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Digitally Remastered Issues #1, #2, #3

By David R. Wyder
Dedicated to Mary Baker Eddy
Who started me on my metaphysical journey at
a very young age.
A sense of humor...is superior to any
religion so far devised.
Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume
The Cover
Dedication
Quote
This Page
A Call To Cud Issue #3 (24 pages)
Cover
Introduction: Life Is A Gamble
Mailbox
Hymns
Poster: Carnivore
Member Testimony #4
Poster: Spiritual Puzzle
Essay: Mountains of Moo
Essay: To Steal A Golden Calf
Essay: Prophecy of the Devil Cow
Poster: Fertilizer University
Milk Epistle #7
Milk Epistle #8
Poster: History Is Propaganda
Rant: Some Cows
Poster: Ventriliquism For Dummies
Essay: Obey The Cow God
Carls Page
Poster: Bessie Redux
Poem: Ode To The Blessed Milk Cow
Obituary: Dungmaster Prairie Rambler
Member News
Poster: St. Joe of Torre
Poster: I Love The Holy Church of Moo
A Call To Cud Issue #2 (24 pages)
Cover
Introduction
Mailbox
Hymn: American Cow Pie
Poster: Moo Carl
Member Testimony #3
Essay: Out Of This World
Milk Epistle #5
Milk Epistle #6
Poster: The Cow Knowledge
Essay: Mooism I & II
The Carl Quotes
Essay: The Papyrus of Leather I & II
Poster: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
Essay: The Moo Returns I & II
Poster: Needle In A Hay Stack
Rant: The Loser I & II
Poster: Quote Me
Member News/Church News
Poster: Dam(n) Cows
A Call To Cud Issue #1 (18 pages)
Cover
My Introduction To Mooism
Poster: The Four Great Truths
Essay: The Beginning Of Mooism I & II
Poster: Its Not Just A Religion
Essay: A Mooism Primer
Milk Epistle #1
Milk Epistle #2
Milk Epistle #3
Milk Epistle #4
Poster: Drunken Sins
Poster: Church Graphics
Member Testimony #1
Member Testimony #2
Poster: Carl Illuminates
Weird Spiritual News
Poster: Set You Free
Editor & Publisher: David R. Wyder
a.k.a. (Dungmaster Dave)
Founder: Rev. Mad Dog
Icon: CARL
Contributors: Dungmistress Bovina, Lloyd
Michael Lohr, Nathan Shaffer, Dungmistress
Freeda Peephole, Dusty Erik Lunde, A.G.
Baugh, Helen Jones, M. Jason Parent, Amy
Mooer, Robert The Loser Howington
Digitally Remastered 2014
ARE YOU CONTENT OR CONTENT?
*IN THIS ISSUE*
Church Hymns,
Member Testimony #4, The Orgy,
To Steal A Golden Calf,
The Milk Epistles #7 and #8,
Obey The Cow God,
Carls Page, Member News,
Jerry Baly, Mooism Rant,
Cow Posters!!!
Life Is A Gamble
If I could ever stop playing the slot machines in Atlantic City and Las Vegas during my free time
perhaps I could complete this issue! I met CARL on the Boardwalk in AC a few years back (see
Issue # 1 of ACTC) and since then he has helped me see the fun and spiritual gain from
playing the quarter slots.
My last trip to AC in November 1999 I lost $500 the first night and woke up in my free hotel
room with crime tape wrapped around the bed. It was an ugly scene! However, Carl has taught
me that no matter how badly you do one day there is always another day. True to form we went
to another casino where we had a free room (and free meals) and visited Auntie Em (ATM) for
another $250 to try again. Sure enough a few hours later a jackpot of $675 was hit and later in the
evening another jackpot of $725 was hit. I left the next day a winner with $650 of their money.
My last three trips to the sacramental slot machines has left me $1445 ahead! Playing the slots
has taught me a lot about patience, attitude, self-control and how to handle winning and losing.
To me it is a spiritual pursuit (fraught with danger, of course) and each quarter dropped is a
sacrament on the road to spiritual enlightenment. Yes I know this sounds like bullshit, but we all
have different ways of pursuing the truth, relaxing and leaming our spiritual sevens.
The casino has become my building church and once inside I can be myself again (they let you
smoke!) whereas in the rest of the world I have to conform to a myriad of rules and regulations
that constrict my blood flow, my humor and my spirituality. Too much of our life is spent
working and so little time pursuing our own truth and having fun!
Birth is a blessing, death is a certainty and life is a gamble...
Moo OoM,
Dungmaster david
Organ of The Holy Church of Moo in
spiritual devotion to COW and CARL.
CHEW YOUR CUD & YOU CHEW LIFE ITSELF...MILK IS THE RIVER OF LIFE...
Editor & Publisher
Dungmaster David
87 Richard Street, Apt. 7
Passaic, NJ 07055
(Digitally remastered
May 2014)
...THE GRASS IS NEVER GREENER ELSEWHERE...THE FENCE IS THERE FOR A REASON...
All mail, email, submissions and membership requests
may be sent to: Dungmaster Dave, 87 Richard Street,
#7, Passaic, NJ 07055 or send email to blind-
cow@optonline.net. Forgive everyone and forget everything.
Subject: Question of Faith
From: @micron.net (mjc)
When you say to love the cows is this a literal
meaning (you know in THAT WAY) or is it more
like love the image of loving a cow. What an image
that brings to mind Do you need a personal lube to do
that? I have some at a reasonable price if you need
any.
(I cannot speak for all members of The Holy
Church of Moo but I love cows in a spiritual
manner. I am not interested in bestiality but if folks
are into that (pun intended), I say bless them as long
as no one gets hurt. I did date a woman once who
some mean-spirited folks called a cow and I did
mount her for a long ride but I guess that doesnt
count. My current lover looks nothing like a cow but
I have told her that I will love her for heifer and
heifer. I do not have fantasies about having sex
with cows but like all healthy males the udders on
both cows and women can get me going and yes I
was breast fed as child. You can draw your own
conclusions.)
Does MOOISM mean being a vegetarian? After all
Carl was given milk and a rib, not just milk.
(MOOISM does not incorporate vegetarianism in its
tenets. However, some of the members are vegans.
Some may be vegetables for all I know. As all
members of the non-human animal kingdom are
MOOISTs the vast majority are herbivores but we
welcome carnivores and cannibals alike. Yes, Carl
was given a rib (he is very ticklish down there) but
prefers a diet of salt water taffy and Ring Dings.)
Do the golden pies reappear periodically to rearrange
the structure of ethics and procedures? Like using the
LUBE?
(Most Dungmasters and Dungmistresses have to live
in New Jersey for a year to attain their
Dungmastery but most just have to recognize
bullshit when they see, hear, taste, touch or smell it.)
And my last questions is are there holier breeds in the
pantheon of MOOISM?
(Holsteins tend to think they are holier than thou
but in MOOISM the cockroach, the cow and Donald
Trump are all equal.)
Was this cow cult around in 1994-95? I was in a
group of AOLers who joked around about cows and
called ourselves the BGH. I went by the name of
RedVimoogr. Do you remember that?
Peter A. Peterson
(We have files on every cow-related group that has
ever existed. You are still being monitored. No
joke...)
I have converted to MOOISM. I too will worship the
great cow in the sky. Please send me a lifetime
membership.
Rosco
(This is perhaps the most intelligent thing you have
done in your whole life. You wont regret it.)
In a culture where every image or idea can and will be
used for commerce, how can anything remain sacred?
And if nothing sacred remains why not lie and steal?
When were barraged with messages equating per-
sonal worth with material wealth, when the poorest
can buy a gun, whats astonishing is not that America
has so much violence but that it has so little-testimony
both to some elemental longing for virtue and our
willingness to fund a police state as the price of
prosperity. Meanwhile, fundamentalist movements
grow here and abroad, as people seek to find or
restore value in lives that corporate capitalism per-
ceives as another resource to be exploited, exhausted
and trashed. The Holy Church of Moo is about the
only thing that makes sense to me these days...
St. Gilligan
A lifetime membership in The Holy Church of Moo is $3.
This helps us cover some of our postage cost and keeps us
out of the capitalist and consumerism web sickness that
now infects the globe from sea to shining sea.
MR. BOVINE MAN
Hey Mr. Bovine Man
Moo a Moo for me
Im not thirsty and there is no milk
In the Jingle Jangle morning Ill come milking you
Take me for a trip upon your magic Bovine Lips
For your face I have licked
My hands cant feel your teat and your udders full
Waiting only for my hip boots to be stepping
Im ready to go anywhere, Im ready to be milked
Into my own barn
Cast your dancing tail my way
I promise to go under it
Hey Mr. Bovine Man
Moo a Moo for me
In the Jingle Jangle morning Ill come milking you.
THE COWS THEY ARE A MOOING
Come gather round bovines
Wherever you graze
And admit that the waters
In the pond is deep
and accept it that soon
Youll be dropping those pies
If time doesnt mean much
Is it worth anything at all?
Then you better start mooing
Or youll turn into burgers
For the cows they are a mooing.
Come lawyers and lackeys
Who sell and buy you
Till your eaten by one and all
Your flesh is divided
By the cooks and the shoes
And dont moo too soon
When the gate is standing open
For the farmer is looking
Hes going to brand you
With his red hot poker
For the cows they are a mooing.
Come senators and congressmen
Please drink my milk
Dont stand in the doorway
Leather is better than silk
For she that is not milked
Will hide in the stall
Theres green grass outside
And the sun is still shining
You ring your bell
And it goes Dong Ding Ding
For the cows they are a mooing.
MOOING IN THE WIND
How many moos must a cow bellow out
Before they call her a cow
How many pies must a white cow shit
Before she sleeps in the hay
The answer my friend is mooing in the wind.
How many years can some cows go moo
Before they are allowed to be free
How many times can a cow turn her head
And pretend that she just didnt pee
The answer my friend is mooing in the wind.
How many times must a cow look up
Before she can see the holy pie
How many bells must one cow have
Before she is free to die
The answer my friend is mooing in the wind.
Open your hymnals to page 777 and join us in
singing some arousing and folksy Mooism spirituals
as translated by Dungmaster Mad Dog. Our sincere
apologies to Bob Zimmerman for turning his
protest classics into cow dung!
dd99 Quote From The Simpsons TV Show bcp021
Baby Name: Dr. Bob Roberts
Church Name: Dungmaster Assoholic Anonymous
I make gobs of money examining human assholes. They come into my office six days a week
with all sorts of complaints and I have to stick my finger, various instruments and run complicated tests
to see what is wrong with this male or females shit hole. It is a tiresome and thankless job and after
twenty years of doing this whenever I look in the mirror all I see is one big asshole. I have two children
who are complete and total assholes (daddy we want more stuff!) and a wife who wont even let me
touch her anymore because of where my hands have been all day! Ive taken to having anal sex with my
assistant in order to get my rocks off. Yes, there is a certain amount of satisfaction whenever I heal a
patient, but I do get tired of saying get off your ass, exercise and eat right! Life is about having
common sense but since the day I was born I havent had any. My parents wanted me to be a doctor and
when I got into this field the money was good, the jokes were bad but most of all I was spiritually
constipated. Im very tired of turning the other cheek.
One day I was on the crapper at the local porn theater when I discovered there was no toilet
paper in my stall. I cursed aloud shit and a calm and gentle voice from the stall next door asked me
what the problem was. I replied that there was no toilet paper and that life sucked. After a moment of
silence an old hand appeared under the stall bearing a roll of toilet paper with a design of cows all over
it. I thanked the man and proceeded to wipe my anal cavity clean. After I flushed I went to the sink to
wash and comb my hair an old gentleman got out of the stall that was next to mine and introduced
himself as CARL.
He asked me to pull down my pants and asked if I would mind if he put some holy salve on my
butthole. He said the salve contained three parts milk, three parts cow manure and three parts bull testicle
juice and that it would help awaken me to the wisdom of MOOISM. I was skeptical but horny so I told
him to go ahead and BAM! there was a flash of light and my inner spirit was flooded with such joy that
I passed out into the arms of this old geezer. When I became steadier he began telling me all about The
Holy Church of Moo and what I needed to do to get my shit together. As he helped me back on with my
underwear I remember him saying, A bull shits out of his ass and the human bullshits out of his mouth
but you will go and bullshit no more.
Today, I have wiped my slate clean. Thanks to The Holy Church of Moo I am in touch with
myself and now help others with my new job as a speech therapist. I have a whole new outlook on life
and look forward to each day flush with the anticipation of helping others to express themselves in a
clear and concise manner. I am no longer an asshole, I am a MOOIST who examines life with the hands
of a milker and excrete my spiritually to all who need it! Thank Moo Carl for helping me see the light at
the end of the tunnel.
Over 7.2 trillion pieces in stock!
Universal resources!
Please allow 4 to 6 years for delivery.
The Holy Church of Moo, 87 Richard Street, #7, Passaic, NJ 07055
s
s f g h j k l x
The orgy can be traced back thousands of years.
They were practiced by even Cleopatra herself. An-
cient man often mimicked the activities of animals.
Perhaps our lusty human ancestors were looking for
a way to collectively relieve themselves...and found
this relief by imitating cattle.
For as we all know, cows like orgies. Bulls do to.
Why not? Cows exist in large numbers. The herd is
the means by which all cattle congregate. When a
cow or bull is sexually aroused, there are other cattle nearby to satisfy him/her in every way
imaginable. This includes hoof jobs for males and being hoofed for the females.
Moo upon moo is heard by passers-by as the orgy participants have orgasm after or-
gasm...covering each other in sticky puddles of captivating cattle cum. Every body part
imaginable is used for pleasure if possible, whether it be a tail, a muzzle, or a horn. These
animals love every minute of the action.
One may wonder about the moral views of cows and bulls. Do they ever object to such sinful
sex based on its unorthodoxy? The answer is a resounding Yes. Not all cows have lust as
their primary concern. Many cows are in love. Yes, some cows and bulls are hopeless
romantics, confining themselves to a monogamous relationship of trust and faith in each other.
They use mating as a means of love and reproduction. Perhaps someday we can take a trip into
their innermost psyches and compare them to the orgy participants. It would be incredibly
thought-provoking and ground-breaking to discover what has made each cow and bull who
he/she is and why he/she has taken the sexual path he/she has taken in life.
Do you not agree? If you were a bovine, which of
these two main categories would you fall un-
der...the lovers or the lusters? Maybe each of us
should take a good look at ourselves and see if we
like our sexual category status.
You must know when to hold em, when to fold em and
when to grab the loot and run like hell!...A quote from the
ghost of Silk the Sable, former no-handed, King of Thieves.
As the train pulled into the station the sisters could see an
ouroboros symbol displayed as the citys welcome sign. An
omen of ill karma if there ever was one.
Final stop Shu Won Choo, home to every multitude of
delight imaginable. Giz Mobars Mooing House of Hooch
is just to the right of you. And always remember the food is
cheap and the milk flows freely. A cold, disembodied
female voice completed the broadcast across the telecom as
the train slammed to a sudden stop.
I need to read the spiritual vibe of this place. Bodua said.
What are you doing that for? We came here to steal the
golden calf not find your inner child!?! Kashra said
sarcastically. Why dont you just call a psychic hotline or
something?
Shut up, Im trying to con-
centrate. Bodua replied.
Kashra was being flippant. It
was her way to ease her ner-
vousness.
Bodua and Kashra LeFay
were very beautiful twin sis-
ters with waist length,
auburn hair and jade eyes.
Both sisters were wearing
matching colored, symbiotic
fluid fabrics, of the type that
when touched it would ripple
like a stone being thrown in a
pond. They were most strik-
ing indeed.
Do you think the virus will effect the casinos synod
grid? Kashra asked in a serious tone. Of course I think it
will effect the grids firewall, then the virus will be a
breeze to upload. Then the sacred Golden Calf of Siam is
ours. Bodua replied. Come, this is not the place to have
such sensitive conversation. Some one might hear us and
then the plan would be ruined.
The sisters scurried across the busy concourse and stood in
front of Giz Mobars infamous Mooing House of Hooch,
the most legendary casino all the cowpie cosmos. It was a
smoke-filled, extraterrestrial juke joint of the highest dis-
order. As a famous, self-proclaimed prophet poet of the
polyunsaturated generation once stated upon visiting the
place, its Nirvana, Shangri-La and a livestock sale all
rolled into one lavish, free drink circus.
Is this where the game is held? Kashra asked. Yes, but
dont get too cozy we wont be here long enough to enjoy
the amenities. Bodua rapped an oddly timed knock on the
rune-covered, oak door of the establishment. A few mo-
ments passed, then a small portal opened. Whats your
reservation phrase? Said a gruff voice. Billy Bob John
Bob and his Barnyard Brawlers slipped in some sh...
That last part of that phrase is it pass code good. LeFay
party of two, you may enter, said the doorman.
Both ladies walked in and took a seat at the bar. The
hypnotic sounds of a slow bass guitar and meandering
keyboard accompaniment filled the smoke-dinged air. The
place smelled of new leather, new money and old unisex
cologne.
I think Im having an involuntary neuron burn, Bodua
mumbled, as the combination of smells and music over-
whelmed her.
Suddenly a voice from behind Bodua spoke up from the
shadows. Hey lady wanna buy two tickets to Michael
Roundlys Lord of the Prance? What. Bodua said, as
she pulled out her customized revolver. The gentleman
grinned as he also displayed his snub-nose, pulse pistol
from underneath the table.
Looks like were dead even Bodua. Wanna go for the
tie-breaker? Hello Coppercrow, long time no see.
Here for the friendly hand of cards tonight, dear?
What do you think?
Suddenly a voice sounded out behind them. So you two
notorious card sharks are here for the tournament being
held tonight. Just wonderful, Ill start the body count right
now. It was Mobar.
While her sister occupied everyone, Kashra slipped away
and found the main synod grid and quickly downloaded
the debilitating virus, affectionately named Snake Eyes
into its central matrix. Let the games begin. Kashra said
devilishly.
Evening fell and the worlds greatest gamblers congre-
gated into the Boneyard Palace for the poker game to end
all poker games. The prize, the Golden Calf of Siam.
Malice the Mad, Tiipan the Great, and the Emperor of
Wung Dung Fu and high roller, Lord Vas himself, all
came. As the first hand was dealt out, throngs gathered to
watch and wage bets on who would win.
Suddenly, the audible
cracklings of the surging
power grid could be
heard. Then the odd
strains of a guitar-driven
song by wandering min-
strel legend, Iron Tulip,
began to fill the air.
Theres always a sucker
for a good burn, here in
this town! Screamed the
lyrics of the caustic tune.
Oh shit! Malice ex-
claimed as she realized what was happening, watch out
for the golden calf.
Too late. As the lights went out the most sacred and holy
object in all Bovine-dom vanished into the night, on a
portable space pod with two cunning, very beautiful
women.
I always told you that porta-generators would be a smart
investment. Vas said to Mobar, as he shrugged his royal
shoulders in the darkness.
Eyes glowing,
Nostrils flaring.
Devil Cow
Ears flapping,
Udder quivering.
Devil Cow
Tail swishing,
Moo roaring.
Devil Cow
Hoofs beating,
Teeth mashing.
Devil Cow
Flanks rolling,
Spots black as night.
Devil Cow
Children screaming,
Houses burning.
Devil Cow
Masses running,
Countries falling.
Devil Cow
An inferno on earth,
A fiery hell.
Devil Cow
A single hero,
One out of legend.
Devil Cow
Destined to win,
Destined to rule.
Devil Cow
The fiery Hell,
Cold once again.
Devil Cow
Extinguished by good,
Kept low by truth.
Devil Cow
Peace again,
As it once was.
Devil Cow
Foretold by legend,
It will return.
Devil Cow
Feared by many,
A bovine terror.
Devil Cow
There are now over 6 billion people on this planet. In all of recorded history there have been about
11 billion and our current number of 6 billion will double before you can say dot.cum. The more
humans born on this earth every year reduces the number of animal and plant species that exist.
Many plants and animals unique to this green planet will never be alive ever again due to the fact
that man cannot control their reproduction rate. This church ministers to every animal and plant
and a few humans. The overpopulation of man is the greatest unrecognized problem today. We are
tired of eulogizing the dead, we want to awaken the living! Technology will not save our animal
and plant brethren -it only accelerates the explosion of the mad human species and in the end
will kill the human species in one great conflagration. Our religion is not based on procreation as
most are...
It is time to shut down the human reproduction factory. Layoff notices must be placed on the
human uterus and sperm production must cease. Sex for other than a recreational and loving
activity must be severely curtailed if animal, plant and human are to survive. Some may say that
we are leaping to doom and gloom conclusions and we agree. We take no joy in correctly
predicting a horrible future for all if human population growth continues at its current rate, we are
merely dedicated to saving all life on this green earth. Cretinous morons in the advertising
industry bombard us daily with gross eye candy selling byproducts that have been fashioned from
the Earth but give little air time to the reality of the disaster that all this mindless consumption will
result in...
We must reawaken the cow brain within humans. The human brain as it currently works is a
cancer on this planet and believes it can consume everything in its path. It is not content, it is not
honest, it is not compassionate. It has become a computer chip mega-biting every living thing that
does not have the same internal wiring that it does. This brain will soon create robots smarter than
itself and at this juncture no living thing will survive. We will all be gone and a mechanized ooze
will be left tolling the final rusty bell as it screws itself into the ground realizing that life breathes,
it doesnt run on fuel. Humans need nature to survive and machines will need humans to keep
running...
Look to the cow in the field. She goes about her business in the right way. Her workplace is the
ground, her roof the sky, her home the whole earth. She exists as a testament to what is good and
what is right with all living and breathing creatures. In her moo there is a greater and more
valuable communication than any moronic advertising executive has ever spewed across the
airwaves. The sound of moo does not ask you to buy or to consume but rather puts you at one
with who you are, where you are, and why you are. Shut off your confounded media and get to
know a cow! She can teach you more than any professor at any university (except the ones at
Fertilizer U.)!!!
The Cow! Our saving grace. A voice in the wilderness telling humans to slow down, to learn how
to chew their cud and appreciate the wonder and power of nature. The cow is not bored with
reality, she is inspired by it! The cow knows the future and in the daily slaughter of modern
inhumanity she will rise one day and rule. Will you be ready to disconnect yourself from your
destructive toys and follow her on the cow path to a contented and happy existence? I hope so...
By Dungmaster Dave
Batch #7.Batch #7.Batch #7
(Expiration Date 01/01/01)
Batch #8.Batch #8.Batch #8
(Expiration Date: When The Cows Come Home
Holy Cow! How often have we in the West used that term. Very few of us, however, know how
and why the expression was coined and indeed why cows are considered holy in India.
In defining holiness would not unselfishness be a qualifying trait, a prerequisite? Rather would
it not be one of the defining traits of anything considered holy?
The lives of saints are one continuous giving spree. Mother Teresa of Calcutta, like saints of
other religions, is a personification of Giving...giving, giving...and she will, no doubt, in time, be
canonized.
From our very childhood, almost as soon as we are born, we are fed with the milk of the cow. We
nourish babies with cows milk as soon as they are weaned away from mothers milk. We literally
grow up on the white stuff. And guess what? We never grow out of it! It continues to nourish us
in one form or another till our very last day. Life is almost inconceivable without the milk of the
cow and related dairy products that are derivatives of milk. And this phenomenon, is not restricted to
any particular culture or peoples. It is universal, and it is the ONLY food that is universally
consumed.
And the sages of yore, in India, could not have but helped noticing the nobility of this animal.
They must have pondered the right of us humans to use the animal for our own selfish ends. What
right, they must have asked themselves, do we, as humans, really have, in subjecting this animal
to such great lengths of giving? What right, indeed?!
And they must have worshipped the cow for its giving and raised it to the status of a god, a
holy being. For what is a god? It is any being who transcends its own petty self-seeking self and
harbors more concern for the other to the point of giving ones life for the other.
Indian civilization has, for more than five millenniums demonstrated their indebtedness and
gratefulness to the cow. They elevated its status by recognizing its nobility and holiness. The
masses of India were not coerced into recognizing the holiness of the cow, no one was jailed, no
dictate was issued...their hearts reigned and saw sense. They voluntarily refrained from killing
the cow and subjecting it to any more giving, for they saw that it was already giving its very
life...
Obediently, mutely, unselfishly, these beings are sacrificing their lives for humanity. No other
animal feeds us from the cradle to the grave and renders such invaluable services to humans. And
its life is one of giving, giving, giving...Should we not, as human beings, acknowledge this and
call them all Holy Cows?!!
By DUNGMISTRESS FREDA PEEPHOLE
There are no Jersey cows in New York Dairyland
any more. They while away, on Fantasy Island
waiting for a ferry to taxi them forth
to even greener pastures, somewhere over the
golden arches.
Eyeglasses and hearing aids reduce sensation
to some egalitarian and democratic point
of equal proportion and similar ratio
(the common ground of uniform perception
of universal truths...) Unfortunately, though
not all cows are equal, in the sight and sound
of any moment or momentary god of your choosing
(a golden calf perhaps, for all we know...)
Some cows are more or less superior, it seems.
For one thing, not all cows jog across poppy fields
or even across town, in the pouring rain.
Nor do all cows drink mineral water
from coldbrook springs, or even in chic cafes.
Few drink expresso, or even simple java
in odd asian countries. Naturally
I appreciate the nuance and implication of that
BUT LOOK
Im not all together altruistic, anthropomorphic
or even all together myself; why, I split at seams
and spit out lies outright, with or without an additional stomach
or two. In fact, Ive even devised my own methods
of eliminating troublesome young calves
deified jersey veal at that
should they wander the streets all night or roam the city
all hours, till the cows come home.
It may be socially unacceptable for now
to speak of slice of life butcher, in all its slash and maim
sensibility, but its not without good reason.
SEE
my god has spoken to me, with sacred moo; Im doing it all
for religious reasons, and no pantheism, animism, or totemism
is truly out of this world. Every spiritual notion has it place
in the mundane application of daily life and sacrifice
by burnt offering, in all its charcoal-broiled worship.
Even phantom limbs should be skinned alive, for medicinal purpose
or marginal valueyou can bet your hide and scalp on that.
Inhuman sacrifice of creature comfort and animal desire
in all its savage magnetismdoesn't it embody some ideal theory
at the very least?
All the cows around these parts wear eyeglasses
and hearing aids, for whatever self-enhancement
they prefer. What need art, as perceptual shock device
if all sensation is unanimous in its adjustment?
What need of symbol to shift angles of insight
if all right angles converge, in right-minded harmonious swing
to conservative right, in its impersonal fear
of any stray passion, far from the herd?
SOME COWS by Dusty Erik Lunde
First of all, I wish to ask for the reader of this piece to
bear with me. It is a very difficult thing to put
revelations into words, which is what I am attempting
here. Wish me luck. Your future may very well depend
on the words I impart here.
The cow is the highest form of life on earth!
Yes! Forget all of the anthropocentric theology you
have been taught for your entire life. Humanity is NOT
the greatest of the mortal beings. Cows are. We crude
humans are, at best, second (probably third or fourth,
but that is a revelation best saved for another piece.)
Forgive me if I have offended you. I mean no insult to
the teachings of the great prophets of other religions.
For without their revelations, I could never have
achieved mine, for revelation is a lot like mountain
climbing: You must reach the summit of the peak before
you can see the higher mountain behind it. Without the
groundwork laid by Christ, Muhammad, Buddha,
Krishna, Confucius, Abd Al-Hazred, Aleister Crowley,
Anton LeVey, and countless others, I would not have
been able to see this great truth.
Some may find the combining of some of the above
names in the same category offensive, even
blasphemous but that is not my intent. All of the above
names share the common bond of belonging to men who
sought to understand the world they lived in and aimed
to reveal an ultimate truth. It is their insights into the
human condition that has allowed me to see the truth of
our place in the universe: beneath the Cow.
How can a creature as ungainly and (apparently) stupid
as the Cow be superior to you and I? That is actually
rather obvious when viewed honestly. For the first
place, Cow is a peaceful creature. You need not fear
Cow the way you must fear human beings. Cow doesnt
start wars. Cow doesnt rob, kill, or rape. Humans do.
This makes us inferior.
Cow is content. Cow knows what it truly needs, and
does not feel so insecure as to try to take more. Humans
are in contrast ruthless opportunists who take whatever
they can grab and rudely shape it into whatever they
think they want or need. We build useless machines,
grandiose monuments to our own inadequacy. This
shows that we are inferior.
Cow is serene. Cow does not feel the need to behave in
a way that suits anything other than itself. Cow appears
stupid because it is wise enough to avoid the folly of
trying to impress others. Humans appear smart, but we
are really too ignorant to realize our own foolhardiness.
This advertises that we are inferior.
By now you may be seeing that we human beings are
indeed lesser creatures, but may not understand why the
cow is the highest form of life. To explain the many
truths behind this would be impossible, for they only
truly make sense if you discover them yourself: If you
have to ask, then you are not ready to know. But I would
be remiss if I did not at least try to impart some crude
examples.
Take the word Cow and compare it to the word God.
Both words have three letters. Both words have the
letter O in the middle. And the similarity of form
between the capital letters G and C are obvious. This
proves that when these two words were chosen in the
English language, we were subconsciously recognizing
Cows divine nature.
The Spanish culture offers more tantalizing evidence.
The Spaniards invented a pair of rituals whereby they
tried to prove human might by facing a superior lifeform
and defeating it: Bullfighting and Bull Running. that
they chose the male aspect of Cow to symbolize a
superior force is not a coincidence. Also, the famous
shout of, OLE! heard at bullfights is further proof of a
divine connection: the word has its origins in the Dark
Ages, when Spain was ruled by Muslims. The word is a
corruption of the Islamic name for God, Allah. this too
is no mere coincidence.
The Hindu regard Cow as sacred. They recognize Cows
place better than most.
By now you may be wondering how you might behave
so as to better allow Cow into your life. The answer is
simple: dairy products.
Dairy products are the best way to commune with Cow.
They are built into a simple hierarchy: milk is best (with
whole milk better than skim), followed by butter, and
then cheese. In general, the closer the dairy product is to
the way that Cow gives it, the better.
Another (less desirable) way to commune with Cow is
through beef. While it is true that beef offers a more
powerful part of the essence of cow, this essence is
tainted by the simple fact that it is impossible to get beef
without at least harming Cow. But dont worry. Eating a
hamburger is not a sin. It is merely a lesser virtue to
dairy. Letting Cow go to waste IS evil. Destroying Cow
and then letting its sacrifice be in vain is one of the
highest crimes imaginable.
There you have it. I have you the knowledge needed to
begin a life of persuing the divine truth of Cow. I only
hope that you put this knowledge to good use.
Cow bless you!
By A.G. Baugh, Divine Udder Lore
Keeper of The Holy Order of the
Immaculate Udder
Enjoyed the recent Cows On Parade exhibit in Chicago with the ghost of Mrs. OLearys cow. She is very
happy now that she has been cleared of starting that infamous fire. Seems that Mayor Rude Guiliani of NYC
will be copying this tourist attraction for the Big Apple next year. Ive started building my cow and yes it
will be smeared with his honors feces! Had Keith Reid, the Procol Harum lyricist, over the barn on
Halloween. He had 16 vestal virgins with him and was leaving for the coast in the morning. Spent most of
the summer in the Indian Ocean hanging out with a bunch of sea cows. Hey, even a godhead needs a
vacation every now and then. Had a good time except for those damned squid. They write too much with
their stinky ink and really dont have anything to say. Some of the animal kingdom members of this church
are really cranky and need to mellow out. Im tired of the gnashing of teeth and biting off of heads. Too
much water and not enough milk on this planet if you ask me.
THE MILKY MANTRA #777
Bestial bosomy babes barfing bananas
Outside oregon only oxygen ovulates
Big bastard barn burns brightly.
Delightful diners down damp donuts
Oklahoma oxen operation opens outhouse
Billy big bucks borrows begonias
Brenda big butt backs bush
See saw ship shape shut slide.
SOME OTHER CARLS
1. Carl Jung
2. Carl Hubbell
3. Karl Marx
4. George Carl in
MISSING CARLS
1. Carl Allgood (Alabama)
2. Carl Bacon (Alabama)
3. Carl Barefoot (Alabama)
4. Carl Applegate (Alabama)
Surrounded by the timeless beauty of the countryside,
on velvet pastures of verdant green,
there lives a kind-hearted, sacred maiden,
an uncommon lass, yet so often seen.
With bell around neck,
walking over hill or dale, she moves with a gentle sway,
the farmer he comes and the farmer he goes,
but she goes about her merry way,
just swooshing her tail and chewing her cud,
all the glorious day.
Queen of the pasture scene?
The devi of the coming holy age,
Goddess of the Milking Barn?
Hallowed be thy name,
there be methane in your madness,
mad cow, mad cow, come and save us again?
Remember this psalm,
oh remember this rhyme,
for there be wisdom in the pungency,
of the sacred, cow pie, divine!
The Holy Church of Moo lost
their first member this year.
His church name was
Dungmaster Prairie Rambler.
His given human name was Jerry Baly.
He went to the great meadow in the valley in April 1999.
Jerry published 260 editions of his zine "The Prairie Rambler"
which be began in 1978.
The following was his favorite quote:
Every government is run by liars and nothing
they say should be believed.
(I.F. Stone)
Take Care and Peace Dungmaster Prairie Rambler!
Members continue to grow as we approach the heated coitus of a new millennium slated to
begin in 2001. Although the majority of fools will be climaxing a year early, who cares, life is
eternal and cannot be measured by clock or calendar...Many of you have drifted off but we
hope the mailing of this issue will bring you back into contact with us even if it is just a
postcard of Dick Clark getting a rubdown from Pat Sajak...Dungmaster Mark Holstein, our
local library board president, is still recovering from his mugging by the loco City Council.
One enlightened councilperson suggested closing the libraries and buying the folks in town
an encyclopedia and cut the library budget to the bare bone....Dungmistress Sweet Thighs is
now flying kites on the InterNET and reports that any bovine in Texas is smarter than
George W. Bush...Dungmaster Micro Milker has a new bumpersticker that reads Hardware,
Software, Nowhere!...Rev. Mad Dog lost his job last we heard and we hope he remembers
our new address and sends us some more hymns...Dungmistress Daisy Dimples comes down
to the MediaCenter at Passaic High School once in a while and tries to make copies but
always ends us making cowpies (you have to take it off the manure setting,
girl!)...Dungmaster Milky Way continues producing his review zine which had a name change
to A Readers Guide To The Underground Press or ARGTUP for short...Dungmistress Mrs.
Moo Moo now has a Macintosh at home and is to be congratulated for not enriching the
newly confirmed crook Bill Gates and his sucky operating system...Dungmaster Nova S.
Hermit wrote us a letter but we have not answered in so long he must think we are
dead...Dungmistress Penny Lane reports that two of her cows can hum the music to Sgt.
Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band...Dungmaster Ganado Bravo is our newest member who
we know absolutely nothing about and hope he provides us with a brief bio for the next
issue...Dungmaster P52 is still recording magical sounds from the stomachs of cows and may
win a Grammy next year...Dungmaster Free 2 Be is using a press pass from this zine to gain
entry to CARL knows what in California...Dungmistress Patty Eternity is sitting very still in
Ohio watching the cows get milked...Dungmaster Light Moon has received a government
grant to study cow odors...Dungmistress Wisconsin Wizard reports that Wisconsin still has
more cows than people...Dungmaster LonghornCowboy has a great car but he wont let any
cows ride in the backseat...Dungmaster Cannon X. Cowpier had his computer stolen in July
of 1999 and now locks his barn door before he goes out in the world to gamble with his
hard-earned booty...CARL is walking the ocean floor these days looking for the lost city of
Viagra but occasionally comes up for air to work nights at a clock factory in Switzerland...We
hope all our other members are contentedly chewing their cud's and slapping the flies of
contemporary society silly...Lets hear from ya, deadbeats!!!
Would you drink milk if it were black?
Instill in us a wholesome, happy mind with goodwill and
understanding. Then shall we ever delight in your friendship like
cows who gladly rejoice in meadows green. (Rig Veda)
T H E O F F I C I A L P U B L I C A T I O N O F
THE HOLY CHURCH OF MOO
TRUE OR FALSE
Mooism is more popular than Jesus, The Beatles and Mickey Mouse?
Mooists are richer than Bill Gates, Warren Buffet and Ted Turner?
CARL fathered Alfalfa, Spanky and Buckwheat?
The Holy Church of Moo holds weekly services in Hooters?
THE ANSWERS ARE WITHIN!
A CALL TO CUD #2 Official Zine of The Holy Church of MooMembers FreeOthers $2
Dungmaster Dave (thats me) and Rev. Mad Dog (hes on the West Coast) of the Holy Church of Moo
welcome you to the second issue of A CALL TO CUD. We would like to thank those who joined the church
after the first issue and hope you are all in Carls words, fit as fiddles and ready to be plucked again. For
those of you who have just discovered this new religion let me give a few words of explanation.
MOOISM is the worlds oldest religion and has attended the spiritual needs of animals since life first began on
this green earth. MOOISM is More Popular Than Jesus And The Beatles! In a last ditch effort to save the dying
earth (have you looked outside lately?) and all living things the doctrine of MOOISM is being transmitted to
humans once again in hope that their manipulative ways will cease. The only requirement for membership is
$3 and your renunciation of the belief that man is the most intelligent animal on the planet. All current
man-made religions continue to deceive us about the true nature of life because they dont know any better.
We Are No Different From The Cow, The Chicken or The Cockroach!
Our guide is CARL, a mystical man of milk, who is very old but young in spirit. He is helping us translate the
task as the inborn human prejudice towards all other life forms and non-human ideas are rampant. You can
only understand MOOISM by removing the chip on your shoulder that tells you man has dominion. It takes time
for awareness, so slow down, let go of that remote/mouse and read carefully! At times our message is garbled
and boring-blame us for that. We are no different from you and this spiritual manure isnt always entertaining.
Unlike organized religions or materialism, once you get MOOISM you wont need an expensive upgrade six
months down the road or have to give up your hard earned moolah to us. We wont milk you. You Can Go Milk
Yourself! All we ask is $3 to defray our postage costs and you will receive a lifetime receipt of the MOOISM
message as it is revealed to us. What are you waiting for?
Grab a glass of milk and get yourself immersed into the world of MOOISM. Animals have souls, human beings
have lost theirs. With MOOISM, CARL and THE HOLY CHURCH OF MOO we hope to help you get yours
back. Hold onto your teats and look inside. You will be surprised....
May Bhagabovonia and Carl Be With You,
Dungmaster Dave
Rev. Mad Dog
Official Website Archive:
http://web.archive.org/web/20031009085609/http://members.aol.com/DailyCow/indexhcom.htm
Table of Contentment
Page 03..............................Mailbox (we get missives from members, a dickhead and plain ol nice folks)
Page 04..............................Hymn #1 (American Cow Pie is our first singalong)
Page 05..............................moo CARL (the latest transmission from far away, come back to Earth CARL!)
Page 06..............................Member Testimony #3 (a new member of the herd testifies but doesnt solicit)
Page 07..............................Out Of This World by Helen Jones (enlightened view of cults)
Page 08..............................Milk Epistle #5 (words of wisdumb from Dungmaster Dave)
Page 09..............................Milk Epistle #6 (some future wiredness from Dungmaster Dave)
Page 10..............................Cow Knowledge (a church poster by Dungmaster Dave suitable for framing)
Page 11..............................Mooism Sect (J. Parent discusses his brand of Mooism)
Page 12..............................Mooism Sect (J. Parent sees a different light but it burns bright)
Page 13..............................The Carl Quotes (cell phone, dictaphone, Carls no phony!)
Page 14..............................The Papyrus of Leather (Rev. Mad Dog translates ancient scripture)
Page 15..............................The Papyrus of Leather (and gives more background information about HCOM)
Page 16..............................Hold Hands & Moo (another church poster by Dms. Dave, drunk on milk again)
Page 17..............................The Moo Returns (Amy inspired by our web page writes a Sci-Fi story)
Page 18..............................The Moo Returns (thanks Amy for taking the time instead of clicking off)
Page 19..............................All You Need Is Mooism (and a job, and food, and a roof over your head)
Page 20..............................Rant #1 (the Loser aka Robert Howington vents in perfect mooism pitch)
Page 21..............................Rant #1 (the Loser continues his rant, is that Clinton with his pants down?)
Page 22..............................Church Poster (Dungmaster Dave has been sniffing too much toner!)
Page 23..............................Church News (oh no, not another blank page)
Page 24..............................Damn Cows (now its time to say hello-goodbye)
All mail, email, submissions and membership requests
may be sent to: Dungmaster Dave, 87 Richard Street,
#7, Passaic, NJ 07055 and dailycow@optonline.net.
Bliss and piss to all!
You must have nothing better to do than fill space with
tripe like this...it's a shame, you might even contribute
something useful to society if you applied your efforts to a
productive cause. The nice thing about losers of your ilk is
that nobody remembers your kind three seconds after you
die.
ANATHEMA,
Jim Venable (jven@magicnet.net)
(The first response to our new web page was not a
positive one. Another unsatisfied milk drinker. Hey Jim
meet me in the gym and I'll wrestle you for the good of
society!)
We Love your Church! We used to be Catholic but no
longer! Please, please, please write to us with more, more,
more about the Holy Church of Moo!
LOVE & COWS,
Amanda & Sara (stuttle@brynmawr.edu)
(The second response to our new web page was not a
negative one. If we can convert two catholic college
females we must be doing something right. Ladies, meet
me in the gym and we'll kick Jim's ass in our nifty black
& white nun outfits.)
As you are well aware one of the things that we Mooist's
are trying to teach Christians is to drink lots of milk and
become vegetarians. Unfortunately, some of our Christian
converts are still holding on to some of their silly ideas.
Indeed, three of our local Mooists have begun to beg
McDonald's to use them for hamburger in order to feed
hungry rednecks. Another one heard some Southern
Baptists singing about being washed in lamb's blood and
spent $200 in advertisements to convince them cows' blood
would be better. Then we had one of our senior members
who divorced his wife force a Methodist preacher at
gunpoint to marry him to a cow. The cow seemed willing
enough but the animal rights people are furious and
blaming the Mooists instead of the Methodist preacher. I
hope you can provide me with some instruction on what to
do.
MOO AND ALL THAT,
John B. Denson (Green Cove Springs, FL)
(As Mooists we must remember that people think we are
strange and new converts get confused easily. Keep them
on a steady diet of milk, mushrooms and mashed
potatoes.)
I have already renounced man as the supreme ruler of all
beasts and have found happiness worshipping the Magic
Cow in the Sky that gives Purple Milk. I have also written
a book called "Basic Cow." Your Church of Moo seems
like a very good idea. A friend and I have come up with a
few cow sayings: To moo or not to moo; that isn't a very
good question If a cow moos in a barn and no one is around
does it need to be milked? How green is green grass? Only
cry over spilt milk if it spoils.
PRAISE THE MAGIC COW IN THE SKY THAT GIVES
PURPLE MILK!!!
Donald Beckett (dbeckett@tscnet.com)
(Damn Donald did you have to mention the Purple Milk.
Most of us in the church have not been blessed yet with a
cup of that powerful shit. I'm green with envy. You are
one lucky Mooist!)
Hmm..Either there are connections or functions in place
beyond the normal ken of man (or barbie for that matter, if
ridiculous puns be your thing) or some sort of spontaneous
coincidental emergence of MOOism has been taking place
under extra terrestrial direction for several years. If you
care, you might wish to check out my Wholly Church Ov
Thee Grate Moo webpage for comparison. Contrariwise,
some months ago I got some mail about MY MOO page
relating that some third party had ALSO created about six
years ago a Church of Moo. So your makes the third that
I've found.
DOES ANYONE ELSE FIND THIS SUSPICIOUS?
Pfloide Q. Geh'qo (jcmorton@uwaterloo.ca.edu)
(As far as I can tell CARL has accumulated quite a few
frequent flyer miles over the years. MOOISM has been
around forever and its resurgence lately is due to its
manurish qualities. I'm glad you have seen the cowpie in
the sky and are sharing it with others like we are.)
I feel the call of RELIGION! "A Call To Cud" is simply
excellent? I can feel the beckoning call already. In my
mind's eye there are great udders with teats that curl like a
beckoning index finger. Take my money...please! I must
feel at one with the great Bhagabovinea by loosening my
wealth!
CAN'T WAIT TO SEE MORE!
Mark Gunderson (Columbus, Ohio)
(You got the right idea and welcome to the Holy Church
of Moo. Milk and cookies for everyone.)
GENERAL INFORMATION: A lifetime membership
into the Holy Church of Moo is only $3. With this you
will receive a laminated certificate, issues of this zine
forever and any other church stuff we can find to cram
into your envelope! Join today and never pray.
A long long time ago I can still remember how
that mooing use to give me gas
And I knew if I had my chance
I could make those cows dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while.
But cold wind made me shiver
With every cow pie I'd deliver
Bad moos on the quick step
I couldn't make one more cowflop
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his bovine bride
But someone milked me deep inside
The day the mooing died
REFRAIN:
Bye-bye, Miss American Cow Pie
Drove my bessie to the barn
But the barn was dry
And them good old cows were eatin shakes and
pies
Mooing this'll be the day that I fly
This'll be the day that I fly
Did you write the Book of Moo
And do you have faith in Carl above
If the flop tells you so
Do you believe in chewing cud
Can Moo save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to chew real slow
Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you grazing in the gym
You both kicked off your bells
Man, I dig that chewing of cud
I was a lonely teenage strutting cow
With pink shiny gums and a ringing bell
It's my milk you like to suck
The day the mooing died
I started singin'
(REFRAIN)
Now for ten years we've been grazing free
And cows grows fat with a kidney stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the maid wants her meat so nice and lean
Not the pork he borrowed from Jimmy Dean
And a menu that came from you and me
Oh, and while the cook was looking down
The waiter stole his hairy hound
The barnyard was tilled and turned
No barn was burned
And when Lenny got bad marks
The dogs ran wild in the park
And we ate sausages in the dark
The day the mooing died
We were singing
(REFRAIN)
Henny Youngman in a summer sweater
He's old but never looked better
Eighty years old and fading fast
He'll soon be under the grass
The mower needs lots of gas
With the waiter's broken arm in a cast
Now the cow pies have their own sweet
perfume
While the farmers dance under the full moon
We all got up to moo
Oh, but we never put on our shoes
Cause the cows tried to eat the field
The munching cows refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the mooing died
We started singing
(REFRAIN)
Oh, in the barns that is our place
A whole herd Lost in Space
With no grass left to grow again
So come on, cows be nimble, cows be quick
let a cow give you a lick
'Cause his tongue is your best friend
Oh, and I watched Buz up on the stage
My bells were ringing with bovine rage
No cow born in hell
Could break that farmers spell
And as the milk pails were emptied though the
night
The cow is always right
I saw cows mooing with delight
The day the mooing died
He was singing
(REFRAIN)
I met a cow who sang the blues
And I asked her if she liked her shoes
But she just mooed and walked away
I went down to the bovine store
Where I'd heard the mooing years before
But the cow there said the milk wasn't hay
And in the fields the cows they were lean
The farmers cried, and the chickens dreamed
But not a moo was spoken
The cow bells all were broken
And the three meals I admire most
The cakes, jam and the Holy toast
They sent the last cowpie up the coast
The day the mooing died
And they were singing
Bye-bye, Miss American Cow Pie drove my bessie
to the barn
But the barn was dry
And them good old cows were eatin shakes and
pies
Mooing this'll be the day that I fly
This'll be the day that I fly.
Open up your hymn books to page number one and
join us in this rousing mooism spiritual as
translated by Rev. Mad Dog. Apologies to Don
McLean but this is far superior to American Pie!
(Revealed to Dungmaster Cannon X. Cowpier while playing a Red, White & Blue Slot Machine at Luxor
Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada USA. Security minimal but counting of coins disrupted by extreme paranoia
and solar storms. Roof of mouth received secondary shock...)
CARL'S LATEST
TRANSMISSION
From: Cirrus Circus IV
Dated: 08/97
Mood: Temperate
Accuracy: 96%
Cow Chip #: 9899Y
I thought I had it all. A high paying job, a gorgeous wife, three children and a house big enough
to choke a third world country. I rode the straight and narrow horse to worldly success and
believed every sequence of the cliched American Dream. To my friends and society I appeared
to be on top of the world, ahead of the game and stronger than a bull. I was the worlds leading
advertisement executive.
But goddamn as the years wore on I got more and more depressed. The world began to appear
like one endless commercial with only a station break every now and then to remind me what my
name was. I began to covet money and took great pleasure in annoying everyone I could with an
incessant pitch about my product and why they should have it. I forced myself on everyone at
every opportunity with no regards to issues of privacy or taste. At the height of my insanity I
acquired every mailing list I could get my hands on and flooded every home and personal
computer in the USA with junk mail and spam. I bought up TV time and appeared on
infomercials for hours and hours every day. I had sold myself to everyone and one day woke up
and realized nobody wanted me.
I became so depressed that I rented a suite in Atlantic City and did not come out for six months
and contemplated suicide 24 hours a day. Then one chilly winter night a man knocked on my
door and I felt compelled to answer. There before me stood a plain and unassuming elderly man
dressed in a zoot suit with a ponytail and penny loafers. He said his name was CARL and that he
could help me out of my morass of suicidal depression. As he explained to me in a non-
proselytizing demeanor the basics of Mooism my mood began to elevate. I started shedding my
old snake-like skin and felt renewed as he rubbed some milk oil all over my body. As he departed
he said to me, "a pain in the ass can't hurt you when you are no longer an asshole." I sighed with
relief and dedicated myself anew. Life was worth living again.
Today, due to my conversion to MOOISM, I am a realistic individual. I no longer foister my
money making schemes on others or feel the need for attention and approval. The divine milk of
The Holy Church of Moo has washed me clean and purified my body and soul. I look forward to
the coming years and what is mine shall come to me and what is yours shall come to you. There
is no need to listen to the annoying bombardment of messages that the advertising world throws
at us 24 hours a day. I till the Earth now and what a fertile life it is!
Baby Name: Zeke Zanzibar
Church Name: Dungmaster Valium B. Moody
Quote: "Parents don't let your children grow up to be spammers."
The recent suicides of the Heavens Gate 39 met with nothing but horror, condemnation and ridicule from
the American media and public. TIME issues a special report -Inside the Web of Death; the Sheriff in charge is
upset that he cant find anything to charge them with-or anyone left alive to charge; Jay Leno and Letterman make
stupid insensitive jokes; blurred and ghastly photos of Applewhite, the Cults leader, adorn the covers of magazines
and serious warnings about cults, recalling Jonestown and Waco, are issued by writers advising anxious parents to
beware of sinister influences on their young. Stressed are Applewhites homosexuality and the fact that some of the
cult members were castrated. (The sex angle-even in a group that tried to overcome sexuality.)
One would think from all this fuss that no American should conceive of believing the nonsensical idea that
people are more than their bodies and that after death they go on to a higher plane. And that to reach a state of
elevated being, they should subdue their more animalistic urgings.
Yet this is what forms the basis of most religions-a denial of death, a belief that humans enjoy an afterlife,
and that somehow, whether by virtue, the performance of certain rituals, or mere faith, they will somehow escape
their inevitable mortality and spend eternity in a heaven of bliss. For Eternal Life is the tenet of most religions, and
castration or chastity has been the goal of ascetics ever since religion theory has been recorded.
Before voicing horror or scorn over the voluntary deaths of people who believed that by dying they could
transform themselves into higher beings and enter heaven in a spaceship in the wake of Hale-Bopps comet, perhaps
we ought to compare their beliefs with those of established religions:
Some believe we rise up intact from the grave and ascend to
Heaven en masse on Judgment Day. This bizarre concept is
held by some Christians even today. Reincarnationists hold the
weird belief that their souls will somehow be transferred to
other living beings, animal or human, after death. Taoists once
believed that when they died they would enter an afterlife ruled
by a fairy queen or by a Jade Emperor. Confucians worship
their ancestors.
Religion has also given us some pretty strange rituals. Among
them are human and animal sacrifices. Commemoration of the
death of a god through virtual cannibalism. Circumcision.
Long, enervating fasts. Self-flagellation. Peculiar prohibitions
of certain foods, clothes and even hairstyles. The presumed
ability to atone for a communitys sins by transferring them to animals or human scapegoats.
Before we condemn or deride the beliefs held by cults, people should read more about the established
religions we hold in such reverence.
Religions are one of the prime causes behind the bloodiest chapters in mankinds history. Not just in the
days of the Inquisition or the Crusades, or in bygone persecutions of non-believers and bloodbaths against
dissenters, but up to the present day in Ireland, Bosnia, Cyprus and elsewhere.
Ever since man became conscious of self and aware of his eventual death; ever since he has failed to
acknowledge that his mind is incapable of understanding nature, whether in his environment or in himself, he has
created myths to explain the inexplicable. He invented gods, rituals and laws and visualizes heavens and hells for his
own ends. Under it all is an atavistic, tribal mentality, terrified of death and of anything that threatens his familiar
idols-his way of life.
Differences between cults and religions are hard to define. Some cults which practice celibacy, like the
Shakers, eventually die out. (Which is what would have happened to the Heavens Gate group had they waited long
enough.) Others, like Islam, Judaism and Christianity increase their numbers only later to split off into various
schisms and denominations that sometimes fight each other as fiercely as if they had different origins.
They are all The One True Faith, and , except for the occasional pacifistic groups they contain, they will kill
anyone who thinks otherwise.
Perhaps the easiest way to distinguish a cult from a religion is that it doesnt have any respectability,
millions of followers, elaborate places of worship, real estate, political influence or tax-free status. I heard that
another way to tell a cult from a religion is that a cult doesnt have a university or a football team. (END)
We can manage to live better, we can manage to live longer, we can manage to live more comfortably-
but we cannot know what life is. That question will remain until the very end. There is nothing more
holy than life, nothing more divine than life (except a cow of course). I am not promising you any
kingdom of God or a Wild kingdom. You are not going to inherit anything. You have already inherited
it-this is your life (a TV show). Be loving and respectful to it and maybe reality won't bite at you so
hard.
My whole approach is to give you back to yourself. You have been stolen. You have been converted
and conditioned in every possible way. Civilization has closed all the doors of approach to yourself.
My whole work is just to make doors and windows in you (but I am not a carpenter-think of me as a
breath of fresh air). If I can knock down all the walls around you and leave just an open sky, you will
know what this life is for.
Priests and preachers are the greatest con people in the world. They have sold things which nobody has
ever seen and which nobody is ever going to see. Only you can redeem you (lick them green stamps
baby) and that is by stopping others (like me?) from fettering you, putting more and more heavy chains
on you, making bigger and bigger walls around you. You are your own messiah, your own salvation,
your own milker. Remember tit#38D: only what you experience is yours and what sucks sucks. What
you know-only that you know and anybody who tells you anything different is full of manure!
Only Bibles and Holy Books and this zine gather dust. A Playboy magazine does not gather dust. Who
wants to read a holy book (or this lowly zine for that matter). But I digest, err digress. Some folks
condemn sex and then become unable to transform its raw energy. And it is a simple energy. It can
move in any direction-downwards, upwards, outwards, sidewards and backwards. The acceptance of
sex instead of religion will create a transformation in your life. A bull will copulate all day if there are
enough cows to keep the service going. Pray on your knees, pray on your back just keep your mouths
and organs busy people. The energy that got you here will keep you here.
The golden rule for life is that there are no golden rules. Cannot be, not prudent. Life is so vast, so
immense, so strange and so mysterious that it can't be reduced into a rule or a maxim. All maxims fall
short (but Sanka hits the spot) and are too confining. They cannot contain life and its lustful energies.
An authentic person does not live by rules, maxims or commandments. That's the way of the pseudo
person. The authentic person simply lives. There is no need for problems. We create problems with one
hand and we try to solve them with the other hand (the masturbation school of problem solving). Leave
your fucking hands out of things and you won't have any problems!
This place called earth could really be a paradise. In fact there is no other paradise unless we make one
here. There is only emptiness and rocks in outer space so it is better to stay right here. Put on your earth
makeup and realize that the camera in the heavens only adds pounds to your eternal frame/flame. In the
end we will go back to the beginning and the middle is what we call life on this earth. The Right Now.
And that is really the only "secret of wisdom" that you need to know.
By Dungmaster Dave
Batch #5 Expiration Date: 12/31/00
Im in a hurry to get things done,
I rush and rush until lifes no fun.
All I really gotta do is live and die,
so Im in a hurry and dont know why...
My nipples hurt. They are being torn asunder by the relentless pull of gravity. The brain does not want to speak of
the horror it encounters while being baked by the sun and frozen by the dark side of the moon. Time travel is no
longer necessary in this church. We blink and are transported between the lines of reality to a land of purple milk
and edible dung. There are cholesterol smiles and pubic hairs laced with dark milk chocolate screaming at us to
delve deeper into the mystery of egg and sperm. We grow tired. But we grow. The dust cloth Bovinea shoves at us
wipes our slate clean and creates enough static to get us into a black hole with a creamy/white filling. We laugh
endlessly and never hope to wake up to another cold morning of automatic milking. But we do...
The monotony of civilized time traps us and stops us in our tracks and ties us down in yet more busy work. We
slide down the slope of slick routine and roll into a bank full of hard ass gold bricks. Get in line cattle breath and
don't make any sudden mooves they keep repeating. So now we must be carefull (sic) not carefree. There is so
much left for us to do. The hands of time are not yet broken so we must stay on schedule. The mad ringing in our
left ear is from the cowbells of 50 billion cows lost in a black and white habit worn by Sister North Star. We must
free them! But how now to free the cows?
What will we do? What can we do? Can global warming melt our fear of failure or will we have to preheat our
souls yet again? Are we disabled and languishing in SuperVega screens of pure color waiting until Gabriel comes
to blow us? Unspeakable motions made in our sandboxes of digital clay create cryptic crybabies showering us with
faxes and dry spam which clog our hard drives. The connection is made again and the Black & White Cow says
come along Mooist and graze into the eye of the grass hurricane and see what is leftover in the future Land of
Backwash and Opaque.
"Delete the present moment you gadflies," she digitally moos and trots heavily into the pasture of death. The Black
& White Cow starts her mantra: "Our decaying carcasses will be flown to Venezuela where great capitalists will
make mince meat out of us. Read all about us in the Wall Street Journal after we charge the electric fences in Reno
and get booked for disturbing the powerful. We eat too much, we sleep too much and we copulate too much. We
can never get enough and now our eyes must be gouged out by commercial interests who will gladly burn us at the
stake in order to increase the prime lending rate. Imprison the poor and feed the rich. Imprison the rich and feed
the poor...." I pass out unable to leave the present.
Later that night while milking the Black & White Cow it occurred to me that Life will never be acceptable and it
never was. The dead will live again to see the same manure composted over and over again and again. Ad naseum,
add a new coat of paint to the side of the universal barn. I will see you all someday in the black and white elevator
but don't be afraid to look me in the eye! Together we can blink away to another world where Mooism has wings
and cows fly!
By Dungmaster Dave
Batch #6 Expiration Date: Already Sour
If you milk the cow right
the first time,
It will stand still for you
the second time.
CarlsaysLetItBleed
Some people
drink from the
fountain of life,
while Mooers
just rinse and
spit it as far as
gravity will
allow. If its
broke, throw it
the fuck away!
(K-Carl)
Organized
Religion is like
Organized Crime;
it preys on
peoples weakness,
generates huge
profits for its
operators and is
almost impossible
to eradicate.
(Mike Herman)
MOOism?
Yep. MOOism.
The following is a basic description of the important parts of MOOism, as far as Im concerned,
with quotes and references to The Grate Book of MOO.
We dont worship cows, we just like the sound they make.
1. What Is MOOism?
This is probably the hardest to answer, so of course I put it first. MOOism is a religion or an
anti-religion. At one point MOOism espoused Religions as art, spawning hundreds of
sub-cults. MOOism is one of the first religions propagated almost entirely through electronic
media, starting originally on a small BBS in Ottawa, Ontario. The higher echelons of MOO still
are in contact through the net re: dogma, catechism and so on, and the books still get written.
Much of the time, MOOism is a catch-all for creative output through the Books of MOO and
various newsletters such as MOO-JUICE and MOO-COW newsletters distributed by the clergy
of MOO and the attending laity.
2. Who Is MOOism?
MOOism was started by someone (Yari) said MOO, and many followed suit. Then someone
(Abacab) said Quack and I started a holy war against the Heretic, thus changing MOOists from a
set of BBSing geeks to a religion with a Jihad.
The first MOOist was myself, one of the three Cardinal Richelieus of MOO.
The second MOOist was Saint Fourth Class Leper Messiah.
The third MOOist was the High Preest Floyd Q Gecko (who was minus the Q at the time).
The fourth MOOist was the Grate Profit Half Mad (who owned the BBS)
These are the apostles of MOO, who all have their own books within The Grate Book of MOO.
3. The Book of MOO?
When the jihad was called against the QuackBLATTS, we started acting more and more like a
religion, and started quoting passages in the supposed BOOK OF MOO to help us out in
discussions and so on. Then one day Half-Mad decided to actually compile all this stuff that we
claimed came from the Book of MOO, and suddenly truth began to imitate art. If you want your
own copy of The Grate Book of MOO, a text version is available for viewing, and there are
excerpts of The Grate Book of MOO in html format on Floyds page.
There are many versions of MOOISM.
Unlike the Gates and Jobs of computer
hell we accept and encourage other
operating systems. Share the wealth
and share the misery is what we always
say. Here is just one of the many
versions as told by M. Jason Parent.
4. Whats this Book Four thing?
Book Four is the second and final book in the MOO trilogy. Its mostly the ramblings of a quite
deranged gecko with bits thrown in from Mr. Toad and Mr. Feral Ferret (who DOES have a web
page but currently disavows any association with the various MOOist interest groups). Its long
and silly and even I havent read most of it.
5. QuackBLATTs?
This answer comes in two parts:
First you have to understand this whole BLATT and BLATTT thing. A MOOist tradition is the
replacement of all -isms with BLATTs and -ists with BLATTs. We talk about FascBLATT
dictators, ComunBLATT, AnacronBLATTs and so on...occasionally, or more than occasionally,
we get silly and start conversing about ChrBLATTmas, bBLATTromathics (for the HitchHikers
fans) and just not getting the gBLATT of the conversation.
So that brings us to the QuackBLATTTs. When the rest of us were saying MOO, someone dared
to say QUACK. A year later the leader of these vile heretics actually met some of the MOOists
(while I was on sabbatical in VKH) and wrote the first pro-MOO version of the QuackBLATTT
bible. Thus MOOists and QuackBLATTTs achieved some version of peace and unity. As far as
I know there are no Quack pages on the net.
6. the Halfy
The Halfy, named after our supposed leader and figurehead is a V with a dot in it. Floyds got
one on his page. I cant be bothered. Its the MOOist insignia and holy symbol...or some such.
There is also the Psychic Halfy (the four-stroke halfy with the cross-bar) - that one is mine. (Plus
there are a plethora of other halfies, such as the infinite halfy, the HOTHOTH, the yin-yang-and-
a-half, the invisible halfy, and so on...)
There i s al ways more MOOi sm t o come.
The M. Jason Parent web page i s at t he f ol l owi ng l ocat i on:
i nf oweb. magi . com/ ~ambi ent / hound1
You're more than a milkbag to me.
Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
Push something hard enough and it will fall over.
If you think this is weird, just look at yourselves.
First things first-but not necessarily in that order.
Cows are like Kleenex; soft, strong and disposable.
Maybe I'm a little funny but at least I smell my meat.
There ain't no sin, ain't no virtue-just stuff people do.
Some of the best preaching is done by holding your tongue.
Mooism has served more animals than McDonald's ever will.
Mooism is being brought to humans through the kindness of the Cow.
We didn't fight our way to the top of the food chain just to eat vegetables.
Some people drink from the fountain of life, while others just rinse and spit.
Carl - The Mystical Man of Milk
Homage to thee, Bagabovina, Lord of eternity,
King of the Cow Gods, whose names are manifold,
whose cow shapes are holy, thou being of hidden
form in the Barns, whose pies are holy.
Thou art the Holy Cow to whom praises are
ascribed in the name of Carl, thou art the Prince of divine food as in
BBQ. Thou art the Lord who is commemorated in McCarl, the Hidden Soul
of the burger, the Lord of BigMacs (with cheese), the Ruler of supreme
in White Milk.
Thou art the Soul of Beef, Bagabovina her own body, and hast thy place
of rest in all burger huts. Thou art the tasty one and art praised on
TV in tubeland. Thou makest thy soul to graze in the Great Barn of the
universe. Thou art the mighty one of victories over the Sheep ones, the
Lord of eternity, the every chewing cud of bliss. The path of thy pies
leads us to your throne in the pasture.
MOO. Thy name is established in the mouths of men. Thou art the
Governor of the Leathers of the gods. Thou art the beneficent Spirit
among spirits. The god of the green grass draweth from thy yellow
waters. Thou sendest forth the stream north to the ground and breath
from thy nostrils to steam up the early morning dew.
Thy heart reneweth its youth, thou producest the tastiest milk. The
stars in the celestial heights are obedient unto thee, and the great
doors of the skybarn open themselves before thee. Thou art she to whom
praises are ascribed in the holy cowpies, and thanks are given for thee
in the kitchens of the world.
The unknown stars are under thy supervision and the stars which hang
in the sky are thy cover. Offerings appear before thee at thy feed
trough from Farmer Brown.
The Leather wearers of the people praise thee, and the gods of the
cheese eaters smell the cheese in paying homage to thee. The uttermost
parts of the earth bow before thee, and the limits of the skies entreat
thee with nice hay when they see thee.
The holy bovines are overjoyed to spill thy milk before thee, and all
the world offereth thanksgiving unto thee when our table groans with
thy Majesty. Thou art a shining Cow-Body, the governor of Spirit-
Bodies; permanent is thy rank, established is thy rule. Thou art the
doing-well Power of Cow, the Company of the Bovine Gods, gracious is
thy face, and beloved by him that has been licked by thy tongue.
(continued)
THE PAPYRUS OF LEATHER
Hymn To Bagabovina
240 BC (Before Cream)
Our fear is set in the hearts of all, yet by thy perfect love we will
cry out thy name making it the first of names, and all the people make
offerings to thee, and we will taste thy milk. Thou art the lord who
hast wandered the path in heaven and upon the earth. Many are the cries
which are made to thee at the State Fair, and with one heart and voice
we raiseth cries of joy to thee.
Thou art the entree of the Great Chef, the first among the brethren,
the porker who oink, the ham of the sausages, Prince of Bacon. In the
company of the gods thou art the establisher of Right and Truth
throughout the world, the cow who was set on the great throne of his
father Steak. Thou art the beloved of thy mother Ground Round, the
mighty one of valor who overthrew the Vegetarian fiends (the parakeet
people). Thou didst stand up and smite thine enemy, and set thy fear
in thine adversary and meat in their bellies.
Thou dost bring the boundaries of the mountains to the streams. Thou
dost mark the boundaries of the pasture. Thy heart is fixed, thy legs
are firm and tasty. Thou art the heir of wild boars and of the
sovereignty of the fields and hath decreed for us the guidance of the
world by thy hooves as long as time endures. Thou hast made this earth
with thy hooves and the waters and the mud and the winds and all the
vegetation where the cattle and all the feathered fowl and all the fish
and all the creeping things and all the wild leathermaking beasts graze
thereof.
The pasture is the lawful possession of those who graze. We who graze
upon you are content to crown thee upon the throne of ever-growing
pastures of the universe. Thou wandered up onto the horizon, thou hast
set light over the darkness, thou sendest forth air from thy
hindquarters, and thou floodest the Lands
with a flood of yellow at daybreak. Thy
crown of horns penetrates the height of
heaven, thou art the Leather of the stars
and the guide of every farmhand.
There art beauty in your bovine speech, the
favored sound of MOO is one of the great
moments in the sounds of the farm and of
the day. Thou art the CEO of the Gods, and
the treasurer and recording secretary of
the Public Company of the World.
By Reverend Mad Dog
(As the cow-founder of this wonderful church Rev. Mad Dog resides in Pasadena, California and says if
you want any free time don't have kids. When asked by the Dungmaster what his religious upbringing was
he replied: "My grandfather was one of 11 boys and girls. Our family comes from a man named Taylor
who joined the Morman church in England and came to America and settled in Utah. Of course I was
raised in the Church but for some odd reason I still don't understand why I was not taken till I was about 8
or 9 but it was too late for them to get their hooks into my brain." Besides the kids Rev. Mad Dog keeps
busy translating the ancient writings of Mooism and home brews his own milk.)
(A Public Service Message By The Holy Church Of Moo)
Pappy, tell me how Mooism came to be our religion, the
young boy pleaded. Please!
Oh, all right. But then you must promise to go to your
hyperbolic chamber, the grandfather responded as he started
up.
It was the end of the road for our soon to be hero while the four
great truths of Mooism came back into his head. Andy
remembered getting into this horrible mess, when Carl, the
mystical man of milk, got in touch with him. Once, a long time
ago, while Andy was scurfing the web (surfing was too hard for
our unsung savior) he came across the Holy Church of Moo
Home Page. He dismissed it as rubbish, but had carefully read it
before he exited the system, interpreting it as a joke. The holy
pages said that the cows had once lived on the moon all together
with the other beings which ended when a huge mass of a
cheese-like substance smacked the moon. Believed by many,
those founders of the first Mooism colony remained under the
surface, just waiting for their great religion to return so that they
could flourish again.
Now, we skip a few years (ninety-seven to be exact), to a time
after medical science had proved to increase dramatically, as
you can tell by the life expectancy. This was after a girl from
Pennsylvania in the former United States discovered the link
between Bovines and Humans through their genes. It used to be
thought that humans were closest related to monkeys. No one
thought to look at the cows because they thought they were just
stupid, lazy, and fat things that didnt need any chance to make
it. Well, that is exactly what she did, and from that moment on,
the abundance of life on Earth increased over 249 1/2%.
The space program also developed over the years because of
the combination of all the superpowers. The former U.S.A.
joined with the former U.S.S.R., and with the joint efforts, they
were able to send men, and women, and children, and cows, as
far as the end of our Galaxy. Dont ask me how they did it, but
they did.
The Earth also started inter-galactic communications. They
talked with such civilizations such as new
(Viestrausembourgiatrics), and The Specialized Country that is
Russia (Bobs World). These connections were always peaceful,
and almost always effective. That was, until this one fateful day
when new leader Dr. Gregoriy Androseyvich asked to come to
planet Earth.
Dr. Androseyvich, who was known to totally despise cows and
everything that had to do with them, said that he was sent by the
U.W. to inspect our Earth weapons. Pres. Clinker, who was still
around thanks to that little girl in Pennsylvania, said that hed be
delighted to have the leader come. He put Vice President All
Carnage (we are also very happy to have him) in charge of
security measures to insure a safe, and uneventful trip. Pres.
Clinker knew there would be some mistakes, but he messed up
by giving Carnage that responsibility.
So Dr. Androseyvich came, and went with minor problems.
Vice President Carnage did his job, and did it so well that they
thought they were past the danger point.
Great job, All! President Clinker said with as much enthusiasm
as he could. Im very proud of you.
Thanks, Billy, Carnage replied.
Uhh, Id appreciate it if you wouldnt call me that. Try... Mister
President. Clinker added.
Oh, yeah, Im sorry Bi... I mean, Mr. President. Ill do better
next time.
Im sure you will. About the next time. I think we should beef
up our military precautions on the upper fronts. I have a feeling
were not the only ones out there... that have our type of
technology. Clinker said quietly. And lets try not to get this
one out in the open this time.
Of course not, sir. Ill do it first thing. He then added, You
know sir, you really are the smartest President. Who would have
known that smoking in the 60s would have been proven to
increase brain capacity by getting rid of the trash?!
Uh, President Clinker stuttered, clearing his throat. Yeah, that
was a great development. He paused, looking at Carnage
wondering what was going on in his brain. Now, go do your
job, and report back to me as soon as possible.
Well, what happened next, Pappy?
Well, son, it was already too late for them. As they spoke, Dr.
Androseyvich was preparing an attack.
We must hurry. Wait, what am I saying. President Clinker
probably put Vice President All Carnage in charge of military.
Boy, we have all year then!!!
Sir, you should count on the silly Earthlings stupidity.
Who are you?? Dr. Androseyvich quickly snapped as he ran
over and hovered over the boy.
Uh, sir, Im Victor, Victor Darvinus. You hired me as head of
defense back around the turn of the century, the young man
stammered.
Oh, yeah, he said as he sucked on his little finger. He turned
towards the Earth-Cam and said, Its just another day on that
spoiled planet. Soon, those bovine lovers will pay for what they
did to my dad. Dr. Androseyvich started to sob, but quickly
caught
Yes, sir. How about taking care that Earth thing now, little
Victor uttered.
So as they started their descent to the little blue planet, they
flew very close to the moon and heated the surface just a little
bit. With that little heat that remained at the out most area, an
atmosphere formed again and suddenly, as the plants started to
grow, cows were seen to come out of hiding.
Back on Earth, our fearful hero, Andy, with whom I talked
about before, was talking with Carl.
So Andy, Im not begging. I dont beg, you know that, he said.
I think you show a lot of potential for really getting the word
back out about Mooism.
Why not you Carl? You know so much more than me. What can
I do?
On the contrary, Andy, Carl started. Someone of their own
kind would make them listen. Because of the great scientific
findings from that little girl, people are already aware of the
bovine, and I have a feeling that a new crisis will arrive.
Andy was still puzzled. So what does that mean?
You know. Didnt Mrs. Cea ever teach you about the hundred
schools of thought? he paused. When crisis arrives, people
turn to religion and philosophy.
Arent those two the same thing? Andy asked.
Lets not get into that. We have to start because the time is
near. At this Carl got up and left, and Andy was all alone.
Everyone at the Multi-Colored House knew there was going to
be an attack, and they were certain that it was going to be tough,
but the Earth would win. At this time, all the workers were
busily preparing for the invasion while Andy was spreading
the word about Mooism. Some other humans that had come into
contact with Carl were also spreading the word. It wasnt going
too well.
Come on. Listen to reason. We must pull together and beat this.
We have so many religions. They cant defeat us if we are all
one. But even though he tried his hardest, they booed him off
the stage. Youll come to it. Just wait.
Just as he stepped down, they all heard a huge sound from the
sky. It was Dr. Grogorie Androseyvich. Screams echoed from
every part of the world as the mean Dr. surrounded the Earth.
I told you they wouldnt be ready for the attack. Stupid
Earthlings. Dr. Androseyvich said.
Back on Earth, things were looking grim. They lost almost all
of their forces. Catholics were fighting one way, while each
other sect of Christianity was fighting its different way.
So its now the end of the road. What will happen? How can
Andy bring the religions together, you say?
Its not working, Andy yelled out, running to the leaders. We
need to be united to beat their forces. Mooism is the answer.
Yes, the Pope Jean Kevin said (he survived in his Pope
mobile). I see now. Archbishop, gather everyone around.
So the word spread about Mooism. It had gotten to nearly
everyone, and they were gaining ground.
Out of nowhere, the cows started to emerge from under the
moon. They started teleporting to Earth to help with the war.
Things looked bad for Dr. Androseyvich, but good for Mooism.
The cows and Humans emerged victorious! The war was over
and they had won.
And that was how Mooism returned to the galaxy.
That was a great story, Pappy!
Yes is was. Now off to the chamber with you.
Okay, said the boy as he left.
Hmmm.... the aged man thought. If he only knew that I am...
Pappy, are you coming? I want you to tuck me in.
Sure, just hold on a sec, Im not as young as I used to be, the
grandfather yelled back as he climbed into the elevator.
By Amy (Mooer21009@aol.com)
Then wake up and get the religion that is driving folks crazy! Take it for a
spin around the block and feel it accelerate from 0 to 200 mph in less than 5
seconds. Kick the tires and you'll probably break a toe! Comes equipped
with a sun roof during the day and a moon roof at night. Automatic
transmission lets you switch from being a jerk to a sage instantly. There's
lots of trunk room for you to lay down in when you want to hide. Plenty of
room in the backseat if you want to take your friends and family for a ride.
Comes equipped with methane bags for your safety. Gets 286,000 miles per
gallon of milk. Mooist On Board! Be the first on your block. Join The Holy
Church of Moo today!
Fort Bass is the embodiment of our nation's Culture Of Capitalism: Fort Worth's Sundance Square, located
downtown, is the playground where all the squares, straight and narrows, Born Again and Again Christians,
urban cowboys, gay revelers, out-of-towners and other assorted cash cow suckers gather at the Movie Malls of
America, the AMC Palace and the AMC Sundance, to watch Hollywood's multi-million dollar celluloid drivel:
BATMAN, THE LOST WORLD, GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE and CONTACT. They listen to retreaded one hit
wonders like Quiet Riot, Steve Vai and Ratt and poetry performance groups with 'pleasant attitudes' like
Sawgrass at the Caravan of Bad Dreams and eat diarrhea inducing cuisine at the restuarant experiment gone
horribly wrong Cafe USA. And to keep all the scum (a.k.a., white trash, immigrant trash and minorities) away
from all of this entertainment for the establishment's elite everything -- the movies, the food, the music -- is
priced way out of reach for any 9-to-5, dead end job lifers. Those folks are left with lesser entertainment
choices, like nothing's ever on cable t.v., Half Priced Books, Video Library, Putt-Putt golf (not real golf because
membership dues at local country clubs are enormous), pool halls, go carts, garage sales, cheap 40s, cheaper
whiskey, all you can eats like Ci Ci's Pizza & Panchos. Meanwhile, the establishment's elite frolic among
themselves, one big circle jerk for rich assholes. Jesus said, "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the
Earth." Not in the Culture Of Capitalism, my philosopher friend. All the meek have to inherit is bad genes, bad
jobs and worse luck.
We're headed back to the stifling, 'whites only', no nudes is good nudes '50s faster than Michael Jackson can
pick up boys at Toys R Us. No non-whites on the street after midnight. No teenagers out past curfew. No
gangbangers anywhere anytime. No poets at Barnes & Noble poetry readings saying, 'Fuck this,' 'Fuck that'
and 'Fuck you.' Drug free zones. Gun free zones. Don't fuck with the ozone zones. Plastic bags rip and tear and
can't hold groceries worth shit but we're saving some fucking trees by not asking for user-friendly paper bags.
Everything on t.v. is lose weight, get in shape, eat right, live longer, be happy. Like anybody'd want all that
goody two shoe shit anyway. I'd rather be fat, crazy as hell and a monster living under an overpass than exist in
a black hole of consumerism like the people next door do.
A sanitized landscape of shopping malls, strip centers and multi-family housing built by a wrongheaded,
stress-inducing work ethic is suffocating the rest of us. Fat free potato chips let you pig out but they give you
diarrhea so bad you find yourself dialing 4-1-1 begging the operator for Dr. Kervorkian's direct line.
Reconstituted unleaded gas fucks up your car's engine block. That costs you money. Who cares about your
dwindling pocketbook? It's good for the environment. The government tells us we all have to pitch in. Do our
part. Be team players in the battle against using up the resources we have left. But since I'm not gonna be here
in a hundred years anyway you think I give a fuck about air quality? Whether there's gonna be any water left to
drink? Let our youth, the so-called 'future of America', worry about breathing in 2097. Hopefully, my rotted
corpse will spew out enough noxious gas to kill a few of the Politically Correct pukes who're legislating us into
oblivion. And, what's worse, you can only have sex --- the No. 1 leisure activity in the world --- if you have handy
(pun intended) an arsenal of AIDS fighting weapons --- condoms, Saran Wrap, hydrogen peroxide, surgical
gloves, gas masks and other biochemical wartime paraphernalia. By the time this shit is strapped on, buckled,
inserted, rolled on and buttoned he's gone as soft as the Pillsbury Dough Boy and her mood is so cold Polar
Bears are ringing the doorbell.
The t.v. commercials and highway signs tell us, "Don't Mess With Texas." If I want to throw an empty beer can
or gum wrapper outta my car and onto the street I will, motherfucker. And fuck you, Big Tex. Your oversized,
overstuffed redneck peckerwood ass is just another beacon for the Culture Of Capitalism. Come to my big
party, the State Farce of Texas, and spend, spend, spend your rent money, your bill money, your fantasy
money (Visa, MasterCard, Discover, American Express), on some of the stupidest, no value shit ever
produced. All of it Made In China by the slaves of communism.
Songs about fucking are boring as hell. 'I want you, baby. I want to make it with you, baby.' Not in this lifetime.
And not on my soundtrack. How 'bout writing a better song, bitch. You may be white trash if you met your new
girlfriend at the v.d. clinic. You know you're no longer in Kansas, home of Bob Dole and In Cold Blood
murderers, when you see a woman on a city street pull down her britches and pee standing up. Shes just
I IMAGINE TRYING TO FUCK ROSIE ODONNELS FAT ASS WOULD BE
LIKE TRYING TO FUCK THE GRAND CANYON WITH A HOT DOG
(AN INTRODUCTION TO THIS RANT FROM ONE OF THE LOSERS TWO ARCH ENEMIES: Kurt Nimmo of Persona
Non Grata, says of The Loser, I find Howingtons scatological nonsense amusing - everything is fuck and shit and
motherfucker to him. Not a nice word about anybody or anything. A real case in misanthropy and self-loating.)
(continued)
another crack whore doing a little self-maintenance. Nothin' new in the hardcore cities of the 21st Century.
Your days are numbered...but I can't count. All the beer and drugs I've consumed have taken their toll. I'm no
longer on top of things. The days blur together. The mediocrity of humanity is making me see double.
Everything's the same. And anything that's new and vibrant is censored, outlawed, thrown in jail, bought off or
killed. The Culture of Capitalism can't stand to be disrupted by a better mousetrap. You got the cure for
cancer? "FUCK YOU!" say the Capitalists. We don't want it. We want people undergoing chemo, radiation,
surgery, biopsies. If cancer, the AIDS, repetitive stress syndrome, and other terrible diseases, were all cured
who'd need doctors, chemists, pharmicies, health insurance? Nobody. No customers=no money coming into
the Capitalist's coffers. So don't expect any cures. You will most certainly die. And it'll be a long, painful
torture of tubes in your throat, your arms, your ass and all it'll cost you is the money you wanted to leave your
kids. The Capitalists will get all of your money. Some how, some way they will take it from you. Taxes, death,
theme parks, shopping malls, restuarants. All of these places of commerce steal your money. They're fooling
you and you don't even know it...or you just don't give a shit.
The good old days were the bad old days some old geezer told me once. "We didn't have microwaves back
then," he said between hits off his bottle of hooch. "We had to cook our food over an open fire outside in the
wilderness, all the time fearful of Indians sneaking up on us from behind. You pussies got it easy nowadays.
Buy me some beer you college fag."
Why do you think they got "Help Wanted" signs up at every 7-Eleven in town? It's not that nobody wants to
work there. They just don't wanna die young.
I swear to God I saw a cop car rolling down West Lancaster today with an 'Out Of Service' sign on it. I figured
this was my one chance to get back at the man. I pulled up alongside the cruiser and rolled down my window. I
said, "Hey, fuck you, pig!" I flipped the bastard off and floored it, running a red light at Henderson Street to get
away from the asshole. I felt like I'd gotten away with murder. Now I know how O.J. feels.
Christ, I just realized I have more interaction with people on my t.v. screen than with any alive humans. I know
more about Jerry, Elaine, George, Kramer and Newman than any motherfucker walking around breathing in
air for real.
People who worship Satan are even dumber than the people who worship God...but at least you don't see them
devil worshippers on the t.v. all the time covering their faces after being arrested for molesting children. God
never intended for these sick puppies to be his representatives. But in the guise of do-gooders these sickos
commit crimes against humanity because humanity the experiment is a complete failure. There is no God.
There is only right and wrong and our instincts, the one thing we must trust, will let us know which way to roll
when it's time to roll. The ones that roll the wrong way should be rolled off a high cliff.
This is my definition of a human being: A carcass of meat filled with a vindictive, intolerant jelly called a brain,
a device mis-used by the vast majority of these tragic monsters.
It has gotten extremely painful to rise in the morning. The reason for getting up at 6 a.m. is, of course, work.
I've been at the 7 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. daily grind for 14 years now. I'm tired. Burned out. Used up. Dried up. Fini.
It's over, Johnny. And so is this.
The Loser says, "When I'm not drinking beer I sit down and write shit. I put that crap in LOSERS ARE
COOL 'zine. Each issue is packed with politically incorrect rants, articles, babes, MR. CREEP &
Disgruntled Man comics and lots of other stuff that will get your ass in trouble
if you let someone see what you're reading."
Get a copy for just two stamps or send a dollar to:
LOSERS ARE COOL 'zine
c/o Robert Howington
4405 Bellaire Dr. S. #220
Ft. Worth, TX 76109
h
Dungmaster Graze All Day now weighs 140 pounds and plays drums in a group called
Insomnia. Dungmistress Udder Chaos has topped out to a 34 cup size and a has new baby girl
named CARLA. Dungmistress Sweet Thighs had a lung collapse a few months back but is
back in the bully pulpit in Texas shouting the heathens down. Dungmaster Milky Way is busy
sorting the wheat from the chaff in the zine world and we thank him for doing such a thankless
task. Dungmaster Leaves of Grass continues to mine the prairie for pearls of wisdom and keeps
us in deep thought with his monthly mailing. Dungmistress Penny Lane has a house full of
cows but no problems keeping her lawn mowed. Dungmistress Mrs. Moo Moo lost a mister and
a feline but with her cow sense of humor maintains an exemplary life through her belief in
Mooism. Dungmaster Gene p52 recently applied glue stick to his chapped lips and hasn't
spoken for weeks. Dungmistress Patty Eternity is scheduled to be visited by CARL in the very
near future and doesn't know what to serve him for dinner (editors note: he likes saltwater taffy).
Dungmaster Nova S. Hermit keeps moving and procrastinating and wrestles with big busted
demons every weekend. Dungmaster Light Moon has invented a pair of flying shoes.
Dungmaster Wisconsin Wizard is busy converting midwestern farmers to Mooism. Dungmaster
Dave enjoys the Daily Show and South Park on Comedy Central but little else on TV these days.
Reverend Mad Dog has borrowed CARL's time machine and likes to graze on the Grassy Knoll
in Dallas on that fateful day. CARL is busy dealing with spam on the Internet, refinishing the
universe's basement and brushing twice a day.
We have yet to break ground on our new edifice but we have broken wind countless times. Upon
thinking it through it was decided that we did not need to erect a building but we did need to eat
fewer beans. The owning of property and applying for tax-exempt status would only turn us into
a clone of the other religions. We came to the joyous conclusion that wherever there is a patch of
green grass this is where our church can meet and hold a service. We don't need no stinking
building to gather our thoughts and give our praise to Bhagabovina and Carl. As the cow grazes
and prays in the grass likewise shall we. We will erect no walls and we will seek no government
sanction. The Holy Church of Moo will remain as free as a beanless wind. Dungmaster Dave is
still trying to find the time to dub a copy of Rev. Mad Dog's "Moo Radio Tape" for each member
and when he does you will get it in the mail. Members are invited to send in submissions for
future issues of A CALL TO CUD as well as your thoughts on what the Church should or should
not be doing in the days ahead. The Holy Church of Moo is alive and well and as this issue
comes to a close our wishes to all for a safe journey wherever life may take you. Our thoughts are
with you and if you ever need a cup of milk just knock on our barn door and we'll drop
everything just for you!
And you can to...
Join The Holy Church of Moo
Send $3 to...
Dungmaster Dave
121 Gregory Avenue, #B-7
Passaic, NJ 07055
INSIDE:
The Milk Epistles
A Mooism Primer
Member Testimonies
The Four Great Truths
How To Become A Member
Cows, Carl, Church Graphics
MOOISM
It was a cold, rainy, windy and gray June day
when I played hooky from work and hopped a bus
to Atlantic City. It was there that I met CARL.
After winning about $100 with the casino's comp
money, I stumbled onto the boardwalk to go to the
Taj Mahal which was about a mile or two away.
A heavy mist had enveloped the Boardwalk and I
could only see about five feet in front of me as I
began my trek to the other side.
After about ten minutes I tired of walking against
the heavy and misty 30 mph wind and sat down
on a wooden bench. Suddenly, a man appeared
out of nowhere and sat down next to me. He
reeked of hay, cow manure and cheese. His hair
was long and unkempt and he had a scraggly
white beard. He was wearing a pair of faded
denim shorts with holes in them and a ripped
T-shirt that had the words BOVINE GAZETTE
faintly scribbled on it.
At first I thought he was just another homeless
person looking for a handout so I instinctively
placed my right hand on my leather wallet. I said
nothing and after a minute or so this man
MOOED at me! Startled, I looked at him as he
stretched out his hand and he said, "David Mooey
my name is CARL and I'm very pleased to meet
you. I have seen the funny stuff you have done
with DAILY COW and I am here to tell you that
it is time to do some serious cow work."
We shared a cigarette that he had pulled from an
old sack which I espied contained the original
"BOOK OF MOO." He talked quickly and ended
each sentence with a low moo. The gist of his
message was that I was one of the chosen to
spread the word of MOOISM. I mentioned to him
that Mad Dog on the West Coast had contacted
me about this and I had been wondering why I
had been finding all these "Milk Epistles" in
garbled form (no word-wrap?) on my computer,
in my mailbox, on the street, and in my pants.
CARL said, "the MOOER'S know of you David,
and it is they who have been giving you these
messages."
After we finished the smoke, he crushed out the
butt with his bare feet and said, "you are to be
known as Dungmaster Dave and I give you the
power to decode my messages and those of the
MOOER'S from the past, present and future. Do
not turn a deaf ear to this task cow man." With
that he walked off mooing something about
having to save Donald Trump's tired ass again.
A minute after he departed the wind abated, the
sun came out and a pungent sea breeze filled with
the aroma of seaweed seeped into my cranium
holder. I felt wonderful and knew that something
inside of me had changed for the better (bettor!).
The rest of the day I hit on nearly every slot
machine that I played. CARL had brought me
luck and I arrived home that night richer in more
ways than one.
This is the first issue and page of A CALL TO
CUD (East Coast Edition). I don't know what
messages and graphics CARL and the MOOER'S
have for me in the future, but when they come to
me they will come to you through these web
pages. After listening and talking to CARL I am
now grazing on a higher plain and hope that you
will join with me and Rev. Mad Dog (West Coast
Edition) and become a member of THE
CHURCH OF HOLY MOO. This is your lucky
day. You have hit the jackpot, the moo lode in the
category of religion. We'll be waiting to hear from
you!
Moo La La,
Dungmaster Dave
Reverend Mad Dog
Carl
Chew your cud and you
chew life itself.
Milk is the river of life.
The grass is never
greener elsewhere.
The fence is there
for a reason.
The beginning of MOOISM can be traced to pre-civilized Iraq, predating Islam, Christianity and
Buddhism. Some anthropoligists believe that there is a connection between MOOISM and the
first use of domestic cows. According to the history of MOOISM, BHAGABOVINA, the
Godhead of Mooism revealed herself to CARL, the first person to achieve holy Cowhood and
become "Bovine."
CARL (his only known name) was born in a very small village in Iraq about 450 BC. Little is
known about his family other than that they were poor farmers. At a young age, he was dissatisfied
with the religion of his day which was UGHA (the worship of mud).
One day CARL decided to search for something else to worship. He set out and wandered around
the countryside for forty days and became very hungry for all he could find to eat were prunes and
grasshoppers. The land was very poor as was his spirit. On the fortieth day being so tired and
hungry, he collapsed under a tree and could go on no further.
He thought that he would die there when a bright light exploded in front of
him and in the light he saw for the first time BHAGABOVINA, the Holy
Cow of MOOISM. BHAGABOVINA mooed and CARL understood what
she was saying: "Drink for my milk is the river of life. Eat for my ribs are tasty
and shall feed the world." At that he felt milk squirting into his mouth and
he found a rib in his hand.
After he had feasted, BHAGABOVINA called to him and told him to follow and CARL did. She
led him to a beautiful meadow and on the ground were Ten Golden Cow Pies. CARL looked at
these golden cow pies and saw that there was writing on them. BHAGABOVINA spoke to him
saying "Look upon these for they contain the wisdom of the universe."
CARL wanted to take these cow pies home but she told him that they must stay here in the pasture
and that he must copy them where they lay. CARL spent the next three days copying what was
later to become the the holy scriptures of MOOISM, The Book of Moo.
After he finished copying them he felt lightheaded and soon fell into a trance. CARL felt his soul
leave his body and ride on the back of BHAGABOVINA. The flew around the world with CARL
holding onto her horns and experiencing the world through MOO. It was then as he was to tell his
later followers that he looked into the eyes of the Great Bovine and saw the true meaning of
MOOISM, the way of "COW."
By Reverend Mad Dog
When CARL awoke from his trance he was alone in an empty field. In his hands were the copies
he had made of the sacred cow pies. He returned home a changed man. Everywhere he went he
talked of cows and tried to convert others into worshipping BHAGABOVINA. At the time cows
were unknown. There were only stories about these strange mystical creatures as no one had ever
seen a real live cow. CARL began to spread the word of MOOISM. In those early days people only
ignored him.
One day when the villagers were about to worship a new pile of mud, it was discovered that all of
the prune wine had gone bad. The crowd grew ugly and violence was in the air. It was then that the
first Bovine Miracle happened.
While the people were arguing over whose fault it was for the prune wine, Carl went over to a pile
of empty jars and called for BHAGABOVINA's help. CARL started to Moo-the sound came from
deep inside his soul. The mooing got louder and louder until there was a flash in the air.
BHAGABOVINA, floating in the sky, appeared before the people. She spoke to the crowd,
charming them and explaining the truth of the cow, the milk of life and the meaning of MOO.
Then she pointed at CARL who then transformed himself into a cow. CARL grew teats and
instructed the people on how to milk him.
It is said that CARL gave milk to all and his teats never emptied. When the crowd tasted the milk
they began to dance in praise of Cows the givers of this holy milk. These were the first followers of
MOOISM and the beginning of MOOISM as we know it.
Carl Milks Us With Divine Hands
Our Teats Swell With Pride
We Exist In Harmoo ny
With The Cowsmos!
I t s Not J ust A Rel i gi on
I t s A Way Of Mi l k!
The religion of Mooism teaches it's followers that they must lose all the troubles
and woes of this world and become one with Moo, their cow nature. To reach
this point of nirvanamoo, Mooers use the ritual of the chewing of the cud.
This being the simple act of eating, the digestion of
one's food. It is the way of bringing one to the highest
point of bliss where the chewer is only aware of the
chewing itself. Only by chewing your cud can you truly
free your mind. Your mind must journey through the
endless cycle of the four stomachs. Once this is done
you become a cow pie of yesterday and the tasty grass
of tomorrow. The present is filled with blissful
awareness of the cud.
What is Mooism? Mooism is everything and everywhere yet it is also nothing
and nowhere. It is the way of life of the black inside the comforting stomach of
the Holy Bovine. It is as simple as drinking a glass of Milk, the fluid of the body
of life. There are endless levels of Bovine understanding, yet there is only one
true meaning and this is found in the cud.
Since we have Moo-nature as our driving force, we must surrender ourselves to
the comfort of Bovine and chew our cuds in the contentment and peace that
only the Cud of Cow can give us.
Friends, do you feel that in today's high-tech,
cyber-super highway world that you can't seem
to keep up? Do you feel that even with the flow
of needless junk that you are programmed to
only want and that there is constantly
something missing? Do you go to church and
come out empty, unsated? Do you envy that
cow in the pasture, chewing it's cud, not caring
a dang about any of the world's cares or woes?
If the answer is yes, then it's time to take a
different path to that great pond with the cool
sweet water in the sky. Let's face it Jesus was a
martyr, Buddha an exercise guru, Moses a lawyer, L. Ron Hubbard a manurehead
and Bob Dobbs is just a salesman. All these religions and figureheads have had
their shot at the needs of man and none has done doodly squat!
Look at the cow in the field. She doesn't kill anybody, doesn't hurt anybody,
doesn't even try to change the world by building townhouses and 7-11's in the
pasture. The Bovine chews it's cud, sending the bovine brain into nothingness.
Join Carl and The Holy Church of Moo and we can do the same for you. Your
mind will become still and the cow pies of yesterday will become the tasty grass
of tomorrow. Come join the great herd of Bovine who chew the holy cud and
become one with the pasture of the universe.
Reverend Mad Dog
A MOOISM PRIMER
The pasture spread out before us is where our daily bread is consumed. We keep
our mouth to the ground biting off clump after clump of the verdant green earth.
Always patient we dig and listen for word from the underground.
It is there in the bowels of the good earth that our salvation lives. A huge Golden
Pail overflowing with white liquid paper x-ing and y-ing out various spots in the
universe but keeping us alive today-whole and 100% in control of our destiny.
The fat universe is constructed and deconstructed in the hollow of the earth.
Cows 4 miles long and 2 miles wide fill The Golden Pail with the juice of life
and the glaze of death. The Silicone Pail is busy with time. It white-outs the
black holes and black-outs the white holes.
The bell around the neck of existence calls us home. We graze in the pasture and
bed down in the barn knowing that the dew on our eyelids will someday be
touched by The Golden Pail below. We feed on the ground today and it will eat
us up tomorrow. Everything is nothing and nothing is everything and the
all/nothing passes through our intestines giving us the fortitude to mulch onward
and expulse outward.
Mooism dwells on the plain while The Golden Pail beneath us pulls our tails
closer to what we cannot fathom, swallow or digest. Go towards the gold for we
know the rainbow won't exist without our tears....
Dungmaster Dave
Batch #1 Expiration Date: 9/26/55
A million cows are tipped over under the surface of the moon and frozen into
suspended animation. It was millions of years ago when Mooism ruled the
Milky Way. There was no such planet as Earth and in its stead was the Moon
orbiting the sun. The Moon was the most beautiful planet in the universe.
The Moon was populated by a race of "Mooers" the forerunners of the cows on
earth today. It was a land of milk and honey where the universe was in synch
and there was no such thing as @man! It was where Mooism began and where
Mooism was have thought to have ended.
It was a beautiful day on the Moon when without warning an intruding glob of
cheese-like matter smacked into it and threw it out of orbit and took claim of its
space in the scheme of things. It was a sudden and quick ending to the
"Mooers" and the way of life known as Mooism. The Moon was now a cratered
planet devoid of green with extreme temperatures and no oxygen for them to
breath. They lie under the moon waiting for us to return them to a planet that is
green and full of Mooism.
It is another day on the spoiled Earth. Cows everywhere realize that the time
has come to rescue their ancestors and bring Mooism back to life. Huge
cybercowchips have been implanted in barns all over the earth and when the
mooment of reincarnation is come the "Mooers" will be awakened and brought
to earth to restore the rights of cows and the way of Mooism to the universe.
Dungmaster Dave
Batch #2 Expiration Date: 9/25/95
Along the sands and snowflakes of time the Great Cow wanders and wonders. A
beachcomber and manure shoveler in search of the Divine Cud. Ever- chewing, ever-lasting,
ever-shitting, ever-tasting, ever-regurgitating.
It's been a long time since the stars exploded and the Golden Pail spilled the milk of human
kindness. The green grass covered by famine, by winter, by cement hungers to be reborn in
the warmth of life giving methane. But we digress as often as we digest. There are too many
distractions, too many stars in the sky, too many pennies to burn.
The Meaning of Moo does not get lost when the seasons change or planets die. It becomes
more refined as time gently hones it and the Sound of Moo becomes the Grand Canyon of
sound waves. It laps our material senses like a bulls tongue on a cow cunt bringing us to the
climax of existence.
We expel acres of white milk and cum into the mouth of the universe and create our version
of life but the Great Cow wanders and wonders how to stop the flow. As the pen will surely
lose its ink we falter but the Great Cow and the Mighty Moo gains from our misfortune and
laughs while we bask in our post coital creationism.
We push, we pant, we moo, we milk, we cum, but we have no answers for the Sound of Moo
goes unherd by the vast majority and creation heads starry eyed into an immoovable object.
The Great Cow and The Mighty Moo fight us for supremacy and we never win. We jerk off
into the universe and the tissue of the Godz cleans up our mess and puts us to sleep. Will we
ever awake. Will we ever be the Big Cheeses?
The answer is NO! The answer is MOOISM! Come and partake of our headcheese and get
holy. Salvation does not come easy. The path of Mooism is slippery but in the end you will
find that your ecstasy is everlasting and for real! Come, listen and leave yourself behind...
Dungmaster Dave
Batch #3 Expiration Date: 9/27/65
There's a great big fucking cow inside of us all. I don't care if you are human, animal, mineral
or vegetable. It's there and it's waiting to take you over. It don't care if you are black or white,
stupid or smart, skinny or fat, rich or poor. It is there waiting for you to convert to MOOISM
and make life really worth living. It is your worst nightmare crying out from the sweaty
sheets, it is your highest high swirling like puke down a toilet while your head swims with
visions of Carl and the milk money you have to give up. Give it up!! There is no udder way!!!
Christianity Kills-Buddhism Tortures-Judaism Maims-Scientology Sucks and Bob Dobbs
with his Yeti doll took off for another galaxy last year with all the babes. That leaves you with
Carl and MOOISM. Forget the past, forget the future there is the now and Carl.
Let the warm stomach of Mooism comfort you and the stank breath of its milky revelations
guide you. Jesus was a martyr, Buddha an exercise guru, Moses a sailor, L. Ron Hubbard a
manurehead and Bob Dobbs a may be lucky or come back as a rubber ducky! It don't
mattsalesman. Carl is just like you and me. Carl runs the photocopy machine of life. Carl
creates all life from the original copies! No carbon based life forms with Carl. Mooism goes
to the root of chemical and spiritual being direct from the Master Cow Chip of the universe
and replicates life one day at a time.
Your misteak is believing in death. There is only life and Mooism will show you why and
how now brown cow. In fact, you will be so happy you may commit suicide so you can come
back as something else. Of course the best thing to come back as is a COW but that is left up
to the lottery run by Carl and the Master Cow Chipper.You er what be thy lot as long as Carl
doth guide you.
Surrender! The war of religions is over and Mooism has won by default. There is nothing left
but what is right and once you accept Mooism into your life/death you will go on and on and
on....That's all we want from life anyway (to go on and on and on..) So why waste your time
with religions that complicate life. Keep it simple you stupid cows! And with Mooism you'll
learn how to swallow stars whole, digest galaxies without peptic acids and excrete super
novas all in your spare time.
So get on board the Mooism train. Leave your genes behind and leave your behind behind.
Hold onto your nipples the ride has only just begun. Giddy Up!!!
Dungmaster Dave
Batch #4 Expiration Date: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow
Come Home To Mooism, Where The Milk Never Sours!
Mooism: Heres The Beef!
Before I became a member of this wonderful church my life was a nightmare. Being an obese
person all my life I was subjected to constant ridicule by people. They would say to my face, "are
you a pig or are you a cow-Moo, Moo, Oink, Oink!"
Like a taxi driver with a checkered past, the inhumanity of society drove me crazy. It got so bad
that all I ever wanted to do was eat. It got to the point where I got so fat that I would not and
eventually could not even leave my own house. The only meaning in my life was food and I was
quickly eating myself to death.
One day last year a cab dropped off a small man dressed in farming clothes. He said his name
was CARL and that he was here to help me with my problems of eating and society. He spent
many hours with me explaining the ruminants of MOOISM. After we shared a very funny tasting
chocolate milkshake that he had made from some packet he pulled out of his overalls, I was
enlightened and started shedding some of my excess weight immediately. Something inside of
me was changing for the better and I'll never forget his last words to me, "a cow has four
stomachs but you my friend have just one."
Today, due to my conversion to MOOISM, I think positive. I like myself and ignore the public
and don't listen to them. I now know how to keep my ego and appetite in check. I have learned
about how important the little things in life are, to go slow and the secret of chewing the divine
cud. I will be spreading the gospel of MOOISM as CARL taught me for the rest of my days. Life
is a gas, ain't it?
Church Name: Dungmaster Graze All Day
Baby Name: Robert Gucci
Quote: Count Your Blessings Not Your Calories
Before I became a member of this vibrant church my life was totally out of control. You see ever
since puberty I developed these humungous breasts and everywhere I went people stared at them
and made fun of me. Girls were very jealous of me and men treated me with no respect by saying
things like, "look at the udders on that cow, moo, moo!"
As I grew older my breasts got larger each year and it became harder to live a normal life in
society. I couldn't hold onto a job and men wanted me for one thing only. At the age of 22 I
became addicted to masturbation and hated society, myself, and most of all my enormous titties.
It got so bad that I was masturbating 10-12 times a day and was afraid to leave my own house.
All I wanted to do was climax myself and hide away from a society that provided me with no
satisfaction.
One day about six months ago a weird looking old guy dressed in green overalls knocked on my
door and said his name was CARL and handed me some MOOISM literature. We got to talking
for hours on end and I poured out my heart and soul to him. He explained who he was and the
basic principles of MOOISM and something inside of me began to click. As dusk approached
CARL placed his hands on my breasts and tweaked my nipples. It was then that a miracle
occurred and my breasts and nipples shrank to a normal size. I was changed! I'll never forget
what he said to me when he left, "a cow has one udder my friend but you are blessed with two."
Today, because of my devotion and knowledge of MOOISM, I am free to be me whether I am
alone or in society. I like myself, my breasts and don't let others abuse me and most of all I don't
abuse myself. I have learned to empty my mind and enjoy the basic elements of life which are air,
water, love and the squeezing of the divine teat. I have dedicated the rest of my life to spreading
the word of MOOISM as CARL instructed me to. I am now pregnant and can't wait to have a
child! Life's a hoot ain't it?
Church Name: Dungmistress Udder Chaos
Baby Name: Dee Dee Kissinger
Quote: Men Should Be Like Kleenex, Soft, Strong & Disposable
CARL, born in 450 B.C. is very much alive. He roams the Earth above and
below; the oceans above and below; and the far reaches of outer space above
and below. Everywhere he appears he carries the original BOOK OF MOO as
revealed to him by Bhagabovinea. The book contains the 10 Golden Cowpies
and other instructions to keep the Universe on track. This drawing was made as
CARL rested when he traversed the desert now known as Las Vegas, Nevada...
THE ILLUMINATED ONE
WHO TOUCHED THE
10 GOLDEN COWPIES
David E. Henry, 38, apparently an Indians fan and
affirming that he was "on a mission from God," was
arrested for breaking into the White Sox spring-
training facility in order to confront Albert Belle about
why he forsook Cleveland.
More than 150 Hindus were killed in a fire while worshipping dead guru Swami Nigamananda at
a yearly festival in Baripada, India.
From Toronto's venerable Globe and Mail: "The Findhorn Foundation, Britain's foremost New
Age college, has developed a weeklong course that explains the spiritual side of golf" for about
$1,200, to help golfers "get closer to God in a bunker or to develop the karma to ease a ball out
of the rough."
Elaine Clyde, 33, was charged with attempted murder in Albany, Ga., for repeatedly smashing
her sister in the head with a rock after supposedly being appointed by their church to exorcise 7
demons from the woman. (The first 6 came out with a mere reading of the Lord's Prayer, but the
7th was peskier; the plan was to kill her with the "understanding" that she would be resurrected
the following Sunday.)
St. Charles Catholic Church (Picayune, Miss.) and
nearby St. Margaret Mary Church (Slidell, La.) posted
guards to check that parishioners are not pocketing
communion wafers; apparently, when 6 people were
seen leaving St. Charles in Dec. with their wafers,
someone concluded that there be a going on
somewhere.
In Birmingham, Ala., McArthur Peake, 29, pulled off
a parishioner robbery during Wed. night services at
the Center Street Baptist Church, announcing with
refreshing candor, "I am the devil. I don't like God,
and God don't like me" (to say the least, considering
that Peake was wanted at the time for suspicion of
murder in a convenience store robbery).
Sergio A. Rozon Jr., 34, a Dominican Republic citizen living in Lawrence, Mass., burglarized a
church on Ash Wed. but instead of stealing anything, he tried to crucify himself in the basement.
Said a police officer, "I saw this man running toward me with a Bible in one hand and stark
naked and full of blood . . . screaming religious quotes."