Unable to sleep. Within an hour--it's six thirty as I type this, the Xists will arrive and X-day will be unleashed upon all of us.

I have waited 11 years. I first found the prophetic Book of the Subgenius at age twelve at Chester County Bookstore in the Parkway Center of West Chester, PA. The store has since moved to West Goshen Shopping Center, to give you a sense of history.

The Subgenius faith may be a goofy thing--sort of in the realm of Dungeons and Dragons and men who wear cloaks--but the 1980's were boring for a kid. Computers were slow, TV sucked, punk rock was scary, but "Bob" gave real hope that you weren't the only creative dorky kid in the entire homogenized cosmos. When we had to make stencils in eighth-grade shop, I cut "Bob", complete with pipe, and decorated my room with his grin. Through "Bob", I knew about really good conspiracy theories when I was thirteen, and was enlightened in the nature of the Pipe, and the need for Slack, by the time I hit high school.

I never joined; I never sent in my $20. "Bob" specificially asked me not to.

Maybe I should have gone to Sherwood for the big Devival. Crashed out smashed in a tent, met some people. It's been a part of my life. For a while I actually believed in the Xists, or at least was worried that it could be true, that our physical selves would be sucked out into the ether, suddenly.

Wait--someone at the door--