++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Gonzo Marketing: Winning through Worst Practices
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0738204080/entropygradientr
http://www.gonzomarkets.com

http://www.rageboy.com/blogger.html
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Valued Readers (Part The First):

I got mail today from The One True b!X <http://www.theonetruebix.com/>
in which he asked:

>Do you have -any- idea where it was that you wrote "voice is what
>happens when you shitcan the coverup"?
>
>I can't seem to find it, and it's driving me batty.

After much searching, I did find it. It was in an EGR I sent out in
July '99. I just read it again, and whacked as it is, referring to so
many things that no longer exist, I thought it stood up to my own
loose standards of retroactive excellence. So I'm sending it again. I
figure that many of you weren't around back then, and the rest of you
will have forgotten. Such are the benefits of ADD.

I'm also sending it again because I recently shitcanned a pernicious
and longstanding coverup of my own. Perhaps I'll say more about that
later. But probably not.

btw: thanks for all the wonderful mail you've been sending, almost
none of which I've had the heart to answer (See coverup, above). But I
do read it all. As if that does you any good.

btw2: the piece I'm recycling here was *not* part of the <cough-cough>
*wonderful* compendium of EGR back issues you can order ever so easily
here, you fuckers!

The Bombast Transcripts: Rants and Screeds of Rageboy
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0738206334/entropygradientr

Oh now see? I went to look up the fucking URL and found two reviews
I'd never seen before! Which I will now have to replicate here, since
I know you're too lazy to click...

[5 stars] A symphony of words, January 22, 2002
Reviewer: A reader from San Francisco, CA USA

Chris has an incredible way with words, weaving them into material
that alternately sooths and savages. You read a passage that you
find just doesn't leave you. You have go back and read and re-read
it again. As you do, an incredible depth and richness unfolds
before you. A symphony of words.

At the first read, you hear the violin, softly playing in the
background. At the second reading, a trumpet cuts in, with high,
harsh notes. Continued reading of the same passage exposes the deep
and penetrating rhythm of the drum, the gentle melody of the piano,
and finally the flute - playful and teasing.

Chris is funny. Sad. Tense. Shrewd. Warm. Antagonistic. Profane.
Profound. Friendly. Devilish. Funny. Irreverent. And so's the book.

Note, though: This book is not for the faint of heart, and those
who are looking for a simple, easy, moderate, and mundane read. It
is for those who want to grab life by the neck and shake it for all
its worth.

---

[5 stars] Your duty as citizens... January 22, 2002
Reviewer: Stephen Daedalus from Toronto, Canada

Chris Locke gets me moist.

Something about this man's extraordinarily vivid prose, salty
vernacular and plangent intelligence just does it for me.

I'm freaking oozing here, just reading this thing. It's getting
embarrassing.

The Bombast Transcripts will rip your head off and wee Veuve
Clicquot down your neck.

It is your duty as a citizen of the world to buy this book right
now - pay as much as you can for it and then forward all of your
remaining money to Chris Locke immediately. The future health,
freedom and sanity of the human race depends entirely on our
ability to make Chris the richest human on the face of the planet,
so he can buy up Microsoft, GE, Ford, Berkshire Hathaway - all of
them - and bitchslap some sense into them before it's too late.

You know it makes sense.

It does. Yes. So buy the goddam book, OK? And now on to that old issue
that was initially going to be all of this send, but is now merely an
addendum...



I do believe it's working. Good.
That'll keep you going for the show.
Come on it's time to go...

Comfortably Numb
Pink Floyd


Valued Readers:

It's too damn hot. Too hot to think or work. Too hot to write.

This has gone too far. I was going to blame it all on RageBoy again,
but then in a blinding moment of self-revelation, I realized that I
*am* RageBoy! Oh my God. It's like that moment in Rosemary's Baby when
Tina Turner goes like "This is REAL!" Wait a second... was it Tina
Turner? Or like that time I came out of a total blackout and I was
singing this blues tune I must have been making up as I went along. It
sounded pretty good, actually, but I couldn't remember how I got
there, and then I forgot what I was doing.

You wouldn't believe the number of nominations that have been rolling
in for that Press Access Awards scam. So many are just so fine, but
possibly my favorite came from Alex Sten Poulsen [alex@...]:

"Since the passing of Jonathan Swift and Francois Rabelais, no one
else has made it as much fun to think about our newly
interconnected relations. My ThinkPad melts under the heat of his
brilliance." -Sent this day of His Rage July 24, 1999.

This cheered me up so much I can't tell you -- I think because I
really do want to be perceived as a towering literary-type individual.
It's about displacement or something. It's because I never could get
through Silas Marner in high school; who wanted to know about this
guy? Or Miss Havisham and that boring little wanker, Pip? Or because,
whether it was the best of times or the worst of times -- I can never
remember -- I still don't know shit about the French Revolution,
except that it very likely took place somewhere in France. Sometimes
simple logic will get you through times of rank ignorance better than
simple ignorance will get you through times of rank logic. Yes, I
learned a lot from The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers.

But before I forget (did I say how hot it was? -- Bruce Sterling
thinks it's because the world is coming to an end and you should
therefore rush out and get a degree in industrial design. did I read
that correctly?), I need to credit Paul Smith of Smith Renaud for the
PressAccessHack. Thanks Paul, nice work! Here's his sig. Go see.

________________________________________________________
S m i t h R e n a u d , I n c. http://www.sri.net

875 Avenue of the Americas, Ste 2510, New York NY 10001
phone: (212) 239-8985 fax: (212) 239-1128

LinkBank: http://www.LinkBank.net
Novarta: http://www.novarta.com
Microsites: http://www.microsites.com
Perl Mongers: http://www.pm.org

---

So many of you have written. So many different voices, so many styles
and histories. So many senses of humor -- even though, God knows, it
can't be easy.

There is something important I want to say here but I know it's going
to come out all wrong because it's so hot and life is so short and the
best way to say things always occurs to you when you're sleeping or
off in the woods somewhere, not that I ever go there anymore these
days as you never know what you'll run into. But as I'm not really
*writing* anything here in any official way for the archives or
posterity or anything: you're all just so fucking beautiful you blow
me away.

---

Big Mike, for instance -- "Public Relations Engineer" at Autonomous
Footsoldiers -- wrote:

He bucks, questions, and risks like none I've ever seen, and his
notoriety is independent of just about everything.

I don't know Mike from Adam. I went to his site. Oh man, this is
some brilliant shit. Long, but you won't regret it. Probably.

The Post-modern Autonomous Footsoldier: an Historical Perspective
http://www.mindspring.com/~bigmike/words/HistPerspec.html

And (can I say this, Esther?), Esther Dyson wrote inquiring whether
EGR had an opening for an Executive Vice Chairman. (As it happens,
we do.)

The boundaries are crumbling. We are so many, so different. Yet so
much the same. I told you I would say it badly. But something's
shaking that's just not making news in The Industry Standard.
Something big.

---

Here's another ballot from "Ben Dover" [anybody@...]:

Do you people get it yet? Your industry is being challenged by a
new type of medium. The masses are outstripping you. Everyone can
become a publisher. We can speak to each other now. Many of us can
speak in a louder voice than you can. We will analyze, trivialize
and challenge everything you say. We will do so as a team as it
suits us. You should start saying things we care about and believe
or go away. We've already left.

Probably because it's so hot. Can we talk air conditioning?

A regular EGR correspondent <bix@...> complains: "I'm so
disappointed. I have gotten no telephone call inquiring about my
RageBoy nomination! Perhaps they discarded my submission, seeing as
how it was from President b!X, Guerrilla Techno-fetishist at GEEK
Force." Meanwhile, Bull simply says: "i vote we give me a vintage
Bathtub Porsche... fuckin A man, i feel the power now!" And the
ever-levelheaded Elizabeth J. Camero writes: "Oh, RageBoy, I'm so
glad you're doing drugs again!"

I'm not of course -- unless you count bonded Aribicas and cheap
carcinogens.

---

A very savvy head at Ogilvy Public Relations, after cc'ing me on her
nomination, speculated as to whether Press Access really was a client
and wondered if this whole "war" were not in fact a publicity stunt.
The answer is no, that's not the case -- but it's not that bad an
idea. They should be paying me, but they're not. And they *really*
should pay me for what follows -- which is: look at their product.

http://www.pressaccess.com

...or their competition's:

http://www.mediamap.com

These are databases of media contacts and press calendars. Expensive
but worth it. Here's an idea: band together into *real* "PR" groups
and buy one; share the cost. Then use it to talk to the people the
companies are talking to. Or even better, band together and create
your own. That's all I ever did. No one gave me permission. You don't
need it.

All you need's a story. Voice is a miracle. Voice is what happens when
you shitcan the cover-up. Deep-six the conspiracy of silence. There'll
be plenty of time for that later.

All you need is to expose yourself. How does it feel to be free?

The boundaries are melting. "I'm *melt-ing*!!!" said the Wicked Witch.
Yeah, bitch, die! The distinctions between corporations and the
public, between media and mediated, news makers and news breakers, all
are getting rather thin. Inside and outside are becoming radically
ambiguous. It's very confusing. It's very exciting. It is the best of
times...

But mostly it's just too goddam hot!

And if I edit this thing any more, I'm gonna wear the bits out. It
still doesn't quite add up, I know. But hey, that's life.

Thanks for your wonderful support in the latest raid on reality. And
for too many laughs to count. Whoever you are, whatever you do, rock
on.

The Management

PS: Damn! I wish I could write like that guitar break. Heart like a
motherfucking wheel on fire. I saw that once when I was braking on the
Penn Central. A brake gets locked down somehow but the train is going
so fast the wheel just jams, heats up until it incandesces, hot metal
screaming steel on steel, sparks flying everywhere. After midnight up
on the northern border 12 below zero the stars so sharp, this is an
impressive sight when you're 18 crazy and your lover's just left you.
Eventually it explodes. But it can take awhile. When she blows, it
sounds oh someday baby just like kingdom come.


"There is no pain, you are receding..."

Pink Floyd


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