Pour encourager les autres

10/4 jest or not a jest. BE AFRAID sez all, but I, I say "What fools these mortals be!"

I am a long standing paranoid schizophrenic. My buddy who was the prison psychologist for Charles Manson and disabled due to Polio met me in a bookstore in 1984 where I was book buyer. God knows how we became friends. We did though. He also had a misdiagnosed kidney stone for ten years and to deal with pain became a raging alcoholic. That incident was over about 5 years before we met. We bonded on books, on bud, and the common era. Formidable intellectually having studied under Bertrand Russell at San Jose State for his MA in Philosophy and never looked back in wonder as he climbed the State ladder of excellence. He encouraged me to move to SF saying for a guy like me it would be very exciting. I agreed. I moved. Both wrong. After moving I lost touch of course because he frightened me. He was an Okie with a childhood Steinbeck could not depict. He was married with kids before 17. At 18 he was top Encyclopedia Salesman for Brittanica. Made his money selling nearly or all trailers in a trailer court near Chico He agreed that Sacramento was not fruitful for my twisted mind. He agreed too that New York would destroy me.

So late one night he pulled out the mother Psych test with no key. The test was from late 50’s. Minnesstoa Multi Phasic Inventory. I had taken it twice by age 28. Both times for a sales gig for a corporation. I was not a salesman. I rather preferred to write, or pretend to write, or sell books, or even go to college on student loans, but slowly the fog lifted and with nothing but pride to lose I sent out applications and twice had high dollar interviews to sell insurance and twice failed the psych test and pissing and moaning over the injury he took pity and gave me the test.

The key is no key. Keys are changed around by agreement. Agreements made by earnest scientific minded psychologists aware of the time change culturally. So I tested with a 1955 test. I had a psychotic wing revealed. He then gave me a 1982 key overlaying my test.

Answering yes as me in 1985 but really using 1955 as baseline: and of course we are asked to answer honestly: YES, I agreed I took drugs without a prescription, agreed it was correct I had no firm religious faith nor was I concerned I lacked one, and then you see I consistently lied about the person responding who wanted to be a salesman. I said to myself, I outsmart you fucking test, YES I milquetoast mediocrity have the inner sales type waiting enough money soaking into the soil to BLOSSOM. YES, I admitted with some glee, I BREAK THINGS, mirrors, windows, vases, inanimate objects all, no heads, only hearts of glass get broken, things, and yes of course I want to race to the money by way of a short cut and any other damn thing I thought at 28 working in a suburban bookstore as a book buyer any good salesman needed emotionally to sell. Surprise—PSYCHOTIC SCHIZOPHRENIC concluded the key.

So 10/4 to all that. Cannabis shortwave picks up the strong signal PRIOR to the FEMA show. Late night radio from Saturn. Sun Ra the host. Spaceways the signal. Let smart electronics boil. On or off so what.

I am a speculative fiction writer still unpublished.

I read quite a bit on Substack that passes as speculative blah blah but never fiction. I read it as fiction. Not literature. Urban myth as well I guess. But scientific medicine when you sell me viruses can only be lore. Lately though I realize thanks to McGilchrist why the murmuring can not be more than blah blah and never ART. And as today I am in a rather inhospitable mood my DADA rage bubbles up. Covid lies are omnicide. Have you seen the Saucers? NO. You have seen the JINN! And Upton could well be far far more accurate than anyone cares to accept. https://www.scribd.com/document/84733960/UFOs-Mass-Mind-Control-and-the-Awliya-al-Shaytan-by-Charles-Upton-An-update-of-Cracks-in-the-Great-Wall-UFOs-and-Traditional-Metaphysics-Sophia

Arachnid thought leaders are ego boosting using spidery silken spinneret threads of sticky fear to entangle and beguile audiences. On my show today on Rumble we discuss 5G and your soul, or using my proprietary Gulf of Tonkin shrimp extract marinated in bio-available nutrients hand processed in glacial milk in Nepal your immune system is protected forever and thirteen extra days besides if you add the special ultramarine algae supplement five times a day, or buy physical precious metals as a barbaric relic no one will want to give you food for when the SHTF but gladly exchange for a shotgun to your head.

ENOUGH.

To impose your ABC is a natural thing—

hence deplorable. Everybody does it in the form of crystalbluffmadonna, monetary system,

pharmaceutical product, or a bare leg advertising the ardent sterile spring. The love of

novelty is the cross of sympathy, demonstrates a naive je m'enfoutisme, it is a transitory,

positive sign without a cause.

But this need itself is obsolete. In documenting art on the basis of the supreme

simplicity: novelty, we are human and true for the sake of amusement, impulsive, vibrant to

crucify boredom. At the crossroads of the lights, alert, attentively awaiting the years, in the

forest. I write a manifesto and I want nothing, yet 1 say certain things, and in principle I am

against manifestoes, as I am also against principles (half-pints to measure the moral value of

every phrase too too convenient; approximation was invented by the impressionists). I write

this manifesto to show that people can perform contrary actions together while taking one

fresh gulp of air; I am against action; for continuous contradiction, for affirmation too, I am

neither for nor against and I do not explain because I hate common sense. […]

Dada Means Nothing

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