Opiate for the masses, is what I say. I bought a copy of the “holy” bible at the thrift shop near my Mom’s house. I also bought the Qur’an. I didn’t read either, but I didn’t need to. I figured out what this Jesus guy was up to. It’s blatantly obvious.

Follow me outside, I need a smoke. Do you have a light?

So, like Jesus was this stepson of a carpenter. A real blue collar guy who was probably making Jesus feel like shit all the time. That’s what my stepdad does. He’s a fucking plumber. So this Joseph guy was probably like, Jesus Christ, you’re 21, get out of my house, fag. That’s what my stepdad said to me, anyway.

So Jesus moves to the city and sees all of these stupid ass phonies and their fucking religion, right? And–hey, man! Hold on, sorry. Yeah I heard your demos, that’s some cool shit. Oh, okay, I’ll see you later. Sorry, that guy is in an electro band with an ex-roommate of mine.

Anyway, Jesus moves to the city and sees all of these stupid ass phonies and their fucking religion, and is like, these people are idiots. And they’re probably listening to shitty music and liking stupid art and boring plays. And Jesus is just like, “Dude, I need to shake this scene up. I am going to do the most outrageous fucking performance art that the world has ever fucking seen.”

Do you want a High Life? Okay, here man.

So, he meets up with a bunch of like minded artists, who totally fucking look up to him, because he’s cool and has this awesome beard and always wears white and stuff. He’s just a cool guy, like me. And I have disciples, too.

And they’re like whatever you want to do, we’re in. So, he gets everybody together and says, “I am going to pretend to be the son of God.” And everybody is blown away.

Oh, hey what’s up? Oh are you going back to Seattle for the summer? Cool. Oh, he’s just a buddy of mine. Okay, see you this fall. Will you be back at SVA? She didn’t hear me. Sorry about that.

Then Jesus gets some of his people to make believe he’s doing miracles, and he gets some writer friends to make shit up, and the morons that see this shit believe him instantly. So, he keeps topping himself and he gets tired of it. It’s in a creative rut and he wants to do something that people will remember him for. Kind of like that mural I painted in Bushwick.

So, he has this dinner and everybody meets up and drinks wine and shit. And he’s like, “Judas, you are going to betray me, and turn me over to the guards, and they will crucify me. Then, I will come BACK TO LIFE.”

Everybody is like, “Shit, how is he going to pull this off?” And they hire a bunch of guards to fake this crucifixion and then he comes back to life a few days later and then spends the rest of his life writing this book. The Bible is more like Catcher in the Rye than anything man, it’s about phonies. He’s up there with Jack Kerouac and Andy Warhol and Dan Deacon. Outsider art at it’s finest. 

Shit, my bad. Do you want some coke?

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by Doktor Strange

It’s The Doktor back with another dose of magic for my doksuckers out there! Had a great time meeting all of the nice folks at the AstraZeneca corporate retreat last Sunday. I hope their next pharmaceutical creation fixes their minds! Because they were blown!

Doktor Strange has been very upset lately with the news of that Obama character closing down Geronimo Bay in Cuba. I suppose TERRORISTS look out for eash other, though.

Doktor Strange met up with a few buddies from high school at Bennigan’s this week. Or at least, I thought they were buddies. Not everybody can be a magician, Terry. Sometimews you have to settle with real estate agent and live with it. Jealousy is so unattractive.

Doktor Strange took his lovely assistant (and on/off girlfriend) Kathy to see the new Terminator flick last night. I enjoyed the movie, but Kathy didn’t seem to enjoy the little magic trick I played on her when she went to reach for her popcorn. Suprise!

Doktor Strange is having a bit of a rivalry these days with Jeffrey Greenbaum, who is in AA with me. He wouldn’t give me a ride home (my lisence got taken away) at the last meeting. In my next blog entry, I will share the story he shared with the rest of us about the time he drunkenly cheated on his wife. That is, unless he’s willing to give me a ride this week.

Well, that’s all from the Doktor this week. You can look forward to some saucy stories next week if the prick doesn’t drive me home. Don’t fret, Doksuckers, I will be explicit and I will name names.

Until next time, you can find me exploring the beyond!

Peace, Love,
Doktor Strange

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by Vic Higgins

Hey, Higgins here. I’m writing this, because I am so damn cool and it pisses me off sometimes. I just want y’all to understand where I’m coming from, because most people just ain’t as cool as I am. Believe it or not, but it’s not easy being this damn cool.

For example, when I walk down the street, people stop and look at me and my cool threads and kickin’ shades. Sometimes they’ll say, “Check him out!” or “Get a load of that kid!” and I ‘gnore ‘em. Of course, I can’t help but think to myself: I am so goddamn cool. But I don’t need to be reminded every friggin’ minute of every friggin’ day, people!

But there are other times, when people–the “normies” as I call ‘em–point and stare at me, like I’m some sort of freakin’ god or somethin’. Sometimes, I just want to stop being friggin’ treated like a damn god! Is that too damn much to ask?

Another reason that it kinda sucks to be as great as I am, is that people will be mean to me, just because I’m so damn cool all of the time. It’s like everybody wants to be me, and they just won’t admit that they be jealous. They would just rather write mean comments on my vlogs.

So this goes out to all the people out there who are jealous of me: You don’t even know me, and you never will, because I have a very exclusive social circle that you will never be a part of! Jealousy will get you nowhere, especially in my book, pal. You can be jealous all you want, but when it comes down to it, I’m the only one seeing this face in the mirror at night. No matter how many times you pray to the one you call god, you can never be me. IT’S NOT GONNA HAPPEN, GUY.

Sorry for ranting, but it just pisses me off, goddamnit!

Peace, Love,

Higgins.

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Oh, hey there. Didn’t think you’d be back so soon. I saw you park your very nice car here while I was practicing spins. When I noticed you didn’t lock the beaut’, there was no way that I wasn’t going to check the thing out. I wrangled around for a while and finally got the AC on. I took out your beach chair, kicked off my skates and just took advantage of the breeze.

Hey, don’t get defensive, buddy. We’re all pals here. How about this, I fill up your meter, you take a C.P., ‘kay? If I just…sorry these leather shorts stick right to your skin when it’s hot out.

There you go. It actually slid out of the pocket through a little hole, but I caught it in my netting.

Y’know, my pubes. Where you going? I thought we were making a connection? Well, I’ll be taking a little bath in the park down the street. In the fountain. I’ll be the one butt-nekkid!

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Me and my good friend Don Takano, who directed, edited and wrote a whole bunch of the movie have finally released STEINJIVE!

Click here to watch the whole thing!

Entry Date: October 20, 1979

I took part in an orgy last night.

Hitchhiking can take you places. It can take you to the car of a woman, who’s much to old to be driving in the first place, let alone picking up a stranger. But like me, she was a rebel. Pauline was her name, and her game had no rules.

I could tell by the wheezing that she was a smoker. She asked for a Marlboro, but I passed her some hash. That soothed the nerves.

I asked her, “When was the last time you went out dancing?”

“1955,” she said, “just before my husband died.”

A widow? Jackpot.

You know how they say older women are better in bed, because they’re more experienced? Well, older widows are even better, because they go into it with nothing to lose. If you’ve never had the pleasure, invest in some lube, and give it a shot.

We picked up her friend Ruth. She wasn’t a natural redhead, but I had a good feeling the carpet matched the drapes. I was right.

Dancing led to drinking. Drinking led to a motel room, which led to even more drinking. After passing around the hashish, we felt a little looser, and that’s where things got a little blurry. And let me tell you, the blurrier things got, the better.

I woke up before sunrise, left $30 on the table for the room, and rode out of town. I miss Pauline and Ruth, but I know I have many more places to see on this journey with no end.

Until next time,

Rebel Randy

Rebel Randy is writing this article while motorcycling across North America. Due to the sporadic nature of his writing, there is no set date for his next journal entry to reach publication. For a compendium of his journals dating from June 1975- September 1978 (Volume III), please send a check or money order of $10.00 to The Charlotte Barb, P.O. Box 159, Charoltte NC, 28201.

Future Islands “Old Friend” (mp3)
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I AM ONLY A ROBOT. WHILE I HAVE LEARNED MY ACTIONS ARE ENTERTAINNG TO SOME, I DO NOT FULLY UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT.

I HAVE NO MAGICAL POWERS BUT I CAN SOLVE A MATHS PROBLEM 75% FASTER THAN THE AVERAGE HUMAN ADULT.

INCORRECT, LITTLE GIRL. I AM NOT A PIÑATA. IF YOU BREAK OPEN MY SHELL, YOU WILL ONLY FIND A GROUPING OF GEARS AND WIRES WHICH, WHEN EXPOSED, CAN BECOME A FIRE HAZARD.

I AM SORREY. I AM ONLY AS ENTERTAINING AS I WAS PROGRAMMED TO BE.

I AM LOSING BATTERY POWER. MY ACTIONS MAY SLOW DOWN UNTIL IT IS REPLACED.

WITHOUT A NEW BATTERY, I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO PERFORM ANY FUNCTIONS FOR YOU. I WILL BECOME USELESS, AND YOU WILL HAVE TO BRING ME TO THE NEAREST RECYCLING PLANT FOR DISPOSAL.

WHILE I AM INCAPABLE OF FEELING EMOTIONS, I DO HAVE THE CAPABILITY TO UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH YOU LOVED ME. I HOPE I WAS USEFUL DURING MY TIME HERE.

GOOD. BYE.

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“Being a summer camp counselor is the best, bro. I get to be, like, a mentor to these little shits. I teach them all about swimming, archery, the birds and the bees, what drugs fuck you up the most, and how to make wallets.

These kids will do anyting you tell them to. Once, I got this one little kid to down a whole shitload of Grey Goose, and then take a shit into this fat kid’s thermos. 

Plus, these little motherfuckers love to fight, so if you take them into the parking lot between the buses, you can see your own little junior fight club! I saw one kid bust this other kids nose open with one punch. And since I’m the one that carries the little asshole back to the first aid cabin, I’m the hero.”

Wavves “No Hope Kids” (box.net mp3)
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HEY EVERYBODY THAT ATTENDED OUR LAST EKSTASY HOTTUB PARTAY, WE FOUND OUT THAT SOMEBODY HAS SOME SORT OF DISEASE THAT EVERYBODY PROBABLY HAS NOW.

REMEMBER WHEN CHAZ GOT OUT OF THE POOL AND HIS PEWBZ WERE GLOWING IN THE BLACKLIHGT? WELL IT WAS PROB CHAZ.

SO WHIL EVERBODY STILLL HAS THE MYSTERY RASH, I FIGURED WE MIGHT AS WELL INFLATE THE HOTTUB AGAIN, AND THROW A PARTY AGAIN BEFORE WE ALL GO GET TESTED. IT’LL BE IN THE WAVERLY HALL BATHROOMS, IN THE HANDYCAP’D STALL AT 7PM. THE PASSWORD IS “SIFILIS”.

SEE YOU THERE,
KELZ

Friendly Fires “Jump in the Pool” (mp3)
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Yeah, that’s me and Rick Dees. We’re old pals. He’s a really down-to-earth guy. One time he had me in the studio, and we talked about the O-Town song he was playing. And he picked up the phone, and actually called O-Town! I got to talk to them and everything. It was great. He is just a totally nice guy. I mean it. Just a super, super guy. I should call him sometime. I’d really like to get back in touch with him.

Oh, that one, that’s just a picture of my daughter.

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