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.
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 æons, 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.
Sinqueerly,
Zeke-Azothoth
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.
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:
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.
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:
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!
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!
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.
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.
