Tag Archives: Subgenius Foundation

03/25/2021 · 3:25 am

The Thirty Year Niche

This year represents a personal milestone for me, in that I have now been creating and self-publishing my own comics for thirty years.

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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Faint Signals, Girls of BIUL, Magazine Rack, Site Stuff

Tagged as #tbt, 1990s, 1991, 2021, Anarchy Comics, Art Speigelman, Bad Shape, Bands I Useta Like, behind the scenes, Bettie Page, Bob Burden, Bob Fingerman, Bob Sikoryak, breasts, Chris Ware, Dave Stevens, Dennis Worden, Doug Allen, Drop Dead, drugs, Eros Comics, Georgia, Gilbert Shelton, Glenn Head, Greg Irons, Greg Theakston, Julie Doucet, Kaz, Krsytine Kryttre, laughter, Lemmings, Mack White, Mark Beyer, Mark Newgarden, Mike the Pod, Mike The Pod Comix, Poddism, R. Crumb, Rand Holmes, S. Clay Wilson, Sam Hurt, Savannah, Savannah Mall, Subgenius Foundation, underground comix, vaginas, VHS, Wayne White

07/28/2020 · 7:28 am

Regis Francis Xavier Philbin, elfin television presenter and former sidekick of Rat Packer Joey Bishop, exited the closed set of our world on July 24th at the tender age of 88. Regis was unique in that he was genuinely beloved by a broad range of people, and was an ebullient, welcome presence on the small screen for literally decades.

I am now in the unique position of confessing that in 1996, I secretly attempted to form a cult around him.

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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Faint Signals, Idiot's Delight, Nostalgic Obsessions

Tagged as 1990s, 1996, 200 Motels, breasts, CHiPs, cults, Edvard Munch, Erik Estrada, Factsheet 5, Fast Times, Independence Day, Jim Goad, Joey Bishop, John Porcellino, Kathie Lee Gifford, Kinko's, L. Ron Hubbard, Lucy Offerall, Media Play, Mike the Pod, MTV, Poddism, Regis Philbin, Roy Tompkins, Subgenius Foundation, television, zines

09/08/2015 · 3:59 pm

Atlanta Is My Lady

You wanna know how to tell if a city is your home? When terrible things happen to you there, and it never occurs to you to leave. You don’t abandon your home. You stay and tough it out.

There was a night during my stay in Fulton County Jail where all of us were herded into the rec area, so that the guards could search the ward for contraband. Apparently some inmates had been smoking weed in their cell. Since that cell was mine, and one of the inmates was me, I spent my time in the rec room deep in contemplation. As time wore on no quicker than molasses, we all started to chat to break the tension.

The cement room was sweltering. The walls were nine feet high, rimmed with cyclone fencing. If I jumped vertically, I could catch a glimpse of the glimmering Atlanta skyline I missed so terribly. This was soothing. Some of the inmates I’d befriended took notice, and I eagerly explained myself. It was the first view of the city I’d had in a month.

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