KViSR Rock Videos' Top .44.
We now return you to the normal boring shit on Flog TV. Probably another
stupid "I hate my father" story if it's true to form.

[Cut to backlit sillouhette (sp?) of Brandy Charlaton dancing to some kind of
wild and anarchic music. A spotlight suddenly glares down on her,she points
a gun at the camera and a simulated hole appears, leaking blood onto the
screen . . . Fade to red . . .]

[Cut to Moose's ballet stage. Moose has been run through by no less than a
dozen tridents. He is still pathetically trying to dance. Flog is jumping
up and down on his father's head. There's not much left of it. The severed
body is still goose-stepping around making amusing farting noises from where
the neck was. Fade to black . . .
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Brooding Bytheton Msg #360, 23:44 est 91-03-08
Subject: HATE HATE LOVE LOVE WAR WAR MACHINE MACHINE
Nazis walks out on stage: "Und now eet eez time for und vunderful little
play, culled, 'Vy I Hate Dee Verlde' by one, Flog Sonata. Be seated und vatch
und listen. Seig Heil!"

(Goose steps off)

A lone figure walks out on stage carrying a chair. He places the chair square
in the middle and sits on top of it. He stares straight ahead motionless.

Figure: "There are only two things you can trust in this world: microwave
popcorn, and diet A&W root beer. These two things are so simple, yet so
wonderful. Dare to trust a human being. This is what will happen..."

Lights turn up on a darkened portion of the stage to reveal a lone figure
sitting staring straight ahead. First figure turns to second:

1st: "Hey!"
2nd: "What?"
1st: "What do you see over there?"
2nd: "Tall swaying trees, a beautiful sunset, golden apples hanging in midair,
waiting to be plucked..."

1st figure, getting out of his chair and walking over: "Really?"

While the 1st figure is walking over, strangers lurk on stage, grab his chair
and run off. 1st hears them, turns back and sees that his chair is gone.

1st: "SHIT!"
2nd: (emotionlessly) "Such is life."

1st pulls out an immense club with a nail through it and bashes 2nd's brains
out, and takes 2nd's chair.

1st: "People. You just can't fuckin' trust anybody."

(Curtain)

Nazis goose steps back on stage and says: "Und now, to critique de play, three
dead barnyard animals, und a nun."

Curtain raises to reveal a dead cow, a dead chicken (unplucked), and a dead
horse.

Suddenly the theatre is completely destroyed by invading soviet children
brainwashed from birth, who don;t spend their time writing stupid fake
existentialist absurdist plays, but spend their time studying how to build
chemical bombs, machine guns, and bayonets. The audience of the theatre is
completely nuked in a shower of bullets. The dead cow on stage rises to it's
feet (bipedal-like) and roars: "Well fuck!" and then a slug plows through the
cow's head and she falls to the ground.

Soviet child gives a lengthy sollioquy, in russian, so we don't understand a
word.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: K-Tel Quality Products
To: Suckers Msg #361, 23:53 est 91-03-09
Subject: SEX DOLLS
Voice: Now, new from K-TEL, the sex doll to replace all sex dolls, the new
inflatable CHRIST sex doll! Yes, you too can make it with a messiah!

(Show inflatable Christ Sex doll being blown up by blond bimbo.)

Voice: Yes, make out with a replica of the son of God! Now's your chance to
make the ultimate anti-religious statement! Give him a blow job and get
divine sperm squirted on to your face! Mount him and fuck like a rabbit!
Use the convenient blood packets and finger his bleeding stigmata! Yes, this
latex life-like Christ Sex doll can and will do anything you want! And for
an extra 19.95, we'll send you a life-size crucifix, which you can nail your
latex doll to and boff away! Be the first one on your block to say:

Bimbo: "I fucked Christ on the cross in the privacy and comfort of my own
living room!"

Voice: "And not only that, but each and every doll has been blessed by a
crooked drunken drug-addict priest! Each holy orgasm you have will be worth
the small expense to obtain one of these incredible, hand crafted, latex Sex
Messiahs!"

Bimbo, in bed with Messiah Doll: "I fucked Christ, shouldn't you?"

Voice: Act now and we'll send you a crown of thorns ABSOLUTELY free! Operators
are standing by. Call now. Dial 1-800-FUCK-CHRIST."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Nonsense & The Rowat Danger Msg #362, 01:17 est 91-03-10
Subject: It's Time To Act Now Before She Kills Us
The Flog Channel Logo, the Doom'n'Gloom, and the KSiVSQiKKK logo appear all
mashed together, written in food colouring on a pile of rice.
A hand appears holding a Braun Port-a-Slicing-Thingy and mashes them
all into an unidentifiable mess, which a superimposed arrow identifies as the
Floyd Logo.

Cut to Floyd Gecko, who says: Hi. I ffiggered, everyone else is broadcasting
their own channel on this station, so what the hell.
This is a documentary, in case you're chronically stupid and can't
figure that out for yourself.

Cut to Janet Rowat (a short green eyed high school girl with long red hair)
sitting on the floor staring with a kind of maniacal intensity at her
lighter, which has been ripped open, and is blowing 2 feet of flame into the
air.

Floyd: This here is Janet Rowat. She is the first case of this tragic
disease ever spotted. She is seen here in one of her only six known
activities. [Floyd takes a blowtorch to Janet's long red hair and watches as
it evaporates, whilst Janet suddenly notices she's on fire and drops her
flaming toy.]

Floyd: This is the second of these activities, about to OWWWW!

Janet has pulled out a tiny switchblade and stuck Floyd in the kidneys, gouges
it around for a little while, then pulls out his kidney on the end of the
blade and throws it to a dog or similar animal. Floyd's entourage of lizards
fails utterly to do anything, because they're all sunning idly in the light
of Janet's still blazing hair.

Cut to a hospital bed, where Floyd lies in obvious pain, with a drip bag
leaking gluco-saline something or other into a gaping wound which Janet is
busily enlarging with the needle on the end.

Floyd: Now, let's see if we can stimulate the third activity while I go into
surgery. HARRY!

Harizof drags a reluctant Duncan Read on screen, who looks apprehensively at
Janet. (Duncan Read is, for those who don't know, a "Mod" in hairdo, and a
"Dork" in dress. But not a totally evil person) Janet suddenly lunges at
him, and Floyd is wheeled away by his bodyguard Komodo Dragon into the
operating room in the background, nastily leaving Harizof to narrate.

Harizof: Yes, well, um, uh. Yeah. [He gestures vaguely at Janet, who is
pawing at Duncan, and occasionally sticking her knife into him.]

Duncan: Squeak! Squeak! OWWWWW!

Harizof: Well. Uh. As you can see, uh, the Janet has latched herself onto
the Duncan Read. It is unknown how the Rowat Disease affects this apparently
chemical bonding, but, uh, research has, uh, well, you know. Yeah.

Cut briefly to operating room, where Floyd is getting his skin patched, and
various body organs replaced.

Floyd: And soon, more on Rowatism. But now...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Rowat Fearing Slaves Of The Prophet Msg #363, 01:32 est 91-03-10
Subject: MOO and Janet's Fire Mania
Cut from the operating room into a commercial starring Half-Mad and a
semi-demented horde of dolphins, gasping about on a beach,

Half-Mad: Hi. I'm the Great Prophet Of MOOism. I'm here to tell you all
about our new religion that you'd better bloody well join if you don't want
me to kill you.

Cut to man eating a dead person. He sits up and wipes his mouth.

Man: Mmmppphhh. Hi. MOOism stands for a buncha stuff, okay? Like vampirism
and necrophilia and cannibalism and anarchy and free sex.
So, like, join and get happy and free, okay? [goes back to eating
dead person]

Cut back to Half-Mad, eating a dolphin silently. Suddenly starts, realises
the camera's on, and says: Hi again. We're out of time, but register with
us, give 5 bucks fee to Floyd Gecko because he needs it relly bad, and have
fun. Now back to this.

Cut back to Floyd, who is now out of the operating room and has a Python
wrapped around his neck which is wielding a blowtorch threateningly towards
Janet Rowat.

Floyd: Hi. Welcome back to our Rowat documentary. We are now about to
present to you one of the most fearful and truly disgusting phases of the
disease. As you can see, Monty here is protecting me with a flamethrower.
[Python attempts to grin, fumbles the blowtorch, reaches for it, and nearly
strangles the Gecko before realizing it's error.

Harizof [butting in]: We are, uh, em, er, well, about to seek out Janet Rowat
with, um, our improbable weaponry here, which consists of... [begins to
describe in great technical detail the workings of various unlikely
futuristic military hardware while Floyd grapples with his lizards]

Floyd (finally interrupting): Well, here we go.

They enter the adjacent room and the camera pans to reveal
Janet and the Duncan Read which is clearly epoxied to her flesh. Janet is
doing something disgustingly cute and snuggly to Duncan, who is grinning like
a maniac, mostly because he isn't being dissected or incinerated.

Floyd: In this tragic phase of the disease, the victim becomes incapable to
normal activity, and becomes sedentary. We will try to provoke the fifth
phase for you now. Monty, hit it.

The python hits the blowtoch quickly and lights the Rowat's
hair on fire. Phase Two behaviour results, and a quick open heart surgery
later, Floyd returns to the TV screen, interrupting Harizofs mumbling about
high tech gadgetry that can destroy a house a 500 km.

Floyd: We're about to go for another commercial, but when we return... It's
the final phases of the Rowat disease, and hopefully, more information that
will educate and alarm you.

Harizof (babbling idly): The 4mm Gauss rifle with bore riffling effect along
the tube...
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Yet Another Msg #364, 01:45 est 91-03-10
Subject: Rowat DOcumentary
Fade from Harizof's meaningless and highly uncertain mumbling into a vague
commercial for something whose function, purpose, nature, price, and other
such items, are never really disclosed. Return to the documentary.

Harizof: ...20mm laser carbine, KEAPDUC launcing mechanism,
polydiscombobulated needle nosed pliers, tin snips, instant hellfire, um, er,
uhh, ahh, well, er.

Floyd: In the last stages of the disease, which this victim has not yet
reached, fortunately for those around her, the victim turns into a huge, fire
breathing monster with really, really, really big teeth, and then in the last
stage blows up the world with a Balthorium Gee fuse detonator. But let Harry
tell you about that.

Harizof: WEll, uh, um, the Bal...

Floyd (rudely interrupting by blowing up a balloon full of hydrogen, butane
and acetalene): <BANG> WEll, now we progress MFFF (pulls a small random
reptile from his mouth) to the altogether ending part of this Rowatism
documentary.

Harizof: By the way, if you rip off the windguard on a standard lighter and
twist the little flame adjust all the way to the right...

Floyd: Shut up. We now will discuss the cure for the disease, okay Harry?

Harizof (continuing his ramble): ...you can blow up a standard lighter...

Floyd: Phase one. He's caught the disease! Quick, get Duncan out of here
before Harry finds the staples.

Harizof (jabbing his jangly magnesium block/swiss army knife/major military
unidentifiable-thing into Floyd's Kidneys again): YAAAA!!

Floyd: Urk. Get 'im Monty.

(An incomprehensible kafuffle ensues, involving severely
improbable military fireworks, a pile of cold-blooded vertebrates, and
something shiny)

Floyd (from a body bag): Well, since this documentary has clearly failed, I
suggest you write to the Janet Rowatism Foundation Of Canada, or read
JANETRWT.TXT from Mel's. Right now, I'm off for a liver transplant. So long
from me, and our fried egg. (Babbles deleriously from inside the body bag as
he's hauled away to the morgue, trailed by Half-Mad and a pack of MOOists.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #365, 02:30 est 91-03-10
Subject: A fucked up play.
Flog, at desk: "The following few messages are a play I wrote at 2am at work
in a period of boredom. Loads of symbols if you're the boring type that
likes to try and figure shit out. If you aren't that type, read it anyway,
because at the very least, it's weird and interesting. It's sort of gross,
not really though... Anyway... It'll probably be more interesting than
Floyd's thing."

(Flog coughs innocently as Floyd rushes on screen and tries to stab him)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog "Bad Play? What Play?" Sonata
To: All Msg #366, 02:32 est 91-03-10
Subject: Untitled, cuz I can't think of one.
Scene: A bedroom, night time. The only light is moonlight from a
big window. A digital alarm clock beside the bed says 2:10. A
man (Peter) and a woman (Debby) are having sex. They finally
finish with a lot of groaning and straining and sighing. Peter
rolls off of her, and Debby sighs.

Peter: "So what'd you think?"
Debby: "About what?"
P: "Well, me, the sex... y'know, did you cum?"
D: "Almost."
P: (pissed off, whispers:) "Shit."
D: "Oh, it's not your fault, really it isn't. It's just that...
well, I don't know how to say this..."
P: "What? Say it. You can tell me anything."
D: "Well, it's just that... I can't cum unless you're on fire."
P: "On fire?"
D: (sheepishly) "...yeah."
P: "You mean, excited, right? Like, 'whoa, he's on fire!' as an
expression of how freaked someone is, right?"
D: "No, I mean literally on fire."
P: (angry) "That's a pretty fucked up fetish!"
D: "Yeah, well... It's because... Well... It all started when I
was 13, and I was rescued from my burning home by a fireman. I
can still see his face... That steel jaw, those blue eyes... His
face was streaked with soot, and he was so masculine it was
scary... Anyway, after saving me, he said, 'Everything's going
to be OK now, everything's going to be fine'."

(pause)

P: "Then what happened?"
D: "He went back inside the house to save my parents and the
whole burning mess of my home collapsed on him. I saw his pinned
body squirming as his face melted off."
P: "Shit, that must have screwed you up as a kid."
D: "Actually... I liked it. It turned me on, watching him
writhe and slowly die like that."
P: (stunned) "WHAT?"
D: (looking off into the distance) "I know how it sounds, I'm
just telling you what I felt... His death was my first orgasm.
My body was wracked with pleasure. I masturbated later imagining
his face peeling and his eyes turn to goop and..."
P: "That's nauseating! You're insane?"
D: "Am I? Maybe... Maybe I am... Don't you have a fetish of
some sort, some secret you've never shared with anyone?
Something that means something to you? Some sort of experience
that was your sexual awakening?"

P: "Well, of course I do... But it wasn't anything as gross as
yours...
D: "Tell me what happened to you."
P: (hesitantly) "I went with my parents to see my grandfather at
the old folks home... I must have been 15, probably younger. We
took this old musty elevator up to the 16th floor, and I remember
this smell... Like shit, but earthy... Like mud. It filled the
elevator. My parents looked embarassed as they stood there, and
I wondered why... Then I looked at this old woman standing in
the corner of the elevator... She'd shit her pants. She was
scrawny, thin as a bone... Wearing these baggy ugly yellow
shorts, and shit was dripping down her leg..."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog "I Deny Being Here" Sonata
To: All Msg #367, 02:34 est 91-03-10
Subject: Play? What play?
D: "And this aroused you sexually?"
P: "It was like an awakening of some sort... That humans were
animals, that everyone shits, everyone has genitals... Everyone.
The priest in church, my parents, everyone. Even old ladies
who've crapped themselves in an elevator has genitals..."

D: "So what happened after that?"
P: "We got off at the same floor, my parents, me, and the old
woman... She shuffled along, completely ignoring the fact that
brown shit was dripping down her leg and onto her bright white
socks and into her brown penny loafer shoes. She was obviously
senile and crazy... I mean, what kind of person could ignore
that sort of thing? But she had this smile on her face... This
far away smile like she was enjoying the shocked looks she was
getting, the embrassment of others... She didn't really seem
very senile at all..."
D: "Like some sort of exhibitionist? She got off on it?"
P: "Maybe. So my parents went looking for my grandfathers room,
and I saw the old lady walk into her own room... We went and saw
my grandfather, and after a while, I managed to sneak off and
look for the old woman... I went to her room, and I opened the
door and peered inside... It was in the afternoon, and her room
was small and sunlight was coming through her window... There
was a bed and a set of drawers, and in the middle of the room...
The old lady was standing naked, facing the window. She must
have heard me gasp, and she turned and I saw her wrinkled breasts
and her pubic hair and her sagging ass... Her pubic hair was
brown. I remember being surprised, because I thought it should
be white... Or maybe I just thought that later, when I learned
about stuff like that... Anyway, she was naked, just standing
there looking at me... A brown streak was still on her leg, and
she had a washcloth in her hand, and she said, in this old voice
like sandpaper, 'Would you like to play little boy? Would you
like to play with an old lady and make her happy?'"

D: "What did you do?"
P: "I ran away. She looked like a witch to me... She looked
crazy... I don't know if she was, but she looked it. I ran back
to my parents, and I didn't tell them what happened..."
D: "How did you feel?"
P: "Feel? I felt like I should have said something or done
something... Maybe touched her, maybe called her old and
crazy... Asked her why she deliberately shit on herself... Asked
her if she was senile or just pretending..."

D: (teasing) "And you called my story sick? That's gross, some
old lady shits herself and you get a hard-on?"
P: (angry) "It wasn't like that. It wasn't like that at all. It
was just... It was a moment. It meant something...
Something... Something I can't explain. Haven't you ever felt,
when you're in the middle of a situation, that the moment is
special, the moment is magical and you'll never forget it? Like
in your brain you are saying 'this is it, this is the moment?'"

D: "That's how it was with the fireman. It was something
special. His death meant something to me. I had to see him die
to get the kind of brain patterns I have now. The experience
changed me...."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog "Not Flog" Sonata
To: All Msg #368, 02:36 est 91-03-10
Subject: Play? Oh, a play? Where?
P: "Really? So... The fireman. What did he look like?"
D: "He wore a thick rubber yellow coat. It was shiny. He had on
a red fireman's hat and had on thick black boots. I stood there
on the curb with my neighbours all around me. We were all
wrapped in blankets and housecoats... It was the summer and it
was nice and warm out... I remember being excited, thinking
'This kind of thing only happens on TV and now it's happening to
me!'... I didn't even think about my parents inside, or my toys,
or my dolls or my room or anything... I thought of how this
would look on TV when the reporter said 'There was a fire last
night'... So then I was watching and the fireman went back in
and then the ceiling just fell in on him..."

P: "Did you really see his face melt?"
D: "I guess not. I guess I imagined it. I couldn't have seen
it... Not really. I must have just pictured it happening... I
mean the whole ceiling just fell in on him! How could I have seen
it? But... I did. I did see it in my head, anyway. I can
remember seeing it, but there's no way I could have..."
P: "What happened to your parents?"
D: "Oh, they were killed. I was very young, I didn't know them
very well anyway. It wasn't much of a change. I went and lived
with my aunt, and I was just another kid there. My aunt had 3
daughters, and I just became number 4. I didn't have any
brothers or sisters before..."
P: "So you went... Just like that?"
D: "Yeah... Just like that. I remember my parents funeral..."

P: "What was that like?"
D: "It was like a quiet picnic. A party where you aren't
supposed to have fun. I got a nice new black dress from my aunt,
and I was all excited because I'd gotten new clothes and I'd
missed school and I suddenly had three older sisters who were all
very concerned about me. I guess I had no idea what was going
on, maybe I just thought my parents were going away on vacation,
that I'd see them in a few days..."
P: "What about the funeral?"
D: "Oh... Well, we sat in church and I exchanged giggly whispers
with my new sister who was closest to my age. Anne. It was
Anne. And we laughed secretly, and I remember getting a nasty
look from my aunt, but I just ignored it. Adults, what did they
know? And so I giggled and joked. I don't even remember a word
of what the priest said. My parents weren't religious. They'd
never been to church before... I think the time they died was
the first time in church. It was closed coffin because they were
all burnt up I guess... Then we buried the boxes, like some sort
of secret treasure. I pictured pirates coming back some day to
dig it up and break it open and expect to find treasure but
instead they'd find burnt up old people..."

P: "So how do you feel about it now?"
D: (snapping awake) "Oh, well that was a long time ago, and now
I'm grown up, and well, I'm sorry about how I was as a kid when
it all happened. But I was just a kid. I couldn't be expected
to understand. My aunt let me be a kid at the time. I don't
think anyone took the time to explain to me I'd never see my
parents again."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog "Art Is Death" Sonata
To: All Victims Msg #369, 02:38 est 91-03-10
Subject: Finally, the end.
Peter gets out of bed and starts getting dressed.
P: "That's a real weird story."
D: "No weirder than an old lady that shit her pants, less weird
even than that. Lots of kids have their parents die, few kids
get to see wrinkled old asses and pubic areas of grannies."
P: "I guess you're right... Mine maybe is weirder."

D: "So why are you getting dressed? Why don't you stay the night?
Stay and talk to me."
Peter, half-clothed, stops getting dressed.
P: "You want me to stay?"
D: "Yeah. Stay a while, stranger."
Debby pats the bed next to her.
P: "Ok."
Peter starts undressing.
D: "So did you ever see the old shit coverred old lady again?"
P: "No, I never did see her again... She must be dead by now."
D: "Did you find out her name or anything?"
P: "No. I didn't know anything about her. Nothing."
Peter, naked, gets back under the blankets.
D: "There, now. Isn't it more comfortable here in bed than in
the cold, cold world outside?"
P: "Yeah. It is more comfortable in here..."

Peter kissed Debby. They hug each other tightly.

D: "So... Can I?"
P: "Can you what?"
D: "Can I set you on fire?"
Peter looks out the window at the night.
P: (slowly) "Ok. Yeah. Yes."
D: (happily) "I'm the luckiest girl in the whole world."
Peter turns back towards Debby. They stare into each other's
eyes for a long time, and then hug again.

Curtain.



 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Sam Sheppard... Uh, I Mean Flog Msg #370, 18:33 est 91-03-12
Subject: Jumping on the existentialist-play-bandwagon


[Scene: Grey stage, grey cloudy background and grey smoke.
Large puddles of melted Crayola (tm) crayon (grey, of course) are scattered
everywhere, even in the audience. If a member of the audience complains, they
are sodomized and shot through the head.]
[Martha enters the scene and masturbates. This is not part
of the play, nor does it symbolize anything. It is merely a way of warming up
the audience.]


Martha: "A monkey. Two monkey. Three monkey. Blip. Blip. Blooo."

[Three monkeys jump on-stage, behind Martha. She does not
acknowledge their presence.]

Martha: "Paint my nipples grey. One coat. two coats. three
coats. Slip. Slip. Slooo."

[The monkeys paint their own nipples, but ignore Martha. If
the audience seems bored, Martha maturbates again. If the audience still seems
bored she gives one of the monkeys a hand-job.]

Martha: "Grey nipples. Grey monkeys. Grey color. Grey cum.
Give it to Mikey. He'll eat anything."

[Martha cleans her toes for twenty minutes, collecting the
soft, grey toejam and putting it in a Mason jar, with a pair of dismembered
breasts (not hers).]
[By this point the monkeys are very bored and begin defecating
all over the place. After screeching and smearing shit all over each other,
they leap into the crowd, spreading rabies, the flu and AIDS. Obviously, the
monkeys symbolize the chaotic randomness that exists within the zoo.]

Martha: "Drink the stuff of life. Drink the osmosis of decadence.
Drink the grey."

[Martha doesn't drink the toejam/dismembered breast/pickle
juice mixture. She masturbates again.]

Joe (offstage): "Martha . . . are you ready yet?"

Martha (suddenly smiling): "Yes dear . . . one second."

[Martha stops smiling and resumes her blank, hopeless expression
and toneless voice.

Martha: "The power of the grey, and of the monkeys and of
the nipples will flourish my wounds and give me the abundant strength to seek
out the monkeys where they may abolish the osmosis...."

[Martha pauses then shakes her head.]

Martha: "Fuck it. I'm gonna go get hammered."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Shaved Cat Msg #371, 01:33 est 91-03-14
Subject: The Surrealist Play Bandwagon Gets Nuked
Logos and stuff.

A country road, a green-painted zebra wanders along the roadside.

Zebra: Ah, me. The cabbages are covered by the overcast sky. [thud]

Suddenly, a bandwagon comes hurtling along the road, on which noodleheads
perform idiotic acts for the viewing public.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko Rec'd
To: Floyd Gecko Msg #372, 01:35 est 91-03-14
Subject: WRONG BUTTON, STUPID!
Ahem.
As I was saying...

The Zebra is swept up by the bandwagon and falls in the middle of an
existentialist play.

Zebra: Oh. I'm sorry. I don't know how I got in here.
Martha: A monkey. OK. Ploop. Monkey. Hammer hammer. [Hits self in head
with hammer]

Zebra: Calling me?

Martha: Hammer. Plaque. Toothbrush.

Loser: The old lady just stood there in the center of the room..

Martha: Eddie's been in a car accident.

Zebra: I think we must be in the wrong play here.

Half a Button from Flog's Only Buttoned Shirt: Mumble. I lead such a sorry
life. Denim muffins anyone?

Habfobs McMillan: Mumble. I also lead a sucky life. Denim muffins sound
fine.

HABFFOBS: Oh. That's good. They've been practicing their violins all night.

Zebra: Am I in the right place?

Loser: Are any of us in the right place, in the cosmic scheme of things? I
mean, the minty flavour of a coughing giraffe is all very well and good, but
is it appropriate for family viewing?

Zebra: I think I'll leave now.

Narrator (Over shouts of "He has no neck!" from the audience): This decision
was one of the most momentous ever made by Zack the Zebra.
He wandered along the desolate road at night, was picked up by a
bandwagon, and found he disliked the crowd of those in the mainstream of the
street.

Audience: He has no neck!

Narrator: Shut up! As I was saying... Zack left those who had leapt on the
bandwagon, and was instantly rewarded...

Audience: DEEP! DEEP!

Narrator: Shut up!

Zebra: Well. I've got off the bandwagon. Hint hint.

Suddenly, in a fit of symbolism, american interventionist
polict takes effect, and the bandwagon is nuked into smithereens.
Say, what does a smithereen look like, anyway? Why don't you ever
hear about them except in the plural? It's like you can get all of a sudden,
but never some of one, or even most... uh, never mind...
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Floyd Beaver... err, Iguana Msg #373, 10:13 est 91-03-14
Subject: This is an iguana
TTTTT VV VV
T VV VV
T FLOG VVV
T V

[THE DOOM AND]
[ GLOOM NET ]

(logo spelled out in chicken blood accross a slaughterhouse floor, to be
washed away by the janitor's hose, revealing this week's tv special engraved
in hte floor:

THIS IS AN IGUANA.

Fade to dude standing in a kitchen. He is wearing one of those tacky
personalized aprons which reads "SHOVE IT BUSTER". He twiddles his mustache
and then realises that he is on camera.

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a Beaver.

"This is an iguana!"

He then starts to point towards...

[WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES... DO NOT ADJUST YOUR SET]

Cut back to chef-type dude, with apron awry and a bruise starting to swell
under his left eye. "I am so sorry..." he begins, reaching into the top
drawer of the counter, and pulling out a mighty large iguana that is
struggling quite innefictively (considering that it is in a special iguana
straightjacket).

"THIS is an iguana!"

"This is drugs!"
(He points over to a food processor)

He then proceeds to stick the iguana in the food processor.

"And this is your Iguana on Drugs!"

He turns on the food processor, which starts with some sick grinding sounds
and then creates a pretty red mess.

[Start fading to black}

disembodied voice: "You know... that really didn't make much of a point"
other voice: "We could use an egg and a frying pan you know... and call the
egg you brain!"
producer's voice "This is a beaver, this is an iguana, see the difference?"
Chef's voice: "I can't see the difference, can you see the diffe....."

THIS HAS BEEN A GLOOM AND DOOM TV SPECTACULAR
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
*** There is a reply. See #378.
 
From: Hellhound 101
To: Floyd Gunko Msg #374, 10:31 est 91-03-14
Subject: Ok, One Last Time
TTTTT VV VV
T VV VV
T FLOG VVV
T V

Cut to a NEW and IMPROVED chef in one of those tacky customized aprons reading
"GET A JOB". (In the background can be heard "sha-na-na-na, na--na-na-na-na,
get a job, sha-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na")

"This is drugs!"
points to a frying pan where butter is melting quite nicely
(Butter: "I'm MELTING!!!!! Mmmmeeeeellltiiinnnnnnnngg....")
Chef, under his breath: "shut up!"

Pulls out an egg from his pocket... realises it's broken and is streaming gunk
down his arm... Reaches into fridge and gets another.

"This, is YOUR egg."

Breaks egg on the side of the frying pan, egg whimpers, cracks it once more
and drops it in, shell and all where it begins to pop and fry contently. Chef
grins "el-mega-grin".

" And this is your egg on drugs!"

"Any questions?"

[Start fading to black]

Disembodied voice: "Hey, someone get the producer his coke!"

Chef: "This is your producer"

cut to photo of a respectible looking George Lucas type.

Chef: "This is your producer on drugs"

suddenly a face SPLATs up against the camera, drooling with eyes rotating in
wild circles, before he falls and hits the ground, with a nice "thunk" type
sound.

[fade back to black]

Chef: "any takers?"

--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Flog "I Is Existenshul" Sonata
To: Shaved Cat Msg #375, 22:44 est 91-03-14
Subject: Oh yeah??? Oh YEAH??? OH YEAH!?!??!
Flog, pathetic playwrite, standing at desk. He is of course, dressed all in
black, and wearing an annoying beret. He speaks with a new- found french
accent.

Flog: "I actually studied absurdist theory for this major project in high
school. I wrote a bunch of depressing absurdist based short stories. I got
99% on the project. I was never the same, thanks to some pencil pushing
civil servant teacher swine who thought he'd encourage my writing abilities
by making me think people want to hear meaningless shit."

Flog points gun at temple.

Flog: "Surrealism is all! Long live the void! Long live oblivion!
Long live suicide! The more people alive who WANT to kill themselves,
the better we all are! Don't you see? The SCHOOL IS REALITY! Oops, I've
slipped into HEATHERS quotes again..."

Fade to black. Hear a BANG and a thud.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
From: K-Tel, Makers Of Fine Sex Toys.
To: Religion Lovers Msg #376, 23:43 est 91-03-14
Subject: Has this ever happened to you?
Happy go lucky voice: "Has this ever happened to you?"

Show scene from exorcist with little girl masturbating with cross
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, she's doing it hard,
there's lots of blood, and she's yelling "Let Jesus Fuck You!" over and over.

Voice: "Well, this will happen no more with our new product Crucifix Lubricant
666! Yes, with new Crucifix Lubricant 666, anyone can masturbated for hours
with the crucifix of their choice! No matter what size, no matter what
religion you are, any crucifix will slide right in without a problem! Yes,
new Crucifix Lubricant 666, buy 665 and get the 666th tube free!"

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Late Night Flick Time
To: Anal Cyste Msg #377, 23:47 est 91-03-14
Subject: Where the fuck are you?
Calm voice: "And now it's time for our late night movie, The ExorCYSTE,
featuring Anal Cyste as the title lead, with Flog Sonata as his assitant
exorciser, and Loose Moose as the possessed little girl. Shaved Cat plays
the concerned mother, and Floyd Gecko plays a fire-hydrant."

Shaved Cat: "Come little Moose, say hello to everyone at the party!"

Moose, pisses all over the guests: "Satan is gnarly, Satan is cool!"

Guests open mouths to drink urine. It's one of those parties.
Shaved Cat: "I guess he's sick."
Guests: "Oh no, this is fine, don't stop little Moose!"

Later...
Shaved Cat, leading little Moose upstairs.
Moose: "Mommy, the ouija board downstairs told me to take an axe and kill
everyone in the neighbourhood. What should I do?"
Shaved cat, playing the role of tired mom: "Look dear, go to bed, mommy's
fucked up on valium...."
Loose Moosey: "Ok mommy, I'll kill everyone tomorrow."
Shaved Cat: "Fine, whatever..."

Later...
Moose, spitting green goop: "Fuck is reality ever stupid! Tampon commercials!
AARGH!"
Shaved Cat: "Shit. What's this fuckin' kid's problem? Hmmm... Better get a
priest or sumthin'."

Later...
Anal and Flog arrive.
Anal: "Remember Flog, he will try to attack us. Probably sexually.
Hopefully sexually. I'll ask for sexually."
Flog: "And if he does this? What are we to do?"
Anal: "Uh, give in. It'll make him tired. Yeah, that's it. Then we can
drive the demons out."
Flog: "Gosh, ok."

Later... Moose is floating naked above his bed and Flog and Cyste, also
naked, are holding on to him.

Cyste and Flog, chanting: "The power of sex commands you! The power of sex
commands you! The power of sex commands you!"

Moose lowers to the bed, and makes Anal cum too soon with quick vibrating
motions. Cyste crumples in the corner.

Flog, grabbing Moose by a naughty bit: "Take me! Take me! take me you thing
demon beasty!"

Moose rejects Flogs sexual advances and pushes Flog out of the window.
He falls to his death. Oh well.

The demon leaves Moose cuz he's bored.

Shaved Cat, taking Moose away at the end of the movie: "Gosh, now what
neighbourhood should we do next?"
Moose: "Richard Visage is a priest in a neighbourhood near here, isn;t he,
mommy? I'm glad you like watching me fuck priests too, mom."
Role credits.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Hellhound 101 Msg #378, 01:57 est 91-03-15
Subject: Re: This is an iguana
"And now... a Doom'n'Gloom/FLog Network collaboration."

Cut to a really, really, really, really, gigantic and pretty damn big iguana
and a so-so sized beaver sitting on it's toenail.

Announcer: And now, "The Beaver and the Iguana: A comparative Study"

Guy: The iguana is a lizard, whereas the beaver is not. Lizards are
generally known to be more intelligent than mammals, as is conclusively
proved by the BEaver's incessant lodge-building activities.

Announcer: In fact, it is now known that Beavers are controlled by aliens
with mind beams from somewhere near Jupiter. This is why they built those
damns, Stonehenge, the Pyramids, and the Empire State...

"WE ARE HAVING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE ADJUST YOUR
SET IF IT WOULD MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER."

Cut to a half-minute of half-mad dancing around an iron.

"SORRY ABOUT THAT."

Announcer: And now, sixteen ways to skin a cat. First way:
(takes a fresh cat)
..."you simply pull the cat's arms and legs back, take the
long straight knife, and..."
(Lights go out, cat wails in the dark)

"WE'RE HAVING MORE OF THEM. DAMNFOOL ANNOUNCER... UH, SORRY,
CAMERA.. HEHEHE"

Twenty three seconds of a man giving flax to people in the street

"AND WE'RE BACK"

Announcer (in a wheelchair, hanging upside down from the cieling over a huge
vat of yellow paint): And now, the stunt that Houdini wasn't stupid enough
to try!
[Wheelchair drops into the paint, gloop gloop sounds are heard]

Announcer: Gloop gloop gloop.

"WE NOW PRESENT... THIS IS AN IGUANA, PART TWO"

Guy: This is an iguana. No, sorry, a Beaver. No, sorry, a baboon.
No, only a third of a baboon. Where's the rest? No, sorry, I've
just been informed that this is in fact a mango. Tasty mango. [eats part of
it]

Mango (which is actually Flog): OW! Stop that!

Guy: Whoa! This is a mango. This is a mango on drugs!
(drops mango/Flog in blender quick)

Announcer: Gloop gloop gloop. GASP! And now the drugs take effect.

SKAZZZZZZZZZ!
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** This is a reply to #373.
 
From: Poetry Feminist Meeting
To: Culture Lovers Msg #379, 04:20 est 91-03-16
Subject: Culture and shit.
Voice: "And now, because we're starting to feel guilty about all the sexist
shit here, the Flog Channel now presents a group of feminists reading poems
about themselves, society, and other shit. So kick back, crack open a few
beers, and watch scrawny women with big tits whine about how men don't
understand them. Understand this bitch
<grunt> huh? Ahaha...."

Credits: "Feminist Poetry, Featuring a bunch of Women"

Main Bitch: "Welcome to poetry reading for feminists. I'm the Main Bitch and
I'd like to call on anyone who wishes to read anything out loud to the
group... Yes, Marsha?"

Marsha: "I call this piece, 'EVIL PENIS' and I wrote it after my husband left
me for a woman, well a mere girl, of 18.

Oh Evil Penis,
A monstrous gland,
A spitting snake,
I can hold in my hand,
Wait til I get the knife,
And cut off your spitting head,
You fucking bastard! You'll wish you were dead for ever running
off with that fucking 18 year old walking cunt! Fucking assholes!
Men are shit! Men are shit! Men are shit! Men are shit...."

Marsha sobs pathetically, having forgotten about her poem.

Main Bitch: "Very good Marsha. (Boots Marsha off stage) Anyone else? Yes, um,
you, I'm sorry, what's your name?"

Man in drag: "Steve, uh, I mean Susie. My poem is called, 'MY CUNT IS MY
FRIEND' and I wrote it while jerking off, er I mean while I was immersed in
contemplation of love...
Dripping hot flesh
Wet with lust
I insert a large candle
And stroke it back and forth
Play with clit and pubic hair,
And I scream and scream with joy,
Then I cut off my tits with a hack saw, and
um... Watch the severred tits as they flop on the ground
and um, sort of uh... uh.... uh... "

Man in drag is actually standing in front of a crowd of women, making this all
up as he secretly jerks off under a lot of clothing. Several women in the
crowd are misty eyed.

Main Bitch: "That was very good, Suzie."
Man in Drag: <GRUNT> "Uh, it was <GRUNT> nothing."

Main Bitch: "Would anyone else like to express something?"

Suddenly a crowd of bowlers and construction workers (all male) break in and
start beating up the women, raping and abusing them. All of them are wearing
nazis arm bands. They slap everyone about, and things degrade into mass
violence and sex.
Fade to black while an overused piece of classical music plays.
Voice: "You've been watching something on tv. It's over now."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: John Tod
To: Flog Msg #380, 22:45 est 91-03-17
Subject: Aussie import
(ported from the HUMOR echo)
This isn't really a joke as such, but you may find it amusing if you are an
American because your commercial TV networks are quite prudish with respect
to risque stuff on TV.
The following is a REAL tv commercial shown on prime time tv here in
Australia advertising women's underpants called 'Ants' Pants'.
The scene is hot, balmy cheapish hotel room with wooden venetian blinds and
a ceiling fan slowly turning. THere is a ravishingly beautiful woman lying
on the bed wearing only the aforementioned Ants Pants and a short tank-top.
There is an echidna (spiney anteater.. looks a bit like a hedgehog only the
spines are thicker and not so sharp) on the bed beside her and there are
ants crawling up her leg getting closer and closer to her pussy.. the
echidna is watching the ants crawling up her leg and makes funny impatient
grunting noises but the woman's face is calm as she watches the ants get
closer and closer to her honeypot<tm>.. just as they reach the Ants Pants
part of her anatomy, there is a close up of her face as she says "Sickum,
Rex" and you hear the echidna making sucking and grunting noises as the
screen fades to black..
I love that ad.. it is so choice.
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: NiteFiler BBS * Ottawa, Ont. * 726-1916 * (1:163/114.0)
 
From: Religious Advertisers
To: All Msg #381, 05:22 est 91-03-18
Subject: Wanna be sacred? ten bucks!
Scene: Priest distributing those wee white circular tablet thingies to people,
sticking them on their tongues while they kneel before him, then the priest
does the sign of the cross and moves on to the next. Camera passes over the
sleepy eyed people who got up on a sunday morning real early to be here.

voice: "Are you tired of getting up early sunday morning to have tiny little
white tablets shoved in your mouth? Wouldn't it be better if you could just
stay home and eat the tablets there, in comfort and privacy? Well wait no
more!"

All the kneeling people rush out the door excitedly upon hearing the voice,
and the priest stands there looking confused.

Voice: "Yes! New Body-of-Christ-O's! Eat little circular thingies at home,
while watching sunday television! You too can be a part of a wonderful
religion that over um, a million people believe in, all with minimal effort!"

Show man watching televised fishing as he reaches over lazilly and grabs a
fistfull of little white circular christ tablet things and then crams them
into his mouth and chews slowly.

Voice: "New Christ-O's, available in regular, and sugarless! They taste
great, by themselves, or with milk!"

Little kids, pouring box of Christ-O's into a bowl, coverring them in milk,
and eating while watching the Smurfs.

Voice: "Religion never tasted so good! Christ-O's, what being Christian is
all about."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Flog "I Is Existenshul" Sonata Msg #382, 18:48 est 91-03-18
Subject: The Yogurt of Life is a Nice Shade of Fuschia


[Scene: Flog's twitching corpse, spewing various colored,
viscous liquids from a large bullet hole in the side of his head. Flog's beret
is, thankfully, undamaged. Shaved Cat enters the scene
(hesitantly, of course).]

Shaved Cat (wearing a bright blue kilt and garter belts for
absolutely no significant reason): "Oh, no! My cruel mockery of asinine,
surrealistic, existentialist, symbolistic, supercalifragilistic plays have
driven Mr. Sonata to a tragic, untimely (but neat-o) death!"

[Shaved Cat grabs the beret and puts it on. He stands
thoughtfully for a moment and suddenly flings the beret to the floor. We see
that it is filled with very old, kinda white 'n crusty, logs of shit.]
[He sighs.]
[Close-up of a Mason Jar filled with pickle juice and what
appear to be two dismembered breasts. The breasts are bloated and blue, with
greenish gooo growing on the nipples. The jar is labelled with a sticker,
scrawled in fuschia colored crayon: Hi! My name is Dini.]
[Fade to black. As fade-in proceeds, we hear Flog's voice.]

Flog:"Oooo. My head hurts. Where's my wet umbrella? It's crucial
for depiciting the random, chaoticly cruel indifference of life towards the
desperate struggle of the individu..."
[Another gun-shot. Fade to black resumes.]
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Educational Sex Toys For Kids
To: All Msg #383, 04:54 est 91-03-19
Subject: ...
Little kid runs up to mother: "Mommy! Mommy! What's a penis look like?"

Mother, bites the knuckles of her hand and turns towards camera: "Oh no! My
daughter wants to know these things now? What can I do?"

Voice: "Don't fret! Get the brand new sex book for children, that tells them
all about sex acts and everything! This PLASTIC pop up book comes with
batteries! Turn to page three for the plastic pop up penis that vibrates and
twitches (as soon as you flick the switch) turn to page four for a life like
pop u vagina! You're kids will go crazy for this book!"

Daughter in her room, gets to page three with large penis. She flicks the
switch and sits down on her book.

Mom watches happily: "And to think that in only three minutes my daughter
will experience her first orgasm! Thank goodness for the Children Sex Pop Up
Book! And she can wash it off and use it over and over again! Maybe I'll
want to "read" later too..."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
*** There is a reply. See #410.
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Flog "Artsy 'R Us" Sonata Msg #384, 16:30 est 91-03-19
Subject: Illegitimate son of a rock-n-roll star . . .
[There's not even much of an electronic struggle this time. Whatever shit is
usually on Flog TV during the day is cleanly overridden by the KViSR logo
spray-painted on the ubiquitous brick wall. Brandy Charlatan, station
manager of KViSR telecommunications, is standing to the right of the logo.]

BC: This is a formal declaration of war. Talks with the evil dictator of
Flog TV, the pretentious Flog Sonata, broke down over the weekend because
Sonata had to go to his dweeb's job as a security guard. The ensuing rumble
caused heavy casualties in Sonata's technical staff. We'll be sure to send
some pansies to the funerals, guys. We'll also send Slash to "console" the
widows (or at least to give them something worse to think about than the
deaths of their husbands).

What does this war mean? It means that there will be the mother of all
network rating wars (the mother of all cliches brought to you courtesy of
Saddam Hussein) in which YOU the viewer get to decide just who runs a better
television station.

No holds are barred in this war. There is no Geneva conventions being
followed (at least not from this end). Character assassination will be a
regular staple on this end (along with the serial murder of all of Sonata's
technical staff). The line has been drawn, Sonata; the gauntlet has been
thrown. Will you be picking it up? Or will you retreat into your protective
shell of nonsensical surrealism?

KViSR rocks! All nukes, all the time . . .

[GRAMS: "Discovery" by Mike Oldfield]

[Fade to black and then to KViSR news update. KViSR anchor, Jonathan
Sunshine, is at his desk eating a gorgeous chick - seemingly unaware of the
camera's activation.]

Voice: Psst! You're on the air!

[Jonathan Sunshine starts, looks up in shock, and pushes the carcass off the
desk. The body falls to the floor. After an instant's speculation, JS moves
quickly around the desk and ducks down under the camera's view. A few
seconds later he's back up, pocketing a knife and one of the woman's breasts.
He's chewing on the other.]

JS: Good afternoon and welcome to KViSR Character Assassins. Top story today
is this:

[Screen behind anchor lights up. After a bit of pounding from a tech it
flickers and displays Flog Sonata.]

JS: Evil television magnate, Flog Sonata, was discovered by a KViSR roving
news team exiting this Baptist Church in Nepean today.

[Camera pulls back to reveal the white-washed front of a small Baptist chapel.
Flog Sonata spots the cameraman and runs across screaming.]

FS: No! Get that fucking thing out of here! I can't afford to have this
shown on television! Who's paying you? I'll double your salary. Here's
$100,000.- cash [pushes handfuls of money to the bewildered cameraman] for
starters. Just give me the tape! [Starts to destroy camera - view switches
to another camera, better concealed] Aha! I've got it! [Runs off,
chortling gleefully.]

JS: Sadly, Mr. Sonata's bribery attempt didn't work. All of our employees
hand over their firstborn as hostages before working for us. The bribed
cameraman donated the money to the operational fund for KViSR
telecommunications. In addition, the tape that Sonata ran off with was a
dummy. The real recording was stored in an off-site 3/4-inch video and thus
available to the general public for this broadcast.

After recording this scene, our combat reporter, Hack N. Slash, entered the
church to speak to the priest.

--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Flog "I'm a Pretentious Fuck" Sona Msg #385, 16:56 est 91-03-19
Subject: Revealed: Flog Sonata is a good Christian!
[Switch to interior of church. The priest, a kindly old man, is looking
curiously, and somewhat nervously, at Hack N. Slash, KViSR's combat reporter.
The spiked and studded leather jacket with the "Satan is King, All Hail the
King" slogan on it seems to most attract his attention.]

Slash: So what you're saying is that Flog Sonata is a regular in your church?

Priest: [distracted] Er . . . Oh, yes. Sorry. Yes, Flog has been one of the
most upright members of my flock. He shows up to church every Sunday and has
led a lot of prayers. Most of his prayers are about making the world a good
and kind place. When he was younger he started a Christian Boys' Club and
actively recruited from his classmates. I remember it all so clearly. One
of his friends had this strange set of antlers on his head. We were so
saddened by his becoming a homosexual!

HnS: So Loose Moose was a member of the congregation in his earlier years?

P: Oh yes! He was our best choirboy! Only his hairdo was a problem. We
eventually had to get a building permit for him to wear it. It did
complement his antlers nicely though.

HnS: Thanks, padre. Your help has been appreciated.

P: You're very welcome! Er . . . Could you get your cameraman down off of
the crucifix now?

HnS: For your kind of help, I'd do anything, Padre. Hey Bolt! Climb down off
of there. And shake hands with the padre!

[Camera swings crazily as the cameraman climbs down. The camera approaches
the priest. A hand (presumably Bolt's) grasps the padre's in a firm grip.
It is shaken vigourously. The priests arm is ripped off at the shoulder.
Priest's eyes glaze over as he slumps unconcious to the ground.]

[Switch to KViSR anchor desk.]

Jonathan Sunshine: That was todays top story. In other news today, Knight
Slayer was arrested today after the crotch of his armour flew off. The rivets
holding the crotch in as tightly as possible hit some passersby, blinding one
and lightly wounding several others. Unconfirmed reports indicate that
Knight Slayer was turned on by a passing female dog in heat. Now we can
understand why he chooses the girlfriends he does.

That's all for today. Stay tuned for Magnum!, KViSR's bootleg concert series
as it continues with the KViSR Top .44 line of stolen concert video.

[GRAMS: "Screaming for Vengeance" by Judas Priest]
[Fade to grey and then queue in Brandy Charlatan in front of the KViSR wall,
sacrificing Super Syl to Satan. Syl seems to be enjoying it.]

[Screen goes fuzzy as the KViSR carrier is lost. Scene switches to Flog
Sonata presenting yet another boring monologue . . .]

Sonata: Oh! My life is a shambles! My father lives in Germany, 1939. My
mother is a passive sheep. I think I'll smear shit all over myself and
masturbate over a picture of Barbara Fromm. That'll show the world!!

[He commences doing just that. Mercifully the camera fades to black . . .]
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: News Report From Hell
To: Brandy Charlatan Msg #386, 04:35 est 91-03-20
Subject: There's more on this earth, Horatio...
Satan, at a news desk: "We interrupt this interruption to interrupt you and
bring you the following news..."

Picture of Flog appears in a little square over Satan's shoulder.

Satan: "It was revealed today in a science lab that Flog Sonata, owner,
manipulator and defiler of children at FCTV apparently was cloned a billion
times at birth. This miraculous piece of information was given to us by an
extremely reliable source, Hitler."

Cut to Hitler in Hell, chained to a wall, a thousand insane doberman's gnawing
on his genitals.

Hitler, to camera, barely heard over dogs: "Vell, ven I vuz just a youngin',
before I met my true love, I had sex wif und orangutang, and vell, the
offsprink was very cute, and I sot, 'Perhaps everyone vill vant one' und zo I
cloned eet a billion times..."

Cut back to Satan: "We approached Flog Sonata to ask him about this little
news piece, about being the spawn of an orangutang and being the son of
Hitler..."

Cut to small room, filled with 200 Flogs: "NO COMMENT!" they all chant.

Static burst.

Static fades to reveal The Pope, sitting at a news desk.
Pope: "We're sorry to interrupt this news broadcast, but hey, FUCK YOU, like
you wanted to fucking watch it anyway... Today in the news, Flog Sonata is
now the new pope. That's right, I Pope John Paul the umm... 14th? Give up.
Flog's managed to blind people completely with this goody-two shoes act, and
actually used a major television network (KVSIR or something like that) to
look like he was actually a good human being... The people of Poland
revolted, demanding Flog be elected Pope, and it is now my sad duty to
announce Pope John Flog the 2nd. (Yeah, there was a Pope John Flog the 1st,
check your history books....) Thank you, good night, and God's a big joke."

Pope John Paul takes out a gun and blows his own brains out.

Static.

Camera comes up on Brandy Charlatan, sitting innocently, eating lunch in
McDonalds. Camera rushes up to Brandy.

Voice of unseen interviewer: "Brandy Charlatan? We're from Flog TV, and we
were wondering if we could ask a few questions..."

Brandy spits out a semi-digested chicken McNugget and tries to make a run for
it.

Unseen interviewer: "First off Brandy, are you male or female? You seem to
wear a lot of dresses and yet you have this lump in your drawers that suggests
you either took a shit, or have a penis... Which is the case?"

Brandy, as she/he runs, in a voice too masculine: "Get away from me you silly
billys! Can't a pretty gorgeous woman eat her McDick food in piece???"
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Investigative Reporters
To: Brandy'S Bum Bum Is Big Big Msg #387, 04:48 est 91-03-20
Subject: Chasing Brandy about.
Brandy is pinned against the wall by the reporter and the dress is torn off to
reveal male genitals.

Brandy: "All right, so I have genitals! So what? So I dress like a woman
sometimes! So what?"

Cameraman, laughing: "Didn't you hear that Pope John Flog the 2nd has
announced that all transvestites whose names start with B are considered
moral outrages and are to be shot on sight?"

Brandy, shocked: "Pope John who?"

Brandy breaks away, and runs through the streets screaming, eluding the camera
crew.

Interviewer: "Don't worry folks, he won't get far, what with the 10 thousand
dollar bounty on transvestites whose names start with B.
I hear Boy George has already been slaughtered. Not to mention Benny
Hill... Now, back to regular programming..."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: And Now It'S Time For... Msg #388, 04:57 est 91-03-20
Subject: SEX WITH FETUSES!
Voice: "Welcome to, SEX WITH FETUSES! The show that teaches you how to have
sex witha fetus, and the various ways in which it is possible to do so, and
now, here's your host, Pope John Flog the 2nd!"

Flog: "Hello, and thanks for that wonderful introduction Dave, you look
smashing in papal colours! Hello! And I'm Pope John Flog the 2nd. Today,
sex with a deboned fetus basted in orange brandy. First, remove the fetus
from the woman's womb, making sure not to lose the placenta, and any
after-birth type liquid that might trickle out."

Flog takes a machete and carves his way through the belly of a pregnant woman.
He yanks the writhing little pink fetus out, while it continues to kick a bit.

Flog: "Next, make sure it's female." (Flog examines the fetus) "Nope, heh
heh, darn the luck, it's male. I'll just have to cut me out another one."

A pregnant woman is led on to the stage, and is hacked to death, the fetus
extracted.

Flog: "Ha ha, well damn the luck, another male!"

Audience chortles.

Flog: "I guess this just isn't our day! Is there anyone in the audience who's
pregnant, and had one of those scanning thingies and knows that her child is
female?"

Woman timidly puts up her hand.

Flog: "Excellent! Now don't be shy, just because you're on national
television!"

Woman: "Tee hee!"

Flog: "Now just lie down in the vat so I can hack you open... By the way
kids, you know that what I'm doing is morally correct, because I'm the Pope.
If I were, say, some sort of sick transvestite whose name started with B,
then you'd know this was wrong..."

Audience hisses and boos and cries out with disgust at the mere mention of
transvestites whose names start with B.

Flog: "And all those transvestites out there trying to get their names legally
changed, good luck. We have armed guards at those government offices where
name changes take place. And half-mad? Watch out, they've got orders to
blow your sorry ass off if they fuckin' catch you there trying to change your
fucking name again! Well, back to fetus preperations! Now lie back in the
tub... there's a good girl!
Now make sure your machete is nice, clean and sharp, and hack at
the base of the throat then carefully cut your way down..."

Woman: "It's an honour to die by your hand, Pope John Flog!"
Flog: "Glad to oblige! Oh, I see we're out of time and that I've actually
killed this woman for no reason! Oh well! We'll finish this recipe next
week! Thanks for watching. Next, Cardinal Richard Visage will give a
soliloquy on the federal deficit."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Beer Commercial
To: You Lot Msg #389, 02:24 est 91-03-21
Subject: Beer
A crowd of scantily dressed women are at a bar, sitting up and down repestedly
on a phallus shaped beer bottle.

Woman who is screaming in orgasm: "I'd fuck any man that drinks SHLOCK beer!
I'd fuck him til he passed out!"

Another woman, also near brink of orgasm: "I'd fuck him if he drank SHLOCK
too, and only SHLOCK because a man who drinks SHLOCK beer makes me hornier
than a priest in a prostitute's palace!"

Another woman, sitting down on the beer bottle: "I'd fuck a SHLOCK drinker
until his head exploded from too much pleasure in his brain."

A man enters the bar. The women stop gyrating on their bottles and look at
the man expectantly.

Man, to Bartender: "Gimme a Molson."

Women all sigh in disapointment.

Man, to a gyrating woman: "Hey baby..."
Woman, interrupting: "Fuck off, eunuch!"

Another man enters, and orders a SHLOCK.

Women scream and run up and rip off all his clothes and begin fucking him in
every way imaginable, cramming their twats on to anything they can. Man is
confused, dazed, naked, and soaked in vaginal juices.

Voice: "SHLOCK beer. Drink it, and you'll get LAID."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #390, 11:21 est 91-03-21
Subject: Drugs are bad
 
[Fade to commercial]
[A hand holds up a ziplock bag with some white powder inside.]
VOICE: This is drugs.
[Switch to a frying pan on a stove.]
VOICE: This is a frying pan.
[Some butter is placed on the frying pan, followed by the contents of the
ziplock bag. The mixture proceeds to cook and fizzle in the expected
manner.]
VOICE: These are your drugs on a frying pan.
 
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #391, 15:37 est 91-03-20
Subject: Pat gets coherent.
* Original: FROM.....Pat Donovan (163/207)
* Original: TO.......Flog Sonata (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
 
So the literacy tax wasn't enough (GST'ing books), now
the bookies are refusing to import ANY material that gets
taxed. That's fighting fire with you're fired.
Not that I'm exactly gonna miss the latest terrorist
manual from the states, (99 G's yr. for grade school
principals is bad enough.). We have lots of local people
terrorizing us already.
For those of you you don't know, school boards are
infamous beds of patronage corruption. It took ten years to
get a child molester off the cleaning staff in the ottawa
board and the teachers who molest are still there,
protected. A great place to have a friend, or have
something on a friend.
Loyality. A Fine drug, as the CBC internal memo's show.
They planned a emotive campaign at the CRTC hearing instead
of factual and BINGO! So far all roses.
Wilson promotes a hardline budgette, while giving breaks to
the exec. class raises, the super rich trust funds and crown
corps, along with 6.6% funding increases.
we know who got the shaft there, don't we?
This has been another "pubic slavice- Ministry of TRUTH"
production intended for flog's TV but I promised not to
post there anymore.
pat
 
--- TMail v1.20
* Origin: Play CHESS with a friend while online {4 lines} 830-5391 (1:163/223)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #392, 03:42 est 91-03-22
Subject: Stew makes me think of this:
* Original: FROM.....Flog Sonata (30522/1)
* Original: TO.......Stewart Bruce (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1
Voice: Today on Cooking for Nookie, Julia Childs makes a spicy, naked, cheese
and hot sauce Conga line, band singing obscene lyrics in the background is
optional.

cut to Julia.

Julia: "Hello, Julia Childs here, speaking to you in an annoyingly bizarre
english accent! Today, we are making Naked Conga, and for that you will need
100 naked people of mixed gender and race, a dozen barrels of salsa sauce, hp
sauce, taco sauce, and ketchup, a ton of shredded cheese, and a band addicted
to a mind-altering drug. First off, take the 100 naked people, and line them
all up so that they're all facing the same way. Make sure that none of them
are copulating yet, and be certain that each individual will be capabale of
having sex for hours on end without rest..."

Julia goes up and down the line of one hundred naked men and women, inspecting
them, pinching butts here and there, measuring penis sizes with a huge wooden
spoon.

Julia: "Next, take the barrels of sauce, and pour them gently over the entire
bodies of the dancers, concentrating mainly on the sex organs. Next, take the
shredded cheese, and lightly sprinkle it over the members. Feel free to add
any spices of your choice, such as hot peppers, or anything else that comes
to mind... Baby oil, whip cream, edible paint, what ever is handy around the
house. I know my husband George has at least a dozen cans of edible paint
just lying about. Next, find a band that's so agonizingly horrible and with
lyrics so demented you just want to give them a sound thrashing for even
daring to call what they play music. Ask them to play their worst piece.
For today's meal, we've picked the Butthole Surfers, who will sing "I saw an
X-ray of a girl passing gas" for us. the Buttholes are of course, on
expensive mind altering narcotics."

Buttholes start getting into position to play.

Julia: "And there you have it. I'm julia Childs, bidding you fairwell, and
see you again next week on Cooking for Nookie. By for now!"

Sauce coverred people begin fucking like rabbits, Buttholes start thrashing
out horrible music, and Julia Childs strips down to the buff and leaps into
the massive tamato sauce coverred orgy. You may note that a tattoo on
Julia's butt reads "Motorcycle Mama".

Credits.
Fade to black.
(Based entirely on a strange discussion with Stewart Bruce)
 
--- QM v1.00
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Floggo Sonatto Msg #393, 22:05 est 91-03-23
Subject: Find The Pope
Flog Logo is hacked up by a small man in a red suit, carried off by various
other characters, and suddenly the series goes off the air.
Cut to the set of Find The Pope.

Floyd: Hello, and welcome to today's exciting edition of... FIND THE POPE!
(Audience goes wild)

Floyd: Now you all know the rules, and how the game works. So I won't tell
you again. Get to it, people.

People wander around stage aimlessly, obviously not knowing
how the game is supposed to work or what they're meant to be doing.

#1: Uh... Here Pope! Here Pope! I have a clerical biscuit for
you! Christ-O-Wafer?

#2: YO! POPE! GET OUT HERE!

#3: Now let's see. If I was leader of the catholic church, where
would I hide?

Voice Over: And now, for viewers at home, we will reveal the location of the
Pope.

Cut to stock shot of the Vatican. Pope is reading Mass.

#2: POPE! C'MERE BEFORE I COMMIT SIN! SIN, POPE! DO YOU HEAR ME?

#1: <whistling> fweep! fweep! Here boy!

#3: Probably in the Pope's favorite place... THE VATICAN!
(Others hear him)
#1 & #2: The vatican! Of course! Why didn't I think of that?

Cut to Pope, who realizes he's being followed, and ducks into a confessional.
The contestants rush into St. Peter's Basillica and look for him. They begin
tipping over pews. Suddenly, a gong sounds.

Floyd: Oohhh. So close, and yet so far. Come out now, Pope! [Pope comes
out.] Since none of you found the Pope in the given time, we now go into
sudden death Find-The-Pope. Here's a six hundred foot by six hundred foot
mural. [Shows one.] One of these two inch tall figures is Pope Pious the
First. Find him within the next ten seconds, and you win the grand prize.
Start looking... NOW!

#1: Here Popey, Popey, Popey! Here Boy! Here Pious!

#2: YO! PIOUS! WANNA SAVE A SINNER?

#3: Here he is.

Floyd: Oh my God! Oops, heh heh heh... Well, you've found the Pope in that
picture. This is amazing. It's the first time in twelve years that this has
happened. John-Paul, tell him what he wins!

JP: I forget, Floyd. It's been so long.

Floyd: Oh. Well forget it then. By now! See you tomorrow for... The Pope
Is Right!
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Al Marks
To: All Msg #394, 20:50 est 91-03-23
Subject: beavnor meatcleaver
Scene opens on identical houses in suburbia, the Beaver theme music is playing
as we pan in on one of the look-a-like houses.
We are now in the Beavnor's bedroom. Beavnor is laying on his back with his
mouth open snoring and a sheet tee pee sticking up.
Beavnor wakes up and listens for noises. The only thing he hears is Walrus
his brother moaning Oh God in the next room. Nothing unusual here. He takes
out his penlight flashlight and sticks it in his mouth. His eyes roll down to
watch his cheeks glow pink as he thumbs the off/on switch.
Tiring of this he removes the penlight and tries it in one of his nose holes.
It comes out green and slimy. He licks it off and puts it in his ear while
trying to watch the wall for light coming out. Beavnor then experiments with
the skin between his thumb and first finger. He closes his hand around the
penlight and that gives him an idea. Not a very original one but one he is
used to.
His hand reaches down to grab his little penis. He places the penlight under
his bag and stretches the skin tight over it. He looks at all the veins with
hot young blood pumping through them. He wonders if the sperm in there have
eyes and can see the light, maybe they have little sunglasses.
He lowers the penlight a bit more and thrills at the coldness of the metal
against his ass hole. He pushes a little and the light disappears. He pushes
the off/on switch but can't tell if the light is on or off. He pushes more
and gets very excited. He hammers on his dick and bounces on the penlight.
Then he stiffens and comes like the Fourth of July all over the sky. He lays
still listening and then cleans up some of the cum with one of his socks. He
looks around the bed for the penlight but he can't find it anywhere.
Oh well he thinks it likely fell on the floor or something, he is to tired to
worry about it for now and falls off into a contented sleep.
With the birds singing and the sun shining Beavnor and Walrus are at the
kitchen table having breakfast. The voice of their mother can be heard from
the upstairs bathroom, "Who forgot to flush the toilet?"
"Not me!" both boys shout together.
"What is this shiny thing here, Beavnor!!!!"
Fade out to look-a-like houses and cue music. Announcer voice in: another
episode in the life of Beavnor Meatcleaver.
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: The Mafia Stole My Guitar.... (1:163/402)
 
From: Some Government Agency
To: All Msg #395, 23:39 est 91-03-24
Subject: Prejudice affects everyone.
A crowded classroom. Few students are scattered about. a new guy walks in,
named TOM. Tom nervously walks in. Girls look at him, and quickly walk
away, laughing. Guys see him, and sneer in disgust. When Tom sits down,
people move away from where he is sitting. The proffessor comes in, sees
Tom, and gets extremely angry.

proff: "Out of my class, you fucking freak!"

Tom runs from the room, embarassed, and makes his way to the bathroom. He goes
into on of the bathroom stalls, and cries pathetically. He reaches into his
school bag, takes out a sharp knife, and slits his own wrists.

Voice: "Discrimination, in this day and age, seems not only unlikely, but
highly improbable, and yet even today, many males are mocked, humiliated and
expelled from society. Penis Discrimation. Small penised males are often
shunned, ignored, or cruelly attacked by their well endowed co-workers,
co-students, and just about every member of society. Other males consider
them like lepers, and women consider them as dog meat. This week is small
penis awareness week. Press your dick up against the yellow strip on the
screen..."

A yellow stip 12 inches long appears.

Voice: "If your penis is smaller than this, you need help. First off, don't
panic. Second, realize that perhaps sexual intercourse is over rated.
Thirdly, you should know this: if you are under this size, your girlfriend is
mocking you behind your back. She is unsatisfied with sex, and is simply
faking orgasms. THERE IS HOPE. Just pick up the phone, and dial
1-FLOGS-BIG-DICK and in minutes we will hav someone over with an adequate
sized penis to satisfy your girlfriend. Do not be ashamed of your small
penis size. Well over three quarters of the world's population has a penis
that is too small. Please call now, Flog... er, operators are standing by."

Cut back to Tom, bleeding in the washroom. A janitor comes in, and sees Tom's
dead body, takes one look at the groin, and laughs and laughs.

Fade to black, with flashing "DIAL 1-FLOGS-BIG-DICK" on and off, burning a
whole in your memory.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All B&B fans Msg #396, 00:54 est 91-03-25
Subject: Secret camera footage
We now interupt "Popes on Qualuudes chanting to a Purple Christ" to bring you
this important news bulletin.

Cut to newsman.

Hello. Today, we received footage from a priest who wishes to remain unnamed,
of a certain act, performed by a certain couple at a cetain BBS fest, at a
certain Ralph's, at a certain time, on a certain planet, for a certain reason
(of which we are as of yet, uncertain). The BBSers in the bathroom at the
fest: The Bucket and The Brick. The act, a quickie. The reason, as of yet
unknown. Here's the mysterious footage which we received, in a plain brown
unmarked envelope, except for the words "Richard Visage's Papal Palace of
Persuasive Pixies" which were written on the back of the envelope in dried
semen.

Cut to camera footage.

Camera is pointed directly at a "certain priest's" face.
Priest: How do I work this bloody thing?
Camera bounces around, Stew peers into camera.
Stew: Is it running? I don't think it's running.
Priest: Damn. I think K**ght Sl*yer and K*m are fucking in the bathroom.
Stew: I'll go check.

Camera turns to follow Stew, who enters bathroom. Camera follows, apparently
under the arm of the priest.
Voice of Priest: Wait fer me! Where's my beer? Did I leave my beer here?
Any one seen my beer? WHERE'S MY BEER? HAS ANY ONE... oh, here it is.
Camera angle from priest's armpit. We see Phanteem drinking from a glass with
1/100th liquid and 99/100th plastic cockroaches. Mel Pheasant is seen
sprawled under a table with Crass, who both are drinking from an ice skate.
Crass mumbles "So Map spelt backwards is actually cunnilingus. Wow." Camera
goes into washroom. Entire bathroom stall is shaking.

Camera is focussed on urinal, so full of pubic hair that the circular soap is
NOT visible.
Voice of Priest, not quite a whisper: Do you think that the brick and the
bucket are making the beast with two backs in there?
Voice of stew: I betcha. Open the door and film it.
Voice of Priest, as he moves camera to focus on bathroom stall: ok, you kick
open the door.
Stew runs up, and kicks the door open.
Camera shows Flog, fornicating with a blow up doll of Michale Jackson.

Flog, moaning: "A billion? I'll give you a billion you off-white bastard!"

Stew and Priest: "DANGNABBIT!"

Cut back to newsman.

Newsman: There you have it, K*m and Kn**ht Slay** fucking at Ralph's. This
footage definitely shows without question that they were definitely...
(blushing) um... definitely... doing... er... DOING IT. I'm a random
newsman.

Weird chugga chugga of type writers as credits show that the newsprogram was
put together by weasels.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #397, 17:11 est 91-03-26
Subject: People Are STupid!
[Fade to several dozen camprires. Each has several Care Bears
roasting on a spit above it. As the camera moves up to get an
aerial view of the campfires, we see that the collection of
compfires spells 'FLOG-TV'.]
VOICE: And now stay tuned for.....
CROWD OF VOICES: PEOPLE ARE STUPID!!!!
[Fade to a typical candid camera show. A cheeze looking host in on
stage in front of a large audience. All his limbs are in a cast,
so he is wearing a microphone around his neck like a crucifix.]
HOST: Good evening, and welcome to....
AUDIENCE: PEOPLE ARE STUPID!!!
[Switch to crowd of Hell Angels lounging around in a forest
clearing, drinking beer, repairing motorcycles, having sex with
loose biker babes, the usual biker activities. The host of PEOPLE
ARE STUPID!!! walks up. None of his limbs are in a cast.]
HOST: Hey, stupid!!
[All the bikers turn in his direction upon hearing this.]
HOST: We all know who we are, don't we?
[The bikers pull out chains, knives, baseball bats and other
implements of destruction, and proceed to break all his limbs.]
[Fade to commercial.]
[A man is driving a very expensive car along a country road.]
VOICE: Imagine the freedom! For just $5 you can win loads of dough
that you can spend on expensive cars...
[The driver of the very expensive car fails to notice a very obvious
STOP sign, and is flattened by a Mac Truck, together with his
expensive car.]
VOICE: and expensive booze.
[Switch to a woman sitting in a very opulent living room in what
must be a very opulent house. There are several lines of white
powder on the coffee table in front of here, which she is busily
snorting. As she turns towards the camera we see that her nose has
a severe problem with visible hardened blood vessels, and is red and
bulbous. Even her expensive dress does not conceal that fact.]
WOMAN: I used to be a single mother on welfare - and I used to give
blowjobs to bikers to support my cocaine habit. I used to buy
lottery tickets on the remaining money - until I hit the big one!
Now I can have all the cocaine that I want - and I don't have to
worry about my kids - they starved long ago. So don't let anyone
tell you that you can't win!
[Fade to "Imagine the Freedom" in big letters.]
---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #398, 17:13 est 91-03-26
Subject: Ratings war?
[Fade to aerial view of a normal looking apartment building. For a
few seconds, nothing happens. Then a TV set flies out of a 15th
floor window, and crashes on the pavement below. Shortly
afterwards, another TV set makes a similar exit, followed by
another and yet another. Soon, the pavement below spells out FLOG
TV in smashed TV sets.]
[Fade to newsroom.]
ANNOUNCER: There has been something of a network rating war between
FLOG-TV and KViSR Telecommunications. Or was there? Just few hours
ago, our camera crew in the St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church
made some very interesting footage that may shed a new perspective
on this so called "war".
[Switch to inside of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church. Lots
of well dressed people are sitting in the pews. Some women are
crying. The priest is standing in front of them, book in hand.
Organ music is playing - the sort usually played at weddings.
As the bride and groom make their entrance, we see that the groom
is none other then Flog Sonata. He is wearing a tuxedo. The bride
is Brandy Charlattan - and is wearing a traditional bridal dress.]
PRIEST: Do you, Flog Sonata, take this woman to love and to
cherish, till death do you part?
FLOG: (eagerly) I do!
PRIEST: Do you, Brandy Charlattan, take this man to love and to
cherish, till death do you part?
BRANDY: (demurely) I do.
[Flog places a ring on Brandy's hand.]
PRIEST: You may now kiss the bride.
[Flog and Brandy kiss, but not enough to offend Catholic
sensibilities of those present.]
PRIEST: I now pronounce you man and wife.
[Fade back to newsroom.]
ANNOUNCER: It appears that both Flog Sonata and Brandy Charlattan
are good Catholics, which of course raises into serious doubt the
reality of this ratings battle. However, one question remains -
what happened to Super Syl? To answer this question, we go to St.
Clare's Convent.
(continued in next message)
---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #399, 17:16 est 91-03-26
Subject: more lurid revelations
(continued from previous message)
[Switch to Super Syl, wearing a nun's habit, in the chapel of the
St. Clare's Convent.]
SUPER SYL: I'll always love Floggie, of course, but I love him as a
brother in Christ. I feel this is the best way in which I can serve
our Lord, but someone has to make all those good Catholic kiddies -
and that is the way in which Floggie and Brandy chose to serve the
Lord.
[Fade back to newsroom.]
ANNOUNCER: Well, this answers that question, doesn't it.
[Pounding on a door is heard.]
FLOG's VOICE: I am gonna kill you! You promissed not to tell
anybody!!
[More pounding on the door.]
ANNOUNCER: I think this is about time this whole thing is revealed
for what it is - one huge act.
FLOG'S VOICE: Get this lunatic of the air!
[More pounding, then smashing sounds.]
[Static.]
---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #400, 03:26 est 91-03-27
Subject: Make love not slinkies.
Voice: And now it's time for Gleesome Threesomes! With your hosts, Flog, Syl
and Brandy.

Camera comes up on Flog, Syl and Brandy Charlatan all in bed together, naked,
except for Flog who's wearing his neat-o-keen pope hat.

Flog: "Hello, and welcome to Threesome Gleasome, and we're your hosts, I'm
Flog Sonata, also known as Pope John Flog the 2nd. This is Brandy Charlatan,
a hermaphrodite cross-dresser, also my wife, and this is Syl, also my wife.
First, let's show the footage that Syl got for us on her exhibition, er
expedition to a nunnery... Talk us through it, will you Syl?"

Syl's voice as Camera shows what she says: "Well, here I am signing up to join
the nunnery. The nuns here have little or no idea as to who I am, and
therefore eagerly accept me as one of their flock. Here we see the main cunt
of the nunnery, Sister Grizelda, fondling my firm young bottom. Here we see
Sister Grizelda finding out that I brought a camera crew along to film the
whole thing, and here we see Sister Grizelda dishing out large amounts of
money to stop me from showing this footage on this television program."

Cut back to threesome in bed.

Flog: "Well! Wasn't that intriguing? Did anything else happen on your
expedition?"

Syl: "Well, I bumped into this irritating camera crew, asking me what I was
doing there... I explained to them that I had become a nun in order not to
blow my cover. It was a close one."

Flog: "Ah... So what happened to the camera crew?"
Syl: "I think sex crazed nuns took them into the basement to have their way
with them repeatedly. You rarely get men in nunneries."

Flog: "Brandy, tell us about your weekend."
Brandy: "Well Flog, we got married this weekend! Don't you remember? And why
are you making me wear these handcuffs? Aren't you supposed to be loving and
caring in a threesome?"

Flog: "Not necessarily. Now perhaps I can reveal the truth about our little
"wedding". Upon discovering your plan to merge the two networks of Flog Tv
and KViSR (or whatever), I summoned Tony Benardo, my stunt double, to perform
the act. Tony, a master of disguise, easily fooled you into believing he was
in fact, me. You are now married to Tony, who, did I forget to mention, is a
nazis skinhead biker into anal sex, sadomasochism, and branding irons. Off
you go, dear!"

Brandy is dragged away screaming by Tony the nazis skinhead biker sadist.

Flog: "Oh dear, Syl, we seem to be reduced to a two-some!"
Syl: "Well, remember: the best threesome is a boy, a girl, and their imaginary
friend."
Flog: "Hmm... I'll get my dog."

Sounds of Brandy being sodomized and burnt with a branding iron are heard as
the screen fades to black.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Inkoherunt Ramblor
To: (Honest, It'S Rambler, Not Flog) Msg #401, 03:47 est 91-03-27
Subject: Flog sure didn't write this. It was Rambler.
Voice: "And now, gay rights activist Incoherunt Ramblor speaks out against
AIDS."

Ramblor is standing in front of large butcher's block, holding a large wooden
mallet.

He unzips his fly and slaps his naughty bits on to the block.

Ramblor: "These are my testicles."
Holds up hammer.
Ramblor: "This, is AIDS."
Slams his testicles repeatedly and violently.
Ramblor, pointing at his mashed, flattened testicles: "These are my testicles
on AIDS. For God's sakes! Wear a condom so that I don't have to smash you
in the nuts too!"

Fade to Black.
Fade up to Flog at his desk.

Flog: "Ok, it was a cheap shot."

Fade to black....
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Flog 'n' Rambler Msg #402, 17:01 est 91-03-28
Subject: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
[Cut to Flog TV's News Desk. Loose Moose is sitting there looking very
nervously past the camera. He notices that camera light on,starts, and
then nervously grins.]

Moose: Er... Hi there. This is Loose Moose taking over for our... [looks
down at the floor beside him] er... usual anchorman due to a... [looks down
again] er... sudden illness. In a late-breaking news story, we turn to
Ima Soodunim in a secret location. Ima?

[Cut to reporter babe (looks a lot like Athena) in a darkened room. In the
background the eerie orange-red light of dozens of dials and lit switches
creates a moody backdrop.]

RB: [In hushed tones.] I'm here in the secret laboratory of one Dr. Hermann
Scheisskopf, alias "Flog Sonata," alias "Pope John Flog II," where we're
about to witness history in the making. [Noises of people talking from
off-camera.] We're going to have to go into our pre-arranged hiding
places now. Dr. Scheisskopf is arriving now. [Camera jiggles around
and switches perspective. Reporter babe disappears from view.]

RB: [Disembodied voice.] It looks like Dr. S. is accompanied by a few people.
This could be very interesting!

[Enter Flog Sonata, Super Syl, Incoherent Rambler, "Brandy Charlatan",Flog's
stunt double and Flog's Father. Flog is dressed in a Nazi Gestapo
(Geheimstaatspolizei, for you uninitiated dweebs) uniform with the rank of
Major. His father has the same uniform with the rank of Colonel. "Brandy
Charlatan" is dressed in her wedding gown. The stunt double (the nazi,
skinhead, sodomizing one with the red-hot brand fetish) is being carried
in by "Brandy" and Rambler.]

Flog's Father: I'm proud of you son! You're doing a wonderful job of making
people think you're opposed to the reinstatement of the Third Reich! And
that "Pope" thing was a brilliant idea. Religion has always been a good
thing to subvert. In no time at all we'll have all of Ottawa/Carleton
goose-stepping around!

Flog: Well you know how I've always admired Hitler, Dad. Besides you were an
inspiration to me for my entire life.

"Brandy": What are we going to do with your stunt double?

Flog: Well you sodomized him pretty well there, my creation. The
branding irons were a nice touch too. I don't think that he'll be a good
body double anymore -- I don't think the scars are going to heal soon enough.
Why don't you keep him?

Body Double: No! Please, no!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rambler: When am I going to be paid for my part?

Flog: Right now, Mr. Rambler. Here you go. The keys to my liquor bunker.

Rambler: Alright! See you tomorrow after I've finished off your stash!
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Flog and Rambler Msg #403, 17:02 est 91-03-28
Subject: Slight warnings...
[Exit Rambler.]

["Brandy Charlatan" is doing something truly nasty to the body double with a
largish butt plug. The double is screaming in agony. Flog's father and
Flog look on with approval. Super Syl is getting off with some scientific
probe or other. Suddenly some smoke curls out of "Brandy Charlatan"'s
ears. She keels over.]

Syl: What's wrong with her?

Flog: I don't know. I'll have to take a look. [Opens "Brandy"'s head with a
screwdriver. Lots of circuitry is visible inside.]

Flog's father: [With a snort of derision.] That's what happens when you buy
your parts from Radio Shack. Sloppy and amateurish, son! [He hits Flog in
the head with a riding crop.]

Flog: Damn! I'm going to have to pull her into the shop for a complete
overhaul. It's the only working prototype I've got! Come on! Let's get
the robot over to the shop. I've got to get it ready for the next "public
appearance" of Brandy Charlatan. We've got to completely ruin her reputation
or we're sunk! And the Vaterland will never be able to rise to its prior
glory.

[Exit all. Reporter babe steps out of hiding.]

RB: So there we have it, people. Flog Sonata has been faking Brandy
Charlatan's appearances with a robot doll. This has been a KVi... er...
Flog News special report. Back to you Moose.

[Cut back to Flog TV news desk. Moose is looking down at the hidden body of
the regular anchor. He's decidedly green. He turns back to face the
camera at the prompting of some off-screen entity.]

Moose: Uh... Thanks, Ima. In other news today, officials at the NRC Secret
Military Research Laboratories announced that a slight accident had taken
place. A military virus was accidently released into the streets of
Nepean yesterday as a transport vehicle overturned in attempting to exit
the Queensway too quickly. We have this statement from an NRC official.

[Monitor behind Moose lights up with a picture of a geekish type looking
person in a lab coat.]

Geek Type: [In a Yiddish accent.] Well the public doesn't have much to worry
about. The virus is a keyed virus. It only kills people who are clones,
alterant replications or eugenics offsprings of people living in Nepean,
ON who use a form of torture as a first name. Thus only clones of people
who have names like Whip, Burn, Rack, Beat, etc. are in any kind of danger.

[Back to Moose at the news desk.]

Moose: In other news today, billions of people (latest estimates have 8-10
billion of them), identities unknown, simply keeled over and died today
without warning. All of the people look markedly similar.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Flog Sonata and Incoherent Rambler Msg #404, 17:04 est 91-03-28
Subject: Brandy Charlatan was here...
[Monitor lights up with picture of dead person. He looks amazingly like
Flog Sonata.] Anyone able to identify this person, or anyone like him,
should please contact 1-800-BRA-NDYC and use the secret passphrase
"I don't want the blowjob, I want to report something." Operators are
standing by.

We now switch to a feature presentation of... er... Flog TV. Really. It's
not a KViSR production. [A whiplash curls in from offscreen and leaves a
long scar around Moose's neck.]

[Screen displays brick wall logo. The phrase "KViSR presents..." has been
crossed out and replaced by "Flog TV presents a KT/BC
production..."



S U T U R E S E L F !
The Television Journal of Home Surgery.

hosted by

Dr. Hack N. Slash

KViSR staffer Slash is standing in front of a meat-cutting table. He is
poorly disguised by the doctor's outfit and surgical mask. Next to the table
is a crate full of all sorts of rusty and ruined surgical tools.]

Slash: [Grins at the camera.] Today on Suture Self, we're going to teach
you how to remove a clitoris. Our patient for today is Flog Sonata's
main squeeze (as well as the main squeeze of every red-blooded male
in Nepean). Would you please welcome SUPER SYL!!!

[Super Syl is dragged onstage by two goons in spiked and studded leather
jackets. They each wear the KViSR logo as colours.]

Syl: You won't get away with this! My Floggie'll get you for it!

Slash: [Ignoring Syl.] The first thing to remember when removing the
clitoris is to tie the patient down well. [Goons strap Syl down onto the
bed so she can't move at all.] Next you have to make sure of the identity of
the victim, er... patient. [He inspects Syl's inner thighs.] This
woman has the entire telephone directory of Nepean tattooed on her
thighs. Thus we know that this is the real Super Syl.

When removing a clitoris, it is important that the clitoris be
enlarged. This is generally done through sexual stimulation, but it isn't
as much fun as my technique which involves rubbing A5-35 onto the organ.
[He does so. Syl screams in agony.] Notice how it is almost instantly
engorged to its full size. [He slaps Syl silly --sorry, bad pun -- and
continues without her shouting overriding his monologue.] Now it's time to
make the first incision.

[He takes a rusty and dull scalpel and begins to cut out the clitoris. The
camera follows every cut and move with gruesome detail as Super Syl
screams in agony, torment and arrousal. Eventually the clitoris
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Brandy Charlatan
To: Floggie Pooh! Msg #405, 17:06 est 91-03-28
Subject: Revenge!
is removed and Syl is carried out of the surgical
room/slaughterhouse.]

Slash: Stay tuned next week for Suture Self's documentary on "Removing the
Testicles of a Traitorous Young Russian (Not That He Needs Them Anyway)."

[Camera returns to brick wall logo. The phrase "KViSR presents..." has
been crossed out and replaced by "Flog TV presents a KT/BC
production..."



W O K W I T H W A N G !!!

hosted by

Jonathan "Wang" Sunshine

Jonathan Sunshine stands with a chef's outfit proclaiming
"Cannibalism: A Way of Life!" He is holding a suspiciously familiar piece
of meat in his hands.]

JS: Hi there and welcome to Wok With Wang. Wang is sick today, so I've
come to take his place for today. The very special dish we're going to
prepare today is [he brandishes the small piece of meat] the human clitoris.
As an aside, we'd like to thank our volunteer for supplying us with a
clitoris today, Super Syl.

Preparing a clitoris for a meal is quite easy. It is one of the most
versatile of the edible human body parts. Today I'm going to show you the
simple recipe: Stir Fried Clit. To make this delicacy, you simply sautee the
body part in even parts of Chinese rice wine and soy sauce. You then stir in
various vegetables and presto! you have Stir Fried Clit. Serve on a bed
of rice.

[Switch to plate containing the described dish. Sitting in front of the
plate is Brandy Charlatan in her leathers, straps, chains, bizarre makeup and
hairdo. She gently nibbles away at the clitoris until it is all eaten.
She then throws the vegetarian shit away off camera. She smiles at the
camera.]

Brandy: So, Sonata. Your childish attempt at character assassination
backfired. Anyone who knows me (including most of the male population of
Nepean, except for you!) knows that I NEVER wear skirts or dresses. The
"revelation" and the "wedding" were a dead giveaway that I was not involved.
Both involved dresses. Thus neither had me in it. Back to you Sunshine.

[Switch to Jonathan Sunshine who is cleaning vegetables and rice off of his
clothing.]

JS: Stay tuned for next week when Wok With Wang brings you a recipe for
preparing Smoked Testicles, Russian Style. We now return you to regularly
scheduled programming.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-512-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Not William McEvoy
To: William McEvoy Msg #406, 18:00 est 91-03-28
Subject: Commercials for the Hard of thinking
[dissolve to commercial]
Scene: A gutter in some alley. See a young male in dirty ragged clothes,
half-empty bottle of lysol in his hand.
man: Hi <hiccup>, ya dunno me, and usually when I travel, they dunno me
either. In fact nobody knows me. But they should because I am a big time
winner.
<dissolve to scene of same man hitching a freight train as it comes by... he
misses, falls in the ditch, minus a finger>
man: Why am I a winner? Because I didn't go to University like all the
losers do, in fact, I didn't even graduate grade 6. I'm a winner because the
government gives me welfare and I don't even have to work. Just <hiccup>
free time and relaxation for me... No need to worry about stressful things
like work, taking a bath, getting laid, or even where the next meal is gonna
come from...
<dissolve to scene of man in soup line outside Salvation Army>
man: Nope none of that 90's loser shit for this guy... just soakin' up the
sun all day, bashing faggot hind-grinding fudge packing pile driving
homosexuals, and enjoying life. But sometimes I don't get the recognition I
deserve...
that's why I don't carry one of these...
<dissolve to close-up of a high school diploma made out to William McEvoy>
instead I carry one of these...
<dissolve to Salvation army soup kitchen card>
man: A decent education... Don't leave home with one.

--- msged 2.05
* Origin: G.A.F Factor -10 (1:163/106)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: All Msg #407, 16:54 est 91-03-28
Subject: History in the making
[Fade to a red flag with a yellow hammer and sickle on it flapping
in the breeze. Underneath it says "PEOPLES' TV".]

[Cut to newsroom which looks like Beirut on a bad day. There are
bullet holes in the walls, dead bodies, smashed furniture, and
other tell-tale signs of a revolution. All portraits of Flog have
been replaced with portraits of Vladimir Illich Lenin, the founder
of the Soviet state. The newscasters' desk is overturned, and in
its place is a red Ford Tempo with a newly installed sun roof and
a .50 cal machine gun on top. The Incoherent Rambler, a bottle of
tequila in hand, is manning the machine gun. Conversation in
Russian can be heard of camera. Rambler turns to face the camera.]

RAMBLER: Good evening, comrades, and welcome to Peoples' TV. The
dictator Flog Sonata and his imperialist stooge Brandy Charlattan
have been overthrown by the combined will of the workers and
peasants of what was formerly known as Flog TV and KViSR
Telecommunications - which were typical examples of capitalist
decadence and immorality, and Flog Sonata's liquor bunker has become
the property of the people. I am Incoherent Rambler, chairman of
the Peoples' Revolutionary Soviet of Peoples' TV.

[Rambler takes a swig from the tequila bottle.]
You are no doubt aware of the "ratings war" between Flog TV and
KViSR Telecommunications. However, the reality behind it is quite
different. In fact, there was no war - merely attempts by Flog and
Brandy to divert the attention of the people from the social
reality, and avoid the historical neccessity of a communist
revolution. As we can now see, they have failed, having no
infallible Marxist-Leninist ideology to inspire their efforts,
having no motive beyond simple capitalist greed.

And now a word from our sponsors.

[Fade to commercial.]

(continued in next message)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: Floggie And Brandy Msg #408, 16:57 est 91-03-28
Subject: History in the making (continued)
(continued from previous message)

[A largish bi-plane, with "Air Albania" painted on its sides, is
taking off a grassy field, scaring sheep, goats and chickens out
of
its way.]

VOICE: Here at "Air Albania" we strive to provide the best in
customer service. You can choose our very popular economy class

[Cut to a passenger inside the the bi-plane. He is sitting on the
floor, next to a sheep and a flock of geese. A wire cage with
squacking chickens is stored on his head for lack of any other place
to store it.]

VOICE: or our business class.

[Cut to a passenger sitting on a crude wooden bench. There is a
cage with chickens on his head, but in this case the floor of the
cage is covered with old comminist party periodicals. A stout
stewardess serves him a bowl of steaming chicken innard soup.]

[Cut to the "Air Albania" plane flying low over a field of grazing
sheep.]

VOICE: Now Air Alabania flies to every city in Albania, as well as
to selected cities in Yugoslavia. And you get bonus points every
time you fly!

CHOIR: "Air Albania" - the world revolves around us!

[Cut to newsroom. Men in Soviet-like uniforms are installing
machine guns in the windows and large holes in the wall.]

RAMBLER: Tune in tomorrow for the trial of of Flog and Brandy at
8:00, and their execution at 8:30.

[He takes another swig from the tequila bottle.]
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Incoherent Rambler Msg #409, 23:13 est 91-03-28
Subject: Floyd Really Wrote This. Honest.
"Ratings War" in huge letters appears as a spray of bullets
knocks out selected windows in a huge building.

Voice: And now, selections from... The Private Dreams Of Comrad Harizof...
Volume One
[Kiddie bedtime story music in background]

Voice: And now... The Raid...
[fade to bluish, then in on Harizof, standing in an alley.
He is wearing something ridiculous and armoury of a highly unlikely
nature. He kicks open a door, revealing Flog, Syl, Rambler, Brandy,
Hack/Slash-thingy, and Moose.]

Harizof: It's a pack of lies! NO revolution! NO ratings war! AAAAAAA!
[he shoots them all full of holes]

Gecko's Voice: Now, boys and girls, that's no way to deal with your problems.
You can see how Harry used big, scary, expensive guns to kill everyone. No.

[cut to Floyd]

Floyd: THIS is how it SHOULD be solved, if YOU have a problem, kiddies...
[does something preposterous with ordinary household items, temporarily being
Mr. Wizard, and makes a huge bomb of the really scary type]

Floyd: Now let's go find those fakers of wars and revolutions and nasty scary
things...

[They go through the alley bit again, exactly the same.
Floyd lobs the bomb, which partly explodes in his hand. Lots of smoke and
death and stuff]

Floyd: There. Now that's something you can do with ordinary household items,
too. HALFY!

Half Mad and most of the MOOist cult rushes onscreen and applauds
the dead bodies. Janet Rowat is temporarily lost in the confusion, and Flog is
carefully prepared with creme sauce and tobasco on the brain. Floyd nibbles
pensively.

Floyd: Now, this has been prepared rather badly. I'm afraid that's partly my
fault. You see, the bomb exploded in my hand. I have no excuse.

MOOists growl angrily, but oddly enough don't eat him. He
rolls up his sleve.

Floyd: But I DO have a defense. See? No meat! [arm is puny and bony]

MOOists: Grrrrr.

Floyd: Well, until next time, this has been Rambling Number Sixteen, or maybe
Five.

Fade to unimaginable colours, driving half of north america
insane.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Loose Moose
To: Those Who Have Eyeballs Msg #410, 22:22 est 91-03-29
Subject: ...
Fade to Whatzisface Shatner, the guy who played Kirk on Star Trek. Title
rolls across the screen: "FUCK-UPS 911".

Shatner sits on the corner of a desk in some faked out police office 911
thing where the people are actually taking calls rather than using the phones
to call out for pizza and phone sex. Anyways.

Shatner: On March 18, 1990, Mrs. Crunchetta Clitsnipper of East Rutherford
N.J. suffered a massive heartattack. Our faithful 911 service was on the
scene within minutes.

Cut to carefully made reenactment. Old woman is convulsing on the ground.
Neighbour is screaming hysterically into a cordless phone from his front
lawn. Ambulance pulls up.

Shatner: Miss Clitsnipper was rapidly taken into the ambulance, which
turned to speed off to Mercy General Hospital (ambulance driver floors it,
smashes into an oncoming van.) Well, the old bag would have kicked off soon,
anyway, she was 79 fer chrissake. Why worry. Our next story involves a
daredevil whose stunt went horribly wrong, and who ended up dying shortly
after being accidentally injected with 50 CCs of liquid lead by a drunken
ambulance attendant.

Fade to commercial. Silly housewife screaming hysterically, smashing a jug
of liquid detergent around her kitchen.

Woman: Jeezus fucking christ. I can't get the goddamn rest of the liquid
detergent out. Aiiiie!

Voice: Ma'am, are you aware that by using liquid detergent, which doesn't
all come out of the bottle, you're losing a tablespoon of detergent each week?

Woman: That right fucking pisses me off!

Voice: That's almost 2 cents out of your daily budget.

Woman: If I saved for two months, I could get a fucking Twizzler!

Voice: So switch to powder.

Woman: You're right. I'm sick of losing 8 cents a month on liquid
detergent that I can't get out of the bottle. No wonder I live below the
poverty line.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
*** This is a reply to #383.
 
From: Sex Secrets Of The Rich And Famous
To: Brandy'S Left Nipple Msg #411, 00:38 est 91-03-30
Subject: "My walrus sings when the fat lady DIES."
Some guy, dressed up in leather and lots of zippers, standing outside of Syl's
house.

Grazbo: "Hullo, I'm Grazbo GitGutter and welcome to Sex Lives of the Rich and
Famous. Today, Super Syl. What makes her Super? What makes her tick? How
many orgasms does she have during sex? We asked her these questions..."

Cut to Grazbo and Syl sitting inside of luxury house.

Grazbo: "Super Syl, recently it was shown on television that you had a
clientdectomy. Was this true?"
Syl: "Yes, in fact my clitoris was removed, but it grew back. You see, and
this is a very uncommon occurence, I was born a sexual being.
My entire body is in fact, one huge clitoris. To touch me is to
bring me to orgasm. In fact, I'm not really supposed to tell anyone, but I'm
the goddess of sexuality, come to earth to observe the sexuality of lesser
beings, to study your ways..."

Grazbo: "How interesting? Do you have any... godly powers?"
Syl: "Besides sexual powers, no. But I can make a human being cum if they
stand within ten feet of me, simply by releasing pherenomes into the air.
Observe..."

Syl shrugs her shoulders and Garzbo instantly cums in his pants.

Garzbo: "Amazing! Could you, uh, do it again?"

The rest of the show is spent making Gazbo cum repeatedly until his testicles
are dried out sacs.

Garzbo: "Guh, guh... Uh, before we, uh, leave, one more question...
If you are a sexual being, why have you chosen Flog Sonata as your
mate?"
Syl: "Ah, well, he is an immortal, in a sense... In fact, he's this close to
being the god of perversity. He just needs one final task to acheive this
state..."

Garzbo: "And has he chosen a task yet?"
Syl: "No, but he's planning on something soon, involving raccoons, squirrels,
an all boys choir, a nun convention, and three dozen bullwhips. It's to be
one massive orchestrated sex act. I think he's considering using purple, red
and green edible paint too."

Syl shrugs again and Garzbo screams in ecstacy with his 87th orgasm.

Garzbo: "Well, uh, that's all the time we have for this week. Next week,
we'll be visiting Mel Gibson, to find out if he slipped his salami into that
blonde cunt... uh, waht's er name... Sally... um, no, the blonde bitch in
Bird on A wire. Never saw the movie my self but I hear it's a piece of shit.
She was in some... oh yeah, Goldie Hawn or something. I wonder what her
muff looks like?"

Fade to pubic hair.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Chivalry Is Dead.
To: And It'S All Brandy'S Fault. Msg #412, 04:18 est 91-03-31
Subject: Let's tear out her innards.
News type git: We interrupt reality to bring you this wee comment...

Guy at desk: "Last week we saw the following..."

Show clip of Syl having her clitoris removed.

Guy at desk: "This was the despicable act of Brandy Charlatan, who is now
wanted by the police for the act (although Syl refuses to press charges and
is quoted as saying "I kind of enjoyed it, besides it grew back anyway, I
think I'll irrigate a desert now with vaginal juices." Furthermore, Brandy
is now somewhere in hiding in the city of ottawa. No one is sure where. But
there is one thing we are sure of, and that to attack the female companion of
your enemy is an act lower than slugs. What sort of inhumane creature
without a mind would stoop so low?"

Picture of Brandy Charlatan, with words "Transvestite and Breaker of Combat
Code" underneath.

Guy: "Brandy Charlatan stoops so low. To attack someone involved in the
combat is one thing, but to go out of your way to attack those who are
involved on a secondary level How horrid. For example, say if Flog were to
retaliate by killing Brandy's family, nuking his/her house, neighbourhood,
going back to Brandy's public school and executing his/her former teachers,
etc. Flog would never do such a thing, ever, of course..."

Cut to picture of Brandy's former kindergarden teacher tied to a chair, her
face is bruised and she looks like she hasn't had any food in a few days.

Teacher: "Brandy often masturbated in class, even in kindergarden.
She or should I say he? We never could figure out what sex IT was...
Can I have some water?"

Someone walks on screen and shoots the poor half-live slob.

Cut back to news guy in midsentence: "...never do such a thing, ever.
Flog's far too humane and would never ever... What? What footage?
Where did that come from?"

News guy is beaten to death by roaming band of neanderthals, who stumble on to
the scene, and eventually tear the camera apart.

Static.

Buzz... Buzz.... spic-spoc-spic...
Crackle...

Rambler manning a tank: "This is Inkoherent Rambler! Long live the
revolution! Long live communism! Long live dictatorships! Long live nestle
toll house cookies!"

A van pulls up and men in white coats step out.
Rambler, as he's dragged away and being forced into a straight jacket:
"Long live the Nepean Police! Long live Roger Ramjet! Long live
perestroika, pteradactyls, and puppies! Long live the IRS! long live the
umm... "
Doors of van slam shut and rambler is driven off to the loony bin.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: How To Torture. Msg #413, 04:32 est 91-03-31
Subject: Innocent Victims get Slaughtered.
And now it's time for...

HOW TO TORTURE!

With your host, Runt Sourfoot!

Runt: "hello, and welcome to HOW TO TORTURE! Today, combining sex acts and
torture. For today's act, you will need:

-one unwilling victim, (any sex)
-a large bottle of diet coke
-a scalpel
-needle and thread
-a live cat
-three pounds of garlic
-two dozen dead goldfish.

Place your victim on the counter, and gently assure him or her that their
death will be most painful!"

Bob Loblaw, the asshole who owns loblaws, is brought out and laid down on the
long wooden cooking counter.

Runt: "LOOK, FUCKING BOB ASSHOLE LOBLAW, YER DEATH WILL BE FUCKING PAINFULL!"

Bob shivers and tries to run away.

Runt: "If your victim should try to run away, ask your armed guards to stop
him from doing so."

Two guards carrying battle axes step forward and kick Bob in the groin
repeatedly. Bob falls back on the counter.

Runt: "Next, slice open your victims belly, and remove excess innards."

Bob, upon hearing this, starts screaming.

Runt slashes open bob's belly and yanks out intestines.

Runt: "Stuff in one live cat, one dozen dead goldfish, and all the garlic.
Sew up the wound and..."

Static.... BZZzzzZZZ Spic-pic-pop-pop...

Static fades to reveal Brandy Charlatan: "What wimpy torturing. If it were
me, the victim would be um... Flog's grandfather! Yeah!
Ahaha! Yeah, wouldn't that be funny? Maybe Flog's best friend?
Maybe um... ooo.... Lemme think, lemme think... Maybe Flog himself?
oh gosh this is funny. Lemme write this down. Torture Flog. Wow,
what an idea..."

Static again. Bzzt....

Back to Runt, and we see that Bob Loblaw is now without arms, legs, or a head,
and yet he is still alive, kicking and spraying blood everywhere.
Runt: "Next week, how to open a human skull and remove the brain slowly so
that you're victim feels it happen! Bye for now!"
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Tylenol
To: All Msg #414, 14:00 est 91-04-02
Subject: What do Doctors do for pain?
Serious sounding voice: "What do doctors do for pain?"

Doctor dude, sitting at his desk, wearing a white lab coat: "Well, what I do
for pain is bang my head against a wall repeatedly. If that doesn't work, I
take a screwdriver, shove it so far up my nostril that I can feel it scraping
against the back of my skull."

Serious sounding voice: "What do doctors do for pain relief?"

Doctor dude: "When i want relief from the pain I just inflicted on myself, I
pop about ten or twenty valium, and go off into a coma."

Serious voice: "Tylenol. Insane doctors don't use it, maybe you should."

final shot, insane doctor lying passed out in his office on the floor, a tiny
bit of drool coming out of the corner of his blue lips.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
 
 
 
From: Some Bank
To: People With Money Msg #415, 14:03 est 91-04-02
Subject: We care, holy fuck, do we ever care.
Weird "canadian" sounding music.

Voice, speaking as canadian scenes are shown: "At scotia bank, we care about
our customers. We have extra late hours, for when bobby needs twenty more
bucks for that pissed off hooker. We have flexible mortgages. We have all
sorts of neat stuff. If you open an account, we'll give you a toaster...
No, 2 toasters. A fridge? Oh god, please open an account? PLEASE? Oh
please? If you don't open an account I'll lose my job and my wife and kids
will starve and... Look, I'll blow you if you open an account. I'll blow you
and let you take me from behind. Look man, I need you to open an account!
Ok, ok... Fucking bastard... (sniff) open an account or that's it... I'm
fucking gonna blow my brains out. Open an account or I'll kill a bunch of
kids in a school yard and then take my own life. Come on you fucker! You
fucking bastards! Open a fucking account! Is it too much to ask? PLEASE???"

Voice pants for breath. Canadian scenery keeps going by (praries, fishing
boats, kids playing soccer, smiling grand parents, and other typical shit
continually shown while canadian sounding music is played).

Voice: "Look, I'm sorry about that... it's just that, well, I need people to
open accounts. God, if I lose this job... Look, I don't want to bother you
with this... I'm just having a rough time... You see, well, my dad's farm
burned down and the cows all died... and they say they're going to foreclose
anyway. Fuckers. So I could REALLY appreciate it if you open an account....
The blow job offer stands."

New voice: "At scotia bank, we care."
First voice again: "PLEASE! PLEASE? Look, I'll do it man, I'll fucking kill
somebody I will I swear it I'll..."

Voice fades out, canadian music increases in volume until it's deafening, and
scenes of canadians continues being shown, except faster and faster, in more
and more twisted situations: fishermen catching nets full of human fetuses,
the soccer coach sodomizing the winning team's star player little billy, a
grandfather stabbing his grandchildren, a ballerina coverred in blood
pirouetteing on razor blades, etc.

Ghostly desperate voice: "We care!!!! We carrrrreeeee...."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Talking Margerine
To: Butter Eaters Msg #416, 14:13 est 91-04-02
Subject: Margerine
Man sitting at breakfast table, buttering his toast with margerine. He takes
a bite.

Man: "Margerine.... Hmmm.... it doesn't taste like margerine, it tastes
like..."

Margerine container: "Butter!"

Man: "What was that?" (looks about)

Margerine container: "BUTTER!"

Man, spots talking margerine container, prods it carefully with a fork.

Margerine container: "Butter!"

Man jumps back, afraid. Looks straight into camera in fear, looks back at
margerine container. Slowly stands up.

Margerine container: "Butter!"

Man slowly undoes his fly, approaching the container with his dick in hand.

Margerine container: "Butt-ACK!"

Man inserts his dick into the margerine containers "mouth" in mid-butter
phrase. He thrusts in and out in pleasure as the margerine container is
mumbling and gasping inaudibly in pain. Man keeps thrusting, but suddenly
starts screaming in agony, as blood sprays everywhere. the margerine
container has bit off the man's penis and we see blood gushing out of the
severred remains of his phallus. The butter container spits out the severred
tip of dick, and laughs evil.

Serious voice: "Use butter. Margerine is just TOO dangerous."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Benson
To: (Old Shows From Hell) Msg #417, 14:22 est 91-04-02
Subject: Benson, that butler type fuck for the goveor guy...
Sappy music, credits for BENSON.

Weird german bitch: "Zo you see govenor, white people ARE the mater race and
vee should exterminate de lesser classes und de weaker races..."

Govenor, thoughtfully: "Yes, Gretchen, I see what you mean..."

Benson, walks into room: "Hello govenor! What's on todays agenda?"

Govenor: "Are you talking to me, jungle-bunny?"

Benson: "What?"
Gov: "You heard me, spear-chucker!"
Benson: "Sir! I've... I've been on your staff for a long time... You never
were a racist before... What's going on?"
Gretchen: "Zee vays around here have changed, Benson..."
Gov: "That's right, you nigger scum. Gretchen has shown me the light and I
think you'll be seeing things a little differently now..."

Pete, sappy moron, walks in: "Benson, I need some help with this poem. What
rhymes with 'anal-banana'?"
Benson: "Pete, now's not a good time... Apparently Gretchen is some sort of
Nazis and has convinced the govenor that the white race is superior to all
races."

Pete: "Oh, so she's finally convinced him? About fucking time. I was sick of
being subservient to a lesser race."

Benson: "Pete! not you too! My god! Are you people all barbarians?"

The weird snob guy who's name I forget walks in.
Snob: "Govenor, this proposal to have black and other minority children bussed
to labor camps is just not going to work out..."
Benson: "Well at least somebody around here is still sane."
Snob: "...first off the bill is far too lenient. Secondly, I think we
shouldn't simply kill them but torture them over a long period of time and
then finally kill them in a degrading way... Say, oh i don't know, rip out
their innards and feed them to them while they're slowly dying... Oh,
Benson, haven't you been nailed to a cross and set on fire yet?"

Benson: "What the fuck's going on? I thought you people were my friends!
What the fuck?"

Gov: "Oh Benson you pathetic fool. We've been planning this behind your back
for years. Now, you die."
Govenor pulls a noose out from desk drawer. People all start to crowd around
Benson.
Benson turns to camera and delivers the punchline:
"I knew doing those Milk of Magnesia commercials would give me bad nightmares,
but this is ridiculous."

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Floyd Gecko
To: Whoever. Msg #418, 20:25 est 91-04-02
Subject: I don't know, I'm making this up as I go along...
Zoom in on a large box. On it is written "YOUR BRAIN" in big red letters.

Voice: And now, care and treatment of your brain.

Cut to open box, with small grey lump inside.

Voice: First of all, never, ever, ever do this of your brain.

Feet come from off screen and jump on the brain for a while
until it looks like guacamole.

Voice: Here's how to do that right. Try it with a new brain.

Cut to new brain. Hammers, blowtorches, hand-wrenches, cleavers,
and other implements of destruction come out from off screen. Hack up new
brain.

Voice: Avoid getting mushy brains between your toes. Use power tools.
And now, here's Floyd Qecco with Care and Treatment of your Circular
Saw.

Floyd: Here's how to properly care for your circular saw.

Cut to scene of romantic candlelight dinner, Floyd conversing
in low tones with a circular saw sitting opposite him. It doesn't move.

Floyd (to saw): Of course I respect you. I have a deep, profound... oh, is
that on? Hi again. And now, what not to do with your circular saw... unless
you want to clog up the blades...

Suddenly picks up saw, plugs it in, and cuts off the top of
his own head, spraying greenish blood on the walls.

Floyd: Oop, ack! Oop, ack! <thud>

Voice: And now, three minutes in an inane assylum...

Cut to Floyd lying on the ground going Oop, ack!

Voice: This is the inane assylum, for those determined to make fools of
themselves, and indulge in ritual self-mulitation. And retired senators.

Floyd (taking a break from oopacking): Uh, uh, uh... THPTHPTHTPTHPTHPTHP!
Oop, ack! Oop ack! Oopack!

Flog (entering shot): Oop ack! Oop ack!

Voice: And who are determined to act like fools...

Flog: What?

Voice: And next time on Care and Treatment of Your Brain, we explain how Bran
Flakes can turn your healthy, strong brain into a healthy, strong brain with
bran flakes on it.

Fade to a kind of purplish greeny-orange with blue spots.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Inidigestion Sufferers Msg #419, 01:54 est 91-04-05
Subject: Bubbly bubbly bubbly...
Man at counter, an empty bucket of chicken fat sitting in front of him (ie. he
just ate that). Man stands up and clutches his stomach in pain (ie.
indigestion). He stumbles over to the diner's waitress.
The waitress looks at him.

Man, in sing-song voice: "Bubbly bubbly bubbly..."
Waitress, singing: "Dum dum de dum..."
Waitress: "Bubbly Bubble EEEENO!"

Man starts puking all over the waitress. She's literally drowned in vomit.
He can't stop vomitting. Brown chunky goop covers everything.
The man continues vomitting until it's up to his knees. Patrons
of the diner, upon seeing this, get queasy themselves and start puking. Soon,
everyone in the diner is vomitting, until finally, everyone is up to their
necks in vomit. It then goes over their heads and they all choke and die on
their wonderful vomit.

Voice: "This is an honourable way to die. To choke on your own vomit.
Jimmy Hendiz did it. Janis Joplin did it. Jim Morrison did it.
Shouldn't you die by choking on your own vomit? Well, why not try
ABBA? Yes, old ABBA reconds will have you spewing puke in seconds!
these old swedish fucks will make you so nauseous you'll be choking
on your puke and dying in seconds, just like Jimmi Hendrix did! Call now,
operators are standing by."

Screen: Send money to:
DESPERATELY TRYING TO SELL ABBA RECORDS
c/o Jews for Jesus
527A Mt. Pleasant Road,
Toronto Ont.
M4S 2M4
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Soap Operas From Hell
To: Brandy Charlatan And Inko Rambler Msg #420, 02:03 est 91-04-05
Subject: A new forum for our battle
Voice: (as soft music plays) "And now, like sand through the hour glass, so
are The days of the lives of our young, restless, bold and beautiful children
in their general hospital."

Cut to Flog, sitting in a hospital, looking anxious. A doctor comes up to
Flog.

Flog: "Doctor... is he?"
Doctor: "Yes, I'm afraid he is."
Flog: "Shit! SHIT SHIT! Are you sure there's no mistake?"
Doctor: "Yes, positive. Brandy Charlatan is still alive. You shot her/him
fourteen times in the head and yet... IT lives."
Flog: "Damn, thank you doctor. You tried anyway."
Doctor: "Here, take the large bribe back... I'm sorry."

Cut to Rambler, look in a mirror.

Rambler: "What a sexy hunk. Who better than to lead the rebellion of the
communists against all of society? But who can I recruit to help me on my
mission?"

Doorbell rings, as if in answer.

Rambler rushes over and opens the door.

Rambler: "BRANDY! You're alright!"
Brandy, wearing a dress: "Yes, I'm still ok. Although Flog did arrange for my
stay in the hospital to be most uncomfortable, I did manage to stay alive..
But when I woke up, I'd been surgically turned into a woman... And Rambler,
there's more news..."
Rambler: "What? What is it?"
Brandy: "Rambler... I'm pregnant with your child."

Cut to Syl, at home, naked and on a trapeze. Door opens and Flog walks in.

Flog: "Blast it!"
Syl: "What is it dear? Is it Brandy? Is it still alive?"
Flog: "Of course it's Brandy... Damn it... Will that man/woman never die?
But at least some revenge has been taken... He's pregant with Rambler's
child!"
Syl: "Oh? Perfect! Now he/she will be in utter weirdness for 9 months.
Oh Flog, what a wonderful plan!"

Cut to Rambler and Brandy.
Rambler: "You're,... Pregnant with my child?"
Brandy: "Yes. I'm afraid so. Curse that Flog Sonata! If it weren't for him,
none of this would have happened! Now I'm going to have your baby, Rambler.
What are we going to do?"
Rambler: "I don't know... Wait! I have a plan!"

Cut to Mel Pheasant, at home, bored.

Cut to Flog and Syl.
Syl: "So Brandy's pregnant with rambler's child? Oh Flog, it's too perfect!
Life is so grand! Nothing can go wrong!"
Flog: "Oh, there's one other thing Syl... We both have nymphomania, and it's
incurable, and it's limited to each other."
Syl: "The good news will never stop comming!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Phallus Shaped Cologne Bottles
To: People Who Smell Msg #421, 08:42 est 91-04-06
Subject: A new cologne: REEK.
Bonnie Tyler, singing "I need a hero" in her fucking annoying whining voice.
Scenes of MEN (big macho stuck up fascist men) doing stuff.

Guy walks into a bar and twenty seven women turn and stare at him.
Focus deep into man's eye sockets so we can see his eyes flick back
and forth. Guy walks by girls and they all melt into sexual jelly.

Cut to guy rescuing a puppy from a tree as an old lady stands below.
Guy is wearing only a loin cloth and camera focusses in on his
smoldering eyes (which then burst into flame)...

Cut to guy having sex with a luscious pop tart for 18 hours straight, and not
even breaking a sweat.
The pop tart is fresh from the toaster.

Bonnie Tyler finally finishes the annoying song. Cut to man standing at his
sink while tough macho type music plays. Guy has only a towel around his
waist. He's looking into the mirror, his eyes are smouldering, his shoulders
are broad enough to make him look longer than he is tall. He takes a bottle
that says REEK on the side of it (it is shaped EXACTLY like a penis, right
down to veins on the bottle). He pours a barrel full of the piss (which
looks exactly like sperm) and splashes it against his face and chest. A
naked bimbo comes out of his bedroom and wraps her arms around him. The guy
has more chest hair than a dog has fur. Their eyes meet in the mirror.
The guys eyes are smouldering.

Deep tough manly voice from hell: "REEK. if you're really a man, a real big
tough man with fucking muscles and a large penis, you'll want to soak
yourself in REEK, the cologne for men. REEK, made entirely 100% from the
sperm of third world citizens, it gives you the smell of strength,
confidence, and gives your face a rugged look and will make women want to
fuck you so bad it's scary. REEK. What a man is supposed to smell like."

Woman is fondling man's chest hair, spots penis-shaped bottle of reek and
grabs that instead, inserts it up her twat and completely ignores the macho
male man thing guy with the towel around his waist.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Does It Matter??? Msg #422, 21:16 est 91-04-06
Subject: Does it Matter???


Large-jawed announcer appears on screen: "We interrupt this
special episode of Another Crummy Canadian Sit-Com to bring you this special
sports event. We take you now, live, to Ray McFay. Ray?"

Ray: "Thanx, large-jawed announcer. I'm here, live, at the
Astrodome for a special, one-shot sports event, featuring everyone's favorite
pope, Flog Sonata. Tonight, Flog and his sweetie, Super Syl, will be
mud-wrestling against Knight Slayer and Kim ...uhm, I mean Xaviera. Brandy
Charlatan will be refereeing the event."

Large-Jawed Announcer: "Well that's quite a treat! As you
can see now, our camera is zooming in on the field and....Ray, that doesn't
look like mud."

Ray: "Uh...no, it's not. Apparently, no one had any mud on-
hand. Fortunately there were several tons of guacomole available, hence . . ."

Large-Jawed Announcer: "Well, then this is the world's first
televized Guacamole Wrestling! So . . . where's Brandy Charlatan??"

Ray: "Brandy is the large, worm-like creature suspended in
the tank of warm vinegar, which . . . "

[Screen goes fuzzy. replaced by a large penis with eyes, ears
and a mouth. No nose.]

Penis: "We interrupt Guacamole Wrestling At The Astrodome
to bring you a small pile of brocoli."

[Camera zooms in on a small pile of brocoli, sitting on the
Penis' desk.]

Penis: "We now return to a random TV disaster . . ."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Loose Moose Msg #423, 09:25 est 91-04-07
Subject: Where is the Butt Fuck with the Antlers?
News git: "We interrupt this boring hockey game shit to bring you the
following news bulleting..."

News Cretin: "Haloo all you cutesy-wootsy peoples! A kootchy kootchi koo!
Today in the news, Loose Moose. Where the fuck is he? he's not here, he's
not any of the boards. We have a group of panelists who want to discuss
this. First off, Flog. Where do you think Moose is, Flog?"

Flog: "I htink Moose is off balling some bitch in heat. I think Moose is
fucking some girl blue. Yup, he's got the pepperoni inserted to her, up to
his pelvis, and he's pounding away, making weird faces when he cums. That's
where I think Moose is."

Shaved Cat: "Well, i completely disagree... I think that the ground troops
will move in, then Saddam will go on the radio and say 'Nyah Nyah Nyah!' and
then Israel will get pissed off because Peyo named Asrael very much like
Israel and Israel will therefore put a million dollar bounty on Peyo's head
and Rushdie and Peyo will become good friends and..."

Small Dead rodent: "No comment."

News Cretin: "Ah there ya have it, woo woo woo, the news just gets wetter and
deeper and juicier and hairier and oh god, <GRUNT> it just makes my job so
much more fun... Now, back to a bunch of full grown men banging around a
small black disk... betcha the losing team blows the winning team in the
change room, I bet I bet..."

Fade to a large picture of Loose Moose with, in big letters:




PICTURE OF MOOSE

"born yesterday - dead now."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Does This Happen To You?
To: Does It, Huh? Does It? Msg #424, 09:33 est 91-04-07
Subject: I bet it does... a yup.
Screaming announcer: "Do you hear voices at night telling you to take a shot
gun and blow away your neighbours systematicly one at a time?????"

Show man holding a shotgun and looking confused as to what he should be doing.

Screaming announcer: "Do you hear voices telling you to KILL every living
being on the planet because Zarquon the holy Spatula wants it that way?"

Man with Zarquon the Holy Spatula stuck in his anus, holding a shot gun,
looking confused.

SA: "Do you hear voices telling you to molest your neighbours poodle, go on a
killing spree in a monestary, and make fun of a McDonalds employee?"

Man with a poodle, in McDonalds, surrounded by dead nuns, looking confused.

SA: "If you do, STOP! And once you gain your senses come on down to Wacky
Land! Yes if you're wacky and you need help, come to Wacky Land, where we'll
prescribe large doses of medication, electroshock, and we'll pop holes in
your skull to let out those evil demons...
AND THERE"S MORE! If you think that society is to blame for your
loopiness, there will be NO CHARGE AT ALL! That's right! the government will
pick up the tab, clean up the blood, and do anything to get you out of the
public eye so that the status quo can go on unchallenged!
But that's not all! If you feel that your parents, grandparents,
uncle, aunt or any relative what so ever has ANYTHING to do with your
craziness, we'll give you a weeks worth of PSYCHOTHERAPY absolutely free!
That's right! A trained technician will listen to you gripe about why you
hate your mom, your dad, your aunt and your uncle for hours on end! Why not
pick up the phone and call now! Operators are just waiting for your calls!"

Man holding shotgun, picks up the phone.
Wacky land operator: "Hello, Wacky Land, may I help you?"
Man howls into the phone, fires his shot gun making a large hole in the wall
and screams: "Free Erica Estrada's torment spirit from the confines of
HELL!!!"
Wacky land operator: "Will that be CASH or CHARGE sir?"

Screaming announcer: "WACKY LAND! Where you probably won't get better, but
you will have LOTS and LOTS and LOTS of fun! Call now!"

Man: "To order your own personal permanent cell in wacky land, just send
$29.95 and 5 fruit loop box tops to:

WACKY LAND
C/O the Royal Ottawa Hospital
Near Westgate, with big fences.
RUCRAZY?

Man: "The first 15 cell subscribers will receive lovely polka dot padded walls
and a nice Ralph Loren straight jacket. Act now."
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #425, 18:37 est 91-04-04
Subject: Gardening tips with pAt DoNoVaN
* Original: FROM.....Pat Donovan (163/207)
* Original: TO.......All (30522/1)
* Forwarded by.......OPUS 30522/1

So here's the trick's I use to cut the yardwork down
to a minimum.
1: Use the mower.
Even an electric mower can mulch the fermenting paper,
rotting garbage, and other winter trash every spring.
The only drawback is I've had to buy a new garden hose
every year.

2: Rake the hedge.
Hedges are for hiding things in. All the junk can be
raked under the hedge, your neighbor's in a pinch, and
mine thrives on this abuse.
3: BIG is healthy.
The best thing I ever learned about lawn care is that
healthy grass isn't burnt down to crabgrass. It's deep,
thick and healthy, so don't cut it till the kids go
missing.
4: Herb's Spread.
When the cord for the electric mower won't reach to the
back of the lot, my garden grew and cut the mowing back.
WARNING!
Plant something maintenance free and stable. The herbs I
planted thrived on cut grass and now when I cut the lawn it
smells like an onion harvest.
 
 
 
 
--- TMail v1.20
* Origin: Play CHESS with a friend while online {4 lines} 830-5391 (1:163/223)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: Palm Olive Msg #426, 04:39 est 91-04-08
Subject: That green goop.
Guy in hair salon.
Guy: "Gee Marge, I just can't get it up anymore... My wife is reallystarting
to get pissed off, I can't satisfy my three mistresses anymore, andI'm really
getting depressed..."
Marge: "Have you tried Palm Olive, the new sex hormone?"
Guy: "Palm Olive? Is it mild?"
Marge: "You're soaking in it!"
Guy suddenly notices he's floating in a huge tank filled with Palm Olive.
Guy: "So I am soaking in it... What does it do?"
Marge: "It hardens your glands while you screw bitches."
Guy: "That's a pretty bad pun, Marge, I'm afraid I'm going to have to tearoff
your breasts and make them into ear muffs."
Marge: "Ok."
Man tears off Marges breasts and makes them into ear muffs.
Voice: "Palm Olive hormones. If you don't get it up, we don't get any.
Anymoney. Send us the remaining contents of your bottle, and we'll send you
arefund. Honest."

---
* Origin: Home of the Order of Waterbuffaloes. (1:163/147)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: You Msg #427, 15:50 est 91-04-08
Subject: Gutterballs


[Scene: Vinny's Bowling Lane. A broken down, badly stained
bowling lane consisting of no more than three working lanes and no less than a
dozen dealers and their clientele. Cheap disco music in background and the
words "Bowling for the Meaning of Existence" appear on the screen.]
[Cut to large, drooling bearded man, wearing a black turtleneck]

Drooling Man: "Welcome to Bowling for the Meaning of Existence,
where several, strung-out, philosophical flaky young people bowl to determine
the purpose of humanity's existence in our great empty cosmos. And, of
course, they get cash & prizes as well."

[Drooling Man wipes his face with his crusty sleave, and is
suddenly eaten alive by a small rooster. After finishing his meal, the rooster
spits out the turtleneck and begins drooling as well.]
[Camera zooms in on Lane #1.]
[Lanky young man in black jeans with a black turtleneck with
a nametag that says "Hi! My Name is: Empty Void" steps up to bowl.]

Empty Void: "I am Empty Void. I will bowl now."

[He spins around three times, letting the bowling ball fly
out of his hand and sail through the air. Miraculously, he gets a strike.]

Empty Void: "I got a strike. Yet, I feel unsatisfied. What
does it truly mean? In a world gone mad, what's the true meaning of a . . .?"

[His speech is interrupted by an irate crack dealer who stabs
him in the throat. After attempting to continue talking, he dies.]

Next Bowler: "My name is Life Is Meaningless. I will bowl
now."

[He picks up a ball, gets into position and then suddenly
sighs and lets the ball fall to the floor. After looking around despondently,
he throws himself into Lane #2, where he's crushed by oncoming bowling balls.]

Next Bowler: "My name is Dark Shit. I will . . . "

[Suddenly, a marauding platoon of roosters (all much larger
than the first rooster) burst onto the scene, armed with AK-47's, supplied to
them by Boris Yeltsin. They mow down a few bystanders before approaching the
Philosophizing Bowlers.]

Previous Rooster (now wearing turtleneck and drooling): "Why
is it that we crow in the morning? Why compete with the new, Japanese digital
alarm clocks that are so much more efficient than us? How..."

[Previous Rooster is eaten alive by his former comrades, who
begin systematically executing the bowlers. Woeful monologues and bloody, torn
turtlenecks fill the air.]
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Eunuchs Are Us
To: All People Tired Of Relationships Msg #428, 03:50 est 91-04-10
Subject: Severrence Pay
Voice: "Are you one of those people who still think that love can solve all
your problems? Are you tired of the Hull dance bar scene?
Are you sick of testosterone corrupting your system and making you
more aggressive, hairy, and dumb? Then wait no longer, and head on down to
EUNUCHS ARE US! At eunuchs are us, we get to the root of your problems and
eradicate it with a simple surgical procedure that has been performed on
people since Biblical times. In a single thirty second session, we can stop
women from ever having sex with you, we can make your testosterone levels
drop radically, and we can give you that high suprano voice that all men
crave... Ask Pee Wee Herman what he thought of our system!"

Pee Wee: "Well, when I went to Eunuchs are Us, I was just another lame
comedian. But after I had a simple 30 second session, I was a changed man.
Now I'm an extremely popular kiddy show host and star of two kiddy flicks!
Wow, eh?"

Voice: "Yes, you too can have the success that Pee Wee Herman had, through one
simple surgical technique, known as depenisification.
Through depenisification, we painlessly and easily remove your penis
with a battle-axe! Imagine: no more feminists being able to attack you for
being unsensitive, no more ugly chest hair, no more pubic hair (or pubic
area). You'll be a free and changed man! Why not come down and see us
today? First 10 customers receive a dress. Act now, change your life."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Incoherent Rambler
To: Abortion Debaters Msg #429, 18:25 est 91-04-09
Subject: an abortion debate
[Fade to: stage with two podiums on opposite ends. Letters
appear: "THE DEBATE HOUR"]

VOICE: Good evening, and welcome to the "Debate Hour". Tonight's
topic: abortion. On the pro side, we have a feminist [a feminist
enters and takes her place on the podium on the left] and on the
con side, a nun [a nun enters and takes here place on the podium on
the right].

NUN: Abortion is murder!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is too!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is too!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is too!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is too!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is too!
FEMINIST: Is not!
NUN: Is so!

[The feminist hits the nun with a microphone. The nun grabs the
feminist's nose and yanks hard. Soon they are rolling around on
the ground, kicking, scratching and biting each other.]

VOICE: This has been the "Debate Hour".

[Fade to commercial.]
 
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #430, 06:27 est 91-04-10
Subject: Debate Hour, Continued.
Debate dude: "And now, another episode of debate hour. Today's topic, reality
versus insanity. For reality, Mel Pheasant, and for insanity, a small dead
chipmunk. No wait, for Insanity, Flog."

Mel stands behind his podium. Flog crawls out to his podium, on his back.

Mel: "Reality's better because..."
(interrupted by Flog howling like a wolf at the top of his lungs.)
Mel: (louder) "Reality's better because you get to um, er... You get a job
and a life and work and um... Shit, I give up."

Mel and Flog howl at the top of their lungs together for a few hours, taking
the debate into critical over time. Each takes a shot on net, until somebody
scores. Mel gets a goal, so Reality wins. Damn.

Debate dude: "Whoa, what a close match. And now for our critical commentator
on debating, Don Cherry. Don, what did you think?"

Don: "Well Debate Dude, I think Flog's been training hard, he's worked on his
tonsils for weeks for this one, and he put up a good fight...
This was a very tough match and I don't think Mel Pheasant was doing
very well... I was certain he'd thrown the game when he began howling, but
apparently the referee thought differently, and chose not to call a penalty,
much to the chagrin of the crowd. It was that play where Flog checked Mel
against the podium, with high sticking, that I think decided the match...
then, when Flog ripped the ball away from Mel, and ran for the touchdown, and
he got ptrampled by the polo ponies... Well, that was a rough moment too.
But my favriot play of the game had to be when Mel ducked under the opposing
team's rifle sights, ran forward and lobbed the duck into the air, over the
heads of the hunters and through the goal posts. All in all, a damn exciting
debate."

Debate Dude: "Thank you very much Don, I hope they rip your genitals off in
accident."

Don: "My pleasure."

Debate Dude: "That's all from Debate Hour. Stay tuned for Mud Wrestling
Philosophers, followed by Danger Bay, Canadian TV at its worst."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Xenophobia Unltd.
To: Re-Tirees... Msg #431, 23:36 est 91-04-11
Subject: A tired premise for a commercial.
Geeky announcer sits behind a desk, with "GoodYear" and "Tune-
Ups" behind him. He blinks a few times.

Geeky Announcer: Well, we're here to give it yet another try. Are we ready?
Okay. Now, when I say "Goodyear", what do you say?

Scene cuts to a "man on the street" camera shot in front of a
GoodYear garage. Mike is being held before the typical passerby.

Typical Passerby: Tires?

There is a brief pause, then the mike is brought down hard on
top of the passerby's head. Cut back to the Geeky Announcer.

GA: Come off it, people. What's so hard about saying "Tune-ups?"
I mean, I can say it real easily. TUNE-UPS, TUNE-UPS!!!

GA begins to bounce up and down behind the desk, repeating "Tune-
Ups" in a sing-song voice for a bit before calming down.

GA: Anyways, work with me here, people. Now, when I say "Goodyear", what do
you say??

GA's voice reaches a near-hysterical pitch as he finishes talking,
and the shot quickly changes back to the "man-on-the-street," who is rubbing
his head and looking rather confused.

TP: Uhm. Blimp?

TP notices the threatening look on the interviewer's face.

TP: Black Sunday?!? What?!? What'd I say wrong?? What am I supposed to
say?!?!

A gang of mechanics storms out of the GoodYear garage, waving
various heavy tools of the auto mechanic's trade, and begin pummeling the
defenseless passerby into a bloody puddle on the pavement, chanting
"Tune-ups! Tune-ups! Work with us here! Tune-ups!"

Shot returns to GA, who has returned to his bouncing, and is chanting
along with the mechanics, grinning gleefuly at the camera.

Commercial fades to ultraviolet, shot through with infrared, with
an undertone of plaid gamma rays.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: If I Touch It, I Want It To Scream (1:163/150.0)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Flog Sonata Msg #432, 19:00 est 91-04-12
Subject: Have at thee, foul recreant!!


[Scene: The inside of a very old, half-filled ketchup bottle.
Note the dry, oogy crust build-up on the bottle's rim. yukky, isn't it? Unseen
figure eats it greedily, licking his lips. Focus deeper in the bottle, where
we see a bloated maggot holding a tiny sign that says, "I have the Meaning of
Life!!". A pudgy, hairy fingered hand grabs the bottle.]

Owner of hairy fingered hand: "Could ya pass another hot dog,
Lucille?"

Lucille: "Oh, gawd. Don't you think you've had enough, Bernie?"

Bernie (name of owner of hairy fingered hand) pats his ample
gut and burps and drools and farts and says: "Nawwwww!"

[Maggot begins frantically waving his sign.]

Lucille passes Bernie another hot dog (even though she thinks
he eats too much and fins his body as attractive as a blob of rectal jelly):
"Oh, gawd . . . here. Take it."

Bernie accepts the hot dog and begins to pour the ketchup.
Maggot continues to wave his sign and begins squirming as he is thrown towards
the bottle's opening.

Bernie: "Dammit, why's the ketchup take so fuckin long to
[mutter, mutter, grumple, gripe]."

[Ketchup, and maggot, finally plop onto Bernie's hot dog.]

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Flog Sonata Msg #433, 19:11 est 91-04-12
Subject: The True Meaning of Reality


[Bernie ogles the hot dog, drools profusely, and raises the
steamy wieney to his putrid mouth.]

Lucille: Burrr-NEEEE!

Bernie: Wahhhhhht? For Crissakes, waddya screaming about,
NOW??

Lucille (doing her nails): "There's a . . . bug on your hot
dog."

Bernie examines the hot dog carefully and finds the "bug"
in question. He grabs the sign from the maggot and flicks it off the hot dog.
The maggot splats against Lucille's nails. Bernie eats the hot dog and tries
to read the sign.

After straining his puffy eyes for too long, Bernie gives
up trying and eats the tiny sign.

Bernie: Lucille! Pass me another 'dog, willya?
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Flog Sonata
To: All Msg #434, 13:55 est 91-04-15
Subject: Reality is not a donut on fire with tweezers.
Announcer: "Because Flog is off studying for his final exams and can't be
bothered to write any programs at this time, we now bring you a program not
written by Flog. Honest. Its someone else. Flog is not involved, and his
name is NOT in the little line up there that says FROM. It isn't, you didn't
see it there, because it WASN'T there..."

Cut to commercial that has been pissing me off to no end:

Slow fades between people of different races... Blacks, Japanese, Chinese,
etc. while a bonehead speaks and says:

Bonehead: "We've come a long way, BABY. Look at us now, we aren't racist
anymore, we love everyone equally. We really really do. There are no more
Klans man, honest, and gosh, that Bill Cosby is a funny guy, right? And all
them black people in sports stuff too. Wow, eh? They sure are great, those
blacks. And the japanese sure make a MEAN calculator. So how come, with all
this equality, people judge our wine? Our wine is from ontario, and so
people say "Fuck that, ontario wine tastes like battery acid, no fucking way
am I gonna touch that piss", but if you keep a closed mind when it comes to
ontario wine, how can you be really sure that you aren't racist? I mean wine
preference and racism are linked. Yep. I have the statistics right here...
Would you like to see them? Tough shit, you wouldn't understand them anyway
you dumb fucking wop... Oops, sorry... As I was saying... Canadian wine...
Like it, or be a racist."

Cut to a bunch of grapes being held by typical pick up driving back-woods
canadian:

Canadian dude: "Like, grapes, eh? They make wine out of em, dontcha know, eh?
And like, canadian wine? It's like, almost drinkable, eh? And like, you
wouldn't wanna be a racist now, wouldja, eh? Eh? EH? Oh.. What's going on
eh? I can't see! I can't see! I'm blind from alcohol poisoning! I can't
see! (giggles) Just kidding, eh. Canadia wine wouldn't make ya go blind,
eh? It's good stuff, eh, and it is so cheap you can buy a bucket 'o the piss
and like, stay wasted all fuckin' week end, eh? So like, Canadian wine...
Go get some."

Voice: Canadian Wine. It's almost drinkable.
--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: Another Roadside Attraction. (1:163/123)
 
From: Men With Small Penises
To: All Msg #435, 03:45 est 91-04-16
Subject: The "Men With Small Penises" Hour
Voice: "And now it's time for the Men with Small Penises Hour, with your host,
Crass Nirvana. No no, just kidding, with your host, Incoherent Rambler."

Rambler and about eleven other men, sitting cross legged on the floor all
camp-like. Camera shots are all real close and warm and soothing and enough
to make you gag.

Rambler: "Hello, and welcome to the Men with Small Penises hour...
Today, our discussion group will talk some more about life, sex,
and the general existence of a small penis'd male. I'd like to open the
discussion with this thought: it's not size that counts but how you use it."

Loser #1: "Yes, definitely not size. Even a thimble sized dick can satisfy a
woman if used correctly... NOT THAT MY DICK IS THIMBLE SIZED OR ANYTHING."

Loser #2: "Exactly... I mean, say, if your penis were almost non- existant
(NOT THAT MINE IS) you could always use your fingers and tongue and keep your
girlfriend satisfied... I mean, is love based on the ability to bring a
woman to orgasm?"

Loser #3: "No no, love is based on mutual attraction, and that can happen even
if you have no genitals at all but just a smooth patch of skin between your
legs (NOT THAT I'M LIKE THAT OR ANYTHING)...
I mean, I could get a girlfriend, IF I WANTED TO, but I'm not
emotionally ready yet... Yeah..."

Loser #1: "When I said thimble sized, I was referring to a friend of mine...
I myself am only in this group to provide support. My penis is actually
quite large. I just thought I'd help you poor people out..."

Loser #2: "Oh, me too. I don't have a small penis. I'm just here for
psychological aid. Yeah, that's it."

Rambler: "Well, BULLSHIT. You're both lying, and there's only one way we'll
ever settle this... Wip 'em out, AGAIN. I'll get the ruler.
Do we have to go through this every week?"

Loser #4: (talking to himself) "Maybe it's grown over time... Yeah, maybe..."

The penises are measured.

Rambler: "So with eleven of us here, the total penis length for the group is 5
inches. If all of us fucked one woman, she might have an orgasm... By
accident or something..."

Loser #1: "Well, she'd have an orgasm with me. I know how to use my half inch
dick to satisfy the ladies. I've taken many a lover in my time..."

Men continue to babble about penis size until they eventually become enraged
and kill each other, as all discussions on penis length eventually end: in a
bloody intercontinental war.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Cowards
To: Men With Penises Msg #436, 03:59 est 91-04-16
Subject: Fear! FEAR! FEAR! AUGH! FEAR!
Extremely serious voice: "Many men in Canada have a fear. A fear strong,
scary and horrible. A fear that interferes with their lives on a daily
basis. A fear that renders them paralysed, agonized, speachless... This
fear, is of course, the fear of ejaculating in their own face. How many
times has a man been masturbating, only to douse his own eyebrows in a slick
white greasy sheen? Or those embrassing rebound shots out of a twat, where
the vagina fills to the brim and the excess squirts out? Or while
tit-fucking the sperm hits the woman's chin and boomerangs into the man's
nostrils? Well worry no more, with new SPERM-GUARD. Yes, with SPERM GUARD,
you never need worry about sperm hitting you in the face again!"

Cut to man wearing a plastic bag over his head, lying dead on the floor, his
face purple. Voice, obviously not the dead man's: "Thanks, Sperm-Guard! If
it weren't for your product, I'd be drowning in my own sperm with each
ejaculation, but thanks to Sperm Guard, my sperm never hits my face! Wowee!"

Man in a suit, demonstrating SPERM GUARD: "Simply take the plastic- bag like
Sperm Guard and slip it over your head, and tie the loose end of the bag
around your neck like so, so that it won't slip off... And there you...
urk... uk...."

Man in suit falls to the ground, dying from asphyxiation.

Voice: "Spermguard, recommended by 10 out of 10 morticians."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Dr Seuss
To: All Msg #437, 04:11 est 91-04-16
Subject: A reading from Dr Seuss's new book.
Voice: "And now, Dr Seuss reads a passage from his new novel. He is
introduced by Flog Sonata."

Flog: "Today, you will be hearing from a great authour, one who's pleased many
generations of young readers with such great works as
"The Cat in The Hat", "The Cat in The Hat Comes Back", "One fish,
Two Fish" and many other wonderful books. Today, Dr Seuss will read from his
new book "My Penis is a Wonderful thing", which he wrote while in Switzerland
with two ski bunnies. Here he is, Dr Seuss..."

Dr Seuss walks on stage, looking very drunk and drugged up.

Doc: "My Penis is a Wonderul thing,
It dances, and twitches,
It talks and it sings.
If I were to lose everything,
Except for one thing,
Then the thing I would save would be,
My penis, naturally.

Once long ago in the land of Nod,
The people there met a God,
But it was no god, not one named Enis...
No, no, no, it was my Penis.

Once long ago, in the land of Bruhairy,
In the mountains the villager found sanctuary,
But it was no mountain, by gum and by genis,
It was my enormous rock hard killer penis.

Once long ago, in the land of Bun,
People would worship the sun,
But those silly folk had made a mistake,
They were worshipping the head of my trouser snake.

Once, long ago, in the land of Kazars,
People would stare up, up at the stars,
Little did they know, they were being dum,
for they were looking at my splattered cum.

Feel sorry for these people, do,
And feel sorry for yourself too,
For no where in the big old land,
will you find youself a bigger gland,
Than the one I hold in my hand."


Dr Seuss shuffles his papers about, then looks up at the audience, then passes
out in a ball on stage.

Fade to red fish and blue fish.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mr Science
To: All Msg #438, 03:00 est 91-04-17
Subject: SCIENCE IS FUCKIN' COOL!
Voice: "And now it's time for another wonderful episode of Mr Science, where
we try and answer the questions of the scientificly moronic types in our
audience... And now, Mr Science..."

Mr Science walks out on stage.

Mr S: "Hello, hello all, and welcome to Mr Science's World. We have a very
interesting question today from a memeber of our audience, Crass Nirvana. Go
ahead and ask your question, Crass..."

Crass, alone in the empty seats where an audience should be.

Crass: "Uh, like, is Post Climactic Depression for real or what? I mean, do
people really get depressed after orgasm or what? I head it's legit for
guys... Not women... is this true?"

Mr Science: "What an interesting question... Is Post climactic depression a
real problem, and does it happen to both men and women?
To answer this question, we got some volenteers from the BBS community
to be hooked up to automatic masturbation machines..."

Cut to video, showing Mel Pheasant, Knight Slayer and Loose Moose hooked up to
weird machinery that resembles a gloved hand over their crotches. Camera
pans to reveal that three women, Syl, LaCy LoVeR and Xaveria, with steel
pipes attached to machinery inside their vaginas.

Voice of Mr S: "We briefed the participants on what would be involved, and
they all seemed particularly interested in the experiment... Well, some of
them anyway..."

Lacy Lover is drooling in anticipAtion.

Mr S: "We then activated the machines..."

Gloved hands start rubbing up and down over male genitals quickly, steel pipes
start thrusting in and out slowly.

Mel ejaculates instantly, after half a second.
Knight Slayer ejaculates half a second before Mel.
Loose Moose is excited, breathing hard, but the machine apparently
malfunctions some how and his dick is torn off. Moose stumbles about, blood
gushing from the stump where his groin used to be, screaming.
He collapses.

Syl orgasms noisily for a long period of time.
Lacy Lover and Xaveria look bored. Something goes wrong with Xaveria's steel
rod, and it apparently surges and sends the steel rod through her twat up
through the top of her skull. Lacy Lover sighs. The steel rod is apparently
doing nothing for her.

Mr S: "Having trouble with Lacy Lover, we sped up the rod device on her
machine, to twice the speed of sound."

Smoke starts pouring out of Lacy Lover's twat. She yawns.
Mr S: "We increased the speed again."
The steel rod speeds up some more, looking like a piston gone insane/ Lacy
Lover's pubic hair bursts into flames and she screams in agony and flails
about, until she is subdued by lab technicians.

 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mr Science
To: All Msg #439, 03:14 est 91-04-17
Subject: Science: A tool for the domineering elite.
Voice of Mr S: "With only three live subjects left, Mel, Knight Slayer and
Super Syl, we proceeded to the second part of the experiment.
First, we gave each a questionaire, asking them how they felt
immediately after orgasm, then we had personal interviews. First, here are
the questionaire results:"

Shot of questionaire shown on screen:

Subject: Knight Slayer Time until orgasm: Penis Size:
Too small for ruler. 0.001 seconds

Q: How did you feel immediately after orgasm?
Knight Slayer's A: "What orgasm?"

Subject: Mel Pheasant Time until orgasm: Penis size:
Average 15 seconds.

Q: How did you feel immediately after orgasm?
Mel Pheasant's A: "How much do one of these machines cost? Like, could I get
one? I have a VISA card... I could sell you a computer... I could write
software for you..."

Subject: Super Syl Time until orgasm:
Penis Size (scratched out) 4 minutes.

Q: How did you feel immediately after orgasm?
Super Syl's A: "Oh, god... More! I want more! GIVE ME MORE!"
(Doodle of sexual objects in the margin of Syl's response, featuring
a penis of incredible size, pictures of naked men, and whips and chains.)

Voice of Mr S: "What proceeded afterwards, were the interviews, to get an
indepth and personal look. Flog Sonata interviewed each person one at a
time..."

Cut to Flog and Knight Slayer, alone in a room.

Flog: "So how'dja feel after orgasm?"
KS: "What are you talking about? I didn't cum! The machine musta been not
working or something!"
Flog: "But sperm shot out of the end of your dick after two miliseconds of
machine jerking! You came! Honest!"
KS: "No way... That musta been pre-cum or sumthin'..."
Flog: "Your dick went limp right after!"
KS: "I lost the mood... I dunno..."
Flog: "Look, you orgasmed, how'dja feel?"
KS: "Well, confused, I guess... Dazed, upset... Scared... Angry..."
Flog: "Yeah?"
KS: "Um, I felt uh..."
Flog: "Are you making this up?"
KS: "Look man, I didn't orgasm. No way."

Cut to Flog and Mel Pheasant in a room alone.

Flog: "So how did ya feel? What went through yer mind?"
Mel: "Where can I get one of thos machines? I WANT ONE! Oh god, please?
Please flog? Buddy? Get me one?"
Flog: "Sure, but tell me about how you..."
Mel: "Swear you'll get me one! Swear it! Swear swear!
(Mel continues rambling on and on about the machine, drooling.)
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Mr Science
To: All Msg #440, 03:29 est 91-04-17
Subject: Science and Facism are correlated.
Cut to Flog and Syl in a room alone:

Flog: "So how did you feel after orgasm?"
Syl: "Like this..."
Syl sits on Flog's face, giving him a feel as to how she felt.
Flog and Syl do unspeakable things in the room, unti, the camera, doused in
various bodily fluids, can no longer see what is going on.

Cut back to Mr Science on stage.

Mr S: "So what can we say we've learned from this experiment? Has anything
been solved? Well, no... But we sure had some fun doing it! By the way,
the video tape 'Flog and Syl Do The Deed in a White Lab Room' is available
for only 9.95. Call me."

Crass, in audience: "What? That's it? No answer? Huh?"
Mr S: "Sorry Crass, fuck off... What can I tell ya? There are some things
the world was never meant to know!"
Crass: "I want some answers! What good is science if it can't tell ya neat
things about orgasms?"
Mr S: "Look, you insect, get out of here before I impregnate you with my
favriote disease!"

Credits run as Mr Science and Crass exchange insults.

Crass: "Fuck you man, this was all an excuse to masturbate people!
Isn't science supposed to come up with answers?"
Mr Science: "What's more important, entertainment or answers? Now gwan, scram
or I'll sick some protozoa on you!"

Fade to cum soaked camera shot of Flog and Syl, doing things.
Credits: "ONLY $9.95!! ACT NOW!!"
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Comrad Harizof
To: All Msg #441, 07:59 est 91-04-18
Subject: The last program you just saw
We appologize for the technical difficulties. Please do not adjust your set.
It would seem that those over-jelous wiskus makers thought that they could
air their add again after a few weeks, and we wouldn't notice. Well, that's
all over now. Let's hope it doesn't happen again. We now return you to your
scheduled programing.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Sentient Landfill
To: My Mother And Your Mother Were.... Msg #442, 04:07 est 91-04-19
Subject: doing something rather unmentionable in public.
Static burst...
Voice: "And now, NBC proudly presents, some cheezy program that will hopefully
grab your attention... We've fucking tried everything but it seems you saps
just get stuck on CHEERS and THE GOLDEN GIRLS, so now we're going to try
something weird and see if we can get some awards for shit like Twin Peaks,
that got ABC an award, but ha! Where's Twin Peaks now? Personally, I though
the movie Wild At Heart was a far better example of David Lynch's skill URK!"

(Voice stops suddenly, as if someone had slit his throat.)

Narrator dude, speaks as we see a gloomy castle background: "It was a dark and
stormy night. So dark you couldn't tell it was stormy.
So stormy you couldn't tell it was dark. So dark and stormy it was
fucking scary..." (Lightning flashes) "Oo! See? Real scary!"

Camera walks up some steps and heads towards the big gloomy castle.

Narrator: "This was Castle Rastafarian, where the evil.. um...."

Static... NBC goes back to where it belongs.

Static disolves to reveal newcaster in mid sentence.

Newscaster: "...and I guess he'll never say 'Piss blood on my wolverine'
again!" (Newscaster chortles to himself pathetically.) "And now, Kitty Kelly
will read her book about Nancy Reagan in its entirety..."

Kitty: "Once upon a time, there was an ugly woman named Nancy Reagan.
She had no tits, and sorta resembled a sentient scarecrow, only uglier.
Her tits would hang like sacs of oatmeal, and her face looked sorta
like her butt. This woman, this ugly fucking woman from hell, was the
president, and Ronald Reagan took lots of naps. Oh well. At least Bush is
better, despite the fact that his wife, Barbera, looks like Bush's mom. Oh
well. And so all the wonderful political types were ugly, correction:
BUTT-ugly stupid petty human beings. Of course, I write about them.
Yippee..."

Kitty rips off the wig she's wearing (that just CAN'T be hair) and runs around
screaming: "The mob is after me! The mob is after me!
I'm not allowed to say it on TV but we all know that I'm hinting
that it's Frank Sinatra! The Mob! Augh!"

Kelly claws out her eyes, which boosts her book sales up 300%.

Fade back to newscaster.

NC: "That was Kitty, clawing her eyes out to boost her already stagering book
sales. The book is entitled 'Nancy Reagan, a dumb cunt' and is available in
not-so-fine book stores everywhere." (shuffles papers)
"In other news, a bunch of stupid fucking musicians got together,
made a fucking ENVIRONMENTALISM VIDEO! Augh! Can you fucking believe it?
The scariest part of it, is that I think I saw Ozzy Osborne in the fucking
thing... Jesus! The song is based on that old song 'Yakety- Yak, Don't talk
back', except the lyrics have been changed to 'Yakety yak, TAKE IT BACK'.
It's enough to make me spew. The fuckin' thing is lame, like all videos
pretty much are, and is a complete waste of time. That's all the news for
tonight, eat shit, have a pleasant evening, and die painfully."
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Entertainment Is God.
To: With Perky Bitch And Msg #443, 04:24 est 91-04-19
Subject: that weird blond haired guy who's pretty scary.
Entertainment tonight theme music, while the words ENTERTAINMENT IS GOD are
shown. Fade to Perky and John, the two hosts.

Perky: (giggle) "Hello everyone, and welcome to Entertainment is God, where we
focus on all the mainstream actors, authours and singers.
No chance of ever seeing anyone who deviates from the norm. Well
you might see a deviation, as long as it made lots and lots of money. If it
didn't gross at least a million, you won't see it here!"

Perky crosses her legs several times and drools with a feverish glare in her
eyes.

John, scary blond male git: "Hello, and tonight on Entertainment is God, a
focus on that Yakety Yak video, plus an interview with a bunch of actors and
actresses who are probably all on drugs. But first, Leonard Malten,
recommending a bunch of old black and white movies that you will never see in
video stores because video stores in Ottawa tend to stick with simple things
they can be assured will be rented. That's why Jumbo Video has 80 fucking
copies of Robocop II... Oops, I seem to have gone out of character...
Anyway, here's Leonard."

Leonard: "Hello everyone! Today's films are all black and white nazis chicken
movies, all made in the 1800's. They all star chickens as the leads...
Here's an exert from "Tender is my Breast", a nazis chicken movie, set in a
small western town in new orleans..."

Cut to scene from Tender is my Breast, which shows a chicken, wearing a tiny
cow boy hat. The chicken is sitting on top of a dead nazis, and is pecking
at an eye-ball, which pops and spurts blood.

Leonard, who is drooling and frantic with excitement, like everyone on the
show: "WOW! You don't see scenes like that anymore! That's all from me,
Perky?"

Perky: giggle "Thanks Leo, you bearded hunk from hell. Now, more on that
Yakety Yak video. It has this big YAK cartoon in it, and all the singers
sing different lines, EXACTLY like in the fourteen million other charity
videos that have been done. Wow. I wonder if it's just blatant crap because
these few stars want to simply get their faces associated with environmental
issues? Nah, it must be that they really care! John?"

John: "Yes, I'm sure they do care about the environment, Perky. In other
entertainment news, Debby Hairy, also known as Blondy, sang a song on an
album. It sounds like everything else ever sung, but lets hear it now as we
roll the closing credits... By the way, I'm extremely pissed at Much Music
for banning the Mitsou video with all the sex in it. At least we live near
Quebec (where they are still showing it). If you didn't hear about it, it's
this black and white job, and has Mitsou sitting naked in a chair, holding
her tits in her hands. Apparently the video world isn't ready for anything
except concert footage and lame-brained rappers bouncing up and down on the
balls of their feet, wearing baggy florescent clothes. I think Sinhead
O'connor did the right thing, getting out of the music business because its a
commercial joke. Anyway, here's Debby Hairy, who should only be remembered
for her role in Videodrome, singing a song about important political issues."

Roll credits. Perky crosses and uncrosses her legs repeatedly.
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Civil Servant Tv
To: Pirate Tv Morons Take Control!!! Msg #444, 00:14 est 91-04-20
Subject: Lick my crotum you uncivil cretin swine!
Killer static from hell... Breaks up to reveal man wearing lots of brown
polyester.

Civil Servant: "We have been take advantage of for too long! Our jobs are
important dammit! We do mean something! We threaten you, the world, here
and now with a killer strike! Let's just see what happens when we stop
working man! No more guys going to work and sitting there 8 hours pretending
their working! We'll cripple the whole fuckin' country man! We'll stop the
trains from coming in on time! Yup! First the computer systems, tomorrow
the world! Just wait: those wonderful environmental tip flyers will stop
coming your way if we go on strike! Just wait! Next time you want
information from environmental Canada on what colour the rodesian mongoose
is, HA, no dice man, we're on strike! No wage caps for us! Dammit! We'll
fight, we'll fight we'll fight..."

Static...

Large executive civil servant type, sitting behind a desk, smoking a large
cigar in his anti-smoking building.

Executive civil servant: "Never mind what that little brown-polyester fellow
said... It's all lies. Civil servant get paid quite well.
Why, I myself just got a big pay hike! What's all the fuss about?
Huh? 'Nuff said. Expect bureaucracy to continue, us red tape makers
live forever."

Static...
Bzzt... Bzzt... POP.... Bzztzzztzzzz...

Static-filled picture of the Pope with a little boy on his knee.
Pope: "My, little Billy, I think it's time for your first confession..."
Pope pats Billy's ass suggestively.

Static...
 
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: * CJFC * The Real Flog Channel * 733-1754 * (1:163/207.1)
 
From: Surreal McCoy
To: The Viewing Public Msg #445, 19:00 est 91-04-20
Subject: And now some REAL news...
[Cut to news anchor desk where a man dressed in tattered denim sits. His eyes
are a reddened mess. He has a scruffy beard which goes down to his stomach
and has fleas visibly jumping around. He belches and scratches something
down below the anchor desk.]

Surreal McCoy: Good, er... [looks at his watch -- an old Mickey Mouse thing]
afternoon and welcome to Surreal McCoy's local news.

Our top story for today comes from Kanata. Kanata City Council, not to be
outdone by their backwards cousins from the East, has come up with its own
controversial leash in-law. [Looks confused at his script.] Make that
"by-law." Starting officially at 6 O'clock in the morning on the 22nd of
April, 1991, it will be illegal for police officers to be outside of their
homes or the police station if they are not on a leash. This drastic measure
has been taken by City Council due to the continuing problems defoliated
with... [squints at his script] er... affiliated with uncontrolled police
officers. We bring you now to the home of Alderwoman Likkserklitt.

[Switch to tasteful living room of the alderwoman. Its walls are covered with
important, historical pieces of erotic art.]

Likkserklitt: Yes, we had to introduce the by-law to curb the excesses
committed by the police department over the last few months.

McCoy: What sort of excesses?

Likkserklitt: Well, for instance, I personally was given a speeding ticket
just two weeks ago?

McCoy: Were you speeding?

Likkserklitt: What does that have to do with anything?! I'm on the Council!!

[Back to newsroom]

McCoy: There is only one perceived problem with the plan. A spokesman for
the police's union was quoted as saying: "This is stupid. We're not going to
bother enforcing this law!" There are rumours that Kanata City Council has
asked for assistance from the Army.

--- Maximus-CBCS v1.02
* Origin: It's a beautiful day in the... Tentacles 613-523-0077 (1:163/106)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Flog "Missing In Action" Sonata Msg #446, 20:24 est 91-04-23
Subject: Tacky Seventies Game Shows From The Ninth World


[Scene: Tacky. Ooooooooo, REALLY tacky! Lots of gross shades
of green, orange and brown, not to mention the disgusting floral patterns used
for the background set. One section of the stage is cordoned off with
titanium steel barriers and radiation proof, lead walls. This section
contains three chairs, each occupied by a male humanoid. The other section of
the stage contains one chair and sitting on that chair is a young, innocent
teenage girl, who has difficulty maintaining her innocent aura, since she's
dressed in tight leather and is holding a rider's whip.]
[Tacky seventies games show music plays, decimating everyone's
brain. Cut to host who is wearing a pink suit with a butterfly collar and
bellbottoms. His name is Chuck.]

Chuck: Hi! And Welcome to The Dating Game!!

[Audience realizes what this is and leaves.]

Chuck: Bastards! You're all bastards, damn you! And now, on
to our first contestant . . .

[Spotlight on geek #1]

Chuck: Bachelor number one is a geek. He looks quite greasy,
quite ugly and enjoys lighting matches and running around his neighborhood at
night, pretending he's Batman.

[Bachelor number one smiles weakly and begins picking his
nose]

Chuck: Would you like to say a few words to start off with,
Bachelor number one?

Bachelor number one: Okay. Dog. Swamp creature. Loud noises.
Underwear stains. Dinner table. Carpet.

[Chuck makes the sign of the cross at Bachelor #1 and continues]

Chuck: Bachelor Number Two is a successful lawyer, who enjoys
torturing puppies and getting his secretaries pregnant and then suing them for
child support.

[Spotlight on Bachelor #2, who gives the camera a charming
smile before eating a tiny, live hamster he has in his coat pocket.]

Bachelor #2: My cock is thirteen inches long.

Chuck (peeking in his pants with a tape measure): Ah, well.
Thank you Bachelor #2. And now, Bachelor #3.

Bachelor #3: Fuck the mothers. Fuck 'em all. Kill world. Death,
blood, death, mutilation, disease, nastiness.

Chuck: Ha, ha, ha. Well, quite a witty trio on tonight's show,
aren't they?? We'll be back after I make am accurate estimation of my penis
length.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.14
* Origin: Only Flog knows where this comes from. 567-9633 (1:163/207.3)
 
From: Shaved Cat
To: Flog "Betcha Can'T Find Me!" Sonata Msg #447, 20:43 est 91-04-23
Subject: And now a word from your mucous membrane . . .