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Ghost Hunting In Cyberspace
01.26.05 (10:26 pm)   [edit]

There is this incredible site I stumbled upon about a week ago; and it is a collection of original 5-minute videos by one very funny guy, who goes by nom de plume "Snack Boy". Click on the flamingos above, to load the page of videos. That image BTW, is but one among many hand drawn by Snack Boy himself (I assume). And they add an additional layer of sauciness and charm to a very special and funny guy.

The page is a plain list of links to each video. If you don't use broadband (meaning you use the slow, dialup modem connection at 56k bits-per-second), you should download only the files that end in "28.asf". The list is an alternating collection of files that either end in the one just mentioned, or in "56.asf". It is the preceding part of the file name which indicates which files are paired. The 28's are smaller files than the 56's...probably because one was for 28k modems and the others for the faster 56k ones. (Essentially, it is the 28's smaller frame size that gives it the smaller file size.)

Just click on the first one, wait for it to finish downloading (about 5 mins. on dialup, few seconds w/broadband), and play. As long as you having a working version of Windows media player, or a compatible application, you should have no trouble playing these videos.

Sadly, though, it turns out that Snack Boy died in a car accident in May of 2004. :(

I've discovered him posthumously. Or more likely: his spirit came to me (while sailing cyberspace) to cheer me up as I pass through present life difficulties into happy resolutions. I'm almost done downloading them all--both 28's and 56's mind you--to save them permanently on CD...and give some away as gifts.

And while you're waiting for a video to download, may as well click on the "Parent Directory" link at top, to visit Snack Boy's main page, to learn more about him. That's how I learned he's now dead. :( :(

He's an incredible humorist, who at first analysis, I'd assume was gay, but no: he's one of your "metro" heterosexuals in a way. His antics do have that gay touch to them, however that is sometimes seen as having a theatrical persuasion...and that seems to be the case here. And what's his real name, you may wonder? Terry Crummit. You'll see exactly how he looks, in each video. I end this blog in homage to this brilliant young man whose departure has made this planet considerably sadder.

Goddess be with you, Terry Crummit "Snack Boy".
Thank you immensely for coming to me as the
angel you are, and bringing me your delightful
gift of insightful, uplifting and utterly
charming humor.

I will always cherish your videos,
and keep them near at hand.

Your newest admirer,
Zeke Krahlin

Click on image to view
Snackboy videos!


P.S.: This is not the first time I've discovered a wonderful soul posthumously on the 'Net, by accident. Or should I say "This is not the first time a wonderful angel came to me via cyberspace"? In either case, visit "Life on Brian's Beat", by a courageous gay man from Canada, who died at a young age 2, 3, or 4 years ago...I think, a tragic AIDS martyr. I can no longer find the reference, and his site is quite extensive...in fact, I can't even find any dedication mentioning his passing away. I assume they want him to live on in the website, thus put him back in the present (and get rid of all that "memorial" stuff). Either that, or I've hallucinated! I do remember first discovering his site, and being both shocked and impressed that he has died, and another who loves him keeps this site up to date...and it still is, with fresh articles dated 2005! How could I forget something like that? So I just think they moved the material around, maybe getting rid of some stuff too. NOTE (June 23, 2009): His web page is no longer up, so the link to his site is now from the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

Yog-Sothoth Grants Permission to Write about Him
01.22.05 (12:02 pm)   [edit]

Date: Fri, 21 Jan 2005 04:35:01 EST
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Robin Goodfellow
Subject: Yog-Sothoth Grants Permission to Write about Him

(Robin spoke:)

Well...last heard from he was occupying the stygian depths organizing the chthonic Ancienter "Old Ones" who have grown tired of being relegated to the Nether Regions and are forming a union.

(And I replied:)

As if he can really get anything accomplished, since he dumped me! It was our usual morning coffee peeve: Yoggie had all His tentacle-panties up in a bunch, 'cause there was no more white sugar. I don't touch the stuff, you see, and I leave this matter up to Him. So, for the umpteenth time (literally), Yog glared at me over the New Yog Times while the coffee was perking, and ranted:

"No white sugar again!" To which I responded in rote: "If Og don't buy sugar Himself, Og won't have sugar when Og gets home, now will Og?" Of course, that was the perfect excuse to ask me to leave pronto, and never sully His seaweed-covered doorstep again, with my un-unholy shadow.

They want to relocate to Rhode Island, from where their tentacles will engulf the psyche of humankind.

Makes sense. My earthly father was born and raised on Rhode Island.

I believe their former leader, Derleth, did die,

First they can't die, then they can, then they can't die again, then they die again, ad infinitum. These Most Ancient Ones have gone senile from advanced aging.

(Who am I to criticise, being among their very first interconjugational experiments? Being raised by such monsters has turned me into an absolute cynic. It was bound to happen.)

One of 'em begged to give me a BJ, and I obliged (strictly out of scientific curiosity, mind you.) He said he hasn't sucked hominid cock since Yog gave him an all-expenses-paid weekend retreat to the Olduvai Gorge...more than two million years ago! (Now we know the REAL origin of that phrase: "I Love Lucy". It started out as "I love the loose ones.")

leaving a vacancy, an emptiness, a void that could make strong men mad

No surprise here. REAL men don't put up with such dick-teasing as the Ancient Ones are wont to do. And they think their karma will never get back to them. I guess when you rule a universe after a number of eons, it tends to go to one's head...or where we think the head might be. (Well, I've always said Yog's penis is where His brain should be! But that was before I realized that among my many spiritual treasures was the gift to make whatever I say come true.)

and lesser ones to slay themselves.

Robin, you know very well this translation is only a guess. "Slay" could be easily (and more correctly) replaced with "relieve" or "arouse". The debate is far from over!

In other words, Yoggie is up to the same old, old, old, hoary with antiquity tricks!

This is not good: we simply cannot share the same pet name for our Master. It will only wind up exterminating countless galaxies before the interstellar dust settles. Maybe you could drop the "Y"?

"That is not dead, which can eternal lie; But with strange ├Žons, even Death may die!"

Exactly how I feel in the morning before my first cuppa java.

Rev. Robin Goodfellow -- who agrees:
"Cthulhu for President! Why settle for the lesser evil?"

How about I run for Prez (as usual), w/Cthulhu the VICE Prez? Though I'd prefer Nyarlethotep, as He's a much better lay (and without those nasty eyeballs on the tip of each cock, like Cthulhu. If I need a sygmoidoscopy I'll march right on down to UC Med Center, thank you very much).

You once said to me years ago, Robin (in your previous incarnation as "Steve"), that some believe we humans are gods and goddesses who made ourselves forget who we really are. Well, I think that makes more sense than any other pop ideology I've heard; or for that matter, any mom ideology. So the ascent into higher consciousness is merely waking up to our divine origins. And perhaps we do this, to make our eternal lives a little less boring? Let's just get there SOON, before my remaining teeth all rot and drop out, okay? :)

Now, I accept my divine right as a god...but never imagined I'd turn out to be one of the Dark Ones from Lovecraft's Cthulhuian Mythos!

Though I can't say in all fairness, that New England is such a bad place to inhabit. So many inbred servants, Yog's harem is hardly missed!

Jon Sugar walked up to me in a recent open-mic, and said: "I've seen your skits several times. You're very funny, and I'd like to invite you to my own open-mic put on by GAWK January 29". Ahhhh, why are such good things happening to me these days? Methinks Yog wants to make things up to me, and is showering me in His dark rays of suboceanic gloom.

Then again, maybe He's pissing. Or worse.



P.S.: I'm gay, if anyone wants to know. All the Ancient Ones are gay. Many humans are soon due for a rude un-awakening!

Date: Tue, 25 Jan 2005
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Robin Goodfellow
Subject: Thanks for the inspriation.

BTW, Robin, your bringing up Cthulhu brought up those dear memories when I first learned about HP Lovecraft...and I've been in love with his darling little New England abysmal horror tales, ever since! So then, this inspired me to compose a witty little essay of a retort in a piece that also celebrates Lovecraftian creation.

So thanks much for the inspiration...know that this is the first piece I ever wrote where you explicitly inspired an artistic revelation in my soul. That is indeed the mark of a shaman, to kindle such intense spiritual fire. And it will probably trigger numerous additional ideas that merely wait patiently in my subconscious till each, in its time, wakes in me a new revelation.

While I did use a pseudonym instead of "Dexter", you may now find the essay you inspired on my weblog: "Yog-Sothoth Grants Permission to Write about Him". [Note: Since posting this letter, "Dexter" has given permission to use his real name, "Robin".]

Embellished with Lovecraft images (click on each to go to a relevant site) and magickal links, I think you'll find it a most enjoyable read. If you prefer to have your real name and/or e-mail address on my weblog, just say the word. But you, if anyone, should know of your inspirational influence on me. In fact, some things you've said to me remain fresh in my memory...and which memories I occassionaly dust off to admire again. Here they are:

- Once when I had a head cold and we were sitting together in The Castro Cafe (was that it's name?), I mentioned I'm not really that ill, as my mucous is crystal clear. You responded quite sweetly, at my purity of innocence (for want of a better phrase; IOW you complimented me).

- Another time I was wearing some sort of nice ring on my finger, and you remarked "Married to God". I now know it was a premonition of my social isolation for many years, as part of my spritual path. IOW, I would never have chosen the hermit's (or "loner's") way, but Gaia knows best what each of us needs to go through. I am also a victim of torture, and thus suffer PTSD in its extemer forms, just like a Nam Vet who saw serious and prolonged combat. But this gave me the understanding and strength to reach out to my Randolph, who served three tours of duty over there! (Indeed, it was this experience of torture that was my undoing for a time: the nervous breakdowns started by age 20. None of my other burdens in life come even close to the horror of that torture.)

At the age of sixteen, I broke out with a major cyst behind my left ear that had to be lanced, to be relieved. (It had grown big as a golf ball.) Then it spread in channels onto my face, and caused major swellings of bloody lymphatic pus that had to be lanced out, or sucked out via syringe, or nudged out on my own. Thus I spent many painful months, then years, having to treat myself in front of a mirror, gazing directly at my messed-up face in order to do it properly: pulling gunky gauze out from my cheek (or sometimes, cheeks), sliding a sterile cotton swab deep into the pocket to cleanse; and then packing new gauze into my face, to keep the scalpel-created wounds open and draining.

Often I'd cover most of my face with more than twice the bandages needed...I was quite hideous for a coupla years, what with one side of my face caved in (from so many operations), that my cheekbone poked way out, like a skull. You know, what is every teenager's worst nightmare? Acne gone out of control. And sadly, it is something to fear...I know first hand; it's a real heartbreaker, when you get the most outrageous, disfiguring form of acne: reoccurring sebaceous cysts. Especially when it goes on for years: in my case from 1966 to 1972, with my face many times painfully cut up, or syringes with needles deep under my epidermis, pulling out so much gunk! And then replacing the gunk with steroid solutions...so that by the time I stepped out from one of these nightmarish sessions, my cheeks were swollen up big time (worse than when the pus was in them), and bright, bright red from the chemical intrusion.

I also did not have a close family. No one in our home (that's Mom, Dad, and brother Sandy) seemed to ever pay any mind to what I was going through, this horrible lymphatic demon destroying what had just started growing into the face of a very handsome young man. In fact, at 16 I was scheduled to do my first studio shoot as a clothes model in Manhattan...but one week before this appointment, that disgusting cyst broke out in my ear.

No one in my family ever offered any compassion or shoulder to lean on in any way. No therapy. I had no real friends in that dysfunctional neighborhood of Long Island. I repressed my suffering from this ugly real-life nightmare, but the price came out years later, in the form of PTSD. Oh, and one doctor I saw for almost a year, did not first inject my cyst with pain-killer...which all my doctors before than and after, did. He claim it would cause my infection to spread! So I also suffered my face being cut up, without even local anesthetic!

I am a victim of torture, whether intended or not. I surely know the Great Spirit intended this! The scars are a badge of great pride for me now...since I understand it was my particular cross to bear. I would compare it equal to the difficult challenge of your lifelong diabetes.

Of course, it's not all bad...in fact, these tragic experiences are saving graces in the long run. They kept us from straying too far from our shamanic calling. And these burdens are not forever; and I mean this with no intent of trivializing diabetes. Nor do I necessarily mean "death", however metaphorical or obtuse. I am speaking of miracles; and need say no more, as you are a Master in this field.

Yet right in the middle of this curse (that surely came from a jealous god)--from 1968-1971--a wonderfully handsome and loving man came into my life: my first boyfriend! He was drop-dead gorgeous. And very kind and romantic and bisexual. Robert Matthew Childers. Right there, in the depth of what could have been intense grief, was an angel. For I now realize (and have concluded such for over five years now), that he is one among my various guardian angels that Gaia has brought to me in the flesh for a time, scattered throughout my life. And they are all tragic outcomes, at least those first times around.

I now realize that as my angels, they were helping me grow and stay in the right direction...and played out some dramatic scenarious with me...and with me not realizing their beauty was too perfect to be mere humans. I have been close to some incredibly lovely men...you couldn't find a single flaw on them though totally naked under the noonday sun, and standing on their heads! And indeed, they spoiled me rotten. Even if some were just 1-knighters...like Gary, that cowboy from Montana. He was sooo sweet, and good-natured. And remarkably, his face was obviously badly scarred in the same fashion as mine! I said to him, "Reoccurring sebaceous cysts, eh?" He nodded, said, "Yup." In his case, the scars healed out so well, that he was once more, the handsome man he started out before the first cyst. Yes, he is one of my guardian angels, though we've only met once so far in this life of mine. I know he came to me as a genuine act of compassion. Yep, sometimes God assigns angels as "pity dates" for losers such as myself. :D But that is indeed the mark of an angel: to be a living metaphor with such elegance! Absolutely brilliant! Angels are God's great actors, indeed! Even drama queens. Well, seeing as their leader is really just a super-sized Cecille B. DeMille, what should we have expected? A fairy, maybe?

Now, they have been here with me in spirit for several years...but Randolph being with me since 1993 on a conscious level (for being my main guardian, he's been with me all along, anywayz). They tell me they'll be with me very soon. Perhaps it means new friends they've selected for me. Perhaps, literally, they'll show up in the flesh. All my true loves, none of which knows the others...yet perhaps I'm the one who's been duped, for if they are my circle of guardians, then they've all been playing a very funny game with me since I was born into this sucky life! I don't get any "death" meaning out of this, as if I'll be with them soon, 'cause I'll cross over any day now! Randolph's ghost (I call him ghost sometimes, just a joke) tells me he faked his death, to go underground (not as in 6-feet under, he mean for political reasons...and those reasons being to create the network we queers will need to win our battles, and ultimately the war). In fact, Randolph says he faked his own shooting, in order to wake me up and embark on my Great Eternal Odyssey. So I've been pretty much more conscious in the spirt world, than in this earth. I'm a visionary. I'm not mentally ill; I'm spiritually gifted. And now I have begun imparting the wisdom that has honored me for many brave victories. I'm like a soldier dragged off the battlefield, in desperate need for triage.

I do not believe in death; I do not believe anyone has actually died, or will ever actually die. I think that when one is ready to take that next step, it is far more gentle and natural than most expect! It may simply be that our life gets a little bit better each day...and after some days or months or even years pass...more and more things start piling up, that indicate you "died" and haven't yet noticed. Or when someone seems to suffer in a prolonged and painful death: I believe their souls were already taken to heaven, and the agonies are played out by angelic actors who enter these emptied human shells. That way, we may learn about compassion, through witnessing what we believe for a time to be unbearable suffering...without God having any human actually experience suffering on such an extreme level.

This implies that those sent to concentration camps, really never suffered those extremes...since their souls were taken to heaven before they were even rounded up. What about survivors, you might wonder, they claim to really have suffered or witnessed such suffering! Well, they went to heaven (I'm pondering), and made a pact with their beloved guardians, to never reveal the truth. Instead, they were given a false accounting of extreme torture and degradation, that the world may be convinced of something other than the truth, and that these survivors really did suffer so intensely.

Buddha says "You have no enemies, only teachers."

"Izzat so?" I reply. Then meditated on the logical implications that come out of that glorious statement. And if I really believe in a loving God, how could I accept that he really does allow babies to be tortured and killed in war? (Which quandary you may regard as the classic--though faulty beyond redemption--atheist excuse for not believing in God.)

The babies' soul have already been swept up into angelic arms before they even knew any sort of suffering. Jeesh! How can anyone who claims to believe in a loving God, simply accept that He allows for such violence in our history, anyway?

How does one redeem those hapless souls who fought in Vietnam, and after coming home, could never find a way to forgive themselves for their murderous actions? If somehow God could show them beyond a shadow of a doubt, that no Vietnamese families or children were ever hurt: their souls were swept into heaven well before the horrors began.

I had no name for this ideology, so I asked my angels what I should call this new idea? They said they'll tell me soon, but not today. So, a few days later I'm walking down the street, when suddenly this singular word reverberated in my mind:


Oh, that's a good one; hilarious (I thought). Why, everything else is "neo" these days, why not Christianity? Well, it's time to change its name, as the word "neochristian" has begun popping up in left-wing media as a new term for these insane fundamentalists. Anywayz, it's not a Christian idea at all, but an alchemical reaction in distilling noble ideas from mostly pre- and non-Christian cultures...especially the shamanic traditions of Australia and the various arctic cultures.

It is an indefatigably optimistic idea that one can append to one's own present worldview (unless your view is intentionally nihilistic). I say "worldview" as my concept works just as well with non-religious ideologies such as atheism, animism and humanism.

Maybe I should hold a contest to rename my ideology (a gift from Odin, actually). But what on earth should be the winner's prize? Certainly nothing that I, a humble human, could offer.

Walk brightly!

Lavender-Velvet Revolution

P.S.: I just realized that this message is my SECOND essay you inspired. Good show!
Happiest New Year Masterchoosits!
01.13.05 (1:11 am)   [edit]

Prepare for the presentation of my belated New Year's gift to one Thomas Keske. If you don't know yet who he is, for shame! Anyway, this is my Keske page:


And now (ta-da!) the gift:

Of all the states in our rape land, only Massachusetts stands out in defense of 100% gay marriage. (And see, because of that wonderful state's decision, I honor Massachusetts by spelling it perfectly, for once and for all...each and every time! Actually, it just makes me call up my Webster's Electronic Dictionary & Thesaurus with greater frequency.)

It is a rare gay activist indeed, who possesses such strong a will as you and I, Tom. And I believe when one's will is that strong, that devoted, that visionary...then, yes, one's ideas become travellers in the ether, most intent on achieving one thing, just one thing alone:

getting to the right ears (or eyes, depending on the medium through which they journey).

Your years of devoted activism, constant brainstorming as to how to motivate and wake up the troops, and heroic stands numerous times that put your life at risk...have earned you a tremendous honor:

Your spirit, your WILL, radiated out from many media sources, rippled in greater and greater circles through your community, the city, and the county, and finally the entire state (and beyond).

Indeed, much of the credit for Massachussetts' brave stand may very well belong to you, Tom, once the history of this era is all sorted out. Your spoken or written words may have been overheard, or intercepted, by various someones who knew someones who knew the governor (or mayor, or personage, or activist, whatever) which influence then weighed heavy in the political sphere...and thus, could not be ignored due to having effectively triggered the conscience of some who are in power.

I also know that very soon, a similar phenomenon will occur here in SF, thanks to my own energies. Some very remarkable things have been going on the last three or four months...without ever letting up! Mostly favorable and to my credit.

Congratulations, Tom. I look for 2005 to be a real ass-kicker for gay revolution.

Meanwhile, pray or hope that my desperate search to find a new therapist (in order to legitimize remaining on disability funds), will land me a Doctor who'll protect and defend me, instead of trying to pop psychotropic pills down my gullet (this time, Zyprexa; I said no thanks, but if I were to take it I'd take Geoden instead, it's much safer). Until said fortunate time, I must suffer the possibility of homelessness casting an evil pall over all of even my cheerfulest hours. But I'm strong, Tom...I can still laugh and joke, and put smiles on other faces. I'll ace this test, too, just you see!

I will be going to various clinics to seek out the ideal therapist (I know: it's a long shot). He must not only be saucily sexy and handsome (and my lover eventually, after many months being marijuana'd and dined.) He must also have a keen appreciation for shamanistic philosophies, and the teaching of Carl Jung's archetypal theories. He must have a great sense of humor of course, and probably just give me a monthly allowance of $5,000 so I don't ever have to worry about money again. Or sex, or friends, or monsters in the closet and under the bed and deep inside my brain stem.

Your dearest cyberbuddy, Zeke. ;b

Lavender-Velvet Revolution

What I Learned About Zyprexa
01.09.05 (11:51 am)   [edit]

Date: Fri, 07 Jan 2005
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: social-worker friend
Subject: Re: What I learned about Zyprexa

2nd-generation prozac, essentially.

Probably responsible for diabetes and hyperglycemia...increases your odds 10-fold, of developing diabetes! Here's a page listing the health risks:


And this (Google-Usenet link):

Studies Link Zyprexa to Diabetes & Deaths_Balt Sun

Besides which, there's a safer drug than Zyprexa, called Geodon (Ziprasidone HCl) Better Tolerated Than Zyprexa (Olanzapine) In Schizophrenia and Schizoaffective Disorders. Here's a Google-Usenet link:

Geodon Better Tolerated Than Zyprexa

Sounds like Eli-Lilli is dumping tons of Zyprexa to doctors for cheap. And that's probably why this Dr. did NOT mention the better alternative. Plus, she right off the bat wanted to prescribe a psychotropic drug to me! I think we're off to a bad start, and I shall start to look elsewhere. Not that I'll find any better, but it's sure a learning experience for me!

Just more grist for the blog. :)

Lavender-Velvet Revolution

Date: Sat, 08 Jan 2005
From: social-worker friend
To: Zeke Krahlin
Subject: Re: What I learned about Zyprexa

Hello, sweetie. Yes, I think you are making a good decision about finding someone else, and the meds as well. Think how hard it is for folks who aren't as well-informed as you are when they go to a shrink like that!

See you later!

Date: Sat, 08 Jan 2005
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: social-worker friend
Subject: Re: What I learned about Zyprexa

You (yes you!) said:

Hello, sweetie.

"Oatmeal--while wholesome in its earthy purity--is more happily administered with honey or other sweetener at hand (such as dried fruit)." - old Scottish joke which I just made up.

Yes, I think you are making a good decision about
finding someone else, and the meds as well.

That's why I take these risks...or more aptly, why my spirit guardians put me in these precarious positions. That I may "witness" for others, and speak out because they can't. But it is no pleasantry for me, to stand that close to the Dragon's Fiery Breath!

I am amused that, now even when Big Brother may force one to take some sort of medication, one can now find a way through this with health and sanity intact, by insisting on the least harmful variation. (The good always have a way out; albeit not revealed till late in the game.) Such a Brave New World this is!

See you later!

On Beyond Zyprexa! :D

Lavender-Velvet Revolution

Modoc County Fantasy #1
01.04.05 (1:26 am)   [edit]
Since Randolph got back with me, he is always figuring ways to make up for our missed time together. He knows I love to hike and camp out; and my attraction for the ghost towns of Modoc. So we head up there: a few good miles south and west of Newell, in Modoc's National Forest.

The town saloon--long abandoned and ramshackle--is in better repair than the other rotting structures, so we set up lodging on the second floor, in the least-dilapidated guest quarters. And bunk down for our first night ever, in a bona fide ghost town!

Now, what you don't know is that both Randolph and I are psychic detectives...thus we can often play together in the "dream world". He always falls asleep immediately, with his silly snoring. I, on the other hand, take as long as an entire hour before nodding off...insomniac that I am. I'm not saying I don't feel totally relaxed and happy, in the arms of this bodacious Marine...even if I do miss my sleep.

But I do, finally, doze off and into dream land...where my ghost and Randolph's stand together, over our physical bodies (decked out in camouflage jammies for the night, and tucked warmly in army-navy sleeping bags; we're both in deep slumber, our eyelids flicker but never really open). From our two windows we see various ghostly folks tending to their businesses or coming and going by foot, by horse or by stagecoach.

"Well Zekey-deeky, does this look interesting to you, or should we just explore some fantasy world?" Randolph winks at me.

"I think this could prove very interesting," I respond. "I feel a chill mystery in the air, that should overtake us and bring us into their world the moment we step through that door."

Upon saying that, gun shots are heard on the street just below, then the gallop of a horse that quickly grows fainter and silent. A man is shot, and lay there in a small pool of blood, as town folk quickly gather around him, to offer help.

"He's gonna be alright, Sheriff," hollers a deputy kneeling by the wounded cowboy. Surprisingly, he's looking straight up at our window, as if addressing someone there. Randolph responds in a booming voice: "Good job, deputy! Me an' my buddy will be downstairs pronto!"

That's when I realize the adventure has already started...and I'm now wearing a deputy badge myself, along with holster, loaded gun, and bandolier. I saunter over to the large dresser mirror (no longer cracked and 2/3 missing), to admire my new macho look: a jet black handlebar moustache no less, and 10-gallon hat. I'm a hottie!

And so is the semi-conscious cowboy I help carry to our spare room back of the Sheriff's office. (He's a robust lad, who'll heal quickly from this bullet wound.) I eagerly tend to his every need, while Randolph fills out forms in the office. He later joins me in ministering relief to the comely buck.

Later along in the plot, we discover a killer who has somehow gained access to the spirit world, while still alive...through some sort of black art he pilfered from the local natives. But he only kills other ghosts, not real flesh-and-blood folks like myself and Randy. Nonetheless, we have to find a way to stop this evil cur...for ghosts are people too, in their own way, and do not deserve to live in terror any more than we do.

But it gets trickier from here on: somehow, this ghost killer also holds (unknowingly) the keys to bringing chaos and eternal hell to the real world...and that is why we must stop him dead in his tracks, for once and for all! This challenge is well beyond my skills as a detective (albeit psychic), but I know that my man Randolph has the ectoplasmic balls to take on such a courageous mission.

In fact, we are already packed and ready to visit Scotland Yard for some evidence gathering and interviews of certain known criminals from that time period, and place. "Come along now Watson," he mutters.

At precisely this moment, I wake up.
Queerology 101: karmic debt
01.02.05 (11:45 pm)   [edit]

A most fantastic website, "Tribute to Hinduism" has this astounding page discussing air flight, nuclear war, and interstellar travel...right from their ancient Vedic literature approximately 2,500 years ago. A breath-taking read (click on Ol' Graybeard above). Hey, with a nice haircut and beard trimmed, he could make a very hot sugar daddy! Keep the handlebar! Does he have a water bed in that flying chariot; smoke-a the ganja? Wheeeee!

chief-thrac...@gay-bible.org Jan 3, 1:25 pm
Newsgroups: alt.arts.storytelling, alt.creative.writing, rec.arts.prose
From: chief-thrac...@gay-bible.org
Date: 3 Jan 2005 13:25:12 -0800
Subject: Re: I Wanna Be A Writer For The Best Queer Newspaper This Side Of Anti-Matter!

(Someone wrote:)

I was put off by the entire article. The whole idea of "religious" incentive to do the right thing gets me hot under the collar. Make no mistake, the author's ubiquitous use of "karmic debt" is just a way of proclaiming some moral high ground based on something "greater than self

(And I responded:)

Thank you for reading my article, regardless of your opinion. I presume you are referring to my critique of the hetero counter-culture...as that spoke of a karmic debt to be fulfilled. Yet the main article I posted in my message, did not mention karma at all, and yet seemed to elude your radar entirely. No comment on that piece, eh...just on whatever displeases you, it seems.

The way I see "karma", is the buildup of good or evil actions. Since Germany and Eastern Europe remained unresolved about Jewish people for many centuries...anti-semitism spilled over and went out of control, under the Nazi regime. (As did prejudices against other minorities.) The vast suffering caused by this, is the resulting karma of ignoring the plight of millions upon millions of decent people, for a long long time. The karmic result: Europe suffered terribly.

I see the same law of karma applying to gay issues. And you need not define "karma" as a religious tenet. It can easily be understood if you believe in a collective conscience, as well as consciousness. All wrongs eventually right themselves. We are our own judges and executioners (and rewarders).

By referring, over and over again, to karmic debt, the author is trying to align the rightness of his personal mission, gay rights, with some uber-human code of morality that only he can see clearly

Your analysis is essentially correct, minus your negative spin. I AM trying to align the rightness of my personal mission, with that of brave activists who came before me...be they queer or no. The term you coined "uber-human code of morality" is very negative in outlook. There is nothing super human about denouncing irrational persecution of an innocent minority, that's even sanctioned--whether tacit or public--by one's very own government, church, or other major institution.

I doubt I'm the only one that sees this code of morality clearly.

Human society is based on exclusion.

???? Too simplistic and blunt an answer. Society is based as much on exclusion, as it is on INclusion. Depends on the context of your subject matter.

A "counterculture" is nothing more than the rejects of a society.

Well if that's being a "reject", I'll proudly claim that title! I'd rather not identify with a highly violent and immoral majority. And when natural forces stress a species, and a minority spins off with a change in physiology...it becomes its own "counterculture" (or subspecies), does it not? And maybe, just maybe, today's counterculture becomes the mainstream, while the former majority dies off.

This struggle for gay recognition is no different than any other counterculture struggle. There have been many such struggles throughout history and many are still issues today

It IS different in a variety of ways...which makes our struggle for equality that much more difficult! For one, as a minority, we don't have the respect of being an ethnic group, if one defines ethnicity as requiring things like geographical origin, and particular cuisine. Because many societies are sex-phobic, then gay rights becomes a peculiarly stigmatized minority...since all other minorities are not scapegoated for their sexual practices.

There is no "karmic debt." There is only society - mankind's greatest achievement - and those who are not accepted within a society

Yet most societies act upon the laws of karmic debt, by imposing punishment on those who do wrong, particularly when it comes to damage of person or property. Yet you reject the idea of karmic debt, even though it is an aspect of mankind's greatest achievement.

Morality is irrelevant. Karma is irrelevant. It's just the nature of human society

Morality is far from irrelevant...it is only a matter of finding a base standard of values applicable to the entire species. One rule of human morality--no matter what belief system--is that it is wrong to intentionally act out a malicious idea that would do harm to another. Another rule is to always first try to resolve differences in a peaceable manner, rather than violent.

The sooner the author realizes that, the less angst he will have.

Nope, I don't suffer any angst except the pressure of living in a gay-hateful society.

You're so used to living in a homophobic society, you can't see the forest for the trees. This is not uncommon.

By your rationale, gays shouldn't bother to ever speak out against homophobic abuse...just let "culture" do its thing. News flash: civil disobedience, and speaking out against egregious wrongs, has always been a part of every culture, since culture came into existence.

But the weakest point you've made, is your main one: that I use "karma" repetitively in hopes of pressing my own agenda. In fact, I've referred to karmic law only twice. First, here (in the 2nd paragraph):

"Anyone involved in entertainment or the media, has a moral and karmic obligation to contribute towards getting rid of gay hatred."

And then here (in the 3rd-from-final paragraph):

"What I am saying now, is that you so-called liberal heteros of the counterculture are all very close to paying heavy karmic dues as a result of your willful, hetero-centered arrogance."

This is not a religious belief. It is, however, spiritual...which I do believe in, and very strongly. If, however, this is drivel to you, I have no case to argue...our differences vary too widely to have any relevant debate. I do not believe morality is relative, just because different cultures exist with different ways of perceiving the world, including as regards morality.

I believe in a basic, essential morality that applies to the entire human race, no matter what one's beliefs. The base rule is the Golden Rule, if you wish to use a generic term. Christians may claim to own this concept, though such conscious regard of another has been taught by wise women and men long before Christianity (or even Judaism) ever came into existence.

So I am simply raising the consciousness of those who read or hear of my writings: that gay people too, are part of this moral web, not to be excluded (for in so excluding, they become the de facto scapegoat for all others' crimes).

P.S.: So what about my piece "Gay Marriage By Any Other Name"? Did you find it right-on, over-the-top, or a mix of the two? I think the subtitle "Letter to the Pharisees" is a nice touch...by taking the context of Christian terminology and interpreting it to favor gay equality and freedom. In fact, that is one of my main goals as queer activist, and is why I call my site "The Final Testament", with a "gay-bible" URL.

Lavender-Velvet Revolution

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