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A Message From God

MSTied by Tom Smith

-- ((( TWAAAANNG!! )))


       [Satellite of Love Desk.  Mike, with a green visor and
an adding machine, is going over the phone bill.  Tom Servo is
standing conspicuously between Mike and the telephone.]

MIKE:  ... Who the heck do you know in Guyana?
SERVO: Ahhh... oh!  Consuela.  Very sweet.  A woman of tongues.
MIKE:  I'll bet.  Oh, hi, everyone!  Welcome to the Satellite of
       Love.  I'm Mike Nelson, still trapped in cyberspace, and
       this little fireplug here --
SERVO: Haay!  There's no need to get personal!
MIKE:  -- Tom Servo -- seems to have discovered the joy of
       900 numbers.  Look at this!  Fifty calls a day to the
       WWF Wrestling Hotline?
SERVO: Well, you didn't expect me to call the WCW line, did you?
       I'd rather listen to weasels mating in a trash compactor
       than to Mean Gene Okerlund.  And Jim Ross has such insight!
MIKE:  Insight!?
SERVO: Well, you'll notice a distinct dropoff after the 10th,
       what with that insipid Razor Ramon-Diesel affair....
MIKE:  Dropoff.... Six hundred and fifteen calls to Bangladesh?
SERVO: Ahhh.  Her name was Kiyuku.  Her voice was a rustle of
       silk and jasmine, her eyes deep stars in the night sky.
MIKE:  You never even *saw* her eyes.
SERVO: You wound me, sir!  I asked what her eyes were like, and
       she told me!
MIKE:  Yeah?  Did she tell you it was $4.99 a minute?
SERVO: Oh -- umm -- uh, by that time we had established an intimacy,
       a trust, such that petty matters were beyond our concern.
MIKE:  Well, those "petty matters" are gonna destroy my savings
SERVO: Oh.  So, I guess I can't borrow five till Friday, huh?
MIKE:  D'ohh....

       [Crow enters, S.R.]

CROW:  Hey, what's goin' on, guys?
MIKE:  Oh, hi, Crow.  Servo here has run up a five-digit phone
       bill, and I can't afford to pay it.
CROW:  Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.  When will you ever learn?  There is
       no cheap, electronic way to pleasure and fulfillment.
SERVO: Why, that's just what my Psychic Cell-Phone CyberSlut said!
CROW:  [rolls his eyes and sighs] Let me see that, Mike.

       [Crow looks at the phone bill for a moment, then moves
to the phone, turns on the speaker, and punches up a number. 
It rings twice, then is answered.]

VOICE: [filtered] Satellite Cellular Services.  Billing Department.
CROW:  Hi there!  I'd like to pay the phone bill for the
       Satellite of Love, please.

       [Mike and Servo look at each other.]

VOICE: [filtered] How will you be paying?
CROW:  Uh, Visa.  Number eight one four five... two seven
       three... seven four... zero eight... nine two.
       Expiration... six ninety-six.
VOICE: [filtered] Name on the card?
CROW:  Dr. Clayton Forrester.

       [Mike and Servo smother giggles.]

M. V.: Commercial sign in five seconds.
CROW:  With three R's.
SERVO: [sotto voce] Yeah, Reading, 'Riting, and Rube!
MIKE:  W- we'll be right back! 
CROW:  [to phone] Oh, and your service has been exemplary.
       Give yourself a generous tip!

       [Mike and Servo laugh harder.]


       [S.O.L.  Mike and the 'Bots are still laughing.]

MIKE:  Oh.  Oh my.  That was a good one, my little golden friend.
SERVO: Yeah, where did you get Dr. F's credit card number?
CROW:  Oh, he doesn't have one.  I forged it awhile back when
       I was hacking the Citicorp main computer, and... just
       waited for a good time to use it.

       [Red light flashes.]

MIKE:  Hee hee!  Here's Karl Malden now.
SERVO: Hahah- ah... Mike?  Did you *actually* say "hee hee"?

       [Deep 13.  Dr. Clayton Forrester is hunched over a computer.]

DR. F: -- Come on, you stupid thing, DIAL!!  -- Oh, it's you, Nelson.
       I've decided tonight's a good night to look for love on the
       Internet.  Saaay, you wouldn't happen to know why my phone's
       been shut off, would you?


MIKE:  [shrugs] Offhand, I'd say it's because your Visa card's
       been cancelled.

       [Deep 13.]

DR. F: D'ohh!  I knew I -- HEY!!  I don't *have* a Visa card!


CROW:  Well, that's probably why the phone company couldn't draw
       funds off it.
SERVO: Yeah, I'd see a credit counsellor soon if I were you.

       [Deep 13.]

DR. F: Hmmm.  You might be right about tha-  [He stops, doing a
       furious fuming take.]  Nel-SON!  I smell a rat, and I think
       it's you and your little Rock-em Sock-em Rugrats!  Well, it
       just so happens that I've got a little divine retribution
       waiting for you this week: a message from God Himself!  Mene
       mene tekel, Upharsin!

       [Dr. F's phone rings; he answers it.]

DR. F: Oh.  Must be working again.  Hello?  -- Consuela!  How are
       things in Guyana, my little love monkey?

       [S.O.L.  Mike is holding Tom back.]


       [Lights and sirens.]



SERVO: [sobbing] ... Tramp.  Floozie.
CROW:  Oh, grow up.  She charged more than Heidi Fleiss.
MIKE:  Crow, that's enough.  Don't worry about it, Tom.
SERVO: Daaa... okay.

> From!!msunews!agate!
ALL:  [singing] In-terjections!  Show excitement!  Or emotion!

> howland.
CROW:  Wolf?

> com!!luzskru.
CROW:  Yeah, *somebody* here had a loose screw.

SERVO: ... But for our low prices!

> Wed Jan 17 05:57:29 1996
MIKE:  God-is Mean Time.

> Newsgroups: soc.motss,,
MIKE:  Yes, thank you, we notice the trend, already.


SERVO: Does it disturb anyone else that God subscribes to all the
       porno newsgroups?
CROW:  Not as much as the order they were entered.  You tend to lump
       together the things you like.

MIKE:  Garry Trudeau, no!

SERVO: I don't even want to think about this.

> alt.censorship,alt.christnet
MIKE:  Ahh, an actual Christian group.  I was wondering if they
       were gonna get in here.

> Path:!!msunews!agate!howland.reston.
ALL:  Seen it.

> From: [email protected] (Go4It)
CROW:  God's got a cheezy e-mail address.
MIKE:  I'd have thought it'd be something like "[email protected]".
SERVO: Hey.  Coulda been AOL or .edu.

> Subject: A message from God
MIKE:  Didn't Will Eisner write that?
CROW:  That was "A Contract With God."
SERVO: Didn't Rush Limbaugh write *that*?
CROW:  No, that was "Talent On Loan From God."
MIKE:  Y'ever notice God hasn't asked for it back?

> Message-ID: <[email protected]>
> Date: Tue, 16 Jan 1996 01:28:27 GMT
> Reply-To: the.great.beyond
CROW:  That's Ouija, Montana, 66666.

> Organization: Special Sauce
SERVO: McEspionage.

> X-Newsreader:
CROW:  For reading X-Files.

> It's hacked!
MIKE:  You know, I just can't see God muttering over His
       keyboard, pondering electronic security.

> References: <[email protected]>
>  <[email protected]>
> <[email protected]> <[email protected]>

> <[email protected]> <[email protected]>
> <[email protected]> <[email protected]>
> <[email protected]> <[email protected]>

> <[email protected]>
SERVO: What, no King James Edition?  Apocrypha?  St. Augustine?
       Goofus and Gallant?

> Lines: 80
> Xref: soc.motss:11997
> amateur.female:4750
SERVO: Somehow, all the lines about "professional women" are
       just ashes on my tongue right now.


> pictures.male:2480
> alt.binaries.
> lesbians:1401
> alt.censorship:10031 alt.christnet:13901
MIKE:  Just in case all you impressionable youngsters missed this
       list the first time around, about fifteen lines up.

>****************** STUDY THIS PROPHECY & LEARN IT ******************
CROW:  Some day it may save your death.

>    As with every foreign journey,
SERVO: Speak English loudly and slowly, so that the stupid natives
       will understand it.

> we step forth into a
ALL:   Eewww!

> path,
CROW:  Oh.

> possibly a path of great evil,
MIKE:  "Luke, *I* am your father!"
CROW:  "Noooo!!"

> in which one can never anticipate what lies in wait.
MIKE:  "It's the caretaker, Mr. Johnston!"
CROW:  "I'd'a got away with it, too, if not for you lousy kids!"

> That those things by which we hold precious and enduring in our
> hearts,
SERVO: Umm... do we have one word too few, or too many?

> a declaration that we cannot deny truths,
MIKE:  Like the theory of evolution?
SERVO: The Crusades?
CROW:  The Inquisition?

> remains lurking.
CROW:  Next week: Garibaldi and Sheridan fight zombies Downbelow...
       on an all-new Babylon 5!

> From where it shall all begin,
MIKE:  Follow the Yellow Brick Road!

> to where the total of what God has set forth for us,
> the hours that He has provided,
SERVO: You know, God really needs a copy of Strunk and White.

> I hereby set forth by the scroll,
MIKE:  God's on the Yale Rowing Team!
CROW:  Mike, that's "scroll," not "scull."

MIKE:  Oh.

> and the challenges of author versus authority.
SERVO: Sylvester Stallone *is* Salman Rushdie!

> With disregard for the receipt
MIKE:  I'm sorry, but our return policy is quite clear.

> that has existed for untold centuries uncollected,
SERVO: So, God works for the Student Loan Program?

> the debt you have inherited,
CROW:  Wait a minute.  Christianity doesn't believe in
       reincarnation or karma.
MIKE:  I think they're talking about Vic Tanny memberships.

> the debt shall never be dismissed, living on through eternity,
SERVO: Ohhp -- I was wrong.  God works for the I.R.S.

> and so the Keepers of the Clock
SERVO: Repent, Harlequin!

> shall not reveal what destiny has prescribed,
CROW:  So, The Endless have medical licenses?

> be it damnation or eternal peace.
SERVO: The Red Cross will be there!

> I lay down no rules, for the rules are set by time and space,
MIKE:  I'm gonna take my temporal-spatial anomaly and go home.

> and Gods own
CROW:  Drunk?

> hand, soothing the cries from the weeping ones of the universe,
SERVO: The God that rocked the cradle.

> not captive of the hour but as if time were none but a rock,
ALL:  [singing] Time is a rock, time is an i-i-island.

> unable to bend and flex
CROW:  Shouldn't have left Gumby in the freezer.

> with the physics and laws deemed, the Universal Physical.
MIKE:  Boy, this studio is really strict.

> So how can we deny that which we hold so dear and eternal
> in the heart of hearts, the man of men, the world?  I cannot!
SERVO: Although *you* might, you heathen scum.

> Then I confess, and let that be my vice.
CROW:  I get off on confessing.
MIKE:  My friend, you've got a career on Talk TV.

> For is not this world but Eden,
SERVO: Dan Ackroyd and Rosie O'Donnell, noooo!!

> to frolic in the serenity of Gods nest?
CROW:  What, is God a bald eagle now?

> But how can there be Utopia when there remains wickedness?
MIKE:  So, the existence of evil is tied to the career of
       Todd Rundgren?

> For that we shall believe the truth has been presented
> in a fashion not homogenized,
CROW:  Hey!  This isn't truth, it's farmhouse cheese!

> but orderly in sensation and reality.
MIKE:  Ahh!  Phileas Fogg.

> Divine shall be those things by which the hands of time
> shall not manipulate.
SERVO: ARRGH!!  This... is... driving... me... CRAZY!!
       I understand all these words, but put together like
       this they just don't make *sense*!
MIKE:  Take it easy, Tom.  Just diagram the sentence.  See,
       anything that the hands of time will *not* use as a tool
       ... must be a four-hundred-pound transvestite?

> Just as the prescription falls unto the living creatures

> of the earth
CROW:  Uh-oh.  Grandma's feeding her medicine to the pigeons again.

> that birds shall be none but birds, and man shall be none but man,
SERVO: And never the man shall tweet.

> in the divinity of the spiritual images that history
> again has recorded,
MIKE:  I'm not gonna touch that one.
CROW:  Nope.
SERVO: No way.

> this application by which our destiny lay,
CROW:  Microsoft Tarot95?

> has already been written.
MIKE:  But not yet debugged.

> On, and above this history lies a new venue,
SERVO: Kinda figures that God would have a sky-box, huh?

> a new beginning,
MIKE:  Great.  Another creative team on Ghost Rider.

> a new prescription.
CROW:  [singing] I want a new drug....
SERVO: [singing] Whup-whup-whuh-naa-naah...

> By your own touch,
MIKE:  Bad touch!

> and the hand,
CROW:  Jeff Sinclair?

> now you are empowered to again write your chapter,
SERVO: [as old man] Dear Rotary Club: I still think a Friday Night
       Bingo game is a great idea.

> a legacy and not a fantasy.
MIKE:  So, like, I can't spend my inheritance on babes?

> This vision of your own future, as if future were past,
> and past were future.
SERVO: Now, this gets tricky.

> And in this vision, let there be none but the tears of joy,
> and a light.
ALL:  [singing]  There's a li-i-ight, over at the Tears of Joy....

> A light that leads to a promised fruit,
ALL:  The Magic Grapefruit of Love!!  NOOOO!!

> in faith delivered, reciprocal in form and fashion.
SERVO: Sounds like a George Michael video.

> Only then will this fledgling leave the nest
MIKE:  [singing] Blackbird singing in the dead of night....

> and with wings of strength and recovery, and determination,
> of life fulfilled!
SERVO: I'd rather have wings of bone and feather, and sinew,
       of gravity defying.

> Will you be there when this nest releases its captives of time
CROW:  Oh, you mean when the eggs hatch?

> and the phantom hand,
SERVO: Jeff Sinclair was created by Lee Falk?

> to fly and soar with certainty and abandon?  I believe!
MIKE:  Then clap your hands!
CROW:  Mike, you do that every time.
MIKE:  Well... I believe.
CROW:  Cool.  Go for it.

> And now you are entertained with these choices.....
MIKE:  Well, not really.

> Of when to set forth this motion, and beginning of this adventure
SERVO: "Ah!  We are having an adventure, very much like that...
       of The Goonies!"

> with the spirit new and a quest, a mission that now cannot
> be denied, for with fury and flame shall burn,  all to ashes
> and rubble,
MIKE:  "Help, Fred!  I'm on fire!"
CROW:  "Serves you right for always stealing my Fruity Pebbles!"
SERVO: But I thought she liked Bamm Bamm.
MIKE:  Thank you, Tom.  That'll be all.

> the total of restraints with which you were bound and tied
> and bloodied.
MIKE:  I *do* recall being
       one of the first groups on the list....

> For freedom anew is arisen from these ashes and grow it shall,
CROW:  [as Yoda] Backwards teach you to talk, I will.

> and after it all, shall be renewed the newest of the
> inhabitants of the new order
SERVO: As opposed to The Lords Of The New Church.

> that has by rights, a born woman child, set free, this born
> man child.
CROW:  "The man-child, yes!"
SERVO: "The woman-child, no!"
MIKE:  Excuse me, but... what *are* you talking about?
CROW:  ... Better you don't know.
MIKE:  This has to do with that Torgo guy, doesn't it?
SERVO: [as Kosh] "Never ask that question."

> And a Queen, tattered, and without shoes,
CROW:  Wasn't this from the Prophet's Row scene in LIFE OF BRIAN?

> shall be delivered upon some golden throne
MIKE:  Any old golden throne will do.

> to sit and rule with Lords and judges.
SERVO: Is this Middle-Earth, or Mega-City One?

> The crown has been bestowed upon the nape of this majestic entity.
SERVO: God wears his crown on the back of his neck?
MIKE:  No, the Queen wears her crown on the back of *her* neck.
CROW:  No, the Queen was passed over *in favor* of the back of her
       own neck.
SERVO: Does anyone out there really want to worship an omnipotent
       being this illiterate?

> Again, I believe!  Do you believe?
MIKE:  Then clap your hands!
CROW:  Mike, I changed my mind.  That's really getting on my nerves.

> Then eternal shall be your own glory,  and pass it on!....
SERVO: But... then it wouldn't be my own glory anymore, and so
       it wouldn't be eternal.
MIKE:  Well... it's only *kind of* eternal.

> ( 8:1:3 ~)~)   Xuniphaer  ( 2:5:3 ~)~) 
CROW:  Is that supposed to be a King James chapter-and-verse
MIKE:  I think it's the score at the half.
SERVO: Maybe it's an ASCII slot machine.


       [Satellite of Love Desk.]

CROW:  Mike, why *is* it that the religious goofballs always
       show up on the groups?
MIKE:  I've always wondered about that.  Missionaries have a
       bad habit of going into areas they don't understand,
       where they're not wanted, and bludgeoning people with
       their beliefs.
CROW:  I guess that would be the missionary posi-
MIKE:  BZZZ!  Thank you for playing, Crow, in a family post.
SERVO: Y'ask me, it all boils down to humanity's basic need
       for things to go badly.
MIKE:  Well, y- hunh!?
SERVO: Sure!  If life were all tickety-boo, we wouldn't *need*
       the promise of salvation *after* life.  And when things
       are miserable, you just sigh and say, "Things'll get

CROW:  Yeah!  That's why there aren't any happy action-adventure
       movies.  No danger, no treasure -- bo-ring!
SERVO: Yup.  Nobody cares when you're having a good time, and
       *you* can't supply meaningful details about it later!
       But folks go on endlessly about their illnesses, their
       obnoxious relatives, their disastrous love lives, recent
       bad weather, or how inept the coach is!
CROW:  And evil!  What about good vs. evil?  The villain is
       always more interesting than the hero, more likeable,
       has a better work ethic, and just seems more fun to
       have a beer with.
SERVO: You got that right.  Might as well face it, life is just
       more darn fun when it's going badly.  Religious types
       love it best of all, 'cause it drums up membership.
MIKE:  Of course, it could just be that the bad times make the
       good times sweeter... and those people who feel they've
       been touched by God want to share that joy with those
       who, they believe, haven't felt it yet.
SERVO: What?  Oh, yeah, I suppose so... but I was thinking more
       along Crow's lines.  Action-adventure movies.  With some
       serious butt-kicking.
CROW:  Computer-generated special effects!
SERVO: Tia Carrera in tight leather!
CROW:  Alien vampire babes sucking the life out of Kevin Bacon!
SERVO: Been done.
MIKE:  What do you think, sir?

       [Deep 13.  Dr. F is hunched over his computer, reading
aloud while typing.]

DR. F: "... Hey... good-looking... I'm... Evil... Master...
       are you up to... a hot night... of chat?"

       [After a moment, he reads aloud the response.]

DR. F: "... Evil Master... I've been looking for you..." ho-ho!
       Sounds promising!...  [typing]  "Got... a name... sweet
       thing??"  [reading]  "... Yahweh... the Lord God... but you
       may call me... The Burning Bush."  Oh, my, the connotations!
       [typing]  "Well... my Hot little Shrub... what... kind of
       action... did you have... in mind?"  [reading]  "A war...
       for all the souls of men ... best two out of three."

       YESSS!!  JACKPOT!!

       [He pumps his fists in the air, but then suddenly remembers
the S.O.L.]

DR. F: Uh, listen, Mike, I'm gonna be busy for a while deciding
       the fate of humanity on the IRC.  Be a dear and lock up,
       hmm?  [typing]  "Okay... Joshua... want to play... a game?"

       \  |  /
        \ | /
      ---( )---   [pwhohhhffhh]
        / | \
       /  |  \

DR. F: "... Heretic"!?  Haaay!!

Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1994 by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved.

Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc. is intended or should be inferred.

All shtick and lyrics © 1996 by Tom Smith. All rights reserved.

> This vision of your own future, as if future were past,
> and past were future.

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