IT’S 1969, OKAY?

No. It’s not. It’s not 1969 and it’s far from okay – and I have to confess that I am more than a little weary of all the anniversaries of everything that occurred forty years ago, back in the days of my youth, when the measures of hope and insanity, at least now and again, seemed to achieve a few moments of insane balance. Woodstock? The moon landing? The Manson murders? The last few weeks has been a parade of memories and things past. A couple of days ago I was informed that it was the fortieth anniversary of The Doors on Ed Sullivan. Poor Jim is dead and gone left me here to sing his song. Pretty little girl with the blue dress on, do you want to fill me in on how far we’ve come and what all that singing might have achieved? The bloody red sun still shines on LA. The engine still runs on glue and tar. The butterfly still screams, but the blue bus left long ago. Is you hair still burning? I cannot see for the smoke – and the miasma of ignorance and stupidity that rises from the modern slime-slurry of rotting, knee-deep, biomass-corruption. But what the hell? It’s Friday. Am I still able to run with the hunt?

Click here for Jim, long time passing. And click here for James Brown (by way of a bonus) doing “Please, Please, Please”, also on Ed Sullivan and in multiple capes.

The secret word is Gone (real gone)

THE FROZDICK FAMILY

When Rosamund (China) Frozdick smoked opium she could become extremely demonstrative. (And also hand tinted.)

SPACE OPERA

Stormtroopers stole my donuts.

(Pic supplied by Valerie.)

CLICK (You are a Person of Interest)

THE WOLVES OF CHERNOBYL

I have serious reservations about some of the ideas presented in this story, but I’m posting it because I find it totally fascinating and also extremely poignant…

“We walked out into a wasteland, grey and desolate. The buildings had deteriorated, windows had been smashed. Trees and weeds had grown over everything: it was a ghost town." It reads like a passage from a post-apocalyptic novel, such as Cormac McCarthy's The Road; in fact, it's how Tim Mousseau describes his first visit to Chernobyl. In 1999, this Professor of Biological Sciences from the University of South Carolina travelled to the site of the world's most horrific nuclear accident, alongside Professor Anders Møller, an ornithologist and evolutionary biologist from the Pierre and Marie Curie University in Paris. Their on-site research has sparked an intense controversy over the effects of radiation on humans and animals – one which they hope their latest trip into the fallout zone, which sets out in two weeks, will help to resolve.
In the wake of the accident, more than 300,000 people were evacuated and an 800 square mile exclusion zone created around the reactor. Yet recently it has been reported that the abandoned town of Pripyat has become a wildlife haven. There have been sightings of wolves, bears and moose wandering through the deserted streets, and swifts swoop round abandoned office blocks. The implication is that if wildlife can return so soon, nuclear radiation – and nuclear power – might be less dangerous than has been suggested. James Lovelock, the creator of the Gaia theory, has even written that the natural world "would welcome nuclear waste as the perfect guardian against greedy developers… the preference of wildlife for nuclear-waste sites suggests that the best sites for its disposal are the tropical forests and other habitats in need of a reliable guardian against their destruction by hungry farmers and developers". Click here for the rest.

OH YEAH?

I also have serious reservations about coincidence, especially when Microsoft are changing me fifty bucks to tell me about it in a customer service email…

“I understand from your e mail that Word 2000 is working fine without any problems after you did a system restore. You informed that the updates to MSN messenger have been removed. I would like to inform you that the MSN messenger would not affect the working of Word 2000 and the issue might have been a coincidence. You can try to install the updates for MSN messenger.”

OUR WHACKY AUNT AYN

It turns out that the old broad actually has her own comic.

(Click pic to enlarge)

EVERY DAY CAN'T BE WONDERFUL

I'm right now sitting here unable to write or access files after a goddamn MSN update crippled my Word programme. I await bloody Microsoft and hope tomorrow will be a better day. In the meantime here's a note on 13th century healthcare. Seemingly little changes.

"Then along comes the Black Death, mowing down the sinful and the sinless indiscriminately. ... You can be healthy on Monday, infected on Tuesday, and a corpse on Saturday, leaving precious little time to wipe the sin slate clean by confessing and repenting in preparation for your personal judgement day. The biggest hurdle of all might have been luring the priest, any priest, to one's deathbed of contagion in order to perform last rites, the final cleansing. If a cleric does show up, he might charge an outrageous price for mumbling a few prayers. Stories of deathbed fee-gougers also abound, adding to the popular perception that extravagance and greed motivate more often than not." -- Susan Squire, I Don't

BUT...

We do have additional information for ordering Zones of Chaos by regular mail. (See last post.)

Borderlands Books, 866 Valencia Street, San Francisco, CA 94110. Phone (415) 824-8203. Toll free (888) 893-4008. Fax (415) 824-8543.

WADDA YA KNOW? WE GOTTA A NEW BOOK!

The long awaited collection of my poetry and short prose is finally here. You’ll probably be hearing more about this in the days to come, but here’s the basic how-to-get-it information…

"Available now: ZONES OF CHAOS, a maelstrom of poetry, prose, essays, lyrics, commentary and fiction from the legendary Mick Farren, featuring an introduction by Michael Moorcock! The book is $14.95, with free shipping in the US (and reduced cost shipping to the UK at $4 per copy). Contact Borderlands Books, toll-free 888 893-4008, or via email at orders@borderlands-books.com . When you order, they'll just need to know the address you'd like the book sent to, the number of copies you'd like, and how you would like to pay for your order. For payment, you can call, fax, or email your Visa or Mastercard information (card number, expiration date and three-digit security code to orders@borderlands-books.com ), or you can send a check or money order made out to Borderlands Books to the address below. Don't miss this mind-blowing collection, which includes a previously unpublished Victor Renquist story. Order now and you'll receive your copy signed by the Dark Prince of Pop Fiction (that's Mick) himself. (For wholesale enquiries or other questions, email office@borderlands-books.com.)"

CLICK (Your soul is captured.)

WADDA YA KNOW? WE GOTTA A SHOW!

No, my friends, that was forty years ago. (Sweet Jesus H. Christ, 40!!!??) The day after tomorrow (Tuesday) I will be doing a live reading here in LA that will probably be slightly more sedate. As the flyer tells it….

“In conjunction with the street date of our third volume, Three, Penny-Ante will be hosting a night of readings and music at Stories Books & Cafe,
1716 W. Sunset Blvd (in Echo Park),
Tuesday September 15th, 7.30 PM (sharp).
Readers include Penny-Ante Three contributors MICK FARREN, LARRY FONDATION, DREW TEWKSBURY, and TOYLIT from the Crap-Poetry Movement. Readings will be begin promptly at 7:30pm, music to follow. This event is FREE to the public and will also feature a live music performance by noise artist SHARON CHESLOW accompanied by JULIA HOLTER, and TEARIST, the musical project of performance/artist and musician Yasmine Kittles and Will (Silver Daggers)."

There’s also mention of “refreshments & beverages courtesy of Penny-Ante.” So maybe it won’t be so sedate after all.

Jim Carroll – RIP

ASLEEP OR DEAD?

Our venerable homeboy Aeswiren crunches some grim numbers for us. He starts with a quote from Daily Kos…

“From 1979 to 1989, real median income grew $2,965, (from $45,498 to $48,463,) and from 1989 to 2000, it grew $4,037, (from $48,463 to $52,500). But for the first time on record, over the business cycle from 2000-2007, incomes didn't rise — they fell slightly from $52,500 to $52,163. And with the weak labor market over this period, the real median income of working-age households fell significantly, from $60,804 to $58,718. This means that working families are weathering the current economic recession without the cushion that a robust expansion prior to the recession would have afforded them. We find that the average income for the middle 20% of households will likely decline by $2,456 in 2009, and by an additional $601 in 2010, for a total decline of $4,813 from 2007 to 2010. This is a decline in income of 9.3% for the typical household over these three years. Given the decline in income over the weak business cycle from 2000 to 2007, this means that after reaching an all-time peak in 2000, by 2010 real incomes for the typical household will likely have declined by $5,729, or 10.8%.”

Then he speculates…

“Was the dot com boom the last gasp of American capitalism? Having hit the high tide mark, is it all going to ebb away now, slowly, but inevitably? Note that China's economy is rebounding rapidly from the recession, but in America spending was still down in August and over the year bankruptcies are up 24%. Is it possible that America is actually bust? That the potential for income growth has gone, except for the wall street gamblers and the very, very rich? That the world's greatest economy, built on petroleum and the fertile soil of the midwest, is succumbing to a failure of investment in non-petroleum sourced energy added to the globalised loss of manufacturing jobs. Globalization has been essential for the takeoff of China and India, and also for stability in Mexico (though that may be ending too), but globalization came at the cost of eviscerating the employment prospects of America's working class. Without good working class incomes can the Consumer Society prosper? Add in the first chilly touch of Peak Oil and rising energy costs and perhaps we really are witnessing the end of the American dream. Considering the political temper of a large stratum of Americans, this could be a very dangerous development for the rest of the world.”

Then, in subsequent emails, he also notes…

"Did you see that item about youth unemployment in US? Up to 40% now. Like a 3rd world country, yeah? And now even Time mag, this week, is saying "10% unemployment-- get used to it!" Of course 10% is a polite term for something more like 15-20%, when you factor in all the "discouraged" ex workers, guys who stay home and live off the wife or gf's pitiful waitress money and so on?”

The secret word is Hellbound

GRATUITOUS BARDOT

(It's Sunday, isn't it?)

AND DON’T FORGET THOSE KOOKIE NUKES…

OBAMA-NATION – COMING TO YOUR TOWN

Since September 12th has apparently been designated as Glenn Beck Paranoia Day, I thought I’d go with the general flow, although the real purpose of this post was to offer a link to the website of NARLO (National Association of Rural Landowners) which seems to be where Republican yahoo extremists play patty-cake with the dreamers of ultra-right revolution. Click here and learn what your right hand is doing. (Jerking off or reaching for your throat?)

OUR WACKY AUNT AYN

Aunt Ayn decides the hat was an error, but will never admit it.

(Shall we make this a series?)

SPACE OPERA

In tune with the slightly fascist tone of the day, here’s a reminder to all you aliens out there that you fuck with Earthmen at your peril. I had never previously seen the entire sequence of Mars Attacks cards, and I didn’t know that it ended with humans kicking Martian ass. (And not led by Tom Jones and – no – the Martians of the original bubblegum cards weren’t vulnerable to Slim Whitman.) Click here to peruse the complete Mars Attacks.

IT’S ALL IN THE MIND

I have definite reservations about the kind of simulated electronic telekinesis as described in this story contributed by MrMR. I’m highly distrustful of allowing any third party – human or machine – access to my synaptic activity. What I think hardly matters, however, since these toys will be on sale in time for Christmas, and, to be totally honest, I can’t wait to play with one.

“Brain-control interface technology is in the midst of a big coming-out party this year as it reaches the mass market for the first time in the form of a handful of games and toys.
The ability to trigger physical actions with your mind - can now be had for a couple hundred bucks. San Jose's NeuroSky is leading the charge with a half-dozen products, while rival Emotiv of San Francisco plans to start selling a mind-control headset in time for the holidays. The basic technology, which has been around for decades, involves reading a wide spectrum of brain waves and isolating patterns to understand moods and psychological states. From there, applications can be written to help understand the brain-wave profile and turn certain mental functions like heightened attention or meditation into catalysts for real-world actions. Brain-control interface has far-reaching applications beyond entertainment, potentially transforming the way we train our attention-deprived minds to how we communicate with machines and broadcast our feelings to other people.”
(Click here for the rest)

The secret word is Neuron

FRIDAY FUNNIES #1

In the ancient days, when my Panic In Year Zero column ran in the old LA Reader, Tom Tomorrow was always a few pages away. Now I only see him when I stumble across him on the web. (Click here for more Tom)

FRIDAY FUNNIES #2

CLICK (We own your image.)

SOMETHING ELSE TO WORRY ABOUT

Every day, this fine service called Delancey Place sends me a random piece of information. Today’s is reproduced here, since, when I read it, it gave me a moment of serious pause, but then I got to thinking, what’s 30 thousands years one way of another?

"In the 1960s, while studying the volcanic history of Yellowstone National Park, Bob Christiansen of the United States Geological Survey became puzzled about something: ... he couldn't find the park's volcano. By coincidence just at this time NASA decided to test some new high-altitude cameras by taking photographs of Yellowstone, copies of which some thoughtful official passed on to the park authorities on the assumption that they might make a nice blow-up for one of the visitors' centers. As soon as Christiansen saw the photos he realized why he had failed to spot the [volcano]: virtually the whole park - 2.2 million acres - was [a volcano]. The explosion had left a crater more than forty miles across - much too huge to be perceived from anywhere at ground level. At some time in the past Yellowstone must have blown up with a violence far beyond the scale of anything known to humans. Yellowstone, it turns out, is a supervolcano. It sits on top of an enormous hot spot, a reservoir of molten rock that rises from at least 125 miles down in the Earth. The heat from the hot spot is what powers all of Yellowstone's vents, geysers, hot springs, and popping mud pots. ... Imagine a pile of TNT about the size of Rhode Island and reaching eight miles into the sky, to about the height of the highest cirrus clouds, and you have some idea of what visitors to Yellowstone are shuffling around on top of. Since its first known eruption 16.5 million years ago, [the Yellowstone volcano] has blown up about a hundred times, but the most recent three eruptions are the ones that get written about. The last eruption was a thousand times greater than that of Mount St. Helens; the one before that was 280 times bigger, and the one before was ... at least twenty-five hundred times greater than St. Helens. "The Yellowstone eruption of two million years ago put out enough ash to bury New York State to a depth of sixty-seven feet or California to a depth of twenty. ... All of this was hypothetically interesting until 1973, when ... geologists did a survey and discovered that a large area of the park had developed an ominous bulge. ... The geologists realized that only one thing could cause this - a restless magma chamber. Yellowstone wasn't the site of an ancient supervolcano; it was the site of an active one. It was also at about this time that they were able to work out that the cycle of Yellowstone's eruptions averaged one massive blow every 600,000 years. The last one, interestingly enough, was 630,000 years ago. Yellowstone, it appears, is due." From A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson

Click here for more on Delancey Place.

The secret word is Finished

SPACE OPERA

“What happens to levitation, one of the great imaginative figures of art and literature, in the transition from a religious culture to the disenchanted universe of modern science? What becomes of ecstasy, rapture, ascension, transcendence, grace wh­e­n these give way to “space oddity”: man enclosed in a tin can floating far above the world? Is the cosmonaut a prophet of the erotic future, avatar of man’­s stellar renaissance, as Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke once imagined? Or is he like Nietzsche’s madman, proclaiming as Gagarin himself was rumored to have said: “I don’t see any God up here”?

This a comes from the excellent Dangerous Minds, of which our pal Richard Metzger is a regular contributor. Click here to check it out.

THE FROZDICK FAMILY

Pangaea Frozdick had a tendency to leave bodies on the sidewalk.

WHO NEEDS THE EGG?

I am always pleased when scientific theory sneaks up from behind and confirms what science fiction has been taking for granted for years. I’m even more pleased when the science fiction is my own and the theory is of the kind outlined in this article from a recent New Scientist. (And kindly sent by Valerie.) I have played around with the idea of multiple universes for decades – in psychedelic mode (The DNA Cowboys and Necrom), in theological mode (Jim Morrison’s Adventures In The Afterlife), and in demented short-form (The Adventures Of Marilyn). Now it all proves to be not only highly rational but also on the cutting edge where math meets physics, I find myself unduly and irrationally smug.

“Nothing in the most fundamental laws of physics says that time should only move in one direction. Yet many events are irreversible – shattered eggs do not spontaneously reassemble and ice cubes do not form from pools of tepid water. A new study suggests this arrow of time is the result of quantum mechanical amnesia that erases any trace of such events.
Our sense of time is captured by the second law of thermodynamics, which says that any closed system - from particles in an isolated box to the entire universe - can only become more disordered. The measure of this disorder, known as entropy, can only increase.
In the world of large-scale objects, increasing entropy is associated with the flow of heat, which always goes from a hot object to a colder one. Change in entropy can also be described as a flow of information: the higher the entropy of a system, the less information it contains.” (Click here for more.)

There was also a link in the body of the story to a 2007 piece on parallel universes, but that was an archive article and there’s a fee.

“If you think of yourself as unique, think again. The days when physicists could ignore the concept of parallel universes may have come to an end. If that doesn't send a shudder down your spine, think of it this way: our world is just one of many. You are just one version of many. David Deutsch at the University of Oxford and colleagues have shown that key equations of quantum mechanics arise from the mathematics of parallel universes. "This work will go down as one of the most important developments in the history of science," says Andy Albrecht, a physicist at the University of California at Davis. In one parallel universe, at least, it will - whether it does in our one remains to be seen.”

The secret word is String

THE ADVENTURES OF MARILYN (Supplemental)

In which Marilyn comments to the mirror on the wall. “I frankly don’t understand a word of this. All I know is that it happens. And it happens to me. All the time. So much so that many versions of me went into hiding.”

Click here for The Adventures Of Marilyn

DOC'S PAPERBACK CLASSIC'S # 64

"Sometimes there's just no other alternative."

I GOTTA SIT DOWN FOR A MINUTE

I don’t know how anyone else felt, but I found this last week in Los Angeles verging on brutal. By Thursday I was flagging, and when the Labor Day weekend rolled around, I was more than ready to simply turn off the computer for 48 hours, go into hiding, and remain prone. Still feeling a little queasy, I have sat up and managed to reestablish communications, and will doubtless be back fighting the plutocrats by tomorrow, but, in the meantime, I must catch my breath.

The secret word is Fatigue

THIS BLOG IS STILL PROTECTED BY...

KILLED STONE DEAD

I don’t really know how I feel about this BBC news story sent by Valerie. Brian always seemed to have kind of a death wish, and maybe he should just be left to rest in peace. On the other hand the power of prurience is hard to resist …

“The death of former Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones is to be reviewed following new evidence, it has been revealed. Police in Sussex were handed new information connected to the musician's untimely death 40 years ago. Mr Jones, was found dead at the bottom of a swimming pool at a house in Cotchford farm, Hartfield, East Sussex. An inquest recorded a verdict of death by misadventure but speculation continued that he was murdered. A spokesman for Sussex Police said the force had been handed documents connected with Jones's death, prompting the review. But he added it was too early to launch a fresh investigation. He added: "These papers will be examined by Sussex Police, but it is too early to comment at this time as to what the outcome will be."

The cops do not say if this is another go-round of building contractor Frank Thorogood’s 1993 deathbed confession to Brian’s minder Tom Keylock, (also a key figure at Phun City) that was the basis of Terry Rawlings book Who Killed Christopher Robin? and the movie Stoned. Thorogood is reported to have told Keylock “It was me that did Brian. I just finally snapped.”

A somewhat ugly comment in the online edition of Rolling Stone, however, takes a far more sinister tack...

“This is news to me. i feel as if I’ve stepped into a 1969 time warp. Really, did you say! Murdered, did you say!I’ve believed Keith opted for a murder for hire. I’ve read other stories that Richards had people he didn’t like killed.”

WHILE ON THE SUBJECT OF DEATHBED CONFESSIONS, THOUGH…

...I would find a supreme satisfaction and consummate theory closure if the shooter on the Grassy Knoll decided to confess all at the moment of his or her death.

The secret word is Triangulation

THE FROZDICK FAMILY

Euripides and Downie Frozdick had taken fetish to what some considered an absurd extreme.

UNSUSTAINABLE

(Click the pic to see a larger version.)

It’s very easy for the mind to boggle right now. I turn on the TV and find that the LA fires are moving in on Pasadena and Glendale, and a fine layer of ash covers parked cars, plus a hurricane is coming up the Baja where hurricanes aren’t supposed to be. I switch channels and some zombie-Republican asshole in her Sarah Palin glasses is warning me that the environmentalists have to be stopped before they destroy the country. An email comes from my friend Diva warning me that if Mt Wilson burns, large areas won’t have broadcast TV at all. Another news story is that the appliance corp Whirlpool is shipping a shitload of jobs to Mexico.
Hold it!
I’m in overload.
The evidence is the stench of burning in the air. Capitalism is simply not sustainable. It’s no longer a matter of manufacture, sell, and consume. It’s became an arithmetic abstraction. It’s a numerical narcissism the drives corporate executives to strive for annual bonuses worth more than they could spend in a couple of lifetimes.
Chris Hedges – of whom I’m becoming quite a fan – has a rant on this theme on Truthdig

“Globalization and unfettered capitalism have been swept into the history books along with the open-market theory of the 1920s, the experiments of fascism, communism and the New Deal. It is time for a new economic and political paradigm. It is time for a new language to address our reality.” Click here for the rest.

It has long been my contention that the only real counter to corporate globalism is by international alliances of workers, artists, and activists. We all breath the same air, drink the same water, are warmed and cooled by the same planetary thermo-dynamics, and are poisoned by the same pesticides and growth hormones. Confirmation of how important this is comes from Mother and Doctor, our pals in Bangalore, India. See the item below for what they are doing.

The secret word is United

VOICES OF THE WATERS

This arrived this morning…

Chairman Mick -- It's been a busy, busy time in Bangalore and we've been tossed around trying to get together an environmental film festival in the backdrop of the goddamn recession. Fuck the corporates, fuck 'em where it hurts the most. In the end it was the city and its good people who came together from the brink of oblivion we return full-fledged, groovy and green. Chairman Mick we seek your blessings for the festival. --
Mother & Doctor

I'm really not too accustomed to giving blessings, but here they are along with all the dope on the festival.

"Bangalore Film Society in association with Alliance Francaise de Bangalore, Svaraj, Finger Lakes Environmental Film Festival, Ithaca College, USA (FLEFF), Charter of Human Responsibilities, Karnataka Chalanachitra Academy, Suchitra Film Society, Federation of film societies of India (Southern Region) and YWCA is proud to present the fourth edition of Bangalore’s biggest environmental Film Festival and the biggest water film festival in the world- Voices from the Waters 2009: 4th International Water Film Festival from the 4th to the 6th September 2009.

"From neighborhood ponds to the holy rivers to the oceans- the images of the acclaimed, feted and riveting films from across the globe will take you on a journey through time, place, memories and civilizations in an attempt to rediscover and celebrate water as the source and origin of our lives. We welcome you to add color and noise to the texture of the festival. Without you it’ll just be another screening of films but it is only with you that it will be what it was always intended to be- ‘a festival’"

Click here for more information

SPACE OPERA

THE VAMPIRE COMPLAINT

“The old neighborhood sure has changed.”

I am very behind with my mail and there are a lot of good friends I should have emailed and haven’t. Much of this neglected mail has been about The Renquist Quartet, my foray into gothic vampire fiction, and how I felt about such a set of highly cinematographic books not being a movie or TV series in this time of so much vampire action in mainstream entertainment.
A couple of weeks ago HCB wrote “I was wondering how you might get your Vamp books revisited in this feeding frenzy.” Around the same time, our pal Peromyscus went even further. “How come you, a man who writes about vampires, is without a book contract in 2009, the year of the vampire? At panels at the Worldcon in 2007, the editors said that vampire-mania had peaked. It appears not. These fads are weird, though. When I was a kid it was all westerns and World War II. Being a kid, I thought that all films and novels had always been westerns and World War II. Now kids must be growing up thinking there are only two kinds of books - ones about young wizards and ones about vampires.”
The answer has to be, of course, that I am not at all overjoyed by the situation, but I’ve been doing this kind of thing long enough to be well aware that sitting around, resentfully fretting about how one isn’t rich and famous after all these years is a short road to madness. The current vampire genre covers a multitude of nosferatu stylings, but far too many are either romance novels with fangs or teen fodder that owes everything to Buffy The Vampire Slayer. This appears to be what sells, and needless to say, I went for something completely different.
In fact, I hurled myself into the four Renquist novels with an inhuman glee, loving the central character and making them a vehicle for exploring a fun spectrum of 20th century folklore that included voodoo houngans, Lovecraftian ancients, Paleolithic alien colonists, Lizard men, Nazi flying saucers, the intelligence community, the hollow Earth, drunken Scotsmen, Marlon Brando, a whole new take on Merlin, and all from the vampires point of view. A pinch of sado-masochism, a new, well researched location for each book, and I figured if folks enjoyed reading the stuff as much as I enjoyed writing it, I had me a winner – even a franchise. I even broke the demarcation between science and magic, espousing the doctrine that magic was only science we had yet to understand. Unfortunately, in so doing, I also broke the arbitrary, publishing house distinction between fantasy and science fiction and this may have been an error.
Maybe I read too much Burroughs and Dick in my formative years, but the publishers started to mutter about how the Renquist books lacked needed teen appeal. I, of course, ignored them. (Teen appeal? Get the fuck outta here.) I preferred to believe the whining was corporate ass-covering of the total lack of promotion and the unholy clusterfuck that had given the books such disastrously lame covers. When I mention the complaint in passing, however, our buddy Faux Smoke responded. “I still think that was some of the stupidest shit I've heard since Bush was still giving speeches... I can hardly believe somebody had the gall to said some bullshit like that to you, if you hadn't wrote it I wouldn't have even entertained the notion.”
I totally agree with him, but it doesn’t change the fact that Johnny Depp isn’t playing Victor in some movie opening Christmas 2009. The Renquist material has been optioned more than once for the screen, but nobody had the juice to get a green-light. (And don’t even mention the studio execs and directors who think it cute to refuse to actually read books.) On the bright side, I have at least been spared the fate of poor old Alan Moore who had to see his brilliant The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen carved to drek in Hollywood. And who knows, maybe I’ll end up the like the revered Philip K. and become rich and famous in the movies a couple of decades after I’m dead.
I hope this does something to clarify matters. (I think I’m allowed to piss and moan every now and then.)

Someone – not me – has created a Wikipedia page for Victor Renquist (Click here)

The secret word is Phlegmatic

THE LAST WORD BELONGS TO HARVEY KURTZMAN

DRY SEASON

Sunday afternoon and LA is doing August – 100F+ and fires in the suburbs. I can only fight it with poetry. This poem is not new. I wrote it in 1997 on a day much like this. It was orchestrated by Andy Colquhoun and released as part of the Deviants’ CD, Dr Crow. It will also appear in my up coming collection of poetry and short writing titled Zone Of Chaos, but more about that in approximately two weeks.

A LONG DRY SEASON

It was a long dry season and we prayed to make it to the rains
By the third week, normal sleep had all but become impossible
And, by the fourth, the river was no more than
A sluggish trickle between baking flats of moonscape mud
Dry coughing in dust storms raised by exhausted, brick oven winds
And as the TV gave up the pretense that anything was any more right in the world
Locust cowboys and coyote warriors moved in from the hills
Desperate for a drink
Looking to slake throats of parched and cracked, tooled and studded leather
With the unholy rotgut mescal of the worm
It was a long dry season and we prayed to make it to the rains

Domestic dogs organized in packs
Feeling no longer beholden to their former masters
While green death and pallid yellow aurora arced at night
Over lovers locked and loaded
With the madness of disease taken in substitute for passion
And that would ultimately end in gunfire heard for miles
As sound that carried to infinity in the alkaline air
Across the flatlands and desiccated towns
Like Gene Autry singing someplace out beyond the Gates of Eden
It was a long dry season and we prayed to make it to the rains

High wynding howling of evaporated destiny and melted insulation
Under stars without mercy or even interest
While white foam fungoid puffballs drifted from a perpetually cloudless sky
Like snowballs from hell in the red desert Martian heated quiet
Fragmenting as they struck the hard parched earth
Powering to a diaphanous dust that crept and clung
To the electromagnetic static of relentless commercial appliances
Now wholly unwatched by women with blank purple eyes
And yucca flowers in their hair
Who murmured in dreams of reflecting pools and crystal fountains
And men who searched for the impossibility
Of a cool place on the pillow
To the constant drone of a mosquito fan
Only to find themselves thirst transfixed by the Doombeam
In the hands of an apparition of Captain America
It was a long dry season and we prayed to make it to the rains

ALL AROUND MY BRAIN

Yes neighbours, capitalist absurdity knows no bounds. The energy drink audiciously called “Cocaine” was pulled from U.S. shelves two years ago as a result of the FDA's decision that "Cocaine" was "was illegally marketing the drink as both a street drug alternative and a dietary supplement". Since 2007, Cocaine has been on and off sale, a popular campus joke artifact, and now something silmilar is being distributed in the UK. According to the London tabloid The Sun…

“AN energy drink called "Simply Cocaine" was blasted by anti-drug campaigners yesterday. The drink, with a cartoon character called "Charlie" on the bottle, has double the caffeine content of Red Bull. Excess caffeine drinks can trigger heart problems. But Martin Barnes, of the charity DrugScope, is angry over the name. He said: "This is an intentionally provocative and cynical marketing stunt. Making light of an illegal drug that causes harm isn't smart." A company spokesman said: "Our product is 100 per cent legal, which is more than can be said for some of our MPs."

The secret words are The Real Thing

Your soul is now captured.

SPACE OPERA

The last word on Dejah Thoris before we shelve the subject because somehow an arid Martian, two-moon landscape seems to fit with the mood and the climate.

PLANET PLUNGES TO FIERY DOOM

Our pal Diva sent us this weekend report from halfway across the galaxy.

“WASHINGTON - Astronomers have found what appears to be a gigantic suicidal planet. The odd, fiery planet is so close to its star and so large that it is triggering tremendous plasma tides on the star. Those powerful tides are in turn warping the planet's zippy less-than-a-day orbit around its star. The result: an ever-closer tango of death, with the planet eventually spiraling into the star. It's a slow death. The planet WASP-18b has maybe a million years to live, said planet discoverer Coel Hellier, a professor of astrophysics at the Keele University in England. Hellier's report on the suicidal planet is in Thursday's issue of the journal Nature. "It's causing its own destruction by creating these tides," Hellier said. The star is called WASP-18 and the planet is WASP-18b because of the Wide Angle Search for Planets team that found them. The planet circles a star that is in the constellation Phoenix and is about 325 light-years away from Earth, which means it is in our galactic neighborhood.” (Click here for more.)

The secret word is Epic

SIGN -- USA

SIGN -- CHINA

(Thanks to UK Steve)

DOC'S PAPERBACK CLASSIC'S # 63

And, of course, we have the very correct theme music. Click here.

I AM AN AXOLOTL. PLEASE SAVE ME.

Valerie brings the plight of the axolotl to our much needed attention…

“The amphibian that never grew up is on the verge of going extinct in the wild.
New survey work suggests that fewer than 1,200 Mexican axolotls remain in its last stronghold, the Xochimilco area of central Mexico.
The axolotl is a type of salamander that uniquely spends its whole life in its larval form.
Its odd lifestyle, features and ability to regenerate body parts make it a popular animal kept in labs, schools and as pets.
But in the wild, the future is bleak for this "Peter Pan" of animals.
Recent surveys suggest that between 700 and 1,200 axolotls ( Ambystoma mexicanum ) survive in six reduced and scattered areas within the Xochimilco area of the Mexican Central Valley.
One of these surveys found just a single axolotl in the whole study region.
The long-term survival of the axolotl in the wild has now become critical, and demands urgent action to restore the animal's number and habitat, say scientists monitoring the population.” (Click for the whole story.)

AVOID THIS WOMAN LIKE THE PLAGUE

Obviously we post this warning as a public service and not as just a lame excuse to run yet another bikini pic. (But it did originate from the ever-lascivious HCB, so the bikini pick is kinda mandatory.) I once fell into one of these celeb traps while looking a picture of Lindsay Lohan – I forget why – and found myself swamped by a half million pop-ups for Golden Palace dot com. (I had a similar experience with My Space which is why I now refuse to go near it except as an observer.)

“NEW YORK – Jessica Biel is the most dangerous celebrity on the Web.
Security technology company McAfee Inc. on Tuesday reported that searches for the 27-year-old actress are more likely to lead to online threats such as spyware and viruses than searches for any other celebrity.
McAfee said fans searching for the actress have a one-in-five chance of ending up at a Web site designed to damage one's computer. Its the third annual report on the subject from McAfee, which last year found that Brad Pitt was the "most dangerous" celeb online.
"Cybercriminals are star watchers, too," said Jeff Green, senior vice president of McAfee's product development. "They latch onto popular celebrities to encourage the download of malicious software in disguise."
Following Biel in the report, in order, were Beyonce, Jennifer Aniston, Tom Brady and Jessica Simpson. McAfee noted President Barack Obama and first lady Michelle Obama are curiously safe searches, ranking no. 34 and no. 39, respectively.”

The secret word is Bait

THE FROZDICK FAMILY

Antipathy Frozdick had, with great and determined effort, turned holding a grudge into both a fine art and an exact science.

REALLY? TRACI LORDS? AS DEJAH THORIS?

What seems to be turning into a Space Opera special began with HCB sending me this snippet by Ken Hulsey.

“Infamous actress Traci Lords, yes the same Traci Lords who did the nasty as an underage porn star and tried her hand at being a trance DJ, has been cast in the upcoming film from The Asylum called "Princess of Mars." I can smell a lawsuit a brewing, because just last month it was announced that Andrew Stanton was directing "Princess of Mars" for Disney. That film is set to star Taylor Kitsch, Willem Dafoe and Lynn Collins as the princess. Both films are based on the Edgar Rice Burroughs's novel by the same name. In fact Burrough's penned several novels about John Carter, a wounded Civil War veteran, who mysteriously finds himself transported to Mars where he encounters savage Martians, strange creatures, a slew of sexy maidens. From what I can gather, the Disney version will stay true to the original story, and the version produced by The Asylum will be a modern redo. I think that it would be safe to assume that Disney would take a more 'family-friendly' approach to the story, while The Asylum would take a more 'colorful' path with Traci Lords. I honestly can't see two films called "Princess of Mars" coming out without there being legal trouble, so guess what? My money is on The Asylum changing the name of their film in the near future to save themselves the hassle.”

And I didn’t like the sound of this at all. Not one little bit. I still don’t. Movie gossip and lawsuits be damned. I am extremely protective of the Edgar Rice Burroughs's Mars novels – what’s know as the Barsoom series. You can do what you like with Tarzan or Pellucidar, but hands off Barsoom. ERB wrote Princess of Mars – the first of an eleven book series - in 1911, and, decades later, it was one of the first pieces of fiction that I ever read – in the immediate wake of Dan Dare and Biggles, and well before Mickey Spillane. Set on the kind of dying desert Mars, beloved by any dreaming schoolboy, the one imagined by astronomer-crazy Percival Lowell, with the last of its dwindling water flowing from the exhaused polar icecap along the network of ancient canals, while sword weilding aliens conducted tribal warfare. Wikipedia described the plot thusly. (When contemplating ERB, one tends to use words like thusly)…

“John Carter, a Confederate American Civil War veteran, goes prospecting in Arizona and, when set upon by Indians, is mysteriously transported to Mars, called "Barsoom" by its inhabitants. Carter finds that he has great strength on this planet, due to its lesser gravity. Carter soon falls in among the Tharks, a nomadic tribe of the planet's warlike, four-armed, green inhabitants. Thanks to his strength and combat abilities he rises in position in the tribe and earns the respect and eventually the friendship of Tars Tarkas, one of the Thark chiefs. The Tharks subsequently capture Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, a member of the humanoid red Martian race. The red Martians inhabit a loose network of city states and control the desert planet's canals, along which its agriculture is concentrated. Carter rescues her from the green men to return her to her people…etc, etc”
(Click here for the whole deal.)

The secret word is Jeddak

DEJAH VIEW

Another attraction for the grubby schoolboy was that Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, didn’t wear any clothes. ECB’s first describes her (again) thusly…

“And the sight which met my eyes was that of a slender, girlish figure, similar in every detail to the earthly women of my past life....Her face was oval and beautiful in the extreme, her every feature was finely chiseled and exquisite, her eyes large and lustrous and her head surmounted by a mass of coal black, waving hair, caught loosely into a strange yet becoming coiffure. Her skin was of a light reddish copper color, against which the crimson glow of her cheeks and the ruby of her beautifully molded lips shone with a strangely enhancing effect. She was as destitute of clothes as the green Martians who accompanied her; indeed, save for her highly wrought ornaments she was entirely naked, nor could any apparel have enhanced the beauty of her perfect and symmetrical figure.”