It takes a special kind of person to make a web site like this. Now I know, you'll tell me, "everyone on your site is a nutcase ! How can this one be special ?". How naive you are. When you work at it as long as we have, you start to distinguish between cases based on their mental illness.
Some, like Gene Ray, Tooley and TJCG, are without doubt clinically ill, and unable to express themselves coherently or sanely enough for us to understand. Some, like Alex Chiu or George Hammond (or Gene Ray in his earlier years), were normal people who fell on bad times and became crackpots with a kookmotiv. Some others, like Fred Phelps, David Icke and Petrene Soames, are simply stupid. It is a very tiny minority which is all of these at the same time. "OttoMann", the author of this site, is one of this minority.
Alleee has met this crackpot on a message board. He's a good sport, and we do thank him for it, although it won't make me be any nicer (hey, he talked to *her*, not *me*). Here is what he sent her :
"Brendan". Is this a picture|
of OttoMann ? It is a mystery.
May God Almighty flagrantly bless thee with massive discernment, my wonderful friend, for we all are mortal sinners whether you choose to believe so OR not. Again, yes, ma'am, you may take as much as you want to share with the world-wide-web viewers, for who was it given me by? Truly, I sayeth unto thee, my good and fair liege, NOT me, but by the Trinity. And you may think I'm NUTS-O-RAMA (actually, I was admitted to a psycho ward on many occaisions [no lie]), but our King Christ Jesus wasn't of this earth. I'm not, either. I'm of Utopia... sent here for a short duration to love people and serve them AND to warn them of His return. Just remember, Penny, God made Satan. As you know, MsIndeliblePen, God cast that fool outta Paradise after (I guess) many warnings. You ([America]), gonna let yourselves be dragged into the Abyss by a dumbass? Don't. Please. I love you. We only have this Finite Existence and what you do with your Finite Existence determines OUR eternity... and I'm no exception. Now, you may think I'm way-beyond-psychotic (that's fine), but wasn't Jesus like that, too? Didn't people think HE was a tad nuts? Didn't He have an agenda WAY-BEYOND anything in this world? Dream, my friends. Dream BIG. Dream HUGE. That's what you'll get if you stick close to Him when you perish. And way-beyond-this: Eye hast not seen nor ear heard... Love you, Penny, and I want to see you Upstairs after we kick-the-bucket and are laid-down 6-feet-under. -OttoMann, emperor of Persia|
I feel kinda guilty for reproducing a private message from someone who is more agreeable than most of the others we have on our site, but still. It was too good not to share. He knows about this site so if you read this, OttoMann, I'm terribly sorry. We're still going to laugh at you.
(note : In 2005, the site now seems to be but a tiny shadow of its former self - only some of the stories remain. Some of the images on this page also seem to need reloading)
This site is simultaneously unnavigatable, psychotic, incomprehensible, *and* has a kookmotiv (in this case, fundamentalist Christianity). Like I said, this is no small feat. His method of navigation is to stuff animated images and buttons that slightly change colour when you point at them, and totally confuse you. Most people we have talked to about this site were not able to get past the second page.
At first he seems like a youth pastor run awry, because he writes like one. You know, like a pastor trying to sound "hip". It turns out he's really like that, as in the post above. Don't be too dazed by the stupid animations (dancing baby ? that's so nineties) and the multitudes of links that lead nowhere. The only important links on the second page are at the bottom left. His page "WANTED" consists of the following :
The angel isn't actually|
playing any music, it's just
that same one note
Welcome to the world of
SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT,
IS TO WIN SOULS FOR CHRIST JESUS.
FOR STARTERS, GIVE THEM MY WEB ADDRESS.
IF THE KGB GETS AHOLD OF THEE,
OUR GOVERNMENT WILL DISAVOW
ANY KNOWLEDGE OF YOU...
your code name: Angry Zit
-the HARDCORE ZEALOT
In "LETTERS", we learn that OttoMann is "born of the Trinity", 32 years old, 6 feet tall, black belt in Kempo karate, wrote 3 novels (about which you will soon know more than you need, or even want). It also has diatribes about cars and sex and so on (which, like anything else on the site, is worth reading), which are really orgies of animated images and weird ramblings, but no actual letters.
The "EXTRA" section is where the meat of the site is. It's supposed to be extracts from his books. I say "supposed" because in the name of my sanity, I refuse to believe that this man has actually been published. Every fiber of my being rebels against this notion.
His insistence to eschew all conventions of good sense really pay off here, as some of the pages are impossible to read. For example, "Yummy veggies" features fluorescent green writing over a grey background, and "Ms. Moana" has a background so bright red that I just can't look at that page.
In the first book, in "Afterword", we learn a bit about OttoMann's checkered past :
I wrote this in a psychiatric asylum, Topeka State, where my mom shoved me 7-thousand-years-ago because I burnt a burrito and she thought I was trying to do myself in: YOU GO, MOM! A cultivatingly stifling experience: At least you got THIS outta the unkempt, voracious, double-negative. Actually, it's quite easy to MISunderstand me: You just need to get down and past my level of comprehension. Of course, with a head-injury, as with kids, I find reaching their alignment of maturation very easy, being mosta the time immature myself. But, for mosta youse out there, that's somewhot different and difficult.|
Somehow, I have no problem believing that. Likewise, the "ANTS" page, a disjointed rant punctuated with weird icons, gives us another glimpse into the wonder that is OttoMann :
One time, when I had absolutely nothin' better to do... I pulled a...|
BIG, OL'-NASTY-CHUNK OF FLESH, BABY!
off my foot and ate it (tasted delish: Sorta ephemeral, kinda rubbery)
Knows, doesn't practice enough, the English language
Actually, he uses English very well : it's just that the things he writes are terrible. As for the eating his own flesh, I'm not even touching that one. Although I suppose it kinda relates to Jesus and communion, now does it ?
He also has, apparently, a "true story" about Jesus the biker and his girlfriend "Mary" (isn't that incest ?), in "Bravo, Zion !".
I guess cogs
There's a true story,|
I never once heard,
about this Jesus dude,
and His chopper by the name of 'Glory'.
He rode a King-Kong,
And there was a goirl on the back - Mary.
Boy, was she a cutie!
Apparently we are missing some books of the Bible. OttoMann really loves Jesus, and calls him the "DudeMan". He is never below a bit of preaching himself, from time to time :
People! There could symphonies and symphonies of human beings caring ALL-over-the-world! Now, that would music to His ears!!! But, instead, you do the opposite. Homosexuality, abortion, violence, hatred, and you do the lady-o-shack, spending your time playing worthless Nintendo, while your existence is slowly, seeping away. Dude... man... wake-up.|
He is also quite the theologian, as "Soul Train" testifies. He tells us the story of his afterlife, where his dog Ollie comes to meet him :
His "business card".
Just whot I need: A young woman to love, to hold and kiss... for all ETERNITY. It seemed as if the very air proceeded to draw me forward, like I was one of those NEET-O-COOL Etch-a-Sketch's. Yeeeee-haw. . . I took one, last look at my bike as I preparing to saddle-up, when Lo! and Behold! Looking quite bored and abouta go to sleep, with his paw rubbing one eye and yawning, there was my faithful, ol' compadre, Oliver, sitting on his haunches - in some shades. If that doesn't beat all. My dog!! My life!! Woof.|
I gasped, "OLLIE!! MY SHISH KABOB, SKATEBOARD FREEK!! Where did you come from?? Whot are you doing raised-from-the-dead Upstairs?? I thought you kroaked at Kroger's!!!!!!!" I yelled, as I reached down to wrap my loving arms around him.
He shook his head. "Not no more, man... The Power of Jesus Christ is unbelievable in elegance. When you came up... " He snapped, "That was my cue," in a Motorcycle-Boy-type-voice, as he looked around, like one of those 'fat-boy, kick-your-@$$-bikers-in-leather' in a smoky, pool hall on the WRONG side of town. And he was a HUGE dog. Now.
He then continued. "Can we go... ?" in a humble-dog-voice. "My feet have the itch," slyly, as dogs do, panting and pointing. You didn't know, didju? Dogs do talk in Heaven !
This is surely an extraordinary tale, on par with the newfound speech centers of Balaam's ass, or Jonah's acid trip.
And that's only the first "book". There are extracts from two other "books" (I refuse to call them books outright, for that would be an insult to literary theory). His second "book" is a lot shorter, with lots of pages only containing aphorisms such as "NO JESUS? NO PEACE. KNOW JESUS? KNOW PEACE", in "Prophetic Words". However one of them is, well, interesting, because OttoMann tells the story of his conversation with Satan, in "Sintax Error" (yes, that is very witty). Apparently Satan is a Jamaican.
"You gonna torture me down on earth alla the days of me past life, ya putrid-cow-pie?"|
He rendered a dull and low, "Moooo... " like a thin, sick herbivore. "Yep. That's de plan, man."
I grunted with a, "You utterly confused FREEK-O-FLY, traveling at breakneck speed into a blade-of-grass only to be confounded by your stupidity once again... Why??" I could never, ever figure him out: Why the torture of tall, thin, beautiful members of the female race?? Put on some cologne and neck with'm!! GeezLouise, he's got the moolah!! Their skin is so smoooth and soft! Hold hands with'm to love'm! That's whot I'D do! But, alas! he has the warmth of Santa's Claws in the fridged artic.
Quickly rolling his poo-poo-like-eyes at me. "Think about it, BottoM, Otto with a B.M."
The third book is considerably more substansive, but less interesting. However, the "Eulogy" page is a very curious story, where OttoMann writes about how he applies for a job in Heaven (?) and gets to talk to God himself. God like spaghetti, lava lamps, and is a disco fiend. How approrpiate : disco is evil, too.
Fear + ignorance =|
Satan's Brew !
Also, abortion is really bad.
As he flicked on a switch under the desk, turning on the very, very cool, 70s song CARwash disco and strobe lights, which I never saw. Ah! The POWer of God! This went on for sometime, but, come to think of it, Upstairs, time doesn't have caller I.D. Boy, You shoulda seen us move! We went 'round again, like the Solid-Gold-dancers: We were knockin'-our-socks. And the many lava-lights burnt, baby. BITchin' He got on the table and danced in the air (trust me. I was there), like Pee-Wee, though more unbelievable. We started to move, except the arch had on these exceptionally LARGE platform shoes, much larger than W.A.R. or KISS. I kracked up, as eye spun around breakin' in nylon, like those dudes on Fame. It was really fun. It was really nice to know, in the grab-bag-of-life, where everyone is only thinking of themselves on earth, there was enough Capitalism Upstairs where you could act cliché and like it. IM-MORTAL.|
What conclusions do I get from OttoMann's new theology ? Well, God and Jesus are really, really cool. Disco, spaghetti and Harleys are holy. Satan is a despicable Jamaican who makes bad puns and fart jokes. It's really not hip to use con-dumbs (does he use the calendar method ?). Finally, trying to convert people does not require that you actually make sense, or even use sensible backgrounds for your web pages.
I am a bit concerned about his health. His third book starts with the preface "Common Cents - my last, before I bite the dust ". I hope OttoMann plans to continue his work. Only he can give me that extraordinary mixed feeling of incomprehension and laughter.
review written by Franc, 10/2002.