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[This was being passed out on a streetcorner in San Francisco last July,
shortly after Rushdie went into hiding.  Unfortunately, in the
conversion to machine-readable form you lose the great caricature of the
Ayatollah that headed the whole thing.]


			  THE SATANIC FLYER

		 rejected by the North Mission News!

   I try to stay away from popular controversies much the same way I avoid
stirring up the cockroaches under my frig, but as a writer I must confess
some interest in this whole Salman Rushdie thing.  I mean, the guy's got it
made -- if he lives -- and all he had to to do was insult a few towelheads!
What a scam!  Now that I know what great PR men these howling religious
sand devils really are, it's time to tell the story of MY PAST LIFE !

   "Past life?" you whine incredulously.  Well, shut up and listen.
Reincarnation is real.  I've had lots of past lives, and in one of them I
was Mohammed's college roommate!

   It was in the 60's (around 566 A.D.), and "The Big Mo," as he was known,
was studying convenience store management at Damascus City College.  Let me
tell you just a few of the things "Big Mo" was famous for.  First, he
always came to class stoned out of his mind on hash.  He'd sit there in a
righteous holy daze, mumbling such mystical bon mots as "beer and pork
rinds, kill the infidels," over and over.  Then he'd take his hash out and
start rolling it into little balls on his desk.  Occasionally he'd flick
one of these hashballs into my mouth when the Prof. wasn't looking, in
exchange for which I let Mo copy off my test papers.

   He was some party animal, boy.  I'll never forget the falafel fight he
instigated in the cafeteria with those Zoroastrians.  The whole thing
stopped dead, of course, the minute the Satrap walked in, but who do you
think got caught standing there with a hand full of hummous?  *Me*, that's
who.  Mo just laughed.  That was the end of that incarnation, at least
for me.  Academic discipline was strict in those days.

   But the things I remember most about Mo are the things only a roommate
could know -- i.e., the guy was a slob.  Wouldn't take a shower to save his
life.  Never shaved.  Pissed out the window.  Plus, whenever Mo ran out of
hash, he'd sneak into my stash and replace what he took with little
rolled-up balls of cat shit.  Mo loved cats -- that's one thing I have to
say for him.  He treated his cats better than he treated women -- in fact,
he beat up on his harem so often, he started making them wear dish towels
on their faces to hide the bruises.  (For a guy who never showered, he sure
had a thing about towels).

   He never replaced the cap on the toothpaste, he borrowed money and
didn't pay it back, and if you disagreed with him about *anything*, he'd
hack you into little pieces with this big curved sword he always carried,
probably as psychological compensation for having such a small penis.
Also, he bit his toenails without even taking his sandals off!  Yecchh!

	by Frank "I've Got Guts And You'll Be Seeing Them Soon" Deadbeat

 	NEXT MONTH: I WAS JESUS CHRIST'S GAY LOVER !!!

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