Historical Journals: Excerpts from the Diary of Marshall Applewhite

The latest in Terminal Laughter’s found documents of major turning-points in human history, these missives from Heaven’s Gate cult leader Marshall Applewhite barreled into the Terminal Laughter HQ tucked into an earthbound meteorite. The stylish 5-Star Notebook revealed many secrets of the Heaven’s Gate, including the time the group spent coasting around the cosmos on the Hale-Bopp comet. Enjoy!

applewhiteMarch 25, 1997.

Hey journal. It’s Me, Marshall. The big day is almost here! Pretty soon it’ll be sayonara to My terrestrial form and aloha to an eternity of celestial ecstasy ridin’ high on comet Hale-Bopp. See you soon, Bonnie!

March 26, 1997.

Journal: the EZ-Stop around the corner was out of Sunny D so I had swing by the liquor store and get vodka instead. Not a big drinker Myself, but the kid at the counter seemed to think it’d take the edge of a lethal dose of phenobarbitone. He had a tattoo of a flaming billiard ball on his forearm, so I’m pretty sure he knew what he was talking about. Asked him for a couple dozen extra plastic bags just in case. Never hurts to have a plan B. So now it’s T-4 hours until Ascension and I gotta say, as excited as I am to zip off this rock and soar to the Next Level, I’m starting to get some second thoughts. Chalk it up to game day jitters, I guess! Anyways, gotta go mix the punch. Wish Me luck, journal!

March 27, 1997.

Holy shit. It worked. What in the hell do we do now?

March 30, 1997.

Journal, buddy! What’s going on? Marshall here! The big man! The big cheese! The big Apple! Well I’ve had few days to wrap My head around everything (at least I think it’s been a few days, time is a bit of a blur up here in the infinite vacuum of space) and I gotta say, I’m pretty impressed with Myself! Preliminary headcount puts 28 of us on board the comet all tolled. Pretty solid turnout. I mean I suspected we had a few nonbelievers in our ranks, but you also never know if we might come across another Celestial Brother or Sis tucked around the dark side of the Bopp. No word yet from our friends in the UFO, but I’m assuming they’re as afraid of us as we are of them.

April 4, 1997.

Journal, wow, I gotta tell ya, shedding My corporeal form was the best thing I’ve ever done! Soooooo liberating! Ever go commando in a pair of flannel dress pants? Well it’s kinda like that feeling . ‘Cept for your whole essence! I Mean we still have human forms in a way, ‘cept now we’re more, whaddayacall it, ethereal. Bet I could walk through a wall if there were any up here. But there’s not (we’re on a comet). Feelin’ so free up here on the Bopp!

July 9, 1997.

Still no contact from the UFO. Brother Jericho was on third watch and swore he saw some sort of spacecraft  trailing behind us flicking its high beams on and off, but so far no confirmation.

June 16 (I think), 1998(?).

Yo journal. Long time, no talk. Been up here, just over a year and change, if I had to make a guesstimate (see: previous entry w/r/t measures of time being incalculable and more-or-less useless up here). Spirits were high for the first little while. We even created a few new comet-related celebrations, including the Civic Hale-iday Weekend, Bopptoberfest and the Feast of Saint Marshall. Everyone roasted one of their Nikes off the smouldering flume of the comet for that last one. Speaking of eating, food has been pretty scarce. Sister Mary-Ellen packed a broccoli and cheese casserole and a tray of Nanaimo bars, but those went pretty fast, despite My foolproof rationing system. I have reason to believe somebody’s hoarding Skittles. But how can I prove it?! Damn! I can’t!

September 2 or so, 1998.

Got into a pretty heated argument with Brother Randall about whether it was Shelly Long or Kirstie Alley who was the resounding heart of Cheers. I side with Long (of course). There was no reasoning with him.

October 23, 1998. [Bopptoberfest V 2.0!]

Bopptoberfest was a bit of a drag this year. Should have thought to pack another CD besides Jock Jams Volume 3. I swear to Me, if I have to hear “Da Dip” one more time I AM GOING TO TURN THIS CELESTIAL BODY AROUND SO FAST!!!!

January 23ish, 1999(????).

Journal. Trouble on the Bopp. The Long v. Alley debate reached a breaking point. Several Travelers jumped ship last week and those of us remaining were asked to choose sides. Brother Randall organized a dozen or so of the Bopp’s weaker spirits into some rag-tag spiritual paramilitia and sought refuge on the dark side of the comet. Marshall smells a mutiny! UFO FRIENDS AND EQUALS, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME???

NOT SURE, NO TIME!!!!!

One of Brother Randall’s rebel subordinates has snuck into our camp under the canopy of this unending darkness and stolen the Purple Armband of Divine Leadership! My authority as Most Supreme Quantum Leader and Biggest Chief Apple has been undermined! BOPP ALMIGHTY HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?!?!

?????????, ??????.

KILL THE BEAST!!! CUT HIS THROAT!!! SPILL HIS BLOOD!!!!

KILL THE BEAST!!! CUT HIS THROAT!!! SPILL HIS BLOOD!!!!

KILL THE BEAST!!! CUT HIS THROAT!!! SPILL HIS BLOOD!!!!

Still dunno for sure, 1999 or maybe 2000 or 2001 or something.

Well journal, we managed to put down the Kirstiean Insurgency of ???? and have exiled the seditionists to the cold, unyielding nothingness of space. LONG LIVE LONG!!! It feels good, but I still have regrets. Allow Me to humble Myself before you. I mean, even history’s most well-laid plans have been flawed in one way or another. Hannibal Crossing the Alps. Operation Barbarossa. Crystal Pepsi. (Ew, remember drinking clear soda but it tasted like Pepsi? Just made you realize that the thing was all chemicals in the first place. Gross!) Anyways, if I could do it all over again (and I would), upon further consideration, maybe the whole castration thing was a bit hasty. Oh Christ how I miss My testicles.

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