I posted this to alt.religion.kibology on June 21, 1992. It contains references to a lot of the major Kibologists of that time.
This year's jackalope hunt was a success, but since I'd already bagged one of the beasties on last year's vacation, I decided that I'd donate this year's trophy to Club Kibo in Boston. That stuffed head would provide just the right homey touch, sitting there above the microwave fireplace.
I'd booked my return ticket from Montana on the Relativity Railroad, since Amtrak would never get me back home in time for work. Unfortunately Einstein had put his 4-d contact lenses in inside out and ran the train in reverse the whole way, so I got back home three weeks before I'd left. What a bozo. Now I had to work for another whole week before my vacation came around again.
Once I finally got to Boston, I took the "T" to Copley Square, from which it's only a short walk to Club Kibo. I found out that the cover charge had gone up - they wanted 3.14159 schwas just to get in the door, and even with the jackalope head they weren't going to give me a discount. Besides, Todd McComb was doing bouncer duty that night, and if I tried anything sneaky he'd just have decked me with a stunning burst of logic.
Looking at the entertainment schedule, I noticed that I'd just missed Comedy Night, which was a shame since Danny Quayle had performed that week. He's hilarious, especially when he talks politics. It's hard to make good jokes about a great president like Murphy Brown, but Danny's just the one to pull it off. Tonight was a live music night, and Ovyy Furezna and the X-Vobs were just starting to rock the place. I recognized the familiar opening chords of "I'm More Pretentious Than YOU!"
~ibo was tending bar that night, wearing a CHEERS(TM) t-shirt turned inside-out. Since I wasn't in the mood to get really wasted, I ordered a pint of Helvetica Light, figuring I could nurse that for a while.
Around the bar were the usual crowd of regulars: hillm was arguing politics with a bunch of protists, and from the number of empty Palatino Bold bottles on the table, I could tell he'd been at this for a while. I suspected that the protists kept buying him drinks just to keep him talking, as they all looked pretty amused. Snopes was caught between two bozos who looked like Purdue freshmen, trying to moderate an argument over whether Kibology had really started as a bar bet between Kibo and J.R. "Bob" Dobbs to see who could create a religion with more slack. George Walters seemed to be hitting on some tart, but whenever he seemed just about to score, he'd suddenly go all glassy-eyed and start yelling "JUST SAY NO!" and take a swing at her with his half-full mug of Bookman. This is normal behavior for George, but this tart apparently wasn't familiar with his techniques, because she whipped out a Super-Soaker filled with quick-drying cement and plastered George to the wall. Not a bad decoration, really. I decided to hang the jackalope trophy just over his head.
Just then Spot came in and tried to order a drink. Everyone groaned. He always does this, especially on Friday nights when he figures it'll be too busy for the bartender to notice that he's Just A Dog. ~ibo pretended to be all out of Spot's brand (he always orders Zapf Dingbat) and gave him a bowl of Destructium Doodles to munch on while he went down to the cellar to look for some more. Spot gobbled up a few of the crunchy snax and exploded. Works every time. Silly puppy.
The band had just finished up "Big .sig" and Ovyy invited a couple of guests up to join them for the next number: Mark-Jason Dominus on the sledgehammer and RICHH on butt-harp. They were just tearing into a truly spectacular jam when some bozo from the wimpy yuppie bar next door stuck his head in and yelled: "HEY! KEEP THIS CRAP OUT OF REC.TV.CHEERS(TM)!"
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