STURM UND SCHMUTZ : FREE TO GOTTERDAMMERUNG....

Psycho-sexual warfare. To defile the human well-being and activate its’ debasest instincts. Free it from any moral strictures but the consummation of its’ carnal pleasurings, at all costs. Self-consumerism at its’ finest. A gateway to addiction and slavery. When a human-being becomes enslaved by the most immediately gratifiable of its’ desires, humanity is at the mercy of whoever can best provide and permit it. Promiscuity of the body, distraction of the mind, whoring of the soul and breaking of the heart. Freed from the need to bond on any deeper level than face-book, finally susceptible to virtual orgasms, the death of natural procreativity, an end to un-manufactured love, in the hands of the most ingeniously ruthless technocrat who will solve all other issues beyond our narcissistic masturbatory scope….

Some over-wrought thoughts for a credibly conspiratorial trans-human moment, giving me permission not to have to think of anything I can’t just take for granted as unavoidably true in this human condition of war, terror, hate, injustice, corruption, very rich and very poor, 24/7 mediation, medication and radiation, Black Friday sales, and the necessity of credit-cards to survive Christmas without feeling miserly. No social-credit in being debt-free. The need to be vaccinated against everything that might possibly be natural, air-waves can access somebody’s breathing from the other side of the world….

In the post-War 1940’s the victorious Western allies chose to punish Germany not with starvation but with pornography. Apparently a Jewish scientifically inspired initiative, a most sophisticated vengeance designed to degrade the Germanic character and culture and at the same time profit from it. Convinced of its’ efficacy a similar initiative, iconically tabloid-fronted by such as Wilhelm Reich and Dr. Alfred Kinsey ( a syphilitic lunatic and a homosexual charlatan?) was set loose on the whole of Western civilization… At the heart of it’s program of eugenics and humanity’s submission to a ruling elite : planned parenthood and pornography, psychiatry, sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll! You either believe it or you don’t… ?

I once went through the Berlin Wall, from West to East. It was like the rising sun inverted its’ celestial circuitry, Dorothy gone back to front from technicolor Oz to dust-gray Kansas, dream to doom-and-gloom, the imagination run wild to being quarantined. Returning to The West was like the sun come up again even though it was late at night. The half that never slept, too busy chasing its’ waking dreams, the other half that couldn’t wake up from its’ dull and dreamless slumber. Germany gone schizophrenic, the price of losing the war and become pre-occupied with somebody else’s re-visioning of its’ character, a guilt and shame-filled psyche at pains to atone and demonstrate to the world its’ pain and pleasure in one city’s dissolved and divided integrity…

I’d been to Germany before, though not to East Berlin, and with a youthfully uncritical eye, a hitch-hiking penny-pinching wanderer sleeping in railway-stations, shop-doorways and on park-benches, I took things simply for what they appeared to be. My most vivid memory nestling on the floor of Cologne railway-station with this six-foot-odd chunky American guy with long hair and a guitar who told me he came from “everywhere and nowhere, man!” His half-heartedly busking repertoire highlighted by Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I get to Phoenix”. Unfortunately by the time he got to Albuqurque he was rudely interrupted by a shabby derelict-looking Deutschman drunk who insisted on showing us his ass, which attracted the attention of some cops who moved us all on out of the station.

Some years later I was invited to write a libretto for a new musical being developed that was slated to tour Germany. In lieu of actual payment I could accompany the company all-expenses paid. It seemed a fair exchange. We finaled in Berlin. I was experiencing foreign parts from a different perspective, hotels, restaurants, institutional interiors, smorgasboard receptions and - politely or not - applauding audiences. Significantly or otherwise, one of my most vivid memories of West Berlin was trekking through an underground Mall that seemed to go on for miles, un-terminably bright and sparkling, everything a body could wish to consume on luxuriant display, including sex-paraphernalia and lubricating magazines catering to every kink and titillation a young Yorkshireman had never imagined, and not hidden in the shadows of civilized behavior down some seedy back-road, freely assimilated and normalized into the general fashionable tastefulness of everything else. I found it somewhat shocking and disarming, though I kept a reasonably embarrassed stiff upper lip and assumed I was but suffering symptoms of my British reserve and repressed upbringing, which somehow I needed to free up for God’s sake! And if I truly wanted to feel alive I should shed my clothing immediately and grab the nearest fraulein! Cabaret at its’ most decadent finest! Can-can win you an Oscar rather than a reprimand for loose morals!

That night at the cast-party after our final show, my mind awash with leather and dildos and artificial vaginas, I duly fantasized over cocktails with this bosomy blonde madchen with the sweetest blue-eyed face I never even knew I could imagine being real, feeling like I had no choice but immediate seduction into pleasures I never even knew I could imagine being real. But ultimately I decided I could never live up to her teutonic realities of what a man should be offering her. Whatever that was I assumed it was out of my Church of England provincial league. Somewhat ashamed, embarrassed and depressed by my self-estimations, I retired early to my hotel-room to ponder my failings. I was woken up out of my leather-dildoed slumberings sometime in the early morning by the director of the show with whom I was sharing the room, who proceeded to tease me about all the fun and pleasures I’d missed. Significantly or otherwise he was frankly gay, and had spent much of the tour mercilessly teasing me about all the fun and pleasures I was apparently missing. He “loved” Berlin, he insisted, he’d finally found his “glory hole”! Whether that was up some German menschen’s backside or not I never asked, I could only try not to imagine. I liked him well enough, but he could be disarmingly irritating and obsessive. I did return home feeling I might have missed out on something I’d regret, though consoling myself on the thought I might have avoided something I’d regret. The show went nowhere and my career as a librettist was over. But my guilty struggle to liberate my shamelessness now had new champions to its’ cause….The Free World of anything goes….I simply had to allow myself to go there… I knew it wouldn’t be easy but everything seemed to be conspiring to convince me it was necessary….

…To shed the notion of sin un-naturally placed there by the vicar and his stuffed-shirted minions. I needed to resurrect that ghost they’d buried in my psyche to keep me from enjoying life to its’ fullest. . Humanity’s deepest inheritance was innocence, so if I could just learn to experience everything innocently….I knew it wouldn’t be easy but everything seemed to be conspiring to convince me it was necessary…I had to declare a “good war” on everything I felt bad about….whether I liked it or not…. you’ll never know unless you try it….Morality has no meaningful force without immorality… Nor God without the Devil….How would I ever know if I don’t take turns at taking sides? Are guilt and shame the guidelines? If I feel guilty and ashamed of something, am I in the grip of the vicar or the villain? Should I surmise that millions of Germans were innocently slaughtered in World War Two? A tribute to sublimating guilt and shame, in the name of Freedom? Was it God or the Devil’s work? Or just a bunch of deranged psychopathic war-mongerers profiting at humanity’s expense? Hitler’s London blitz but a troublesome picnic-in-the-park compared to Churchill’s annihilation of Dresden et al? Who really struck the first blow? Who repeatedly rejected peace at all costs? Who perpetrated the ultimate horror of Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the Japanes had already surrendered? Who sunk the US Liberty? And so on and so on….And why? Apparently that’s the one question no computer can answer…

Of course as I started exploring revisionist history inevitably I had to start exploring my own. No matter how many vices I consciously and often reluctantly cultivated, taboos I felt I needed to break, I never once accounted sadistic cruelty,venally premeditated deception, hate or murder or genocide among them. I have obviously not been keeping up with the really Free World. I don’t account myself as exceptional,so I have to question who in the name of God or the Devil is propogating all this shit!!!???? Are we all guilty of some Freudian slip? Maybe I do need therapy. I can neither sell out nor buy in. A barrel on the shelf filled with amusings, no profit no bearing on the real world at all. Is it a shame I don’t pity myself enough to demand attention?

Sometimes I ponder which of my generational icons sold out and which bought in? The rigorous self-discipline of fame must be given such batterings of freedom to exploit. The mildly ruthless self-denial of buying into a commitment to sell your disintegrating but highly visible rewards to others as a dream come true? With complete or clouded awareness of what it is in fact you are selling? Sincerity doesn’t always become an actor. Integrity doesn’t always become a whore. Agreeing to play a round of gold with a bona’fide narcissistic psychopath always becomes a chain around your neck, no matter how much it may sparkle with diamonds. I figure Elvis was simply out of his depth. Barring Paul McCartney possibly the Beatles were out of their depth. Bono seems to rejoice in that chain around his neck. Bowie knew he was meant to wither away in shame and guilt. Mick Jagger was at peace joining the League of Gentlemen. Keith Richards was just a gifted addict who probably really didn’t give a fuck either way? As for Madonna, Lady GaGa et al they’re most definitely downstage center in Satan’s pantheon as free as they once had nightmares they wouldn’t be…..

Of course I’m making all this up. I wouldn’t know the truth if it rose up and deleted my web-site. I’m not a truth-teller, just a truth questioner. So much more flexibly open-minded, with many loopholes to deny accountability for my thoughts. Did I think them up or were they gifted me by some transcendent ass-hole who just wanted to keep me preoccupied going round in circles…? But according to just one porn-site, they actually register over a billion hits every day……