Lone Nutter News September 2003
- Please send as far and wide as possible.
Editor, The Konformist
Lone Nutter News
In This Issue
Celebrity DNA Psychic in MAX Magazine
My Catholic Priest Molested Your Honor Student
Puna Hedonia: A Hawaiian Retreat
Magic Mushrooms and Other Highs:
From Toad Slime to Ecstasy
Edited by Paul Krassner
by Jaye Beldo
Dark Night, Early Dawn
by Christopher Bache
by Jaye Beldo
Swindle Gimmick Part I:
Musicians Who Wear Make Up
Well, I have already broken the vow I made last month not to
review any more books. Paul Krassner had the crass gumption to
contact me after reading the August issue of LNN and ask if I would
partake of his hallucinogenic anthology. How could I refuse? It has
been a great honor to review his self published book considering Mr.
K's underground seniority. People Magazine called him the 'Father
of the Underground Press' and rightly so. He was putting out The
Realist before I was born and has been keeping the true 60's sense
of radicality alive ever since.
Well never again, because I'm a Promise Keeper and have to stick to
my vow. Right? I'll admit that I have much 'service to others' Virgo
in my natal astrology chart so feel free to try and take advantage of
my karma yoga tendencies. But your book better be damned good and
world transformative to boot!
Anyway, feel free to enjoy this issue of LNN. Once again ,I really
appreciate all the feedback and support that I get for churning this
little thing out. If you have anything you want plugola-ed just send
it my way and I'll see what I can do.
Celebrity DNA Psychic in MAX
Bayless Oswald Secord, the celebrity DNA psychic that I interviewed
in the July issue of LNN has told me that MAX Magazine in France is
going to do an article on his DNAPSYCHIC.COM site. I checked out
their 'zine which contains some pretty fine looking filles who
probably need their own DNA psychically assessed. The issue should be
out at the end of September so Bayless told me.
Hopefully MAX Magazine it isn't yet another internet mirage like New
World Disorder and other highly questionable web sites all mastered
by some lonely and loveless homonculus in cyberspace.
My Catholic Priest Molested Your Honor Student
Are you looking for a thong with our Savior's image emblazoned
slightly above the crotch panel with the slogan 'What Would Jesus
Do?' just beneath it? Or how about a 'My Catholic Priest Molested
Your Honor Student' bumper sticker to slap on your brand new BMW
SUV? Please check out the Landover Baptist site at:
Find out where to order these righteous goodies sure to get you into
heaven if you buy enough of them. These are the God Hates Fags
people, some of the most retrogressed beings on the planet at the
moment. All of this reminds me of an article I read in The Wave on
Fred and Shirley Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church in Kansas.
This dys-nyamic duo are convinced that Mr. Rogers is currently
burning in hell because he didn't condemn homosexuality on his T.V.
show. Call them at 785-273-0325 and ask them how real they are and
how their own prospects for a stay in heaven are looking these days.
Another site to inspect if you're looking to feel really abject:
I laughed so hard when checking this one out, but once the tears
were cleared out of my eyes, came to the realization of just how
committed these Holier than Thou parameciums are in making sure we
unbelievers downward spiral at ever accelerating speeds into the fire
and brimstone we truly deserve. The Creation Science Fair is well
worth checking out if you're looking to permanently shut down your
mind or totally dissociate in a cognitive kind of way from all that
bad science you were taught in school. My oxy-moronic favorite is the
first grader who won top prize by showing the Creation Science jury
that her uncle wasn't a monkey (mainly because he didn't eat
bananas). Ol' Scopes must be rolling over in his grave.
I had quite a weird synchronicity after checking out the site which
only confirmed just how pervasive this kind of mentality is and how
it isn't confined to the bible belt anymore. I was watching All Star
Wrestling on Spike T.V. and a mesomorph named Evolution took on
another wrestler who had a cross emblazoned on his t-shirt. Needless
to say the Christian won w/ some back up help in the latter stages of
the match. He and his faithful minions kicked the shit out of
Evolution who just writhed helplessly on the mat while the crowd
cheered. Allegorical barbarity like this has not seen the light of
day since Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.
Later on, in another match, a pair of Frenchmen came prancing down
the strobe and fog affected runway to confront someone dressed like a
U.S. Soldier near the ring. They yelled at him for killing so many
innocent people in Iraq. Eventually the soldier turned out to be
another Frenchman in disguise, tore off his uniform and proceeded to
leap into the ring to take on the real Americans. They took the
American flag out of one of the opponents hand, knocked them all out
with it and then draped Old Glory over their unconscious bodies,
claiming victory. I doubt if Alfred Jarry could script anything as
According to conspiracy writer Alexandra Bruce, the CIA content
controls the supermarket tabloids. Based on what I saw on the WWF on
that desperate night, it is obvious they are controlling the
scripting of these read-between-the-slams wrestling matches as well.
Who else would have the devious brains to conjure up this stuff as
well as having the media outlets needed to sell it to the masses?
Many thanks to Scott Sayre of Sandbox Studios in Minneapolis who sent
the perverted links above to me. I first met Scott when he was a
sound technician during the taping of the Sorel Lawncaster/Trace
Hints Ministries show back in the late '80's, where I portrayed a
Television Evangelist for a cable access program in St. Paul
(channel 33). I wore a three piece suit, had my hair all bouffed up
and would say things like, 'God will lower your electric rates if you
watch this show.' (technically I could not ask for money on a public
access channel so I used a myriad of evasive euphemisms to do this.)
A guy from WCCO TV saw the tape of the first show and told the
producer that I had to be careful because some people would actually
believe me if I continued to make promises like that. I still have
the master tapes if any one is interested in resurrecting the
character and putting him on the air again. Sorel Lawncaster was
first inspired by watching Jimmy Swaggart during his pre-scandal
glory days on Sunday mornings while I was savagely hungover from
Stolichnaya Vodka. I would stand in the living room of this north
woods lake home with my Gibson L-5 solid body electric guitar cranked
to blasphemous distortion levels and chime in with power chords,
synchronizing my riffs with Swaggart's rants. I'm so grateful those
days are long gone although the high decibel bliss moments were worth
the salvational price of it all, considering the soul saving feedback
I managed to sustain through my amp throughout the sermons.
As an antidote to all the evangelical lunacy described above, I
recommend checking out www.plotinus.com where there are many
excellent articles on esoteric/Hermetic Christianity, meditation
techniques, how to work with sub-personalities, creative
visualization techniques etc. I get a very nice vibe when going to
that site and go to it often.
Puna Hedonia: A Hawaiian Retreat
One of the prime highlights of my stay in Hawaii last summer was
hanging out at the San Diego poet Kimberly Dark's retreat center on
the Puna Coast all alone. I highly recommend contacting her to book
a stay there. There is no television. Hardly any people there to
bother you. The tradewinds keep the fierce Hawaiian heat in check as
well as the frequent rain fall which occurs up to six/seven times a
day. Black sand beaches prevail. And tons of lava as well to
peruse: both solidified and of the liquid variety as well. The
prevailing westward winds keep most of the vog (volcanic smog) away.
There is a place nearby that boasts of the cleanest air in the
U.S.A. Volcanoes National Park is about an hours drive away and well
worth it. Just writing about this makes me want to go back there,
hang out some more and thwang some slack key guitar on the deck,
under the stars. Check out her place at:
I look forward to returning there for the obvious reasons you'll read
about if you go to her site.
Magic Mushrooms and Other Highs:
From Toad Slime to Ecstasy
Edited by Paul Krassner
Book Review by
The word Anthology means 'a bouquet of flowers' (from the Greek
anthologia= a gatherer of flowers) and in the case of Paul Krassner's
latest ecstatic offering : Magic Mushrooms and Other Highs: From Toad
Slime to Ecstasy his bouquet consists of Liberty Caps , Peyote,
Ecstasy, STP, DMT, Ketamine and other blast off delights. The essays
within this wavy tome range from the literally high echelon
articulations of the late Terence McKenna to the average Joe
Tripster unused to having his brain massively dilated from a dose of
mushrooms but somehow able to write about it afterwards. I was
especially humored by the story of Charles Olson ,the Maximus poet,
flipping out in the woods after dropping some geniune Sandoz with
friends, thinking he was an Arcadian Brick Maker of a bygone epoch.
He was later transported back home by a local cop who didn't have the
psychedelic acumen to understand what was really going on. An essay
describing a group of teenagers tripping in their parents's kitchen
was also intriguing. One of the tripsters started ball point penning
her communiques with god directly onto her mother's linen table cloth
while another was busy smearing butter all over the walls in some
greasy act of hallucinogenic gratitude. Another story I found
amusing was about some guy jacking off at a Grateful Dead concert
(obviously their horrible music wasn't doing it for him). People
formed a fifty foot circle around the dosed up onanizer as he shot
his paisley patterned load with a 'shroom eating grin on his face.
Maybe it was a good thing there was no egg waiting around for his
seed. R.U. Sirius's essay on tripping with the Trent Reznor, Nine
Inch Noise crowd was one of the more poignant samples of social
commentary in the book, but a bit of a downer nonetheless. Quite a
statement R.U. makes on the emptiness of it all and how far these so
called celebrities go in order to deny that their names always will
be cardboard in the ultimate scheme of things.
I tended to favor the essays on or by such hallucinogenic luminaries
as Dr. John Lilly, Ralph Metzner and Timothy Leary mainly because of
their evident deftness in translating their drug experiences into
words. There's a short but touching piece by Robert Anton Wilson
about his realization that a Christmas Tree actually loved him during
one of his first Peyote trips way back in 1962. How odd for an
agnostic like him to say that! The early drug pioneers had the
fortune of having a much more pristine setting to trip in, unlike
today where a trip may only help you perceive the matrix more and
more clearly but not offer you a way out of it. This is one of the
main reasons I haven't imbibed in anything for over fourteen years
and probably never will again the way things are going these days on
However, for a card carrying member of the sugar cube and ecstacy
tab smashing Temperance League like myself, I was easily able to get
a contact high from much of the text without having to suffer the
after effects, so vivid, alive and effective is the compilation
Krassner has put together. After reading the essay on John Lilly and
his cetacean epiphanies, I felt the urge to go on a bicycle ride. I
told my father who I was visiting at the time that 'I was going to
sermonize the Sunfish.' over in the state park. That sounded really
lysergic when it came out of my mouth. As my book high started to
further kick in, the tires of my mountain bike turned into Uroboric
snakes with neon knobby patterns on their backs. Some Jivaro Indians
in a neighbor's pumpkin patch down the road were laughing at me as I
rolled on by. One of the Amazon shamans shot some kind of snuff into
my nose through a particle beam accelerator. Everything became alive
in a most unusual way. I then rounded a corner, passed by a 'Support
Our Troops' sign in some redneck's yard and then did pho wa on a
thirteen stripe gopher that was covered with flies and wished it a
better life next time around.
As I pedaled away from the rigor mortised rodent, all of a sudden I
felt these archetypal tripsters surrounding me, occupying, in Paul
Bunyan dimensions, the glacially honed rural landscape. Terence
McKenna, Tim Leary and other post-mortem entheonauts rose out of the
terminal moraine and thundered permission to me to open my awareness
to the wildest realities they so willingly and lovingly offered. No
small feat for someone like myself who could sell his urine on the
black market, so clean it is at the moment. I then went swimming and
just felt myself dissolve like I have not done for so long. No
anxieties, no agendas. Surely it was more than the power of
suggestion. I truly believe I was tapping into something that Mr.
Krassner has been subliminally and lovingly cultivating for many,
many years ( No, I did not lick the corner of pg. 23 like he suggests
in the intro.) What a gift that he is sharing it with us now, in the
era of such savage retrogression via the D.A.R.E. trolls hiding under
all of our synaptic bridges.
When I dog paddled back to shore, I flashed the Rat Pack licking
toads on a Las Vegas stage and instantly tripping their brains out.
Dean Martin analyzed the fractal patterns coming out of Frank's
forehead and sang about it. Fortunately I was able to put a stop to
the vision before it got too ugly and before the mafia arrived to
prevent me from leaving the club. Maybe this was matrix intrusion or
some kind of punishment for the good time I was having with my
naturally expanded mind within the cool confines of the kettle lake I
was grooving on. After rescuing a Horse Fly from some lake foam that
I initially tried top kill, I then thought that it sure would be
interesting if Paul could be George W. Bush's trip guide like he was
for Groucho Marx. In a way it would be a kind of ultimate challenge-
trying to expand a mind that really doesn't exist in the first
place. A real Zen Koan in the making.
Well do you dig my drift yet? Order this book from Paul and free
yourself up so you can trip your brains all over its glowing pages.
I couldn't envision myself more enthusiastically recommending it at
the moment without having to leave my body and join hands with the
above mentioned Titan mind benders in order to do so.
Available only at: paulkrassner.com
and not in any Barnes and Noble or Borders or Amazon.Com anywhere in
9829 San Simeon Drive
Desert Hot Springs, Ca. 92240
Buy three and get one free!
copyright 2003 Jaye Beldo
Dark Night, Early Dawn
(editor's note: I wrote the following book review a few years ago.
I thought it would tie in nicely with the Krassner review above.
Please check out: http://www.alchemylab.com/AJ4-1.htm The
Alchemy Journal website just posted the review in their Summer 2003
Christopher Bache may be the world's first Cosmosopher. In his
refreshing and innovative book, Dark Night, Early Dawn: Steps Towards
an Ecology of Mind, he articulates transpersonal realms with a
convincing intimacy, revealing a universe that is alive, intelligent
and directly accessible within ourselves. The author has taken great
care to share many of the entheogenic, meditative and philosophical
experiences he has had which assist in fore-lightening the inevitable
global/galactic revolution to come. The timing of his work could not
be better. One only need look at current sociopolitical urgencies to
appreciate Bache's efforts to move transpersonal psychology beyond
its self referential orbit into more effacing, collective
trajectories. Dark Night, Early Dawn offers a much needed
alternative, encouraging us to explore a connection to a cosmos which
may require the very ego death of the human species as a prerequisite
for its realization.
In order to fully realize the transition, Bache suggests that we
abandon what remains of the Newtonian, mechanistic worldview, i.e.,
the threadbare 3-D illusion that our consumer society depends upon
for its own self- perpetuation. He suggests that we assist, through
such things as rebirthing, holotropic breathing and meditation, in
the realization/integration of multi-dimensional world where
spiritually advanced beings exist. These beings can offer us
compassion, wisdom and a kind of infinitely broad, celestial panorama
which encourages us to adopt a more life affirming perspective on
what appears to be a severely limited human future at present.
Nemeses abound however at current time, dedicated to making sure that
such a marvelous realization as described above will not take place.
Paranormal debunkers such as Paul Edwards are devoted to discrediting
the claims of those who believe in rebirth, for example. Edwards
insists that the last two thousand years of philosophical development
with its emphasis on linearity and so-called 'rationality' is the end
all, be all of human intelligence. Bache makes sure to point out the
weakness of Edwards's argument and does so quite convincingly. He
observes: 'If reincarnation can be proven to be true, then the modern
Western philosophical paradigm will crumble because rebirth
contradicts the core assumptions of that world view.' Such a remark
enables one to perceive the unconscious fears which motivate people
like Edwards, not to mention Martin Gardner and the CSICOPS cadre as
well, who may very well be threatened by how integrated multi-
dimensional awareness is becoming. Just imagine the CSICOPPERS all
doing holotropic breathing and what kind of resistances within
themselves they would have to deal with!
Fortunately, Dark Night, Early Dawn does not dwell on
the 'infallible' 3-D consensus delusion and the organizations that
continue to promote it. The author shows a balanced approach to
transpersonal work and offers the reader an effective way to traverse
a living, intelligent cosmos and come back home not only intact but
spiritually integrated in a deep and lasting way. Citing the works of
Stanislav Grof, Ken Wilber and Robert Monroe, as well as visionary
mystics such as Teresa of Avila, Bache offers us a useful as well as
fascinating means to explore the worlds these people describe so
vividly. The author also shares his own inner experiences in which he
himself connected with these spiritually evolved worlds:
"The time of rebuilding was suffused with an inner luminosity that
signaled a profound awakening in the human heart. It was not the
overwhelming brilliance of diamond luminosity that shines forth from
individual awakening, but a softer luminosity that reflected the same
reality but more gently present and more evenly distributed
throughout the entire species. The whole of humanity was going to go
through the death/rebirth experience, and the substance of awakening
for the group was the same as for the individual, though realized
more slowly and in smaller increments."
With insights such as described above, it is apparent the Bache has
prepared himself sufficiently enough not only to share this kind of
profound information with us but to inspire us to safely explore
these transpersonal worlds as well. I found his as well as his
students' journal entries to be most revealing and informative.
Sri Aurobindo once observed: "At present mankind is undergoing an
evolutionary crisis in which is concealed a choice of its destiny."
Books like Dark Night, Early Dawn will assist us in not only seeing
the choices at hand beneath the surface of our culminating crisis but
also how we can influence whatever destiny we collectively and
perhaps competently choose for ourselves as a result.
available at: www.sunypress.edu
(editor's note: I wrote the following for Fahrenheit San Diego-the
independent weekly alternative for the Southern California area. It
should appear in hard copy shortly. Compared to weeklies in
Minneapolis, FSD is light years ahead as they actually have a sense
of humor, don't take themselves too seriously and yet have some
informative and inspiring articles within as well. They give many
underdog artists, musicians and writers some much needed exposure as
well. Considering the stuff of mine they have published, they are not
intimated by the PC cretins either. Check them out at:
Musicians Who Wear Make Up
Musicians who resort to wearing costumes and make-up top the
charts on a regular basis. The con started back in the 50's with
Screamin' Jay Hawkins, an Opera singer wannabe who took to wearing
face paint and popping out of a coffin on stage. No one seemed to
notice that he couldn't sing a note. Little Richard was next with
the lipstick and mascara. Who cared if his shrill tenor curdled the
lymph? Later on it was Alice Cooper who cornered the mascara market,
swathing the stuff on more thickly than anyone else at the time to
distract his fans from his own brand of musical ineptitude. The New
York Dolls soon followed and flaunted their kinky glam rock wares,
also with deceptive success, since they too couldn't play music worth
a guitar pick.
Here's a brief list of my favorite cosmetic con artists who should be
permanently banned from the airwaves, from the stage, from recording
contracts and locked away on one of the more remote of the Aleutian
islands. At least until the make up wears off and their real faces
are bared to the world of truth:
1. Marilyn Manson: This sorry product of the Trent Reznor brain
trust, has managed to sleight-of-hand his fans for years. He
continues to pump out low quality music that never seems to move
beyond the ghastly techno-drivel distortion that targets the
vulnerable eardrums of legions of fourteen year olds. As an antidote
to his contrived market ugliness, he should open his soul to
Beethoven's Emperor Concerto No. 5 in E-Flat 'Symphony of the Air'
performed by Artur Rubinstein (Josef Krips Conductor).
2. Insane Clown Posse: Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope, a couple of
Schlock Rock Rappers who moon light as All Star Wrestlers, have body
slammed their fans into thinking they have some semblance of artistic
merit/talent. Yet underneath the greasepaint, are a couple of debile
Shriner's Circus has beens, suffering the psychotic side effects of
years of Paxil, Zoloft, Viagra and Old Turkey. Wise up ICP fans and
have these renegade side-show schlemiels committed for real.
3. Slipknot: These corn belt yokels made a desperate career move by
donning goalie masks and other Friday the 13th variations thereof,
while failing to develop their music into something worthy of our
lasting attention. The result? Apparently they are providing the
sound track to the Freddie vs. Jason movie coming out this summer.
What a feather in the hack talent cap! Give these Slasher Musicians a
hand if you dare! Better yet, put them on the rink during the Stanley
Cup and see how well they fare.
4. Kiss: In the early 70's Kiss's shit hit the charts, thus
splattering the unwashed masses with 4/4 predictability, three chord
formula thwang and Jr. High School marching band caliber drum solos.
The following axiom applies to Kiss more than any other act: The more
make up you wear on stage, the more likely you have something to
hide. In Kiss's case that would be their obvious lack of musicianship
and their inability to spiritually evolve into something redeemable.
5. Michael Jackson: The dumpster behind MJ's mansion was full of
empty bleach bottles, so alleged a National Enquirer paparazzi years
ago. Jackson should win top prize for not only a convincing and
permanent make-up job but also the public relations brilliance with
which he has handled questions about his ongoing dermatological
mutations. Creepiness is only skin deep? Only his plastic surgeon
knows for sure. Best you can do is close your eyes when he sings
and see if that helps you cope.
Jaye Beldo writes for Fahrenheit San Diego, XTC, Steamshovel Press,
Disinfo.Com and other publications. He has appeared on BBC London,
WGN Chicago, Red FM 103 Ireland and other stations around the world.
He also experienced the vilest ninety seconds of his life on the
Howard Stern Radio show in September of '02. He can be reached at: