It’s messed up how the Church of the Subgenius seems to be right so often. It either (or both) says a lot about the Church or the rest of this f’ed up world.
Everyone is screwed up. No one is built 100% right — that’s why this is called the Church of the Subgenius. All of us are plain and simple messed up.
All of us are waiting for salvation. In my case I’m waiting for the alien sex goddesses to come and pick me up. (Ok, for the normals out there — please look up the church — really…) All my waiting will be for naught. They won’t pick me up. I have to pick myself up.
I can’t just wait for them to come down; I need to go up.
I need to build my own spaceship.
Of course they’re exists no plans for such a contraption.
It’s for the best though.
Everyone has their own.
We fail all the time. We need to keep on picking ourselves up and getting out there.
The alien sex goddesses aren’t just going to pick themselves up (Ok, strike that. They probably will)
The spaceship isn’t going to build itself. You and I have to build our own. We need to raise ourselves up off this Bob-forsaken planet and get the hell out of here. We need to leave to own it and the pinks on it. I need to use the parts of ourselves to make it.
We are our own spaceships.