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SNUFF IT #4
The Journal of the Church of Euthanasia
EDITORIAL
Let me start by asking you a question. If you don't know, just guess, how
long--months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds--how long do you think it
takes for the human population to increase by one million? Net increase.
Okay, I'll give it to you, it's four days. Four days, a quarter million
per day, if you do the math, that comes out to *95 million people per year*,
and just for a reference, 95 million is the population of Mexico, so next time
you look at a map of the world, look at Mexico, and imagine the human
population increasing by Mexico, every year.
What do we do with all those people? They all need to eat, they all need
houses, clothes, TVs, cars, and every other damn thing, who are *we* to say
they shouldn't have them, and what's the result? The global environmental
crisis. Massive species extinction. *Ecocide*. In the United States alone we
lose an acre of trees every eight seconds. Worldwide, we're now losing an
entire *species* every 40 minutes, that's up from every sixty minutes in the
1970's, and in the tropical rainforest we're losing a species every *fifteen
minutes*. By some estimates we've already wiped out one third of the species
on earth. Those species are *gone*, they're not coming back, this isn't some
cute nature show on television, this is *real*. In terms of sheer power, this
is our great accomplishment: severely damaging the chemical and organic
structure of an entire planet, including the oceans and the atmosphere. We've
got to do something, very quickly, and the most important thing we can do is
*reduce our numbers*. It's something each one of us can do, it doesn't require
special training, and that's why I, myself, and every one of the Church of
Euthanasia's members have taken a *lifetime vow to not procreate*.
Now people say to me, population reduction is one thing, but how can you
support suicide and euthanasia, isn't that going too far, and I say this: right
now, one third, that's a rough figure, it's probably higher, one third of the
people on this earth are going to bed hungry every night. Does this surprise
you? Maybe you're lucky: maybe you live in a country that still has some
topsoil, or maybe your country steals food from everyone else. Don't get too
smug, though, because simple arithmetic says the population will reach *8
billion* by 2010. Now that's well within my, and many of your lifetimes, and
I'm telling you that if we, as *individuals*, allow that to happen, we are
going to see suffering on a scale we can't even imagine yet, even right here,
in the United States, and some of you are going to wish you had killed
yourselves, because this planet is going to be a very grim and frightening
place. It already is for most people.
So that's why I say "save the planet, kill yourself." Because it really
has come to this, and if you've had enough, and you want to get out of the
game, and you honestly believe that's the best thing you can do for yourself
and for the planet, I, Rev. Chris Korda, am not going to stand in your way.
I'll make you a Euthanasian saint. And if no one listens to me, and the
population keeps on growing, until there's no trees, and no hope, I'll join
you. I think about it every day, and I feel *shame*. I'm ashamed of the way
humans have behaved, especially *American* humans. When I look at the ugliness
Americans have created in just two hundred years, and when I read about the
"savages" we've exterminated to make room for our so-called civilization, *I
feel suicidal rage*, and that's okay, because that's what the Church of
Euthanasia is all about.
Now suppose, for the sake of argument, we divide people into two groups:
those who think there are too many of us, and those who think there aren't
enough. If you think there are too many of us, why not take some personal
responsibility for it? Maybe we're the church for you. But if you think
there's not enough of us, consider your allies. The people who oppose
euthanasia, and say it's morally wrong, are very often the same people who
oppose abortion; they're the same people who oppose contraception and family
planning; they've opposed sex for pleasure for a thousand years, and you know
who these people are, they are the *Catholic church and the fundamentalist
christians*. Their religious teachings have been a disaster for the planet,
and we cannot allow them to dominate us any longer. They're the *real*
sinners, and they can't help themselves, so we have to help them: we have to
*lead by example*.
How do we lead by example? By practicing sex for pleasure, it's a
revolutionary act, remember Joycelyn Elders, she wanted to teach masturbation
and look what happened to her...by showing the maximum compassion for *all*
beings, we can start by not eating their flesh, why are we feeding most of our
grain to cattle when people are starving...by supporting abortion, we're *not*
pro-choice, we're pro-*abortion*, why isn't it *free*, it's every woman's
sacred right...by supporting Dr. Jack Kevorkian and the right to die, and above
all by *choosing to not procreate*, until their churches are empty and ours is
full, until the population is reduced to a sustainable level, and balance is
restored between ourselves and every other species on this beautiful, living
planet. Thank you.
Banana Cup Cake
Banana
Cake
Broken tea cups
--Lori Kramer
I think, Dr. Railly, you've given the alarmists a bad
name...surely there's very real and very convincing data that
the planet cannot survive the excesses of the human race.
Proliferation of atomic devices...uncontrolled breeding
habits...pollution of land, sea *and* air, the rape of the
environment...in this context isn't it obvious that Chicken
Little represents the sane vision, and that *homo sapiens*'
motto--"let's go shopping"--is the cry of the true lunatic?
--Dr. Peters, "12 Monkeys"
Beyond a critical point within a finite space, freedom
diminishes as numbers increase. This is as true of humans in
the finite space of a planetary ecosystem as it is of gas
molecules in a sealed flask. The human question is not how
many can possibly survive within the system, but what kind of
existence is possible for those who do survive.
--Pardot Kynes, First Planetologist of Arrakis
LETTERS
Chris:
About a month ago, three British alleged neo-Nazi kids who had been
vacationing in America for six weeks blew their brains out--two of them
simultaneously at an Arizona gun range, the other one the next day on a
little-traveled Northern California road.
The woman who shot herself alone--Jane Greenhow, 22--had called our voice
mail a few days before killing herself, asking to verify our PO box address. I
ignored the first call, but responded the next day after she left a similar
message with the admonition "don't bother calling after tomorrow." She sounded
intensely depressed, but all she wanted to know was whether our PO box was
still valid. I told her that it was.
On March 4--a full two weeks after she killed herself--I finally received
her letter, which stated that she felt unable to articulate her frustration
with life. She also sent me three $700 money orders--her life's savings.
Knowing that with my recent luck I'd be struck by lightning if I spent a penny
of it, I sent the money back to her parents.
Jane had a degree in astrophysics and read ANSWER Me! Too bad she fit into
the 1/10th of 1 percent demographic which actually had value in my book.
Whereas the great bulk of human suffering doesn't do a thing for me, her
departure actually saddened me greatly.
You can imagine how the press--especially the vampiric British press--is
treating these suicides. DID A PORTLAND PUBLICATION 'GOAD' THREE BRITS INTO
KILLING THEMSELVES? et al. Typically, the ones who would portray me as some
unfeeling creep have displayed far less remorse over Jane's death than I have.
I figure the Nazi affiliation (Jane had left a note signed "Mrs. Hitler" next
to her body) renders these goofy kids nonhuman in some eyes.
Anyway, I wanted to gently caution you to be careful regarding your
publishing endeavors. You and I know that depression and suicidal impulses
betoken a mental condition which can't be neatly traced to (or blamed on) one
source. However, in a social climate which tends to abdicate any notion of
personal responsibility, very few others seem to know this. Since I see value
in what you're doing, I'd hate to see you become embroiled in the sort of
controversy/lawsuits which have dogged us for the past couple years. Believe
me, it's nowhere near as fun as it might seem. And I'm not advising that you
soften your approach--but it might make sense to lay the disclaimers on a
little thicker.
--Jim Goad, goad@teleport.com
I make my money from the Defense Department. Usually I feel embarrassed to
tell people because they associate Warfare with the inhumanity of killing
people, but I can tell you with pride. Since reading your publication I have a
whole new perspective on my career. The only problem is the U.S. usually kills
third world people who don't consume as much of the world's resources as first
world people. Also the Defense Dept. is the top worst polluter. I hope to
offset that by sending you a contribution each month so you can continue your
good work.
P.S. I think Rev. Korda may be the 1st 21st century saint. Please document any
miracles (preferably with video) so the canonization will go smoothly.
P.P.S. Typed on a Defense Dept. typewriter.
Rev. Chris:
I received the latest SNUFF iT, and i must state that i was again
impressed. I have always known that breeding was not at all for me, and
although i have only recently pursued such a philosophy (after discovering the
definition of what had before only been within me a vague but relatively
eternally-practiced concept), it is one to which i shall forever adhere. That
there are other folk out there who not only believe related philosophies and
ethics but advocate them and still enjoy life, is nice to know. Cheers, Rev.
Randall Tin-ear
I work as a secretary during the day with the Passaic Board of Education at
the High School in the MediaCenter and see the awful results of human
overbreeding every day. Our school enrollment has increased about 750 kids
each year in the past three years. The Board is having to lease new buildings
every year and build additions on existing schools to compensate for the
overcrowding. I live in a building where the apartments are very small and yet
my fellow tenants insist on overbreeding and providing shelter to their young
ones in a space that only one would be comfortable in. Needless to say the
problem of overbreeding is all around me daily but how do you speak up about
it? Procreation is the most sacred of rights and if you talk about it to
people (even intelligently) they think you are a Nazi or something worse. Why
do only a few of us see what is wrong? Why are so many fools still bringing
children into the world? I have a full life and never had any children--what
is this compulsion to breed?
--Moo Oom, David R. Wyder/Daily Cow
You can count on me to help you in any way I can. If abortion were mandatory
it would prevent people like me from ever being born. I once considered
having kids but when I realized they might all turn out to look like me (I
look like Herve Vilachez), I immediately had my doctor castrate me. I'd kill
myself but I'm too chicken shit. I just bought a new Harley and I'm hoping
I'll have an unfortunate accident while riding it. As it is, my feet barely
touch the ground when I sit on it and I can barely reach the handle bars.
Let's hope I cross paths with a pyschotic truck driver! Keep up the good work!
--Marc (Herve) Bifano
CHURCH NEWS
Lydia Eccles Interviews Rev. Chris Korda
LE: Last year about this time you were soliciting funds for a suicide
assistance hotline. Whatever happened to that?
CK: That was Pastor Scott's idea, and it got off to a great start. The plan
was to get a 900 number, put up a billboard for it, maybe take out a few
advertisements. People would call up and pay to hear suicide assistance
messages from a voice mail system. We were going to have a bunch of
prerecorded messages--celebrity suicides, techniques from A to Z, damned good
reasons to do it, style, etiquette--you could listen to all these messages and
get useful tips on how to kill yourself, without making a big mess and
inconveniencing a lot of people--and meanwhile you'd be paying by the minute
and the Church would be making money. I made a bet with Pastor Scott that he
would never get Ackerley [our local billboard company] to put up the billboard,
and that if he did I'd pay for the hotline. He won the bet; they would say
things like, "Are you sure you want it to say 'suicide assistance hotline'? It
almost sounds like you're going to help people kill themselves." He's such a
smooth operator, he was able to totally flummox them.
LE: They thought it was a suicide prevention hotline.
CK: Absolutely. And we figured, what the hell? If Ackerley buys it, then
maybe Nynex will buy it too. But it didn't work out that way. Nynex turned
out to be quite a bit sharper than Ackerley. They took one look at our web
site and the game was over.
LE: But you had no problem getting the billboard up.
CK: And what a great billboard it was: "Suicide Assistance Hotline--helping you
every step of the way. Thousands helped, how about you?" It was just a shame
that the number didn't work.
LE: Did you contact lawyers about it?
CK: Yeah, but we couldn't find one who'd take the case *pro bono*, and the
ACLU didn't return our calls.
LE: Did you do any research on the legality of providing concrete assistance to
people who want to kill themselves?
CK: Let them sue, we need the publicity. Besides, you can walk into any
bookstore and buy a book like *Final Exit* that gives specific suicide
instructions--drug dosages, everything. With Dr. Kevorkian leaving bodies in
cars and getting away with it, I figured the courts probably wouldn't bother
with us.
LE: How about the other billboard activities this year?
CK: Well, there was a billboard modification in Cambridge...
LE: "Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea--
CK: "never regains its original dimensions." That's right. It was modified to
say "Man's anus, once stretched by"--
LE & CK: "a big penis"
CK: "never regains its original dimensions." Now whoever did this--these were
obviously very disturbed individuals with sociopathic tendencies, presenting a
serious danger to society.
LE: Although they were advocating sodomy so technically the Church would have
to stand aside and applaud.
CK: But we can't have people running around modifying billboards and so forth;
I mean, that's against the law.
LE: I heard that the billboard got a lot of attention, and that the Boston
Herald was interested and wanted to do a story but the editors nixed it.
CK: Isn't that funny, that's what I heard too. I also heard that while the
culprits were putting it up, people were stopping their cars in the middle of
the street and honking their horns and hooting and hollering and getting out of
their cars and taking pictures. It's kind of interesting that the Boston
Herald went to all the trouble to send a crew down there to take pictures and
interview everybody about it and then nixed the story at the last minute, but I
guess you can't expect too much from the Boston Herald.
LE: I heard it was up on the bulletin board at the paper, and everybody really
liked it. But I guess the editorial decision-makers--their minds remained the
original size.
CK: [laughs]
LE: How about the Institute for Global Dada event--this was during the heyday
of Pat Buchanan, during the primaries, when Buchanan was making anti-Semitic
remarks--
CK: He'd just won New Hampshire, hadn't he?
LE: Yes, and he'd just come to speak in Massachusetts and was using all kinds
of military rhetoric--you know, really violent-sounding metaphors.
CK: It was primary day in Massachusetts, around 7:30 in the morning, in front
of the Boston Public Library--the largest polling place in Boston, where all
the Beacon Hill brahmins in their pin-striped suits go to vote. You were
already there with Doug and Jamie, holding "Unabomber for President" signs.
Meanwhile, we're tooling down the sidewalk with what looks like a giant black
tampon. We unroll it, and hoist it up, and suddenly it's a 25-foot wide,
13-foot tall black banner, with giant red letters that say "GOP" and the "O" is
a solid red circle with a black swastika cut out of it.
LE: Like something you would see carried down a very wide thoroughfare during a
Nazi demonstration.
CK: Yeah, it took 4 people to hold it. Within 60 seconds, we were live on New
England Cable, and a few minutes later the WRKO van was going by and they
literally slammed on the brakes and pulled over. They put me on the air and
asked me what I was doing, and I told them I was a Buchanan supporter. I said
I was there to support my candidate like everyone else, and that Buchanan was
the face of fascism in America. I stuck to my story, and finally Jim Rappaport
[chairman of the state Republican committee] got on the air and called me
disgusting. It was pure situationism, because on any other day the cops would
have just said, "you're outta here" and that would have been it. But this was
one day when the cops couldn't tell anybody to not hold a sign because
everybody was holding signs, everywhere! All they could do was make sure that
we were a certain distance from the polling booth--it was actually quite funny,
because the cop came out and said "Look, you all have to move"--what was
it?--"a hundred feet from the polls." Right? So one of the republican guys
says to the cop, "You just mean them, right, not us?" And the cop starts
yelling "Everybody! Everybody a hundred feet from the polls!" So everybody
had to back up. It was an amazing thing to see. It got pretty rough towards
the end, though--the library staff finally took matters into their own hands.
The manager and the manager's assistant came out with their goon and started
pushing and shoving, trying to make us take the banner down, saying we were on
private property when we weren't, and then the goon threw hot coffee in Toto's
face and punched him in the mouth. He was only taking pictures and got his lip
busted--it was very unpleasant. I guess that's what happens when you call a
spade a spade.
LE: You spent a week at the Democratic National Convention campaigning for
Unapack [the Unabomber for President Campaign] and then afterwards we all
stopped off in Gary, Indiana and took photographs there. What was the reason
for stopping in Gary and what is the significance of Gary to the Church?
CK: I viewed it from the beginning as making a pilgrimage to Gary. I grew up
in New York, but I'd always heard that Gary beat anything I'd ever seen, so I
felt it was my duty to go out there and see what had been done to the Earth.
We were driving down I-90 when suddenly you could actually see it from the
highway; I remember the moment very clearly--we were all stunned. I don't
think any of us were prepared for just how complete and utter the devastation
was--it went on for miles and miles and you could see the clouds of smoke in
the air. It really was a scene from hell. At that time, I knew that I would
have to go to where the refineries were, to get up close and see it. I hooked
up with $t. @ndrew (OGYR Network) and Pope Phred, and they drove us out there.
I was staying with Deacon Kelly, and he kind of knew his way around, so he came
along too. We were driving around all day, looking at the refineries. We
stayed in the car mostly, but I got out and got down on my knees and prayed in
front of one. I was so moved that you and I decided it would be worth it to go
out there and do it again, do it properly.
LE: We tried to get close to one of them and ended up getting followed by
security.
CK: It was a disaster! We were being followed the whole time by these Cherokee
Jeep things with flashing lights on them. We were in the belly of the beast
and they didn't like us one bit. They pulled us over and asked us to leave,
and instead we pulled over somewhere else and got out and started taking
pictures inside the perimeter, and then they nailed us. They wanted our film,
and I think they were pretty much ready to haul us off until you told them we
were doing a fashion shoot.
LE: One of the things that amazed me was in the midst of all that wasteland and
smoke to see tract housing popping up in between the factories every once in a
while.
CK: It was right out of Eraserhead; people living in the middle of an
industrial wasteland. People are born and raised and grow old and die without
ever leaving Gary, Indiana. I've never seen anything worse.
LE: You also made a pilgrimage to the Rainbow this year--tell me about that.
CK: The Church's annual meeting was held at the Rainbow Gathering, somewhere in
the Ozark National Forest, in Missouri. It was my first Gathering, so it was
quite an experience for me. I drove down with my friend Kevin--he's been to a
bunch of them and told me a bit about it, but nothing could have prepared me
for it really; it was unlike anything else I've been exposed to. The most
obvious difference is it's a money-free zone; it's considered deadly impolite
to offer people money at a Gathering. Another big difference is there's no
homeless people; the general idea is that even if you have only the most
minimal social skills, somewhere, somehow, somebody's going to feed you. There
are people who show up with nothing, not even a cup or a spoon or a blanket.
Nobody's going to serve them without a cup--they're going to have to find one
or make one out of a Pepsi bottle or something. But once they do then
somebody's going to feed them and they're going to be taken care of and not
just left to die. That's a very different way of looking at things. Some
people arrive months before and put tremendous energy and love into feeding
people, other people show up with nothing--most people are somewhere in the
middle, and hopefully it all balances out.
LE: Did you do any Church activities while you were there, I mean aside from
having your meeting?
CK: Well, I came prepared to cause major trouble. I lugged all these signs in
with me, like, "The Rainbow Family is Big Enough", "Bear Asses Not Children,"
"A Hippie with Kids is Looking for Work," "Peace, Love and Sterility"--I was
prepared to really tear it up with those Rainbow people.
LE: This was because you thought there'd be a lot of breeders.
CK: And there were a lot of breeders. But when it came down to it, I just
couldn't do it. I would have been totally by myself. I couldn't find a single
other person to carry one of those signs.
LE: Also I got the impression that you wanted to just enjoy the experience of
being there.
CK: Yeah, I didn't want to have to be the Reverend the whole time. I wanted to
enjoy being close to the Earth, with like-minded people, and that's what I did
and it was the most powerful spiritual experience I've ever had. The Fourth of
July is the big day at the Gathering: the whole morning it's silent throughout
the area, everyone forms a huge circle around the sacred fire, thousands of
people meditating and praying their asses off, and then at noon the children
arrive in a big parade, the energy is released, and everyone goes cuckoo. It
was serious Earth magic, the largest scale magic I've ever participated in.
LE: What is the purpose of the Rainbow?
CK: Well, that's hard to say, because by long-standing tradition, no one speaks
for the Rainbow family. The Rainbow family is everyone who's there. I think
there's a strong Indian influence--for example decisions are made by consensus
in open councils, as opposed to the democratic method, which is tyranny of the
majority over the minority. There's lots of music, and hanging out, and
eating, and taking care of each other, and making love, and purifying yourself.
LE: You were there for a week. As a city kid, how was it being out in the
woods for that long?
CK: It was awfully hot, but clothing was optional, and there was a nice creek
to dip in. It was a three-mile hike in, and I did the hike several times, one
time with a 50 lb. bag of rice; that was rough. We were hauling around giant
buckets of water and digging shitters and carrying wood. I'm not used to that
type of thing, so my back hurt a lot, and the chiggers were gross, but overall
it was very exhilarating for me. I was incredibly lucky; I found Scott Lamorte
right away and he hooked Kevin and me up with his friends at Bi The Way
kitchen. They are wonderful people; they welcomed me into their family, and
I'm very grateful.
LE: Okay, now I want to get on to the abortion clinic activities. How did that
get started?
CK: I'm really not sure.
LE: I just remember that Der Spiegel [the German equivalent of *Time Magazine*]
was coming.
CK: Aaah, you're so right. I'd been wooing them all year, or they'd been
wooing me, really; it just had been a matter of getting it hooked up. They'd
been saying that they were going to come to Boston for months and they finally
were coming and they were coming the week after we got back from Chicago.
Pastor Kim and I talked about it and realized that we were going to have to
show them a good time. I mean, they made it pretty clear that they weren't
coming all the way to Boston just to sit around and chat and drink coffee.
They wanted to see us in action.
LE: So the first one was at Repro in Brookline, and Operation Rescue was
supposedly going to be there but--
CK: Yeah, there was only a handful of them there.
LE: Let's name off some of the signs you had because I know they're not all in
the photos. "Fuck Breeding," "Sperm-Free Cunts for the Earth"--
CK: "Fetuses are for Scraping," "Depressed? Commit Spermicide"-- [also "Make
Love, Not Babies," "No Kid, No Labor," "Love the Earth, Tie Your Tubes," and
"Feeling Maternal? Adopt!"] Vermin Supreme was there, and he was in rare form
that day. He had his Satan mask on and his little jiggling eyeballs--he had
his megaphone out and he was harassing people going by, saying something about
"This is Satan here, and I want you all to--
LE: "Watch TV, eat red meat, and try to drive your car as much as possible--
CK: "Read a newspaper, and throw it away."
LE: "And together we can make hell on Earth."
CK: [laughs]
LE: He also asked passers-by to raise their hands if they were using
contraception, or if they'd been sterilized. And a woman across the street was
praying with a rosary, and Vermin was yelling with a megaphone that we were
going to sacrifice a gerbil--
CK: Yes, we were going to sacrifice a gerbil to the unborn.
LE: And you were singing, "All we are saying"--
CK: "All we are saying is fetus pat<61>."
LE: The neighborhood around the clinic is very affluent and boring, and it was
great watching people walk by these incredible signs and Vermin in his Satan
mask and the dolls nailed on to sticks with bloody hands and mouths--and many
of these people would just walk by and pretend there was nothing strange going
on at all.
CK: We got a good reaction from the clinic escorts, though, and that was a huge
relief. If they'd asked us to leave, we would have had to leave, because
they're guarding the doors and hopefully keeping the Christians from going in
there and shooting everybody. But the escorts liked us.
LE: Now was that the clinic where the shooting actually took place?
CK: No, that was the next weekend. Der Spiegel had such a good time that they
decided to come back. We'd heard rumors that there was something big happening
at Preterm, so Becky infiltrated Operation Rescue and got the inside dope. We
wanted to turn the voltage way up, so we decided to make a 15 foot tall, 6 foot
wide "Eat a Queer Fetus for Jesus" banner--we figured that might get their
attention. We had the carnivorous babies again, but we used much bigger
sticks, just in case there was trouble, and we added life-size skulls on top,
painted blood-red. Also Vermin brought some gigantic cartoon fetuses that he'd
made out of day-glo paper, plus we had all the signs from last time.
LE: Since I was videotaping, I was at all of these events before you guys
showed up, which was fun because I got to see you make your entrance. Before
you came the Christians went marching down the sidewalk in formation singing
hymns through megaphones. They got to the building and planted themselves and
they were starting to say their prayers when all of a sudden I saw the "Eat a
Queer Fetus for Jesus" banner come marching down the street. And everyone
stopped, they were all staring in total disbelief.
CK: We had at least 20 of our own people there, and we were marching down the
street in formation with all of our stuff. The cops saw us coming, and the
first thing they said was, "If you turn on that megaphone, we're going to
arrest all of you." We came and we stayed--we were there for hours, in the
rain. There were two TV stations, the cops were videotaping, the clinic was
videotaping, the Christians were videotaping. It was a pitched battle: they
had their trench and we had ours, and they were singing their hymns and praying
and we were singing "Every Sperm is Sacred" and "All we are saying is fetus
pat<EFBFBD>"--
LE: That was also where Nevada's speech premiered, right?
CK: "Abortion as a Sacred Right." [see page 9] Pastor Kim screamed it at them
until he lost his voice.
LE: The police kept you behind the barricades for a while, until Vermin noticed
that some of the Christians were doing a walking picket in front of the clinic.
So he said, "If they can walk, we can walk." People were sneaking out one by
one, and you ended up with a walking picket that was half Christians and half
Church of Euthanasia. One person would walk by with a scraped fetus and right
behind them would be someone holding "Fetuses are for Scraping."
CK: [laughs]
LE: And it was really confusing. The best thing about these events is that it
creates confusion as to who's on what side.
CK: We were standing in front of one of the clinics where a shooting had taken
place not even a year ago, and there were five people from NOW [National
Organization for Women] facing hundreds of Christians--it seemed to me that the
situation called for extreme tactics. The pro-life agenda is fundamentally
coercive; they want to push you into a situation where you have to respond to
them. They seize control of the issue, and try to pin the violence on you, but
we know perfectly well that the violence is coming from them. So our object is
to unseat the Christians, to expose the violence that's slumbering in them. We
want the violence to be on the surface, because when it's out in the open, it's
less dangerous.
LE: I think NOW's big problem is that they permit themselves to play the role
of audience, and of course the news isn't going to cover the audience at a
theatrical event.
CK: NOW is fucking up. Abortion is restricted in almost every state, and if
you don't have money, forget it. Why are the Christians winning? They're
winning because their tactics are better: they have good timing, they're
imaginative, they use visuals well, and they definitely go for the throat. But
they count on people taking them seriously, and that's their Achilles heel. It
makes them extremely susceptible to ridicule; the one thing they can't stand is
being made fun of. They try to intimidate everyone with shock tactics and
disgusting props, but we can out-shock and out-disgust them any day. We're
seizing the moral low ground right out from under them.
LE: Let's go to the third abortion clinic demonstration, at Gynecare, and this
is where you introduced the Pedophile Priests for Life.
CK: We did some reconnaissance this time. I went down there myself a week
early and fraternized with the Christians--it turned out they all belonged to a
group called "Our Lady's Crusaders for Life." I talked to them quite a bit and
managed to get a hold of one of their newsletters.
LE: That's kind of a handy aspect of your dressing in women's clothes, that you
can go undercover as a man.
CK: Absolutely, it's very convenient. I think a lot of them still haven't put
two and two together.
LE: That's where we get our little line, "Don't be fooled by the dress."
CK: So the newsletter was denouncing the Catholic church for allowing sex
education in Catholic schools. They had an example of some "obscene" Catholic
sex-ed material, and it was all about eggs and sperm and God's plan--no mention
of orgasm or masturbation, not even the slightest hint that sex might be
enjoyable. It went on and on about the miracle of life--it even said a fetus
has the same rights as a person, but it was still too much for them. They
wanted to burn the books. I remember talking to Nevada about it, and
understanding that the real issue is sexual pleasure. These people are
terrified of human sexuality, and especially of pleasure.
LE: The basic point is they want to make it impossible for people to have sex
without having children. It's not that they care about fetuses, it's that they
want to stop sex.
CK: They want to stop sex because it's so connected to the body. The body
reminds them of death, and they can't deal with death, so they deny the
body--in the old days they tortured it too, especially if it was female. They
idolize innocence and virginity, and meanwhile the priests can't keep their
hands off the altar boys. How could they be expected to? It's ridiculous.
The sexual urges are still there, and the boys are a safe outlet. People can't
deny their sexuality, it just comes back in another way.
LE: ACT UP has brought this out a lot, they have these special condoms for
priests--it's well known that many men join the priesthood because they're
homosexual anyway.
CK: I'd been reading Wilhelm Reich all year, and thinking about sexuality, and
I came to the conclusion that he was absolutely right. He said that one of the
greatest mistakes our society makes is the repression of childhood sexuality;
that children should be not just free but encouraged to explore sexually; to
explore their own bodies and to explore the bodies of other children their own
age--that it's healthy and positive. Meanwhile I just happened to have these
beautiful line drawings of naked boys, so I put two and two together, blew them
up, and added in giant letters "SEX IS GOOD" and "Pedophile Priests for Life."
I also made a new batch of signs, yellow ones with black letters that said
"Drink Your Holy Water." This was a bit of a pun [and a reference to *Snuff
It* #2] because if you make Pedophile Priests for Life into an acronym it
spells PPFL, which sounds like "pee-pee fell."
LE: How about Brigitte?
CK: Pastor Kim and I were talking about how to symbolize the situation and we
came up with the idea of a blow-up doll on a cross. So I went down to the zone
[where the porn shops are] and found a lovely blond doll named Brigitte. I put
her on a giant wooden cross, and gave her a blue-and-white striped hospital
robe, ankle socks, rosary beads, a crown of thorns made of barbed wire--plus
she had a carnivorous baby coming out of her vagina, with blood dripping down
its chin. A real traffic stopper.
LE: It definitely created massive confusion. I'm sure a lot of people,
including the tour buses that were passing by, thought that those were
Christian representations.
CK: Yes! There was confusion and shock and disgust--
LE: Because you also had "Eat A Queer Fetus For Jesus" there, so there were
three different images that related to Christian imagery.
CK: It wasn't one group in one trench and one group in another. It was
everybody all mingled together. So you couldn't tell anybody from anybody.
And there were groups that we'd never even heard of that were showing up
because of our publicity. We had the pro-masturbation, anti-intercourse group
that was claiming they were the middle ground, that both sides were wrong. We
had the Satanist Youth Corps doing their thing--
LE: You had the reelect Michael Dukakis guy...
CK: Yeah, I don't know how he got in there. Then there was the Pedophile
Priests for Life which were ostensibly a separate group from the Church of
Euthanasia. Pastor Kim was all dressed up in his priestly outfit. So, it was
absolute bedlam. I mean, if you were walking down the street--
LE: It was a circus. People weren't just walking by this time, they were
gaping; they were sticking around to see what would happen.
CK: Dan and his friends were banging on their tambourines and singing and
dancing around--it was like a Fellini film. I'd never seen anything like it.
LE: Moments after you guys arrived, the Christians were on their cell phones
calling the cops and then calling the state cops--I heard the guy say to them,
"We've been coming here for ten years! These people have no right to be here."
And the first thing the cop wanted to do was separate the two groups, which, of
course, was impossible--he had no idea how to separate them, because he didn't
know who was on what side. And then he said, "Take me to the leader of this
group" and people said, "there is no leader, just a lot of people who really
believe in what they have to say."
CK: That's right! So then he went over and talked to Pastor Kim, and I guess
he didn't get anywhere, because he came back and asked me if I was the leader,
and I said no, I wasn't the leader. He was one confused-looking cop. Of
course, it had gotten ugly by that point because Vermin had finally squirted
one of the Christians with his water penis.
LE: He was saying, "Spread those Christian cheeks to receive the holy water!"
CK: He squirted the guy who was holding the giant Madonna statue, the same guy
who called the state police, what an asshole--he started screaming "Assault!"
and the cops ran over and said, "Look, you can't do that anymore." I knew that
if I gave Vermin the water penis that he was going to squirt a Christian with
it. I warned him not to do it, but I knew he was going to do it anyway and
that as soon as he did, all hell would break loose and he wouldn't get to do it
twice. He didn't do it twice, because if he had they would have arrested him.
LE: The Christians had a megaphone and were sitting there praying and singing
into it throughout the entire thing. So of course Vermin was on a megaphone
too.
CK: And I was on my megaphone, and the pro-masturbation guys had one. There
were four megaphones going at once!
LE: One of my favorite parts was when they started saying that they were
surrounded by demons, that Satan was among them. They were praying for help,
and then they started saying "God will not be mocked." And Vermin meanwhile
was yelling into the megaphone, "God will be mocked and that's what we're here
to do!"
CK: [laughs]
LE: And the other thing was that Madonna had just had her child and Vermin had
a great spiel going about it--"Madonna has just given birth, isn't that enough
for you people?" "It's the second coming!" and all that kind of stuff, which
horrified them as well. But one tactic you used, both at this clinic and the
previous one, was talking about sex and using explicit sexual terms, yelling
them loud in front of these people to disconcert them, like cock and pussy.
CK: That's right, we were chanting "sex is good, pussy is good, cock is good,
orgasm is good"--
LE: And then you went off into a rant about, "it's a well-kept secret, but
there's such a thing as sexual pleasure."
CK: I was shouting about genitalia, and all kinds of sex, and how orgasm was
good and positive and nothing to be afraid of. And pretty soon there was not
one, but two, three, four cop cars--a lot of cops, and a lot of us, and it was
getting to be, you know, pretty exciting. And then finally the head cop came
up to me and told me that Brigitte had to go. I was amazed that we got away
with it as long as we did. I mean, we had electrical tape over her nipples,
but her robe was wide open, and her--everything was quite visible, and we were
out there for an hour before they did anything about it. Anyway, the cop says
"We've received complaints, the doll is lewd and lascivious, it's gotta go."
So I said I was just as offended by the enormous photo of a mangled fetus that
the Christians were displaying right next to me, and why didn't that have to go
too, and he gives me a stony look and says "The doll has to go, now." He
wasn't budging, so I said, "What if we just close her robe?" and quickly tied
it back up. I think the cameras were having a soothing effect on him, because
he said "Make sure the robe *stays* closed," and walked back to his car [the
police are your friends].
LE: They didn't seem to do anything about the nude boys on the Pedophile
Priests for Life signs.
CK: That's because we had those little pink crosses over their penises. I was
so tempted to let them hang out, I agonized over it, but in retrospect I'm glad
we drew the line--I mean, one of them had an erection, and I think if it hadn't
been for the little pink crosses it would have been over in 5 minutes instead
of an hour and a half.
LE: It was kind of like religious lingerie.
CK: [laughs] Yes it was! And every now and then the wind would blow and lift
up the pink crosses. There was something kind of lascivious about that too.
Between the young boys and the penis pistol and the blow up doll--the whole
thing had a kind of peep show feeling to it that was very nice. It was all
very sexually charged.
LE: Vermin jumped up on a wall and delivered Nevada's speech again, which had
the crowd transfixed.
CK: It was even better the second time. It's great oratory and it was
wonderful to hear it. We screamed until our megaphones went out, you could
hardly hear what was happening. Everything was going on simultaneously.
LE: That was the power of confusion, I think.
CK: The power of confusion and ambiguity.
ASK CHRISSY
The CoE has as part of its guiding principles a fondness for this planet. If
this is so, how can you not value humankind after having any kind of a life?
[What a piece of work is man, etc.]
--Lee
Unlike other "misanthropic" organizations (e.g. VHEMT, GLF), the CoE does not
advocate complete Human extinction--except as a last resort, should efforts to
restore *balance* between Humans and the remaining species fail. It was
exceedingly difficult for nineteenth-century Indians to value the white man
while he was systematically destroying their way of life. It's equally
difficult for me to value Humans while they're turning the Earth into a giant
sewer. Nonetheless, many Indians did--and still do--manage to feel *sympathy*
for whites. I usually manage to feel sympathy for Humans, but don't push your
luck by bragging about how great they are.
What does cannibalism have to do with the Church's mission, other than the
shock value? Isn't it enough that a body be dead? What's the point of eating
it?
--Steve
If you're a typical flesh-eating Human in a "civilized" industrial nation,
you've probably never killed anything in your life. What do you think about as
you bite into your cheeseburger? Do you feel any compassion for the animal
that died so that you could live? Are you even aware that you're eating the
flesh of an animal? How can you tell? Is there any blood? Where are the skin
and bones and organs? Maybe they're not good enough for you, fit only for your
pet. Are you aware that the animal you're eating lived its entire adult life
in a tiny pen, force-fed, and unable to take a single step? Do you think the
people who killed the animal spoke kindly to it, or prayed for it, or did
anything to make its death less painful? Could it be that they smashed its
head with a sledgehammer and threw it on a conveyor belt? Could it be that the
meat industry is engineered to conceal these truths, to hide them from you with
processing and marketing? Would you enjoy your cheeseburger as much if you had
to watch the animal die first? Do you think that the animal feels pain less
than you, or that its suffering is unimportant? Do you imagine that you are
superior to the animal?
Maybe if a third of the people on earth weren't going to bed hungry every
night, often because their land was taken away to grow food for livestock, and
maybe if you knew how to hunt and kill an animal, as an equal, with weapons you
made yourself with your bare hands, and maybe if you knew how to skin the
animal, how to remove its flesh, how to cook what you could eat, preserve the
rest, and utilize every piece of the animal, wasting nothing, and maybe if you
were willing to get down on your knees and *thank* the animal for allowing you
to live, *then* maybe you wouldn't have to eat Human flesh instead.
The US population is growing faster than that of eighteen other
industrialized nations and, in terms of energy consumption,
when an American couple stops spawning at two babies, it's the
same as an average East Indian couple stopping at sixty-six, or
an Ethiopian couple drawing the line at one thousand.
--Joy Williams, "The Case Against Babies"
ABORTION AS A SACRED RITE
by Nevada Kerr
Abortion is a sacred rite that has been performed by women for centuries. The
midwife, healer, shaman or witch is the holy abortionist. She has been hounded
by christians for millennia. It is time for this witch-hunt to end! With the
help of the holy abortionist, in the form of the death goddess, the crone, or
the medusa, we will overcome this new onslaught by the christian fanatics.
Century after century these zealots try to impose their feeble morality on
women. They claim that god has sovereign power over issues of life and death.
This is far from the truth. Women as the goddess incarnate in all her forms
and in particular in the shape of the hag, shrew, or fury who devours life in
her gaping mouth with her sharp fangs, has sovereign power over issues of life
and death. Let us not forget that when she decides her children are fated to
die, so be it! She is the mother of necessity. She is the groomless bride who
traverses the bridge between the worlds and carries the souls of aborted
children to the other side. Like Lilith, she mercifully robs them of their
breath. We are all on loan here and the death goddess must protect her own
interests! No one can argue with the whirlwind who sweeps the doomed away!
Her word is law! Today we hope to invoke the wisdom and justice of the sacred
abortionist, and in defense of women we scoff at these hysterical christians!
All hope for an overpopulated planet is born in the darkness of her lethal
grasp! Praise loudly the victorious destroyer of unwanted and unneeded
children! She who has the right of jurisdiction owns the souls of this earthly
tribe! You may shudder, shake, and tremble! These are appropriate responses.
Fear, awe, dread, and reverence are what the death mother has come to expect!
With sickle in hand, she seizes the sated and weary souls of the damned! These
christians here today only make her job more difficult than it needs to be.
Like a goblin-mother, she who suckles the stillborn babe also comforts the mad
and possessed. Beloved and misguided christians--know that you are vigilantly
watched over by the ever-present destroyer who will someday swoop down upon you
and gracefully carry you away! The nature of desire, the truth of life itself
has always been death--the all-seeing one who demands responsibility from those
who procreate and overpopulate this overburdened planet. Do not misunderstand!
She means to do harm! You can invoke your insane and giddy god all day long.
It will do no good. He has no power here! She who whets your appetite with
sexual pleasures also whets the knife. She grasps, binds, and enthralls! The
holy abortionist only summons those who are deserving of the call! She is free
from imperfection! Like husks removed from grain, the unborn are hers! She
marks her territory, a boundary these christians here today have crossed over.
These misguided christians think they can strike a bargain with the grave,
shriek at the whirlwind, bellow and screech at the all-devouring one. The
fearful one, the holy abortionist is deaf to their pleading and will win in the
end!
There is in all things a pattern that is part of our universe.
It has symmetry, elegance, and grace--those qualities you find
always in that which the true artist captures. You can find it
in the turning of the seasons, in the way sand trails along a
ridge, in the branch clusters of the creosote bush or the
pattern of its leaves. We try to copy these patterns in our
lives and our society, seeking the rhythms, the dances, the
forms that comfort. Yet, it is possible to see peril in the
finding of ultimate perfection. It is clear that the ultimate
pattern contains its own fixity. In such perfection, all
things move towards death.
--from "The Collected Sayings of Maud'Dib" by the Princess Irulan
E-SERMON #15
Dear brethren, these are difficult times we live in. I'm sure that the bombing
in Oklahoma leaves us all with a deep uneasiness about our future here in the
Land of Opportunity. The Dollar drops precipitously against the Yen,
unemployment keeps rising no matter what the president says, the streets are
dirty and dangerous and crawling with crazed crack dealers...even the
atmosphere is full of holes. It's enough to make any decent citizen depressed.
But don't despair! No matter how overwhelmed and powerless you might feel in
the face of such adversity, there is something you can do, right here, maybe
even right now, to help solve all of these problems, and ensure your happiness
and the happiness of generations to come: you can have a baby! That's right,
it's time to raise a family!
That woke you up, didn't it? I saw you snoozing there in the back row.
Pay attention! This is important! Now, you've heard the politicians
complaining about the decline of the family, and the collapse of moral values,
right? And how many of them are doing their share? Not many! They're too
busy driving their fancy cars, and besides, half of them are closet queers!
They can complain until they're blue in the face, but they're not going to save
the planet. It's time to take matters into our own hands! If you're a guy,
punch some holes in those rubbers, or better yet, throw them out the window,
and tell your beloved to expect a little visit from the stork! She'll
understand, and what's more, she'll respect you for it. If you're a girl, stop
taking those poisonous birth control pills, today! Wait for the right time of
the month, ask your mother if you don't know what I mean, and then slip your
boyfriend's penis into your vagina. Don't be shy about it, just slide it in
and out until his sperm shoots right up into your cervix! He'll fall asleep,
and you can rejoice in the absolutely certain knowledge that you are carrying
out God's Plan on Earth!
Think of all the years you've wasted, flushing that sperm down the toilet,
in condoms or wads of kleenex, wiping it off your chin with a t-shirt, or even
swallowing it, when you could have been helping to save the planet! But that's
okay, because with today's modern scientific miracles, it's almost never too
late! Soon you'll be making up for lost time, with a little cutie-pie on each
nipple and a bun in the oven. What joy! There's no cure for the blues like
hungry mouths to feed. You won't have time to feel depressed anymore! You'll
be pumping out copies of yourself like there's no tomorrow, and if your man
doesn't like it, well, you'll just have to find another one! Slap him in the
face! Tell him to snap out of it and deliver the goods, because only a crazy
man would stand in the way of God's Plan! That's grounds for divorce in any
state, and worse if he's not careful!
The Founding Fathers of this great nation made laws to protect us against
men and women who use their sex organs for lewd, disgusting perversions instead
of procreation. God doesn't like people who masturbate, or engage in unnatural
acts, with members of the same sex no less! God hates these wicked people, and
strikes them down with terrible diseases like herpes and AIDS! They are even
lower than animals, almost as low as abortionists, and the Founding Fathers
knew this and created sodomy laws so these foul creatures could be safely
locked away, or killed like rabid dogs. Don't let it happen to you! Would you
rather rot in a filthy jail cell, or follow the path of righteousness? Would
you rather roast in the electric chair, or help build the new Jerusalem? You
know the answer, so what are you waiting for? Put your sex organs to work for
Jesus!
Hear me brethren, God needs warm bodies, right now! God wants us to have
more babies than fingers! God wants us to fuck like bunnies until there's no
room for anything else, not even animals! God doesn't love animals! God wants
us to push the cows and pigs and chickens into the sea, and still keep on
fucking, until there's no more space left on Earth, until we tear into each
other's flesh like rats in a cage, because GOD LOVES PEOPLE!
And now dear brethren, let us rise, and sing along with the Borg:
No animals.
No animals.
No cats to purr.
No dogs to scratch.
No birds to sing.
No cows to kill.
Dream, dream, we can dream,
We can dream.
(Wolf! Sheep! Wolf! Sheep!)
No lions to tame.
No cocks to crow.
No mice to trap.
No deer to kill.
Dream, dream, we can dream,
We can dream.
No animals.
No animals.
Thanks to TMax and Izzy for translating the preceding hymn from the Borg
Collective. They can be reached at The Noise, 74 Jamaica Street, Jamaica
Plain, MA 02130.
The life of a laying hen begins in a hatchery. Because male
chicks will never lay eggs and are not bred to gain weight
quickly for slaughter, they are promptly suffocated, gassed, or
put through a crushing machine which grinds up their bodies
into pulp. Female chicks are de-beaked [see the film
*Baraka*], toe-clipped, vaccinated, and sent to large
windowless buildings. At 20 weeks of age, when they are ready
to begin laying eggs, they are transferred to laying houses,
which typically hold 80,000 hens confined in wire cages so
small that 4-5 birds live in a cage the size of a single
newspaper page. Under these highly unnatural conditions, hens
become aggressive, cannibalistic, and often die from stress.
A 10-18% mortality rate is not considered unusual. But on the
factory farm, the individual animal is worth little in terms of
the overall profit margin.
I WOOD
by Rev. Chris Korda
Make yourself as comfortable as possible. Okay, now close your eyes, relax,
and try to imagine yourself dying. It's bound to happen eventually, right? So
try to imagine yourself dying. It could be suddenly or gradually, by chance or
by design, far in the future, or tomorrow, but imagine yourself passing into
the twilight world between life and death. Your body is letting go, growing
heavy, the life force is passing out of it, and finally your body is
completely, irrevocably, dead. Now there's a ceremony, a wake, and your
friends and family are gathered around your body, expressing their love for
you, honoring you, wishing you well. Meanwhile, your detailed instructions for
the disposal of your body have mysteriously disappeared, and so, due to
circumstances beyond anyone's control, your body is buried, naked, without
casket or shroud, in the forest.
Time is passing. Your body is decomposing, rotting, breaking down into the
simple substances that sustain organic life. The worms and beetles are
chewing, burrowing into you, digesting you, I know it's creepy, but don't
worry; you can't feel it. They're just playing their role, doing what they do
best: helping the Earth recycle you. After a lifetime of eating, consuming the
riches of the Earth, now the Earth is eating you. You're part of the food
chain after all, because while your body's nutrients are slowly dissolving into
the soil, they're being absorbed by the roots of a tree.
Now try to imagine that nameless part of yourself that survives every stage
of death. Beyond your ego, beyond your consciousness; your highest self, your
spirit. Try to imagine that while your body is composting, feeding the tree's
roots, your spirit is also passing into the tree. And slowly, very slowly, you
begin to have sensation again. New, unfamiliar sensation. Where your feet
used to be, you have roots that sink deep into the warm, moist Earth. And
where your poor, aching spine used to be, you have a thick trunk, flexible but
incredibly strong, and covered with bark instead of skin. And instead of arms
and a head, you have a profusion of branches, ending in thousands of delicate
twigs instead of fingers. And your twigs are thrust out in every direction,
towards the heavens, towards the sun, and instead of hair, they're covered with
tender, green leaves.
Feel the warm sun beating down on your leaves. Breathe. Breathe with your
leaves. In...out. In...out. Your leaves are a million tiny lungs. Feel how
they ripple in the breeze. Your branches are swaying, gently swaying, back and
forth, back and forth, and the sap is running up and down your trunk, carrying
nutrients from the soil up to the branches and leaves. Birds are resting on
you, and insects scurry around on your bark, but they move so fast you barely
notice them. Time has slowed down for you. You're not going anywhere.
Day becomes twilight, and then night. The stars come out, and the moon
rises. Feel the other trees, all around you. You're one tree, among many
other trees, in the forest. Hear the sound of the forest. Animals, birds,
insects, singing the song of the Earth. You're singing too, with a deep, slow
sound, all the trees singing together. Mist creeps along the ground, and the
stars fade, as dawn approaches. The song is louder now, and your leaves are
wet with dew. The sun creeps over the horizon, and into the sky.
Days pass. Weeks pass, and the air gets colder. Your leaves are dry and
brittle, and the wind blows them away. Now the ground is hard, and ice covers
everything. Your sap thickens, the snow lies heavy on your branches, and the
forest is still. In the stillness of winter, all along your twigs and
branches, tiny buds are forming, under the ice.
As the years pass, you grow bigger, and bigger still. Your roots crack
open boulders, birds make nests in your branches, and animals hide in the
caverns of your trunk. Beneath your roots, the flesh of your old body is gone,
and even the bones crumble, but your spirit lives on.
Sometimes when I watch TV, I stop being myself, and oh, I'm a
star of a series, or, or, I have my own talk show, or I'm on
the news, getting out of a limo, going some place important.
All I ever have to do is be famous! People watch me, and they
love me, and I never, never grow old, and I never die.
--John Carpenter's "They Live"
Ask a few questions here and there, but do it casually.
THE POLITICS OF DAILY LIFE
by Lydia Eccles
Think of your direct bodily experience of life.
No one can lie to you about that.
Do you hear insect sound of drones clickering keyboards
in a fluorescent hive of fabric-padded cubicles?
How many hours a day do you spend in front of a TV screen?
A computer screen? An automobile screen? All three screens
combined? Is software your supervisor?
And how many hours a day do you sleep?
How are you affected by sound?
How are you affected by light?
How are you affected by warmth and touch?
How are you affected by music?
Is a good record better than live music raw?
Is it simply sound you want? Or shared ritual magic?
How many of your rituals come at you through a glass,
vicariously?
What are you being screened from?
Does it bother you if the windows don't open,
and even your air is "conditioned"?
How about your degree and variety of body movement?
How do you feel in situations of enforced passivity?
How are you affected by a non-stop assault of symbolic
communication, audio, robotic voices video, print, billboard,
as you stumble through the forest of signs?
What are they urging upon you?
Do you need contemplation? Do you remember it?
Thinking from inside, rather than reacting to stimuli?
Is it hard to look away?
Is looking in the very thing that cannot be permitted?
How are you affected by being in crowds?
How much bodily space do you need?
Do you find yourself blocking your empathetic responses to other humans?
Do you find yourself committing acts of symbolic violence?
How are you affected by the size of the room you're in?
By living in two and three dimensional grids?
And by the visual space?
Do you need to see the sky? Water?
Foliage? Animals? Glinting, glimmering, moving?
(Is that why you have a pet, an aquarium, and fernplants?)
Or is video your glinting, glimmering, moving?
Who prepares your meals? Do you eat standing up?
Do you trust what you're eating?
How are you affected by standardized time,
designed solely to synchronize your movements with those of
millions of others? How long do you ever go without knowing
what time it is? Who or what controls your minutes and hours?
The minutes and hours that add up to your life?
How are you affected by being moved around
without control, in elevators, subways, escalators, conveyor belts?
How are you affected by waiting?
Waiting in line, waiting in traffic, waiting to pee, waiting...learning
to discipline and punish your spontaneous urges?
How are you affected by being immobilized and scheduled
rather than wandering and roaming freely and spontaneously?
Scavenging? (Shoplifting?)
Can you use your hands creatively,
building making touching a variety of materials?
How are you affected by holding in your desires?
By sexual repression, by the delay or denial of pleasure,
starting in childhood, along with suppression of everything in you that
evidences your wild nature, your animal life?
Is pleasure dangerous? Is danger joy?
What are we deprived of by labor-saving devices?
And thought-saving devices?
How are you affected by the efficiency requirement that puts the
end product ahead of the process, that values only the future
and never the moment, the present moment that gets shorter
and shorter, as we try to speed to the future endpoint?
Are you saving time?
Are you lonely in a way that language can't allay
or even express?
Do you sometimes feel yourself ready to
LOSE CONTROL?
That had been the signal.
Nature allows for only very slow change. Accepting a change of
species...before a change of conscience. I'm more rational
than you. I respond rationally to stimulus. If someone
suffers, I console him. If someone needs my help, I give it.
Why do you think I'm crazy? If someone looks at me, I respond.
If someone talks, I listen. You have gone slowly crazy, by
ignoring these stimuli...simply for having ignored them.
Someone dies. You let him die. Someone asks for help. You
look the other way. Someone is hungry. You squander what you
have. Someone is dying of sorrow. You lock him up so as not
to see him. One who systematically adopts this conduct...who
walks among the victims, ignoring them...may dress well, may
pay taxes...go to Mass...but you cannot deny he is sick. Your
reality is terrifying, Doctor. Why don't you look at the real
madness for once? Stop persecuting the sad ones...the
meek...those who don't want to buy, or cannot buy, that shit
you would gladly sell me. That is, if you could.
--Rantes, "Man Facing Southeast"
THE AGE OF SIMULATION
by Rev. Chris Korda
A visionary is one who has visions, one who dreams. Visions are by definition
nonverbal experiences, and therefore difficult to communicate. Throughout most
of human history, nonverbal experience was shared telepathically, and the
atrophy of this ability directly coincides with the end of the Age of Magic.
There is no way to be sure how long the Age of Magic lasted, partly because
its time was not linear but mythic, and partly because the continuity and
rootedness of Magic-based cultures encouraged oral rather than written history.
It is the turmoil of Magic's demise that has inspired people to write their
history down; what most people call history is merely the brief and violent
history of Industrial Society. The history of the Age of Magic exists, not in
libraries or museums, but in the timeless realm of mystical experience, and
within all beings who maintain their connection to that realm. As the number
of *human* beings who remain open to spiritual awareness dwindles, entire
aspects of this hidden history disappear from human knowledge, to be recovered
only laboriously, or perhaps lost forever.
It is possible to communicate visions through any of the nonverbal media
which comprise "art," but this requires sensitivity of both the creator and the
viewer. Ideally these two are joined as one, if in not in body, then in
spirit. Spiritual or Magical art is by definition *participational*, and
encompasses every aspect of life. Unfortunately, sensitivity and "oneness" are
qualities that Industrial Society must ruthlessly seek out and destroy, in its
effort to create passivity and "sameness." In Magic, the many meet as one, and
return to the many: in Industrial Society, the many are crushed, and
homogenized into a uniform *mass*.
Due to the rapid growth of "mass" society, and the resulting loss of
participation in the rituals of Magical art, I am obliged to verbalize, and
communicate my visions through the written or spoken word. In a mass society
only that knowledge which conforms to the inherent laws of mass communication
can be kept alive and disseminated. These laws have been explained in great
detail by others; suffice it to say that the verbal forms of mass communication
require, above all, that knowledge be *rational*.
Since spiritual knowledge emanates from aspects of reality that are beyond
the scope of rationalism, it follows that spiritual knowledge cannot be
verbalized except approximately and allegorically. This paradox led early
Chinese thinkers to divide reality into two spheres of influence: the spheres
of Relative and Absolute Truth. According to this division, all verbalized
experience, and by extension all spoken or written communication, is relative,
because it depends on the participants' points of view, and on the symbolic
language that each participant applies to their observations. Thus Lao-Tze
proclaimed in the *Book of Changes* that "the Tao that has a name, is not the
true Tao." Absolute Truth was assumed to be nonverbal, and accessible only
though meditation.
This caveat was lost on many subsequent thinkers, including the ancient
Greeks. The confusion of reality with words about reality led to insoluble
philosophical contradictions, including the conflict between *rationalism* and
***empiricism*. The empiricists, led by Francis Bacon, held that all knowledge
derived from the senses, while the rationalists, led by Descartes, argued that
knowledge was acquired by reason alone. The dilemma was brought to a head by
Hume, and threatened to undermine the still-delicate foundation of material
science. Though Kant eventually negotiated a truce, by ceding mathematics and
logic to the rationalists, while claiming the rest for empiricism, the
corresponding split between Mind and Body continues to this day. Meanwhile
both sides cheerfully extended the mechanical world-view into every human
pursuit, and thus laid the foundations of Industrial Society. The result of
their zeal is a senseless world in which all truth is relative, and it is to
this world, and its mass society, that I find myself attempting to communicate
my irrational visions of Absolute Truth, hampered by a lack of spirit, not only
in people, but in the language itself.
In spite of these difficulties, I begin by agreeing with Jeremy Rifkin that
this is the Age of Simulation. By this I mean that people now accept *mediated
experience* in the place of real experience. This change has taken place in a
series of leaps, each corresponding to a technological innovation. The
printing press, camera, telephone, radio, television, and computer form a
continuum; with each "advance" the simulation becomes more complete. The
simulation spreads, by eliminating human capacities it has no use for, while
excessively stimulating others; in this sense it behaves like a virus, which
replicates by altering the structure of its host. Simulation creates
conditions favorable to itself by isolating people from other living beings, by
reducing their range of sensation, and especially by narrowing their attention
span. Parents and teachers, unable to grasp this, surround children with
televisions and computers, and then complain about learning disabilities and
"attention disorders."
As Rifkin points out, today's children dismiss someone with the phrase
"you're history," and as history recedes, the future becomes equally uncertain.
Unlike the Iroquois, who considered the impact of their deliberations on the
next seven generations, today's leaders plan no further than their reelection.
Obsession with an ever-changing present destroys *continuity*: the cycles of
gradual change so essential to biological and spiritual health, are shattered
into furtive, splintered motion. Calculus becomes a way of life, as matter,
energy and even time are quantized into ever-smaller units. The search for
irreducible elements conceals the desire to *standardize*, to make things
uniform and interchangeable; humans seek total control, to avoid the disorder
that their control-lust creates.
Through simulation, humans seek not only to concentrate all their knowledge
in the present, but to use that knowledge, as power to *transform* the present,
ever more quickly. Thus while the stated goal of technological "progress" is
increased *efficiency*, which by itself seems beneficial, the concealed goal is
to use that efficiency, not to reduce waste, but to go even faster.
Yesterday's model is discarded, efficient or not, and as the speed of
development increases, more and more of earth's structure is consumed, and
dissipated as waste and heat. This dissipation is *entropy*, or unrecoverable
energy.
Entropy describes not only energy loss, but also the tendency of order to
expand and decay into chaos. On a universal scale, chaos, like death, is
inevitable, but "progress" towards it can be slowed down, or even reversed, if
only temporarily. Life itself is a miracle of negative entropy: chaos evolves,
in a harmony of self-sustaining changes, and the monoculture of primordial
nothingness, over eons of time, becomes biological diversity. Humans try to
mimic nature's feat, and succeed in creating short-term order and complexity in
one place, but only at the price of creating long-term chaos and loss of
diversity somewhere else. In this way a forest, which for practical purposes
would have lasted forever, is traded for consumer goods that will last a few
years, or for packaging, to be discarded immediately. Similarly, America's
Great Plains, once built for eternity, generate riches for a time, but
meanwhile the topsoil washes into the sea, never to return. Shifting sand
demonstrates high entropy; the expanding man-made deserts are a grim reminder
that Industrial Society's goal is not to "steward" the earth, or even sustain
life on it, but to *use* it.
But use it for what? Simulation continues to masquerade as convenience, or
as novelty, but its object has always been to *replace* reality. This is now
openly acknowledged in the term "virtual reality." Just as the mechanical
world-view permitted standardized information to be collected, and centralized
as *surveillance*, so that surveillance now permits the *assimilation* of
reality by machines. The process is destructive and one-way: as aspects of
reality are reduced to commodity, **and assimilated as data, they are
disfigured and erased. This is illustrated by nature shows, in which extinct
species live on, as stored information.1
Simulation concentrates mental energy at the expense of the physical. The
resulting imbalance exhausts the body, making assimilation more urgent. The
virtual reality is an *out-of-body experience*, and the mind must free itself
of the body, or lose its war of secession. Industrial Society attempts to
extend the body's life, or even replace it, through bionics and genetic
engineering, but these efforts only cause more disruption, and divert energy
from healing the split between Mind and Body. As the mind abandons the body,
entropy begins to manifest itself in devastating syndromes, such as AIDS and
cancer. The split is a belief system, and can be unlearned, to varying
degrees; thus true healers consider *belief* to be their single greatest
obstacle.
Humans have been usefully compared to cancer, but it is a mistake to assume
that cancer is genetic in origin, and that humans are therefore inevitably
programmed to destroy the planet. It is the mechanical world-view of
Industrial Society which is destroying the planet; humans are merely the agents
by which this world-view is applied. In this sense the cancer is ideological,
and humans cannot be blamed for the desecration, anymore than a dreamer can be
blamed for a nightmare. Though irreversible, the desecration is preventable,
and can be stopped at any time, so it is not a question of blame at all, but of
how to wake the dreamer, without further injury.
The ideological cancer has its roots in *humanism*, the Sophist idea that
"man is the measure of all things." Goethe's followers built on this notion to
create their pyramidal "levels of being," with humans at the top, a chosen
species for whom all was created, and without whom all would have no meaning.
When Europeans arrived in the New World, this hierarchy of consciousness was
their chief ideological export; it was poorly received by the First People, who
in general saw themselves as part of a larger organism, and no better, or worse
than any other living thing.2
Humanism views man as the super-ape, who seeks to bend nature to his will
through the use of his reason. The next logical step is to the super-man or
*trans-human*, who seeks to liberate his reason from the biological limitations
of nature, and thus achieve immortality. The cancer, faced with the immanent
death of its host, makes plans to escape, by building machines and transferring
itself into them. The danger is not that humans, in the grip of their
nightmare, will actually build machines capable of self-awareness and
interplanetary conquest, but that in attempting this folly, they will damage
the earth so severely that life will no longer be possible, even for humans.3
The Hopis saw Industrial Society in visions, thousands of years ago, and
though they did not always comprehend these visions at the time, they preserved
them in the form of prophecies, which only now begin to make sense. An example
is their prophecy that there would be cobwebs spun back and forth in the sky.
This can be understood not only as a reference to power lines, but also to the
trails of light made by our ground and air vehicles, as revealed in time-elapse
photography.4 These changes in perception illustrate the Hopi's ability to
shift their awareness, in this case from fleeting human consciousness to the
slower vibrations of the vegetable and mineral worlds.
The Hopis are well aware of the power of dreams, and they know that our
illness is a matter of the *heart*. They have also recognized the many signs
that the illness becomes terminal, and have repeatedly attempted to warn the
world through the United Nations, finally succeeding in 1992. The signs have
included earthquakes and drastic changes in weather patterns, as well as Mother
Earth "crying" through the formation of crop circles. These are symptoms not
only of deforestation and massive extinction of species, but of *geological*
damage to the earth. Mining in general, and particularly mining of radioactive
materials, is seen as a direct assault on the planet, and on its magnetic
balance and weather. By spewing waste into the air and water, humans poison
the planet's blood, but by digging precious things from the land, humans injure
the vital organs of a living organism, and invite disaster, for all beings.
The Hopis are sworn to protect the treasures that lie beneath them. In victory
or defeat, they stand for the ultimate truth that *earth is sacred*.
1. It is truly ironic that humans regain their long-lost oneness only in mass
hallucination. The experience is *collective* because its source is not the
diversity of organic life, but the technological monoculture.
2. This is illustrated by Lakota hunters, who left a piece of their flesh at
the spot where an animal was killed, as a symbol of their indebtedness, and as
a reminder that through death, came life. Even if modern man left fingers in
fast-food restaurants, the ritual would be empty; the killing is not done by
him, but anonymously, by remote control.
3. This danger is often downplayed by technological utopians; books such as
*Third Wave* and *Futureshock* present the soft side of trans-humanism. By
comparison, the libertarian trans-humanists, also known as Extropians, speak
openly of "downloading" human awareness into machines, gutting other planets,
and turning the universe into a cyberspace.
4. The film *Koyaanisqatsi*, which explored this discovery, takes its name from
the Hopi word for *disintegration*, crazy life, or a state of life that calls
for another way of being. Commuters are compared to sausages flowing through a
packaging plant, and a rocket launch becomes the ultimate symbol of Industrial
Society.
Wisdom
Earth and sky
Hear my song
I am weary
And the way is long
The wind is wild
And the waves are rough
Give me wisdom
Make me strong enough
To swim that sea
To crawl up that shore
To breathe deep and stand
And find out who I am
To reach high and climb up
To find my place
To be
To live my life
To love
And be loved
To die
Peacefully
In heaven
Above
-Chris Korda
RECOMMENDED READING
Black Elk Speaks, John G. Neihardt. After having a great vision at an early
age, Black Elk became a medicine man. He spent the rest of his life trying to
realize his dream for the Lakota--and for all people--of the tree of life
blooming at the center of the sacred hoop. His dream ended in the butchering
at Wounded Knee. Years later, with tears running down his face, Black Elk
tells the Great Spirit that the tree never bloomed, and is withered: "A pitiful
old man, you see me here, and I have fallen away and done nothing...It may be
that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it
may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds." To see how things could be,
but be powerless to make them so, surely nothing is harder. Does the
preservation of Black Elk's vision in a popular book lessen his defeat? The
author thought so, but I'm unsure. Even if the tree still lives, how can I
nourish it when I can barely nourish myself? Or are these two are the same,
because the tree is in each of us? I also have a vision, and feel unable to
realize it. Will I end up like Black Elk?
O-Zone, Paul Theroux. Industrial society concentrates its power in cities, but
only by ceding control over outlying areas, as Hakim Bey and others have
observed. Already the elite submit to surveillance, and willingly trade
freedom of movement for increased security. Today's "knowledge workers"
telecommute, and rarely leave their gated communities, complete with shopping
malls, recreation facilities, and private police. How much longer will it be
before cities become walled cities? Are we returning to a feudal world?
Theroux's answer is yes, and his bone-chilling novel searches for life outside
the walls. "I'm an Owner...get out of my way and let me through!"
On Behalf of Wolf and the First Peoples, Joseph Marshall III. Unlike hundreds
of tribes that became stacks of paper, names on a list, or nothing at all, the
Lakota are alive, with a surprising amount of their heritage intact. Marshall
moves easily in the white man's world, but he also listens to his ancestors,
and their voices permeate his essays. They stress the importance of knowing
one's place, and living within the limits of the shared physical world. Every
species has a part to play in the dance of life, and possesses unique strengths
that enable it to survive. The first peoples "did not see their ability to
reason or understand as anything that made them superior; instead, it was
simply *their* key to survival." Like Vonnegut, Marshall distinguishes the
Europeans not by their technology, but by their *arrogance*. Their merciless
campaign to exterminate the wolf--and the remaining first peoples--in the late
1800s is one of many examples.
The Only Planet of Choice: Essential Briefings from Deep Space, Phyllis V.
Schlemmer and Mary Bennett. After three hundred pages of channelled interviews
with the Being who speaks for the Council of Nine (also known as Tom), the mind
boggles. The good news is that total destruction won't be permitted, but other
than that, it's up to us, as usual. Eyebrow-raising topics include universal
civilizations, Atlantis, and Hebrew aliens. Despite urgent warnings to get
"unstuck," overall the message is positive: "You all have come to Earth to
beautify it, to purify it, to love it and be in joy with it. Know this: in
your time, through your and others' dedication, through the quality of your
being on Planet Earth, you may bring it to the fulfillment of its creation.
That is for us a great joy and we thank you." The Being who visited me was
considerably less cheerful. How do you say "don't count your chickens"?
The Wanting Seed, Anthony Burgess. In this outrageous Malthusian comedy from
the author of *A Clockwork Orange*, overpopulation is so bad that the
government promotes homosexuality. Their slogan: "It's Sapiens to be Homo."
The humor is very British, of course, and it overwhelms in places, but
civilization is demolished, and three out of four pillars are covered, in short
order. Fans of Aldous Huxley's *Brave New World* (written thirty years
earlier) will notice many interesting similarities and differences. Thank you,
William, for making me read this.
Where White Men Fear To Tread, Russell Means with Marvin J. Wolf.
Means--another Lakota--achieved lasting fame as one of the most outspoken
leaders of the American Indian Movement (AIM), for which he and many others
suffered almost unimaginable violence. His autobiography is white-hot with
anger, and it left me exhausted, racked by alternating spasms of self-hate and
self-pity from which I'm still recovering. I can't overcome all of my social
conditioning in one lifetime; it's too much to ask. I was born and raised in a
city, and indoctrinated into the intellectual elite. As a child, my knowledge
of the world came from books. I thought food came from behind the mirrors in
the supermarket: I didn't know any better. I learned to read and write and
control machines, and the damage is done. My skills are only useful to
industrial society, and it tempts me, with distractions and a comfortable
existence. I drink its poison, and my spirit is sick. I have no tradition,
and I can't be a Lakota, no matter how much I purify myself. I'm an outsider,
a mental European. Sometimes I want to live in a right way, but I'm weak, and
Microsoft is big. I weep for myself, I'm so ashamed.
There's an internally recognized beauty of motion and balance
on any man-healthy planet...You see in this beauty a dynamic
stabilizing effect essential to all life. Its aim is simple:
to maintain and produce coordinated patterns of greater and
greater diversity. Life improves the closed system's capacity
to sustain life. Life--all life--is in the service of life.
Necessary nutrients are made available to life *by* life in
greater and greater richness as the diversity of life
increases. The entire landscape comes alive, filled with
relationships and relationships within relationships.
--Pardot Kynes, First Planetologist of Arrakis
More Reading
1984, George Orwell.
All's Quiet on the Western Front, Erich Maria Remarque.
Biodiversity, E.O.Wilson.
Breakfast of Champions, Kurt Vonnegut.
The Decade of Destruction, Adrian Cowell.
Entropy: Into the Greenhouse World, Jeremy Rifkin.
Final Exit, Derek Humphry.
Gravity's Rainbow, Thomas Pynchon.
A Guide for the Perplexed, E.F.Schumacher.
Howl, Allen Ginsberg.
The Jungle, Upton Sinclair.
The Lorax, Dr. Seuss.
Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media, Edward S.
Herman and Noam Chomsky.
The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, Rainer Maria Rilke.
A People's History of the United States, Howard Zinn.
Our Plundered Planet, Fairfield Osborn.
The Population Explosion, Paul Erlich.
Secret and Suppressed: Banned Ideas and Hidden History, Jim Keith.
The Sixteen Satires, Juvenal.
Tales of Power, Carlos Castenada.
The Tarot, Paul Foster Case.
The Technological Society, Jacques Ellul.
Theosophy: An Introduction to the Supersensible Knowledge of the World and the
Destination of Man, Rudolph Steiner.
Worlds in Harmony: Dialogues on Compassionate Action, the Dalai Lama.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig.
CHURCH MOVIES
1. Eraserhead
2. Koyaanisqatsi
3. Providence
4. The Man Who Fell to Earth
5. THX 1138
6. Hearts and Minds
7. Network
8. Soylent Green
9. Being There
10. Liquid Sky
11. Clearcut
12. Man Facing Southeast
13. The Gods Must Be Crazy
14. Metropolis
15. Dr. Strangelove
CONTACTS
BOTA (Builders of the Adytum)
P.O.Box 42278, Los Angeles, CA 90042-0278
CPR (Circles Phenomenon Research)
P.O.Box 3378, Branford, CT 06405
Daily Cow (David R. Wyder)
121 Gregory Ave #B7, Passaic NJ 07055
FCCA (First Church of Christ, Abortionist)
Box 6098, 4902 Forbes Ave, Pittsburgh, PA 15213-3799
GLF (Gaia Liberation Front)
P.O.Box 127, Station P, Toronto, ON, M5S 2S7, Canada
Goad To Hell Enterprises (Jim & Debbie Goad)
P.O.Box 31009, Portland, OR 97231
GRB (Globally Responsible Birthing)
Route 1, Box 28, Delancey, NY 13752
The Hemlock Society (Derek Humphry)
P.O.Box 11830, Eugene, Oregon 97440
HToMC (Holy Temple of Mass Consumption)
P.O.Box 30904, Raleigh, NC 27622-0904
M.C.McDonald
418 Kearney, Manhattan KS 66502
Mike Merrill
P.O.Box 4214, Buffalo, NY 14217
Misinformed Citizens (Vermin Supreme)
P.O.Box 1313, Galosha, MA 01930
OGYR Network ($t @ndrew)
P.O.Box 53, Plainfield, IL 60544
Nina Paley
P.O.Box 460736, San Francisco CA 94146
Randall Phillips
P.O.Box 2217, Philadelphia, PA 19103
Reality Hoax (Eric T. Sorebo)
P.O.Box 428, Cornell, WI 54732-0428
Spit Gland (Ingmar)
P.O.Box 1079,Dunkirk, MD 20754
Unapack (Lydia Eccles)
P.O.Box 120494, Boston, MA 02112
VHEMT (Voluntary Human Extinction Movement)
P.O.Box 86646, Portland, OR 97286-0646
X.S.Despot
2225 Montego Drive, Lansing, MI 48912
The Church of Euthanasia is a nonprofit educational foundation devoted to
restoring balance between Humans and the remaining species on Earth. We
believe this can only be accomplished by a massive voluntary population
reduction, which will require a leap in Human consciousness to a new species
awareness. The Church is exempt from federal income tax under 501(a) and
501(c)(3), EIN 04-324-9910. Donations are tax-deductible.
editor: Rev. Chris Korda
asst. editors: Pastor Kim, Sister Catherine, Lydia Eccles
photo editor: William Plowman
proofreader: Nevada Kerr
typist: Nancy Young
scan boy: Justin P. Moore
postal: The Church of Euthanasia
P.O.Box 261
Somerville, MA 02143
e-mail: coe@netcom.com
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THANKS to $aint @ndrew, Tim Anderson, Bob Baden, Cardinal Bailey, Ronald
Bleier, Boboroshi, James Bredt, Henryk Broder, Sister Catherine, Jim Cypher,
Becky Day, Tess Decosta, Christopher Dinardo, Dane Donato, Lydia Eccles, Paulie
Gurspam, Annie Harrison, America Hoffman, Iah House, Susan Johnson, Slyther
Kalson, Deacon Kelly, Pagan Kennedy, Nevada Kerr, Angela Kimberk, Ryu Kirtz,
Keith Krisa, Father Lamorte, Dan Martinez, T & Izzy Max, Nova Maynard, Cassy
Mitchell, Kent Miller, Justin P. Moore, Nina Paley, Anne Phillips, Stephen M.
Pike, William Plowman, Kevin Roche, Ashkan Sahini, Pastor Scott, Doug Sery,
Sara Stewart, Vermin Supreme, Mike Therion, Toto, Karen Tozzi, Burt Urbanowski,
Jamie Wheelock, Nancy Young, and especially Pastor Kim.