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ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
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oo oo
oo the unplastic news issue #2 oo
oo oo
oo August 1991 oo
oo oo
oo oo
oo oo
oo TTTTTTTTTT HH HH EEEEEE oo
oo TT HH HH EE oo
oo TT HHHHHH EEEE oo
oo TT HH HH EE oo
oo TT HH HH EEEEEE oo
oo oo
oo oo
oo UU UU N N PPPPPP L AAAAAA SSSSS TTTTTT II CCCCCC oo
oo UU UU NN N PP P L A A SS TT II CC oo
oo UU UU N N N PPPPPP L AAAAAA SSSSS TT II CC oo
oo UUUUUU N NN PP L A A SS TT II CC oo
oo UUUUUU N N PP LLLL A A SSSSS TT II CCCCCC oo
oo oo
oo oo
oo N N EEEEEE W W SSSSS oo
oo NN N EE W W SS oo
oo N N N EEEE W W W SSSSS oo
oo N N N EE W W W SS oo
oo N NN EEEEEE WWWWWWW SSSSS oo
oo oo
oo ....... the unplastic news ........ oo
oo oo
oo america's active global peace press-------->> oo
oo oo
oo special REALITY issue special REALITY issue oo
oo oo
oo special R E A L I T Y issue oo
oo oo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!! !!
!! DISCLAIMER: !!
!! ^^^^^^^^^^^ !!
!! !!
!! The Unplastic News is published by !!
!! Todd Tibbetts who is solely !!
!! responsible for its contents. !!
!! !!
!! Views and thoughts herein are not !!
!! necessarily those of !!
!! 3M Health Information Systems !!
!! or 3M in general. !!
!! !!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
___________________________________________________________________________
===========================================================================
The Unplastic News is a compilation of quotes and
stories, all credited to the proper sources, and
arranged in absolutely no order whatsoever. We
present this material for entertainment and for
it's communication value. Computer networks are
a wild form of global human interaction and we
hope to post ideas and thoughts to be read
and digested.
Also, we love the tons-O-mail you've been sending.
We want more, please. Send us anything. Plus,
include WHERE you are writing from (if it is not
obvious in your address) because we are curious.
We hope you enjoy.............................
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXX
INTERNET XXX Pass
Address: XXX This
XXX On.
tibbetts@hsi.hsi.com XXX Send to a friend.
Connecticut, U.S.A. XXX
XXX
==========================================================================
__________________________________________________________________________
the reality issue issue #2 the reality issue
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
C O N T E N T S:
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
1. Quotes. Quotes. Things. Thoughts. Quips.
2. SHORT FICTION:
Tense
by todd tibbetts
3. Quotes. Thoughts. Stuff. Pieces. Parts.
4. SHORT FICTION:
The Continuing Story
by eric mielke
5. Quotes. Pieces. Thoughts. Quotes. Chunks.
6. SHORT REALITY:
The Unplastic News Visits The Rainbow Family
by thaloneous platypus
7. Quotes. Stuff. Things. Randomicity. Faroutedness.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
the reality issue issue #2 the reality issue
##########################################################################
"Knowledge is one. Its division into subjects is
a concession to human weakness."
--->> Sir Halford John Mackinder <<---
##########################################################################
"I don't understand guys who call themselves feminists.
That's like the time Hubert Humphrey, running for
President, told a black audience he was a
soul brother."
..... Roy Blount, Jr .....
}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
"I have a simple }}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty }}}}}}}}}}}}}}
what's full. Scratch }}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
where it itches." }}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
}}}}}}}}} Alice Roosevelt Longworth
}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
##########################################################################
## ##
## "Moving amidst my own people I was never impressed by any ##
## of their accomplishments; I never felt the presence of ##
## any deep religious urge, nor any great asthetic impulse: ##
## there was no sublime architecture, no sacred dances, no ##
## ritual of any kind. We moved in a swarm, intent on ##
## accomplishing one thing-to make life easy. The great ##
## bridges, the great dams, the great skyscrapers left me ##
## cold. Only Nature could instill a sense of awe. And ##
## we were defacing Nature at every turn. As many times as I ##
## struck out to scour the land, I always came back empty- ##
## handed. Nothing new, nothing bizarre, nothing exotic. ##
## Worse, nothing to bow down before, nothing to reverence. ##
## Alone in a land where everyone was hopping about like mad. ##
## What I craved was to worship and adore. What I needed was ##
## companions who felt the same way. But there was nothing ##
## to worship and adore, there were no champions of like ##
## spirit. There was only a wilderness of steel and iron, of ##
## stocks and bonds, of crops and produce, of factories, mills ##
## and lumberyards, a wilderness of boredom, of useless ##
## utilities, of loveless love...." ##
## ##
## Nexus ##
## The Rosy Crucifixion III ##
## ##
## Henry Miller ##
## ##
## Grove Press, 1965 ##
## ##
##########################################################################
##########################################################################
If your beard catches fire,
may others light their cigars.
__________________________________________________________________________
BIOGRAPHY #1
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Aldous Huxley
(1894-1963)
Educated at Eton and Oxford, was blocked from a career in
biology by his poor eyesight. During the 1920s he wrote
several ironic novels satirizing the decadence of European
intellectual life.
Migrating to California in 1935 Huxley devoted the rest of
his life to studying and writing about transcendental
philosophy, futurism, and the evolution of intelligence.
Doors of Perception, Heaven and Hell, and the utopian novel
Island made him the world's most influential advocate of
psychedelic drugs.
Huxley traced his interest in brain-change drugs to his
childhood reading about Erasmus Darwin (1731-1802), who
anticipated his grandson Charles' work by explaining
organic life in terms of evolutionary principles. Erasmus
Darwin is also famous for having grown England's first
marijuana plant (cannabis indica) with Sir Joseph Banks,
president of the Royal Society. The plant was eighteen feet tall.
Flash Backs
An Autobiography
Timothy Leary
J.P. TARCHER, INC., 1983
All other biographies in this 2nd issue of u.n. are also taken
from this same book by Timothy Leary.
____________________________________________________________________________
...have you found the reality yet?....
_____________________________________________________________________________
"The superintendent of the Floyd County, N.C., school system
apologized in February for the mistake of one of his teachers.
In the lesson on Martin Luthar King Jr., the teacher had
instructed the class that Rosa Parks (who actually set off
the Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott in 1955) was the person
who assassinated King in 1968..."
Funny Times
August 1991
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
"We are all born charming, fresh, and spontaneous
and must be civilized before we are fit to
participate in society."
**** Miss Manners (Judith Martin) ****
___________________________________________________________________________
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
___________________________________________________________________________
SAVE JAMES BAY STOP HYDRO-QUEBEC
SAVE JAMES BAY STOP HYDRO-QUEBEC
============
Damming the Rivers of James Bay
FOLLY OF THE CENTURY
Hydro-Quebec wants to build
five dams
to generate
3,060 Megawatts
of electricity.
Hydro-Quebec claims its James Bay dams produce
Clean, Safe, Cheap Electricity
For Quebec and the
Northeastern United States.
What's the Price of Cheap Electricity ?
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Ecological Disaster Cultural Genocide
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The destruction of the entire James Cree hunters, trappers,
Bay ecosystem- the heart of the largest and fishermen are
remaining wilderness in North America loosing traditional
means of subsistence.
____________________________________________
"They are telling the Americans this is cheap
and clean. But it's not cheap for us. When
you turn on your switch, you're killing us."
--> Robbie Dick, Cree Chief of Great Whale
River Village
____________________________________________
"The right of indigenous people and the
commitment we have to the land, the environment,
should be universal and unbending. The environment
should not be forsaken on a whim to create economic
benefits. Human rights should not be abandoned on
a whim to assure that the air conditioners of New
York City can run full force. Not if we as a people,
as a planet, want to survive."
--> Matthew Coon-Come
____________________________________________
"I don't want to live like my great grandfather
lived in the farmlands somewhere in Quebec. I
need television, radio, electricity. I don't
believe native people want to live in the
Stone Age."
--> Jacques Guevremont, Vice-President Hydro-Quebec
______________________________________________
SAVE THE BAY SAVE THE BAY SAVE THE BAY SAVE THE BAY SAVE THE BAY SAVE THE BAY
Northeast Alliance to Protect James Bay
139 Antrim Street
Cambridge, Ma. 02139
(617) 491-5531
Ban the Dam Bulletin
Sierra Club Northeast Regional Office
85 Washington Street
Saratoga Springs, NY 12866
(518) 587-9166
_____________________________________________________________________________
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
_____________________________________________________________________________
"Mother Earth is pregnant for the third time
For y'all have knocked her up
I have tasted the maggots of the universe
And I was not offended
For I knew I had to rise above it all
Or drown in my own shit."
Funkadelic
ALBUM: Maggot Brain
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((())))
reality dreams are under your desk
!@#$%^&*()_)(*&^%$#@!@#$%^&*()_+_)(*&^%$#@!@#$%^&*()_+}{":<>?/.,;'][=-=-=!!2
Originality and the feeling of one's own dignity
are achieved only through work and struggle.
---- Dostoevsky ----
!@#$%^&*()_)(*&^%$#@!@#$%^&*()_+_)(*&^%$#@!@#$%^&*()_+}{":<>?/.,;'][=-=-=!!3
Trying to define yourself is like
trying to bite your own teeth.
@@@ Alan Watts @@@
}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
SHORT FICTION
SHORT FICTION
SHORT FICTION
SHORT FICTION
SHORT FICTION
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Tense
^^^^^
by todd tibbetts
Today I actually moved in with Waldo.
Waldo's been my chum for some twenty wicked weird years.
We have never lived together before as housemates. And it was
our fucked up marriages that slapped us together just recently.
We were rushing to get somewhere when we were kids, struggling
to grab a goal. Any goal. Now we are nowhere and things are
fucking bad.
I've always told myself that it would be impossible for me to
live with someone like Waldo...not to mention someone who
actually IS Waldo.
I have a desperate need to practice my bassoon at least five
hours every day...and that's only counting the time I put in
playing scales, that's not counting composition time. I have
definate goals and I think of them while I play.
And Waldo needs to smoke crack and masturbate.
It is amazing that he can still be a dentist.
This new apartment that we moved into today is cramped. The
windows are closed. The air is musty. We are wrapped in a
giant sock.
Waldo makes a lot of money. He has a private practice. His
earnings are spent on rent, food, car and crack. And cable t.v.
He earns the exact amount he spends. Even to the untrained eye,
it is obvious what Waldo spends the largest portion of his
money on. But one might not notice that the second largest
portion of his earnings goes to t.v. But I, on the other hand,
have seen his lifestyle first hand. He spends more money on
t.v. than rent, food and car combined. He receives EVERY
channel. He owns EVERY extrainious gadget. He subscribes to
EVERY pay-per-view wrestling match...including those Brazilian
ones, the ones with subtitles. Waldo is the only man I know
who's external t.v. speakers are taller than he is.
Waldo is one of those Americans who has given up on growth. He
pushed himself to a point in his life where he was emotionally
and financially able to live a life away from a dependence on
his parents. That was the point where he decided that learning
was no longer necessary.
He is one of the Platau People.
Reach for comfort! Reach for lack of opposition. Grab at
promotions and car phones but, dear God...don't make me think!
This trend will kill everyone.
His wife walked out on him one bright afternoon.
His wife is now having sex with a professional body builder
whom she met at the health club Waldo forced her to go to.
He said one day to her:
"You know, the back of your legs looks flabby. I am buying you
a membership at the gym."
When she got so crazy with him that she had to leave she said:
"Your cock is like limp frozen-dinner turkey and you
fuck like jello."
Later she told him about her body builder lover:
"Now I know what it means to want it. Now that I've had a
thick man between my legs, I know what wetness is."
And just a few minutes ago Waldo turned on the t.v. The air
around the set began warming. From my bedroom I could hear
the static crackling before the volume kicked in, full tilt.
He clicked to number seven. Circus of the Stars was on and
these bright stars were having a circus. Swirling organ
crashes came loud like mufflers. Stars in a circus. Did the
producer plan the irony or was he merely an idiot? A part
of the thick American middle. T.v. drum rolls knocked me
off my stool. I placed the bassoon in it's case and gave up,
hoping that the situation did not foreshadow an unhealthy
pattern...the vices of others creeping at me, shattering
my practice.
I needed a grilled cheese sandwich.
In our new thin kitchen, I turned the stove knob.
And through the kitchen doorway rolled the shouts of
spectators and the oooohs and aaaaahs of children. And the
ego ramblings of microphone-holding people crept louder above
the rest.
With the stove knob turned, I searched for a pan in the
lower cabinet. I was on my knees.
I heard a scream.
I tried to bolt upright.
The back of my neck caught firm wood.
Waldo was yelping out screeches of excitement.
Sitting bent legged on the musty kitchen floor, I squirmed and
softly rubbed the back of my neck. I felt warmth.
There was blood.
I lay in a bent ache for some minutes. The pan in one hand. The
other hand grasping my neck. I waited. I stewed in thought. I
reveled in quiet anger. Those eight-foot speekers rambled with
stereo symbol crashes. Clowns were throwing pies.
I finally stood, dizzy-like and panting. I moved slowly at
Waldo...that smoking thing on the living room chair.
He couldn't suck the last half-a-hit from the dirty pipe
chamber so he offered the rest of the white smoke to me. The
glass above the water in the pipe was stained a chunky brown.
He slipped his hand into his pants.
I yelled.
I wanted to know why he was so unstable.
I wanted to know why he was strungout and stagnant.
I wanted to know why he put himself to sleep EVERY night by
smoking and then jerking off to a sticky magazine. No tenderness
to the self -- No concept of others.
I wanted to know why I was so mad and screaming, and why I felt
dizzy from the boob tube flickering and dizzy from moldy air and
dizzy from dizzy.
He did not make me mad.
I made me mad.
I made me.
Now he is lighting his pipe.
He owns a powerful lighter.
And I
smell
LOTS
of stove gas.
SHORT FICTION
SHORT FICTION by todd tibbetts.
+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| |
| If one is master of one thing and understands one thing |
+ well, one has at the same time, insight into and under- +
| standing of many things. |
| |
| * Vincent Van Gogh * |
+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
"A Kitchener, Ontario, radio station, sponsoring a 'What
Would You Do for $10,000?' contest last fall, permitted
such stunts as eating a dung-covered apple and
regurgitating spaghetti and going snorkeling in a tub
of worms, but rejected the idea of a woman who wanted to
hand out bumper stickers while nude on a downtown street
corner. Said a station spokesman, 'We didn't want to
be associated with that.' "
Funny Times
August 1991
_____________________________________________________________________________
"The varying levels of reality in the second
issue of the unplastic news are awe inspiring.
Readers find themselves searching...and that is
enough. Simplicity. Two thumbs up."
Gene Siskle & Roger Ebert
___________________________________________________________________________
BIOGRAPHY #2
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Allen Ginsberg
(1926- )
One of the most influential American poets of the mid-twentieth
century, was born in Patterson, New Jersey and graduated from
Columbia in 1949. He was chief spokesman for the Beat
Generation, a movement that flourished in New York and San
Francisco during the 1950s. Essentially anarchic, Ginsberg
and the Beats rejected conventional culture and artistic
forms. They sought altered and intensified states of
consciousness, novel experiences, and mystical perceptions
through drugs and oriental yogic techniques, especially Zen.
Continually "on the road," usually accompanied by Peter
Orlovsky, his companion for thirty years, Ginsberg traveled
the world preaching a Buddhist quietist philosophy layered
with socialist anger and a pagan celebration of life.
During this era his stance was anti-scientific, anti-technological,
anti-future, non-evolutionary. In the 1980s Allen Ginsberg
functions as a genial poet laureate, meeting regularly in
international conferences with his "opposite numbers" in China,
the Soviet Union, and the Third World.
___________________________________________________________________________
Trust in God,
But tie your camel.
___________________________________________________________________________
"ADMONITIONS
boys
i don't promise you nothing
but this
what you pawn
i will redeem
what you steal
i will conceal
my private silence to
your public guilt
is all i got
girls
first time a white man
opens his fly
like a good thing
we'll just laugh
laugh real loud my
black women
children
when they ask you
why is your mama so funny
say
she is a poet
she don't have no sense"
Lucille Clifton
___________________________________________________________________________
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
"the mother
Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children that you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim
killed children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches,
and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?-
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had a body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.
Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All."
Gwendolyn Brooks
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
____________________________________________________________________________
BIOGRAPHY #3
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Wilhelm Reich
(1897-1956)
Was one of the most brilliant and iconoclastic members of the
early Vienna-based Freudian psychoanalysts, a circle from
which he was eventually expelled. His concept of "muscular
armor" and his theories about sexuality and the body later
became the basis for a number of therapies, including
bioenergetics and Gestalt therapy, whose founders were once
his students. His classic treatises The Sexual Revolution
(he coined the phrase) and The Function of the Orgasm,
written in the early 1930s, were epochal statements.
Ironically, he personally disapproved of playful erotic
behavior.
An M.D. at heart Reich was mostly interested in the medical
aspects of orgone, the lack of which he believed resulted
in cancer and destructive tendencies. Reich designed a
container in which a person could sit and absorb the
healing energy. His work was scorned by the American
medical establishment, which considered him dangerous. He
went on with his experiments, attempting to comply with
restrictions placed on him by the Food and Drug Administration.
Finally he was jailed for selling orgone boxes. He died
in prison, unsupported by the psychiatric establishment,
persecuted by federal agents who confiscated and burned his books.
These books later became standard texts in sociology
and psychology.
___________________________________________________________________________
PATIENT: Doc, I got a weak back.
DOCTOR: Yea? When did you get it?
PATIENT: Oh, about a week back...
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
SHORT FICTION SHORT FICTION
N SHORT FICTION SHORT FICTION SHORT FICTION
SHORT FICTION SHORT
The Continuing Story
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
by Eric Mielke
Chapters in this Issue:
-----------------------
1. Moving In
2. The Church
3. The Dream
4. Father Knows All
I. Moving In
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
After every box was filed and sorted through, after the last
signature had been placed on the landlord's forehead, it
became apparent to me that I had just begun an exciting and
somewhat mysterious new life in a three room, six-hundred-
and-fifty-dollar-a-month apartment in Idaho.
It was a nifty neighborhood, pleasant and friendly (at first.)
I was not aware, when I first moved in, that the massive
church directly across the street would have an effect on my
life greater than that of the Australian flea bite I received
on my testicle back in '72. The fortress of God loomed
grim and mysterious across that road and little did I know
the true horrors which were taking place inside.
I had just been released from the mental institution in
Cuba and was happy to be out on my own. The new apartment
was nice except for the occasional disturbance from
upstairs. Two groundhogs lived above us and would mate
endlessly. This was inconvenient because their intercourse
was often extremely noisy. The rodents also had a horrid
wind chime that was a thousand times more revolting to the
ear. The
thing
would
TINKLE constantly, usually on cold, moonless
nights as I walked down the long alley to the front of the
complex. The tinkle, tinkle, tinkle drove me nuts. For
months I searched for the source of this incessant tinkle
without success. It hid like an infernal deamon waiting to
slash at my ears with it's tinkle, Tinkle, TINKLE !!! Finally,
I found it and shoved it down my garbage disposal.
My girlfriend, Debbie, and I arranged the apartment to resemble
the inside of a Poptart box. We argued only once about the
decor of a particular room. It was my third grade science
project that started the dispute, Mrs. Needlestein's kidney.
I wanted it displayed proudly above the mantel with two strips
of maroon track lighting and an accompanying sound track.
Deborah didn't want the soundtrack.
"I'm not listening to George Jetson sing Metallica!"
Deborah screamed after an hour of rational pie throwing. Deb
was a sensible girl with a large brown mole that covered her
entire face.
"It's not George Jetson," I replied defensively, "or
even Metallica. It's Anal Flapjack."
"It's manure from Hell and it is not being played in
this apartment!!"
We finally agreed to play a one note, four-hour operatic duet
sent to me on tape from my Uncle Sheckie in Paris.
Tyler, Debbie's cat, also had free run of the suite. Although
I never admitted it to Deb, I was quite fond of the old bugger.
Though one day, after it devoured my marijuana plants and
finished the last of the chocolate mousse, I set the bastard on
fire. And, you know, it was strange, but after disposing of
the cat I could have sworn I heard an erie voice chant, "Father
is Unpleased...Father is Unpleased."
II. The Church
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
One thing that attracted my attention more than the groundhog's
lovemaking was that church directly across the street. It was
called St. Googiewoogie. The building was of the old Gothic
variety with the usual statues of Mary, Christ and Sidney,
a large pink-marble platypus which rested on the very center
of the roof's pinnacle. The church also provided a perfect
curtain blocking the sight of Mrs. Snodgrass's eggplant farm.
The church was the public attraction on Tuesdays and Thursdays...
bingo nights. (NOTE: Those wishing to stop by the church
should make a note of Friday's elderly members meeting. The
elders pick the sexiest member of the congregation and then
pelt the nominee with rotting brussel sprouts.)
The very first morning of apartment life I noticed a shopping
cart on the front lawn of the church. It displayed a sign
which read {in bright yellow letters} "Father says, 'Eat Jelly-
Fish.'" Each morning for a week the cart moved two inches to
the north. I inquired to the orcish landlord about the cart,
but the mumbling bugbear only replied with a statement about
orange brush men displaying his wife's legs on yield signs two
blocks from some store. He still had the signatures on his
forehead and we both forgot about the shopping cart problem
after drinking paint thinner together in his garage.
III. The Dream
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
During the fourth night of occupancy, I had a bizarre dream
in which I was surrounded by shear black. Now that I look
back on it, I understand that the dream must have been caused
by the deamonic magical aura which St. Googiewoogie radiated.
In
the
dream I was physically supported by unidentified confines
in that pure darkness. The void had an odd feeling of
boundaries, it felt almost roomlike - though I never found
a portal. Perhaps I was searching for a way out. Perhaps I
wanted to let whatever existed beyond in. I never found
a way out.
I awakened from the black, as if still in a dream, and found
two loosely restrained pit bulls viscously growling at the
foot of my bed. Suddenly Debbie made a gallant entrance into
the room dressed only in red and green argyle socks which
covered the entire length of her arms. Ignoring the foaming
canines she proceeded to perform Macbeth with her had puppets.
During the final scene of Debbie's performance, a serious
looking priest emerged from the other room. He began screaming
something about my destiny and then lopped Debbie's head off.
Soon the dogs leapt into the air, landed on my chest
and I AWOKE in a chilling perspiration...
It was all a dream, from the dark non-room to the dogs...all
of it was a wild nightmare within a nightmare.
Debbie was standing above me holding two socks in either hand.
The dream put a hazy, unreal focus on the entire week.
IV. Father Knows All
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Approximately two weeks went by in our new haven without
anything unusual happening. The shopping cart had been
removed. The groundhogs had replaced their windchimes with a
mobile of human bones. A team of four gorillas worked most
of saturday morning replacing the faulty furnace with an
energy efficient blueberry muffin. However, the following
monday held events which still make me shudder with disbelief.
That morning Deb and I were running late due to the strange
clump of flesh we found in the bathtub. As we finally exited
the flat, a priest approached Debbie and began accusing her of
being a foul. "Chicken," he yelled. "Turkey! Chicken! Duck!"
The priest was identical to the man in my dream. He
screamed loudly as he tap danced on the sidewalk. After about
four verses of this abuse, Debbie joined him in harmonization
and they happily galloped across the street and up the
adjoining sidewalk. She seemed somehow dazed and confused as
if in a trance or under a spell. I called to her
and
then
passed
out.............
T H E E N D ??
{ the saga continues next issue...
read it, it's cool }
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
"The great end of life is not knowledge but action."
--> Thomas Henry Huxley <--
__________________________________________________________________________
r e a l f a k e n e w s
__________________________________________________________________________
BIOGRAPHY #4
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Ken Kesey
(1935- )
Legendary American novelist, was born in Colorado. He
received a B.S. from the University of Oregon in 1957.
In 1962 Kesey published One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest,
a satirical anarchic novel about institutional attempts
to crush individuality. Sometimes a Great Notion (1964)
established Kesey as a first-rank American novelist.
Kesey is widely considered father of the hippie movement.
He had his first LSD experience as a paid subject in a CIA
sponsored research project. His later adventures
became know to millions through The Electric Kool-Aid
Acid Test by Tom Wolfe.
Kesey and his wife Faye have carried out the American populist
lifestyle of independence, humor, ecological consciousness,
and gentle resistance to authority.
__________________________________________________________________________
"Man, if you gotta ask, you'll never know."
-- Louis Armstrong (asked to define jazz) --
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
LEE (To Dusty) Frederick's done this whole new series
that I'm sure you would really love.
DUSTY Well, are...are they big?
LEE Yea. Some of them...yea, some of them are
very big.
DUSTY Cause I got a lot of wall space there.
FREDERICK I don't sell my work by the yard!
HANNAH AND HER SISTERS
a film by Woody Allen
/\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\></\
"Some days I feel dead. I feel like a robot, treading out
time. Some days I feel alive, terribly alive, with hair
like wires and a knife in my hand. Once in a while my mind
slips and I think I am back in my dream and that I have
shut the door, the one without a handle on the inside. I
imagine that tomorrow I will be pounding and screaming to be
let out, but no one will hear, no one will come. Other
times I think I have gone over the line, like Lily, like
Val, and can no longer speak anything but truth. An
elderly man stopped me the other day as I was walking
along the beach, a white-haired man with a nasty face, but
he smiled and said, 'Nice day, isn't it?' and I glared
and snapped at him, 'Of course you have to say that, it's the
only day you have!'
He considered that, nodded, and moved on.
Maybe I need a keeper. I don't want them to lock me up and
give me electric shock until I forget. Forget: lethe: the
opposite of truth.
I have opened all the doors in my head.
I have opened all the pores in my body.
But only the tide rolls in."
The Women's Room
Marilyn French
Jove/HBJ, 1978
___________________________________________________________________________
BIOGRAPHY #4.5
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Thaloneous Platypus
(1965- )
Freelance writer and Kalimba craftsman. He spends six months
of the year in Australia, where he enjoys "hanging around in
the water, looking under rocks." The remaining part of his
year is spent in peaceful travel about the planet in search
of cosmic and spiritual knowledge, music, lifestyle variations,
truth, hip parties and ravioli.
In 1981 he won the Mellowvoice Award for his participation in
The Flippie-City Project (a brilliant multi-media investigation
into the life of European clams) for which he wrote his magnum
opus, "The Clam is not Spam."
Virtually unheard of before the 80s, Thaloneous has gone on to
become an active voice for the end-of-the-century generations
as well as a proponent of free healthy love and free food.
Despite his two year stay in The Betty Ford Clinic for addiction
to Dramamine, he is still considered by most to be the father
of the present generations, those youth who haven't been named
yet by historians.
==============================================================================
REALITY RAINBOW REALITY TRUTH GATHERING LIGHT RAINBOW REALITY
TRUTH LIVING LIGHT REALITY RAINBOW RAINBOW LOVE GATHERING TRUTH REALITY
===============================================================================
REALITY REPORT
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
"The Unplastic News Visits The Rainbow Family Of Living Light"
by Thaloneous Platypus ( on-the-spot reporter )
_________________________________________________________
| |
| What follows is a compilation of research |
| and personal anecdotes. This report was |
| assembled by Thaloneous Platypus before, |
| during and after the Unplastic News field |
| trip to the 1991 National Rainbow Gathering, |
| held this year just outside of |
| Granville, Vermont, in the Green Mountain |
| National Forest. Every word of this report is |
| 107% true. |
| |
|_______________________________________________________|
"...a loosely knit group called the Rainbow Family that has
been gathering annually in national forests for 20 years,
hanging on to a flower-child lifestyle that blossomed in
the 1960s and wilted in the make-what-you-can 1980s."
The Hartford Courant
July 2, 1991
"Over the centuries, the spirit of cooperation has enabled
hamanity to create wonders of social harmony and technical
achievement. Annually for nearly two decades, a group of
grown-up children has created a unique event dedicated to
this cooperative spirit. The event is called the Rainbow
gathering and this month (July) it is being held somewhere
in the Northeast corner of the US."
High Times
July 1991
"A rainbow-colored halo encircled the sun Thursday, minutes
after Rainbow Family members stopped their silent meditation
and prayer for peace and the Earth."
The Burlington Free Press
July 5, 1991
"...the Rainbows' disorganization is surprisingly effective."
Time Magazine
July 15, 1991
I spotted a small bald Jewish man approaching alone on the quiet
path before me, a path which wound into a thicket of pine. The
sun had just risen. The shadows were yawning loud and long.
Wetness on the leaves and wetness in my shoes was warming. And,
although I had sipped a tiny gulp of liquid LSD sometime after
midnight, I can still safely vouch for the reality of this man's
wonderful weirdness.
I know I met him in the woods that morning because he
handed me a xeroxed note which I saved. He was
dressed as superman. He didn't speak. It was that quiet time
thing.
His spandex jumpsuit clung to his spindle legs. He smiled
broadly under that thick black bush of a mustache and he
gave me that xerox. He held a whole stack of these messages,
all printed on yellow paper. He then bounded off toward the main
circle and left me holding his message tight in my hand, he
left me smiling at his flapping red cape.
What follows is a quote from that crumpled yellow xerox which I
still hold in my cabinet, though it is tattered and though it
was once soaked in mud and later dried.
"i have been sent to deliver a message to you
from ONE who is much greater than i, who cares
about you more than you could ever realize. The
simple message is to use your common sense and
to think for yourself.
Ever since childhood, society (parents, siblings,
relatives, friends, educators/teachers, priests,
rabbis, ministers, and most people in general, etc.)
has dictated to us what the purpose of our lives
'SHOULD' be...
...PLEASE feel compasion for those who have mislead
you...seek out the TRUTH for yourself...
Your Ever Well-Wisher,
superman
For further correspondence; Universal Life Church
P.O. Box 270963
West Hartford, CT
06127-0963"
Thaloneous Platypus, 1991
"Just because we are utopian naturalists doesn't mean we
don't get all of the problems of the human experience -
we do. We have the same problems as any other community -
including disease, theft, aggression and various forms of
craziness. But the uniqueness of our community is that
we get to apply our own techniques of healing, teaching
and cooperation to solve these problems."
High Times
July 1991
"...the Rainbows do a good job of cleaning up after
themselves. A crew of Rainbows stays for weeks after the
rest of the family leaves to pick up trash and reseed areas
that were trampled."
Hartford Courant
July 2, 1991
"For the twentieth July in a row, mostly to the displeasure
of local and state authorities, the Rainbows have invited themselves
to a different national forest, there peaceably to assemble. And
peaceably to shake free of the plastic society, hug each other,
wear feathers, wear safety pins in their eyelids (as a few
metal-head teenagers do), dance all night, smoke pot (some of
them), jiggle around nude (some of them), soak themselves with beer
(a troublesome minority), rant or chant or quietly meditate."
Time Magazine
July 15, 1991
On the night of the 4th of July, while in other parts of
the U.S. genocide was being celebrated, I wandered
madly and slowly through those friendly night woods. I
met friends and overheard conversation...
ALICE: My writing is merely a personal perspective of
my awakening to everpresent thought patterns
that exist in us all.
QUEN: Well, what about the fact that there is no real
linear time? Past, present and future are only
mental descriptions, placed on the infinite, by
weak animal minds.
ALICE: Eat me, Quen. You are too sure of yourself. Your
argument has inherent flaw. When you use the term
'fact' to describe the infinate, you undermine
your thesis. I do believe that there is no linear
time. I also believe that there IS linear time.
All realities (which, incidentally, are made up by
weak animal minds) are valid as well as
extremely personal.
QUEN: You were once quoted as saying, 'I only know one
thing completely, therefore I know everything
completely.' What the fuck does that mean?
ALICE: If one devotes all energies of the self to
achieving vast knowledge about one thing, then
(after a portion of lifetime) the person will
have a knowledge of all.
QUEN: Oh, you mean the concept of tapping into the
fucking cosmic oneness...achieving this peace with
the center by entering through any doorway.
ALICE: Sure.
QUEN: Well, what is the one thing you do with love and a
centered soul? What is that knowledge which connects
you with the everpresent all?
ALICE: Broom handles.
QUEN: Broom Handles?! What the fuck, broom handles?!
At this point Alice stands. The fourth of July in misty
Vermont woods is a swirling bath, like a state-wide dip
in the clear jello of lunar consciousness. This place is bad.
This place is swirling. Alice has wisps of smoke and dust
winding at her feet, obscuring our view of her lower half.
We lie on firm ground.
She spreads her arms. She stands behind the fire.
Bottle rockets pop and I turn to see the sky and stars. I
turn and feel those who dance with drums on straps.
Alice smiles, eyes closed, raising on her toes...spreading
her arms wider. She is high to a point of being comfortable
with all at all times. A constant high on the super oneness.
She laughs.
In the brush, two brown bodies make a noisy giggling love.
The dog named Sarah Jane, my puppy, is spread...back in the grass.
She is content and trusting enough to close her eyes in the
midst of this beating, chanting, running, laughing human crowd.
Upside down, scratching her back and twisting, she opens her
eyes and, with those eyes pressed to the ground, human feet
seem, to her, big...and bodies stretch away to a level where
sights are smaller,
far from her nose. She tells me this.
Everyone is doing what they want. Everyone is doing something
different. Everyone fits. It clicks. People here for the
first time fear sticking out or being out of place. The thing
is - it is impossible to be out of place during a celebration
of difference. We are all only a different part of the same
thingness. Everyone fits even if they don't try. There are
so many different flavors of oneness. I have my favorite,
but I want to try them all.
QUEN: You are floating away from me!! Tell me about the
broom sticks ! What do you mean ? I want answers...
ALICE: I accept, therefore I am free. I make broomsticks
for witches brooms. I've got a shop in Sarasota.
I run an honest business and my clientele bring me
smiles and magic.
With that said, she backed toward a tree.
An M-80 firecracker snapped off inside the fire, thrown by
a dirty child with no teeth. After the flash and confusion,
Alice is gone and the bark of that birch tree is curling.
"Here's blond, pretty Sittora, from Massachusetts, who gives
a warm, nude hug and a suggestion: Take off your shoes and
walk slower. Here's a leftover '60s flower child with a T shirt
that says JUST SAY YES! And a stilt walker, and a man with
a cobra...an unbeliever must testify that on a cloudy Fourth
of July noon, when a parade of children marched to break a
morning-long silent vigil at the Circle, the sun came out.
And around it was a haze ring that looked a lot like a rainbow."
Time Magazine
July 15, 1991
________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________
"The liberals can understand everything
but people who don't understand them."
........> Lenny Bruce <.......
<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>...<^>
BIOGRAPHY #5
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Aleister Crowley
(1876-1946)
World-record mountain climber, was one of the most
controversial figures of the early 20th century. With
leading members of the Irish literary renaissance, Crowley
was an original member of the Hermetic Order of the Gloden
Dawn, which he broke from to start his own circle of adepts.
Crowley then journeyed to the East to climb the
Himalayas and to study oriental yoga and esoteric
philosophy.
In 1904 he claimed to have established telepathic communication
with Higher Intelligence through the medium of his wife
Rosemary. He foresaw the beginning of a New Aeon, to which
he contributed these aphorisms: "Do what thou wilt' shall be
the whole of the law" and "Every man and every woman is a star."
Over the next two decades he experimented with every
available drug as a means of transcendence. In 1910 Crowley
went to the Detroit headquarters of the Parke-Davis
pharmaceutical company to secure their newly developed
extract of peyote, which he brought back to England and
used to turn on the audiences at his lectures. In an
article on the effects of cocaine, published during World War I,
he articulated the viewpoint that drug prohibition was
not only useless but actually intensified the problem of
drug abuse.
Throughout his life and travels Crowley produced a flood of
articles and books on spiritual subjects, devising a new
Tarot (The Book of Thoth) and a streamlined version of the
I Ching in addition to many significant and sardonic works
on occult magic.
___________________________________________________________________________
A duck walks into a pharmacy
And says:
"Gimme some chap stick
and put it on my bill."
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