Skip navigation

Category Archives: Sabbatai Zevi

Our Lady Of The Blues

by

R.E. Prindle

Part V-2

From Gaia To Maia

 

     This too is an established Jewish custom.  Things don’t absolutely have to be done in the manner in which they are being done.  When the Jews invaded Egypt they began to slaughter the sacred animals which the Egyptians had protected for millennia.  The Jews saw no reason for the custom so they rudely pushed Egyptian mores aside.  This habit is repeated in every country they invade.  The peoples can learn to do it the Jewish way which they feel is the way of God.

     By 1899 they were over 10% of the population of Vienna which is where critical mass begins.  Musceling into the cultural life of the city they acquired a disproportianate number of seats in symphony orchestras.  As in Chaldea and Egypt they assumed that the Semitist style of playing was superior to that of Kultur.  As music in Germania occupied an analogous position to astronomy in Chaldea and magic in Egypt the Jews naturally assumed that they were better musicians than the Germans although music had never played a large part in their culture before.

     As the scientific demands of music are greater than ancient astronomy and magic the Jews were never able to muster a composer of the first rank although their instrumentalists dominated the stage.  But then all the empresarios were Jewish so they would necessarily hear with the Jewish ear or intellect.  Even today the Jews believe that without the Semitist intellect the orchestras of Europe sound nowhere as good as before the Holocaust.

page 851.

     They estalished their own newspapers and publishing houses.  They used them to defame anyone who dissented from their program.

     Without physical resources they had to resort to psychological means to disarm their opponents.  They had to ‘psyche’ them out.  Anyone who opposed or criticised them was branded an anti-Semite.  Thus German nationalists became, if not criminals, at least, pariahs in their own land.  The Austrian reaction to Jewish nationalism was extremely violent giving expression to itself only after the Anschluss.

     These German defense forces were active and powerful during the period from approx. 1890 to 1914.  After 1918 the resistance to the Jewish invasion crumpled everywhere.  The Millennial Revolution was going swimmingly.  Jews assumed the top positions or became dominantly influential in nearly all governments including that of the United States.  The Jewish invasion was for all practical purposes a success.

     Two men were born into this Viennese environment that would have a profound impact on world history:  Sigmund Freud and Adolf Hitler.

4.

     Freud’s main desire was to become a great man.  this idea was planted in his intellect by his Christian nurse as a child.  He succeeded in doing this in the field of psychology.  Freud was himself an immoral man nor does he advocate morality for others.  He advocates an unbridled self-indulgence.  Like he says:  Life is short.  To succeed in one’s aims it is permissable to use criminal means.  The Mafia believes the same thing.

page 852.

     As a mature man he was schooled in the tradition of Anton Mesmer from whom modern psychology descends.  He was heavily indebted to the teaching of the French psychologist Jean Martin Charcot as well as to the school of Nancy.  His own approach was an adaptation of their methods.  He at first used Mesmerism or hypnotism as did the schools of Paris and Nancy but later abandoned pure hypnotism is favor of the self suggestion or free association.  Hypnotism as a result went into a period of disfavor although applications for it are being found once again.

     He got his real start by insinuating himself into the good graces of Josef Breuer whose work he very nearly appropriated.  Having plundered Breuer he broke off with him never speaking to him for the rest of Breuer’s life.  Thus does conscience make villains of us all.

     Unable to admit his indebtedness to his teachers he repudiated their influence acting as though he had evolved his theories out of whole cloth.  As an aspect of his character he was unable to suffer any criticism or advancement of his ideas by others.  He eventually acrimoniously broke with any of his associates with intelligence and independence.

     Freud was a Jew which is to say devoutly so.  He did not consider himself an Austrian or German but an ethnic Jew.  He believed in the supremacy of the Jewish people.

     The most revealing anecdote concerning him was that as a child he was walking with his father who told him how when he was a young man he was wearing a new hat when a Gentile knocked it off his head into the street.

page 853.

     ‘What did you do?’  Freud asked breathlessly expecting the answer to be that his father knocked the Gentile down.

    ‘I went out into the street and picked it up.’  His father replied.

     Freud then lost all respect for his father which troubled him greatly throughout his life and in his vision of psychology  for he wrote:  ‘I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father protector.’  His dad wasn’t it.

     So Freud’s own psychic needs distorted his approach from one of  Science as Jung claimed to one based on his personal needs.  He falsely maintained that the father figure is the most important in a man’s life.  When his disciple Otto Rank had the courage to correctly insist that the mother was the most important Freud drummed him out of the ranks.

     Disappointed by his own father he took as a surrogate father figure Hamilcar Barca, the father of Hannibal.  Hamilcar Barca having suffered an injury at the hands of the Romans made his son swear on his sword, which is only a substitute for the penis, that he would avenge him on the Romans.  Clearly Freud would have promised his dad to avenge him on the Europeans if he had asked.

     Curiously Freud doesn’t carry Hannibal’s story through to its conclusion.  The Romans exterminated the Carthaginians and razed their city.

page 854.

     Freud’s lapses in the application of his psychology are very peculiar.  Having discovered the psychological compulsion to repeat he applied it neither to himself nor to his people.  He might have saved the Jews much suffering if he had.  In his desire to avenge his father he became a central figure in the millennial period of 1913-28 which ended in yet another attempt to exterminate the Jews.

     Post-exilic history for the Jews began rather favorably.  They returned to Palestine just as the Middle Eastern empires were entering a time of troubles.  The succeeding Hellensitic period left them more or less independent until in 186 BC the Seleucids interfered in their internal affairs.  Under the Maccabbees the Jews were able to defeat the relatively weak Seleucid Emperors who were besieged on all sides.  The victory gave them a feeling of invincibility.

     The feeling was shattered by the Romans.

     The Jews tried again and failed in seventeenth century Europe.

     Their third repeated attempt was 1913-28 Europe.

     Freud made the incredible mind boggling statement on the eve of the Bolshevik, or Jewish, Revolution in Russia:  We tell ourselves that anyone who has succeeded in educating himself to truth about himself is permanently defended against the danger of immorality even though the standard of morality may differ in some respects from that which is customary in society.  He then goes on to say especially since the existing standards of morality are beneath contempt.

page 855.

     Thus he advocates a private, personal, obviously self-serving morality as superior to any ideal morality that has evolved over millennia.

     What could Freud, knowing of the imperfect nature of man, have found so objectionable about the existing  morality?  It can only have been that it was based on European traditions and not Freud’s own.

     The birth of modern Judaism was caused by the rise of the European Scientific attitude.  Science was the sole creation of Europeans with which Jews had nothing to do.  Prior to the Enlightenment in their arguments with Roman Catholicism the Jews had not only been equals but superiors.  As the creator of the corpus followed by the Church the Jews were in a better postion to undertand and interpret  it through the repository of the Talmud.

     When as a result of the Enlightenment Scientific Europeans left the puerile biblical debates behind the Jews were hopelessly medieval.  The Talmud, so effective against the Bible, was worthless against Science.  The more intelligent or, perhaps, less traditional Jews began to reorganize Judaism to meet the Scientific times.  This left them second rate beneath the Europeans, a serious affront to their amour propre.

      The real challenge then was to regain their superiority.  This could only be done by excelling in Science as they could invent nothing superior to it.  If they merely excelled in Science they merely excelled in an European milieu.  Freud at one time says that he saw no reason why the ‘wisdom’ of the the Talmud couldn’t be raised to a level of a Science thus bringing the Jews superior to the Europeans in their dreams.

page 856.

     Strangely he didn’t understand that the entry into full consciousness caused by the understanding of the workings of the psyche obviated all forms of consciousness that went before including the so-called ‘wisdom’ of the Talmud.

     So, to whom was Freud speaking about educating themselves against the danger of immorality?  By Freud’s own admission his fellow Jews.

     Freud’s vision of psychoanalysis is personal dealing exclusively with the inner workings of the subject’s mind.  He doesn’t even seem to grasp that the fixations are caused by external forces.  He seems to think the mind functions independently of the outside world.  Input does not seem important to him.

     To Jung and others Man’s relationship to his world is based more on a Challenge and Response system.  In other words, the intellect, which Freud denies, plays a very important part.

     Freud’s own intellect cast against his ideas places them in a different light.  The man was born in 1856 in a Central European Jewish milieu.  It will be remembered that the Hasidic religious movement grew out of psychological trauma that occurred in 1648.  Founded c. 1700 the Hasidic movement was only about a hundred fifty years old at his birth thus retaining much of its original vitality.

     Also arising out of the Jewish disappointments caused by the failed messiah, Sabbatai Zevi, in 1666 was the movement led by a follower of Zevi by the name of Jacob Frank.  This movement also took shape in the first half of the eighteenth century and was still flourishing during Freud’s young manhood.

page 857

     As a consequence of Zevi’s failure Frank believed that man was inherently evil thus God would never redeem him until the evil was spent.  The only way to expel evil was to commit enough crime to get it out of one’s system.  Novel psychology to say the least.  Thus he taught a large and attentive Jewish audience that one must commit evil for evil’s sake and that good will come of it.  So, in a manner of speaking, one is doing good by doing evil.

     Now, one can trace the spread of this idea in various forms and guises through time and space.  One very interesting advocate who deserves more study is an eighteenth century English Jew by the name of Falk.  Another is a twentieth century American Jew by the name of Arnold Rothstein.  And of course, Marx and Freud.

     Freud does not go into the external influences that formed his outlook on life or personal Weltanschauung but this emphasis on a personal morality that is superior to prevailing morality seems a sublimation of Jacob Frank and his evil for evil’s sake.

     Now, to whom was Freud speaking and why?  Certainly Freud considered himself a prophet of the Jewish people amidst the dawning millennium.  He had an intense desire to avenge his people on the goyim.  Did this Hannibal in that role have anything to do with organizing or directing the Jewish revolution of the dawning millennium?

page 858

     There is no question that his statement that anyone who has educted himself to truth about himself is permanently defended against the danger of immorality could be construed as advance absolution for any acts of the Bolsheviks that would be considered a crime by conventional morality.  Examine the acts of Hitler in light of Freud’s criteria.

     Freud’s statement and role resembles those a great deal of Simeon Bar Yochai, a second century rabbi of the Roman Wars.  The Roman-Jewish war of 66-135 AD was perhpas the first of the Holy Wars.  Its rationale and leadership was provided by the religious leaders of Judaism.

     Simeon Bar Yochai was a leading architect of that war, probably its guiding light.  After Bar Kochba’s defeat in 135 AD Yochai was compelled to go into hiding in a cave from which he daren’t move for many years until the Romans gave up the search.  As a tribute to his influence in the war his obituary said that he was the man who shook the world to its foundations.

     Just before the bloodbath of 116 when the Jews rose up to slaughter hundreds of thousands of Gentiles a moral quandary arose in the Jewish community.  They wondered whether it was permissable to kill ‘good’ Gentiles as well as ‘bad.’  Yochai without a moment’s hesitation replied that it was permissable to kill any and all Gentiles.  Genocide in other words.

     In 1666 with the expected advent of the millennium heralded by the messiah, Sabbatai Zevi, the Jews had been prepared on the strength of ‘God’s’ promise to rise up and murder Europeans much as they had done during the Roman War.

page 859.

     The third repeat of the Jewish Revolution of which the millennial dates were 1913-28 had come to a slow boil with the Communist Manifesto of 1847.

     It will be remembered that following Marx’ manifesto all the national Communist parties were over half Jewish.  The non-Jew Kropotkin as leader of  the anarchists had been discredited by Marx and the anarchists disenfranchised from the Communist Movement.  The Jews then held all the leading positions.

     Thus four Jews led the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia- Lenin, Kamenev, Zinoviev and Trotsky.  All the abortive revolutions of Central Europe were led by Jews.  They actually repeated the massacres of the Roman War in Russian and were prepared to do so throughout the world as the Revolution rolled on to success.   Even today Jewish representatives are calling for the genocide of Indo-Europeans.

     In Russia slaughterhouses were established in which Jewish murderers ‘worked’ all day long slaughtering Gentiles until they stood ankle deep in blood and gore.  Were they able to do this because they knew truths about themselves that prevented them from committing immoral acts?  Were they absolved of their crimes in advance as the Jews of the Roman War were?  They must have been or they couldn’t have performed the ‘work.’  As it was, numbers of them had nervous breakdowns as a result of their labors.

     The atrocities in Hungary and the attempted genocide in the Crimea have already been mentioned.  The similarities between the Roman and European slaughters are quite pronounced in their ferocity.  Of course all the details of the former had been recorded in that epistle of ‘science’ the Talmud.

page 860

     Did the Jews go to Freud to justify and absolve them of their atrocities as they had gone to Simeon Bar Yochai two thousand years earlier?  There is the compulsion to repeat.  The Jews were very well organized before, during and after the Great War.  Agents of American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee swarmed over Central and Eastern Europe from their safe haven in the US after the war in an attempt to rehabilitate their brethren first so they could assume control.  The AJC and B’nai B’rith were the leading components of the ‘Joint.’  Freud had been a member of B’nai B’rith since 1895.  He lectured to them in Austria on a consistent basis for years.  As a psychoanalyst what was he telling them that he wasn’t telling the scientific community?  His intellect deserves closer examination for what else can ‘anyone who has succeeded in educating himself to truth about himself is permanently defended against immorality’ mean except a license to kill.  If a Jewish supremacy arose out of that evil wouldn’t good have come out of it in Jewish eyes?  Yochai, Frank, Freud; there is a succession.

     Placed in that context one must reevaluate the whole period as well as the careers of Hitler and Stain for as Freud wrote openly in a universal idiom his rationale can be appropriated by any individual for his personal morality.

     The invasion of Vienna was preceded and was coincident with the rise of Jews in France.  At the time of the Russian Revolution a document became prominent called The Protocols Of The Learned Elders Of Zion.  The document outlines a method for creating discord in society so that a junta can easily assume control.  It was said that this document was a Jewish blueprint for world dominion.  The provenance of the Protocols has never been extalished for certain.  The Jews say it is a ‘forgery’ while their opponents say it is authentic.

page 861.

     Over the years the Jews have managed to discredit the document and have its study suppressed.  This is a great disservice because whoever wrote it its precepts are currently being followed by several groups; not the least the Bush administration and his minion, Chertoff.  It behooves every person interested in current affairs to be conversant with the Protocols of Zion.

     In point of fact the Protocols are of Jewish provenance.

     One thing all disputants agree on is that the Protocols were based on an earlier document of Franco-Jewish provenance called in English:  The Dialogues Between Montesquiou And Machiavelli In Hell.  The Dialogues present much of the content of the Protocols in different form.  The Dialogues are of Jewish provenance so whether the Protocols are or are not is a moot point.

     The Dialogues were attributed to a French Jew by the name of Maurice Joly but internal evidence indicates several hands including the ‘Gibbon of Jewish Historians’ Heinrich Graetz.

     The creation of the Dialogues was coordinated by a French Jew by the name of Adolph Cremieux.  Little known outside Jewish circles but exremely important Cremieux also deserves further study.  He was a lawyer and politico deeply involved in the revolutions of 1830 and 1848.  If one takes the Jewish ‘Gibbon’ Graetz at his word both revolutions were the result of Jewish machinations.  On this point Graetz and Hitler goosestep in unison.

page 862.

     Cremieux was resp9nsible in the annexation of Algeria in 1830 under cover of that revolution for obtaining French citizenship for the Algerian Jews.  Thus with the annexation the barbarous medieval Jews of Algeria became full French citizens gaining precedence over the native Algerines.  Clever move for the Jews, bad move for France.

     As Jewish affairs were consolidating nicely in France twelve years after the 1848 Revolution a central governing body called the Alliance Israelite Universelle was founded by Cremieux in 1860.  The Dialogues appeared in 1862.  Coincidence?  The name means the International Alliance of Jewry or in a slightly different translation:  The International Jewish Conspiracy.  Actually the Alliance was the seat of the Jewish government until 1900 when the seat was transferred to the United States under the guidance of the financier Jacob Schiff.

     Thus the Protocols arose out of the Dialogues in direct succession some time during the 1880s.  It should be noted that the Dialogues was never seen in bookstores.  It is said the whole printing was confiscated by Napoleon III against whom they were supposedly directed.  It follows that the only people who could have known of the book and provided a copy as a model for the Protocols were its producers the Jews of France who may have retained the actual manuscript.

     Nevertheless, as masters of misinformation, disinformation and misdirection the Jewish government was able to shame the Liberal parties into rejecting Jewish provenance of the Protocols.  The Liberals then condemned any Gentiles who persisted in saying so as ‘anti-Semitic cranks.’  That is actually the ‘proof’ that the Protocols aren’t Jewish.  Under pressure a few academics denied their authenticity.

page 863.

     Jacob Schiff himself was a very effective Prime Minister.  He was able to engineer the First Russian Revolution of 1905 by funding the Japanese war machine from America while he directing European financiers prevented funding of the Russians.

     Schiff was able to disrupt American and Russian diplomatic connections for the benefit of the Jews from 1900 to 1913 creating an actual break in relations in the latter year.  Immediately with the Bolshevik succession he rushed huge loans of American dollars to their coffers even during the Great War to shore up the regime.

     Thus absolved by Freud of guilt and supported by the world resources of the Jews from 1917 to 1924 it looked as though the Jews were on the eve of success in their millennial pursuit.  With the possible exeptions of Mussolini and Ford it looked as though there were no fences facing.

     However Stalin and Hitler sensed the danger.  Hitler was also a product of the Vienna that produced Freud.  Hitler himself was always hostile to Freudian beliefs; it may be assumed that Hitler read at least some Freud.  He was hostile to Freud for exactly the same reason Freud was hostile to Kultur.  Living in the Vienna under the goverance of the ‘anti-Semitic’ Mayor Lueger, Hitler was self-educated.  He spent years in the libraries organizing his view of the world.

     In Freudian terms both he and Stalin certainly knew truths about themselves which prevented them from committing ‘immoral’ acts.  Freud’s dictum could be construed as also authorizing their crimes.

page 864.

     Coming to maturity in the Red Terror of 1917-24 Hitler had a good understanding of the course of events in Central and Eastern Europe.  It is silly to think that he acted solely from his own impulses.  There was a civil war going on between Reds and Whites from 1918-33 in Germany.  Judeo-Communist atrocities were daily before his eyes.  As he said, he knew his head would roll in the sand if he lost.  That was not mere rhetoric.

    Hitler’s experience in Vienna convinced him of the nature of the war between Jews and Gentiles.  The evidence is clear that the Viennese shared his view.  Once given the upper hand over their invaders the Austrians were much more obdurate than the Germans.  Never forget that an Austrian, Hitler, directed the fate of the German nation.

     Hitler’s book burning of 1933 might be construed as nothing more than a vindictive censorship of ideas he didn’t like.  But as the books burned were those of Jews, especially Freud, it should probably be seen as an attempt to eject Semitism from Kultur.  In other words, the triumph of Kultur over Semitism.  In the end the Germans chose to kill the Jews rather than discriminate against them or go under.  You may be sure the Jews would have done the same as they had or attempted numerous times before.

     As Stalin usurped power from the Jews in Russia a strange thing happened.  Psychoanalytic methods assumed great prominence.

     When Freud’s disciple Otto Rank defected from the ranks of Freudian psychoanalysts he was excommunicated.  The validity of his views was not examined;  even if true they were not the true Truth of the Faith.  Hence Rank was compelled to submit to criticism, to confess his faults and beg for acceptance back into the faith.

page 865.

     The Show Trials of 1936 were conducted in the exact same manner except that the sinners were given the death sentence.  The method surfaced again in Red China in 1966 when the Red Guards and Cultural Revolutionaries of Mao the Dong overturned that society.  The accused were criticized in mass meeting, compelled to confess their ‘faults’ and beg to be allowed to rehabilitate themselves through hard labor.

     Thus Marxist and Freudian ideas converged in an orgy of evil to destroy the oldest continuous civilization in the world.

     The notion prevails in Politically Correct circles in the US today.  Thus Freudianism has had a profound if unsuspected impact on the world.

     Freud remained confident through 1928 began to waver in 1930 and by 1938 the horror of the impending destruction of the Jews as a repeat of the Roman War was before his eyes as he fled Austria for England.  In Moses and Monotheism he pitifully whines that the Jews had give up those notions of world dominion long ago.  Or, in other words, I’m sorry.

     Like Hannibal, his attempt to avenge his father resulted in the destruction of his people.  As in the Roman War the Nazis conducted a manhunt to find every single Jew and kill him.  Not only had Bar Kochba and Sabbatai Zevi failed Jews as Messiahs, so had the Revolution.

page 866.

     The Jews failed in this third attempt to take over the world but the legacy of Sigmund Freud lives on in the ambiguous words of his corpus.  His immediate political aims failed but his undermining of Christian society was much more successful.

     Apart from his political intent Freud had uncovered a great scientific area of study.

5.

The Shirt Of Nessus

     While Freud’s short term political goals ended in disaster for his people, as did those of his role model Hannibal, Freud’s long term goal of destroying the social foundations of the Gentiles has succeeded very well.

     As an innovator Freud can not be expected to have a complete and final idea.  Much of the information that became available after 1950 was undeveloped in Freud’s time, such as the Matriarchal and Hetairic eras, so he cannot be held accountable for not employing them.  Physiology has made tremendous strides since his day.

     Freud’s errors do not so much lay in areas of knowledge but in areas of intent.  He was unable to separate his own psychology of hatred from that of his scientific discipline.  Hence his mistaken emphasis on the importance of the father figure and his misbegotten notions of the Oedipus Complex.  Then too, he projected his hatred of the Gentiles into his views of religion and sexuality.

page 867.

     The only thing of value Freud had to offer, that of the formation of the neuroses, has been rejected by the lay and medical communities alike.

     Strangely his nonsense is revered as great revelation of truth, largely because it fits in with prevailing prejudices.  In his attack on the Christian religion Freud was curiously unaware that the Scientific Consciousness had displaced the anterior consciousnesses of Hetaira, Matriarchy and Patriarchy.  Thus the people who were dependent on Religion as the basis of the mentality were people whose beliefs could not be dislodged.  On the one hand were the various esoteric religions whose beliefs  do not depend on the divinity of Jesus and the Fundamentalists whose belief is so secure nothing can shake it.  For those who need a supernatural agency in their lives New Age people using science as a tool have created alien intelligence from beyond the solar system to serve as their ‘God.’

     If Freud thought dispelling Christianity as a religious belief would bring the Gentiles down he was mistaken.  The ‘illusion’ had already been replaced by a ‘reality.’  The futility of trying to dispel religious beliefs should have been clear to Freud.  The exposure of the illusion or, even delusion, of the compact between the Jewish people and their tribal god had no effect on them; they continue to believe the compact exists and that Palestine was given to them by their tribal god inalienably.

     The most potent dissolvent in Freud’s arsenal was his sexual theory.  He was quite severely criticized for his sexual beliefs then and they should be rejected now.

page 868.

     Everything Freud believed on the subject was wrong.  Basic to his misunderstanding was the physical structure of the human organism.  He missed the relationship of the physical organism with its psychological organization.

     He quite correctly picked up the ovate and spermatic halves of the psyche but since he didn’t associate them with their physical origins he mistakenly thought that men were part woman and vice versa.  This was a critical misconception as it opened the door to much erroneus speculation on homosexuality.

     There may be rare cases of sexual ambiguity caused by birth defects in the physical apparatus or defective hormonal systems but any other expression of ambiguity is a perversion that is not natural but comes about only when the ovate is fixated and spermatic is repressed or, in other words, when the organism is mentally ill.  Psychological perversion has nothing to do with physical organization.

     Since he misunderstood the physical organism he equated sexuality not with the Power Train but with sexual intercourse.  Freud actually equated fucking with mental health.  Because psychic discomfort is reflected in sexual urges he actually believed that the more fucking one did the better person one would be.  Such nonsense has not only passed unchallenged for eighty years but is actually embraced today as the Gospel of Fuck.

     Freud did not believe in the intellect of the effectiveness of intelligence.  While he made the grandiose pronouncement:  Where Id was, Ego shall be, he failed to explain how this would come about.  For whatever reason he considered the intellect nonexistent and intelligence ineffective and unimportant.  In keeping with his times he believed in the hereditary transmission of mental traits.

page 869.

     More importantly he invented a whole category of non-existent affects called the ‘instincts.’  Like the Unconscious and Collective Unconscious instincts do not exist.  There are no instincts, not a single one, all is a matter of learning and education.

     Even eating is not an instinct but taught at the mother’s breast.  Hunger may be a physical reality but it is not an instinct.  Assuaging hunger must be learnt and that literally at the mother’s breast.  The first lesson an infant is taught is when the mother inserts the nipple in his mouth.  His mouth blocked he has no choice to resist suffocation but to begin sucking as in attempting to draw in air.  Imagine his surprise when the liquid  emitted seems delicious and when he swallows it because he can’t spit it out the physical reaction is terrific.  It feels good.  Having learnt to eat he wants more.  Being a quick learner, from that point on the infant will demand to be fed.  But without that first infusion he would die hungry not knowing what the desire to eat meant.

     Because Freud wanted to project his own psychic vision he gave instincts precedence over all other psychic functions.  He professed that the individual was incapable of resisting or controlling what the Ancients characterized as the Raging Bull and what he called the Ego.

     Both the Church and Esoteric religions have devised rigors to control and domesticate this Bull or Ego/Instincts by using intelligence.  Freud thought that to use your intelligence to control your ‘instincts’ was to incur damaging inhibitions and repressions.  Hence he was opposed to ‘morality.’  Freud imagined this did irreparable damage to the psyche especially sexual inhibitions and repressions hence the Gospel of Fuck.

page 870.

     If fucking actually made a person better, then the logical conclusion is that libertines and homosexuals are the best people in the world.  Fucking dominates the homosexual’s mind.  It is not unusual for them to commit thirty or forty acts of sex a day for as many days as they can sustain it.

     As the only thing that counts in sexual activity is the climax it follows that if machines were placed in prominent places to masturbate the individual on an hourly basis or less that society would be darn near perfect; the millennium would have arrived.  I don’t know why people are leery of buying the Brooklyn Bridge when they have bought the myth of sexual intercourse.

     The fact is that libertines and homosexuals are the worst people in the world so the basis of Freud’s argument is very limp.

     The West has generally embraced Freud’s misguided sexual theory.  The United States is actually fucked.  Freud’s sexual theory was picked up by the lame third rate novelist, Henry Miller, who actually formulated the Gospel Of Fuck during the twenties and thirties in his novels, The Tropics of Capricorn and Cancer.

     Henry Miller was gaining respectability during the fifties with psychotic fringe groups in the San Francisco Bay Area and elsewhere.  By the sixties he would have a profound impact on society with the reverence given his two volumes of the Tropics.

page 871.

     As Freud was interpreted in the common mind repression and inhibition were the causes of psychic discomfort.  The common mind had no idea how inhibitions and repressions were caused exept by not being allowed to do whatever you wanted to do.  Through the forties and fifties the children of innumerable families were encouraged to indulge their whims and fancies regardless of who they might hurt.  They were given no instruction or correction lest they become inhibited and repressed.  It was thought that when they grew up they would naturally gravitate to the intelligent choice.

     The so-called ‘Me First’ generation of the sixties and seventies lacked proper instruction in managing their ‘instincts.’  The pervading influence of past mores prevented them expressing themselves with true lack of ‘inhibition’ or ‘repression.’  The wave of high school shoot outs of the later century when the succeeding generation had moved out from the shadow of earlier mores were committed by the offspring of the ‘Me First’ generation.  They are the logical progression of Freudian sexual theory.

     Employing metal detectors and other ‘inhibitory’ or ‘repressive’ systems will not solve the problem, Freud has to be amended.

     Freud’s thesis was advanced by the Jewish monologist Lenny Bruce as well as furthered by Jewish interests in Hollywood who produced innumerable ‘action’ films in which the uninhibited and unrepressed protagonist  attempts to solve his problems from the barrel of a gun rather than reason them out.

page 872.

     The homosexual crowd aboard the Teufelsdreck, especially Kanary believed they were healthier because they thought of themselves as uninhibited and unrepressed.  They did not know that they were more inhibited and repressed not to say compulsive than the heteros aboard.

     Freud who concentrated his studies in hysteria should have known that inhibitions and repression were affects of the condition.  He should also have known that homosexuals are classic hysterics but he preferred not to see this because he was a homosexual himself and what happened on his consulting couch we may never know.

     By following the Gospel Of Fuck in accordance with Freud’s instructions the Homos may have thought they were exorcising their demons but instead they were consecrating them.

     In any event Freud even moreso than his second century predecessor, Simeon Bar Yochai, may be called the The Man Who Shook The World and continues to shake it from the grave.

Back To The Festivities

     Captain Ratches mistakenly gave these Homos carte blanche to organize the initiation as they sought fit.  Since he had contempt and abhorrence for the enlisted man he wanted no contact with them nor would he delegate a couple officers to oversee the games.

     Thus he effectively transferred the police power to this homosexual gang placing the rest of the crew at their mercy.

page 873.

     The crew could be compared to the Jews under Hitler.  The Jews were severely and unjustly criticized for having been the passive victims of Hitler.

     In fact they had no reason to distrust the police power of the State.  The Communists in any coalition government they entered always demanded the police power and with good reason, the police power of any State is irresistible.

     Thus in the Bolshevic Revolution of Russia the Cheka was organized and run by the Jews.  The power to arrest made the slaughter of Russians child’s play.  They were no less passive in the analogous situation than the Jews.

     The assumption of police power by the Homos aboard the Teufelsdreck meant that they could commit crimes against the crew without resistance.  The crew surrendered themselves for the three days on the assumption it was required of them and trusting in the justice and self restraint of the self-appointed Shellbacks cum Homos.

     The Homos released their inhibitions and repressions in an orgy of cruelty resembling in diluted form the horrors of Auschswitz, The Russian Revolution, The Cultural Revolution and Charenton.  The inmates were in control of the asylum.

The Shame Of The Teufelsdreck

     Duber and Erect fully meant to implement their threat made against Trueman in the shower.  Fortunately for himself and due to Kanary’s malice he was always on watch when their psyches flared up.  Trueman had convinced himself that it was necessary to have a good time crossing the equator.  So for several days he had lain out during lunch time working on a tan.

page 874.

     A tan is not much work in the tropics.  The rays of the sun are intense.  Fifteen minutes on each side had been enough to turn Dewey from nut brown to sooty black in a few days.  The following day his skin cracked like a dry river bottom after which he gave up the idea of tanning.

     But on this day as he lay out on the Hedgehog deck Teal Kanary approached asking softly:  ‘Mind if I take up this space beside you?’

     ‘I’m surprised you’d want to.  I thought you didn’t like me.’

     ‘Not at all.’  Kanary cooed.  ‘Not at all.’  It was a double entendre that could be taken either way.

     He lay down beside Trueman a foot or two away while eyeing him with a vague Mona Lisa smile.  He was looking forward to his plan when they crossed the equator and as he smiled he imagined himself astride Trueman pumping his ass.

     It didn’t take mental telepathy to read his thoughts.  A number of men led by Duber also drifted up inconspicuously.  Trueman feeling uncomfortable got up and left.  He saved himself a great deal of humiliation not to mention possible pysical injury for he was the intended first victim of the initiation.  In more ways than one.

     The next day Duber, Erect and their associates began carrying four foot lengths of fire hose.  This was one heck of a weapon.   The interior of the three inch hose is heavy rubber with a woven cord covering.  As Dewey stood the afternoon watch they committed their first outrage.  One of the crew was seized and held by two men while Duber flailed his kidneys, his favorite spot, and bottom with the fire hose.  The screams of the man raged over the bridge from below as this was a serious and savage beating.  The Homos then rampaged over the ship seizing and beating any Pollywogs they found.  The screams and cries reaching Dewey on port lookout made him tremble.  He looked over at Ratches but the Captain merely shook his head as though he found enlisted men incomprehensible.  It was with some trepidation that Dewey came down from watch but by then the games were over for the day.

page 875.

     There was some grumbling as the equator was still two days away.  The Pollywogs rightly felt that the so-called Shellbacks were exceeding their authority.  But as the police power had been ceded them by Captain Ratches it was felt wrong to resist the ‘law’ although the Pollywogs should have rebelled and put the Homos in their place.  But like the Jews of Nazi Germany and the Russians of the Bolshevik Revolution they were taken by surprise.

     Dewey had the after lookout watch the next morning when he had occasion to see just how brutal these Homos could be.  Duber had taken over leadership of the so-called Shellbacks assisted by his lieutenant, Peter Erect.

     Trueman had the after watch but instead of being on the three inch gun mount he stood all the way aft between the Depth Charge racks with his phone plugged into the after connection.

page 876.

     Not only had the police power shifted to the homos but the Pollywogs were expected to take the chicanery in resignation just like the victims of the Red Guard.  Any show of resistance or ill humor was subject to condemnation and increased brutality.

     Duber and a few others were clustered around the hose reel behind the after hatch.  The man they really wanted was the after watch, Trueman.  As the watch he was immune to harassment, or so he thought.

     The Homos seized the hapless sailors who wandered aft as surrogates.  On one a bucket of slop was dumped over his head which they made another lick up while they flailed away at his back.

     ‘Hitting too hard to be just for fun.’  Dewey observed with queasiness in his stomach at their brutality.

     Then Cornell Roberts unwarily came up from First.  He was pounced on.  For some reason he seemed to excite the Shellbacks as they whooped and hollered and danced around wondering what to do with him.  Kanary came aft at this time and proffered a suggestion.  ‘Right.’  Duber hollared.  ‘Bend him over the hose reel.’

     The reel was about three feet high so Roberts’ rear end was just at the right height as he was pulled over the reel.  Trueman was already aghast at the violence of these men thanking his lucky stars he was on watch.

     While Roberts was being laid out Duber danced back about four steps then rearing back as to get full force he stepped quickly forward swinging his four foot hose as hard as he could, hard enough it was.  The smack resounded across the water as Roberts’ flesh involuntarily quivered through his jeans and water ran down the reel.  the color fled his face as he let out a strangled cry that went beyond pain.

     Then Duber backed up and did it again. 

     ‘Oh, my god.’  Trueman thought as he fought to keep his vomit down.  ‘One more time and they could kill him.’

     Then Peter Erect looked back at the real target and saw the horrified expression on Trueman’s face.  He grinned in anticipation.

     ‘There he is.  Let’s get him.’

     ‘He’s on watch.’  Duber replied.

     ‘If he complains so much the worse for him.’  Kanary said seizing the hose from Duber.

     Four of them led by Erect advanced on Trueman.  Dewey was absolutely terrified.  His glance rested on a whitened Roberts shivering with shock and realized that if they got him over the reel he would probably never be the same man again.  The mouthpiece quivered in his hand as he debated whether to call for help and blow his cool or submit to a beating that would leave psychic scars of some magnitude and possible physical injury.

     ‘Hey, I’m on watch.’  He joked seeking to preserve his dignity.

     ‘That won’t save you this time.’  Erect crowed grabbing the mouthpiece out of his hand.  Other hands seized his legs as they began carrying him to the hose reel.

page 878.

     Why someone had reminded him just that morning that the ear phones were transmitters too he would never understand.  Remembering that fresh reminder he seized the earphones from his head shouting into them in a humorous mock serious voice:  “Help. Help.  They’re abducting the watch.’

     Ratches informant Shakey Jake Brook who was standing as Bridge Talker immediately turned to the Captain.  ‘Sir, After Watch says he’s being abducted.’

     Ratches who had been observing the Shellback’s activities with the distaste due to lower orders looked back from the bridge to see Trueman being carried toward the hose reel.  At that moment Trueman believed his ruse had failed.  He was preparing himself for a numbing beating as Kanary swinging the hose glared at him with fiery eyes.  Then he heard Ratches voice blare from the squawk box:  ‘Now you men leave my watch alone.’

     Erect and the others looked up to the bridge to see Ratches looking down at them.  For the moment they acknowledged a police authority higher than their own and put Trueman down.  As it was they were within a hair of disregarding Ratches’ order which would have put the ship in an amusing situation for that would have been akin to mutiny.  There would have had to have been serious consequences.

     ‘We’ll get you later, Trueman.’

     ‘Hey, man, I was only joking in the spirit of the games.  How did I know they’d take it serious.  Can’t you guys take a joke?’

     ‘You think you’re really clever using your earpiece like that don’t you?’  Duber hissed.

 page 880

     ‘I had no idea it would work.’  Trueman laughed.  ‘Besides Duber, you know this is over tomorrow.  Beware of the backlash.’

     As Trueman put his earphones back on it was with a sense of the deepest relief.  Roberts was standing against the K-guns still drained of color, trembling from shock while the big yellow stain on the front of his pants, down his legs and over his shoes betrayed the force of the blows delivered him.

     Wearing a mask of affected gaity Trueman also reflected on the tone and content of Ratches’ plea which he wasn’t alone in apprehending.  There had been a whining exasperated plea in Ratches’ order which had been more of a request than an order.  The distance he felt between himself and the men was apparent.  The idea of ‘my’ watch was an indication of a separation between bridge and crew.

     In Trueman’s mind at that point the unity of the Teufelsdreck was lost.  Others had heard the pleas as opportunity.

     The incident soured the festivities of the Homos for the day as the ship passed Tarawa on the way to the Line.

     The Teufelsdreck had just crossed the Equater the next morning as the crew rose for the day of games.  The process would take up the whole day.  The Shellbacks were in a high state of excitement at the prospect of having the Pollywog men completely at their mercy.  The attitude was that of the inside of an asylum for the criminally insane.

     Cook Bocuse started the festivities by presenting a rainbow breakfast.

page 880.

     Time magazine had recently published a study which showed that people wouldn’t eat food if it was presented to them in unfamiliar colors.  Thus Bocuse had dyed the potatoes purple, the eggs red and the colored the butter green.

     Most were good sports declaring they could not eat the food.  Dewey had read the article in Time so his mind was prepared.  He wolfed his down without trouble to the dismay of others who considered him a spoilsport.

     Perhaps, but Dewey was genuinely concerned about what the Homos would do.  The beating of Roberts and his own narrow escape loomed large in his mind.  He didn’t intend to willingly give anyone any pleasure.  Besides he knew that very very few of the Shellbacks had any right to the name.  It especially rankled him to be hazed by Kanary.

     After breakfast the Pollywogs were ordered to assemble in First Division.  Some spilled over into Engineering.  Some like Erect herded them along like some Nazi prison guard directing Jews into the ovens.

     Once assembled they were ordered to strip naked.  The Homos wanted to feast their eyes on those flopping dicks.  Now, initiation was voluntary not compulsory; two of the crew were too terrified to participate.  They had gathered on the boat deck.  Trueman at this point decided to join them. 

     ‘No!’ He announced.  ‘I am not going to strip naked. I’ll go up on the boat deck.’

     The instruction seemed a little too outre for others also as other voices announced they would not strip.

page 881.

     There was hurried consultatation at the head of the after hatch.  Duber, the leader of the homos, was stationed to get first crack at the men as they clambered out of the hatch.

     ‘Alreight you only have to strip down to your shorts.’  He announced foregoing the pleasure of seeing all those dicks flopping around and the delicious pleasure of flogging bare ass watching the welts rise.

     There were still subdued murmurs of protest but yeas exceeded nays so the Pollywogs went along.  At the very least they feared they would have to run a true gauntlet.  Their fears were well justified.

     Baxter and Basehart, two men from operations, who were friendly with Trueman were unable to bear the anxiety; they wanted to be first out.  They implored Trueman to join them but Dewey knew better.  All his experience at the Orphanage told him to wait till the end of the line when the Shellbacks would have expended most of their energy.  He tried to get the idea over to Baxter and Basehart but their anxiety was so great that they had to get it over with.

     The gauntlet, for gauntlet it was, had been devised by Duber, Erect, Costello, Kanary and a couple others.  All the Shellbacks were armed with four foot lengths of fire hose.  These weighed over five pounds.  The course was laid out from the after hatch up the port side, around the fo’c’sle and down starboard ending at the after K-gun before the Depth Charge racks.

     Duber stood at the top of the hatch.  A few feet from him stood his stooge, Peter Erect.  Erect was demented.  He had inserted a six inch long, three inch diameter lead weight into the bottom end of the hose and the six inch weight at the head should be obvious to anyone.  Beyond him stood another four men with hoses.

page 882.

     Midships about where the Quarterdeck would have been a tribunal had been set up where Proud Costello served as Magister Ludi.  A couple of the more criminal types familiar with prison had demanded a kangaroo court to try the Pollywogs.

     As the verdict was always ‘guilty’ the men proceeded to King Neptune personated by Paul Bocuse sitting on three stacked potato sacks by the galley door.  Bocuse’s prominent belly had been smeared with a foul tasting concoction of which Tobasco sauce was the most prominent item.  The condemned was made to kiss Neptune’s belly button.

     This was evil as the concoction was repellent.  You were advised to not kiss lightly or your face would be rubbed in the mess by Neptune.  Bocuse’s fly was also open so if he rubbed your face he pushed your head down on his dick.  Some men were wise enough to shove their faces into his belly button while most tried to get by lightly.  They suffered indignity.

     After the double hatches the ship was too narrow for any hosemen but as one rounded the fo’c’sle Kanary was positioned with a live fire hose and nozzle.  This was why he smiled at Trueman as lay down beside him.  The Navy has different nozzles for different purposes.  The flood nozzle is designed to disperse as much water as possible over the widest area to quench fires.  This nozzle is perforated to spread the water.  Capable of projecting water for a hundred feet it has great force.  If you have seen pictures of civil rights demonstrations where the hoses were turned on the demostrators knocking them down and rolling them down the street this is the type of nozzle used.

     A second type of nozzle is called the suicide nozzle.  This type earns its name from the fact that this nozzle tapers down from a three inch connection to a one inch opening.  This nozzle has concentrated and devastating force.  It is used to break up the center of fires dispersing the metal core.  If the flood nozzle can knock you down the suicide nozzle can tear you apart hence its name.  Now, Kanary proposed to use the suicide nozzle from four feet or less as hazing.  Sadism is not only part of homosexuality but so is insane brutal stupidity.  Fortunately Ractches’ informers got wind of this giving him the news.  Instead of taking control of the hazing which such activity would have warranted he merely warned Kanary not to use the suicide nozzle.

     Kanary was perhaps more demented than Erect.  As a spoiled only child he was skilled in devious means to have his way.  Having been warned he changed to the flood nozzle, which was crazy enough, but carried a suicide nozzle in his back pocket to use on Trueman.  One shudders.

     Continuing on down the starboard side after emerging from the wing hatches another line of men with hoses waited.  Abreast of the after three a fifteen foot chute had been laid out that was filled with brownish ‘shit.’  The chute greatly resembled what homosexuals call the ‘Slide’ or asshole.  Queers whaled on you with their hoses as you crawled through that.

     Completing the ordeal a huge vat five feet deep of brownish garbage and actual shit collected for a week  or so sat before the Depth Charge rack.  Completing the homosexual imagery the Pollywog was to jump in up to the neck presumable how Homos wish to enter the asshole.  Charming.

     Baxter and Basehart chose not to listen to Dewey’s experience.  Baxter shouted:  ‘I’m going first anyway.  I’ve got to get this over.’

     He was first up.  No matter how quickly you raced up the ladder you still had to turn to port as you climbed over the hatch lip.  As you did so Duber laid his best across your kidneys if he was on, higher of lower if he wasn’t.  In itself this was shocking.  Fresh for the slaughter of the innocents Duber laid his best directly across Baxter’s kidneys.  Baxter went temporarily blind from the shock preventing his clearly seeing Peter Erect.  He staggered toward the fiendishly howling Erect whose face was transported with sadistic pleasure.

     Pulling back in classic golf style Erect brought the hose down and up with all his considerable force with leverage.  The heavy lead weight crashed between Baxter’s legs driving his gonads back into his body as his pelvis gave way with a loud crack.

     Unable to believe his eyes Ratches watched from the bridge as his mouth gaped.  Peter Erect emitted barking shrieks of laughter as Baxter crumpled to the steel deck blazing under the heat of the equatorial sun.

    Before Ratches could react Basehart his eyes crossed from the force of Duber’s blow across his kidneys staggered up to Erect.  With his mouth open in howling delight Peter Erect delivered another destructive swing slightly high, it caught Basehart just at the top of the penis breaking the pelvis and rupturing the lower abdominal muscles.  He too crumpled to the steel inferno howling in pain.

 page 885.

     By this time Ratches had found his voice, shouting down to the fantail:  ‘Stop the proceedings, stop the proceedings.  Bring that man to the head.’

     Erect heard none of this.  He was in another world or so to say, out of his mind.  He was uninhibited; he had so sense of immorality; he knew a few truths about himself.  As far as he was concerned all laws were suspended.  He had been given carte blanche to indulge all his repressed homosexual hatreds.

     He stood slack jawed swinging his leaded hose in front of him as though it was his own very potent penis waiting for the next one.  He was quite prepared to put the entire contingent of Pollywogs down until a heap of bodies lay before him.

     Pardon and Ratman emerged from the hatch aft of the head to approach Erect from behind with due caution.  They had reason to be wary.  Pardon crept up directly behind Erect throwing a full nelson on him with dexterity.  Erect groaned, not from pain but because he was called back from euphoria.  The bliss vanished from his mind.  His glazed eyes hooded over as his mouth seemed to close over an imagined penis as he made several sucking motions.

page 886.

     ‘Erect.  Hey, Erect, are you there?’  Ratman asked anxiously.

     ‘Uh.’  Erect grunted as painful reality once again gripped his mind.  ‘What…What’s the matter, is it over?’  He spoke from behind the mists.

     ‘It is for you.  Come with us now.’  Ratman said taking the hose from Erect’s hand.

     Erect, mystified, allowed himself to be led off to the toilet while Dieter, Oiler and couple other chiefs and Firsts hurried to get the injured Baxter and Basehart off the burning deck and into bunks.

     ‘Hey, what the hell’s going on up there?  What’s the delay?’  Some snipe yelled up at Duber.  ‘Let’s go.’

     ‘Just be quiet.’  Duber whispered.  ‘Things have been held up for a while.  Just wait.’

     The face that Duber now presented to them had lost its sexual gloss betraying the beginning of a pensive realization that as Erect was his stooge he would be indirectly accountable for Erect’s actions.

     As he watched the painfully and critically injured, injured? crippled Baxter and Basehart loaded into makeshift blanket stretchers he had good reason for pause.  He had a sick feeling in the base of his stomach.

page 887.

     Erect was led into the head where Ratches awaited him in the washroom.  Ratches was trembling with rage and indignation.

     ‘What in the hell is wrong with you, man?’  He fairly shouted in unofficerial fashion.

    ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about Captian.’  Erect said sincerely and defensively.

     ‘You don’t know what I’m talking about?’  Ratches roared indignantly.  ‘My god, man, you almost killed those two men.  You would have crippled half my crew.’

     Erect put his hands on his hips belligerently:  ‘I didn’t do nothing wrong, Captain.  This is the Line.  Paul said this is where we get ours, there is no Law South of the Line.’

     ‘What?’  Ratches bellowed.

     ‘This is initiation.  I was within my rights.  Paul said this is where we get our justice.’

     ‘Keep him in the mess hall under watch until this is over.’  Ratches ordered Pardon and Ratman.  ‘Try to find out what he’s talking about and warn these men against a repetition of this.  Check the rest of those hoses to see if they’re leaded.’

     Going to the bridge he instructed Morford to check on Kanary.  Kanary had surreptitiously slipped the suicide nozzle on the hose.

     ‘Kanary, for Christ’s sake get that nozzle off there.  You’ll kill somebody.’  Somebody?  He would have killed anyone who got by Peter Erect.  He should have been removed but he reluctantly changed back to the flood nozzle putting the suicide nozzle in his pack pocket still hoping to use it on Trueman.

page 888.

     After two hour’s delay initiation began again.  By this time the rumor of Erect and his leaded hose had made the rounds although it was not made clear that he had been removed from the gauntlet.  Dewey sat on his locker in his underwear with his hand on his face wondering whether to risk the opprobrium of chickening out or submitting to the ordeal.  By the time a couple hours later that it got down to him and two others he decided to risk it.

     As he came up the ladder he heard someone say to Duber:  ‘Here he comes.’  But Duber had had several hours to think things over.  The meaning of the shattered lives of Baxter and Basehart was clear to him.  The plan of the initiation had been his; Erect was his bosom buddy.  His imagination dwelt on legal repercussions so he had lost much of his enthusiasm.

     As Trueman came up he turned away pretending to be preoccupied with some other matter.  As Trueman skipped over the edge of the hold Duber uttered a ‘damn’ pretending to have missed his opportunity but in reality sparing Trueman as he feared his testimony in any Court Martial.

     Out of range Trueman put his hands up to parry the leaded hose as he searched for Erect.  Realizing he was no longer there Trueman walked up to ‘Judge’ Proud Costello.  The men with hoses on the way to the tribunal were no longer swinging them.

     Sure that Erect and his leaded hose was no longer a danger Dewey relaxed enough to look around to get his bearings.  Conscious of his near nudity he was offended by the full dress of the so-called Shellbacks.  With the psychological insight of Nazis and Commies Duber had stripped the Pollywogs of parity and dignity.

page 890.

     Casting a glance at the two dark spots on the deck where Baxter and Basehart had fallen Dewey approached Costello with a certain amount of anger and hostility.  Trueman knew Costello had never been over the Line.  None of these guys had, hence they had no legal rights.  It was simply a case of favoritism; a favoritism which the Captain with his disdain of the enlisted man had sanctioned.

     Costello was no less transported than Erect.  Giddy with the power to insult the Pollywogs with impunity he was literally out of his mind, beside himself, as they say.

     ‘What do we have here, Bailiff?’  He exulted.

     ‘This is the criminal Dewey Trueman, Judge.’

     ‘Well, Trueman, you are accused of being generally offensive and of low character.  You are charged with having a big mouth and no respect for your betters.  In short, you are a asshole.  How do you plead?’

     Trueman looked at Costello with mingled contempt and distaste.

    ‘You haven’t ever been over the line, Costello.  You’re a cheat.’

     It was as though Costello was impervious to outside influence.

     ‘How do you plead?’

     Dewey was very reluctant to say guilty.  He scowled around.  His eyes were met by a smiling pair.  ‘If you don’t plead guilty you have to come over here and we beat you with our hoses until you do.  Dewey should have braved it because with two men down Ratches was in no mood for more brutality.  But Dewey gave in.  ‘Guilty’ he mumbled.

page 890

     ‘Yes, you are.  Proceed to Neptune and kiss his belly.’

     With a lingering wrathful glance at Costello Trueman stepped over to where Mike Deasy, one of the Radarmen, was kneeling before Bocuse trying to overcome his revulsion at the odious sentence.

     Deasy made the mistake of trying to lightly brush the belly button with the tips of fully extended lips.  With a laughing roar Bocuse grabbed his ears pulling his head forward as he rolled Deasy’s face from side to side in the ugly mess.  Then he slid Deasy’s face down to a very suggestive position just above his dick.

     Deasy in his turn let out a roar tearing away to the general merriment of the crowd.  Cursing Bocuse cum Neptune he nearly tripped on the lip of the first of the double hatches to the merriment of all, although if he fallen across the opposite lip there might have been a third seriously injured man to add to Baxter and Basehart.

     With Deasy’s example before him Trueman gritted his teeth, knelt down and rammed his nose into Bocuse’s belly button without pursing his lips.  Either his ruse worked or Bocuse took pity on him, at any rate Trueman pulled away without further indignity.

     When Ratches saw Trueman walk up to Costello he turned to Morford:  ‘Get down on the gun mount above your crazy Yeoman and make sure he doesn’t put on that suicide nozzle he’s got in his back pocket.  I’ve already got two injured men I won’t be able to explain.  I don’t want to have to add a dead one.’

page 891.

     Morford moved down to the three inch tub.  Kanary had been advised that Trueman would be right behind Deasy.  If Erect had been joyful in releasing his subconscious desires Kanary was morbid, angry and insane.  If Costello was beside himself, Kanary was calculatedly cruel.  Erect’s and Costello’s pleasure was internal; Kanary’s was external.  He wanted to see blood and gore.  He wanted to finish off his victims as they lay writhing in pain.

     He completely ignored Deasy as he hurried to unscrew the flood to get the suicide nozzle on.  He was in the process of screwing it on when Morford stepped to the front of the gun tub.  Bifrons didn’t care whether Kanary murdered Trueman but he didn’t want the resulting onus of having been on the ship where this had been allowed to happen.  He already shared the Captain’s discomfiture over the injured Operations men.

     ‘Put the flood nozzle back on, Kanary.  Did you hear me?  If you use that suicide nozzle you’ll turn twenty-one in prison, life without parole.’

     Morford’s argument had no effect on Kanary’s mind.  These fags thought they had a license to kill.  Fortunately he had the mind of the true subordinate.  Disciplined by the Party and respecting rank he reluctantly hurriedly began to change back to the flood nozzle.  Deasy skipped past him.  So would have Trueman if he hadn’t been so cautious.  Instead of racing by he walked up slowly not knowing what to expect.

page 892.

     Kanary got the flood nozzle on just as Trueman began to round the fo’c’sle.  With a cry of rage, his face distorted in a hatred that was justified by no act of Trueman’s he opened the nozzle leaping forward to get as close as he could.

    If you watched the newsreels the demonstrators were knocked off their feet and rolled down the street.  As the water hit Trueman he was pinned against the bulkhead by the force of the flood.  The water thudded against his body and face with bruising force.  Immobilized he felt as though he was drowning as indeed he was.  The water displaced all air around his head.

     He tried to push forward but the force of the water prevented him from moving.  Realizing he was drowning a feeling of desperation came over him.  Thinking quickly he realized that since he couldn’t go forward his only chance was to slide along the bulkhead to get free.  Fortunately this proved relatively easy to do as the bulkhead was lubricated by the flood.  Once he got the force of the water to his left side it pushed him along.

     He emerged from the flood to the sight of Kanary’s distorted face, jaw down, lips curved toward his chin Kanary was screaming obscenities.  Only the alertness of Ratches had prevented his murdering Trueman.

     This was the same man who in twenty years or so would be tramping through the streets of San Francisco tracking down ‘Homophobes’ with charges of discrimination.  This despicable master hater would sublimate his bitter anger into ‘hating people who hate.’

page 894.

     Trueman cast a backward glance at this demonically possessed little homosexual then continued on his way.  Bifrons Morford with a waondering shake of the head returned to the bridge.

     Pausing at the starboard double hatches Dewey caught his breath while surveying the remaining gauntlet.  What remained ahead was a row of twelve hose swinging maniacs, the Slide and the tub.  With a skip and a hesitation step Dewey eluded the first six ‘swingers’ who had lost much of their enthusiasm anyway.

     The other half dozen men were gathered around the Slide where they could belabor the backs of the men as they crawled through the sludge.  Entering the ‘Slide’ was like crawling up an asshole.  Coming out the other end Dewey was told that he had to get into the huge tub of refuse up to his neck which he did.

     As he got out the last two men followed along behind him. 

     Now the consequences would begin.

     Trueman snarled over at Duber who had been in a state of shock for some time fearful of the consequences of the criminal acts of his buddy, Peter Erect.  The stains left by the two crippled bodies were still visible.

     The crew would divide in halves along the lines of Pollywogs and so-called Shellbacks.  Trueman would continue loud in his anger at being beaten by men who had no right to be beating him.  Others too would press their inquiries to find they had been defrauded.  The onrushing course of events would obliterate or dull much of the animosity but resentments would be playing out months later.

page 894.

     Life requries one to quell one’s resentments or go mad or criminal so Dewey did not dwell on the injustice after a couple weeks but the incident left a deep dark impression on his subconscious.  In later years he would have dreams in which this incident formed a part.  The complete image was far too complex to go into here but immediate components can.  One sequence of dreams involved his appearing naked or in his underpants in critical situations.  Another was simply of a barren field with a house on the left and a quivering brown spot in the earth beside it.

     The house was of course a symbol of Trueman while part of the image of the brown spot was formed by the intent of the ‘Slide’ and the well of garbage.  The psychology implied by them was quite profound.

     Kanary and his fire hose recurred in a variety of urination dreams in which Trueman had to urinate badly but the toilets were all stopped up and overflowing.  And Trueman’s contempt for homosexuals never lost its intensity.

     Trueman’s reactions were trifling compared to the two men Erect had crippled for life.  They were seriously injured.  Gotten to their bunks they were sedated with what morphine was aboard ship.  the pitching and rolling of the ship was excruciatingly painful  as their shattered pelvic bones rubbed together.

     These were not the days when ships had helicopter pads so that men could be lifted off and taken to hospital.

pagfe 895.

     It was hoped that they would be able to be doctored at Pago Pago but their injuries were so severe that the medical facilities there were not adequate.

      The squadron was originally to have proceeded from Pago Pago to Fiji but that would be abandoned to take a straight run into Brisbane where the men could get medical attention.  Thus for two weeks they lay in their bunks writhing in pain.

     The incident did the Teufelsdreck no honor in the eyes of the Commodore aboard the Desade.  The Teuf was already the black sheep of the squadron.  The Commodore began to look at Ratches and his first command askance.

     Ratches himself was in a quandary.  As a fair man the only person he was unfair to was himself.  He should have court-martialed Erect and Duber plus Kanary but partially because little more could be expected of them as ‘men’ and sub-humans and partially because by men’s rules the initiation had been part of the hazing and partially so as not to embarrass himself and his ship he let it slide officially.  But Ratches was a canny man with a sense of ‘justice.’

     He was still brooding in his cabin when Samoa hove into view. 

     The South Seas.  How may they be described?  Pago Pago was a beautiful place; real Paul Cezanne stuff.  At the time the islands still looked as paradisical as they did in nineteenth century missionary times, real Sadie Thompson.  Not far from the equator the island is perpetually unbearably hot.  The water in the lagoon was over 70 degrees.  The entry was up a long cloaca into a belly that formed the central valley of the island.  At this season of the year a perpetual breeze blew down the mountains behind the bay over the depression making the heat not only bearable but delightful.

page 896.

     At the time there was only a Standard Oil refueling station and some official buildings.  The Samoans lived in huts doing God only knows what.  Taking life easy perhaps.  The Captain prepped the crew about maintaining good relations with the Samoans.  In an attempt to keep the sailors away from the women they were advised of the danger of elephantiasis which all the women supposedly carried.  Elephantiasis, of course, is when the gonads swell up to a size requiring a wheelbarrow for transport.  All of the local men were apparently abstinent since wheelbarrows were not conspicuous.  Ratches threw in a couple other hideous diseases and let it go at that.

     Ratches first need was to find hospitalization for his two crippled men.  The facilities of Pago Pago were inadequate to treat their injuries.  This was before the age of the big jetliners that could fly nonstop from sea to sea so there were no commercial flights into Pago Pago,  at least on a scheduled basis.  The only other flights were run by Standard and they were not only infrequent but the company was unwilling to take responsibility for the two men.

     Thus the squadron’s visit in this tropical paradise was cut from three days to one while the Figi visit was skipped and the squadron was to make a high speed run to Australia.

page 897.

     Needless to say the Commodore blamed and privately cursed Ratches.  The Captain in turn privately cursed Duber, Erect and Kanary.  He was even indiscreet enough to mutter terms like ‘criminally insane’ where they were heard and reported.  As Kanary was included he was alarmed and took it ill.  Convinced of his own purity Kanary could only transfer the blame for his actions to Trueman.  Kanary reasoned quite inaccurately that had Trueman not been there he would not have acted as he did.  But Trueman was there and Kanary’s potential for insane criminal violence did exist.  While consciously he could not admit to this evil side of himself it gnawed away at him from his subconscious.

     Except that Ratches had prevented him, he and Erect in civilian circumstances would have been guilty of criminally insane crimes.  Only the environment of men aboard ship prevented their legal condemnation.

     Devoting himself to explaining to the Commodore and trying to help his injured sailors Ratches granted the ship liberty prior to sailing the next morning.

     One would think  that Duber, Erect and Kanary had enough troubles without plotting further to dispose of Trueman.  Kanary’s hatred was unreasoning.  His sense of responsibility was so weak that he must have been willing to go to prison in order to satisfy his hatred of Trueman.

     Duber had somehow developed the opinion that there was no law below the Line.  Perhaps he had seen one too many John Wayne movies.  But he seriously thought that any act was permissable to him in the South Seas.  His intelligence was so feeble that he thought that if he eliminated Trueman the Captain would let matters drop.

page 898.

     The Japanese had fortified Samoa.  As they usually did they excavated mazes of tunnels in the hills to hide from the shelling.  These caves were amazingly effective and still in existence.  It was rumored that one could still find war memorabilia in them.  Trueman was interested in visiting them.  They were on the other side of the lagoon which necessited a long walk to the head of the lagoon and around.  That posed no problem for Trueman.  He didn’t even do much more than a double take when Duber, Erect and Kanary invited him to accompany them.  The plan was to get him over there, kill him and leave the body.  They reasoned that by the time he was missed they would be far at sea and the matter would be allowed to drop, he would just be AWOL.

     While Trueman was doing his double take he was approached by Shakey Jake Brook who advised him that he wouldn’t go anywhere with those guys.  Something in Shaky Jake’s earnestness raised images of the crossing of the Line which tipped Dewey into saying no.  He was suprised at the hostility his No raised in Duber and Erect.  As soon as Kanary heard that he wasn’t going he hurriedly dressed to go ashore to poison Trueman’s reception.

     Thus by the time Trueman found his way to the open air market where the Samoans sold their foodstuffs he was given a very hostile reception by the natives as Kanary stood by grinning.

page 899.

     It takes only a few obvious words to groups sensitive to criticism such as Jews, the various colored folks, homosexuals, feminists and the like to prejudice them against anyone.  Kanary had simply said:  ‘See that guy coming?  He thinks Samoans are ignorant savages.’  Such slanderers are always taken at their word so no questions were asked.

     So Trueman was confronted with the inexplicable hostility of people he had never seen but who seemed to know him and dislike him.  The obvious question to put to oneself is ‘What’s wrong with me?’  What’s wrong with you is that your slanderer doesn’t like you.  You’re a lucky man if you can externalize this pressure.  By far more people internalize it searching for a shortcoming rather than looking for a slanderer.

     Trueman noticed Kanary standing by glowering with a vengeful smile.  He moved off only to be followed by Kanary.

     Kanary was queer to the bone, he had no shame, all chutzpah.

     ‘Why don’t you go off by yourself, Kanary?  Stop following me around.’

     ‘Following you around!  Don’t flatter yourself, Trueman.  Nobody’s following you around.’

     ‘Well, then just go ahead.  I’ll let you get out of sight.’

     ‘I don’t do what you tell me.’

     There’s nothing legal you can do with a queer with no shame.

     Trueman wandered around looking at the buildings with Kanary dogging his steps.  One would say that Kanary had no life of his own but as a homosexual men were his life.  Part of his frustration was a sexual desire for Trueman.  Having no legitimate way to court another man he had turned his lust into hatred.  By making a persistent nuisance of himself he hoped to break Trueman down so that he would let Kanary screw him just to get rid of him.  That’s the homosexual’s central problem; if you can’t screw ’em one way, screw ’em another.

page 900

End Of Clip V-2.  Proceed to Clip V-3.

 

    

Disco Donn Demands Deliverance

by

R.E. Prindle

Part II-2

     You take your life in your hands when out there in the great beyond on the highway.  It’s a place beyond the reach of the law.  Lawless people drive the highways looking for excitement and adventure.  Lawless people put their thumbs out for the same reason.  The driver never knows who’s getting in the car; the hitchhiker never knows who’s driving.

     Al, who had introduced himself, looked all right but that could change pretty quickly.  Hitchhikers disappear all the time.  Donn, hesitated, reluctant to put his fate in the old man’s hands.

     ‘It’s all right, son.  You’ve got nothing to worry about.  I’m not queer.’

     ‘Sure.’ D0nn said with an ironic smile, accepting both out of trust and weariness.  ‘I’d be grateful.’

     They wheeled into Richland crossing the great Columbia River then down to Pasco and across the snake at the confluence of the two rivers, then east toward Eureka in the orchards and farmlands.

     ‘You know, son, religion can be a cover for real moral anarchy.  A lot of people forget that morality is the whole reason for religion not politics.  If you can’t do a kindness for your fellow man then your religion don’t mean a thing.  Love is the law and I don’t mean mere sex.  It’s a simple answer, it’s a trite answer, it’s an ignored and overlooked answer.  The answer runs at cross purposes to most men’s inclination.  It’s an answer that has to be told over and over from generation to generation.  It’s an answer that should be in every book ever written.  If you ever write a book promise me you’ll put it in yours, Donn.’

page 51.

     ‘Sure.  If I ever write a book, I will.’  Donn glibly answered.  What else could he do.  What an odd request.

     ‘Love,’ the old boy went on, somewhat tediously, ‘By love I mean charity.  Not alms giving, but goodwill toward your neighbor.  Charity in the old fashioned sense of the word.  It is true what Jesus said:  A man must have faith, hope and charity.  The greatest of these is charity.  For if a man hath not charity his voice will be as the sounding brass.  It’s true.  Without kindness your words merely rasp and buzz.  No one will listen to you.  So, love your neighbor, son.’

     ‘I’ve done that before.’  Donn said with a smirk, turning to look out the window.

     By now Donn was hoping the lecture was over.  He saw the validity of the lecture but he could find no application in his past, present or future.  He smiled at the old geezer and shook his head.  At least this guy was better than Zadok and Amirah.

     Al pulled off the highway a couple miles past Eureka to drive about five miles toward the Snake.  There was the neatest, prettiest little farmstead Donn had ever seen.  The square, frame house stood on a little rise surrounded by small trees and bushes.  The house reflected the kind gentility of Al Martin.  As within, so without.

     Within the hour Donn had washed, shaved and was between clean sheets drifting off into oblivion.

page 52.

     Donn was too exhausted to sleep soundly,  He woke two or three times during the night, his mind too numbed to rouse himself from bed, his thoughts too crowded to separate into strands he could analyze.  Morning found him seated at the breakfast table dazed, listless and despondent.

     Al Martin studied him intently from across the kichen.  He said:  ‘You know Donn, keeping this place up isn’t easy for a man my age.  I got a whole bunch of chores needs doin’.  If you help me out you can stay for a week or so till everything gets done.  Can’t offer you more than room and board, but…’

     Donn shook his head yes:  ‘Yeah, Al, that would be great.  I can do that.  What needs to be done?’

     Donn pitched in with good will.  Over the week he worked on his problems while he worked, rather than whistled, for Al.  As he had his last breakfast with Al the worst of the numbness was gone.  He had toughened a little but the future still dismayed him casting a dark pall over his mind.  He had identified Maggie as the culprit.  A growing powerless hatred began to envelope him.

     Al drove him back to the highway, thanked him and dropped him off as the morning heat began to build.

     Al Martin had been a solitary ray of sunshine piercing through the great black storm clouds over Donn.  The respite Al had given Donn served him well; his nerves were strengthened and he had time to make some necessary adjustments to his psyche from his fall from grace.  Grimmer events were now to occur.  The hammer blows of his destiny would not allow him to rise but his descent to beyond the depths of despair would be slower.

page 53.

     Donn had been out there for a couple hours.  The morning sun had turned to an afternoon bake, god almighty hot.  Blistering.  The blacktop wasn’t bubbling but it looked like it was about to boil any minute.  The stuff actually moved beneath Donn’s heel.  Donn still wearing his Disco clothes was drenched.

     ‘Hey, Cowboy, need a ride?’

     It wasn’t a beautiful woman in a Cadillac, it was four Mexican braceros in a beatup old ’61 Chevy.  The question had a sinister tone to it.

     ‘I’m looking for a ride to St. Louis.’ Donn said ludicrously, declining the ride.

    His response was met by raucous laughter.

    ‘Hey, there aint’ no St. Louis around here, man.’

     One of the men, they were all eighteen to twenty-three, got out of the back and motioned Donn to sit in the middle.  In the middle surrounded on both sides and vulnerable from the front.  Not a good hitchhiking situation.

     ‘No, man, no.  Thanks, but I mean St. Louis, Missouri.’  In hitchhiking terms this was a virtual insult.

     ‘Hey, you muchachos hear of this place, St. Louis, Missouri?’

     The query was answered by a chorus of noes and ‘there ain’t no such place as St. Louis, Missouri, man.  There ain’t no such place as Missouri.’  More raucus laughter.

page 54.

     ‘Get in, man.  We give you ride.’  The guy holding the door open smiled, the other three doors cracked open as if the occupants were going to get out.

     Donn got in.  This was not the worst thing he could have done.  Had he not they might have made short work of him with tire irons, knives and whatnot, conversely he might have outsprinted them across the burning desert.  When you’re way out there without hope or friends in alien territory you just naturally have to make difficult decisions.  Donn’s hope was not unjustified.  Nor did he behave abjectly to deal with this difficulty.

     Once in the car the Mexicans became verbally abusive of him.  They called him blondie, ridiculed his mustache and insulted his sexual prowess.

     Then the passenger in the front seat, Juan Perez, who was somewhat vain of his pysique flexed his biceps saying: ‘Hey, man.  See that arm?  I can knock you out with one punch, man.’

     As Juan said so, the driver, Pedro Martinez, swang onto a dirt road leading into the hills.  Donn felt a chill in the un-air-conditioned car but didn’t flinch.  He’d gotten his opening.

     ‘Yeah, man?  Maybe, but you’d never get to land a punch.  I was scientific (he threw the word in for effect) boxing champion at SMU.’

     ‘SMU?  What’s that?’  Juan said, overawed by something he didn’t know.

page 55.

     ‘Scientific Mangling University.  You want to go a round or two with me, stop and car and I’ll show you some real science.’

     Juan was frightened by unfamiliar terms like science and SMU and became apprehensive.  He didn’t want to go a couple rounds but he wanted Donn to show him some of his moves.

     The driver pulled over; they all got out.  Donn and Juan squared away.  As Donn had predicted Juan couldn’t come close to landing a punch.  The Mexicans were duly impressed.  After Donn had shown them a few moves Juan said:  ‘Hey man, for a gringo you’re alright.  Then they piled back into the Chevy amidst more raucus laughter leaving Donn standing among the heatwaves in the field.

     In that heat it was an hour and a half walk back to the highway.  Donn caught a number of short rides.  As the sun was setting he was dropped off just past Tucannon a couple miles from Fort Kwakiutl.  He decided to walk into town.  Fort Kwakiutl was a small town, barely on the map, but it did host a Starlight Motel, a restaurant, a bar and a couple gas stations.  Spoiled by his stay at Al Martin’s Donn decided to stay at the Starlight.

    He checked in, cleaned up and went to the restaurant to eat.  He was relatively relaxed and hungry.  He had a lot of money so he ate heartily.  Ed Quigley sat at the bar watching him.  ‘That hobo’s got some money.’  Ed thought darkly.  ‘I bet nobody knows where he’s at or why.’

     Quigly was a big beefy man.  Though much out of shape, big paunchy belly, he thought he could handle a little guy like Donn.  He moseyed over inviting himself to Donn’s table.  He plunked his beer down on the table.

page 56.

     ‘Howdy, podna.’

     ‘Uh, howdy.’

     ‘Saw ya walkin’ inta town.  You a ‘knight of the road.’

     Donn laughed amiably.  ‘Let’s just say I’m passing through.’

     ‘Oh yeah?  Must be hitchhiking?’

     ‘Yes, I am.’  Donn replied.

     ‘Say, listen, buddy, I gotta proposition for ya.  I’m goin’ inta Boise tomorrow.  If you got twenty for gas I’ll take ya along.’

     Donn thought a minute.  He was weary of the road.  He’d been at it for a couple weeks and he still wasn’t out of the state of Washington.  By now he felt a little more confident.  He was anxious now to get to St. Louis.  He didn’t dare say he was broke because Quigly could see the remains of his dinner.

     ‘I’ve blown just about everything I have here tonight.  Bummed it along the way.  It’s a good chance though.  Could you take ten?  He didn’t want to give the idea that he could afford more.  A few more miles down the road of life and Donn would understand how transparent he had been.

     Quigly looked at him, seemed doubtful, then said:  ‘Yeah, sure, OK.  Ten’s better than nothin’.’

     ‘It’s a deal.’  Donn smiled.

     ‘One thing,’  Quigly said.  ‘I’m leaving early, four in the morning.’

     ‘OK.’  From Donn.  ‘Where are you going to be?’

     ‘There’s a big oak tree two miles outta town.  It’s the only tree that size out there.  Can’t miss it.  Meet me there.  In any case I’ll drive slow so I won’t miss you.’

page 57.

     Donn was up trudging through the night to his four o’ clock rendezvous.  Quigly was waiting for him.

     Injuring our fellow man is quite akin to sexual intercourse.  You work yourself up in pretty much the same way.  As they sped up Hwy. 12 through Delancy Donn had intuited from Ed’s rutting manner what was up.  There was no surprise when Quigly swung into a side road moving between two hills by an arroyo.

     Ed left the motor running.  ‘Alright, Cowboy, now I know ya got money.  Ya don’t eat like that and stay at the Starlight if ya don’t.  Ya can give it to me peacefully or I can beat it out of ya.  It’s up to you; it’s your choice, you call it, what’s it gonna be?’

     Donn opened his door and jumped out.

     Still leaving the engine of his beater running Quigly got out huffily, ‘Alright, son-of-a-bitch, if that’s the way you want it.’

     Quigley’s confidence caused him to over expend his energies too quickly.  Donn played him like a trout on a line util  Quigly, breathless, held up a hand for Donn to wait while he caught his breath.  Donn had a different role for himself than in Quigly’s fantasy.  He moved in giving Quigly everything he had.  Quigly unprepared for the response, caught between gasps, rolled onto the ground.

    As he did something snapped in Donn.  He wanted vengeance for everything; his rape, football, boxing, Maggie’s treatment, everything.  As Quigly fell Donn leaped on him picking up a big rock and bringing it down repeatedly on Quigly’s head until the corpse was nearly headless.

page 58.

     As Donn came to himself there was no remorse.  He was both sickened and relieved.  He was no killer but the release had been very satisfying.  In any case he had no cause for self-recrimination as he had killed Quigly in self-defense.  His conscience was clear, but as a drifter, the preponderance of proof was his, he didn’t have any.

     Acting quickly he dragged Quigly’s nearly headless body over to the arroyo and threw it in.  Fate was on his side as the body rolled under a ledge and wedged in out of sight.  Quigley’s precaution of leaving early lest he be seen with Donn worked to Donn’s advantage.  No one had seen them.

     Quigly’s old beater was still running.  Donn got in behind the wheel, turned the old buggy around and got out on the highway to Boise and beyond to Salt Lake City.

     Mentally Donn tried to sweep the killing of Quigly into the dust bin of his memory as he had his reprehensible sexual relations that he detested.

     He wanted to believe that he had only witnessed the killing but his conciousness rejected the falsehood.  Forced to deal with reality he came to the right conclusion- he had killed in self-defence.  Quigly’s unlucky day.  But justly or not he knew that as a drifter and with the suit back in Portland and assigned to a public defender he was lost.

     It then dawned on him also that in the eyes of the law he was driving a stolen car.  And what a car!  The big beast was a favorite of urban desperadoes; a huge old carcass of a ’63 Olds.  The immense rusty hood stretched out before him to eternity.  The vinyl top was ragged and torn.  The giant trunk lid was held down by a wire.  The worn tires made 100% constact with the road; the tread was gone.  Quigly was no mechanic.  The engine roared around faint rattles coming from diverse places.

page 59

     The interior was trashed, the glove compartment hanging open; seats and roof lining torn, butts all over the floor and even on the seats.  Quigly had customized it to reflect his inner malaise.  As within, so without.  Gradually Donn realized what he was driving.  These were no cosmic wheels; this was no astral vehicle.

     The realization drove all other thoughts from his mind.  His brow knitted; he put the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips and gazed about in dismay.  He sat back and tried to look cool.  Revulsion overcame him.  He realizied how low he had sunk.

     ‘There must be some way out of here.’  He thought.

     He made Boise the next morning.  Disgusted with himself and his situation; embarrassed now by the Disco Donn facet of his personality he bought a levi jacket, jeans and a couple sweaters to adapt to his new situation.  Tennis shoes for walking.  In fact Donn shed all the facets of his multi-faceted personality but one.  His multi-facets could only be supported by prosperity.  He reverted back to the Texas gold old boy personality he had when he entered Portland.

page 60.

     Don began to be really apprehensive about driving the big beast but he wanted to make Salt Lake before he aband0ned it.  To make matters worse a patch on the radiator gave way about Brigham City.  He began to make frequent stops at gas stations to fill up the radiator in hopes of cooling the engine well enough to make Salt Lake City.  He steamed through Odgen and into the suburbs of Salt Lake as a blistering heat wave through the fire wall roasted his feet and legs.

     He wheeled into a side street.

 

Guilty Of the Shame

 

We know there’s a dark side

To the moon that we see;

But what’s a little darkness

To the likes of you and me.

-Jesse Winchester

     Donn stepped out of the steaming heap looking at it in vengeful disgust to turn his steps back to the highway.  As he did a pair of blue eyes watched him approach.  The eyes, all the luster having departed, belonged to Sandy Tyler.  Sandy, now well into her thirties, was a refugee from the dolorous broken dreams of the sixties.  Trapped in a state of arrested adolescence, her mind inundated by drugs, she was arrayed in the symbols of the mock poverty of the late sixties. 

     She had once been a very beautiful young woman.  While she sought desperately to retain the vestiges of that beauty against the ravages of drugs and despair only mere glimmers of her former freshness remained.  Superb bone structure prevented her face from dissolving into sheer ugliness.  Beneath her T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of some indiotic post-1975 heavy metal band her once firm high breasts sagged braless down to her belt loops.  Her jeans had the obligatory tears across each knee.  There was a tear beneath each cheek of her derriere which exposed white skin no longer firm or translucent.  Her jeans were tucked into brown suede boots, calf high, turned down.  A certain pride of former glory still clung to her presence.

page 61.

     One might well blame Sandy for a wasted life but the shame was not hers; it belonged to American society.  She had been dragged down completely innocent and against her will with no menfolks to defend her degradation.  In circumstances which you in your comfort would dismiss with a comment like:  Oh well, life’s not fair.

     Sandy had come from Cincinatti, Ohio.  She had come from well-to-do parents who had raised her to be the model of decorum.  She had breeding.  She had been blond and pert with a beautiful figure.  Psychologically she had been as well balanced as one of twenty can be.  Her expectations were those that one would associate with her background.

     She had married Bert Tyler who she had met and fallen in love with at the University Of Ohio.  Upon graduation Bert had taken a job with Standard of California and moved to San Francisco.  This was in 1964 when the subterranean rumbles of massive change could be heard and experienced if not understood.  The times were changing at incredible speed as they usually are when you’re in the middle of them.  Intelligence and precaution were not enough to save you; you had to play dodgeball with the juggernaut and win.  Luck was of the greatest importance.  Luck was not with Sandy Tyler.

page 62.

     Sandy’s husband was something of a rake.  Unresolved wildness lived in his soul.  He wasn’t ready to settle down to middle class respectability.  He suggested that he and Sandy take up residence in the North Beach neighborhood of San Francisco,  that wicked, wicked city of transients.  Tourists ooh and aah over Baghdad By The Bay.  But beneath the charming exterior of the Bay and cable cars of the City all is sour and corrupt.  The spirit of Tom Mooney and Harry Bridges hovers over the City.  There is a seething hatred and class envy which negates the charms of the location.  All San Francisco is a suberb of Chinatown.  It is no accident that Beatniks and Hippies flourished there.

     The Sixties seethed and boiled with unremitting vigor.  Contrasted to the glitter of the scientific accomplishments of the times, cities decayed into ruin before your eyes.  The Maelstrom whirled all around you.  One had to learn to navigate its currents to survive.  It was wise to avoid the use of drugs in a city of drug proliferation.  Heroin was the least of your worries.  Only junkies used heroin and they are a class unto themselves.  One can look at a junkie and realize immediately that junkieism  is a trap to be avoided.  Cocaine, which has a long history of societal use beginning with its first pusher, Sigmund Freud, was nowhere prevalent at the time.  Cocaine didn’t become common until the seventies.  Marijuana was not yet everywhere but was indispensable to the Underground.  Exotica such as peyote and mescaline and mushrooms were still of a semi-legendary character.

page 63.

     The man made drugs were prevalent.  Amphetamines, barbiturates and LSD were everywhere.  Stanford University advertised in the papers for ‘psychological’ subjects.  As it turned out the subjects were wanted for drug experimentation.  They were given massive doses of LSD.  This gave a certain legitimacy to their use.  After all, the high priest of acid was a defrocked professor from Harvard, Timothy Leary.

     The world of drug use was being popularized and glamorized by the evangel of the generation- the phonograph record.  The psyche of the era cannot be understood without a thorough knowledge of the recorded music and comedy of the era, comedy may have been as important as the music.  The phonograph record was the single most important factor in the lives of the generation except for, perhaps, the psychologically inert.  The generation was raised on records.

     To understand the music, which is to say songs, you have to start with the incoherent  shouting and strumming of a black blues shouter by the name of Huddie ‘Leadbelly’ Ledbettor and follow the chain through the various white blues singers until you end at the Kingston Trio.  From thence Ledbettor’s songs and stylings entered the main stream.  Thus the mind of the sixities generation was conditioned by an outsider’s slave and prison mentality.  Let that Midnight Special shine its ever loving light on me.

     At the same time a group of men were setting about to create the ‘rucksack revolution.’

page 64.

     Here comes a no-no in American letters.  We’re going to discuss imigration in a realistic rather than romantic fashion.  This group of men who sought to influence and undermine American civilization were, with one exception, the sons of immigrants who were reacting to the inconveniences of being foreign elements integrating into an existing social structure.  Jack Kerrouac was a Catholic French Canadian, Allen Ginsberg was a Jew from the Pale, William S. Burroughs was the descendent of the inventor of the calculator who apparently rejected logical thinking in favor of anarchy,  Gregory Corso and Lawrence Ferlinghetti were Italians.

     An Anglo view of the group can be found in John Clellon Holmes autobiographical novel ‘Go.’  They all grew to maturity between the wars when the conflict between Anglo-American society and immigrant society was most intense.  The Anglo-American demand that the immigrants shed their ethnic beliefs and characters created an intense reaction.  Carl Witte epitomized the struggle in his early forties book:  We Built America.

     As the immigrant population equaled or exceeded that of the Anglo-Americans it was perhaps inevitable that they should triumph.  In any event they did.  By 1950 all the trappings of Anglo culture were being torn down to be replaced by symbols that either asserted other ethnic origins or pointedly and often violently rejected Anglo symbols.

     Where formerly immigrants had been rejected and reviled by the Anglos the immigrants now quickly turned the tables.  While the sons and daughters of the Anglos had been brought up to believe in the incredible homogeneity of American society the sons and daughters of the immigrants sought to bring the Anglos down.  The humiliation of Sandy Tyler was the result of those feelings.

page 65.

     The Beat writers, as these men have been called, represented the grossest materialism.  They were all drunks, perverts and drug addicts.  They sought to impose those values on America.  The onslaught was led by Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerrouac.  Both had done time in the bughouse or insane asylum.  Oddly enough the whole group was exposed for what they were long before they became effective by John Clellon Holmes.  Holmes’ premonitory warning was not understood.  Why should anyone worry about a bunch of bums.

     Kerrouac glorified the subculture in ‘On The Road’, ‘The Dharma Bums’, ‘The Subterraneans’ and other novels.  Ginsberg contributed an insane chant called ‘Howl.’  Through their success from 1956 to 1959 they were able to get Burroughs’ scream of hatred ‘Naked Lunch’ published.  He followed this by the influential ‘Soft Machine’ and ‘Nova Express.’

     The Beat writers were well received by the Underground.  Evidences of their cultural impact were obvious in San Francisco and the Bay Area in the early sixties.  They were not so obvious and understandable to the larger society which had heard little of the Beat writers.  As Bob Dylan expressed it: ‘…there’s something happening here but you don’t know what it is, do you…?’

     Dylan himself, who as a recording artist, was a major influence on the sixties, appears to have drawn so much inspiration for his middle period from Kerrouac and Burroughs that he can be described as a post-Beat writer.

page 66.

     The Beat writers originally tried to oerganize the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco but the Beatniks themselves, who came from an earlier period uninfluenced by Beat writers chose North Beach as their headquarters. 

     While the Beatniks dominated North Beach the Hippie culture was being formed in the Haight-Ashbury at the same time.  This culture found expression in the music of the San Francisco Sound.  Marty Balin, no one knows which two swords he carried, and the Jefferson Airplane musical group were establishing the Matrix nightclub while the rock clubs would supplant the jazz clubs of the Beatniks and transfer the focal point of the scene from North Beach back to the Haight-Ashbury.

     In addition to the Anglo-Immigrant conflict the old struggle between the Black Folk and the White Folk was assuming new dimensions.  The Blacks were demanding social equality- whatever that is.  One doesn’t want to generalize excessively where the Blacks are concerned because theirs is also a society of many diverging opinions and attitudes, nevertheless in a sizable majority of Blacks ‘social equality’ involved what is known as ‘the Payback.’  Blacks feel that they are owed something for the indignities placed on them by White Society.  This opinion is shared by a not unsizable group of Whites, so long as some other Whites pay the bill.

     Racial memories are not obliterated in a moment, a generation or even several generations.  Whites seem to have the inexplicable notion that the memory of unjust deeds can be removed by an apology, or checks drawn on someone else’s account.  Whites seem to think that things are thereby cured and resentments will disappear.  Blacks who have suffered grievous injuries with marvelous equanimity don’t believe so.

page 67.

     One of the most humiliating indignities Black women had to endure during the slave era was to be at the beck and call of any White man.  Literally, a White male could take any Black woman by the arm and lead her off to minister to his sexual needs at any time.  If she were the wife of a Black man there was absolutely nothing he could do about it but endure the shame.  So, the Payback involves White women.  Black men demand the same privilege with White women that White men had with Black women.  Everything in life gets down to a sexual offence.

     As there was no social apparatus to suport their hopes and ambitions as their had been for White men, Black men had to enforce their desires surreptitiously. 

     Thus, of a foggy overcast midday, nearly all days are foggy and overcast in San Francisco, Sandy Tyler was walking down Grant St. in North Beach on the way to the laundromat.  She was the epitome of a what a young White woman should be.  She was beautiful.  All eyes turned.  She was innocent.  She walked the streets of North Beach as though they were the streets of her upper class neighborhood in Cincinatti.

     Among the Beats and degenerates, the Blacks and Italians of this very Italian neighborhood her very Anglo dress and style stood out like Jane in Tarzan’s Africa.  Deep racial instincts stirred at the sight of her.  She had been trained to believe that assimilation in America had been complete.  All people were kind.  It is still a myth that most adhere to.

page 68.

     Sheldon Washington, a drug dealer and a huge Black man stood talking on the corner before the The Gate Of Wine Coffee House.  The Gate was a quintessential Beatnik Coffee House of the era.  Despite its name, which came from the Gilgamesh, no liquor was served.  Each night local poets, writers, thinkers and simple complainers held forth from the podium to the assembled multitude.  Unlike the Hippies, the Beatniks were well educated and much intelligent discourse could be heard at the Gate.

     Unfortunately complainers like the said Seldon Washington also inflicted themselves on the audience.  Sheldon had bent the ears of the audience for fifty-three minutes twenty-two seconds the night previous complaining about how a Spade Cat couldn’t walk down the street with a Honky chick without drawing stares.  His argot was so new that half the audience picked up Spade Cat as spayed cat and had no idea what a Honky Chick was.  Perhaps a spayed cat and an honky chick should be stared at.

     But at this moment that Sandy chose to walk by, the Man was being being waited on by his Honky heroin addict.  The addict, thin and unkempt, stood holding his money in his hand eagerly pressing it on Sheldon who was in no hurry to hand him his balloon.  In fact he didn’t have one on him.  the junkie would have to wait a little longer.

      Sheldon stood drawing out the wasted junkie’s agony when Sandy entered the intersection drawing his attention.  Now, Sheldon was one of those Black giants at six-four, two-eighty whose muscalature was concealed beneath the immense smooth expanse of his biceps and chest.  If he just raised his arm and let if fall on your back he could knock you down.  He was wearing a black Italian undershirt over his dark brown body.

page 69.

     Sheldon was so enchanted that he let out an involuntary long low whistle.  A girl of White breeding, Sandy ignored it as she properly should.  Breeding was unknown in North Beach where other standards applied.  Indignant at what he considered arrogance, Sheldon bellowed:  ‘Say mama, that was a compliment to your beautiful booty.’

     Well, Sandy seldom answered to ‘mama’, never acknowledged strange men on the street, let alone Black men, and had she known that ‘booty’ referred to her ass she would have been indignant.  But then, that was Cincinatti, this was North Beach.  Sandy responded by sticking her nose in the air pointedly ignoring Sheldon.

     Washington’s attitude changed abruptly.  Washington belonged to the Black Brotherhood and associated with the Junkie Brotherhood.  In both the individual identity is submerged in the collective identity.  One is immediately on familiar terms with every other member of the Brotherhood.  There are no interfaces.  Thus had Sandy been a Black woman she would have smiled, perhaps shook her booty as a token of appreciation and returned some compliment as to the probable size of Sheldon’s ‘thing.’  That she didn’t angered Sheldon.  He had a very big voice which he now raised to its loudest putting the threat of direct physical violence into it.

page 70.

     ‘Say Woman,’ he bellowed,  ‘where you manners?  When a brown eyed handsome man compliments a pretty woman that woman better appreciate it or she gonna have big troubles in this man’s neighborhood.  You dig?’

     Sandy stopped dead in her tracks, terrified, as she had every reason to be.  At the sound of Sheldon’s voice the Junkie had nearly fallen to his knees groveling before the Big Black.  Other White boys along the street stared lasciviously at the beautiful girl hoping to get some of whatever Sheldon left.  Their eyes silently encouraged her to acquiesce.  Alone and small, never before confronted with such brutal customs, the White girl turned to face Sheldon’s wrath with wide staring eyes.

     ‘I sayed you got a beautiful ass, mama.’  Sheldon bellowed louded than a bass drum.

     ‘T-thank-you.’  Sandy stuttered, terrified, embarrassed and not knowing how to respond to retain her dignity as a married woman.

     That’s better, mama.’  Sheldon said attempting to console and command at the same time.  ‘Now you run along and don’t ever pull that haughty shit again, hear?’

     The White boys on the street snickered confident that Sheldon, the Spade Cat, would take what he wanted and leave the rest of the Honky Chick to them.

     ‘That’s tasty,’ each thought, ‘I’m really going to enjoy fucking that bitch.’

     The promise of America was no promise at all, it was a perverted curse.

      A week later Sandy was walking down Grant on the way to the laundry.  She didn’t know how to preserve her own boogie in The Land Of The Thousand Dances.  She walked close to the buildings rather than curbside.  The Grant St. Grocery lay on her line of march.  The grocery was one of those shallow stores with no back room; rather a section running from front to rear was walled off as a storage room.  Some ten feet or so from the store entrance was an unobtrusive door through which deliveries were made.

page 71.

     As Sandy was passing this door a hand shot out grasping her by the throat and pulling her in.  Taken completely by surprise she was not consciously aware of anything till she lay gasping and sobbing against the shelves where Sheldon Washington had discarded her.

     The scene would haunt her dreams, transformed  into symbolism she could not understand, but which would shield her from some of the shame although the terror had hypnotized her into a different person.  Sheldon, who was a very big man, wanted to teach the Honky Chick a less in humility.  Blue eyes would not secure her immunity; on Grant Street brown eyes ruled.  His method was direct action, straight terror; his intellect was of the crudest but no less effective on that account.  He had merely grabbed Sandy off the street.  Picking her up, she was only 5’3″, 110 pounds, he had shoved his pelvis forward and dropped Sandy on his penis, jiggling her up and down until he climaxed.  He had then just thrown her against the shelves where she fell in a heap. 

     The street which had been empty in anticipation of the deed silently filled as the White boys stepped from doorways, alleys and from behind telephone poles where they had been inconspicuous.  Faces came to windows, eyes staring fixedly on the side door of the grocery.

page 72.

     ‘Now let that be a lesson to you, bitch.  When some brown eyed handsome man give you compliments you give him his reward and don’t give me none of that cheap assed marriage shit neither.  You learn to treat a man right and he’ll treat you right.’

     After this lecture in ethics Seldon’s mind turned to business, for after all a man has to eat, and Sheldon’s other business was pimping.

     ‘Say, bitch, you know you got a tight little ass.  You should put that cute money maker to work for me.  I show you how to live right and tight.  You be wearing diamonds and minks; you dump that Honky cat and come with me.  I show you how to shake that money maker; you don’t be walkin’ so stiff assed down the street no mo’, walk like a righteous woman.’

     Anyone looking for a good time of any kind could always get what they wanted from Sheldon.

     Sandy let out a few incoherent howls through clenched lips as she cautiously rose to her feet not sure of what was yet in store for her.  Her mute rejection was enough for Sheldon.  He turned to the clerk who had been watching through the beaded curtain and gave him a farewell acknowledgment with the shake of a finger.  Then proudly puffing out his chest for the street people he stepped out into the dim damp gloom of Grant St. and sauntered away humming ‘White Port and Lemon Juice.’

     Sandy stumbled out on shaky legs turning back toward Telegraph Court leaning on the wall for support.  Although she could not see them, the White boys slipped unobtrusively back into their holes while the faces in the windows slid back into the shadows.

page 73.

     Sandy’s life irrelevant of subsequent events was shattered.  Her sense of purity and personal integrity was gone to be replaced by a sense of defilement and consuming guilt as though she had been the perpetrator rather than the victim.  A knowledgeable psychiatrist might have been able to help her if she had gone immediately, but probably not for she would have been unable even to tell him the sequence of events.  She couldn’t remember what happened even though she knew what had happened.

     Angelo Toretti spoke quietly to Bert Tyler from behind a cracked open door as Tyler walked from the bus stop on Columbus to his apartment.

     ‘You better watch that little filly of yours, man.  she’s got eyes for that dark meat.’

     ‘What?’  Tyler said, turning in the direction of the voice.

     ‘Ask her who Sheldon Washington is.’  Toretti said with a low chuckle pushing the door shut.

     Tyler was possessed of honky cool.  He had no idea of what the threatening words of Toretti meant.  He was mildly apprehensive.  He gripped his brief case more tightly but he continued on at his normal pace.

     He fund Sandy lying on her back, skirt above her waist, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

     ‘What did you do?’  He began oblivious to the implied condemnation in his words.

page 74.

     Sandy’s response was to  increase her sobs and sense of humiliation to the point where her slender body was so wracked by shaking and pain that it is a wonder she survived.

    Tyler was twenty-two, born in ’42.  He had grown up in the bosom of a prosperous family.  He had been taught that the world was his oyster.  Raised in his upper class neighborhood, he had been advantaged from the cradle to the present.  At six feet, sandy haired and handsome he had received favored treatment through high school and the U.ofO.  While his manners were too fine for his present neighborhood they were much appreciated at the office. 

     His marriage to Sandy had seemed a perfect blending of family, looks and brilliant future.  But beneath the handsom exterior Tyler had a rotten core.  He was self-centered to the point that he was contemptuous of others.  This included Sandy.  She was desirable to him as a showpiece that demonstrated to the world his impeccable good taste and good fortune.  He was not prepared to drag damaged goods around with him.

     He should have known that North Beach was no place for a respectable woman.  But because of his favored youth he thought himself and his possessions beyond the reach of the arrows of fortune.  In college he had used marijuana, LSD and barbituates along with the ever present examination companion, amphetamines.  As he thought himself beyond, or rather, above the dangers that drugs posed, so many of his class did, he had been fearless in their use.

page 75.

     It is probable that Sandy would never have taken drugs on her own but as Tyler was the guardian of her virtue she had followed his lead trustingly.  She still considered the drugs naughty and dangerous but she was already familiar with pot, LSD and downers.  Living dangerously, out on the edge, had been the attraction of North Beach to Tyler.

     Now that he had reaped the fruit of his daring he stood staring down at Sandy.  He was unfeeling and obtuse.  He sensed that his position had been violated, he believed he had been humiliated.  He wasn’t far wrong.

     Remembering Toretti’s words his narrow vision could only conceive that he had almost walked in on Sandy and Sheldon and that whe was sobbing because she had almost been caught.

     ‘Who is Sheldon Washington?’  He asked.

     The question was greeted by additional shaking and sobbing.  Tyler had to make an effort to calm his wife.  It was not easy.  Several hours later, well into the morning Tyler had gleaned the notion that Sheldon Washington had had his wife.  His first thought as a red blooded American boy was to go looking for Sheldon Washington.  He did so the following day having called in to work sick.

     His queries after Sheldon alerted the Spade Cat that the Honky Cat was looking for him.  He arranged to be found.  He ensconced himself in an alley on Montague Street.  There with some white junkies for effect, a couple of Black hepcats around him, he sat on a garbage can waiting.

     Tyler was directed to Sheldon’s throne room.  He marched resolutely into the alley.  As he entered Sheldon rose, hitched up his pants and flexed both arms as though he were stretching.  Both his Black confederates cleaned their nails with switchblades.  The White boys stood around snuffling and grinning.

page 76.

     ‘I hear you lookin’ for me, boy.  Whachoo want?’   

     This was urban warfare for which Tyler was unprepared.  This was not a man to man confrontation which, given the size of Washington he would not have undertaken anyway, but was rather a confrontation of the big battalions against his puny one.  A quick vision of himself lying face-up beaten, cut and bleeding among the garbage cans flashed before his eyes.  He opted out.  He turned and walked away amidst chuckles, laughter and catcalls.

     Nor should he be blamed.  The rules had been changed.  Tyler had not been informed.  His only recourse would have been to stalk Washington and blow his brains out.  This was not feasible to Tyler in his present state of mind. While Washington’s position in North Beach society protected him from identification, there would be no witness come forward to identify him in the event of a complaint, Tyler would be quickly identified.  A jail cell was waiting for him if he tried.

     Unable to endure the humiliation to his wife and his own subsequent humiliation Tyler transferred the blame to Sandy.  Then by shedding her he was able in his mind to shed the double humiliation.  At least he thought he had.

     ‘Did that nigger actually put his dick in you?’  He brutally asked Sandy.

page 78.

     While White boys profess a complete lack of prejudice toward Black Folk, this is only in the social sense.  In 1964 Tyler couldn’t endure the idea that his wife had been penetrated by a Black man qua Black man.

     ‘I didn’t do it, honey.’  Sandy protested weakly.

     ‘All I want to know is wether he put that black dick up you?’

     ‘I- I think so.’  Sandy replied, her mind reeling beneath the horror of the thought of her rape.

    ‘I think so!  I think so!  God, you must know that.  I think so!  Well, that’s good enough for me.  He did.  Well, I can’t stay with a woman who’s been defiled by a nigger.  I’m leaving.  The rent’s paid till the end of the month then you’re on your own.  My lawyer will send the papers by.  I think so!’

     Thus life pitilessly took away Sandy Tyler’s hopes and joys.  She became the victim of social forces of which she was  not even aware of in their true form.  She had been lied to by society.  The American Dream!  What a pack of lies.  Shamed beyond psychological recognition she didn’t inform her parents.  A stranger in San Francisco she drifted into the drugs and demi-monde of North Beach.

     She avoided heroin and actual prostitution but she was heavy into barbiturates and marijuana.  The leering immigrant descendants gleefully passed the Anglo girl from man to man; gleefully taking out the frustrations of sixty years of humiliation at the hands of Anglos on Sandy’s body.

      The Scene shifted from North Beach to the Haight-Ashbury; from the Beatniks to the Hippies; from Cal Tjader to the Grateful Dead; from junk to junk.

page 78.

     The Hippie Movement was the realization of the materialism that Kerrouac and Ginsberg had been pushing.  History may to a very accurate extent be characterized as the war between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness.  The ascendance to spiritual perfection being the direction of the Sons of Light while the Sons of Darkness seek a return to the pure materialism of the untutored savage, the feral nature of man.  Materialism is as much a religion as spirituality but over the course of time all visible churches became of the spiritual kind.

     Because of Jewish opposition to the presence of Christianity in public schools the doctrine of the separation of church and state has been interpreted to mean that no spiritual beliefs can be taught in public schools.  This means in practice that no positive ethics can be taught.

     Thus while all eyes are trained on Catholics and Protestants for violations of the doctrine the Jews under the guise of preaching tolerance push their program through the schools.  At the same time the materialists have a free hand preaching materialism as no one understands its nature as the religion of the Sons of Darkness.

     Under the guise of helping the young student understand his sexual nature, courses, which are religious in intent, on ‘Human Sexuality’, undermine spiritualist precepts.  Spiritualists reject the indiscriminate indulgence of the senses while materialists embrace it.

page 79.

     Thus one has the concept of ‘the varieties of sexual experience.’  These include everything from homosexuality to child molestation.  All forms  of sexual expression are considered legitimate expressions of ‘human needs.’

     So, while those who preach self-control in order to create a better world are silenced in the name of ‘freedom’, the classrooms are turned over to materialists who seek to make life hell on earth.  Women are prostituted and men perverted in the name of ‘sexual freedom.’

     The media, movies and TV in particular  have been taken over by the materialists who exclude spiritualists from employment in those industries.  Black list.  On Big Screen and Small Screen they preach total self-indulgence at the expense of all other people.

     As a consequence crime and illiteracy increase geometrically.  The poor befuddled citizenry talk of ‘wars on crime’ which will never succeed as long as materialism is the dominant religion.  Take the religion of materialism  out of the schools and replace it with a spiritualist doctrine seeking the curbing of self-indulgence.  Then crime will diminish.  The war is not a war on crime but a war of moral attitudes.  The war between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness.

     Needless to say, crime will never disappear.  Crime and criminals have existed since the dawn of time.  Even then the war of the Sons of Light and Darkness commenced.  Anglo-Americans were governed by the Chivalric notion of Shame.  Not that they didn’t commit crimes but the sense of shame forced them to repent or move out of society.  During the great period of European immigration Jews opposed the notion of Shame with that of Chutzpah.  Chutzpah can be defined as simply the shameless attempt to achieve one’s desires against the will of others by surprising them with extravagant audacity.  If bold enough you may overwhelm their opposition, if not, oh well, you can always ‘apologize.’

page 80

     Leaving Kerrouac aside for the moment, William S. Burroughs lived in New York City.  NYC has been described as ‘that great factory of criminals.’  The description has been given with good reason.  For the city was invaded by the post-Great Revolution society of criminals organized around the philosophy of the Marquis de Sade.  Crime has a philosophical basis in the modern world.  ‘Ending poverty’ would have no effect on crime.  It is not just a matter of illegal activity to satisfy one’s needs.  Burroughs combined this criminal philosophy with the docrines of anarchy which were also prevalent in the Big Apple.  Burroughs’ doctrine leads to complete oblivion.  In form he continues the Jewish Chutzpah by which he was definitely influenced, as NYC is, or was, a Jewish city, into the equation of:  Wouldn’t you?

     I mean, he asks, wouldn’t you kill a little old lady and take her purse if you needed money for a heroin habit.  Wouldn’t you?  Who wouldn’t?  Of course you would if you were a heroin addict, as Burroughs was, needing a fix.  Thus Burroughs in ‘Naked Lunch’ brought the definition of morality down to what the individual needs at any given moment.  If you felt the need the for sex wouldn’t you rape an eight year old girl.  Who wouldn’t?  It was inconceivable to Burroughs that anyone wouldn’t.  If one said one wouldn’t then the logic is that your need wasn’t great enough or you would.  Who wouldn’t?  Thus Burroughs propounded a very destructive version of the materialistic religion of the Sons of Darkness.

page 81.

     Like syphilis the first outburst of the disease was evident in the Hippie movement on Haight-Ashbury.  The sores have disappeared but Burroughs’ philosophy has been spread throughout the social system.  The deteriorization of mankind was very noticeable by the late seventies to the artistic temperament.  At that time a rock band by the name of Devo made the point perfectly clear.  They asked the musical question:  Are we not men? and answered it:  No!  We are Devo.  The point being that mankind had stopped evolving and was retrogressing into devolution.  Devo hit the nail on the head.  Materialism was rapidly destroying the fabric of society.  We  were, in fact, returning to our savage origins.  J.G. Frazer’s ‘civilized veneer’ was wearing off.  Or as W.B. Yeats put it:  And what rough beast, its hour come at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?  The hippies embraced Wouldn’t You wholeheartedly.  They took to drugs like an alcoholic to drink.  Drugs are the antithesis of morality.  Lying and stealing become one’s nature.  A druggie’s word isn’t worth a broken syringe.

     Sandy drifted into this environment as she moved over to the Haight-Ashbury.  Now, she came from a strong Episcopalian background.  She had an affluent past.  The Hippies bubbled up from the urban depths.  They had no strong anything except for the desire to get, to exploit.  As drug addicts they had no chance of succeeding at anything but total failure.  They succeeded at that.  The worst weren’t even human.

page 82.

     Sandy moved from crash pad to crash pad as soon as the toilets filled up and wouldn’t flush anymore.  Filthy rooms filled with filthy mattresses and filthy people.  Toilets stopped up  overflowing with excrement.  As there were no sexual barriers or restraints she was used by any derelict passing through.  She deadened her sensitivities by pretending to revel in the ‘new freedom.’  Drugs and music were exhilarating accessories.  They could turn night to day, black to white.

     But the Hippie scene with no other ethic than sex and drugs and Rock and Roll continued to deteriorate.  Unbridled sex with anyone and anything was the norm.  There were no limits.  Homosexuality forced itself into the breach as legitimate.  Then as the Disco music of the homosexuals came to dominate in 1977-78, Rock music died on the vine.  Without the impetus of music Sandy looked around to find nothing but barrenness.

     Somehow, through the years of degradation she had clung to the ghost of the vision of her past.  No matter what clothes she wore she wore them with a certain stylishness that betokened a nearly forgotten pride.  She had never abandoned her bourgeois dreams.  Now looking over the wreck of Haight-Ashbury her thoughts turned to rehabilitating herself.  As this was impossible in San Francisco she thought to find a refuge in some other part of the country.  Her rape by Sheldon Washington was never out of her mind.  She had had other unpleasant experiences with Black men so she looked for a place where she thought there wouldn’t be any.  For this reason she selected the Mormon capitol because of their alleged aversion to Blacks.  So she had moved to Salt Lake City in the late seventies.  The Mormons are an exclusive people, they don’t take kindly to non-Mormons in their midst.  Sandy once again found herself an outsider.  Rather than kicking drugs as had been her intent she continued to find solace in them.

     During all this time Sheldon Washington prospered.  He had prospered with a clear conscience.  He even considered himself a benevolent figure in the community, which, compared to some others in his line, he was.  Sheldon considered that he as a Black man was only getting back the Black Folk’s own.  ‘As ye sow so shall ye reap.’  he was fond of saying, referring to White Folks.  True.  You must be careful of the seeds you sow.  Whether Sheldon was merely reclaiming his own is left to subtler minds than mine.  Sheldon was strewing his own field with the seeds of hatred no matter how justified he felt.  His victims were not the White Folk that may have oppressed his ancestors they were living people.

     Shortly after Sandy left town a junky with sandy hair and very dark glasses began showing up in North Beach.  At least he had the appearance of a junkie.  He quickly made the connection with Sheldon Washington for his heroin.

     Over a few weeks Sheldon accepted him as just another junkie who had been around forever.  He abused him as he did all his junkies.  On this particular occasion Sheldon made appointments with this junkie failing to keep each.  Someone at each assignation point directed the junkie on to the next.  The junkie resignedly went from place to place.  He was finally directed to go the alley off Montague.  The junkie took longer to get there than he might have for he stopped off at his pad first.

page 84.

     As he turned into the alley Sheldon sat alone on a garbage can.  The Black confederates were gone.  The White junkies were out of sight.  As the junkie approached, Sheldon observed that his walk was rather stiff but as he was a junkie, what was new?  The reason the junkie’s walk was stiff was because a crowbar was suspended from his belt down his left pants leg.  A revolver was stuck in his belt beneath his moth eaten sweater.  His eyes glowed hatred beneath his very dark glasses.  He was not really a junkie; he was an impostor.

     Like a junkie he had his money ready in his hand.  He thrust it at Sheldon holding out his other hand for the baloon. 

     ‘Not so fast, my man, not so fast.’  Sheldon said.  ‘I mean, man, like man, money ain’t everything.  I mean, I am the most important man in your life.  I want you to acknowledge that.’

     The junkie shrugged indicating:  What?

     Sheldon unzipped his fly flopping his member out.  He looked at the junkie emitting only a low chuckle.  The junkie understood.  He began to go down on one knee.  His right hand moved beneath his sweater.  Sheldon had just time to focus on the hole in the blue-black barrel before his brains flew out to mingle with the rest of the garbage.

     The junkie unbuckled Sheldon’s pants and pulled them down rolling the huge inert form unto its stomach as he did so.  Removing the crowbar from his pants he rammed it far up Sheldon’s ass until the tip rested just below Sheldon’s heart.  Throwing the shades aside and discarding the moth eaten sweater he walked out of the alley and was never seen in North Beach again.

page 85.

     The police were baffled but unconcerned.  After all Sheldon hadn’t really been murdered.  He was dead but he was only a casualty in the urban warfare.  Only another soldier who had given his life for the cause.  A casualty in that urban warfare that raged beyond police jurisdiction and control.  A warfare that was beyond the law; one that operated on laws of its own.  All that can be said is that he who lives by the rod dies by the rod. 

     All across the universe the stars stayed the clacking dice of Magic Sam in his hand to look down on such insanity and say:  They ain’t nothing but a heartache and you know they’ll never get over it.  Then, with a shrug, they returned to their games.  Roll the dice with a sound like thunder.

     The junkie, his own heart broken beyond repair blew a kiss from San Francisco to Salt Lake City.  Just another boogie in The Land Of A Thousand Dances.

     Sandy watched Donn as he came up the street.  She recognized someone, who like her, had lost his place in the world.  A hope sprang up in her breast, she was beyond being able to think, that perhaps he and she might find comfort in each other reclaiming in some small degree their place in the world.

page 86.

     ‘Hi there.  What are you doing?’

     Donn paused to appraise her.  He recognized that about her that spoke of a declassee.  As he had no interest in women he attempted to dismiss her.

     ‘I’m going to get something to eat.’  He said brusquely.

     Undaunted Sandy said:  ‘Oh, I know all the good places.  I’ll take you there.’  She said clasping his hand impusively, leading him away.

    Donn could no longer go to the type of restaurant he favored.  He thought that perhaps Sandy knew of some hippie hangouts where the food would be filling and maybe passable.  He allowed himself to be led away.

     They walked for several blocks.  Sandy babbled on along the way hoping to win Donn over.  A strip mall hove in sight.  There was an Albertson’s grocery store at one end.  Donn spotted a restaurant in the middle of the mall.  When they reached the corner of the Albertson’s Donn began to continue down the front but Sandy pulled him along the side and toward the back.  Donn was confused but thought Sandy was aware of another entrance. 

     When they reached the back Sandy pointed proudly at the dumpster and said:  See.

     Donn looked at the huge garbage can puzzled.

     ‘See what?’  He asked Sandy who was still holding his hand.

     ‘Well, see,’  She said giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.  ‘Nobody ever has to go hungry in America.  They throw away tons of good food just because it’s a day or two old.  See.’  she said, grabbing at some limp brownish lettuce, ‘This lettuce is perfectly good to eat.  It’s just a little old.  And it’s free, it doesn’t cost anything.’

page 87.

     ‘All kinds of places are this stupid.  If you want I’ll take to Cheesy Burgers later.  At midnight they throw out all the burgers they’ve prepared but haven’t sold.  Wrapped and everything.  We’ll have to get there early though because everyone wants those.’

     Donn listened incredulously, rudely pulling back his hand.  He wasn’t familiar with underground ‘survival’ techniques.  He wasn’t aware that Abbie Hoffmen had published a whole book full of ideas and scams, all as good as this one.  But he was not yet so low that he would search through garbage cans for food.

     ‘God, that’s absolutely disgusting.’  He said.

     ‘No, it’s not.  Everybody does it.’  Sandy replied speaking for her crowd.

     ‘Well, I don’t eat out of garbage cans and I think anyone who does is absolutely disgusting.’  Donn replied angrily.  ‘You! Get away from me, you filthy slut.  No, don’t touch me.’  He said brushing away Sandy’s imporing hands which sought to hold his again.  ‘Get away.’  He said angrily, turning on his heel.

     Sandy’s rejection by Donn was the last thing that it took to bury her poor heart completely out of sight.  As she stood in the moonlight she sank beneath the burden of accumulated woes of nearly twenty years.  All the crimes perpetrated against her rose up to engulf her sense of decency.  Her last shred of worthiness disappeared.  The world’s guilt entered her soul as her own.  She considered herself evil.  She went through life as an empty shell.  But she was not Guilty of the Shame.  Oh no!  It was society’s shame.  It was our shame.  Repeat aloud:  I (insert your name) am Guilty of the Shame.

page 88.

     Donn found his way to the highway East.  He found a spot to doze a few hours.  Daylight found him alongside US 40.  ‘Denver, here I come.’  He whistled, praying for the best.  This was not Donn’s moment for the best.  He was over a day getting to Fruitland, an interminable number of short rides and long delays.  His spirits sank again.  He had his thumb out just outside of Fruitland when a fifty-eight Chevy pulled over.

     ‘Hi! I’m Kirk Douglas Strachan.’  The driver said extending a soft flabby hand.  He was wearing a black cowboy hat, had a soft pudgy face with black horn rimmed glasses, black cowboy shirt with white piping and black Can’t Bust ‘Ems over black cowboy boots.

     ‘Uh, yeah,’  Donn replied,  ‘I’m Phil Brown.’

    ‘Nice to meet you Phil.’  Strachan said eyeing him like a side of beef.

     This was about ten o’ clock at night.  Strachan was a practiced hand.  He got right to the point.

     ‘Now, Phil, I’m going to tell you how it is,’ he began with the authoritative tone of a movie tough guy,  ‘I like men.  I’m really a tough guy.  Did you get my name, Kirk Douglas Strachan?  Kirk Douglas was a movie tough guy.’ he said, overlooking the fact that Kirk Douglas was still alive.  ‘My mother wanted me to be tough so she named me after him.  I am tough.  Now, it’s your choice, you can either live or die.  Your second choice is obvious, we don’t have to discuss that.  Now, if you want to live you’re coming home with me and you’ll be my sex slave for a week or two.  Now, if you’re good at that I’ll reward you by driving you up to Vernal.  If you’re not you’ll join the rest of my boyfriends.  Got it!  Well, get it, my man!’

page 89.

     Donn was staring at him incredulously, his mouth agape.  Donn looked at this soft flabby creep wondering where he got the notion he was tough except from his mom.  Kirk Douglas Strachan mistook  incredulity as a sign of fear.  Strachan was a murderous fiend.  The ‘boyfriends’ he sarcastically referred to were all buried out in his garden patch beneath the turnips.  There were fifteen in all.  Some he had just blown away with a shotgun others had died lingering deaths.

     Strachan’s mother had named him after Kirk Douglas.  Strachan had studied all the actor’s films.  Except that he was short, pudgy and effeminate Strachan had his Kirk Douglas act down.  He had the same buzzsaw whine that came from the back of his head.  He had even had a cleft surgically made in his chin.  Needless to say it looked ridiculous with his moon faced pudgy head.

     Emboldened by Donn’s open mouthed wonder Strachan continued:  ‘Terrific.  You’ll have a great time too.  Now, I need a down payment right now.  See that knoll just up there.  I’m going to pull behind it.  You’re going to give me a great blow job, then I’ll take you to the ranch.’

     ‘I was boxing champ three years running at SMU.’  Donn said quietly in the Texas manner brushing imaginary lint from his fly.

page 90.

     Oh, a John Wayne type, huh?  Well I’m going to make you get out right here.’  He said skidding to a stop.  He pressed a button, the door flew open and Donn sneeringly got out.  Strachan copped a U and raced back toward Fruitland.  John Wayne trumps Kirk Douglas every time.

     Donn dropped his bag, placing his hands on his hips while he looked up and down the dark road.

     ‘Over here.  Hey, buddy, over here.’  A loud booming voice cried from the wilderness. 

     ‘Over here, buddy, I’m over here.’

     Donn peered out into the darkness.  He could see nothing.

     ‘Come on.  I’ll guide you in.’  The voice cried.

     Donn started walking into the darkness.  As he stumbled along it seemed to him like he walked on an on.

     ‘Man, that guy must have a voice like a foghorn.’  He thought.

     Then he perceived the glow of a fire.

     ‘Keep coming.  I’m right over here.’  The voice coaxed.  ‘All right, all right.  If I hadn’t been out taking a leak I would have missed you.’

     A hand came out of the darkness grabbed Donn’s hand and shook it.

     ‘Hi!  I’m Dharma Bum.’  Bum said proudly.

     ‘You can call me Jack.’  Donn said, taken back by Dharma Bum’s strange name.

page 91.

     Bum led him back behind a small rise where a fire burned in the darkness.

     ‘Dharma Bum?’  Donn asked.  ‘Did I hear you right.’

     ‘Dharma Bum, that’s right.’  Bum replied.  ‘I’m out here seeking enlightenment.’

     Dharma Bum was quite an apparition in the barren mountain night.  He was about six-four high.  Thin but not slender.  He wore a pair of knee high boots, medium platforms with two and a half inch heels, laced all the way up to his knees fitting over form fitting jeans that gave Bum the appearance almost of walking on stilts.  The jeans buttoned with the buttons showing on the outside.  A pink, or dusty plum, flowered vest covered a lavender flowered shirt with enormous billowing sleeves.  It was an outfit modeled after John Hall of Hall and Oates.

     Bum’s face was fleshy, all the features being large.  He wasn’t handsome, plain verging on homely, but carried himself with real leading man verve.  He was topped by a mane of black hair streaked now with silver combed straight back, en brosse, falling to his shoulders.

    He was a child of TV, records and movies.  He invariably saw himself as Batman and others as his Robins.  He had developed the authoritative way of talking which in the movies leaves the bit actors gasping in astonishment at the sagacity and sheer manliness of the lead.  In the same manner Bum tried to impose himself on reality.  Reality not being the movies, Bum had been, as it were, rejected by life.  He was undaunted; New Day, New Script.  As Jim Morrison of the Doors replied when being urged to hurry lest he be too late to catch his flight:  ‘You can never be too late for your own movie.’  Whatever happens is in the script.

page 92.

     Besides money wasn’t a real problem for Bum.  He just wired home to Dad to pay the card.  He was covered for medical and dental care.  Unlike most bums, or homeless, he was in excellent health and his teeth were good.  He was actually cooking baked beans in the can held over the fire with a forked stick, just like in the movies.

     ‘I’d offer you some but I wasn’t expecting company.’  He said with an authoritative chuckle indicating that he knew Donn would understand as he reacted to gasps of astonishment from Donn in the theatre of his mind.  Bum always played to an SRO audience.  Each movement, each word was done and spoken in a stagy manner.  Often there was no necessity for a reply.  Bum merely waited the appropriate time  for the reply in his mental script then continued his next lines.  Not infrequently he overrode the speaker or completely ignored, in fact, didn’t hear, the reply.

     ‘Jack, huh?  Jack?’  Bum said with a wink.

     ‘What?’ Donn said uncertain whether to be apprehensive or puzzled.

     Bum had taken his name from Jack Kerrouac’s novel ‘The Dharma Bums.’  He thought Donn was making a sly joke on Bum’s self-introduction.

     ‘Yeah.  Ya know Jack understood me real well.  Yeah.  Ha, ha.  He wrote my life before I even began to live it.’

page 93.

     ‘Jack?  Jack who?  Me?’

     ‘Jack Kerouac!’  Bum cried incredulously.

     ‘Jack Kerouac?  You mean the guy who wrote ‘On The Road?’  Donn said fishing for the sense as his head swam trying to understand Bum.

     ‘Oh, ho.  You do know Jack then?’  Bum beamed.

     ‘I read ‘On The Road.” Donn said.

     He had read it out of curiosity in college where it had been a life style manual for a certain crowd.  He had detested the book.  It represented everything he despised.  Donn, then as now, wanted the good life, the high life.  He didn’t think hanging around with petty grifters and small time thieves in sleazy bars equated the good life.  Even if you camouflaged your sleaziness with intellectual pretense.

     ‘Great book, isn’t it?  I read ’em all.  That, the Dharma Bums, Desolation Angels, terrific stuff.  I just don’t know how he anticipated my life though.  Eerie, don’t you think?’

     ‘Is that how you got the name Dharma Bum?’

    ‘No.  I am Dharma Bum.  Jack wrote the book about me.

     ‘Didn’t Kerouac write it before you hit the road?’ Donn said unpolitically.

     ‘What the hell you talking about?’  Bum said glaring across the fire suspiciously at Donn.  ‘Didn’t I just say Jack wrote my life?’

     ‘My mistake.’  Donn said wryly, realizing that Bum had only just been beamed down from the saucer.

page 94.

     ‘Damn right it is, fella.’  Bum said in his best John Wayne style.  Then his face formed a reverie as he began talking.  The speech was one he had prepared for the inevitable Time or TV interviewer.  He thought they would catch up to him sooner or later to get his story.

     ‘Yes.’  He began in f0nd reminiscence.  ‘I must have crossed this great big beautiful land a hundred times or more.  God bless this crazy topsy-turvy unbelievable US of A.  Yes, from that fabled Golden Gate of old San Fran to the New York Island, from the tropical shores, actually sub-tropical, he,he, of Key West to the Mesabi iron range up on Lake Superior, I’ve loved it all.  My feet have led me to the tops of the highest mountains, and I mean literally, the tops, I’ve been above Cripple Creek, and down into the depths of amazing valleys, my feet have washed in gorge of the Grand Canyon.  In one day I’ve been to the top of Mt. Wilson and to the depths of Death Valley, the highest and lowest places in the lower Forty-Eight in one day.  I’ve stood with my feet in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.  Now, what do you think of that?’

     He stopped with a big quizzical Will Rogers smile seemingly looking into Donn’s eyes but actually nearly oblivious of his existence.  Donn was fearful that this night might go on forever.  He cleared his throat loudly speaking piercingly to blow his way into Bum’s consciousness.

     ‘Why did you start doing this?  Why are you out here?’

     This was almost the question Bum had scripted for the Time Magazine interviewer.  He heard and shifted into second gear.

     ‘What am I doing out here?’  Bum said with a rueful shake of his head accompanied by several musing snarls.  ‘Well, I’ll tell you why I’m out here.  I’m a victim of capitalist oppression.’

page 95.

     ‘How’s that?’

     ‘How’s that?  Well, let me tell you how the system really works.  Or, doesn’t work.  Ya know, a guy goes to work for some jerk in good faith, promised that if things work out he’ll be taken care of.  He gives the best he’s got, which in my case was pretty damn good, puts in the best period of his life.  Then he makes the business big and successful for this jerk.  The more money you make for this jerk the more he starts reneging on the deal.  Then when he figures he’s got it made and doesn’t need you anymore- Bingo! you’re gone.  Oh yeah, I know all about capitalism.  Tell that to your readers.

     What a jerk the guy is.  If you ever run into him dump on him.  His name is Dewey Trueman.  I’m a Jew you know.’  Bum added with a significant arch to his eyebrows.

     A the mention of readers Donn thought that Bum somehow knew who he was, or had been, a music reviewer.  The mention of Dewey Trueman threw him off his heels.  He was totally mystified.

     ‘Dewey Trueman?’  Donn said.  ‘Where abouts in this great land of ours did this take place?’

     ‘Out on the coast.  Eugene, Oregon.’

     ‘What does your being a Jew have to do with it?’

     ‘Huh!  Anti-Semitism of course.  It’s always the Jew gets it in the neck.  Always been that way.  Need a scapegoat, get a Jew.  I should have known, I suppose.’

     ‘You say this guy Trueman promised you part of the business?’  Donn asked, his curiosity really aroused.

     ‘Yeah.  That’s right.’  Bum said ruefully.

    ‘So.  What?  You worked for him for five or six years then?’  Donn was familiar with Trueman and to some extent his store.

     ‘Well, it wasn’t quite that long.’

     ‘How long then?’

     ‘Well, let’s see.’  Bum began manipulating his fingers and drawing in the dirt.  ‘Maybe five or six months.’

     ‘Months?’  Donn said incredulously.

     And well he should have for Bum had created a verstion of the events that completely rewrote the facts.

     Bum’s real name was Norm Barsky.  He was from St. Louis.  he had been brought into Eugene to take possession of the business Dewey Trueman had built up.  A record store in Eugene that was very successful.  For the size of the city tremendously successful.  In a small pond the record store had been a big splash.  Trueman was a Hippie.  He therefore succeeded against the wishes of the town fathers.  A couple attempts had been made to assassinate him.  When the last attempt to kill him on the highway by bogus Hell’s Angels had failed the town fathers were at a loss of what to do.  At the same time they, or at least Harry Grabstein, realized that the store was a valuable money maker.  It should be preserved but put into righteous hands.  Grabstein undertook to resolve the matter.  He would appropriate or, in other words, steal the business.    

     So as to evade the appearance of being himself involved he called an acquaintance in St. Louis, Art Barsky.  Art’s son Norm, had just finished school at the University of Chicago, was married, new baby, and could use a good income.  Norm, wife and child were sent to Eugene to receive his inheritance.

page 97.

     It was not to be expected that Trueman would just hand over his business to Norm so a certain deception and ruse had to be practiced.  Norm was schooled by his father while refresher points would be supplied by Harry Grabstein.  The method was quite simple and well tried.  The only obstacle in the way could be the victim’s character.  That was the only variable that couldn’t be controlled.  As Grabstein thought Trueman a despicable Hippie with no character he perceived no problem in bringing him down.

     One may ask why these Jews thought themselves entitled to another man’s property.  The problem was not in the capitalist economic system as Bum sincerely thought but in the Jewish religious system and culture which he would have denied.  A quick survey of the three great crucial periods in Jewish history should provide the intellectual justification.

     Jewish history is a closed field, permitted only to those who have been properly vetted.  As the editor of the Cambridge History of Judaism puts it:  But as the study of Judaism is peculiarly open to emotive interests and unconscious influences which make it highly susceptible to hurtful misinterpretations, no effort to get rid of the blinkers of traditions and prejudices may be deemed superfluous.

    In other words if you don’t see it their way you have no right to be heard.  Nevertheless the truth must be pursued.  The objectivity of historical facts cannot be allowed to be skewed to the advantage of one party to the hurt of another.  Neither valid history or sociology can be approached in such a manner to obtain preconceived results.  Any conclusions are always subject to discussion.  Just as the Constitution of the United States decrees the separation of church and state it also decrees absolute freedom of expression  whether a subject is peculiarly open to emotive interests or unconscious influences or not.

page 98.

     Messianism is the backbone of the Jewish belief system.  The belief is that the natural order of things was overturned when Cain slew Abel.  All of history since then has been the promise of God to bring the Jews into their rightful place as arbiters of the nations thereby reversing the decision of history or, reality.  The redemption of Israel is the purpose of all ‘History.’  There have been three great periods of redemptive or messianic expectations.  On these pivots the Jewish character was formed.

     The first great period was from c. 188 BC to 135 AD.  The second centered around the messiahship of a man called Sabbatai Zevi in the years around 1640-1700 AD.  The third with the Revolution of the Messiah around the years 1913-28.  In all three the Jews were brutally disappointed.

     As the smaller and weaker portion of the greater society the Jews have always felt abused and suppressed, especially as they believe they are the bearers of the true god.  Thus when Israel is redeemed and the roles are reversed all the wealth of the world will belong to the Jews; and the gentiles will be their slaves.

     The initial confrontation was  begun between the Hellenes and Jews expanding into a war between the entire Greco-Roman world and the Jews.  Initially the Jews were successful against the Hellenes.  the Roman world proved too much for them.  In a series of tremendous wars from 66-70 AD when the Temple was destroyed through the amazing uprising in 116-18 to the final destruction of the Jewish state in the Bar Kochba rebellion in 135 AD, the Jews were all but exterminated.  In the hopes of ending the confrontation and destroying the locus of what, by then was the center of perpetual disturbances, Jerusalem was leveled while Jews were forbidden to enter the city. 

page 99.

     Thus in the wars which the Jews characterize as anti-Semitic persecution but which were actually a contest for the dominion of the Roman world, redemption for the Jews was postponed, while Rome was prostated.

     For approximately 1500 years the Jews longed for the appearance of the true Messiah, both Jesus and Bar Kochba having failed them.  After fifteen hundred years of various disasters culminating in the expulsion from Spain and the Cossack rebellion against Poland in 1648 a new Messiah, Sabbatai Zevi appeared in the Asia Minor governed by the Turks.  Sabbatai is the pivot of Jewish history.  Israel quivered in the expectation of deliverance.  As in the 116-18 uprising of the Roman period Europeans from the Pale to England were to be slaughtered.  True, the means were lacking but the will was there.  Once again the wealth of the world was to accrue to the Jews.

page 100.

    End of II-2.  Proceed to II-3 for the continuation.

     At this point the story consists of Part One:  Disco Donn Does Deep Elum and Part II, clips 1 and 2.