MiSTed: Great signs from the False Prophet
Steve Brinich
from stage right>
Crow: Hey, Gypsy, what're you doing?
Gypsy: I am... measuring... the orbital decay rate... of this satellite.
Crow: Oh. <does a double-take> ORBITAL DECAY RATE?! You mean... the
Satellite Of Love is eventually going to reenter the atmosphere
and burn up??!
Gypsy: Yes...
Crow: AAAAAAAAA!
<Tom Servo enters from stage right>
Tom: What's going on here?
Crow: Gypsy told me the Satellite Of Love is going to reenter the
atmosphere and burn up and we're all gonna DIE!!
Tom: AAAAAAAAA!
<Mike enters from stage right>
Mike: What's wrong with you two? <Slaps Crow and Tom Servo to try
to get them to quit screaming, without success>
Gypsy: I told them... I was measuring... the orbital decay rate... of
this satellite.
Mike: You mean the Satellite Of Love is eventually going to fall
into the atmosphere and burn up?
Gypsy: Yes... in seven hundred... fifty-two years... and three months.
<Tom and Crow stop screaming. They stand stock still for a moment,
then turn toward Gypsy.>
Crow: Why didn't you say that in the first place?
Gypsy: You... didn't ask.
<Commercial light comes on.>
Mike: We got commercial sign.
* * * * * * *
<SOL -- Mike is lecturing Crow and Tom Servo>
Mike: ...and next time, use your heads instead of acting like Chicken
Little every time you hear something that sounds unpleasant.
<Incoming call light comes on.>
Mike: Speaking of hearing something unpleasant, Frank and Ernest are
calling again. <Mike hits the answering button>
<DEEP 13 -- Dr Forrester is standing over a world globe plastered with
various photos of monsters>
Dr F: Hello, lab rat on a sinking ship. Let's see what silly trinket
you have for me this week.
Mike: I've been thinking about the fact that some people tend to
panic easily at everything they see or hear, so I invented this
helmet. <He holds up something that looks like a motorcycle
helmet with a tinted visor and big pads over the ears>
Dr. F: I see. I suppose that has something like a sophisticated
alpha-wave generator to keep the wearer's emotional state
steady?
Mike: Not exactly. I was going to do something like that, but then I
needed to use those parts to repair Crow after he blew himself
up doing some silly experiment.
Crow: Attempting to discover the secret formula for Silly Putty is not
a silly experiment.
Mike: <to Crow> Later!
Dr. F: So, how does this helmet work, if it doesn't have an alpha-wave
generator?
Mike: The tinted visor and the ear muffs cut down on the visual and
audio cues that induce panic. Let me demonstrate. <puts helmet
on Tom Servo>.
Mike: Gypsy found out that she made a mistake before. It turns out that
the Satellite Of Love is going to crash next week!
Crow: AAAAAAAAA!
Tom: What did you say?
Mike: I said, the satellite is going to crash next week!
Crow: AAAAAAAAA!
Tom: What? I thought I heard Crow say something....
Mike: Crow! Snap out of it! <Slaps Crow, without success> I was
lying a minute ago! We aren't really going to crash next
week! That was just a test, like that obnoxious sound
they play on the radio to test the Emergency Broadcast
System!
<Crow finally calms down>
<DEEP 13 -- Dr. F is standing with arms crossed over his chest, looking
impatient>
Dr. F: "Silly trinket" is right! Now, if you've managed to restore order
up there, I'll show you a _real_ invention.
As you can see, I've plotted the most horrific archetypes known to
the various cultures of the world on this globe. For instance,
there is the paparazzi, feared in Hollywood.
<Dr F pulls a photo of a man in a tacky suit holding a camera from the
globe>
Dr. F: There is the SEC inspector, feared on Wall Street.
<Dr F pulls a photo of a man in a business suit from the globe>
Dr. F: However, I did find one image that inspires universal fear
among all cultures. <Turns toward stage left> Frank!
<TV's Frank walks in from stage left, wearing a cheap but ordinary
office suit.>
Frank: Hi. I'm from the government and I'm here to help you.
<SOL -- Mike and the bots stare in horrified fascination.>
All: You fiend!
Dr. F: Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it. Anyway, your
post for today is a fairly standard rant about the End
Times, the coming of the Beast, all that sort of thing.
Frank, start the transmission.
<SOL -- Theater light and alarm comes on>
Mike: We got rant sign! <All scramble to the theater -- Mike carrying
Tom, who is still wearing the helmet.>
G...6...5...4...3...2...G
<SOL THEATER -- Mike, Crow, and Tom Servo enter. Mike removes Tom's
helmet>
Tom: Awww... can't I keep it on through this post?
Mike: No. That's not fair to Crow, and it sure isn't fair to me.
Crow: Misery loves company....
>alt.atheism #70938 (2 + 857 more) [1]--[1]
Tom: Not a newsgroup for net.gods
>From: Phi...@rmit580fs1.hais.rmit.oz.au (Philip Heggie)
>[1] Great signs from the False Prophet
Tom: Or is that _False_ signs from the _Great_ Prophet?
Mike: It's the Great Prophet, Charlie Brown!
>Date: Wed Jan 19 23:24:46 EST 1994
>Organization: R.M.I.T.
Crow: Not to be confused with R.T.F.M. or R.S.V.P.
>Lines: 64
>"I have a horn for each nation
Tom: An English horn, a French horn,... the whole orchestra.
> for fornication,
<Crow opens his mouth; Mike holds it shut before he can say anything.>
> the
>voice of persuasion to mislead each nation.
Tom: It's Bill Clinton's campaign manager!
> Christianity is
>dead, listen to each of my heads.
Tom: I wanna boil him!
Mike: I wanna fry him!
Crow: I wanna eat him raw!
> One, two, three, four,
Crow: <chanting> We don't want your bloody war!
>five, six, seven, all good children have gone to heaven. All
>that are left, play with the Devil,
Tom: Will you play with the Devil in the pale moonlight?
> on planet earth we all do
>revel.
Mike: That's because there's no life in the rest of the Solar
System -- at least not after 8 PM.
Tom: Oh, that is such an _old_ joke....
> Revelation, fornication,
Crow: <cheerleading style> Revelation, fornication, sis boom bah!
> Christianity is dead, listen
>to each of my heads.
Mike: Are those heads an example of multiple redundancy?
Tom: Yeah, just like this post.
> Blasphemy is my speciality,
Crow: But I'm thinking of branching out into the false prophet
business.
Tom: And maybe some graven images on the side.
> passionately
>my heads speak many of these.
Crow: <sultry> You can me speak passionate blasphemies by dialing
1-900-SATANIC. $3.95 the first minute-- <Mike clamps his
mouth shut again>
> Christianity is dead, worship
>me instead. Follow me until your dead.
Tom: Or until your functionally illiterate, whichever comes first.
> Christianity is dead.
>I'm the ten horn seven headed
All: <singing> Flying purple people eater.
> steeple eater, the ten horned
>seven headed Christian voice eater.
Crow: Aw, even the worst stuff on alt.music.filk scans better than this!
> Christianity is dead
Mike: OK, OK! We heard you the first five times....
>listen to what is said from each of my, heads. Heads."
All: <to the tune of the "Spam" song> Heads, heads, heads, heads...
Heads, heads, heads, heads....
>Behold the Devil's triangle]
Crow: Into which this post will disappear.
Tom: Yeah, we should be so lucky!
> of the ten headed beast:-
>AND THEIR SHALL BE GREAT SIGNS FROM THE FALSE PROPHET
> /|
> / |
> / |
> hypotenuse / | sin- Bablyonian moon god of evil
> hip-owe-ten-use / |
> ( fornication ) / |
> /________|
> cos
Tom: So, trigonometry is a tool of Satan?
Mike: My old trig teacher sure was....
> Cos- A small green lettuce signifying planet earth.
Crow: I thought Cos was a medium-sized black guy signifying bland TV.
>Sin= sin/hypotenuse
>Cos= cos/hypotenuse
>(Punishment) tan= Sin/Cos = pun-niche-meant
> = sin/cos (hip-owe-ten-use cancels out = forgiveness )
> = [(Devil+Satan) over ( 10 kingdoms on beasts crown
> )] divided by ((Father+Son+Holy Spirit) over 10000
> Angels)
Mike: Yeah, but can the 10000 Angels dance on the head of a pin?
Crow: Or on the head of the guy who wrote this stuff?
> = [2/10]/(3/10000)
> = 666.666666666 ----> repeats until Sin reaches heaven
Mike: Huh? If Sin reaches heaven, doesn't that mean Satan wins?
Tom: Be afraid. Be very afraid.
> when the King of Kings shall
> return.
Crow: On top of everything else, he's predicting Elvis sightings.
>Sub-lime-in-hour-hell purr-Sept-shun sick sick six point six on the
>Rick ( Rich-hard ) tore scale was the size of the earthquake in the city
>of angels.
Tom: Is all this leading up to something?
Mike: Yeah, the end of the post. Let's get out of here....
G...2...3...4...5...6...G
Mike: All right, we've survived yet another net.apocalypse. I hope this
has taught everybody a lesson.
Crow: Don't post religious rants on alt.atheism?
Tom: Invest in good spelling and grammar check software?
Mike: No -- keep your head calm and things will come out all right.
<Turns toward Cambot> Right?
<DEEP 13 -- Dr. F is backed into a corner by TV's Frank>
Frank: But my boss in Washington sent me to help you. You have to
let me help you somehow.
Dr. F: You know how you can help me? You can push that button over there.
Frank: Of course. Remember, your government works for you.
<Frank pushes the button>
Frank: <voiceover> Now, is there anything else I can help you with?
Dr. F: <voiceover> AAAAAAAAA!
> /|
> / |
> / |
> hypotenuse / | sin- Bablyonian moon god of evil
> hip-owe-ten-use / |
> ( fornication ) / |
> /________|
> cos
MiSTing by Steve Brinich
\ | /
\ | / Mystery Sceince Theater 3000 and associated characters
\|/ are the property of Best Brains, Inc. and used here
----O---- for satirical purposes only.
/|\
/ | \ This post is not meant as a personal attack upon
/ | \ the original author, and is meant only as entertainment
and commentary on the content of the original post.
Mark Meyer
That post... It was like the "Batwoman" of posts. Awful.
Good MiSTing, though. But why didn't the guys notice that the poster
pronounces "hypotenuse" wrong? It's not "hip-owe-ten-use", it's
"high-pot-in-use". A demented crazoid like the poster could really
get some mileage out of that. :-)
On 22 Jan 1994 18:13:55 -0500,
ste...@access2.digex.net (Steve Brinich) said:
sb> Mike: Yeah, but can the 10000 Angels dance on the head of a pin?
sb> Crow: Or on the head of the guy who wrote this stuff?
I would add:
Tom: Please?
--
Mark Meyer | mme...@dseg.ti.com |
Texas Instruments, Inc., Plano, TX +--------------------+
Every day, Jerry Junkins is grateful that I don't speak for TI.
"Penfold - bite your OWN nails!"