Category Archives: Art

Germs, The Other Newest One

I feel your body’s close to mine
I hear your breath and mine in time
I know I’m nothing but it’s you that I need
I touch your skin and it starts to feed

You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash

My eyes meet yours in secret glance
Our bodies locked in ancient stance
You whisper something and I know it’s good
You’re acting crazy just like I knew you would

You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash

Embracing my life between your thighs
We will perform in the deadly skies
Reducing my mind to endless nights
You send my dreams to their demise
Realized by your last breath …

I take your hair in to my hands
I pull it tight to fit your demands
Feel my body into yours
I Know it’s right cause that’s my soul you stir

You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash
You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash
You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash
You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another CATCH

In case you are wondering, this is about a homosexual love affair Darby had with another boy at the Hollywood Arts Free School he went to. But no matter. Naked Lunch is a great book, and Death in Venice will never be matched. Art does not abide our petty preferences. This higher calling is meant to transcend your petty prejudices. Art’s not about right and wrong. It’s about beauty, even when it’s ugly as sin.

God, I love this music. Very, very hardcore punk rock from the bowels of Los Angeles late 70’s to 1980. It’s so vicious it’s almost evil, but that’s why it’s great. Anyway I’m a bit of a Germ myself, infecting the bowels of this decaying nation.

I’m certainly contagious, good and bad. Just ask some of my exes.

No wait.

I saw these Germs maniacs in concert once at the Hong Kong Cafe. We got there and there were these angry punkers throwing bottles against the outside of the building. They glared at us, and we looked at them like, Hey not us, guys. We got inside, and we knew some of the local maniacs in there.

Diane Chin of the Alleycats was there. She really liked me one night, but she gave me 10 seconds to make a move. I didn’t do it, so she treated me like dog crap under her shoe for the rest of the night. I looked up at her wailing away on the stage. She seemed to be glaring at me. Apparently I just failed Shit Test 1, and there wasn’t going to be another.

Some of these psychobitches give you one damn chance. You need to move on them very aggressively in 10 seconds or so. You need to walk right up to her, put your arm around her, and drag her  off with that look in your eyes that says you know you’re going to do this baby, no one can turn me down. Of course that violates #metoo 101. You just committed sexual assault, sexual harassment, and sexual misconduct, and if you play your cards very carefully, you commit rape later on that night if she’s willing.

These psychobitches actually want to be more or less raped by a brutish man. They want you to walk up to them, grab them, and start kissing them like they can’t say no. They want to be dragged off by their hair like the cavemen did. They want to be told what to do and ordered around. They want the confidence of Superman and the brooding danger of Marlon Brando. If you can’t measure up, you’re a pussy, and she wants to kill you.

She wore all leather, but that doesn’t mean much. Most punker chicks were submissives deep down inside, like all normal women.

Anyway there she was.

My friend points to her and says, “See that chick there? Diane Chai of the Alleycats?”


“She’s nuts!”

I look over at her.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“When she does her slamdancing thing…”


“That chick! She…actually…breaks…tables!” His eyes are falling out of his head.

Well I knew she was a psychobitch, and now that was confirmed. I made a mental note not to impersonate any tables that night.

My friend’s sister was there along with her best friend, a perpetually scowling punker chick with leather and frizzy hair. You would think she was a dyke looking at her, but no way. She softened up and went submissive if I tried to talk to her. That means, “I like cock.” Dykes don’t to that. Dykes send in reinforcements when you try to talk to them, unless you’re gay, in which case they might like you and treat you like their little boy pet.

I went to the bathroom. There was the great Darby Crash, lead singer of the Germs! Famous! Sort of. A complete maniac! No really, read a biography. He’s all dressed in leather like a street tough. He’s got this sneering snarl that’s rather appealing if you’re a mountain lion. I’m washing up. He sees me and smiles/sneers whatever. It’s not exactly unfriendly. He’s just saying Fuck the World, and he hopes you agree. He looks like he’s  going to bust out laughing. His life was a bad joke, so he probably should have.

“Got any Tuuuuuuuuuinalssss?” He asks me with the not unfriendly James Dean sneer, a smiling laugh waiting to bust out and blow up the room.

His voice is is faggier than the Castro. He’s making limp wrist gestures. This dangerous maniac is actually a flaming faggot! What the Hell, man? The leather, the homicidal look, the deranged masculinity of a caged animal, and wrap it up with a mincing queen. It’s not even a product. It’s an April Fools Joke. Nothing about it even makes sense.

He’s asking me for Tuinols. Those are downers, barbiturates. Also called Blues. Popular back then.

Take one, and it’s like drinking a six pack.

Drink on them and you might die. Get behind a wheel, and all bets are off.

Give one to a chick, and she’ll turn into a half-conscious slavering nympho who won’t remember a thing in the morning. These pills do have their uses, you know? Girls liked to take them so they could have slutty irresponsible sex with the excuse that they were too wasted to be responsible, with the added benefit of being amnestic the next morning. Who knows what the truth is?

The thing is probably just a confession booth in a capsule. “I now absolve you of all responsiblity!” A blue excuse.

Well, I dealt drugs of course. I did for many years. And never got caught. Neener neener cops. I never sold pills though. Those are dirty and ugly. Sell them to some idiot, and he crashes into a bicyclist at night. You’re on the hook for felony murder and a guilty conscience til death no bottle can wash away.

“Nope, sorry,” I said. “Tuinal cigarettes. All I have are Tuinol cigarettes.” Well there’s no such thing. That’s an assholey thing to say, but then, Darby was an asshole, so it was probably appropriate.

“Tuinol cigarettes!?” he scoffs, realizing it’s a stupid joke. Part of him wants to hit me, and the other part wants to bust out laughing.

He starts sneering, and bursting out laughing in outrage, snarling out the door holding back the laughter.

I decided that I sort of like the guy, and now I just met a famous and very dangerous punk rock musician.

We go back to the club and buy Heinekens. My friend’s sister goes submissive, crumbles when I say hi. All the evil in her wrings out like a sponge. Now she’s a ragdoll, waiting to be taken. I get it. She wants to be raped too. All these scary punker bitches do. They’re all little girls at the end of the day.

Rape!? Well. Consensual rape. Let’s put it that way. You know, the way most mammals do it?

All you have to go is grab her like a maniac. And no, you don’t ask permission, you #metoo boneheads. Asking permission is pussy. It’s fail. A man doesn’t ask permission for anything. He takes what he wants, caveman-style.

I’m too chicken, so it’s a fail. Been listening to too many feminists. The only way to seduce her would be very roughly anyway, and that violates sexual misconduct, sexual harassment, and assault right there, with (consensual) rape later on if you get lucky. I’ve turned pussy. It’s all the fault of feminists and paying too much attention to my mother. About certain things, a man should never really listen to his mother. Listen to his father? Maybe.

The first show is Joanna Went. Apparently she’s actively psychotic or something. Her act is some sort of a schizophrenic breakdown on stage. I’m wondering if she’s really crazy or just a maniac like all the rest of these animals.

“Catatooooonic!…………Schizophreeeeenic!……..” She wails at no one and nothing. Her eyes look crazed. She’s got football player shoulder pads on like a circus freak. On a chick with pink hair. Well. That’s weird. Partway in, she starts ripping at the pads. The pads come open. They’re filled with shredded cheddar cheese! That makes perfect sense!

She’s grabbing handfuls of the cheese and throwing it out into the audience, wailing like a crazy woman the whole time. The maniacs in the audience are picking up handfuls of cheese and throwing it everywhere. Pretty soon the whole audience is caught in an actual blizzard of cheese. Like zero visibility. We are all covered with cheese. We’re pissed off, so we reach down and grab handfuls of cheese and start throwing them at Joanna. Hard. As hard as possible. That bitch. She threw cheese at us! For some reason, she likes this and smiles. She wants you to hate her. She’s trying to piss you off. It’s Duchamp and Man Ray, half a century too late. Dada, get it?

This nonsense is called Performance Art. I am not sure what the artistic statement is. Apparently that she’s crazy, we’re all crazy, and the rest of the world is nuts too. I think she could have said that without creating cheese blizzard, but it’s ok. Now I have another cool story to brag about.

The Germs come out.

There’s an air of menace in the club. It’s scary, you might get hurt. But that’s exhilarating too. Like war. The rush of impending potential violence. You’re on edge, but you’ve never been so excited.

The drummer is Don Bolles. He looks like a maniac.

The guitarist is Pat Smear. He looks like he’s criminally insane.

The bass player is this hot blond reform school runaway chick. She looks dangerous too.

Hell, they’re all dangerous. So’s the audience. That’s the general idea here. After a while, the dangerousness infects you, and you start getting antisocial yourself. I’m starting to feel pissed off. I guess that was the plan.

The band careens off into their set. This is some of the most terrifying music I’ve heard. Pure savage wailing raw animal menace. Perfect for a predatory animals like us. Apex predators. We forget that too often. We can kill everything else.

I’ve got nothing to be mad about, but I hate the world anyway. I’m not sure what the problem is, or if it’s even a problem. I want to hate the world, so maybe it’s adaptive. But why? I’m probably just not getting laid enough. But even if I was getting laid, I’d still be pissed off. I was 23 years old.

And now I’m gonna be 22!
I said a…Hey hey!
And a boo hoo!

– Iggy Pop and the Stooges, 1970


Speed jive

Don’t want to stay alive
When you’re 25

– Mott the Hoople, All the Young Dudes, 1972

You get the picture. Young men don’t need a reason to be angry.

Look back in anger.

What are you rebelling against?…What do you got?

Who knows what causes this aimless and meaningless anger of young men? It’s probably all down to testosterone poisoning.

The set’s halfway over.

Darby Crash has that same wild sneer and the 5150 look. He looks like he needs to be Baker Acted, and soon. He’s crouched down on the stage like a wild animal. Like a tiger. Or lion. Same man-eating look.

Everybody is starting to hate him. That’s the idea. Why? He’s an asshole! Just look at him! He wants you to hate him, get it? It’s not even serious. It’s a band of provocateurs.

People are throwing stuff at the stage, mostly at Darby because he deserves it most. The more people throw stuff, the more he smiles, crouches lower and screams like a man-eating feline. I’m starting to hate him. He’s really pissing me off.

We have cokes full of ice. There’s only ice left. I am grabbing handfuls of crushed ice and throwing it this freak on stage. Hard! Try to him! Hit him!

But why?

Because he’s an asshole! Just look at him.

The more ice that gets thrown at him, the more he smiles. It’s all a bit sado-masochistic. But as long as I’m dom, it’s all good.

The show crashes on until it ends, a freeway pileup in the fog on a sound stage.

We stumble out of the building.

It’s New Years Eve, 1979. Tomorrow will be a whole new decade.

The 70’s are over. Bye bye Hotel California. Bye bye paradise. Call someplace paradise, kiss it goodbye.

Hello Germs. Hello Hell. Hello Other Newest One.

It’s the end, the end of the 70’s! It’s the end, the end of the century!

We lurch out of the building and into an alleyway. A crazed, drunken man stumbles into our path. He can’t even walk. He careens nearly into us and crashes to the ground. He picks himself up and looks back at us wildly. We stop. He has granny glasses. He fell on his face, and one lens is smashed. There’s blood all over his eye. It’s Clockwork Orange and Night of the Living Dead combined. Pure horrorshow, droogies.

Maybe he’s gone blind. Who knows?

It’s horrible. There’s blood pouring out of his eye socket. He puts one hand up to his bleeding eye and lurches off ahead of, fertilizing the dawn of the new decade crimson red in his path.

It’s a whole new decade. Things are getting scary. Reagan just won. Nothing makes sense. Everyone’s pissed off and, no one knows why. A new decade looms ahead, glowing ominously with pregnant danger.

We shake our heads at the horror and the spectacle.

A whole new decade has come crashing in filth and fury. We drive home in near silence on the freeway. After all we saw, there’s no words to add. The words are sucked out of us for a good hour. We still don’t quite believe it happened, and we are trying to take it all in.

And that was the night I saw the Germs.


Filed under Art, Barbiturates, Depressants, Feminism, Gender Studies, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, Intoxicants, Man World, Music, Punk, Rock, Sex, Women

On the Seventh Day, God Created Redheads


And on the seventh day, God created redheads. One of the things that the White nationalists are on about is this panic button issue, “Imagine a world with no gingers!” Gingers are what they call redheads in the UK. I will be dead in 20-30 years, and there will still be plenty of redheads around. And then there’s hair dye.

I remember in grade school, everyone hated redheads. It was “the ugly redhead,” boys and girls both. Not sure what happened in high school, but I think something changed.

My first redhead was a 16 year old girl. Her name was GR. God I hope she doesn’t read this. She was really in love with me, but I broke her heart in one of the worst moves of my life. But it had to be done. My heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t attracted to her. I wasn’t into her. Being with her sexually was actually psychologically painful. My heart was driving my head and there was no resisting its orders. When in doubt, follow your heart. That’s called intuition. A life without intuition is a 180 IQ genius bumbling in the dark, feeling  his way along the edges of a cave without a flashlight, hoping he doesn’t fall into a lake. When you have logic but no intuition in life, like so many humans, you really are driving blind.

The heart knows things that the mind can never understand.

– Rene Descartes, famous philosopher.

Heard of him? He’s the guy who invented the phrase, “Don’t put Descartes before the horse.” Clever fellow.

Back to the girl. The 17 year old redhead.

Next time I saw her,  it was a year later, and I saw the Honeybees.



Filed under Babes, Photography, Women

Who Is This Woman?


Who is this woman?

This woman has recently died. She is famous or rather infamous mostly for a single incident that occurred some time ago. Who else was involved in the incident? She is also famous for publishing a famous document or text? What is name of the document? What is it about? In what academic field is it most famous? Not many people know what happened to her afterwards, but I do. Do any of your know what happened to her in the last 10-20 years of her life?


Filed under Art, Celebrities, Crime, Mental Patients, Radical Feminists, Scum, Women

PUA/Game: Women Love Writers

Yes, women (and girls) love to fuck writers. Bukowski said that, but he was not the first. We are romantics, you know. Artist types are romantic and romantic artist types set off the romantic drive that underlies the love instinct in females. Thing is you have to be good. Yes, women love writers, but my observation is that the only writers I have known who got women from their writing were damn good.

And they were usually writing some sort of literary type writing, either novels, short stories, poetry or literary nonfiction. Even a good journalist can get women if your prose really sings, say a music reviewer. If you are a writer but you don’t write well, I don’t think you will get women from your writing. It’s probably like that with any art. Yes, musicians, artists, writers, etc. can all get women, but only if they are damn good. If you are creative but you are not damn good, I don’t think it works to get women.

PS, when a woman tells a writer, “Oh! I love the way you write!” Um, that usually means she wants you. She’s in love with you or she wants to fuck you. Pretty much always. It doesn’t matter which because those two things are all jumbled up in females anyway.


Filed under Art, Gender Studies, Literature, Man World, Psychology, Romantic Relationships, Writing

The System of Nature: or The Laws of the Moral and Physical World, by Paul Henri Thiry d’Holbach

I have never heard of this early French philosopher, nor have I heard of his monumental doorstop of a book, quoted in the title.

The prose below is from 1773, and I doubt if anyone can write better today. I think this shows that our brains are about as smart now as they were in the times of the Revolutionary War at least in terms of raw IQ or brain speed. In fact, some studies have shown that Victorians had dramatically faster brains than we do (by reaction time). So the suspicions of us cynics may be true after all – of course we are getting stupider. Just look around you. How can it not be so?

Knowledge is one thing and intelligence is another. Intelligence is probably defined best as a measure of raw brain speed. The faster the brain, the more intelligent the person is.

Knowledge is another matter altogether and is more related to culture. For instance, we are much smarter now than we were in 1773 in terms of knowledge. We know so many more things and we understand the world so much better! We can make so many fancy things and solve so many difficult problems now solely on account of our accumulation of knowledge. So while we may be dumber than Victorians in terms of raw intelligence, we are much smarter than Victorians in terms of knowledge. The latter may well compensate for or even overwhelm the former. A fast brain is not a worth a lot if you barely understand the world around you.

It’s also useful to note that knowledge has nothing to do with intelligence necessarily. For all we know, cavemen may have had very fast brains. Brains in 1770 may have been even faster than in the Victorian Era. No one knows. We have always been an intelligent species. But while men in the Middle Ages and Dark Ages may have had brains that worked about as fast as ours, they were nevertheless not able to figure out the world very well.

Knowledge is more a matter of luck than anything else because ideally it is cumulative. With each generation or at least with each century or millennium, man has increased his knowledge and has managed to figure out the world better. Nevertheless, at the beginning the process is quite slow. Look at how long we lumbered along in comparative ignorance, even with presumably fast brains. This shows us that intelligence needs knowledge to be worth much of anything. Intelligence minus knowledge does not add up to a hill of beans. How impressive is a fast brain if it has the worldview of a caveman?

As I noted, knowledge ideally is cumulative. This is not always so, and there have been shocking histories of actual cultural and knowledge loss. The Tasmanians were separated from the mainland 10,000 years ago and afterwards they seem to have lost the ability to make fire and craft fishing hooks among other things. They may have also forgotten how to sew. So Idiocracy is nothing new. It’s been going on somewhere for at least 10,000 years.

Nevertheless, knowledge throwbacks are an anomaly because knowledge tends to be cumulative. It is also interesting to note that there seems to be some critical mass at work here. As knowledge gains, the acquisition of new knowledge seems to speed up somehow. Critical mass may well have been reached perhaps 100 years ago. Since then the leaps of knowledge have been spectacular. We now learn more in decade now than we did in a millennium.

Nevertheless, when it comes to the basics, we are hardly more competent now than we were in 1773.

Modern writers have not superseded the prose below; in fact, many cannot even achieve this 1773 level of competence. When it comes to certain things like the ability to write down our ideas, all of our knowledge seems to hit a roadblock. All of the massive knowledge we have piled on in the last century has not enabled us to craft better prose than the prose of 250 years ago.

I seriously doubt if your artistic skills have improved either. We now paint better than Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci? Really?

What about music? Are we really better musicians now than Bach or Beethoven? Really?

It’s doubtful that our psi skills have improved much.

Are our social skills really better now than they were in the past? Are you sure?

Are we better able to achieve psychological health than in the past?

Do we know any more about the mysteries of life such as the soul and death than we did then?

Has our philosophical knowledge actually improved? We still cannot surmount Plato and Aristotle.

Anyway, check out this awesome prose:

The source of man’s unhappiness is his ignorance of Nature. The pertinacity with which he clings to blind opinions imbibed in his infancy, which interweave themselves with his existence, the consequent prejudice that warps his mind, that prevents its expansion, that renders him the slave of fiction, appears to doom him to continual error. He resembles a child destitute of experience, full of ideal notions: a dangerous leaven mixes itself with all his knowledge: it is of necessity obscure, it is vacillating and false:–He takes the tone of his ideas on the authority of others, who are themselves in error, or else have an interest in deceiving him.

To remove this Cimmerian darkness, these barriers to the improvement of his condition; to disentangle him from the clouds of error that envelope him; to guide him out of this Cretan labyrinth, requires the clue of Ariadne, with all the love she could bestow on Theseus. It exacts more than common exertion; it needs a most determined, a most undaunted courage–it is never effected but by a persevering resolution to act, to think for himself; to examine with rigor and impartiality the opinions he has adopted.

He will find that the most noxious weeds have sprung up beside beautiful flowers; entwined themselves around their stems, overshadowed them with an exuberance of foliage, choked the ground, enfeebled their growth, diminished their petals; dimmed the brilliancy of their colors; that deceived by their apparent freshness of their verdure, by the rapidity of their exfoliation, he has given them cultivation, watered them, nurtured them, when he ought to have plucked out their very roots.

Man seeks to range out of his sphere: notwithstanding the reiterated checks his ambitious folly experiences, he still attempts the impossible; strives to carry his researches beyond the visible world; and hunts out misery in imaginary regions. He would be a metaphysician before he has become a practical philosopher. He quits the contemplation of realities to meditate on chimeras. He neglects experience to feed on conjecture, to indulge in hypothesis.

He dares not cultivate his reason, because from his earliest days he has been taught to consider it criminal. He pretends to know his date in the indistinct abodes of another life, before he has considered of the means by which he is to render himself happy in the world he inhabits: in short, man disdains the study of Nature, except it be partially: he pursues phantoms that resemble an ignis-fatuus, which at once dazzle, bewilders, and frighten: like the benighted traveler led astray by these deceptive exhalations of a swampy soil, he frequently quits the plain, the simple road of truth, by pursuing of which, he can alone ever reasonably hope to reach the goal of happiness.

The most important of our duties, then, is to seek means by which we may destroy delusions that can never do more than mislead us. The remedies for these evils must be sought for in Nature herself; it is only in the abundance of her resources, that we can rationally expect to find antidotes to the mischiefs brought upon us by an ill directed, by an overpowering enthusiasm. It is time these remedies were sought; it is time to look the evil boldly in the face, to examine its foundations, to scrutinize its superstructure: reason, with its faithful guide experience, must attack in their entrenchments those prejudices, to which the human race has but too long been the victim. For this purpose reason must be restored to its proper rank,–it must be rescued from the evil company with which it is associated. It has been too long degraded –too long neglected–cowardice has rendered it subservient to delirium, the slave to falsehood. It must no longer be held down by the massive claims of ignorant prejudice.

The System of Nature: or The Laws of the Moral and Physical World

– Paul Henri Thiry d’Holbach, 1773.

As an aside, while reading this, I kept thinking, “This describes just about everyone I know.” Although Holbach may have been thinking about other types of ignorance and another type of reason, the passage still rang a bell. After all, look who we just elected President. The triumph of ignorance over reason right there. Look at our entire political culture. It’s all based on cultivated ignorance. Where’s the reason? There is none.

The only reason or logic that Americans follow is the logic that leads them to making more money. If it makes me money, it’s true. If it loses or costs me money, it’s false. That’s the reason by which most Americans live their lives. Obviously this leads to a lot of irrational if not insane decisions because the thing that costs you money is often a more rational decision than the decision that makes you money.

Guess what, Americans? I got some news for you.

Money does not equal truth.

Loss of money does not equal falsehood.

That’s a most peculiar moral philosophy we have set up for ourselves in this idiot Yahoo Country.

I know few people who want or try to challenge their core beliefs, which I believe is what Holbach is ultimately getting at above. The original purpose of this site – “If I Am Not Making You Mad, I Am Not Doing My Job” – was not to troll the world but instead to force readers to throw more of their beliefs up for grabs. I was out to challenge just about everything you believe in. Why? Because that’s what you need to do. You need to throw as much of your beliefs as possible up for grabs, as painful as that is. It’s very hard to do, so most just don’t bother.

About the book, this looks pretty cool. It was originally written in French, so that translation looks really cool. I am not sure if I could handle 993 pages of that prose though!


Filed under American, Art, Culture, History, Intelligence, Modern, Music, Philosophy, Politics, Psychology, Sociology, Writing

Is There Any Way to Sustain Emotional Self-Expression?

ZE: Is there any way to sustain emotional self-expression?

I think most people do it anyway because most folks seem to be pretty emotional. They go around expressing their emotions all the time anyway, unless you are getting at something different from quotidian emotionalizing here.

For me, to sustain it, I would have to keep writing because writing expresses my emotions best.

Humor is a good way to express emotions. As long as you are communicating with humans, you can make humorous comments that express emotion very well.

It also helps to be a systematizing thinker.

The more you can systematize, the more wisdom you obtain, and the best emotional expression is in the form of wisdom.

And art.

And then humor.


Filed under Art, Humor, Psychology, Writing

Pio Baroja

Where’s this guy been all my life? The name sounds familiar, but I didn’t really know anything about him. Another Generation of ’98 writer who barely made it through the Spanish Civil War.

Federico Garcia Lorca, the doomed gay poet, one of the finest poets of the 20th Century, of course was assassinated in this war, but he was from the next generation of Spanish writers, the Generation of ’27. They were much more avant garde than the ’98’ers.

The Generation of ’98 were a whole new crop of Spanish writers who popped up at the turn of the century in Spain. Spain was still a monarchy back then and these were times of fervent. The monarchy was trying to balance between the desire of the people to modernize the humanize their country and the desires of the Church conservatives to keep things as static as they were.

At the same time, in 1898, Spain was reeling from its defeat in several wars around the globe. Thousands of Spaniards were dead, and Spain lost all of its colonies. This was a time of great upheaval in Spain. The ’98’ers attacked traditional culture and the monarchy which they say as conformist and undemocratic. In this sense, they were like the liberal protest movements that arose in Germany after World War 1 who attacked German culture and ways of thinking in the light of their painful defeat in the war.

These liberal movements were met with a conservative backlash or mostly demobbed soldiers who formed gangs called the Brownshirts who fought socialists and communists in the streets of Germany. These conservatives felt that the liberals had “stabbed the country in the back” and been traitorous during the war, leading to the nation’s defeat. One of these demobbed soldiers was an angry, wounded soldier named Adolf Hitler and it was from this Right vs Left firestorm in the streets that the Nazi God of Destruction arose a decade later. The Phoenix rising from the ashes, the regeneration of the illustrious nation of blood and soul, which is fascism in a nutshell. Fascism can best be seen as palingetic revolution of the Right. The word palingetic brings to mind the Phoenix rises to glory from the ashes of defeat.

Baroja was a liberal like most of that generation. He grew up in the Basque Country. He wrote a number of trilogies, including The Sea, The Cities, The Struggle for Life, The Basque Country and a few others. The Struggle for Life is a gritty, harsh trilogy about life in the slums of Madrid. John Dos Passos was very fond of this series. Probably his most famous book is The Tree of Knowledge. Baroja was a pessimist and a nihilist who soured on life at a young age.

I do not mind reading downbeat authors though, even if I am an optimist. Really the optimistic and pessimistic views of life are both true and equally valid.

Baroja was influenced by Nietzsche, but below almost looks like Heidegger. I like the elaborate, ornate, very descriptive prose of the 19th Century. I love the long, fancy sentences where the tail of the sentence almost seems to be the head. I don’t mind getting to the end of a Henry James sentence, commas and all, and then wondering what the start of the sentence was about. It’s fun to decipher fancy writing. People don’t write like this much anymore as it is considered to be too elaborate and difficult for its own sake. I believe some of the finest writing in English was done in the 19th Century though. I can’t get enough of those $64,000 sentences. They’re so good you could almost take them to the bank.

Most of Baroja has not yet been translated into English, though he has been famous in Spain for a century.  Hemingway was heavily influenced by Baroja, although this fact is little known.

Isn’t that some fine writing?

The individual is the only real thing in nature and in life. Neither the species, the genus, nor the race, actually exists; they are abstractions, terminologies, scientific devices, useful as syntheses but not entirely exact. By means of these devices we can discuss and compare; they constitute a measure for our minds to use, but have no external reality. Only the individual exists through himself and for himself. I am, I live, is the sole thing a man can affirm.

The categories and divisions arranged for classification are like the series of squares an artist places over a drawing to copy it by. The lines of the squares may cut the lines of the sketch; but they will cut them, not in reality but only in the artist’s eye. In humanity, as in all of nature, the individual is the one thing. Only individuality exists in the realm of life and in the realm of spirit.

Pio Baroja, Caesar or Nothing, 1903

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About My Employment Status

I am sort of getting tired of answering questions about my employment that I get from haters every day. Here is a statement on the matter from another site a while back.

I live off a trust fund, and I also work as a therapist. I make some money writing and I do a few other things like brokering deals between consultants and clients, things like that. The reason I do not work is due to health. I am not in good enough health to work. Otherwise I have been working or in school my whole life. My last job title was Linguist/Cultural Anthropologist.

I do not use any government programs, so I am mystified at people always saying I am on welfare or collect a government check. I have no idea where they came up with that idea.

Here are my income sources in the last year or so:

Income Sources

Trust fund. Had $700,000 at the start, but now it is a lot less. It is a spendthrift trust, so I am locked out of it. They have always given me right around a poverty level wage only because my grandfather wanted me to survive but he also wanted to force me to work, so he made it small enough so I could survive but would not live comfortably. The idea was to force me to work because he did not want me kicking back my whole life as a trust fund kid. It was made spendthrift because he figured that if I had control over it, I would blow through the thing in a few years as I was a bit of a spendthrift, party boy and playboy as a young man.

Counseling. Peer counselor. I focus mostly on one condition, a DSM anxiety disorder, which, frankly, I am an expert on. I work with clients all over the world, mostly in the US but also in Chile, El Salvador, Canada, Australia, the UK, Ireland, Germany, Norway, Sweden, the Netherlands, Spain, and Switzerland. I also work with problems in living, deep stuff (exploring your deep self or childhood issues) and growth stuff (learning how to grow to become a better and more functional human being).

People often break down in tears and start crying right in the middle of sessions. Happens all the time. I deal with suicidal people all the time. In fact, I lost one client to suicide already. I have had clients who were attempting suicide while I was working with them. It can be hard to deal with. I have no degrees, credentials or licenses in this field, but in California, you do not need one. Just hang out your shingle and call yourself “Counselor” and say come talk  to me about your problems. I do not get a lot of business, but I do get some. Considering that I lack all of the things you usually need to do this work, I am amazed that I get any work at all.

I read a lot of books on this subject and I have been studying psychology for 40 years. I had decades of therapy. I read up on counseling psychology and mental illness all the time so I am pretty much self-taught. You would be amazed how many jobs you can do simply by teaching yourself how to do them. It’s a myth that you need degrees, credentials,. etc. to do this or that job. Just teach yourself.

The longer I do this, the better I get at it. It is a stressful job though. I do one 1 hour session and I feel like I just ran a mile. I sometimes have to go lie down. The clients are in so much psychic pain that it seems to leak out of them and into my body. If you are empathetic at all this is going to happen.

Brokering deals between graphic artists and clients. I put the clients and artists together, negotiate prices, etc. and then take a cut for myself.

Conflict resolution/arbitration. In cases of graphic artists and clients where they have come to a standstill and nothing is getting done. An example: client has spent $~1,000 and is not satisfied with the product. Artist has stopped speaking to the client or returning his phone calls or emails. Client sent work back for endless revisions, and eventually the artist just had it. I wade in there, talk to both sides, figure out the nature of the dispute and try to settle the matter so that everyone is happy. I am actually quite good at this.

Webpage design/graphics. Mostly graphics. Working with graphics for people who need websites done. Work with graphic artists.

Graphics editor for books. I was recently a graphics editor for a book. I was in charge of maps. I worked with a graphic artist and told him what to label the areas and where to  shade in the areas we needed to shade in. We used a lot of sources, all of which were wrong. It was a great big mess,  but it was fun to put together the jigsaw puzzle.

Webpage design consulting. Consult with webpage designers who are having problems with their pages to fix their issues.

Selling information. As crazy as it sounds, I have actually made money doing that. I have some pretty much secret information about a few things that a lot of people want but few people have access to. An example would be a geographical location of an  unusual place that a lot of people want to get to, but the location is a closely guarded secret. So I ell directions to this location and then work with them afterwards to help them reach the site, etc. Yes, you can actually sell information! Isn’t that crazy?

Medical counseling. Work with heterosexual men who are worried that they have contracted HIV from sexual contact with women. I am an expert on this type of transmission and have been studying it for over 30 years now. I know more about it than most physicians.

They tell me the situation, and I lay out the odds that they may have contracted the disease based on their situation. I also tell them how HIV is acquired from women and tell them about the various surveys that have been done. I also have a lot of percentages, facts and figures about this type of transmission, like say 1% chance after 40 encounters. I tell them about all the different types of testing, the accuracy, etc. Then I follow them through any tests that they need to take in the next few months. And if they have anxiety or obsessive issues about possibly contracting this illness, I work with them on that, as I am very good at calming down or talking down people who are in the midst of anxiety episodes. I do it all the time.

Author. Just published my first book, or chapter in a book I should say. It is an 80 page chapter. I am supposed to be paid for this at some point. Book was published in Turkey in a university press. Took me 500 hours or three months work at part time. I worked with professors from all over the world on this project. I also had to go through two rather brutal peer reviews. I also came up with the name for this book series, but I was not paid for that.

Sell advertisements. I have made a bit of money selling ads on this site, but honestly it has been very little.

That’s it. I am always looking for new ways to get money though. I wake up every morning and think, “How am I going to get some money today?”

I became ill 21 years ago and have not worked at a regular job since. If I did not have the trust, I would try for Disability. Before I got ill, I was always either working or in college or both. There was never a time when I was doing neither.

If you enjoy the hard work that goes into this website, please consider a contribution to support the continuation of the site. Donations are the only thing that keep the site operating.


Filed under Art, Health, Illness, Labor, Psychology, Psychotherapy, Vanity, Writing

Robert Stark Interviews Author Ray Harris

First Stark broadcast I have run in some time now.

This man Ray Harris is a true intellectual. Stark suggests that he also may be considered Alt Left, and I would agree with that.

A lot of interesting discussions going on here with a lot of it centering on nudity, social nudity, and our very nutty hangups about nudity. The Anglophone world is extremely uptight and Puritanical about social nudity in contrast to most of Europe. Germany and Spain in particular are quite wide open about this subject. There is also a lot about nude minors being portrayed in art. In recent years, the controversy has been mostly about naked teenage girls in movies.

Most of these movies were produced in Europe. Louis Malle’s Pretty Baby features a nude 12-year-old Brooke Shields. This clip is out there on the Internet for all to see because nudity is not necessarily child pornography. You can have all the pictures of naked kids all you want I guess.

Nudism sites certainly do, and they are all over the Net. They show humans including minors of all ages, wandering about in the nude on beaches, forests, etc. It’s honestly not very erotic, and the younger teenage girls are not as hot as you would think. They mostly appeared underdeveloped to me, and I wasn’t very into them. Of course the naked kids are not arousing at all, and I fail to understand why we flip out about this stuff. I mean, I can’t think of anything less interesting than a naked kid of either gender. So why do we have a heart attack every time we see one!? I mean it’s a naked human being. Is that evil or something? Color me mystified. What the Hell’s the matter with you hysterical  Puritans anyway?

Of course I have seen the Pretty Baby clip, and I must say, I can’t see why anyone would be turned on by 12 year old Brooke naked in her shower. I watched it and I thought, “Lame,” and “Why would anyone get turned on by that?” Nevertheless, the hysteria rages on out of control, burning minds to a crisp all over the land.

There’s a long history of painting naked minors, especially females, and in centuries past, it was quite common to paint young naked children. I believe Harris says it’s not done much anymore because artists are too paranoid.

The work of photographers Jock Sturges, David Hamilton, and Bill Henson is gone over. These are modern photographers whose work focuses on naked teenage girls.

Henson likes them real young, like age 13. I’ve seen some of that, and it’s not a turn-on at all. In fact, it’s a huge turnoff. You want to look away because you are thinking a girl that young is too young to be sexualized. It’s not erotic to me in the slightest. Instead it is shocking and weird. They have no bodies at all, no tits to speak of, their bodies look like boys’ bodies (I call females like that “sticks”), and at this point of my life, they really look like little girls. They’re not little girls anymore, but they look like they are.

I think we need laws to keep men and 13 year old girls from having sex. These girls need to be protected from us men, and we men need to be protected from ourselves. It would not be right for this to be legal. That’s practically a little girl.

Hamilton and I think Sturges focus on teenage girls, so that’s a lot more promising. Hamilton’s shots are in outdoor locations, often in groups. The photography is spectacular, and the girls are very beautiful.

On the other hand, at least Hamilton focuses like Henson on young teenage girls. I think most of those girls are 13-15, but correct me if I am wrong. I would have to loved to have looked at them earlier in adulthood because girls that age turned me on a lot more when I was younger like 18-30, but at my age, they just seem too young. It’s too much of a young girl. They’re not even much of a turn-on. Physically they are somewhat of course, but then they seem like too much of a young girl, and they are so underdeveloped and girlish, and that part of it is a turnoff and wipes out the physical part.

I know they are not little girls, but even 16 year old girls are starting to seem like little girls to me now. They are perfectly developed, but it just seems like way too much of a girl, and they seem very immature. I see them, and I think they are in junior high. I figure they are in 7th or 8th grade. I ask them if they are in junior high, and they get offended. Anyway, yes, I have seen Hamilton’s stuff and it is all over the Net if you want to go looking for it, and I assure you that it is all 100% legal. After all, nudity is not child porn. I’ve already seen it, and I have no desire to go looking for it again.

I forget Sturgis’ focus, but I think it was young teenage girls also.

I also worry about these men. What’s with the obsession with 13-15 year old teenage girls? I don’t get it. Sometimes I wonder if these guys’ sexual interests are completely OK. It’s not normal to be obsessed with young teenage girls. You are getting into hebephile territory, and hebephiles are not normal.

This subject has aroused some of the worst lies and libels about me of all. I have tried to address these lies, but I just dig the hole deeper. This is all based on some retarded thinking that people of normal intelligence always engage in. It’s called, “If you write about it, then you do it,” or “If you write about it, then you are one.” There’s also, “If you talk about it, then you do it,” and “If you talk about it, then you are one.” All of these are logical fallacies. Take this arguments to your Logic professor and see what he says.

These are examples of very stupid ways of thinking and almost 100% of the population with average intelligence thinks like this all the time. Now you see why people like me think people of average intelligence are retarded.

The Robert Lindsay Brush Fire about this matter was set off long ago. The fire is 0% controlled and is expected to rage into the foreseeable future. As long as that’s the case, I figure I will pour gasoline on the flames and sit back and watch the devastation. It’s rather entertaining to be a social arsonist. If you can’t beat em, join em.

Robert Stark Interviews Author Ray Harris


Cover of Ray Harris’ newest science fiction novel.

Robert Stark and co-host Pilleater interview writer Ray Harris. He is based out of Australia and is the author of Paradise Reclaimed which is available on e-book.

Link here.


Ray’s science fiction novel Paradise Reclaimed about the story of the first interstellar colony.
Warnings about dystopia on Earth and creating a utopia from scratch.
Transhumanism, the idea of both genetic and social engineering, CRISPR Gene Editing, and the influence of Julian and Aldous Huxley.
Ecotopia, Solar Punk, Soleri’s Arcosanti, and combining the primitive and futuristic.
How we have the technology to advance civilization, but corporate and political corruption stands in the way.
Aldous Huxley’s Novel Island.
Jungian archetypes.
The upcoming sequel to the book The Golden City about the colonists returning to Earth after being isolated.
Social nudity, it’s place in the book’s space colony, and whether our aversion to it is rational.
The historic of social nudity, attitudes in Europe and Japan, and the Freikörperkultur Movement in Germany.
Different cultural attitudes towards sex in America, Europe, and Japan.
Developmental vs. chronological age.
The history of attitudes towards sexuality in the West, age of consent laws, and how they affected the arts.
Nudity in art; French Rococo painter François Boucher’s Leda and the Swan; works by Edgar Degas, Vincent van Gogh, and Jean-Honoré Fragonard.
Japanese Shunga art.
The debate about what is art and what is erotica.
Controversial nude photographers Bill Henson, Jock Sturges and David Hamilton.
The film Louis Malle’s Pretty Baby (1978), Eva Ionesco, and Natalie Portman in Léon: The Professional.

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What Is Grey Area Child Pornography?

If you research pedophiles, you are going to end up on pedophile bulletin boards where pedophiles talk about their sexual orientation. It’s one of the best ways to study these people, and on open boards, 50% of the posters are pedophile-haters threatening and abusing the pedophiles, so it hardly makes you a pedo to go to such sites.

In terms of images, Open Internet pedophile forums are generally pretty clean. There are lots of pictures of little girls, but these are mostly completely legal photos of fully clothed girls. Nevertheless, it is still a bit disturbing at least for me to look at that photo of that little girl and realize that the men on that site regard her as a sex object. It’s a weird, creepy feeling.

There are images on these sites, but it is all or almost all gray area stuff. This is good because it means you can use these sites for research without worrying about going to jail for “illegal looking.” Most of the gray area stuff is clothed posed models and cartoon child pornography. While both of these types of images are disturbing, at least to me, they are generally legal.

Clothed Posed Models

A clothed posed model is what to me looks like a little girl dressed up in very sexy clothes posed very provocatively. The girls are fully clothed, and the FBI has long stated that if they are posing  alone and they have all their clothes on, it’s not child pornography. Nevertheless, I find the clothed models to be very disturbing to look at. I don’t mind looking at little girls, but not if they are dressed and posed like that. There’s something creepy about it. As far as whether it’s a turn on, I usually think,  “Why in the Hell would anyone get turned on by that?”

I’m not sure the age of the posed model girls. It may be 10-13. They are heading into puberty, but they are still disturbingly  young. Most of them seem to come from Russia, often the rural parts of Russia. Both the girls and their mothers are very enthusiastic about this modeling, probably because the mother can earn quite a bit of money that way and the girl gets to indulge her narcissism.

Many of the girls  have given interviews later when they were adults. In all cases, they vehemently defend their child modeling days. The mothers are all unrepentant too. I don’t quite know what to do about this. Maybe this stuff needs to stay legal even if it is creepy. There’s all sorts of creepy material like beheading videos out there that is 100% legal. It’s hard to make a case that clothed posed models are more disturbing or creepy than beheading videos.

Not one single person has gone down for mere possession of this stuff, much less for illegal looking. Two men have been convicted of mass distribution of clothed child models, but that case was extremely controversial because clothed posed models were not known to be illegal at the time and the state had to make a new case that this material was illegal. Many of the now-grown girl models have come to these men’s defense.

Both men had researched the law carefully and felt they were operating within the law as clothed posed models were legal at the time. They were legal at the time. They were legal until the state decided that they were illegal, which is messed up.

You can’t break a law that you don’t know exists. Vague laws are unconstitutional. Laws must be written so it is pretty clear to people what is legal and what is illegal. Therefore, citizens who wish to obey the law can know what the limits of the law are. If we don’t know what’s legal and what’s illegal, how can we operate in society. If everything is legal until the state arbitrarily and without passing a law decides something is illegal, this is not democratic, and you’re not living in a free country. That is totalitarianism.

In the meantime, clothed posed model sites are all over the Net as far as I can tell. They took down two of the toadstools, but 500 new ones have sprung up. Although clothed child models are disturbing images, I suppose they should remain legal. Just because something is creepy or disturbing doesn’t mean it should be illegal.

The threat of going to prison has not fazed many people though and it seems there are hundreds of posed model sites out there. Perhaps there is money to be made on the stuff.

Clothed posed models are essentially legal unless you are hosting a huge website grossing millions of dollars per year. But why anyone would want to look at such stuff is beyond me.

Cartoon Child Pornography

Cartoon child pornography is gray area legal, although I admit it is disturbing to look at. Some of it is actually rather horrible. As far as whether it’s a turn-on, my reaction is the same as above, “Why would anyone get turned on by that?” I actually like cartoon porn a lot. It’s one of my favorite types of porn. But not with little girls in it! Gross and weird!

The cartoons are not all little girls, and some of the girls are more teens with developing women’s bodies and breasts. I will admit that once the girls in the cartoons start looking like women, I start getting interested in them. A big market with this material has sprung up in Japan. I believe it is called Loli or Manga. I don’t need to tell you what the cartoons features. They’re hardcore pornographic cartoons with little girls. That’s all you need to know. Use your imagination.

The only cases tried so far are for the artists who draw this material. Obviously, all of these artists are pedophiles. However, some are married with highly supportive wives. There have been a number of attempts to try men for drawing cartoon child pornography, but almost all have been stricken down by courts who have decided that this material is constitutionally protected by the First Amendment freedom of expression. I believe in one case, a artist was convicted for drawing this material. However, that case has been quite controversial.

My reaction to this stuff is that why anyone who want to look at such cartoons is beyond me. A lot of them are rather sick.

Not one person has ever gone down for mere possession of this material, much less for “illegal looking.” Cartoon child pornography is quite disturbing, much worse than clothed child models at least for me. Nevertheless, they probably need to stay legal. You can’t make everything creepy or disturbing illegal you know. Still I would be terrified to put one of these cartoons on any website of mine. I don’t need to be hosting material like that.

Bottom line is that cartoon child pornography is basically legal, as creepy as it is. Even though it is legal, my understanding is that  almost zero websites in the US want to carry it. Even though it’s legal, they think it’s too messed up to put on their site. I don’t blame them. Most of the material appears to be hosted out of Japan.


Filed under Art, Asia, Child Porn, Eurasia, Girls, Japan, Law, Lolitas, NE Asia, Pedophilia, Pornography, Regional, Russia, Sex, Social Problems, Sociology