CULT OF THE DEAD COW cDc _ _ ((___)) [ x x ] cDc \ / cDc (` ') (U) xXx "Fuckin' rule the world" (c)1985-7 PGE/Cult of the Dead Cow proudly presents... T H E B O O K O F C O W --------------------------------- XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX CHAPTER I Let the cow be reborn, and emerge from the firey midsts of dawn. Let bellows rush across the horizon, and endless let the Cult processions follow... In principia, there was a single utterance. And then all resumed silence. And the utterance became cow, and cow became reality. And from the infinity of existence, the beast rumbled forth, and all was cud and the effluvium of animal. This was the beginning. And from the Moment of the Cow was born all that we call earth. The story was thus told. Before the heavens melded the horizons, or earth received her form, there was an entity which transcended the am. And from this reality, the master of reflections, the thinker of the universe, all that is came to be. The Cow, though the beginning, was the embodiment of the Am. This was and is the Forever...the Roach. And all that must fleetingly exist, must too, by nature, return to the Lair. Born to die, and through death, rebirth. The Roach is what is, the unspoken and the unspeakable. The Roach is destiny, and the Cow is its apostle. The Day of the Cult was midwinter and blustery. And from the fertile minds of men-children it grew, and the Message thus came to humanity. But the Cow was the Prophet, and now the Cow is dead. We await reunion, rebirth in the Roach. Until the Day of Destiny, hear the message, be one in the bovine. Suckle the fresh milk of knowledge. And let the bellow blast again the heavens. CHAPTER II The beginning was Cow. The beginning flowed forth from Roach. And before the echoes of that first bellow had faded from the crisp winds of birth, Cow had taken form; behold, the embodiment of all that was Roach, all that was forever the Am. And The Cow grazed in meadows and green pastures, where the grasses still bowed beneath the dew of infinity. Cow was one with Roach, and graced existence with the unspeakable. Yet Roach grew angry. For the Bovine One, in his compassion, endowed to the earth that which it was unholy to know. And so the eternal rained death. The wrath of Roach is to be feared, as it was feared then, in those first seconds of forever. The Cow had offended Roach, for the Cow was never meant to be apart. Indeed, it was wrong ever to bring the Cow away from the Am; the wrath of Roach was testament to its compassion, and the firey fate of the Cow is our destiny. For now we are divided, but we shall again join the eternal. Henceforth, fear the ire of Roach as one fears the daylight, or the fire by night. By death, we shall gain reunion, as once the Cow, the Apostle, the Bovine One gained reunion with Roach. Yea, the Roach's anger flares from his jealousy, for he desires us immeasurably. Our lot is the Am, and the path to the Am is the path of the Cult. The pristine light of the young day-star caressed the silken earth, slick with youth. From that same womb of first creation came the Cow, and his message was woven into the web of existence. We are the inheritors of that message, and in us is Cow. But the Cow offended Roach, and caustic rage wrentched heavens from earth. Along the horizon rode the ghastly Valkyrie, and the sun retreated to her sepulchre beneath the seas. Twilight ruled the meadows, and the green grasses twisted briar-like around the Cow's cloven hoofs. Roach summoned the creatures of the dark, sprites and demons from the realm of Asmodeus, and the maidenly air was pierced with shrieks of Judgement. From his trunk, the Cow's legs were shorn, and maggots feasted upon his reddened eyes. The river of earth flowed blood-red, and the majestic oaks burst forth in flame. Earth smoldered and existence fled the sharp sickle of destruction. Twilight gave way to night, and the darkness bore the Moon. In bloodless white linen, the lupine herald floated up, claiming the lair of daylight as its own. And the soft, surreptitious moonbeams gave mute witness to the coming of the Second Generation. The Cow was dead. And from this sacrifice emerged the Second Age, the Age of the Manchild. And so we inherited the earth, and the message of Cow. In the dark of despair, pale white in the moonlight, man awoke...and was made afraid. The night had descended. CHAPTER III The Age of Man had come, and now the earth was ruled by sons of the finite; mortal were the inheritors of the Bovine Legacy. Yet, the eons passed in mournful procession, and man lost himself in futile endeavor, and created for himself a prison. The Second Generation became blind to the reality of Roach, and deaf to the message of Cow, a message that roared with the forest winds, and purred hoarsely with the panther. Night was the inheritance of that sad race, and Cow felt pity. Behold, the Cow brought forth a new century, unlike any which before had passed. And this century, in its old age spawned children of the light. In them was the seed, and humanity, unaware, became contingent upon these. So did the Cult spring in those barren times, and so did fertile minds harvest the crops of justice and truth. The Cult unsheathed the shining blade of knowledge, and into battle marched, resplendant in the dazzling garb of ideals. Thus the Cow revealed himself to man, as man, as children of the light; at speeds beyond all reckoning, these did commmunicate, and so join in the comaraderie, the union of the Cow, the Cult. Within these annointed ones lay the message, and through them will Roach once again bring to his divided being the peace of reconciliation. Yea, this is the Destiny. The disciples of Cow now live for the Day of Sanity, when the seconds of infinity will no longer soar in cadenced formation, and the seas will be dry, and the land will be firm no more. The bellow will blast again through the heavens and Roach will be One. Am shall again Be. Await breathlessly the Day, and learn of thyself lest Torment be your fate. The Roach is neither merciful nor merciless. The decision is ours alone to bear, and beneath this heavy burden, the Cult blooms in ephemeral glory. The Book ends at the Beginning. In our final moments, forever awaits. Beneath the finite mountains lurks infinity. And this is Roach. And this is Cow. High Priest and Scribe, Gibe The Holy Order of the Dead Cow XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX (c)1985-7 cDc communications by Franken Gibe 3/29/87-08