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Living in such a state taTestaTesTaTe etats a hcus ni gniviL
of mind in which time sTATEsTAtEsTaTeStA emit hcihw ni dnim of
does not pass, space STateSTaTeSTaTeStAtE ecaps ,ssap ton seod
does not exist, and sTATeSt oFOfOfo dna ,tsixe ton seod
idea is not there. STatEst ofoFOFo .ereht ton si aedi
Stuck in a place staTEsT OfOFofo ecalp a ni kcutS
where movements TATeSTa foFofoF stnemevom erehw
are impossible fOFoFOf elbissopmi era
in all forms, UsOFofO ,smrof lla ni
physical and nbEifof dna lacisyhp
or mental - uNBeInO - latnem ro
your mind is UNbeinG si dnim rouy
focusing on a unBEING a no gnisucof
lone thing, or NBeINgu ro ,gniht enol
a lone nothing. bEinGUn .gnihton enol a
You are numb and EiNguNB dna bmun era ouY
unaware to events stneve ot erawanu
taking place - not -iSSuE- ton - ecalp gnikat
knowing how or what THiRTY tahw ro woh gniwonk
to think. You are in 10/23/96 ni era uoY .kniht ot
a state of unbeing.... ....gniebnu fo etats a
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
CONTENTS OF THiS iSSUE
=----------------------=
EDiTORiAL Kilgore Trout
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
STAFF LiSTiNGS
[=- ARTiCLES -=]
MiND PROBE #6: Clockwork, Gut Feelings and Immigrant Savior Noni Moon
WHY NOT TO VOTE (for the two-party system) I Wish My Name Were Nathan
THE ESSENCE OF MY EXiSTENCE Clockwork
CYNiCiSM -- REViVALiSM I Wish My Name Were Nathan [=- POETASTRiE -=]
[=- POETASTRiE -=]
THE OTHERREALM DeMoN
[=- FiCTiON -=]
SANiTY Morrigan
THE ANGEL Nemo est Sanctus
ANOTHER HORSE DREAMER'S BLUES Morrigan
THE INEXPLICABLE, CLEARLY EXPLAINED I Wish My Name Were Nathan
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
EDiTORiAL
by Kilgore Trout
Wow. Bet you weren't expecting an issue in your mailbox this early in
the month, were you? Hah. When we get off our asses, we can actually do some
pretty damn cool things. We felt it was important to get the stuff about the
elections out, well, before the elections.
I'd also like to mention that aside from the choices listed in Nathan's
article, there is also the campaign to write in the Unabomer for president.
No, not ole Theo... the Unabomer. Theo hasn't been proven guilty yet, so he's
still innocent. Anyway, if elected, the Unabomer won't run, and it's a nice
way for a protest vote to go. Besides, they sent me a little flyer and a cool
bumper sticker with a monkey wrench going into some cogs with the slogan "Just
undo it: all you have to lose is your political illusions."
I like it. For more info on them, go to http://www.paranoia.com/CoE and
there should be a link from that page.
Anyway, we want you to vote, but before you do, read the issue. It'll
help you out in your, uh "choices." Plus you'll get to read some stuff from
some new people, some old people who haven't written in a while, and then some
of the regular folk as well. We're especially glad that Noni finally found
Clockwork, and somehow she made him write something too.
Thanks, Noni, for doing what everyone else thought was impossible. I
guess if I had blue hair I could do anything too. Where's the hair dye?
[as an aside note, my birthday is on november 3rd, the same day as charles
bronson. if anyone can explain why we were born on the same day, or why i
even know stupid facts like that, please email me. large presents and wild
animals can be sent to my home address, which is available on request. and
please, please remember to declaw the damn animals. it's not cool when you
call your sister "slash."]
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
LETTERS TO THE EDiTOR
From: ToeTorture
Subject: Angst in my pants
Dear Kilgore,
I did a search on the word "angst" and State of unBeing #25
appeared. The article about Dada & Nietzsche piqued my interest,
and I will definitely peruse more issues when I have time. I dig
you, man! (Vonnegut was my teen idol and I still love him. I'm
also fond of Robert Anton Wilson if anyone fnord cares.)
If you would like to respond, I am using my roommate's com-
puter, but receive e-mail here quite often. All the best!
[it's always nice to know that other people have strange emotions running
around in their pants. i'm not sure if i've mentioned this before, but once
i had greed in my pants. i think my parents wanted to turn me into a
capitalist and bought me a pair of boxers with green dollar signs on them.
i'm sure vonnegut and raw would have something to say about that...]
-SoB-
Subject: hi
I would like to be on your mailing list. Why do I deserve to be on your
mailing list? Because I'm a fan of Kurt Vonnegut, and I assume you do from
your name. It's kind of ironic that when reading some of Vonnegut's books, I
always wished there was a real Kilgore Trout, and now, in a sense, there is.
[well, maybe i'm real, maybe i'm not. i am only 20, so i don't think i fit
the physical description. still, my writing career is progressing just as
nicely as his is... hah.]
Here's a little something I thought you might enjoy:
"A Rational Anthem"
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of felony,
Of thee I sing----
Land where my fathers fried
Young witches and applied
Whips to the Quaker's hide
And made him spring.
My knavish country, thee,
Land where the thief is free,
Thy laws I love;
I love they thieving bills
That tap the people's tills;
I love thy mob who's will's
All laws above.
Let Federal employees
And rings rob all they please,
The whole year long.
Let office-holders make
Their piles and judges rake
Our coin. For Jesus' sake,
Let's all go wrong!
----- Ambrose Bierce
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
STAFF LiSTiNG
EDiTOR
Kilgore Trout
CONTRiBUTORS
Clockwork
DeMoN
I Wish My Name Were Nathan
Morrigan
Nemo est Sanctus
Noni Moon
GUESSED STARS
Anonymouse Letter Writer Who Likes Kilgore Trout and Ambrose Bierce
ToeTorture
ALBUMS i BOUGHT LAST MONTH WHEN i REALLY SHOULDN'T HAVE
Aphex Twin, _Selected Ambient Works, Volume II_
Bjork, _Debut_
fIREHOSE, _Mr. Machinery Operator_
Moby, _Everything is Wrong_
New Order, The Best of
Pop Will Eat Itself, _This is the Day... This is the Hour... This is This!_
Vernon Reid, _Mistaken Identity_
The Shamen, _Boss Drum_ (with special appearance by TMcK)
Tom Waits, _Bone Machine_
Tom Waits, _The Heart of Saturday Night_
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
[=- ARTiCLES -=]
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
MiND PROBE #6: Clockwork, Gut Feelings and Immigrant Savior
by Noni Moon
I was telephoned a week before I physically met with Clockwork.
Actually, before I even thought about meeting with him. I was briskly walking
down Guadalupe, passing one of the numerous public telephones that adorn the
street, and it started to ring. I didn't think anything of it and continued
walking. Fifty yards later, another public telephone rang as I strolled by.
Believing it was just a freak occurrence, I once again kept walking.
Another hundred yards later, as I came to the corner of the street, a
short-haired woman with black-rimmed glasses dashed out of a store nearby
labeled as the Bagel Manufactory. She mumbled my name, and a few
incomprehensible words followed by "phone call." I followed her into the sop,
shot down by stares of the apparent manager standing at the doorway, and took
the phone cradle laying on the counter.
NM: Hello?
CL: You know, since your too damn trapped in your own little world, I had to
get someone else to answer the phone for you.
NM: Uhmm, who is this?
CL: Clock. Clock, clock, clk. Merry Christmas.
NM: Oh. How....no, nevermind. Some things are better left unknown.
CL: Aha! Too scared to hear the truth. Well, that's all right, just adds to
the apathetic American ambiance. Reality tunnel #3.
There was a bit of silence for a moment, and Clock continued to speak.
CL: Alrighty, let's do this.
NM: Do what?
CL: Oh, you know. I know you wanted to speak to me concerning the
possibilities of conducting an interview with me, and I say yes. So,
let's do this.
NM: Now?
CL: Yep.
NM: I'm on a phone in a bagel shop. I don't know if this is exactly the time
or the place for that. It is not really appropriate.
CL: Time, place -- it's all relative. You carry your pad and pen and
Duracell powered mini-recorder with you everywhere, so why not?
NM: I don't feel comfortable doing this here.
The black-rimmed bagel woman glanced at me, mumbled my name and a few
incomprehensible words followed by "phone sex."
Not even thinking about how he knew what I carried my equipment with me
all the time, I reluctantly pulled my mini- recorder from my backpack and it
records. I then realized I was on a phone and brought it towards my head, in
hopes of picking up some remnants of conversation.
CL: Bluish-purple.
NM: What?
CL: Bluish-purple is the answer to the first question.
NM: No. I don't think so.
CL: Well, it was worth a shot.
NM: I guess so. The question I was going to ask, which I am sure everyone
wants answered, is about where you have been for the past two years. I
noticed that last article you wrote for SoB before issue #28 was "Kill
`Em All: The Truth About AIDS" in issue #14 (2/95), and the update in
issue #15 (3/95).
CL: Actually, that is incorrect. The original AIDS article was written a
long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away for "Where There's a Will
There's an A," and perhaps -- although I am not exactly sure -- was
written before that. Kilgore and his people sent a telegram to me in
Guam asking if it would be all right if they print the article, since I
hadn't contributed in quite a while, at the same time hinting they would
like some type of documentation of my sources, as though I sounded like
some extremist conspiracy nut. Well, OK, maybe I am. Anyway, I faxed
him a quick bibliography and an excerpt from a speech I had recently
discovered which struck me as interesting.
NM: Then the article before that, in issue #13, was your last?
CL: Yes, I would say so. Although, in Patworld, I consider my articles way
back in issue #3 (3/94) to be my last true contribution. The George Bush
thing in #13 was just a spurt, not an entire revitalization, and for a
real contribution, I had to be entirely revitalized.
NM: You mentioned "Patworld." What exactly is that?
CL: It's...well... ask me again in the near future after I have had time to
make something up.
NM: Fair answer. Back to your disappearance from SoB, what happened?
CL: Like I said, I was in Guam. Doing hands-on research in guerrilla
warfare. Rather enlightening. Somewhat of an elitist camp, in fact --
left-wing AND right-wing crusaders from all over the world, including
Guevara and some of his people. I ate some type of roast bird with him
one evening, and discussed film. The man is a pretty big David Lynch
fan.
NM: Really?
CL: Maybe. If you would like me to explain it in a real-life situation,
then I was trapped. Emotionally and psychology trapped. In a
relationship, of all things. And you might wish to sit down for this,
because this is going to be a classic life saga.
NM: <Pulling chair out from beneath the counter> All right. I am seated.
CL: In the spring of 1994, which just happens to be the same time I stopped
writing for SoB, I met a female, who shall remain nameless. It was
really a wonderful thing. Absolutely glorious thing. I always believed
in love at first sight, but had not experienced it until I saw this
person. And this is going to sound like a lot of emotional bullshit and
tickled-pink crap to show I am one of those hard-to-find sensitive guys,
but in all honesty, this was very real and very true.
NM: I believe you.
CL: Of course you do. You have no choice. Anyway, I fell in love. Wow, what
a cliche? that is. It's true though. An amazing creature she was.
Intelligent, beautiful, caring -- intoxicating. So she was my woman, I
was her man, and I was convinced that she was "the one." Game over, no
more search- for-someone-to-fill-a-void-in-my-soul. And because of this,
I dropped pretty much everyone else in my life, including Kilgore and
SoB, for this one person. Pretty unhealthy, actually.
NM: Are you still involved with this person?
CL: No. Nope, nope. Not even remotely. That takes us into part two of the
epic tale.
NM: You sound kind of hesitant, am I getting too personal now?
CL: Oh, no, not at all. I am willing to tell absolutely anything about my
life, to pretty much anyone, if they ask. I am not one of those people
who spurt so-called tragedies of their lives to people, looking for pity
or free donuts. And I don't want people to think I am, so I tend not to
volunteer that kind of information to others. But if they ask, and want
to know, I will tell them.
NM: Just making sure.
CL: Of course. Politeness is always good. Where was I? Ah. Joy. We were
an item for quite a long time, and were very happy together. Even got
engaged. After about eight months or so, things began to quickly tumble
downhill. Beginning with her coming home one morning from a party that
her parents wouldn't allow me to go to, and telling me she had messed
around with a guy.
NM: Her parents wouldn't allow you to go to?
CL: Yeah, well, that is an interesting story. I had been kicked out of my
house a several months earlier and was pretty much homeless. So, I kind
of discretely lived at her house -- sneaking in and out during the
evening. Until her father, a police officer, mind you, discovered me in
her room. Had a gun and everything. To my surprise, instead of shooting
me, he actually let me live there. So I was living with her and her
family.
NM: Interesting.
CL: Told ya. Anyway, there was that incident. Combined with her disappearing
all the time and not telling me where she was or what she'd done. And me
walking into her room one evening, finding her and another guy -- a
friend of mine -- naked in bed, watching television. I kind of freaked
out over that one. But even with that, I still forgave her and convinced
myself it was just a fluke that would not occur again. And to comment
further on the disappearing all the time thing, I really don't blame her
for that. I was extremely possessive, and overbearing. Pretty damn bad.
A lot of it was my fault, and I will admit it. I suddenly feel like I
should by lying down. Anyway, it quickly escalated into her constantly
avoiding me, even though we lived together, and absolutely no physical
contact with her whatsoever. My turn to sit down.
NM: OK.
CL: And, to try to make this short, without putting you through the details
of my pitiful moments of life, I eventually caught her blatantly lying to
me, found out she had been sleeping with several people while going out
with me -- a total of 8 or 9 -- and had been doing it for a while.
Obviously, that wasn't fun to find out. Eventually I just told myself to
stop all of this, it is very unhealthy. So one evening, our one year
anniversary, I called her and said good-bye. And that was that.
NM: That is depressing.
CL: Yeah, pretty sad, but oh well. What can you do? I still haven't quite
gotten over that yet.
NM: Was that your only experience with relationships?
CL: <chuckle> No. Unfortunately not. My entire experience with
relationships consists of a girlfriend who perpetually ignored my
existence, cheated on me, and left me for a woman. And another female
who also cheated on my with several people, yet constantly said she cared
only for me. Neato stuff. All stemmed from my childhood, too.
NM: How is that?
CL: Well, I can't tell you exactly, because I have blocked out a very large
chunk of my memory concerning my life. But I can tell you my mother had
a long affair with some guy, and I knew all about it with details,
because of various letters she wrote to her friends using my computer,
which I decided to read one day. That and my parents abusive
relationship.
NM: Rough childhood.
CL: Eh, maybe, maybe not. I can go into many other peoples' lives which were
rougher. Like I said, what can you do? Except to try to heal yourself
without putting others through misery.
NM: Hold on.
I put the recorder and phone down for a moment to light a cigarette. The
black-rimmed bagel woman threw a cinnamon-raisin bagel at me, hitting me
firmly in the left shoulder.
BW: Hey. There's no smoking in here.
I met her evil glare with an evil glare of my own and shoved my
cigarettes and lighter back into my backpack.
CL: Yeah, I can't smoke here either.
NM: Where are you?
CL: Tell you later. Put away all of your things. When the lights go out, go
into the large baking oven behind the counter.
Then he hung up.
I looked around behind the counter at the large baking oven next to
towering racks of bagels, and slowly put my materials back into my backpack.
I stood there for a few seconds, then thousands of bagels exploded off their
racks, smothering the black-rimmed bagel woman and the apparent manager. I
didn't move until the phone rang.
Without thinking or taking my eyes off the mound of bagels and flesh, I
answered.
CL: Sorry about that. But, uh, I'd go now.
So, I hung up the phone, grabbed my backpack, hopped the counter and
entered the large oven with the words "BAGELS ONLY" imprinted on it.
Fifteen minutes later, after many whirs, clicks, and whooshes, the door
was opened for me.
Stepping out, I realized I was in the middle of some obscure subway
system, with hordes of people standing in packs holding suitcases, boxes,
clothes, farm animals, and their children. Cheers of joy, in a multitude of
different languages, were being hooted about from a crowd across the area, as
a small pack surrounding an unfaced figure came towards me.
Some guy with a shaved head, goatee, and Rage Against the Machine t-shirt
sprouted out from the people and smiled.
CL: Welcome to our bowels.
NM: Gee, thanks.
CL: You know Clinton has been parading around in his el customo shiny silver
train, and everybody is always talking about the train, and that He is on
The Train, and HE is going around on THE TRAIN. Well, we have a train,
too. And it's not funded by million-billion dollar corporate entities.
NM: This is yours?
CL: Mine, his, hers, his, his, hers, theirs. Sure.
NM: I --
CL: Sure. Now you will ask something like, 'why the hell?' or 'what the
hell' and get a puzzled look on your face.
I just look at him with a puzzled look on my face.
CL: Yeah, well, it all revolves around that classic welfare bill. Clinton
wants to kill the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of illegal
immigrants. And I am going to save them. This, Noni, is the
Neo-Underground Railroad. NUR. We call it Reno -- Nothing is Under
Reno. Humanitarian of the Universe awards should go to us. We go out,
grab the people, bring them down here, and send them to their new home.
All for free.
NM: Where are they going?
CL: Utopia. The land of real dreams and classless society, where much is
provided and little is wasted. We take care of them, they take care of
us, and in turn they take care of themselves and vice versa. I sound
like I'm opening a new retirement community. An anarcho-communistic Sun
City. Sorta, but not really.
NM: Patworld?
CL: In a sense. Patworld is more like a 24 hour acid trip, where all is true
and possible, but nothing and everything is absolute. For those who are
not happy, come to Patworld and relax, attain, create, or sleep. Do what
thou will.
NM: Are you also a Crowley fan?
CL: No. Actually, not at all. I like to steal Kilgore's Crowley books and
stand on his altar, screaming about the heathenistic things he is doing,
it being the devil's work, and he shall be damned in hell.
NM: Do you believe that?
CL: No. I just like to see his reaction. I broke the binding of his book
once. He beat me with a ping pong paddle.
NM: Oh.
CL: Come with me.
Down a ramp we went, past immigrants and men in coats, ending up at a
brick wall. Clockwork smirked at me and walked through the wall. And I, of
course, followed.
Clock sat down behind large circular desk and smirked again.
NM: Why are there dozens of long-haired wigs on the wall behind you?
CL: Those we glue to Ansat's head every evening while he is asleep. We
figure he misses his long hair.
NM: Interesting.
CL: No, just an un-creative cheap shot. Hey, close your eyes.
I closed my eyes and heard a snap.
CL: Alrighty, open your eyes.
For some reason we were in the middle of the bagel shop again. No office
or desk or Ansat hair mountings. Just bagels and no employees.
CL: Magick. With a 'C.'
NM: You are confusing me.
CL: Appy-polly-logies.
NM: That is OK. So, what are you're influences in writing?
CL: That is a tough one actually. I don't believe there are a great list of
authors that I admire over the others, at least not consciously. Robert
Anton Wilson, Timothy Leary, Edward Abbey, Peter Carroll, are the ones
that have had the most influence in the past few years. Obviously, every
author I have read in the past has had some influence in my life. I used
to love Stephen King a long, long time ago, and was an avid reader of The
Three Investigators.
NM: So there is no particular author that is your outright favorite?
CL: I don't believe so. It is the same way with me picking clothes. There
is no particular style I like, just whatever strikes me at the moment.
Some people say they only like solid colored shirts. Well, you can
asking them why they like solid-colored shirts, and then ask them why to
the reason they give you for that. Eventually, you will get down to an
answer like "because of the feeling I get from them." This feeling is
very difficult to put into words and explain why, but you know it is
good, so you follow that feeling. A gut-feeling, so-to-speak. That is
the feeling I use to pick clothes, books, many things. I try not to
limit myself with things I have been comfortable with in the past. A
friend of mine explained it well with an analogy about food. One may go
to the restaurant every week and chose the same thing because they know
it is good, and be satisfied with that. But, those that go to the
restaurant every week and pick something different each time, because
they know there is a possibility of getting something better. Hopefully
that makes sense.
NM: I think it does to me -- I don't know about anyone else reading this.
CL: That is all right. Eventually it will.
NM: What is your favorite color?
CL: What was the first answer I gave you?
NM: Wow.
CL: Neat, huh?
NM: What do you do for a living?
CL: Live. Well, for income, you mean? I am employed by one of the top
personal computer manufacturers in the world as a systems analyst,
solving the problems that our corporate, medical, government, and
educational customers have with their systems.
NM: Technical support?
CL: Exactly. But it is much more than that. Difficult to put into words.
You have to come to an understanding of the customer, and at the same
time hope the customer comes to an understanding of you, to solve a
problem effectively. And it is an amazing feeling you get after
assisting someone in solving there problem.
NM: The same feeling you get picking out clothes?
CL: Yes. I saw a bumper sticker printed in a catalog once stating "God is
coming. Stick out your tongue." That is very true.
NM: I don't understand.
CL: I know. Those who have taken acid or any psychedelic substance more than
a few times do. They may mot know they do, but they do. It is very
difficult to explain, but that is the whole point. Hard and soft.
NM: OK...
CL: I apologize, I am being too hard. Look for an article by myself or
perhaps even someone else sometime in the near future related to the
item. Hopefully it will explain things much fuller. Or, go read Leary's
interpretation/application of the Tibetan Book of the Dead and take some
acid. Not that I am saying everyone needs to do this -- for each his
own; do what thou wilt.
NM: So you are generally pro-drug?
CL: Generally, yes. I believe there can be profound things both taught and
learned from drugs, specifically psychedelics. Timothy Leary showed us
that. Terence McKenna showed us that. Native Americans, aborigine
cultures from across the earth, Peter Carroll showed us that.
Unfortunately, humanity is generally afraid of what they do not
understand. Such as technology. Technology is the psychedelic substance
of the 90s, and of the 21st century, unfortunately, many do not understand
it, and do not fear it. Obviously there are both good and bad points to
such a thing, depending on how you look at it, but overall it is very
beneficial. You can apply the same thing to religion. To someone who has
been a true Christian all there lives, it is the most glorious thing in
the universe, and they wish to share that with people. However, there are
those who don't understand that feeling, don't understand where they are
coming from, and take it completely the wrong way. In turn, they lash
back at the Christian in a nasty way, just because of misunderstanding.
On the other hand, there are those who claim to be Christian, and miss the
point of it. They have a feeling -- gut-feeling -- and are drawn to it,
but they don't completely understand. And if these people who don't
completely understand try to get someone else to understand, well, you can
see what happens -- even further confusion and negative feelings towards
it. That is what has happened to Christianity today.
NM: Are you religious?
CL: Yes and no. Do I apply to a classic system of religion such as
Christianity, Catholicism, Buddhism, etc.? No. But I completely respect
those religions. I know, although I do not fully understand. I apply to
myself. The religion of Patworld. Something no one in the universe can
know, but everyone in the universe already knows.
With that, there was an overpowering flash of white light, and when all
returned to normal, he was gone. I just sighed and smiled, not trying to
understand, yet. As I gathered up my things and prepared to leave the bagel
shop, I noticed five small squares of paper in the seat where Clockwork was.
Perhaps I shall see for myself.
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
"Nothing is more destructive of respect for the government and the law of
the land than passing laws which cannot be enforced."
-- Albert Einstein, "Ideas and Opinions", 1954
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
WHY NOT TO VOTE
(for the two-party system)
by I Wish My Name Were Nathan
Election day is NOVEMBER 5. I hope you've registered. If not, there may
still be time. If you have registered, then remember that many states have
early voting in case you're excited. In Texas early voting started October
16.
If you're under the age of twenty-five, chances are you're still a
student, and chances are you still have some self-respect, even if you voted
in 1992. This year's election is very important for young people with ideals.
This is your chance to change the system.
So, in the presidential election, don't vote. For Clinton or Dole.
Promoting dead-in-the-water third parties? What kind of an American am
I?
Unfortunately, after years of disappointment in government, I'm still an
optimist. I suppose it will take something pretty harsh to take that away
(and I'm not going to tell you about my fear of rats and my even bigger fear
of someone putting a cage around my head with the rats in it which will make
it that much more fearful). (Not to mention being forced to listen to "I'm
Proud to be an American.")
This is why I urge you to throw away your vote. I'm not optimistic
enough to hope that any third party will win this year. Although Perot helped
out a lot last year to excite the voters, this year the FEC has done a swell
job of suppressing that excitement. Currently, considering the polls, I'm
pretty sure Clinton will win again. But that's okay; he's the lesser of two
evils, although not as much as in 1992.
Some will ask -- and do -- why I wouldn't recommend simply not voting.
After all, Dole and Clinton are the two "choices" in the election. Hell, the
media knows that! They don't even print Perot articles anymore, except when
he's been left out of a debate.
Obviously, this is a defeatist (and sarcastic) answer, and more often
than not represents a basic lack of knowledge of the third party candidates.
What I want you young people (and even you queer types out there who get a
kick out of reading a kiddie zine) to show the nine-to-fiving,
alcohol-chugging, briefcase- lugging, job-hating, tax-evading adult alpha
males out there that this "lost" or "variable" or whatever-the-fuck-"X"-means
generation is NOT a throwaway generation, by showing them we have the courage
to make throwaway votes instead of abstaining entirely. What sort of a
"protest" is it not to vote, not to support someone who represents your
ideals? Hoping that staying home will send a message to the government --
"I'm fed up and I demand change!" -- and "cause" change as effectively as a
prayer will "cause" you to pass a class or get laid. With just a little
effort, you can research *all* the candidates, make an informed vote, and
cause change, although probably not immediately. (Do you ever sit back and
wonder just how many people *do* vote, but *don't* know the candidates'
stands? Even these people are more important than the apathetic homebody.)
Each vote cast for a third party, when taken in total, will ensure big,
what-the-fuck reactions from the self-loathing rat-race adults who have
allowed the two-party system to take financial control of the country. These
adults are bemused at third parties and their flailing attempts to get into
the race. These adults still wonder what it means on TV when a
representative's name is followed by "(I)". These adults have bought into the
Republocratic scheme: "Let me take your tax money, for with me in office, I'll
pass laws to propagate the two-party system, and I'll make sure you'll never
hear of another."
Think about this: Ross Perot rose out of an abyss in 1992 to run for
president and earned nineteen percent of the popular vote. (And even with
that, he wasn't allowed in the debates this year -- not even as a consolation
prize! Well, I only have to guess the debate commission felt sorry for him.
All his ideas, such as opposing NAFTA, reducing the size of government, and
making politicians accountable, were utterly trashed from 1992 to 1996; the
prospect of change is getting more and more ludicrous.)
But I'm not here to lament Perot; he's doing a damned good job of
inciting interest in voting. There are other candidates, however. My purpose
here is to point you toward information about at least three other candidates
and their running mates, each of whom has a unique and compelling vision for
America. Each of these I mention, I've seen speak. I cranked up my bullshit
meters to the highest, and they all pass easily. Even if none of them wins,
their message will still be heard.
Please note: please do your own research on these candidates. All my
sources are straight off the Internet, addresses at the end of the article. I
can only present summary information here. (See below for a Reform Party case
study. I got bored really fast and didn't do the others in detail.)
* * * * *
The Reform Party, whose candidate is Ross Perot running with Pat Choate,
is considered the most popular third party in this year's election. Riding
the wave of a nineteen percent popular vote in 1992, Perot officially set up
the party to promote governmental reform. Having scored zero electoral votes
in 1992 only underscores their purpose, which is to reform government away
from the two-party lobby system. Big idea: see below.
The Natural Law Party, whose candidate is John Hagelin running with Mike
Tompkins, is on the ballot in 44 states. (Arizona, Florida, New Hampshire,
West Virginia, Wisconsin are still seeking petition signatures.) The Natural
Law Party emphasizes prevention-oriented government, as opposed to today's
practice of passing laws to fix leaks. Big idea: apply a health-centered
philosophy to reform, namely in areas of education and criminal
rehabilitation. Transcendental meditation is one avenue to this.
The Libertarian Party, whose candidate is Harry Browne running with Jo
Jorgensen, is on the ballot in all 50 states, adding 23 states since 1994.
The party represents the ideal of individual human freedom, as expressed in
the absolute minimization of government. Through the elimination of taxes and
citizens' dependence on government programs, bureaucracies will crumble,
allowing localized institutions to take over the badly-handled social
programs. To demonstrate this ideal in action, he is not accepting federal
matching funds. The Libertarians also will erase laws for most consensual
crimes, namely drug use. Big idea: (Browne) "Would you give up all your
favorite federal programs if it meant the elimination of the income tax?"
Ralph Nader is an independent candidate endorsed by the Green Party. He
represents the party only on a state-by-state basis, those in which petitions
have put him on the ballot. Understanding his chances are slim ("It's not a
numerical jackpot campaign"), he is hoping to educate and rally support from
progressives and independents for the long haul. Nader's positions are not
identical to the Green Party's; his personal mission is to elucidate the
problems of corporate welfare, corruption, and lobbyist power running rampant
in the country. He is not accepting any campaign contributions whatsoever.
Big idea: require a "none of the above" entry on ballots.
* * * * *
Be aware of this essential fact: all these parties/people have many
ideas in common. Reread that sentence! Unlike Clinton and Dole, who pride
themselves on their differences, these parties (should) pride themselves on
their similarities. Further, most of these ideas are far removed from the
Republocratic platform.
Does this imply that there are really two groups -- Republocrats and
independents? In the weakest sense, yes -- conservatives and liberals, as it
were. All the parties I describe are liberal parties, meaning they seek
progress, human freedom, environmental protection, and democracy. The big
connection is the opposition of corporate control of the nation, which serves
no citizens besides a few wealthy CEOs.
What differs between these parties? The answer is simple -- their
philosophies. These parties are inherently non-political. These parties are
the youth parties, in every sense of the word. This doesn't mean, as some
cigar-chomping wife-beating fatman CEO will tell you, that the parties are
therefore meaningless, "immature," or impractical. They each have substantive
ideas, and most have plans to back them up. These candidates have no
political future at stake; therefore, they are unafraid to make real change
unlike some lifetime politicians we know.
Finally, consider this: November 5 is not only a presidential election.
There are also congressional elections and state elections taking place.
Third parties are much more viable at the more local levels, and from there
they can promote change much more effectively.
* * * * *
CASE STUDY: REFORM PARTY
starring Ross Perot and Pat Choate
formed in 1995
Here I will describe the platform of the Reform Party, which will probably get
the largest third-party vote. But instead of voting for them as a protest,
you may choose to vote for their ideals. If this party does not appeal to
you, see the sources at the bottom of the article for other third-party
information.
* * * * *
[While I will try to be objective factually, I will interject my own opinions
where I want, in brackets. Be sure to distinguish.]
The Reform Party's goal is described in its name -- reform the federal
government. The voters demanded reform and did not get it from the
Republocrats. "Two-thirds of all voters wanted a new party -- half of all
Democrats, half of all Republicans." Ross Perot started the party officially
in 1995, taking in members from 1992's United We Stand organization.
The goals of the Reformers are realistic: fix the financial problems the
United States suffers from, and replace their causes with sensible, up-to-date
solutions. [A warning -- the Natural Law Party supports many of these
proposals too, and it was formed in 1992. So don't think Perot came up with
all these himself.]
Congress is the first target of the Reformers. Perot will strive to set
the "highest ethical standards" for Congress, by eliminating gifts, junkets,
and free meals. Congresspeople will no longer receive government health care
or retirement benefits. Terms will be limited to a total of six years for
representatives and twelve years for senators. [Admirable. The emphasis on
congressional reform reminds voters that the Constitution defines
congresspeople as temporary participants in government, not long-time
plutocrats. Although this may make Congress an undesirable place to work, it
should get rid of those who enter for personal gain.]
Lobbying and campaign reform go hand-in-hand, both financial barriers to
reform. Lobbying will be restored to its original, beneficial purpose -- the
presentation of ideas to Congress, not money. The exchange of money and gifts
will be illegal. Furthermore, former members of Congress will not be allowed
to become lobbyists. For campaign financing, all congresspeople will be
required to raise money in their own state or district. Foreign money will be
absolutely out of the question. [Still-idealistic students wonder why common-
sense laws don't get passed, or even presented to Congress. Money is why.]
Next, the government will be subjected to financial accountability.
Perot will press for a balanced budget amendment (which, of course, is the
citizens' job to ratify). Then, with each budget year, the government will
publish annual financial reports so people know what their tax money goes for.
Perot emphasizes that the government should be run efficiently, like a
business; if it were a real business, it would be bankrupt and out of
operation. [Makes sense, but the government as a business? The government is
supposed to maintain the Constitution, not make money. But, anyway....]
Obviously, now knowing what tax money goes for, voters will want to have
income tax reform. Perot suggests a comprehensive computer modeling of
several new tax ideas (flat tax, consumption tax, etc.) to verify any new tax
code. Then, taxes will be filed electronically, eliminating the huge amounts
of paper wasted every year. Finally, tax increases will be approved by the
voters. [What about voting to decrease taxes? What if a zealous president
cuts spending to zero just for kicks?]
Election reform is one of the most promising tenets of the Reformers.
Elections will be moved to the weekends for maximum attendance. The electoral
college will be banned. Exit polls will be forbidden to prevent undue
influence on people in other time zones deciding whether to vote. [No qualms
with any of this. Too many current election practices are holdbacks from the
Reconstruction.]
Perot believes abortion is "between a woman and her God [sic]," which is
a good step to admitting that this simply isn't a government issue. Women
will have abortions whether or not it is forbidden by the government.
As for the issues on which Clinton and Dole are perseverating: Perot is
all for a strong military, to defend our country against all threats, namely
terrorism and drugs. He will keep a contract with the people not to commit to
military involvement unless the people are committed. [Just watch as the
people consistently vote down proposals to kill foreigners! "Now, listen
people," Perot will plead, "you gotta agree to this. You see, we've got to
fight in Thailand. The prostitutes in Bosnia are sucky."]
An interesting fact he notes is that much of our defense spending goes to
protect Germany and Japan, countries forbidden to gain military power due to
World War II treaties. These countries are now strong and reliable enough to
pay for their own defense.
Perot has interesting ideas for crime policy. He wants to put money into
rehabilitating youths who get arrested for drugs or violent crimes. All
right. He wants criminals to put in "a long, hard day's work" in prison to
expunge the "pampered criminal" phenomenon. He wants life sentences without
parole for those convicted of three violent crimes. And he wants to make good
conduct, literary, and marketable skills to be prerequisites for violent
offenders' release. [[ Double brackets! This is completely ludicrous! All
these goals are mutually exclusive! All together, he wants violent criminals
to be rehabilitated in labor camps while learning to read to prepare for an
utterly different job, and for them to have good manners about this
bullshit! ]]
Education is an important issue, which Perot reminds us has dropped from
the "best in the world" to the lowest as a result of the federal government's
taking over of education in 1960, resulting in widespread "functional
illiteracy." He hints at starting education in very early childhood, when the
brain is developing. [No specifics, but he's on the right track. And I still
want to know what "63 percent [of high-school graduates] can't meet the
reading and writing standards" means. That doesn't imply illiteracy. Of the
American population, 97% are "literate," and that includes a great deal of
people who never finished school!]
Reformers will take action concerning the future of Medicare and Social
Security and other welfare-like programs, preventing future collapse with
nonpartisan committee reviews and reforms. If further-reaching health care
solutions are sought, Perot wishes to emphasize that the final decision should
be that of the doctor and patient, not of the government. In any case,
changes will be explained to the people and pilot tested in local areas to
prevent catastrophe. [Good idea, for those of us with economics PhDs.]
Perot hates drugs too. His policy statement actually focuses on cocaine,
which is actually a dangerous drug that gets kids killed. Good move. He
points out that Coast Guard policing of the borders has decreased
significantly since 1991, implying more imports of cocaine. [He quotes the
statistic that 52% more high school students use drugs from last year. You
mean, 100 out of 50,000,000 used them last year and 152 did this year?
Percent changes are meaningless!]
Perot promotes environmentally-conscious reforms by corporations, who are
credited with destroying much of the country's resources and its air.
Alternative fuels, solar energy, conservation, preservation, reduction of
paper, etc., are all suggestions. "Environmentalism and capitalism can
benefit each other." [The actions Perot suggests are only possible,
unfortunately, once lobbying reform happens. So there is a distinct hierarchy
here.]
* * * * *
My opinion: the platform is admirable. Perot is not tied to major
parties, so he has little to lose. However, that applies to all these
candidates. In any case, his ideas are palatable and practical for the
financial problems shadowing over the country. Perot has good knowledge of
finance -- it's why he's rich. Unfortunately, from the perspective of youth,
I don't think Perot knows what we want. He doesn't seem to care that
corporations, even if out of government, will still harm the people whose
money they take through price-fixing. I didn't find any opinions about
college loans, censorship, Internet law, gay rights, religion, or legalizing
unharmful drugs. Societal reforms are just as important, if not more
important, than financial reforms, because even after the banks and the stock
market crash, the society will remain. All in all, though, the issues Perot
addresses are expedient and important to consider.
As for his character, one can't help but wonder about the delegates'
strange voting scheme during the convention. Just what was going on? An
electronic voting system was used, which was not entirely foolproof, but not
enough information was released about the procedure, the problems, or the
outcome. Some wonder if Perot fixed the nomination. (The mass media, of
course.) The issue here is, what kind of a person is Perot? Will his
supposed egotism get in his way when he proposes these controversial reforms
on an unyielding Congress?
Further, do we really need an insanely rich capitalist to be president?
When we have lawyers for president, hundreds of new laws are signed. When a
businessman becomes president, can we be sure he won't bow down to big
business before the people?
Lastly, consider this: does government need to be reformed and fixed, or
should it be drastically changed? Most of the government's "duties" and
powers are in direct violation of the 9th and 10th Constitutional amendments;
is it not idealistic to hope that fixing even these issues will fix the
problem of our eroding democracy? Decide for yourself.
* * * * *
LINKS TO FREEDOM
General election pages:
http://dodo.crown.net/~mpg/election/96.html
(Includes presidential and congressional races. Highly recommended.)
http://www.eye.net/Netizen/Progressive/list/party.html
(This page includes parties from many Western countries, such as Canada
and Australia, too.)
http://www.vote-smart.org/campaign_96/
(Presidential, congressional, governors, state races, etc., etc.!)
Specific party pages:
(the addresses are mostly NO-BRAINERS, sorry to insult you)
http://sunsite.unc.edu/spc or http://sunsite.unc.edu/spc/prez
(Socialist Party Cybercenter)
http://www.lp.org or http://www.harrybrowne96.org
(Libertarian Party)
http://www.natural-law.org or http://www.hagelin.org
(Natural Law Party)
http://www.reformparty.org or http://www.perot.org
(Reform Party)
http://www.greens.org
(Green Parties of North America)
http://www.ustaxpayers.org
(Token conservative party page. Warning: it is real, I think.)
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
"Is there any knowledge in the world which is so certain that no
reasonable man could doubt it?"
--Bertrand Russell, _The Problems of Philosophy_
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
THE ESSENCE OF MY EXiSTENCE
by Clockwork
The past of my own life, as I know it, is scattered with blacked out
periods of time. From birth to my first few years in high school, I recollect
nothing but scattered still shots of certain occurrences, not knowing what
goes where and what happened when. Perhaps that is what lies behind my drive
for the truth -- a subconscious desire to uncover my own past, by uncovering
that of others.
Being raised in an alcoholic family adds clues to this great personal
mystery, allowing me to make educated guesses as to why my memories are
shrouded from myself, and why I am so concerned with humanitarian issues, but
does not help uncover those memories. Even with my experience in hypnosis and
meditation I have run into great black walls keeping me from myself.
Eventually, I shall break through and come to a great understanding of my own
inner being.
My fondness for animals derives from my mother -- her too being a
humanitarian, but more of the one who speaks greatness, rather than showing it
through actions. Unfortunately, that trait has followed me to an extent, also
-- feeling complete disgust in high school when fellow classmates hurled rocks
at a few frisky dogs running about the campus, but being too frightened of my
own well-being to do anything about it. It is this downfall in myself I am
fully recognizing and attempting desperately to overcome.
Recently, just a few weeks ago in fact, I found myself in a similar
predicament. A mile or two down the road I live off of lies a small quarry in
which limestone is scraped from the earth to be used in various construction
projects around Texas. From my own home, I have been able to look across the
hillsides and neighborhoods about me and observe the progression of that
distant barren area of land for the past ten years. All that time my feelings
towards such mining practices was one of indifference, believing they have to
get such materials from somewhere, but I had never actually seen what such a
site consisted of.
During one of my many treks observing nature and civilization in central
Texas, I stumbled across this quarry in person, and decided to get a
first-hand view as to what exactly has been going on in my backyard. Entering
the land on which it occupies (ignoring the "No Trespassing" sign), there lied
in front of me a dozen monstrous piles of dirt, sand, and various types of
rocks, all evenly separated and placed about a cleared area. Behind the
miniature mountains sat a collection of grotesquely industrial contraptions,
sitting still while being bathed in artificial bulbs. I stood and stared for
a while, trying to make some sense of the conveyors, ramps, and large red
buttons. My logical reasoning was overwhelmed by the massiveness of the
object, though, so I slowly strolled further down the road, towards another
great lighted structure.
After walking maybe a hundred yards towards the structure, I found myself
directly in front of it, realizing it was more massive than the first. In the
middle of reading various signs placed around the bottom of the building, I
heard a very load rumbling in the distance. I sprinted to a nearby hill and
dove to the ground as a very large dump truck-like vehicle rumbled by, halogen
lights and all. Now, being human, my mind and heart were racing, fueled by
paranoid thoughts. Nonetheless, I pressed on towards the darkness the dump
truck emerged from. Then I stopped walking.
Before me was a mammoth pit cut into earth, indescribably wide and deep,
with minuscule bulldozers and dump trucks in the far corner, the grinding and
scraping of their diesel fueled body parts echoing across the gorge. You
could see the lights mounted on the front of the machinery shimmer across a
vast pool of water in the depths of the quarry.
To be honest with you, I felt like I was going to puke.
I just stood there and took in this catastrophe of man, feeling wave
after wave of nausea, trying to make sense of the things we are doing on this
planet. After the nausea came several tears, and more mumblings from my
mouth, concerns I've held dear to me about the destructiveness of man.
Everything was plainly painted in front of me, as real as I could ever imagine
it. Immeasurable voids in the earth. What will they do? Will they continue
raping and plundering the planet, leaving void after void after void until
there is noting left? This was not even a large project -- this was a very
small outfit. Twenty miles away lies Texas Crushed Stone and their own quarry,
which is plainly visible for miles from the interstate. What travesty of
Mother Nature had they done here?
Sporadic thoughts began to invade my mind, beginning with instant
visualization of the lyrics to "When the Music's Over" written decades ago by
Jim Morrison:
What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down
These things were seen by many thirty years ago. These things were seen
over a hundred years ago, and was cause for the founding of the Sierra Club by
a few brave souls in 1892. With the clearing of the majority of the original
forests covering the east coast by the mid-1850's, this should be evident to
everyone.
Suddenly I felt like Edward Abbey, the infamous environmental author of
books such as The Monkeywrench Gang and Desert Solitaire, which inspired the
environmental activist organizations Earth First!, along with many others. In
both the aforementioned books, Abbey fantasizes about "some unknown hero with
a rucksack full of dynamite strapped to his back" who would place his
explosives strategically along Glen Canyon Dam in Arizona, and detonate them
on the day of the dam's dedication ceremony for the most glorious effect.
This is what I felt. Pure raw emotion -- disgust, loathing, sickness,
frustration, rage. All directed towards the evils put upon the earth. I
wanted to tear the guts from the machines in front of me, stop them from
destroying that which it was created from. But what could I do? Screaming
senseless obscenities at the people who piloted those vehicles would do no
good. They are just doing their jobs, most likely supporting husbands, wives,
and families. Wreaking havoc upon the equipment was a possibility, but not at
that moment -- I certainly did not want to end up in jail.
So I wept.
Now, here I stand in life, containing vast amounts of knowledge, angst,
ferociousness, and determination, wanting frantically to save our planet, to
save our morals, to save our livelihood. I have come to the point where I am
realizing knowledge is worthless unless it is acted upon. My existence is not
to passively go through life, counting away the years as my 401(k) plan piles
up, but to cause and lead great triumphs for humanity not only in this
country, but around the planet. And so many still think I am a fool.
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
"The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those
who have not got it."
-- George Bernard Shaw
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
CYNiCiSM -- REViVALiSM
by I Wish My Name Were Nathan the Demagogue
[Written 8/16/96; excuse the dated references. ;) ]
I spent most of today watching the last day of the Republican National
Convention coverage on C-SPAN and CNN. Under some states of mind I would have
considered this a waste of time. I probably will tomorrow. But today I have
realized something important about the American people and their government:
too few people are cynical enough, but more than enough people are deathly
afraid of cynics.
One example of this is Governor Richard Lamm, impossible nominee for the
Reform Party. This man has long been derided by the media as a "doom 'n'
gloom" candidate, a pessimist. This is code for the fact that he is a cynic.
This also means he probably doesn't lie to his constituents.
What? Am I actually linking cynicism with a tendency to tell the truth?
I feel I have to clarify this -- I am. Watching the convention has heightened
my awareness of many people's concepts of reality. (I have nothing specific
against the Republicans in this sense; I'm sure the Democrats will just as
well mirror my observations.) Herein I define cynicism as the ability to see
the existence of and foresee the effects of human fallibility, and to publicly
admit it in a large group. I argue that lacking the ability to be cynical
leads to mistruths and misunderstanding.
Take the presidential candidate Bob Dole. I listened to his entire
speech, occasionally yelling addendums to his words I wish he had included.
For example, he spent five minutes bashing the government for taking too much
tax money. Then one minute later he bashes Clinton for cutting defense
spending and vows to jack it up again. What accounts to 75% of the taxpayer's
money is apparently not worth criticizing. I don't think he or his
speechwriter meant to make this glaring lie; however, a lack of cynicism
shrouded the real meaning.
Had Dole's speechwriter been more cynical, he would have bashed the
government for taking too much of the corporations' and wealthy people's
money; then he would have vowed to build more weapons to keep McDonnell-
Douglas' and Boeing's government contracts secure. That would have contained
no contradictions. Of course, that's not what anyone wanted to admit right
out.
Later in the speech, side-by-side he defended his belief in the
superiority of each person's judgment (disliking the government's tendency to
control our lives), and then bashed Clinton's leniency toward youth drug use.
I can let this one pass; still too many Americans do not realize that some
illegal drugs simply cannot compete with heroin and cocaine since they pose no
health hazard. But I must wonder why he ignored Clinton's harsh stance
against teen smoking.
A political convention is probably the most flimsy source for examples of
false idealism. I apologize for that; the convention hasn't worn off me yet.
I can provide reams of examples of times when cynicism would be more truthful.
In commercial advertising, marketers could point out the obvious: "Two-day
sale! Save up to 25%! (Oh, and save 100% by staying home!)" In the
upbringing of children: "Don't play with yourself! Why? Because it reminds
me of when I was punished for doing the same thing even though I knew it
wasn't wrong." Taking a job: "You realize we're only hiring you since we
need more labor and a higher profit margin. A job is our using you as slave
labor for our own ends; we only pay you so you won't leave or die of
starvation. And if you dare get any original ideas, we'll show you the door."
In interactions with the police: "I stopped you and your friend walking
here along the sidewalk because you look suspicious. If I don't find anything
illegal on you in what amounts to a random search, I'll get pissed and detain
you two for a long time so that passersby won't think I made a mistake." In
wedding vows: "For better or worse... but it really only gets worse. You two
are stuck together until one of you realizes the other is no longer sexually
attractive -- which is why you met in the first place. Until you have
children, you're like two wild animals in a cage -- you'll either fight or
ignore each other. And when you have children, you're really stuck since
you'll have to maintain the sham marriage in order to provide a proper family
environment. Oh, and wait until you find out which one's the alcoholic, and
which one can't overcome the sexual frustration at his limited choices and has
an affair or becomes a chronic masturbator like he was before he met you! I
do thee wed."
Is that enough? Can you see that cynicism could be applied usefully
prevent future problems? There are popular myths used to cover up all the
cynicism in the above situations and countless others: A job is the
obligation necessary to maintain the economy. Masturbation interferes with
proper sexual development. The police are upholding order. Marriage is a
time-honored commitment of love and responsibility. I am willing to bet that
most people already see through the myths and already understand the subtexts
illustrated above. If so, then why aren't people candid about them?
Obviously, there is a reason for concealing cynicism -- it maintains
people's hopes, however false. And I have nothing against optimism and
idealism -- when applied in the long term. Ideals can rightly be called the
basis for action, and optimism the fuel with which to cause action. Ideals,
however, should not be used to ignore problems that exist. Not even
politicians should appeal to ideals to get votes. "God, liberty,
responsibility, country!" Why does Dole say he's "for" these ideas? That's
what this country was founded on (my own qualms about religion aside); no
opponent of his is running under the ideals of "Cthulhu, totalitarianism,
apathy, and anarchy?", right? This rhetoric has no place in useful politics.
What Americans are concerned with is what has happened since 1776. We care
about the potholes now, not the highway planner's original dream for efficient
personal transportation.
Again, I will backstep. Dole's appeal to "God, liberty, responsibility,
country" had some connection with the modern-day issues of religious decline,
governmental ball-grabbing, voter apathy, and anti-patriotism. He is trying
to remind us of the ideals we should still be following. But why not inject
some cynicism into the argument; why not try to explain why these issues exist
rather than clouding the voters' minds with beautiful abstractions?
The influence of the church has declined in the American family and
community. Divisions between the religious and the nonreligious have widened;
atheism is accepted in some groups while fundamentalism is equally accepted in
others. The disturbing trend Republicans see here is the move away from
religion. Organized religion is in decline because "the" religion,
Christianity, is losing younger followers due to intolerance, money lust,
hypocrisy, and the more lustrous gleam of the religion of science.
Conservatives dare not attack the cause; they rather prefer to act like
injured animals and blame liberalism for destroying faith.
Liberty has been faltering for a long while: the Constitution declared us
free individuals, and the government has since been saying, "Not quite!" more
and more forcefully. That much is true. (I imagine Bob Dole would rather
repeal a bunch of economically restrictive laws rather than morally
restrictive ones. I doubt he cares that the government had no right to pass
the latter laws.) At the heart of the problem here though is the fact that
people do not stand up for their liberty any longer. Once adamant and
stubborn, American people have turned into cowards regarding their personal
freedom. We cheer when anti-terrorism bills fly through Congress after a
bombing with no thought to the long-term erosion of liberty or the fact that
terrorism is already quite illegal.
American voters no longer appear to want to choose candidates for office.
This is obviously a serious problem if we are to maintain a representative
government. Solutions have been hurled in this direction -- MTV's Choose or
Lose, the motor-voter bill, expanded network coverage for elections. But, who
will attack the roots of the problem? Most destructive to the democratic
spirit are the unregistered power-voters called political action committees,
the anti-populist electoral college, the binary-opposition financially-
protected two-party political system, and the widespread and acknowledged
corruption in government. Politicians will not give up the system, however.
They see their work as tenure, not as a privilege given to them by other
people. They would rather take one of two sides than step out and offer to
argue important issues. They disrespect their constituencies by passing
inane, illegal laws without the request and often against the wishes of the
people. Is it any wonder we are refusing to vote for this?
The rise of anti-American sentiment is corroding belief in the country,
and independent anti-government militia groups are endangering its stability.
Okay, true. Our government thinks it is successfully eradicating these
problems by passing laws against them and expanding its right to beak into our
houses. I fear I can understand why the government thinks these measures will
solve the problems -- the only way to sway "terrorists'" opinions is to punish
them; they've obviously forgotten that the proper way to induce change is
through the ballot box. Why start a militia when a vote would be better
spent? These wackos must have obviously taken a power trip and ignored their
voting power just to spite us! What goes unmentioned is that the reckless
power-play passing of laws and the utter inapplicability of the vote against
the government's police force is at the base of anti-patriotic sentiment.
Furthermore, the government is infringing on the Constitution in hopes of
preventing terrorism; not realizing that such abdications of justice are the
reasons for terroristic anger. Only Article 3, section 3 says anything about
native "terrorism" -- the term politicians use nowadays to describe treason:
Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying War
against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and
Comfort. No Person shall be convicted of Treason unless on the Testimony
of Two Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession in an open
Court.
This clause is being extended to say that setting off a cheesy bomb at a
concert is considered "levying War," and that subscribing to Irish Republican
Army literature is "giving [Enemies] Aid and Comfort," even though they are
not enemies of America but of England. Furthermore, the two "witnesses" can
now be electronic devices, and "confession in an open court" can now happen in
a small dark room. I do not believe terrorists are the problem; rather it is
the fact that terrorism exists and that justice must be abdicated to prevent
it that shows something is seriously wrong with the democratic process.
Will you hear any politician or political pundit talk about this? Of
course not. This only comes out of hacks in underground publications, wackos
in talk radio, from geezers in retirement homes, and Libertarians, none of
whom can be taken seriously because they have no power. People under the myth
of idealism can write them off, ignore them; for anyone in power to say such
things is a reason for fear. It would say that the problems might actually be
real, and people would panic, or actually take action. From the exalted
politician's position, however, the last thing he wants is an agitated and
fearful populace. That might lead to revolt, or even worse, loss of office.
What I still find most amazing is that most people know what's wrong, even the
politicians -- but as long as no one high-up admits it, we can continue to
ignore the problems. We are a nation of closeted cynics. Who will out us?
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
[=- POETASTRiE -=]
"The poets? They stink. They write badly. They're idiots you see, because
the strong people don't write poetry.... They become hitmen for the Mafia.
The good people do the serious jobs."
--Charles Bukowski
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
THE OTHERREALM
by DeMoN
shower me with black sunshine and i will grow, for i have been gifted
shower yourself with black sunshine and you will become enlightened (as i am)
and be sucked into the void and you will no longer be a part of this silly
thing we call life;
you will enter the otherrealm.
time and space shall become as meaningless to you as the tastes of colors and
the smell of silence
and as your body shrinks and contorts to enter the abyss, your enlightenment
will drive you mad and for a precious moment you will be all and all will be
you:
infinity shall seem minute in comparison.
your consciousness will travel to other dimensions and leave all the
meaningless nonsense you knew behind for those less enlightened to ponder and
toil over.
your presence shall visit alien domains where true reality will be revealed
to you rather than the utterly useless and pathetic entity your pitifully
inadequate senses perceive reality to be.
FOOL!
you cannot understand but a fraction of these ramblings until you are
baptized with the black sunshine and enter oblivion.
visit the otherrealm and the doors of perception will be cleansed, and things
shall appear to you as they truly are:
INFINITE.
WELCOME TO THE OTHERREALM.
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
[=- FiCTiON -=]
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
SANiTY
by Morrigan
i ran here to escape.
i'm not sure what i was fleeing from. i had thought that it was from
myself, by that makes very little sense. i'll never be able to evade my own
mind, so what would coming to the forest accomplish? But then, logic never
was one of my strong points.
i'm reduced to the semblance of an Alzheimer's patient. At times, like
now, i'm completely lucid; it's business as usual within my reason. But then
there's the times that grow ever more frequent with each passing day, when my
sentience slips from my slack grasp and i embody the stereotype of bestiality.
i wander around these woods like a spirit, weaving among the aspens like a
will'o'the'wisp, leaping over streams like a frightened deer. At those times,
all i am aware of is the need to run.
And throughout the cycle i am always filled with a need so overwhelming
that i gasp for my breath. In my more rational moments i try to analyze the
emotion, try to rationalize it in order to banish it. But it eludes me, like
so much else. And so i appeal to you. Of course. i've appealed to you so
many ties before. For who are you but me? i am far enough lost by now that
the distinction is long since misplaced among the shuffle of old papers that
clutter my brain. Maybe your description is among them somewhere, but no
mind, all that matters to me is that you, whatever conjuration of my demented
psyche you might be, you are here.
Where to begin? Where to end?
i have loved too much in my time, yet love was never enough. i loved
you, you who aren't really you, more than anything, which was my fault. Who
you were was a peripheral detail. i needed to attach my lifeline to something
and you walked though the door at the wrong moment. i still don't know your
name. But i worshiped you. Would have done anything for you. i watched
your every move. i only had a brief amount of time to share with you, sitting
in that waiting room with a ticket in my hand.
My daydreams of you probably missed the mark by more than leagues.
Irrelevant. What mattered was that i had found something to dedicate by being
to. When i found that we would be leaving on the same bus, i knew deep within
me that Fate at last smiled upon me. i sat in the row behind you, so
oblivious to my devotion. But then Fate took away her hand. As i stared at
the back of your head, i was whisked away to the future. i knew that all would
be perfect. And when i came back for your hand to lead you to my heaven, you
were gone, and i had no idea where.
Your leaving shattered my already fragile world. So i retreated here. i
keep expecting to see you. i run and leap and jump, thinking to come upon you
any second now. But you're gone, against all possibility.
Ah, but now _you_ are here. Your coming is perfect. Perhaps he wasn't
you after all. Oh, it's all so clear now. You're the one i've been looking
for. Come here, my friend. Come play with me amongst the aspens. Look how
inviting they are.
Don't leave.
No, alone, you've left me all alone.
But wait! i see you! You're only playing a game, you say? Ah, my love,
my loves, i see you! Wait for me! We shall have such great fun among these
trees......where are you?
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
"So long as the dream lasts consciousness is unable to engage in
reflection. It is carried along by its own decline and it continues to
lay bold of images indefinitely."
--Jean-Paul Sartre, _The Psychology of Imagination_
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
THE ANGEL
by Nemo est Sanctus
I would admire her from afar. I'd gaze at her -- her golden hair, her
well formed body -- when I thought she couldn't see me.
I don't know how long it lasted, and not only in memory, but even as it
happened, I would see and remember snatches. Stockinged legs against a short
skirt and a brick wall. A deeply colored blouse flapping in a slight breeze,
as she sat and studied, a cigarette between her fingers and a textbook
clutched hard against her body to keep it from the wind.
Over time, this became a veritable obsession. At times, it seemed she
was all I could see. I'd close my eyes, and she would be gazing at me,
wistfully, from out of the depths of the deep blue pools of her eyes. I would
become aware of myself as from out of a reverie or a deep sleep, as from out
of deep thought, and surprise myself enjoying her caresses, feeling her lips
against my forehead or on my eyelids, my arm around her youthful waist.
I began to follow her. I would be where she would be, following at a
distance, a little more each day, noting carefully her paths. I could be
where she was going to be and pick up the trail with less of the risk of
following. I would sit outside her apartment and wonder at her callers,
suffering a private hell as I internally raged against those I decided were
her lovers, wondering at what she and her friends would do in her apartment in
the evenings or off, out, where I dared not follow. I waited alone, in cold
or rain, for her to return late that night or early the next morning. Over
time I assigned names to go with the personalities, a veritable pantheon, all
centered around my little angel, building a universe in my own image as if the
world were as obsessed with her as was I.
I grew haggard and thin. I took the time to care for myself as needed --
bathing and eating -- but as little as possible, and what time I did take for
myself came out of my sleep. My employment was terminated; as my bank account
depleted my bills stacked up, but I had ascended. I was in the world, but not
of the world. She was the only world real to me.
There came a time, I suppose it was inevitable, when she noticed me. I
didn't know how much she knew. I still don't. She said something about
having seen me around, or so I thought I recalled as I descended from a
transcendent state and found she truly was standing before me. Sitting in a
coffee shop, less aware of what if anything was real than I had even been
those past few weeks. I told her I had been watching her. I told her I had
come to love her from afar. She told me I should not do so. She invited me
to ascend.
I remember we talked. I forget what of. I know we laughed, but not what
about. Probably nothing I would laugh at in my normal state. It was probably
the laughter of infatuation, of two young people not particularly aware of
where or who they were, simply of who was before them. We went back to the
apartment I knew so well, and she retired to the bedroom.
When she came back out she was even less clad, and the vague pink cloth
that floated around her like a sunrise cloud, above naked feet and naked legs,
clung to her body like a pink mist and enhanced her cherubic form. I begged
her to stand still, to let me look at her, to devour her chastely.
She laughed -- she misunderstood completely. With a touch, before I
could cry out in protest, the cloth buried her feet, and she was exposed.
Seen thus, without the cloth, without the mystery, without the wonder, my
own illusions shattered like a porcelain figure knocked from off a
mantlepiece, or off the top of a Christmas tree. My angel ceased to be, and
she left only the animal stripped of the anima, just like any other animal I
had seen, on four legs or two.
In anger I stormed out the door, my last thoughts only of thanks that she
had never so much as asked my surname.
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
"Ah Love! Could you and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would we not shatter it to bits -- and then
Remold it nearer to the Heart's Desire?"
--The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
--SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB-SoB--
ANOTHER HORSE DREAMER'S BLUES
by Morrigan
*Just do what comes naturally. Seethe and fume and throw a tantrum, for
all the good it'll do you.* Margery glared at her unintelligibly screeching
mother from underneath clenched brows. *I don't care what you tell me. None
of your groundless arguments will ever convince me that you're right. I can
easily disprove whatever you throw at me, be it money, time, or anything else
your lost little mind can throw at me. The only reason you want me to give
this up is that I've finally found something that makes me happy and helps me
to escape this hell hole we've named home and you're nice and bitter because
you've realized that it's too late for you, you're already up to your nosehair
in the sludge and you're thrashing yourself deeper with every passing
breath....* She noticed that unconsciously she had been clenching her teeth
and forming fists with her hands.
In the depths of her being, Margery heaved a great sigh, trying to force
her fingers and jaw to loosen. *Let's see... about now, she should be getting
really worked up... she should throw something right about....now.* Right on
cue, a book came hurtling at her head. With reflex born of long practice she
smoothly ducked and straightened. *It never fails to amaze me how well she
can fling stuff when she's upset,* the girl thought with something distantly
related to admiration. Meanwhile, the book had crashed into the couch,
eliciting a startled curse from the bleary eyed man lying there.
"Why can't you stupid women keep your fights to yourselves? Why do you
always bring me into it?" he grumbled. Margery coughed to conceal her barely
suppressed indignation. "Christ... can't a man have a little bit of peace
around here to sleep off a hangover?"
"If you have a problem, then why don't you go somewhere else?" Margery
asked, exercising what scant patience she could muster to prevent herself from
screaming at him. *You always complain, but you never do anything about it,
do you?*
"That's not fair, dear!" her mother interjected. "Be nice to the poor
man. He probably feels terrible... don't you, sweetie? You're always so mean
to him, Margery, disturbing him all the time.*"
"Yeah, that's it, feel terrible. Give me some quiet, will ya?"
Rolling her dark blue eyes, Margery dropped the subject without
mentioning that it had been her mother who had started the fight, that it had
been her mother doing all the yelling, and that it had been her mother who had
thrown the book that woke him. She didn't feel like engaging in a second
fruitless argument.
"Whatever."
With difficulty, she quenched her strong urges to stomp or sprint away
from them, refusing to show her anger and frustration. Instead she began to
walk calmly, albeit stiffly, out of the room.
"Where do you think you're going?" her mother's voice called to her
retreating back.
After common sense overrode the notion of ignoring the question, she
answered simply, "To the stables." *The one place where I can find some
relief from my drunken father and stupid mother.* Not trusting herself to be
able to control her temper much longer, she succumbed to the need to hurry out
of the room.
* * * * *
The tears flowed freely, further dampening the neck already sweaty from
the steep climb up to the clearing. The owner of the neck didn't mind, being
quite used to this treatment. With true concern in her eyes, she looked back
at her unhappy companion. She silently asked if there was anything she could
so, knowing that there wasn't, but also knowing that the question itself would
help. The concern brought a brief half-smile to the tear-streaked face.
"Thanks." The single word was all that was needed. They moved back down the
mountain in relative contentment.
* * * * *
"Margery's dreaming of horses." The taunting voice broke through her
reverie. She looked up to see the sardonic face of her classmate staring
through her. "I don't suppose you'd care to join us in class, could you?
I'm sure the pretty little horsies will wait for you for a few minutes, won't
they? Don't they love you enough to that they won't run off if you take away
your concentration for a moment or two?"
The cruel sarcasm made her wince. She bit down on her tongue in order to
refrain from replying in kind. Instead she choked out an apology and did her
best to ignore the snickers of the rest of the room. *Goddammit. Why do I
let myself get so upset over their badgering? I've heard it enough by now,
you'd think I'd be at least somewhat desensitized. But no, I have to go and
be hurt by it despite the fact that the only reason they harass me so much is
because I react to it so satisfyingly.* She managed to escape attention for
the rest of class and rushed out at the first possible second.
Margery had almost reached the safety of her locker when she was accosted
by Darien, the latest jock to make a bet with his friends that he'd be able to
sweep one of the unpopular girls off her feet. *Thinks that I'm so desperate
that I'll have no option but to snatch at the first potential guy that shows
some some interest in my. Thinks that he's so spectacular that I'm already in
love with him from afar. I'm so fucking sick of these little boys who can't
tell one girl from another. All I mean to him is a chance to show off his
sexual prowess and at the same time humiliate some helpless freak, satisfying
all his physical and emotional needs, giving him another opportunity to savor
control. The fact that I don't belong to any of his cliques and therefore
he'll never have to see or remember he ever again is a nice added bonus.*
Masking most of her overpowering disgust, she tried to step around him,
wearing an admittedly tight smile. With a grin meant to charm, he stopped her
by the arm and slowly winked at her. His face held an overall expression that
she supposed was meant to be sexy and irresistible.
"Hey, baby."
She stifled a groan. He wasn't even creative. He had to use the most
overused, cliched pick-up line ever invented. She made a last attempt to
escape, trying to look shy and embarrassed by the attention of her obvious
god. She even managed to blush, though it was more from shame brought on by
thinking of was she was doing than from love. *Not that he'd be able to tell
the difference.*
Lady Luck was with her. He decided to allow her to go swoon over his
perfection and sauntered off with one last lingering look. She accomplished a
smile without throwing up and hastily strode away, filled with relief.
* * * * *
"Sometimes it seems like the whole world is a cigarette and I'm the only
ashtray." The horse's ears turned to catch her words and a liquid brown eye
looked back quizzically.
* * * * *
Margery cautiously opened the door. She peered into the living room with
trepidation, but her worry was in vain. Her parents were nowhere in sight.