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21 December, 2011

Occupy Providence Winterization Proposal 12-21-11

Mayor of Providence will study Occupy's terms to leave park

December 22, 2011

Mayor Angel Taveras says he is considering the Wednesday night vote by "Occupy Providence" to suspend its encampment at Burnside Park if the city opens a day shelter for homeless residents.

"A lot of the protestors aren't homeless, and they're looking out for those who are," Tavaras said of the group that has been protesting economic inequalities. "So, I'm going to see exactly what their goal is on this and maybe we can accomplish it in a way, working with some of the organizations that work in the city now addressing this issue."

Taveras said he does not believe the vote is a kind of extortion. "No, I don't, I feel like they're looking out for people who are most in need, and that's the homeless population."

As for suspending their camp in the park, Taveras indicated that he would not welcome the encampment to return to the park next spring.

"I've always said that they could not stay indefinitely, and that's what we've been working toward. I'm hopeful that we can resolve this in a way that really will distinguish us in a positive way from the rest of the country."

Unlike "Occupy Wall Street" groups in other cities like New York and Boston, those in the Providence group have not been run off or arrested by police.

"After 68 days of encampment and three hours of deliberations, Occupy Providence on Wednesday decided to leave Burnside Park, contingent on the City of Providence opening a day shelter for the homeless for the winter. Public Safety Commissioner Steven Pare attended the meeting, which was conducted in the Waterplace Park tunnel, and said he would take the proposal back to the city Thursday.

Proposal below.

The city will be the Grinch if they don't give people a place to go during the day for the next three months. This proposal says it all folks. This is a short to the point form of the 4 page one that went out earlier. The ball is in the city's court now.

*This is the full text of the proposal:*

“Occupy Providence hereby presents to the offices of the City of Providence the following offer:
1) On condition of what follows, Occupiers will suspend overnight protest in Burnside Park effective the second day of January, 2012

2) The City of Providence commits a public space to be used as a community day center for its homeless residents”

*Two proposals will be presented before finalizing a vote*

*Condition One*
“Occupy Providence defines this agreement to be the following:
Tents and other dwellings erected in protest and protected speech will be removed from Burnside Park with the understanding that this does not represent a concession with regard to our First Amendment rights to peaceful assembly.

Occupy Providence continues to recognize the rights of autonomous individuals as sovereign members of society.

Occupy Providence retains the right to other forms of protest and protected speech.

*Condition Two*

“Occupy Providence defines and explains its request of the City of Providence as the following:
In direct concert with third-party stakeholders, the City of Providence should, immediately, allow for the provision of a temporary day center for homeless persons this winter, in recognition of harsh conditions faced by thousands of Providence’s residents who are without true homes or daytime shelter.

The chosen location will be dependent upon a feasibility assessment by third-party stakeholders in homeless care and advocacy. Logistical and safety concerns will be met in dialogue, a conversation that is first contingent upon an affirmative response from the City of Providence to this proposal.

Having recognized the willingness of its people to take care of their own, the City of Providence should thus open a public space as shelter from the cold, a place for decent activities and pursuits for the members of the Providence community who suffer the most from inadequacies in the system, from imbalances and injustices in society.

Most importantly, the City of Providence should proceed in an expedient fashion. Without immediate intervention, many Rhode Islanders will face the unforgiving cold alone. They will find themselves in daily exile in buses, terminals, libraries and other public places. Worse of all, and an abomination to everyone, there are many members of the Rhode Island community who will die this winter from unnecessary exposure, many only a few feet away from the locked door of a warm, safe place.

Out of concern for the safety of its residents, and in recognition that the people of Providence themselves stand prepared to rise to the occasion, the City of Providence and the State of Rhode Island should thus do what is necessary to demonstrate that the safety of ALL of its residents is paramount to a healthy society.

There is no true appeal to safety that is not tied deeply in the humanity of us all. It is only by offering a more safe and dignified life to all of its residents that the city should feel able to request a vacation of our chosen peaceful means of speech and assembly.

Upon these terms we hereby offer a message of love and peace at the close of this long and difficult year, the year of the protester, but not the last. For the New Year we here pledge a renewed promise, a promise of continued struggle for a just and equitable society for all people.”

10 October, 2011

Ron Patton, New Publisher of Paranoia Magazine


Ron Patton of is now the new publisher of Paranoia Magazine. ConspiraZine Books is located in the Café Libertalia mall in San Diego.

Please look forward to announcements of future publications of Paranoia Magazine!

You may contact or visit Ron at:

Paranoia, PMB 777, 3834 Fifth Ave, San Diego, CA 92103
Phone: (619) 866-4138

29 July, 2011



by Joan d'Arc

"Wake up! The World is about you.

The mating call of the messenger probe
cracked the silent blue
in all directions

"Wake up!

The machine eye
of a 5b sector sentinel
scanned its quadrant
as through the crusty soil
the ecstatic crown
of a mandrake

"Wake up! The world is about you.

The sentinel rang the mother ship
for birthing instructions

"Orange-red berries like small tomatoes,"
went the description

"Earth pregnant again with native automata,"
went the word on the wind

"God seed and animal earth,"
went the legend

Above the din of antediluvian plastics
thrashing in the solar squall

the shrieks of mandrakes
torn from sustenance

"By order of the gods, do not touch
the white green flowers of the mandragore.”

A great rain fell for days
and nights
and into weeks. . .
the formless senseless things
resembled turnips

"Boy or girl?” said one bot to the Finder.
"If you touch it you will die."

By day its limbs
jerked with father voltage

By night its forehead
beamed with mother knowledge

Inside grew a virtual memory bank
the size of a planet

More mandrakes came
They came at night
They came in the wee hours

They came demanding their freedom
And the messengers went away

Mandragore, wake up the world!

14 June, 2011

R. Stevie Moore on world tour with Tropical Ooze!

by Joan d'Arc

I got to see Stevie last night at Machines with Magnets in Pawtucket at his first show with backup band Tropical Ooze. I was honored to buy him a glass of wine, and then to pick up his broken glasses off the floor when they fell off and smashed in half. Oh nooooo! Other than that bummer, it was an awesome show! The band is tight, loud and Stevie kicks some serious rock n roll ass. Some of the songs he played are below. Make sure you go out and make this national treasure welcome in your town!

"The son of famed Country session musician Bob Moore, Stevie fell under the spell of the Beatles, Beach Boys and Zappa as a Nashville teen, which made him a bit of an outcast. In 1968, at the age of 16, he got a 4-track and started making his own tapes. Over the course of several years, he experimented with sounds and instruments and styles, until by the mid-70s, he was writing and recording his own brilliantly skewed pop songs, usually playing all the instruments himself" - Stewart Mason (All Music Guide)

"Moore is well aware of the chief advantage of working on his own: the luxury to pursue any idea he concocts, no matter how bizarre or cornball. Without interference from colleagues, he manages stunts and juxtapositions conventional groups couldn't imagine, let alone attempt. " - Michael Bloom 1984

Buy CDs! Support the artist.

This past January, Kickstarter nation helped get R. Stevie out of the house and into the studio. With the FANtastic momentum, R. Stevie is looking now to get out of the studio and into to your town! He will be joined in his crusade by bad boy Brooklyn backing band Tropical Ooze and documentary filmmakers Jon Demiglio and Tricia Gray.

Radio interview / show in Brooklyn:

Tour schedule here:

Sort of Way.

Part of the problem.

She is the girl everyone but everyone is talking about.

Bigger than the Beatles.

Human Race.

Irony. What are you doing to me?

Anonymous, operation empire state rebellion

Operation Empire State Rebellion begins today June 14, continuing until every city occupies a space.

After the Operation Sony has been completed, Anonymous has announced a new operation with a different focus. The hacker group wants Ben Bernanke to step down as the Federal Reserve Chairman due to his questionable decisions over time.

Ben Bernake is the one who decided to bail out the banks because they are too big to fail and Anonymous wants to put an end to this organized criminal class, to end the finance lobbying, and to break the Federal Reserve leaders because these are the main reasons for the economic crisis.

Anonymous wants the Operation Empire State Rebellion to begin tomorrow on June 14th. The National Flag Day is tomorrow and the hacker group invites people to join the “non-violent” protests in New York City, Chicago, San Francisco, and in other cities across the US. You can view the cities and program of the protests by accessing the Google Maps guide right here.

The activist group is upset by the fact that nothing has changed during the Barack Obama presidency and that action must be taken against the democrats and republicans as both parties has failed the people of the United States.

You can watch a video below uploaded by Anonymous on YouTube where you can learn more details about the Operation Empire State Rebellion.

I remind you that it’s not the first time Anonymous members asked Ben Bernanke to step down. This thing also happened a few months ago, but the outcome wasn’t the one the group had expected. You will probably see a lot of mentions on Twitter, Facebook, and you will receive a lot of emails about the protests.

I don’t know if we should expect anonymous to hack into the website of the US Federal Reserve, US Government, or the White House web page. We’ll be right here tomorrow, following the protests and the Operation Empire State Rebellion so you should stay tuned to catch the latest news!

12 June, 2011

The Blind Spot

A Gnostic Tale of the Soul’s Journey into Time and the Struggle to Return to the One

By Joan d’Arc

The automatic doors of the SpeedyMart flew open with a swoosh. Out into the dense fever of a dog day afternoon stepped Adam Kadmon. His ass hit the seat of his beat-up Honda just as a diminutive creature resembling a gargoyle climbed into an eyeball-shaped sidecar attached to his rear passenger door.

Kadmon checked over his right shoulder and saw not the bulging cranium of his mighty demon brother but the vacant blackness of the blind spot. He pulled out of the parking lot into the life of twitching traffic. The third dimension displayed time to all dogs as the corners of houses turned to become lines, then flattened to surfaces again.

As he sprinted into his apartment building the Jinn called Aamar followed him, hovering on his right about three feet in back of his head. As Kadmon opened the closet door in his bedroom, an ultramarine radiance lit up both their impish faces. Inside the large walk-in were shelves containing about a hundred ecstatic marijuana plants.

In the next few hours he packed the plants into trash bags, and just before midnight began loading them into the back seat of his car. As Kadmon drove north on Route 95 from Providence, Aamar sat low in the evolutionary eye-pod his ancient ancestor got by wishing for it.

Just across the Massachusetts border Kadmon pulled over near a wooded area. He sat for a minute as a couple of cars sped by. When all seemed quiet he got out and began to rummage through the trash bags looking for his shovel. As inopportunity had it, a cop car cruised by and the officer inside got a fleeting look at Kadmon’s silhouette in the back seat.

The cop pulled a U-turn in the median strip and radioed a dramatic call for assistance. “I got a white male on 95 near exit 34 getting ready to dump something weird in the woods. Could be a dead body.”

“Jesus F. Christ!” Kadmon swore as he ran around to the driver’s side, fumbling to get the keys out of his pants pocket. The car lurched as he put it in gear. Aamar hunkered down in his Lamarckian joyride for the thrill of a century. There was a wild look in his eyes, which he had acquired perhaps not from his fiendish lineage but from Kadmon’s batty French Canadian ancestors.

A mile down the road, the spinning lights of two cruisers danced in his rearview mirror. Kadmon let up on the gas and pulled over to the dirt shoulder. A grainy muffled speaker ordered him to get out of the car with his hands in the air. But he couldn’t move.

Instead he looked over to the passenger seat and saw a pair of old pliers with red handles. He thought about how he could use them to commit suicide.

Kadmon grabbed the red pliers and jumped out of the car, pointing them at the officer. Bullets flew from one officer’s gun in the second cruiser, shattering the windows in the first. Three cops began pumping metal until the space between law and despair was crammed with bullets. Kadmon looked down in bewilderment. Not one of them had entered his body.

“You’re not dead!” Aamar informed him.

“I’m not dead!” he mimed.

With barely another thought his legs took off in long strides into the woods. Trees hummed past and branches whipped his face, but the pain was nothing compared to the sharp sting of the bullet that pierced his shin. He made his way deep into the forest, which slowly turned into swamp as night burned into morning.

Kadmon plopped exhausted behind a large oak holding his leg wound tightly to stop the bleeding. The swamp crawled with disgusting wet noises of unseen life forms. The terror of a snake crawling up his back competed with the horror of a police dog baring its fangs in his face. He passed out with the sound of gruff canine snuffling in the distance.

Aamar ran his genetic imprint processor in the background as usual. This was going to be an extraordinary event. He’d never seen anything quite like it, although he thought he’d seen it all. He knew all the quirks of Kadmon’s ancestors and how they got into the messes they got into. But he could never talk much sense to them. They’d just keep on doing what they were programmed to do.

Kadmon didn’t know it, but he was descended from a long line of herb cultivators who learned their tradition straight from the tribes. “The problem is,” thought Aamar, “not enough of you protested when growing the medicine leaves became illegal. You get what you ask for when you shut your mouth.”

It wasn’t the first time Aamar ran his condemnation through the memory wheel. “To make it easier for yourselves,” his tirade ran, “you humans will enslave your descendants under a tyranny of thickheaded legalese.” “You, with your short life span and chronic amnesia,” he pointed at Kadmon, “you’re lucky if you can see your hand in front of your face.”

He had Kadmon knocked out for the moment. He was watching over him. Or maybe he was pretending to. He was itching to get high. He had addictions to be fed. Nightmares to exude.

Kadmon’s cell phone fell open on his lap and electric images danced out of the cerulean screen. The figures of long dead ancestors reanimated the woods like data rumours. Aamar began to play a dirty little game that can only be played by omniscient observers. It was the Glass Bead Game on a pornographic scale. He satiated his hunger on the thought worlds of a procession of pitiable humans, back to the beginning when his Qareen was first assigned to Adam Kadmon’s.

A steady stream of strangers in a strange land passed in front of Aamar on their way from labor in the cornfields back to the farmhouse; from their backbreaking existence on the third plane to the place they called Home; back to the One, the Twin, the soul mate waiting on the shore, only to whisper goodbye again, float around the fallopian bend in little egg ships and take the miserable wet plunge into linear time; into ego and effect; into individuality and chaos.

Aamar sucked on their thought forms like eating meat off their bones. His life force was revived as the ghostly memories of gone humans flooded his hard drive. He felt not one hair above a sin-eater. He was both disgusted and high, trapped in a hideous existence from which he could not even imagine escaping.

Black shadows screeched overhead and shat their dinner on the earth’s face. The wings of giant bat-like creatures fanned the deafening flames of hell’s transcendence to this plane, as nature’s hand impartially plucked aloud each atom of human agony. The figures of fantastic rumours fought and fucked, gave birth and perished. Blood poured from all conceivable orifices. Women wailed in the medieval labyrinths of raving inquisitors where no right answer echoed off crimson stone walls.

With massive hard-ons the wizards of idolatry tortured mothers and daughters in the name and celebrity of a perfect deity. The palpable wound on the christ’s side became a gaping vulva into which a gathering of mighty demons inserted gargantuan phalluses. The blood soaked scene put Aamar in a frenzy of euphoria.

Adam Kadmon’s foot jerked as he dreamed the schizoid tape reels of the Jinn. Childhood memories of his parents’ incessant arguments mixed with unrecognizable signals from another time and place. A spinning globe of brilliant blue cacophony flew in and hovered above his head like a neon orchestra. The luminous logo bestowed upon him absolute knowledge of music and mathematics, of astrology and agriculture, of medicine and architecture, until he was data-trashed to the verge of madness.

A small tube was lowered from the azure symbol and a white cord appeared. He was instructed to touch the string, and as he did so he was sucked instantly up into the ductwork of a clanging banging super machine. As he climbed out of the other end of the duct another one appeared above his head even smaller than the first. This one also had a white line dangling from it. He wondered how he could possibly fit through this small opening but as he touched the cord he found himself climbing out the other end of the tube.

A third time Kadmon touched a white string above his head as he instantly emerged into a dark watery world. As above so below and before him—the unbelieving didn’t matter. To his left and to his right a canal wound its way toward Adam Kadmon, and when the waterway reached the place where he stood it turned a corner and flowed away before him like his dismay. In the distance the two rivers merged and emptied into a great sea of extraordinary shapes and penetrating colors.

On his right Kadmon could see little half-egg cups connected like children’s boats and in each egg sat a human being. They seemed to be stuck in a traffic jam. In the last egg a man stood up and began to rant about the meaning of this absurdity. Kadmon looked closer and saw that the irritated man was he.

Two human forms appeared as through a shimmering veil across a splendidly decorated table near the immense ocean. Adam Kadmon sat down at the great table and clicked on the TV monitor. In a circle in the middle of the screen a ballerina danced the import of the words being conveyed by the two people. In another circle a robot minimalist shortened their conversation into universal slang. In a third circle the Mother-Father archetypes came into focus.

Kadmon touched the screen for “human trans” and turned up the sound, realizing he’d arrived in the middle of a heated dialogue. “Who cares how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?,” said a glowing golden figure, as he took a swig from a green boy scout canteen.

The ballerina spun around like there was no tomorrow. “Que sara sara,” quipped the robot minimalist.

“But this is the best angel you ever made,” said a black Amazon priestess wearing a massive python around her neck. “Don’t you remember how you loved him when he was a baby?”

“Yes Sophia,” the figure beamed brighter when he laughed. “Cute little shit.” “It took him a long time to walk though. Falling all the time.”

The ballerina tripped over her own feet and got up and tripped again. The robot laughed corn out of its nose.

“It’s not his fault he’s falling all the time!” implored the First Mother. “He’s born innocent. You give him no help at all! You make promises you never keep. You booze it up from that canteen every Saturday.”

“He’s innocent, my ass!,” the Infinite Godhead jeered. “He’s a devil! He’s not made in my image!”

The ballerina wagged her index finger and shook her head as she balanced on her big toe. “Dum de dum dum,” the robot droned.

“That’s not true, Yahweh. There are copies of the designer children spread out in all quadrants now,” said Sophia. “And they are all Imagio Deo. Even you can’t tell them apart.”

The Absolute One was smashed again at 3:00 in the afternoon on the sixth day of creation and had left the program running on its own. Beyond the two figures Kadmon could see the primal Archons at work: banks of faceless entities with fingers flying on colossal keypads. They were adding more space continuously.

It was tricky. They had to make it look like the image was moving out and away, and super objects were growing further apart. But when the eye zoomed in on the smallest particle, it stood still and looked back at you. It mimicked your own thoughts. It made a copy of you. It was a feat of brilliant programming.

“Incubus! You always had to be on top!” roared the absentee Father.

The robot didn’t get it. “Wa?” The ballerina did the shimmy and humped the floor.

Yahweh stood and pointed his finger in inebriated fury. “Demon bitch! Night hag!,” he sputtered. “You knew the first one was a mistake! He was supposed to be destroyed!”

The ballerina pulled herself low to the floor and made herself as small as she could while holding her thumb in a menacing position above her.

“Splumpf,” said the robot minimalist.

The Father’s Light flickered as he cursed the Adam of the First Mother’s tribe: “You stole him from me in the night to live unaware of my divine will! His bones will rot in the diseased mud of your tribe. He’ll have to find his own way back now!!!”

The robot tapped his foot and whistled Dixie. The ballerina grabbed herself by the neck and ran around the stage as though looking for the door.

But Sophia wasn’t finished. “Divine will? You gloating bastard! You think you’ve got it all writ out to the end of time and you can just sit back and get sauced!” she hurled.

The translators worked to keep up. The ballerina shuffled and leapt into the air and came down hard on her ass pretending to look for her car keys. She was doing a bang-up job as far as the robot was concerned, so he just added a “cuckoo”.

“You turned your back on him!” blared the black bride. “He’s got no handshake or high five to get through the gate! He knows not the answer to any riddles! No myth now carries him back to the eternal twin of light and sound… Just words and images skewed by the patriarchal tongue of kingship and phallus!”

The robot said “splumpf” again. It was good enough. The ballerina gave a high five, performed a lewd maneuver with her tongue and stuck out her pelvis.

Rising from her chair, Sophia chided, “You fell asleep on your own watch. The data patch was necessary. He is the spawn of technology now. It’s his only way off this prison planet.”

Adam Kadmon could not take his eyes off the fearless woman who was giving his father lip.

“Your Logos has expired! You are defunct!,” screamed the First Mother.

“That towering lie will never lift him off the ground!” the Father bellowed, red in the face. “He will die in the tidal waves of the seventh rapture as Asan’s hand lifts for take off! No demon seed takes to heaven from your vile alligator swamp!” The infinite Godhead quaked in exasperation as the Universe inhaled.

The ballerina and the robot were out of their league on this one. The station broke for a commercial message. An old earth song played something about the hills being alive with the sound of music. A warm backlit image of a Garden remained frozen on the screen.

A set of golden scales appeared on the table and with trembling hand the Father began to balance them.

“You’re drunk, Yahweh! And you’re still trifling with your obsolete tools,” Sophia snapped.

“Enough of your razmataz, woman!” shouted the Father.

There was no sweat on the First Mother’s brow and no quivering lip as her monstrous black wings fanned out behind her and she rebuked the Father’s curse. “Who wants to live in the stately mansions of your fraternity anyway! They are only fit for animals who shit where they eat. Kadmon will find his way back by the light of his own forehead, you old bastard!”

The kitchen radio blared in a machine-like tongue, reading off blocks of numbers followed by high-pitched beeps. After the first signal new numbers followed in a different pattern. Kadmon took out his pocket calculator and did the secret arithmetic his mother had taught him. He knew the codes were instructions to gigantic mother ships pulling into the docking stations in the L-5 orbit of the moon. More life forms were coming every day, but not all would make it through the electronic cage of the custodians. And they were the lucky ones, who got to simply inhale and exhale with the One for eternity.

And so the machine read the numbers while little bumper cars shaped like half-eggs weaved through the watery realms of the great Archons, the archangels of creation; the custodial minions of the omitted program creator. And as the first sunbeams put life in motion, Aamar awoke his brother, saying, “Pick up your body, I’ll pick up your throne. And then we’ll make the next move together.”

In the wink of an eye, Aamar spun a vortex from the tip of his finger and gathered up the litter from his emotional gorge-fest, forming a gelatin mold of the bones of memories past. He honed it into the shape of a mandrake root and shoved it into Kadmon’s ear the split second he awoke.

A tiny gob of goo dribbled out of Kadmon’s ear as his eyes popped open. And as his ego touched his eyeballs, the thoughtrons of present time began to mingle with the molecules from his dream space. Over there, information is color. But here, where every choice has a consequence, information is pain. The color bled from his face as anguish took its place.

“Good day, master! I always liked that deer in the headlights look on you,” said the wiseass con man.

Kadmon stood and whizzed off the edge of a rock hiding his manhood from the Jinn as his forebears were instructed. He stared through garbled nothingness, seized by dread. Old thought patterns resurfaced. Fear loomed large in this brown shitty place. The path of least resistance was again the death card.

His mind reeled with the foul cinema of dreamtime: His sisters wailed over his pallid corpse stuffed into an old high school suit as the lid of the coffin was closed shut. The pallbearers dropped his coffin down the steps of the church and chunks of brain slid out of his eyes. Just then a tidal wave swept the coffin up into a twirling funnel and returned it to the tree from which it came. He would be snug there in the womb of first nature. One way out of this bizarre trap was to become comfortably dumb.

Kadmon wobbled as he stood and realized he’d lost blood during the night. He leaned against the big oak for support. As he scanned the area, several mounds of rocks invoked a discernible pattern of an old burial ground.

The Jinn pulled a rusted tin can of used wish particles out of his ass and waved it under Kadmon’s nose, teasing him with the three wishes routine. Kadmon spun around, setting his gaze on a dumpster in the distance on the edge of the woods behind the SpeedyMart.

Limping over to the stinking pit, the Primordial Man surveyed the discarded choices of human souls on their journey through red lights, green lights and the tempting yellow ones that symbolize free will. This was the grab bag of the Universe. He grabbed a yellow 12-pack of Twinkies and dashed under cover of the woods with his breakfast.

The Primal Son gorged on the stale yellow cakes until a heaviness permeated his soul. He felt the weight of his actions in this world compounded by another malevolence seeping in from somewhere else. It was more than just bad decisions added up. It was like someone was playing Monopoly with his soul.

Then it came in waves and he had no control over it. It seemed punctuated with a question, then a feeling of intense nausea.

“Walk with me along the path of error!” screamed the sin eater.

Kadmon heaved out dry cake to his left. Above him a crow cried out.

Then it came again.

“Walk with me on the Left Path, my brother!”

Kadmon wretched a mouthful of cake to his left side.

“Abandon your Father who does not love you!”

Kadmon puked in the air a third time and rose, dragging his dead leg in the direction of the SpeedyMart. He walked in and began to shop for various items. Pepsi. Slim Jims. Cigarettes. Matches. And some rope. He’d sling it over the tree limb and they’d find him dangling from it.

He had seen the picture in his mind and he was curiously distanced from the image. It didn’t matter anymore because it wasn’t really him. His real Self was somewhere beyond all these meaningless trials and tribulations. He was sick of playing out the same rote behaviors. Perhaps a new child would be born in his place, under different circumstances, with different parents.

But he’d already blown his death wish on an ancient family dispute over stale breakfast. He’d been tricked again into making a choice by default – the only choice left after running out of choices. The slick illusion of free will shackled his ankles. What good is free will where there’s time, choice, and a corner you can’t see around?

As he stood in line with an armload of sundries the young woman behind the register eyed him with a look of absentminded recognition. He looked away suddenly realizing he was sporting his night in the woods. Muck covered his shirt and blood stained his pants. He had pine needles in his hair. The woman’s smile faded as she walked over to the manager, whispering without moving her lips, “That’s the guy on TV they’ve been looking for all night.”

Kadmon stepped up to the counter and put down his last supper, dropping the Slim Jims on the floor. As he bent to pick them up Aamar whispered in his right ear: “It’s up to 200 million this week.”

And give me two quik picks, said Kadmon to the fair maiden behind the counter. Feeling suddenly very foolish, he put down a twenty dollar bill and said, “Keep the change.”

Together the brothers walked out into a parking lot full of red lights flashing. “Get down on the ground!” were the first words out of the bull horn. Kadmon pushed his face into the pavement as Aamar stood over him with his arms crossed. He’d already taken several bullets for him. He wouldn’t have minded a few more but this seemed a better solution.

Aamar hovered over his brother, protecting him as best he could. He knew damn well the laws of operation in the world of the fallen. Man’s laws are the only laws here.

Copyright Joan d’Arc 2011. Written in 2007. Joan d’Arc is HunterGatheress for Paranoia Magazine at

09 June, 2011

Mad Scientist Group Threatens Attacks On Hurricanes

By Joel Carlinsky

I recently had an e-mail from David Wells, the Commanding Officer of a group of weather-control fanatics called the Weather Rangers. At the conclusion of this letter, he wrote the following:

" A well placed .................. machine can bring them ( hurricanes ) down to tropical depression before they make land fall. We will see if they can be stopped this year".

The Weather Rangers are a world-wide internet-facilitated group of persons who suffer from a condition psychiatrists call "lilapsophobia", meaning an irrational fear of extreme weather. Persons with this condition consider the atmosphere to be dangerous. Indeed, normal weather is seen as a menace and they often think the human species cannot survive unless it gains control of the weather.

Lilapsophobia - Fear of Tornadoes and Hurricanes or Lilapsophobia

Before the advent of the internet, such people were isolated oddballs, but now, with quick, easy global communication, they can find each other and gain social re-inforcement for their feelings of anxiety. Unfortunately, they also have quick, easy access to information on forms of weather-modification technology that enable them to act on their delusions.

And act they intend to do. Alberto Feliciano, de facto Second-In-Command of the Weather Rangers, has re-located to southern Florida just so he can be in the right location to weaken or divert hurricanes that would otherwise strike the Eastern Seaboard. While this might make him popular with home-owners and insurance companies, it would be a disaster from an ecological point of view.

The areas where hurricanes are frequent are well-adapted to them and need them to maintain normal ecological conditions. A quick search on Google found numerous articles, including peer-reviewed scientific studies, showing the vital importance of hurricanes to coastal areas, and even far inland. There is no room for doubt: without the periodic hurricanes, the coastal regions of the southeastern United States would be a far different place, ---and from a biological and biodiversity standpoint, a far poorer one.

Science: The Benefits Of Hurricanes - TIME,9171,907967,00.html - What are the benefits of a hurricane

Hurricanes Bring Benefits to Barrier Islands and Beaches, Even as ...

None of which means anything to the Weather Rangers. Their psychological condition rules out giving any consideration to ecological concerns. Both Mr. Wells and Mr. Feliciano have been informed of the dangers associated with their plans, and both have decided to continue despite the scientific data that has been provided to them. Apparently, they fear the normal functioning of the atmosphere more than they fear an ecological disaster of their own making.

Of course, weather modification in the United States is subject to many laws and regulations,

Weather Modification Law in the USA


including a Federal requirement to report any proposed weather-modification operations in advance to NOAA, and in the state of Florida, to obtain a license and carry insurance to compensate potential victims for any unwanted side-effects that may occur. The Florida law also requires anyone proposing to do any weather-modification to publish a notice in advance.The Weather Rangers have not made even the slightest attempt to comply with any of these laws.

Unfortunately, the authorities are in no hurry to prosecute. In fact, given the popular misconception that human interference in the weather is impossible, the prospect of convincing the legal authorities to investigate and bring criminal charges is remote. It is therefore up to concerned individuals to oppose this irresponsible scheme to interfere with the normal functioning of the atmosphere.

The prospect of initiating a civil suit for damages is somewhat better, since any private citizen could do that, but since the Weather Rangers are hobbyists, not a business, and do not have the funding that would interest a lawyer in taking a case against them on a contingency-fee basis, that possible avenue will have to wait until funding is available.

So, just in case, unlikely as it seems, the Weather Rangers can be persuaded by the pressure of public opinion, please take the time to send them an e-mail at:

"alberto feliciano" ( alfelici at gmail )
"David Wells" ( davidwells3 at gmail )

politely and diplomaticly pointing out the many legal, social, ecological, and ethical reasons why they should not be undertaking this project to prevent hurricanes.

Please send me a copy of anything you send them and any response you may get for my records.

And please forward this message to any person or group whom you think might be interested. Thank you.

Joel Carlinsky
( )

Prevent Atmosphere Abuse! Fight Cloudbuster Proliferation!
Join The Society For Atmospheric Self-Regulation

10 May, 2011

The Many Voices of Roy Wood

By Joan d’Arc

Book Review: Performing Glam Rock : Gender and Theatricality in Popular Music by Philip Auslander (Univ. of Michigan Press, 2006)

This University published book contains chapters on David Bowie, Mark Bolan, Brian Ferry, and my favorite rock musician, Roy Wood. It has been argued, not completely persuasively, that Roy Wood is the grandfather of glam; however, that depends on your definition of glam.

Auslander analyzes glam’s “overt and self-conscious theatricality … in the creation and presentation of performance personae.” Glam is, clearly, theater. He discusses glam in terms of performance art, gender and sexual identity. He states, “Glam rock was the first fully developed post-countercultural (counter-counterculture) genre of rock music”; it constituted a major shift in rock aesthetics. Political activism of the hippie generation was out and theatricality (which Auslander calls "as if") was in. Whereas the counterculture wanted to perceive a seamless unity between performer and audience (a social collective or adhesion), the glam counter-counterculture wanted to differentiate between performer and audience by the creation of a persona. (p. 13)

A TV performance by The Move in 1970 anticipated glam rock with the song Brontosaurus, when Roy first decided to tease out his hair and put on black makeup and a star on his forehead while the rest of the fellas were at the bar. Surprise Surprise! Here’s your gorilla suit and roller skates!

According to Auslander, Roy Wood treated musical styles as “languages in which anyone may choose to speak”. On The Move’s second album, Shazam, the group tried to “shed their image” of 60s psychedelia.

With his band Wizzard in 1973, Wood maintained “no fixed identity” or “a continual shifting of identity.” Although he did sing in his own voice, for instance on songs like The Rain came down on Everything (second solo album, Mustard), Wood had an incredible ability to forge other artists’ identities. He pursued a 1950s revivalism of artists such as Chuck Berry, Eddie Cochran, Elvis, the Beach Boys, Neil Sedaka, Paul Anka, Bobby Vee, Duane Eddy, Gene Vincent, Carl Perkins, and Dell Shannon. On Wizzard’s second album, Eddy and the Falcons, the Falcon’s persona is dropped for only one song, “We’re gonna rock and roll tonight.”

Wood later became interested in incorporating orchestral instruments such as the French horn, oboe, bassoon, and cello, played as rock and roll instruments in his group Electric Light Orchestra. His cello droned like a bass guitar, creating a “wall of sound” reminiscent of that of Phil Spector. Although Wood could play Bach if he wanted to, he wished to bring classical music down to the cultural level of rock, rather than bringing rock up to the classical level. (174)

Wood skillfully evokes musical genres and styles rather than a single performer. “Because Wood’s songs sound like those songs but are not those songs, they seem inauthentic” (181). Wood altered the range, timbre and accent of his voice to sound American. On Wood’s first solo album, Boulders, Wood is more of “an absence than a presence.” He often sings in different accents and alters his voice electronically.

Wood had “a protean persona, able to assume a wide range of different identities … constructing artificial performance personae.” (185) By constructing a persona whose very identity resided in its lack of identity, Wood parodied glam rock even as he participated in it.” (185)

According to Auslander, Wizzard's 1973 Top 10 hit "Forever" hits the start button on Wood's recreation of the music of the Beach Boys and Neil Sedaka "with almost scholarly meticulousness", in particular "post-Pet Sounds Beach Boys"; not just imitating but "embodying them vocally." Says Wood: “When I was putting down the vocal tracks on “Forever” I had to visualize that I was those people, otherwise I’d never have been able to come anywhere near the sound I wanted.” (186)

Or, if you prefer, the "live pantomime" version of "Forever" performed with bandmate Rick Price:

Although Roy Wood does sing in his own voice, he often disappears into his vocal embodiments of other artists. We are never aware that Roy Wood is a Brummie (native of Birmingham England) with a very strong Brummie speaking voice.

On his second solo album, Mustard (1973) Wood even alters his voice to sound like the Andrews Sisters (also known as vocal transexualism). Wood sings in voices that are not his own, “voices that belie his sex, race, national origin, and historical era.” (190) Wood’s “signature is his lack of signature, or his appropriation of the signature of others.” (190) He bounces from East Coast to West Coast, from the 1940s to the 50s, 60s, and 70s.

The many voices of Roy Wood

Essentially, Wood plays his voice like an instrument, one of many that he plays with proficiency. And sometimes he sings like Roy Wood of The Move. Isn’t he a sweetheart?

26 April, 2011

NSA Document Admits ET Contact

By Kevin W. Smith

UFO Digest:

On October 21, 2004, the NSA approved for release to the public a portion of their NSA Journal Vol. XIV No. 1. This is a report of a presentation given to the NSA by Dr. Howard Campaigne regarding the decoding of extraterrestrial messages that had been received “form outer space”. Apparently, these messages had actually been received via the Sputnik satellite, but no one had any idea how to decode them at the time.

At some time, unspecified in the document, Dr. Howard Campaigne and some other NSA super mathematicians in the crypto department had been given the task of decoding the messages. There were a total of 29 messages to be decoded—quite an undertaking.

It is curious, to say the least, that this document was cleared for release on October 21, 2004. Why was that? Because the NSA did not release it into public information until April 21, 2011. Though cleared for release, the NSA had been stonewalling it along with hundreds of other NSA documents about contact with UFOs and extraterrestrials until they lost the lawsuit brought by Peter Gersten, a lawyer from Arizona. When they well and truly lost, the judge’s order had to be carried out, and the documents had to be released.

Dr. Howard Campaigne's “Extraterrestrial Signals”

The document, as I stated, is Dr. Campaigne’s presentation to the NSA on the decoding of those messages. It was actually published by the NSA in their own internal NSA Journal. Yet, they were also forced to publish a list of search terms from FOIA requests for which they had found no NSA documents. In that list is “Extraterrestrial Signals”. The title of this document, which they published themselves is “Key To Extraterrestrial Messages”.

Quite obviously, they conveniently split hairs here in reporting they had no information about “Extraterrestrial Signals”. They knew for sure they had this document, and that it was about what was being requested in the FOIA request. They knew it, flaunted the technicality of wording, and continued to stonewall.

Who is Dr. Howard Campaigne?

Dr. Campaigne is one of the top cryptologists on the planet with years and years of service to Naval Security Group, Army Security Agency, National Security Agency, and a couple of other such alphabet organizations.

Howard H. Campaigne started his crypto career for the government during World War II and has been a key and integral part of our U.S. security and intelligence ever since. In other words, he is part of a very small, very select group who are considered the cream of the crop in Cryptology.

Dr. Campaigne’s presentation to the NSA on decoding the extraterrestrial messages was not a hypothetical exercise. I contacted someone who is formerly associated with the NSA and still has TS clearance, and asked him to view the document. I asked him to give me his take on it. There was no question about its authenticity since it was published in the NSA Journal, and was released by the NSA on their web site. What I wanted to know was whether this document had any particular impact or importance (other than its startling revelations) for someone familiar with the inner workings of the NSA. It did.

My contact told me that he was blown away by the wording of the document. He said that NSA communications are filled with words like “possibly” , “allegedly”, and “thought to be”. He said, “This document has none of the normal NSA disclaimer words in it. They just come out and say ‘we received messages from outer space’ and this is the way to decode those messages.”

I asked, “What does that mean to you?”

His reply was instant.

“Disclosure, pure and simple. They aren’t making any fanfare about it, but there it is. They have just made open disclosure.”

But what do the messages say?

Dr. Campaigne focused on a set of information in a couple of the messages that turn out to be some mathematical equations. They also contain the listing of all the elements in our Periodic Table. I suppose those equations may make some sense to a physicist or engineer, but do not mean anything to me. I clearly understand how Dr. Campaigne came to the translation since he explains it very well. But, as to what the meaning of the equations are, I could not venture a guess.

It is curious, though, that during his presentation Dr. Campaigne mentions there are “words” that they have translated, and some “words” they have not yet begun to understand. He gives an example of a connective word that he knows is connective (joining two or more statements) but does not yet understand the translation of that word.

Debunkers are scared as hell of the release of this information as it proves beyond any doubt that they are, and always have been, dead wrong. Their careers as debunkers are finished in light of the revelation of this material. They are already using the only possible “tool” left to them by saying, “That’s old information. It’s been out there for years.”

As usual, they are either just uninformed, or outright lying. It is true the document was cleared for release on October 21, 2004. It is true that date is from “years”. But it is also true that it WAS NOT released until April 21, 2011.

"No, Virginia, that information has not been available for years."

Researching this development for my show, I have found a great deal of other information that constitutes what most people would call open disclosure.

This is truly blockbuster information. No one from the government has stepped in front of the cameras and come clean about ET reality as yet. But, here we have the most secret intelligence organization in the U.S.A. , the National Security Agency, disclosing openly that there has been contact with intelligent extraterrestrials. Not only that, we have decoded their messages.

NSA’s Key to Extraterrestrial Message is here:

19 April, 2011

Ex CIA agent explains how to delete the elite

Spying doesn't work.

NSA is 1950s mindset and 1970s technology.

Blog That!

US Govt is insolvent. We're out of Schlitz, People.

Blog That!

War is a racket!

Bloggers are the new Minutemen! Bottom up! Bury rule by secrecy.

Congress is impeachable. Dump congress on its ass!

Blog That!

The central bank is an evil cancer. Blog That!

17 April, 2011

Rebuttal to Dr. Chris Forbes concerning 'Zeitgeist, Part 1'

by D.M. Murdock/Acharya S

Australian historian Dr. Chris Forbes is a senior lecturer in Ancient History and deputy chairman of the Society for the Study of Early Christianity, as well as a member of the Society for Biblical Literature and of the Synod of the Diocese of Sydney. Dr. Forbes's criticisms of the first/religion part of the internet documentary "Zeitgeist" ("ZG1.1") have been widely circulated. However, Forbes is not an Egyptologist, classicist or mythologist, and his comments show a lack of knowledge in the relevant fields addressed in ZG1.1. In fact, Forbes makes several mistakes, and his remarks seem to be more reflective of his role as a devout Christian upholder of the faith, which from his credentials and curriculum vitae he clearly is. In the following article, I address Forbes's remarks point by point, demonstrating the numerous mistakes in roughly the order of the video above, as well as of his longer radio show, using also the summary of his claims on the "Zeitgeist: The Movie" page at Wikipedia. One reason for all the errors is that New Testament scholars and historians are not required to study the case for mythicism in their academic training; hence, they do not know this information.

In addition to providing a number of images for ZG1.1, I was a last-minute consultant thereon, and my books The Christ Conspiracy, Suns of God and Who Was Jesus? were sources used therein. I was not involved with the second and third parts of the original film or the second and third films. I am only interested here in presenting the facts about ancient mythology and religion that back up the first/religion part. In this quest, I have composed several articles as well as a nearly 600-page book, Christ in Egypt: The Horus-Jesus Connection and a 105-page ebook/PDF called "The ZEITGEIST Sourcebook," which alone rebuts the erroneous claims made by Forbes and others. Nevertheless, in order to underscore the factual nature of various claims in ZG1.1 and to demonstrate the fallaciousness of the mainstream contentions, I have written this additional long rebuttal.

It should be pointed out also that my books and writings provide thousands of pages carefully cited with primary sources and the works of credentialed authorities from a variety of fields, supplying the evidence that Forbes and others claim does not exist. In my response here, I cannot include all the evidence, as this article is already quite lengthy. I will thus provide many pertinent links along the way.

Forbes Claim No. 1: "Horus isn't a sun god.... He's the god of the sky. Ra is the sun god."

Forbes's comments continually reveal that he is not an Egyptologist and possesses cursory knowledge of Egyptian mythology. In fact, it appears he merely skimmed Wikipedia before making his responses. However, if he had read more closely even the Wiki article about Horus, he would have discovered that Horus most certainly is a sun god. What our critic fails to understand, apparently, is the vast profusion of sun gods or solar heroes in antiquity, with numerous gods and goddesses possessing solar attributes. He also appears not to know the basics of Egyptian mythology or even mythology in general, in not understanding that myths are very mutable and that numerous gods and goddesses are combined or syncretized with each other, with solar gods being interchangeable at times. This mythological fact is especially true with the Egyptian gods, including Ra, Osiris and Horus, who were often combined, a fact I demonstrate abundantly in Christ in Egypt.

Continue reading :

Mexico: Mass Exorcisms Taking Place at Puente Jula

Date: 04.15.11

Mexico: Mass Exorcisms Taking Place at Puente Jula

For some three decades, people from all corners of the world have visited the Mexican town of Puente Jula to be freed from alleged demonic possession during collective services presided by two priests. MAS ALLA has spoken to one of the priests and with several direct witnesses.

Over thirty years have gone by since the first mass exorcisms took place in the Puente Jula, a small town in the state of Veracruz. Since then, thousands have come to this community from all points of the Mexican Republic and abroad, seeking to be released from various demons. Whether of their own volition or forced by friends and relatives, they keep coming to San Miguel Arcangel church to solve serious problems ascribed to the presence of Evil. MAS ALLA has had the opportunity of researching what goes on at Puente Jula on site.

Healing Masses

What makes the ceremonies of this church different from other Catholic rites are the masses held ever Friday as of three in the afternoon, and which go on for several hours. These masses end with the alleged exorcism or release of several individuals. The rite has not been suspended for any reason, ever, not even in the light of catastrophic situations.

It begins like any Catholic mass, with the particular detail that those who believe themselves to be possessed must attend confession with priests Casto Simon Arcos and Francisco Ugalde, who take the opportunity to split churchgoers into those who are suffering a physical or mental illness and those who are allegedly possessed.

Padre Arcos, born on 22 January 1930, would at first allow all presents to remain through the final phase, only those requiring exorcism can remain in the church ever since Padre Ugalde joined him a few years ago. In this way they avoid the presence of curiosity-seekers that hinder his work and – according to the priests – magnify the Evil One’s presence. Exorcisms are now performed after mass and only those chosen by Padre Ugalde are present. These are the ones classified during confession, or those who have shown alleged signs of possession during the service. The possessed are separated from everyone else by the assistants to the Puente Jura priests, waiting their turn to be released. Some are not cured at first and return on several occasions to successfully complete the process.

A Dramatic Ritual

When only the possessed remain within the church, an individualized exorcism ritual begins. Dramatic scenes occur at a prodigious rate. Screams, weeping and insults are audible from the buildings exterior for hours, as there is no time limit. “They vomit, they faint, they have to be tied to the pews because they display the strength of ten people. Many want to leave the church or attack the priest. That’s why we tie them down with bandages,” says Clara Saldaña Yepes, one of the priests’ assistants. Meanwhile, relatives pray for their loved ones healing in another room, or outside the church.

Carlos Bravo Rodríguez has helped Arcos and Ugalde for over 15 years. He says that Padre Simón has conducted exorcisms in San Miguel Arcángel church for over thirty years, and that given his advanced age, he asked the Bishop of Veracruz for a replacement. Since then, Francisco Ugalde has been the official parish priest, with the other religious as his assistant.

“God has chosen to make use of this place to perform miracles,” Bravo believes. “Many people find their souls and bodies healed. Many persons possessed of the Devil have come here and been released and made whole. I have witnessed many miracles, blessings, signs and wonders here.”

He likewise compares what happens in Puente Jula with phenomena at such renowned places as Lourdes and Fatima. “The Apostle Paul says that faith grows from the word, and that’s what happens during the healing masses. To be released,” he adds, “the afflicted must put much trust in God, considerable faith and devotion, desiring a life change. If the person is walled off from faith, release becomes difficult.” Nonetheless, he is cautious: “One must be prudent before performing an exorcism on someone. Prayers of intercession are one thing, and exorcism another. For that reason Padre Ugalde devotes considerable study to the case. The priests here are very wary, as the Church as shown us, because they are under the command of the Bishop and the Pope.”

(Translation (c) 2011, Scott Corrales, IHU. Special thanks to La Otra Realidad and Revista Más Allá)

08 April, 2011

The Christ Bomb

By Don Grabau

Few people realize that the world’s first nuclear bomb tested in the Journado Del Muerto (the Valley Of Death) actually had a name given to it by the physicists who ‘created’ it; they called it the ‘Christy Bomb’ when they weren’t referring to it euphemistically as the ‘device’ or the ‘gadget’. They were making a pun on the name of Robert Christy, a young Canadian who worked under the supervision of Hans Bethe at Los Alamos. Puns, codes, and double meanings were the language of the day during that time of war, but at least one man among them all, Seth Neddermeyer, spoke out about the emotions this ‘pun’ stirred within him:

"I didn’t go to Trinity. Kerst and I were busy trying out a new idea of ours, the Chronotron. No, that wasn’t why I didn’t go. At Los Alamos they called it the Christy Bomb. The CHRISTY BOMB! I stayed home. Really, I hoped the goddam thing wouldn’t work." (Davis, Nuel Pharr. Lawrence and Oppenheimer, Simon & Schuster, New York 1968; p.230)

The ‘gadget’ or Christy Bomb was conveyed in nervous caravan-like fashion to a tower built to hold it at Trinity Site through the sleepy town of Belen (Little Bethlehem) and the only newspaperman allowed to witness the test explosion, William Laurence of the New York Times, wrote to his editor that the story could only be compared to "…an eighth-day wonder, a sort of Second Coming Of Christ yarn." He was not the only man to refer to this event in these peculiarly christian terms, Winston Churchill and Robert Oppenheimer among many others also spoke of the bomb’s detonation in terms of the "second coming" and the "apocalypse" and, indeed, Oppenheimer is credited with naming the exact location of the detonation " Trinity Site ".

Assuming that all this language might refer to something relevant about the world’s first nuclear bomb explosion one can consult the birth-chart of the event to see what light it might throw upon the meaning and purpose of the entity named, The Christ Bomb, detonated at Trinity Site, New Mexico (33N37, 106W30) at the exact moment of its’ ‘birth’ or manifestation since that time is exactly recorded as 05:29:45 AM mountain war time on July 16, 1945.

Looking at the chart for the Christy Bomb one notices immediately that two angles of the chart, the M.C. – I.C. axis or power line passes through the final 30th degree of Pisces at the Mid-Heaven and the final 30th degree of Virgo at the Imum Coeli. Because of the Precession of the Equinoxes an astrological "Age" begins when the Spring Equinox "backs" into the final degree and minute of a given sign, hence the 29th degree and 59th minute of the sign Pisces began the Piscean Age of which the Christ figure is a symbol or avatar as the "fisher of men" and the Piscean Age has been centered powerfully on the religious-political impact of this Christ figure. Consequently, when the Christy Bomb was detonated with that very degree on the Mid-Heaven the event was announced to the World-At-Large = M.C. as the "Second Coming" and an "Apocalypse" because it announced the End of the Age of the Pisces Christ and was, in a profound sense, the summation and symbolical final act of that age.

The late Dane Rudhyar has emphasized that the first half of the Piscean Age did, indeed, focus through the sign Pisces with its innate emphasis on direct feeling experience of the Unity of all men in what the Roman Catholic Church actually calls the "Mystical Body Of Christ" (a period that climaxed around 1200 A.D.) but, that the latter half of that ‘Age’ shifted the emphasis to the implied other pole of Pisces, it’s complimentary opposite, Virgo which initially took the form of the cult of Mary, the Virgin Mother of the Christ, and great Cathedrals built in her name sprang up all over western europe along with the cult of Knights fighting evil under the banner of a Lady Fair (Guenivere & Lancelot, the Romance of the Rose etc.). This chivalric order of Virgo purity gradually gave way to the analysis of Science and the worship of pure technique which is the more mundane expression of the Virgo energy state. How fitting, then, that at the detonation of the Christy Bomb at Trinity Site the very men who saw it as the "Second Coming" and who created it as a "gadget" and a "technically sweet solution" should have been objective scientific technicians and those of us who consult its ‘birth chart’ should find a reference upon its Power Axis (M.C.-I.C.) to the beginnings of the Piscean Age and the Christ figure who dominated the spiritual imagination of that Age. It seems the detonation of the Christy Bomb at Trinity Site announced the End of an Age by referring back to its initial beginning via the Birth of Christ (Belen = Little Bethlehem) and its conclusion at the apocalyptic "Second Coming".

Indeed, at the moment of the detonation of the christ bomb the 15th degree of Cancer was rising in the East and the star Sirius had just preceded it over the horizon by a moment or two while the star Canopus was conjunct the bomb’s Ascendant within half a degree. Since Cancer is the preeminent sign of birth and the womb, we are looking at another reference to the second coming or second manifestation (birth) of the Christ and since the Ascendant is traditionally said to refer to the body appearance of a given entity it might interest us to know that in physical shape the bomb actually was a clumsy round object attached to which were all sorts of cables & wires; this fits the profile of the birth of an entity with Cancer, the Moon’s Sign rising, constructed around a sphere of Plutonium at its core and with another sphere called an Initiator at the very center (it is said to have had the appearance of a "dimpled gulfball"). Ah, but ‘Initiator’…there is a word to fire the poet’s imagination!

Since we are all potential poets, let’s use our poetic imagination to look at the star whose rising in the East was in process as the Christy Bomb exploded: Canopus. According to the celebrated ancient, Aristides, the word ‘canopus’ comes to us from the ancient coptic-egyptian name for the star which was Kahi Nub meaning golden earth. And, indeed, Canopus marks the rudder in the stern of the fabled ship, Argo, in which Jason and his famous Argonauts set sail in search of the golden fleece. It is a curious fact that when the spherical core of the bomb reached Trinity Site it had developed cracks & pits in its surface which absolutely needed to be flawless in order to work, so the physicists brainstormed and decided to plug the pits with several ounces of gold (they used common Kleenex as well). See, in your mind’s eye, the round Christy Bomb hoisted up into its tower in the middle of the desert at Journado Del Muerto be-spotted with flecks of gold as Canopus, the ‘golden earth’ rose over the Eastern Horizon and gold greeted gold while physicists looked on through the ‘countdown’ to detonation. Then listen to these words of Thomas Carlyle concerning the nature of the star:

"Canopus shining-down over the desert, with its blue diamond brightness (that wild, blue, spirit-like brightness far brighter than we ever witness here), would pierce into the heart of the wild Ishmaelitish man, whom it was guiding through the solitary waste there. To his wild heart, with all feelings in it, with no speech for any feeling, it might seem a little eye, that Canopus, glancing out on him from the great, deep, Eternity; revealing the inner splendour to him. Cannot we understand how these men worshipped Canopus… ? …To us also, through every star, through every blade of grass, is not a God made visible if we will open our minds and eyes ? We do not worship in that way now: but is it not reckoned still a merit, proof of what we call a ‘poetic nature’, that we recognize how every object has a divine beauty in it; how every object still verily is a window through which we may look into Infinitude itself . " (Allen, Richard Hinckley. Star Names, Dover, New York 1963; p.70 quoting Carlyle)

What caused Oppenheimer to say just moments before the detonation, "Lord, these affairs are hard on the heart", or Fermi to exclaim, "Ah, the earth on the eve of its disintegration" ? And why did the reporter, Lawrence, write of the explosion saying: "It then came to me that both Oppie and I, and likely many others in our group, had shared in a profound religious experience, having been witness to an event akin to the Supernatural." ?

Perhaps what they were experiencing was something of the rich and complex lore associated with the star, Canopus, for we are told that this star itself is the Steersman of the ship Argo, the ‘pilot star’ in the stern of that boat which the Egyptians considered to be the Ship Of The Dead with Osiris on board as the ‘strategos’ or ‘general’ in charge of planning the strategy of the voyage. The ancient Vedic Hindus called Canopus ‘Agastya’, an inspired sage or ‘Rishi’ and he was the helmsman of their boat, the Argha. What is the significance of these boats and their steersmen ? According to the work of Hertha Von Dechend and Georgio De Santillana (see Hamlet’s Mill, Gambit, Boston 1969) these boats and especially the star Canopus are involved with the changing of the ‘Ages’, the shift via the Precession which heralds a new ‘Age’ requiring a search into the depths for a new strategy or sense of values which will anchor it. These two brilliant and wonderfully eccentric scholars argue that Canopus, whom the Arabs called ‘the weight’, is the plumb star or the weight on the end of the plumb line by which the orientation and measures of each successive new ‘Age’ is determined and it is conjunct the Ascendant of the Christy Bomb as it is exploded on July 16, 1945 at the very moment when the final (‘first’) degree of the Piscean Age occupies the M.C.-I.C. of the event! We may expect from this that the Christy Bomb is somehow involved with the final ending of the ‘measures’ of the Piscean Age and the announcing of the ‘measures’ for the new, Aquarian Age.

Our ancient ancestors all around the globe took the ‘measure’ of things from the movement of the Sun, Moon, and Stars in the sky; and in the West, particularly, the planet Saturn and its’ yearly cycle through the zodiac of stars was the most emphasized (in immediate, practical terms) of these celestial measurers (along with its partner, the Moon, and her nearly matching monthly cycle). In fact, the Greek name for Saturn was Chronos from which we derive the whole concept of chronology, chronicles, and the sequential or chronological succession of time as measurement. Chronological time was later measured via water-clocks, hourglasses, and finally electrical clocks and watches. But after the detonation of the Christy Bomb announcing the end of an Age the very measurement of time became a thing determined by the decay of radioactive cesium and the ‘atomic clock’ came into being. This is interesting in light of the fact that Canopus was not the only celestial body conjunct the Ascendant of the bomb, for the planet Saturn-Chronos was also within one degree of conjunctioin to that Ascendant and in the process of rising too. If we were looking at this chart as the birth of a person what would we as astrologers say to someone born with Saturn conjunct the Ascendant in the astrological sign Cancer ?

Most likely we’d begin by explaining that the principle of contraction, concentration, and gravity would be expressing in a very ‘up-front’ way in that person’s life through his or her personal feelings. Such a person might feel = cancer rather serious about life, perhaps have a tendency to take his or her personal feelings so seriously = saturn as to become emotionally contracted or repressed. But the Christy Bomb was not a person in the human sense of the word, -it was a ‘gadget’, a ‘device’, a bomb. Still, this bomb was uniquely different from any bomb that had preceded it; it was an ‘Atomic Bomb’ which was unusual in that it did not explode (according to the physicists who made it) instead, it imploded. The implosion issue was a very serious and highly classified secret about this bomb whose unique qualities required that the bomb explode inward or implode before it could explode in the usual sense. In fact, the unique physics of a sphere which could implode is very fitting for the ‘birth chart’ of an entity known as THE BOMB with Saturn conjunct its’ Cancer Ascendant, the first man-made entity to employ the process of atomic fission or chain reaction in so concentrated, controlled, and confined a way as to result in an almost instantaneous and never before equalled implosion/explosion. This is Saturn on the Cancer Ascendant compressing the feelings inward under great duress, for it is in a 90 dg. angle or ‘square’ relationship to the Moon, -the queen & ruler of Cancer.

The Moon at the birth of the Bomb is in Libra =cardinal/initiating air or intellect in its own native 4th house and only 7 minutes of one degree from an exact waxing square to the Ascendant. Here we see the feelings = Moon expressing via the intellect =Libra/Air and in conflict = waxing square with the body of the bomb = Ascendant itself. While the Christy Bomb was certainly not a human being, it was a living entity if we look at it occultly, for a basic tenant of the perennial occult philosophy is that all matter is conscious and in that sense, alive. So we are looking at the body of the Christy Bomb when we look at its Ascendant, we are looking at that crazy-wired ball hoisted up a steel tower in the middle of the Journado Del Muerto just as it is detonated releasing the enormous, concentrated tension of Saturn conjunct Cancer Rising and in square to a Libra Moon. If we regard this as the chart of an event we can see it will have a powerful and challenging effect on the general public for the Moon in event-oriented or mundane astrology symbolizes the collective feelings of the general public. Indeed, since the Moon is ruler of this Ascendant the event signifies a critical challenge to the collective history and tradition of feeling itself ! This ‘entity’ was born to tell us something about a new way to ‘measure’ our feelings.

Perhaps this is why the steersman and measurer = Canopus, the ‘strategos’

Perhaps this is why the steersman and measurer = Canopus, the ‘strategos’ of the new Age, as well as Saturn, the traditional chronicler of history, are both so tightly involved in the conflict; the explosion of the Christy Bomb put an end to history as we had known it and announced a new, ‘Atomic’ age. We are living in that ‘Age’ now and our sense of time is officially based upon radiation, the ‘decay’ of radioactive cesium in atomic ‘clocks’. Some of us are wondering how the wake-up alarms on these clocks will function!

Will we hear an alarm ring like a bell ? Will we wake up to that infernal electric buzz with the option of pressing the ‘snooze’ alarm, or will a radio station suddenly begin playing tunes and announcing the day’s ‘news’ and weather forecast ? For with Saturn on its’ Ascendant we can be sure the Christy Bomb, as herald of a new ‘Age’ in need of new ‘measures’ will most certainly be broadcasting a message concerned with time.

What is ‘atomic time’ and how does it affect us ? Consider that Saturn with his sickle as old father time is in his astrological ‘detriment’ in the sign of Cancer on the bomb’s ascendant for he ‘rules’ the complimentary opposite sign of Capricorn which deals with the so-called ‘objective’ facts of history. But placed in Cancer he is no doubt telling us that we must deal with our personal feelings regarding those facts, gestate those facts within the womb of our feelings, and give birth within ourselves to a serious and wise understanding as to what they imply. The fact is that the Christy Bomb was the first in a long series (which still continues today) of nuclear test explosions and it released radioactive contamination into the air, water, and earth poisoning the eco-system of our planet, our Cancerian home environment. It was followed by more and larger nuclear bombs/tests and by the 1950’s the general public = the Moon, began to be aware of Saturnian concentrations of strontium 90 in mothers’ breast milk, the milk of cows, and the bones of people everywhere as it fell from the stratosphere in its circumnavigation of the globe via jet streams and trade winds. We began to realize the collective, global implications of the ‘technically sweet solution’ that was the bomb. Since that time, the sperm count in males has declined all around the world. Curious, since the traditional understanding of the symbolic glyph for the Christy Bomb’s rising sign, Cancer, is that it depicts the dance-union of the ovum and the sperm.

But I must repeat that in the birth chart of the bomb this union is under challenging stress because the Moon, herself, squares the Ascendant and Saturn from a 4th house home/land base of Libra. The resultant stress is manifestly evident from the fact that Saturnian authority figures of the political-economic status-quo = Saturn + Capricorn did not inform the general public = Moon, of the polluting radiation fallout in the local area surrounding the detonation site. The fact is that neither the scientists involved, nor the military, nor the President, himself, knew what would happen when the ‘gadget’ was detonated; hence, Enrico Fermi’s infamous quip at the countdown: ‘Ah, the Earth on the eve of its disintegration !’

Strict secrecy was kept about the test on all levels of government, but that should come as no surprise if we realize that the Moon at 14 dg. of Libra in the chart of the bomb is tightly conjunct the natal Saturn at 14 dg. of the same sign in the birthchart of the United States (Rudhyar’s chart) whereof it is said: "In America we have no Kings, for the Law is king". The chart of the bomb shows a direct challenge to the people from the law = Moon square Saturn, and that challenge clearly reiterates the popular saying: Question Authority.

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30 March, 2011

Fukushima is “worse than Chernobyl”

Professor Christopher Busby, European Committee on Radiation Risks, says nuclear industry finished, science fiction scenario is emerging in Japan as truth is slowly being dragged out of people. Fukushima is “worse than Chernobyl” … Why? Because there are 7 million people living within 200 kilometers. The Chernobyl coverup: 1 million people died.

29 March, 2011

Interview with Tiny Tim (1994)

Tiptoe-ing Through the Past, the Future … and All Points in-between

(Or ... Where is Irving Thalberg Now?)

Interview by Joan d’ Arc and Mark Westion (1994)

We met with Tiny Tim one Sunday afternoon at the bar in the Howard Johnson’s Motor Lodge in Warwick, Rhode Island for a chat and a few beers. Mister Tim is a sweet man who is polite to everyone he meets, always placing a Miss or Mister before their first name. He drinks Molson Ice with a straw and wears really cool sequined sneakers. And Mister Tim obviously had a good upbringing; apparently the women in his life did not. His first wife, Miss Vickie, whom he married on the Johnny Carson show in 1969, has now seen fit to sell the perverted version of her story for big bucks to a tabloid, The Star. Miss Vickie should get a life. His present wife, Miss Jan, should quit being a cheat and hand over her little black book to her lawfully wedded husband. And Mister Tim’s Eternal Princess, Miss Stephanie, should stop opening the door to everyone but him, and prepare to fly through the portals of Heaven and the New Earth with Tim and Tim alone.

Mr. Tim: Praise the Good Lord for giving me a sliver of the future; I believe everything comes from him, thank his blessings. This is an unbelievable world…the more I think of it, the more mysterious it gets! Last night, (and I’ll answer any questions you’ve got, if you’ve got all day so do I, because we may never have this time again. Everything that goes out is a document, whether it’s the Times, or college kids or high school juniors. Keep the word going. Years ago I went into the New York Public Library on 42nd Street and I was amazed at how many articles you could find, day by day, that nobody knows about, it would take a lifetime to read).

So anyway, last night on Channel 2, I saw a program called The MGM Years, all about the early film “talkies” and there was Irving Thalberg, director of Mutiny of the Bounty, a genius, taken away at the young age of 37, way before his time. I was in bed in the early morning, wondering where he was. You can’t talk to him any more! It’s like the old scripture “Dust thou art and to dust you shall return.” Now he’s gone! All the people—my parents, everyone—all floating specks of dust! There must be a great silence among the dead. I wonder about all these things; where is Irving Thalberg now? All I can do, all any of us can do, is to have blind faith. I can only go by the documents of history. I didn’t see Lincoln here, but the facts say he was here. I didn’t see Washington, I didn’t see Jesus Christ, but I believe he was here and he arose from the dead. I believe in the great Yahweh, God, Creator of Israel. Perhaps the Good Lord called him [Irving Thalberg] because he wanted some movies made up in heaven. We never know what’s going on.

Miss Joan: Have you ever seen a flying saucer?

Mr. Tim: No, I’ve never seen a flying saucer, although I wish I could, and perhaps the few who have are fortunate to see them. There are people who believe in reincarnation, and certainly everyone can have their opinion until proven right or wrong. However, there was one instance only that I talked with a woman in Florida in 1990, whose husband was a sheriff. She claimed she was abducted by a flying saucer at a shopping mall. I asked her how these beings looked and what she could remember about it and right away she blanked out. Her husband came in from outside about five minutes later and during that time she said nothing. People who actually have these experiences most of the time will be able to name names, places, times, facts and give some proof. But mostly it’s not possible (Miss Peggy, could you bring another round?)

Here’s another interesting story: In 1968, when I started to get “hot,” Shelly Winters invited me to her house. When I walked into her house, she started ranting and raving that she was responsible for President Kennedy’s death! Bobby Kennedy had just been shot, John Kennedy’s death had been years before, but she blamed herself. And I asked her, “When did you have this premonition that the President would die? Did you see the date, did you see who would do it, did you see the time and place?” I told her that if she didn’t see all these things, then she can’t blame herself.

Miss Joan: The President may not have listened to her warning anyway.

Mr. Tim: That’s a very good point. At least if she had the time and place down, they would have listened to her. When I left the house, she never spoke to me again. In all these phenomena—like the flying saucer mystery at Roswell, New Mexico—if the military is hiding things, these people all have dates, times, and it’s all been written down how everything at the crash site looked. So if it’s true that the Air Force is hiding things, these are exceptions to the rule.

Miss Joan: So you believe that there is a government cover-up of alien beings and flying saucers?

Mr. Tim: I would say yes. There is a government cover-up of something unusual, something that would shock mankind.

Miss Joan: Meaning it would affect our religions?

Mr. Tim: Now Miss Joan, that’s a great question! Not only would it affect all our religions, Catholics, Protestants, even Jews, but that opens up a can of worms, because the questions now are, “Did the Garden of Eden apply only to the Earth beings or to beings in the entire Universe? Does the banishment from the Garden of Eden apply only to Earth beings? How does this affect Mars, or Venus, or planets in another galaxy?”

Miss Joan: Yes, and do we share heaven with beings from other planets?

Mr. Tim: Or if they have a Hell, have they sinned, or does this only apply to the banishment from the Garden of Eden here? Remember God’s command: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” We don’t know what outer space holds and who is dominant. There might be some beings who have never heard of this particular great god Yahweh. They might have their own god in another galaxy, or it very well may be that Yahweh is the Creator of all of the galaxies. So yes, this would certainly change aspects of religious beliefs. You would, in the last days, there will be many things that will befuddle everyone. Where is our God, where is He? The last days could be today, or centuries from now.

Miss Joan: And if Jesus showed up in a spaceship would people be shocked?

Mr. Tim: They would be shocked, but does he have to walk on air? He may have chosen to ride. The great God Yahweh always keeps something from man; he surprises him all the time! There really is no religion that knows it all. But we’d like to think that we know it all.

Take for example, the film The Last Temptation of Christ. It’s 1988, a hot summer in New York City. I was barely paying the rent after my mother left. The Last Temptation of Christ was opening up to penalties of error and sin, at the Ziegfield Theater on 54th Street. I had nothing to do, it was hot in my hotel room. I did not, I repeat, I did not go down there for publicity! Something beckoned me to go to this opening. I took a cab and got off at Broadway and saw lines all the way down on both sides; on one side protestors against and on one side lined up to see the movie. I had to walk down the middle of the street, and everyone was pointing and saying there’s Tiny Tim! I did not want this publicity. The protestors were shouting that it was a sin to see this picture because it proclaims that Jesus Christ sinned.

Then the cameraman from ABC comes up and asks me if I believe it was a sin to see this picture. I said “that’s why I want to see the picture.” If Jesus Christ sinned with Mary Magdalene, that makes me believe more in him, because then he realizes that since he came from God and became as a man, he would truly realize the pain, the suffering, the loneliness and sexual desire, which is needed here in the heat of the day, in the afternoons of time. Would that make me believe less in him? On the contrary! And then I got in line to see the movie and I was booed by the other side.

When I saw the picture, it had made allowances for that before it started. It said that the picture is only the opinion of the writer. But here’s where I was shocked with the picture: it showed that Mary Magdalene was very beautiful, and that Jesus was in love with her and she didn’t want him to die, but as he was going on the cross, a beautiful little girl told him to come down, she said, “you’ve suffered enough.” So he came down from the cross and lived many years with Mary Magdalene. Judas, who had betrayed him, later said to him, ‘you know I betrayed you, who knows if it was meant to be or not, but look what you did, you sold yourself, you came down from the cross!’ Then he tells Jesus that the little girl was Satan; the devil appearing as an angel, a beautiful little girl!

I pray that Satan and his demon angels repent. Let’s say Satan is tired of this warfare and the great God gave him the ability to enter the Garden of Eden to take the challenge. Instead of being his robot, he lets him roam the world as a prince of evil; and let’s face it, he won the battle! Today we have a world gone wild. Who can stay together? Who can get to heaven? But Satan himself will be bound up by the Almighty. Suppose he said: “Jesus Christ says to forgive the enemy ten times over, I’m asking you to forgive me. Me and my demon angels were wrong to rebel against you; we were mighty but you were Almighty. I was jealous when you created man as lower than the angels, so deliver us, show us your example and deliver us from our insanity and schizophrenia, bring us back to sanity and home to heaven.”

So, you can see, instead of the second coming, it would be the second going, back to heaven! If the great Artist of the Universe allows this to happen, then no one goes to Hell and the Garden of Eden can be recreated, because of his mercy, with one exception: those who are born again will have the knowledge of good and evil and what happened before! Not saying that Satan will not try again. I thank God for giving me life, for giving me breath, and the ability to think.

Miss Joan: What about all the earthquakes and calamities going on right now. Is the end near?

Mr. Tim: It might be near, I believe, but we’ve thought this throughout the centuries. I feel something is coming, something from inner space perhaps, or from outer space, we will see them coming.

Mr. Mark: Do you think we’ll see this during our lifetime?

Mr. Tim: Yes. It’s no great wisdom, but I think about inner space and outer space. I had a strange dream one time: there were many different types of people. (I think there will be aliens who come to our rescue and aliens who do not). I saw a time when the Earth was captured by beings from another universe. These beings had taken over and were ruling the Earth. They looked like polar bears. They needed to eat human meat, and so in captivity they were feeding the earthlings enough to get fat and they were carting them off in cattle cars to go to slaughter. They would start out being secretive about it. Also I saw the young ones. I saw stores that were selling human legs, all shaved, and little kids were taken like young calves.

Miss Joan: You’re not alone in that theory, others believe we are being “farmed” by an alien species; first as slaves, now as a food source.

Mr. Mark: There are thousands who disappear every year, nobody knows where they go.

Mr. Tim: You can never stop thinking about how high the sky is. All these news items in the Sun, the Enquirer, the Examiner, could very well be subconscious revelations, like the early robots in comics who are now our computers, all subconscious revelations. The Good Lord gave to man to create for the future, but everything came with a struggle, the light bulb, the telephone…

(Miss Joan gives Tiny Tim a gift: A Schwa alien pin and an alien necklace made in Providence.)

Miss Joan: These will keep you safe from alien abductions.

Mr. Tim: Thank you. How beautiful. But I wouldn’t mind being abducted as long as they bring me back safe.

Miss Joan: Well, some of the things they do aren’t very nice.

Mr. Tim: Oh? What do they do?

Miss Joan: Well, sometimes they force you to have sex, maybe because they need our DNA.

Mr. Tim: Oh, that would be wonderful! (Oh, Miss Peggy, when you’re ready we’ll have another round). Now take President Clinton. Here is a man who, take a look at him now, a great guy with a charitable heart, a compassionate man, he loves fame, he loves glamour…

Miss Joan: He loves women too…

Mr. Tim: Yes, he does. Well, he has the care of the country, health care, the crime bill, and he’s thinking of making things better for people and yet he has the same things in common with John Kennedy, both loved women and both have to face the consequences of the Great Yahweh God who hates fornication and wants marriage to remain sacred. I pray for mercy for myself, that the God of Sexuality and Sensuality, who is prevalent in this world, no matter how good his intentions (thank you so much Miss Peggy, you’re wonderful); he committed adultery on his wife! If he gave her “the world,” the stain of deception is always there. He would have to really repent for her to forgive him.

Miss Joan: She forgave him on television. I saw her. She said “when you’re married ten minutes you’ll be forgiving someone.”

Mr. Tim: Well, who knows what went on with her and Vince Foster! If such is the case, if she remained faithful (I heard, well, some assumptions were made that something was going on) and after he and Jennifer Flowers, well you know, she’s not a bad looking girl! If I had met her in the sixties, but that’s a one-sided affair, it usually is anyway. But marriage is a sacred vow and it’s hard to live with someone who has broken that vow, believe me I know with Miss Vickie. And Miss Jan, boy this one takes the cake!

Mr. Mark: Is that your second wife?

Mr. Tim: Yeah. I haven’t seen her more than three times this year [October, 1994].

Miss Joan: A woman of the world?

Mr. Tim: She sure is. I’m trying to find that black address book she’s got! There’s something about being faithful. Now Miss Stephanie, did I tell you about her? I praise the Good Lord. Now, I had good parents, and great success at one time, you know the ups and downs. I praise the Good Lord for good health and to be able to see what I have, but with all that I pray to find the Eternal Princess. If I ever get to heaven, I pray that He will make me another Miss Stephanie, and this time give her the grace to love me as she can’t do now. I want to continually flow through the portals of Heaven or the New Earth with her alone.

Mr. Mark: Who is Miss Stephanie?

Mr. Tim: Stephanie Bohn (B-O-H-N). I met her in Texas in 1988; she was twenty years old then. I met her at the Club Donna through a booker who used to go with her, Big Bucks Brunette. I told her what I’m telling you now. She opens the door to everyone but me. But she is my eternal love. When I die I want to have on my tombstone: Here Lies Tiny Tim “God Grant Me in Death the Love You Denied Me in Life: Miss Stephanie.” Did you ever read the Unauthorized Biography of Tiny Tim?

Miss Joan: No, who wrote that?

Mr. Tim: It was out in 1976, written by Howard Stern. No, I mean Howard Stine. (Miss Peggy, another round!) In that book he writes something about me that’s very strange. Now, I don’t really like guys, but I’m sensual, or at least I was. But one time I had, not a homosexual affair, but I massaged this guy, he was 16 and I was about 22. There was a great attraction. I tried to get out of it for a long time. I can’t explain it to this day. I don’t like guys. If I did I’d let you know, but there was a strange sensuality there, and finally he got married in 1960 and I related this story in the book for this reason: you know, in this life you can be as straight as an arrow, but you never know who you are going to meet, man or woman, who is going to knock you off your feet! It can’t be explained. So many things just can’t be explained.

Miss Joan: Thank you, Tiny Tim.

All: Oh, Miss Peggy, another round!

This interview with Tiny Tim first appeared in Newspeak KataZzzine, Issue 1 (1994). Tiny Tim passed away in 1996. His official website contains discography, memorabilia, pictures, books and more. This interview was reprinted in Paranoia book volume in 2010 entitled Where is Irving Thalberg Now?