muffy bolding

She’s the most beautiful and brilliant dame I have ever known — and I have known many. There is no one remotely like her anywhere else in the universe and I am proud and privileged to call her my best friend. She is the one who so generously shared with me many of the greatest gifts I have been given in this life, including Sylvia Plath, William and Joanie Burroughs, and Robert Anton Wilson. She is the indispensable Ethel to my mischievous, pesky Lucy; together, over the years, we have frantically stuffed the cheese into the tuba more times than I could even begin to count. I, quite literally, would not be who I am today without her. She is a wonder.

In the words of the writer Paul Stolp…my best friend, Tania, makes the world a more magical place. She will always sit by my side at the table of The Moveable Feast that is my life — and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Muffy and Tania; Karaoke Night at Tokyo Garden, Fresno, California, 1998:

A few hours ago, this dapper fellow and his darling wifey dropped their son off at our house for a sleep-over.

I defy anyone to tell me my life is not surreal.

This has been — without a doubt — the oddest, most disquieting week I have ever experienced here on livejournal. Is there something in the water? Is Mercury in retrograde? Has everyone lost their gottdamned mind? What the fuck is going on?

The drama is suffocating — and anyone who knows me knows how I feel about drama.

I don’t do it.

Music to vote by.

The positively brilliant Asylum Street Spankers:

Michael Moore’s 5 Good Reasons To Vote Today:

November, 7th, 2006

1. IT’S A NATIONAL REFERENDUM. Although candidates’ names will be on the ballot today, this election is NOT about this candidate or that candidate. Make no mistake about it: This election is nothing less than a National Referendum on George W. Bush and his War. Don’t waste your time trying to learn about who the schlump is that’s running for office. You know they’re all pretty much the same, a few are better than others, but… please. They is who they is. THIS election is not about them. It’s a simple up or down vote on staying the course.

To vote in favor of the war, vote for the Republican. To vote against the war, vote for the Democrat. As crazy as it sounds, even if the Republican is against the war, or the Democrat is for it, it doesn’t matter. All that will matter by midnight tonight is the math on the big tote board. Did America say YES to Bush or NO to Bush? The ONLY way they’re going to add it up is by counting the number of votes under the big D and the big R. The only way to take a stand against Bush today is to vote for the Dems on the ballot.

2. IN ORDER TO CATCH THE REPUBLICANS STEALING YOUR VOTE, YOU FIRST HAVE TO VOTE. There are huge and valid concerns about the new electronic voting machines that must be addressed. It is far too easy to use new technology to rig the vote. But if your fear of that leads you to decide that you shouldn’t bother voting, well, then, I guess they’ve succeeded in snuffing out your voice without having to rig the machine. Make them break the law if they want to win. Vote. We’ll catch them if they do. I promise.

3. WITH THE DEMOCRATS IN POWER IN THE HOUSE AND/OR SENATE, WE CAN GO AFTER THEM! These spineless Democrats who enabled Bush to start this war and funded it ever since are due for a shellacking from all of us. For nearly 6 years, they’ve hidden behind the cop-out of, “Hey, we’re the minority, we have no power.” As of tomorrow, hopefully, they will have no mask to hide behind. And it will be up to us to go after them.

4. I’LL PUT YOU ON MY WEBSITE. That’s right. You can appear on my home page and be seen by millions later today. All you need to do is bring a broom when you go to vote. The broom is our mascot today because we’re going to sweep the crooks and the warmongers outta office. Take a picture of yourself holding a broom outside your polling place, e-mail it to me, and I’ll put as many of you as I can up on the home page of my website. People all around the world will see you! Government files with your name on them will be initiated! What better way to celebrate this historic day?!

And the final reason to vote today…

5. 2,836 + 655,000. Each one of them, American and Iraqi, are no longer with us because of the decision by one man to start a war. Each one of them represented a precious, God-given life that no man had the right to take away. Each one of them had a mother and father, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, friends and loved ones, little boys and little girls. It’s mad, my friends, utterly mad, this senseless loss of human life.

So, do it for them. Call up whoever you know and tell them to meet you at the polls. And tell them to bring a broom, real or imaginary, with a big D on it. It’s the only true American thing to do.

See ya at the victory party tonight!

Michael Moore
mmflint@aol.com
http://www.michaelmoore.com

P.S. Forward this to all your friends. Today is the day.

Two sides of the same coin; Billy and I at The Night of a 1000 Villains Halloween Party, 2006, Los Angeles.

Christ, I just can’t get off that goddamned Blackberry, can I?

So, last Saturday night we had our massive, annual Halloween bash at a very cool new club downtown: The Edison Bar. It’s located in the ancient brick bowels of a gorgeous old building in a space that used to be a private Los Angeles power station in the early 1900s. All of the original brickwork, fixtures, and ancient columns have been carefully preserved and used to carry the “early electricity” theme throughout the club. Even the monolithic, old brick boiler room was left standing intact — dredging up horrific images of steam rising and Freddie Kruger chasing your fatass through the dark with a cocked fedora, a sharpened claw, and a wicked belly laugh. It is perhaps the most amazing nightclub I have ever seen — and trust me, I have seen them all over the world.

At any rate, this annual party was first held 12 years ago in Billy’s backyard in Silverlake…and the invitations then numbered about 200. This year, the guestlist swelled to well over 1000 people, hastening our mass exodus to The Edison. What originally started out as just a drunken Jackalfest for Billy and a bunch of his degenerate friends — many of whom were then working in entry level positions in the entertainment industry and have now moved up the food chain considerably, to say the very least (though, trust me, they are still degenerates) — is now the fucking Halloween event of the season; NOBODY throws a party like Billy. Caged go-go dancers, circus acts, taiko drummers dressed like demons, entire housing structures magically transformed into accursed pirate ships, cotton candy machines, the best gottdamned drag queens and dance music in the city, and even entire Southern Baptist church choirs bringin’ it home are par for the course. People leave this party feeling utterly satisfied — and this year was no different.

Billy is the King, baby…and as you can see from my ridiculous, self-snapped, stereotypically-posed, quasi-myspace picture — I was The Queen.

I had a big scrapbook when I was a teenager — one into which I would lovingly paste concert ticket stubs, pictures, letters, notes, hospital bracelets, friendship bracelets, pressed flowers, report cards, dance bids, fast food napkins, and other assorted and ridiculous teenaged girl treasures that I wished to preserve for forever. Jesus, I loved that thing; I still have it, buried in a box somewhere in the garage. It contains the tactile mementos of my youth and coming of age. In fact, if I remember correctly, the condom wrapper from the first time I fucked is ensconced there for all time, dutifully scotch-taped between some mortifying love poem in which “june” truly is rhymed with “moon”, and the program from a Bay City Rollers concert I attended with my best friends Susie and April when we were still but wee lassies. Goddamnit, I loved the Bay City Rollers! We were going to marry those boys, move to Scotland, and go on a Rock N’ Roll Honeymoon until the end of time. Keep on Rollin’! It didn’t quite work out that way, of course — but my cute true love jew boy in Los Angeles suits me just fine, thank you very much.

At any rate, I am starting to piece together Christmas lists for the babies and am thinking that I would love to get each of the girls a scrapbook of their very own. I started scouring the web in search of them, but the issue I face is that when you plug the word “scrapbook” into herr google, what comes up is completely overwhelming. With the apparent metamorphosis of the word “scrapbook” from noun to verb over the past decade or so, it seems that there is no end to the paraphernalia available — including special scissors, paper, glue, glitter, and all other assorted sundries related to what now appears to be a veritable cottage industry. So, my question to the brilliant collective that is my friends list is…do you know of any companies that just sell scrapbooks oe memory albums or whatever the hell they’re called? Or rather, do you know of any companies that sell VERY COOL, VERY HIP scrapbooks that don’t look like they are manufactured and marketed for the midwest soccer-mom puffy-paint blue geese kitchen decor craft-fair crowd? Do any indie companies out there even make these?

Thanks!

Gregory and I met him a few years ago at a conference on human consciousness in Port Angeles, Washington — and age and a physical disability had already started taking their toll even then…but that certainly didn’t stop him from shamelessly flirting with me. It hardly surprised me though. When I met Tim Leary a few years earlier, he had done the exact same thing — complete with a twinkly smile and a hand on my upper thigh when I sat next to him for a picture. When I met them, they were both wise and brilliant and wry with a good bit of the Trickster thrown in just for shits and giggles; they simply don’t make guys like that anymore. With Bonnie Prince Leary floating in a billion particles somewhere in the ethers above us, Robert Anton Wilson is the last one left.

It is not an understatement in the least to say that Robert Anton Wilson changed my life. But most importantly, he changed the way I see my place in time and in the cosmos. He opened my fucking eyes.

He is dying now. For what he has given us all, he deserves a peaceful and glorious send-off from this place. If you can help, please do.

“I refuse for the history books to say he died alone and destitute, for I want future generations to know we appreciated Robert Anton Wilson while he was alive.”

Be Part of the Conspiracy to Help Robert Anton Wilson

Robert Anton Wilson, famed writer of many illuminating works including the Cosmic Trigger trilogy and Illuminatus! (as co-author), is suffering from post-polio syndrome and has passed through a crisis — with his future still in question. With the medical crisis came a financial crisis, but efforts are in place to lessen his distress and keep him comfortable in hospice care at his home through the upcoming months, with the aid of his readers and admirers.

For years, Wilson has dealt with debilitating post-polio syndrome, made worse by a June 2006 fall. Unable to walk, he is bedridden and receives 24-hour care. In June and July, his friends and family thought he could die at any time. Since then, he has somewhat improved.

But medical and rent expenses are a great problem, and his daughter Christina Pearson set up a PayPal account (details below) so that those who wish to do so can donate money. This is part of the ongoing effort to help Wilson live the rest of his life at home, as the emergency is acute enough that the royalties of his works have not covered the cost of the care he needs.

Once the word got out, enough contributions poured in that, as of October 3, 2006, more than a month of rent was covered. His daughter was touched. So was Wilson, who was also relieved that he could be staying at home rather than facing eviction.

By October 5, Pearson had e-mailed the website Boing Boing, thanking them for posting the donation information. By that time, enough money had come in to cover not only months of rent but also his 24-hour care. Included in the e-mail was a note of thanks dictated by Wilson, which reads, in part:

“Dear Friends, my God, what can I say. I am dumbfounded, flabbergasted, and totally stunned by the charity and compassion that has poured in here the last three days.”

The full text of the note can be found at The Robert Anton Wilson Home Page (http://www.rawilson.com/main.shtml), which is one of the websites providing information on how to help.

Payments can be made directly to his Paypal account, by logging into Paypal and sending funds to his Paypal address: olgaceline@gmail.com. Checks payable to Robert Anton Wilson can be mailed to caregiver Denis Berry c/o Futique Trust, P.O. Box 3561, Santa Cruz, CA 95063.

This is a year in which his work has gained added attention in new media, including DVD. The documentary Maybe Logic (The Disinformation Company Ltd., http://www.disinfo.com) is a good summary of many strands of his thought, and a production of his play Wilhelm Reich in Hell (www.wilhelmreichinhell.com) has also recently been released in that format.

Wilson continues to influence many contributors to Strange and the other fortean publications. Strange Magazine would not be the same without the groundwork provided by him.

David Rushkoff’s Blog features a true call to arms regarding his life and legacy: “I refuse for the history books to say he died alone and destitute, for I want future generations to know we appreciated Robert Anton Wilson while he was alive.”

— Douglas Chapman

Sources:

The Robert Anton Wilson Home Page, http://www.rawilson.com/main.shtml

David Rushkoff’s Blog, http://www.rushkoff.com/blog.php

Email to Strange Magazine from Kenneth F. Thomas, kennthomas@umsl.edu, 10/5/06

Boing Boing, http://www.boingboing.net/2006/10/02/robert_anton_wilson_.html, 10/2/06

Boing Boing, http://www.boingboing.net/2006/10/03/robert_anton_wilson_.html, 10/3/06

Boing Boing, http://www.boingboing.net/2006/10/05/note_from_robert_ant.html, 10/5/06