We fight the dream crushers that thrive by filling our inner spaces with their vacuum reality- pushing it on us- taking their drafty proclamations to the natural, illogical ends.

Alas, there’s no time for dreams now… ONLY ACTION.

I collect the bits of broken heart I find along the road and I fashion the fragments into necklaces, rings and bracelets with the worn sinews of your venerated work horses.  I sell them to downtowners and serious frowners.  I operate clinically and best alone.  A vacuum’s not such a bad thing… unless you need air.  And, air’s something I’ve got PLENTY of.  How are you fixed?

I’m going to bludgeon you with sunshine, sweet breezes and rainbows.  This might- just might– ‘save’ you.

You can find me at the strip mall, shooting rainbows out my eye sockets and riddling targets with starlight shrapnel.  I have a love so great, a fulfillment so powerful and grandiose that it’s hard to describe to a fragile mortal mind.  Allow for me to paint you a picture in love goo and cake batter;  then, you too will know what it means to be made whole, to have a heart full of soul forged by electric light orchestras in the midnight hour- to bow down and raise up and bow down and raise up and kneel and rise and click and bow and kneel again and again.  Not necessarily in that order, but you understand.  Or do you?

I feel the light spreading me open and radiating in solid columns out all portals and up, up, up into deep space.  Is this the Holy Spirit coming on me, trickling into me, filling me with salvation’s warm, soupy slurries?

I am blessed and sanctified this day.

 

$$$

 

You ax… WHO IS THIS GUY? What are his credentials?  Furthermore, WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS ACTING ALL JUDGMENTAL AND SHIT?  ONE MORE BLUSTERING WINDBAG WITH A FLAG TO HANG BESIDE ALL THE OTHERS.  JUST WHAT WE NEED!  WHY IS HE WASTING HIS/OUR TIME KEYING HIS OVERWROUGHT BRAIN-FARTS INTO A WORD PROCESSOR, AND WHY SHOULD WE CARE??? 

WELL… I’LL TELL YOU, FRIEND:  I AM THE REAL-IST, MOST RIGHT REVEREND DURBAN MOFFER!  I HAVE THE BENEFIT OF OVER 900 YEARS life EXPERIENCE not to mention six extended LIFETIMES BEFORE THAT.  You’ve heard of hair extensions?  Well, I’ve had life extensions and they beat the shit out of that dead animal woven onto your head!

YOU LOOK AT ME AND SAY… YOU?  OVER NINE HUNDRED YEARS OLD?? YOU DON’T LOOK A DAY OVER 40!

AND I TELL YOU THAT:

I

HAVE

A

SECRET.

 

BUT I’M NOT GOING TO REVEAL THAT YET…

 

if at all.

 

YOU SEE… as a very young soul,

I WAS A LOSER LIKE MOST OF YOU.

I WAS A DRIFTER AND A GRIFTER AND I BOUNCED FROM COUCH TO COUCH, SCHOOL TO SCHOOL, AS A PROFESSIONAL STUDENT of Life FOR TWO LIFETIMES.  WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?  Over time, I developed a crick of bullshit 10,000 light years long.  That’s what that is.  I’ve been a carny, a gigolo, a pickpocket, a flasher KING, a high-class restroom attendant, and an author-authoritarian, an amateur fascist, a government man of both the highest and lowest pecker order, an ad man and a finger painter.  After over a hundred years of stultifying academic pursuit, I had become a one dimensional Brainroid.  But I had a cushy, semi-permanent seat in some of the more prominent Palaces of Recirculated Ideas and Air.  I grew grossly tenured in those Ivied Castles of Unreality.  I was similar to the vast hoards in this mindset with one exception: I WAS AWARE OF IT HAPPENING!  I BECAME AWARE OF THE INSTITUTIONAL FOUL ACCRETIONS!  What’s more, I saw it in EVERY institution I parked my eyes on.  Only after I integrated this carefully collected forbidden knowledge could I reclaim enough power to staunch the pestiferous tidal waves to come.

But, you know,  by finally dropping out (with several useless degrees to my credit) did I finally start living.

I’ve searched high and low for my truth,

under rocks and in the ethers,

and this is what I’ve come away with-

DIRTY FINGERNAILS and

TORTICOLLIS.

 

BUT IN THE PROCESS I FOUND “IT.”

 

“It” can be found anywhere.  You just have to be able to recognize it.  There is a lot of cash to be made in the truth telling business if you know how to use that truth… but know this, only the truly powerful have the luxury of the truth without repercussion.  I’ve found that out the hard way and have the lumps on my addled pate to prove it.

The wiccans don’t know shit.

The Satanists are bigger windbags than the Wiccans.

The Videomages suck Mexican donkey balls- virtually.

Eventually, I saw the way the Neurosicrucians lived, like pigs with expense accounts.  I began to understand the staggering financial potential in culling pliant and willing bodies for service in Mythrax Tuo’s army.  So I hung in there (chewing the inside of my mouth and finger-tips ragged) as these Templars spouted their fantastical stories of faith healings, prophetic visions, alien contact and pyrokinesis.   I also stood idly by while they kvetched about the smell of the air over their lair and gossiped about various movie stars and business mavens they had under their sway. These moldy codgers, this collection of sideshow freaks with the bodies of MMA fighters after sunset, talked about various experiments, trivia or Mythrax Tuo and his Slamubines and how, by a process of transubstantiation, they existed in all the fake food this culture holds dear.  They boasted about how Doritos were bits of their body… how their bladderhearts pumped pure unfiltered corn syrup.  This is what they talked about when they weren’t maintaining aggressive silence.  Eventually when all the talking was done, the reality of the situation was even more disturbing and fantastic than their stories.  Through the process of Retroenemation and High Db Therapies, my Metamucilated eye was opened and there’s no turning back.  I saw what I was, what I am and what I’m going to turn into.

I know intimately that which I’m speaking of: I’ve faced death in all forms- in all incarnations- COUNTLESS TIMES and lived to tell about it through hundreds of mouths.  I’ve been blown out the asses of kings and ministers.  I’ve been coughed up by presidents and princes, because, now, I’m one of them.

I gotta tell ya friends, this is my seventh go round and it’s destined to be my most kick ass incarnation yet.  Seven is a good number… any dummy’ll tell you that.

$$$

I created The Ohio Order of the Neurotic Cross in a small pocket of confusion in Northern Ohio in late 1950.  I had been all around the world and remembered none of it because of those leaves I was chewing on… I was in the navy and had nothing better to do… wouldn’t you?  Then I got wise and SOLD MY BODY TO THE GIANTS OF INDUSTRY As well as THE VAGABOND TYRANTS OF HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD.  I got mixed in with the right crowd and PLOTTED IN THE BASEMENTS OF CHICAGO WITH THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE PEOPLE.  Anyway… after all that excitement I started my own Franchise Church of the Neurotic Order out of an old Gas Station with four people and a python.

I organize my congregation like my refrigerator: eggs in the back, fruits in the bottom left crisper, veges on the right. Condiments and pickles on the mid-door-shelf, butters n cremes n fudge n things in thr own highly segregated areas

We can lead you all over the place and back again. You may learn everything. You may learn two things. Or you may learn nothing at all and have a very sore bottom. But, at least it’ll be better than sitting on the couch and watching cop shows.