DarwinBlinks: December 2007

THE DC LECTURE SHOULD BE ABOUT CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIANITY
MAYBE SAVE JESUS AS HIPPIE TALK FOR HERE

WHAT MONUMENT WOULD WE DRIVE BY?
FROM THE AIRPORT TO THE RICH DISTRICT, WHAT WOULD BE THE RICH DISTRICT?

THE DRIVE TAKES US RIGHT PAST CIA HQ, DO RESEARCH, START IT PASSING IT BY

Driving from dulles to spring valley would take you right by that entrance to the CIA headquarters. You would take 267/dulles toll road from the airport, exit onto route 123 (where you would pass the CIA entrance on your left), and then take 123 all the way to chain bridge which crosses you into DC. The DC side of chain bridge IS spring valley. I went to AU law school which is also in spring valley.

"Look to your left, Darwin...that's CIA Headquarters."

Cast my neck towards the window and the entrance to the massive complex that's launched a million conspiracy theories.

How fitting is it that I of all people should pass by CIA HQ in a limo on my way to deliver another lecture to promote Bye Bull?

Sure, the organized religions of christianity and the US military have been my main targets over the years--and the two institutions that pose the most threat to America's cultural progression--but the Company has always been a cornerstone to my research.

When it comes to the covert promotion of a christian agenda, CIA's as guilty as any federal agency at blurring the lines between religion and government, which the Constitution says are supposed to stand on two different sides of the room, like a dancehall filled with awkward teens; boys on one side, girls on the other.

Can't help but look back over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of the CIA HQ. That means we're in--or near--Langley--or McLean, Virginia. People always think the CIA's in Langley, and it is, but Langley's just a district within McLean.

That much I know; other than that I have the foggiest where we've been since the limo picked us up at Dulles Airport. After everything that went down in Atlanta and then flying immediately to D.C., it's pretty much a blur and my mind still hasn't slowed down.

That's another one. Dulles...named for John Foster Dulles, himself the legitimate target of conspiracy theories over the years. His brother was once Director of the very CIA we just passed.

Man, this whole area is just crawling with ghosts--or rather, spooks.

Am presently surrounded by the very core of the National Security Establishment in this country, gotta keep that in mind at all times. Not that I'll be acting any differently, but good to keep in mind.

Then we approach a bridge that Ms. Cabal tells us is called 'Chain Bridge'; taking it to cross over the Potomac River takes us from Virginia to D.C.

Good as any time to ask her: "Where exactly are we going?"

"Once we cross this bridge--Spring Valley."

The name registers instant recognition--it's home turf for many in the christian conservative movement.

As if to underscore my suspicions, she adds: "During the First World War, this area was used for testing chemical weapons, thus Spring Valley has a high level of arsenic in the soil."

Isn't that delightful? On the other hand, it could be apt--the poison in the soil was the metaphorical fertilizer that fed the corrupt seeds of money and power in this neck of the nation that lead to the growth of the unwanted weeds of Central Intelligence.

"Why this place? Why here?"

"If you are to have the necessary impact on the culture at large, your presence must be established here in the nation's capitol."

Hard to argue with that, although that word 'necessary' sure was loaded--but not going to get into it with her here and now. (Meaning she'll tell me exactly what she meant when she's damn good and ready).

Ms. Cabal adds: "This will also be a different audience than any other you will encounter on the entire tour."

"You mean they're not afraid to voice their opinions in front of their friends and family?" I crack.

"You mean they have jobs" I crack, a bit nastily.

Ms. Cabal ignores my callousness, and if anything, piles on: "Actually none of these men have 'jobs' either. They just happen to own the companies that provide the jobs."

"No, because the attendees of this lecture can buy and sell all the friends and family they will ever need."

She pauses a moment to allow the implication soak in. Do I really want to cultivate such an elitist audience? Do I have a choice? If it's what Ms. Cabal wants...

"While we value every reader that buys a copy of your book and comes out to see you speak, I thought it would be useful to expose you to a different social class, again, in order to ensure that your ideas are shared with every facet of society, so you are not just 'preaching to the choir'. And a choir that is generally not very influential at that. The people you will appear before tonight are extremely influential, to put it mildly."

Not sure how to respond, so ask a petulant, dumb question:

"Do you expect me to act any different in front of these hoi polloi?"

"Of course not. They're all too rich and powerful to be offended; only the weak and insecure take offense."

Tighten my stomach waiting for the 'however'...

"However, you are to read a specific section of your book instead of delivering a lecture at large."

Nothing could have caught me more off-guard: "Huh? But I have this fresh lecture all written, and forgive my immodesty Ms. Cabal, but I think it's pretty damn good."

"Yes, I'm well aware of what you've written, Darwin..."

Wait a minute--how can she possibly be 'well aware'? I never told her--or anyone--about this particular D.C.-centric lecture I just wrote on the flight over to Dulles. Ms. Cabal must have seen me writing it--from her seat aisle three rows ahead of me.

Hm--maybe when she got up to go to the bathroom or something, I don't know, don't really care to think about it right now.

Time for another 'however'...

"However, for this select audience you need to read a section from the "Christian Fallacies" essay, specifically the one on Christianity and Capitalism."

No denying being intrigued at the notion of reading such a radical essay before a bunch of high highfalutin big-wigs--but that means shelving the new one tightly tailored for D.C.--it wouldn't play anywhere else.

Not like there's an option before me--it's what Ms. Cabal wants, so be it.

Maybe I'll find a way to deliver that D.C. lecture another day

Have but one request: "Can I get a Bye Bull copy so I can go over the--"

Cut off by the brand new copy of Bye Bull Tela places snugly in my hand. Immediately turn to the "Fallacies" section and find the appropriate passage.
PART I END HERE

Suppose it's totally symbolic and appropriate for the book tour to have taken me to Washington, D.C., though christianity is a world-wide religion, it's really America that is Bye Bull's sole concern.

And even though she always seems to know what I'm thinking and feeling anyway, verbalize my latest emotions to Ms. Cabal: "Feels right being here."

"As it should," she approves. "If you are to have the necessary impact on the culture at large, your presence should be established here in the nation's capitol."

Know that necessary is loaded, but not going to get into it with her now.

Wouldn't have the chance as she has more to say: "This will also be a different audience than any other you will encounter on the entire tour."

"You mean they're not afraid to voice their opinions in front of their friends and family?" I crack.
"You mean they have jobs" I crack, a bit nastily.

Ms. Cabal ignores my callousness, and if anything, piles on: "Better than jobs. They own the companies that provide the jobs."

"No, because the attendees of this lecture can buy and sell all the friends and family they will ever need."

She pauses a moment to allow the implication soak in

"While we value every reader you buys a copy of your book and comes out to see you speak, I thought it would be useful to expose you to a different social class, again, in order to ensure that your ideas are shared with every facet of society, so you are not just 'preaching to the choir'. And a choir that is generally not very influential. The people you'll be speaking to tonight are extremely influential."

Not sure how to respond, so ask a petulant, dumb question:

"Do you expect me to act any different in front of these hoi polloi?"

"Of course not. I do however, want you to specifically read a section of your book instead of delivering a lecture at large."

"Huh? But I have this fresh lecture all written, and forgive my immodesty Ms. Cabal,
but I think it's pretty damn good."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, Darwin--

Huh? How can she possibly be 'well aware'? I never told her--or anyone--about this particular D.C.-centric lecture I wrote on the plane. She must have seen me writing it--from her seat aisle three rows ahead of me.

"--however, this is a select audience and you need to read a section from the "Christian Fallacies" essay, the one on Christianity and Capitalism."

No denying being intrigued at the notion of reading such an essay before a bunch of high falutin' big-wigs--but that means shelving the new essay specifically tailored for D.C.--it wouldn't play anywhere else.

Not like there's an option before me--it's what Ms. Cabal wants, so be it.

Have but one request: "Can I get a Bye Bull copy so I can go over the--"

Cut off by the brand new copy of Bye Bull Tela places snugly in my hand. Immediately turn to the "Fallacies" section and find the appropriate passage.

With my eyes still on the page as I skim through the contents, ask: "Where exactly am I speaking?"

"Spring Valley."

The name registers instant recognition--it's home turf for many in the christian conservative movement.

As if to underscore my suspicions, she adds: "During the First World War, this area was used for testing chemical weapons, thus Spring Valley has a high level of arsenic in the soil."

Isn't that delightful? On the other hand, it could be a good metaphor--the poison in the soil was the metaphorical fertilizer in this corrupt conservative section of the nation that lead to the growth of unwanted weeds of Central Intelligence.

PART II START HERE:
Even as I flip towards the middle of Bye Bull, know better by now than to ever doubt Ms. Cabal, yet still can't keep the question inside:

"You sure this is going to be a crowd receptive to my ideas in any way?"

"We'll just have to wait and see after you read to them."

She always manages to surprise me, too--that was not at all the answer I expected.

Come upon the essay in question and one realization strikes me: Not having to read my freshly minted, unproven lecture takes all the pressure off me. Already know this "Fallacies" section is good, or it wouldn't have made the final edit, so the odds on it being well-received should be greater than something I wrote on the one hour and forty-two minute flight from Atlanta to Dulles.

Course there is always the possibility some of these starched white collars could become deeply offended by my depiction of christ as a hippie. But hey, if that happens, they asked for it. Or at least, Ms. Cabal did.

PROBABLY CUT OUTOf course, my freshly written essay is an bitter indictment of the U.S. government I kept out of the book, and who knows how many Feds and politicians are going to be at this thing?

Always the possibility am short-sighting this crowd; would Ms. Cabal really offer me up as fodder for a pack of ravenous Republicans?

She has yet to do me wrong. Don't think she's capable of it.
FAMOUS LAST WORDS--FOR FOOTNOTES

As Ms. Cabal indicated, the ride is a short one as out limo pulls up to a secluded wooded area off the road that opens up to a private area resembling a country-club centered by a large meeting-hall.

The limo pulls up in front of the structure, but this time, instead of some funky hippie alt bookstore owner greeting us, it's an intimidating security guard in a dark suit.

Glance over at Cassandra and wonder if she could take him?

Security guard walks over to the driver's side and converses with him. Apparently, we're kosher, as moments later we're moving again, through the gates and into a underground parking garage.

Once we're parked, another dark-suited intimidating security guard with close-cropped hair is waiting for us (almost positive Cassandra could take this one). He escorts us to an elevator that takes our coterie up to a plushly carpeted floor with many doors not unlike the floor of a hotel.

It's then I found out this is will serve as our party's de facto hotel until we fly on to New York.

Ms. Cabal motions to the security guard and he immediately hands out keys; one for me and two for Cassandra.

Before we separate, moves in closer and whispers, "Go over the essay until you know it like the back of my hand."

"Yes, Ms. Cabal."

"I'll have Tela fetch you in exactly two hours when it's time to go to the dining hall, that's where you will be reading the essay to our audience. First we eat, then you speak.

"This is going to be a very critical evening in your future career Darwin, but as long as you trust your source material, you will win them over. I just want to make sure you read it with the proper emotional thrust and conviction. That is why I want you to rehearse it for the next couple of hours. Understood?"

"Yes, Ms. Cabal."

"Excellent. I will see you soon, Darwin."

Only until she lifts her eyes from mine may I turn my head and move on to other business--which in this case means keep waiting.

She then immediately turns to Cassandra: "Accompany Darwin to his room and ensure that every safety precaution has been made."

"Of course," Cassandra replies with professional poker face as taut as her red ponytail.

The security guard still in our presence seems visibly offended by Ms. Cabal's apparent doubting of his facility's internal security, but she doesn't give a shit.

Just like my lecture, we plan to stir things up around here.

My shitty sense of direction has us heading down the wrong corridor, but leave it to Cassandra to quickly reverse our erroneous direction and have us at my door in less than a minute.

Naturally, I fumble with the key and the lock.

"Step aside," she orders.

Do so and she pulls out one of her two keys and immediately opens the door.

As we step inside, she admonishes me, "Before you leave this room, make sure that's the right key for this door."

"I will," answer slightly curtly, slightly annoyed. Why--because she's better than me at everything? Or is it something else?

My tinge of bitterness presses on while asking her snidely: "Why'd you get a key to my room?"

"Duh, one for my room, one for yours, in case you need me for security purposes. I always get a key to your room and every hotel you stay at--you just never saw me use it."

"Yeah, well, those card-key locks are a lot easier than the real thing," I crack.

Digging that Cassandra speaks informally ("duh") when we're alone--means she's comfortable with me--at least when we're alone. Also slightly disappointed; for some unnatural reason thought we'd be bunking in the same room, that's why her having two keys threw at first. Also getting that 'warm' feeling being around her more and more often.

We enter my room that seems more like a bedroom in a private home than some hotel room. Course, it's a bedroom better than any I've ever lived in.

Throw my virtually empty travel bag onto the dresser, and watch Cassandra as she walks through the room, assessing it as only she can, looking out the windows and inspecting them rather closely, just as she has done at all my hotel rooms.

It's time like this I'm reminded she's a "Close Protection Officer" and not some common bodyguard.

But still doesn't stop me from being a smart-ass: "Find anything I should worry about? You know we are in the shadow of the CIA."

She tilts her head and frowns: "Whoever invited us are personal friends of Ms. Cabal, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Then why check the room?"

"Standard procedure."

"You've got an answer for everything, huh?" I kid

"For everything worth answering."

Yep, she's good.

As Cassandra checks out the area behind the bed, can't help but be drawn to her subtle ass magnified nicely by the tweed pencil skirt she wears (she always works undercover, never in a giveaway uni).

Course, being a Close Protection Officer and not just a bodyguard means she usually knows when she's being watched and without moving another muscle, her head instantaneously turns and catches me eying her ass.

But...Cassandra doesn't look angry. She doesn't look cold. She doesn't look away.

She smiles.

Only for a moment...to keep me guessing...to leave me hanging.

Then her head snaps back and she goes about her business, presumably leaving me free to ogle her behind.

But now I don't want to, so move over to my travel bag and pretend to separate my clothes.

Like the consummate pro she is, it's only another minute or two before Cassandra is done.

"Alright, everything looks fine here. You don't have to worry about CIA assassins--at least not until dessert."

That brings a smile from both of us, but is followed up by awkward silence.

But being the consummate pro, it doesn't take much for Cassandra to break that silence: "So then, I'm going to my room--just next door to your left, so if you need anything just knock."

"Sure I'll be fine."

"Sure. I'll be at the door with Tela when it's time to go to dinner."

"Thanks."

Our eyes hold for an extra moment than they would or should between a strict client and his Close Personal Office. But that's because 'close' and 'personal' have different meanings in this context.

She's the first to break--of course--and only with her eyes cast aside does she quietly tell me: "Bye".

Door quickly closes behind her and I'm alone for the first time since she and Tela knocked on my door this morning in Atlanta. Occurs to me the only time I'm alone anymore is when I'm in a hotel room, whereas I used to be alone all the time, even when out in public.

Walk over to my travel bag--for real this time--and scoop out Bye Bull that Tela handed me.

Open it up to the Fallacies section and start muttering the opening lines of "Christianity is not Conservative" essay, but soon grow bored and toss the book on the bed.

Find the TV remote and decide to while away the two hours or whatever it was mindlessly vegging.

Push Bye Bull firmly aside while lounging back on the bed, propping myself up on every pillow within reach.

Surf by an array of bad movies and worse sitcoms until settling, predictably, on DVNC. Just can't get enough of their right-wing perspective.
CLOSE PERSONAL OFFICER COULD BE A ENTRY TITLE

Am instantly rewarded upon discovering that not only is the current news story pertinent to my very own Bay Area, but that it concerns christian politics:

"Police in the radical college town of Berkeley, California still haven't arrested any suspects in the bombing of an illegal abortion clinic that was being operated at a safehouse site near the Cal campus.

"Berkeley Police Chief Zavala said the bombing was likely perpetrated by a Christian extremist group, although he didn't rule out the possibility that the operators of the clinic staged a bombing because they suspected they were about to be shut down anyway. Chief Zavala said the illegal clinic was under surveillance and a raid was forthcoming before the bombing destroyed the clinic. No one was hurt or injured in the bombing, fueling speculation that the clinic operators were behind it."

"In other news..."

No thanks, don't need any other news. Mute the TV and just lay here, thinking.

That's pretty dirty, trying to pin it on the operators. Why the hell would they bomb it?

Unless they thought if such an act could be blamed on christians, it could swing some support for restoration of abortion rights.

Fat bloody likely.

At the very least, sounds like a law that needs to be reworded and reworked.

Still, it's the kind of thing that frustrates and reminds that christianity is still in control and am never to get too cocky about this whole book and being on tour and speaking in front of big-wigs.

Still, now wish I was reading the essay on christianity and women to these rich white powerful men--but that's not what Ms. Cabal wants them to hear.

She wants me them to hear the essay that will make the most impact on them and their interests. Have to trust her instincts; she knows Bye Bull better than I do; almost like she wrote the damn thing.

One good thing; it fires me up--and snatch up the borrowed copy of Bye Bull that had been carelessly strewn on the bed, with a quick-flip to the "christ was not a capitalist" sub-essay.

Begin reading it over and over under my breath, getting down the proper cadence and delivery of the material to make it more interesting to the speaking audience if at all possible.

If this is what I'm supposed to do--all I can do--in this seemingly unwinnable war against christianity, then I'm going to do it. right.

Before I know it, just as Ms. Cabal told me, Tela knocks on my door at the precisely appointed time and summons me. And just as predictably, I'm nowhere near ready."

"Give me five minutes."

"Of course, Darwin--that's why Ms. Cabal had me knock on your door five minutes earlier than you were actually needed."

Good thing Ms. Cabal is so Machiavellian--puts a lot less pressure on me. Since we're about to eat, forgo brushing teeth and throw on a clean shirt, pants are fine--didn't bring another pair besides.

Realization Cassandra's going to be waiting there too has me stopping in front of the mirror and checking for any fatal flaws; and while there are plenty, none are fatal.

But in the hallway, Casandra has dropped any of the connection we established when we were in my room previously, her eyes no longer inviting, but rather cold and businesslike. She's only here to protect me, to do her job.

So that's how it is--part of me understands, but part of me is hurt. Feeling Bye Bull in my hand helps shrug it off, have more important things to attend to rather than my petty feelings...

Swallowing another forkful of this tofu stew only further confirms this is the best meal I've had on tour. Who am I kidding, best meal I've had in memory.
LATER IN THE DINING ROOM/SPEAKING HALL

DESCRIBE DINNER, BEING W/ MS. CABAL, ETC

This place is filled with the kind of furnishings and opulence that would impress most people but has never done anything for me. Not that I'm better than it; just the opposite, I'm beneath it, but the fact remains it's nothing that interests, inspires or motivates me to obtain.

Waiting in the wings backstage while one of the high-ranking 'officers' of this club introduces me:

"By special arrangement with D'Mona Cabal, a woman who needs no introduction, we have in our midst have the author of a bestselling book that may be the most controversial publication of the year, which means it warrants our scrutiny. It's called called Bye Bull, that's B-Y-E space B-U-L-L, and as you can imagine, just that name alone has angered many in the Christian community, some of whom we count among the gathered here today."

Oh, great.

"But I urge each and every one of you to listen with your widest open mind, and consider a point of view that just because it hasn't been expressed previously, does not mean it is not without merit--or at the very minimum, to be given consideration."

That's more like it. Way to stroke my ego there, buddy.

"From San Francisco, please give a warm welcome to the author of Bye Bull, Darwin Grimm!"

That's my cue, and when I first step out onto stage, the transition from the shadowy wings to the glare of the lighted stage approaches the unreal.

The BOOM of applause echoing through the vast, cavernous hall is startling. Place seems a lot bigger now that I'm speaking in front of the crowd instead of down there with them having dinner.

BUT I HAD ONE WRITTEN
THIS WILL BE THE ONE USED IN DB: OMEGA

THAT SHOULD END LIMO SCENE
RESUME W/ DRIVING UP TO THE OPULENT PLACE? OR MAYBE THERE ALREADY, BEFORE THE RICH CROWD

UFO DISCLOSURE MOVEMENT
SECULAR REVIVAL

"Before I begin I have to tell you all that this is a bit different for me, I haven't been actually reading passages from the book, which is usually what an author on a book tour does. But at the risk of being pretentious, I was looking to make the 'book signing' experience unique, and in doing so, I prepared a specialized speech--or lecture if you will--for each city the tour stopped in. And yes, I prepared a speech tonight, but it was brought to my attention

"So forgive me here as I awkwardly stumble into this passage from Bye Bull, it's from a larger essay called--well, I think an introduction is due first. See, I did this all ass-backwards, but like I said, I haven't done this way before--even though you'd think it'd be the easiest thing in the world to do, read a passage from my own book.

Some laughter, but also sense some impatience from this pack of rich white men in the form of coughs and clearing of throats. There's barely any women present, so different than my typically adoring audience that would allow me such a faux pas.

"For those of you not familiar with Bye Bull, it is a collection of individual essay that build towards a comprehensive anti-christian view

"However, the essay known as "christian Fallacies" is actually a collection of several smaller essays, each arguing that a commonly accepted tenet about christianity, is in fact, false.

"Such is the case with the essay I'll be reading for you tonight...'christianity and capitalism'

This is it...no turning back Grimm. One more gulp of bottled water (too sparkling for my taste) and a deep breath, then throw myself into it, voice, facial expression, tone, intonation. Anything I've got--even spit for emphasis. (No other bodily fluids, hopefully)

OPENING SCENE WITH CHRIST IN EASY RIDER SETTING ON A MOTORBIKE

"christ effortlessly strummed his acoustic guitar for his rapt flock of followers, some two dozens disciples, guys and girls. None speaking, only watching Christ's every finger movement on the strings, only listening to every tortured note Christ evinces from the guitar."

"They lived with christ in a Southern California desert commune, followed him down from San Francisco, where many of the twelve original disciples originally met Jesus, who was walking barefoot up and down the streets of Haight Ashbury in San Francisco playing his guitar and preaching on the street corner, spreading the gospel, always with a silver cup by his stinky feet. He never asked for a dime, the cup was there for any and all to donate into. christ had reinvented himself as the ultimate 21st Century hippie, back from the dead for a second coming.

"And this time, he intended to leave no doubt among every person on the face of the earth just where jesus h. christ stood politically. For lo these 2000-some odd years too many people had committed political acts in his name that really bugged the shit out of him.

"But in our sophisticated media-saturated society, christ had the tools at his disposal to spread his gospel to every person on the planet. Although he was starting humbly, having served a carpenter apprenticeship before leaving it all behind and hitting the streets to live among, as he called the, his children.

"After the communal dinner (usually some kind of stew), the 'children' loved to listen to Christ rap/sing about what ever pressing spiritual or social issue happened to be on his mind at the time. In fact, nobody ate until after Jesus pontificated. That was the tricky part; keeping your concentration on what Jesus was saying even while your stomach was growling. For there was always the chance jesus might quiz you to catch you off-guard."

Abruptly stop reading--this next passage might not go down so well, for some reason it didn't strike me when I was rehearsing back in my room.

Really tempted to skip over it--but if I do, Ms. Cabal is sure to notice--again, she knows Bye Bull better than I do, which is as eerie as it is understandable.

Anyway, what do I care? I'll never see any of these people after tonight. Unless I should be worried about someone attacking me in my room, but Cassandra will come save me.

Another gulp of water and press on: "Like that night, christ was telling his disciples about the complex interrelationships between the federal government's intelligence institutions (like the CIA) and some of the nation's richest, most influential citizens. These relationships, Christ explained, were responsible for the direction of much of America's foreign policy since the 1950's; a foreign policy that has resulted in the death and suffering of millions of people across the world during that time. People whose only crime it was that they stood in the way of the CIA and the wealthy elite that they ultimately serve.

When christ told his minions that 'CIA' stood for 'Capitalism's Invisible Army' they all laughed uproariously.

All except one, Jude. He smiled, amused, but would never truly 'lose himself' around Christ and his flock. Jude always seemed like someone who would sell Christ out to someone--anyone--if it came down to it.

For the right price.

But none of that was an issue on that warm, tranquil Friday night when Christ sang protest songs 'round the campfire with his faithful freaks.

At the end of the long, sweet evening, as his flock was getting up and ready to head out to their individual tents and camps, Christ asked for their attention:
CHANGE THIS TO WHERE CHRIST IS PSYCHING EVERYONE UP FOR THE RALLY AND WHAT HE PLANS TO DO AND EXPECTS FROM THEM ALL
"Hey, before everybody goes to sleep tonight, just wanted you all to know that I'm going to be speaking at the anti-war rally tomorrow at UCLA. Hope to see as many of you down there as possible."

When Christ said that, he pretty much meant that he expected everyone to be there.

Then christ took the hand of his special lady, Mary Mags. christ balled all the women of his cult commune, but Mary was his true love. She "got" him let no one else did. He bared his soul to her, and she did the same in kind.

That was one thing christ was doing differently the second time around--he was getting some. Just as he did that night, as he and Mary Mags made sweet prolonged passionate love the whole night through.

The next morning, at the rally in Westwood, Christ packed 'em in by the thousands.

He also drew a sizable crowd of opponents, but the campus police cordoned them off to the side.

On a podium with a bouquet of microphones, Christ launched into his scathing diatribe against the war and the political right behind that war:

"We have to come to terms with the fact that President Harper lied to us about the reasons we went to war with Iran. After that dirty bomb went off in Washington D.C., his administration immediately went on a campaign to illegitimately link the bombing with 'terrorists from Iraq.'

"We know now that that dirty bomb was set by domestic terrorists who wanted to create an atmosphere of intimidation in Washington.

"And we really have to wonder if those 'domestic terrorists' were in fact, government plants, agent provocateurs. As shocking or cynical as that may sound, I wouldn't put it past this president and this administration."

"Raucous cheers--apparently a lot of the audience wasn't putting it past President Harper either.

"christ had them eating out of the palm of his hand. Even the ones who were jealous of him or even opposed to his communal philosophy couldn't take their eyes off of him, so charismatic was he.

A leader, some say a prophet.

"And don't forget the corporate media--they're just as complicit, insofar as spreading these lies of the Harper administration."

More cheers

"And sometimes it's not what the corporate media does tell you, it's what they don't tell you. Am I right? For example, they never reported that 90 percent of the people affected by the radioactivity from the dirty bomb were from the inner cities of D.C. Not a single politician or corporate captain inhaled so much as a fume. But the way the media portrayed it would have you think that the very structure of government was about to collapse.

"You may wonder why I call it 'corporate media' That's because conservatives always falsely referred to it as the 'liberal media' in order to distort the fact that the media is hardly liberal.

"We're the real liberal media, right, people?"

Christ hesitates theatrically, then corrects himself:

"No, check that--we're not just liberal. We're RADICAL!"

Louder cheers.

"And what do radical people do? Do we shut up?

"HELL NO!" the crowd shouts back

"No, they shut things down! What do we do?"

"SHUT THINGS DOWN!"

This exhortation was followed by a deafening roar.

Everyone who wasn't a cop was cheering full throttle. Except Jude; he

christ smiled, holding sway over all he surveyed.

A moment later, christ abandoned the microphone, and stepped down from the podium, already past the point of words. He then gestured for the swelling crowd to follow him.

Not a single follower got into a car; they all followed Christ on foot.

Together, they marched on the nearby Federal Building, swarming all around it, forming a human chain of interlocked hands, completely blocking all front, back and even emergency exits. No one could get in or out for hours, thousands were trapped inside.

At first, the police were too small in number to do a damn thing about it. But reinforcements--along with dogs--were on the way. The National Guard was put on alert.

And Christ was in the center of it all, walking all around the circle again and again, checking for any weak links, all the while mobilizing his minions by bullhorn:

"Stay focused--and stay together, people. They can't defeat us, they cannot beat us. If we're truly sincere about bringing a socialist utopia to America, we've got to set an example and stand united. We're not a bunch of scared suburbanites all living alone in their single-tract housing. We live together. We don't let anything rip us apart!"

Cheers of solidarity reverberate inside and outside the lobby of the Federal Building. Christ has them under his thumb.

"Let the police haul us all away if necessary, but we are going to shut down the federal government's business here in Westwood California on this day!"

Louder cheers, if that was possible.

It just so happened there was a very important meeting going on in the building at the time of the takeover, between big-time military contractors and a couple of U.S Representatives, and they, like everyone else in the building were effectively trapped in the conference room on the 23rd floor.

christ knew the meeting would be happening, that's why he planned this all to happened; it was no spontaneous gesture to lead the crowd to block off the building.

But that also meant the cops came out in full force--with tear gas in tow. They shot gas bombs all over the place, inside and out, because by that time, it was only Christ and the protesters.

It soon became a confusing, cloudy mess and Christ realized that with hundreds of cops bearing down on them, people could get seriously hurt, and he didn't want that.

As always, pacifist christ was about turning the other cheek, not standing his ground and fighting. That was for the macho American who kicked ass and asked questions later.

Before things got completely chaotic, Christ gave the signal to his chief disciple lieutenants to tell the others to cut and run.

And within minutes, the majority of protesters vacated the Federal Building, scattering in a thousand different directions, Christ whisked away by his two main disciples.

The cops arrested a few dozen people, but nothing came of it and Christ got away scot-free.

But there was one person of significance 'arrested' that day; Jude.

Rather it was made to look like an arrest, actually it was prearranged with Jude that he would be taken into custody, so his ratting out Christ wouldn't be so obvious. But the truth was that Jude was a government plant from the very beginning, prior to his even having become of one christ's chief lieutenants. From the get-go, Jude's intent, his mission, was bringing down christ's radical movement before it spread out of manageable control for the Feds.

"In other words, squelch the movement before it became something real.

"Once under custody, Jude gleefully revealed to the Feds the location of Christ's high desert commune, and they wasted no times formulating a plan to first set-up, then raid and arrest Christ and his disciples.

For his services as a paid informant, all charges were dropped and Jude was reimbursed $30,000, which he promptly blew on a crazy weekend of synthetic drugs, hotel rooms and hookers.

Jude rejoined Christ's commune when he was promised by his contacts that he would be compensated further for 'future services.'

The always forgiving Christ welcomed Jude with open arms. The son of God apparently was not as all knowing and all seeing as his poppa.

The Feds laid low and waited until Christ could hold in his revolutionary fervor no longer and he and his disciples organized another rally against the war.

Jude met his contact at a local diner where he was given instructions and fronted $25,000 in cash, with another $25,000 to come upon successful completion of his assignment.

On the fateful day, Christ spoke at the massive rally in downtown L.A., a coalition of many leftist and radical organizations showed in full force; over 100,000 people of all colors, creeds, genders, political orientations and sexual preferences.

Simply put--a liberal paradise--and a conservative nightmare.

But conservatives have never been known to passively accept what they perceive as a nightmare break out into waking reality.

Since it was a peaceful demonstration with all the necessary permits, the cops couldn't move on them.

But that could change with a little help.

A group of undercover provocateurs (recently paroled convicts being paid by the Feds) posing as a band of right-wing racist skinheads moved through the crowd, starting trouble, picking fights, grabbing at women whose husbands/boyfriends had not choice but to defend them, so that eventually enough of a melee broke out that LAPD could justify moving in on the entire scene.

Again came the tear gas and once more, chaos ensued. Jude made sure he stayed close to Christ at all times, as instructed. Christ tried his best to maintain control, but with so much chaos, the situation rapidly descended out of control.

Then, suddenly, a hippie wearing a 'Christ for President' T-shirt pulled out a gun and shot one of the cops dead, right in front of Christ...and Jude.

Instantly, and almost a little too conveniently, a dozen cops swarmed on the hippie, Jude and Christ, arresting them all.

Later under questioning, the hippie 'confessed' to the crime, claiming that he was actually hired by Christ, Christ having told him to commit an act of violence in order to 'raise the stakes' of their movement. The hippie said that Christ told him that the 'authority pigs' needed to start dying because they shot, beat and killed so many protesters and activists over the years.

Christ allegedly said it was time to 'balance the scales' in that regard, and that's when he hatched the plot to have one of his extended flock wear the phony T-shirt.

Further damning Christ was Jude's court testimony before a grand jury that Christ gave the 'shoot order' to the hippie via a secret hand signal right before the hippie assassin squeezed the trigger.

When Jude later told the grand jury that Christ had already established cells of disciples throughout the country already in place in order to overthrow the government Christ was charged with sedition as well as conspiracy to commit murder.

The government railroaded christ during the actual criminal trial, with both the jury and christ's own defense attorney stacked in their favor. After being found guilty, in the penalty phase, sentence him to death as a radical terrorist.

The law was changed so that the execution process was sped up. But Christ still got his obligatory appeals. And as he waited on death row, his disciples and his old lady Mary Magdalene said they would keep his message alive after he died. They would write books and make films about Christ and his teachings, so that his words would live on forever.

That comforted Christ after he lost his last appeal and faced death by lethal injection.

christ had his last supper of salmon, string beans, sourdough bread and peach cobbler for dessert.

After his meal, christ received some unofficial "visitors" in the form of LAPD, still angered that he ordered the death of one of their own, and the six men brutally tortured and beat christ, cops who took extra relish in handing out such a beating cause they despised his hippie values.

The off-duty cops armed to the teeth really worked the messiah over; clubbed christ in the ribs, pistol whipped him across the face, breaking the bridge of his nose in the process, and actually whipped him. One cop even stabbed Christ in his side a couple of times. Not enough to kill him, but sufficient to make him suffer in agony while bleeding slowly to death.

Keeping him alive, but on the verge of death until the final hour struck and the Governor refused to stay the execution. Then christ was marched through Death Row to TECHNICAL NAME FOR ROOM to what may as well be called the 'death chamber', where the prisoner is executed.

As christ was brought on display for the final time before government officials and family members of the police officer who was killed by the provocateur.

Before being injected with the fatal chemical cocktail, the voice of the prison warden came through the speaker in the death chamber: "Do you wish to make a final statement?"

christ tilted his head up, looked directly into the warden's eyes and nodded his head.

Then christ issued his final words: "Forgive them father, for they know not what they do."

Wasting no further time, the prison guards strapped christ onto a gurney; christ's arms are swabbed with alcohol and then two IV's are inserted, one for each arm. The second one is a back-up in case the first fails.

Following connection of the IV lines, first, saline drips were started in both of christ's thin arms; this to ensure the three chemicals don't mix in the IV, preventing them from doing their job of killing.

The first intravenous injection christ received was sodium thipental, an ultra fast-acting barbiturate that rendered the messiah unconscious in 4.2 seconds. christ never looked more of the flesh than when he was sleeping, artificially induced or not.

Then it was time for the big boys; starting with pancuronium, which caused a fast-acting complete and sustained paralysis of the diaphragm and other respiratory muscles, which caused christ to asphyxiate.

But if that was enough, to complete this unholy trinity, the third chemical, potassium chloride, stopped christ's sacred heart from beating--at least on the mortal, physical plane.

Naturally, all this took place on a Friday, and the disciples and Mary Magdalene, who were protesting outside the prison gates, swore that at the moment of Christ's death, storm clouds that had been slowly gathering all afternoon, suddenly poured forth with thunder lightning and rain.

They didn't need to hear the news for the official confirmation; from that storm--they knew. Their leader, their inspiration, their christ...was no more.

For he subsequent weekend was a seemingly endless misery...until...

On that Sunday morning, something wonderful happened. When they awoke, the disciples and Mary were greeted by the spirit of Christ hovering in the sky above them.

Christ told that he would be joining his Father now and that the disciples should carry on his work and spread his philosophy throughout the world.

He also advised them that taking advantage of his status as a martyr could go a long way in promoting Christ's dream of a world socialist government.

"Turn over the money changers everywhere! Live together as one! Cast aside material possessions and material concerns!"

These were things they had all heard before, but then, christ told them something new

"And most of all, beware of those who would use my name and my words to benefit their financial interests--those who seek to sully my name by using my teachings to justify a pro-capitalist philosophy. Do not confuse my longing for equitable treatment for each individual human being to be any kind of sanction of a free-market system.

"The Free

Christ admonished his disciples and Mary before he disappeared for good, with the promise of return in his third coming.

DO I INTERRUPT READING TO SAY THIS?
"The question this essay puts before you: Is christianity truly the religion of political conservatism?

"This is what we have been told--mostly by conservative pundits, this is what we are told, and this is what we will be told into the future.

"If christianity supposed to be based on the teachings and actions and wisdom of Jesus Christ, it certainly isn't.

And despite the cloak of conservatism, christianity has a liberal, and yes, even leftist tradition running through it.

Enough so that portraying the second coming of Christ as a neo-hippie revolutionary is not so far fetched. {MAYBE EXAMPLES HERE}

The contrived association between Christianity and political/economic conservatism can be traced back to the Catholic Church's appropriation of the religion from the original Christians, who tended to adopt a superiority complex based on their belief that their faith, exemplified in their ascetic lifestyles, was inherently superior to the decadence of the Roman pagans.
{THIS MAY BE INCORPORATED IN THE ESSAY ON CHRISTIANITY AND PSYCHOLOGY}

Their asceticism restricted overindulgence in everything from sex to food to limiting more abstract concerns such as pride and judging others.

It should also be noted that the leading Christian writers of the time reinterpreted previous Biblical texts to created a newly synthesized Scripture. Another term for it would be "watered down". In other words, they distorted the truth about Christ and the 12 apostles and portrayed them as living the lifestyle they deemed suitable for salvation.

The Catholic Church exploited this previously sincere (however misguided) asceticism as a system of control by imposing it on the faithful by convincing them that the only path to Christ and salvation was to live a life bereft of creature comforts and to always submit to the authority of the Church.

However, ascetiscism in Christianity was just getting warmed up, peaking with the rise of a Prostetant offshoot known as Calvinism.

Though the connections between Christianity and the political and economic philosophy of Marxism stem back from the the teachings of Christ himself, there is a more tangible connection that must be explored.

The connection between the Christian denomination of Calvinism and Marxism.

Calvinism was founded, conveniently enough, by John Calvin, who published his first religious tract in 1536 Switzerland. Calvinism was a particularly harsh derivative of Luther's Protestant denomination.

Luther transformed the soteriological chessboard by declaring that it was faith, not good acts that ensured safe passage into heaven. Calvin amended Luther by claiming that even an act of faith would not guarantee salvation. Those who were saved were called 'the Elect.'Salvation was predetermined--in other words, God decided who's soul would be saved or not before one was born.

One wonders what methods were used by God to possibly determine in any kind of judicious manner who's soul was saved.

Calvinism is known for tying the notion of war with spiritual salvation and in doing so served as one of the roots of the crucial Marxist concept of dialectical materialism.

Peace was a sin in this system, because that meant Satan had been victorious. War amongst humans was meant to parallel the ongoing war between God/Christ and Satan, and was thus virtuous, as it would ultimately result in heavenly utopia.

Marxism, some 300 years later, is largely similar in that it promotes a 'final battle' line between the worker's class and the capitalist exploiters. Conflict between these two entities was encouraged because it would result in utopia, a worker's paradise on Earth.

Like Calvinism, a lack of conflict is negative, because that means that the capitalist masters are pacifying the masses any number of various opiates, including religion.

But ironically, it was the Christian denomination of Calvinism which gave rise to 'godless Communism.' For it is only through the clash of opposites endemic to dialectical materialism can the workers finally overthrow the shackles of ownership oppression. (When exactly the conflict was to give way to a worker's paradise remains unclear, but it's just a 5-year plan or two away).

But it is not merely at this extreme variant that christianity defies any concept of political conservatism.

Christ himself was no conservative. He was a single guy. Never married. Consorted with prostitutes. Opposed the crass money changers in the temple and the corrupt Roman government.

In other words, he was a long haired rebel who messed with the establishment.

While Christ may have been conflicted when it comes to certain issues such as abortion, as he is portrayed in the bible, he was not conservative.

Here are just a few examples, direct 'quotes' from the mangod himself:

Christ as pacifist:

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. [Matthew 5:9]

Resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. [Matthew 5:39]

I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despite-fully use you, and persecute you; [Matthew 5:44]

Christ as anti-conspicuous consumption activist:

Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. [Luke 12.15.]

Truly, I say unto you, it will be hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. [Matthew 19:23]

You cannot serve both God and Money. [Matthew 6:24.]

But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. You will be repaid at the resurrection of the just. [Luke 14:13 &14.]

Christ as humble guru:

And when thou pray, thou shall not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou pray, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret… [Matthew 6:6 & 7]

From just this small sampling of Jesus soundbites, it's apparent that the man wouldn't have been a big fan of the conservative christians of present day America who wear their religion on their sleeves, all the while oppressing, not 'giving a feast' to the poor.

And it seems unlikely that Christ would have supported the US Persian Wars that essentially decimated the Muslim population around the globe.

In short, the link between conservative American politics and the biblical interpretation of Christ could not be any more tenuous, if not an outright falsehood.

And with this mountain of evidence, can there be any doubt that Christianity should weigh heavy on the political left of the spectrum?

However false it may be, the morality of christianity (evangelical as well as less extreme denominations) has become associated with the political right, even though the words and actions of Christ clearly reveal a liberal leaning.

Therefore, it should surprise none that most liberals and progressive eschew Christianity, but they do not possess the courage to abandon it completely. At least not in any large-scale sense.

This attachment stems from a dubious sentimentality that even otherwise rational and clear thinking liberals and progressives have for Christianity, a sentimentality that might be based in nostalgia (stemming from their belief in God/Christ as children, nostalgic Christmas memories also forms a link that binds left-wingers to the religion they have generally left behind).

Even worse, there are doubtless countless libs and progs who still have yet to transcend the fear that they do possess a 'soul' and that said soul will be 'judged' by God/Christ /Allah/Buddha at the end of their physical existence.

This lingering fear, the product of years of indoctrination, makes it impossible for the liberal to make the full commitment of abandoning Christianity and rejecting it from top to bottom, meaning even arguing against the metaphysical aspects of Christianity, i.e., questioning its logical legitimacy. {FLESH OUT THE CONCEPT OF 'TOP TO BOTTOM' REJECTION OF CHRISTIANITY. THERE IS A LOT MORE TO BE EXPLORED THERE}

Other factors preventing the liberal/progressive from making a 'clean break' from christianity could be family considerations; parental pressure to appear at church, wife/husband/friend/lover who does not share the feelings of her/his anti-Christian significant other.

Usually, it is the extreme noncomformist; the artist, the punk, the street kid, gays, etc who can wholy reject christianity and even outwardly oppose it. Often these individuals do not fall into the camp of 'liberal' or 'conservative' Some may be genuinely described as 'anarchistic.'

The majority of liberals are ultimately still too conformist and plugged into the institutional-based system to reject christianity as it must be in order to lessen its undue influence on the culture at large.

Even more disturbing is the relativity recent phenomenon of liberals/Democrats/etc who have made the connection between the true teachings of Christ and a more leftist point of view. While it is in all honesty a sincere connection, it still undermines the undermining of Christianity proposed by this book. In this way, liberals sustain Christianity, instead of moving beyond it.

If Christianity co-opts the political left to a substantial degree, that it will truly be left to the anarchists and the scientists to overcome the religion's debasement of virtually every aspect of human existence.

Another consideration; let's say the dream of the religious right in this country someday comes true, that the Constitution is replaced by religious rule, by biblical law. Would that system be in any way compatible with our modern day, corporate controlled culture?

Unlikely, as morality, rather than money would become the first priority when making business decisions, but business is not predicated on morality, it's predicated on money.

But let it be concluded that the notion that Christ is compatible with political conservatism is as implausible as the Resurrection itself.

It's just one of Christianity's many fallacies on perpetually on display for those who care to look."

The resounding applause takes me back, it's almost too much to receive--yet another impossibility Ms. Cabal has made possible. Never thought my writing, my words, my ideas would be listened to and well received by such persons I always just assumed were my enemies.

COULD END SCENE HERE THEN BACK TO HOTEL

NEXT SCENE IN BOSTON SHOULD HAVE ME COMPARING THE PROTEST THERE TO ATLANTA

OPENS W/ SOMETHING ON WOMEN, THE MOST PERTINENT
RANT ON WOMEN AND CHRISTIANITY

MAYBE GIVE THIS TALK IN BOSTON
"If you've read any of the signs of protest out there--and you really should, some of them are hilarious, I took photos and I'll be posting them on my website as soon as I get a chance.
"Since I can't piss off the residents of this town any more than I already have, why not get deep into the never controversial topic of Women and christianity.

"Some of you have read I'm a feminist. No doubt some of you have also read that I'm a sexist pig."

The collective laughter emitted from the audience is sufficiently knowing to confirms my suspicions on the matter.

"I can tell you this--I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for the strength of a woman. I'm referring to my publisher and professional confidant, Ms. Cabal And I know all women can have her power--not to be like Ms. Cabal, but to harness such power in the manner she does. With such power, women don't need christianity and will in fact find it to be a hindrance in their lives and progressions."

While speaking, I intentionally seek out the eyes of the women in the crowd, it's important to make a brief, yet impacting impression on them, and also use the split second glance to gauge their reaction to my words.

I've also used the arena of the live monologue to introduce some freedom into my
Or should I say, more freedom than I usually permit myself.

Undisciplined discipline.

"Any discussion of women and christianity has to touch upon the pagan origins of christianity. Just like the Sacred Feminine, the pagan derivation of christianity was suppressed for centuries by the church.

"Here in this day and age, we can discuss those once shrouded and forbidden origins, many of which still surprise the average person to this day.

"One of the religious mystery groups of Ancient Greece, the Orphics, set a template for christianity by preaching that all non-followers of the Orphic faith were doomed to spend eternity filling one sieve with water from another sieve, an unending task.

"Even before I wrote this book, I heavily researched the true origins of christianity. Take Mithraism, like Orphism, a progenitor of christianity, it was such an influence on the christian faith that followed it, but why was it supplanted by christianity?

"For the simple fact that Mithraism failed to utilize the overwhelming--and overbearing conversion tactics and methods of christianity it was not able to

"It's kind of like life. If you're honest, fair and propose that people think for themselves, you generally get squashed--or if you're fortunate, merely overlooked. On the other hand--and often with the other hand, if you cheat, take shortcuts and appeal to the worst in mankind, you end up on top.

"And so it was that pagan religions were both squashed and overlooked by the rapidly emergent church in Rome.

"It was merely a transference of power, from decadent emperors to hypocritical pious popes. In the process, the much more valid pagan religions were forced to the shadows, covertly maintaining their traditions in the underbelly of their christianized culture.

"The suppression of women by the christian church has logically paralleled their suppression of the pagan religions; for women represent the same thing the pagan religions do--man surrendering his reason to erotic mystical passions.

"christianity merely asks that their flock surrender their reason to adhering to a strict moral code

"Was thinking of saving this for Boston, but given Roe v Wade, Washington seems a much more appropriate place for me to explore a little concept I like to call...

"The Moral Imperative for Abortion.

"An unwanted child vs a desired abortion

"Abortion as an act of a woman to dictate the destiny of her own body. christian morality views a woman's body as a vessel destined to carry a baby to term.

"Women who are anti-abortionists are among life's greatest mysteries. It's understandable why short-sighted males want to control women's bodies and view them as their rightful property, but for women to turn on other women at the most intimate level is deplorable.

"I understand there are many women who would never have an abortion for a variety of reasons, often times religion/moral are not among those reasons.

"One of the aims of the essay was to explore the unique appeal christianity has to women, how it holds them stagnant, undermining the progress of their own gender.

"Though I am loathe to speak in collectivist terms, it is plainly evident that christianity subordinates women, and while recognizing the tremendous gains that women have made in the last century, those things are at peril if this secular world should ever give way to a theocracy. Theocracy may sound absurd at best, paranoid at worst to most of you, and even I doubt the likelihood of sustained success of a theocracy. However, that is a topic for another city, Denver, I think, so if you want to see it, you'll just have to follow me there."

A few laughs float up from the crowd, the kind of laughs that suggest following me from city to city is as absurd as the possibility of theocracy.

"Therefore, when women perpetuate christianity in any of its varied forms, they are just perpetuating a system that provides a false spirituality that diminishes the opportunities for women to advance in the material world.

"Women are told the ideal female figure in the christian faith is a virgin, who was conceived by a possibly friendly ghost otherwise known as the holy spirit. If you want more on the holy spirit, you'll have to join the tour in Boston. Hey, it's helluva lot closer than the Rockies.

"To this day, nuns in the catholic church must remain unwed and celibate. An obvious fact, but if woman took a step back and really looked at it, would any of them remain catholic? Especially if they knew that the origin of nuns was as concubines for the catholic church back in Rome?

"Christianity exploits the female tendency to prefer illusion to reality. Lest you think this is a sexist statement, it can be attributed to the patriarchal system that oppressed women and denied them the opportunity to contribute to the creation of society. Being denied full access to reality, women turned to the inner world of the imagination. A strong imagination was also critical to mothers seeking to entertain their children with stories at bedtime and otherwise in an era long before TV and video games.

"Women also tend to be more ethereal in their thinking and certainly more prone to intuition.

"When christianity found that the devil was a very powerful tool and the sin most associated with satanic practices was sex; the subtext is that women were evil and must be subjugated.

"Women were associated with the morally inferior; evidence of this is found in the double standard that a sexually liberated woman is a slut or whore, such a man is a virile stud to be admired and envied.

"Women were cast in this position because they represent man abandoning his spiritual ideals for the lust that is granted between a woman's legs

"The catholic church of the dark ages required a scapegoat in the fifteenth century in order to justify its hold on the populace, the pagan religions that had served the role so well in the nascent church's rise to dominance had either been stamped out or driven underground in rudimentary fragments.

"This new scapegoat was conveniently found in the guise of witches--and the association of witches with magic, black or otherwise made it much easier to ally witches with the devil than it was pagans, because it's a logical contradiction that a religion that refuses to acknowledge the existence of a being such as the devil would actually spend a whole lot of time worshiping said prince of darkness.

"And it wasn't just the catholic church that saw the 'witch fever' that spread across Europe (and later, to America) as a convenient apparatus, Luther and Calvin advocated burning and killing witches in order to rid the countryside of their wickedness.

"But were witches truly viewed as a threat? Of course not; besides the aforementioned subjugation of women, establishing the reality of witches was a means by which a given religion could rally the faithful flock to oppose the very real threat of satan and his human agents--witches. Convincing the masses that devil is real also solidified their belief in god/christ and the metaphysical/spiritual world in general.

"Perhaps even more critically, the tangible existence of witches (whether any of these ladies possessed any tangible powers is another matter altogether) allowed the church to absolve god the burden of creating evil in the world. It has always been quite the theological dilemma for monotheistic religions that preach worshipping uber-benevolent deities to explain evil in the world, namely, Why would a god of pure goodness allow the existence of evil, pain and suffering into a physical plane that he created?

"With the devil, that valid philosophical question is avoided altogether--god has nothing to do with it, for it is the devil who is the spawn of all evil, and his human agents, like witches, and today, gays who want to get married are those who spread his evil across the physical world.

"One final note on this trip down memory lane; we're all familiar with the term the 'Dark Ages' that describes the period of Western history when the catholic church dominated and oppressed the European culture at large. But how many of you have heard about the Burning Times? This was a horrifying century from 1550 to 1650--not that long ago in relative terms--in France, Germany and Switzerland that saw the trial--and execution of witches, although the 17th century did see the end of capital punishment for witches, with the practice subsequently spreading to the paranoid shores of the fledgling American nation, dealing with native tribes and harsh winters.

"Imposing their religion over all things gave the pilgrims a sense of control--and women were controlled as much as any element of the New World.

"So to summarize, we find a ridiculously large amount of reasons why women should not surrender to christianity's seductive charms

"One, by suppressing women, christianity assured it would remain a patriarchal institution. Two, by denying the Sacred Feminine, christianity rid itself of the pagan aspects of christianity (and the pagan secret origins of christianity itself), Three, it perpetuated the notion and subsequent reality that women were merely vessels designed to carry a man's child to term. That is why abortion is so central to the religious debate these days; it has little if nothing to do with saving unborn lives, because any of those hypocrites would have their daughter get an abortion if there was a nasty inconvenient or even scandalous pregnancy, but rather it has everything to do with controllng women, their bodies, and their freedom of choice. Four, women's sexuality was used as a device to induce guilt, that favorite standby of christianity. A mentally healthy human being realizes that true feelings of guilt, remorse, etc only comes from within the individual, it cannot be legitimately be imposed from the external world

"If you'll indulge me a moment--and perhaps, you indulge every moment I stand on this podium, but be that as it may. I'd like to speak about women in broader terms--no pun intended--as a way of understanding why many of them are so damn faithful to an anti-feminist religious system."

LACK OF IMAGINATION, PURPOSE, THE NEED FOR EXTERNAL STIMULATION

"You've probably noticed that I often use the term 'christianity' where it may be politically correct to say 'the catholic church' or simply, 'the church', but that is because christianity is the driving force behind these malignant manifestations such as the catholic church and the subsequent oppression of women that is the topic on the table--or podium, as it were--tonight.

"For too long, christianity as a religious system has gotten off both the metaphysical and philosophical hooks; the blame for some negative aspect is generally assigned to a particular denomination, catholic being first and foremost. Although it is evangelical christianity which has come to dominate the American landscape in this context.

"But attacking or singling out one particular denomination is never going to solve the large problems that christianity both represents and presents to the culture at large. Therefore, I choose to refer to christianity as a whole

I've been asked about that by some readers--or maybe they're people who hate my guts, so just thought I should address that one

FOR THE Q&A LATER. THIS Q&A SHOULD BE MOVED TO 'HUB BUB'
"Mr. Grimm, do you deny the existence of a soul, of life after death?"

"Nothing of the sort. I do deny that said soul is subject to eternal damnation--or eternal reward. Either one would be a contradiction in the context of my general cosmology, which I've outlined in a previous lecture in Chicago. To understand that, you'll have to get a audio or video copy--I'm not repeating it here.

"But the evidence--such as it is

"I do not place all my proverbial eggs in the basket of science--in the sense that I am open to more than science is willing to accept. However, I am extremely cautious in downplaying scientific achievements and discoveries, for they are among the finest in human history, if not the most laudable, for they have made the human experience all the more bearable."

"On the other hand, I don't find it necessary to rule out the legitimate existence of a spiritual realm or plane in order to effectively diminish christianity. As I said in Chicago, christianity perverts true spirituality.

"And correspondingly, it perverts the legitimate nature of the soul. I've read a myriad of books on the subject, and there is some awfully compelling evidence to suggest a state of existence beyond the physical shell.

"When you start getting too specific about such matters, that's generally when you run into problems. Whether or not the soul--the unit of awareness that is a microcosm of Absolute Awareness MAY EXPAND UPON THIS--retains the human personality after mortal death is an open-ended question.

"Then there is the consideration of reincarnation, which some apocryphal writings suggest jesus christ himself preached, that he was actually part of a more mystical jewish sect called the essenes, and christ himself spent some of those infamous "lost years" in places like India, gaining esoteric occult knowledge, which he then brought back to Jerusalem."
Since Thanksgiving is late as it can be this year on the calendar, it gave us almost an extra week leeway to squeeze in this near two-week tour before the holiday kicks in. The plan is to fly back from LAX to SFO on the Sunday night before Turkey Day.
After all, people have to have adequate time to prepare to prepare those dead birds.

WHEN I GET BACKSTAGE

Cassandra greets me with some kind of newspaper in her hands

"Did you see this?" she asks, anguish etched on her face as she hands me a folded newspaper so that a particular article is front and present in my view

Hard to miss: Does Darwin Grimm hate liberals as much as he does Jesus?

Below the headline is a picture of me from the Atlanta book signing--alongside one of me attending the Atlanta bookburning. Great.

Really not in the mood to read the article--or look at the pictures; not exactly the way I prefer to unwind after appearing in front of a crowd.

I walk past Cassandra's outstretched hand, and she seems taken aback by my abrupt reaction.

Walk over to the mini-fridge and grab a bottle of water to pick my cottonmouth

Now feel more than a tad guilty of taking out my frustration on her, so I resume acknowledging the article:

"So what paper was that in?"

"You really want to know?"

"I'm asking you, aren't I?"

"Hold on, I have to look at it," she laughs to herself, probably realizing she didn't even bother to find out what it was she was reading in the first place.

She unfolds the paper, thumbing backwards from the story to the front page:

"It's the 'Capitol Corner' a free weekly, seems kind of like 'Bay Protector' back in San Francisco."

"Then it's liberal. Where'd you get it?"

"From Ms. Cabal."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just...I'm not surprised that she's the first to know about something controversial."

"That's her job, isn't it?"

"Are you defending Ms. Cabal?"

"She does sign my checks."

"Mine, too. Just wish she could have spent some of that money to prevent this from hitting the press."

"She's not in the business of censorship, Darwin. To her, any publicity is probably good publicity."

"Take out the word 'probably' and you're on to something."

Then as if right on cue, Ms. Cabal enters (from where I haven't a clue). And like in Chicago and San Francisco before that, she has a strange man on her arm. At least strange to these eyes.
OR THIS COULD TAKE PLACE AT HOTEL
I'M THERE ALONE, REFLECTING ON THE LECTURE
MS. CABAL APPEARS WITH INVESTOR 'FRIEND' ON HER ARM AND CONGRATS ME
THEN CASSANDRA APPEARS
WE TALK
KISS
SHE LEAVES

Not that I really know about such things, but it's pretty evident that he's extremely well dressed and presumably very wealthy. He carries himself with the sort of humility only a rich man can afford to have.

He's very thin, and has deeply set eyes, making it hard to discern the color. Hazel? Grey, maybe?

Don't really care about that, his designer clothes or his patrician nose, but I'm going to be introduced to all of them anyway

"Ted, this is Darwin Grimm. Darwin, this is Ted Stanapolous, an investor friend of mine."

We shake hands; his grip tighter than I prefer, but he's not overbearing about it, at least.

Cassandra is ignored by Ms. Cabal, as far as introductions go, which is probably fine with her being regarded as just 'hired security', but it bothers me.

"I enjoyed your book, thoroughly Darwin," Ted tells me.

"Thanks very much, I'm glad you liked it, Mr. Stana-polis"

He laughs at my fumbling of his name, "Please, call me Ted."

I nod as Ms. Cabal informs me, "Darwin, you should know that it was Ted who provided the hotel room we're staying at here in Washington."

"Is that so? Thanks again, Ted."

"Not a problem, Darwin. Always glad to patronize an artist."

Never had anyone ever say that to me before "Where have you been all my life?"

Everyone laughs, but soon enough, Ms. Cabal is back to business:

"Ted and I are headed out to have dinner in the Georgetown district. There's an amazing restaurant he's been wanting to show me. There is a limo parked out front waiting to take you back to the hotel whenever you're ready to leave. Order anything you like from room service. I'll see you in the morning before we head out to Dulles."

"Ah yes, that airport named for a great American fascist," I can't help but quip.

The laughter doesn't come so quick or generous this time from either Ted or Ms. Cabal. Maybe Ted's grandad hung out with Dulles himself back in the day.

"We should be going. Have a good night, Darwin."

"Thank you Ms. Cabal. And it was nice meeting you, Ted."

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Grimm."

"One more thing, Ted? Since you said you like the book so much, what was your favorite part?"

Even said it in a way that makes it sound like I'm doubting he ever picked up the book, let alone thoroughly enjoyed reading the whole damn thing.

Ms. Cabal hurls a pair of daggers from her eyes straight into my heart, but fend them off in my jealousy and await his response:

He certainly casts a thoughtful gaze, as he looks to the sky and mutters: "That's hard to say..."

Ha! That's something a bullshitter would have to say.

Then his expression changes, as if he suddenly snatched just what he was mentally perusing out of thin air

"Yes, that's it--EXAMPLE"

Damn, he did read his Bye Bull. Unless Ms. Cabal coached him.

That's getting a bit too paranoid.

What really gets me about the whole thing is the way Ms. Cabal's dressed. So overtly sexual; a blouse that hangs off, revealing part of bare shoulder.

A shoulder I want to sink my teeth in. It's pure agony standing here and watching her about to go out for the evening with another man. Especially now that I've tasted her. Unless I was dreaming that.

Also find my eyes drifting towards the expanse of cleavage Ms. Cabal has chosen to reveal

In my peripheral vision, can tell that Cassandra is watching me looking at Ms. Cabal in this way, and in a way I wish she wasn't looking at me, in another way I don't give a shit

SHE COMMENTS ON IT, EMBARASSING ME

At the hotel or private estate, D'mona tells me she's going off to dinner with the investor who's putting us up. She's dressed overtly sexual, not in her usual professional/business attire that I'm accustomed to.

Divert my eyes from her cleavage and she comments on it, further embarassing me.

MS. CABAL LEAVES FOR THE EVENING AND THEN CASSANDRA CHECKS IN ON ME, SAYING SHE'LL BE RIGHT NEXT DOOR. I ASK HER TO STAY AND TALK, SHE SITS ON THE BED NEXT TO ME

I TELL HER I SAW HER LOOKING AT ME LOOKING AT MS. CABAL AND SHE ADMITS HER ATTRACTION TO ME, SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH MY IDEAS, HENCE THE PAINTING AND NOW SHE'S FALLING FOR ME

I TELL HER I SEE HER AS MORE THAN A BODYGUARD AND IN THAT SENSE I WISH SHE WASN'T MY BODYGUARD, JUST A FAN I MET

HOW DO WE KISS

AFTER THE KISS, SHE PULLS BACK, SAYING, BUT I AM YOUR BODYGUARD, AT LEAST UNTIL THIS BOOK TOUR IS OVER, SO I CAN'T GET UNPROFESSIONAL AND PUT YOU AT RISK

ME: BUT WHAT IF I SAY IT'S ALRIGHT IF YOU'RE UNPROFESSIONAL AND LET YOUR GUARD DOWN

IT'S NOT FOR YOU TO SAY, DARWIN, MAYBE THINGS CAN BE DIFFERENT WHEN WE GET BACK TO SAN FRAN, BUT NOT UNTIL THEN

Between this and the chap at the book premiere party back in SF, it seems like she's make a deliberate, yet completely unstated attempt to turn me away, that's she's not interested in any kind of sexual relationship with me, no matter how kinky or depraved and removed from any sense of conventionality.

Truth be told, I've felt far closer to Cassandra, really, ever since I met her back on Halloween.

But there's that bodyguard/client gap or wall dividing or separating us, whatever stupid metaphor you prefer.

"Why do you have to call her Ms. Cabal?"

"I don't have to."

First lie I've ever told Cassandra.

And a shitty one at that--she doesn't believe it for a second. "Sure, you don't, Darwin. You're awfully uptight around her."

"She's a very powerful woman--and I owe everything to her. Wouldn't be here in this luxury suite right now if not for her, I'd be back in my crappy apartment in San Francisco."

"Is that so bad? Being in San Francisco, and living humbly?"

Know where she's getting at, but I choose to deflect her angle: "Not at all. I'm in it for the art, like you. All this is to promote the book--a temporary indulgence. A once in a lifetime experience for me, that's for sure. Never thought I'd ever be on a book tour, can tell you that."

"Hey, I meant to tell you; I was really impressed by what you said today at the bookstore."

Not overly impressed: "Everything I said is in my book and you've already read it>"

"I know, but it was...different hearing you say the words. Besides, I don't remember everything I read. I only read Bye Bull once, it usually takes two or three readings before I really retain a book's content."

"Same for me, pretty much."

"I'm more of a visual artist, you know? My memory's rooted in pictures--images, I don't easily recall words, or long passages from books or articles.

"It wasn't just what you said, but how you said it, you got so real about women and their general relationship to religion; the good and the bad of it, you pretty much said it all."

"Thanks. It means a lot to me coming from you."

Finally decide I'm going to tell Cassandra about my feelings towards her, how it felt like fate that we should meet, ever since I saw her whisk by me on the previous xmas eve.

She also has something to admit to me, but she hopes it doesn't freak me out, because I'm so damn logical and rational with my anti-christianity.

"Not as much as you may think" I assure her

She tells me she's been in a "psychic, etheric" relationship with me since that xmas eve. That's how the painting came to her, she describes that process of creating it and tells me the story.

"As crazy as it sounds, I feel like I was...meant to protect you, especially promoting your work of art, as you have been on this tour. I know to someone who's as anti-christian as you, that might seem strange."

"Not at all. You've heard my lectures, I'm anti-christian, but not anti-mysticism; I don't deny the existence of a spiritual reality."

"I've heard sections of your lectures," Cassandra is quick to correct me, "I occasionally have to concentrate on my job."

"That's why I could never be a bodyguard," I opine with a crack, "too much concentration."

Our lips meet, and it's even more amazing than I could have imagined. Just hope I'm doing a decent job at my end, and leave her wanting more.

Instinctively, passionately, I wrap my arm around her shoulder...

But instead of drawing closer to my display of affection, her next motion is to draw away and shake her head

"I'm sorry, Darwin. I shouldn't even have kissed you. It's not professional--"

"Who cares about that? I mean, here, now, when we're all alone like this."

"I'm still guarding you, even now, Darwin. That's what Ms. Cabal paid me to do--not to sleep with you."

Place my hand gently as possible on her shoulder, "It isn't like that and you know it. And Ms. Cabal wouldn't have to find out."

Knew that was a lie before it even crossed my lips. There isn't a thing in this goddamn world Ms. Cabal doesn't know.

But I don't care. Just know I want Cassandra--here and now.

But she doesn't want me. At least not here and now.

She takes another step back.

"I'm sorry, Darwin."

Her final words on the subject.

She exits into her room, closing the door.

what brings us together to kiss, to be physical?

REVELATION COULD BE ON XMAS EVE, WITH MS CABAL APPEARING ON NOB HILL

DarwinBlinks

Monday, December 31, 2007

Solstice of Revelations

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Entry XXVIII--Direct Connection

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